#i miss going to church every sunday and wednesday

[hezekiahwakely]

Who else out there is an autistic former-religious-zealot-turned-apostate and is just now figuring out that they didn't actually love the religion, they just loved the rituals associated with it

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Edition: Celebrating Passover and Easter

Mulder and Scully celebrate Easter (and one Passover) through the years, escaping to the road each year until they finally blend their two lives as one.

Loose chronological order below~

@crossedbeams’s (Ao3) The Hunt

""He doesn’t tell her much, only that it’s urgent, that he needs her to come right away and as usual she doesn’t hesitate. He still can’t believe that somebody as smart as she is trusts in him enough to step away from a family weekend, jump in a car and drive to a park in the middle of nowhere. Nobody has ever believed in him in such an unwavering way. And today he wants to thank her.""

S1? Mulder is touched Scully will run away from her family Easter weekend with only a cryptic phone call from him (not realizing she's glad to get away); and rewards her efforts with a little impromptu egg hunt.

pokeitlikejello's The Drabble Files - Chapter 37

""She examined the chocolate and then looked to him. “You didn't have to get me anything.”

Mulder shrugged and kept his attention on the road. “You're missing time with your family.”

“And you thought a chocolate cross would help?” she responded.""

Scully reads the hidden message Mulder is sending her through a chocolate cross, assuring him she isn't "sacrificing" herself or her life to work with him.

@mollybecameanengineer/Sareki's Communion

""She looked out the window at the swirls of snow, and wondered if they would get out of Boston tonight. Even if the plane did manage to take off, there was no way she was going to make it to Easter mass with her mom in the morning. She felt relief at not having to go, and then a pang of guilt. The same guilt she’d felt for having a pastrami sandwich for lunch on Friday. For not attending Palm Sunday last week when her mom asked her. For not kneeling before a priest on Ash Wednesday and not giving anything up for Lent. A deep seeded Catholic guilt that wouldn’t abate, no matter how far she distanced herself from the Church. She fingered the cross she wore around her neck. Some days she hesitated before she put it on, but each time the guilt won. 

Things had only gotten worse since she’d been diagnosed with cancer. Her mom had doubled down on faith, trying to get Scully to come with her to church, to pray the cancer away. But the cancer had only lessened Scully’s faith, and made her angry at God. Here she was, having just turned thirty-three, and likely this would be her last year on Earth.

Her last Easter.""

Scully and her changing relationship with Mulder, her family, and God during each Easter.

@baronessblixen’s (Ao3) Sundress Days

""As he stumbles forward, the burble intensifies. Through a group of trees, he believes to see blue, clear water streaming lazily towards its destination. He makes his way through it and finds a river. It’s so peaceful that his first instinct is to take a deep breath. That is until he sees a head bob in the water.

“Scully!” She’s kicking at the water, trying to stay afloat, her head disappearing every few seconds. Why isn’t she swimming? Mulder’s mind is slow to catch up, can’t make sense of what he’s seeing.

“You need to,” she gulps water, comes up again, “to help me! I can’t swim!” The words, to Mulder, make no sense. She’s a Navy brat, a child of the water, and she just told him she can’t swim. This is a bad joke, Mulder thinks, as he walks into the water, not thinking. He swims towards her, her plea for help all that’s on his mind. When he’s almost reached her, he sees what the problem is: her hands are bound together. Two small, angry fists held together by a fat rope. 

Post One Son Easter Sunday is a wreck-- Mulder and Scully have miscommunications that result in an awkward invite to Maggie's and then getting jumped by money laundering goons and dumped in teh bay. As the bedraggled pair walk back, they reflect on what went wrong and how to fix it.""

@minuete-blog's (Ao3) Easter Linner and Basketball

""...I asked, “Shouldn’t you be spending time with your own family, Mulder, instead of crashing ours?” As if we were in some twisted, comedy made-for-TV movie, all actions and side conversations at the table halted resulting in complete silence from utter shock. Everyone turned to stare at me except for Dana who had the death glare.""

Bill actually tried to be nice to Mulder; but he still stepped right onto his metaphorical toes by saying he should be with his family for Easter instead.  

bellefleur's Easter Vigil

""Resurrection.

It was something that Scully had never really contemplated before. It was an essential tenet of her faith, and thus she embraced it or discarded it as her belief waxed and waned, but she had never fully considered whether she could accept it as a fact in and of itself.

If she was honest with herself, it was one of those questions she avoided asking because of the implications of the answer.""

Deadalive Scully ruminates on her awe and fear while waiting for her Easter miracle-- Mulder-- to wake up.

@aloysiavirgata’s (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ)

Unnamed

""Beside her, Mulder spreads his matzah with ham salad that resembles chewed bubble gum. Scully bought it from the deli attached to the Exxon station, along with the coconut lamb cake that stares at them with blank licorice drop eyes.

“Stop judging me,” Mulder warns it, poking its jellybean nose. The lamb remains inscrutable.

Scully swats his hand. “Leave it alone.”

He scowls, takes a bite of his food. “Oh, Scully,” he says. “This is really disgusting.” He opens his mouth and lets the bright pink mass fall back onto the plate. He wipes his tongue with a napkin.

Scully takes a bite of her own with relish, cupping her hand to catch the matzah crumbs. “My mom always made it the day after Easter. It’s no different than tuna salad or chicken salad.”

“It’s very different,” Mulder asserts, fiercely decapitating a yellow Peep. “It tastes like exhaust fumes and looks like someone put a starfish in a blender.""

On the Run Mulder and Scully mutually celebrate Passover and Easter while tongue-in-cheek riffing at each other's traditions.

@edierone/Edie_Rone's He Is Risen (Ao3)

""Jesus is risen!”

It’s too loud, too chirpy, for any morning, but especially for the first Sunday she’s had free in weeks. He knows this, which is what’s so funny about it. They can nap later. But now: 

“Jesus is risen!”

He does it again, with a slight bounce on the bed. Part of the lump of blankets moves in a vaguely threatening way. He laughs, pulling them down enough to reveal a wave of soft silver-flecked red on the pillow.

“…stoppit gerroffme …""

IWTB-Revival Mulder LOVES to wake Scully up with her late grandmother's Easter chant. (It's glorious.)

gillyAnne's My family

""It was the first Easter without her mother and somehow he’d felt compelled to be there for her, but she hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t offered – he’d just ended up here, at the only church he knew of close to her new apartment. Bill was there, his wife and children sat next to Scully. Two other redheads were in the same row and Mulder assumed they were related, nieces perhaps, cousins, distant relatives of some kind who only showed up on days like these when the weight of those who were missing was harder to bear than any other day. He was glad to see her surrounded by family – but he still desperately wanted to be part of that family, even though they’d gotten a million chances and he’d blown them one by one until in the end there was no other option left for her but to leave him to his paranoia once again. And every time he hoped that it wasn’t the last time he saw her. And every time it wasn’t.""

Post Home Again Mulder shows up for Scully's Easter mass, trailing along when Scully invites him for family lunch.

@frangipanidownunder’s (Ao3) Easter at the Unremarkable House

""Mulder hides the eggs in all the places he knows Scully can’t reach or can’t fit.

Scully tells him exactly what vegetable oil, sugar and additives do to the 56 year old body.""

Post Finale Mulder saves some of the Easter eggs to roll off of Scully, his own unique way of determining the gender of their baby.

red2007's Coming Home - Chapter 4

""She started to head for the house while Mulder turned off the engine and got out of the car, quickening his pace to come up beside them. “You did follow me, even when you probably shouldn’t have—but now I feel like we’re in this together.” They exchanged knowing glances while climbing up the stairs, him pulling out his keys but pausing before turning the lock. He ducked his lips close to her ear and said, “but Antarctica, Scully. I’ve literally followed you to the ends of the earth. Easter mass at church was nothing.” With that he pushed the door open and walked through, leaving her shaking her head behind him.

Hours later after dinner and Lily’s nap found them outside, Scully leaning against the bottom railing watching an exuberant Mulder prance around the yard with an entirely indifferent baby in his arms. He bounced her around the yard, an Easter basket draped over one arm, leaning down every few feet to pick up another brightly colored egg that he had boiled and dyed himself. She had her phone out and was alternating between photos and videos.

Fatherhood looked good on him, she told herself smiling wistfully at the scene before her."" 

Post Finale Mulder decides to tag along for Scully and his daughter's Easter Mass. Jackson surprises both of them when he drops in later; and is surprised by their love in return.

@fragilevixenfic/fragilevixen's The Easter Bunny was a Fox

""You better get your booty on the way or you’re going to have to explain to a little girl why she can’t go with you on this outing,” Mulder nodded toward the door as he watched Scully lean against the counter, sipping his own coffee.

Scully’s eyes snapped open as she snatched up a travel tumbler, pouring the remaining amount of her coffee into it while leaning in for a quick, necessary kiss. “Keep her busy and try not to spoil the surprise or ruin her dress before I get back?”

“You put far more faith in my ability to keep her from jumping into the puddle out back than I would, just forewarning you,” Mulder smirked...."" 

Post Finale Mulder and Scully have to tear themselves away from each other, she having to pick up her grumpy family and he having to try to keep their rambunctious daughter out of trouble and puddles.

AUs

Jacquie LaVa's Egg-stravaganza

""Scully watched askance as he found an empty jar and began pouring a small amount of each of the dyes into the jar. A bored Mulder is a frightening Mulder, she thought. He mumbled softly and continually adjusted the mixture by adding more of the various dyes to his jar, holding it up to the light and eyeing the color with the critical eye of a mad scientist bent on a gruesome experiment.

Scully grimaced as he slid the last egg into his putrid concoction.""

Mulder is battle worn after a last-minute Easter supply grocery run; and Scully helps him unwind as they finish painting the eggs.

Enjoy!

[renee-writer]

I MISS… so very many things. I miss Sunday dinners after church at my grandparents house, I miss sleeping with the windows open and a box fan humming me to sleep. I miss sunny saturdays spent lakeside watching a bobber for hours as I dreamt of catching big Bertha. I miss rough housing in the back yard with my cousins. I miss the crackle of a stereo as the needle drops on my favorite record. I miss just having to choose between three channels. I miss swinging from the rope into the river. I miss going to work with daddy when school was out. I miss school starting after Labor Day. I miss teachers actually teaching rather than implementing social agendas. I miss school bus scuffles when we both got a paddling and life went on. I miss failing report cards that meant I was gonna be grounded, whooped and have to work harder. I miss tough skin blue jeans. I miss when folks were ashamed of their sinful lifestyles. I miss common sense. I miss when people actually went to work every day of the week and were embarrassed to be lazy. I miss supper around the table every evening. I miss kids actually doing chores. I miss Wednesday night testimony services. I miss community clubhouse meetings with potluck meals. I miss clean shaven cops. I miss when we used fists to settle disputes and guns to stock our freezer. I miss building and working on my own bicycle, dirt bike etc. I miss the innocence of not knowing everything that’s going on in the world. I miss a fair justice system. I miss when it was embarrassing to be unemployed. I miss the America I grew up in.

I know I’ve left out a lot, and I also know I’m not alone. Leave a comment telling me some things you miss. Let’s see how nostalgic we are for the things of the past

Written by my son 's father-in-law, Matt Meeks.

[undeadorion]

Religious ramblings because I can.

I was baptised catholic. I was raised catholic. Not like super hardcore, but we went to church every sunday. Being a kid, I didn't really understand a lot of it. It was really boring but sometimes they gave us doughnuts after.

My parents sort of missed the indoctrination part, I think. Like they just expected me to believe as they did, but without directly telling me. So when I went to my Wednesday night bible classes, I always felt like I was missing something. But I still went through all of the weird little rituals.

First communion is a whole affair. They made a bigger deal out of that than when I graduated high school. I had a custom made all white dress for just that one day. We had multiple practices and classes about it. My parents had a big party afterwards to celebrate. It was really weird. I still remember it clearly and I was only 7 years old.

As I got older, I was able to understand what everyone was talking about. And I was being properly taught bible stories.

But the most vivid memory I have is something rather subtle. I was around 12 years old, bored out of my mind in Sunday mass. I was looking around at all the people in this large church, intently watching the priest and singing the songs that I still didn't really know. And it dawned on me that it was all real to them. They believed the stories were real. I'd thought it was sorta like Santa. You tell kids someone's watching them all the time, but really it's just a way to tell them to not be little shits all the time. But no, grown ass adults all around me thought the stories were real. That a guy thousands of years ago really did rise from the dead after doing literal magic on people.

I quit going to church and bible classes after that. Some sundays my parents still dragged me and I was required to go on Easter and Christmas, but I just usually brought my sketch book with me.

But the moment I know without a doubt that I was an athiest was when I was about 16. I got into an argument with my mom so intense she threatened to ground me. All because I didn't agree that people like Buddhists would go to hell. She was furious and said anyone who didn't believe in the catholic god would burn in hell no matter what.

While I don't have direct and literal trauma like physical abuse from my religious experience, it's certainly fucked with my head. And I didn't realize how deeply it had affected me until a few weeks ago. My niece is really into analog horror stuff and she complained that it's so frequently about bible stuff. And it was the stuff that made it actually terrifying to me. She's family. She's my younger sister's child. But unlike me and my sister, she didn't have to go to church. She was never told that if she had even impure thoughts God would send you to hell for eternity.

Anyway, that's been on my mind quite a bit recently. For obvious reasons. Just kind of dragging it all out and being like "well, that explains a lot."

[red-shepherds]

okay pausing in my drawing because I have had a memory blow through my little head like a plastic bag in a high wind, and I want to share it all.

if you've never been to a southern baptist church, you're not necessarily missing out. there are certain cultural nuances, though, that are genuinely bizarre. lots of exploited teen labor--the sound guy for the church I went to as a kid was legitimately sixteen. I'm sure it was a decent gig, though, even if he was unpaid--good on a resume, at least. that's not what this is about, though.

sunday school for kids is pretty normal; vacation bible school is something I kind of miss sometimes. where it gets weird is youth group. I went to my ex girlfriend's church with her a few times, once with her boyfriend, as well, and that happened to be wednesday night church. most of it was normal, basketball in the gym before the sermon in the little room. what I am specifically remembering, though, is the last activity of the night. let me clarify something first, though.

every southern baptist church I've visited of any size insists on having a gym. it's typically called something like 'the sanctuary hall' or something else equally obscure. anyway. I want you to imagine that. cream-grey walls of corrugated steel, those weird bell-shaped lights overhead, the smell of a gymnasium. and then a horseshoe shaped arrangement of plastic fold-out tables. good, great.

so, the youth pastor laid out a bunch of legos inside of the u-shaped table corral, I think some packing peanuts, and then honest to god primed mouse traps. cool, okay, weird rodent control method--no, no no. he told the boys to close their eyes and walk through it. it wasn't even about faith, he just thought a bunch of fourteen to seventeen year old boys would want to walk through a mouse trap pit. and he was correct. I can't judge the teens for that--I was playing with matches way younger, the risk assessment skills just aren't there sometimes. sometimes they are and you just kind of go a little crazy in the atmosphere. still, I think if kids are gonna play with mouse traps, it should probably be done at home

[p-artsypants]

Paint it Black (10) Praying

Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City's crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a correlation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? [Actually, does not contain an OC]

Ao3 | FF.net

On a quiet Saturday night, the Titans assembled in the ops room for movie night. Black was invited, but didn’t initially join. 

They were watching some bad Kung-Fu parody movie, where the mouths were dubbed over in English with a different script. 

Robin probably would have loved it. 

As it stood, Beast Boy was mostly the only one paying attention. 

The rest of them were thinking about Robin and how the Batman would be arriving within the week.

The door to the ops room swooshed open and Black stomped into the room, walking right in front of all of them like a pre-teen with attitude. 

“What?” Asked Raven. 

“I’m going to church tomorrow and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” 

Cyborg paused the movie as everyone stared at Black. “Come again?” 

“I had been going nearly every Sunday and Wednesday night, but I haven’t gone for the last two weeks, and when I don’t go, my buddy Jim worries about me.” 

“Jim?” Raven zeroed in on the name. 

“Yeah, my friend Jim! He’s a pal!” 

“Jim Baker?” 

“That’s right!” 

“I’ll take you to church,” Cyborg said easily. 

“We’ll all go,” added Raven. 

“Uh, Raven, can you even––?” Beast Boy cringed. 

“We’ll find out. I’d like to have a word with this friend, Jim Baker.” She crossed her arms. 

“Please, I have heard of church and seen its buildings, but am unclear of its purpose.”

“You know what Christianity is, right? One of our world’s main religions?” 

“Yes, it is the worship of ‘God’ whose name appears on your money. He has a son, named Jesus Christ, I believe? Sometimes people exclaim his name when startled. Robin told me.”

“So people who practice Christianity worship God and Jesus. Church is where they gather on Sunday mornings to sing songs and learn more about him from his book, the Bible.”

“It is like school, then?”

“In a way, I guess.” 

“Fascinating! What time does church start tomorrow?” 

“9:30,” said Black. “But I like to get there early. It’s on the South side of town. Jump City Community Church.” 

“Oh, I know that place,” said Cyborg. “They run the soup kitchen and food pantry. We’ll get you there, buddy.”

Black grinned and sashayed out of the room. 

“Honestly, hearing he was going to church in his freetime makes me feel a little better,” said Cyborg. “Getting ‘thou shall not kill’ drilled into his head was probably good.” 

“Starfire,” Raven began. “Do you have something you could wear over your uniform tomorrow?” 

“Why?”

How to explain? “If we want to get on these people’s good side, we need to show some respect to their ideals. Our uniforms are a little inappropriate for church.” 

“What is inappropriate about my attire?”

“I think some people might be…offended if you show up with your midriff visible. I’m going to wear a skirt.” 

“Oh! I understand. They are more modest with their clothing! Fear not, I have a sweater for just the occasion.” 

“What’s the big deal, Rae?” Said Beast Boy. “We’re the Teen Titans. Surely everyone there will be used to seeing us like this?” He gestured to himself. 

She scowled. “I am half demon. If I’m going into a church, I will not give anyone fodder to criticize me.” 

“Well, when you say it like that…” 

“Come with me, Raven! We shall find a skirt that compliments your uniform for tomorrow!” Starfire sang, pulling her into the hall. 

“Dudes! What about the movie!?” 

—

The next morning, the team gathered in the ops room, ready to go. Starfire had a cream colored chunky knit sweater over her uniform, while Raven had a simple black knee length skirt to cover her legs. 

Black entered, not wearing his trench coat, but a long sleeved black shirt and his ratty black jeans. His hair was combed down and had the two spit curls Robin always hated. “Well, don’t you kids look spiffy?” 

“You ready to go?” Cyborg asked.

“Ha! Do pigs swim?” 

The Titans all looked over to Beast Boy. “Do they?”

“I mean, yeah?”

They loaded up in the T-Car and sped off. It was the first time Black rode with them. He sat in the middle of the back, Raven on one side, and Starfire on the other. 

“Wow, this is a really pretty car! It looks just like you, Cyborg!” 

“I made it,” Cyborg smiled back in the rearview window. “She’s my baby.” 

Black rubbed the console like it was a live animal. “Good girl!” 

They arrived at 9:20, much to Black’s dismay. People were flowing in, and the church looked rather busy. 

Inside, they were greeted by a blonde woman, your typical white suburban mother. “Good morning! Good to see you again!” 

“Hi Bonnie!” Black greeted, warmly. “I brought my friends with me!” 

Bonnie prepared to greet them, and then stood shocked for a second. “...the Teen Titans! Well, welcome! Glad you could join us this morning! Would you like a bulletin?” 

“Thank you,” Cyborg returned the greeting and took one. 

“You doing okay, Raven?” Beast Boy asked as they entered. 

“I haven’t burst into flames, so I think I’m okay.” 

The lobby was a large circular room with a skylight. The sanctuary was to the right, and the back wall featured a coffee bar. 

As the Titans moved further inside, they were greeted with warm smiles and hearty handshakes. Black greeted every single person he walked past, like he knew each and every one of them. 

They were just all so friendly. 

“You guys want coffee? It's good! And they have tea!” Black urged them in, tugging on arms. 

“Black!” A man in a plaid polo shirt and khakis approached. He was tall, lanky, and had salt and pepper hair. “You’re here! And you…brought friends?” 

“I sure did! This is Starfire, Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Raven!” 

“Good morning!” 

“Hiya!”

“Hey, nice to meet you.” 

“Hi.” 

“Well, welcome! I’m Pastor Jim Baker. Glad to have you here today.” 

A ping of understanding hit all the Titans at the same time. 

Pastor Jim Baker.

“Did…you guys receive my letter?” He asked, his voice a little lower. 

“Sure did,” said Cyborg. 

Jim sighed in relief. “Good. Well, I really would like to talk to you all more about that, but service is about to start. Why don’t you join us, and then we can all talk during the Sunday School hour?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cyborg nodded. 

“Come on, I’ll show you where I always sit!” Black took Starfire and Beast Boy’s hands and beckoned them into the sanctuary. 

It had a high vaulted ceiling, lined with slatted wood. There was a stage up front, where a band was setting up. A giant cross was on the wall above them, bordered with stained glass on both sides. There was a screen in the corner with a slide show of events playing on it. 

“Dude, is that an electric guitar? I thought churches had like…organs and stuff.” 

“Depends on the church,” said Cyborg. 

Black led them toward the front, on the right most side. Again, as they passed, he greeted people warmly and enthusiastically. 

“He’s like a different person,” Cyborg said to Starfire, softly. “He’s behaving well.” 

“I wonder why.” 

The congregation was filled with a variety of people. There were plenty of your standard white church people, plus a healthy dose of intercity kids, recently reformed thugs and felons, bikers, and even disheveled homeless folks. It was a strange blend, but they were all talking together, building a community. 

They shuffled into their seats, the people around them waving and smiling in greeting. 

“This isn’t so bad, right?” Beast Boy asked Raven. 

She sighed. “No. Better than I was expecting.” 

Cyborg opened the program they were given. “Hey Star, there’s an order to the service,” he showed her. “We’ll stand and sing songs, then we’ll listen to the Pastor give his sermon. When they have us pray, we just bow our heads and close our eyes. Pretty simple.” 

“I like to sing!” She chirped. 

“I know you do. I don’t know if you’ll know the songs they play, but you’ll probably like them.” 

“Hey Cy,” Beast Boy wondered. “You seem pretty…familiar with this. Have you been to church before?”

“Yeah, used to go when I was a kid. It’s been a long time though.” 

Then, a man with a guitar started playing. Keyboard, violin, and drums joined in. 

Starfire perked right up, the tune was joyful and fun. 

“Great and Mighty is The Lord Our God, Great and Mighty is He. Great and Mighty is The Lord Our God, Great and Mighty is He!” 

“I like this song,” Starfire told Cyborg. 

Of course you do. Cyborg smirked.    

“Good morning!” Pastor Jim greeted as the first song ended. “Isn’t it a lovely fall day? Did you all see the trees in their fall colors today? God’s truly a master painter, isn’t he?” He looked at the bulletin. “We have our typical events taking place this week. Soup Kitchen on Tuesday, Prayer Meeting on Wednesday, Food Pantry on Thursday. Tonight, I’ve been told the youth are going bowling and that Pizza will be provided.”

“I want to go bowling,” Beast Boy muttered.

“Next week, we’re doing our Trunk or Treat. There’s still plenty of space to sign up to host a game. You don’t actually have to have a trunk! The church will provide candy, so you don’t have to buy any. What else? Oh! We’re going to start taking donations for Operation Christmas Child. This year we’re aiming to pack a thousand boxes! We’ll be taking donations of hygiene products during the month of October. I’m told our boxes will be going to a refugee camp in Poland for children displaced from the war, so keep that in mind as you pack your shoeboxes.

“As for prayer requests, we’re praying for those who are not here due to sickness…” he listed several people’s names and their specific needs. Some were in hospital, some had ailing family. “And last, we want to continue our prayers for Robin of the Teen Titans. He and his team did so much for our city, for nothing in return. We want to pray for his return, or closure for his whereabouts. Pray for healing if he needs it. We’d also like to pray for strength for his team as they work through this crisis. Would y’all pray with me?” 

None of the Titans had been playing on actually praying, but they all felt compelled to in the end. This church had been praying for Robin the whole time, and he was right here, among them! 

They sang more songs. The Titans patiently stood with the rest of the congregation. Cyborg, Beast Boy, and Starfire tried to follow along with the songs. Black knew several of them and sang as loud as he could. 

Then the sermon came. It was appreciated, as the topic was community and building each other up. 

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

They sang another song at the end, and then they were released. 

Beast Boy stretched. “Well, that wasn’t as nearly as boring as I thought it’d be.” 

Raven elbowed him. “Maybe wait to say stuff like that until we’re out of the building?” 

“Oops.”

“Hey!” Black perked up. “Do ya guys want donuts? They have them downstairs during the Sunday School hour!” 

“Sweet, donuts!” Beast Boy started, but was held back by Raven. 

“Why don’t you go get us some? We want to have a little chat with your friend, Jim.” 

“Okie dokie Mrs. Magpie!” And he skipped off, just as Pastor Jim arrived at the end of the row. 

“Hi, follow me to my office?” He kept the pleasant smile, but there was clear grief on his face. 

They followed him through the church building, watching as he played nonchalant as he passed his congregation. He led them down a hall, away from the people, and into an office with a desk, two chairs, and a couch. 

“Please, make yourselves at home.” He moved behind the desk. His mask dropped, and he looked weary and troubled. 

Raven and Cyborg sat in the chairs while Beast Boy and Starfire took up spots on the couch. 

He held out a jar. “Tootise Roll?” 

Beast Boy, Starfire, and Cyborg took one. 

“Chewy chocolate?” Starfire asked thoughtfully. “Delightful!” 

Pastor Jim let out a long sigh as he rested his head in his hand. “So…you’ve met him.” 

“More than that,” Cyborg said. “He’s staying with us.” 

Jim’s shoulders sagged even more, maybe from relief. “Thank goodness.” 

“How did you meet?” Raven asked. 

“I’m the one who…found him.” He shook his head. “This is not a good neighborhood, but I wanted to start a church where the community needed it. One night, I stayed too late and left the church when it was dark out. As I was walking back to my car, I heard him singing, belting out these really sad lyrics at the top of his lungs. There’s a gentleman in our Men’s group who is a recovering drug addict. I thought it was him at first, having a relapse. So I thought I’d go check and make sure he was okay.” He paused, closing his eyes a moment. His voice was tight. “When I found him, he was in the basement of an abandoned building. I heard him singing through a broken window. When I called out to him to see if he was okay, he just kept singing, maybe even getting louder when he heard me. I went inside…I thought I was looking at a dead man. He was naked and just…covered in blood. His cheek was torn open…and he had these dark veins that stood out all over his body. The only thing he had in his possession was this…robot head. I got him out of there and to a hospital. He had no idea who he was, what happened, why he was there…but he refused to let go of that head. The hospital had no idea what was wrong with him, so they just treated his wounds. When he was patched up, I brought him home. He stayed for about a week. In that time, he spent much of it crying in pain. Then one day…he was just gone, and left the head…tucked into his bed.

“The next week, he showed up to my church and thanked me for all my help. When I told him he left the robot behind, he had no idea what I was talking about. My son was the one that found the SD card I sent you.”

“So, how’d you know it was Robin in the video?” Beast Boy asked. 

Pastor Jim looked at him, stricken. “...that was Robin?”

Oops.

Raven narrowed her eyes. “If you didn’t know, why did you send us the card?” 

“I thought…well, the robot head that it was recorded on looked like it belonged to that…Slade man you all have fought over the years. And the video looked like something horrible was going on. It looked like real trouble. I wanted to send it to the experts.” He started to smile, ever so slightly. “I assumed it was Black before he became…”

“Crazy?” Beast Boy supplied. 

“...disturbed.” 

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” 

“But if it was Robin…does that mean that Black is…?” He trailed off, hopeful. 

The Titans silently convened. 

“Yeah,” Cyborg finally admitted. “He’s Robin. But he doesn’t remember anything, and he’s outwardly hostile to the thought of being Robin. So, we’re keeping it quiet for now.” 

“I understand completely. I will keep it a secret. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. Lots of people come to me for guidance, expecting me to keep their business to myself.” 

“So now that you know it is Robin, you know it’s important that we have as many details as you can provide,” Raven said, sternly. “Tell us everything.” 

“I’m not sure what else there is to tell that’s actually helpful…” he winced. “It was about a month ago, and it was fairly hectic.” 

“You said he spent most of his time crying in pain,” Cyborg reminded. “And then one day he just left.” 

“Oh! Yes. I said he had these dark veins, and he often cried about feeling his blood burning. We gave him ibuprofen and acetaminophen, as much as they recommend. It seemed to help a little, but he spent most of the time bedridden, in and out of sleep. He didn’t eat much. Every once in a while, he’d come out of the guest room and sit with my son in the living room and watch TV or watch him play video games. Not for very long though. My son said he’d try to talk to him, but Black was so out of it, his replies were nonsensical. At night…we could hear him singing. I think he was trying to comfort himself.” Jim screwed up his lips, looking rather remorseful. “I hate to admit this, because I think I actually broke the law and did him a huge disservice. One night, he was in so much pain…he was thrashing and screaming and tearing at his stitches…we had already given him the maximum doses of ibuprofen and acetaminophen…I had a couple of OxyContin pills left over from a surgery, just in case of emergency. I know you shouldn’t keep them but…I gave Black one. I wondered if maybe he was going through withdrawals. But within the hour, his dark veins had receded considerably, and he was able to eat a full meal and hold a lucid conversation. Well, lucid for him. I told him what we gave him. The next day he was gone, along with my pills. There weren’t very many left though. Maybe three.”  

“These are opioids?” Starfire asked for clarification. 

“Yeah, the same ones we gave him when he had that episode,” Cyborg responded. “Thank you for telling us. We knew he had an addiction. We just didn’t know where it started.” 

Pastor Jim looked heartbroken at that revelation. 

“I don’t think you necessarily started it either,” said Raven. “We’ve learned that he’s been poisoned, that’s what’s turned his veins dark. It's interesting to know that opioids actually help with that.”

Jim didn’t look any more relieved.  

“The dude was suffering, and you helped him. Don’t sweat it, man,” Beast Boy offered as a way of comfort. 

“We’ll tell Batman about it,” said Cyborg. “He was looking into that poison cocktail. Maybe the opioids are a missing ingredient or something? Now, more importantly,” he leveled the pastor with an intense look. “Can you show us where exactly you found him?”

“Absolutely!” 

It was then that there was a knock on the office door. 

“Yes?” Jim asked. 

Black opened the door, holding two plates of donut holes. “I’ve been looking all over for you guys! I brought donuts!” 

“We told you we were talking to the pastor,” Raven said. 

“I forgot,” Black beamed. 

“Pastor Jim was just about to show us the place he found you. Will you be able to come?” Cyborg asked. The keyword here was ‘able’ because being there might trigger a fit, and no one really wanted to deal with that. 

Black forcefully shoved the plates into Raven’s hands and said, “Nope! I ain’t going!” 

“I shall stay with Black,” said Starfire. “We will stay here, and he may socialize with his friends.” 

“Aw man, I don’t want to go to any creepy abandoned building!” Beast Boy lamented. 

“Too bad, Grass Stain. We need your nose,” Cyborg scarfed down a donut hole. 

“Let me just tell my wife, and we’ll go,” said Jim.

[bullet-prooflove]

Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #24

It’s that time again! The Wednesday Radio prompt list!

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

Where there's a will, there's a way, kind of beautiful

I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in

He's more than a man And this is more than love

You were a thud in the night

And if there's love in this life, there's no obstacle

I might as well take a gun and put it to his head

When you hear the firin' shots

I don't need no beat I can sing it with piano

Such a saint but such a whore

I started lookin' for a warning sign

My soul it knows no one other than you

Monday left me broken

I don't think I'm coming home

Tuesday, I was through with hoping

When the truth is I miss you

Wednesday, my empty arms were open

I'm drawn to you, something's magnetic here

But how'd y'all look so perfect? You must have some portraits in the attic

Thursday, waiting for love, waiting for love

You came back to haunt me

For real, want you to show me how you feel

It's overrated, just get another drink

You don't want nothing at all to do with me

Thank the stars, it's Friday

This is the road to ruin

I'm burning like a fire gone wild on Saturday

When I watch the world burn All I think about is you

we both know Where I'm about to go And we know it very well

Watch me come undone

Guess I won't be coming to church on Sunday

Lying in bed I can feel the space, pillows can't replace

Betray myself, just to keep your love at any cost

 I thought that it would kill me, but it didn't

We are one of a kind, irreplaceable

But you showed who you are, then one magical night

If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet

Crazy that I won't give up on you

How did I get so blind and so cynical?

And it's most tempting to give in

With every careless action you let me slip away

I pray that when I'm coming down you'll be asleep

I don't wanna be a murderer

Let's be alone together

If you just bought me flowers, maybe I would've stayed

 I don't know what the fuck your name is

It isn't love, it isn't hate It's just indifference

In a home that's filled with love and hope

Last couple years have been a mad trip

I'm not scared of dying, I just don't want to

I forgot that you existed

Because I'm gone again And to him I just can't be true

A kiss upon my cheek As he reluctantly Ask if I'm gonna be out late

If I stopped lying, I'd just disappoint you

Would've fought the whole town,

the scent that you left behind

But I want you, ain't nothin' wrong with, wanting you

You can leave with me Or you could have the blues

Sniff on them panties now

God knows what is real and what is fake

And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful

We fucked this house up

I don't wanna take away his life

Tell me all your original sins

So many questionable choices

And it kills him inside To know that I am happy with some other guy

Damn, I know I'm killing you with them legs

We're gonna close the curtains

But I don't wanna do this anymore

I feel it in the air As I'm doing my hair Preparing for another date

Boy, you're a sight to see, kinda somethin' like me

I got every reason to feel like I'm that bitch

We run away from real life,

Every time I walk out the door I see him die a little more inside

We're gonna stay naive tonight

I don't wanna hurt him anymore

And show me secrets you didn't know was inside

He walk like this 'cause he can back it up,

[youngerdrgrey]

all the pieces aren't even in the box // the morning show, bradley/laura, chapter three

about: Bradley and Laura's last few months in Montana and how the world reacts along the way (and maybe how they find their way back to each other) ~ read chapter one / chapter two chapter three summary: As Bradley prepares to leave the ranch for the funeral, Laura's conflicting feelings bubble up. (read chapter three on AO3)

mid J U L Y (2020)

By the next morning, Gayle’s already put in the request for Bradley’s time off. It’ll only be a few days since Bradley can work Thursday morning, then start her drive. The funeral’s set for Saturday. Bradley will either leave Sunday while everyone’s at church or Monday morning. She’ll be live on air from the guest house by Wednesday.

Cory’s face only pulls tight once as he hears the full plan. It’s during a post-show Zoom with Cory, Stella, and Mia. Laura watches as Cory’s eyes bounce from Bradley to Laura within their shared Zoom window.

“And will we be replacing one anchor or two?” He asks.

Laura quips with only a bit of spite in it. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Cory.” 

His nostrils flare, even as he barks out a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You, my friend, are ratings gold. I’d say you have the Midas touch, but I don’t want to get HR on the call.”

It’s Laura’s turn to give a fake laugh. Bradley flicks the outside of Laura’s thigh. Play nice. Laura turns her gaze to her woman beside her. Bradley still looks like she’s ready to neutralize a fight. But Laura lifts her brows in silent surrender.

She says, “This is Bradley’s trip. I will hold down the fort.”

Bradley speaks only to her, “Thank you.” Then she averts her eyes back to their computer. “Can somebody draft a statement so Twitter doesn’t freak out again?”

Mia speaks up. “We’re already on it. You’re taking time to grieve in conjunction with your family. No mention of you actually traveling for the funeral.”

“Thanks, Mia,” Bradley says.

Laura shouldn’t say it. She shouldn’t mention how they’re avoiding the funeral in the statement because of how hypocritical this whole thing could look.

Cory’s eyes shrink as he makes an exaggerated wince. 

“Question.” He holds up a finger, and Laura feels a rush at the calculated voice he’s already in. He’s going to say it for her, isn’t he? “Do we think it’s a bit of an optics nightmare to send Bradley across country right now? Sure, she did it four months ago, but we have the spent the summer of our discontent tirelessly demanding that our fellow Americans hold the line. No travel, not even for emergencies. Yet here is Bradley Jackson, the face of UBA, doing exactly that.”

The air thickens as Bradley stops breathing. Laura watches the tiny wrinkles form between her brows. A wrench thrown by Bradley’s friend on the inside.

Bradley tries her best to sound friendly, but they all hear the crackle underneath it. “I’m not flying, Cory. I’m driving. By myself, with masks and hand sanitizer.”

He nods. “Then you’re attending the biggest event in your town since New Year’s.”

“It’s my mother’s funeral,” Bradley bites.

“Plenty of people miss funerals every day. We’re in a global pandemic.”

“Are we?” Bradley asks. “The CDC seems a little confused about that.”

Now that's too far. Bradley's being willfully obtuse for her trip.

Laura sets a hand on Bradley’s thigh, and Bradley whips her head to glare at Laura too. For a moment, Laura hesitates. If she publicly sides with Cory, after she was the one who set this in motion….

She can play the fence. 

“Maybe Bradley can keep a low profile,” Laura suggests.

Bradley runs with it. “I don’t need to give a speech. Hal has got that covered.”

He doesn’t, but Laura can’t say that either.

Cory grinds his jaw. “And when America asks where you’ve been for three days?”

Bradley gives a dazzling smile. “We refer them to Mia’s brilliant statement. Honestly, the less people I talk to down there, the better. Gives me a perfect excuse to avoid a few uncomfortable reunions.”

Cory’s eyes shift, and Laura can feel them on her. “Laura? What do you think?”

She never should’ve made this suggestion. Bradley going is an awful idea. She doesn’t want to be alone in this house for three weeks just because Bradley wants to say goodbye to a woman that Bradley despised.

Laura smiles into the camera. “So long as she stays masked up, then we should all be fine. I have had to use the restroom since we went off air. If you’ll excuse me.”

She stands up over their commentary. Heads out with something like panic vibrating under her skin. She fucked up. She put herself in this impossible situation where she can’t tell Bradley how deeply she wants Bradley to stay. Her therapist isn’t available until next week, and Gordon will absolutely make things worse if she tells him how she feels.

Laura walks past the studio restroom for the main house. The rest of the call will be travel logistics anyway. She needs to center herself before she says something she’ll regret.

She starts a bath in the master bedroom. That will calm her down.

What is it about Bradley that makes Laura so unstable? She destabilizes Laura. She upends her time and time again, and Laura keeps allowing it to happen. Honestly, Laura should’ve never let Bradley move in. It was too soon. 

Yet, even as she thinks it, Laura doesn’t mean it. Having Bradley here has been her North Star. Her gravity as every new piece of information sends the world reeling. But if her gravity falters, then where does that leave her? Splayed out on the ground, gasping for air that her lungs can’t process.

She undresses and slips into the water. 

She needs to be her own gravity again. She can do that. She’s done it for over fifty years. Why should now be any different?

“Babe?” Bradley’s voice comes from the other side of the bathroom door. Laura’s traitorous heart soars at hearing babe again. Bradley’s been withholding in her grief. One of her little rebellions. “Can I come in?”

“Open it.”

In comes Bradley in her work dress with a cold glass of water for each of them. She pauses at the door, eyes raking along Laura in the tub. 

“The call wasn’t that long. I, uh, took out the trash before coming up. I didn’t mean to let it sit so long. I just….”

“You just?”

Laura wants her to say it. Wants Bradley to find her voice in all of this.

Bradley lands on, “You know I can’t fight Hal. I can’t. He’s too raw and tender. He can’t handle it.” 

“I suppose there’s a compliment for me in there.”

Bradley shakes her head. She crosses the room to kneel beside the tub. Sets the glasses on the railing beside Laura’s left arm.

“No. Well, yes, but not intentionally.” Bradley holds Laura’s eyes so softly. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve been forgetting that you’re tender too. And if all this is too much for you, if you don’t want me to go… then I can stay right here. With you.”

It’s an impossible situation. Laura’s heart pounds in her ears. She can’t do more than blink as she takes that in. 

The acknowledgment is everything, but Bradley cannot possibly mean it. Bradley may hate her mom, hate everything that Sandy Jackson stood for her and did to Bradley and her brother. But she hasn’t healed from any of it. Hasn’t processed enough that this death doesn’t wreck everything else she’s built on shaky ground.

Laura says, “You don’t owe it to her, Bradley. You don’t owe her anything.”

On instinct, Bradley says, “She gave birth to me. She fed me and clothed me.”

“You fed yourself more often than not. You may think you’ve hidden it, but not from me. You — she hurt you.” She stills hurt Bradley, even when she’s not around.

“Not in the ways that matter,” Bradley says. She shakes her head. “Not in a way I can’t come back from. I’m not, you know, Hal.”

“You mean you’re not an addict.”

“I’m not.”

But Bradley does bury her feelings in whatever she can. Buries them in her reporting and in Laura and in midnight margaritas that make no sense for their earlier mountain call time.

Months ago, when Laura first brought up therapy, Bradley had been afraid that they would call her crazy. Is that what this is about? Bradley wants to prove to everybody that she’s mentally stable? Mental disorders and hormone imbalances are often genetic. Hal has them for sure, but Bradley could easily have something too. She just did a different job of hiding it and handling it.

As gently as she can, Laura says, “There’s other options than just ‘crazy,’ ‘addict,’ and ‘fine.’”

Bradley’s eyes narrow. “‘Crazy?’ What part of burying my mother makes me crazy?”

“None of it.” Laura twists in the tub to set her hand next to Bradley’s. “Bradley, that’s not what I said.”

“You literally said the word ‘crazy!’”

“Because you seem to have an aversion to talking about any other possibilities. You are very sane, Bradley Jackson, but when it comes to your mother, or to Hal, you can be so reactive and defensive—“

“I’m not—“ Bradley stops herself. Laura quirks a brow as Bradley flushes. “You don’t know them. Nobody does. I’ve spent my whole life defending them. That doesn’t make me crazy.”

“I know, honey. I’m not trying to diagnose you. That’s not my job. My only job is to support you through whatever comes our way.”

Bradley leans into the tub, so it can help hold her up. “How come this kind of support isn’t enough?”

“It is,” Laura says, “but we all deserve more than bare minimums.” Bradley eyes Laura’s bare body. Clear sign of deflection, and Laura splashes a bit of water out of the tub to stop her. “Focus.”

Bradley swipes the water off her face. “I am. You’re deflecting too. You didn’t answer my question. Do you want me to go?”

Laura sighs. Fine. “Of course I don’t,” she admits without looking, “but I won’t stop you either. I’m just… not ready for all this to be over.”

“Over? Laura, I’m coming back.”

“I know that, but in here—“ Laura puts a hand to her wet chest “—it’s harder to know.” Laura feels flushed after saying that. Vulnerable in the same way she’s been asking Bradley to be. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. To admit that Bradley has this space in her heart and in her life.

Bradley takes the hand from Laura’s chest in two of her own. “Then let’s do something fun before I leave. Anything you want.”

A last good day.

Anything she wants. They can’t leave the ranch, not that Laura really wants to. There’s only one thing they haven’t done. Four months in, and Bradley still won’t go horseback riding. Bradley always insists that it’s Laura’s thing. Bradley’s never been good with animals. Their earlier compromise had been that Bradley would go with Laura to the stables. Brush the horses. Feed them. But she still hasn’t ridden.

“Ride with me,” Laura says. Bradley’s lips quirk, so Laura corrects, “Horseback. Today.”

“Today!?”

“You said anything I want.”

Bradley rolls her eyes. “I thought you’d want something like a massage, or a picnic. Not try to kill me.”

Scout would never hurt Bradley. Neither would Sue. But Laura’s said that more than enough times since March.

She leans forward, knowing good and well that it’s not playing fair to draw Bradley’s eyes back to her body. Might as well remind her what she’ll miss, right?

Laura asks, “Is that a no?”

Bradley pries her gaze back up to meet Laura’s. “If you want us to make it out there, you better get out the tub.”

“Or what?”

Bradley doesn’t take the bait. She pushes herself up off the floor and grabs her lukewarm water glass. She heads for the door, talking as she goes, “What do I even wear to go horseback riding? All of my boots have heels.”

Laura calls after her. “A whole life in West Virginia, and you don’t have any boots?”

“I threw them out when I moved to New York!”

.

.

The next hour’s a bit of a blur. Bradley ends up in a pink and blue plaid shirt that screams “gay and into horses.” Laura pulls on a nice denim shirt and a white hat for the sun. Then they head down to the stables. 

Laura squeezes Bradley’s hand before they go in. Reminds her, “Don’t be nervous. They can sense it. They already like you.”

Still, Bradley’s hand shakes when she holds it out so Scout can smell the back of her hand. The horsemen’s handshake gives the horse the chance to trust the rider.

Bradley mumbles, “Can’t believe you named your horse after ‘To Kill a Mockingbird.’” Laura allows it since the chiding means Bradley’s loosening up.

Laura brushes Sue, her other horse, who bristles at the fact that she’s not going out today.

“I’d been rereading when we got her. It felt appropriate.”

Scout touches her nose to Bradley’s hand. Bradley beams over at Laura. She’s a bundle of proud nerves until Laura says, “Now you can mount her.”

“Oh boy.”

Then Laura helps Bradley get up onto Scout. Corrects her form and grip on the reins. They do a few short laps inside to get Bradley and Scout acquainted before Laura checks back in.

“How do you want to do this? Together or separate?”

Bradley laughs. “Together please. Do not leave me alone with her.”

So Laura climbs up behind Bradley and curves her body around Bradley’s. She settles her hands on Bradley’s wrists.

“To help guide you,” Laura says, “but you’ve got this. I’m right here with you. Stay calm, and move with her. Keep your eyes ahead, so she knows where to go.”

Bradley turns her head just enough to see Laura’s face beside hers. “Anything else?”

Laura presses a kiss to her lips. “Have a good ride. And thank you, for doing this.”

Bradley kisses her back. “Thank me if we stay upright.”

Laura’s laugh follows them out into the field.

.

.

Nearly an hour and only two near falls later, they reach a clearing with a wooden fence and a picnic table. Laura helps Bradley down, and they tie Scout up while they all regroup and hydrate. There’s a small watering trough there for Scout. Bradley watches her drink with a little smile on her face.

“Admit it,” Laura says with a shift of her hat on her head. “You liked it.”

Bradley takes a big swig of her water. “I admit nothing. ‘Cept maybe how good it feels to have you behind me.”

Laura’s grin grows. “What did you say? Is Big Spoon Bradley Jackson saying she wants to be held?”

Bradley swats at the brim of Laura’s hat. “You hold me plenty.”

“I do.”

Bradley rolls her eyes and watches Scout’s mane blow in the breeze. One of the great things about Montana has been the views. Even now, there’s these gorgeous trees and wide fields of flowers that barely glimpse at neighboring properties. Bradley’s never had so much space in her life. Never felt so full.

“Let’s take a picture,” Bradley says.

Laura smiles. “Of what? Us?”

Bradley nods. “But not a selfie. We can balance it.” She gets up from the table to use her helmet as a prop for her phone.

“Bad day to leave the tripod at home,” Laura jokes. Bradley flips her off. Laura walks closer to the wooden fence.

Bradley sets the timer and rushes to Laura’s side. “Put your arm around me.”

“You’re directing now?”

Bradley huffs, and Laura just barely gets her arm up before the camera clicks. Bradley slips out of Laura’s grasp to set the timer again.

Laura says, “It might help if you tell me the pose before you hit the button. What do you want, Bradley?”

“I don’t know,” Bradley says while she changes it from five seconds to ten. “Something cute.” Something they can look back on once their thighs stop aching and the sunburn’s gone and remember that they had a good day during a God awful week. Something she can show Hal when he asks why she’s leaving so soon in a few days.

“Well, you’re cute,” Laura says once Bradley gets back to her side. She slips her right arm around Bradley’s shoulders, and Bradley slips her left around Laura’s waist. “So how about you smile and I’ll just—“ 

She presses a kiss to Bradley’s temple. It’s probably cheesy. Next level corny that this picture will be the two of them in the gayest possible outfits after horseback riding in Montana, but damn, if that thought doesn’t make Bradley smile even harder. 

She never thought she’d get this. She almost screwed it up several times over, but here she is with a woman she’s crazy about who could have asked for anything in the world, and all Laura wanted was to do something she loved with Bradley.

The camera clicks, but Bradley doesn’t even hear it. She turns in Laura’s hold and wraps her other arm around Laura’s waist.

“I did like it,” Bradley tells her.

Laura smiles. “I know. But thank you for telling me.”

“Can I tell you something else?” Bradley asks. Once she does, her heart pounds heavy in her chest. It’s like it wants out of there. She has to gulp just to keep it out of her throat.

Laura must feel it since she rubs her hand along Bradley’s back. Lifts her other to hold Bradley too.

“Anything.”

Just say it. Say something. Say she’s never been happier than she is with Laura by her side. Say she could spend the rest of her life here if they were allowed to go out and be people sometimes too. Say that she’ll be back the moment she can, and this week is just the last thing she needs to do before she can really move forward.

A whole world of things Bradley could’ve said, but all that leaves her mouth is: 

“Come with me.”

.

.

a/n: !!!!!! COME! WITH! ME! will she do it? should she do it? l

et me know what you think and what else stood out to you.

also, just to say it, fictional lesbian/journalist Laura Peterson would never spout zionist propaganda the way that her actress currently is. I won't say much on here bc it's a fic site, and I am here to escape into Montana, but also free Palestine. stopping Israel has nothing to do with judaism, and it's an awful weaponization of religion to equate stopping genocide with antisemitism.

[nysocboy]

How long did the Kelvin/Keefe break-up last?

I can't help it, I try to put events in a logical chronological order. For the Kelvin/Keefe break-up, we know it was long enough for Keefe to make the rocking chair, but not very long, or they would settle into their new lives and moving forward as lovers would be impossible. Plus Keefe was surprised to see Taryn in Kelvin's life "so soon." In my experience, after being dumped, your friends comfort you for about a week, and then they play matchmaker.

Other clues: Kelvin and Taryn work together at least twice; there are several weekly youth group meetings, after school and on Saturdays; during this period BJ is training to beat up Steven.

Here is a possible chronology.

Day 1 (Monday): The siblings and Martin tell Kelvin that Keefe is being reassigned. Keefe finds this a betrayal and dumps Kelvin. He leaves with only a few belongings, and stays with a friend. Kelvin spends the night crying.

Day 2 (Tuesday): Keefe used to work as a carpenter, but he bombed out due to the drug use (can't be around power tools). He returns to Woodpecker's Carpentry and tells the boss that he's clean and sober now. The boss hires him on a probationary basis.

Kelvin calls Taryn and hires her as his new assistant. Presumably it is a part-time job, since she is able to start work immediately.

Day 3 (Wednesday): Taryn and Kelvin lead the children's group.

Dsy 4 (Thursday): Taryn and Kelvin lead the teen group.

Day 5 (Friday): Kelvin visits Keefe at work, and tries to hurt him by claiming that he was replaced easily, and no one misses him. Keefe treats him like a post-breakup friend, but secretly he wants to get back together. He is making a rocking chair to give to Kelvin when he asks for a reconciliation.

Day 6 (Saturday): Keefe's day off, but he goes in anyway to continue to work on the rocking chair. Taryn and Kelvin lead the children's group.

Day 7 (Sunday): Kelvin and Keefe both skip church.

Day 8 (Monday): Taryn and Kelvin meet to practice some stunts and discuss youth programming for the week. Keefe knows that he has the youth-program meeting every Monday morning, and skips work to bring in the newly-finished rocking chair. He thinks that Kelvin is dating Taryn, and flips out.

Later, Kelvin views the Aimee-Leigh hologram, quits his job at the church, and mopes for awhile. He decides to ask Keefe to get back together, and goes to the carpentry shop in the middle of the night, whereupon he is captured.

Day 9 (Tuesday): The day of the kidnapping. After the rescue, Keefe meets Kelvin at the hospital. Neither knows whether the other wants to be a post-breakup friend, or is open to resuming the romantic relationship. They go home together.

Day 10 (Wednesday): During the bare-butt massage, each determines (in an oblique fashion) that they other wants to return to being romantic partners. They also apparently will be working together again; I guess Taryn is fired.

[bella-goths-wife]

NOW ITS EVEN FUNNIER IMAGINING JAMES AND FAITH WITH JOINT CUSTODY

'You had her for one of my days last week so I get her on Wednesday'

'No way Wednesday is my day'

'Well then I get her for an extra day next week'

'No way'

Oh believe me the family is split in two when these two discuss custody days.

The the boys who favour faith will lure you into activities in the cave where at that time faith will live, they also get to be with their daughter more so why not

The boys who favour James will encourage you to go out because they know it always ends up with you spending time at max’s because at night you can’t be bothered to walk up to the cave

I think James and max have you over every other day but faith calls Sundays because the two of you go to church together because even if you don’t believe, you don’t want to miss out on all the gossip

If you go to someone else on a custody day, it is written in the rules that faith an James wrote out together one random Tuesday that you spend the next 3 days with that person to make them feel loved.

These two are like a divorced couple fighting whenever the other is late and the boys find it hilarious.

[b1uedcollar]

I thought they’d take me even further down. lower than that casket in the family plot. Away from the farm and Alice and the whole damn life I built.   ( After all, I kicked and kicked until it started to crumble down. Only watched as the dust settled, fruit rotted, and marriage soured. I invited the spiders and all their webs and didn’t care. )   Throw me in a padded cell and wait ‘till they can bury me in one of ‘em straight-jackets. ‘cause Al swore up and down she stopped seeing her   — Or maybe she just didn’t talk about it like I did. I’m the loud one, the talker —   and I didn’t. You don’t, can’t, move on after you’re forced to say goodbye to your baby girl. What’a they always say?    ‘   Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children.   ’    Your stomach churns, heart breaks, and your soul’s destroyed forever. People just don’t come back from that. I’d catch glimpses of her. Right smack in the middle of the day, I’d hear her laugh or squeal and race to the other room. only to stumble upon emptiness.    nothing.    Little, every day sounds would strike me down with a memory. The jingle from Don’s Drug Store   ( ‘It’s one Sugar Daddy, mom never has to know!’ ),   Cash’s voice on the radio   ( ‘I’m gon’ marry him someday, Daddy, just like you ‘n’ mommy. Call me Mrs. Johnny Cash!’ ),   hell, even the church bell   ( ‘Does God really forgive, Daddy?’ ).   But, that’s what happens when you go lookin’    —    you’re bound to find somethin’. I found distractions over the years. God’s helping hand and all that shit. I threw myself into church but felt like a big ol’ fraud.    ‘God’s Plan’    was such bull, but I kept goin’. Kept listening and hoping to hear somethin’. That gaping hole only became scar tissue when Felicity Cross stumbled into that barn. My saving grace, I always say. Who knew a wail in a storm could be a glimmer of hope in all that darkness? I still see her sometimes. And, still, it’s the littlest damn things that can stop me in my tracks. The rays catch ‘im in just the right spot and I’m back sitting at that old kitchen table with my Becky ‘cross me. I ruffle her hair, and Gus smiles back. “You ‘n’ Bec do Pancake Sundays, too?” Gus insists on callin’ her Bec.   as if he’s stealing something from me if he doesn’t.    ‘Becky this, Becky that,’    I go on and on. A damn parrot about everything else, he never repeats the nickname. She’s Bec.   I know he’s been itchin’ to ask the question. That pursed lip routine does nothing. Gussy’s as transparent as they come. He asks with that quiet tone. bites his lip to keep from saying anything more. I know an apology sits on his tongue. But I also know my voice in his head is tellin’ him to    ‘soldier on.’    that he can’t take back something once it’s said out right. Be a big boy and    think    before speakin’ or don’t open ya’ damn mouth at all. I gotta say, he’s getting better at chewing before he spits. Becky was a waffle girl.   but Waffle Wednesday was Al’s tradition. We were all Pie Fridays.    Apple pie for the apple of my eye.    Al thought it was the corniest shit I’d ever thought up.    ‘If that black-eye’d and leather-clad road rat could see himself now?’    She’d chuckle, tickle my beard, and kiss me. I’ve loved all versions of   my Alice,   but I think I missed the jokester most of all. She surrendered that magical laugh after Becky.    allowed grief to steal ‘n’ swallow. “No, my boy.” I chew the bit o’ pancake and smile. “Sundays are all yours — Ours.” Augustus Sue.   Gus.   Gussy.   my boy. Becky was my heart.    He’s my light.

[real-life-umaru]

April 7th

Today's sunday and we're almost done with the first week of April.

I attended Church, went home and had a full course meal for brunch; watched Fight For My Way, took a shower then slept the whole day again. I've been trying to sleep a lot in the weekends. I don't really get enough sleep during the weekdays since I have to work the next day. My sleeping hours range from 4-5 hours every night so you could say I needed the extra sleep on the weekends.

Btw, me and my boyfriend woke up at 8 am and missed our plan to go out for badminton. Didn't get to go to the gym either. To make it up, tomorrow I'll wake up extra early to do some stretches and self work out. I really hope I can be as consistent as I can be with journaling. Can you believe I've been journaling for 7 days straight?

Anyway, tomorrow's a new day and it's a new week! I honestly want to take an extra day off since it's a holiday on tuesday and wednesday, but I have deadlines to meet. Hopefully I can get things done and enjoy the upcoming extra days to rest!!!

[ahopkins1965]

What Does the Bible Say About Controlling Your Emotions!! By Anthony Hopkins

Proverbs 16:32 and Controlling Your Emotions!!

He that is slow to anger is better than the mighty: and He that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh a city. I want to start things off by inquiring about you.

I would like to ask all of you. How are you doing today? Fine, I hope. I want to inform all of you that emotions are universal feelings; such as love, hate, or fear. As for me, I have been feeling elated as of late. I am happy because today is my sister’s birthday. She just turned 56 years old today.

Although she is no longer with us, I am very happy to celebrate her birthday as if she is still existing on earth. I miss my sister a whole lot. I miss all of my family members: even though we do not seek one another all of the time. My universal feelings as of late consisted of melancholy. I know that I have faith in God, I tend to ponder a whole lot about my past.

Next, I want to inform all of you that I have been trying to keep my emotions in check by reading the Bible, praying every single day, and attending church on a regular basis.

I am happy because I have a daily reprieve from God. I am happy to be alive. I am a 58-year-old man, who has common sense. I am a very intelligent man, who is highly educated. I will admit that I am a person who has a lot on my mind.

Further, I want to say that God knows all of our feelings as well as how long we are going to live on earth. According to Psalms 139:16 Thine Eyes saw my substance being yet unborn, and Thine saw everything inside of thine Book. You saw me before I was born, and you have ordained the days fashioned for me before I was born.

Moreover, I want to inform all of you that God knows all things and It is Him, who knows all things. I know that God knows how long I am going to live, and He knows what I am doing each day of the week.

In Addition, I want to inform all of you that God’s Son Jesus Christ is my personal savior. I have been a Born-Again Christian since Sunday February 15, 2015. I have been saved for only 8 years now. I am very honest and truthful in my manner and speech. What Does it Mean to Control My Emotions? It means that we have to stay all prayed up and learn how to govern our emotions by doing what is right in the eyes of God.

Finally, I want to say to everyone that God Loves You!! God Bless All of You!! I have been keeping my emotions in check since Wednesday May 2, 1990. This is how long I have been clean and sober from drugs and alcohol. As far as my emotions are concerned, I have had an above average attitude about all of the things that are in my midst. I also realize that I am only a vapor that exists for a short period of time and then vanishes.

In Conclusion, I want to say that I have both good and bad days, but as long as God has me inside of His Hands; I will endure and survive as long as He wants me to. God is in control of everything that exists in our lives. May the Lord God Bless All of You!! Please learn to control your emotions!!

[robertlaskarzewski]

Nineteenth

Sunday, I got my first chance to really see the city of Toulon by myself. Unfortunately, almost everything seemed to be closed on Sundays and I could hardly find anything that was open. Not willing to accept defeat, I decided to go and visit one of the beaches of Toulon and lounge around for a little. From my understanding, the beach I went to had sand that was artificial as normally, it's just a beach of pebbles and stones. The weather was very agreeable, and it seemed like that's where most in the city had gone to for the weekend.

On Monday, I was off from volunteering technically, however, I had been invited to join the team at Le Rocher for a soccer game against another volunteer organization (of which I don't know the name of). The match was fun, but it was really a bit too warm to be playing soccer outside. Nonetheless, I still enjoyed myself and playing with the kids and other volunteers.

On Tuesday, I arrived at my organization in the morning to find everyone packing for what seemed to be a picnic or lunch of some sort. While this confused me a little bit, I didn't ask any questions and just got into the van with the other volunteers. After fifteen minutes of driving, I looked over to my director's phone and saw we still had another 45 minutes left until our destination (which I still didn't know).

Slowly the scenery changed into a more rural and hill-y environment until we finally arrived at a secluded hill with a church at its summit. After the other volunteers had partaken in a brief religious session, we left to go on a hike to a monastery on a 7 km round trip hike. I enjoyed the scenery, but the lack of wind made the hike slightly difficult. After getting back, we had our typical session for homework help that the organization offers every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.

On Wednesday, we had an outing with some of the kids to go to the beach. Unfortunately, it was difficult to keep control over the kids as they seemed to feel that once they were in public, they were no longer under our jurisdiction. Later, we played soccer back near the building where we stay at and welcomed a new volunteer.

Thursday, it seemed like all we did was various meetings along with the typical homework session. I was a little frustrated in the morning because I arrived (early) and waited 20 minutes before receiving a call that they would be starting later than usual that day. I'm sure I had probably been told peripherally about this detail but I had clearly missed the memo.

Friday, I had some more meeting time about various random logistical things and further planning for the organization later in the month and rest of Summer. We also hosted a large lunch at our organization's location because we had been the host location for a training session for various members of the organization. And, as usual, we finished the day with our session with the kids to help them with their schoolwork.

Saturday, we had a rather uneventful day. In the morning we handed out coffee/tea on the street to anyone passing by (that wanted it. We had far fewer passersby than the previous week's session. Later, we were slotted to do a hike up one of the nearby mountains, but this ended up being cancelled due to some light rain earlier in the day.

[bethelgroup]

Discipling What’s Missing

Before Jesus left this earth, he gave a pretty clear directive: go and make disciples. Sure, there’s a lot more depth to that passage, but that’s the headline. Just like Chevrolet makes automobiles, just like McDonald’s makes hamburgers, and just like Dr Pepper makes a perfectly balanced 23-flavor drink, Christians make disciples. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve heard people list off what to look for in someone that you might disciple. Honestly, I’ve searched out those lists because I wanted to spend my time strategically.

These lists usually go something like this: find someone who is teachable, available, and faithful. We wouldn’t say this out loud, but it practically boils down to, “grab the best Christian you can find and make them a better Christian.” Quite frankly this always bothered me, and I wasn’t able to figure out why until I stumbled across a poem by Rumi, a 13th century Sufi mystic. Here’s part of what he wrote:

“I’ve said before that every craftsman searches for what’s not there to practice his craft.   A builder looks for the rotten hole where the roof caved in. A water carrier picks the empty pot. A carpenter stops at the house with no door.   Workers rush toward some hint of emptiness, which they then start to fill. Their hope, though, is for emptiness, so don’t think you must avoid it. It contains what you need!” [1]

As Christians, disciple-making is our craft. Why on earth then would we seek out the best Christians to make them better? That would be the equivalent of a painter sitting down and painting over an existing picture instead of starting with a blank canvas. Just as a builder looks for a hole, we should seek to disciple the people that most need Jesus. It’s not as easy, and you won’t get to take credit for mentoring an already strong Christian, but I think that’s what Jesus would have done. After all, didn’t he say that God was like a shepherd that would leave 99 sheep safely behind while he sought out the missing one? And if I remember correctly, Jesus didn’t pick his disciples from the cream of the crop; he sat down to eat with folks that the religious leaders wouldn’t go near.

I’ll tell you how I identify people to disciple. I lead a small group (for high school students) on Sunday nights, I open my house for them to hang out on Wednesday nights, and periodically I invite people to join me in what I’m already doing – like watching a movie. All I do is invite people and I watch to see who shows up consistently. Typically, that’s not the kids who are running after Jesus, it’s the ones running away from dysfunction at home or in other parts of their lives. It’s kind of like Jesus sitting by a well and waiting for someone to show up who desperately needs to draw water at an odd time because she’s the talk of the town.

The way I see it, if you’re serious about following Jesus, there’s a million and one online resources to help. You’ll probably also hear some useful stuff in church every Sunday. Rather, it’s the person who’s angry at God or doesn’t understand how He’s relevant that demands my attention. It’s the sheep missing from the flock, the coin that’s disappeared, the Peter who’s gone back to fishing after his world came crashing down.

Hear me clearly, I am not saying that we need to neglect the people faithfully involved in our churches. Jesus’ parable of the Lost Sheep did not say that the shepherd left 99 sheep to starve to death! He left them safely on a hill, knowing that they needed less of his time while he devoted his energy to searching out the lost sheep. Likewise, when it comes to disciple making, we ought to balance our time and energy, devoting our craftsmanship where it can do the most good.

[1] Rumi. “Craftsmanship and Emptiness.” The Essential Rumi. Edited by Coleman Barks, 24. New York: HarperCollins, 1995.

Brooks Hamon is the Content Director for NewBreed Training. He lives in Wilmington, North Carolina and has been involved in many types of church plants, from micro to mega churches. Before joining NewBreed, Brooks served church planters at Exponential, creating resources and organizing events for like-minded leaders.

[cloudy-squid]

Right so some Saturday night thoughts that I've been thinking about. Not super explicit but minors be warned I guess. I mention sex and intimacy so use your discretion. Just things that have been rattling about in my brain since I'm still trying to learn me. A lot is going to be in highly gendered language due to context of certain things, please understand I'm very pro use someone's proper pronouns.

I was raised in a super religious conservative family in the south(ew I know), church was every Sunday and Wednesday, listened to conservative news outlets sort of family. As most know, the themes of marriage=children, sex only for kids or for "your husband's pleasure" sort of nonsense. As a little girl of course I played pretend of house and babies. Wanting kids and marriage because that was the only narrative I had.

I think I was 13/14 when I thought to myself that I don't want kids. I don't want marriage. I always felt "off" like something wasn't "right" with me on certain matters like why I couldn't get excited about babies and such. My mom and I babysat for a few months and I remember telling her, don't think this is going to change my mind or activate some maternal part of my brain.

More I learned of myself once I moved out and away the more I understood myself. That I was "normal" and not feeling interested in sexual activities is completely alright. That there wasn't something missing in me.

Cue nowish where I know I'm demisexual and queer and that I'll probably have a once in a lifetime if you will sexual relationship (meaning it would be an one person sort of thing and if we separate or whatever I might not be interested in pursuing someone new) and would probably maybe only have sex under the right circumstances (I feel safe and secure with this person with my body and emotions and know that they could understand me as I try to understand them) and it would take a lot for me to try to see if I'm comfortable with it.

On sex, I read things with plot and with plenty of sex but it only appeals if there's some emotional connection/value to it and even then it has to be intimate.

Forehead touches will always be so powerful and heart-rending to me than kissing(granted certain ships I like kissing are great). But like the idea of intimacy oh that appeals to me.

Knowing someone,touching them, being with them holding them kissing them in a way that works for both of us, I think I could bathe with them if I trusted them like that, drifting off to sleep wrapped in each other sleepy conversations silly looks grocery trips even if it wasn't romantic I think I could honestly be good with living with someone like that. And if all I have in this lifetime is my pets and plants I would still be okay because I can make friends I can be fulfilled in doing anything I enjoy

Do I still want a relationship? Yeah if it works for me. But I'm also only almost 20, I graduate with a certification in something next year, I'll probably be moving next year too. I have so much to enjoy before I would want a relationship. I have so much to help myself with before I would want a relationship so if it works I know I put in work on myself before being with someone.

Queer for me is I like attributes on people. Dicks weird me out the idea of penetration honestly frightens me some. I like body parts. Thighs and forearms make me blush a bit. Eyes and noses.Noses!!! I love noses I think everyone should enjoy their nose. Voices! Hands! Stomach are underrated. They're going to be "slouchy" there's nothing shameful with that and I hate the narrative that there is. I think being with a guy would be a lot of work for me in the sense of (if they posses a dick it would take me time to okay with sexual relationships) and just I hate the narrative of men not helping around the house sort of thing. Masculinity is not bad. There is nothing wrong with being a man or masculine and I know I'm not putting this into the best of words so I apologize. I'm not attracted to gender it's more attraction to attributes and personality and overall vibes. But yeah. I might edit this later for clarification.

I love the idea of intimacy I'm just not the biggest fan of the idea of sex. I don't want kids. I don't hate them I just know I wouldnt be a good parent and it would be so selfish for me to have kids given my genetics and mental health.

Even if all I have is longstanding queer platonic relationships I would enjoy them. I like touch and tenderness and caring with/for people and it doesn't have to be sexual.

Here's to all my fellow ace umbrella people. We're valid. Queers, we're valid. LGBTQIA+ we're valid. Aroaces,valid. Aromantics, valid.