i would go to all of these churches

anonymous asked:

i haven't seen dunkirk, so i'm basing everything off the trailers, what if the reason alex/harry is so eager to get home (aside from not being killed) is because the love of his life promised to marry him if he came home? how cute would it be! i bet he'd race to the local church to marry her straight after he landed back in england, not going home first or anything

OKAY BUT I LOVE THIS. While I was watching I kept thinking about what Alex’s backstory would be and I am so here for him being a grumbly grump during the war and trying to act all tough and we know he comes off like a butthole, but back home he has a girl waiting for him that he loves so much and with her he is the sweetest and softest boy. And maybe they were friends as kids, so they’ve known each other a long time and shortly before he left, it turned to more and he decides the moment he gets home, he’s making her his wife. xx.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.
—  Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.” 

“There was a lot of sickness in my house. My wife has heart problems and is connected to oxygen. I was drinking a lot. Everyone kept to themselves and stayed in their rooms. But one day I had a prophecy in the church that I would have a very big happiness. The prophecy said that someone was going to come and fill all the voids of my home. A few weeks later my daughter was pregnant. And here he is! He’s consumed my entire life. I get to watch him every afternoon. I want him to see me as the happy grandpa who never says ‘no.’ I don’t even drink anymore. He’s brought our entire family together. Recently my wife told me: ‘I can tell you are so happy. Your eyes are always sparkling now.’”

(Medellín, Colombia)

  • Hannibal: I know we've been talking about eloping, Will. But I've always wanted a church wedding.
  • Will: We can't have that, we're in hiding. Who would we even invite?
  • Hannibal: Chiyoh, Alana, Margot, Bedelia, Freddie, the entire FBI...
  • Will: Hannibal-
  • Hannibal: And for a venue I was thinking the Sistine Chapel .
  • Will: I'm not Catholic.
  • Hannibal: I'll take care of all the food, so you don't need to worry about that. I love cooking for a large crowd.
  • Will: I don't think this would work.
  • Hannibal: We're having a church wedding, Will Graham. You are going to walk down the aisle while a choir of 30 boys sings this ballad in Archaic Latin I wrote for you. You will be married off by Jack Crawford who Chiyoh will hold at gunpoint. Chiyoh will be my best man and she will be wearing every single flower mentioned in Dante's Paradiso and will hold a platinum ring with no fewer than seven diamonds. I've been planning this since I first set eyes on you, Will. It's. Going. To. Happen.
NCT as things I have heard my friends say

I’m doing this because my friends bet me this would get more than 100 notes within 5 days because she is certain my friends say the stupidest shit ever she 100% right but thats not something I’ll ever tell her

Taeil: *recording video* “I love my friends so much” *Camera turns off* “Fuck you bitches with a million glitter pens”

Hansol: “Whoever says anything stupid will get sent to the kinky dungeon”

Johnny: “Yes the weather up here is nice. Do you know what would be nicer? A little fucking respect around here”

Taeyong: “I may be young but ain’t stopping me from dancing to EXO as sexy as I like”

Yuta: “God they are so hot, it’s a shame that I’m straight!”

Kun: “Of course I killed him the guy forgot about me, like how can anyone forget this handsome face”

Doyoung: “I may look sweet and angelic but under my skin is a hell fire waiting to burn you all”

Ten: “A different dick a day keeps the churches away”

Jaehyun: “My flirting skills are the only thing I have going for but at least there that”

WinWin: “Pro-tip for life, your cute is your greatest weapon use it to manipulate and demolish your friends and enemies”

Mark: “I worked my ass off for what, a lousy dirty muffin”

Renjun: “So what if I like cartoons? They make me happier than you losers I call friends”

Jeno: “I would kill you if I wasn’t so goddamn attracted to you, maybe we should just divorce” 

Haechan: “Do you have time to talk about our lord, saviour and greatest ass of the century, me you fuck trees”

Jaemin: “A friend of mine once said “I would kill you if I wasn’t so goddamn attracted to you, maybe we should just divorce” we’re still together though and now we have a child”

Chenle: “I shall sacrifice the taller guy to satan for a cute ass puppy anyday”

Jisung: “I got scared of my shadow and jumped out my bedroom window out of habit”

I am increasingly concerned for my friends, some of these work well others don’t.

Originally posted by dovounq

Dishonest hypocritical pastor loses it all.

I use to be very religious. At the end of that period in my life, I became involved with a new church that was pastored by a charismatic young pastor who seemingly had everything going for him. But the fucker was greedy. Too greedy. As the saying goes: “pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered.” Pastor Hog got slaughtered.

My wife and I were looking for a church. An old friend invited us to a new church that was energetic and full of friends. We started attending regularly and eventually became involved with the leadership of the church.

After a while, I started to become uneasy around the pastor. The way he communicated with people just rubbed me the wrong way. I slowly realized that he was a manipulator and compulsive liar. Quick with an overzealous compliment but slow to explain himself when issues arose.

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Honestly, most The Raven Cycle x The Foxhole Court fanfic don’t make any sense, writers try to suddenly make one of the raven boys play exy and that just doesn’t work. You know who could be a fox? MATTHEW LYNCH!!!!

-So ronan once said to Aurora that matthew was playing “lacrosse or some shit, something sweaty”.

- Matthew could be playing exy and ronan wouln’t know because they are kinda similar??

-Imagine 18 years old Matthew going to palmetto state in neil’s second year.

-No one understands how this ray of sunshine can be a Fox.

-They only know that he is a orphan and have two older brothers (and they are apparently really rich).

-Matthew is actually a millionaire??

-and he always goes to church with Renee.

-He and Matt are super friends and they practice boxing together.

-Matthew only tells them his father was murdered, and that his mother was beautiful and loving, but refuses to talk about her death.

-The foxes are shocked when they meet declan and ronan for the first time because they are so different from matthew, like, kinda wary and ronan seems a bit dangerous.

-The Lynch brothers are all really hot.

-The gangsey going to a game and meeting the foxes (they would be around the same age as kevin i think).

-The foxes meet Adam and are super surprised to find out he is Ronan’s boyfriend.

- Gansey and Kevin talking about history cause they both love it and no one else is willing to listen to them.

-Blue becomes friends with the girls.

-Everyone loves Matthew because he is so adorable and genuine. Even Aaron likes him.

-Matthew Lynch deserves more recognition, k.

anonymous asked:

describe the one direction fashion during their album eras.

Up All Night.

Pastel twinks. Giving off that vibe that makes you think they smell like an Oceanside Yankee Candle and freshly cut springtime grass. Would defo date you, open doors for you and smile at you with some sugary fucking tooth-rotting grin. Defo gonna have you back home 15 minutes before curfew with a wink at Mama as he leaves to drive the car that tells your mama he paid for the meal and could probably pay for her house too.

Take Me Home.


Sassy rich-boy fucks. Got that ‘lost my car keys so daddy brought me a new car’ vibe. Wears bowties to a casual as fuck house party. Other dudes think they’re twats but girls think they got dollar dollar hiding in their fancy fucking breast pockets. Lots of monochrome colours, wears white jeans and would probably wink at you as you notice the grass stains.

Midnight Memories.

Greasy gas station rent-boy chic. Excuse me m’aam, our car seems to have broke down can we borrow your cell so we can call a towing service“ Totally not passed them to throw you on the back seat and have the whole squad hit it in their cheap as fuck dodgy car whilst they wait for the tow truck tho. Smell like sweat, tequila and smoke. Bad-boy assholes that don’t believe in money as a concept which is an excuse for them being broke as fuq. Would get drunk with you and complain about captalism and the bourgeoisie. 

Four.

Slayin in all black cos it’s everyone elses funeral. Take me To Church plays in the background of them wherever they go. Has the ‘Daddy-doesn’t-talk-about-his-business-with-you’ vibe and you cool with that. Smells like overpowering Gucci cologne on a soft autumn breeze. Hair constantly in a state of ‘i woke up like this but it took an hour to get right’. Most likely actually has money falling out their pockets. Shoes pointier than cheekbones.

Made In The AM.

We’re not like regular dads we’re cool dads. Relaxed and chill vibe, just guys being dudes. The kind of guys who know how to bleed a radiator but know the best guy to get cocaine from at short notice. Would probably reference memes in conversation but only the relevant ones. If you like causing trouble up in hotel rooms, they are wife material.

mamajosrefuge  asked:

Hi! Uhm, I don't know if you can help me, but do you know a cleansing and or protection spell against ghosts? A cemetary is right down the street from my house and I've already had 2 ghostly visitors on Halloween the last couple of years from there (forgot to close the window that night NEVER AGAIN). If not, would it be possible to direct me to someone who would know sth like this? I hope, I'm not too forward w/ this request. Thank you so much and have a lovely day!

Not too forward at all! My parents house is actually between a cemetery and a fairy mound, so we were always finding bits or charms people made to keep both at bay. It was an interesting childhood in the garden in that regard. One time dad dug one of them up and discarded it. The streak of bad luck that ensued led to my mother going to the Totally Not Witches in our church to get another one.

One of the main charms I am aware of for keeping unwanted visitors out of your house is to plant iron around the entryways. Everyone thinks this is always just for fae, but iron is just one of those good, solid, dependable metals for when it comes to protecting the home. My parents have iron horseshoes above the doors. Some people like to have them facing down the way (like a U) because they believe it keeps luck inside your house, other people flip them like an upside down U so that anyone with bad or unwelcome intentions, will feel turned away and be in theory unable to cross the threshold.

You can also take iron sheers and plant them in your yard, blades open and facing outward so that anyone unwelcome will cut their soul if they try to break in or enter where they are not welcome. You don’t necessarily need to do anything too magical too them either to do this. It’s the will of your intent as you bury them that does most of the work, but it doesn’t hurt to remind them every day when you walk over/past them that they are there to Protect you, and focus a little of your will toward that notion.

You can also create a protection charm like that out of pretty much anything, iron is just traditional and preferable to some people. I didn’t have any iron when someone tried to break into mine and Etd’s home (except the iron curtain rail I threatened the guy with, happy coincidence) so I actually took my favorite quartz crystals, told them they were going to look after my house now and buried them near the thresholds. Ocassioanly I will rework the charm whenever I am cleaning house, focusing on where I know them to be in the yard, and willing them to be filled with light and the general vibe of “if you’re here without my invitation fuck the fuck right off”. It works well for me. You could also use lemons or something else that is biodegradable, but then you need to redo the spell in full fairly often, which some people like cause it helps them feel protected, and some people don’t.

I also keep crystals by all the windows which I work with similarly, with the extra notion that I don’t want people looking in and they should feel uncomfortable if they try. This would also work easily for ghosts too. My preference is clear quartz or amethyst.

I will also once a year, usually on Hogmanay, go around all thresholds and windows with salt, imagining an invisible ward around everything that seals the house from malice or unwanted guests, living or otherwise. I’ll usually do each window individually. Then when I’m done I open them up and brush the salt outwards towards the outside world, as a symbolic gesture of brushing the evil/bad energies out of the home. It’s something my mother always did, which she got from her mother, and it stuck with me. Those are my basic house wards.

If you feel like your ghost buddies have decided they want to stay and are disregarding the wards, you may need to have a chat with them regarding boundaries. And by chat I mean reminding them this is your house and to kindly gtfo. You can do this with your average cleansing house spell, a million and one of which you can find in Google. But my personal fave is to bang my iron pots and pans together walking through the house saying firmly “this is my space, you’re not welcome here, leave please”. If I’m feeling particularly special I’ll light some incense, but if you couldn’t tell I’m a very “fuck off I’ve not got time for this bullshit” witch.

Also if it’s just specific to Halloween? Keep candles lit by the windows, or if you can, throw the traditional jack-o-lantern outside with a candle inside, give them something else to focus on, a bit like moths to a flame. But be sure to have your wards in place, you want them to focus on the light, not your actual home. Good luck.

Highlights from the 1st session of my D&D campaign

(during character creation)
Mum: I’m Trump-Tinyhands, a famous half-orc ballerina.

(while trying to enter a cursed church) D
M: You (pixie character) enter the church, however, the second you enter you get distracted by a bright light, which you then fly towards blindly and continue to fly into it.
Dylan, our Pixie: IT’S SO BRIGHT AND SHINY

(in a bar)
Trump-Tinyhands: Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Me want drink! Drink! Drink!
Dylan: Erm yes I think we might need a few more dozen pints for our friend over here, he’s not drunk enough.

(still in the bar)
M'riqa, our Khajiit thief, talking to the barmaid: Hey, I’ve seen many pussies in my time, but if I pet you right will your purr?
Barmaid: I will beat the shit out of you if you talk to me like that again.
M'riqa: *sprints right out of the bar*
Dylan: Damnit, come back here!

(going back to the cursed church)
DM: Maybe Dylan should stop trying to enter the church. He’s a Loki-worshipper and this is the Church of The God of Mild Frostbite and That Very Annoying Feeling You Get After You Warm Your Hands Up After Being In The Cold That Makes Your Fingers Feel Like They’re Burning
Trump-Tinyhands OOC: If that’s the God’s name, I can’t imagine just how long the sermons are.

(M'riqa spotted something pretty in the church and wants to steal it)
M'riqa: I enter the church!
DM: You try to enter the church, but it appears that you cannot. The curse on the church does not know what to do with you, so it simply becomes an invisible wall.
Trump-Tinyhands: I think something’s going on with this church.
Dylan: *sarcastically* I never would have thought of that!

(40 minutes into figuring out the church)
M'riqa OOC: Does anybody have Detect Magic?
Dylan OOC: Hell yeah I do!
M'riqa OOC: Then go do it you winged bastard.
Dylan: I cast Detect Magic on the church doorway.
M'riqa OOC: 40 fucking minutes. 40 FUCKING MINUTES WE’VE SPENT ON THIS FUCKING CHURCH CURSE ONLY NOW TO FIND THAT THE BLOODY PIXIE HAD THE KEY TO THE WHOLE DAMN THING
DM: You cast Detect Magic on the doorway. It seems that only followers of the God of Mild Fristbite and all that stuff can pass through the doorway.
Dylan: I can’t, I’m Loki’s priest.
Half-orc: What’s a priest? (too stupid to know what a god is)
Dylan: It’s down to you, M'riqa.
M'riqa: … I may or may not have sold my soul and devoted my life to Nocturnal. Is that a problem?

(later)
M'riqa: Nocturnal, may I stray from your path for a moment while I infiltrate this church?
DM: You poke yourself in the eye. That’s a no.
M'riqa: Please? Come on, I’ll steal something to add to the glory of the Guild!
DM: You sock yourself right in the nose. You are bleeding.
M'riqa: Pretty please?? I’ll serve you in the afterlife for twice as long!
DM: You stamp on your own foot.
M'riqa: Before I go any further, if I ask one more time, will I or will I not keep my tail?
DM: Nocturnal remains smugly silent.
M'riqa: If someone had told me that this is the sort of thing that happens when you give yourself to a god, then I may have reconsidered my choice.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.
—  Azra T.Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First
Today, I fucked up... by thinking my friend was Satan for several years

Ok, so this fuck up actually occurred between 5th and 6th grade. I’m 25 now and this is still easily the biggest fuck up of my life…so far.

When I was in elementary, I made friends with a boy on the playground named Stan. Stan was a good kid. He was smart, loved to play, listened to his parents; you know, all the good stuff. Well right around that time, the Catholic church my family had been going to for several years brought in a new priest. This guy was one of those fire and brimstone type guys. You know, the kind of guy that would stand in the quad of his local state college screaming at the harlots and Jezebels walking by. This priest pretty much rewrote the Sunday School curriculum to put the fear of God into his children. Needless to say, my education in faith changed from learning about the Golden Rule and being kind to others to learning what Satan would do to me if I touched my ‘Holy Place’. That is the first time I had heard of this guy, Satan. I had learned about the Devil, lucifer, Adam, and Eve, but not this mean guy Satan. Now, you’re probably thinking to yourself “The Devil, Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub - they’re all the same being!” Yes, you are right. But to a very young child who’s only interaction with any of these names is in the antagonist of stories, I didn’t make the connection they were the same. Keep in mind, my previous priest was amazing. He understood that you can’t put fear into children and worked diligently to help us find the beauty within our own faith. This new guy was different. He wanted you to know early and often who and what Satan was. Unfortunately for me, I apparently had some sort of ADD/ADHD/Dyslexia (I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention) and confused the word Satan with Stan.

As you can imagine, I was very confused. How could Stan, such a good guy and friend, hurt people? The thought terrified me. From that moment forward I feared any wrongdoing in front of Stan as I thought he would punish me. I actively avoided him at school, to the point in which we stopped being friends. I kept my eye on him from a distance…just waiting to see what horrible things he would do to people. I never told my parents about why Stan and I stopped being friends and I assume they didn’t notice. This continued for a few years, until the summer between 5th and 6th grade. Stan and I ran into each other at our local pool. As I walked through the front gate our eyes met and I went white. My parents recognized Stan and his family and immediately went over there to socialize, forcing me to actually talk with him. That’s when it happened: Stan asked me why I don’t play with him anymore. So many emotions exploded at that moment and I shouted, in front of his family, “Because you hurt people who do bad things!” My parents, his parents, hell half of the pool just stared at us. All was quiet until my mother cleared her throat and asked me where I had heard that. “Mom, Reverend Endofdays said Stan punishes people who do bad things!” Everyone just stared at me, blankly. “Honey…[Long Pause]…I think you mean Satan.” It took several minutes, but I realized the extent of my fuck up. For several years I had been operating under the assumption that my friend was the King of Hell.

Fast forward a few years, Stan and I are still pretty close friends. Though he moved away after highschool, we still joke about this incident.

TL;DR: I thought my friend Stan was Satan for several years. I was wrong.

Check out more TIFUs: Internet`s best fuck ups are here.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.
—  Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.”
4

as the years move on these questions take shape
are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight? (x)

Steps 👣

Originally posted by hes-important94

A/N: This piece was written for @randomdancer17​ as it is her birthday today (go send her nice messages!!) … A while ago she mentioned how she wanted something that surrounded Perfect by Ed Sheeran so I hope it’s what you wanted Em!! 

This also matched a little with this request. Fair warning, I hadn’t edited this yet but leave some feedback here … Oh one more thing, this is the first installation to my “The Five Times Harry…” imagines - this one is called “The Five Times Harry Dances With You”  ♥

His foot always began to tap at the right song.

Even at a young age Harold would sway to every chime and bass that penetrated the walls of his home whenever his mum brought out her old vinyl player. He’d dash into the room grabbing at her hands as his weight would lift him up and down and up and down to the beat of the rhythm. He liked the way his mum would laugh at his dance moves, mimicking him to join the fun – which he had to admit felt rewarding since his sister often complained about his pigeon-toed feet.

When little seven year old Harry found out he was going to his first wedding he was quite excited to say the least. His head nodded all the way through the church and into the reception hall. The music from the live band surprised him and he couldn’t wait to find the dance floor and pounce around with his mum.

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Lana Del Rey on Religion

“My understanding of God has come from my own personal experiences… because I was in trouble so many times in New York that if you were me, you would believe in God too. When things get bad enough, your only resort is to lie in bed and start praying. I dunno about congregating once a week in a church and all that, but when I heard there is a divine power you can call on, I did.“ 

“Well, I mixed it with my studies in theology, because it was the best school for the Jesuit faith and all of the Jesuits taught philosophy classes. There was just a lot of talk about going back to that basic question: Why do we exist? How did reality come to be? Why do we do what we do? And how not to become the butcher, the baker, the candlestickmaker, the guardians of the middle-class—that really interested me. I don’t know. Yeah, I loved being around people who wondered why we were here.”

“I guess I would say that the beautiful thing about feeling connected to something greater is that even at my lowest point I always have a feeling that I’m being taken care of. “

“And Jesus—I mean, being raised Catholic, it was just a way of life. Spirituality and religion were strong. I was in Catholic school until I was 13. Like a lot of other people, I think foundationally I was hymn inspired—musical hymns, not Him, Jesus. [Laughs.]”

“Like so many people, they always state the difference between faith and religion. The faith that I’ve come to find is a science of my own through lots of trials and errors. I’ve been through so many different walks of life that I’ve needed to ask a lot of questions that no human power can answer. I’ve had to seek a lot of guidance. I’ve had to pray a lot because I’ve been in trouble a lot. But it’s not until you do that that you realize there are answers out there to be found.”

To thine own self be true. Seek and ye shall find. There’s a science to prayer, I would say. I think sometimes when you’re really faced with a huge life dilemma or problem and you’ve turned to every sort of thing for answers, sometimes the last resort is to pray and to put out a question to the universe in your mind. Even when you put your question out there, you ask that invisible whoever “What do I do?” you sort of get answers; you forget the problem all over again.”

“I went to a Catholic school called St. Agnes and I loved going to church. I was very interesting and curious about the idea of a divine plan and that there was something bigger than us out there. I don’t have a traditional Catholic view of religion or God though – but I enjoy the feeling of being looked after in the spiritual sense.”

She attended a Catholic elementary school called St. Agnes, and was the cantor of the church across the street. “I loved church,” says Del Rey. “I loved the mysticism, the idea of something bigger, the idea of a divine plan. For me, the concept of religion transitioned into a really healthy idea of God–I don’t have the traditional views of a conservative Catholic, but my imagination was opened within the big blue-and-gold cathedral walls. I liked the idea of being looked after.”

I would say, ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen.’ She’d say, ‘God didn’t save you from drowning just to beat you up on the shore. All you really need is patience when you have persistence.”

“I feel a strong relationship with God and I feel my ties are with him. That’s how I honestly feel. Everything I do, I do it for somebody I’ve never met before, something in the great beyond. That’s my primary relationship, really, is with something divine. I feel a connection as real with that as I’ve ever had with anybody on this earth.”

“There’s one song called “God Knows I Tried” which has a little gospel feel to it.”

Hellenic Temple

So after seeing @hellenic-threskia ‘s post about actually building a temple, she and I started talking. It has been a dream of mine to actually be able to go to a temple ever since I became a Hellenic Polytheist, and I’m sure a lot of other people share the same dream. What she and I were thinking would be to take an old church, renovate it, giving it classic columns and other necessary parts of temple architecture, and creating a temple where all the Theoi can be honored. 

We were thinking about creating it in Massachusetts, for there is a large Pagan population there. It would be close to a city, but far enough away to have land enough to honor Them. We would have a program similar to Hellenion’s clergy program, so there would be a group of people educated enough to lead rituals and teach others about Hellenismos. We would also celebrate festivals and other holidays at the temple. We were also thinking about making meals for the homeless in the area on Hekate’s Diepnon. 

It would also be open to field trips from schools or just visitors interested in learning about our religion and the Theoi. Having such a temple would help normalize Hellenismos, and it would provide a larger sacred space for the Theoi and Their followers. Of course, a lot still needs to be decided about the temple, and everyone’s opinions are helpful. 

We are both young, but we both really want for this to happen. If we get enough people willing to help, we might start a kickstarter or GoFundMe. Even if you can’t help, spreading the word would be enough. Thank you guys for reading this! (And sorry for the late post!)  

Someday Your Child May Cry

Previously: Question | Preparations | Irrational | Confession | Collateral | Thoughtless | Interrupted




8. Recovering

Following their return from Antarctica, they’re both ordered to take a week’s medical leave. They’re meant to be resting and recovering from their trauma in their own homes, but predictably, Mulder has invaded Scully’s apartment within twenty-four hours, armed with more salvaged files, which he begs her to help him start re-organizing.

She’s sitting propped up in bed, glasses perched on the end of her nose, trying to bring some order to the chaos that has been dropped in front of her, while Mulder is sprawled by her feet like the world’s largest and most ungainly dog, combing through a file of his own. Lost in thought, he scans a list of names in front of him, victims of a long-dead serial killer, repeating their first names silently to himself.  

“Hey, Scully?” he asks suddenly, putting the papers down and sitting up.

“Mmm?” She doesn’t look up from her own file, and for a moment, he hesitates. It’s maybe not the most sensitive of questions, just now, but… well, he’s curious, and he’s never been much good at ignoring his curiosity.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Now she does raise her eyes to his.

“Names?”

“Yeah, names. In case… you know…” He swallows. “In case the next round works.”

“Oh,” she says, dropping her gaze back into her lap. “I… honestly, I haven’t let myself think that far ahead, Mulder.”

“Why not?” She shifts uncomfortably against the headboard, and Mulder begins to regret asking the question, especially now, less than a week after learning that the first round of IVF didn’t take.

“Did you ever read any Steinbeck in high school, Mulder?” He frowns, taken aback at the sudden turn in the conversation.

“Sure, a little,” he says. “What, you want to name the kid after a Steinbeck character? Doesn’t seem like a good omen, Scully. None of them ever got much of a happy ending.” Scully chuckles softly.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” she says. “In one of Steinbeck’s books, The Pearl, the main character is in the process of prying open an oyster that has a pearl so large that its value could mean that he and his family will be wealthy beyond anything they could imagine. His wife, however, looks away as he’s opening the shell, because she believes that wanting something too much drives the luck away.” She blushes slightly and examines her hands, clasped atop the file. “Coming up with a list of names seems kind of like that. Like tempting fate.”

“Dana Katherine Scully,” says Mulder, delighted, “are you telling me that you’re holding off on picking out names because you’re being superstitious?” Her blush deepens, and she looks up at him through her lashes, head still ducked, biting her lip.

“I guess it’s a little ridiculous, isn’t it?” she says, and with a sigh, she sets the file aside. “There are names I like, of course, names I’ve heard through the years and thought, in an abstract way, that I might use them one day.” Mulder puts aside his own file and wriggles further up on the bed. His head’s not quite on the other pillow, but it’s pretty close, and for a moment, he expects Scully to object, but she doesn’t.

“Tell me,” he urges her. “I want to know what names you like.”

“Well… for a boy, I like Caleb,” she says. “And Jonah, Samuel, and David.”

“Big on the biblical names, huh?”

“Not on purpose,” says Scully, defensively. “I just like them, that’s all.” She bites her lip again. “And sometimes I’ve thought… maybe William.”

Mulder’s breath catches. William? As in, his father’s name? His own middle name? But then he remembers.

“Like your father,” he says.

“Well… yes,” Scully says, a slight crease appearing above her eyebrows. For a moment, he thinks she might be holding something back, but then her face smooths out and she continues. “But I feel like Bill would probably assume I was naming the baby after him, and his ego really doesn’t need the boost.” 

“No, you’re probably right about that,” Mulder agrees, laughing. “And how about for a girl?”

“I like Elizabeth,” she says. “And Charlotte, and Claire. I used to really like Emma, but now, I feel like it’s… well, it’s too close to….” Her voice trails off, but Mulder doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He nods. ”But if it’s a girl,” Scully continues, “her middle name will definitely be Margaret. For my mother.”

“She’d like that, I’m sure,” says Mulder.

“And have you bothered to ask her how she would feel about that?”

The sharp voice from the bedroom doorway makes both Mulder and Scully jump… and when he turns and sees Maggie Scully standing there, her arms crossed and her mouth set in a thin line, he scrambles off the bed so fast he sends files spilling onto the floor.

“Mom!” Scully looks horrified. “I had no idea you were coming by today!”

“I made some soup and I thought I’d bring it over,” Maggie says shortly. “I thought I would probably find Fox here, but I certainly never thought….” She looks pointedly at her daughter. “Dana, is there something that you and Fox would like to tell me?”

“Mom-”

“Are you pregnant?”

Scully’s face falls, her eyes filling with tears, and the only way Mulder keeps himself from rebuking Maggie for her callous question is by reminding himself that she doesn’t know she’s being callous.

“No, Mom, I’m not,” she says, her voice trembling. Mulder wants badly to go to her and put his arms around her, but he senses that this would not be the wisest course of action at the moment. Instead, he begins gathering up the fallen files and stacking them on Scully’s nightstand. Scully hands the papers she’s still holding to him. “Mulder, would you mind letting my mother and I talk? We can get back to this tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Sure, Scully,” he says. He wants badly to kiss her cheek, the way he’s taken to doing whenever they part, this past week, but somehow, it doesn’t seem like a good idea just now. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns to Maggie. “Mrs. Scully, good to see you.”

“You as well, Fox,” she says, but she doesn’t sound as though she means it.

Maybe it makes him a coward, but right at this moment, Mulder feels nothing but relief to be escaping this room. This is not a conversation that he wants to be a part of.

——————————-

“So let me get all of this straight,” Maggie says. She’s sitting in the armchair across from Scully’s bed, her posture rigid, her arms still crossed over her chest. “First, you tell me last Christmas that you cannot have children. Then, days later, you tell me you already have a child, but you don’t know how it happened. Now, you’re telling me that maybe you can have children, because Fox… did you say he stole your ova from someone?”

“I don’t think you can call it stealing if he was just taking back what was mine,” Scully says dully. “But yes, that’s the gist of it.”

“And why did you say nothing about these ova at Christmas, when you told me that you couldn’t conceive?” asks Maggie.

“Because I didn’t know about them then,” says Scully. “The specialist that Mulder had taken them to told had him that they weren’t viable, and he didn’t want to give me more bad news when I was already using all my energy to fight my cancer.”

“But he kept them anyway?” asks Maggie, frowning. “Even though they weren’t viable?”

“Yeah,” says Scully softly, smiling down into her lap. “He did. He paid to have them stored for over a year, until he was ready to tell me about them. He knew I would want a second opinion.” It never fails to touch her, the way Mulder had refused to give up on the hopes he has for her. “He was right- I did.”

“Well, he certainly knows you well,” Maggie concedes. “And he’s agreed to… what, exactly? To father a child for you?”

“He’s agreed to be my donor,” Scully says. “We haven’t… we haven’t really worked anything out beyond that.”

“But he’ll be this baby’s father, Dana,” Maggie says. 

“I don’t really know if he wants that, Mom,” says Scully. “I don’t know how involved he wants to be- if this works. And that’s a big ‘if.’“

 “What if he doesn’t want to be involved? What will you do then?” demands Maggie. “How could you possibly do this without deciding all of these things first, Dana?”

“Because, Mom,” Scully sighs, “I want to do it, one way or another. If he wants his involvement to end with his donation, it’s not going to change my decision. Even if he had said no to donating in the first place, I would have found an anonymous donor and gone ahead with it anyway.”

“But that would mean being a single mother, Dana,” Maggie protests. “Unwed, with a child, and a demanding job. And that’s not even getting into what the Church says about beginning a pregnancy this way.”

“I think I’ve made my feelings on the subject of the Church’s right to dictate what a woman does with her own body perfectly clear in the past,” says Scully coldly.

“Yes, you certainly have,” says Maggie, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Have you thought about any other options? What about adopting?”

“Mom,” sighs Scully, exasperated, “there is absolutely no way any adoption agency is going to consider placing a child with me. I’m a single woman in a high-risk job, a year into remission from what should have been terminal cancer. If I want to be a mother, this is the only option left to me.” She looks at Maggie pleadingly. “Don’t you want this for me, Mom? Wouldn’t you love having a grandchild living this close to you?” Maggie’s face softens.

“Of course I would, Dana,” she says. “And I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t have decided to do this unless you were certain about it… and I have to say, if any of my children could handle being a single parent, it would be you.” She stands up from the armchair and crosses the room, sitting next to Scully on the bed. She puts her arm around Scully’s shoulder, and her daughter doesn’t hesitate to lean against her.

“I want this so badly, Mom,” says Scully, her voice cracking. “And this is the only way it can happen for me.”

“I know, Sweetheart,” says Maggie. She sighs. “And I have to believe, whatever the Church might say, that God would not have given you such a strong desire to be a mother if there wasn’t some way to make your wish a reality.” She strokes her daughter’s hair. “And if you do have a girl… I would be honored if her middle name was Margaret.”

Not Safe: Part Two (C.H)

warnings: religion??, cussing, not very gentleman-ly calum, cheating

a.n: here it is! not as good(and long) as i expected it to be but i needed to upload something lollolololl… 

Sundays were the worst. Yes, because of church. Yes, because of school the next day. Yes, because it was Sunday. Normally church would last like 3 hours, 4 hours maximum? No. This town went all out. This town would have church in the morning from 9:30-12:30, go home to get a good little rest, maybe a little early lunch, late brunches, and then come back to church at 4:00-7:00 for evening prayer and “fun games”. Normally some teens would skip the evening session but then they’d have to go to this praying thing on Monday to make up for the time lost on that evening, depending on how chill your parents were. Some usually still had to go. There was no escaping God in this town.

It was morning prayer and here she is again, not in any juvenile band garb but in a nice frilly sundress that was threatening the topple to the ground with how thin those spaghetti straps were. Her hair was up in a tight ponytail but multiple baby hairs managed the poke out from the tens of bobby pins jammed in her hair. Her feet was already starting to hurt from the high wedges that made her look tall and presentable and not at all a slut, at least that’s what her mother stated when she bought her the shoes. She straightened out the dress while staring at herself in the mirror, letting out an exhausted sigh. She looked to meet her own eyes and furrowed her eyebrows. What would it look like if she had a lot of makeup on? Like highlighter, bronzer, deep red lipstick? What if she looked like the gorgeous, curvy, promiscuous women that went to her school?

“Y/N!” her mom’s frilly voice yelled from the bottom of the stairs. She caught herself rolling her eyes and still continued to roll them all the way and let out another defeated sigh. She grabbed her fancy, flowery, $120 wristlet that yes, her boyfriend bought her, and journeyed her way down the mahogany steps to meet her family already dressed up in their fancy church clothes, her mother and sister fixing their necklaces in the mirror besides the door and her brother and father fixing each other’s bowties. Her eyes met her mother’s who admired, but secretly judged, her as she made her way down slowly.

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