#so every year on Holy Thursday I imagine sitting with him in that cell and praying with him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ah-bright-wings · 8 months ago

Text

Sound - A Triduum Story

Malchus can feel the heavy gazes of the others. He ignores them. His own eyes are pinned to the door they guard, listening to the drip of water condensing and dropping onto the floor. There is no rain, but the air is damp, as if the heavens are drawing out the wet stores of the earth in preparation for a storm.

Customarily, the chill would make him wish for his bed. He’d grumble with his fellows about the weather, about the work, peppering complaints with a few stout curses. But there is no discussion tonight. Malchus sits hunched forward, forearms braced on his thighs, and he waits.

What are they waiting for?

Cold fingers touch the lobe of his left ear. He turns to see Jesse, who’d touched him, withdrawing, fingers curling into his palm. The apology is gruff. “Just wanted to see.”

That’s a lie, thinks Malchus, turning back to the door. They’ve already seen tonight. What’s left is to believe.

Malchus doesn’t ask permission before he rises, taking the flask which hangs on a wall hook, and the keys there beside it. The eyes of the others follow. He unlocks the door and slips in, shutting it behind, and then pauses, palm flat on the wood. He takes a breath.

Drip.

The Nazarene’s hands are chained so that he must stand. His head bows, forehead resting against the bruised back of his right hand. He lifts himself when Malchus enters. His lips, which had been moving silently, still.

Malchus holds out the flask. Then, as an embarrassing afterthought—the man is in chains—he uncorks it.

“It’s just water,” he assures when the man doesn’t move to drink. He tips the flask close enough to meet the cracked lips. The Nazarene swallows twice and then pulls back, chains jingling. His face is wet. Tears, Malchus thinks, until he hears the drip of water dropping onto the man’s head. It slides down his temple and dirty cheek, carving a clean track through the crust. Malchus re-corks the flask.

It’s not quite fear that he feels. He had felt fear on his knees in Gethsemane, blood down his neck and a howl on his tongue. The world was silent, then, and shrieking, dizzy with pain and the terror of new loss. When strong hands cupped his face, he clung to them. He grabbed hold of words he could not hear but lips he could see moving, breath he could feel on his face, brown eyes he could see.

And then, he could hear.

It was as if he’d never before heard sound, not true sound, but only echos, half-formed, half-heard, until that very moment when he heard truly. Each noise was crisp and new. Around him were the night birds stirring in the trees, the puffed breath of the disciples, the crackle of licking flame, the creak of leather belts. He heard them all, and he hasn’t stopped hearing since. Creation is vibrating, uncountable voices overlapping in the same tremulous song. Even the breeze seems to have a voice, and the water running on stone. Even his own heartbeat. They cry out when the rest of the world is silent.

“What did you do to me?” Malchus asks, voice barely above a whisper, for everything is new and he cannot make sense of it.

The Nazarene’s smile isn’t mocking. It’s as quiet as his voice, and it crinkles the corner of his good eye. “I know how long you’ve waited to hear.”

They’ve never met, of course. Of course not. This man doesn’t know him. How could he? Malchus has taken great pains to hide his gradual loss of sound. Each year, the muffle covers his ears a little more, stealing his senses, deadening the world to him. If he misses a call, he plays it off. If he cannot hear his wife calling, he feigns captivation by his task. He does it well, he thinks, well enough. Perhaps his wife suspects. But only he knows, only he and his God. And this backwater Nazarene with an accent pulled from Galilee’s fishing waters—because Malchus can hear the accent now—cannot know Malchus. How could he? No, he does not.

But he knows.

Malchus is sure, standing before this man who made him more than whole, that he is known. Known, and known truly. And here stands Malchus, his jailer. His enemy.

“How could you know?” he asks, eyes searching the Nazarene’s. The water drips, drips. A rat scritches at a bit of stone. “I can’t do anything for your case. They’re bringing you to Pilate.” His grip tightens on the flask—his only offering—and the stale water it holds. The words pour out of him. “I’m a guard. They told us to go, so we went. I had no stake in it, see? See, we were told to go. I was told to go. I never intended—”

“Malchus,” the man says softly, almost fondly, as if he is interrupting a brother and not one walking him to his death. “Will you pray with me?”

The request startles Malchus out of his own thoughts. He pauses, wary of some trick. Without meaning to, his hand rises to touch the warm outer shell of his ear, tracing the connecting point between the cartilage and his skull. There’s not even a seam to show where it had been severed.

Mouth dry, Malchus finally nods, and the Nazarene closes his good eye. The water slides again down his temples. His words fill the damp space, and Malchus recognizes them at once, joining the recitation:

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,

and naked shall I return.

The Lord gave—”

The man breathes in, and Malchus breathes with him.

“—and the Lord has taken away;”

Their breath stirs the stale air of the room. All has finally gone quiet. The Nazarene opens his eye and tips his head to look up, past the stone roof, past the courtyard and the trembling earth, to the heavens, spread out over them like a tent. The water no longer falls. The rat is silent.

“Blessed be the name of the Lord,” he says.

#not art #triduum #writing #holy week reflection #I think a lot about Jesus in the cell on Holy Thursday night #He had been abandoned and beaten and betrayed #so every year on Holy Thursday I imagine sitting with him in that cell and praying with him #But last year I was in a rough place and felt trapped in my own failings and habitual sin #and as I was sitting in the pew and feeling so pathetic and weak and like I had let Jesus down #I heard him tell me “Tonight I'll come sit in your own cell with you.”#so if any of you are feeling trapped this year or like you've failed at your faith #Just know that Jesus will come sit in your cell with you no matter what it is #He'll just sit with you and quietly love you #also I feel like Jesus was thinking of all people suffering from insomnia when he was in that cell. they must have been on his heart

45 notes · View notes

trekraider · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss me like the final meal

Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Crawly is in a garden. Not just any garden, but The Garden. The very first garden. Hell has sent him to do a quick temptation, and it was almost too easy. As though it was meant to happen. He slithers up the wall and at its apex is almost blinded by the view. The sun is glinting on the sand and searing his eyes, and beside him stands a being of the most intense light he’s ever witnessed. But he has been fooled by beauty and golden locks before, and he knows better than to trust an angel.

“Didn’t you used to have a sword?” Crawly asks, the first chapter in their story. The rest is history, though butchered by the words of mankind.

He meets Aziraphale again, having grown fond of his own human form, and now his name is Crowley. No longer bent and forced down in supplication, not grovelling on the floor for those who see themselves superior. He is Crowley, and he’s been waiting to see Aziraphale for years.

Their paths intersect in a crowd, animals and humans paired off two by two, and at the front of a barricade separating the species is a lone figure with glowing platinum hair. Crowley moves towards him, two by two, and slots himself at the Angel’s side. They wait for the storm.

Centuries pass before they run into each other again. Crowley sports a new haircut and his amber slit eyes are covered with dark lenses. It’s completely by chance, but Crowley gets this niggling feeling in his stomach at the thought of leaving. And then the Angel offers a temptation to him and his heart stutters in his chest. It’s quickly covered up and Aziraphale corrects himself, but Crowley feels drawn to him.

Crowley starts keeping tabs on Aziraphale - as much as he can without drawing suspicion from the Higher Ups and the Lower Downs. There is a revolution going on and it’s the perfect place for Crowley to find himself, amidst all the chaos, yet Aziraphale is there too and with his forked tongue he can taste that something has gone awry. He finds him in a cell awaiting execution, and that just won’t do.

He freezes time around them, and behind Aziraphale tries to make himself look as nonchalant as possible. The Angel turns and says his name, his name, the chosen one that not even hell honors, and it melts something inside of him. He scoffs at Aziraphale’s excuses, plays up the demon act just enough to deter questions about his conveniently timed appearance, and gives into the hope that this time an angel won’t hurt him.

The Arrangement is so organic between them, and their run-ins change from coincidence to a steady routine. Clandestine meetings in parks, on buses, and soon enough Aziraphale is inviting him to his bookshop.

Crowley feels his guard coming down, his walls caving, and after enough drinks he tests the waters and lets Aziraphale see his eyes again. It’s the most stark representation of his true nature, of what lurks within, and Aziraphale never shies away. Crowley realises that Aziraphale accepts him, wholly and without desire to change him.

And by then he’s forced to admit he’s falling in an entirely new way.

The fantasies started at least a thousand years ago, and not much about them has changed since they first came to him in the recesses of night, save for Aziraphale’s appearance and his latest gourmand proclivities. Crowley doesn’t hunger and doesn’t crave food. Not until he sees flecks of it dusting Aziraphale’s lips, rivulets of syrups and cocktails and other delightful concoctions dripping from him.

As a demon, you would expect his mind to be laced with sinful, lustful images in this moment. Aziraphale sits across from him, one hand neatly folded in his lap while the other dips a spoon into a shallow ceramic bowl filled with chilled cucumber soup. Aziraphale raises it to his rosy lips and purses them as the cold liquid slips in, satisfaction dripping from him with a pleased moan as he wiggles in his seat.

And Crowley is, as always, transfixed at the motion, the well-practiced puckering of his mouth. But instead of thoughts of ravishing, all he thinks of is Aziraphale's lips on his. Other demons would certainly laugh at him for wanting something so tender, almost holy in its nature, but he can't help it. And so he watches. It's become his favourite hobby, his obsession.

Crowley’s mind is consumed with tasting it all on Aziraphale’s skin, delving his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth to lap up every last trace of flavour until all that’s left is Aziraphale himself. He wants to remove every unworthy morsel that gets to luxuriate in Aziraphale’s mouth. And then Aziraphale selfishly dabs the remnants away with a serviette.

It gets worse after the bomb drops, and then comes to a rolling stop. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.” He retreats. He feels disgusting, predatory, and doesn’t see Aziraphale again for a while.

It’s a Tuesday, which is nothing special in and of itself, but Crowley and Aziraphale are together again. Well, dining together, as they do for almost every meal lately with trouble looming on the horizon and who knows how much time they have left.

It’s the only time Crowley really humours that oh-so-mortal necessity, and if he’s being honest - which he compulsively is around Arizaphale (just not always out loud) - he still wouldn’t mind being together in other ways too.

Crowley sips gingerly from his own teacup, the closest he'll get to eating today. The noise of food distracts too much from Aziraphale, unsettling crunching and munching and saliva-slick chewing like cud. He drinks Aziraphale in with his eyes, and it's all the sustenance he needs.

The corners of Aziraphale's mouth quirk and Crowley watches his lips form his name, and then again, which sends a tingle up his curved spine. It takes a third concerned Crowley, dear for him to snap back to attention and look Aziraphale in the eyes.

"Hm? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was asking if you'd like to go for a stroll after lunch."

Walking makes it much harder for Crowley to watch Aziraphale, but it's closer than having a table between them and that's something he will always be amenable to. "Where to?" He asks, not that the destination matters because he would follow Aziraphale anywhere.

It’s a random Thursday after the not-Apocalypse and this time Crowley is alone in his vast apartment. Away from the forces of hell and their energy, his anger has dissipated. His plants grow just as well, as vibrant and luscious as ever. Though they still tremble out of muscle memory, Crowley hasn't yelled at them in weeks.

He waters them with flowing wrist movements, more akin to a barista making patterns in foam than a demon doing, well, anything. It’s methodical, meditative. And it’s the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Crowley is in a self-imposed exile. He feels on the verge of making a mistake, of slipping up in front of Aziraphale. His gaze has been too intense as of late and he needs these moments of privacy to centre himself before their meals, their jaunts, their too-late-in-the-night drinks in the bookshop.

He puts the watering can away and drapes himself over the charcoal sheets of his bed, smooth and slippery as his own true skin. Crowley drags his hands down his face, covering his eyes as he rubs the inner duct with his fingers, and then ghost over his mouth. His thoughts are back to Aziraphale. Damn it. (Bless it?)

He holds his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, playing with the delicate, pliable skin, and wonders again what Aziraphale would be like. Crowley imagines carding his fingers through Aziraphale’s lamb-soft hair and capturing his mouth. He wants to feel teeth on his skin and to open the Angel’s mouth with his long tongue, to utterly devour him.

But his mind never strays from Aziraphale’s mouth, never ventures away from the plumpness of those lips. He wants to worship at the throne of them, lay offerings of decadence on an altar to them, and revel in the liturgies they spout. Aziraphale has been the only one to utter kindnesses to him without motive, not once in 6000 years has he demanded anything of Crowley or made him feel lesser than.

He might just die if he doesn’t kiss Aziraphale soon, and that would land him right back on Hell’s doorstep.

Mere hours later, Crowley finds himself back in Aziraphale’s sitting room behind the bookshop. The Angel is pulling out a slate tray piled high with pleasures for his senses: jams, candied walnuts, ripe figs, medjool dates, apple slices, brie, port salut, garlic and herb boursin, smoked gouda with a deep brown rind, ricotta smothered in local honey, and toasted slices of baguette, with a pomegranate, feta, and rocket salad.

He’s careful in his movements and glides effortlessly to place it on the low coffee table, not a single item shifting under his grasp. Crowley sits, restlessly shifting as red zinfandel swirls in his glass and stirs when Aziraphale sits down right next to him, sinking into the plush couch.

Aziraphale cuts a wedge of brie with a slotted knife, and lays it on a slice of toasted baguette with sour cherry jam, and offers it to Crowley who politely declines. It crunches under Aziraphale’s teeth and he breathes out a sigh of relief as he chews. His tongue darts out to collect the crumbs and Crowley is captivated by it.

Crowley waivers for a moment, then gives in. “Actually, can I-,” he’s surprised at himself for even considering it, but he needs the distraction and it would feed his fantasies for another decade. “I’d like to try a piece. Whichever is your favourite.” Whichever tastes most like you, he means.

Aziraphale inclines his head. Crowley rarely ever does more than drink in his presence, but ever the gracious host Aziraphale moves to select the proper cheese. “I dare say I can’t really pick a favourite of these,” his eyes flicker back to Crowley, curious, and ultimately he decides to play it safe with a cube of the smoked gouda. “This, um, this is a Dutch cheese, wonderful for snacking on if I do say so myself. Sturdy but creamy enough to break away in your mouth, and the darker the rind is the better.” Aziraphale had spent several years in the last century hopping from country to country on the Continent, sampling various wares between bestowing virtues, and became himself quite the connoisseur.

Aziraphale plucks up a cube of the smoked gouda and with a slight tremor raises it up for Crowley to take from him. Instead, Crowley is already leaning forward with his eyes closed and lips parted, patiently waiting, and Aziraphale freezes. He’s never seen Crowley like this before, so exposed and vulnerable to him, at least not while inhabiting a body. Then he continues, afraid he might startle Crowley if he moves too fast.

Crowley’s forked tongue pokes out as though he’s about to receive holy communion, and Aziraphale gently places it down. Crowley is tugging it into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it, but Aziraphale hasn’t let go yet, and suddenly two of his fingers find themselves tucked into a wet heat. The tongue swirls around them and Crowley is astonished that he enjoys the flavour, letting out a shocked moan. Then confusion is crossing his brow at the size and shape of the intrusion, and he opens his eyes wide. Crowley’s jaw goes slack, the forgotten cheese tumbling into his lap, and sputters.

“A- Ange-- Aziraphale, I…” And Crowley doesn’t know what to say, he can’t think. Well no, that’s not true. He can’t think about anything else but the taste of Aziraphale and his mind has stammered as much as his voice. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages in panic.

Aziraphale feels just as nervous, and confused, and… and then his eyes are locked on Crowley’s lips, glistening with saliva, and his own breath starts coming fast. The world fades away and a puzzle piece clicks in his head. This act, this behaviour, he recognises it from all the times he has spent with Crowley, being watched like he is the centre of the universe. “Don’t go,” he asks, pleads, wants.

And Crowley stops.

And Crowley feels himself hoping at the expression he sees mirrored on Aziraphale’s face.

And Crowley waits.

“Why?”

“I love you, Crowley.”

“You’re an Angel,” he says matter-of-factly. “You love everything.”

“But I choose you.”

They meet somewhere in the middle. Aziraphale’s hands are cradling Crowley’s face, and Crowley’s hands are split between Aziraphale’s hair and the top of his shoulder. Their noses touch as they share the same breaths of air, hesitating at the all-too-real feeling of it under their palms.

Crowley’s bottom lip is starting to quiver as he tilts his head, and he fights fights fights against the voice in his head and replaces its words with Aziraphale’s. I love you. He loves you. Not Crawly the underling, the traitor to Heaven, but Crowley the self-named being, the friend.

And Crowley falls, overcome with a love he can at last show. His lips part and he closes the distance between them, melting into Aziraphale and shedding his past. Aziraphale is his future, his present, his everything, and he will devote lifetimes to showing him that.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #dax writes #please read this thank you

23 notes · View notes

diningpageantry · 6 years ago

Text

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215168/chapters/43151156

Chapter 3/10 of It’s A Handheld Disaster

Word Count: 1553

Chapter Summary: Baz takes Simon's shitpost text a step further, and the outcome ends up spreading a few rumors.

SIMON

bi-sammy: sammy would still fuck huxley if he looked like the fish from shape of water

I grin smugly at my screen, sitting in a dark room with nothing shining but my mobile. The shutters stay shut, and the light from the bottom of the doorway barely filters into the room. It’s just me, this scratchy blanket, and Baz, somewhere else in England on another screen. I absolutely adore that.

gaystrell: why would you say something so controversial yet so brave.jpg

Sometimes, I catch myself smiling. Other times, I elect to ignore how real it feels. It’s weird, given that it feels like I’m just chatting with someone who I see everyday. The casualness of this reminds me of texting Penny in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Except, given the current time, it could be interpreted as more intimate than that of a friend’s text.

8am on a Saturday is usually a time reserved for comfort. For staying warm with someone you care about. Instead, I’m just messaging Baz.

bi-sammy: because im right

bi-sammy: hear me out here ive got a brilliant idea

gaystrell: whoever taught you the definition of a brilliant idea was clearly misleading you

bi-sammy: dont be an arse until youve heard it

bi-sammy: wanker

gaystrell: you’re truly proving your point

bi-sammy: ANYWAY

bi-sammy: shape of water au

bi-sammy: thats all

gaystrell: i’m appalled.

gaystrell: hold on.

I don’t think much of it. Occasionally, he disappears for an hour to two. I don’t bother asking, assuming it’s none of my business, but I do tend to worry a bit. I hope he’s alright.

After clicking off my phone, my head settles against my pillow as my eyes fall shut.

There’s something about this. There’s something about him. It’s a bit hard to pinpoint what it is, but the overwhelming feeling of comfort I have in the notifications I get from him just answering my bullshit is incredibly welcomed. He’s semisweet. I don’t know why I didn’t see it earlier, but he’s a fantastically bitter person.

My head slowly turns over, eyes opening and straining in the darkness.

I hate my empty room.

I hate the absence of comfort--I hate the plainness of these walls.

I want to say I hate my foster dad, but I also feel like I’m not allowed to say that. Not because the system will take me again and throw me back (even though I could have left a year back, if I was still in it). Instead, I feel like I shouldn’t hate him. Theoretically, I should be thankful for what I have. I’m not in a boy’s home, and I haven’t been since I was 11, but the remnants remain. The fights don’t go away, and neither do the weeks of starvation.

Still, I sort of despise living here under Davy.

That’s what he makes me call him. His name. His nickname. Not dad; of course not dad. He’s had me in his care for roughly six years, but he’s still Davy to me.

Shitty fucking Davy, with his strict curfews and practically using me as a housemaid because he’s too cheap to care for himself.

Shitty fucking Davy, not letting me add anything to my room because the day I turn 18, I’m out of here until his next kid (and cheque, apparently) come in. Told me I’d wreck the walls and ruin his furniture if I did put anything on it, too.

So that’s what I’ve got. Blank walls, blank furniture, blank everything. It’s like a jail cell for a bedroom, and everything I’ve got to show for myself is in a backpack and two dresser drawers/

But, at least, I own my mobile.

Every summer job, mixed with odds and ends shit and whatever I can do for my bill. It’s all mine, and Davy can’t fucking touch it.

Maybe that’s why, when I feel it buzz against my chest, it makes me feel more alive. It’s a reminder of all that work just to be able to talk to someone freely.

Arguably, the best feeling in the goddamn world.

I grab it and flip it over. It’s just an email about uni.

Fuck.

I end up scrolling through tumblr for a little while, doing nothing but liking and reblogging a thing here or there. It takes a little while before a little drop down falls from the top of my screen.

gaystrell: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r7Wkwj7MSFk0--DgquHGhYVBbqneEYq0J01t0uMRmxA/edit?usp=sharing

gaystrell: feel the need to apologize before you click the link, but then again, you asked for this hell

When I click on it, it pulls up a doc titled just “crackfic”, and I’m floored with the first sentence alone.

“Fuck my fish ass harder, daddy.”

My hand flies up, covering my mouth as I practically wheeze as quietly as possible. A few paragraphs in and I’m nearly crying into my palm, muffling my laughter as I read through pages upon pages of the most ridiculous fic I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.

I check the word count out of pure curiosity, and it somehow makes me laugh harder.

bi-sammy: holy fucking shit

bi-sammy: i swear to god if you don’t post that i will

gaystrell: already in the process of making the archive post

gaystrell: i seriously believe you underestimate my sincere ability to be the biggest dick on the street

bi-sammy: i dont know whether or not u meant that as ur literal dick or the big dick energy in making that a post but id probably agree with you in both

bi-sammy: tag me in the post pls i want to be the first to reblog it

gaystrell: you’re a ridiculous, sad, little man

gaystrell: of course i’ll tag you

Within minutes, it’s uploaded with the absolute worst slew of Archive tags attached to it, and as soon as he tags me in his post, I tap the notification.

Scales, Fins, and other Fishy Daydreams

Word Count: 3,192

Summary: Fish!Huxley and Sam get it on Shape of Water style

@bi-sammy this is your fault (you're welcome)

I immediately slam like and pull up reblog, rapidly typing out my response before posting.

absolute madman. cant believe youve done this. i trust you with my entire life.

As usual, he's quick to reblog back.

anything for the absolute pain in my life x

Smiling shamelessly, I ride on the moment's high as our conversation stays out in the world. I quite enjoy this version of his softness. The public, taunting replies to mine. In all this time of following him, I can't really recall him ever being this friendly with anyone but me.

Makes me feel special. Maybe too much so.

BAZ

The jarring shock of the seemingly endless notifications rattles me momentarily speechless.

It isn't even 15 minutes after I'd replied to Snow and there's already a few people reblogging it with comments about him and I. A quick “i ship y'all’ to “powermove of the century”. Each make me flush deeper as the replies flood in.

If I were to be practical, I'm aware that I shouldn't be so flustered over the concept of us being a couple. It's most likely my overactive, sad, lonely imagination, but the idea of being loved just makes me blush. Especially since it's someone who doesn't seem to absolutely loathe me.

gaystrell: are you reading these?

bi-sammy: the what?

bi-sammy: i have. nothing to read. i cant read.

gaystrell: use your two remaining brain cells look at the notes for the crackfic

bi-sammy: holy shit

bi-sammy: im cackling

A notification pops up, making me snort this time. I pull up the post and send it off to him without a second thought.

gaystrell: sent a post

gaystrell: “sounds like something huxley would do for sam”

bi-sammy: stop im gonna piss myself shits too fucking funny

I pull it back up, scrolling down to reblog and adding a quick reply that, in all honesty, I should have thought out more. Secretly, part of me is glad that I sent it.

huxley wishes he was this smooth ;)

Within seconds, replies flood in from everywhere. From jokes about Snow and I possibly dating to the concept of Huxley writing (purposefully) shitty homoerotica about himself as a fishman. I quite like the conversation about the latter, while the former makes my chest knot in ways inexplicable.

Going through the notes makes me smile, even if it's mildly embarrassing. The amount of times I've seen the eyes emoji used is definitely excessive, but still somewhat welcomed.

Even my archive has a few comments already, although more based around the fic itself. More ironically, though, is the one person who probably took it seriously and just commented, “Nice fic!” I love the abundance of shameless appreciation for obscure fanfiction in the depths of this community.

Snow's messages roll down my mobile screen as I'm checking the comments, continuously replacing the previous message for the top slot.

bi-sammy: mate

bi-sammy: i love you

bi-sammy: also every time you reblog something of mine i get like 5 followers

bi-sammy: if you mention me i get 10

bi-sammy: youre???????????? a god????????

bi-sammy: can i marry you????????????

I slowly close my laptop, eyes on my phone with an absolutely gleeful grin.

gaystrell: when and where?

#carry on #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #it's a handheld disaster #snowbaz #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz

48 notes · View notes

batterymonster2021 · 5 years ago

Text

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/tentacles-of-doom-father-ted-series-2-episode-3-dead-parrot-5/

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

God i’m no longer studying that book anymore it is very frightening all collectively Ted Ted yes what did you ever see a ghost when doogal i’m going to tell you something happened to me once it was once years ago I staying with my first-class-aunt at her condo in Connemara she’s significant condo miles from at any place it sounds as if for the period of the nice Famine a merciless landlord and his attractive daughter used to live there story is that he forbade a dog from hiring a young soldier broke her heart and in her despair she hung herself in her bed room the room that I was once standing remembers I see Nick by season 10 and strictly off season all of a sudden I heard a unusual creaking noise from the fireplace some of the ghosts no so no I’ve on no account noticeable a ghost I noticed one relatively yeah it was once a man all dressed in black and that i came down one night for a tumbler of milk and he was just sitting there in entrance of the tv just there right it used to be bizarre and you understand you are the unusual kind of grey hair even though he wasn’t very ancient Gilbert Dubin could this had been neon rice that is a door that’s working k damaged once more probably best works from my head is in it okay we will have to name the plumber no no I concept to get them concerned and the other be too embarrassed to tell them how I broke it within the first position looking to give it an additional tough flush well slender Ted I have got to say it was pleasant for me it was a excellent robust ground residence I was thinking extra about chat you are aware of it’s like when he is worried you want to get that stuff away as fast this factor would be for us to flush it right here and have it pop up somewhere in Sierra Leone correct there head aha aha I proposal jacket stash some thing in right here ok let’s are trying it now turn bloody hell excellent information head very very dangerous news the holy stone of city record they’ll upgrade it to a class 2 relic no it can be now not high-quality it method to be sending over a couple of bitches to do a ceremony and you already know what they’re like we will need to be on our high-quality conduct I taught them whatever up with the holy stone very well wasn’t any individual cured there no any individual was lured there honey quick after which those fellas began to beat him with the sticks and all that with it yeah the holy stone looks even holier than we concept Clapton something to do with that fella from England final 12 months he touched her and he grew a beard bizarre that’ll be almost ample to improve us here classification 1 or category will probably be very infrequent do women that will be bringing folks again to lifestyles time-travel cloning dinosaurs what essentially the most thousands of relics in every single place the sector how do they comprehend which of them to do well there’s all these matters they ought to consider concerning the history of the Renick how many miracles may also be attributed to us all types of considerations go right into a resolution like that what in regards to the holy stone of carmakers I never come on Tate Europe it should not ever occur well it’s happening they’re absolutely coming all correct Jeff so who cares anyway I imply they come in strip down the wallpaper the fumigate the position and so they’re long past what’s so dangerous about that doodles their bishops all correct yeah what is this confusion you may have about bishops do you really fully grasp what they sincerely do watching to do a fumigating residence there something like that at all have you obtained – Tommy in any case head let’s play a sport get your mind off it Chester buckaroos virtually i would not mind a recreation of the historic Chester day me sir particularly oh no most effective joking Ted provided that you’re ready for a excellent thrashing Dougal you’ll not ever honestly beat me ever all right jack nonetheless a poker ooh the sport of kings I proposal the won’t be so bad the industry we’ll have a appear around and spot there have been massive everyday perish and go away nothing to worry about at house some ceremony’s on Thursday and so they’re arriving the next day to come now doogal that is principal hearken to me okay o.K. Head these bishops are very predominant I keep round you at all times just in case so you don’t say whatever to them that you are no longer supposed to say to them oh like what like what he mentioned to bishop Lindsey when he requested me the place I was once when Kennedy was once shot oh yeah I imply you overreacted relatively there he wasn’t accusing me of anything all correct so did have you learnt any of the bishops who are long-established I imply what are the like bishop fax is an efficient historical buddy of pop Larry DOS i’ll try to attain Larry on his cellular he is obtained a new one with one more loud bleep God Almighty why does he have a cell if he on no account picks it up and then we’ve got the concern with Jack couldn’t we simply hide him for a couple of days no they’d hear me shouting Gary might be we might educate Jack to claim anything apart from drink influence our women likes like it’s a job in that life or two years ago Duggal father Jack is also dangerous but he is now not a canine right here he’s now he ordinarily wishes to head out wait maybe we might train him to assert one or two matters nothing too detailed a couple of all right sentences like that would be an ecumenical topic yes I cannot think of any religious query that cannot be answered by using that what I consistently say when persons question me questions it can be a fine thing about Catholicism it’s so vague and nobody rather knows what it’s all about I suppose it could work Google’s I realize it’ll work it’ll work it is not going to work when its head do not know so we have to try proper father now we will have just a little elocution classes drink father you can not be announcing that always when the bishops come right here thank you continually completely happy that either it Geron the daddy just just return to a drink for the second pleasant right now i need you to have a seem at this have a go with the first one right here – correct no no – drink now come on father awareness that vent the strings the strings the unusual bass bass bass bass bass bass bass now come on Oh father i know you can do the veena – drinking it so that you can do it drink sure I promise now come on are attempting once more that proper no no Paul the practically had it that is high-quality bring it bother to keep it going here and the next come again would ya toys that you left the cooker on o.K. Father i will be there proper father the whole thing’s equipped there’s a massive school steaming away and i have arranged a Ferrero Rocher in a convention which Isis taking up three bishops cannot wait proper you know father I believe that is going to be the finest second of my career it is practically as if my whole lifetime of main off two exclusive ladies’s going pass over is done i am over right here so you might be father that is doing excellent have you ever got your contacts in no a dog ran off with them I suggestion I get away with that I consider i’ll need to put on the glasses they don’t like carrying them father I feel they make me look like a frustrated ancient egg all I can’t suppose that I imagine they look absolutely good no no no it is only a frightening movie I was once thinking out there nice really greenish whele that is a lot better and i just go and assess on the tv so father hmm father i have certainly no proposal the place the door is so fail to remember head and Google at Google they may be here sorry about that fishbone Elia you had been announcing yes very simple ceremony we simply want just a little incense or incense I do not know if we do the you realize if we have any incense there used to be a spider in the bathtub last night time no Judy incense incense all right sure and no i do not believe so that you remember when we ran out of incense and we use the wind aletan good man i’m sure we are able to to find some so are you doing a lot upgrading around nation last month we accelerated a mushroom area in Cavan touch last three races our work takes us all over the place the nation it gives us a danger to get in touch with the normal clergy or the ground troops as I name them sure we’re looking to organize a big assembly at the end of the 12 months where all the ranks of the clergy can discuss their views with representatives of the lay group what do you suppose are the key here sorry what do making use of the whole relationship with the lay neighborhood on this special topic is desirable or must a exact distance be maintained yes a excellent query and good I believe we should contain to put group to keep them at a distance how so much of a distance couple of miles here we are actually he for all people oh are you o.K. Your grid sure I yeah yeah I I had a minor heart attack last yr I need to take it handy axe bought somewhat of a fee day proper he is no longer a drawback in case you could just give us a little of a warning when you are going to do something quality I simply remembered the aliens is on after the news Susan for god sake i’m sorry Victor Jordan did you not hear what he’s saying about his coronary heart you are aware of it’s just immediate directors cost come on all people let’s all have a significant lads night in a coronary heart attack that’s infrequent sufficient this present day there have been without doubt plenty of prayers set for essentially we cannot look at the aliens google obvious neither speakme however that love attack no they would not Bishop loti satisfactory go girl we aren’t observing alien anyway again to religion he’ll insist now not our first priority but converse up fight back towards a satirical bias of the media yes Ferrero Rocher father Ted with these Russia you’re quite spoiling mrs.Doyle all correct Bishop i am sorry you had been pronouncing oh sure I was once saying we must combat back in opposition to the media however we have to make our voice heard the place is farther hatchets mrs. Doyle would you get father Hackett for us now undoubtedly father I ought to say mrs. Doyle they keep you for your ft my housekeeper isn’t the great i’m afraid usually I suppose that it is me that should be basically G for sorry about that here father hackett now he is been looking ahead to your seek advice from haven’t you father yes Bishop O’Neill talk it oh yes this is Bishop fax yes that is Bishop Jordan sure they are watching at then you father that is 1 billion yes I was just announcing father how i am watching ahead to discussing the social results of one of the vital church’s pondering as related to disorders of personal morality nuts 1 billion – Emmanuel motto sure I let’s for Jews would good point father yes that’s what we’d like a confident angle like sake what quiet race i will see father Hackett making a priceless contribution over the following couple of days oh yes Heavenly Father hear our prayer we pray that this rock be upgraded to a category-2 relic by way of the grace of God convey therapy to all who cross within a radius of two and a half of to three ft of this at your discretion and may all who are healed in this type of method supply glory to you our Lord through your earthly form of this class to relic amen Evan i’m sorry for the painting your father will meet up with the others within the white yes I saw it to your positive perspective other so many people are cynical about such things that you can hardly ever to open the newspaper this present day without studying some latest and satirical articles written by using some bearded lifting sure apparently early will go down the arena of good I simply would be an Oh me get us a real enemy bb/d mercy predatory pleasure yes Asian ecumenical yes i’m going to write you up so father do you ever have any doubts about the devout lifestyles as your religion ever verified hear listen involved about any doubts you will have been having about any aspects of belief some thing like that well in all of the manner God made us all correct and he’s looking down at us from heaven and the whole lot huh huh after which his son came down and saved every body and all that yes and once we die we’re all going to move to heaven yes what about just a little of hindrance with the heat laughs assault while you come face-to-face with loss of life it makes you consider about matters I saw that film lately Apollo 14 jogged my memory of my own brush with loss of life have you learnt what I imply you imply you had been in house whilst you had your heart assault no how might I be in space sorry no I suppose not no I Ament i do know what it is like to be just about demise sure gracefully i’ll use the historic ok so i’ll do that I see all Cheers assess the air so if God has existed eternally you know what did he do in his spare time like before he made the earth and everything you recognize well all of us must what about while you wear too low the meat on Fridays how come that is all proper now but it wasn’t back then I imply that the folks who ate meat on Fridays back then they’d all go to hell or what I imply it is man she’s no longer bothering you with it no no it can be just magic oh there you’re i am hoping you had a fine gesture oh it was once best I consider I learn some very fascinating conclusions Oh about what precisely good it’s nonsense Ignis faith so feel about this little or no evidence blind religion that’s all we ought to go on and not using a shred of proof anywhere nothing aliens now there is whatever that might simply be feasible everlasting life large demons sticking purple-hot pokers up your ass for all eternity i don’t suppose so the whole religion factor I simply don’t buy it i’ve been struggling with my moral sense for some time now however father McGuire was the primary man to spell it out me in black and white Oh Dougal what have you ever been as much as this man this man treasure him father clearly he has wisdom a ways past his year thanks very a lot speedy it’s Bishop Jordan I suppose he is useless there Oh Lord yeah that’s a dustbin hear this is your fax media that’s the main matters do it Duggal oh you are welcome bishop no no Eddie are you sure you want and consider a selection no anyway it can be too late i am off to India for two months with just a few neighbors ah there they’re see you again then your grace the holy stone will it nonetheless be a class-2 after they m god bless when clear La tache

0 notes

airoasis · 5 years ago

Text

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/tentacles-of-doom-father-ted-series-2-episode-3-dead-parrot-5/

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

0 notes

an-anaemic-pen · 5 years ago

Text

Project Phoenix Chapter 13

The Week Without A God of Mischief

The Manifestation || The Power Play || The Green-Eyed Fly || The Middle of The Night || The Alternative || The Attic || The House || The God of Mischief || The Kill || The Night || The Collar || The Training

Summary: Kate’s a normal teenage Midgardian girl; except there’s a Loki in her attic, and now S.H.I.E.L.D.’s after her, and also, she has powers. Apparently, she’s meant to save the world.

She just wanted to finish school and maybe fall in love—at least she’s accomplishing one of those.

Relationships: Gen, F/M (Loki/Original Female Character)

Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage if you squint bit—nothing occurs while characters are underage, Sexual Content)

Mood: My Freedom, Miracles

SUNDAY, JUNE 10TH

Today was... *interesting.* Church was normal, singing, a sermon, then I sat in the car for a little while—the usual. Except, Loki (I think he might just be who he says he is), decided to tag along. He put, I’ll be totally honest, a collar on me. Yes, a collar (I’m underlining cause it’s just that dang important).

I pretended to lose my voice—it’s ironic that I was lying to people at church—so I didn’t have to talk or sing to people. I did that because Loki decided it would be hilarious to make the collar shock me whenever I spoke. He showed me more mind tricks today and also thought it would be hilarious to sit on my lap. Might I mention how heavy Asgardian/Frost Giants are? Like *dang,* they’re HEAVY. It's probably some sort of cell density thingy that I'm too lazy to think of at the moment. I can't ask him about it either, because he left while I was sleeping like some sort of thief in the night.

Anyway, he sat in my lap and wouldn’t get himself off, even after he actually broke my legs, until I somehow cast a spell or something. Thankfully, he fixed my legs.

Turns out I have powers. I mean, cool cool and all, but then he just ghosted me. He showed me how to use my apparent ice powers, but I can’t do it without him helping me with *his* powers. His magic feels weird, and I’ll leave it at that because the rest of the sentence I was about to write sounded wrong.

I’m still mad he actually killed a dude over me, but my heart rate has stopped spiking when my phone goes off, so that’s good. I don’t think I forgot anything else, so I’ll leave it there.

MONDAY, JUNE 11TH

The countdown until the last day of school is so aggravating. I swear, sophomore-itis is a thing. A couple of my teachers are just letting us chill out as long as we’re quiet while Mr. Machley is doing everything in his power to squeeze the life out our few surviving brain cells.

I had a dream about Loki last night. He was the weird-real Loki from mythology. Which, lemme say, that’s a religious breakdown. I spent most of 3rd period staring out the window at the rain and figuring that out. I won’t go into detail because this journal’s on its last page and I don’t think I have enough space, but long-story-short, internal screaming.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure the dream was the memory he showed me. Except, I was in my point of view. I’m not sure whether that’s dormant memories waking up or something, or just my brain being too uncreative to think of something original—most likely the latter.

Leanna said she’s gonna be coming back from Virginia soon, so we’ll get to hang out with her for a little while before she starts the fall semester. I can’t believe she’s already a junior and she’s got a boyfriend who’s pretty serious, too. I may-or-may-not ship them a little too hard. From what she’s told me, he’s great.

I’m not sure whether or not I’m gonna at least allude to Loki or not in conversation. He said he was gonna be back on Saturday, so I’m half counting the days down, half dreading it. He’s a piece of work and he’s got the upper hand with the stupid collar trick-thingy. Either way, Leanna would be a huge help with figuring out my Norse god problem, but, ya know, *Norse god.* That doesn’t exactly sit in reality.

TUESDAY, JUNE 12TH

Ayyyyy, new journal!

Also, proof Mr. Machley is trying to murder us via stress-induced brain aneurysms: the man gave us an “extra credit” assignment that was an essay, so I had to stay up after I got home from work and do that. I had to stay pretty late at the salon because someone came in late, too, so it’s currently the “wee hours of the morning” now and I’m up on caffeine and stress. While I was working, Max came to me with another nightmare. He hasn’t needed someone to comfort him from a nightmare in months, now twice in less than a week. I’d be a little worried if it wasn’t normal for 8-year-olds.

I’ve been trying to get these powers of my mine to work since Loki left the barrier-thingy up. So far, nothing, so that’s slightly annoying. Jake’s been curling up closer to me, which is nice. Oh, on the topic of powers:

My hair is changing color.

That’s unnerving. I noticed a nice, solid, paper-thin line of my roots growing in stark white. I don’t know what I’m going to do with that, probably try to hide it with an enchantment, because I can do Jedi mind tricks without Loki here.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 13TH

So, I tried to fix my hair.

Long-story-short, it didn’t work, and now all my hair is white.

Loki’s gonna kill me.

I was able to lie my way out of it by saying I’d gotten it done at the salon after my shift (thank the Lord Almighty I worked yesterday) and paid for it out of my paycheck, which I also happened to get that night.

Besides that, today was the second-to-last day of school. Calvin decided he was going to ask me out during 3rd period, so he did. If I didn’t have a God of Mischief most likely watching over my every move and probably planning to claim me as his wife once I turn 18, I’d be chill.

But, ya know, I *do* have a God of Mischief most likely watching over my every move and probably planning to claim me as his wife once I turn 18. Holy crap that’s something to digest.

THURSDAY, JUNE 14TH

Hallelujia, I’m officially a rising junior! I also told Calvin I’m on the fence about going on a date. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to hold the dude off. He gave me his number and told me to text him when I make my decision. Most classes either let us hang out or had a movie on. Mr. Machley had us hand in the essay. He apparently changed his mind and it was a required assignment, and he apparently sent out an email about it (no, he didn’t), so thank God I did it.

School let out early, so I got home before lunch and passed out on the couch for a few hours. Napping is wonderful.

Also, I started working out. Might I say, running a mile is tiring? I’m pretty sure I sweat out most of my body’s water weight—not that I have all that much, I don’t really drink enough water.

Max had another nightmare. At some point, he snuck in my room. I found him curled up with Jake at my feet. Either the kid’s a ninja, or I was just *sound* asleep.

We had the neighbors over for a celebratory dinner, so I got to know the daughter, Sarah, a bit better. She’s really nice, although isn’t everyone when you invite them over for dinner? She really liked my hair and ended up doing a really intricate design that I still have up. It’s like braids, but also twists and she somehow got a few dandelions from outside weaved in. I wonder if Loki sees women with hair like this?

It’s a little longer than before I *enchanted* it, and so far, nobody has noticed the giant chunks of hair in my bedroom trashcan (they’re well-covered by crumpled paper and tissues). I’d imagine it’s about the same length as Asgardian women’s if what survives of Viking culture on the internet is anything to go off of.

FRIDAY, JUNE 15TH

I didn’t really do all that much today. Max and I played more LEGO Star Wars and then I fell asleep with Mars on my chest. I actually wanted to get up, but she was so adorable I couldn’t, so I just fell asleep instead.

Running is getting a little easier. My legs still feel a little weak, but I’ll adjust.

I haven’t tried any magic since my last attempt, which is probably for the best. All I’ve done so far was test my limits on how far I can cast my mind. When sitting out in the backyard, I can feel most of it. Around the fenceline is a little fuzzy, but I can feel all the bugs and little critters in the trees.

They all have varying minds. When I cough, I could feel a primal spike of fear in the birds, but the bees don’t seem to care about my existence. Hopefully, I can get over my fear of them knowing this. I might go to the zoo at some point soon. It would be so cool feeling all the animals around me.The Manifestation || The Power Play || The Green-Eyed Fly || The Middle of The Night || The Alternative || The Attic || The House || The God of Mischief || The Kill || The Night || The Collar || The TrainingThe Manifestation || The Power Play || The Green-Eyed Fly || The Middle of The Night || The Alternative || The Attic || The House || The God of Mischief || The Kill || The Night || The Collar || The Training

#fanfic #fanfiction #loki #loki fanfic #loki fic #Loki Laufeyson #loki (marvel)#marvel #marvel agents of shield #marvel fanfiction #S.H.I.E.L.D.#Project Phoenix #Project Phoenix Chapter 13 #The Week Without A God of Mischief

0 notes

revmolly · 8 years ago

Text

Resist/Dance ~ An Easter Sermon

My first Easter sermon at First Church Berkeley! It included compulsory group dancing. And I still didn’t get tomatoes thrown at me!

Rev. Molly Baskette ~ First Church Berkeley UCC “ResistDance” ~ John 20:1-18 Sunday, April 16, 2017 ~ Easter Sunday

I know a lot of people named Jesus.

There is, obviously, the person who brings us together today: the radical, brown, refugee, outsider, preacher, prophet, child of God who could not stay dead no matter what they did to him.

But I know others. There is Jesus, our cheerful and capable janitor here at Beth El. And I just met another Jesus, the undocumented man I met at the sherriff’s office on Thursday, when Rev. Rachel and I went to advocate for the rights and dignity of our immigrant neighbors. Jesus is everywhere, if you have eyes to see.

When I graduated from seminary, my husband Peter and I moved to Mexico for a year, to work at an orphanage, the Casa San Jose. As problematic as we now know orphanages to be for child development, the Casa was a pretty happy place, all in all. I’m Facebook friends with many of the kids we tended back then. They are young adults now with families of their own, some of them in LA, with or without documents, making a life. And they unfailingly talk about the joy of that time in their childhood--how much fun they had, how they took care of one another, how in spite of the trauma and burdens they bore, they felt safe and loved.

When we lived there, there were 141 kids on site. And three of them were named Jesus. Clearly, we had a problem. How to differentiate between all the Jesuses? The eldest, a handsome teenager, got to be, simply, Jesus. The next youngest became Chuy, an affectionate nickname for Jesus in Mexican culture. And the youngest of all was 4-year-old Chuyito, little tiny Jesus. Chuyito was a dead ringer, I imagine, for the original model, childhood edition: curly brown hair, winsome brown eyes. He barely ever said a word, and always hung his head to the side, in curiosity or skepticism, as if anticipating the day when he would be debating the Pharisees.

Chuyito loved to crawl into my lap and stay there for hours, and I loved him there, because we were both pretty homesick and lonely, and when life is hard you need a soft place.

My favorite memory of Chuyito is not from that year, but a couple years later. When Peter and I left the Casa to go home to the US, we discovered we were homesick for Mexico, and so we’d travel back with a group from whatever church we were inhabiting, and give them a chance to fall in love with the kids the way we had. On our first trip back, our group brought a backpack for each of the hundred-plus kids, stuffed to the brim with clothes, art supplies and toys, and handed them out on our last night together. The boys, including Chuyito, put their backpackson immediately and refused to take them off. Then we strung Christmas lights, rented a DJ and a speaker, and had a giant dance party on the patio. Bankers and little boys do si doed and swung one another wildly to salsa music and Madonna alike. Chuyito, now a full-on boisterous 7-year-old, danced like a maniac for hours with his backpack on, until his movements finally slowed, until he fell asleep, face down on the tile. With his backpack on. Even Jesus needs to rest.

I have a friend, a UCC minister, who suffers from pretty debilitating depression. You’d never know it. She seems happy enough, and is one of the funniest people I know. But her depression has almost ended her marriage; it has hobbled her parenting; it caused her more than once to reconsider her career as a person who has to be hopeful as a profession.

My friend told me something once I’ll never forget. There are times when medication doesn’t do its job, when prayers fail her, when nothing is working to shift the great gray elephant of depression that sits on her soul. And this is what she does in those moments: she changes one thing. Just one thing. “If I’m lying down, I get up. If I’m standing up, I sit down. If I’m inside, I go outside. If I’m outside, I go inside. If I’m alone, I get with people, if I’m with people, I get alone. If I can change one thing, then I can change more things. If I can change more things, then perhaps I can change everything--or, God working in me can, anyhow.” All she has to do is make one little movement.

I myself have never suffered from a lasting or truly devastating depression. To be perfectly annoying about it, being happy has always come pretty easily to me. But this year has tested me severely. Some mornings, including this week, the news has flattened me to the bed, immobilized me as surely as a deep depression. Pick your poison: Syrian children sarin gassed, America making mushroom clouds in Afghanistan, North Korea testing ICBMs, flying coach while Asian on United. Health care under threat, public schools under threat, the rights and lives of immigrants and refugees, black folks, Muslims, queer and trans under threat. We don’t know who will live and who will die before this bitter cup has passed from us. All this against a backdrop of winter rain, such needed rain but a rain that now feels like it will never end, a perma-rain that chills the soul as well as the body, a new and possibly forever climate-chaos abnormal.

I’m trying to remember that this is an Easter sermon.

If I often feel despair these days, I who have every advantage, how must it be for those who don’t share my privileges? Those who face actual and immediate threats to their lives? The undocumented, the brown-skinned, the broke? I have my whiteness to shield me from ICE and the cops, my paycheck to shield me from poverty. I even have a faith to shield me from sorrow if I choose it, to hide in a La La Land of Easter joy where everything turns out all right in the end.

And yet I have met so many people, who no matter how systems and circumstances might conspire to kill them, have mastered the art of defiant joy. I guess that’s what you do when people want you dead--staying alive is your only countermove.

And Jesus, himself broke and brown and unhoused, is the best example of living big and beautifully in the face of violence and death. I’m always amazed by his capacity for resurrection. Jesus made a decision. He could have stayed dead. He’d discharged his duty to the human family. He taught us everything he knew, offered us an entirely new way of being human, he loved us hard in spite of our frailties, and in return we rejected, abandoned and crucified him. Who would sign up for more life in the face of that?

I confess that sometimes it just seems like a whole lot less WORK being dead. If you’ve had a near death experience, or even surgery under general anesthesia, you know what I’m talking about. There is something truly compelling and even seductive about the idea of slipping away, into a place beyond pain, beyond suffering. A place of eternal rest that no fear or sarin gas can touch.

Jesus lived through the worst we could do to him; he reached that moment of peaceful surrender, and he made a decision to come back.

And he didn’t do it by half-measures, either. He didn’t shamble out of the grave, explaining himself. He didn’t try to stay under the radar to avoid the authorities. He came back in a BIG way. We cut him down but he leapt up high. He made resurrection into a Broadway show tune, complete with the choreography of hapless disciples running all over the stage.

The early church fathers came up with a word to describe the Trinity: perichoresis, literally, circle dance. They understood God, Jesus and The Holy Spirit as movement, constant flow from the beginning of Creation. And being dead did not exempt Jesus from his place in the dance.

Did you know that some researchers at Oxford did a study? They taught a group of volunteers, each in private, the same dance moves. Then they taught another group, individually, all different dance moves. They noted everyone’s pain tolerance levels by putting extra-squeezy blood pressure cuffs on them. [who comes up with these studies? I have no idea] Then they set them all free in the same room, on a dance floor, with headphones on.

The ones who had learned the same dance began to sync their movements. The ones who knew different moves, or heard different music, each did their own thing. And when the experiment was over, they measured each one’s pain tolerance again. The ones who had moved in sync were able to stand significantly more pain than before. But the ones who heard different songs, or were taught different dance moves to the same music, experienced either no change in pain perception, or actually felt more pain than they had at the start. Perichoresis, dancing in sync, had legitimately made the synched dancers able to bear more pain.

Of course, they didn’t control for people who find any kind of dancing in public painful. :)

Dance is the body’s jazz hands for the soul. Dance is God on the move. We dance our babies around the kitchen. Practice the moves to Thriller in our bedroom for hours. Dance is the mosh pit, the all night rave, Asian grandmas at Zumba class--all of them just as much church as where we are right now. Dance is the 7-year-old Mexican orphan tearing it up on a tile patio; a 3 year old in the aisles at church who will not be stopped but just HAS to dance to every hymn. Dance is Ghost Ship, the young ones gathering before the fire that night, ready to worship at the altar of joy, and now dancing at home with God; and dance is this community, today on Easter, rising from our own ashes.

Dance is resurrection: the mom in chemo doing a three minute dance party around the living room in defiance of her white blood cell count. Dance is a flash mob practicing for the Climate March, to show how the Earth will rise up against us if we don’t rise up for Her.

Dance is what we do when we have too many feelings and not enough words. Dance don’t cost a thing--it belongs to everybody without regard for ability to pay. To dance is to let God move through us, reanimate us no matter what grim reapers are haunting us, the perichoresis that began before everything, the music still playing, healing us, body and soul.

Dance is THIS GUY. To dance is to laugh in the face of death, and all its minions. They have not won--whoever “they” are--if we can still dance.

Every day, someone, somewhere, faces the powers of death. But then they change one thing. They make one little move. They put down the bottle. They call the therapist, the DV hotline, the immigration lawyer. They pack a bag. They write their name on the application. If they are lying down, they get up. They join the dance.

youtube

1 note · View note

dailyaudiobible · 8 years ago

Text

01/19/2017 DAB Transcript

Genesis 39:1-41:16 ~ Matthew 12:46-13:23 ~ Psalm 17:1-15 ~ Proverbs 3:33-35

Today is January 19th. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I'm Brian. It’s great to be here with you today. Yep, for the next step forward. This will be our 19th step and 365 steps might seem like a lot of steps, but these steps go by fast. Here we are, already past the halfway point of our first month together. Look at all that has happened. Now we’re picking up the story of Joseph. Joseph's story is not only a powerful, really powerful example in our own lives, but it is also going to show us how this one promise to this one man named Abraham actually started to take real shape and form.

So today, from the New International Version, Genesis chapter 39, verse 1 through chapter 41, verse 16.

Commentary

We have to talk about Joseph because Joseph's story unfolds over time and we have a lot of detail in it and it is such a mirror of different seasons in our own lives and offers us quite a contrast. So the chances of any of us having experienced everything that Joseph experienced is pretty small. This kid went through quite a bit of things.

He's 17 years old, he's a young man, he's really good looking, according to the Bible, built well and handsome. And he's also the beloved son of his father's old age. You’ll have to remember that he is the son of the beloved wife Rachel and for so long she wasn’t able to have children. In the end she was able to have two sons and died giving birth to one of them and his name is Benjamin. But Joseph is a beloved son of his father, so he treats him differently than the sons from these other women. So that brings some tension of its own and then Joseph starts having these dreams and starts telling his brothers about them. In these dreams they are bowing down to him, which does not go over well. You can imagine that if you grew up with siblings. If one of your siblings told you that “I had a dream that you will be bowing down to me,” and you're a teenager during this time, yeah, that is not going to go over well. So it brings a lot of animosity. There is just a lot of family politics here.

So Jacob, whose name has been changed to Israel, sends one of his sons, one of the children of Israel to the other children of Israel, the only children of Israel that exist at this point. He is supposed to go check on the flocks, check on his brothers, see how everybody is doing. And the brothers decide to teach this dreamer, this teenager, this favored son a lesson and they talk about killing their own brother. What they end up doing is throwing him into a cistern. We see some different relationships inside the dynamics of the brothers. One of the brothers wants to save him. The other brothers want to kill him. Then they come up with this plan that they are going to sell him. So Joseph, a 17-year-old really good-looking young man who has been the star or favored son is human trafficked by his own family into slavery and ends up in Egypt.

We can stop right there and put ourselves in Joseph's shoes and say that is not fair. And it is not fair, but we begin to see the posture of heart that Joseph has within him. He becomes the slave of Potiphar, a high-ranking official to the pharaoh, the captain of the guard, so a military man, a guy who knows his way around a sword, a guy probably to be feared. But he is sold to this guy, but quickly Joseph becomes in charge of the whole house of Potiphar. Joseph could have been constantly saying this is not fair. I'm a Hebrew. I was stolen. I was marketed by my own family. I don’t belong to be a slave. I was born free. He doesn’t go into all that. He just sets about the work that is put before him while trusting in God and just doing well and he becomes favored in that position. But Potiphar's wife takes notice of this well-built, good-looking young man and wants to make him her toy.

Every time we get to this part I'm like this is a 17-year-old kid. Maybe he's a little older now. Maybe he's 18. Maybe he's 19 years old. So for him to resist Potiphar's wife, that's a pretty big feat. Pretty tough to resist that when you’ve got a woman throwing herself at you and you’re in this particular age. But he uses common sense and says the facts. “I am in charge of everything.” Like, “I essentially have a lot of freedom that was taken away from me and you’re the only thing off-limits to me. I can’t.”

Of course, what happens is he flees from her and she keeps his cloak and uses it to incriminate him which lands him in prison. So he could be sitting in a cell in a dungeon saying, “Wait a minute, this is not fair at all. I was the favored, favorite son of my father. I have been made a slave and it's not fair and now I am in prison for doing the right thing.” At every turn, Joseph is doing the right thing and it is only making it worse. Have you ever been in a situation like that? Where it is like hard to stand your ground and do the right thing and just take it?

What we see in Joseph is a very long view. He has remarkable ability to see a bigger picture and that what is happening right now is not the end of the story. He doesn’t know the end of the story, but he has a trust in the God of his father and recognizes this as his only hope. So in short order he becomes basically in charge of the prison. We went through these stories of the baker and the cupbearer and the dreams. The dreams are interpreted right. The baker is executed. The cupbearer is restored and completely forgets about Joseph for another couple of years. Another couple of years Joseph has to serve in that prison that he does not belong in because he did the right thing.

At the end of the reading today, we find that Pharaoh has a dream and Joseph is brought from the prison to stand before the king of Egypt. This story isn’t over yet. We won’t give it all away. We’ll read through it, but let's at least pay attention to the fact that Joseph was doing the right thing and it only seemed to make things worse. Somehow Joseph was able to stay faithful and true to God and have a long view that there is more going on than it seems. This is not the last time we’ll see this theme emerge in the Bible. It is an important one. There is more going on in your life right now than it seems. When we box ourselves into the immediate, right now, then we continue to do this loop. We keep playing the same tape over and over and over, getting more and more and more bitter, which makes us start blaming God when that is the only hope we have.

Joseph didn’t deserve any of the things that happened to him, but wait until we see how he remembers all of this over the next couple days.

Prayer

Father, we thank you for your word. We thank you for the gift of your word and all of the stories of our spiritual ancestors long ago because we find in their hearts our heart. We find in their circumstances our circumstances. They look a little different. We’re in different cultures and wearing different clothes, but the motivations and postures of heart, they are the same. We’ve been wondering about these things in our lives. We were trying to be true and trying to do the right thing, but it seems to only get worse. So we immediately feel like we’re being attacked and we start to fight that rather than just asking you “are you in this?” and “where are we going?” and resting in you. So we subtly try to fight off attacks and start blaming you for not showing up when we haven’t even asked, when we haven’t been the friend that we were talking about yesterday in the book of Proverbs, where we haven’t been the kind of person you can take into your confidence. We haven’t been trustworthy, yet when we look at Joseph we see a completely different posture. So Father, help us to understand there is more going on than we know about and if we will walk with you, we will have the grace that we need for this day. Come Holy Spirit, we pray. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Announcements

Www.DailyAudioBible.com is the website. It's home base. It is where you find out what is going on around here. The Prayer Wall is there. Resources are there. The Shop is there. Check it out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible and help out a little bit in keeping everything spinning and going and moving forward every single day, then thank you. There is a link. It is on the home page of www.DailyAudioBible.com. It can also be found in the app if you push the More button in the lower right-hand corner. Or if you prefer, the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996, Spring Hill, TN 37174.

And as a community we do a really good job of loving on each other. If you have a prayer request or comment, (877) 942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that’s it for today. I'm Brian. I love you and I’ll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer Requests and Praise Reports

Hello my DAB family. It is Mark S. from Sydney, Australia. Today is Thursday, I think the 11th of January. Look, I'm sorry I got interrupted in my last one. Look, I’ve got an urgent prayer request. I do want to wish you all a Happy New Year and I'm sorry that it's not been a wonderful year for me, but I know with God's help, not so much for me, for my son... He's going downhill. He's got such a hatred in his heart for his mother. He wants to destroy her life and no matter what I say to him, he is becoming more and more hatred in his heart. It's grown totally out of proportion in his mind of what happened, probably due to some of the sin in the past, myself that caused some issues as well. I’ve tried to tell him that, but he won't listen. He's doing his best. He wants to destroy her life. I'm praying he won't, but I'm in despair because I’ve tried to sit down. I’ve tried to talk to him and say that anger was killing him. He doesn’t care. He says as long as his mother suffers, he doesn’t care what happens to himself. He is just so full of hatred and anger. Family, please, please pray for Damon. He is in such a pit of hell at the moment. The devil has a strangle hold of him totally and I just need as many prayers as possible that Satan will leave him alone and that he will be in love with Jesus. He's totally taken by Satan at the moment and it is sad to say. Please pray for me, family. Love you all. Bye.

Hey, good morning family. This is Cherry C., Cherry Pie. Hope everybody is well today. I just heard the prayer line. I heard, I think she said Anna, the 11-year-old girl that called about her grandmother and her grandmother passed. I want to tell you, Baby, I’ve got your back. You’re a little prayer warrior already. I'm saying look at her. You’re a little prayer warrior already, so I'm sure your grandmother was proud of you. I am just for you being bold and standing up for God and just calling in. Now I'm going to ask you guys for prayers. I'm still trying to get my house refinanced and right now everything is going through the process, so I'm asking you all to cover me and that this will be done and God fixes it for me where I can redo my loan for my home. You guys, you all be blessed. I love each and every one of you guys. Please stay encouraged. Every day you wake up you can reset. You can change what you don’t like. Just push that reset button. You don’t like what is going on in your life, hit reset. Start it all over. Write it down. Write it out. I love you guys so much. You have a glorious and wonderful day and you guys, I will see you. Or not see you. I want to see you guys. I want to see all you guys, but I will talk to you guys soon and it seems like I'm going to see you guys. I love you guys. You guys have a great day.

Good morning family. Today is January 15th. This is Sheila T. calling from Texas. I had a mighty visitation from the King of kings and I saw Brian's mom being welcomed into heaven. Sorry guys. I'm emotional. I cried with joy. There is a lot of joy in heaven right now. She is no longer that woman with tubes. She is so beautiful. She has been introduced to other brothers who are already in heaven. There is so much celebration, guys. As we mourn, let us not mourn as the hopeless. Let us know that one of us has been received to heaven. God delights when he receives a soul that did right, so guys, let us purpose to walk this life on that narrow path that leads to eternal life. Don’t be swayed. Don’t look to the left or to the right. Look to Jesus, the perfecter of your faith. People, God wants you to pray for Brian’s family every day. He calls him my friend. Brian, you are God's friend and guess what? You are Satan's enemy. So family, pray every day for Brian. Pray for him. I come against the spirit of death over this family. I pray, O God, that you may fill this family with your joy, your love. Comfort them. Surround them with your mighty arms. Let them know how much you love them. And we too love them. Thank you Jesus for the mighty visitation. I love you guys. Bye.

Good morning all my Dabbers. This is Darryl from Depew. Today is the 12th day of January and I would like to reach out to little, I think her name was Anna, the little 11-year-old. What a sweetheart she is. What a believer in God and in Jesus she is. Oh my God, I just love this little girl. I could listen to her talk forever. But anyways, she said that her grandma has passed away, so may her family mourn the loss but may they have many memories of grandma. Anna, be blessed in the Lord and keep going strong the way you are. Love you, Honey. Bye.

Good morning everyone. This is Alicia from Kansas. Today is January 12th. Happy Thursday. Happy Friday Eve everybody. I know this will get played afterwards. Just wanted to say a couple of things. If you could please just pray for me. I'm trying to find balance with my children. As I’ve shared before unashamedly before my Lord, I'm the mother of five children who have five fathers and two of my children I have not met. Just trying to find balance and be the matriarch of my family as a godly woman, a godly single woman with just two of the children who were raised together. They are all adults, well, except for one. I just get plagued with self-pity and hurt feelings and get a little passive aggressive. Just prayer that God would give me guidance and direction. I just wanted to lift up Autumn today and say thank you Autumn for calling and I'm sorry for your grandmother's passing. I'm so grateful that your family is moving and that prayers are being answered. You are a precious, beautiful child. I'm so proud of you and I'm sure your parents are and the Lord is just celebrating you. When I was your age, I was in the foster system and already using drugs, so you keep close to the Lord, Sweetheart. Keep doing what you’re doing. We’re all so happy for you and happy that you’re grandma is rejoicing with Jesus. Alright, everybody. Have a great day today. Oh, and Autumn, I love Victorious Soldier's prayers too. Take care all. Bye-bye.

Hi, this Dr. Stone from the Cleveland, OH area calling for Brian. Just to let you know that I'm praying for you and pass on my condolences to you and to your family after the loss of your mother. As I said on the Facebook page, my heart breaks with you and your family, but my heart also rejoices for your mother who moved fully into the presence of God. I'm sure she is up there with Jesus, saying “Brian, I love you and I’ll be here waiting for you.” Thank you. And you’re in my prayers.

Hello Daily Audio Bible viewers. This is Faith Butterfly from South Africa. I just wanted to give a shout-out to a lady called Biola from Maryland. She prayed for me three years ago for my daughter, Cora and I, and I wanted to let her know that we are doing well. I’ve been listening to the Daily Audio Bible for three years now and we live in Central South Africa. There are a few other friends who I’ve introduced to the Daily Audio Bible and we are listening to it together. My prayer request is just to pray that I will be in the center of God's will as I seek him and that he will direct my path in important decisions I need to make. Thank you. Bye.

Good morning Dabbers. I'm a burning bush that will not be devoured for the glory of our Lord and King. Today I'm calling for the young lady who called. Her name is Autumn. I believe she is Inez’s granddaughter from Arizona. This 11-year-old called. I'm so sorry, I didn’t hear your first request but it is probably because I wasn’t up-to-date on all the calls by the end of the year, but I am praying for you and your family. I prayed for you when I listened to your request and I want you to know you are totally covered. I am very impressed and I admire your spiritual growth at 11 years old. I pray that God will continue to sustain what he has started in your life. Praise God for your family being reunited. I pray that this will be a good transition for you and your family. God bless you. I love you and hope you call in again. God bless.

0 notes

airoasis · 5 years ago

Text

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/tentacles-of-doom-father-ted-series-2-episode-3-dead-parrot-2/

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

God i am no longer studying that book anymore it’s very horrifying all together Ted Ted sure what did you ever see a ghost when doogal i’m going to let you know anything happened to me once it was once years ago I staying with my best-aunt at her condo in Connemara she’s gigantic apartment miles from at any place it appears during the excellent Famine a cruel landlord and his lovely daughter used to reside there story is that he forbade a dog from hiring a younger soldier broke her coronary heart and in her despair she hung herself in her bed room the room that I was once standing remembers I see Nick by using season 10 and strictly off season instantly I heard a strange creaking noise from the fireplace one of the vital ghosts no so no I’ve by no means seen a ghost I noticed one really yeah it used to be a person all dressed in black and i got here down one night time for a tumbler of milk and he used to be simply sitting there in front of the television just there correct it was bizarre and you know you’re the unusual type of gray hair although he wasn’t very historic Gilbert Dubin would this had been neon rice that’s a door that is working okay damaged again perhaps simplest works from my head is in it k we must call the plumber no no I proposal to get them worried and the opposite be too embarrassed to inform them how I broke it within the first situation you understand looking to supply it an extra hard flush well slim Ted I need to say it used to be high-quality for me it was a good robust flooring house I used to be considering extra about chat you comprehend it’s like when he is concerned you want to get that stuff away as rapid this thing could be for us to flush it right here and have it pop up someplace in Sierra Leone proper there head aha aha I notion jacket stash some thing in here ok let’s are attempting it now flip bloody hell good news head very very dangerous news the holy stone of town report they will improve it to a class 2 relic no it is now not nice it method to be sending over a number of bitches to do a ceremony and you recognize what they are like we will need to be on our quality behavior I taught them some thing up with the holy stone o.K. Wasn’t someone cured there no someone was lured there honey short and then these fellas began to beat him with the sticks and all that with it yeah the holy stone looks even holier than we notion Clapton whatever to do with that fella from England final 12 months he touched her and he grew a beard weird that’ll be close to adequate to upgrade us here classification 1 or class will probably be very rare do girls that would be bringing men and women back to life time-journey cloning dinosaurs what essentially the most thousands of relics all over the world how do they understand which ones to do good there is all these things they have to think in regards to the historical past of the Renick what number of miracles may also be attributed to us all sorts of concerns go into a choice like that what concerning the holy stone of carmakers I under no circumstances come on Tate Europe it is going to never happen good it is happening they’re surely coming all proper Jeff so who cares anyway I imply they arrive in strip down the wallpaper the fumigate the position and they’re gone what’s so bad about that doodles their bishops all right yeah what is this confusion you’ve got about bishops do you simply have an understanding of what they surely do looking to do a fumigating condo there something like that in any respect have you received – Tommy anyways head let’s play a sport get your intellect off it Chester buckaroos virtually i would not intellect a sport of the old Chester day me sir particularly oh no best joking Ted provided that you are able for a good thrashing Dougal you can by no means sincerely beat me ever alright jack still a poker ooh the sport of kings I notion the is not going to be so unhealthy the industry we will have a seem round and spot there were big day-to-day perish and go away nothing to worry about at dwelling some ceremony’s on Thursday they usually’re arriving the next day to come now doogal that is significant listen to me alright very well head these bishops are very foremost I stay round you all the time simply in case so you do not say some thing to them that you are now not supposed to claim to them oh like what like what he mentioned to bishop Lindsey when he requested me the place I was when Kennedy was once shot oh yeah I mean you overreacted moderately there he wasn’t accusing me of something all proper so did do you know any of the bishops who’re long-established I mean what are the like bishop fax is an effective historical pal of dad Larry DOS i will try to reach Larry on his cell he’s obtained a brand new one with an extra loud bleep God Almighty why does he have a mobile if he under no circumstances picks it up after which we’ve got the main issue with Jack could not we just disguise him for a few days no they’d hear me shouting Gary maybe we might train Jack to assert something apart from drink have an impact on our ladies likes love it’s a job in that lifestyles or two years ago Duggal father Jack may be unhealthy but he’s not a canine here he’s now he mostly wants to go out wait perhaps we would train him to claim one or two things nothing too certain a number of all appropriate sentences like that would be an ecumenical matter sure I can’t feel of any religious question that can’t be answered through that what I at all times say when persons ask me questions it is a nice factor about Catholicism it’s so vague and no person particularly is aware of what it can be all about I suppose it could work Google’s I know it’ll work it will work it is not going to work when its head don’t know so we have got to are attempting proper father now we will have a little elocution classes drink father you cannot be saying that at all times when the bishops come here thanks continually comfortable that either it Geron the daddy simply simply go back to a drink for the second fine correct now i would like you to have a appear at this have a go together with the first one here – proper no no – drink now come on father awareness that vent the strings the strings the unusual bass bass bass bass bass bass bass now come on Oh father i do know you can do the veena – consuming it for you to do it drink yes I promise now come on are trying once more that proper no no Paul the practically had it that is quality carry it trouble to keep it going here and the subsequent come again would ya toys that you left the cooker on okay father i’m going to be there right father the whole lot’s ready there’s a significant school steaming away and i’ve organized a Ferrero Rocher in a convention which Isis taking up three bishops unexpectedly can’t wait proper you realize father I consider this is going to be the finest moment of my profession it can be practically as if my entire lifetime of leading off two exceptional females’s going omit is completed i’m over here so you might be father this is doing just right have you ever bought your contacts in no a canine ran off with them I inspiration I get away with that I consider i’ll need to put on the glasses they don’t like wearing them father I suppose they make me appear like a pissed off historic egg all I can’t imagine that I assume they seem obviously well no no no it can be only a horrifying movie I was thinking in the market pleasant quite greenish whele that is significantly better and that i just go and verify on the tv so father hmm father i have certainly no suggestion where the door is so overlook head and Google at Google they’re right here sorry about that fishbone Elia you have been announcing sure quite simple ceremony we just need slightly incense or incense I have no idea if we do the you recognize if we have any incense there was once a spider in the bath last night time no Judy incense incense all right sure and no i do not suppose so that you don’t forget when we ran out of incense and we use the wind aletan well man i am definite we can find some so are you doing a lot upgrading round nation final month we elevated a mushroom area in Cavan contact last three races our work takes us far and wide the country it gives us a threat to get in contact with the usual clergy or the ground troops as I call them yes we’re trying to prepare a colossal assembly on the finish of the year where the entire ranks of the clergy can speak about their views with representatives of the lay neighborhood what do you feel are the key here sorry what do utilizing the whole relationship with the lay neighborhood on this precise matter is desirable or must a distinct distance be maintained yes a excellent query and good I suppose we will have to involve to put group to preserve them at a distance how a lot of a distance couple of miles here we at the moment are he for every person oh are you okay your grid sure I yeah yeah I I had a minor coronary heart assault final year I must take it convenient axe acquired a bit of a cost day correct he is no longer a difficulty in case you might just give us a little bit of a warning when you are going to do something satisfactory I just remembered the aliens is on after the news Susan for god sake i’m sorry Victor Jordan did you now not hear what he’s announcing about his heart you realize it’s simply instantaneous directors price come on all people let’s all have a massive lads night in a coronary heart assault that is rare adequate nowadays there were obviously numerous prayers set for sincerely we are not able to appear at the aliens google obvious neither speaking but that love attack no they wouldn’t Bishop loti best go girl we aren’t observing alien anyway again to faith he’s going to insist not our first precedence but speak up fight again in opposition to a satirical bias of the media yes Ferrero Rocher father Ted with these Russia you’re really spoiling mrs.Doyle all proper Bishop i’m sorry you have been saying oh yes I was once saying we must fight again towards the media however we need to make our voice heard the place is farther hatchets mrs. Doyle could you get father Hackett for us now most likely father I ought to say mrs. Doyle they keep you on your feet my housekeeper isn’t the best i’m afraid many times I consider that it’s me that will have to be in actual fact G for sorry about that right here father hackett now he is been looking ahead to your visit have not you father yes Bishop O’Neill speak it oh yes that is Bishop fax yes that is Bishop Jordan yes they’re looking at then you father that’s 1 billion yes I was once just pronouncing father how i’m watching forward to discussing the social effects of one of the vital church’s pondering as involving issues of personal morality nuts 1 billion – Emmanuel motto sure I let’s for Jews would just right factor father sure that is what we’d like a optimistic attitude like sake what quiet race i can see father Hackett making a priceless contribution over the following few days oh sure Heavenly Father hear our prayer we pray that this rock be upgraded to a category-2 relic by means of the grace of God bring treatment to all who cross within a radius of two and a 1/2 to 3 toes of this at your discretion and may just all who’re healed in such a approach provide glory to you our Lord via your earthly type of this classification to relic amen Evan i am sorry for the portray your father will meet up with the others within the white yes I noticed it to your confident perspective different so many people are cynical about such matters that you may hardly to open the newspaper these days without studying some today’s and satirical articles written through some bearded lifting sure it seems that early will go down the world of fine I simply can be an Oh me get us a real enemy bb/d mercy predatory pleasure sure Asian ecumenical sure i will write you up so father do you ever have any doubts about the devout life as your religion ever confirmed pay attention hear involved about any doubts you could have been having about any features of notion something like that good in all the method God made us all right and he is watching down at us from heaven and the whole lot huh huh and then his son got here down and saved each person and all that yes and once we die we’re all going to go to heaven yes what about a little of drawback with the heat laughs assault when you come face-to-face with dying it makes you believe about things I saw that film just lately Apollo 14 reminded me of my own brush with loss of life are you aware what I imply you mean you have been in space when you had your coronary heart attack no how might I be in area sorry no I feel no longer no I Ament i know what it’s wish to be nearly dying yes gracefully i will use the old k so i’ll try this I see all Cheers check the air so if God has existed perpetually you understand what did he do in his spare time like before he made the earth and the whole thing you recognize good we all have to what about when you wear too low the meat on Fridays how come that is all proper now nevertheless it wasn’t again then I mean that the men and women who ate meat on Fridays back then they’d all go to hell or what I imply it’s man she’s not bothering you with it no no it is just magic oh there you’re i’m hoping you had a exceptional gesture oh it was excellent I feel I read some very interesting conclusions Oh about what precisely good it’s nonsense Ignis religion so consider about this very little proof blind religion that is all we must go on without a shred of proof wherever nothing aliens now there may be some thing that would simply be possible everlasting life large demons sticking pink-sizzling pokers up your ass for all eternity i don’t think so the entire faith factor I just don’t buy it i have been suffering from my moral sense for a while now however father McGuire was once the first man to spell it out me in black and white Oh Dougal what have you ever been as much as this man this man treasure him father clearly he has wisdom far past his 12 months thanks very a lot fast it can be Bishop Jordan I suppose he is useless there Oh Lord yeah that’s a dustbin hear this is your fax media that’s the primary matters do it Duggal oh you are welcome bishop no no Eddie are you definite you want and don’t forget a resolution no anyway it’s too late i’m off to India for 2 months with just a few friends ah there they are see you again then your grace the holy stone will it nonetheless be a category-2 after they m god bless when clear La tache

0 notes

airoasis · 5 years ago

Text

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/tentacles-of-doom-father-ted-series-2-episode-3-dead-parrot-2/

"Tentacles of Doom" | Father Ted | Series 2 Episode 3 | Dead Parrot