#if said child was dying of dysentery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jevilowo · 2 years

Text

Hey guys read this edgy fucking story i wrote when i was 12

---line break---

"Write About Secrets". Ha. I'm willing to bet that the entire class will write some ridiculous story about their cutesy "I stole a cookie out of the cookie jar" experiences. As will I, obviously. If anyone knew my real secret...

On the outside, I look sweet and innocent with chocolatey curls, frilly socks, a frilly dress and a huge pink and yellow bow perched on the top of my head, no matter what else I'm wearing.

My father, a rich businessman, nicknamed me Angel, as did my Mother. So did my finicky Grandmama, although she would frequently announce that I would "Look cuter blonde". The last time we went to stay with her, she dyed my hair platinum blonde as I slept. It looked ridiculous.

A week later, she sadly passed away. Dysentery, the doctors said. No one noticed the now empty bottle of rat poison in the back of the cupboard. Grandmama's house always had a rodent problem. Luckily, I took care of the biggest rat. Her.

My father is, as I already mentioned, a rich businessman. Well, he was before he was arrested. My mother never liked him much. She said he was a conning badword badword. I quite agreed.

He was boisterous, loud and never let Mother and I do anything remotely fun. Our holidays were spent cooped up in beach villas, never allowed to leave. And although mother denies it, I am almost entirely sure that he was cheating on her to a famous supermodel lady.

Father's main weakness was his tendency to throttle people who called him or his business idiotic. I learned this when I was two, when one of his his co-workers told him that his plan to expand the business was idiotic. Not bad for an earliest memory.

One night I said: "Daddy, dearest?" (Father likes me to call him that) "please could you explain this maths homework to me?" (It was "advanced" algebra I swiped from someone's backpack. Wasn't even remotely difficult.) "Unless, of course, you're to busy working on that IDIOTIC business of yours".

Predictibly, Father lunged across the table and tried to strangle me, à la Homer Simpson. For a second I thought: "Is this going too far?" But then I thought: "Nah". I squealed girlishly, and mother came rushing in. She took one look at what was happening, grabbed her phone and dialed 999.

A week and an overcomplicated court case later, Father was in jail for child abuse, and it was discovered Mother was right about the whole "conning badword badword" thing. The judge found out that he was conning his clients. I'll spare you the details. Mother remarried, and now I have a rich, handsome lawyer as a stepfather.

9 months later, I had a new baby brother. "Oh look at cute little baby Bobby!", the neighbours gushed. "Oh, isn't he adorable? I heard he has a sister? Eh, who cares. Ain't he the sweetest?" It was sickening, I tell you. Sadly, he died a month later.

They think him rolled over in his sleep and got his head stuck between two pillows and suffocated. "Did you hear what happened with little baby Bobby? The poor little mite! Not to mention his sister. She's wept buckets, apparently. Oh, the poor little girl!"

Buckets? More like teaspoons. Crocodile tears. Like the cartoon crocodile on the pillow I used to smother him. Dead babies tell no lies. Or truths, for that matter.

Rich handsome lawyer stepfather man had a ridiculously large family. Which can only mean one thing: ridiculously large family gatherings. Roughly once a month, sometimes more, the whole family got together and do foolish things, such as singing competitions.

His sister, my new Aunt Ruth was especially obsessed with these. Every single time, she did about five diffent song and dance routines and expected the rest of the family to adore them. Well, they may have, but I never did. A few months after the death of my baby stepbrother, she decided it would be a "wonderful idea" to make all of us do a musical together, namely Annie. And guess who had to play the titular character?

She had cast herself as one of the main adult parts, Miss Hannigan, which meant she had a melodramatic solo song. It was during this that fortunately, I mean sadly, her routine was interrupted when she got hit by a stray falling light.

Little Orphan Annie was luckily in the bathroom during this, so she didn't witness this happening. It was lucky everyone forgot the "don't leave the wings during performances" rule. It was luckier that I cut the right rope. I can never tell stage left from stage right...

These "little accidents" probably would have continued, but I read mother's diary. She thinks she's cursed, so I decided no more "accidents". At least in the (step) family...

School was, and still is the worst. I have to deal with ditsy cutesy little girls who actually want to be my friend. The worst of these was the dreaded Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye. She wanted to be my "bestie" and it is sickening how hard she tried. I swear, she once filled my lunch box with glitter and ruined my cavier! What a waste of perfectly decent fish eggs.

One day I pulled a risky move and while we were all crashing down the school steps (very undignified) I crept behind Phillipa Nevaeh and shoved. Guess who she collided with and sent flying down the steps?

Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye died from blood loss due to the huge crack in her head in the hospital a while later. They were too late to save her. Her last words, croaked in the hospital bed were: "tell...... bestie........." She never finished the sentence. Everyone assumed she meant me, so I had to act twice as sad, which is harder than it looks.

Did I regret a thing? Well to that I say:

is glitter poured all over one's cavier forgivable? In case you are a complete and utter imbocile (likely), the answer is no.

My teacher, Mr. Dickory was especially miserable about this. Mainly because

Anastasia Bettina Cordelia Daye was his favourite student, hands down. He kept trying to "talk to me" about her death and how we were dealing with it.

He also complained about my bow and told me to politely remove it every time we made eye contact. This was excessively annoying as I need it for my "sweet and innocent" ploy.

Also, he made me do art which is a complete and utter wate of time, although every single time I brought that up he would say: "you cannae be gud at eve' thing, lass" (by the way, he was Scottish). I took offense at that because that is definitely not the reason I hate art so much.

Mr. Dickory had motorbike, of which he was extremely proud, mainly because it was Scottish, like him. One sad, fateful day he crashed the blasted thing into a wall, when he was driving home from the school.

He was sadly paralysed from the waist down. He will never walk again, let alone teach seven year old girls. No one seemed to notice the torn up engine wires. Everyone seemed to believe that my blackened hands were the product of a leaky pen.

After these incidents, mother insisted on pulling me out of school. She believed that the school was jinxed. I pitied her rather, and resolved to stop the...ah, accidents. For real this time. Never again.

Not long after this incident, rich handsome lawyer stepfather man dragged us off to another family gathering. Personally, I'm surprised it went ahead after what happened to Aunt Ruth. Now would be a good time to mention my cousins.

Due to the whole "large family" thing, I now have fifty-six cousins, plus the one or two on my biological father's side. Some of them, I must admit, aren't too bad. Others are pains in the derriére. Some of them are just plain weird. But none are as bad as the Twins of Terror. (By the way, I did NOT come up with the name "Twins of Terror". It is a TERRIBLE name.)

The twins, Darren and James, were, and still remain, the absolute WORST people I have ever had the "pleasure" of meeting. They lied, they bullied, they stole... and don't get me started on the swearing. Worst of all, they decided that I -out of all the slightly insane people in the family- was a good target for all of this. Something about my "18th Century Lingo" and my "Like, Super Lame Outfit". Offence is taken.

Alas, nothing could be done as all the adults believed that "Darren, Darling" and "Jamie-Wamie" were nothing but kind, sweet, innocent and pure twelve year boys. And I SWORE to never again... you know. So nothing happened to the twins. Life continued.

The final straw came at the earlier mentioned family gathering. It was 20% quieter without Aunt Ruth. Slightly less chance of my eardrums bleeding.

To my dismay, the twins hadn't spontaneously combusted on the long journey to Step-Grandmama's mansion. They cornered me on my way back from the bathroom, going on about my "conning badword badword jailbird badword" father. I pretended to actually care, in the hope they would get bored and leave.

But then they started on Mother. .

They called her many, many unspeakable things, even stooping so low as to accuse her of the death of Grandmama and Aunt Ruth and the arrest of Father! How dare they?! She was my only solace in this crazy world! I could NOT let them get away with this.

That night, I staged my most elaborate scheme yet. I knew they would enter the huge kitchens, searching for a midnight feast at around two a.m. because I knew for a fact that they did that every night. I lay in wait under a table, with two knives, an onion and a scrap of paper.

Sure enough, my prediction was correct. The twins entered at 2:06 a.m., and started rooting around in the one of the many cupboards.

I pounced.

Darren. And then James. Two clean strikes of the knives, and my job was done.

I sliced the onions under their eyes, so their dying breaths were mingled with tears. Also to make the scene more realistic.

I gently pushed the first knife into the gaping hole in Darren's chest, and did the same with the second knife and James. I positioned their hands on their respective knives, so it looked like they were each stabbing themselves.

As if they were both committing suicide.

I left the scrap of paper- a fake suicide note- lying between their lifeless bodies and slipped back upstairs to my guest bedroom.

I was awoken three hours later, by a scream. I assumed this meant that the bodies were found. I pulled on my dressing gown and ran out, pretending to be confused and scared as the entire family barrelled downstairs like a herd of wild buffalos (except me. I trotted daintily).

The scream had come from an obviously terrified kitchen maid (yes, Step-Grandmama had kitchen maids). The maid silently pointed at the bodies, which by now were starting to smell a bit. Everyone was silent for a second. Then there was UPROAR.

I don't exactly remember what happened next. There was a lot of screaming and crying. I think I pretended to faint because the next thing I knew, I was sitting up on a couch, being gently told that my cousins were dead.

The suicide note must have not been convincing enough, as the police were called in that afternoon. Luckily, they didn't think to interview me. But they suspected Mother.

Why? Because APPARENTLY my (step) Aunt Janice (the twins' mother) had heard the twins accuse Mother of murder, and decided that Mother killed the "Little Darlings" either to silence them, or for revenge in suspecting her.

I think I pretended to faint again. When I woke up on the couch (again) I decided that I absolutely had to do something. Mother doesn't deserve punishment for my crimes! She is probably the only person in the entire universe who doesn't. That night I came up with a plan, which I went downstairs to carry out at 4 a.m.

The next morning, I scribbled up a confession, shoved some chocolate and a knife into my pocket and went downstairs, praying my plan would work. I requested an audience with the police officers and my (step) family in one of the many living rooms.

I confessed to my crimes.

Just kidding!

I announced that I had found one of the kitchen maids, dead on the kitchen floor next to a note confessing to killing the twins. There was a bullet hole in her chest, and a gun clasped loosely in her hands. Everyone rushed to the kitchens, to see if this was true.

In the confusion, I darted up to mother and rich handsome lawyer stepfather man's guest room. I tucked the confession note into Mother's diary and threw myself out of the window. I landed softly in a bush and ran away.

I ran because I knew that the Police would start to get suspicious of me when they heard of the incedents that had happened in my school. I was almost sad that I had put mother through so much, but hopefully she would have another child with rich handsome lawyer stepfather man and forget about me. Sadly, I never found out if this was true.

I escaped to the docks and smuggled myself onto a ferry. Where I ended up, I'm not telling you. I will tell you, however, that I cut off most of my hair with the knife, stained my pink frilly dress with mud and abandoned my socks, shoes and bow. Some orphanage people found me and took me in. A year and a half later, I was adopted.

I was adopted exactly three years and two murders ago and I am writing this, aged eleven in a stuffy classroom. If any of this information ever got out, God knows what could happen.

But before I go and write about stealing cookies from the jar, here's a warning: I could be anyone.

Your neighbour, your cousin, even your best friend.

Be careful what you do.

Be careful what you say.

You never know.

You could be my next victim...

FIN

#i want to apologize #for the overabundance of edginess #but to be fair #i was 12

0 notes

annavoncleves · 4 years

Text

the saga of henry the young king

ok so, henry the young king, eldest (living) son of henry ii (he did have an older brother, william, but william died as a baby so in practice henry's oldest) dad's the king of england, lord of wales and ireland, count of anjou and maine and aquitaine, and eventually brittany

lots of titles, lots of sons as well, and rather than the oldest son getting everything like comes in later (unless he's an only child/only has sisters) at this point he has to share with his brothers, though he does get the Best Cut, which in this case is the kingship of england

BUT

kingdoms are a lil different to other realms, in that, whilst counties and duchys can be split whilst dad's still alive, bc those are vassals of the kingdom, the throne can't be split up, obviously

so even though henry is named 'henry the young king' (an attempt at securing the throne, after the absolute clusterfuck that happened to henry ii's mother, empress matilda, whose throne was stolen by her cousin stephen after her father's death, bc she was a) a woman, gasp and b) the lords of england didn't think SWEARING AN OATH TO RECOGNISE HER AS QUEEN BEFORE THEIR KING AND PEERS was BINDING ENOUGH, so that henry's chosen heir would. actually get the throne when he died) he has no actual power

which tbh, looking at his record, is probably a good thing, bc although he thought a lot of himself, he wasn't actually that great a leader of men

he was a very good jouster tho, but that's neither here nor there

SO. henry ii is king. henry the young king is basically the king-in-waiting, whilst all his legitimate* younger brothers get THEIR inheritances (well, richard and geoffrey do, getting aquitaine and brittany. john - later known as bad king john, yes the bad guy in robin hood, he's based off THIS john - is the youngest and doesn't get shit, gaining him the nickname 'lackland')

*henry ii was a bit of a slut, but all kings were, and was actually pretty good to his bastard sons, by the standards of the day, anyway. he made one of them an important bishop and gave the other a position at court. fun fact, when henry ii does eventually die, it's one of his illegitimate sons at his bedside, and none of his legitimate sons

[in the words of the astounding @searchingforserendipity25: “to be the only illegitimate son at that bedside, crowded by all those absences” damn queen, go off]

BUT. henry the young king, king in name, but JUNIOR king, and only titular. younger brothers get their lands. he's pissed.

daaaaad, he whines, i want a go at ruling now

i'm ruling now, wait your turn, henry ii says

no, fuck you, henry the young king says and starts a rebellion

despite being... well, a bit useless, henry the young king is VERY popular (idk, bc he was moderately handsome and good at jousting?? it makes no sense to me why the people liked him as much as they did, he didn't exactly do anything to earn their love or allegiance as far as i can see) and quite a few lords get behind him

also wanting a bigger portion than they've been given, richard and geoffrey join the rebellion, bc they want more of that sweet, sweet land, as does their mother eleanor of aquitaine who fell out with her husband at some point

henry ii, against all expectations, successfully puts down the rebellion and henry the young king et al are in troubleeee, but henry ii can't afford to really punish his ungrateful offspring as much as he'd probably like, so he goes the other way and gives henry the young king a nice big allowance to keep him happy, which works for a little bit

then henry the young king, beautiful imbecile that he is, decides he's gonna rebel again. it ends the same way. he's just not very good at war, is the only conclusion i can come to

SO the second rebellion is in progress (henry the young king is allied with his brother geoffrey again, but not richard, who appears to have learned his lesson... for now. richard does rebel again later, but he waits for the right moment, proving he had some degree of intelligence that the other two... lacked) when henry the young king gets sick

i'm gonna have to copy and paste from wikipedia for this bit to explain what he was sick WITH bc there is no way i can beat this: "[Henry] had just finished pillaging local monasteries to raise money to pay his mercenaries [when] he contracted dysentery at the beginning of June."

you heard that right

he got dysentry whilst PILLAGING CHURCHES

it was a real Bruh moment for karma

anyway, he starts getting sicker and sicker until it becomes clear He Ain't Surviving This, at which point he does what a lot of people do when faced with the reality of their own mortality: say 'oh shit, i fucked up' and try and apologise

he's also pretty out of it so at some point in a presumably feverish stupor 'as a token of his penitence for his war against his father, he prostrated himself naked on the floor before a crucifix'. just stripped off, got on his belly, presumably in one of the few moments he was not shitting himself, and says 'lol my bad'

unfortunately for henry the young king, he's got form for being a tricksy, underhanded bitch. (seriously, why was he so popular?? enquiring minds - mine - would like to know) and when the messenger gets to his dad saying 'welp, i'm dying, i'm real sorry about the wars, come see me on my deathbed?

henry ii takes one look at that and goes: 'he's not really dying, is he?’

the messenger: uh. yeah. really dying.

henry ii: sounds fake

the messenger: no, he's really really sorry and really really dying

henry ii: this is Definitely A Trap

so henry ii isn't gonna be taken to a secondary location to get imprisoned or murdered by his rebellious son, which u can't entirely blame him for, considering henry the young king is currently In The Process Of Attempting To Depose Him when this all goes down, BUT henry ii also figures that if his son really is dying, and he doesn't grant him forgiveness, then he's gonna be haunted by that shit/his son won't find peace/bad things will happen. so he takes one of his rings and gives it to the messenger and says, take this to my son as a token of my forgiveness. the ring couldn't come from anyone else, so henry the young king will know it really comes from his father, and henry ii doesn't get possibly murdered, so everybody wins!

messenger goes back to henry the young king, who we presume has now got some clothes on, or at least a strategically placed sheet, and gives him the ring. as expected, henry the young king dies soon after, get this, holding the ring that his father sent him.

like. i don't think he was a good king. i don't think he would've been a good king. but. he dies holding onto this ring. and he's got a lot of people around him, but his dad isn't there, just this ring.

when henry ii gets the news that henry the young king is really, really dead now, he is meant to have said the absolute soul-crusher of a quote that made me want to tell you this whole saga in the first place: "He cost me much, but I wish he had lived to cost me more."

like??? this kid tried to overthrow his dad. TWICE. he spent all the money his dad gave him and then some, which led to the aforementioned pillaging monasteries, he signed up to go on crusade that his dad specifically told him not to fucking go on (which he died before he could fulfil)... he did EVERYTHING wrong. like. so much.

and his dad just wants his pillaging, disobedient and wasteful son back.

and that is the story of henry the young king, the only junior king england ever had.

#henry the young king #henry ii #the plantagenets #plantagenet era #angevin empire #storytime!#yes i did copy and paste this from my ims with searchingforserendipity25 bc she told me it was good #yes i know it will get no notes #history #british history #english history #we love a dysfunctional family

67 notes · View notes

introvertguide · 3 years

Text

Famous Dangerous Film Shoots Where Actors and Crew Were Harmed

Our film group has been following the AFI top 100 and lately been looking at the works of John Huston and Humphrey Bogart that are on this list. One theme that has been present on these Huston/Bogey films, and almost all the films on the list for that matter, was the extreme difficulty of production. Our current film, The African Queen, was shot on location in Africa and almost the entire crew got dysentery. It was shot on a tight budget as an independent film so there wasn't any fancy hotels. They had to deal with disease ridden mosquitoes, wild animals, leeches, and soldier ants. There were many instances in which the actors would vomit between takes due to illness. It sounds like it was terrible. However, it could have gone much worse when you look at some other films where things went wrong. Here is a list of some movies in which the production went extraordinarily wrong:

Such Men Are Dangerous (1930)

This was a pre Hays Code drama directed by Kenneth Hawks (brother of Howard Hawks) starring Hedda Hopper and Warner Baxter. There were some aerial scenes that involved a parachute jump in which two secondary planes were used to film. It did not go well as the planes were circling in an attempt to get a good shot. The wingtips of the accompanying planes touched forcing them to swing together, burst into flames, and crash into the ocean off of the coast of Santa Monica. The crash killed ten men including the director and cinematographer. The accident occurred on one of the last days of filming so the movie was still completed and released.

They Died with Their Boots On (1941)

The title turned out to be quite appropriate due the events that happened during filming. The film is the story of General Custer and the events that led up to the battle of Little Bighorn. The famous general was played by Errol Flynn, who collapsed from exhaustion during the filming. That wasn't the biggest problem by a long shot. During the filming of this last stand, one man fell off his horse and broke his neck, one extra had a heart attack, and one actor (Jack Budlong) fell off his horse and impaled himself with his own saber.

The Twilight Zone Movie (1983)

This was a very famous and well publicized accident that occurred during filming. It was the portion of the movie that was directed by John Landis in which a racist character is haunted by extreme atrocities of the past. Actor Vic Morrow played the lead and he was supposed to be helping two Vietnamese children escape jungle warfare. During the last scene, he was supposed to escape with the children to a helicopter while dodging mortar fire. The stunt pilot was thrown off by the explosions and crashed the helicopter into Morrow and the two children (six- and seven-year-old actors). The pilot was killed, Morrow and one of the children were beheaded by the rotors, and the other child was crushed. They were perhaps the goriest filming deaths of all time.

The Crow (1994)

This might be the most well known filming accident of the younger generations. During the making of the film, Brandon Lee was shot by a blank that also had some shrapnel from a previous bullet when the gun was last used and the small projectile killed the young actor. He was only 28 years old and son of world famous martial artist Bruce Lee. Both Bruce and Brandon died tragically young and it was believed that there was a curse on the family due to Bruce Lee teaching Chinese martial arts to Americans.

The Messenger (unfinished)

This 2002 Russian film went so poorly that it never technically even got started. It was only the second day shooting on location on the side of a frozen mountain when a rockslide took out the entire party. A total of 28 people died, including lead actor Sergei Bodrov, Jr, and many of the bodies were never recovered. I can't think of a situation much worse than having the entire cast and crew wiped out by a natural disaster.

Midnight Rider (unfinished)

This 2014 catastrophe was due to pure negligence on the part of the director. One Randall Miller was charged with manslaughter after insisting that his crew set up on a train trestle to film a scene. There was no escape if a train came along and director Miller said that he had a lookout in case a train came and there would be 60 seconds to get out of the way. This was not true and that was not enough time anyway, so, when a train inevitably came along, a 27-year-old camera assistant named Sarah Jones was struck and killed. Miller served two years in prison and is not longer allowed to be involved with any safety measures during filming. Assistant director Hilary Schwartz and executive producer Jay Sedrish were both sentenced to probation for creating unsafe conditions during filming. Everyone got sued by the family of Jones for the wrongful death.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Film critics talk about the realistic aspects of film and actors truly suffering for their art. But sometimes, in an attempt to impress, people in the business will go too far and put themselves and others in mortal danger. Sometimes it goes wrong and people get hurt or killed. To me, it makes film history even more interesting knowing that people put their lives on the line to get that perfect shot. However, I also believe that it is definitely not worth dying over.

#death on set #filming accidents #accidents on set #introverts #introvert #cinema history #brandon lee #vic morrow

18 notes · View notes

tundrainafrica · 4 years

Text

Title: Trials and Tributes (3/5)

Summary:

“There were witches who lived among them. Or so that’s what Levi was told. He just could not believe for the life of him that she’d be one of them.”

Levi is a soldier who interrogates witches before they are put on trial and Hange might just be a witch.

Levihan Secret Santa Gift for @cleacourgette

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Link to other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

They were working late that night. So unusually late that at first, Levi had taken Erwin’s closing the windows as a sign that they should finish for the night. He had started to empty his own desk of paperwork when Erwin spoke up.

“How were the trials?”

“Routine.”

Erwin raised one eyebrow. “The trials for someone so important to you volunteered to facilitate it?”

“Yes, they concluded she was a witch and we’re moving on to the swimming test. It’s in two days.” Levi said as mechanically as possible, not wanting his true emotions to leak out.

“Do you really believe she was the one responsible for the plague in your village? The plague which took your mother I mean?” Erwin did not need to clarify it. Yet, he did and that clarification only made Levi's chest tighten.

“Who else? She murdered a child then she disappeared.”

“I visited Hange after her last trial, had a small chat with her.”

“Of course she wouldn’t admit it.”

“That wasn’t what I asked about. I wanted to understand for myself what happened with that incident back she was a child, when she was accused of murder.”

“She said herself, she didn’t know what happened to him.”

Erwin shook his head. “She didn’t know. But the other people from the town did.”

Levi’s eyes widened in surprise. Suddenly he was self conscious of his disconnect from the happenings of the town as a child. Although he was considered one of the townspeople then. Having had to take care of his sick mother, he never had the chance to go out and meet many people nor discuss what had been happening around the town.

“I checked the reports in the capital library. Tobias’ mother reported that she had found red welts on her son’s back when he got home from playing with the kids then his body started to swell. Within an hour, he started to have a hard time breathing. His throat closed and with no means of breathing, he passed away quickly.”

The circumstances of his death were strange. Strange enough that the townspeople had come together to organize a witch hunt.

“They also recorded the accounts of the witnesses who were playing with Hange and Tobias that day. And when I checked them, they aligned well with the story Hange had given me. She pushed Tobias into a grassy patch. One of the boys who had been left there when Tobi and Hange both went home mentioned that they might have landed on a fire ant mound which explains the itchy red welts on Tobi’s back.”

Levi had been bitten enough times to know ant bites were painful. “But ant bites aren’t fatal.”

“This is where I did some extra research and talked to some more apothecary's and doctors. Apparently it is not completely implausible to infer that Tobias died from something called an allergic reaction. The swelling of his face, the difficulty breathing from an insect bite. It lines up so well with some of the other writings from doctors."

“Then how do you explain the plague?” Levi asked.

Erwin sighed. “I don’t think there’s any better way to tell you this but, I don’t believe the plague that killed your mother was caused by a witch. In fact, I don't believe witches actually exist.

Trials and Tributes

“Levi, I have a theory.”

“You always have theories Hange,” Levi said, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“Humor me! That’s my book so I can get it back from you anytime I want.” Hange put her hand on the page he was reading so suddenly and so rudely that Levi had to resist the urge to slam the book closed on her hands then and there.

“Okay. I’m humoring you," Levi said.

“So, lately I’ve been noticing something about my herb garden. There is a small area where plants tended to die at a faster rate.”

“Uhuh.”

“So I pulled out the dying plants and I noticed something common about all of them. They had these white spots all over the stems and the leaves. They were like spider webs but there were more webs then spiders and you know the plants closest to them started to have those white spots too.”

“Oh, okay so a little discoloration on leaves,” Levi said matter-of-factly.

“So what if those white things are diseases, and being closer to one another, they spread more easily. What if people stuck together in close quarters just end up getting sick with the same disease? Maybe there are these invisible particles that fly through the air and when they get into people, people get sick. Maybe there are special particles which can swim too and when people drink the water they get sick?

Levi went back to the reading as Hange continued to ramble on. Somehow her theory had become too far fetched, not worth the time of day to even listen to anymore

“Didn’t your mother die in a plague? What if those particles are what causes plagues? ”

Trials and Tributes

Levi had to admit that at the moment Erwin had suggested that witches might not exist, he did not feel adamant at all or even indignant at that claim. A wave of relief had rushed through him and he found himself settling back down on the chair in shock, his plans to clear his desk forgotten.

“Hange traced the origin of the dysentery problem to the well at the center of town…” Levi said, mostly too himself. Suddenly the ramblings and the theories Hange had made years ago over tea and book readings were suddenly starting to make more sense. “Erwin, you might be right.”

Erwin and Levi found themselves making their way to the prison cell where Hange was being held to satisfy their own curiosity.

The guard was quick to leave as soon as Erwin and Levi entered. Levi stood by the door, keeping an ear open for any footsteps that might be coming too near, and might possibly hear their conversations.

It was his first time visiting her cell in days but he couldn’t help but notice she had lost weight since he last saw her. He made a mental note to sneak more food next time he came over.

“Hange, sorry to bother you but we have something we wanted to confirm with you,” Erwin started as he settled himself on a chair in front of her cell.

“Ask away. It’s not like I have anything better to do here.”

It’s not like I have anything better to do here. Hange had repeated that line so many times back in the cabin in the woods. The way she had said it then though was softer and alarmingly toneless. Levi snuck a glance at her face or at least what he could make out from his angle. She had bent her head down, not bothering to look up at both him and Erwin. From what he could make out though, her eyes were downcast and the glint was nothing more than a flicker of what it used to be. At that moment, she looked completely disconsolate.

“How did you trace the diseases back to the well?” It was Erwin who spoke up. In that few seconds of silence, it was probably only Erwin who would have had the strength to start the conversation.

“The dysentery problem?” Hange asked.

Erwin nodded. “Yes. The one they discussed in your trial.” An unnecessary clarification but somehow, Levi felt it was needed, to fill the silence in the room and hopefully to get Hange to talk.

“I did my research,” Hange answered. “I was getting more than a dozen patients a day. I asked them where they lived… What they ate…” Hange trailed off.

Once again, the three all waited in silence. As they sat, Levi stood. And as Levi stood, he continued to entertain thoughts in his head. His mind was racing and it felt like it was only getting faster.

Maybe there are these invisible particles that fly through the air and when they get into people, people get sick. Maybe there are special particles which can swim too and when people drink the water they get sick?

“Hange, you told me long ago that you think there are these invisible particles in the air that can swim. And when people accidentally eat them they get sick. Is that what made you think that it could have come from the well in the center of town?”

Hange nodded.

“Do you think that the plague that happened when we were eight was from those same invisible particles?” Levi pressed.

She nodded again.

Erwin looked up at Levi in surprise. Levi remembered then that he never did tell Erwin that Hange was not an enemy but in fact, a childhood friend. Erwin was sharp though and within seconds that look of surprise had shifted to one of understanding. Levi did not need to explain anything.

“Levi, do you believe I’m a witch?”

That was the moment the survivor instinct inside of him decided to make itself known. Witches can compel their victims. Witches can bewitch. It was a battle between that part of him that resisted the urge to believe her and the part of him that wanted to accept her, to trust her.

Hell. We’ve known each other for years. She hadn’t done anything then to break his trust. Actually, he was the one who had broken his promise years ago.

“I don’t know.” was all Levi could let out. Those two sides of him had settled for that as a compromise.

“I for one don’t believe in witchcraft,” Erwin admitted before Levi and Hange could react beyond Levi’s admittance of neutrality. “And I will do what I need to do to make these lynchings end. If I come across anything of interest, anything which can help your case, I’ll pass it on to you. Thank you for your cooperation Hange.”

With that, Erwin stood up and exited the room leaving Levi scrambling to pick up the pieces.

“Levi, let me ask you something.” Hange asked. “If I really were a witch, if I did have malevolent intentions, don’t you think I would have done something a long time ago already?”

What if she did it all to manipulate me. What if she needs me for some end goal.

“Don’t get me wrong Hange. I feel compelled to help you and I probably will anyway,” Levi answered. “I just can’t discount the fact that this could be manipulation on your end.”

Hange looked up at him and for the first time that night, Levi saw her face for what it was. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were red and the lines under her eyes were only more defined than they were before. He only had a split second though to take in those features before they oriented themselves into a familiar expression he had come to know so well.

A simple, maybe even naive smile. “If you believe you’re being manipulated, then I give you permission not to bend over back for me. I’m ready to die.”

That could have easily been interpreted as manipulation. As Hange said that, Levi only felt more determined to find a way to save her. He couldn’t help but note though the Hange he knew was straightforward and not at all manipulative. She had always said what she meant or so that was what he had believed.

Levi found himself questioning those voices in his head instead. Those voices that doubted Hange. Maybe they were the ones manipulating me.

Levi gripped at the bars tightly and leaned closer towards her or as close as he could get at least when they were separated by prison bars “I don't know if this is all a game. If it is, you’re doing good because either way, I’m going to do what I can so you can make it out of this alive."

"Right after saying you believe I'm a witch?"

"You were my best friend. I owe you my younger years." Levi answered. " And as your best friend, I'll find a way out of this for you. And if I need to, I’ll take you out of this country, I’ll bring you down south."

Trials and Tributes

It was a very cold night. So cold that Levi wished he could have put it off to another night. Given that Hange would be taking the swimming test the day after tomorrow, he knew he only had that night to test his plan for himself.

As soon as the bible tests were over, Levi had been assigned to find a place to execute the swimming test. Even before he had visited Hange in the dungeon that night with Erwin, the gears in his mind had already been moving to keep Hange alive.

He had done his research from talking to the townspeople about bodies of water, geography and nearby hiding places for criminals. For research. He had said then. Nobody did ask too much of it. He was a soldier after all who kept the peace of their kingdom.

The time he had spent collecting information had given him options. The cost benefit analysis he did given those options was what led him to decide on one particular cliff that overlooked the sea only a thirty minute carriage ride from her prison. The locals had mentioned that it was a good area for cliff diving, the water was of a fair depth that it would be safe to dive.

And that’s what I have to see for myself. It was going to be his job to push Hange into the water in less than 24 hours, the least he could do is try it himself.

It was a risky move. Especially when his cheeks were already turning numb from the cold. Levi had to admit he was probably risking his own life at that moment. As he removed his overcoat and the shirt underneath with the intention of diving into the water head first, Levi had to take multiple breaks. His body was protesting the action and the protest manifested itself as a light shudder every time the cool night breeze brushed passed him.

You’re bewitched. Those voices reminded him. Levi did not need to listen though. Before he could even allow himself a second thought about his decision, before his body and his survival instincts could push him back, Levi jumped headfirst into the black sea below him.

It would be his sense of touch leading him from then on.

From the moment he hit the water and dove deeper, he allowed himself a few minutes with his hands behind his back to simulate what Hange would be going through. He counted thirty seconds and by then, his lungs were starting to ache. He reached his hands out in front of him, relying on his recall of his last view illuminated by the moonlight to guide him where he needed to go.

He turned behind him. The cliff side should be here. He kept his hands in front of him as he swam in the direction where the cliffside should be located. Within seconds he felt it. And with it came a glimmer of hope.

That hope was what he needed badly. His lungs were crying and he knew he would need air soon. He could have easily gone up and breathed it himself. He was constantly reminded though that Hange would not have that same luxury and he pressed on. Holding on to the side of the cliff, he continued to swim.

It should be around here. His lungs were starting to scream and Levi knew he might not last any long. He started to scramble and move quicker. A generally bad idea when his oxygen and his time conscious was limited.

At that moment though, Levi had luck on his side. That empty space in between the cliffside was what he was looking for. Finding that gave him the second wind he needed. Levi only pushed further into the cavern. The path was narrow and consequently, quick and easy to feel his way through.

By the time Levi’s lungs were screaming once again, the energy from his second wind almost completely depleted, Levi had already made it into an open space and with his last burst of strength he shot his hand out above him.

It was as if a weight was lifted off of his shoulders both literally and figuratively. The air was much lighter on his body, especially on his lungs. Levi opened his eyes to see the moon above him.

The cave was generally closed, save for an opening on the roof that illuminated the cave enough for Levi to see where the sky and the walls of the cave meet. As Levi lay on the ground of the cave, he took in the view and focused on watching how the view shifted slightly with the rise and the fall of his chest.

The moon was beautiful. So beautiful that Levi almost considered spending the night in the cave despite the biting cold. Biting? That wasn’t the right word. Numbing maybe.

Numbing. That reminder of his own mortality and the possibility of death was what had Levi sit up and rush out of the cave, despite his subdued sense of touch.

He had to get out of there. He had to stay alive. He still had a job to finish.

Trials and Tributes

The water shall refuse to receive in her bosom those who have shaken off the sacred water of baptism.

In the easiest of words, if Hange were to be proven innocent and completely human, she had to drown. That was how they had explained it to the multiple witch suspects that have died similarly.

“If you do drown, your place in heaven is guaranteed.” The bishop had said, as he explained the history of that trial to the crowd who had gathered by the cliff. Levi kept himself looking only towards Hange who stood next to him while the priest prattled on about their ‘guaranteed heaven.’ Those were the same people who had sold indulgences and places in heaven to the nobility long before.

He had never seen heaven. He had seen scams in action though and somehow that and his own generally negative opinion of the clergymen was all he needed to feel such a distaste for their actions.

Hange was in light garments despite the cool breeze that came with early spring. Levi wore something similar in the form of a cotton shirt and dress pants, a subtle gesture of solidarity on his end.

Hange Zoe. He only found himself looking back at the crowd and at the person in question when her name was mentioned. What followed the announcement of her names were cheers. But Levi knew it wasn’t anything to celebrate for him.

The crowd wanted to see blood. A potato sack was placed on the ground next to Hange and Levi felt his stomach drop as he started to comprehend the risk that came with his plan. Although he had simulated that same escape the night before, Hange would be faced with the extra challenge of cutting through the ropes and the sack before being able to dive and escape to the cave.

To balance it out at least, he had fed her as much information as he possibly could.

When you feel the wall in front of you, keep going left.

Dive when you feel the cliff turn rougher.

You’re going to have to dive down deep to find it.

Levi had racked his head for as much detail as he could as he oriented Hange to the location of the sea cave.

I’ll meet you there at night when it gets dark. I’ll send food. Then just stay in the cave until I can fix your papers and find you a way out of here.

While he helped Hange into the potato sack, he searched for an opening to dig his small dagger in between the tightly woven ropes, in preparation for their plan. As soon as he did, Hange touched the dull part of the blade with her fingers and tapped the side of his finger, a small gesture that she had understood what needed to do. The quick tap was somehow reassuring.

Good luck. Stay alive. He mouthed. She wouldn’t have heard it but he had not wanted to risk anything louder than that. Even with the deafening cheers of the crowd. Levi pulled the sack over her with the help of one of the guards. He had no time to even allow himself one last look at the knife digging into the ropes. He could not risk anyone finding it.

The other guard had offered to help Levi throw the sack over the cliff but Levi declined. He didn’t even trust himself to throw over the cliff. How could he trust anyone else? Hange wasn’t heavy though. In fact, Levi was sure he had carried weapons much heavier and had shot arrows with draw weights much heavier than her.

Yet, her weight was crushing him and Levi felt his arms going numb underneath him as he carried the sack towards the edge of the cliff.

The sack was warm, a little too warm. The contents of the sack reacted to every moment. As much as Levi had wanted to pretend that it was just a sack of potatoes or maybe even a dead body. He couldn’t. He closed his eyes for a second and had somehow felt a heartbeat beneath that potato sack. It was a little too fast and maybe even deafening.

Hange. That’s Hange. I’m holding Hange in my arms.

At that rate, Levi could not even tell if it was his own heart or hers. Will this work out? Will this be the last time I hear that heartbeat?

There was no turning back.

“Heave…” Levi pulled the sack behind him to gather some moment.

The heartbeat evolved from a canter to a gallop as he felt the strength quickly spread through his arms. He remembered then, he had an obligation to moderate his strength as well. He didn’t want her landing too far from the cliff either or worse, get seriously hurt on impact.

“Ho!” Levi threw the sack forward, slowing down as he did. All he needed to do was make sure the sack covered enough distance that she wouldn’t hit the cliffside prematurely

It was as if time slowed down when Levi found himself in a good position to let go of the sack. He had found himself peeling his hand from the sack, finger by finger. The heartbeat he had felt in the sack, the warmth were like the threads of a spider web, sticking to him so tenaciously, so desperately.

He didn’t want to let go.

Trials and Tributes

“Wow! I didn’t think there would be this many types of knives. I’ve only ever played with a letter opener.”

“Don’t you have knives around here? How do you do research without them?” Levi asked half heartedly as he continued to polish his saxe knife.

“Well, I make my own. You don’t really need anything too sharp to be able to cut up leaves. Sometimes you can just do it like this.” Hange tore one of the oregano leaves a little more roughly to make her point.

“Well, fighting gets a little complicated apparently.” Levi positioned his knife in front of the window of the cabin and watched as the silver glistened under the sunlight that streamed through the window. “Uncle said this knife is strong enough to parry the blow of a sword. If you can control it…” Just imagining a sword coming down on a knife only a quarter of the size of a sword had Levi shuddering. One miscalculated movement and he could find himself three less fingers.

“Learning to use weapons takes time. And I doubt your uncle is gonna make you fight a swordsman just yet.”

“My uncle said he’ll teach the technique. I just have to do the drills he gives me everyday.”

Hange clumsily spun Levi’s throwing knife in her hand only to end up dropping it on the floor. She let out a disappointed sigh. “Hey Levi, after your uncle teaches you, can you teach me? I wanna learn how to handle a knife too.”

Trials and Tributes

The sack they had pulled out of the water was stained red. And that blood stain covered half the sack.

While the clergymen and the guards were panicking at the missing body. Levi was alarmed for other reasons. Was she alive? Did she make it out safely?

He had hope for the luxury of letting out a tear, or rushing to the side of the cliff, kneeling down and looking closely at the water to maybe search for signs of life like a mad man. It would only be unwise to do such. The most he could allow himself was a catatonic state and maybe a twinge of envy at the clergymen who had the luxury to babble curses at the guard who had probably so incompetently left a hole in the sack to punch through.

Fortunately, no one was blaming him just yet. He didn’t want to give them the opening either. The matter at hand was time sensitive. If Hange wasn’t dead, she might still be flickering between life and death at the moment. He had to get to where she was soon.

He murmured a few words at the guard about wanting to check something and about them being able to go ahead and slowly walked away. Levi couldn’t run just yet, not when he was still within their field of view. To compensate though, his heart and his mind were racing. As he turned the corner and into the path which led to the cove and eventually to the sea cave, he was more quickly able to adjust to a sprint.

Levi had mentally readied himself to dive into the water even before he entered the cave. He had started to unbutton his own cotton shirt as he sprinted in, not wanting to waste any more time.

The rush and the panic that was only consuming him made him clumsy and a little awkward as he moved. The moment his plans and his expectations were subverted by the sight of a very wet and bloodied Hange kneeling on the ground next to the water, Levi ended up losing his balance and tripping on the floor right in front of her.

“You made it here alive… I was worried.” Levi managed to say as he pulled himself back up into a kneeling position. His knees and palms were starting to hurt and Levi was sure he would need to treat his own wounds a little later on.

“Yeah, I ended up cutting my wrist when I cut through the ropes...It bled out a lot but I never really was as coordinated as you are with knives... Sorry for putting that training you gave me to waste.” Hange was only rambling aimlessly. As Levi made eye contact with her, he noticed her eyes were still a little too wide and her smile too unnatural. Levi could not help but think that she had felt the same way he did when he had first arrived in that same cave a few nights before. Her face had shown it all. She was just as surprised to be alive as he was.

But she is alive. That’s all that mattered. Levi would have wanted to hug her then but at the same time he did not want to lose sight of her. He settled for putting his hand on her arm and gripped hard. “At this point Hange, I don’t care if you’re a fucking witch or not. If you are, save yourself. Run away. Go save some other kids. Go discover a plague before it happens. You don't deserve this. Nobody deserves the shit they put you through. I’ll get you out of here if I need to.”

Hange returned his strong grip on her arm by gripping his wrist. For a second, her face was unreadable. Then soon after something took over and that face had morphed into something wild and even primitive. It was as if Hange was possessed. Suddenly she was squeezing his wrist much harder than Levi had ever expected from her. He let out a groan of pain as he recoiled at the sudden attack.

Hange threw his hand back at him and snarled. "Don’t touch me!"

And just like that, it was as if he was talking to a completely different person. Or a completely different creature.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hange #fanfic

26 notes · View notes

thebritishmonarchycouk · 4 years

Text

On This Day In Royal History

28 February 1155

Henry the Young King was born

Henry was the eldest surviving son of Henry II of England & Eleanor of Aquitaine.

He was the only King of England since the Norman Conquest to be crowned during his father's reign, but was frustrated by his father's refusal to grant him meaningful autonomous power.

The Young King's contemporary reputation, was positive. Likely due to the enthusiastic tournament culture of his time. He was a tournament team leader until 1182, he is described as a constant competitor at tournaments across northern & central France between 1175 & 1182. With his cousins, Philip I, Count of Flanders, & Baldwin V, Count of Hainaut, he was a key patron of the sport. He is said to have spent over £200 a day on the great retinue of knights he brought to the tournament of Lagny-sur-Marne in November 1179. Though he lacked political weight, his patronage brought him celebrity status throughout western Europe.

He married Margaret of France (1158-1197) on 27 August 1172 at Winchester Cathedral, when Henry, aged seventeen, was crowned King of England a second time, this time together with Margaret. Margaret was the daughter of King Louis VII of France & his second wife, Constance of Castile.

Young Henry fell out with his father in 1173. He was joined by a formidable party of Anglo-Norman, Norman, Angevin, Poitevin & Breton magnates. The revolt of 1173–1174 came close to toppling his father Henry II.

The only child of Henry & Margaret was William, who was born prematurely on 19 June 1177 & died three days later. This difficult delivery may have left her infertile, for she had no further children.

He contracted dysentery at the beginning of June 1183. It was clear to his household that he was dying on 7 June, On his deathbed, he reportedly asked to be reconciled to his father, but King Henry, fearing a trick, refused to see him. He died on 11 June, aged 28 clasping a ring his father had sent instead as a sign of his forgiveness. After his death, his father is said to have exclaimed: "He cost me much, but I wish he had lived to cost me more." .

His death six years before his father, left his brother Richard to become the next king, as Richard I.

#KingHenry #HenrytheYoungKing #King #theking #Monarch #Monarchy #Royalty #Royals #EnglishHistory #Britishhistory #MedievalHistory #medieval #historyfacts #Medievalperiod #medievaltimesOn This Day In Royal History

28 February 1155

Henry the Young King was born

Henry was the eldest surviving son of Henry II of England & Eleanor of Aquitaine.

He was the only King of England since the Norman Conquest to be crowned during his father's reign, but was frustrated by his father's refusal to grant him meaningful autonomous power.

The only child of Henry & Margaret was William, who was born prematurely on 19 June 1177 & died three days later. This difficult delivery may have left her infertile, for she had no further children.

His death six years before his father, left his brother Richard to become the next king, as Richard I.

6 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 4 years

Note

Hey! Wat are your opinion on Dany fertility? When rhaego was born some says it is same as rhaenyra but it involves blood magic. Do you think next she becomes pregnant there are chances of Shadow baby? Also do you think jon possibly sterile after Resurrection?

I don’t think Jon will be sterile after the resurrection. We don’t know how he will be resurrected, etc etc. I am no kind of expert on the subject, though. It’s merely my certainty that Jon is destined to be a father.

I also don’t think Dany is sterile so much as she has trouble carrying a pregnancy to term so shortly after a traumatic birth at a young age. It’s heavily implied (though perhaps it’s a misdirection) that she had a miscarriage in connection to her affliction with dysentery while wandering the grasslands in her final ADWD chapter.

Am I dying? Then she saw the pale crescent moon, floating high above the grass, and it came to her that this was no more than her moon blood. If she had not been so sick and scared, that might have come as a relief. Instead she began to shiver violently. She rubbed her fingers through the dirt, and grabbed a handful of grass to wipe between her legs. The dragon does not weep. She was bleeding, but it was only woman’s blood. The moon is still a crescent, though. How can that be? She tried to remember the last time she had bled. The last full moon? The one before? The one before that? No, it cannot have been so long as that. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she told the grass, aloud. Once, the grass whispered back, until you chained your dragons in the dark. “Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was … her name …” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.” Aye, the grass said, but you turned against your children. Her belly was empty, her feet sore and blistered, and it seemed to her that the cramping had grown worse. Her guts were full of writhing snakes biting at her bowels. She scooped up a handful of mud and water in trembling hands. By midday the water would be tepid, but in the chill of dawn it was almost cool and helped her keep her eyes open. As she splashed her face, she saw fresh blood on her thighs. The ragged hem of her undertunic was stained with it. The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it’s only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow. Could it be the water? If it was the water, she was doomed. She had to drink or die of thirst. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

It’s clear Dany is struggling herself with the idea that this might be a miscarriage.

There is no way to be certain whether or not Dany even has fertility issues at all, considering that - IF she is miscarrying - a bout of the bloody flux would easily explain it. For all we know Dany has no fertility issues at all. If she has them, there are plentiful “normal” explanations for them. Dany is so focused on the curse, on being barren, that I am pretty sure she isn’t. Or that’s just what GRRM wants me to think. Right?

Reading all this and considering her history of pregnancy --> failed poison attempt --> birth/miscarriage during dramatic conflict --> Waking the Dragon, it is easy to suspect her eventual descent into full-on murderous and violent destruction (and her death) will be tied to pregnancy as well.

I just always wondered how that was supposed to work.

“When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

That’s pretty specific. Her womb quickens again. Bear a living child. But if Dany bears a living child, that’d probably be the one thing to STOP her from going all inferno on everyone. And a miscariage would contradict this condition. Dying IN childbirth with a living child would just be lame. I mean, the drama comes from Dany choosing to be a monster, not from Dany dying in childbirth and her dragons going nuts.

So if the cycle is to be repeated, either a living child is killed or there is a twist that makes it all work.

The shadow baby might be a huge twist.

“Yes. Beneath. But we can go no farther. The portcullis goes all the way to the bottom. And the bars are too closely spaced for even a child to squeeze through.” There was no answer but a soft rustling. And then a light bloomed amidst the darkness. Davos raised a hand to shield his eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. Melisandre had thrown back her cowl and shrugged out of the smothering robe. Beneath, she was naked, and huge with child. Swollen breasts hung heavy against her chest, and her belly bulged as if near to bursting. “Gods preserve us,” he whispered, and heard her answering laugh, deep and throaty. Her eyes were hot coals, and the sweat that dappled her skin seemed to glow with a light of its own. Melisandre shone. Panting, she squatted and spread her legs. Blood ran down her thighs, black as ink. Her cry might have been agony or ecstasy or both. And Davos saw the crown of the child’s head push its way out of her. Two arms wriggled free, grasping, black fingers coiling around Melisandre’s straining thighs, pushing, until the whole of the shadow slid out into the world and rose taller than Davos, tall as the tunnel, towering above the boat. He had only an instant to look at it before it was gone, twisting between the bars of the portcullis and racing across the surface of the water, but that instant was long enough. He knew that shadow. As he knew the man who’d cast it. (ACOK, Davos II)

Next chapter: Jon.

This doesn’t sound very like a living child. It sounds like a monster. Like Dany’s dragon children. Like Drogon, who keeps being described as a shadow.

(It also sounds like a metaphor for Jon’s birth. The mother, whose body is not ready (possibly to narrow in the hips) for childbirth, the massive shadow (i.e. power) cast by the child that comes forth. Jon’s shadow. The shadow that is destined to stabbity stab someone.)

But back to Shadow Baby Targ.

Considering all the lovely speculation surrounding Dany and Euron lately, (read everything by @shieldofrohan !), as well as Euron’s massive magical aspect, as well as this plans for Dany, methinks he would be central to that:

"And who are you, child?" "Falia Flowers, Lord Hewett's natural daughter. I am to be King Euron's salt wife. You and I will be kin, then." Aeron Damphair raised his eyes to hers. His scabbed lips were crusted with wet porridge. "Woman." His chains clinked when he moved. "Run. He will hurt you. He will kill you." She laughed. "Silly, he won't. I'm his love, his lady. He gives me gifts, so many gifts. Silks and furs and jewels. Rags and rocks, he calls them." The Crow's Eye puts no value in such things. That was one of the things that drew men to his service. Most captains kept the lion's share of their plunder but Euron took almost nothing for himself. "He gives me any gown I want," the girl was prattling happily. "My sisters used to make me wait on them at table, but Euron made them serve the whole hall naked! Why should he do that, except for love of me?" She put a hand on her belly and smoothed down the fabric of her gown. "I'm going to give him sons. So many sons..." "He has sons." "Baseborn boys and mongrels, Euron says. My sons will come before them, he has sworn, sworn by your own Drowned God!" Aeron would've wept for her. Tears of blood, he thought. "You must bear a message to my brother. Not Euron, but Victarion, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet. Do you know the man I mean?" Falia sat back from him. "Yes," she said. "But I couldn't bring him any messages. He's gone." "Gone?" That was the cruelest blow of all. "Gone where?" "East," she said, "with all his ships. He's to bring the Dragon queen to Westeros. I'm to be Euron's salt wife, but he must have a rock wife too, a queen to rule all Westeros at his side. They say she's the most beautiful woman in the world, and she has dragons. The two of us will be as close as sisters!"

(…)

"Brother," he said, "you look forlorn. I have a gift for you." He beckoned, and two of his bastard sons dragged the woman forward and bound her to the prow on the other side of the figurehead. Naked as the mouthless maiden, her smooth belly just beginning to swell with the child she was carrying, her cheeks red with tears, she did not struggle as the boys tightened her bonds. Her hair hung down in front of her face, but Aeron knew her all the same.

(TWOW, The Forsaken)

But Euron doesn’t care about heirs, methinks.

Falia is his “Lady”, i.e. a sacrifice on the command of an Evil monarch like Lady the direwolf? And she and Dany will be close as sister? Like, share a fate kind of close?

Balon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all. Victarion was turning to go when the Crow’s Eye said, “A king must have a wife, to give him heirs. Brother, I have need of you. Will you go to Slaver’s Bay and bring my love to me?” I had a love once too. Victarion’s hands coiled into fists, and a drop of blood fell to patter on the floor. I should beat you raw and red and feed you to the crabs, the same as I did her. “You have sons,” he told his brother. “Baseborn mongrels, born of whores and weepers.” “They are of your body.” “So are the contents of my chamber pot. None is fit to sit the Seastone Chair, much less the Iron Throne. No, to make an heir that’s worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware.” “What dragon?” said Victarion, frowning. “The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silvergold, and her eyes are amethysts … but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver’s Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back to me.” “Why should I?” Victarion demanded. “For love. For duty. Because your king commands it.” Euron chuckled. “And for the Seastone Chair. It is yours, once I claim the Iron Throne. You shall follow me as I followed Balon … and your own trueborn sons shall one day follow you.” My own sons. But to have a trueborn son a man must first have a wife. Victarion had no luck with wives. Euron’s gifts are poisoned, he reminded himself, but still … “The choice is yours, brother. Live a thrall or die a king. Do you dare to fly? Unless you take the leap, you’ll never know.” (AFFC, The Reaver)

Euron manipulates Victarion beautifully. Victarion is the one who cares about wives and heirs. Euron considers his progeny to be excrement. He wants Dany, but hardly in order to make trueborn drakens to inherit an uncomfortable chair.

I think IF Shadow Baby Targ is going to be a thing with Dany and the twist around the “Living Baby” clause, I think Euron will be involved in that, and the whole nightmare potential of that is scaring me already. It may not even matter if she is truly infertile or not if that level of dark magic is involved. Or Euron just wants to sacrifice a baby, Craster-style.

If Jon is involved, I really don’t think it would be a willing participation. Yikes.

Brr.

Seriously, that stuff gives me the absolute creeps.

#daenerys targaryen #jon snow #euron greyjoy #asoiaf

21 notes · View notes

mastersofpasio · 5 years

Text

SHIT MY CONTESTANTS SAY SENTENCE STARTERS

(a mix of ooc and ic quotes said during the masters of pasio event. enjoy!)

"SQUARE UP RICH BOY”

“I’m sorry, this is just the funniest thing.”

“you wouldn’t hit a guy with glasses would you?”

“I like killer clothes, KICKIN NERDS IN THE NOSE”

“______ dying of dysentery was probably the highlight of this whole night.”

“maybe he shouldn’t get his whole dating playbook from r/niceguys then.”

“Dear diary. Today I beat up a kid half my age because he kept saying wild shit to my sister.”

“HEY DID I TELL YOU MY OPINION ABOUT DOCTORS--”

“_________ claims to respect women but their respect women juice is just toilet water.”

“Just saying, though, I’m a trained professional.”

“Is it too nsfw for this server”

“There’s no female presenting nipples so it’s good, right?”

“yall ever set your home on fire”

“My Tauros’s manure has more heart than you.”

“it stares into my soul…”

“I’m now fully cemented into the RPC. There’s no going back.”

“What will you do when your time comes, Your Highness?”

“I am a Prince and you’re…fired from life!”

“YOU CANNOT FIRE PEOPLE FROM LIFE”

“hoofs are evil anyway.”

“Hey Siri, how do you unadopt a child?”

“It’s not arguing if we’re telling the truth (shrug)”

“Did I just beat up a fuckin kid”

“Son, it’s time you learn one of the most important lessons of the world. Talk shit, get hit.”

“At the rate you’re traveling, your fate might be similar to an old queen who lost her head centuries ago during the Kalosian Revolution.”

“I do enjoy having kneecaps!”

“He got to keep his kneecaps after all, and that’s a win for everybody.”

#pml2020

24 notes · View notes

queenfredegund · 5 years

Text

The Quest for Fredegund [2]

Second part of our quest, now we will tackle the most important part, Fredegund’s assumed dirty business. I say “assumed”, because as always, historians and writers enjoy mixing historical facts (not so much in reality) and made-up tales. Let’s take a look on it based on the sources...

Was she really a murderous and vicious woman?

Hell no! But yes, she had her personal ennemies and was part of some dramatic events. According to scholars and bad writers, she was responsible for the deaths of:

Galswintha, second chief wife of Chilperich († 568).

Sigebert I, half-brother of Chilperich and his political rival († 575).

Merovech, son of Audovera († 576).

Chlodovech, son of Audovera († 580).

Audovera, first chief wife of Chilperich († 580).

Chilperich I, rex and her husband († 584).

Bishop Praetextatus, bishop of Rotomagus/Rouen († 586).

Some people also add to that list the rape of Basina II, daughter of Audovera (in 580) and the execution of Leudastes († 583). Now, let’s talk about her life with timeline and facts:

567: So in 567/568, Chilperich dismissed all of his women and got engaged to Galswintha, sister of Brunhilde and daughter of Athanagild

She was a wisigothic princess, and so a great match for Chilperich who really doted on her by giving her as morgengabe (i.e. gift given by the husband to his newlywed wife the morning after their wedding night) the rents of 5 cities: Burdegala/Bordeaux, Lemovecas/Limoges, Cadurcum/Cahors, Benarno/Lescar and Begorra/Cieutat.

Back to that time, it was juged heavily rich for a morgengabe, making her probably the most richest woman on her own in the Gauls. But things did not apparently worked between Chilperich and his new chief wife and she called for a divorce after just one year of marriage (DLH, IV, 28). Accepting to let her go with her possessions would be a huge disaster for Chilperich, as she could have deprived him of a large part of his regnum. So he was... pretty screwed.

Some times later, Galswintha was found dead in her bed. She was burried with lavish ceremonies and deeply mourned by Chilperich, but it was naturally believed that he had a hand in her death, as she died shortly after the death of her own father, meaning she did not have anyone to claim for her back in Hispania (and she did not have a brother).

And Fredegund in all of this? Well, because Chilperich made her his new chief wife quite immediatly after Galswintha’s death, the Liber Historiae Francorum (which is, I repeat it, a very late source full of errors), accused her of being the mastermind of the assassination, and sometimes the killer herself. So did she killed Galswintha for real? Humm... I don’t know, did Anne Boleyn strangled Katherine of Aragon with her bare hands? I guess not...

568-575: Time of the faida and contestation of Galswintha’s inheritance

Very little is known about Fredegund during that decade. After the death of Galswintha, diplomatic problems grew between Chilperich and his half-brother Sigebert I, husband of Brunehilde. As Galswintha’s younger sister, Brunehilde was indeed her heiress (remain that Galswintha died childless) and should have taken possession of the cities that Chilperich had given to her as morgengabe. But like I said earlier, this would have constituted a large part of territory and, most of all, a large amount of money. The following years were so a time during which the two brothers tried to made a compromise of this juridic matter, but failed at it.

As far as we know, it is possibly during that period that Fredegund gave birth to her eldest children, meaning:

Chlodobert: his birth is unsure, but I personally think that if Fredegund had become the new chief wife after Galswintha’s death, it could be because she gave birth to her first son at that time. It could also possibly be what Gregorius means when he said that Galswintha felt offended by Fredegund’s presence (you know, a heavily pregnant concubine... when you struggles to have a child of your own...).

Rigund: her only daughter. Like Chlodobert, her date of birth is unsure, but as she plays a role in a further event, she need to be at least of 10 or 12 years old at that moment, so she may have been born before 570, perhaps even before her mother’s elevation as chief wife.

575: The besiege of Turnaco/Tournai and its consequences

In 575, Chilperich and his other brother Guntchramn, attacked Sigebert together (DLH, IV, 50). But Sigebert won the first battles, even defeating through two of his generals Chilperich’s eldest son, Theodebert, son of Audovera, who was killed. Following his defeat, Chilperich took refuge in the city of Turnaco/Tournai with Fredegund and his other children.

A victorious Sigebert was at that moment rushing with his own wife and children (2 daughters and a young son named Childebert) towards his brother in Turnaco/Tournai, when he was suddenly killed by two men with daggers (DLH, IV, 51). In his chronicle, Gregorius of Tours strongly implied that Fredegund had subordoned the two assassins, without any proof of it. But also according to Gregorius (DLH, V, 22), Fredegund gave birth to an other child during the besiege, a son who was named Samson.

Personally, it seems to me very strange to think that a heavily pregnant, then in labor, woman can be occupied building a conspiration against the political rival of her husband, but eh...

Following the death of Sigebert and the execution of several of his high-ranking officials and friends, Brunehilde was taken prisoner with her daughters, but eventually managed to get away her son Childebert, who was then elevated a rex in Austrasia by the rest of his father’s allies under the name of Childebert II.

575-580: The fates of Merovech and Chlodovech, sons of Audovera

Circa 575 or sometimes after, Merovech, second son of Chilperich, began to rise at court and even started a conspiration with his mother Audovera and his godfather Praetextatus, bishop of Rotomagus/Rouen. I need to mention that it was in this city, and perhaps under the care of Praetextatus that Brunehilde was taken prisoner, while her two young daughters had been moved to Meldicus/Meaux. As he was passing by the city, Merovech took Brunehilde as his own wife with the complicity of Bishop Praetextatus, perhaps in order to secure himself as a future rex (DLH, V, 2).

Chilperich got furious when he learned about it, even stripping Bishop Praetextatus of his rank and sending him in exile in the actual islands of Jersey. Merovech was taken prisoner after a short time while Brunehilde was sent back to her son (with her daughters), and tonsured as a monk, meaning he was deprived of his rank and pretentions as the son of the rex.

But as his hair grew back, Merovech managed to escape and entered in rebellion against his father. But betrayed by some of his allies, he eventually took his own life or ask his friend to killed him in 576, apparently fearing the humiliation he would face if his father capture him again (DLH, V, 18).

Regarding Chlodovech, his young brother, the story is different and somehow more shady. Through that period, perhaps between 577 and 579, Fredegund gave birth to a third son, named Dagobert, meaning that she was the mother of 3 sons and 1 daughter, although her sons were still underage compared to Audovera’s sons. Unfortunately, she also had to face the death of all of them:

In 577, Samson died, from dysentery (DLH, V, 22), before reaching his first lustrus, so before he reached his first period of five years. According to Gregorius, Fredegund was also affected by dysentery and barely recovered.

In 580, Dagobert and Chlodobert died in a very short time (DLH, V, 34) during the Plague of the Gauls, who also affected Chilperich, but he survived. Dagobert was the first one getting sick after his father, and then passed the disease to his older brother. According to Gregorius, fearing the loss of her sons, Fredegund convinced Chilperich of destroying tax-demands in attempt to make amend for her sins (i.e. the fact she lived in luxury). After Dagobert’s death, she also managed to take her dying Chlodobert to Saint Martin’s grave, hoping for a miracle, but he died nevertheless (x).

According to Gregorius, Chlodobert’s death deeply moved the population who showed great sympathy towards the royal couple:

He died in the middle of the night, worn to a shadow and hardly drawing breath. They buried him in the church of the holy martyrs Crispin and Crispinian. The whole populace bewailed his death: they walked behind his funeral cortège, the men weeping and the women wearing widows’ weeds as if they were escorting their own husbands to the grave. (DLH, V, 34)

So in 580, Fredegund had lost her 3 sons, leaving her exposed as the chief wife, while Audovera still had a son, Chlodovech, who reach adulthood by that time. While Chilperich and Fredegund were still in mourning, Chlodovech managed to take more and more importance to the court, claiming that he was now the sole successor of his father, until the moment when someone (Gregorius did not name that person) came to Fredegund and accused Chlodovech of having cast spells on her sons, resulting in their deaths.

Apparently believing in these slanders, Fredegund managed to obtain from Chilperich that she could interrogated him on that matter, and then putting him in prison, where he ultimately died, perhaps by suicide like his brother, but it is possible to envisage that Fredegund may have killed him, in order to avenge her own children (DLH, V, 39).

According to Gregorius, there is also a strange story about Audovera and her daughter Basina, mother and sister of Chlodovech. I said “strange” because it is a matter of translation. The original latin text says:

Mater autem eius crudele morte negata; soror ipsius in monasterio delusa a pueris reginae transmittitur, in quo nunc, veste mutata, consistit; opesque eorum omnes reginae dilatae sunt.

To me, the word “negata” means that she denied it, and she denied what, well, the cruel death of her son. But some translators used a different copy of the text where it says “necata” instead, meaning that she was killed.

Same goes for the fate of Basina: you can read that she was “delusa” which means that she was deceived by. In french, “deceive” is translated as “tromper”, and a synonymous would be “abuser de” (for example, you have that term in the expression “abuser de la naïveté de...” which can be translated in english as “taking advantage of”). So from “abuser”, to “abuse” in english to “raped”...

580-584: Last years as Chilperich’s chief wife

From 580 to 584, Fredegund was so a threathened chief wife, whithout any son left able to strengthened her position. Her only child alive was her daughter, Rigund, who had just reach the marriable age, but as she had lost all her brothers, Chilperich seemed wanting to wait before getting her engaged. I have not really speak about the bigger picture and the diplomatic relations of the time but it was also a turning point in the politics of the Gauls.

From 580 to 582, Childebert II, son of Brunehilde, became the sole and unique apparent heir of the three kingdoms of the Gauls as his two living uncles, Guntchramn and Chilperich, had lost all their sons. In order to prepare a smooth succession, and after the death of his regent and protector, Gogo (leaving Brunehilde as unique regent), embassies were made between Chilperich and his nephew. And in 582, legats from Hispania came to ask for the hand of Rigund, but Chilperich again dropped the idea, even trying to propose to ambassadors his other daughter, Basina II, daughter of Audovera, but it was rejected by both parts.

However, even during her period as a sonless chief wife, Fredegund remained the most important woman in the court and exercised a strong queenship. One of the best example is the way she acted during the matter of Leudastes, a rogue high-official of the regnum. I will not speak about Leudastes’ whole life, it would be too long, but I would just say that in 583 he was considered as both outlawed and excommunicated and was actually on the run when he tried to beg Chilperich for forgiveness (he was convinced of robbing houses and assaulting women). But Chilperich responded that he would not forgive him, as Fredegund hated Leudastes for his cruel behavior, so if he wanted a royal pardon, he would beg Fredegund instead (DLH, VI, 32). But as she still held a grudge towards him, she finally put him to death.

The indecision over Rigund’s marriage continued the whole year 583 as Fredegund gave birth to an other son, named Theodorich, who died during the year, cancelling the engagement between Chilperich and Toledo (DLH, VI, 34). Gregorius said the sorrow of Fredegund was so hard that she needed to burn all her infant’s possessions (DLH, VI, 35).

The Queen now collected together anything that had belonged to her dead son and burned it, all his clothes, some of them silk and others of fur, and all his other possessions, whatever she could find. It is said that all this filled four carts. Any object in gold or silver was melted down in a furnace, so that nothing whatsoever remained intact to remind her of how she had mourned for her boy.

584-586: Battle over the regency

The year 584 is a major turning-point for Fredegund. First of all, she gave birth to her last child, a son again, who remained nameless in a first time. In the same time, Chilperich finally agreed on marrying his daughter Rigund to Reccared, heir of Toledo. After a lavish ceremony (DLH, VI, 45), the young girl started her trip to Hispania, deeply doted by her parents, especially her mother who brought her a splendid dowry.

Then he handed her over to the Visigothic envoys, providing her with a tremendous dowry. Her. mother added a vast weight of gold and silver, and many fine clothes. When he saw this, King Chilperic thought that he had nothing left at all. Queen Fredegund realized that he was upset. She turned to the Franks and said: ‘Do not imagine, men, that any of this comes from the treasures amassed by your earlier kings. Everything you see belongs to me. Your most illustrious King has been very generous to me, and I have put aside quite a bit from my own resources, from the manors granted to me, and from revenues and taxes. You, too, have often given me gifts. From such sources come all the treasures which you see in front of you. None of it has been taken from the public treasury.’

But quite after Rigund’s departure from the court, Chilperich was assassinated by an unknown man, leaving Fredegund as a widow and the queen mother of an infant boy of barely 4 months. Now she will have to battle for two things:

Her son’s position as the new rex of Neustria.

Her daughter’s safety, as Rigund was taken as an hostage in Tolosa/Toulouse by Dux Desiderius after the new of her father’s death, and threaten to be taken in marriage by force by the pretender Gundovald.

Fortunately for her, she had strong supporters:

First of them was Bishop Ragnemod of Parisius (he was the godfather of Theodorich, her fourth son) who welcomed her right after Chilperich’s death and secured her in his basilica with the royal treasury (DLH, VII, 4).

The second one was named Cuppa, a Comes Stabuli (officer in charge of the horses and the transport of the court), who pledged honor to her immediately and managed to reach Tolosa/Toulouse for getting Rigund back and safe (DLH, VII, 39).

The third one was Ansoaldus, an aristocratic man and most important follower of Chilperich, who visited several cities for taking oaths of loyalty in the name of Fredegund's infant son and officied on her behalf as ambassador (DLH, VII, 7).

She also managed to obtain the protection of her brother-in-law, Guntchramn, now the sole adult man of the whole Merovingian royal family. And as he was claiming having doubt over the true parentage of her son, Fredegund summoned an assembly of 3 bishops and 300 nobiles who all attested of her honorability and officially named the baby Chlothacar, like his grandfather (DLH, VIII, 9).

Perhaps because he felt treathened by Fredegund’s queenship and agency as queen mother, Guntchramn chose to break her power and forced her to retire into the villa Rotoialum. He also called back from his exile Bishop Praetextatus (see upper, he was the godfather of Merovech), and reappointed him over Rotomagus/Rouen (DLH, VII, 16), which means that he became Fredegund’s guard on Guntchramn’s behalf.

Also perhaps around this time, hostility between Guntchramn and Ansoaldus (Fredegund’s must trustful ally) increased to the point that Ansoaldus, no longer trusting the rex, left his court and joined back Fredegund to secure her. Together they managed to find a way for her to break Guntchramn’s influence.

586-597: Regency of Chlothacar II

We reach the last but not the least interesting part of Fredegund’s life, her regency for her son Chlothacar. In 586, Bishop Praetextatus was stabbed to death in his basilica and, on his deathbed, strongly accused Fredegund of having plotted against him (DLH, VIII, 31). As the assassination took place following her relegation in a sort of exile and the growing influence of Guntchramn in the regnum, it seems pretty conceivable that she had to get rid of the bishop first, in order to counter her brother-in-law in a second time.

The next years would be less difficult for her as her authority will not be challenged anymore by Guntchramn. As a regent, she managed to secure the interest of her son and pursued diplomatic relations with Guntchramn despite their mutual hostility and several reported assassinations attempts. She was also known for her diplomatic relations with Brittany and Hispania, although this was perceived as treason for Guntchramn who was deeply hostile to both of these countries.

So, if we got back to our list of all the people she was accused of having killed, we have:

Galswintha, second chief wife of Chilperich († 568).

She did not have killed her, and if she did so, it is really strange that Gregorius, who was a strong opponent to Fredegund never implied that she was the mastermind behind the curtains.

Sigebert I, half-brother of Chilperich and his political rival († 575).

Again, it’s debatable, but yes, Gregorius said that the killers have been sent by Fredegund. Truth is... she was just giving birth at that exact same time, so I guess she was a bit... busy?

Merovech, son of Audovera († 576).

Merovech probably killed himself to avoid a shameful treatment following his rebellion and conspiration against his own father.

Chlodovech, son of Audovera († 580).

She perhaps did killed Chlodovech after having judged him and sentenced him for conspiring against his father. She also thought strongly that he was plotting against her and having killed her sons. Not an excuse, but I think this is a different way to see it that just the traditional “he is the son of my rival, I want him DEEEAAAAD!!”

Audovera, first chief wife of Chilperich († 580).

Point is that I actually doubt that Audovera died following her son, text is unclear in my opinion. If really Audovera died in 580, I guess that it looks like more like a consequence of Chlodovech’s judgment, not a special revenge through the years. Same goes for Basina’s rape, I kinda think that it just adds salt on stories for some historians, but is kinda irrelevant for the rest of the story.

Leudastes, rogue official of the regnum († 583).

She did killed Leudastes by sentencing him to death after he tried to ask for Chilperich’s forgiveness. What I really like in this case, it’s that Leudastes’ death is not a revengefull death by Fredegund, but actually a proof of her queenship as Chilperich “gave” Leudastes to Fredegund, for her to having him judged. And knowing that he had to beg pardon to a woman for assaulting other women (DLH, VI, 32) is even better!

Chilperich I, rex and her husband († 584).

Do I really need to explain why I think that an apparently socially isolated woman with an infant son of barely 4 months may have not a hand in the death of her husband, protector and trustfull ally since many years?

Bishop Praetextatus, bishop of Rotomagus/Rouen († 586).

As for Chlodovech, I believe that she may have command the death of Praetextatus, she had too much to gain with his death that I really doubt she did not have an hand on it.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

#women in history #quest for fredegund #fredegund regina #merovingian period #6th century

18 notes · View notes

greenbaconsmoothie · 5 years

Text

Hey I thought of a slightly less dark way to give people some insight to how cults impact life.

I was, from ages 9 to 16, a health care giver for the animals and children in the main 4 families. I was also frequently consulted about any behavioral problems (in humans and animals) and essentially provided advice for adults and children.

I gave stitches to cats, dogs, horses, myself and another child. I superglued flaps of wounds on animals and humans a like. I cleaned out wounds and packed them with salt and olive oil if they were too gaping for the flesh to be joined. I cut off dying skin, lanced boils, treated broken fingers and toes, and made sure kids and the odd adult didn't die of stupid things like dysentery or heatstroke. Now luckily it was mostly just myself and horses I patched up, but that's only cause horses are disasters and I had no real fear death. The was also a cat that I probably saw every month because he got into fights.

I fell into this roll because the adults said that I was gifted with prophecy (hence I was to give advice and correct people) and I happened to have an interest in medicine and I ADORED animals. I still like animals a good bit better than humans in general lol.

Anyhow, the point is, the cult was so suspicious of outside, "worldly" people, they would rather a child provide them medical care in many cases. They did go to real ass Drs sometimes but it was either an adult knowing in their heart that going to a kid was foolish or if it was obviously not something I could possibly do.

#wounds tw #just cult things

12 notes · View notes

pamphletstoinspire · 7 years

Photo

Saint John Berchmans - Feast Day: November 26th - Latin Calendar

Born: March 13, 1599, Diest, Belgium

Joined the Jesuit Order: September 24, 1616 (aged 17)

Died: August 31, 1621 (aged 22)

Beatified: 1865 (244 years later)

Canonized: 1888 (23 years after that)

Patron Saint: Altar Servers

Feast Day: November 26

John Berchmans (note, the final “s” is part of the name) was born and grew up in a Flemish-speaking area of present-day Belgium. His short life (he was only 22 when he died of a sudden fever) was marked by extraordinary piety, even by the standards of the day, which were much higher than our own.

Pray and Work

At the age of 7, John would get up at 5 am and serve 2 or 3 Masses, carefully listening to the sermons (in those days every priest had to say his own Mass every day - it was not enough to concelebrate the Mass of another priest.) For this reason, perhaps, John was later made the patron saint of altar servers. At the age of 9, he would spend hours every day with his mother, who was bedridden with a long illness. His parish priest, Fr. Emmerick noticed all this and remarked that Our Lord would “work wonders in the soul of the child.” John was always especially devoted to Mary, our Blessed Lady, and loved the Rosary, which he would often pray whilst walking along.

Not only did John throw himself into religious devotions with great enthusiasm, he would also try to do more than his share of the chores, or try to take the most arduous and difficult ones. Later, in the Jesuit order, he was the novice who tried hardest to fulfill all the rules. After studying for two years in Belgium, taking his first vows and starting philosophy studies in Antwerp, he set out for Rome to continue his Jesuit philosophy training there. Today this is a comfortable 90 minute flight or an arduous 15 hour drive; John did the journey (due to the Alps a road distance of around 1000 miles) on foot! He had a burning ambition to give his all for Christ, and even to become a saint: “If I do not become a saint when I am young," he said, "I shall never become one.” Perhaps he had a premonition of his early death, or perhaps he realized how creature comforts can paralyse spiritual life in adulthood. Portraits usually depict him holding a crucifix, a rosary and his Shell road atlas Jesuit rule-book.

What his life means to us today

The fierce, passionate “muscular” Christianity of John Berchmans seems unreal, even horrifying to many of today's Catholics brought up on soft-focus posters, self-affirming books and the belief that Christian love means primarily kindness - but let us not be deceived. Jackie Pullinger, who as a young woman preached and lived the gospel in the deadly slums of Hong Kong, famously said that Christians need “soft hearts” but “hard feet.” The seventeenth century was a cruel time all round, with no punches pulled and no anaesthetics. But Catholics like John had the hardest feet imaginable, and besides fortitude (“guts”) and self-sacrifice, they excelled in virtues that the 21st century West ignores or treats almost as a joke, such as humble obedience, temperance, diligence and chastity. Hence St John’s value to us as a guide today lies in his youthful, clear vision in areas where our own times have gaping blind spots.

***

Another Story:

St. John Berchmans was born the eldest son of a shoemaker in 1599 at Diest, Belgium. At a very young age he wanted to be a priest, and when thirteen he became a servant in the household of one of the cathedral canons at Malines. After his mother's death, his father and two brothers followed suit and entered religious life. In 1615 he entered the Jesuit college there, becoming a novice a year later. In 1618 he was sent to Rome for more study and was known for his diligence and piety, and his stress on perfection even in small things. That year his father was ordained and died six months later. John was so poor and humble that he walked from Antwerp to Rome. He died at the age of 22 on August 13. Many miracles were attributed to him after his death; he was canonized in 1888 and is the patron saint of altar boys.

Although he longed to work in the mission fields of China, he did not live long enough to permit it. After completing his course work, he was asked to defend the "entire field of philosophy" in a public disputation in July, just after his exit examinations. The following month he was asked to represent the Roman College in a debate with the Greek College. Although he distinguished himself in this disputation, he had studied so assiduously that he caught a cold in mid-summer, became very ill with with an undetermined illness accompanied by a fever, although some think it now to have been dysentery, and died a week later. He was buried in the church of Saint Ignatius at Rome, but his heart was later translated to the Jesuit church at Louvain.

So many miracles were attributed to him after his death at the age of 22, that his cultus soon spread to his native Belgium, where 24,000 copies of his portrait were published within a few years of his death. He was known for his devotion to the Blessed Sacrament and to Our Lady, to whom he composed a Chaplet in honor of her Immaculate Conception.

Our true worth does not consist in what human beings think of us.

What we really are consists in what God knows us to be.

To merit the protection of Mary, the smallest act of veneration would be enough, provided that it is performed with constancy.

If I do not become a Saint when I am young, I shall never become one.

[In fact, he died at the early age of twenty-two and he had, without any doubt, reached his goal of sanctity.]

As he was dying, he pressed to his heart his Crucifix, his Rosary, and the Book of Rules, saying: These are my three treasures; with these I shall gladly die.

***

Another Story:

Saint John Berchmans - Jesuit Saint - by Fr. John A. Hardon, S.J.

John Berchmans, I thought I would cover all the young Jesuit saints to make sure that I didn't slight any of them. St. John Berchmans was born in 1599 in Berbont, Belgium and died in Rome in 1621 at the ripe age of twenty-two. Unlike Saints Stanislaus and Aloysius who were members of the nobility, aristocratic, wealthy – John was from a very ordinary family. His father was a shoemaker, which I think is quite ordinary. His mother was never well, which mainly explains why he was brought up by a Premonstratensian priest by the name of Father Peter Emerick who taught him his religion, other subjects, and was in the habit of visiting shrines of which there are quite a few in northern Europe. At thirteen, as the younger children were coming along, the father told John to leave school, stop his education, and work in the shoemaking shop. John protested that he wanted to become a priest and shoemaking is not the usual apprenticeship to the priesthood. In any case the father compromised by getting John a job working in a rectory, cleaning, waiting on table, washing dishes and being paid for his education at a local seminary. The priest in charge of the rectory was quite different from Father Emerick. This one didn't take him to shrine; he took him out hunting. In any case, John, in 1615 – that would be the age of sixteen – entered the Jesuit college at Maleen in Belgium. In reading, however, the seminary where he was, there was a risk between the officials of the seminary and the Jesuits for having taken this bright, young, promising seminarian from their hands. A year later he applied for the Jesuits – his father objected, but, let him go. By now you are used to Jesuit's writing. John Berchmans wrote many letters. We have a copy of the letter he wrote to his mother and father asking them to visit him which was quite a distance, even though Belgium is a small country by modern standards. "I humbly ask you" he says "dear father and mother to be so good as to come here on Wednesday evening" – he told them when to come, even suggested how to travel, certain coach or a certain wagon – "so that I may say welcome and goodbye to you and you to me, so you can give your son back to the good Lord, who gave me to you." This reminds me that when I entered the Jesuits after finishing my university education, with a widowed mother, I thought to myself – this would be cruel, leaving her all alone. When I told her, she gave me a piece of her mind, 'you go.' "Okay, mother, I'll go, I just figured maybe you wanted me to be around." I came back to visit her in our home in Cleveland seven years later. John Berchmans never saw his parents again. His model from the novitiate days on, really became the standard of his life and in one short sentence summarizes his whole outlook on Christianity, 'set great store on little things', 'set great store on little things.' He was in the habit from his novitiate days having been encouraged to do so, to write. He wrote, for example, a long analysis (I think I saw a copy of Alphonosus Rodriquez’ “Principles of Christian Perfection.” I think they're on your shelf there – there are three big volumes.) Anyhow, among other things John Berchmans wrote a nice synthesis analysis of those three volumes for his future reference. His mother died shortly after he entered the novitiate. His father then went on to study for the priesthood and was ordained and proceeded to die shortly after his ordination. By this time he had taken his first vows which is – you know in the Society of Jesus we never speak of temporary vows because we don't take them; our first vows after two years in the novitiate are perpetual. We are the only order in the Catholic Church that have been given the rare privilege of never taking temporary vows. I have the draft of the proposed forthcoming Code of Canon Law to be published, most likely, so the latest word is, first Sunday of Advent. In any case, John Berchmans took his first vows which were perpetual and because he was to start his philosophy studies after taking his first vows and the studies were to be made in Rome – how do you get to Rome from Antwerp in Belgium. He was told, 'you walk.' It took him ten weeks. He made it which partially explains his short life. He did his studies under a famous Father Chipovy in Rome, his first letter, John Berchmans first biographer.

The report on his talent or ability shortly after his death by those who were his teachers was that he had extraordinary ability, intellectual ability, capable of taking and mastering several subjects at once that his enthusiasm for studies was unequaled. Now, my friends, having spent so many years in studies, having taught so many Jesuits for so many years, anyone who has enthusiasm about his studies deserves to be canonized.

Another of his fellow Jesuits who knew him observed that 'after Saint Aloysius, I never knew a young man of more exemplary life, purer conscience or greater perfection than John Berchmans. In other words, he had a reputation for being a very holy person already at a young age. Number twenty in my notes, it just keeps me from mixing things up. Here's a quotation from St. John Berchmans that every Jesuit has memorized. Let me give you the Latin first. It sounds so nice—“meus maxime mortificatsio est vita communis.” --my greatest mortification is community life. I repeat there is no statement of any saints that a Jesuit will not agree with more heartily than that one, that his heaviest mortification, his worst penance, is community life. That doesn't mean you don't like your brethren, but, being human, being oneself and living with other human beings, community life is indeed a great mortification.

Again, John Berchmans wanted to make sure that he never exercised his own will contrary to the directives of superiors. So I memorized and jotted down this little vignette: I wish to let myself be ruled like a baby, one day old. I'm not sure what difference it makes, whether a baby is one day or one year old, in any case, John Berchmans figures, let's make the child one day old. In other words, complete childlike submission to those who are in charge of him. John Berchmans was a very zealous student. What he came from, what we would call the low countries, which for our purpose would be Belgium – the climate in Belgium is somewhat like the more temperate climate in say, northern United States, Maine, Vermont, northern Michigan, Minnesota. In any case, Berchmans was not used to the stifling summer weather in Rome. Yet he took his final examinations in May, 1621 and the heat that summer, and the Roman summer starts early, the heat was intense. He prolonged his studies for his exams, did brilliantly, but took sick. He had just worked too hard. So he was laid up in bed, became deathly sick. As he was dying his confessor asked him, “do you have anything on your conscience that you think deserves to be confessed before you die.” He spoke in Latin, as young Jesuits are to always talk in Latin except in recreation. He said, "Mehil omeno" – absolutely nothing on my conscience, a moment before he died. He died on August the 13th of that year 1621. After his death and even before his burial, miracles were reported throughout Rome. Print of course was already discovered and engravings were made of John Berchmans shortly after his death and copies were printed. In a few days, twenty- four thousand of these engravings were sold in his native country in Belgium.

When he was canonized, the Holy Father who canonized him declared regarding the Jesuit rules, 'if you can prove to me that someone had faithfully lived up to this rule, I'll canonize him.' Berchmans was canonized for being an obedient religious. He was buried with his rosary and rule book in his hands.

Now something about his spirit. I would say the first prominent feature of his spirituality was his simplicity of life. There are no reports of ecstasies or raptures. There was not even a report of anything extraordinary that he ever did. You might say he was a 'little flower' before his time; she a Carmelite, he a Jesuit. The implication for us, if we think about them, are breath taking. The secret is to see God's will in everything. Now that everything in Berchmans vocabulary meant not just, well, the things that occur in a given day, I somehow say 'yes, of course, God must be behind it' but, watch this, and he wrote enough and over the years I've read enough of Berchmans to be able to talk for a couple of hours about his spirituality. For him, seeing God's will in the circumstances in everyday life went down to the smallest, even trifling details. We at table don't have set persons across from whom or with whom we sit, say at table, so the fact that it should be so and so and not such and such. It is God's will known and planned from all eternity. For example, what I am saying, that of all places I should be – what is today, August the 24th – a thousand miles from New York in a place called, is it Lake Villa? and that you should be here – thanks for being in Chapel, too – and that of all the yokels that should be saying whatever I might be saying, it would be me, at least to try your patience, in His name, everything. I stubbed my toe, that's God's providence. I lose something, that's God's providence. While I was putting the finishing touches on my notes, when I got a phone call that was an important call, so I was late, four minutes. That is God's will. That you should have had some charitable thought on why I was late or good for my humility in not being exactly on time; that everything is down to the time of the day, the temperature outside, how 'my body feels, what's crossing my mind. Berchmans saw God in everything. In other words, simplicity which must have twenty meanings for him meant; 'I have only one role in life – God's will.' And where is God's will; how do I know God's will; what books do I read; what speeches do I listen to; what novenas do I have to make. You can spare yourself. What is God saying to you, here and now at this moment? How does He want you to act and react, to His will?

Second feature of Berchmans' spirituality. The rule of St. Ignatius, we don't usually call it a rule because of our constitution, but that rule what's composed over a period of years, much prayer, frequent revelations, especially from Our Lady, much study, analyzing different rules of life written before Ignatius' time. It is a very precise and detailed rule. We have, for example, the rules of modesty; we're told, exactly told, how to use our eyes. Ignatius prescribed how we are to use our hands. I'm sure it's one of the least known rules of St. Ignatius. We are forbidden by rule to touch another person's body unless, either necessity or charity required it. This rule, Berchmans kept. We don't want to say to the letter, because that would cheapen it, but he kept it with perfection, so much so that the Vicar of Christ on his own testimony canonized him because of his fidelity to that minute rule of life and mind you, this is a rule for men, do you know what I'm saying, well, the last thing that man, masculine gender, paid that much attention to his detail, the self discipline and the sacrifice that it takes from a man to be faithful to Ignatius rule only one who tries to live that rule can appreciate. Ignatius was a soldier and he knew battles of won or lost by attention to detail.

John Berchmans' spirituality reflects something that I think we very seldom advert to each other … sort of take it for granted. We say correctly that God's grace builds on human nature. Not that God's grace is different in the sense that it's a different grace – no, for different people, but, God is justice, Himself, as far as we can use the verb, adjust for God. For example, the graces that He gives to women I know are different that he gives to men, I know. God just talks a different language. And so with different people of different temperaments. The robust man of steel, the Andrew Bobola, remember? they just couldn't put him to death. God's grace to sanctify him was of one kind, the gentle but firm and faithful Berchmans, another kind of a grace. This is very important in properly appraising God's will in our lives or how we deal so differently with different people. With some, God seems, to coin an expression, to love and to get away with – pardon the expression – you finish the sentence, you know what. Lord! well, God knows what He's dealing with – with others He is severe.

Berchmans came from northern Europe; Berchmans was not from Italy or Spain. I tried to carry on a conversation with four Spaniards this noon in Kenosha, Wisconsin; a priest, a brother, (oh, three people) a priest, a brother and a sister. Well, some English they knew, not much, some Italian that I know, not much, a bit of Latin and Spanish and we managed. I was inquiring about their rule of life. They are called the Lumen Dei, isn't that beautiful? the light of God, a new community just coming into existence, two hundred members – God's grace adjusting itself to the Spanish mentality – different. There is something about the teutonic, because we are talking about the teutonic temperament here, that it's precise, proper, just so. All right, God's grace will be just so. Am I making sense? And that we don't either expect God – what a mistake – to deal with even two of us in the same way. Never compare yourself – or better, never compare the way God deals with others with the way he seems to be dealing with you. Berchmans knew, he was here. There is an individuality about each saint which is completely different from everyone else.

Then, community life. I quote of a famous passage, we learned this in the novitiate and we quote it to our dying day, because it is so, so painfully true: my greatest mortification is community life. That doesn't mean, of course, not that we make other members of the community conscious of the fact that they are a source of penance to make – no. Nor does it mean, it cannot mean, that we somehow regret or wish it were different. Community life is meant, for most people, to be a great source of sanctification. I know what I'm talking about because being the only child of a widowed mother – my father died when I was a year old, he was 26. I never had any brothers or sisters and of the things I knew that drew me to the Society of Jesus before I heard John Berchmans phrase, I thought to myself, "what a break, what a gift, I will inherit a hall full of brothers, people that I can live with and, well, they'll be brothers to me and I hope I'll be a brother to them." I may somewhere along the line, I may have told you, after my first week in the novitiate I went to complain to the novice master – I'd heard about people snoring, but I'd never heard anybody snoring – Mother had her bedroom, I had mine. Though we were living in a dormitory and the noise was deafening, I couldn't sleep. So I told the novice master, "father, could I have a different room?" He said, 'sit down, what's wrong?' I told him. All I remember is two words, "get out." And because I was so dead tired, I finally fell asleep, snoring or no snoring.

God made us different from the moment of conception. Each one of us, the moment we are conceived in our mother's womb, God has to create a soul – our parents don't give us our souls – they must be individually created by God and God creates each soul different. We are different nine months before we're born, put together. One reason, no doubt, is to give us some idea of His own infinite, you might say, bewildering variety of attributes. It gives us, and this is what Berchmans meant: it gives us the glorious opportunity for the practice of charity. I'm not speaking of people being offensive or hurting our feelings or being difficult to live with. I don't mean anything that is morally wrong, just because he is he or she is she and I am me, living with other people places demands on our mutual love which God in His infinite wisdom planned, that's why He made us so different. The word that Berchmans used was mortification, meaning that it's a precious way of not only practicing charity, but of expiating our sins, of making reparation for the sins of others, especially in doing penance for the crimes against love often committed in the name of love in our modern mad world. The 1981 figures of the United Nations for the world were fifty million abortions. Someone, someone, must propitiate a just God for these crimes of hatred, masking – what a mockery – under the name of love. Well, we don't have to go far to search out opportunities for the expiatory love, being gentle, understanding, thoughtful. Being as ready to excuse the actions of others as we are so prone to excuse our own. All of this is locked up in what we so casually call, community life.

Let us ask St. John Berchmans to give us some of his great attention to the little things in life being so important in the eyes of God. St. John Berchmans, pray for us.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

#st. john berchmans

3 notes · View notes

ministrynuggets-blog · 5 years

Text

How to be Ready to Meet God

…prepare to meet thy God...

Amos 4:12

A strong Christian is ready to meet God. I spoke with a flight attendant on a flight from Johannesburg to Accra. I asked her if she was scared because of the many plane crashes we were hearing about.

She quietly answered, “You know, I am scared.”

Then I asked her, “Are you ready to meet God?”

She said, “No, I am not. I do not think I have lived enough.” Then she asked me, “Are you ready to meet God?”

I said, “Yes, I am.” She was taken aback.

“Really?” she said.

I told her, “You can only be ready through the blood of Jesus who died for you.”

A strong Christian is ready to meet God at any time. There are two events that will make you meet God. There are two events that you must be ready for: the rapture of the saints and your death. Both of these events will be the end of your life on this earth. A good Christian must be ready for the coming of the Lord. A good Christian must also be ready to die.

Be Ready for the Rapture

For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive and remain will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we shall always be with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words.

1 Thessalonians 4:16-18

The rapture is when Jesus Christ will come for all Christians. We will be caught up in the clouds and be carried into heaven by the Lord. Will you be ready for the coming of the Lord or will you be left behind? You must be ready for the Lord when He calls for you. No one knows the day or the hour when he will be called by God. The rapture is an event that the church has waited for, for many years. Definitely, at the time when we think not, Jesus will come again and we will be caught away. All through the Bible, there are warnings to be ready. Be a strong Christian and be ready for the coming of the Lord!

Then saith he to his servants, THE WEDDING IS READY, but they which were bidden were not worthy.

Matthew 22:8

THEREFORE BE YE ALSO READY: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh.

Matthew 24:44

You may have been a strong Christian before. You may have been a strong Christian when you were in school. Perhaps you have backslidden and changed completely. You may have even been a minister of the gospel. Today, there is no sign of your former zeal, steadfastness, holiness and spirituality. That is a very dangerous thing because you must be ready in the moment the Lord appears.

Many years ago, I was a medical student in the University of Ghana. We had to catch a bus to the hospital every day at 7.00am. This was a special bus that took medical students from the university campus to the hospital, which was an hour’s journey away.

One morning, my roommate and I were late and we missed the bus. We ran to the other side of the campus hoping to catch it from there, but we missed it by a few seconds. We could not believe that we were being left behind. We stood there sweating and panting, holding our white coats, our bag of skeletal bones and our medical books. How dejected and disappointed we were! We were medical students. We were qualified to be on the bus, but we were simply not ready at the moment the bus came by. I never forgot that lesson and I never missed the bus again!

You see, you may be qualified to go to heaven. But you must also be ready for the moment that Jesus comes for us. There were ten virgins that Jesus spoke about. Indeed, they were all virgins. They were all clothed in white. They all had lamps and they all had oil at a point. But at the time that the bridegroom came, some of them were simply not ready. Jesus warns us not to be like the foolish virgins who were not ready when the bridegroom came.

Be Ready for Death

Another event you must be ready for is death. Will you be ready to die if the Lord calls you? Remember that immediately after death comes judgment. There are two ways to die. You can die the death of a righteous man or you can die the death of a wicked unbeliever. If you live the life of a strong Christian you will end well and die the death of a righteous man.

… Let me die the DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS, and let my last end be like his!

Numbers 23:10

How do you want your end to be? Do you want to grow stronger and stronger until the last day? You can choose to be steadfast, faithful, unmovable, spiritual, fruitful and mature. You can die the death of a righteous man. That is the right way for you to go! That is the will of God!

We will all stand before the presence of God to account for our lives. When that time comes and you are ushered into the presence of God, what will you say? Will you be ready? Would you have done what God wanted you to do?

A Christian brother was committing fornication when he heard a loud blast. He thought it was the sound of the trumpet heralding the return of Christ. So he jumped out of the bed, but was not caught up to heaven. He was so worried, because he thought that he had been left behind at the rapture. This anxious Christian was overreacting to the honk of a big bus. It is important to be ready for the coming of the Lord or for your own death when the Lord calls you.

The Death of the Righteous

Jesus Christ died on the cross for the sins of the whole world. He was a righteous person and had done no evil. His last words revealed the kind of person who was dying on the cross. He said, ‘Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.’ In His last moments on this earth he was full of forgiveness and mercy for wicked murderers.

He also said to John, ‘Look after my mother’ and to his mother, ‘Look after John.’ He acted responsibly even though He was facing imminent death. His very last words were, ‘it is finished.’ He had finished His ministry.

Will you have finished your ministry in the day of your death? Will you have accomplished all that God has for you? The only way to die the death of a righteous person is to fulfil your ministry. When you have done all that God wants you to do you will go out of this world in peace saying, ‘It is finished!’

A famous missionary to Burma who laboured tirelessly for many years fell ill at the age of sixty-one. Adoniram Judson, an American missionary to Burma, had married for the third time, having lost two previous wives through illness. His last wife, Emily, was only in her twenties when she married him.

After only two years of marriage, Adoniram had caught a severe cold and a high fever. The illness settled in his chest and dysentery followed. Adoniram spent the next few months in bed, trying to recover, as his wife tenderly nursed him.

One day he exclaimed to his wife, “I have gained the victory at last. I love every one of Christ’s redeemed, as I believe He would have me love them. And now I lie at peace with all the world and what is better still, at peace with my own conscience.”

But steadily, Adoniram grew worse and his doctors insisted that his only hope of survival was to go on a sea voyage so that he would benefit from the fresh ocean winds. His wife Emily, apprehensively booked Adoniram on the French ship Aristide Marie. She could not accompany him because she was only three weeks away from giving birth to her second child. Obviously, it would not be a good idea to give birth on a ship. Adoniram went on this fateful journey but unfortunately did not make it to America. After only six days into the journey he died on the ship. Because the ship was far from any shore he was buried at sea. Three weeks after his departure his wife Emily gave birth to a son. She did not hear about his death until three months later. In those days, there was very little fast communication. When she heard of his death on the ship, she packed her belongings and went back to America.

But before sailing on the ship Adoniram had told Emily some great and memorable words which inspire me greatly. As he prepared to go on board the ship for that fateful voyage, he confided in his beloved wife, Emily. I have presented his last few words in five italicised statements. I have also presented a little explanation of these powerful statements of a great man who died the death of a righteous man. The great tireless missionary said:

1. I AM NOT TIRED OF MY WORK!: I am not tired of the work that God has given me to do on this earth. I am not tired of preaching. I am not tired of people. I am not tired of counselling. I am not tired of people. I am not tired of travelling. I am not tired of witnessing.

2. I AM NOT TIRED OF THE WORLD!: I am not tired of the difficulties, the suffering and the painfulness that God has allowed me to endure in this world. I am not tired of the struggle that there is in this world.

3. IF CHRIST CALLS ME HOME I SHALL GO WITH THE GLADNESS OF A BOY BOUNDING AWAY FROM SCHOOL!: I will always be excited at the thought of dying and meeting my Saviour face to face. I am ready to go to heaven at any time. I am ready to die with joy. I am excited at the prospect of going to heaven.

4. DEATH WILL NEVER TAKE ME BY SURPRISE!: I am ready for death at any time, any day. Going out of this world will never be a shock, surprise or disappointment to me. I have laboured, I have finished, I have accomplished what He sent me here to do.

5. I FEEL SO STRONG IN CHRIST!: Even though I am facing a life-threatening situation, I feel strong, blessed and encouraged in the Lord. My current difficulties have not taken away my spiritual strength and zeal for the Lord.

The Death of the Wicked

When you are not a strong Christian, you will be frightened by the prospect of death. This is only natural because you are not ready to meet with God. More than once, I have been called by people who were dying and were afraid to meet with God.

On one occasion, I received a call to see a man who was dying in hospital. This man was not strong in the Lord. I had tried to talk to this man earlier about Christ. But when I spoke to him, he was angry and even threatened me. He shut me up and told me that I had no right to talk to him about God. He made it clear to me that I should mind my own business and not be over-righteous in thinking that others were not born again.

Yet, when he was dying in hospital, he had people call me frantically, “Please come quickly to the hospital”. He was terrified because in his last few hours he began to see creatures and beings standing around his bed. He told his assistant, ‘they are coming for me. Can’t you see them, they are coming for me.’ He spent his last few days and hours in terror as these creatures gathered around to take him away. Before I was able to get to him, I had a call that he was dead.

It is important to serve the Lord and be a strong Christian who is ready to die and meet God at any time. Paul said, ‘For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.’ Dying was not a frightening prospect for the great apostle. Paul said, ‘I have run my race. I have finished my ministry. I have fulfilled my call. I am ready to meet my God.’ Are you ready to meet your God?

Dear Christian friend, I have shared with you many things that will help you to be strong in the Lord. BECOMING A CHRISTIAN IS NOT ENOUGH. YOU MUST BECOME A STRONG CHRISTIAN. Decide now to live your life for Jesus. Decide now to be a mature, spiritual, holy and strong believer.

It is a great thing to serve the Lord. It is nicer to be a strong Christian than a weak Christian. You will have much more fun, joy and excitement in the Lord, as you become a strong believer.

Then shall ye return, and discern between the righteous and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him that serveth him not.

Malachi 3:18

To the making of many books there is no end…

by Dag Heward-Mills

0 notes

thebritishmonarchycouk · 5 years

Photo

On This Day In Royal History . 28 February 1155 . Henry the Young King was born . . Henry was the eldest surviving son of Henry II of England & Eleanor of Aquitaine. . He was the only King of England since the Norman Conquest to be crowned during his father’s reign, but was frustrated by his father’s refusal to grant him meaningful autonomous power. . The Young King’s contemporary reputation, was positive. Likely due to the enthusiastic tournament culture of his time. He was a tournament team leader until 1182, he is described as a constant competitor at tournaments across northern & central France between 1175 & 1182. With his cousins, Philip I, Count of Flanders, & Baldwin V, Count of Hainaut, he was a key patron of the sport. He is said to have spent over £200 a day on the great retinue of knights he brought to the tournament of Lagny-sur-Marne in November 1179. Though he lacked political weight, his patronage brought him celebrity status throughout western Europe. . He married Margaret of France (1158-1197) on 27 August 1172 at Winchester Cathedral, when Henry, aged seventeen, was crowned King of England a second time, this time together with Margaret. Margaret was the daughter of King Louis VII of France & his second wife, Constance of Castile. . Young Henry fell out with his father in 1173. He was joined by a formidable party of Anglo-Norman, Norman, Angevin, Poitevin & Breton magnates. The revolt of 1173–1174 came close to toppling his father Henry II. . The only child of Henry & Margaret was William, who was born prematurely on 19 June 1177 & died three days later. This difficult delivery may have left her infertile, for she had no further children. . He contracted dysentery at the beginning of June 1183. It was clear to his household that he was dying on 7 June, On his deathbed, he reportedly asked to be reconciled to his father, but King Henry, fearing a trick, refused to see him. He died on 11 June, clasping a ring his father had sent instead as a sign of his forgiveness. After his death, his father is said to have exclaimed: “He cost me much, but I wish he had lived to cost me more.” . His death six years before his father, left his brother Richard to become the next king. . . . . (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9IQWoKnDnI/?igshid=rmpa92a0slqk

#On This Day #this day in history #On this day in history #Henry the young king #King of England #The King #Plantagenet #Plantagenets #House of Plantagenet #History #Medieval #Medieval history #Medieval times #England #London #BritishMonarchy

4 notes · View notes

ongames · 7 years

Text

6 Expressions Of Gratitude People Have For The Inspiring Nurses They’ve Encountered

Nursing is not the kind of profession one goes into seeking fame and prestige. Ask any of the nurses in your life, and they’ll all tell you the same story: It involves long hours and hard work, with little acknowledgement of the day-to-day sacrifices.

And yet, the overwhelming majority of nurses remain satisfied in their jobs, and are glad they became nurses, according to a 2016 Medscape study.That’s because, despite the stress and burnout, there’s a shared sense of purpose among those who work in healthcare. In addition to the time and energy they sacrifice to care for their patients, they also give up a bit of themselves to each patient who comes into their care. These are the moments we remember the most about the nurses we’ve encountered in our lives, whether as a patient or the loved one of a patient.

To give nurses the recognition they deserve, we’ve partnered with Dignity Health to share these six expressions of gratitude people wish they’d said to the compassionate and caring nurses in their lives.

1. “No kind gesture is too small to make a big difference in someone’s life.”

“When I was a child, my grandma Clara was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. I would often travel with my mom and grandma to her chemotherapy appointments. The smiles and warmth that radiated from the nurses who cared for my grandma live on in my memory.

“On one particular visit, it was my 8th birthday. The nurses sang “Happy Birthday” and assisted with taking pictures of my family and me with my grandma. I was proudly holding my birthday cake with candles. I can still remember this time like it was yesterday.

“One lesson I have taken from that experience is that no kind gesture is too small to make a big difference in someone’s life. Being a nurse myself, I strive to bring this similar warmth to my patients at every touch!” – Angie Hammond

2. “It meant a lot that you went beyond your duties as a nurse to show kindness to a fellow human being.”

“I was 18 and in a foreign country, attending seminary in Israel. I got dysentery from eating the food at seminary and was in the hospital for two weeks. This particular nurse was a favorite of mine because her native language, like mine, was English. The fact that she took time to talk to me and comfort me really stuck with me all these years. She was just genuinely caring and good.

“To that nurse: Thank you for that time you sat with me in the middle of the night and told me about your childhood in Wales when I was alone and frightened and couldn’t sleep. It meant a lot that you went beyond your duties as a nurse to show kindness to a fellow human being.” – Varda Epstein

3. “This experience...still makes me cry, that she would take the time to listen and hold my hand.”

“I was in the hospital several times within a four-month period about 4 years ago due to some bleeding. A relative came to visit me in the hospital, and said that I should leave immediately because of insurance issues (which were ultimately resolved).

“When this relative said these insensitive things, I could not even look her in the eyes, and then she left. Several minutes later, a nurse came in to do some kind of testing, and I began to cry. She then stopped what she was doing, sat next to me on the hospital bed, and took my hand and held it to comfort me.

“This lasted for about 5 minutes while I cried and told her what this relative had said. She then referred me to a counselor at the hospital. I had been so upset, I couldn’t thank her. I wish I had, but I never saw her again. This experience, even some 4 years later, still makes me cry, that she would actually take the time to listen and to hold my hand. Thank you, nurse, whoever you are, and wherever you are!” – Steve Sonntag

4. “Thanks for being my friend and making me not feel like a patient.”

“My mother was ill in the hospital and I was visiting her. My mother’s nurse, Bridget, was so upbeat and compassionate, and made my mother forget she was in a hospital. Not only that, but she became a friend to me and my three siblings.

“About a month later, and pregnant with twins, I went into the hospital for three months. I recall the day when I called my sister to let her know I found a nurse with the same great qualities ― I had found my nurse Bridget!

“So, what I would say to these two special nurses: Thanks for being my friend and making me not feel like a patient. Thank you for making me feel like we were just two old friends, hanging out, talking about frappuccinos and the beach. Thanks for making me want to fight through my situation and power forward.” – Helen Holden

5. “She was my guide, my support and, in the end, I considered her a friend.”

“I would say thank you to Carol S., she was my multiple sclerosis nurse and coordinator. Carol retired about 6 years ago and, honestly, I wouldn’t have made it through the struggles of living with multiple sclerosis without her.

“She was my guide, my support and, in the end, I considered her a friend. She had a personal mission to help people like me adjust and live a full life with multiple sclerosis. She sacrificed her personal time and supported strangers. Thank you!” – Adele Boese

6. “Thank you for your compassionate care. Thank you for using your awesome powers for good.”

“Our mother was in the last stages of pancreatic cancer, dying at home. Nurse R., the hospice nurse, was as special as our mother. She was a slight woman, delicate, but titanium-strong.

“We were standing on the flagstone porch. It was a clear, sweet May day, and in less than 24 hours my mum would be gone. I was asking Nurse R. how much time we had, how she was doing said. My answer was there, but I couldn’t hear it. You reached beyond the question to my pain and fear. You hugged me and smiled.

“Thank you, Nurse R., for freeing us to feel joy and hope amid death, and for bolstering us with your calm. Thank you for your compassionate care, your strength and gentleness, and your grace, delicacy, manners. Thank you for being direct, and for not pulling any punches. Thank you for not rolling your eyes when I so clearly was trying not to hear what you were saying.

“Thank you for connecting with mum like a human being, and for treating her like a person, not a patient. Thank you for using your awesome powers for good.” – Jacqueline Lewis

When we infuse empathy into our lives — the way these nurses do for their patients — we unleash the healing power of humankindness. Backed by science, Dignity Health is grounded in the belief that medicine is more effective when delivered with compassion and kindness and healthier for our mind, body, and spirit. Join Dignity Health in celebrating National Nurses Week from May 6-12.”

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

6 Expressions Of Gratitude People Have For The Inspiring Nurses They’ve Encountered published first on http://ift.tt/2lnpciY

0 notes