curse of the gypsy

BEFORE/NOW by KilledTheQueen

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 27093

Once Upon A Time AU ~

The one where Stiles was once a Gypsy in The Enchanted Forest but now due to “The Curse” is a Radio DJ in Storybrooke with no memory of his past.

the signs as cards against humanity cards

aries: Taking off your shirt. // Penis envy. // Pistol whipping a hostage.
taurus: Appreciative snapping. // One thousand Slim Jims. // Exactly what you’d expect.
gemini: Fabricating statistics. // Friends with benefits. // A look-see.
cancer: Home video of Oprah sobbing into a Lean Cuisine ™. // The miracle of childbirth. // Teaching a robot to love.
leo: Bitches. // Getting drunk on mouthwash. // Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth II.
virgo: A balanced breakfast. // Genetically engineered super-soldiers. // Statistically validated stereotypes.
libra: A homoerotic volleyball montage. // Child beauty pageants. // “Tweeting”.
scorpio: Sweet, sweet vengeance. // A cooler full of organs. // Giving 110 percent.
sagittarius: Bosnian chicken farmers. // A Gypsy curse. // My humps.
capricorn: Republicans. // A mopey zoo lion. // Getting in her pants, politely.
aquarius: Actually taking candy from a baby. // Seppuku. // The forbidden fruit.
pisces: Puppies! // A really cool hat. // Passive-aggressive Post-it notes.

Perfect - Cisco Ramon Imagine

A/N: hello, dearies… so, I know I have so many stories to update and this was not requested but.. today, I was having a really good day and then it got ruined… so I wrote this one-shot to cheer me up a little… I just want everyone to know that this is a very personal imagine for me, and it was hard to write it and is a bit hard to post it.. it’s ok if you don’t read it or if you don’t like it, I just wrote it because I needed to… it is based on some true events that have been really difficult for me to deal with my whole life and it was written as what I would love to happen when I’m feeling down… I just wish that everyone that has felt the same way as me know that they’re beautiful no matter what and please remember it

I chose Cisco Ramon and Ed Sheeran because they’re my favorite loves and I can’t really listen to this song without crying… so here it goes

Warnings: reader’s low self-esteem and what I would think is a little emotionally abuse

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Flash

Your name: submit What is this?


“Hello, (Y/N)” Caitlin said happily as her friend entered the cortex.

“Hi” the girl replied quietly, with a quick smile making the doctor look at her confused.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. Usually the girl was the happy soul of the team. She was basically a girl-version of Cisco, before Dante passed away, but he was getting back to his old self. So, whenever she wasn’t cracking jokes as usual, everyone knew something was wrong.

“Yeah, I’m just tired” she said with a small smile but Caitlin could see her tired eyes.

“Are you sure-?“

“Good morning, ladies” HR interrupted the girls entering the cortex and Caitlin saw (Y/N)’s look turn a little relieved. “I come bearing coffee” he said politely as he bowed to each one of them offering the coffee in the tray.

“Thanks” Caitlin said politely.

“Thank you, HR” (Y/N) said grabbing the coffee and offering the man a small smile.

“Morning, everyone” Julian said walking in and (Y/N) saw Caitlin’s face brighten up. Just before anyone could reply, they saw a bridge opening for a moment before Cisco jumped out of it, followed a breeze coming in as papers flew away.

“HA! Eat that, fastest man alive! I got here first” Cisco said with the biggest smirk on his face.

“That is not fair! You left when you said two and never said three!” Barry complained childishly.

“Wow, two grown men with amazing powers to save humanity and they use it to compete” (Y/N) said from her place.

“Hey, don’t hate the players” Cisco said walking towards her and planting a kiss on her forehead. “How are you, pretty princess?”

“You’re not getting my coffee” she said grabbing it closer to her.

“Is that really the only reason why you would think I’d call you a pretty princess?” Cisco said pretending to be offended.

“No, you call me princess all the time, you add the ‘pretty’ when you want something like my coffee, or my food” she said with a sly smile and Cisco couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You picked up on that?” he said sitting on her desk.

“Ever since we were eight” she informed him.

Keep reading

Gypsy Curse - Part 1 and 2

The club was full of a writhing sea of humanity, all moving in time to the driving house music. The audience was mostly male, being one of the more popular gay clubs in town. It wasn’t where I’d prefer to spend my Saturday nights, but here I could find someone who would be… susceptible to my persuasions. Mostly since everyone else assumed just as I did: this was where people went looking for encounters.

I spotted mine in the middle of the dance floor. Average height, cute, slim, stylish jeans, cut-off t-shirt exposing his midriff, a 6 pack on display. Not as muscular as me, but athletic. I went up to dance with him to confirm he was drunk, or high, or stoned, or more. A place like this there was no telling what he was on. That was why I was here.

We danced together, made it clear my interest, and he flirted back, ran a hand down my chest, grinded his ass on my groin. Yes, he’d do just nicely.

I asked if he’d like to go someplace quieter. He smiled and took my hand, lead me to the bathroom, into a stall. I had meant his place, or a bathhouse, but I guess he was impatient. This suited me just fine.

We kissed in the stall, I ran my hands up and down his smooth, taut flesh. I was already hard, but not from his toned body or the affections he lay upon me. I was excited for what the immediate future had in store for him.

This one was very forward. He undid my fly, fished out my cock, knelt down, brought tongue to turgid head. I knew then it would begin, and I leaned against the stall door and left him to his work. It was the view I was here for.

As he licked my cock like an ice cream cone, staring up at me, I could see the lines of his face soften, his high cheekbones disappearing. In moments I knew he would no longer have a 6-pack. He continued licking, and I encouraged him with a plaintive sound, goading him further, letting him know I enjoyed his attention.

The ploy worked, and he dove down on my dick, taking it all the way to the root and just held me there a few moments. Now I could see the beginnings of flesh pooching on the waist of his slim fit jeans, a ring of fat now encircling his abdomen. His ass was growing too, going from a flat shelf to well rounded mounds in moments. Soon they were skin-tight, and as he bobbed up and down my length I could hear the creaking noise of jeans reaching  breaking point. Of course, had he been sober and otherwise unoccupied I’m sure he would have noticed by now, but again, this was why I was here.

He continued, more bobbing, more licking, and now his face had rounded out and there was the beginnings of a double chin. Everything about him was thicker, wider, straining what little clothes he wore. His exposed middle now poured over his jeans waist, a muffin-top looking more and more extreme. His cut-off T was becoming a tube-top bra as his chest inflated into a perky pair of man-boobs, the sleeves looking like over-stuffed sausage casings as his arms inflated with fat.

When his over-tight jeans finally ripped loudly due to his expanding rear, he hesitated, finally noticing something was wrong. I had to take control now, so I grabbed his head forcefully and began fucking it, driving my cock in and out of his mouth. Dutifully he remained, now with both hands and knees on the floor to hold up his increasing weight, his expanding body causing gaps and tears to appear all over his clothes. I would grunt and moan to cover the noises of tearing cloth, those sounds much less out of place in a club bathroom stall.

The closer I got, the faster his fattening became. His jeans button finally snapped, and his belly surged forward, hanging pendulously from his now rotund frame. The bottom of his jeans now completely frayed, exposing calfs thicker than his thighs were mere moments ago. His torn seat exposed growing globes which now wobbled in time with my thrusts. In fact his entire body now jiggled with each movement, and the sight alone did more for my arousal than his mouth ever could.

Finally with a sudden push, I shoved my entire length down his throat and came. Now he expanded rapidly, as each jet of cum down his gullet added dozens of pounds to his body. His jeans completely tore in half, his belly surging forth to rest comfortably on the floor. His ass became immense, each sphere now filling the stall. His shirt virtually exploded off him, his whole body quaking from the violent release of so much constrained flesh. Even the fat of his neck crept up the back of his head to be felt between my fingers.

My flow began to ebb, then cease. He had taken on truly elephantine proportions, and even with my help he could barely heave his now immense body off the ground. Only torn scraps remained, and they did nothing to conceal his morbid obesity. A double-chinned, chubby cheeked face peered back at me atop shoulders with no discernable neck, sloping into huge sagging breasts each tipped with silver-dollar sized areola. All of it dwarfed by an enormous belly which poured over his groin, partially obscuring his genitals. What little could be seen had been swallowed up in an advancing tide of pubic fat. Everything about him jiggled and quaked.

He was beautiful.

If my condition hadn’t prevented it, I would have brought him home for a second round, where I’d ride that colossal ass until dawn. But alas, it could prove fatal to someone already so large. Instead, I leaned forward and kissed him, hard, tasting my own jizz. I let the kiss linger so I could grasp his titanic belly with both hands and shake it, feeling his whole body quiver and quake.

This last seemed to bring my conquest to his senses, and he broke our kiss and looked down, an expression of dawning terror forming on his features as he saw a vast expanse of jiggling pink flesh before him. I helpfully opened the stall and brought him to the bathroom mirror, where he could see just how enormous he had become.

I left him there, horrified, pawing dumbly at his newly acquired obesity. But not before I took a quick snapshot with my phone.

The following morning I posted the photo on my blog. By this point I had acquired quite the collection, all enormous men, all in varying degrees of shock or horror at their size. I even had quite the online following, with over 10000 page views last month alone. I think it’s the expressions that set me apart, that incredible beauty marred by such a terrified face. But what do I know? The ad revenue helps.

Just then I received an email from one of my online personal ads. It was from website into S&M. Someone named craig2319 was wondering if I could get together, today. This afternoon, infact. He was in town on business, had a hotel, and was very into bondage. He would like to tie himself to the bed, blindfolded, gagged, and then have me enter, whip and then fuck him. No greetings. Nothing said. Just walk in the door and have my way with him.


I replied asking for a place and time, and received it within moments. 3:00 PM, The Regency, room 1104. A key would be waiting for me at the desk. He sent pics, a middle-aged man, maybe late thirties, trim, dark hair, but they were practically irrelevant. Nobody would recognize him in a few hours.

It seems my afternoon plans had been made.

I used to be normal. Intimate contact with another man hadn’t always resulted in him becoming spontaneously obese. But I’d always loved the larger-sized gentlemen, only ever been attracted to them. In the past if someone had gotten close enough to become my boyfriend, they would universally gain weight. I’d coax them into larger meals, goad them into having just one more chocolate, cajole them into one more scoop of ice cream. Eventually they would grow larger than they could tolerate, and then break it off and lose it all. It was heartbreaking for me. Eventually I simply became numb to it.

It was perhaps this numbness that caused my last relationship to end so spectacularly and leave me with my condition. It wasn’t the fact that I had caused him to blow up from 250 lbs to well over 350 lbs over the few months he’d been with me that had done us in. It was when I had cheated on him with someone nearly 500 lbs that had truly angered him. Had I known he had come from a long line of gypsy witchdoctors I may have reconsidered my indiscretion. Once he found out he placed a curse on me, the terms of which were said that if I were to become intimate with any man outside of true love, they would become more fat the longer we lay together.

I hadn’t believed him at first of course. Curses?  Ridiculous. Then I’d hooked up for the first time since our break, and when he ballooned to a blimp during our tryst I knew it to be true. My conquest was appalled, of course, and even tried to sue, but how could he? Gay sex didn’t make you fat. Even still, since then I’d been forced to ensure that my gallivanting was much more discrete, lest my partners take offense to becoming a fatty overnight.

Blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a bed is about as discreet as one can be.

I had no trouble picking up the room key and making my way to the room. The door opened easily with my keycard. The room was large, lavish, a presidential suite with a small kitchenette and living room. A suitcase full of clothing lay on the couch, a closet with ironed suits, and an open door to a darkened bedroom. I made my way inside and flicked on the lights.

There he lay at the centre of the king bed, blindfolded, gagged, both legs and one arm already chained to the bedposts. He was already towering erect, an impressive member arcing over his abdomen nearly as high as his belly button. On a dresser beside the bed was a collection of implements, whips, dildos, lubricants, and even more esoteric devices I didn’t recognize. I guessed I was to use at my own discretion and let my heart guide me.

I chuckled softly and removed my clothes. He moved his head slightly toward me, to let me know he knew I was there, and I made my way to the dresser. I had never really been a dom before. Dominant sure, but nothing like this. I picked what I thought to be a cat-o-nine-tails, a bottle of lube, and two condoms. I went back to the bed and laid my arsenal between his spread-eagle legs. Not sure where to begin, I did the obvious thing and went around the side to lock his remaining unbound arm. He gave a muffled groan and I watched his cock twitch. Apparently he was very into bondage. I gave his throbbing shaft a few playful tugs and was rewarded with a drop of pre from the slit and another muffled groan.

I went back to the foot of the bed and picked up the cat-o-nine-tails. I had never used one before, but I had the general idea. Beside his chest, I brought the whip down gently across his torso, not sure how much the weight of it would add to the impact. Apparently not much, as he gave an annoyed huff through the ball gag, although his dick twitched once more. More force this time, and now an appreciative moan. Yet more, a delighted squeal and a drip of pre falling to his abs. I beat him, again and again, each time the same muffled reaction, and even I was becoming aroused by his enthusiasm to the torture.

I wound up to whip him again, closer to his stomach, but this time I paused. His abs, once clearly defined, had softened somewhat, the crevices no longer quite so deep. I looked him over and noted since the beating began he had put on maybe 15 pounds. I hadn’t even touched him with my own flesh yet. I suppose the definition of intimate was fairly liberal to gypsies, which only made me more enthused to continue. I whipped him repeatedly, all the while watching him slowly inflate, far slower than had I simply put my dick in him. It was incredible foreplay for the both of us, him the beating, me the gradual fattening.

After ten minutes of my assault, his chest was bright red and there was not a mark of definition to be found. His abs had been replaced by a small pot, his pecs covered in a layer of fat just beginning to form delicious mounds. Neck, arms, legs, all had grown making him a much pudgier man, and wherever I beat him I would notice the beginning of a slight ripple in his flesh. I went lower on his body, whipping his upper thighs, delighted as I could see them grow thicker after every impact, the flesh jiggling enticingly. My conquest remained completely oblivious, a steady stream of pre-ejactulate forming a line connecting his cock to his budding belly.

I was enjoying beating this man fat more than I had thought I would, however I grew impatient. It was time for the main course. Tossing the whip aside, I broke open a condom wrapper and rolled it down his length, then applied the lubricant to myself liberally. Then, clambering atop his groin with a foot on either side of his hips I squatted, aligning his tip to my hole. I took a deep breath, then pushed down on his dripping cock head before stopping. He was impressively hung, and I needed a moment to accommodate him. His fattening picked up speed as I got used to his girth. With steadying hands on his belly I could feel my fingers spreading apart as his pot became a mound, then a true gut. Every part of him was becoming softer and rounder, and my own turgid organ jutted proudly over his growing belly.

Once the pain subsided and I was prepared, I lowered myself further. Each inch I descended added inches to his waist, going from pudgy to outright chubby in moments. I took his manhood slowly, savouring the feeling of fullness, his low moans mirroring my own. Finally I felt him bottom out as my ass met much thicker thighs, and I could already feel my legs spreading apart as his hips and belly broadened, feel myself rising higher as his ballooning rear rose his pelvis further from the mattress.  

I began to ride him, each gentle movement causing a ripple to flow through his entire body. It was intoxicating the way he jiggled in time with my gyrations, and I picked up speed. He was truly obese now, and I knew I’d have difficulty maintaining this position as he grew larger.

Suddenly I heard a muffled cough, then a groan and I could feel his heavy cock twitch within me. He’d just cum. Perhaps not so surprising, given how aroused he seemed before, but this was good timing as I couldn’t spread my legs any further, he had gotten so large. I carefully extracted myself, bow legged, giving his rotund belly a playful slap. He moved his head at this, the unfamiliar sound and touch curious, but without sight he still hadn’t quite caught on. This suited me, as I wasn’t quite done yet.

I flushed the used condom before returning to the bed to view my handiwork.  He was easily 350 lbs, perhaps more. Everything about him was round, smooth, jiggling softness, the peaks of his tits and belly seemingly in constant motion.  His member, still erect and impressively thick, seemed somewhat shorter as pubic fat swallowed the first inch or so. I pressed a hand on his groin, pushing the encroaching fat back and exposing his full length, before milking the last few drops. I could feel him growing again, the flesh expanding beneath my hand, my own erection throbbing and insistent. I would need to finish this soon.

Just then I noticed something on the bedside table which gave me an idea; it was a bottle of poppers. Grabbing the bottle, I unscrewed the caps and brought it to my sub’s nose. He already knew what that scent was of course, and he took several big whiffs before I brought the bottle back to the bedside table. I then went to the foot of the bed, unshackling his ankles. This brought a confused sound from him, but it was cut short as I hauled both quivering legs atop my shoulders, bending his knees as I pushed him forward, folding him up to expose his enormous rear. I quickly lubed myself and my enormous partner, and with one quick push entered him.

The poppers had made him pliant, and I easily slipped my full length into him, eliciting another muffled moan of pleasure and yet more pre from his surprisingly unrelenting erection. I wasted no time, and soon the room was filled with the sound of my firm pelvis slapping his flabby ass. With each slap he grew heavier, much quicker than before. Already the weight of his legs had become immense, and I could see the rest of him rippling like waves with each thrust. As his butt and thighs thickened it became harder and harder to plunge myself inside him, until just before the weight became too much I came, filling the condom before immediately being pushed out by his spreading ass.

I removed the spent condom and lay him back down, his lead lolling side to side from the brief fucking and the poppers. He was immense now, a towering blob of blubber beyond obesity. Each part of him was enormous, with folds appearing where it seemed more flesh simply couldn’t be added; chest, belly and thighs. The mattress sagged comically under his weight. His cock, once proudly large, was but a thick dripping nub erupting from a sea of pubic fat. Amazingly, I could tell he was still hard. I couldn’t leave him so unsatisfied.

I pushed back the fat as best I could and swallowed as much of his length as could be reached. I could feel his flesh advancing again, and it was a fight against time before his length was enveloped completely. Luckily he remained a quick shot, and in no time he filled my mouth with an impressive second load. I slurped it down theatrically, and pushed myself off his groin, hands sinking deeply into his gelatinous body.

That last bout of oral hadn’t caused him to grow too much, but then again, at his size even 30 pounds either way would go completely unnoticed. He took up most of the king size bed, and at some point during his growth his neck had grown thick enough to break the gag strap, the ball falling to one side of his triple-chinned face, and I could hear him moaning softly. Whether it was to his multiple orgasms or the feeling of suddenly becoming a beached whale it was hard to say, and ultimately irrelevant. My work here was done.

But first, a momento. Donning my clothes I took out my phone to take a few quick snapshots for the blog. This was one of my largest subjects, so I knew they’d be popular. Turning to leave, I hesitated; I couldn’t just leave him tied up. I turned back, undid his handcuffs, and then made my exit. Just before I shut the door, I could hear him utter a bewildered, “Wha-what?-”, but then the door closed, and I was gone.  


Black Mirror season 3 [3/6] Shut Up and Dance

…It’s not just weeks. We’re talking years here. Pictures hang about on Google like a gypsy fucking curse. There’s no cure for the Internet. It would never go away. It’d be glued to your name, a fucking stain on you. I’d hang myself if that was me, crack my fucking neck at the first opportunity.

Cordelia: Oh, Angel! I know that I am a Slayer, and you’re a vampire and it would be impossible for us to be together, but…

Wesley: [imitating Angel] But… my gypsy curse, sometimes prevent me from seeing the truth. Oh, Buffy…

Cordelia: Yes, Angel?

Wesley: Oh, I love you so much I almost forgot to brood!

Cordelia: And just because I sent you to Hell that one time doesn’t mean that we can’t just be friends.

Wesley: Or possibly more?

Cordelia: Gasp! No! We mustn’t!

Wesley: Kiss me!

Cordelia: Bite me!

Angel: [entering, surprising everyone] How about you both bite me?

I love this scene sooo much! Cordelia and Wes are nailing the impression of Angel and Buffy, but it is so hilarious. Then Angel comes in brooding (surprising, right?) and makes the scene that much better.

anonymous asked:

re: Buffy. it has a lot of issues with how much it makes the girls suffer horribly before they get character growth. several of them die for no reason (ie: Kendra, Jenny Calendar, Tara (that was brutal), etc). sex shaming (ie: the stuff that happens after Buffy has sex for the first time). anti-black racism (ie: the story/portrayal of the First Slayer (black girl gets chained to a floor and infused with a demon against her will. couldn't speak for herself.) anti-Roma racism (Gypsy curses)


Things that will never not be funny in Psychonauts
  • You can summon an old man to give you advice by waving a piece of bacon in front of your ear.
  • The super-scary mutant fish in the lake who talks like a sage’s real name is LINDA.
  • there’s a turtle who has a deep black man voice named Mr. Pokeylope.
  • Raz being unable to levitate over water and Milla implying that the problem is that he wets the bed (when it’s actually a psychic gypsy curse).
  • Lili’s reaction to the news that she and Raz are the only people who can save the day is to proclaim that they should make out
  • the entirety of Lungfishopolis
  • the “delicate operation” to put the brains back in people is to literally shove it back in through their ear using a funnel
June is GRT History Month

So, I’m doing some questions that come up a lot, I’ll probably add to this in future. 

Q: What does GRT mean?

A: GRT stands for Gypsy, Roma, and Traveller.

Q: Why GR, isn’t Gypsy just a slur for Roma?

A: Yes and no. The Romani people arrived in Britain in around 1500, and were thought to be from Egypt, over the years Egyptian got shortened to Gypsy. The Romani still in Britain, the Romanichal and Welsh Kale, still use the term to refer to ourselves, however outside of the UK the term is considered offensive in most places, so when Eastern European Roma immigrants started arriving in more recent years the term was not used with them as it’s considered a slur. Separating out the two groups is also helpful, as despite our shared ethnicity we do have different backgrounds and needs, and some cultural differences (although many things are the same in all Romani groups) 

Despite British Romany being ok with the term Gypsy it’s still best to steer clear of it, many Romani are offended by Gypsy, but none are by Romani.

Q: Isn’t Roma and Romani the same thing?

Nope, although many governments and official groups use Roma that way. The Roma are a subgroup of the Romani, and being the largest group, as well as having a similar name, many people assume they’re the same, but they’re not. Other groups you may have heard of include Sinti, Kale (both Welsh and Finnish), Calo (they’re sometimes also called Kale, either Spanish or Iberian), Romanichal, Vlax, Kalderash and many others.

You may have also heard of the Dom and Lom, who aren’t Romani but have a similar history and are also commonly called Gypsies. 

Q: Where are the Romani from?

A: India originally, although now we’re found all over the world.

Q: I heard that you’re actually Egyptian/a lost tribe of Israel/some bullshit

A: No. India.

Q: Are you actually magic?

A: There is a history of fortune telling within Romani culture, but most people claiming to be Gypsy psychics are neither of those things. 

Also, curses aren’t real and tarot cards are from Italy.

#30DayPsychonautsChallenge - 11. Best quotes

“Sometimes isolation is a good thing. It can lead to… important discoveries.“
-Agent Nein

“My family has this problem with water. It’s a bunch a hooey anyway. Some old gypsy curse about how we’re all supposed to die in water… if you can believe that…
-Razputin Aquato

“Get that soldier a bunk.”
-Coach Oleander

“We endeavor to build strong minds here, with the power to lift things, to see things, to burn things… BUT, it’s a special quality of your heart, not your mind, that truly makes a great psychonaut.”
-Ford Cruller 

god, i’m so tired of this.

the lengths people will go to to excuse the fact that joss whedon fucked up are astounding. i’ve heard everything from people citing the rights situation (that never mentions their ethnicity anywhere, just their mutant status and that they can’t be related to magneto) to saying it was because he couldn’t find a single romani actress or actor to fill the role in all of europe and america (which is funny considering the fact that hollywood has no problems using romani as stunt men/women and for playing minor criminals).

stop. stop making excuses for someone who not only has a history of whitewashing characters but also a history of specifically writing really disgusting anti-roma storylines (gypsy curses in buffy, anyone?).

no one is saying that you’re not allowed to be excited for their on-screen portrayals.
it’s just that considering that wanda and pietro are apparently being experimented on by modern day nazis in the mcu and considering that there was an anti-semitic hate crime perpetrated by a neo nazi that was downplayed as having nothing to do with jews just weeks ago and considering that roma narratives and their plight are continually erased in media while my people suffer institutionalised discrimination all over the world, it would have been nice to not have one of the few positive role models we have erased because joss whedon was too lazy to do his research.

i’m just saying.

thefirstbuscuiteer  asked:

Immortals AU where they aren't just born immortal. That would be crazy. They have to earn their immortality. Geoff earned his first, fighting his way out of Hades. Next came Ray and Ryan Ryan was in Sheol, burning, when he saw a random innocent soul come tumbling into his pit. He didn't think that seemed fair. Jack was a pirate who killed death when he came for her. Michael earned his namesake's favor flying a fighter in WWII. (1/2)

Jeremy was in a fight club. He knocked his opponent out as he got knocked out himself. While people were laughing about it around them, Jeremy’s ghost was still beating on the other guy. He stole that guy’s soul and traded it in. Gavin stole the souls of a dozen prostitutes a long time ago in London. His name used to be Jack too. Lindsay has seen Shangri-La, albeit on accident. Matt broke a curse on a gypsy woman. Trevor killed a dragon. Mica is a cyborg. Dirk was born immortal. Obviously. (2/2)

Y'all come up with the craziest shit it’s incredible.

I dressed up as an old gypsy woman for Fright Night 2015 at Enderun. If ever you went to Enderun’s Fright Night, I was one of the people scaring other people. HAHAHA WHAT but yeah, that’s me for Halloween. Idk if I’d dress up for the real Halloween though.


You Haven’t Aged A Day

Part 5

“I’ve got enough anger and hate in me to make Hitler jealous.”

AN: I’m in my own special little AU here, anything is possible! And this is all a dream. WARNING: talk of torture, and swearing.

New York, 1928

It was a cold winter night. You and your mother had spent the day trying to sell knitted items, tea, and tarot readings on the streets. She had dropped the day’s revenue into your tiny and numb hands, saying she’d come home shortly. You gave her a smile, bundled up in another jacket, and went on your way.

You hummed a song you had learned the day before in school, and skipped along merrily. At the age of seven, you were a happy, care free child, who trusted everyone, and questioned known. Giving a little shiver, you turned down an alleyway and froze in your steps.

Before you were four kids from your school, but in two grades above you. They were big bullies from what you heard, and the biggest one, Thomas Hanks, took a big step towards you. “Well look who it is,” there was so much contempt in his voice that it made you cringe into your coat. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), daughter of the gypsy.” he sneered, and the other kids laughed.

Even in the freezing cold, you could feel your cheeks turn bright red. One of the other kids, Eddie Burns, let out a loud laugh. “Are you going to put a curse on us, little witch?” he taunted, and tears started to form in your eyes.

“I sure will!” your little voice was shrill, and it seemed to carry out of the alley. “I-I-I’ll get my mom to put a hex on you!” even you could hear the wavering tone in your voice, and they laughed again, forming a circle around your small body.

Thomas’ eyes landed on the money clenched in your hands, and he grinned. “What’s that? The money you and your dirty gypsy mother made selling the Devil’s works?” Eddie snickered, and you tried to back away. You hit another boy’s chest, who’s eyes were cruel and dark.

Your heart started to beat faster, and you could taste the bitterness of fear in your mouth. Eddie took a step closer to you and his breath washed over your face. “You better give us that movie, or we’ll cut your hair off,” he threatened, and you could hear the unmistakable noise of scissors being opened.

Your lip started to tremble, but you were determined to cry. Just as you were about to drop the money into Eddie’s sticky fingers, there was a ruckus behind you. Two boys, one small and blonde, the other big and brunette, were standing behind you. You recognized them as two boys in the fourth grade that went to your school.  Your bullies shuffled behind you, and the brunette one stepped forward.

”Whatcha’ doin’, Eddie? Thomas?” the brunette boy asked conversationally, carrying himself with confidence that was rare to boys his age. “Pickin’ on this little girl?” he crossed his arms, and the blonde boy starred Eddie down.

Eddie and Thomas exchanged a glance, and ran off. The two other boys took followed their example, shoving you down in the snow before running off to. Despite trying to not cry, a tear escaped your eye, and you let out a little whimper. You felt a cold hand on your shoulder, and automatically flinched away. “Oh, no, I’m sorry, did we scare you?” it was the blonde boy, his voice higher and their was a tinged with worry.

You sniffed, and clenched the money tighter in your hands. “N-no,” you got out, meeting the blonde boy’s bright blue eyes. “Your hand was just really cold.” you lied, and the brunette boy chuckled, while the blonde boy let out an amused cough.

”The name’s James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky,” the br- Bucky introduced, and offered you his hand. You took it without hesitation (blame it on your trusting attitude), and dusted the snow off yourself. “And this punk over here is Steve Rogers, my best friend.” the two friends exchanged a glance, and Steve punched him in the arm.

Steve shook your hand, and dusted off a bit of snow that you had missed. “And you are?” he asked, tilting his head to the side that reminded you of your tiny puppy at home.

”(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you answered, and you could see their eyes widened as the recognized your last name. “And before you ask, no my mother is not a gypsy, yes she can curse you, and no I cannot,” you said heatedly, a common trait in the younger you.

Both boys were quick to dispute your claim. “No, no, of course not! We weren’t going to say that!” Bucky said quickly, an honest expression face.

”We’ve never believed those silly rumors anyway.” Steve added, letting out another cough.

A smile grew on your face. “Really?” you were shocked that boys, that anyone, could not judge you on the rumors spread around the school.

”Of course,” Bucky scoffed, and you giggled. The three of you fell silent for a moment, before Bucky broke the silence. “How about we walk you home, and make sure you don’t get in more trouble?” he teased, and Steve laugh.

You linked arms with both of them, a bright smile on your face. “I’d quite like that.”

Berlin, Germany. Winter of 1971.

”(Y/N),” you started, your eyes widening, the sudden noise chasing off the remainder of your day dream. Logan stood in front of you, blood dripping from his bone claws. It was clear from the tone of his voice that it wasn’t the first time he had called your name. Your eyes scanned the destruction of the metal room. The body of the Scientist lay in front of you, his throat sliced clean through. That image filled you with a sick joy, and you could hear your old friend inhale as your feelings wash over him. “(Y/N),” he said again, his voice gentle. “are you able to walk out of here?” he questioned.

You inhaled deeply, as if just realizing he was there. “Logan?” you asked in amazement. “Is that you? How did you find me? Where am I?” the questions spilled out of your mouth as you finally broke out of your drug induced state. “The last thing I remember was the concert and…” you trailed off, and you shivered in the cold air

”I’ll fill you in later, doll face, but we’re on a tight schedule.“ he promised, taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked like a flower printed dress, with the word ‘Woodstock’ imprinted on it, but it was so badly torn and ripped that Logan couldn’t tell. Bruises covered your body, and your ribs stuck out. Your collarbones were prominent, your eyes large in your thin face, and your face was angular. Your once shiny and long hair was flat and dull, and was cut in a rough pixie cut. And the thing that set off your long time friend was the brand on your neck. Property of Hydra, it read in precise script. Under it was the number 001 in tiny print.

The gruff man held back a growl, and sheathed his claws. You blinked up at him, your brain moving at about a mile per hour. Before you could ask another a question, a handsome face popped in. “(Y/N)! I knew dat we’d find you!” Remy cheered, but his smile faded quickly as he saw you. His voice took on a serious tone as he directed his next statement towards Logan. “It’s gettin’ quite hairy out dere, Logan. We better move out quick.”

”Got it,” Logan replied, and the Cajun flitted out again. As he turned back to you, he could see the questions forming in your eyes. But he just held out a hand, and took a drag from his cigar. “Okay, (Y/N), I know you got a lot of questions, but the swamp rat is right. We gotta get out of here fast. Can you walk?”

You bit your lip, and hesitated. It had been at least a week since you last ate, and a couple days since your last glass of water. “No,” you replied. “I don’t think I could even take a shit by myself right now.” you said morbidly.

Logan’s mouth quirked in a smile. Even in the worst of times, your humor still showed. “Fine, Siren,” he said, calling you by your nickname. Picking you up gently, he positioned you in his arms so you wouldn’t get jostled. “But I can’t use my hands right now, so you gotta use your special power, got it?”

You nodded grimly as he walked over to the door. “I’ve got enough anger and hate in me to make Hitler jealous.” the man quickly looked down at you in surprise, hoping you were joking. But you weren’t. Your mouth was set in a hard line, and your eyes cold. It made him want to slaughter all of Europe for the crimes committed against you.

Without a second thought, Logan threw open the door. Almost immediately, you could see Remy in the midst of the fighting. He was surrounded by the pink light of his powers, and picking off the enemies one by one. But you could tell he was getting tired, by how his light would dim every now and then. You knew if that light went out, you were screwed.

Focusing all your emotions, you inhaled, and then exhaled. Wispy, golden smoke started to gather in your hands and drip off onto the snow covered pavement. Even though you hadn’t used your powers in over two years, in came to you like it was just yesterday. “Let’s go,” you said, the determination clear in your voice.

”As you wish,” Logan growled, and ran into the fight. As soon as you saw a Hydra soldier approach you, you threw the ball of gold smoke at you. Immediately, he fell to the ground, gagging and eyes bulging. The air around him, his aura, flickered a molten gold, the same color of your smoke, as he could feel the pain and suffering you had felt. And that was your power: to project your feelings, emotions, and memories onto other people and they felt like it was their own.

It felt like an infinity had passed as you watched the nameless soldier suffer before the next one came at you. Logan was bracing to fight him, but you flicked molten gold at him and he collapsed. There was no remorse in your eyes as you, Logan, and Remy, single handedly took down the whole Hydra base.

It was silent for a moment, until you could hear someone crying. I thought they were all dead or unconscious, you thought to yourself in confusion, until you realized the sobs were coming from you. Your thin, weak, and emaciated body shuddered as you sobbed, and gold smoke slowly faded away.

”Shh,” Logan murmured, his soft side showing for once. “It’s okay, (Y/N). We’re going to get you out of here.” you nodded, but the tears kept on coming. You had been in that place for two goddamn years. Two years of your life wasted, that you would never get back.

Logan’s head jerked up as Remy walked over to the two of you. The Cajun looked as charming as ever, in his long black jacket and purple shirt. His eyes were still red as they flitted to you in Logan’s arm. “What did they do to her, Logan?” he remarked quietly, as your thin shoulders shook. “She looks broken.”

”I don’t know,” the gruff man replied, his eyes narrow and cold. “But I do know whoever it is, they’re gonna pay.” he promised, and the Cajun made a sound of agreement. “They’re gonna pay.”

New York, Present Day.

You woke up with a gasp, your head shooting up. Sweat trickled down your forehead, and you absently touched your neck where the brand was. You could feel yourself go into a panic, but was quickly calmed down as you felt the warmth of bodies next to you.

Bucky was on your right, his hand wrapped tightly around your waist. Steve was on your side, his head buried in your neck. It was only a dream, you reassured yourself as you started to drift of back to sleep. But you knew one thing for certain: something big was going to happen.

AN: From now on, every part of YHAD will have a flashback!