#the soul wants… it breaks with pain worse than death… because death would be gracious… would let them meet again… but it’s impossible

[rosaacicularis]

I just finished all they have of coliseum yesterday... 😂 IT KILLED ME, BUT IT'S REALLY GOOD-

Also Rose, you're breaking me with the immortal au 😭🤩

-🍂

i am breaking myself too…. they just and i…. and they…. and then one of them has to live without the other…. and one of them had to die without the other….. and and and :((( </3

[cherryjuicegf]

Wraith

A/N: As you can see i have a thing with promises so here's some despair and exhaustion added to a not so happy at all storyline. Things are spoken and Enjolras has existential issues. I know im not funny. Enjoy!

chapter 4

Chapter 5th

Fourth Bottle: Promises

A lightning brightened the dark sky as if ripping a sack to let more raindrops flow like running rivers down the earth. The night was almost over, yet the first rays of the sun were lurking behind the mountains, as though afraid to appear and interrupt the fight of the thunders with the wind. Yet the storm wouldn't bother any of them, as it echoed like a lullaby in the seemingly empty room that hosted no sound except for the raindrops hitting the window and the soft sound of a bottle filled with wine touching the wooden table at times. Two green eyes were fixed abstractly on its smooth surface, trying to discern the fine figure of thin air through its vitreous walls and strangely succeding, either due to his perverted imagination or to a shadow that occupied the second chair across him, to descry the pale delicate fingers that once touched his skin and the pair of blue eyes that once avidly devoured him with their stare. He recalled a melody, possibly a lullaby he had once heard him singing under his breath. Oh, that angelic voice that sounded as if it was accompanied by hundrends of whispering harps, as if the rays of the sun had no other direction but him, wrapped around his gracious posture that radiated more light than the sun itself and made him so awesome in his demureness. He closed his eyes for a moment. He could see him, not in the way he did when he looked around him, no. He could see him alive. Alive and young, his gentleness bursting through his proud look, his passion thriving in his eyes. He seemed to need no one, so imposing and sober was his air. But he was not alone anyway.

He moved suddenly, as if waking from lethargy, and with one sip he emptied half of the wine in the bottle and placed it on the table, feeling shudders through his spine as it quenched his throat. He bowed his head pensively for a moment, feeling nailed by a sad look that almost brought him tears, because he knew its meaning, but he couldn't fulfill its request. He couldn't stop. Not now. Yet he hesitated for a second, as if a weight was pressing down his heart that resembled to a warning, a warning that he couldn't take it anymore. But his fingers touched the fourth bottle though instinctively. This wouldn't end well, he knew. But he didn't care anymore. He would drown it in wine, as he would drown himself and the faster, the better. His sanity was gone since a long time anyway. He had nothing more to lose.

"You ruin yourself with that, you know?"

He raised his look to meet Enjolras' darkened eyes and stared at him for a moment. Then he laughed shaking his head.

"I do what?", his voice cracked in a sob he held back but was the only one to hear it, thus making Enjolras to frown with his sarcasm. "I don't need wine to be ruined and you know that better than anyone. Wine is my friend."

"Stop it."

Enjolras sighed and bit his lips as he leaned on the table, fixing his eyes on him with a serious yet pleading look. Grantaire chuckled with bitterness and nodded in an agreement full of irony that implied his despair in more than one ways. He took a sip with an abrupt movement and looked at Enjolras again faking a smile.

"I can't."

Enjolras stared at him snorting and remained still, faced with the greatest nightmare he could ever imagine of. But Grantaire wouldn't stop, a mad grin curving his lips as he continued drinking without any trace of guilt shading his eyes. And if it did, no more darkness could ever flow from his look, no more pain and sorrow than it already did, so a little bit of guilt could hardly be discerned.

"You see, Enjolras, wine may blur my thoughts, but it also takes the pain away..."

"Does it?", Enjolras interrupted him with an ironic tone and shook his head. "If it actually did I wouldn't be here now and you wouldn't get worse with every passing day."

Grantaire stared at him for some moments, refusing to admit he was right once again. He sighed with confidence, although he didn't know which broken piece of his heart it stemmed from and licked the wine that painted his lips red.

"It does, yes", he said in a stable voice and shrugged. "It does take the pain away, because it is not the one that caused it."

The last phrase sounded sharper than he intended and Enjolras flounced slightly, understanding an innuendo that made his heart break, or at least, the memory of his heart. Grantaire bowed his head slightly, regretting his tone but not his words. It hurt and he could do nothing. It hurt more than the day he saw him dying, because he was here again just like he wanted, but only to remind him he could do nothing but see him and devour with his look a body that was once part of him. He preferred him staying dead, he could admit it. Because then he would have few chances of reducing at least his desire for him since he couldn't see him but in his dreams. Yet now he was obliged to suffer and oppress his need while he watched him moving in front of his eyes like a living man but he couldn't even touch him. He had no choice, as if he was doomed to accept his death only by imagining him alive. He was unable to decide what was worse.

"I can't stop", he uttered finally in a succumbing voice and took another sip with a nervous movement that implied his anxiety, feeling his heart beating faster. "And I won't."

"For how long, Grantaire?"

Enjolras swallowed and nailed him with his grave look that gave him shivers, resisting the urge to grab the bottle from his hand and smash it on the floor, knowing it would end up as another meaningless action that would remind him he was nothing but air. Oh God, he couldn't even cry. And he wanted to cry so badly, he couldn't stand being unable to prevent who he loved the most from destroying his own life. Words were not enough, they never were. If only he could just hug him, kiss him, only to feel alive once again. And Grantaire read his thoughts, he always did, they thought the same anyway. Because he nodded at him softly, his smile fading slowly like the last rays of the sun that hide behind the mountains before darkness dominates, and his voice got bitter, suddenly hoarse.

"As long as it takes to touch you again."

Enjolras didn't move, he just stared at him speechless, as if hit by a thunderstorm. He wasn't surprised, not at all. He knew the purpose of every single sip of wine that flowed down Grantaire's throat and he knew he was the one to blame in particular. The sight of him suffering was too hard for him to stand, but he was there for a reason, he couldn't leave him yet. What shook him actually was the fact that this whole time, he was faced with himself. He was faced with the same pain, the same desires and longings as his. Both of them searching for their lost pieces, both of them wanting to reach a redemption beyong the rays of heaven, both of them alone and broken, seeing each other as if through a transparent wall of glass that would break any time soon, but he wasn't sure if that was what he wanted. Because he could never accept being the reason for a sacrifice, especially when it came to life and death. That was the only difference between them. This time Grantaire fought for a cause, while Enjolras was filled with doubt, trapped between what he thought he wanted and what he actually needed. He was yet to realise he was selfish, he was yet to realise he was no human anymore. Because deep inside he knew what was best for both of them, but he didn't want to admit it. It was not hard, not at all. Yet there was something that still held him back, like a hand that refused to let go although the fall would be saving. There was something that picked him continuously, probably the greatest risk he had ever taken, something whose failure was already predicted yet his hopes were not lost, until now. There was a promise.

He swallowed. He couldn't let Grantaire collapse, he just couldn't, it was too much. He had to keep him down here, at least he had to try. Words were going to waste, but there was no other way, only his. The mad one. And he was more than willing to follow it.

"Touch me, Grantaire."

He himself couldn't believe the words that had escaped his mouth but he seemed less than daunted. Grantaire looked at him frowning in confusion and chuckled. He must have heard wrong, he couldn't tell otherwise.

"What?", he stuttered and made to smile, but his smile faded when he met Enjolras' sharp look. Oh God, he meant it. He shook his head. "I... I can't touch you."

For a moment, he looked saner than the other and Enjolras knew it. They were ridiculous, for God's sake, he almost laughed. But he wouldn't stop. He wanted to see how this would end, where it would take them. Just like a game. Just like life.

"You can't?", he continued in an ironic tone with a hint of tease and nodded, resting his back on the chair. Grantaire raised his eyebrows baffled and glared at him. He did this on purpose, he knew it. But he couldn't understand why, as his lips parted hesitantly and formed a bemused 'no' with no sound coming out, just slightly shaking his head. Enjolras grinned with an innocent expression and shrugged.

"How can you see me?"

Grantaire didn't answer immediately, he just stared at him breathless, holding back a chuckle that would resemble more to a sob if it came out. His mind, blurred by the almost four bottles of wine, tried to solve a riddle that had no more than one possible answer, which he uttered out loud in a voice that implied heartache, yielding.

"You're mad..."

And Enjolras smiled. That was what he wanted to hear. A hope flamed his soul. He could show Grantaire his mistakes, he would keep him alive, his life would go on. He wouldn't give up, he would live, he would live for him. That was what he wanted, that was what he asked. To see him happy again. Even if it was without him. But there was still a long way to cover. So he took advantage of his words and went on.

"Me?", he asked sarcastically. "I'm the one who's mad? You are the one who's drinking for no reason, destroying his life and suffering while you can go on with the memory..."

Grantaire clenched his fists, suddenly feeling rage growing in him along with pain and grief. He had heard those words before, not the same yet similar. Oh, he wasn't supposed to talk like that. He wasn't supposed to erase everything and go back to the start. But Enjolras didn't stop talking, not believing in half of his words, yet trying to prove a point out of nowhere. He would make him angry, he knew. There might be a result this way, it was the only one left. What he forgot though was that when he used to scold him like that, the wine got sweeter.

"You have to stop doing this, I beg you!", he added, his voice almost cracking and snorted with a soft, pained look. "Take a look at yourself, Grantaire. I am not worth dying for."

"And who told you that I was?!!"

That was the last shot. Grantaire's eyes sparkled as he turned at him breathing heavily and slammed his fist on the table, his voice coming out hoarse and loud, yet broken from a sob. He could feel his heart hitting his chest as if it wanted to come out, hot tears flooded his eyes, red from insomnia. He rested his back on the chair, looking at a shocked Enjolras and their eyes met, both seeming empty, both hiding so many feelings inside. He discerned a nervous tremble of his pale fingers on the table. He shook his head.

"You really think our love is not worth the suffer?", he asked breathlessly, fear and disappointment making his voice shake like the one of a little child alone in the dark. Enjolras flounced, feeling like a million bullets had pierced his body at once. Oh, that hurt way more than a wound. Grantaire can't have said that, he heard wrong. It was wrong, it was completely wrong. The suffer was the one not worth their love. Yet their hearts had already fallen in the trap of pain.

"Grantaire, I...", a sob choked him as he bit his lips and swallowed in a vain attempt to keep his voice stable, "I died for you..."

Grantaire gazed at him for some seconds and then lowered his look, letting the tears fall down his face. What was he supposed to do? He never asked to be saved, he never asked to stay alive. His life would end anyway. Oh, he was such a coward. He could find a rifle, that same day at the barricades and just pull the trigger. No wine, no suffer. But he couldn't. He had to deceive himself, he had to save someone to replace the loss. And now he realised it was the greatest mistake he had ever done. Because Jehan didn't deserve to stay alone. Not like him, he was not alone, with guilt and grief following each of his steps. But Jehan hadn't done anything. Jehan could be happy now with his friends. He was such a fool, such a fool. Why to save him, why stay alive himself? Enjolras died for him.

"As you can see, it was vain."

Enjolras didn't speak. He felt his voice refused to come out of his parted lips, he stayed still, staring at him as a shade fell over his eyes. It was not vain. Dear God, for him it was not vain. Because he didn't have to see the love of his life dying in his arms and he knew he was the lucky one this time. But Grantaire was right, and he realised that when he stood in his shoes for once, even if it hurt. He didn't care, he had known pain, he was used to it. Oh, there was no way to go on, not after everything Grantaire had gone through. And he reached a point of love and respect that was so deep it would have brought him tears. Because he understood that if he was the one alive, he wouldn't last more than a day. Suddenly he looked up to him. He was so strong, he had even saved his friend in all his misery. He was too strong. That was why he had lasted until now. He knew it, yet he didn't want to admit it would be over, he didn't want to watch him dying, even if it was to come to him.

"No...", he stuttered, trying to deceive himself, his voice cracking in denial. "No, it was not..."

He was selfish. But who wasn't. Oh, he forgot again. Ghosts.

Grantaire gazed him breathing deeply, slightly shaking his head. That was the only thing he could do. Shake his head. With exhaustion, with sarcasm, with disappointment, he couldn't tell. Maybe he was tired. Tired of suffering, tired of coping with Enjolras' almost childish denial, tired of thinking, of breathing, of living. He just wanted to sleep. Oh, yes, sleep and never wake again. How wonderful it seemed to him, to dream forever, even if it was a nightmare. It's better when you sleep, because it passes, another dream follows, a different self rises up and it's sleep, it's always sleep. He had no more life to give only to live in the nightmare. The wine was not enough. The bottles were four. Yet, they were not working, they were not working at all. He was not sleeping. Why was he not sleeping? He was not alone. Why was he not alone? He wanted to be alone, he wanted to scream, to cry, to smash the empty bottles at his feet. But he was not. Why? He didn't want anyone, not even Enjolras. Not even him. Because he could do nothing but look at him and think. All the words he never uttered, all the smiles he never smiled. Oh, he knew what he wanted. He wanted a hug. He wanted a hug to sleep, and he knew where to find it. He wanted to go home.

"Grantaire..."

"No."

Enjolras raised his head surprised and frowned when he met Grantaire's cold look behind the tears flooding his eyes. Grantaire clenched his fists and snorted, peering at Enjolras with no fake smiles this time.

"I can't do this anymore."

His voice was determined, sharp, as if uttering a statement in a matter of vital importance. He nodded without taking his look off the young man that was staring at him speechless, suddenly losing the last trace of hope that struggled to stay alive in him, only to say he still had something that unpretentiously kept him in life. He swallowed and blinked, trying not to sink in the sea of deception he himself had created. His crystal eyes sparkled with complaint. A timid, broken smile curved his lips.

"You...", he chuckled softly, his voice cracking, "You promised..."

"YES, I DID!", Grantaire interrupted him with shaking voice and slammed his palm on the table, hurrying to lower and soften his tone as he saw Enjolras flouncing a little and he bit his lips. "I did...", he made a small pause to raise his look and gaze Enjolras straight in the eye with all the honesty he had in his heart, slightly tilting his head. "But then I realised you were dead and my whole life had gone away with you."

A thunder was heard outside and the rain started falling harder, intruding the room from the broken window that would stay forever open. Enjolras had not aversed look from Grantaire who on the contrary refused to face him, shuddering at the thought and only of his clouded blue eyes that were flooded with so much pain and so many tears that could not fall. Enjolras heaved a deep, shaky sigh and hid his face in his hands, leaving a sound that resembled to a sob, but fortunately for Grantaire, he was not able to see the broken expression that deformed his angelic face. Was shatter an emotion? Because that was what he felt at the time. For God's sake, he asked nothing special. To see the man he loved more than anything happy again, to see life stirring in him again and feel alive with him. Was that so hard? His egoism and pride were too much to let anyone die for him. He was nothing anyway. Even if he had been human once, he was just a human, not an ideal, not a hope. And now, oh, now he was a nothing that shadowed the memories of the ones he left behind. Just a few people. Grantaire, Jehan, his mother, an orphan little girl on the doorstep of his apartment who he used to give some money to. They were few, yet so important to him that he almost hoped his need for them was requited. And still his hope was reduced as he saw what his absence could induce. Grantaire lost the love of his life, Jehan lost one more friend, his mother lost her son, her only child and that poor girl probably lost one of the few hopes she still had in this world. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to realise he was so important only because he was an everyday man, so important that the ideals he fought for meant nothing to the people who wanted him back. At least, was he remembered by the rest of them, the ones who faced the rebellion as the beginning of a flame? He couldn't tell.

The ideals are so great to fight for, until a loved one is lost. Then the dead one becomes an ideal, a thought of what could have been and the grief gets harder. How astounding can it be, to fight so much and so passionately for a cause until you become the cause itself. But what did he know? He, after all, was just a ghost.

chapter 6

[ivars-snowflake]

The little Witch of Kattegat - Part VIII

Eyes on Fire

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

Pairing: Ivar & OC Ase

Wordcount: 1610

Warnings: Violence, blood (mentions of blood eagle), death

The chant I found here. I adapted it a little :)

Feedback is always welcome and highly appreciated! :)

tags: @red608, @onjacks-blog @romanchronicles, @oddsnendsfanfics, @kenzieam, @didiintheblog

 The ground was on fire. The battle cries were reaching the campsite, followed by the sound of metal hitting metal. She stood on the peak, watching over the battle, silently chanting. She has already charged an amulet for protection and put it around Ivar’s neck, not paying attention to his protesting words. Now, her hands were pressed firmly around the smooth wood of her staff. Her eyes on fire.

„Protect them by your might

O gracious Goddess,

day and night

Thrice around the circles bound,

Enemy sink into the ground.“

 It was an easy win against king Aelle. Silly man, what kind of foolish king underestimates the enemy like this? It would be sad to watch, if only it wasn’t so much fun.

Her smile appeared wicked and satisfied, when Ivar’s chariot stood next to her, dragging Aelle’s body through the mud. She climbed up, admiring the mad look in the eyes of her lover, eyes laden with darkness, the look of them filling her with anticipation. She knew what follows, and she was joining the fun gladly.

For the first time in her life, Ase welcomed her darkness. It was always there, deep within, skillfully suppressed and controlled by her mother first, and then by Ase herself after. But she grew sick of suppressing what she was, grew sick of putting the limits on herself. In moments like these, she felt the urge to let it all out, allow herself to be consumed by the dark part of her soul, so that she could remain sane in the moments of peace.

 She sat on the log nearby, while the brothers and Floki did the butchering. Her eyes shone madly, but her stomach clenched and twisted as Aelle’s screams were ripping through the air. She twitched at the sound of axe ripping through the flesh on its way to break some bones. Blood splattering everywhere.

In Bjorn’s eyes she saw terror, mockery in Ubbe’s, Hvitserk was having fun, while Sigurd’s face showed disgust. Then her gaze fell on Ivar crawling closer to Aelle, his eyes screamed in awe, they were on fire, a look of satisfaction and enjoyment, hunger settled but eyes keen for more.

  The vengeance was far from over, though. King Eckbert’s clock was ticking now.

Prince Aethelwulf's forces were beaten easily, as a result of Ivar finally being listened to, and his plan being taken into consideration and performed. It was such a lovely game of cat and mouse.

Getting to king Eckbert after the victory was easier than Ase would have thought, and it felt like a flip of a finger, and she found herself sitting at the table next to Ivar. They didn't lack reasons to celebrate. 

Everyone was in a good mood when she left the table, pressing a gentle kiss to Ivar's lips, and went for a walk. Although it was an easy victory, they suffered a big loss, a loss that broke the heart of Ase's dearest person, beside Ivar. Helga died by the hand of Tanaruz, the girl she brought back from one of the raids. All Helga wanted was to ease the pain of losing her child, by being the mother to a girl that lost her family. But the girl was scared and lost, in a world she didn’t understand, and Helga's big heart eventually caused her death. After she started to get close with Ivar, Ase spent a lot of time with Floki and Helga, and became really fond of them both. She knew how much that old fool loved his wife, and it broke his heart to let her go. It was a very troublesome thing for Ase, to watch people that were close to her suffer in any way, with her being in possesion of the possibility to bend fates, and lacking the knowlenge to do so. She had only a few of those people, and she was ready to do anything to protect them. It’s why she restlessly practiced magic, and kept trying and looking for new ways to improve her sight, to make her dreams talk to her a little more. The anger she felt towards her mother grew bigger as Ase grew stronger, releasing her inner breaks. There was so much strength hidden inside, but also so much darkness, anger. So much loneliness. Being around Ivar, whose anger towards the world was even bigger then hers for her mother, made her embrace her inner demons. He loved her, in spite of the demons, so she no longer felt the neeed to fight them, allowing herself to grow stronger with each step she took. But sometimes, it would become too much.

On the hill outside of the city, she found Floki sitting in silence, and she sat next to him, her silence matching his. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She knew Floki would need no words to know how sorry she was. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips as Floki started to laugh, the way only Floki could. 

-Do not be sad, little Ase. We'll meet Helga in Valhalla. 

Ase leaned her head on his shoulder, and sighed contently.

-She will wait for you there, Floki. With horns of mead and a feast as glorious as only a crazy marvelous fool like you would deserve.

He smiled at Ase, messing her hair up with both his hands.

-Go, little one! There's a feast going on, go take care of that grumpy crippled bastard! I'll be there soon.

Ase nodded, getting up, and giving Floki one more hug before she turned and went back towards the town.

She wasn't gone for long, it's been an hour, maybe two, and raised voices that were reaching her ears as she was approaching the mass, caused her to sigh, and roll her eyes in annoyance. Even in victory they were unable to unite. 

It wasn't until she came close enough to hear Sigurd spill his venom at Ivar, that she became weary and her steps fastened. She was almost running now. 

 -What’s the matter Ivar? You can’t take it? No, I guess it must be hard for you now that your mommy’s dead, knowing she’s the only one who ever really loved you!

 He was crossing the line once more, and Ase wondered how many more times before he gets what he calls for. She knew that Sigurd was destined to die by the hand of his brother, but she did not know that would happen right about now. This dream came a while ago, and ever since she saw it, she was trying to talk to both of them, trying to change the course of events, and there was nothing she feared more then Sigurd’s mouth, and Ivar’s wrath. Trying to push her way through the crowd to get to the table, a sudden silence and commotion made her way easier, and as she passed next to the big man in the first row, she was encountered with the terror and regret staring her right in the eye. Startled and confused, she looked at him, before his terrified gaze shifted to the floor close to his feet. Ase's eyes followed his, and a whimper escaped her lips at the sight of Sigurd’s lifeless body. Once again, her efforts were useless.

She froze, the blood in her veins has ran cold and it felt as if time itself stopped. People moved, the crowd disappeared, and before she could even force herself to move, Ase was standing in an emptied square, her eyes still locked on Ivar. Another death that she saw coming, but couldn’t do anything about it. She tried, she tried talking to Sigurd about this, but she failed. He only laughed her off, foolish boy. She tried with Ivar too, but it was of no use.

As soon as her legs started to listen again, she rushed to him, wrapping her hands around his neck.

-What have you done, my love? She asked, swallowing her tears, the tears that came not because of Sigurd, but because she failed to stop yet another death from happening, because her dreams were becoming more vivid and they would come on time, but she still didn’t know how to bend fates.  Because she knew how it would affect Ivar. She tightened her grip on him, sitting on his lap, hugging his pain away.

Sigurd was never Ase’s favorite brother, he was a bully, cruel and envious, blaming Ivar for all the mistakes of their mother, torturing him out of pure petty-mindedness and envy. He always acted like a mouthy child whose feelings got hurt, so he decided to blame it all on Ivar. Eventually, it drove Ivar mad, madness raising his axe and making it rip the air between the two. It was Ivar’s hand that threw the awe, but it was Sigurd’s mouth that called it upon himself.

After all the turbulences, Ase found it harder to approach Ivar. It got even worse when Floki left. Ivar felt like everyone he cares for is abandoning him, including his remaining brothers, who appeared to shut him out even more now. As for Ase, regarding Ivar, she was the one being shut out.

She knew he was pushing her away deliberately, wanting her gone. He surrounded himself with walls and bodyguards, and it was always a challenge to get to him. In any other circumstances, she would have wondered where she wronged him, but she knew this was not her fault. Even dead, Sigurd would not leave them alone, and Ase knew that Sigurd would probably never again leave Ivar alone.

[scripture-pictures]

https://victorcarjan.blogspot.com/2018/11/bible-case-for-no-have-baby.html?m=1 Scripture to back up why I think its wrong to have babies!

Isaiah 13:8 And they shall be afraid: pangs and sorrows shall take hold of them;

they shall be in pain as a woman that travaileth:

they shall be amazed one at another; their faces shall be as flames.

1st: A horrible punishment from God is letting some guys know they will be in pain

like a woman giving birth!.....normally never have to think about this;

but if its so bad to me, why would I accept this precept of "nature" to put the girl I theoretically

would really love, in this sort of punishment!

Is it a punishment?

my answer is YES!!

Genesis 3:16

“Unto the woman he said,

I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and

thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children;

and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.”

2nd Definitely a punishment the amount of pain they go through!;

so one way to avoid this punishment would be to avoid having the babies right?

I perceive, that is what I would do and if one is truly a believer and has faith,

then they would be willing to wait until the after-life right?

ISAIAH 56:4 For thus saith the LORD unto the eunuchs

that keep my sabbaths, and choose the things that please me, and take hold of my covenant;

5 Even unto them will I give in mine house and within my walls a place

and a name better than of sons and of daughters:

I will give them an everlasting name, that shall not be cut off.

3rd point: Eunuchs, as far as I understand, means like a barren man;

a man that doesn't have babies, or can't have babies, or chooses not to have babies.

Sounds like God says he will reward them better than the sons and daughters!..

.so then its a reward?

Jesus in LUKE 23:29

28But Jesus turning unto them said, Daughters of Jerusalem,

weep not for me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children.

29For, behold, the days are coming, in the which they shall say,

Blessed are the barren,

and the wombs that never bare,

and the paps which never gave suck.

30Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us; and to the hills,

Cover us. 31For if they do these things

in a green tree,

what shall be done in the dry?

ISAIAH Chapter 32

9 Rise up, ye women that are at ease; hear my voice,

ye careless daughters; give ear unto my speech.

10 Many days and years shall ye be troubled,

ye careless women: for the vintage shall fail, the gathering shall not come.

11 Tremble, ye women that are at ease; be troubled, ye careless ones:

strip you, and make you bare, and gird sackcloth upon your loins.

12 They shall lament for the teats,

for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine.

4th: who are they? I'm not sure!...but as I remember at this point, the context of his message

was that it was good to not have babies at least in those days for sure!..

but its a help to an argument using scripture as the sword and shield to state its better to

not have babies in this world presently in.

ISAIAH 54:1 Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear;

break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail

with child: for more are the children of the desolate

than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD.

5th: Clearly God, creator, is saying to woman to sing and be happy and rejoice

like she won something by not having babies!.. she avoided a major punishment

of woman by not having babies, I believe that is certainly true!...

Jeremiah 16:1-4

1The word of the LORD came also unto me, saying,

2Thou shalt not take thee a wife, neither shalt thou have sons

or daughters in this place.

3For thus saith the LORD concerning the sons and concerning the daughters

that are born in this place, and concerning their mothers that bare

them, and concerning their fathers that begat them in this land;

4They shall die of grievous deaths; they shall not be lamented;

neither shall they be buried; but they shall be as dung upon the face of the earth:

and they shall be consumed by the sword, and by famine; and

their carcases shall be meat for the fowls of heaven, and for the

beasts of the earth.

(sounds like the Feast of the fowls at the end of the days as mentioned in

Revelations and in the old testament of Ezekiel,

please fear God and pay the respects due to make full good of these warnings)

Jeremiah 4:31 For I have heard a voice as of a woman in travail,

and the anguish as of her that bringeth forth her first child,

the voice of the daughter of Zion, that bewaileth herself...

6th ahh, pain...the first child must be a lot worse than its true;

the first one hurts more and after that its been opened already and stretched out

so I guess it makes sense..but I just don't like it anymore at all. its too gruesome sounding..

Jeremiah 13:21 What wilt thou say when he shall punish thee?

for thou hast taught them to be captains,

and as chief over thee: shall not sorrows take thee,

as a woman in travail?

Jeremiah 22:23 O inhabitant of Lebanon, that makest thy nest in the cedars,

how gracious shalt thou be when pangs come upon thee,

the pain as of a woman in travail!

7th: Its not gracious and its a punishment; and its a warning from God to man,

that if you do wrong won't you get punished like a woman in travail or something?

HORRIBLE!! thus if I conclude its a horrible punishment how can I then justify

wanting to put someone through it?

Prayer; please God never let me have to go through pains

like a woman in travail or anything like it;

or like how Krillin from dragon ball z was depicted in those videos to help understand scripture;

please help me;

I do believe that before the punishment it was different having babies;

I don't know how exactly; but clearly different since it says greatly multiplying the pain..

8.24.18 2.34 A.M. update

Thoughts: Thus then, if we be towards the end of the world based on all the signs shown;

we may be in a similar scenario

ECCLESIASTES 3:5 a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

1 JOHN 3: 9 Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin;

for his seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin,

because he is born of God.

Leviticus 12 WHY SIN OFFERING FOR HAVING BABY?

1And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying, 2Speak unto the children of Israel, saying,

If a woman have conceived seed, and born a man child:

then she shall be unclean seven days; according to the days

of the separation for her infirmity shall she be unclean.

5But if she bear a maid child, then she shall be unclean

two weeks, as in her separation: and she shall continue in the blood of

her purifying threescore and six days.

6 And when the days of her purifying are fulfilled, for a son, or for a daughter,

she shall bring a lamb of the first year for a burnt offering, and a young pigeon,

or a turtledove, for a sin offering, unto the door of the tabernacle

of the congregation, unto the priest:

7 Who shall offer it before the LORD, and make an atonement for her; and

she shall be cleansed from the issue of her blood. This is the law for her that hath

born a male or a female.

8 And if she be not able to bring a lamb, then she shall bring two turtles,

or two young pigeons; the one for the burnt offering, and the

other for a sin offering: and the priest shall make an atonement for her,

and she shall be clean.

MISCELLANEOUS

Jesus said in MATTHEW 24:19

19 And woe unto them that are with child,

and to them that give suck in those days!

Jesus said in LUKE 21:22+23

22 For these be the days of vengeance, that all things which are written may be fulfilled.

23 But woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck, in those days!

for there shall be great distress in the land, and wrath upon this people.

Jesus said in MARK 13:17

17 But woe to them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days!

This regarding HOSEA 9, I believe can be best understood when referencing the passage

in ECCLESIASTES where the preacher saw all the oppressions done under the sun and praised the

dead more than the living, and said that better than both the dead and the living was that which never

existed. We also have Jeremiah in the book of JEREMIAH wishing he was never born, and Jonah in

JONAH wishing for death, and even Elijah wanting to not live. So if the world is a painful place to exist,

to bring a child into that world wouldn’t be righteous, and thus,

God giving them a miscarrying womb could be a greatly misunderstood mercy!

Who would feel good about bringing a child into this world to have it

be treated like the woman in Gibeah from Judges 19?

HOSEA 9

9 They have deeply corrupted themselves, as in the days of Gibeah: therefore

he will remember their iniquity, he will visit their sins.

11 As for Ephraim, their glory shall fly away like a bird, from the birth, and from the womb, and from the conception.

12 Though they bring up their children, yet will I bereave them,

that there shall not be a man left: yea, woe also to them when I depart from them!

13 Ephraim, as I saw Tyrus, is planted in a pleasant place:

but Ephraim shall bring forth his children to the murderer.

14 Give them, O LORD: what wilt thou give? give them a miscarrying womb and dry breasts.

Only more recently did I see this prayer by Hosea as a prayer of Mercy and love.

I wonder if others had similar experiences searching for the kingdom of God and his righteousness.

Also remember Rachel died during giving birth to her 2nd Child,

Genesis 35:16 ...and Rachel travailed, and she had hard labour. 17And it came to pass, when she was in hard labour, that the midwife said unto her, Fear not; thou shalt have

this son also. 18And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing,

(for she died) that she called his name Benoni:

but his father called him Benjamin. 19And Rachel died...

Jeremiah 9:24 King James Version (KJV)

24 But let him that glorieth glory in this, that he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the Lord which exercise lovingkindness, judgment, and righteousness, in the earth: for in these things I delight, saith the Lord.

[altherei]

Too Much to Carry

Work could only hold off the inevitable for so long; eventually, Altherei knew, she would have to face it. It being the heaviness settled in her heart, leaving her feeling tired even on a good night’s sleep. It-- the aching loneliness to see others happy with their partners and husbands and wives and her now, once again, with no one. It, the reason she’d thrown herself so deeply into her research and the Refuge and any distraction she could find as if she were diving into the darkest reaches of the North Sea.

But that was just the thing; so as it was in the waters, so to did she find that the deeper she dove into her work, the less light she found. The colder she felt, the weight of a thousand loud thoughts growing louder crushing her when she dared to blow out the light of her candle to try and sleep.

Perhaps what made it worse was that it had been her idea in the first place. Ultimately, it had been her decision, too. Amil had made it clear he would remain her friend regardless of what she chose; he understood why she felt so cut off and alone, why their courtship wasn’t working now and why she feared it never would.

She didn’t regret her decision to end their courtship, but that didn’t take the edge off the pain. It took some time for the reality of it to set in; a few days went by and her life was as it always was. Only once a week had gone by and she started to run out of distractions did it start to sink in. Only then did the comments about how no doubt she must have many suitors-- made in good spirits and unknowing of her troubles-- started to bother her. Only then did seeing or hearing strangers and friends discuss their own relationships start to worm its way under her skin.

Altherei didn’t talk about it. She kept it to herself, and continued to wear the same friendly smile she wore every day, using it as a mask. When there was no need to put up a front to cover her own pain, she buried herself in new books, new studies, new projects. She didn’t want to talk about it.

If I talk about it now, I don’t know what will happen, She thought. I don’t want to break down. I don’t want to burden others with my troubles. They’ve enough of their own as is.

But that weight was ever-growing, and the astromancer was being crushed underneath it. What was worse? To break down, or to become bitter? She had seen and heard enough stories of those who came out of relationship after relationship, or who’d been burned one too many times, now bitter and jaded, turned off entirely to the idea of love.

She did not want to become that kind of woman.

And so, finally, she spilled. It had been difficult, at first-- discussing her problems always carried with it the concern of being a burden, and so most times Altherei began with an apology. This time was no different.

She and Viersehyn made their way out of the Refuge, walking a short distance in Dawn’s Blossom to sit down. He had offered a few days back to listen to whatever was bothering her, and she had finally opted to take him up on it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust those in the Refuge.. but they were, in a sense, her coworkers. She was their boss. That just seemed.. unprofessional, somehow.

Still, she was not even sure where to begin. Of the list that was her troubles, there were many, and even though he was quick to reassure her her issues were no burden to him, she worried all the same. At his suggestion that she simply start at the beginning, she took a few moments of silence before doing just that.

From there, it was as though she’d popped a cork on a shaken bottle; everything that had bothered her, kept her down, or otherwise cost her sleep or sanity (or both) came spilling out. She began, of course, with her breakup. Weeks old by the time she told Vier, the first soul to hear about it, in the first place. She was careful to not speak ill of anyone; after all, sometimes these things just.. didn’t work out. But amicable though the separation was, the feelings of loneliness were there all the same. As strange as he admittedly found the string of disappearing acts from her suitors, Altherei couldn’t help but wonder aloud if she were simply boring to them after a time.

She was tired of being left behind. She was tired of being charmed and swept off her feet, only to be ghosted on at some arbitrary point in time. She was tired of feeling powerless and useless and completely helpless to solve her own problems-- or more accurately, the problems of others that had become her problems. Liathana, and her curse: a curse Altherei hadn’t even known about until it reared its ugly, frightening head. A curse that she feared had a far more sinister end game than they realized.

There was Yrlisse, and her disappearance. Of course she could busy; the death knight had valuable skills that were of exceptional use in fighting the Legion. But it wasn’t like her to simply not communicate. Not after she’d promised to visit the Refuge in the Isles and consequently didn’t show. Not after she still hadn’t written Altherei back. The last time she disappeared.. Altherei kept a lid on that. She didn’t yet want to think a prolonged disappearance from her close friend meant another death she couldn’t prevent.

All these things, these troubles, tumbled from her lips while the chronomancer sat and listened with what was no doubt the patience of a saint. He had little in the way of advice to offer, and while advice wasn’t what Altherei was after, she did appreciate his candidness and his honesty. She was glad that he was not quick to simply tell her that things would be better because in truth, they both knew it wasn’t a guarantee. Things could always be worse, the astromancer had agreed, and sometimes had to be before they became better.

It was her hope that they would simply get better, but there was a sinking feeling growing within that such luck would not be spared to her.

Regardless, when she had exhausted herself of her troubles, and the energy to continue any longer, she found comfort in being able to lean on him: emotionally and physically. He was gracious enough to let her rest against him and simply be, and it was... nice. A platonic gesture, certainly, but one she needed badly. She had many friends among the Refuge, but few outside it. Her friendship with Vier, while still budding, was one she treasured. He gave her a sense of peace, of calm, and by the time she moved to stand and retire for the evening, she was able to give him a true smile.

While her peace of mind was not to last beyond a few days, he had helped her more than enough for the time they spent talking. She was burdened with far too much to carry, and he had eased the weight.