#lad bible office

[scotianostra]

The Physician John Abercrombie was born in Aberdeen on any one of three days, 10th, 11th or 12th of October 1780, depending on what source you read.

In many ways Abercrombie was a genuine product of the Scottish Enlightenment in that he was a “Lad o’Pairts” equally at home discussing moral philosophy and medicine – he made a significant contribution to progress in the latter science and is known to many as the father of neuropathology, the study of diseases of the nervous system.

Indeed he has the ultimate medical accolade of having a disease named after him, namely Abercrombie’s Degeneration, which he was the first to describe.

The son of a clergyman in Aberdeen, the Rev George Abercrombie of East Church, John was educated at the local grammar school and then at Marischal College in the city’s university, before moving to Edinburgh University – which was then the foremost medical education institute in the world.

He was just 22 when he gained his doctorate in medicine in 1803, and after a brief spell completing his studies in London he began to practise his profession in the Scottish capital.

It is standard practice now but back then Abercrombie quickly gained a reputation for listening to his patients at length and taking his time with a diagnosis – he was nicknamed the man of silence because of this habit.

Abercrombie soon became recognised as possibly the finest doctor in the city, and his practice proved very popular with the wealthy and well-to-do, but don’t knock him for that, remember there was no NHS back then, John Abercrombie though, he spent a great deal of time working with the poor people of Edinburgh, becoming a senior medical officer at the Royal Public Dispensary, where he devised a system of having medical students assigned to different parts of the city so that they could gain first-hand knowledge of working with the sick while helping to treat them.

In 1808, Abercrombie married the wealthy daughter of a manufacturer and together they had seven daughters. His wives wealth gave him the chance to concentrate more on his practice rather than a part time teaching post. In 1815 the New Town Dispensary was opened in Thistle Street and Abercrombie was appointed senior surgeon.

Abercrombie went on to become the leading physician of his day in Edinburgh, establishing a name for himself and becoming the king’s physician in Scotland, he was medical advisor and close friend to Sir Walter Scott. The University of Oxford conferred on him the award of the honorary degree of MD.

In the last decade of his life the good doctor shifted his focus towards philosophical and religious topics rather than medical. Abercrombie wrote a number of essays which were compiled into a volume called Elements of Sacred Truth, which sold very well.

Abercrombie became known for the intellectual and moral nature of man. He gradually immersed himself into Bible study and in 1840 left the established church. Abercrombie donated widely to Edinburgh charities and societies. He was a regular member of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh and became vice-president of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.

He suffered from a stroke and died suddenly at his home on 14th November 1844. After his death his family presented his library of over 900 books to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, while his extensive papers were donated to the library of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh.

[dangerously-human]

Having A Time in the Milwaukee airport today, lads. To start with, I do get patted down every time I fly, for whatever reason, but I gotta say, this is by far the most intimate I've gotten with a TSA officer. Ma'am, I can assure you I did not forget about a concealed knife in my undies, or anything like it. (TSA lady asked, "Okay to do this here?" and while aloud I sighed, "Go for it," I bit back a snarky comment about my answer changing if we started removing layers.) Flight has now been delayed twice, and while before I could maybe have made it to my gate at a full-out sprint, now I will almost certainly be spending the night in Detroit, which I can't say was exactly on my bucket list. Thankfully Bible study bestie was down to come feed the cat again tonight now that I won't be making it home till tomorrow. If I'm lucky, though, I might still make it home in time for church... We'll see. And I mean, truly, it could be worse, at least the airline is paying for the hotel and everything, and I don't have any hard deadline for getting home. I just was so looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight and snuggling with the cat.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Our sentences by the Executive Officer were, technically, fourteen days in solitary confinement, on full diet if we worked on the rockpile, or on bread and water, hand-cuffed to the bars nine hours a day if we refused to work on the rock pile. Of course, we refused to work on the rock pile, as that did not differ materially from other work done at the D.B. [Disciplinary Barracks.]

Five cell doors were opened. I was ordered into one. The barred door was locked. I placed my hands through the bars of the door, and for the first time the steel handcuffs closed over my wrists. For a moment I caught a glimpse of a guard grinning malevolently at us; then the wooden door was closed, shutting off most of the light and deadening all sounds. I was alone in the Hole.

After a few moments I began to whistle softly to myself. And the air that I whistled – wholly unthinkingly – was ‘The Marseillaise.’ The flaming hymn of revolutionary France was the natural psychological reaction to the Hole of Leavenworth. Ray, who was musically inclined, soon began to sing and whistle aloud. ‘Shut up!’ I heard a guard roar; ‘do you think this is a playhouse? If you don’t shut up I’ll handcuff you this afternoon, too.’ It was Saturday morning, and we had entered the Hole about ten o’clock.

The handcuffs were taken off at noon, and we were handed our ‘meal’ through the bars, three slices of bread and a cup of water. I ate sparingly (my interest in bread waned after a few meals), chewed the bread very thoroughly, and lived on the crusts as much as possible. From the warning of other prisoners, we were afraid that the soft center of the bread might clog up our stomachs, inducing constipation or other digestive disorders.

....

On Monday the ‘real thing’ began.

We were awakened at six, swept out our cells, ate ‘breakfast,’ and were handcuffed to the bars at seven. I had not been standing there very long before I heard Jake call, ‘Hello, Arthur!’ ‘Hello, Jake, what is it?’ I replied. ‘What century is this we’re living in?’ queried Jake.

From twelve to twelve-thirty we were freed from the handcuffs (though one lazy guard left mine hanging to one wrist) for ‘lunch’; then from twelve-thirty to four-thirty we were ‘strung up’ again. My hands were at about the level of my breast; I could move them in a limited number of positions, and could also lean against the wall as I stood. The position of my hands was not particularly painful in itself, though the steel on my wrists was rather cold and the arms of a smaller man would have been slanted up in a manner to induce coldness through the stopping of the circulation.

....

We were allowed our toilet articles, but no reading matter, not even our Bibles. For that matter, there was no light to read by, except when the cells were open at meals or, at the pleasure of the guard, in the evenings. Usually, we were allowed to talk from cell to cell, but it was difficult to make one’s self heard when the wooden doors were closed. One evening, when the doors were open, we were having an interesting historical discussion of some of Napoleon’s campaigns, when suddenly our red-headed guard burst into the corridor, cursing at us for ‘talking socialism,’ and noisily closing both the doors and the discussion.

There were a number of other C.O.’s in the same line of cells with us ... Besides this there were a number of ordinary prisoners, most of them working on the rockpile. One of these boys, ‘Toledo Red,’ a generous-hearted Irish lad, twice slipped into my cell contraband articles of food which he had abstracted from his own ‘full diet’ portion.

Out of pure generosity, this ‘criminal’ risked punishment to do a good turn to a despised C.O."

- [William] Arthur Dunham, ‘The Narrative of a Conscientious Objector, [1921],’ unpublished MS, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, reprinted in Peter Brock, ed., ‘These Strange Criminals’: An Anthology of Prison Memoirs By Conscientious Objectors from the Great War to the Cold War. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004. p. 138, 139-140.

[miraclestreet]

“We were told to love our Mother Country but we found out that our Mother Country didn’t love us”

On June 22nd 1948, a ship called the Windrush arrived at Tilbury docks in Essex having sailed from Jamaica. Onboard were 492 Caribbean people who had responded to the invitation to settle in post-war Britain.

A young Jamaican lad had left with this request from his Mum. “When you arrive in England, find a Post Office to send me your first letter, find a welcoming church to thank God for your new life and find a friend to walk by your side.” He wrote back with these sad words “Dear Mum, I’ve found a Post Office.” Clearly friendship wasn’t forthcoming and the less said about the church the better.

Thank God that young people today are resisting the toxic soundtrack of a society that rejected so many people with no justification. It’s so important that we all play our part in exposing the ludicrous notion that skin colour defines value. ‘Windrush’ refenced the wind depicted in the Bible when the Holy Spirit blew through a group of Jesus followers propelling the Gospel across the world. A message that invites us all to be forgiven, renewed and transformed by God whatever out ethnic or cultural background.

[talesofpassingtime]

So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of a gun.

— James Joyce, Ulysses 

[themancorialist]

Lever Street, Manchester.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Joseph Sold into Slavery

12 Joseph’s brothers went to shepherd and feed their father’s flock near Shechem.

13 [One day] Israel said to Joseph, Do not your brothers shepherd my flock at Shechem? Come, and I will send you to them. And he said, Here I am.

14 And [Jacob] said to him, Go, I pray you, see whether everything is all right with your brothers and with the flock; then come back and bring me word. So he sent him out of the Hebron Valley, and he came to Shechem.

15 And a certain man found him, and behold, he had lost his way and was wandering in the open country. The man asked him, What are you trying to find?

16 And he said, I am looking for my brothers. Tell me, I pray you, where they are pasturing our flocks.

17 But the man said, [They were here, but] they have gone. I heard them say, Let us go to Dothan. And Joseph went after his brothers and found them at Dothan.

18 And when they saw him far off, even before he came near to them, they conspired to kill him.

19 And they said one to another, See, here comes this dreamer and master of dreams.

20 So come on now, let us kill him and throw his body into some pit; then we will say [to our father], Some wild and ferocious animal has devoured him; and we shall see what will become of his dreams!

21 Now Reuben heard it and he delivered him out of their hands by saying, Let us not kill him.

22 And Reuben said to them, Shed no blood, but cast him into this pit or well that is out here in the wilderness and lay no hand on him. He was trying to get Joseph out of their hands in order to rescue him and deliver him again to his father.

23 When Joseph had come to his brothers, they stripped him of his [distinctive] long garment which he was wearing;

24 Then they took him and cast him into the [well-like] pit which was empty; there was no water in it.

25 Then they sat down to eat their lunch. When they looked up, behold, they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites [mixed Arabians] coming from Gilead, with their camels bearing gum [of the styrax tree], balm (balsam), and myrrh or ladanum, going on their way to carry them down to Egypt.

26 And Judah said to his brothers, What do we gain if we slay our brother and conceal his blood?

27 Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites [and Midianites, these mixed Arabians who are approaching], and let not our hand be upon him, for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brothers consented.

28 Then as the Midianite [and Ishmaelite] merchants were passing by, the brothers pulled Joseph up and lifted him out of the well. And they sold him for twenty pieces of silver to the Ishmaelites, who took Joseph [captive] into Egypt.

29 Then Reuben [who had not been there when the brothers plotted to sell the lad] returned to the pit; and behold, Joseph was not in the pit, and he rent his clothes.

30 He rejoined his brothers and said, The boy is not there! And I, where shall I go [to hide from my father]?

31 Then they took Joseph’s [distinctive] long garment, killed a young goat, and dipped the garment in the blood;

32 And they sent the garment to their father, saying, We have found this! Examine and decide whether it is your son’s tunic or not.

33 He said, My son’s long garment! An evil [wild] beast has devoured him; Joseph is without doubt rent in pieces.

34 And Jacob tore his clothes, put on sackcloth, and mourned many days for his son.

35 And all his sons and daughters attempted to console him, but he refused to be comforted and said, I will go down to Sheol (the place of the dead) to my son mourning. And his father wept for him.

36 And the Midianites [and Ishmaelites] sold [Joseph] in Egypt to Potiphar, an officer of Pharaoh and the captain and chief executioner of the [royal] guard. — Genesis 37:12-36 | Amplified Bible Classic Edition (AMPC) Amplified Bible, Classic Edition Copyright © 1954, 1958, 1962, 1964, 1965, 1987 by The Lockman Foundation. Cross References: Genesis 16:11-12; Genesis 23:2; Genesis 25:8; Genesis 33:18; Genesis 37:3; Genesis 37:11; Genesis 38:25; Genesis 39:1; Genesis 40:15; Genesis 42:13; Genesis 42:22; Genesis 44:28; Genesis 42:38; Genesis 45:3; Genesis 50:20; 2 Kings 6:13; 2 Kings 11:14; Jeremiah 36:25; Mark 14:1; Acts 7:9; Revelation 11:3

[taikizetsu]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫: 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐨

Introduction Felix Ysagun Manalo, commonly known as Ka Felix, was the founder and first Executive Minister of Iglesia ni Cristo (born Félix Manalo y Ysagun; May 10, 1886 – April 12, 1963). Manalo is regarded as a prophet and God's final messenger by his followers.

He is the father of Eraño G. Manalo, who succeeded him as Executive Minister of the INC, and the grandfather of Eduardo V. Manalo, the current Executive Minister of Iglesia ni Cristo.

Childhood He was forced to attend public school in Santa Ana, Taguig, when he was seven years old, in 1893. Maestro Cario was the name of his old teacher, Macario Ocampo. In a caton class, he learned basic literacy and the fundamentals of the Catholic faith (cathecism class). In Laguna de Bay, he worked as a fisherman alongside his father. With his cousin, Modesto Ysagun, he worked as a carabao (water buffalo) herd boy. They were able to catch field mice whose meat was nutritious. In a competition to see who could stay the longest barefooted on an anthill crawling with maddened red ants, he beat out many other guys. In 1896, during the Philippine Revolution against Spain, his father died, leaving him and his younger sister, Praxedes in the care of their mother.

As a Roman Catholic Felix and his cousin were adopted in an urban parish house in Sampaloc, Manila, by their uncle Mariano Borja, a Catholic priest, in 1899. The priest, a fan of fighting cocks, not only fed and housed them, but also told them stories about great men, which undoubtedly spurred the two little lads to weave dreams. Among other things, they assisted in the lighting of the candles. Felix discovered a Bible left on a church bench in that parish, which he began to read. He was harshly chastised for studying the Bible alone.

Founding the Iglesia Ni Cristo He sequestered himself in his friends' house, Eusebio Sunga, in Pasay, in November 1913, with religious literature and unused notebooks, telling everyone in the house not to disturb him. He went two days and three nights without eating or drinking. He emerged from his solitary confinement with his newfound beliefs. 

During World War II Germany launched an unexpected invasion on Poland on September 1, 1939, in violation of the 1919 Treaty of Versailles, which marked the start of World War II. The Japanese Imperial Army conducted a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941, followed by an attack on the Philippine Islands the next day. During the Japanese rule of the Philippines, he continued to host worship services, missionary operations, and respond to the spiritual needs of its members. Soldiers from the Imperial Japanese Army disrupted a service in Tayuman, Santa Cruz, Manila, but were unable to prevent him from officiating. He eventually became an information officer for the resistance organization, providing them with money, food, and clothing.

Prudencio Vasquez presided over INC at the Japanese headquarters on June 29, 1942. Previously, "Evangelical Mission" was referred to as "Evangelical Rally. "Females sat on the left side of the church during worship sessions in the early years, while males sat on the right side.During the Japanese occupation, the Japanese kidnapped FYM and demanded that he reign over all religions in the country or be the sole pastor of the many churches in order to control religions in the Philippines, but he refused. The ministers are killed or massacred while they are in their “klase” or meeting classes, the ministers who hold the bible was chased by the japanese and suspected that they were enemies, they were forced to dig and in that place they are killed.

After World War II On 15 August 1945, the Japanese Imperial Army withdrew its forces from Asia that marked the end of Second World War. He dispatched evangelistic workers to the Bicol region in 1947. At the age of 22, Eraño G. Manalo was ordained as a minister on May 10, 1947. In 1948, the church began construction on its central office and the Executive Minister's official residence on Riverside Street in San Juan, Rizal. Architect Juan Nakpil created the magnificent complex. Meanwhile, the Huks attempted but failed to assassinate Manalo once more. The first concrete church was constructed in Washington, Sampaloc, Manila, in 1948. January 1953 he summoned all division ministers and senior officials of the church after their regular ministerial meeting to a special conference. He announced that when his time comes, there must be someone to take his place. At 2 p.m, the meeting proceeded with himself presiding. The voting was held: Eraño G. Manalo, Isaias Samson and Isaias Reyes were nominated. Samson obtained two votes, while Eraño obtained all of the remaining votes and was proclaimed as the future Executive Minister. The body then elected Eraño’s would-be assistants: Teofilo C. Ramos and Cipriano Sandoval.By 1954, membership grew to 200,000.

Death of Felix Y. Manalo On February 1963, Felix fell very ill. He was rushed to St. Luke’s Veteran Memorial Hospital in Quezon City where doctors decided to immediately remove an intestinal obstruction. He rejected the surgery. On 21st March 1963, he became completely incapacitated and was transferred to Veterans Memorial Hospital. Doctors operated on him but failed to give him relief from pain.On 2nd April 1963, he was confined to treat his intestines which had burst and hemorrhaged. He had stomach ulcers which brought him constant pain that even medication did not help. On 11th April, doctors performed the third and last surgery on him.On 12th April 1963 at 2:35 a.m, at the age of 76, Felix Ysagun Manalo breathe his last.Many members mourned his death at the San Juan Chapel. The body was transferred to the new cathedral-chapel in San Francisco del Monte, Quezon City. On 23rd April 1963, according to his will, his body was interred in the pagoda housing his office and private study below the Executive Minister’s residence in San Juan, Rizal.Within the span of 49 years of his administration, the church had built1,250 local chapels and 35 large concrete cathedrals. The leadership of the church was passed on to his son, Eraño de Guzman Manalo.

To see what we have now in the Church of Christ with over a hundred nations throughout the world.

It's pretty amazing that it all developed from one man who was chosen by God to reestablish the Church in these last days.

- Dan Bowen, Jacksonville, North Carolina

[ace-beef]

Truth Seekers spoilers

okay so I have a lot of thoughts surrounding the characters Dave and Jojo and I’m gonna talk about them under the cut so don’t look any further if you haven’t watched the show yet and don’t want to be spoiled!! 

so... what exactly ARE Dave and Jojo? 

I think we have three main options: gods (more specifically God and Satan), angels and/or demons, or aliens, and there’s a decent bit of evidence for each thing/stuff that could be interpreted to link to each thing, and I’m gonna delve into that in this post. So buckle up lads this is gonna be a long one. 

First I’m gonna go over the possibility that they’re aliens since that is the one I personally think is least likely since most, if not all, of the evidence that suggests that they’re aliens is linked to Dave and not Jojo. Anyway, Alien Evidence:  - Dave pulls out the Pioneer Plaques to show Jojo what he based his human appearance on. So they could be aliens that came across the Pioneer spacecraft and decided to investigate Earth further - Dave himself is a huge Carl Sagan reference, as listed by this tumblr post here, so his appearance could have been a result of him being inspired by one particular human he happened to like a lot (similar to how he appears to like Gus and Astrid a lot)  - the slogan on the side of Gus’ van says “connecting worlds”, and we can safely assume that that is Smyle’s slogan, the slogan of the company that Dave is in charge of. So this could be a similar situation to The Network in The World’s End in the sense that Dave could be an alien aiming to connect different intelligent civilisations throughout space. Although it definitely seems like Dave isn’t seeking to aggressively convert and control these civilisations that he connects like The Network... right? I’m fairly confident that he’s supposed to be a Good(TM) character and not some surprise twist villain but y’know we’ll never know 

So yeah while there is definitely some stuff to suggest that this mysterious pair are aliens, I personally don’t think they are since I’ve found more evidence suggesting that they are something else. They appear to be too in tune with Earth, the creatures inhabiting it, and “the other side” that souls pass on to after animals and humans die just to be aliens from another world that are observing the planet. Plus the use of the phrase “Super Being” for some reason doesn’t feel alien to me, because unless they’re very self entitled aliens (and Dave definitely doesn’t give off that vibe) then I don’t think they would consider themselves as above humanity, which is the energy that the phrase “Super Being” gives off. I heard that phrase and interpreted it as meaning ‘beings that are above humanity and above human comprehension’. Aliens for the most part are depicted as being just another race of beings, not above humanity despite how much further advanced they are. There is the possibility of Dave being the only alien of the two but then how did these two creatures meet? It just doesn’t feel right since they both appear to be on the same level as each other and have some kind of mutual understanding as if they were both the same thing, not two different creatures.

Anyway next I’m going to move onto the things suggesting that they’re angels and/or demons. This seems more plausible to me than aliens but I’m still not 100% sure on this one but I will say that there is a lot of evidence/interpretations that could suggest both this possibility and the possibility of them being gods. Angel/Demon Evidence:  - the name ‘Jojo’ could be a link to the angel Jophiel  - there is a mention of a ‘bigger picture’ so we could have a Good Omens-type situation where there is a plan in motion that both Dave and Jojo are a part of and are making sure that it is played out  - the “what did you come as?” “same as always, a man” bit obviously suggests that their actual forms are definitely not human and probably not even humanoid (whereas an alien would be at least humanoid in some capacity). Bibically accurate angels do not look human/humanoid in the slightest, and demons, while a bit more humanoid than angels, are still very animalistic in appearance. Also, imagine an innocent angel that has never pried to look at what a human ACTUALLY looks/acts like suddenly panics about having to look and act like a human and pulls up that one thing the humans sent out to the aliens as a reference and goes entirely on that (listen I really like Dave he seems like such a Good Boy who isn’t the brightest but he’s trying his best) - Dave’s aversion to swearing, links to the theme of purity which is obviously an angel thing. Plus ‘Good’ characters will often have a trait of being against swearing to reinforce the idea that they are Good and Pure - Gus makes a comment about Dave “never not being [at Smyle HQ]” so he’s clearly there all the time, which could suggest a lack of needing to go home and do basic human functions such as eat and sleep etc (I do want to bring up that an alien still would probably need to continue with some kind of basic functions that have similar purposes). Plus while he does have a coffee cup on his desk, it’s only filled with pens - in a similar vein, Jojo appears to spend all of her time in the abandoned Happy Eater, and even though it’s an abandoned restaurant, it’s been abandoned for over 20 years and therefore won’t have any edible food still in it (except for the crisps but let’s be real Elton why did you try and get those out they’re probably horribly out of date). The still steaming cup of tea/coffee and the crisps in the vending machine I feel like were put there by Jojo to play to the gang’s curiosity and prompt them to explore further and find her 

there are a few things here that could also be used to suggest that they are gods/God and Satan, plus there’s a few more bits that would also go in this section but I’m saving them for the next bit. Anyway there’s the stuff pointing to them being either both angels or Dave being an angel and Jojo being a demon, and there’s plenty more evidence compared to the amount of things that suggest that they’re aliens. 

Finally we have the things linked to the idea of them being gods of some kind, or more specifically God and Satan. This is the idea that I am the most sure of.  Gods/God and Satan Evidence:  - as I mentioned already, the idea of the ‘bigger picture’, but instead they are the ones in charge of carrying this out. This feels more likely especially when considering the way that Jojo talks about her ‘use’ of Toynbe. Plus the way that the two go about doing everything, the ambiguous vibe that the two are either having the equivalent of a friendly card game against each other or are actually on opposite sides. Consider the placement of the rose in the field and the planting of the cameras etc - also as mentioned earlier, the implication that Dave never leaves Smyle HQ and Jojo stays in the abandoned restaurant. Also I want to add on the fact that neither of them appear to have cars, like Dave outright says “I don’t have a car” and yet knows how to drive the one he borrows, and there’s no sign of a car at Jojo’s hideout. Plus the way she doesn’t make any kind of journey and just appears in Dave’s office: he doesn’t look up to see who’s walking through the door and there is no shot of Jojo walking through the door, he simply smiles as if he senses her presence appearing in the room before looking at her - Dave wears blue, white, and grey clothing, which are also the same colours used in his office, and the lighting whenever he’s in shot is always either bright and white or a light blue, especially in that last scene where Jojo and Dave are chatting in his office; every time the camera is on him, the lighting of the shot is always blue. White especially is associated with holiness and purity, as well as being a colour that is associated with God, angels, and heaven. Blue is similar in the sense that heaven is always depicted with white clouds and bright blue skies, as well as blue often being a colour used to represent ‘Good’ characters - speaking of colours, Jojo is also linked to certain colours, with those colours being red and black (but primarily red). The abandoned restaurant is dark and barely lit, and her hideout in the basement is primarily lit with red lighting, both in the scene where she encounters the Truth Seekers gang and at the end where she rings Gus and orders that guy to send a cleanup crew. Also, once again in that last scene, she not only is wearing a black item of clothing, the lighting of her shots are always red to oppose Dave’s blue lighting. Red obviously is synonymous with hell, evil, the Devil/Satan, sin etc. Red is also often used to represent villains and evil characters, and black is similar with its themes of darkness and it’s use for villains. I like to think that Jojo got that blue rose for Dave partially to mock him, especially when considering that apparently blue roses are often used to symbolize mystery or attaining the impossible. (Also I want to point out that we already know that these boys do love their colour coding/theming as evidenced by the Cornetto Trilogy) - once again I’ll bring up the phrase “Super Being”, which really does sound like a phrase that a god who is very much above humanity would use, like that just screams ‘gods’ to me  - I used this as alien evidence but Dave looking like Carl Sagan could also be applied to him being a god and just deciding to base his appearance on a human he liked a lot - same with the “connecting worlds” slogan, since I think that part of Dave and Jojo’s game/contest involves experimenting with and/or influencing the boundaries between the ghost realm and the living realm, this slogan could have something to do with that - the way that Jojo says she “shouldn’t have used [Toynbe]”, which reminds me of the story in the Bible where the Devil tempts Jesus, except Toynbe succumbed to the temptation and “focused too much on the immortality”  - speaking of that line in particular, it also makes me think that Dave and Jojo are the ones ‘in charge’ of whatever game or contest or battle that the two are having, as I mentioned already. But that line, as well as other things, also gives the impression that they are alone in this, like Dave isn’t just one of many angels or a god with loads of angel lackeys to do things for him, and the same goes for Jojo. They do appear to have human ‘lackeys’ to do more basic tasks such as Jojo requesting the cleanup crew and Dave having a company with human employees, but overall the humans are unaware of what is really happening. Whatever thing that these two have with each other, whether they’re friends having a casual game or are on opposing sides and having a serious battle of some kind but are remaining friendly with each other because there isn’t anyone else like them, it definitely feels like these two are pitting against each other alone, with nobody else who really knows what is happening 

Overall, I think the two are some kind of higher entities that are above humanity yet they are still very strongly linked to and woven into the fabric of the Earth and the human race, so like they’re not outsiders to the mechanisms/forces of the planet. They seem more knowledgeable on the ghost realm/afterlife than humanity is, but whether they can actually control/influence it is still a bit of a mystery, like part of their game/contest could be one big experiment with the living realm and the ghost realm. Who knows? Not us, since season 2 isn’t going to be a thing, so I’m just gonna theorise until I die /j

So there ya go, all of my current evidence and thoughts on what the hell is going on with Dave and Jojo. I will probably update this post if I come up with/find any more things to add, probably by reblogging it. Also of course do feel free to reblog and add your own theories! 

[mymelodyheart]

Forget Me Not Chapter 30 ~Vows~

Brian escorted Claire down the stairs from the little room to the small hallway of the chapel. The day was mild and clear, and sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows. It was a perfect day for a wedding. The arched doorframe in the foyer was threaded with forget-me-nots and lily-of-the-valley and the air smelled of fresh flowers after a spring rain. The strains of  Somewhere Over the Rainbow  played on the piano and cello, and the soft murmurs of the wedding guests drifted to where they were stood. For a moment, Claire closed her eyes and sought a distant memory.

"Did yer ma and da have a big fancy wedding like aunt Jocasta?" a thirteen-year-old Jamie asked Claire. 

They were sat under a tree sharing a plate of cake, away from the rest of the wedding guests. Ellen's sister had just married her second husband. It was a garden wedding party complete with an eight-piece band, a professional caterer and a wedding planner orchestrating the sumptuous and stylish event.

Pushing her specs up on the bridge of her nose, Claire looked at Jamie thoughtfully. "Uncle Lamb told me they were married in the registry office. He said it was a quick and simple ceremony. My ma didn't even have a wedding dress."

Jamie forked the last piece of cake and offered it to her, and when she shook her head, he ate the remaining morsel. "Hmmm, our ma and da eloped, so they didn't have a fancy wedding either."

She sighed. "I know. One day, when I get married, I would like to wear a pretty white dress and look like a princess. And of course, there would be lots and lots of pretty flowers and three different flavoured cakes. And I want my husband to be my best friend, someone who is not too bothered about my braces."

"Braces or no', ye'd make a pretty bride. And I'm yer best friend, which means ye can marry me."

Claire gasped. "Jamie! Don't be daft! We're like brother and sister, so we can't marry!"

"We're not really brother and sister, Sassenach!" Jamie countered defensively, a frown forming on his forehead. "Trust me, we'll be allowed to marry. Everyone has to marry eventually, so I might as well marry a girl who's not too squirmish about beasties and who likes things I like ... like sports and chips and dips and fishing."

Claire wrinkled her nose. "But beasties and sports are not really romantic. Romance is important in marriage. I know because I've seen it in movies. But before you marry someone, you need to do all the boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. Like going to the movies and sharing popcorn and moonlight strolls."

"Ye mean dates? Aye, of course, but first I would need to save money. All these dating palavers are pricey. Willie told me so," he explained, matter-of-factly as he stood up and offered her his hand. Once upright, he brushed some stray grass from her skirt and tap her on the nose. "I only have 200 quid in my stash, but by the time ye're allowed to go on dates, I should have more. Then I can take ye for icecream and buy ye those frosted lip gloss ye like. Just like on a date."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You're not saying that to be nice, are you?"

"Of course not. What a silly question!"

She twirled a curl in one finger and pondered some more, watching Jamie with interest as he pulled out a tissue from his pocket and wiped a smudge of buttercream from the corner of her mouth. "Alright, then. But you do know, while on a date, ye need to be gentlemanly. That's what women are supposed to like while on a date."

"Aye, of course, I need to work on that," he mumbled, stuffing the used tissue in his pocket and straightening her glasses. After inspecting her thoroughly, he smiled with satisfaction. "There ye go. Come on, let's go. Ma and da will be wondering what we're up to." After grabbing the plate from the ground, he took her hand and pulled her along toward the wedding party.

"And it's a boyfriend's job to take care of his girlfriend."

"Dinna fash, Sassenach, I will try my best to remember."

Brian's gentle pressure on her hand broke her reverie, and Claire turned to look at him. The serene joy in his demeanour calmed the flurry of emotions in her soul and grounded her. "So this is it," he smiled, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Thank you for being there every step of the way, da," she whispered.

"Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. Ye are a blessing. I thank God every day ye came to our lives. I have had many profound and meaningful experiences in my life, but this moment ...to walk ye down the aisle is a gift I will always treasure and hold close to my heart. I am proud and thankful for the girl I raised to the woman you have become," he said, patting her hand.

"And I am proud to call you, my da."

Before she could catch her breath, Jenny snapped them to attention. "Right, lassies, showtime," Jenny chirped. She turned and cocked her head at her. "Claire bear?"

She nodded with a smile and took a deep breath.

Her bridesmaids were stood in their places, and the ushers waited for Jenny's signal.

As the double doors opened, the background music coming from the piano and cello faded away to be replaced with the soft melody of the song  A Thousand Years . Everyone hushed and turned towards the entrance, their cameras poised to capture the moment. One by one, her bridesmaids made their way to the altar, looking graceful and ethereal in their chiffon dresses.

When it was their turn to walk down the aisle, the music ceased, and the sound of a bagpipe echoed the traditional Highland Wedding March, heralding their presence. Everyone stood and held their breaths. The priest was at the front of the altar, clutching the bible in his hands. Flowers were scattered on the runner and adorned the pews. The benches were filled with friends and families, radiating love and awe, and murmuring praises at the sheer beauty of it all.

Claire's tears threatened to spill, and her heart squeezed as the outpouring of love came in waves. It was everything she had envisioned her wedding to be and much, much more. And for a moment, time stood still, and it felt like she was reliving every second she had ever shared with the Fraser family. And that was when she sensed the presence of her parents. She recognised it from the depths of her soul and in her heart, as they began walking down the aisle. The feeling was like being wrapped in a divine cloak, as comfort, happiness, warmth and peace enveloped her. She bowed her head in silent acknowledgement and prayer.  Thank you, mum and dad.

When she finally looked up, Jamie's eyes held hers, and everything else became a blur. From thereon, all thoughts were suspended, and all consciousness of her surrounding dissolved. Her sole focus centred on Jamie. Ignoring the ribbing from his older brother, his face broke into a radiant smile, and he placed a hand over his heart. The simple gesture took her breath away, and the tenderness and adoration on his handsome face bestowed her the realisation he was just as overwhelmed. 

Dressed like Brian and Willie in a traditional Clan Fraser tartan and formal jacket, he was a vision to behold. The added plaid placed over one shoulder, secured with a brooch only emphasised his massive breadth and staggering height. The sunlight that streamed through the windows created a halo with his unruly coppery locks, and his clean-shaven face made him look like an angel.

As if caught in slow motion, she watched him step forward, feasting at the beautiful figure he presented. She loved the way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled, the full sensual curve of his lips and the masculine gracefulness when he moved despite the evident limp. Knowing he truly belonged to her, fulfilled her in a way she had never experienced before and she would take each moment of their time together as a precious gift, never to be taken for granted.

Then he was stood before them, resplendent and striking in his Highland garb.

Brian spoke first. 

"My lad, I present to ye, yer bride." Ignoring the formality and custom of a simple handshake, Brian released Claire to hug his son. After a few heartwarming seconds, he pulled away and placed both his hands on Jamie's shoulders and looked at him with emotional intensity. "The day ye asked me for Claire's hand in marriage was the day I finally stopped worrying about who will look after her when I no longer can." Choked with emotion, he kissed Claire on the cheek before taking her hand and placing it over Jamie's. "It's worth bearing in mind that neither of ye will ever be perfect, but together, ye are perfect. Go with God, the both of ye." Then he stepped back to join his teary wife on the bench.

Claire smiled and mouthed  I love you  to Ellen before refocusing her attention to Jamie. She gazed at him for a while, committing to memory the look on his face. Oblivious to the people around them, she reached out to touch him, but he took her hand and whispered in her ears. "Ye look beautiful, Sassenach but then again, ye are always beautiful in every way. And there doesn't exist a part of you which I don't love. And I want ye to know I'll never forget this day." 

"Neither will I, Jamie."

His lips tugged in the corner. "Come now, let's make an honest woman out of ye," he teased, tucking her hand into his arm and guiding her to the altar.

Although it's a known fact that Catholic wedding ceremonies tend to be lengthy, the nuptial mass flew by in a haze, and Claire felt like she was floating in a dream world. The only thing that kept her rooted to that moment was Jamie's hand firmly holding hers. When it was his turn to recite his vows, everything suddenly became clear and sharp. Every nuance, movement, expression and word was carefully stored in her memory vault to treasure forever.

She watched him take out a piece of paper from his sporran with trembling hands. It had been folded numerous times until it was just a mere bundle. Carefully, he unfolded his written vows and stared at it for the longest time. It seemed he was having difficulty reading it. Taking a peek at the paper he held, she knew it was written with great care and thoroughness for he loathed writing with his hand.

Feeling his struggle, she wanted to reassure him that it was alright if he couldn't recite his vows. She understood how weddings could get emotional, and with so many eyes watching, nerves could go awry. 

Suddenly, to her surprise, he stuffed the paper back into his sporran and looked up. "Ah bugger it, I'm just going to wing it," he announced. His ears turned pink when everyone laughed. Swiftly remembering where he was, he turned to the priest, looking contrite. "Apologies, father ...I guess I'm a wee bit nervous."

The priest nodded in understanding and gestured for him to carry on.

Taking a step forward, Jamie took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes, allowing her to see every emotion and every feeling he had no words for. "Sassenach, I'm just going to speak from the heart. Painful as it is to admit, I cannae read my own handwriting." He paused for a bit when everyone laughed once more. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I wish I could promise ye the world because I ken ye deserve it. Unfortunately, the world isn't mine to give. But I do promise ye my world and everything in it. It may not be much, but all that I am and all that I have is yers. I wish I could promise smooth sailing, but as ma said, marriage is a lot of hard work, and there will be sacrifices and trials along the way. But what I do promise is to stand by ye and uplift ye, so that we can accomplish more than we could alone and weather the storm together. I wish I could give ye riches and deck ye in jewels, but there's no certainty I will be a rich man one day. What I do promise is a life of abundance, an abundance of my love and support. I can't even promise I'll never hurt ye because even the best of intentions sometimes fall short. What I do promise is to always reach for ye over my pride. Above all, I promise to love ye fiercely in all of your forms, now and forever. And to always know in the deepest part of my soul that no matter what challenges might tear us apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

After Jamie's impassioned speech, there was not a dry eye in the house, and she couldn't care less about ruining her make up. His words and his vows lit up the inner recesses of the soul, touching her heart, knowing full well, the man who stood before her meant every word he uttered. There was a sense of homecoming and completion, but at the same time, a new beginning as he slid the ring over her finger. For a moment, she thought she imagined a stirring in her belly. It was as if their unborn child was celebrating in the blessing of their union. And soon, not long after, they were declared husband and wife to the cheers of their family and friends.

..........

The reception was held in a small spa resort overlooking a lake and spread out over acres of property in rustic beauty. Winding paths encircled the area, and the fields were clothed in colourful wildflowers. The weather held out and the dying sun drenched the fields in golden light and flickering warmth.

The entire wedding was a dream come true, and in such a short time, everyone was able to pull all the stops to make their wedding day possible. Every small detail was a contribution from family and friends, making it all the more special and personal. Not once did she have to worry about any aspect of their wedding, with everyone taking over and impressing upon her that stress could be harmful to her baby. 

Midnight drew close, and the DJ announced the last dance. Everyone crammed onto the floor for one final celebration. Exhausted but happy, Claire headed towards the cake display instead.

A warm hand encircled her wrist. She turned and found Jamie staring down at her, his eyes the hues of ocean and sky, gleaming with intensity and mild intoxication. "Dance with me, Sassenach," he said in a low voice. "I ken ye're tired, but after our first dance earlier, I hardly had a chance to be alone with ye."

She smiled and let him lead her out to the dancefloor. Sighing with contentment, she went into his arms and nestled her head against his shoulders. They swayed to the slow strains as they pressed closer together. His breath warmed her cheeks as she inhaled his scent of aftershave, citrus and expensive whisky. A hand caressed her back, sending a tingly pleasure to spread all over her body.

"Thank ye, Sassenach," he whispered against her ears.

Startled, she looked up, and her eyes widened. "For what?"

He smiled. "For making me the happiest man alive. For our baby. For being patient with me. For being ye."

She softened against him, and a sigh escaped from her lips. "Smooth talker," she said teasingly. "Kidding aside, I am one very, very happy bride, thanks to you." Her finger traced a circle on his chest. "And, that speech today was quite impressive. Who would've thought, after all these years I've known you, you are still capable of surprising me? What other secret talents do you have hiding up your sleeves?"

His laugh rumbled from his chest. "Ach, Sassenach, at least I know I can still surprise ye. But I won't reveal all my secrets just yet. I need to keep ye on your toes."

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, is that so? Well, I have a few of my own I will not be revealing too soon either. Maybe make you work for the gold, right?"

"Dinna mind working hard for the gold but we have a lifetime of discovery ahead of us." He then lowered his voice. "And it starts tonight."

Her heart jumped, and suddenly she was caught up in the promise of his arms holding her close. Before she could dwell further, the slow rhythm of the song built, morphing into a blaring dance that belted out the lyrics that everyone knew by heart.

With a wink, Jamie spun her out of his arms and fell into the steps of a fast dance. He twirled her around the floor with grace, strength and humour, and the rest of the party threw themselves into the music and enjoyed the final pounding beat. Their family and friends surrounded them, stomping their feet and pumping their hands in the air and Claire revelled with laughter at the enthusiastic celebration of love.

It was a good hour before everyone finally left the reception, save for the family. Sliding off her shoes, she sat wearily on a chair. She was joined by Jenny, Geillis, Ian and Willie, each holding a drink. Jamie, Brian and Ellen headed outside saying a few goodbyes to leftover guests, who spoke of moving the party over to the bar.

"Oh, my God! I can't believe ye're married!" Jenny squealed.

"Weel, they were as good as a married couple living together," Geillis chuckled. "Jamie practically lived in the house." 

Laughing, Claire took their hands and squeezed them affectionately. "I can't believe I'm married either. Everything was perfect. Everyone made it perfect," she sighed. "I can't tell you how many people have been coming up to me asking who my wedding planner was. They all said they've never seen a wedding so beautiful. They couldn't believe it when I said everyone in the family was the wedding planner."

Willie slapped Ian on the back. "Ye're up next buddy," he grinned cheekily. "Cannae wait for the next stag party."

Jenny let out a breath. "Ye mean, ye cannae wait to have a stripper party."

"Ha! The stripper was Rupert's idea, and our party wasn't as wild as the hens'. Mind, we were all there and saw all of ye shouting at Jamie to strip." Ian said in defence.

All of them laughed. "Oh, it was a wild night, alright," Claire said. "I was the only one who recognised Jamie in his stripper costume. All my hens were too wasted. They all had their beer goggles on."

Geillis groaned. "That was bloody embarrassing ordering Jamie to strip, but let's not talk about that night. Let's talk about today. The wedding was perfection and mind ye, I've been to a lot of fancy weddings but today was so dreamy and romantic."

Claire's eyes welled up. Ever since she became pregnant, she was such a harvest of emotions. "There was so much love from everyone. And everyone's contribution just made it all so special. I have no words," she sniffed.

Jamie's voice rang out. "Uh-oh, here we go. I hope those are happy tears." Jamie pulled Claire from her chair, sat down and settled her on his lap before giving her a noisy kiss on the cheek. "Tired?"

Claire nodded, smiling as she laid her head at the crook of his neck.

Brian and Ellen joined them, holding hands together. "Right, kids we're off. We're getting too old for this. Some of the guests are at the bar, and Murtagh is just about to demonstrate the Highland fling," Brian announced, rocking on his heels. It was quite obvious he had quite a bit to drink. And then he turned to Ellen. "I hope ye remember our room number."

Ellen held up the keys in her hand. "Of course, darling." And then she looked at all of them. "See ye all at the brunch tomorrow. I'll probably check up on the hotel first so I might be a tad late."

Geillis looked at Brian and Ellen thoughtfully. "How do ye do it?" she burst out.

Brian cocked his head. "Do what?"

"Everything!" Geillis replied. "How do ye stay in love while running a hotel and raising kids and stress and life and family? What's the secret?"

Silence fell over the group. Claire sat up on Jamie's lap, Ian rested his chin on Jenny's head, and Willie wrapped his arms around Geillis, all waiting earnestly for the older Frasers' answer.

Ellen looked up at her husband. "Should we tell them the big secret to lifetime bliss?"

Brian grinned. "Aye, why not."

The group held their breath.

Ellen snorted out a laugh. "Sorry to disappoint but there's nae secret. It's a lot of hard work and patience."

"And fights. Lots and lots of arguments. And wrong choices," Brian chuckled as he pulled his wife against him.

"And lots of tears," Ellen added.

"But in the end, it's all worth it," Brian pointed out.

Ellen took her husband's hand in hers. "Dinna fash, ye'll figure it out. Because we did. Come on, darling, let's go."

Then the couple left, leaving them to stare at their retreating figures.

Claire sighed. "Surely, they know the big secret. Why don't they just tell us the real truth?"

There was a lapse of silence before everyone burst into hysterical laughter.

Jenny wiped the tears from her face. "Ma and da are right. There is no big secret. Marriage is a lifetime of many steep learning curves. The best thing ye can do is, hang on tight and enjoy the ride."

"Dinna fash, Sassenach. We already know. And I'm going to make sure we never forget," Jamie said, kissing his new wife. "As long as we have each other, we'll be fine. Come on, let's get ye to bed."

Claire slid her arms around his neck. For a moment, they were lost in each other, alone. Just bride and groom with a brand new life stretching ahead of them. They didn't even notice as the rest of the group left.

And then they kissed for a long time, oblivious to the staffs bustling around them.

..........

Jamie scooped up his new wife into his arms and walked into their bridal suite. He laughed as she squirmed in his arms. "Jamie! I've gained weight. I don't want to be the reason for your back giving way."

He gently put her down in front of the four-poster bed. "Ye're light as a feather, Sassenach. I can carry three times yer size without breaking a sweat." He unbuttoned his shirt and unfastened his sporran, placing them neatly on the armchair.

"Show off!" Momentarily forgetting about his back, her eyes were drawn to the new surrounding. "Oh, what a beautiful room!" she gushed. She bounced twice on the bed to test the firmness of the mattress and giggled. "This room must have cost a fortune." Then she stood up and walked over to the table ladened with a bucket of chilled champagne, a bowl of chocolate-coated strawberries and a vase of wildflowers. "It's a shame I can't drink at my own party."

"It's non-alcoholic fizzy wine, Sassenach." He stood behind her and unclasped her pearl necklace and unpinned her hair, placing the accessories on the table. Then carefully, he unzipped her dress, letting it pool at her feet. "Do you want a glass?"

"Mmm, yes, please." Taking a piece of strawberry with her, she walked away from him in her undergarments to examine the bathroom. "The bathtub is huge enough for ten people," she informed him excitedly.

"Good, then we can take a bath together." Jamie watched her in amusement as she went to explore the living area, complete with television, minibar and an ornate study desk. Quickly, he took the rest of his clothes off and poured the non-alcoholic beverage into the flute glasses. When she came back, her eyes widened, and her skin flushed in awareness as her gaze roamed over his naked body. "Come here," he commanded softly, grinning wickedly at her.

A smile touched her lips as her eyes settled on his erection. "And here I thought you were going to recite poetry on our wedding night."

He laughed low as he watched her openly stare at him. He was delighted at her new confidence even though he knew he could still make her blush. "I think I've created a tease. Ye're torturing me, Sassenach. Now come here and do as ye're told."

Claire's smile was slow and full of promise. Instead of obliging him, she reached back and unclasped her bra and dropped the material on the floor. His breath hitched when she hooked her fingers under the elastic of her panties, dragging the skimpy lace over her hips and thighs and kicking them away from her feet. "If you want me, you have to get me yourself, Mr Fraser," she teased, slowly backing away.

"If that's how ye want to play..." With one swift lunge, he caught her, carried her to bed and dropped her onto the quilt, making her squeal. Laughing, he placed one knee over the mattress and leaned over. His face suddenly turned serious, and he gently stroked her lips with his thumb, teasing the sensitive skin. He dragged in a breath as he gazed at her. "Christ, I'll never tire looking at ye. I can stare at yer face for hours."

She reached out and pulled his head towards her, kissing him with wild abandon. He smiled against her lips, thinking of the first time he taught her how to french kiss. "And I'll never tire of kissing you," she whispered.

He grasped both her wrists and held them above her head with one hand, kissing her deeply as her lips opened to the thrusting motion of his tongue. He cupped the weight of her breasts with the other hand, his thumb tracing a nipple. She arched upward as his mouth moved down her neck, and his knee slid between her legs and opened her for his more intimate touch. "I want ye now, Sassenach. I don't think I can hold on much longer," he muttered under his breath.

She pulled her hands away from his hold and clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips. "Then take me now and don't be gentle about it."

He pulled away slightly, concern marring his face. "Will the baby be alright if I'm a bit rough?"

She laughed and urged him closer. "I don't think the baby will mind. Now shush and make love to me."

He moved over her and joined his body with hers. Gently at first, he rocked back and forth until her body adjusted to his cock. When she started to moan and flung her head sideways, he pulled back out and slammed inside of her so fast, she convulsed in pleasure against him.

She rode out the climax, whimpering deep in her throat, and hung on as he pounded inside her body until he cried out her name when he reached his peak, never stopping until there was nothing left of either of them.

Spent and exhausted, somehow he managed to roll over. He gathered Claire into his arms and spooned against her, his lips pressed at the nape of her neck. It didn't take long before she relaxed completely in his embrace and fell asleep.

Moonlight beamed through the open window creating shadowy patterns against her pale skin. Carefully, Jamie loosened his hold on her and got out of bed.

For a while, he watched her sleep with a deep peacefulness that made a smile touch his lips. She was curled in a fetal position, one hand tucked under her cheek and her long dark curls fanned out over the pillow. He heard her snore delicately, making him chuckle.

Turning away, Jamie walked to the window and observed the dots of light sprinkling the night skyline. Taking a deep breath, he said a silent prayer, for her and for their unborn child and thanked God for the blessing bestowed upon them on their wedding day.  

Their lives were on the brink of change, and he had never been more satisfied with his life. Being with Claire soothed his soul, and with her, he knew he would find the strength to face whatever life throws at them. She was his anchor, his home and his soulmate.

She stirred and murmured in her sleep. Turning away from the window, Jamie walked back to bed and slipped under the covers pulling her close against him. She responded immediately and snuggled closer.

"I love ye so much, Sassenach," he whispered in the dark.

"I love you too, hubby."

He smiled and closed his eyes and allowed sleep to gently embrace him until he was lured into a world of dreams of happily ever after.

   THE END

[scotianostra]

14th November 1844 saw the death in Edinburgh of John Abercrombie, physician, author, philosopher and philanthropist.

Abercrombie was born in Aberdeen on any one of three days, 10th, 11th or 12th of October 1780, depending on what source you read. Today looks like being a quiet one on the anniversary front, so today it is.

In many ways Abercrombie was a genuine product of the Scottish Enlightenment in that he was a “Lad o’Pairts” , which was an ideal encouraged by the Scottish educational system where a boy should strive to be an all-rounder, a pioneer, broad in knowledge and at the same time practical. John Buchan is often tagged as one.

Abercrombie was equally at home discussing moral philosophy and medicine – he made a significant contribution to progress in the latter science and is known to many as the father of neuropathology, the study of diseases of the nervous system.

Indeed he has the ultimate medical accolade of having a disease named after him, namely Abercrombie’s Degeneration, which he was the first to describe.

The son of a clergyman in Aberdeen, the Rev George Abercrombie of East Church, John was educated at the local grammar school and then at Marischal College in the city’s university, before moving to Edinburgh University – which was then the foremost medical education institute in the world.

He was just 22 when he gained his doctorate in medicine in 1803, and after a brief spell completing his studies in London he began to practise his profession in the Scottish capital.

It is standard practice now but back then Abercrombie quickly gained a reputation for listening to his patients at length and taking his time with a diagnosis – he was nicknamed the man of silence because of this habit.

Abercrombie soon became recognised as possibly the finest doctor in the city, and his practice proved very popular with the wealthy and well-to-do, but don’t knock him for that, remember there was no NHS back then, as well as his private practice, he spent a great deal of time working with the poor people of Edinburgh, becoming a senior medical officer at the Royal Public Dispensary, where he devised a system of having medical students assigned to different parts of the city so that they could gain first-hand knowledge of working with the sick while helping to treat them.

In 1808, Abercrombie married the wealthy daughter of a manufacturer and together they had seven daughters. His wives wealth gave him the chance to concentrate more on his practice rather than a part time teaching post. In 1815 the New Town Dispensary was opened in Thistle Street and Abercrombie was appointed senior surgeon, he went on to become the leading physician of his day in Edinburgh, establishing a name for himself and becoming the king’s physician in Scotland, he was medical advisor and close friend to Sir Walter Scott. The University of Oxford conferred on him the award of the honorary degree of MD.

In the last decade of his life the good doctor shifted his focus towards philosophical and religious topics rather than medical. Abercrombie wrote a number of essays which were compiled into a volume called Elements of Sacred Truth, which sold very well.

Abercrombie became known for the intellectual and moral nature of man. He gradually immersed himself into Bible study and in 1840 left the established church. Abercrombie donated widely to Edinburgh charities and societies. He was a regular member of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh and became vice-president of the Royal Society of Edinburgh.

John Abercrombie suffered from a stroke and died suddenly at his home on this day in 1844. After his death his family presented his library of over 900 books to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, while his extensive papers were donated to the library of the Royal College of Physicians of Edinburgh.

The Chambers Biographical Dictionary says of him that he was “recognised as the first consulting physician in Scotland”

Such was the regard he was held in, his funeral arrangements had to be extended to a considerable degree to allow for the opportunity of those wishing to pay their respects and attend the funeral service and burial upon the news of his death. He is buried at Saint Cuthbert's Churchyard at the west end of Princes Street Gardens.

In an Obituary The Scottish Herald wrote of the man; “In his character, we have a beautiful combination of intellectual talent and moral excellence – genius surrounded with the halo of Christian virtue.”

[scribbledbyhand]

Here’s my story for the Ripper Street writing challenge ... I had much fun writing this nonsense. I hope you will have a bit fun reading it. Enjoy!

...

The fateful destiny came over Inspector Edmund Reid at the evening of an romantic rendezvous when he decidedly incorrect uncorked a shameless expensive bottle of a Champagne.

After the Champanger cork had finally freed itself from the bottle under high pressure, escorted by an ear-splitting plop, a wave of foaming and out welling liquid, the cork made its way through the room at immense speed. It bumped into the ceiling, moved further towards the toilet furniture, hit the mirror there - which slightly cracked - and which distracted it to the porcelain bust of William Shakespeare on the wardrobe.

It had been standing there for years, dusting in dignity. Now hitted by the cork, the bust swayed back and forth for a while, and then it finally decided to fall down - on the head of Inspector Edmund Reid who happened to be standing underneath and of course didn't see the misery coming.

Edmund Reid's skull resisted Shakespare, but nevertheless the heavy author managed to rob the Inspector of his mind for some time.

Reid was immediately taken to the Obsidian Clinic, where he has been under strict medical supervision and observation ever since.

+++  

A week had passed since the incident at the Alexandria Theatre, but the Inspector's convalescence made just cumbersome progress. Certainly, he was approachable and could serve most of his limbs again according to their natural purpose, but his mental state simply did not and did not want to improve.  They had breathed a sigh of relief when Edmund Reid opened his eyes again and babbled the first fragments of words to himself, even more so when he was once again able to form the confused gibberish into understandable words.

Unfortunately, their selection and arrangement in the sentence structure were of mystical or philosophical nature instead of clarity, so that his immediate environment - especially the nursing staff, who were blessed with rather average intelligence - usually did not interpret Reid's needs in accordance with his concerns.

If he was hungry, he demanded something edible with the sentence: "The cannibal can't live of a salad leaf".

If he was in pain, Reid's mind transcribed this into the phrase: „The testicles of Hercules are fighting with a teething snail.“

But the inspector's description of the need to ease his bladder was particularly fatal, however, and for reasons of respect this should not be repeated here.  

The situation was serious!

+++

In this situation, what elso can you do but wait and see, hope for the best, assist and support the tormented friend to the best of one's ability?

That’s what Drake and Jackson did. They visited Reid every day, held his hand and tried to guide his brain back to a normal level.

Such a visit was always exhausting that they needed a big drink afterwards. So after the visit, they went into 'The Bear' pub to discuss Reid's progress and to figure out what else they could do.

+++

Drake put the full glass of whisky on his lips and emptied it in one go. In that brief moment he forgot his sick friend, who looked at him with big, confused eyes and kept urging him: "Bennet, beware! Beware of the headless chicken! Headless chickens are dangerous!“

"What did he mean by that?“, Drake thought, not realizing he said it out loud.

„Rose“, answered Jackson.

Drake looked at him confused. "What makes you think that?"

The Captain explained: "Well, you'll admit Rose already has a lot of chicken and ... Who knows what she's capable of. It might be dangerous for you."

Under normal circumstances Jackson would have caught at least one whistle after this insult, but Drake was too tired for that. Instead he protested calmly, but emphatically: "A mad man fantasizes.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. "Why not? After all, he calls my wife a broom!"

Drake laughed. "Yes! He did", he said. „A nice expression and very fitting. I mean Susan is skinny like a stick and - that I must confess too - she has beautiful hair … and a broom is the place where witches sit on most of the time. So ...“

He filled the empty glasses with whiskey again and said to Jackson: “What is the saying so beautifully: Children and fools tell the truth!“

"Yeah!", murmured the American, "but that doesn't bring us further in this matter." He took the glass, frowned: "What we need is some kind of ..." He shook his head. "I don't know." He took a sip. "Maybe a shock is working ..."

Drake agreed, but neither he nor the Captain had any idea what kind of shock the right treatment was for the currently unusable Inspector.

They had already discarded some ideas when they suddenly noticed an unspeakable stench that became stronger and stronger. Obviously one of these degenerate creatures, an ejection of the gutter, approached the two. Someone too poor, too stupid or too dull to occasionally use water and a piece of soap.  

But they were wrong. It was Frank Thatcher!

+++

„Christ, Thatcher! You stink like the cunt of the devil's grandmother! Stay away.“  

„Keep calm, Benito! I’m sure the lad has a good reason to be the direct competitor of a skunk.“ He waved Thatcher towards him and meant for him to join them for a drink.

The junior Sergeant, obviously a little embarrassed, said after his first glass. „It’s awful, I know, but I have no other choice.“

„There’s always a choice“, said the Captain and put his arm around him. „Tell ol‘ uncle Jackson …“

Thatcher hesitated before he finally came out.

„I inherited my godmother's lucky knickers“, he said seriously, „and I must wear them for a month.“

A moment of silence. The exchange of disbelieving looks. Then, a roar of laughter.

„What?“

„It is true!“ Thatcher started to explain. „My godmother was a soul of woman and a genius at horse betting. Her speciality was betting on outsiders.  I don't know how she did it ... In any case, every horse she betted on won, even if it was the worst nag. I wasn't allowed to, but she shit on it and still took me to the racetrack. She bought me lots of sweets which I enjoyed while she placed her bets. Then we watched the race together. We had such a good time together. “ 

The lovely momory of his deceased relative made Thatcher smile. For a moment he was the little boy again, cheering on some horse at the hand of his godmother. The feeling, the colours, the smells of that time - everything was there again.

"Anyway," Thatcher finally went on, "she wore the same knickers every time she went to the racetrack. If she didn't, she didn't win either. Over time, she also found that washing the underpants had a negative effect on winning too. Obviously, the luck in horse betting actually seemed to get stuck in those underpants.“

"I'm sure there sticks more on it than just luck," says Drake, turning up his nose.

Jackson grinned. „So you want to get into the betting business with that highly flavored dirty rag around your ass?“

Thatcher rolled his eyes. „Of course, not“, he said. „I'm the only heir to my godmother. That means I get everything. But only - and this is the condition - if I wear her lucky knickers for a month.“

„Understand“, said Jackson. „Regarding to her success in betting you expect a fortune ... Well, it's worth to stink like a rotten fish.“

Drake shook his head. „Thatcher, I didn't expect you to be such a greedy bastard. Furthermore, you risk your health and the mental condition of your surrounding. Puh ... Sitting next to you is the death of every decent thought.“

„That’s it“, cried Jackson suddenly.

Drake and Thatcher didn’t understand immediately, so the Captain explained: „We let Reid sniff Tatcher‘s butt.“

+++

It was a cruel idea. But hopeless situations call for extreme solutions. 

After a few more drinks designed to desensitize Drake and Jackson's sense of smell, the trio set off for the Orbsidian Clinic. Reid's treatment should not wait any longer.

With extreme caution and discretion - which was a stroke of genius in light of Thatcher's annoying condition - the three managed to get to the Inspector's bedside.

Reid was sleeping.

They placed Frank Thatcher close to the patient‘s head and waited.

Reid breathed, sniffed, wrinkled his nose a few times before he grimaced his face in pain. Then he opened his eyes. He looked around first and fokussed Thatcher.

„Sergeant, you stink“, he said with sharp voice in very clear and - more of all - in understandable words. „Go, wash yourself and change your underpants!“  

The plan had worked. Inspector Edmund Reid was back. Drake and Jackson burst out in cheers.

Even Thatcher was pleased, although he had to hear from his boss still some instructions regarding cleanliness and the role model effect of police officers.

+++

Whether it was really Sergeant Thatcher's inherited knickers or something else that brought Inspector Edmund Reid's brain back to its usual routine can not be said today. However, it is well documented that after this strange incident everything was back to normal.

The only question remaining is whether Thatcher's month of suffering as an outcast of society has paid off.

In a certain way ... After the demanded time, the solicitor of Thatcher's godmother gave him a box which contained all of her belongings: A bible, a porcelain dog with wobbling head and a letter addressed to her beloved Frankie boy. It said:

My dear little Frankie bunny,

now you have learned that the change of underwear is very important for human beings. You don't need money, just enough fresh underwear. That's why I gave all my money to Mr Saunders in Robson Street. He's an amazing tailor and will provide you with customised fashionable knickers for the rest of your life.

In love your Auntie

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"HAD REVOLVER IN POSSESSION, MUST PAY FINE," Hamilton Spectator. May 20, 1943. Page 24. ---- Minor Lee Fined $150 By Magistrate Burbidge To-day ---- INCIDENT IN HOUSE ---- Minor Lee, Chinese laundryman, of 378 York street, was fined $150 and costs or three months for carrying an unregistered revolver by Magistrate H. A. Burbidge to-day, but still unexplained is his reason for pointing the weapon at a girl in a home near his laundry the other night.

His Worship voiced one theory: "The cave man used to make love with a stone hammer in one hand - perhaps it is the modern version to make love with a revolver in one hand," he suggested.

Detective Charles Boecker told the court that he was called to the York street home, the night of May 11, and found accused sitting on the arm of a chesterfield in which a man and a girl were seated. A 32 revolver was found in Lee's pocket, and five shells in another pocket, the detective said.

The complainant told the detective that Lee had entered the home -he had been there on previous occasions and took the revolver from his pocket and pointed it at her. She grappled with him, managed to take the weapon away, but he recovered it. Nothing more was done until the police arrived.

Lee said that he had found the revolver in a trunk following the death of his father a few weeks ago. It has not been registered, according to word received from the R. C.M.P. at Ottawa.

"I keep it for protection, because I have to work late at night," Lee said. Asked why he had taken the gun to the home that night, accused said: "I heard shouting in there." He was bound over for two years to keep the peace.

Convicted of being in care or control of a car while intoxicated, Alex. J. Shaver, of 105 Kensington avenue, was sentenced to 21 days in jail, to date from May 14. A reckless driving count was withdrawn.

Committed For Trial Dr. Roswell Park, of 712 Main street east, and Philip Brooks, 27, of Aldershot, were committed for trial on a joint charge of abortion.

Frank Baker, of 103 Stuart street west, was fined $50 of one month on a drunk charge.

Three Years "This is a Christian community, and sacrilege is a serious thing," His Worship commented, Imposing a term of three years in the penitentiary on Thomas Smith, 33, of 390 Bay street north [pictured]. Smith came up for sentence on a charge of stealing a large Bible from Christ's Church Cathedral recently.

"He is deserving of no leniency and this offence does not warrant any," asserted Harvey McCulloch, crown attorney. "There should be a deterrent sentence imposed to stop this sort of thing."

"My only worry was whether I should make it a reformatory sentence," His Worship said. "The lads in the reformatory should not have this type of thing imposed on them," replied them," replied Mr. McCulloch, referring to Smith. Smith's record, which dates from 1927, lists two previous penitentiary sentences.

He told the court: "I am very sorry about the way I have lived. I went into the church because I was beat with liquor."

Harold D. Wilson, 25, of 448 Cannon street east, was bound over under heavy bond when he appeared for sentence on charges of forgery and uttering.

A charge of theft from his employer the Otis-Fensom Elevator Co., Ltd. was denied by James Kennedy, 41, of 87 Wexford avenue south. The hearing was adjourned to Tuesday at the request of the crown.

A breach of the Sales Tax Act charge, laid against William Vogl, 27, of 181 Jackson street west, was adjourned a week.

Told by Harry Trusdale, probation officer, that work had been obtained for them. His Worship suspended sentence on vagrancy charges for Henry Falstead, 53, of Kingston; John Grech, 41, of Welland; Percy Crosby, 50, of Toronto, and George Porter, 42, of Sarnia.

[Smith was 33, married, with four kids, and was an English immigrant who came to Canada in his infancy. He had been released from Collin's Bay Penitentiary in October 1941 and had been working as a pipe-fitters helper in a factory since then. He had also been in the penitentiary in the early 1930s, and before that several times in the reformatory. He was convict #7312 this time at Kingston, and worked in the Kitchen. The Minister of Justice decided to vary his sentence to two years in September 1943, probably on appeal, and he was transferred to the Guelph Reformatory and released in early 1945.]

[miraclestreet]

On June 22nd 1948, a ship called the Windrush arrived at Tilbury docks in Essex having sailed from Jamaica. Onboard were 492 Caribbean people who had responded to the invitation to settle in post-war Britain.

A young Jamaican lad had left with this request from his Mum. “When you arrive in England, find a Post Office to send me your first letter, find a welcoming church to thank God for your new life and find a friend to walk by your side.” He wrote back with these sad words “Dear Mum, I’ve found a Post Office.” Clearly friendship wasn’t forthcoming and the less said about the church the better!

Thank God that young people today are resisting the toxic soundtrack of a society that rejected so many people with no justification. It is vital that we all  play our part in exposing the evil, and frankly, ludicrous notion that skin colour defines value. ‘Windrush’ referenced the wind depicted in the Bible when the Holy Spirit blew through a group of Jesus followers propelling the Gospel across the world. A message that invites us all to be forgiven, renewed and transformed by God whatever our ethnic or cultural background.

[sparrows-aria]

Momor Ignis - DND-esque OC

Thought I’d share my lad Momor, the profile was originally made with the dnd profile maker on dndbeyond so that’s why parts seem copy-pasty. Threw in his stats too bc why not? Our style of dnd is different to actual bc none of us know what we’re doing at all lmao, so if anything seems weird, that would be why. Cosplay is by me, 1st and 3rd art by me, 2nd was drawn by trans-rictor on tumblr/spoorks on instagram

Name: Momor Ignis

Age: 25

Hair: Silvery-grey wavy medium length hair

Skin: Baby Blue (with hints of silver)

Eyes: Silver

Height: 5’6”

Weight: 138 pounds

Gender: Genderfluid (he/him-they/them-she/her), also fluctuates depending on shift

Personality traits:

-He is tolerant of other faiths and respects the worship of other gods.

-He sees omens in every event/action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen.

Ideals:

-Change. We must help bring about the changes the gods are constantly working in the world. (Chaotic)

-Charity. He always tries to help those in need, no matter what the personal cost. (Good)

Bonds:

-Everything He does is for the commun people.

-He will someday get revenge on the corrupt temple hierarchy who branded him a heretic and cast him out.

Flaws:

-Once he picks a goal, he becomes obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in his life.

-His piety sometimes leads him to blindly trust those that profess faith in his god.

Organisations: the temple of Sehanine & the faithful five (?)

Allies: Percy & Alicio Bly, Blaire, Bjorn the Knee-Knibbler, Saph Ignis-Silverflint (his daughter), Elio Bly-Ignis (his son?), Elan & Serin, Salvene Silverflint (‘Allies’), Eodum...

Enemies: Father Simmons (for casting him out as a ‘heretic’) & Asmodeus (because he’s evil)

Other:

-He’s a mum friend.

-He wears his hair up most of the time (often in a half-bun).

-He’s good at dancing, and is fairly flexible.

-He can do some martial arts.

-He has a talking phoenix as a companion.

-He’s dating Percy & Alicio.

-He carries a bible (the teachings of Sehanine), a set of tarot cards & a healer’s kit.

-As a shapeshifter, he shifts between multiple personalities, who all act on their own as they’ve built up consciences, sort of like alters except he doesn’t have DID.

-Likes messing with Percy & Alicio, is friends with Blaire especially since she’s half shapeshifter too, silghtly scared and disgusted by Bjorn.

Backstory: Momor was born into the temple of Sehanine. Ever since he was small, him & his parents (Emilio & Alice) were harassed by Father Simmons (a higher-up in the temple) & his peers (for being tieflings/half-changeling/half-nymph). But they had done no wrong, so they could not be kicked out. His parents ‘mysteriously’ disappeared when he was 12, and he grew up after that in the orphanage (run by father Simmons & his wife). He didn’t live the best childhood, but when he was 18 he gained access to the funds/house inscribed in his parents will. Desperate to kick him out, Father Simmons blamed a nefarious crime on him and got him exiled. He met Salvene Silverflint owner of one of the most famous club’s in the world, who took him in, he started dating him and became a famous sex worker essentially. Luckily not many people have seen his normal self, so he isn’t recognised as himsefl very often. He had some bad falling-outs with Salvene leading to him, running away. He later on met Percy, Alicio, Eodum, and then Elio. Discovered he HAD A CHILD six years ago, that he didn’t know about. Now he travels the world with his party, helping people, and his goal is still to find proof that he wasn’t the culprit that Father Simmons framed him to be.

TL; DR: parents killed, he was priest however mean priest blamed him for crime he didn’t commit, so he ran away and became a famous sex worker, had a kid that he didn’t know about till 6 years later, and ran away from that and then met his current partners, THEN discovered his child.

Background: Acolyte, he has spent his life in the service of a temple to a specific god or pantheon gods. He acts as an intermediary between the realm of the holy & the mortal world, performing sacred rites and offering sacrifices in order to conduct worshipers into the presence of the divine.

He also has ties to temples dedicated to Sehanine, and can seek assitance from there.

Skills proficiencies: Insight, Religion

Languages: Abyssal, Celestial, Elven... A lot not only does he speak the languages his other forms speak but he also loves learning new ones

Faith: Sehanine (unaligned goddess of illusion, love and the moon, seasonal goddess of autumn and patron of elves)

Alignment: Chaotic Good (He acts as his conscience directs, with little regard for what others expect.)

Lifestyle: Comfortable (He can afford nicer clothing and can easily maintain his equipment. He lives in a small cottage in a middle-class neighbourhood/a private room at a fine inn. He associates with members, skilled tradespeople and military officers.)

Class: Cleric (Life Domain) - Basic info

-Armor: Light/medium armor, shields

-Saving throws: Wisdom, Charisma

-Skills: Medicine, Persuasion

Strength: 8, modifier -1

Dexterity: 11, modifier +1

Constitution: 9, modifier 0

Intelligence: 15, modifier +2

Wisdom: 14, modifier +1

Charisma: 16, modifier +2

[timsutton]

What homestuck character do you kin?

Had you stepped on board the Pequod at a certain juncture of this post-mortemizing of the whale; and had you strolled forward nigh the windlass, pretty sure am I that you would have scanned with no small curiosity a very strange, enigmatical object, which you would have seen there, lying along lengthwise in the lee scuppers. Not the wondrous cistern in the whale’s huge head; not the prodigy of his unhinged lower jaw; not the miracle of his symmetrical tail; none of these would so surprise you, as half a glimpse of that unaccountable cone,—longer than a Kentuckian is tall, nigh a foot in diameter at the base, and jet-black as Yojo, the ebony idol of Queequeg. And an idol, indeed, it is; or, rather, in old times, its likeness was. Such an idol as that found in the secret groves of Queen Maachah in Judea; and for worshipping which, King Asa, her son, did depose her, and destroyed the idol, and burnt it for an abomination at the brook Kedron, as darkly set forth in the 15th chapter of the First Book of Kings.Look at the sailor, called the mincer, who now comes along, and assisted by two allies, heavily backs the grandissimus, as the mariners call it, and with bowed shoulders, staggers off with it as if he were a grenadier carrying a dead comrade from the field. Extending it upon the forecastle deck, he now proceeds cylindrically to remove its dark pelt, as an African hunter the pelt of a boa. This done he turns the pelt inside out, like a pantaloon leg; gives it a good stretching, so as almost to double its diameter; and at last hangs it, well spread, in the rigging, to dry. Ere long, it is taken down; when removing some three feet of it, towards the pointed extremity, and then cutting two slits for arm-holes at the other end, he lengthwise slips himself bodily into it. The mincer now stands before you invested in the full canonicals of his calling. Immemorial to all his order, this investiture alone will adequately protect him, while employed in the peculiar functions of his office.That office consists in mincing the horse-pieces of blubber for the pots; an operation which is conducted at a curious wooden horse, planted endwise against the bulwarks, and with a capacious tub beneath it, into which the minced pieces drop, fast as the sheets from a rapt orator’s desk. Arrayed in decent black; occupying a conspicuous pulpit; intent on bible leaves; what a candidate for an archbishopric, what a lad for a Pope were this mincer!**Bible leaves! Bible leaves! This is the invariable cry from the mates to the mincer. It enjoins him to be careful, and cut his work into as thin slices as possible, inasmuch as by so doing the business of boiling out the oil is much accelerated, and its quantity considerably increased, besides perhaps improving it in quality.