fandomtownies | Entries tagged with $church

The day was finally here.

Fandom appeared to be cooperating: all the evidence of Friday's paint rain had gone away overnight. Envy's team had of course had a plan B about what to do to alter the theming of the wedding ceremony if they hadn't, but they'd been glad to put away the paint cans and just follow plan A instead, as -- well, planned.

So now the inside of Fandom's little church was decked in tasteful white flowers in extravagant numbers, with little bits of greenery to make them really pop. Whichever direction anyone happened to point a camera lens towards, they would always find the background pleasing and elegant. And they should appreciate that, because one person on the team had spent the past two weeks engineering and planning just that.

There was also a string quartet, playing something classical and light as people entered and found their seats.

And, of course, there was a smattering of music reporters sitting in the back, while one of Envy's assistants explained to them with endless patience and a soft, hushed tone that yes, their exclusives were still exclusive and not in conflict with each other when each of them were from a different universe entirely.

Everything was just about ready for the Adams-Wiggin wedding.

[ooc: Open!]

flamesburned

Liz knew that eventually the day of the anniversary would come.

This year made it more difficult with the fact that she was nearly four months pregnant, she was wishing that Prompto could be here with her and that she was also making up for last year. She had to deal with the anniversary of Pittsburgh and that Fandom had decided to throw in a few surprises for her as well with the emotional baggage and fire.

She waited nervously for Steven, even though she did ~~handwavily~~ often go into the Church on a fairly regular basis, she was nervous about going in today but she knew she needed this, she had been in custody last year and hadn’t been able to properly grieve the anniversary of the deaths of her parents and brother last year.

She took several deep breaths, trying to remain calm as she waited.

[Liz is waiting for Steven but the post is open, Liz and Steven’s conversation is NFB please!]

merciful_parable

A week of blessed (perhaps literally, even, though Carter was not the sort to presume that sort of thing) normalcy had left him time to breathe and feel settled in his skin again. It had taken most of the week to sort out the varying messes that the summer had made of the church and now, with the sun shining, and his work for the moment done, he left the doors open and took a seat on the front steps.

There was nothing quite like a good book, nice weather, and oh—

"Hello," he said, smiling at the butterfly that landed on his knee.

Well, maybe he wouldn't get much reading done for a little bit since he didn't dare move too much and dissuade his lovely little visitor from staying…

merciful_parable

Most of Carter's efforts today were in the graveyard.

The church was as clean as he could make it, and while some of the cushions and other textiles still needed repairing, it broke his heart more than a little to think of doing that while leaving the graveyard unattended to.

There was so much weeding to do, which was quite natural, after being left alone so long, but it was the garbage that had either been tossed about by the wind to land on peoples graves (he preferred to think it was this) or had been left deliberately, and carelessly, about that got to him.

So he was out there, cleaning it up, carefully going grave-by-grave to make certain they were all as well maintained as they could be.

Even if their loved ones were gone, after all, someone ought to care about those who'd been left behind.

merciful_parable

While he'd met a number of pleasant people yesterday, Pastor Carter was relieved to spend today in far more familiar environs, despite never having been in this church in particular before. As he bustled about straightening the cushions on the pews, noting which ones would need to be replaced shortly, and then dusting everything in preparation of washing the floors, he felt his equilibrium come back.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, being a teacher. Fjord, despite his fearful appearance, had seemed pleasant enough. Thinking back to the synopsis, Carter chuckled. He would have to find a store, if he were going to supply homemade cookies in class tomorrow.

Goddess, but this place did tend to just throw people into the life of it, didn't it?

rebelseekspizza

Dante hadn't been-- surprised to find himself here, or disoriented. It was Fandom, and even in the island's current state of decline, it was still prone to its tricks.

No, the problem was that he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

After spending most of Saturday milling around, vaguely hoping to bump into anyone he recognized, mostly wishing not to run into anyone at all, he found himself pulled back to this place. The church was in a decidedly better state than he remembered, for sure, but its pews and tower still made a home, of a kind.

And you still got a perfect view from the roof.

Which was where Dante currently was: sitting near the front of the church's roof, keeping an eye on the people of Fandom. A little like normal, except not at all.

[[ open. ]]

rebelscreams.livejournal.com

It had been a long time since Dante had seen the sun come up. So in the youngest hours of the morning, he curled out of his pew-bed and slipped outside, leaping up to the rooftop of the church.

He quickly found himself disappointed. The fog had risen so far that no light passed through, like it had done for years. He could see the planes meshing now, superimposed, the tenuous link between one and the other fortifying.

There were no more blinks. No more glimpses into another world. The church he'd gone to sleep in had been dusty but intact, at least for the short spell before he closed his eyes. Now, the space beside him had the old hole in it again, and half the pews were strewn around the hall inside like there had been a fight (multiple fights) there.

He sighed. Well. So much for that respite.

"G'morning, Cassandra," he said to the stalking, twitching form below, the one that dragged a sword behind her. "Just like clockwork again."

He dangled his feet over the edge of the roof and turned his eyes towards the grim edges of the shanty town in the park. "Let's hope Kathy made it back home okay."

[[ bde day 2! the island's now cut off from the island, the fog is high, and the buildings of Fandom will have twisted into their AU selves. also, monsters. also, open. ]]

no-archangel.livejournal.com

Gabriel chose not to try and explain to himself why he had returned to the place where he had lived through the aftermath of his most humiliating defeat. He was an archangel and had been turned into a monkey, a human. Yes, there had been a lesson to learn from it, and that had stayed with him, but it didn't mean he liked to think of it often.

Cat yawned and found a comfortable spot on one of the pews. She had stayed with him ever since Karal had brought her to Gabriel in this very church, claiming that he needed company. Perhaps he had been right, but Gabriel didn't think of that often either.

He folded his wings, hiding them, and remained perched on one of the beams, like some accidental sculpture.

[Open! Come and chat with the archangel.]

thegreywaren.livejournal.com

It wasn't Sunday but Ronan was at church. He didn't know why or even how long he'd stay but being here, sitting in the pews made him feel closer to Mathew, at least for a moment. His brother, the brother he actually liked, was far away. Happy, cherubic, and a secret like no other. Ronan sighed and looked down at the floor.

There was dirt around his boot and he scuffed it around before getting up and pushing his way outside the church. Once outside, he turned around, taking the church in. Was there a Corpse Walk here too? Did the dead take a final pilgrimage while being watched by Blue and one of her crazy relatives?

Why was he even thinking about that? It was all shit. Just shit. Unbelievable shit. Ronan growled low in his throat and clenched his fists. Anger, his constant companion.

"Fuck you," he snarled, saying the words to no one in particular. He just had to get it out there. Tell the world. "I wish I had a drink right now."

When Ronan turned to go, he nearly tripped over a cooler. That hadn't been there when he'd arrived. Carefully, he kicked the cooler open with a boot and found it stocked full with beer. Ronan...laughed. If anyone heard that and brought it up, he'd punch them.

Right now, he was going to grab a beer, close the cooler and sit down right outside the church and have a drink. Maybe this day wouldn't be as terrible as it'd had seemed a few minutes ago. Maybe he'd drink enough to forget Mathew.

Maybe he'd dream.

[ Open ]

Current Mood: pissed off

she-neversleeps.livejournal.com

It would be nice if the team of volunteers who'd taken off for Ingvar were heading unopposed, but nice didn't describe most of the spectres who'd infested the island this week. It definitely didn't apply to the ones who'd been hiding in the Town Hall, spying on their plans. Samara, for instance, had no intention of letting them shut down her source of freedom and toss her back into her cold, dark pit, and she'd broadcast that fact to any ghost on the island who'd listen. They might all be out for themselves, but an army of angry spirits each fighting to protect their own interests -- whether to preserve their well of dark power or to escape in the stolen bodies of the living -- was still an army of angry spirits.

[OOC: The first post, for all your ghost-fighting, possessed-people-herding, sheltering on Holy Ground needs. A post for the Strike Team's adventure, the Kitchen Sink spell, and aftermath will be coming along later!]

she-neversleeps.livejournal.com

Samara had been having the time of her death in Fandom. Free to wander this island, pour her fear and anger directly into people's heads without waiting for a tape to get passed around, drive a horse insane (Though sadly not into the ocean. Yet.) and show up to torment her victims in person even before their seventh-day moment of death had arrived, she'd been as close to happy as a spirit composed entirely of misery, abandonment and rage could ever manage.

Until she'd tried to follow that woman. The one with the coffee-shop apron who'd made the mistake of spending her lunchbreak on Wednesday eating free popcorn, and spent the last three days picking centipedes out of the espresso beans and dreaming of burning trees. The one who Samara had hoped was heading for Galactica Point to throw herself off when she rushed out into the streets babbling about how there had to be a way to end this, but no. Instead, she had run to the church.

Where Samara -- rage as much as she liked, throw as much water at the doors as she could suck up from the nearby sea or down from the sky -- could not get in.

That localized thunderstorm over the graveyard? Pardon the psychic, psychotic, demon ghost eight-year-old. She's having a bit of a tantrum.

[OOC: Church is open for sanctuary or for anybody who needs to discover that it is sanctuary. Graveyard is open for any evil spirits who want a place to meet and plot.]

flickofthewrist

Flick couldn't remember the last time he'd been in a church. Maybe it'd been around the time Jude had died in an attempt to find solace somehow or maybe it had been longer than that. He didn't know and right now, it didn't matter. He wasn't there for him.

When he stepped inside, he took a moment to close his eyes, breathe deep, and let it out before moving again. He took careful, measured steps while he walked, not wanting to disturb anything or anyone who might be nearby or doing what you typically did inside a church.

Flick was there for one person. Well, two people, actually. In front of him was a large display of candles and, after a moment, he lit one in Max's memory. He remembered Isabelle telling him about their beliefs once and he figured this was the closest he'd come, without being in Idris, to mourning Isabelle's younger brother.

Once the candle was lit, Flick just stared at it for awhile. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, Max," he murmured very quietly. "I'm so sorry and I hope you're not scared wherever you are. If you are, look up my brother, okay? He'll help you out."

He tried to smile but it was strained before he turned away from the candles and took a seat in one of the pews. He'd just stay there for awhile and sit quietly. Seemed like a good plan.

[Open if anyone's in the church this early, sure]

Current Mood: sad

craftyladyparts.livejournal.com

Oh, like it was any surprise that this version of Jessica was volunteering at the church.

She knew her creator, of course, and he was an evil man, using the beauty of science to warp the will of the Heavenly Creator, who loved her and blessed her life here on this Earth. Whichever Earth this was. And so on and so forth.

She attended the service - which was a little disappointing because the minister seemed to be more into today's music than Jessica remembered and he somehow did a sermon based on Kanye lyrics, which seemed inappropriate, even if the story of Jesus Walks was inspirational - and then got a table set up for coffee, juice, and water, just in case anyone wanted to mingle afterwards.

[OOC: Open to any churchgoers, with warning that I'll be off and on all day.

Please note, all I really know about the story of Jesus Walks is what I read on Wikipedia two seconds ago.]

solo_sword

There wasn't a ton of time to clean everything up after Cade's funeral, but the time for grieving had come and gone and now it was time for a wedding! In the same place where a teenger had just been eulogized! Happy times!

The place was done up all pretty, because even if it was Jaina's- ...third? Fifth? Who really kept track of these things anymore- wedding, Skywalkers spared no expense.

You were free to place bets on what was going to happen this time.

[Yes, another wedding! Open to all!]

bluhblahbluh.livejournal.com

Portalocity had no connections to Drac's Transylvania for at least two weeks. And this was even after he both attempted to bribe and threaten the person.

If there was no way to get back to the sanctuary that was the Hotel Transylvania, then Dracula would create a sanctuary here... And what better place than the church?

And so here he was. Somehow he had managed blankets, food, and drinks inside, so if anyone wandered by or happened to avail themselves of the New-U station outside the church, there was respite and safety for them inside these grounds.

[open!]

givehimahand.livejournal.com

Father Lannister lit the candles at the alter of the church, looking up soulfully at some spot somewhere up near the ceiling. Because it was just something you did when you were alone in the church.

Or when you had a past that might make your career as a priest meant as atonement.

On the plus side, he looked amazing in that priest collar. So. There was that. Which was nice.

[[SO OPEN]]

doesntbetray.livejournal.com

It was really not a good idea for Alec to be out today. The last two times he'd gone out, after all, he'd wound up injured. He did not really want to go for a third here.

But detention was being stormed tomorrow, and as a Shadowhunter Alec had access to a resource that a lot of the mundanes in the Resistance didn't: holy weapons caches.

So -- carefully this time, and glamoured -- he made his way from his hideout in the warehouse district all the way over to the island's sole church, where he waited until the coast was clear before approaching the door. He pressed a Marked hand to the door and quickly murmured the appropriate request for passage -- "In the name of the Clave, I ask entry to this holy place. In the name of the Battle That Never Ends, I ask the use of your weapons. And in the name of the Angel Raziel, I ask your blessings on my mission against the darkness" -- and then slipped inside.

Now to find the weapons cache.

[[open i guess, if you want to have seen him entering (if you can see through glamours) or have any business in the church? request for passage above taken from city of bones by cassandra clare, obviously. resistance broadcast only, please!]]

multi-madrox.livejournal.com

While the weddings of the century shook the island, this one was only to be a quiet ceremony. One full of love and caring... and no drama.

Yeah. Right.

knight-fatali.livejournal.com

Seifer was at the church again, as he was supposed to be. There was to be a small morning service, and then he would be present at the church all day. He had much to pray and ask forgiveness for.

Seifer had a feeling that yesterday's slow run on weddings was a one-off.

He had cleaned the church, removing all traces of yesterday's ...indiscretions. It was once again a place of holy worship.

[ocd a go]

knight-fatali.livejournal.com

Seifer had spent that morning getting the church in order, and this evening he was there again. Right there, in the front, kneeling down and praying with his rosary in hand. He was praying that the Lord would forgive him for the lust and depravity that this town brought into his mind. It was just so hard to resist sometimes, and he needs his God's love and guidance to do so.

Not that his focus on his own troubles would stop him from helping anyone who came through the doors. He was there to serve. Whether it be to calm a troubled soul, ease a hurting heart, or perform a marriage ceremony or two.

It seemed Fandom was rather obsessed with marriages.

[Yep, open post for you all]

timedemon.livejournal.com

A ladder would probably be the last thing someone with a pair of wings would really need when dusting out the hard to reach rafters of the main hall of the church, but Chrono was definitely having to use one. The wings would be really handy if he should fall (or, as he might expect to happen, someone in tight red pajamas might take to knocking the ladder over), but, unfortunately, actually using them to get up there would require his powers. And that was just out of the question for cleaning.

Ah, well. Who else was going to dust way up here? Who else was really going to notice? It was something to do and that was the important part.

[[ open church is open! ]]

notlikejack.livejournal.com

A near constant in the past twenty years for Bobby was church on Sunday. The past ten or so had made Sundays the busiest day of his week, and while he supposed he could have gone off-island to continue that trend, he felt called instead to the old stone church on the island.

It wasn't nearly appropriate to celebrate a Eucharist in a church he was neither installed in or invited to, but that never had seemed to matter at Fandom, and after saying his own prayers, Bobby found himself moving through the liturgy, partially out of habit and partially because it felt very - and oddly - right.

He wasn't sure the last time the Eucharist had been celebrated in this church - and Bobby was pretty certain that it probably had not been celebrated recently with an overly large cinnamon roll he'd gotten from J,GoB before he realised where he was going to end up. His priest tools had wine and holy water, but Bobby had a dislike of those wafers that could last a thousand years and never packed them. So this very Fandom service had wine and cinnamon roll. It seemed appropriate.

[OOC: Open church! In the OCD threads, there's a bit of the sermon Bobby would give so would that be offensive to you, do be aware when you click]

timedemon.livejournal.com

Having little else to do, really, Chrono had decided he should take on a particularly daunting task to help with the maintenance of the church, and that task today wound up being scrubbing the floors. Bucket, check. Scrub brush, check. Incredibly large floor in need of some elbow grease, check.

He realized, of course, that there were much easier ways to do this. Mopping, for example, or even those machines with steam and scrubbers and everything. But the point wasn't that the work was easy; the point was that it was hard. It was penance. It was work. It was exhausting enough that, by the end of the day, he would be tired enough to actually sleep and not be kept awake through dreams.

He doubted anyone would come in, but, just in case, he put up yellow signs warning them of the wet floor with a note requesting that, if they could, to please walk along the spots he hadn't gotten yet.

[[ open for all your churchly needs! ]]

timedemon.livejournal.com

Chrono had noticed that there were a few cushions on a few pews that were in need of some new upholstery, so guess who had a project to keep him busy this Tuesday.

He sighed, taking up his needle and thread, and thought to himself: so this is eternity.

But it still beat nothingness.

[[ open church is open ]]

timedemon.livejournal.com

Timing had been an interesting factor in Chrono's return to the island, and now he was realizing that there was another benefit in his timing: the students and faculty were off on their trip, and so the entirely place was quiet and free of the threat of more random punches to the face. That meant Chrono could get a lot of work done and, by Thursday he stood in center of the church, looking around at all the cleaning he had been doing, and allowed himself a faint smile of satisfaction at his work.

Of course, a few minutes later, he'd notice the quiet, and the silence would start to wrack uneasily on his spine, and he sucked in a breath.

He picked up a bucket. Time to wash the windows. Again.

Being immortal was so incredibly exhausting.

[[ open church is open, naaaatch! ]]

timedemon.livejournal.com

Time was relative. It could have been a few years since the last time Chrono had opened these doors; it could have been almost a century. Either way he would chose to look at it, it felt almost like an eternity.

A lot had changed. About the island. About Chrono himself. He found himself at the familiar causeway wondering if he'd even found the right place, but, no, this was definitely it. As he started toward the streets, he realized his feet were moving still down familiar paths, almost moving on their own, until the graveyard came into view and the church that sat along beside it. He found with some gratitude and bittersweet pleasure that the door didn't squeak or creak or groan in complaint as he pushed it opened and stepped into the familiar building. He was almost overwhelmed with the sanctity of it, the stillness of it, the quietness, remembering another small chapel where the light streamed through the doors and...

Chrono closed his eyes. He wasn't going to think about it. He was just going to take a moment, let it sink in, and then get to the really important part. Making sure his church (err...the church) hadn't fallen to pieces in the handful of years he'd been gone, and then to see if the room underneath the stairs was still there. And not cluttered with storage.

[[ bweeee, post! Definitely open! ]]

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