#this god forsaken virus has left my body

[sleepanonymous]

(source)

Oh my god it's not photoshopped, his nails are painted... II did it. II painted Vessel's nails. I don't care if there's proof otherwise, II painted Vessel's nails. I will die on this hill.

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #vessel #photography #his fucking nails #are painted fucking black #i'm so not normal about this #i don't know how to explain this but #this idea of ii painting ves's nails has healed me #this god forsaken virus has left my body #i am cured #and omg he's wearing the st emblem ring #and the bird skull necklace i did a scavenger hunt for

[dxrknessembr8ced]

Back into the bloodshed....

Back into the bloodshed where both Garo and Raptor left behind a dozen bodies of both cultists and B.O.W. alike even the most powerful and strongest of bio weapons are no match for Hsien-Ko's absolute rage and thirst for blood as they continues find not only her sister, the sorcerologist and her own daughter but also escaping both the building and the entire island but not before wanting to kill every single bio weapon on this gods forsaken rock. Deeper into stairs they both entered what is the most horrific and grotesque lab they have entered. This is one of the labs where all the tulpas are all created along with every single bio organic weapon from every bioterrorist incident but it didn't matter to her, she'll do the same like the rest of them. She started killing these scientists running in fear with no mercy left in her. Lord Raptor joined in and chased the escaping scientists only killing a few dozen while only three escaped.

Hsien-Ko and Lord Raptor murdered these bio organic weapons contained in captivity one by one blood is spilled. That is until she stopped and noticed something in one of the captivities. A room containing what she believed are what nightmares of made of. When she entered the room she sees a nursery for deformed infants crying and feeling excruciating pain. These infants to her horror are clones, they're the clones of Hsien-Ko and her older sister, and for the first time made her sick to the very core.

" Oh my god.... "

Under the helmet Hsien-Ko wanted to throw up after witnessing and staring everything in this large empty room. These deformed and sad abominations, she asked why? Why me? Why me? Is all she can asked in her head as she examine these abominations.

Some of these failed clones are missing their limbs, some of them are even cross between insect with their deformed and grotesque appendages sticking out from parts of their bodies, some are even just bounded together as siamese twins. They are all failures waiting to be burned into the furnace she continued pressing forward and try finding notes onto why they're doing this and her answers are clear, she found notes about the T-Virus and project wesker. The living jiangshi continued reading the notes as she realized the mutagenic potential of the T-Erebus virus and these abominations are created through pregnant women for months during the T-Erebus outbreak and it sickened her to the core, she turned back towards these poor infants with tears now dripping down from her eyes until she just stopped. She sees two infants of both she and her sister crying and flaying their hands around. Shockingly to her surprised these babies are healthy and aren't all deformed minus some characteristics and traits of animals the cult has created. The first baby Mei-Ling is part fox and part cat possessing characters of both of these animals and the second baby herself, she's just like her but minus the reptile parts. She's part wolf and part feline. She's shocked that these two are considered abominations to be disposed other than the characteristics they're seem to be no other deformities.

These babies kept crying until Hsien-Ko moved her gold clawed hands towards these infants which the two took noticed and hold her fingers with their small hands finally catching her scent seeing her as their mother. Hsien-Ko wanted to save all of them but she knows she couldn't so she decided to kill them all and save them from the state of suffering they're in but she even knows she can't. Hsien-Ko's emotions are strong and she couldn't decided on what to do if she can't save them all, then she made the hardest decision. She decided to save these two infants in front of her instead, taking care of them both as her own. She carefully picked them up in her arms and walked out of the room hearing more of their cries of suffering. Tears kept dripping down on her face, their cries of suffering will scar her for the rest of her life. She will kill everyone in this island, she will destroy Las Erebus and end her nightmare once and for all for the horrors they done. She may failed these poor abominations, but the two in her arms? Never she will defend them with her life if she has too for she is the fanged wolf, the dark hunter of the night and she will do what it takes to give them love, affection and a future.

#{ Musing: Hsien-Ko } #{ The EX-Dark Hunter } #{ Nursery }

[petri808]

@fuck-yeah-nalu Naluween week 2020 Apocalypse prompt

Lucy POV

The further I run, the softer the screams become, dying away into garbled choking and haunting ripping sounds as the zombies tear away at the flesh of their hapless victims. I wipe away the tears that cloud my vision, don’t look back Lucy, I cry a mantra in my head, don’t look back and see your family... it’s too painful to know you are the only one who made it out alive. I can only be grateful that my mother never lived to see this day or become one of the undead. Oh god, please don’t tell me corpses will reanimate too! I shake the thoughts away. Don’t you do that!

How did this happen? I have no idea what is going on because it came on so suddenly. A plague that washed across our town, the state, is the world like this? Where do I go? Is there anywhere safe? Is there anyone I know that’s still alive? I call these creatures zombies because it’s like a horror movie come to life! I saw with my own two eyes a servant killed by one of the creatures, literally her throat ripped out and blood spurting everywhere, suddenly come back to life! Then they both went after our butler...

It was only by the grace of skill that I escaped with my life. Years of running track and a conditioned body allowed me to out pace these ravenous beings. They weren’t slow nor fast, yet deadly focused on their unquenchable hunger. Is that all we have left for our futures? Whether today or 60 years from now to turn the moment I die into a zombie? I have no idea. Is it just in the bite? Was it an airborn virus unleashed into the world? Has Mother Nature forsaken us? And can we blame her for it?

All the sounds of carnage have ceased and I’m left to my own thoughts as I walk the back roads from our country estate. I have no clear direction except to avoid areas of population. It was a good thing that we lived outside of the city itself where there are less people. The heart of town must be crawling with zombies by now. Yet distant gun fire or explosions, and occasional screams remind me to stay focused at least until I find somewhere safe to hold up in.

I hear a car approaching from behind and turn to look. As it gets closer, the vehicle looks awfully familiar... It grinds to halt a few feet before reaching me and I hear the best sound I’ve heard all day!

“Lucy!”

“Natsu!”

I run to his open trucks door and launch myself into his arms. “You’re alive!” The tears stream down my cheeks as I bury my face into his chest.

“I’m so glad I found you baby! I went past your house looking for you, but it was over run.”

“Everyone’s gone!” My sobs increase. Dead or undead, no longer the people I cared about.

“At least we’ve got each other.”

“But... your family?”

“Gone too,” he grits out.

His voice tells me he’s trying to hold himself together for my sake. “I’m so sorry Natsu.”

“Can’t be helped at this point. Come on,” he ushers me, “let’s get out of here.”

I jump into his truck and we take off again. “But where do we go?”

“No idea. Right now my main concern is doing what ever I need to keep us alive.”

Ever wished you’d watched more horror movies when you had the chance? Before today, it’s not something I would have ever considered. But it sure would be handy! As Natsu drove, different scenarios ran through my mind. Would this be like a 28 Days Later type zombie that eventually starves? Or more like a classic George Romero, never dies type, that finally stops because their body has completely rotted away? But let’s just hope it’s not a Resident Evil plot line with mutant zombies and a corporation behind the whole thing. Government... maybe... The current President does have a screw loose. Anyways, I guess the cause could be irrelevant at this point. We needed to figure out ways to survive this, however long it would last.

What are the common ideas in the movies? Find a secure building, preferably easy access for scavenging food and water. Avoidance as much as possible... Oh! And weapons! Guns, ammo, a big knife. Hmm, tactical clothing, comfortable and durable. But wait?! What if the outbreak came from contaminated food?! Ugh! This is so frustrating!

“Do you still have your cellphone Natsu? I wasn’t able to grab mine.”

“I do. Sent out a group text but so far no one’s answered.”

“At least that’s still working... for now.”

We drive and drive searching for supplies if we’re lucky enough to come across them. Gasoline, food, water, weapons, clothes, and bedding. Natsu’s truck is a blessing to have in times like this to use less travelled dirt roads or even no roads at all. These zombies are everywhere! How did it spread so quickly?

I use his phone to Google what’s happening and sure enough this pandemic is sweeping across the Americas but has not yet jumped across the oceans. The world’s response was to immediately shut down borders. Planes were turned around and grounded and ports grind to a halt. Military vessels from Asia and Europe were on their way to create blockades to stop boats from leaving either American continent, and fighter jets in the sky ordered to shoot down any planes...

“Oh my god...” my hands fly up and cover my mouth. “Natsu were trapped.” The world has turned its back on us. “This really is an apocalypse for our country.”

So many theories and stories about the cause of this infection fly around the internet. Best anyone can tell it started somewhere near Maryland and quickly moved across state lines. Several articles mention a government research hospital called Walter Reed as a possible link. We’re they working on something that caused this outbreak? Why doesn’t this surprise me?

“Why? What are you reading Luce?”

“In order to keep the pandemic from jumping continents, the world is basically cutting us off. I mean I can’t blame them, but what about survivors? Is no one gonna help us to escape?”

Damn! It could be like the 28 Weeks Later scenario! Are they going to bomb us, try to eradicate us! Oh look, at least the President is confirmed dead. That useless fat bastard was a plague of his own on this country.

Ping.

“Omg Natsu, Gray answered! He said he and Juvia made it out of the city, as well as Erza, Jellal, Levy, and Gajeel too! Right now they’re holding up at an abandoned warehouse in Clover. Natsu that’s the next town from here!”

“Should we go?”

“I think so, there’s safety in small groups.”

Natsu takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Then we have a plan.”

What the future will hold is still to be seen. Will we survive it? You know what? I shut off Google and realize no one else is going to protect us but ourselves. We have to work together if we hope to live another day, but at least we have each other and our friends.

I smile back, he was right. “We have a plan!”

#naluweenweek #naluween week #naluween 2020 #apocalypse prompt #nalu #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #nalu AU #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fic #yes it was a jab at COVID and the US #sorry not sorry

[aenwoedbeannaa]

The Red Death | Geralt x Reader One Shot

Summary: Your life has never been peaceful or comfortable, but it has never fallen apart quite this way—as in, everyone in your small district in Novigrad are taken by the Red Death. You are sick, but you know that no help is coming. Your district is poor—cut off from the rest of the city and left to die. You’ve accepted your fate, not expecting a silver-haired Witcher, a philanthropic Higher Vampire, and maybe even destiny, to come barreling in at the last second.

Word Count: 3,078

Warnings: There are some descriptions of the Red Death, or what I imagine it would be—a viral hemorrhagic fever. So, if you’re extra scared of viruses and pandemics right now, probably skip this one.

A/N: I really don’t know why I wrote this. Quarantine Day 4 has me losing my mind. But I mean, I did want to be an epidemiologist until I learned I was terrible at chemistry. So. Here we are. Also maybe I’m channeling my real-life fear into fanfiction, who can say?

If you enjoy my work and want to check out more of it, you can check out my masterlist, and if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, comment or message me and I would be happy to add you 😊. Also, I do have a ko-fi page now, and I would really appreciate if anyone is able to give a little; it would really help me out with this whole career change dream & the whole not working and not getting paid amid this disaster thing. But of course, the best way y’all support me is just by reading and sharing my work. I appreciate it more than I can say.

The Red Death & Destiny

Novigrad’s seedy underbelly, feared by most, has been your home all your life. As a half elf, you land at the very bottom of the social ladder. To the humans, you are not human. To the elves, you are not an elf—and that’s just how it’s always been. You’re used to it.

What you aren’t used to is the eerie quiet that has settled over the overcrowded, poverty-stricken district where you’ve rented a small apartment for the last three years. Even the screams have died down. You’d thought hearing the constant groans of pain floating through the shuttered windows and the thin walls had been the worst—but it doesn’t even compare to the silence. 

The blankets are soaked in sweat, partially due to the stifling air in the room and partially from the fever currently raging through your veins. You bones feel like they might disintegrate from the heat. Still, you refuse to lift the blankets—you don’t want to see what your body looks like underneath; don’t want to see the angry red lesions marring your skin. 

Red Death, indeed.

You can’t help but smile bitterly; of course Catriona’s Plague would make an appearance in Novigrad, and of course it would hit your small, already poor district. Once the first case had been confirmed, the district had been placed under strict quarantine—no one went out, and no one came in. Perhaps if it had been a wealthier district, they would have sent doctors in their robes and masks, or called for mages immune to most of these things, but it was a poor little district filled with undesirables.

So they just leave us to die.

You have a feeling, based on the suffocating silence, that you are the only one left. You’d tried helping your neighbors when it began, but most didn’t want you near them. Even here among outcasts, you are an outcast—one of the only elves.

Less susceptible to the disease, yes. But clearly, you are not immune; not that there is anyone left to see.

You’d ignored the symptoms first, then you’d gotten angry, slamming yourself against the door to your apartment building over and over and over until you had no strength left. Once that happened, you trudged back up the stairs and slid into bed. That was two days ago, and all you’ve managed to do since is take a few sips of water and stagger over to the bathroom.

So this is how it ends.

***

“Remind me why we came to this gods-forsaken city again?” Geralt huffs, taking a long draught from his mug of ale.

“Jaskier’s performance,” Regis answered in that way he always does, making a simple fact sound profound and thoughtful.

Geralt just nods, knocking back more of his ale. He had, in fact, told Jaskier he would be in the city in time for the grand reopening of the Rosemary and Thyme—or whatever he was calling it now. It wasn’t that he had a problem with coming to see his friend perform. No—it was simply that this city, once the jewel of Redania and now just another one of Nilfgaard’s cities, disgusted him.

Nilfgaard promised plenty of things to its citizens, namely safety and security, but from what he was overhearing, those promises were not being kept.

“The whole district was cut off… They say everyone is dead.”

“Good riddance.”

“Albert, how can you say that? There were children living there!”

“Children who would’ve grown up to be beggars and thieves. I say burn it all down, and take the plague with it!”  

“Cheers to that, friend.”

Geralt winces, shaking his head. Regis studies him intently, cocking his head to the side.

“Catriona’s Plague… Highly contagious. It leaves its victims almost completely defenseless. It’s as if it were from another land, another world—“

“Yes, yes I know,” Geralt mutters, waving a hand at his friend. “I don’t need a history lesson.”

Regis just smiles softly before continuing, “But of course, Witches are immune to its effects. And I… Well, I’ve got herbs to protect against it.” He smiles knowingly at the Witcher, who lets out a deep, long sigh.

“We have to go.”

Regis nods intently, as if he’d been expecting exactly that. Perhaps he had been—he’d been Geralt’s friend for long enough now that it was easy to guess when Geralt would go involve himself in something. And, with less and less monsters roaming the wilderness, searching through a deserted

Geralt and Regis in Novigrad. Regis hears about the quarantine and wants to help. Geralt is convinced to come with—fighting tiny, invisible monsters is just as hard as fighting big ones. Maybe even harder.

***  

Faintly, you hear the sound of footsteps. It pulls you out of the fitful half-sleep you’d been stuck in. You heart, despite its weakness, speeds up, and you find the strength to pull yourself into a sitting position on the bed. It is exhausting, but you manage to push yourself up onto your knees so you can peer out the window through the slats in the wood. Of course they’d boarded up your window, you were on the first floor, and you could have escaped through it and into the streets.

Between the slats, you see two men walking. One is larger than any man you’ve ever seen—wearing leather armor and carrying two swords on his back. He has long, silver hair that is pulled back halfway. The man next to him looks considerably older, but not ancient. He is wearing a brown robe, like some kind of Apothacary. Both walk with such calm confidence that you are utterly thrown off-guard.

What the hell are they doing here?

You see the swords on the man’s back, and the pouch tied around the waist of the other. Your eyes widen—perhaps they are here to burn the whole district to the ground, as you’d heard whispers about for days. They must have taken the silence as a sign that everyone was dead.

No no no no no no.

You had resigned yourself to the Red Death, not being burned alive.

“Stop!” Your scream sounds hoarse, just about how it feels—like every breath and every word is being ripped from your throat, and costing incredible energy to do so.

Instead of listening to you, both men turn their heads sharply in your direction and head straight for the window. Your heart continues to race, somehow even faster now as they approach the window. They shouldn’t be coming closer… They could be putting themselves and thousands of others at risk. They can come back tomorrow, or maybe the next day, when you’re gone—when the virus is gone.

“Don’t come closer!” You try again, fingers turning white as you grip the windowsill to keep yourself upright. “I’m infected.” 

The last words come out as more of a sob than words. They had to get out, they had to go now.

But the bigger man continues to approach the window, the older man hanging back only slightly. If they are here to burn the place down, he might only be approaching the window to ensure that the last host is burned along with it. Your breath comes out in short gasps.

But, time slows nearly to a halt.

He reaches the window in a few short strides, and actually grabs one of the wooden planks haphazardly nailed to the wooden walls and rips it off with his bare hands. It is only then that you notice his eyes—the eyes of a cat, almost. Liquid gold. 

He is a Witcher. Witchers are immune to the plague. All of a sudden, your brain short-circuits, your pleas changing. They’re not here to burn down the district—they might be here to help. There had been no talk of that; none at all. But you don’t have to question the hows and whys of the Witcher and his old companion’s presence.

“Please… I’m the only one left. Help me.” Your eyes lock on the Witcher’s amber-gold ones for a moment, and he nods. Relief floods over you—not relief that you will live, necessarily, but relief that you won’t have to die alone.

And then the world goes black as you fall back onto the bed, body too exhausted to do anything else.

*** 

Your sleep is blurred with strange dreams, as you’d come to expect now with the fever raging through your body. You dream of a man, strong but gentle, carrying you somewhere—you don’t know where, but you know that the next bed you find yourself tossing around in smells of freshly washed linen; so much so that it soothes you into sleep. Or maybe it is the strange liquid you only half-remember being given that does that.

From there, more dreams. But these dreams are even stranger than the ones you’ve been having. Now, you dream of strange cloud, weaved together of the grays and blues of a calm evening and laced with glittering starlight. It pulses with some kind of magic, like nothing you’ve ever seen.

“He is your destiny.”

It takes you several moments to realize where the voice is coming from. It seems to emanate from the cloud, going straight to your head, like the words are being spoken out loud but only you can hear them.

“Destiny?” You respond, voice strained and whisper-quiet, the way your voice always seems to sound in dreams. Of course, you have no way of knowing that you’re speaking out loud as you lie eerily still on the bed—no longer tossing and turning from fever thanks to the sedating draught Regis gave you along with several other herbal mixtures he and Geralt had quite the time convincing you to ingest.

Regis looks from you to Geralt, who has hardly left your side since they’d found an uninhabited apartment a few blocks over, one of his all-knowing glances that Geralt found both infuriating and comforting at the same time. Geralt, on the other hand, turned to look at Regis, eyebrow raised in confusion—only to be met with that look.

Geralt had bathed you as best he could, dressing you in a clean linen shirt of his own while Regis tended to washing the bedclothes. You’d shivered in his arms, and he’d whispered over and over, “I’ve got you. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Regis had tended to the angry red marks that marred your skin in several places, covering them in some kind of thick poultice Geralt had never seen before, but he’d sagged with relief when he saw the way your face seemed to relax, no longer in a constant look of pain, as Regis bandaged them up.

“Its… fever dreams,” Geralt attempts, glancing back to Regis for confirmation.

“If you say so,” Regis responds in that way of his that told Geralt that he was utterly wrong. Your fever had broken hours ago, after all.

But, trapped in your dream, you have no way of knowing any of this, or that your responses to the mysterious starlight cloud were being spoken aloud, in the world beyond your dreams.

“Yes, my lost girl, your destiny.” 

“Destiny is bullshit,” you respond, a little stronger this time.

Outside of this dream-world in your head, Regis tips his head back and laughs, and even Geralt smiles. You sound just like him, how he’d once sounded.

“Destiny has brought you to him, it matters not what you believe.”

“Brought me to who? Why?” It is hard to keep the curious urgency from your voice now.

“To Geralt of Rivia; the one you’ve been waiting for since the day you were born.”

“Geralt of Rivia… Is my destiny?” You hadn’t even considered that you had any destiny beyond a miserable life in a miserable part of town; one likely as not to end early. One that almost had ended early.

But the voice does not respond, and you watch in mystified silence as the cloud vanishes to nothing, as if it hadn’t been there. And with it, everything is enveloped in black. A silent, dreamless sleep. 

Meanwhile, both Geralt and Regis stare in somewhat of the same mystified silence, before Regis says matter-of-factory, “You never told her your name.” 

***

You float back to consciousness slowly, the world full of vague shadows. You feel a soft breeze, cooling air from outside. Before daring to open your eyes, you move your fingers gingerly as if testing if your hands still work.

Apparently, they do. You feel the sheets beneath them, soft and cool and clean. They aren’t the same sweat-soaked ones you’d been tossing around in earlier. Even the air smells different—not the stuffy, stifling smell of sickness and death, but the cool, crisp smell of clean outside air. And there is the smell of herbs, sharp but not unpleasant.

“Look.” You hear the hushed voice of a man, an the memories of the two strangers walking straight into your desolate, death-filled piece of the city without a fear. Hearing the voice is enough to have you flickering your eyes open.

You are in a room somewhere, likely still in your old district. There is no way the guard would have let the two men—even if they were both apparently immune to the virus—leave with one of the sick. But this room is more spacious and definitely cleaner. You try not to think of who’s home it might have been and why they were gone. You suppose that doesn’t much matter now.

It takes only a moment for the Witcher to appear at your side, crouching down so that he level with you. Your eyes lock on those amber ones again, full of questions that you can’t bring yourself to ask, unsure if you are capable of talking. Your body still feels exhausted.

“You’re safe,” the Witcher says in a voice that is deep and gravely but calming. “I’m Geralt, and this is Regis.”

“T-Thank you,” you force out, eyes darting between the two men.

The robed one, standing a few feet behind the Witcher, speaks next, “You were nearly dead when we found you, but with a combination of Witcher’s remedies and my own herbal ones, your body was able to fight the virus.”

Your eyes open wide, in wonder and surprise. Regis talks as if he’s been alive for a good few centuries, centuries spent healing and curing people. But he can’t be more than sixty years old; or at least it appears that way.

Finally, you let your eyes drift to your own body, were you see a few bandages wrapped in various places, but you feel no pain. You even notice you are wearing clean clothes, and your skin no longer has the grimy, filthy feeling you’d grown used to in those last days. You blush slightly, wondering how exactly they’d managed that.

“How long have I been asleep?” You finally ask, surprised to find that your voice seems perfectly alright to speak.

“Three days,” the Witcher answers, eyes boring into yours. You can’t explain it, whatever is drawing you to him. Though, perhaps the fact that he’d saved your life is part of it. “It was better if you were sedated,” he explains.

“Three days…” You mumble, hardly believing it. You hadn’t expected to live. Most people didn’t, but these two had just appeared out of nowhere just as you were on the brink of death? You can’t help but think of your mother’s words—the ones that she’d always spoken to you when you were a child.

There is a reason for everything; we cannot know what web destiny has woven for us.

You’d always thought it was bullshit. But this… It was all too much of a coincidence. Though, the words brought with them a surge of guilt—what about all of your neighbors? Even if they were not kind, they didn’t deserve to die. If destiny was weaving some web for them, it had clearly fucked up royally.

But at the same time, the thought of destiny brought up some murky memory, probably of some fever dream you’d slept through over the last few days. A cloud, laced with starlight… A voice. But your mind can’t seem to conjure up any more than that.

“You spoke in your sleep,” Regis says as he hands you a flask of something that smells truly terrible. You sniff it gingerly before deciding that whatever they’d been giving you so far clearly saved your life, so you decide not to argue. You knock back the liquid, wincing as the bitterness of it slides unpleasantly down your throat.

You cough a few times before collecting yourself enough to ask, “I spoke?”

Regis, taking the flask back from you, nods with a slight smirk, glancing down at Geralt, as if he should be the one to tell you what you said. Your heart rate starts to speed up, but you can’t exactly place why. You remember a conversation… with the cloud? None of it makes any sense, it is too incomplete of a picture—so you just look at Geralt, eyes wide with curiosity.

“You spoke my name,” he says finally. “Have we… met before?”

It all hits you at once, then. The cloud, the starlight, the strange magic, and the voice. The voice going on about destiny. It is the first time you realize that he indeed hadn’t given you his name, not until after you’d woken up.

Your mind is about a million miles away as you mutter, “Holy… destiny.”

His amber eyes snap to yours, and somehow the almost electrical impulse that flows between you makes perfect sense, even though all rational thought would tell you otherwise. Time seems to freeze there, as Geralt tentatively reaches out a hand that is large enough to cover both of yours.

He doesn’t pry, doesn’t ask what you dreamed of; perhaps because he knows it would be difficult to believe, even if you tried to explain, or perhaps because he feels this same… feeling that you are feeling now. Though, he does have one question for you. 

“Destiny didn’t deign to share your name with me.” He cocks his head to the side, flashing a grin that feels like home, that feels like you’d been looking at that same grin for centuries.

You can’t help but grin back, “My name is Y/N.”

 Taglist:  @fairytale07 @geeksareunique @jesseswartzwelder @haru-ririchiyo @unnamedmaincharacter @lazilyscentedwerewolf  @valkyriepuff @comicbeginning @alwayshave-faith @hp-hogwartsexpress @curlyhairedandconfused​  @superconfusedandreadytorumble​ @keithseabrook27​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​  @sinnamon-bunn​  @sallyp-53​ @superconfusedandreadytorumble​

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #the witcher #emiel regis #catriona plague #the red death #tw disease

[shiwoart]

The story of a toxic love (OC backstory)

Sadly I don’t have much art from this character, but I can at least make a post telling backstory with some pieces of old artwork and sketches for the new design

This is the story of a tragic character who just wanted to love...

A long time ago in a very poor village near the coast lived a fisher family, they were a big family full of fishermen... and one female. After their mother left, the only daughter, Melina, was forced to the house work. However, she grew passionate about the ocean and fishing, she wanted to be useful like her brothers and her father. Sadly, Melina was not allowed to approach the ocean because there was a strong belief that women in the ocean brought misfortune to the family and the village.

One day, Melina disguised herself as a man and went to fish by herself. She soon learned how to fish. Suddenly, her family began to fall ill. A virus has invaded the village and has infected most part of the population. 

Since Melina was most of the time in the ocean, she did not get infected. Soon, when she discovered her family and her home were ill, she desperately searched for a cure. She searched for days for herbs for medicine... but it wouldn’t be enough. It was soon when she noticed she too got infected. Melina was desperate once she noticed her brothers slowly dying to the illness as well... The villagers began to attack Melina, because they believed that she was the cause of the virus and she had to be killed so they could be saved.

It was when one day she saw him. A man covered in bandages, a traveler who she never thought she’d see in this god forsaken land. She ran up to him and begged for him to help her people, she feared for the wrath of the villagers towards her. She may have wanted him to save the people, because she really wanted to save herself.

“I traveled around the world in search of someone. You... are exactly what i’m looking for. A beauty like yourself is rare to find... for it is only every 200 years a person like you is born. I shall grant you my power...” he said. Melina was relieved, he was a kind man willing to help everybody. He didn’t fear the illness, he was going to save everyone. She saw a kind man...

While he worked in a medicine, Melina could only help him clean the town from all the corpses and bury them. She was growing weaker, her family were at the peak of the virus and were about to die. Soon, the man finished the medicine. Melina noticed that it was a very small bottle, it wouldn’t be enough to save everybody.

“Your people were doomed from the very beginning... this is all I could do. you have two options. Use this medicine and save yourself from this ghost town or perish like everyone else.”

She didn’t have anything left. She chose him instead. She used the medicine and held his hand, wanting to be taken. She never looked back.

“My name is Dante, a beauty like yourself can become useful to me. Are you willing to follow me into the darkest secrets of the world?”

Melina joined him, he may have no face and just a body covered in dirty bandages... but she could see in him kindness. A lonely heart that just needed company. She didn’t see a demon, she didn’t see Death herself... she saw a human being. Time passed and soon she learned many things from Dante. She learned how to use black magic, she became his companion and would treat him, despite him being a wise man, he was weak and needed her support to keep going. Melina realized that she was a part of him now... and knew she had undying feelings for him. She couldn't tell if she felt genuine love for him, it was more of an obsession rather than love.

Years passed, Dante soon started to feel something within him. Normally he would have taken the girl and made her into his new vessel... but not her. He couldn’t just take her as his new vessel.

Dante offered Melina eternal life as long as she decided to stay with him. Melina thought that this was his way for accepting her feelings. She knew Dante was not human, she knew that he was an immortal being. She didn’t want to die and be without him after death. She wanted to stay with him forever.

“Forget who you were, I will give you all what you ask. I shall teach you everything.”

Melina didn’t know what she was getting herself into. But she agreed anyways. Blinded by her love, she accepted his offer.

Her body changed into a snake monster. A completely different person. Incredible speed, skill and great strength. He became Nero. The Snake Monster of hell, gate keeper of Dante’s lair. This was what he wanted. Nero didn’t hesitate to kill anybody who dared to step into his beloved’s chambers. He became a monster of legend, hundreds of years passed and soon he forgot his true identity. All he knew was that Dante was his reason to live. He forgot what love really was, just devotion. His feelings turned colder, he became a brainwashed demon like anybody else who fell for Dante.

Though... this was not what Dante wanted...

This is the monster of how a pure beautiful maiden turned into a Snake soldier of hell, the story of how Dante’s servant became the most powerful being in this world.

---

I am so sorry I am bad at writing in English but this the story of my most precious character Nero. If you have questions about him, I am open to answer all of them!

#oc #oc backstory #I am bad at writing ngghh #also sorry for the art

[shippers-roost]

“My Fault” (Inktober Day 11: Endverse)

Title: My Fault

Author: shippers-roost/I AM ZE BETA

Pairing: Sabriel—Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Summary: Set shortly after 5x04, Gabriel finally musters the courage to confront his brother Lucifer.

Word Count: 2881

Challenge: @thebunkerofletters Inktober Day 11

My fault.

Rock, gravel and shards of shattered glass crunch beneath my feet as I push on, marching deliberately toward my brother. My destiny.

My fault.

I could have helped them. Could have made a difference. After the angels left, I was the only one who was even close to Lucifer in power. Sure, my older brother had always been able to push me around, but that was a long time ago. I could have at least tried.

The empty city seems to mock me, ruined buildings reflecting my own thoughts back at me. My fault. Everything was my fault.

Sam and Dean had tried to bring me into the fight, back before they knew who I was, back when I was still in my so-called ‘witness-protection’. Of course, it was Sam that suggested they ask for my help. He was always willing to see the best in the supernatural, not like his brother. Dean would have rather killed me on sight.

I scoff, lips curling into a mocking sneer. Dean was right, they should have killed me. I didn’t help them, hell, I did the opposite, tried to force them to play the roles that destiny had chosen for them. That my brothers and sisters had chosen for them. Foolishly I thought that if Michael and Lucifer could battle it out once and for all, the fighting would come to an end. I know better now.

They tried to convince me otherwise, oh they tried, Sam especially. He truly believed that he could convince me, that he would be able to help me see sense and take a stand against my brother. Turns out he was right, if not in the way that he was expecting. It just took a few years for the message to sink in.

I stop in front of a chain link fence, my eyes lingering on the rusted metal sign, riddled with bullet holes like everything else on this God-forsaken planet. Jackson County Sanitarium. I can feel him, feel my brother on the other side, closer than we’ve been in millennia. He’s not bothering to reign his power in any longer, why would he? He’s in his true vessel now, one that can properly contain him no matter how much of his strength he draws on. And as far as Lucifer knows, there are no other angels here, no gods or demons strong enough to stand up to him. He’s wiped them all out.

Another thing that’s my fault.

I was there that day, when the other pagan gods gathered together, uniting to stop my brother. And I left moments before Lucifer descended and wiped them all out. Maybe I couldn’t have won, but surely I could have made a difference. If not for my weakness, my fear of confronting Lucifer, they might still be alive. Odin, Ganesh, Mercury, Baldur, Kali... Dead, like the countless others who have tried and failed to stand against Lucifer.

All of their deaths are on my shoulders, just a drop in the bucket compared to the mountains of sin I carry. If Dad ever returns, he will strip me of my grace and cast me down for what I’ve become. Our mission was to protect humanity, and we’ve failed. The Croatoan virus has culled their ranks, and what few humans have survived continue to die at Lucifer’s hands, day after day. It won’t be long before Lucifer has completely eradicated the human race.

But not if I can stop him.

For the first time in millennia, I call upon my true power, not that of a trickster, or the pagan god Loki, but the power of the archangel Gabriel. I stretch my wings out, relishing in sensation of the open air against my feathers. It’s been too long since I’ve let my mask fall away, since I’ve let myself be me.

With less than a thought, the fence is gone, eradicated from the Earth, and I march forward, closer to Lucifer. Surely, he can feel me now, I’m not hiding any longer, not running away anymore. I am going to fight.

If only I had made this decision earlier. Maybe, I could have saved him, could have prevented him from saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer in Detroit. Sam had resisted for so long, for nearly five years he resisted, refusing to submit to my brother, refusing to be used as a vessel. But even he couldn’t say no forever.

It was strange, how one little human could have such a dramatic effect on me, when everyone else had failed. Lucifer had begged me to join him in those early days, before Michael cast him into the Cage, before I had run away and hidden myself among the humans. The pagan gods, my second family, had tried to recruit me to fight against Lucifer, before they were all wiped out. They had taken me in, and although they had tried to kill me more than once, it was impossible to deny that I had cared for them. Still, I had refused, even after Kali revealed my true identity. I didn’t want to be part of the fighting, I just wanted it to be over.

And then Lucifer took Sam. I had tried to push Sam into saying ‘yes’ to Lucifer years earlier, but I couldn’t have guessed the pain I felt when it actually happened, when I realized that he was lost to me forever. Despite my best efforts, I had fallen for Sam Winchester, and I only realized it when it was too late. I can’t save Sam, I know that. Lucifer will never release his hold, not when he finally has Sam in his clutches. But, I can end his suffering. I can do what Sam asked me to five years ago, and join the fight.

He is waiting for me as I round the corner into the garden, my blade in hand. “Gabriel.”

“Lucifer.” I will myself to look past his vessel, to the twisted form of my brother, but I can’t. All I can see is the man I love standing in front of me.

“It’s been a long time.” It’s Lucifer’s words, but it’s Sam’s voice, Sam’s mouth and lips. Fighting him is going to be harder than I realized. My fingers tighten around my blade. Can I go through with it? Can I kill Sam?

“It has.” I agree. “I haven’t seen you since you threw that tantrum, and Dad had you locked away.”

“Watch yourself brother.” Lucifer says quietly, his expression crueler than anything I had ever seen from Sam. “Why are you doing this? For Michael?”

“Michael’s gone.” I say, my mind running through my options. I can’t trick him, Lucifer taught me most of what I know. This is going to have to be a straight up fight. “He and the other angels all left a long time ago.”

“All except for you.” Lucifer’s tone is one of mild interest, as if he’s genuinely curious. He sounds so much like my brother now, before he fell. “Why did you stay behind?”

“You know I haven’t been a part of heaven for a long time Lucy.” I say. I can’t take my eyes off of him, he looks so much like Sam, and acts so much like the brother that I love. It’s almost possible to forget everything he’s done. “I’m here for the humans. The ones we were sent to protect.”

“Still toeing the company line?” Lucifer sneers, the expression out of place on Sam’s face, the facade of humanity gone in an instant. “I thought better of you Gabriel. You’ve seen more of humanity than any of us, you’ve seen them as they truly are. Broken. Flawed. Worthless. Why would you want to help them?”

‘Because Sam Winchester would want me to.’ 

“Because they’re better than us.” I say emphatically, stepping closer to Lucifer. We’re only a few yards apart now. “Dad was right, they may be flawed, but it’s their flaws that make them perfect. They try to do better, to learn from their mistakes, to forgive. It’s something that should be cherished and protected.”

“No.”

“No,” Lucifer repeats, and suddenly his blade is in his hand, faster than even I could track. “I don’t believe you. If that was true, if this was really about humanity, then you would have interfered long ago. When the angels left, or when the Croatoan virus was released, or maybe even before then. But not now. It’s been too long, and even if you kill me, humanity is doomed.”

Lucifer starts to pace, and I match him, until we’re circling each other in this barren garden, our blades in our hands, two brothers ready to fight, ready to kill each other.

“This is about something else.” Lucifer hisses, his lips twisting into a cruel smile. “Something far more recent.”

I don’t allow myself to express any emotion as we continue to circle each other. There’s no point in giving Lucifer an advantage.

Abruptly, Lucifer stops. “Tell me Gabriel,” He says, almost casually. “Does your vessel ever talk to you?”

I stop moving, unsure if I should answer. What was Lucifer’s game? “Not anymore.” I admit at last, not seeing any harm in answering. “Loki’s been quiet for a long time.”

“That’s how Sam was at first,” Lucifer says, and unwillingly, my hand tightens around my blade. How dare he mention Sam? “He was silent, I guess he felt ashamed that he had given in to me. But, ever since I killed his brother in this very garden, he won’t shut up. He’s tried pushing me out, tried resisting, honestly it’s all rather tiring.”

Relief and fear flood me almost simultaneously. Relief that Sam was still sane, still trying to resist my brother’s hold. Fear of just what Lucifer was doing to him, what he was forced to watch his body do.

“But, I’ve never seen him so chatty,” Lucifer continues, his smile widening. “He’s been begging me to leave you alone ever since you stopped hiding your power. He’s tried pleading, and bargaining and everything in between just so that I would let my little brother go unharmed.”

Lucifer cupped one hand around his mouth and leaned in closer to me as if he was whispering. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say little Sammy had a crush on you Gabriel.”

I don’t answer, but I can’t stop the strange warmth in my stomach. Seeing his body standing there, jerked around by my brother was even harder now that I knew my feelings were reciprocated. I desperately wish there was some way I could force Lucifer to leave him, so that Sam and I could be together.

“Can you imagine that?” Lucifer laughs coldly. “A human falling in love with an archangel. Just imagine what our father would have said. Of course, it’s nothing compared to what he would have done if he knew that the reverse was also true.”

So, Lucifer already knew. I stare defiantly at my brother, daring him to say something. No matter how much it would hurt me, I was still prepared to kill him, even if it meant losing Sam. I knew that’s what he would want me to do.

“How could you have fallen so low Gabriel?” Lucifer asks, shaking his head softly. “You are an archangel, a being of primordial creation. What could this human possibly offer you?”

“I don’t expect you to understand Lucifer.” I hiss, unable to hold back. “You’ve fallen and twisted so far that you are barely recognizable as an angel any longer.”

“Maybe so.” Lucifer agrees, inclining his head. “But I still have the power of an archangel. I’m still stronger than you are. And, even if by some miracle you manage to overpower me, do you really have it in you to kill your brother? To kill Sam Winchester?”

“I will if I have to.”

Lucifer smiles, a sadistic expression that is at odds with Sam’s face. “Oh believe me Gabriel. If you want to stop me, you will have to.”

That’s all the warning I get, and in a fraction of a second, I’m flat on my back deflecting Lucifer’s blade with mine, desperately trying to stay alive. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight for my life, and even longer since I used an angel blade. My only saving grace is that Lucifer seems equally out of practice.

I blast Lucifer back, and jump up to my feet, healing the gash on my forearm in the process. He is even stronger and faster than I thought. This isn’t going to be easy.

“I’m surprised Gabriel.” Lucifer hisses, wiping his bleeding lip. “None of your usual tricks? I was half-expecting a decoy while you tried to sneak up behind me.”

“It wouldn’t work.” I shrug, rolling my neck. “You’ve always been good at seeing past my illusions.”

Lucifer smiles briefly, and for a moment, he’s my brother again. Until it falters, and he lunges, our battle resuming.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize just how outmatched I am. We may both be archangels, but Lucifer is older and far stronger. I manage to land a few glancing blows on him, leaving minor wounds, but in the end, he easily disarms me, and pins me down, his blade at the ready.

“I don’t want to do this brother.” Lucifer whispers, pressing the blade against my throat. “Please, don’t make me do this.”

I’m worn and beaten, but I refuse to let my brother have the last word. “You said it yourself Lucy.” I pant, fighting for air through broken ribs and a punctured lung. “Nobody makes us do anything.”

Lucifer’s eyes flash with recognition at the familiar phrase. The same ones he shouted at Michael, Raphael and I in the days before his fall, back when he wanted us to unite against our father. As he draws his hand back, I desperately try to memorize his face. Sam’s face.

“Sorry Sam. I tried.”

The words slip out without me meaning to. Maybe it’s a sign of weakness, but I can’t bring myself to care any longer. Lucifer is going to kill me, I might as well make sure Sam knows that this, all of this was for him.

Lucifer pauses, drawing the moment out. For all his claims that he doesn’t want to do this, he certainly seems to be enjoying it.

“I love you Sam.”

I close my eyes, waiting for the blade to fall, for my life to end. It’s been a long life, filled with more bad than good, but in the end I died doing something right. I suppose I couldn’t ask for more than that.

“Gabriel.”

Lucifer’s voice is different, harsher, more strained, but somehow softer. I don’t care any longer, I’ve accepted my fate, and I won’t give Lucifer the satisfaction of seeing fear in my eyes.

“I love you.”

My eyes fly open. That wasn’t Lucifer.

His face is drawn and tired, he’s clearly straining to remain in control, but it’s him. Sam. He is somehow holding off Lucifer’s possession, momentarily in control of his body again.

“Sam.” I lift my arm, my fingers brushing against his cheek. It doesn’t feel real, it can’t be real. Has Lucifer already killed me?

“Thank you Gabriel.” Sam forces out, each word clearly costing him a great deal. I can see his face straining with the effort of holding my brother back. “I’m sorry. I wish this could have ended differently.”

“Sam?” I can’t form a more coherent answer, my mind is rattled from Lucifer’s beating.

Before I can even try to make sense of what’s happening, Sam’s arm moves, and the deadly silver blade he holds flashes in the light of the dying sun as he drives it home, deep into his own chest.

Sam slumps to the ground, his hand falling from the blade that juts from his chest.

I scramble to my feet, ignoring the pain of my own wounds. “Sam!” I sprint over, gathering what little power I have left and place two fingers against his forehead. 

“No.” Sam grunts, grabbing my wrist and tugging my hand away. “Don’t. You’ll heal him too.”

“Sam, I...” I can’t come up with the words, can’t find any way to express the emotion flooding through me. I can’t just leave him here. I thread my fingers through his, desperately trying to convey the depth of my feelings for him with the simple gesture.

“You can’t.” Sam whispered, his voice even weaker now. He’s fading fast, he has maybe seconds left. “Goodbye Gabriel. I love you.”

I close my eyes and cradle Sam against my chest, not moving, even as his ragged breathing hitches one last time, and stops forever. As Sam’s body dies, the last remnants of Lucifer, my fallen brother dies with him, his wings searing the grass, the ground and me.

I ignore the pain of the burns, ignore my injuries, ignore everything as I sit there, holding Sam’s body, and for the first time in my incredibly long life, stretching back to the time before creation, tears fall from my eyes.

#inktoberbunker #supernatural #sabriel #sam x gabriel #sabriel fanfic #my writing

[quiescentcastiel]

Through the Gates of Hell

this took me way too long to write/post lmao. 2.3k, T, dean/cas, sort of 12x23 coda, resurrection bitches, fluff and angst ha!

He woke suddenly, his heart racing, and sat up in his bed. For a moment, Dean couldn’t remember how he got there, but as he blinked hard, feeling around the bedside table for his phone, the memories flooded back into his mind.

It was ok. Everything was ok. Hell, everything was perfect, and yet for some God forsaken reason Dean still woke up in the middle of the night plagued by all the memories of his previous life. He had to let it go now; he had to leave his past behind. But no matter how hard he tried, the image of blood soaked hands would always find some way to push to the foreground of his mind sending shocks of desperate panic throughout his body.

Dean checked his phone. It was 2:07am. He’d forgotten to dim the screen down before he’d fallen asleep, and the light at full brightness burned the back of his eyeballs. It made him scowl, but it also was the little switch that erased the memories of this night’s dreams from his mind. He quickly turned the phone back off and laid it back on his bedside table.

Sighing and leaning back against the headboard, he let his eyes fall to the figure lying next to him. Dean couldn’t help smiling as he slid back down next to his best friend, watching the covers moved steadily with Cas’ rhythmic breathing. It was still hard to believe that everything had worked out so well, but death always did have a way of revealing certain truths. Dean couldn’t imagine what he would’ve done had Jack not brought Cas back to life. Not that he felt entirely comfortable with that fact, however. Nothing felt right, yet everything was perfect. More than perfect really; Dean could simply reach out and wrap his arms around Cas’ warm body. In fact he-

“You’re thinking so loud that you woke me up.”

Dean blinked. He’d been boring holes into the back of Cas’ head with his eyes and had not realized that he was no longer asleep. “Mmmm, sorry.”

Cas shifted, turning himself around to face Dean and reaching his arm out to find one of his hands. Face to face, Cas’ eyes glinted in the dull light that was shining from under the door.

“What’re you thinking about?” he murmured sleepily, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s knuckles.

“Nothing. Just a weird dream is all.”

Cas blinked and then frowned slightly as he read behind what Dean wasn’t telling him. “Was it a nightmare again?”

“Nah, just a bad dream. I can’t even remember what about.” That was true, for all intents and purposes, but Dean’s nightmares came from real memories, and those he couldn’t so easily forget.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Cas soothed. “You know there’s no evil in this world; that’s why we’re here.”

“Is that what you tell yourself every morning?” said Dean. It must’ve come out a little harsher than he’d intended because Cas’ eyes widened slightly. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t get bad dreams too.”

Cas stopped rubbing Dean’s hands but tightened his grip.

“Only of losing you, Dean.”

Dean flinched, tearing his eyes away from Cas and swinging his legs off the bed. He sat up, letting the sheets fall to his waist. His back was to Cas, but he knew that his eyes hadn’t left him.

“Is that all?” Dean murmured. “What about all the people you’ve hurt? You’ve killed or condemned hundreds.”

“Atrocities which, in this world, neither you nor I have committed.”

“Doesn’t mean they never happened,” Dean said bitterly. “This world may be perfect, but I’m definitely not.”

“So?”

“So I don’t deserve to be here,” Dean snapped. He pushed away the sheets clinging to his body and got off the bed. On his way out of the bedroom, he grabbed a dressing gown.

He should’ve been surprised to see Charlie alive and sitting in the kitchen of the bunker, but many things had changed in the last couple weeks. Well, except for the fact that she still had a terrible sleep schedule.

“Morning, Dean,” she said quietly. She held up a mug. “Kinda fresh coffee?”

“Uh.” He debated whether he was going to try to sleep more tonight, but nowhere in his mind did that seem like a likely possibility. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get it.”

He shuffled over to the coffee pot, grabbing himself a mug from a high shelf. Once his mug was filled, Dean took a sip. It was lukewarm, but sent a cleansing feeling through Dean’s body. He set the mug down on the table opposite Charlie and pulled up a chair.

“You find anything interesting in the Men of Letters records?” he asked. The books about monsters in this Men of Letters library was all theoretical. Hell, the all books in this world about anything supernatural were nothing more than fiction. Though dead and gone as usual, the Men of Letters had been a secret organization of a more Dexter like operation. This bunker was instead protection for nuclear war, killer-virus outbreak, or any other armageddon that humans could bring upon themselves.

“Yeah, but nothing I want to talk about at two in the morning,” Charlie said, shuddering. “I gave up on that hours ago.”

“So what are you doing still awake?”

“Um.” Charlie blushed. “Learning sign language for when Sam and Eileen get back.”

Dean grinned. With no hunting to be done, Sam and Eileen had decided to take a roadtrip together to celebrate their recent reunion. “You realize they’re back in two days. How much do you expect to know by then?”

Charlie flipped him off from behind her laptop.

“Impressive. You’re really getting the basics down.”

“I don’t see you making any more progress than me. You’re not forgetting the bet three of us made, are you?”

“Cas is teaching me.”

“Ah. Must be nice to have a boyfriend fluent in everything,” Charlie teased.

“All our efforts are pointless anyways. You know Kevin is gonna turn up with an ASL vocabulary big enough to give Cas a run for his money.”

Charlie laughed quietly. “Oh god, I know.”

Dean chuckled too, but there was something sobering about the though of Kevin and Eileen talking. Not to mention Charlie sitting in front of him. He took a sip of his coffee to try to hide the frown on his face from her. She noticed anyway.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Dean. He looked away from her, but when he glanced back, she was still watching him. He sighed. “Sometimes it’s just too good to be true.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“It’s just moments like this, with everyone back from the dead, that make me feel the most like something isn’t right; none of this should exist. And then I’ll be stuck wondering, y’know, where are we really? Are we in heaven? Are we dead?”

“You know we’re not, Dean.”

“Then what are we?”

“We’re safe,” said Cas. Dean hadn’t even heard him come in. Cas brushed by him as he sat in the chair next to Dean, continuing to move as quietly and smoothly as a ghost.

A sudden flash behind Dean’s eyes showed Cas lying open eyes in a hospital bed. He pushed it away, but the image was quickly replaced by one of Sam and Eileen getting in a crash on their roadtrip, followed by Charlie getting killed in a mugging.

“Safe. What does that even mean?” Dean asked mockingly, feeling his chest tighten. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to wipe his mind blank, and upon opening his eyes again, he saw Cas and Charlie, alive, staring up at him, their faces deeply concerned. He hadn’t even noticed himself stand up. Shifting his feet uncomfortably, he muttered, “Someone could still get in a car accident or something stupid.”

“I dream of a death so normal,” Cas answered simply.

“Dean, what you’re talking about is a chance in a million, when hunting has directly put your life at risk so many times. Why is this life so much worse?”

“Because life is about putting yourself out on the line to do something right! If I’m gonna die anyway…” Dean stopped and took a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter and more subdued. ��I can’t lie and say I’ve never dreamed of this life. I’ve just wished so many times for it all to end that I’d come to terms with the fact that it wouldn’t. Not until I die, and not even past that.”

“But now it has,” said Cas. “It has ended, and you have nothing more to worry about than how to spend the rest of your life with your friends. With me.”

“I can’t possibly deserve this.”

“Yes, you can. You do,” Cas insisted. “All this atonement through hunting was forcing you further and further away from paradise and from believing you deserve to be here.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that people are dying back in the real world.”

“This is the real world,” Cas said firmly.

“There are millions of real worlds,” Charlie added. “Jack is like the multiverse theory personified.”

“Which sounds to me like he’s another monster we should gank.”

“I was probably a monster you should’ve ‘ganked’ when we first met. But you didn’t.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t try.”

“No, but it was for the better…” Cas stared hard at Dean, then looked down, as if he was closing himself off. “Wasn’t it?”

A twang of pain echoed through Dean’s chest. “Of course, Cas.” He sat back down in his chair and pulled Cas’ hands into one of his own. Cas tilted his head up to look at Dean as he wrapped his hand around the back of his neck, letting his fingers ruffle through Cas’ already messy hair.

“I’d go back and punch old me in the face for trying to kill you,” Dean said. A smile flickered on Cas’ face. “But that doesn’t mean that Jack is going to be like you.”

“He’s only done good things so far. He’s done everything he promised.”

“I know,” Dean admitted. “I still don’t think I can trust him.”

“Then trust me,” said Cas, an earnest look in his eye.

Dean gritted his teeth, but then he nodded and closed the last of the distance between them. Cas leaned into the kiss and broke one of his hands free from Dean to reach up to his cheek.

“Ugh, if you two are gonna start being grossly cute, I guess my time here is up.” Charlie rose from her chair, closing her laptop and gathering her stuff up in her arms. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Sorry, Charlie.” Dean pulled away from Cas to look up at her. “And, uh, thanks.”

She smiled and walked around the table to put her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I’m here for you, Dean.”

“I know.”

“Goodnight, Charlie,” said Cas, lifting his head up tiredly.

She giggled to herself. “Goodmorning, bitches.”

After Dean watched her leave, he turned back around and buried his nose in Cas’ hair. He let his eyes fall shut. It was a good feeling, he couldn’t deny, to have no obligations and no reason not stay up with Cas and sleep through tomorrow instead. Nothing to hunt the next day, nothing to worry about hurting Cas, or Sam, or Eileen, or Charlie, or Kevin, or anyone really. At least nothing that only they knew about and could stop.

“This is it, isn’t it? No monsters, no demons, no angels, nothing.” Dean sighed and leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “It’d be nice to know what was happening back there though. I wish I could… I dunno, summon Crowley or something.”

“But Jack put the fragments of his human soul back into his vess-”

“Yeah, I know. And you can bet he’s over there causing trouble.”

“But it’s not our problem anymore.”

As those words echoed throughout the kitchen, something lifted from Dean’s shoulders, and for once he didn’t feel like he was holding the entire world anymore. “It’s not our problem anymore,” he repeated.

Despite the coffee, Dean was sure he’d finally be able to sleep again. He stood up, pulling Cas with him, and lead the two of them back to their shared room. He let go of Cas only to take off his dressing gown and crawl into the other side of the bed. Once there, he immediately scooched over to the middle and pulled Cas into his arms, hugging him tightly, and placing kisses all along Cas’ brow. Cas moved his head to fit in the crook of Dean’s neck and judging by his warm breath, promptly fell asleep. Dean too shut his eyes and found himself slowly drifting away into the dark night.

But a blazing flash tore his eyes open. He looked around, blinking, feeling a cool breeze that could only come from a lake at night. His knees were sunk into the mud; he was no longer lying down, and Cas was no longer warm in his arms. Breath caught in Dean’s throat as he looked down at Cas who was instead crumpled on the ground, ashen wings staining the muddy ground. The warmth of Dean’s vision slowly left him, and he let out a strangled cry.

A foreign hand gripped his shoulder, and Dean turn to look at the stranger leaning over him. It was a man, completely naked, with yellow hair that dripped from his head and yellow eyes that blazed from their sockets. His skin glowed, gaunt and pale in the moonlight, and his voice was an urgent whisper:

“Did you see it, Dean? All that I can do for you.” Every fiber of the man was humming. “Did you see paradise?”

#destielfanficnet #destiel fanfic #spn coda #spn fanfic #12x23 coda #my writing #spn #season 12 #otp: i do everything you ask #surprise! this blog isn't run by a robot

[darkagesreloaded-blog]

Dark Ages Reloaded - Reenactors sixth side story

- Stop… - panting the injured officer. – I can’t take any more steps… - You must! – replied the helmless soldier, while he was searching for enemies in the lights of the flaming buildings. His face was flooded with sweat. His short hair was smelled from smoke. – I won’t let you die here! - I said stop! – hissed the major. – It was an order! The soldier obeyed. He was dragging his superior through a broken glass door to a small market that seemed empty. They had found shelter behind the desk. They were the last survivors of the elite squad ordered to guard the terrorists in the Puskás stadium. - This was a hell of a day… - whispered the major while he was freed from his sand colored bullet proof vest. He had hissed up while the soldier has touched his shot, then his bitten wound. - Okay, first I will cleanse the wounds then I will try to stop the bleeding… - Mountvalley started to search for alcohol and bandages, but his superior stopped him. - It is too late. – He said. His head had freed from the helmet, and now his red hair had clung to his forehead from sweat. – The infection got into my blood. I have no chance to survive… - What are you talking about? – asked back Mountvalley. He felt confused. - It was neither a terrorist attack nor an accident… - the red haired major tried to tell the truth, but had to stop because he had coughed up a lots of blood. – The blockade, the evacuation, the searching for the „terrorists” just were the disguise for a greater plan. – He panted. – The citizens were infected with a deadly virus, but something went wrong… - By Whom? Why? – Mountvalley was an experienced soldier, but he felt, that this is getting too much for him. – What the hell are you talking about, Kassák? - The mankind had been betrayed… - the major coughed again. – The governments, and the lodges that controlled them… The genocide was planned a long time ago… We overcrowded the world… The world wars had done too much collateral damage, with so less success… - he panted. His face getting paler and paler with every breath. – The nuclear war could destroy the whole nature, so they needed a sophisticated solution… Please tell Ilona that I loved her so much… I loved her all the time… Please don’t let me to turn! – He had coughed once again and then got stilled forever. Mountvalley had closed the eyes of his superior and said goodbye to his friend. The soldier unsheathed his dagger and prepared to stroke down. If someone would have seen him, could glance the mirroring of the fires, that raging in the streets. The reddish flare was just as torrid as the sand of Afghanistan that day, when they had met at the first time. Their friendship had begun fifteen years ago on those deserted land. Mountvalley was as green as the grass at spring, who had ordered to join the company of Kassák who was a litenaunt at that time. - I will not lying to you from glory and fame… - the middle aged officer welcomed his rookies with these words. – You are no more than cannon-fodder, and will lie in unknown graves. The rookies had to notice, that the litenaunt told the truth. The company had ordered to hunt down the famous warlord Dilam Raghib Mazali. They had got a few veteran legionaries as support. Mountvalley remembered only the name two of them: one was Jean-Phillip Fourier, the other was Fourier’s step daughter, the blondish, deadly chick Josephine, nicknamed Joe. Mountvalley was still shuddering if he think to the nights, they had spent together. The mission was a well-organized trap. The convoy was attacked. Mountvalley got a shoot, as he tried to protect the litenaunt, later Kassák got a bullet as he tried to save his soldiers life. They were the only four survivors of the massacre. They had a long way back to the camp. Thanks to their luck they have also an occasion to deal with Dilam Mazali. Since that mission Mountvalley and his superior were not just colleagues but friends too. The sod thought that Kassák, who promoted to a major, was honest to him, but he has to realize, that he never really knew the man behind the uniform. Mountvalley was shaking his head to dismiss the bad thoughts. As he raised his head the dead was glanced back at him. The major has had brown eyes while he stayed alive, but that turned into veiled white in his death. The undead takes a deep breath with a loud growl. His lips has revealed that his palate turned into grey. His always smiling face transformed into a fearsome snarl. His blackened fingers were getting curved into claws. Before it could attack the dagger flashed and stroke down to the weakest part of the forehead. Mountvalley stroke as he had learned from Jean-Philip Fourier on that long gone days. As he pulled back his weapon it had took out some blackened and addled brain smells like a rotten corpse. Mountvalley spent too much time with his dying friend. Growls had sounded up just right from the street. The sod checked his AK-47 rifle and his side arm a PA-63 pistol. He wasn’t happy after all. He had only twelve rounds left. - I would pay everything if I had my sabre just right here. – He whispered as he thought about his chosen hobby, the reenactment. The market suddenly crowded with undead. Outside, at the street there were even more zombies. Many of them seemed unharmed, only they faces were streaked with bloodstains. The other part of them were torn and mauled. They were different in many, but the same in, that their eyes were veiled and white, just like Kassák’s eyes were. Their jaws were clicks together, and clicks together again, like the cats jaws, when it saws a bird flying, but he felt the taste of it in their mouth. An average every person should have break in this situation, but Mountvalley was a though warrior. After he had shoot his last round he kills with his gun-stock later with his dagger. Gore and brain sprays in the air as the soldier were made his way to the open. As he had reached the streets, his short hair was blown by the wind that smells from smoke and decay. New Zombies were approaching. - It’s high time to leave. – He thought. He were left over the dead and jogging toward his home. Despite Mountvalley didn’t living far from the place where he left over the corpse of his friend and superior, it takes three days to reach the desired place. He had hindered by the zombies, ferocious gangs and strange shadows, whom only approached when the sun went down. It was night fall when he reached his homestead. It seems, that this area was less suffered the apocalypse. He had met with the last zombie about two hours ago. The house was seems the same as he left it a week before. There were no sign of zombies. The lights were on. All suffers he must bear in the last days seems only the part of a nightmare. This was too nice to be true. Mountvalley had waiting about an hour before he sneaked closer. The door wasn’t closed. It was opened as he pushed down the handle. His bride were sitting in the kitchen, accompanied by an unknown man. The soldier almost get smiled, but then he noticed the veiled eyes of the beloved woman, that seems like faintly smoldering in green. Flora was dead. She had been killed by the voice, but her face was cleansed from the bloodstains. - Oh my God… - whispered Mountvalley. The soldier’s armour were standing right beside the door. He had took up his sabre. The blade slid from the scabbard. He almost moved on to kill his beloved one, the stranger, and then to throw away his own life, but he stopped, when the stranger raised his voice. - I wouldn’t do that… - he whispered. His voice was alike the sound of the rusty hinges. Mountvalley had paralyzed. This was the first time when he truly surveyed the stranger. The man wore a long cloak with coif. The clothes were almost hide his entire body, only his mummy-like hands were left visible. His skin was grey and tattooed with ancient symbols. In his left he was holding a staff as high as a tall man. The staff’s head was a skull, that gleaming in a golden color. The eyeholes of the skull were smoldering in green and the top of the head were sparkling in green time to time. The stranger had lifting up his head and the sabre almost fallen out of Mountvalley’s hand. The eyes of the unknown man were firmly blazing with green fire. He had been surrounded by the aura of malice. - Sit down! – ordered the man in the hood. – Your bride is alive, she just reached a new level of existence. - She is dead… - whispered Mountvalley. His sabre was lifting up to strike down to the dreadful stranger. The hooded man nodded. The smolder was getting stronger, transforms into glowing in the eyes of Flora. - I’m alive… - whispered the woman to his groom. – Marcus, please sit down. The necromancer wanted to tell you something important… Mountvalley released his saber and obeyed to the orders. The apocalypse, the zombies and the fact, that he didn’t sleep in the last ninety hours were drained his strength. The soldier sat down. The necromancer was nodded again and the glowing tamed back to faint smoldering again. - Very good… Now please let me to introduce myself. – said the necromancer. – My name is Rasid Ibn Hammad, nowadays called as the Thousand Years Old. - Rasid… Ibn… Hammad… - repeated Mountvalley in astonishment. The name was so familiar, but he couldn’t remember where he had heard that. The recognition was coming abruptly. – King Stephan, the Saint… - He had become a saint? – asked the necromancer. – Yes, we had a minor conflict with that bumpkin. He didn’t tolerate the ideas that I spread in his newborn kingdom, and he had buried me alive… But this was an old story, and I have come for other reasons. – Ibn Hammad changed the topic. – It would be hard to understand young friend of mine, but all that happening around you is a must. My mistress, the Forsaken, had awaited almost fifteen thousand years for the occasion, and now it is arrived. Her war for save the earth had just begun. The army of the undead has more soldiers than you could imagine, and getting stronger with every fallen enemy… but as any army, this is also needed an experienced… How did you say nowadays? – asked Rasid, then answered his own question. – General… Yes, a general! - Why me? – asked back Mountvalley resignedly. - Your blood has an ancient origin as all of the survivors of the scream of doom. – said the necromancer. – There are a lot’s of them, but only a few left with pure blood. To tell the truth, there was another candidate, but that fool, Darel, had refused us… - Darel… - Mountvalley has known well this name. - Yes Darel, the man who was your apprentice one time… - Ibn Hammad had getting angry. It seems, that the he had felt the failure to his own shame. – Take an oath to my mistress, and I promise that you will be the ruler of the world beside her! - And what will happened with Flora, if I accepting your offer? – Mountvalley’s broken soul were drifting between the possibilities. He glanced to his bride and he knew there is no other way to help her, than the acceptance. - She will be yours forever. – Ibn Hammad also glanced to Flora. – She will forever remain as you see her now. She will be young and beautiful, and do anything you want and never tried before. She will be the part of you like never before. “Until death do us apart.” I heard, that the spouses taking oath with this phrase to be one forever… - the necromancer laughed. – Please, tell me young friend of mine, how could be this oath truer, than you and Flora unite in the eternal service of the Queen of the Undead? The silence was long, but Mountvalley had finally accepted his fate. - What should I do? - He asked. - Just straighten your arm. – The necromancer get smiled under his hood. – I will do the rest. Mountvalley obeyed and outstretched his arm. The necromancer unsheathed his sacrificing dagger, a cruel, wicked, old piece of bronze. The edge were blackened by infected gore. The wound that cut with it, was so small. It contains four slices and form the vulva that had decorated the necromancer’s robe and pale skin. Mountvalley has closed his eyes. He felt cold as the decay has spread all over his body. As the newborn general opened his eyes, it blazes with green fire. Mountvalley had realized, that what he felt the aura of malice was an ancient force what came from the necromancer. He had drained this force and had become even more powerful, that he could ever imagine. Thanks to Ibn Hammad, Mountvalley had felt the necromancers all over the world. He felt their creations, the keepers, the officers of the undead army. And he felt the billions of plain zombie soldiers, the possessed who had ruled through the officers painted with blood. They were a horde without leader. They act separately, as the necromancers ordered to them by their free will. Despite they number they were vulnerable. They had become stronger with every fallen enemy, but there were survivors who destroyed hundreds of the undead. And, as it was promised, Mountvalley felt his bride as never before. He saw the hidden thoughts of the beloved one: the love that she felt toward to him, and the fraud, that she had committed many times with their neighbor. The saber stroke down. The top half of Flora’s head flew across the kitchen in a spray of gore and brain. - Yes, she had deserved this. – whispered Ibn Hammad. – Just as all the living. Open your mind and see the truth. It is high time to got the world burned down into ashes! The general opened his mind as the necromancer said. He had been rushed by the memories of the undead. He almost overloaded by the waste and grime. The sins, that had committed by the zombies had forgiven, but the living must purified by death. This was the thought of Mountvalley as well as his mistresses too. - Do as you will. – whispered the Forsaken in a velvety, but icy voice. - As you wish my mistress. – Mountvalley nodded. It just takes a simple thought and the horde of the undead had become a killing machine. He gave his orders, and his soldiers had gone to get the mankind extinct.

photo from pinterest

#zombie #zombie apocalypse #dark ages reloaded #darkagesreloaded #novel #horror #conspiracy #reenactors #reenactment

[blessedarticles-blog]

The Curse of Moses

But it shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God, to observe to do all his commandments and his statutes which I command thee this day; that ALL THESE CURSES SHALL COME upon thee, and overtake thee:

Deuteronomy 28:15

I will camp against you encircling you, and I will set siegeworks against you, and I will raise up battle towers against you.

Isaiah 29:3 (NASB)

Unlike the curse of Adam and the curse on Eve that were brief, heavyweight statements, the curse of Moses was delivered in great detail. It is interesting to see how these detailed curses have played out in the life of the nation of Israel. Let’s look at the details of the curse. The curses of Moses were directed at the Jews. These curses were to come upon them because of their disobedience.

What Picture Has the Curse of Moses Created?

A curse creates a picture!

Every curse creates an unmistakable picture!

To recognize a curse you must know the picture it creates!

The curse on man creates the unmistakeable picture of toil and sweat that yields little fruit.

The curse on women creates the unmistakeable picture of sorrow, disappointment and struggles with husbands and children.

The curse on Jews creates the unmistakeable picture of worldwide inexplicable hatred, scattering and persecution.

The curse on Jew haters creates the picture of inexplicable ultimate defeat and humiliation.

The curse on black people creates the inexplicable picture of servanthood, poor leadership, poverty and insignificance.

A trained medical doctor will notice certain symptoms and signs because he is trained to recognize the picture of a disease. It is an unmistakeable picture to him because he is trained to see it. In the same way, you will now recognize the picture of the curse when you see it. Your trained eyes will pick out the unmistakeable picture that shows that a curse is working.

The Details of the Curse

1. The curse on everything you do:

The Lord shall send upon thee cursing, vexation, and rebuke, IN ALL THAT THOU SETTEST THINE HAND UNTO for to do, until thou be destroyed, and until thou perish quickly; because of the wickedness of thy doings, whereby thou hast forsaken me. The Lord shall make the pestilence cleave unto thee, until he have consumed thee from off the land, whither thou goest to possess it.

Deuteronomy 28:20-21

2. The curse of strange diseases that wipe out the population:

The Lord shall make THE PESTILENCE CLEAVE UNTO THEE, UNTIL HE HAVE CONSUMED THEE from off the land, whither thou goest to possess it. The Lord shall smite thee with a consumption, and with a fever, and with an inflammation, and with an extreme burning, and with the sword, and with blasting, and with mildew; and they shall pursue thee until thou perish.

Deuteronomy 28:21-22

A pestilence is an epidemic that sweeps through the population and affects many people. The Ebola virus, the HIV virus and the bird flu virus are well known to have produced modern epidemics (pestilence).

Epidemics wiped out thousands of Jews during the Second World War. The Germans established more than 400 ghettos for the purpose of isolating and controlling Jews. These ghettos were overcrowded unhealthy quarters in which as many as one thousand Jews could be found living in one building. This led to the outbreak of epidemics of cholera and typhus among the Jews. Two thousand Jews died every month in the Warsaw ghetto from epidemics of cholera and typhus.

In one ghetto, sanitary stations were established to bathe and disinfect the Jews to contain the epidemic. Jews were refused permission to leave the ghetto unless they were certified as disinfected and clean. The penalty for leaving the ghetto, where these epidemics were raging, was being shot on sight! Indeed, the curse of the pestilence was happening practically.

3. The curse of being driven into every nation of the world:

The Lord shall cause thee to be smitten before thine enemies: thou shalt go out one way against them, and flee seven ways before them: and SHALT BE REMOVED INTO ALL THE KINGDOMS OF THE EARTH.

Deuteronomy 28:25

Indeed, the curse of being driven into every nation of the world has happened practically to the people of Israel. Jews have mysteriously been driven from place to place. This repeated persecution, recurring expulsion and migration has never happened to any other group of people on earth.

In AD 70 Jerusalem was burnt down and the Jews were scattered all over the world.

Again, in AD 629 the entire Jewish population of GALILEE was massacred or expelled from Judea.

Between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries the Jews living in FRANCE were expelled.

In 1290 King Edward I of England issued a decree to expel Jews from ENGLAND. This remained in force for 365 years.

In the fourteenth century, Jews were expelled from EUROPE because of the Plague.

Jews were expelled from SPAIN in 1492, from SICILY IN 1493 and from ITALY in 1554.

Between 1648 and 1654, Jews were not allowed in RUSSIA and UKRAINE.

The Jews were expelled from the MIDDLE EAST and NORTH AFRICA between 1947 and 1972.

From the 1960s till 1989, thousands of Jews were forced by the authorities to leave POLAND.

In the 1970s, tens of thousands of Soviet Jews were forced out of the SOVIET UNION. Some migrated to Israel whilst others went to the United States.

4. The curse of bodies lying outside and being eaten by birds:

And thy carcase shall be meat unto all fowls of the air, and unto the beasts of the earth, and no man shall fray them away.

Deuteronomy 28:26

This curse of dead bodies lying in the open and without being buried was fulfilled practically in AD 70.

In the year AD 66 the Jews of Judea rebelled against their Roman masters. In response, the Emperor Nero dispatched an army under the generalship of Vespasian to restore order. Vespasian landed in Antioch and took command. Vespasian’s son, Titus, marched up from Egypt, and after linking up with his father, the Romans now moved inland into the region of Galilee. Battles were fought on both land and on the lake of Galilee.

During the battle, the hill on which the Temple stood was covered in flames. The blood that poured from those who were slain was so much that the ground was no more visible. The streets were covered with corpses ; with soldiers pursuing fugitives over the piles of dead bodies.

5. The curse of your wife being taken away from you:

Thou shalt betroth a wife, and another man shall lie with her: thou shalt build an house, and thou shalt not dwell therein: thou shalt plant a vineyard, and shalt not gather the grapes thereof.

Deuteronomy 28:30

The curse of wives being taken away from their husbands was fulfilled practically during the Second World War. Males and females were always separated at the concentration camps.

Many parents chose to hide their children, claiming that they were non-Jewish orphans of war.

Families began to be forced apart from each other and many families vowed to find each other after the war.

Some families’ desire to remain together often left them with the only option of going into hiding. During the war, it was extremely difficult to hide from the Germans. Indeed, some Jewish families were forced to live cut off from the world for long periods of time, sometimes years.

6. The curse of being robbed openly and violently – the curse of having your wealth stolen:

The fruit of thy land, and all thy labours, shall A NATION WHICH THOU KNOWEST NOT EAT UP; and thou shalt be only oppressed and crushed alway.

Deuteronomy 28:33

Thine ox shall be slain before thine eyes, and thou shalt not eat thereof: THINE ASS SHALL BE VIOLENTLY TAKEN AWAY FROM BEFORE THY FACE, AND SHALL NOT BE RESTORED TO THEE: thy sheep shall be given unto thine enemies, and thou shalt have none to rescue them.

Deuteronomy 28:31

And he shall eat the fruit of thy cattle, and the fruit of thy land, until thou be destroyed: which also shall not leave thee either corn, wine, or oil, or the increase of thy kine, or flocks of thy sheep, until he have destroyed thee.

Deuteronomy 28:51

The curse of being robbed openly has happened practically to the Jews on many occasions.

The Jews in Europe were robbed of so much wealth by the Germans that their money financed thirty percent of the German war effort.

Nazi German officials also plundered more than £12 billion by looting and by enacting special confiscation laws. German tax authorities “actively worked to destroy Jews financially”. Tax laws discriminated against Jews from 1934, while some who managed to leave Germany before the Holocaust had much of their wealth confiscated through an “exit tax”.

German officials would seize and sell the property of Jews who left or were sent to extermination camps, both in Germany and in the nations conquered during the Second World War.

7. The curse of your children being taken away from you:

THY SONS AND THY DAUGHTERS SHALL BE GIVEN UNTO ANOTHER people, and thine eyes shall look, and fail with longing for them all the day long: and there shall be no might in thine hand.

Thou shalt beget sons and daughters, but thou shalt not enjoy them; for they shall go into captivity. All thy trees and fruit of thy land shall the locust consume.

Deuteronomy 28:32, 41-42

The curse of your children being taken away from you has also been fulfilled many times in the life of the people of Israel.

Many Jewish children were taken away from their parents during the Second World War. One of my mother’s friends was such a Jewish child who was separated from her parents during the Second World War. She was a toddler when her parents put her on a train and sent her away to safety. She never saw her parents again. Her parents probably died on a concentration camp.

In the fulfilment of this curse, the children of Jews suffered various things during the Second World War. Some children were killed immediately on arrival at the German concentration camps and killing centres.

Other Jewish children were slaughtered by the Germans shortly after birth. (For example, 870 infants born in the Ravensbrück concentration camp between 1943 and 1945, largely to Jewish and Gypsy women, were slaughtered).

Yet others, usually above the age of 10, were imprisoned or used as labourers. Finally, some children were used as subjects for German medical experiments.

Indeed, Jewish children, separated from their parents, were hidden for their own safety. In France, almost everyone in Le Chambon-sur- Lignon, hid Jewish children in the town from 1942 to 1944. In Italy and Belgium, many Jewish children survived only by being sent into hiding. Truly, the words of Moses were being carried out to the letter! There is a need to have a proper respect for curses spoken by authority figures.

8. The curse of becoming a wonder and an amazing story of persecution and hatred in the world:

Moreover all these curses shall come upon thee, and shall pursue thee, and overtake thee, till thou be destroyed; because thou hearkenedst not unto the voice of the Lord thy God, to keep his commandments and his statutes which he commanded thee: and they shall be upon thee for a sign and for a wonder, and upon thy seed for ever.

Deuteronomy 28:45-46

The curse of Moses that the nation of Israel would be a sign and a wonder has come to pass literally. For centuries, the Jews had to survive as a nation without a country. Wherever they went they were hated, treated as an inferior race and made to live in ghettoes.

At different times over several centuries, the exiled Jews have been persecuted, massacred, or forced to flee for their lives from one country to another.

Thousands of Jews have been forced to flee from their homes, from England, from Spain, from Russia and from Germany. It is as though a special hand was driving them from place to place like flocks of birds with no resting place.

For example, in England, in 1190 there was a fearful wave of massacres spreading from city to city, wiping out Jewish men, women and children.

Then again in 1290, the king of England (Edward I) expelled all the Jews from Britain.

Later on in 1492 all the Jews were expelled from Spain. In other countries their treatment was even worse.

In the 1880s Jews had to flee for their lives from Russia.

In the 1930s the Jews had to flee from Germany.

9. The curse of great weakness and great destruction before the enemy:

Therefore shalt thou serve thine enemies which the Lord shall send against thee, in hunger, and in thirst, and in nakedness, and in want of all things: and HE SHALL PUT A YOKE OF IRON UPON THY NECK, UNTIL HE HAVE DESTROYED THEE.

Deuteronomy 28:48

During the Second World War, the Jews were very weak before their German enemies. The German enemies placed a yoke of iron on their necks with the intention of destroying them. A yoke of destruction called “Final Solution” was placed on the neck of Israel.

In December 1941, the Germans began the “Final Solution”. The “Final Solution” was the Nazi policy of wiping out all Jews. The policy resulted in the murder of 6 million Jews in concentration camps between 1941 and 1945. Adolf Hitler, Himmler and Eichmann were the key implementers of this yoke. Indeed, the Jews did not have the strength to resist this onslaught of mass murder.

Throughout the war, Jews were kept in concentration camps where long-term survival was rare. Most of those selected to work died of exhaustion and disease. The conditions were so extreme that even the fittest people rarely survived more than a few months in the camps.

10. The curse of warring nations besieging and capturing Israel.

And thou shalt eat the fruit of thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters, which the Lord thy God hath given thee, IN THE SIEGE, AND IN THE STRAITNESS, WHEREWITH THINE ENEMIES SHALL DISTRESS THEE.

Deuteronomy 28:53

The curse of Moses that they would be besieged has occurred an astonishing twenty-three times. How many cities in the world have been besieged twenty-three times and still exist? Jerusalem has been captured and re-captured forty-four times by different people.

In the history of Jerusalem, it has been destroyed twice, besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, captured and recaptured 44 times.

11. The curse of women eating their own children in the siege.

The tender and delicate woman among you, which would not adventure to set the sole of her foot upon the ground for delicateness and tenderness, her eye shall be evil toward the husband of her bosom, and toward her son, and toward her daughter, and toward her young one that cometh out from between her feet, and toward her children which she shall bear: for SHE SHALL EAT THEM for want of all things secretly in the siege and straitness, wherewith thine enemy shall distress thee in thy gates.

Deuteronomy 28:56-57

This amazing curse also came to pass practically. In AD 70, Josephus, a famous historian described the horrors he witnessed in the siege of AD 70. This is what he said:

“Throughout the city people were dying of hunger in large numbers, and enduring unspeakable sufferings. In every house the merest hint of food sparked violence, and close relatives fell to blows, snatching from one another the pitiful supports of life. Need drove the starving to gnaw at anything.

Rubbish which even animals would reject, was collected and turned into food. In the end they were eating belts and shoes, and the leather stripped off their shields. Tufts of withered grass were devoured, and sold in little bundles for four drachmas.

Among the residents of the region beyond Jordan was a woman called Mary, daughter of Eleazar, of the village of Bethezuba (the name means “House of Hyssop”). She was well off, and of good family, and had fled to Jerusalem with her relatives, where she became involved with the siege. Most of her belongings which she had packed up and brought from Peraea had been plundered as well as the rest of her treasure, together with such foods.

In her bitter resentment this poor woman cursed the extortioners and this angered them. However, no one put her to death. She grew weary of trying to find food for her kinsfolk. So, driven by anger and want, she seized her child, an infant at the breast, and cried,

“My poor baby, why should I keep you alive in this world of war and famine? Even if we live till the Romans come, they will make slaves of us; and anyway, hunger will get us before slavery does; and the rebels are crueler than both. Come, be food for me, and an avenging fury to the rebels, and a tale of cold horror to the world to complete the monstrous agony of the Jews.”

With these words she killed her son, roasted the body, swallowed half of it, and stored the rest in a safe place. But the rebels were on her at once, smelling roasted meat, and threatening to kill her instantly if she did not produce it. She assured them she had saved them a share, and revealed the remains of her child. Seized with horror and stupefaction, they stood paralyzed at the sight. But she said, “This is my own child, and my own handiwork. Eat, for I have eaten already. Do not show yourselves weaker than a woman, or more pitiful than a mother. But if you have pious scruples, and shrink away from human sacrifice, then what I have eaten can count as your share, and I will eat what is left as well.”

At that they slunk away, trembling, not daring to eat, although they were reluctant to yield even this food to the mother. The whole city soon heard of this abomination. When people heard of it, they shuddered, as though they had done it themselves.

12. The curse of a shrunken population:

Then the Lord will make thy plagues wonderful, and the plagues of thy seed, even great plagues, and of long continuance, and sore sicknesses, and of long continuance. Moreover he will bring upon thee all the diseases of Egypt, which thou wast afraid of; and they shall cleave unto thee. Also every sickness, and every plague, which is not written in the book of this law, them will the Lord bring upon thee, until thou be destroyed. And YE SHALL BE LEFT FEW IN NUMBER, whereas ye were as the stars of heaven for multitude; because thou wouldest not obey the voice of the Lord thy God.

Deuteronomy 28:59-62

The curse of a shrinking population happened practically to the Jews during the Second World War. Most populations increase every year. But according to the words of Moses, Jews were left fewer in number.

In 1933 the world’s Jewish population was 15.3 million.

In 1939, the world population of Jews was 17 million.

By 1945 the Jewish population in the world had shrunk to 11 million.

By 2014, the Jewish population was 14.2 million making up only 0.2 percent of the world population.

13. The curse of being scattered throughout the whole world:

And the Lord shall SCATTER THEE AMONG ALL PEOPLE, FROM THE ONE END OF THE EARTH EVEN UNTO THE OTHER; and there thou shalt serve other gods, which neither thou nor thy fathers have known, even wood and stone. And among these nations shalt thou find no ease, neither shall the sole of thy foot have rest: but the Lord shall give thee there a trembling heart, and failing of eyes, and sorrow of mind:

Deuteronomy 28:64-65

The curse of being scattered throughout the world has come to pass with astonishing accuracy. The Jews have been dispersed into the world on three major occasions.

The first dispersion of Jews occurred when the Assyrians conquered Israel in 722 BC. Then, the Jews were scattered all over the Middle East.

The second dispersion of Jews occurred when Nebuchadnezzar conquered and deported Jews in 597 and 586 BC and allowed them to remain in a unified community in Babylon.

The third major dispersion came about after 70 AD when the Romans destroyed Jerusalem and annexed Judaea as a Roman province.

The Israelites, as had been foretold in the Old Testament, became wandering Jews, to be found in practically every country of the world, despised, reviled and hounded by persecution from city to city and nation to nation.

Note the statistics of returning Jews according to the Israel Central Bureau of Statistics: Between 1948 and 2013, the following numbers of Jews returned to Israel from the respective countries of the world to which they had been scattered:

CountryNo. of Jews Returning to Jerusalem

Russia/Ukraine (former USSR) 1,231,003

Morocco, Algeria & Tunisia 354,852

Romania 276,586

Poland 173,591

Iraq 131,138

United States of America 101,592

Ethiopia 92,730

France 81,885

Iran 76,934

Argentina 66,916

Turkey 62,837

Yemen 50,731

Bulgaria 44,372

Egypt and Sudan 37,763

Libya 35,844

United Kingdom 35,164

Hungary 32,022

India 28,702

Czechoslovakia (former) 24,468

South Africa 20,038

Germany 19,905

Yugoslavia (former) 10,768

Syria 9,547

14. The curse of being forced to change their religion:

And the Lord shall scatter thee among all people, from the one end of the earth even unto the other; and THERE THOU SHALT SERVE OTHER GODS, which neither thou nor thy fathers have known, even wood and stone.

Deuteronomy 28:64

On several occasions, Jews have been forced to convert from their faith to other religions or be killed.

For example, at the end of the 11th century, Ashkenazi Jews in Germany were forced to convert from Judaism.

In the fifteenth century there were mass forced conversions of Sephardi Jews in Spain and Portugal.

During the Spanish Inquisition, tens of thousands of Jews were forcibly converted to Christianity on the threat of death. The chief rabbi, Simon Maimi, was one of those who refused to convert. He was kept buried in earth up to his neck for seven days until he died.

by Dag Heward-Mills