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forsaire · 8 months

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Doubt (Ghost x Soap)

Chapter 28 excerpt from Don't Let Me Go on ao3.

After Ghost goes to the gym to let out some anger, Soap helps him relax when he returns. But doubt starts to enter Ghost's mind.

“What is that?” Ghost asked, the object partially obstructed by the covers from his angle. Soap picked it up and lowered it into Ghost’s field of view – it was a portable radio.

Its body was exclusively made of a reddish-brown wood, the multitude of scuffs and scrapes on it showing its old age. The grain of the wood extended long, natural streaks along the length of the radio. The speaker took up the majority of the bottom left corner with two knobs next to it: one for the volume and one to manually tune the frequencies displayed along the top with a red ticker. It was definitely vintage.

“Old radio I found hiding in storage,” Soap answered.

“It still works?”

“Well, it wasn’t until I started playing around with it. I’ve been scavenging around to find batteries and other small parts it needed for a couple days. I was actually just about to test it out before you came back.”

Soap took the radio back and Ghost heard it turn on with a distinct click. After a second of silence, dull static tumbled out from the speaker. As Soap turned the dial back and forth, the static flowed in and out like a rolling hill, becoming louder and softer at random. Distorted voices occasionally cut through the noise in clear but short snippets before being drowned out by static again.

Suddenly, a loud puff of static sounded then a clear melodic guitar began to play. It wasn’t amazing quality – it sounded like it was coming from down a tunnel – but it worked. (x)

Soap huffed out a laugh, clearly proud of his achievement.

“Impressive,” Ghost commented as Soap rested the radio back on the bed.

Ghost turned his head back around and shifted his legs so he sat with both feet planted on the ground. He rested his arms on top of his knees and clasped his hands together in front of him.

Soap opened his legs so Ghost was positioned in between them and reached down to press into the muscle, gently massaging Ghost’s shoulders. The firm pressure felt incredible and Ghost dropped his head between his arms in bliss. Soap continued to use his skillful hands to find the knots and roll them out.

In the calm silence between them, Ghost’s ears picked up the familiar guitar tune playing quietly from the radio. He recognized it as soon as the artist started singing. It was Old Man by Neil Young.

Old man, look at my life.

I’m a lot like you were.

“I know I’m probably not as good as you,” Soap admitted, no doubt referring to the massage. Ghost continued to melt into the way his hands felt rubbing into his shoulders.

“No,” Ghost asserted. “It’s nice.”

Old man, look at my life.

Twenty-four and there's so much more.

Live alone in a paradise,

That makes me think of two.

“It’s the least I can do. Every now and then an old man gets sore,” Soap said cheekily, having caught onto the lyrics.

“Old man?” Ghost said in disbelief. “You don’t even know my age do you?”

Soap hummed. “Not exactly, but being an old man is more of a mentality than an age.”

“I could easily kick your arse.”

“Oh, you say such sweet things to me,” Soap joked. Ghost could hear he was smiling.

Ghost shook his head and chuckled under his breath. Soap’s hands moved from his shoulders, inward towards his neck. He gently scratched at the base of the mask causing Ghost to sigh contently. Noticing this, Soap slid a few fingers underneath Ghost’s mask and scratched at the nape of his neck.

Love lost, such a cost.

Give me things that don't get lost.

Like a coin that won't get tossed,

Rolling home to you.

After a few seconds, Soap slid one finger up the side of Ghost’s head near his ear. He paused, silently asking for permission. With a gentle nod, Ghost allowed him, the unspoken trust thick between them.

With Ghost’s head still dipped between his legs, Soap slowly slid off the mask. Once it was fully off, Soap let his fingers run through Ghost’s hair, gingerly shaking it out.

There was no one else in the world that Ghost would allow himself to be this vulnerable with. No one he would ever allow to get this close to him. With the mask removed, Ghost felt like he was missing a layer of protection – he was missing one of his walls. Anyone who had gotten lucky enough to remove Ghost’s mask had then been subsequently unlucky enough to no longer be breathing.

Doubt started to enter his mind.

“Why aren’t you scared?” Ghost asked, uncertainty biting at his words.

“Of what?” Soap said lightly.

“Me.”

Soap chuckled quietly, as if the question were utterly ridiculous. “I’ve never been afraid of you, Ghost.”

He said it with such conviction.

“Why?” Ghost persisted, although he wasn’t sure what answer he was hoping to hear.

“Are you trying to convince me that I should be?”

“Maybe.”

Soap was quiet for a moment, tangling his fingers deep in Ghost’s hair, grabbing the strands in his palm, and gently tugging upwards.

Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you.

I need someone to love me the whole day through.

Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true.

“Your hands may be lethal in a fight, that’s true,” Soap responded, clearly trying to be precise with his words, “but I’ve also experienced how gentle their touches truly are.”

“What about before?”

Soap was quiet for a few seconds again, thinking of how to answer. “Hmmm. I just… I don’t know. You cared even though you pretended not to. You cared a lot. You always put everything of yourself into everything you did. I thought that there was something more to you that you let on. It’s hard to exactly describe it really, but I felt drawn to you.”

“Drawn is right…” Ghost said with a lighter tone. “You wouldn’t ever leave me alone.”

Soap leaned forward to speak close to Ghost’s ear. “Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No,” Ghost admitted. Soap pulled back.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Nowhere,” Ghost lied. Soap didn’t respond, clearly not believing him. Rather than challenging it, Soap moved one of his hands to trace the edge of Ghost’s temple with a small sigh.

An abrupt knock at the door made them both quickly look up. Soap instantly held out Ghost’s mask for him to take as Ghost walked a few feet away, sliding it over his head in a smooth motion. As he positioned it properly on his face again, Soap opened the door.

Full chapter a03.

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deathbyvalentine · 1 day

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On the day I changed Nothing else did. Sky, still blue, still gloriously blue, spring relentless. Traffic ticked on. People walked past as if in a dream. Faintly, a dog barks. Yet it felt like a festival, A celebration, a ticker tape parade, A paradise brought to my doorstep, Pre-emptive, earned, fresh, Sunlight all around. Perhaps the most important part of all this Was the brand new sight. April 30th

#poetry #poems #poem #spilled ink

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autisticabbey · 2 years

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Today it was my day off to go see both Black Adam and Ticker to Paradise, and they’re both really good, while I was wearing my decorated Pink Moon vintage heels.

#abbey mclane #actually autistic #writer #black adam #ticket to paradise

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catatonicdelirium · 5 months

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Paradise

Prelude. In the wake of vengeful memories, Lies the heartbeat of the cataclysm— Unfolding in unreal time that has been captured for its utmost essence, The dreamers scrape the heavens for a nightmare or two to get by; Such is the reality that we’ve embarked on.

In the breath of a stranger, Lies the root cause of a symptom— Dreaming of the times that we haven’t been strangers to one another, The lovers striate the depths of the Earth for a dream or two to continue their passion; Such is the reality that we’ve embarked on.

Woe to the spinners of the eternal yarns!— Those myths that blaspheme the back of the psyche, And send the mind aflutter, agape, and renewed For the new season’s tidings have just begun.

Maybe the distant memories that rot in vengeance could’ve been better than this, But it’s hard to judge at this vantage point— Inside the gaping maw of the valley of death.

I. Radio static begins to churn and bring forth the new day: All is normalcy, devolved into rancid nonsense, That has struck a chord with so many non-believers, In a fatal time, In a fatal place, Eternally spinning in this gravity well, Where the stars have left naught but a trace— Of what?==Perhaps it’s the infancy of an idea generated by machinery, Perhaps it’s the dwelling place of an erotic affixation Deigned to the immanent collapse of reason.

Whatever the root cause of suffering, There tends to be a denial of the fever pitch that the heavens blasphemed our skulls with; Whatever the symptoms of life, There tends to be an epiphany that graces the hearts of mad-men.

I judge not based on the catacombs that fill the fields, But instead on the pulse of rhythm and life that tends to heal, For what more is there to the dreary parade of Sucked-up Dried-up Catatonic bodies?

With a renewed sense of crossing the boundary, With a harbored resistance to life’s infamy, We embark on the eternal road to salvation, Whatever that may mean for the trials ahead.

Describe to the best of your ability that which lies unseen.

Impale the bastards who deign to serve you the head of the queen— For they too seek retribution on the odd comparison of life to death.

Reprise. In the myths that they’ve spun for us, Are the distant cracks of dawn that are promised.

So strike up the lyre, Bang on the drum, For in our conquest of dreams The new day may be won.

II. The cries of the street preacher speak of peace and mayhem rolled in one, And the marks of decay have already been secured in their battles they have won.

The cries of a bitter winter approach on the horizon, As the sun barks out the last remnants of light with each passing day.

Funerals shall come in the future for the weary, The grid spins the vestiges of life marked by the dreary— Life’s eternal woes fall upon the recipient of this message, Tidal locked woes that are inflicted in waves, Of tumult and decay.

Harbor resentment for the passing of seasons, And you will soon falter and fail, For the reason of mankind has stricken us, Bound us, destined to be impaled— Ticker tapes receiving the lost and stolen goods of a generation, Stock market prices composing the patterns of boom and bust, Breaths measured with the roaring of smog.

Yes, the snow will become hard and the sun will become white, As soon as the markets have become encrusted with their eternal plight— Nuclear winters descend on populations crying out for mercy, Letting out the symptoms of their ill-conceived systems.

Though the heartbeat of eternal mysteries be one with each body, There lies in the depths of love the only puzzle to be solved— An excursion for eternal knowledge and accumulation, A myopic vision of what turns out to be exploitation!— For how is the will of the mass to be resolved?

Through the detainment of those miserable, Through the harrowing hallows of institutions, The school, The university, The hospital, The prison, The army barracks, The factory, The gulag archipelago— Resolved in the eternal Western melting-pot of industrial detritus.

Reprise. Haunting the docks at night Is the discharge of distant, static pulses— Towers of arching static!— Retributions for Moloch’s mayhem!— Clandestine expressways!— All for the eternal commute to the bowels of the Earth!— A vision secured, hope lost, all harboring the resentment inflicted in the present!== A cure doesn’t seem to be secured in this regime.

Static static static static static static static static static static static From the hum of Saturn wailing desperate cries out into the grids of Earth.

III.A With the return of life comes a breath of interstellar phenomena destined to bring mankind’s reason to its knees, to dart from the crevices of imperialistic jargon and into a blasphemous, holy light that sets man’s soul alight and full of flame.

A new beginning for a life-time of propagandistic bullshit that smatters and careens from the crater of the mind.

III.B We are the shallow, hollowed out remnants of souls flung far— Into the chasm of the gravity well of Earth we have splintered, And sent out our radiation through a blast of information.

Our one warning to those reading these messages: Don’t fall into the depraved mayhem of constant accumulation, Don’t fry your souls’ last gasp of air with half-baked information— Through these hallowed halls of fragments flung afar, You will find the reason of mankind’s errors, The last of our race, hollowed out by savages.

Time and trials have become the one and only metric of creation— A life descended, a new one approaches, And a fit of life breathes a new cloud of doubt.

Eternally crossing through territories, We are destined to come together as one, Though our travesties harp on what was won, All is becoming, not what is.

Eternally crossing over the pale, Throwing out the nightmares in favor of fantasies, Has always been the prerogative of the foolish as much as the wise.

III.C As the fits of passion oscillate and quell the spirit, So too must the brave march on. As the spasms reach a fever pitch, So too must the wise march on. As the demons wrestle with concepts beyond man’s grasp, So too must the philosophes combat the temptations.

Though we all have erred, Though we all have strayed, From the glory of life must we not be dissuaded— For all that happens is glossed over our eyes, And we must not be taken in by our rulers’ lies.

Temptations are not real, The whole of hedonistic display is more than surreal, The whole dream of paradise Lies within our hearts and our lives.

Reprise. Static, Oh static, Draw me further into your din, For my one and only trajectory Is into further sin.

Static, Oh static, Though Moloch made me small, My life-blood and my injuries Turn out to be nothing at all.

Saturn, Oh Saturn, All life has bowed to you, In infinite arrangements Destined to turn to blue— For so does the day turn to night, Shall the night turn to day.

#poetry

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paradise-2023-teljesfilm · 9 months

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catrinathomas · 2 years

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99 Angel Number Bible Spiritual Meaning and Twin Flame Symbolism

Is it true or not that you are seeing heavenly messenger number 99 over and over? It's no big surprise you are getting signs and messages from the heavenly. Going over number 99 on telephone numbers, addresses, receipts, computerized presentations, tickers, or apparently anyplace is an indication of heavenly correspondence.

So significant to paradise is the pride of the human spirit that each individual from humanity has a divine messenger from the second the individual starts to be.

Oftentimes experiencing heavenly messenger number 99 is a message from your soul advisers for definitely stand out. Your heavenly messengers are introducing number 99 to tell you that they are with you.

Since old times, numbers have been viewed as an approach to grasping the universe and the universe. Thus, almost certainly why your heavenly messengers are utilizing them to send you divine messages. Other than numbers, the couriers from up above are giving different indications as well. After giving close consideration, you will actually want to see synchronicity signs that are shipped off assist you with finding the way that is best for you.

Heavenly messenger number 99, appearing more than once over a brief period, is a message from the heavenly. The bump that it's something critical is an obvious that calls for consideration.

By showing number 99 your heavenly messengers are letting you know that you're pursuing the ideal choices and headed in the correct bearing.

When you notice events of rehashing 9s, give close consideration. Recall when you went over this number? What were your sentiments? What considerations rung a bell while experiencing number 9? Additionally, focus on your environmental elements.

Show your appreciation to the heavenly and the holy messengers, who are close by each second. Stay associated with the heavenly through supplication, contemplation, care, and by being open and responsive to welcome the angels into your life. Offer your gratefulness and thanks and request more gifts, love, and direction.

Is it safe to say that you are requesting replies, direction, course, and motivation? Seeing holy messenger number 99 is the response to your requests. At the point when you see twofold digit numbers like 99, they are your holy messengers attempting to stand out to help and guide you in accomplishing your objectives or life reason.

Holy messenger numbers are intended to convey divine messages. They are significant number groupings through which the soul guides can speak with us. Mathematical synchronicity can go about as direction during the ups and downs of life. Thus, while these rehashing numbers make an appearance to you, focus and trust your instinct.

Heavenly messenger number 99 is strong. Seeing number 99 or heavenly number 999, over and over, isn't an incident. It's a secret directive for you, from the heavenly. Running over soul number 99 is a message to enlighten you that you're concerning to enter another stage in your life. Realize that the heavenly has a superior arrangement for you. Rather than keeping down, now is the right time to relinquish what no longer serves your higher great.

Holy messenger number 99 is unquestionably strong. This number resounds with the energy and vibrations of initiative and shrewdness. Seeing this number in your life is a message encouraging you to utilize your initiative characteristics, internal insight, and ability to satisfy your life reason.

99 is about concordance, fate, and karma. It is a message empowering you to deal with your viewpoints and needs throughout everyday life. 99 is requesting that you pick your considerations, words, and activities admirably as you are appearing through the force of this number. Be positive in your viewpoints and activities. Keep in mind, your positive activity joined with positive considerations will bring about progress for you.

Number 99 in Numerology Numerology number 99 is a mix of 2 digits (9+9=18).

To comprehend its significance, the number 99 is packed down to a solitary digit number. Since 18 is certainly not a solitary digit, we rehash the cycle (1+8=9).

In numerology, the digit the number is diminished to should have more power and limit than the numbers which are decreased. In this illustration of 99, the packed digit is 9, and the numbers that are compacted are 9+9. Thus, the number 99 contains the pith of the number 9.

Number 9: Known as the Mother Theresa Number, numerology number 9 is the quantity of philanthropy, empathy, and generosity. Number 9 addresses finish. It's tied in with finishing one cycle and the start of another. 9 This number will in general consider the government assistance of mankind more than its presence. The number 9 has taken in its illustrations through encountering difficulties. Furthermore, presently, it's more astute and shows others how its done. The number 9 is generally at the front to help and support the individuals who are battling.

Consequently, numerology number 99 reverberates with the energy of resistance, support, compassion, empathy, and charity.

Heavenly messenger Number 99 Implications More than once seeing heavenly messenger number 99 in your life isn't an occurrence. Your holy messengers are bumping you to see this number. Number 99 contains a mystery message expected only for you. Focus on this number as the heavenly messengers need to pass a significant message related on to your life reason. A portion of the normal explanations for holy messenger number 99 are as per the following:

Trust Higher Knowledge for Direction You are seeing heavenly messenger number 99 methods you are associated with the heavenly, like experiencing gatekeeper number 88. This number conveys divine messages to help and guide you on the correct way.

By showing celestial number 99, the heavenly is directing you to uncover the more profound, more weak parts of yourself. You are being welcome to interface with the heavenly energy inside you and around you.

You want not look outside for direction. Anything that you really want is inside you. Believe that you have the force of the Universe inside. The holy messengers maintain that you should encircle yourself with inspiration and never permit negative contemplations to twirl around and make an energy of pessimism around you.

Your instinct and inward insight are at their pinnacle. Follow your regular calling as it is more shrewd than you suspect. It is a holy gift, introduced in you to direct you in the correct bearing. Whenever you end up caught in dread, questions, and overpower, go to a calm spot and profoundly pay attention to what's coming from inside. Believe that your instinct generally has your wellbeing on the most fundamental level. Whether you are uncertain about picking a profession, a soul mate, or updating your life, the holy messengers are empowering you to make the right decision in your stomach.

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sims4t2bb · 3 years

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4T2 BG Conversions - Wall Deco

Your item guide is under the cut!

Paintings

Antiqued Patent Posters by Veranka

Art in a Box by Michelle

Bembe Maraj’s Hand-Woven Tapestry by MorePopcorn

Birds of a Feather Print Set by Veranka

Blue for the Blues Wall Painting by TenLittlePandas

Decals on a single mesh by Nutty:

Bunny Totem

Dream Eater

Open Hearted Princess

Oonicorn the Unicorn

Movie posters on the BV Travel Keeper mesh by SelenaQ13:

Cop and Llama

Cow Plant Love

Epic Wood

It’s Amber

Malpractice

Stay Weirder

Still Life

Sul Sul

Coq au Peinture by Michelle

Debug Observatory Photos by Nutty

Etude in Blue by TenLittlePandas

Eye for Nature Painting by LadySimPlayer8

Floating Away by Nutty

Floral Revelation by Michelle

Fruit on Fruit Watercolour Set by Veranka

Gravity and Light Contemporary Watercolour by Veranka

History of the World, Print 3 by Veranka

I Otter Be a Star Pop Art by Veranka

La Vida en Color - Mural by TheNinthWave

Lemon Branch Contemporary Watercolour by Veranka

Let There Be Plumbobs! by Tee-Sims

Mega Art by Dee

Mystery Poser Antique Portrait by Veranka

No. 46 Landscape by Michelle

Ode to Jazz 1: “Golden” by TenLittlePandas

Ode to Jazz 2: “Goldentips” by TenLittlePandas

Ode to Jazz 5: “Ivory” by TenLittlePandas

Ode to Jazz 6: “Ghost Quartet” by TenLittlePandas

Ode to Jazz Triptych Trio by TenLittlePandas

On Phantom Wing Wall Art by Veranka

The Pianist by TenLittlePandas

Portrait of a Marriage by Michelle

Pride Flag by TheNinthWave

The Primrose Path by Veranka

Saxophone in Silhouette by TenLittlePandas

Superasymmetry by Veranka

Symbols of the Watery Moon by Limonaire

Tragic Clown by SelenaQ13

Unconverted:

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Alpine Peace

The Amour-propre

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Baby Bunny Nursery Art

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Better than Bunny Decal

“Blooming Beauty” Wall Painting

Ceci N’est Pas Une Poire

Chic Shoe Fashion Poster

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Curiosity is Electrifying Poster

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Dramatic Cooking Poster

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Heavenly Wall Decal

Henry Puffer Poster

Hot and Cold Tech Spec Poster

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The Illustrated Sports Poster

Inspirational Mouse Poster

The Intrepid

Jazz Cats: Whiskers of a Forgotten Past

“Just Justin” Fan Poster

Kick It, Sally Soccer Poster

Land-Coral Garden

Light of My Life Painting

Martian Memories Landscape #1

Martian Memories Landscape #2

Martian Memories Landscape #3

Mochi Booger Parade

My House Kid’s Painting

Ode to Jazz 3: “Sea Bass”

Ode to Jazz 4: “Feeling Blue”

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Only One Directional Arrow

The Downer Arrow Decal

To The Left Decal

Paradise Falls

Plumbosion!

Raising a Reader Kids’ Poster

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“Revanne” Poster

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Roman Temple Architectural Study

Rorschach Bunnies

The Sealinicorn, in repose

Slightly Damp Poster

Still Life with Apples and Pitcher and Books and Bottles and Flowers

Snow Falling on Cinders Abstract Art

Sole Star Athletic Poster

Spuds in Space Potato Print

Study of the Human Form

Still Life

Teen Idol Poster

Tenor Mood

Treebra Series 4, Print 337

Unidentified Creature Stencil

Viva La Landscape

Viva More of La Landscape

Winsome Growth Chart

“Working for Peanuts” Wall Painting

Wall Deco

Better as a Pair of Paintings by Autumn-RoseSims

Cactus Cantina Sign by HafiseAzale

Chronos Magazine (Framed Collector’s Edition Issue) by Delonariel

Executron Personal Stock Ticker by Delonariel

Flower of the Dead by Shasta

Get Your Jazz on by HafiseAzale

Jazzy Saxophone Wall Sign by HafiseAzale

Large Cork Board by Tony-Veis

Positronic Pro Magnetic Knife Rack by Veranka

RAW Cookware Collection by Veranka

RAW Oversized Fork and Spoon by Veranka

Spy Satellite (as fire and burglar alarm by HugeLunatic)

Supreme Freelancer Award by Moocha

Tetraptych Wall Hanging by Shasta

Tactical Map by HugeLunatic

Wall-Mounted Garden Hose Reel by Delonariel

Aging Up

Apple of Your Eye

Chalkboard Menu

Circular Neon Tiki Sign

Coat of Arms with Shield and Swords

Copper Cow Mould

Curated Cork Board

Goldora Dove Décor

In Session Novelty Chalkboard

Large Award Ribbon

Mega Wall Hanging

Mega Wall Hunk

Neon Circle Wall Sign

Neon Palm Tree Sign

Neon Parrot Sign

An Open Book, Framed

Orange Squeeze

Ordinary Things Shadowbox

Pictures, Pictures on the Wall

Pinbacker Wall Art

Pink Pig Copper Mould

Polly Wants a Plate Tree

Postmodern Signature Sign

Sunny Days Wall Decor

Three Framed Skeleton Keys

Vinoteca Bottle Rack

Wish in a Dish

#4t2 #4t2 conversion #bg #s2cc

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wilhelm--fink · 3 years

Text

Playlist: March 2021

1. Wheel of Fortune - Protomartyr, Kelley Deal

2. Televised Mind - Fontaines D.C.

3. Call Out My Name - The Weeknd

4. Respiremos - 424

5. Love My Way - The Psychedelic Furs

6. Washing Machine Heart - Mitski

7. Know Your Rights - The Clash

8. Burkina Faso - Esteman

9. Main Offender - The Hives

10. Something About Us - Daft Punk

11. People - The 1975

12. Colossus - IDLES

13. Daydreaming - Radiohead

14. The Background Noise - IAMX

15. Fuimos Amor - Esteman

16. DEUTSCHLAND - Rammstein

17. MEIN LAND - Rammstein

18. The Fool - Gus Dapperton

19. Sadderdaze - The Neighbourhood

20. Paradise - The Neighbourhood

21. Broken Boy - Cage The Elephant

22. Baby Came Home 2 / Valentines - The Neighbourhood

23. She Don’t Dance - Everyone You Know

24. Her Favorite Song - Mayer Hawthorne

25. American Daydream - Electric Guest

26. Veneno - Vetusta Morla

27. SKR - Zoé

28. Rest My Chemistry - Interpol

29. Float On - Modest Mouse

30. Broken - Gorillaz

31. Pretty Waste - Bones UK

32. Bury Me With It - Modest Mouse

33. Alphabet Boy - Melanie Martinez

34. Tag, You're It - Melanie Martinez

35. Lava - The B-52s

36. Diet - Au Pairs

37. Sunday - Sonic Youth

38. Intellectualise My Blackness - Skunk Anansie

39. Rebel Girl - Bikini Kill

40. Deceptacon - Le Tigre

41. Confession - The Soft Pink truth

42. Fire Flies - Gorillaz

43. Strange News From Another Star - Blur

44. The Pink Phantom - Gorillaz, Elton John, 6LACK

45. Rhinestone Eyes - Gorillaz

46. America - Motionless In White

47. Wiped Out! - The Neighbourhood

48. Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino - Arctic Monkeys

49. She's My Collar - Gorillaz, Kali Uchis

50. Ticker Tape - Gorillaz, Carly Simon, Kali Uchis

51. Columbia - Oasis

52. Désolé - Gorillaz, Fatoumata Diawara

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vajranam · 3 years

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Live And Dying Without Dharma

According to the sutra, those who hear and recite the Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva Pūrvapraṇidhāna Sūtra, or make offerings to Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva will attain 28 kinds of merits.

Those 28 benefits of reciting Ksitigarbha sutra are as follows:

1. They will be protected by heavenly beings and dragons.

2. They will increase in good mind day after day.

3. They will accumulate superior wisdom.

4. They will never regress from Bodhi.

5. They will be opulent in food and clothing.

6. They will never suffer from any disease.

7. They will be far away from flood, fire and disaster.

8. They will not be stolen from or robbed.

9. They will be respected by everyone.

10. Gods and ghosts will help and support them.

11. A woman may be reborn as a male in the next life.

12. A woman may be born as a king’s or minister’s daughter.

13. They will be born with good-looking features.

14. They will be reincarnated in heaven.

15. They may be reincarnated as a king.

16. They will be aware of their former lives.

17. They will obtain anything they ask.

18. Their families and relatives will be joyful.

19. All disasters or accidents will be eliminated.

20. They will be rid of all bad karma.

21. They will go anywhere without problems.

22. They will have pleasant and peaceful dreams.

23. Their deceased relatives will be far away from suffering.

24. They will receive the blessings from their past lives.

25. They will be praised by Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.

26. They will become intelligent and have a good roots.

27. They will possess a merciful heart.

28. They will ultimately realize Buddhahood.

Are you oblivious to the sufferings of birth, old age, sickness and death? There is no guarantee that you will survive, even past this very day! The time has come [for you] to develop perseverance in [your] practice. For, at this singular opportunity, you could attain the everlasting bliss [of nirvāṇa]. So now is [certainly] not the time to sit idly, But, starting with [the reflection on] death, you should bring your practice to completion!3 The moments of our life are not expendable, And the [possible] circumstances of death are beyond imagination. If you do not achieve an undaunted confident security now, What point is there in your being alive, O living creature?

Padmasambhava, The Tibetan Book of the Dead

The majority of us lead quiet, unheralded lives as we pass through this world. There will most likely be no ticker-tape parades for us, no monuments created in our honor. But that does not lessen our possible impact, for there are scores of people waiting for someone just like us to come along; people who will appreciate our compassion, our unique talents. Someone who will live a happier life merely because we took the time to share what we had to give. Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have a potential to turn a life around. It’s overwhelming to consider the continuous opportunities there are to make our love felt

Leo Buscaglia

Many will critics because we are on path that none part of us can understand but remember that all yogis and even Buddha himself face that.

logic vs superstitions :

Without been religious just a simple logic scientific are unable to explain consciousness and where are our origins.

Paradise tickets for everyone : well if we follow that logic Mother Theresa or Padre Pio who dedicated there's life to others will be in same place Osama Ben Laden who wanted just heradicate people. Paradise for everyone well hard to know.

no reincarnation

So following the same logic where come tought, feeling even habits that we got when we just born when no one had socialise with us ? Reincarnation believe or not very possible

There is a lot superstitions in our world today like chance is another one, only live on effects that we did in past.

Live and dying without dharma is always a personal choice but did that the good one, none dharma practioners is perfect but none of non dharma practioners are also not perfect. Well as dharma practioners we are learning processes all time we work slowly developing compassion towards others, we learn to decluter our life of things that not help us.

On another hand well we cant live blindly some of us try be good human but stock pills negative act without knowing. Yeah nobody is perfect that the full circle of this text . But if our life is about destroying, gossiping and use who ever we can to get whatever we want maybe our life is wasted because we end up empty hands at time of death.

#wisdom #spirituality #mindfulness #meditation #religion #buddhism #self care #zen #visualization #tibet

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 2 years

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Brazil’s Stock Market Is Surging. Don’t Expect a Carnival.

[Image description: aerial view of the Christ The Redeemer statue.]

Here’s something you probably didn’t see coming: Brazilian markets are surging, while the rest of the world flails.

The iShares MSCI Brazil exchange-traded fund (ticker: EWZ) has jumped 17% year-to-date. Global emerging markets are up 2%, thS&P 500 is down 4%. The real has climbed 7% against the dollar.

With two-thirds of its market cap in materials or financial stocks, and a 32% nose dive in 2021, Brazil was a sort of paradise for investors rotating into value.

It still is. “Brazil is trading at a 30% discount to historical averages, while the rest of the world is at a 5% premium,” says Daniel Gewehr, portfolio manager at São Paulo-based WHG Asset. “There should be positive equity returns on a 12- to 24-month view.”

Don’t expect a smooth escalator up, though. Brazil’s central bank has yanked interest rates from 2% to 10.75% in a year, chasing runaway inflation, and is probably not done yet. That will depress growth to zero at best for 2022. Corporate earnings per share may dip 12%, Gewehr predicts. Local investors are fleeing equities back to savings as returns there skyrocket.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #economy #mod nise da silveira

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octoberobserver · 3 years

Text

Hello, Cas - Destiel Fix-It Fanfic

READ ON AO3

“Hello, Cas.”

Dean Winchester has to admit this new Heaven is great and all, but nothing compares to the deep-seated satisfaction of watching his best friend startle at his voice, turning on the spot, their eyes locking.

Now you know how it feels, dumbass.

“Hello, Dean.”

Something settles in Dean’s chest at that.

Cas looks different. Younger, maybe. Less tortured, definitely.

The trench coat isn’t quite right, though.

The sun is still shining, where they stand on the edge of the lake.

Dean has no idea how much time has passed since he left Sam with their mom and dad and hit the road again, one destination in mind, Bobby’s “Cas helped” ringing in his ears. He doesn’t know how he knew where to go, it more of a feeling, than anything else. Like a beacon calling out to somewhere deep inside him.

So he drives.

And finds him at the edge of a familiar-looking pier, gazing out at the water, deep in thought.

So deep in fact, that Dean manages to somehow sneak up on him. He wonders if it’s a particular perk that Jack wrote into the fabric of this place.

Dean Winchester must finally be allowed to get the drop on the angel, Castiel. It’s an intrinsic part of his eternal paradise.

For what must be one of the only times in their many years of friendship, Cas breaks eye contact after a fleeting but heavy glance, looking over Dean’s shoulder to where Baby is glinting in the late-afternoon sun.

“Did you have a nice drive?”

He did.

He hadn’t meant for it to last quite as long as it did, but got lost in the journey, time slipping by like nothing at all as Kansas and later, Led Zeppelin, crooned on the radio.

“I did,” he replies, coming to stand right next to the angel, “thanks for bringing Baby up here.”

He knows it was Cas’ doing. Ensuring his Impala was waiting for him. Not that Jack needed reminding. He smiles as he thinks of their driving lessons.

“Your version of Heaven wouldn’t be complete without your beloved vehicle,” Cas attempts a smile while still not looking directly at him.

Something lurches in Dean’s stomach. The same something that once had him reaching for the bottle and drinking himself into a blackout, numbing stupor.

“Cas…” he tries to speak over the lump in his throat, “back in the bunker, man, I—”

“Sam arrived okay?” Cas cuts across lightly, moving away from him, shuffling along the edge of the lake, eyes downcast.

Dean blinks before stumbling after him, confused.

“Uh, yeah. He did. Lived a long, happy life with Eileen. Just like he deserved.”

Cas says nothing at that, but the tension that mars his shoulders eases a little.

“Eileen arrived some time ago. I got to introduce her to your mom.”

Dean didn’t know that. Hadn’t thought to ask that. Hadn’t thought to ask a lot of things, really.

Guilt rises from the pit of his gut.

“Sammy’s with them all now,” he speaks in an effort to drown it out, “pretty sure Mom is showing her our baby pictures as we speak.”

He chuckles.

“Jack really did think of every little detail, huh?”

Cas gives a nod, short and curt, eyes still downcast and suddenly, Dean can’t take it anymore.

“I thought about it, every day. Saving you.”

The words expel from him, banished from his body before he can stop them.

His legs move on their own volition until he is barely a foot from him, speaking directly to the back of his head.

“‘Gripping you tight and raising you from perdition,’” he quotes in his best Cas-gruff, “repaying the favor from all those years ago.”

He heaves a sigh as Cas abruptly comes to a halt.

“Killing myself somehow to plunge into the Empty on a wing and a prayer, maybe. One last deal to end all deals. But then I...I thought about your sacrifice. You died for me, Cas. So that I could live. So that I could be more than daddy’s blunt instrument. More than the destructive son of a bitch I’ve been since that night in ‘83.”

He pauses, watching the water ripple along the bank.

“I had no way of knowing that some wayward rebar would put a stop to that so soon,” he laughs dryly, holding his arms out, sarcasm seeping into his tone, “‘the great Dean Winchester’ cut down in his prime by some shoddy—”

“I almost asked Jack to bring you back,” Cas interjects, eyes now cast out to the skyline as he wrings his hands, “I was...concerned about Sam. And—the unfairness of it all. I...I didn’t want your story to end like that, Dean. You deserve happiness too.”

His heart gives another lurch in his chest.

So much for being dead. Don’t think the ol’ ticker got the memo.

“I was, Cas,” he half whispers to the water, “I was happy. If even just for a little bit. Because, we, me and Sam, we were finally writing our own story. Not Chuck.”

He tilts his head as Cas slowly begins to turn.

“I just didn’t count on that kinda plot twist,” he speaks around a half-smirk, half-grimace, “always thought I’d go down in a blaze of glory. Not offed by some opportunistic, no-name vamp and crappy reinforced steel.”

He finally lets himself laugh at that. Loud and abrupt and more than a little pained. The sheer absurdity of it. Him, having survived Hell and possessions and God himself.

Cas doesn’t laugh.

But he does step slightly closer.

“He called his kid Dean,” Dean continues, apropos of nothing. “Sammy.”

“I heard.”

“Dean Castiel Winchester.”

Cas blinks, apparently not privy to that information.

“That’s...touching.”

“Yeah,” Dean grins, “really rolls off the tongue, huh? Castiel Winchester?”

Cas shifts his weight from foot to foot, his brow furrowed.

Guilt creeps into Dean’s veins.

“Cas...will you look at me, man?”

A beat passes.

“Please?”

Finally, those bright blue eyes meet his, holding his gaze this time.

“Hi.”

It’s not what he intended to say. Not even close. But it’s a start.

Cas throws him a puzzled look.

“Hello, Dean.”

A shiver, one he hasn’t felt in what feels like a lifetime ago and also like it was yesterday, flows up his spine at Cas’ voice.

“God, I missed you.”

Something unreadable passes over Cas’ face before a smile, small but warm, appears.

“I missed you too, Dean.”

He lets that settle between them for a beat, basking in the words that always manages to sound a little different coming from his best friend than they ever did from his brother.

“Back in the bunker…” he attempts again, only to trail off when he sees Cas visibly tense, eyes darting away again.

He’s waiting for rejection, he thinks to himself.

The realisation hits him like a spike through the back.

Too soon?

“Back in the bunker,” he continues for the third time, voice softer than he could ever remember it being, “I thought that was it. That we were gonna die. For good.”

Cas’ gaze slowly starts to rise again.

“That Billie was gonna kill you, that the last thing I’d see before I died was her destroying you,” he pauses, his breath shaky, “and it broke me. That...fear...I started to shut down.”

Blue eyes meet green.

“And then you started talking,” he murmurs, his pulse speeding up as he recounts the memory he had fought so hard to keep buried, “you said that happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just being. In just...saying it.’”

A gasp, short and shallow and quiet escapes Cas, then.

But he keeps Dean’s gaze.

“Yes I...I did say that.”

Dean nods.

“You said something else too.”

Cas nods back, a stricken expression crossing his face.

“Dean—”

“I was frozen, paralysed,” Dean cuts across him, taking that last step towards him to halt merely inches from his face, “I...I couldn’t process what you were saying. I couldn’t...make sense of it. You said I was caring and selfless and the most loving human being you had ever known, but Cas,” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, the words lodging in his throat as he blinks back the burning behind his eyes.

“You deserved so much better than what I gave you.”

Cas shakes his head vigorously, holding up a hand.

“No, Dean. What you gave me—”

“All I gave you was grief and anger and pain, man. I know that.”

Cas’ mouth twists at that.

“You always came when I called, you fell, rebelled, were hunted,” Dean continues, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, “you gave me everything. You gave your grace, your life, more than once—”

“And I did all that, I risked my life, my grace, I rebelled and was hunted because I had changed, Dean. I cared. You changed me. You made me care about everything and everyone. You gave me that. You gave me a place in the world. A place to call home. A family to call my own. That was all you.”

Cas is breathing hard. Dean’s eyes lowers to his chest, surprised to find it heaving. Something stirs in his stomach at the sight.

“Do you understand?”

Slowly, he lifts his gaze back up and nods.

They fall into a silence, nothing but the sound of the water and some nearby birds passing between them.

It’s here that Dean finally decides that his happiness deserves to be said. No Empty could threaten them here. But he’s always been an ‘actions speak louder’ kinda guy.

Turning on his heel, he books it back over to Baby, throwing open the trunk. He can feel Cas’ wide, confused eyes on him and he reaches in and pulls out what he instinctively knows is somehow there, waiting for him. Slamming the trunk, he holds it behind his back as he races back over to the lake’s edge, a little unnerved that Cas may do one of his disappearing acts before he gets a chance to show him.

He takes the last few steps slowly. Closing the distance between them bit by bit as he tries to dredge up every ounce of courage he has ever felt fighting demons and vampires and the Devil and God.

He stops mere inches from Castiel, angel of the (former) Lord, and the best friend he has ever had and holds out his old trench coat, the same coat he had kept with him all this time, on every hunt, on every drive.

“This uh...this belongs to you.”

It’s not the only thing that belongs to him. But Dean can’t quite say that. Not just yet.

“Dean…” Cas’ voice is low, soft when he reaches out to take it, their fingers brushing.

A bolt of electricity flows up Dean’s arm, his grip tightening on the cloth.

“You kept it.”

Cas sounds disbelieving, reverent, loving.

He sounds like he has always sounded, now that Dean lets himself hear it.

See it.

“Of course I kept it. It’s yours. And I…” he lets out a breath, nerves settling as he allows himself to finally experience those feelings within him differently for the first time, like he once said he wanted to, to a priest in a church confessional.

He speaks the truth, out loud, for his best friend, the man who has meant everything to him for what feels like forever, to finally hear.

“I love you too, Cas.”

He half expects the new Heaven to open, a crack in the chassis of paradise to form at that revelation.

But the water keeps flowing, the birds keep singing and Cas...keeps staring.

Not exactly the reaction he was going for.

“It’s...I’m honoured to be considered a Winchester brother.”

Dean blinks.

Ice cold fear, stronger and more intense than anything he had ever felt while he was alive, seeps into his veins, then.

Had he got it wrong? What Cas was saying to him in his last moments? Had that not meant—

He looks down into those deep blue eyes and sees...more. More emotions and thoughts and feelings than Dean could hope to comprehend.

Cas always did look at him a hell of a lot differently than Sam ever did. Than anyone ever did.

With a shake of his head and a mental pep-talk that consists fully of ‘fuck it, I’m already dead,’ he lets his hand slide across Cas’, halting it before he could pull away.

“No, Cas I-I mean yeah, you are a Winchester, always have been, but...that’s not what I meant. I...”

He puts the slightest amount of pressure on the back of his hand, almost squeezing but not quite, it enough to spur him on to make another confession. His deepest and oldest yet.

“What you wanted but...could never have? I-I’m saying you can have it.”

He’s pretty sure neither one of them are breathing at that moment. Not that Cas ever needed to, or that they especially need to now. But, there is a noticeable stillness between them as Cas digests his words.

It’s the longest seven seconds of Dean’s after-life. And considering time moves differently up here, that’s saying something.

A smile, gentle but filled with so much happiness it has Dean’s heart hammering against his ribcage, breaks out on Cas’ face.

“I would like that, Dean.”

Bafflingly, he begins to shed his clothes.

Dean’s eyes widen, panic and something else surging through him as he glances frantically around for any prying eyes. Cas is stripping out in the open, in heaven of all places.

Holy shit. The holiest.

“Whoa, whoa, what—”

It’s then that he realises that Cas is just removing his coat and is now pulling on the old one, beaming.

That settles something in Dean, then. Fills a space he knew had been empty for a long, long time, as his eyes land on Cas with his signature trench coat, striped tie and white shirt, even in paradise.

He hadn’t changed too much, then. And God, (Jack?), Dean loves him for it.

“How do I look?” Cas asks, holding his arms out, looking expectant, much like he had years ago when he had walked out of their motel bathroom, freshly changed and Dean didn’t know quite how to keep his shit together.

He had been so blind.

“Good,” he rasps before clearing his throat, reaching out and fixing Cas’ lapels, smoothing them down and itching to keep his hands resting just over his heart.

Another beat passed as Dean stared doggedly down at the old, brown material.

"You know,” Cas begins, sounding as if he had just figured something out, “in those ‘chick flicks’ you insist you don't like, wouldn't this be the part where you kiss me?"

Green eyes meet those baby blue for what felt like the millionth and first time all at once.

“You wanna have a chick flick moment, Cas?” he asks quietly, because he’s scared and needs a minute to actually get his shit together for the most important thing he never got to do in life.

“After everything, I think we deserve it.”

Dean’s eyes slip closed at that, basking in the timbre of his voice as he leans down to rest their foreheads together.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his breath brushing against Cas’ lips, “we do.”

He closes the gap and kisses him feather-light.

Heaven doesn’t implode, the world doesn’t end.

So he does it again.

A little harder this time, his mouth dropping open in a half-gasp as Cas leans up, pressing against him and clutching at his shirt, his tongue trailing along his bottom lip.

Damn. The pizza man teach him that too?

Any coherent thought leaves his brain when he licks into Cas’ mouth, their tongues meeting. Dean clasps Cas’ jaw in his hand Cas grips his shoulder, right over where his risened handprint used to lie, and his bloodied one stayed on his jacket forever as Dean never could bring himself to wash it before he kicked the bucket.

Emotion wells in Dean’s chest, the word finally ringing within him.

“I-I have wanted that for a very long time,” Cas mumbles against his lips as they break for air from habit rather than necessity.

“Yeah, me too…” Dean replies, tipping their foreheads together again, “I’m sorry it took me so long to realise it.”

Cas’ hold on his shoulder tightens. It’s forgiveness and an apology all in one.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry I had to leave you.”

I’m sorry you died, lies unsaid between them.

Dean merely shakes his head, tilting back to catch his eye.

“So we’re two sorry dumbasses,” he jokes gently, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of Cas’ bright eyes glistening, knowing his own are in a similar state.

“I prefer the word ‘pining.’ Less dumb, less ass.”

A laugh bursts from Dean then, loud and more jovial than he had felt in years.

“Come on, sunshine,” he grins, knocking their shoulders and staying close, “we got some people waiting to see us.”

For the lovely @itsmajel & @thefriendlypigeon ♥♥

(I’ve not watched a full episode of Supernatural in six years. The finale being the exception, so sorry for any inaccuracies!)

#destiel #be gentle it's my first destiel fic despite writing fanfiction for 16 years now lol

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cleowho · 5 years

Photo

“By my two tickers...”

Paradise Towers - season 24 - 1987

#doctor who #classic doctor who #classic who #seventh doctor #sylvester mccoy #paradise towers #deputy chief caretaker #clive merrison

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roominthecastle · 6 years

Note

Possible spoilers here, fair warning. What's in name ? Do you know that Michael " Who is like God", the saint, is often pictured during angels' battle of the Apocalypse, in the end of time, killing the Devil, holding the Balance Weighing the Souls on the Day of Judgment, as a judge (psychostasis) and a guide (psychopomp) of the salvation of souls for Hell or Paradise (symbolic allegory of the final victory of Good (religion), on evil)? Have a nice saturday Room !

Apologies for the late reply, anon, and thank you for this thought prompt. Yes, I have read up on this a bit. His name has been a point of intrigue for me too bc there are several curious allusions to its famous angelic source (whether by accident or design, idk, it’s fun either way). It is a question (”who is like God?”) not a statement, and while I personally do not subscribe to the undercover boss theory, i.e. that Michael is the show’s version of God in disguise, I think he might be shaping up to be the show’s unique approximation of Michael the Archangel.

Regarding religion, TGP doesn’t take its cues from one specific tradition, but Saint Michael’s character isn’t confined to Christian scriptural literature, either, so developing a figure like him on the show is entirely possible, imo, and in S2 our Michael does transition into roles that are traditionally associated with the Archangel who’s both referred to as the “merciful” and the “most dread of the six-winged”.

What’s also entirely possible is that Michael is simply named after TGP’s “architect” Mike Schur and there is no bigger complexity to it, but even then we’re left with a demon who is the odd one out among its kind and wears an archangel’s name. It is just too good not to overthink it, so here are my results behind the cut bc LENGTH (and GIFs):

St. Michael always appears in the context of major drama involving crisis, impending judgment, doom, and salvation. Despite being a comedy, TGP operates within the same basic framework, too, so we are on track.

The examples you mention above are the most dramatic and show-off-y in the lore. They capture one side of St. Michael: the warrior-angel, ruthless commander of the heavenly host and an agent of judgment as presented in the Book of Revelation. This is his most well-known image, the whole “soldier dude impales the big bad devil/dragon” aesthetic popularized during the Middle Ages. And sometimes he’s also depicted with the scales of judgment but it’s less common. Bottom line: he’s the one who always steps in and pushes back when the devil and/or demons try to rig the soul scale to take what isn’t theirs.

Our Michael has yet to fully reveal his overtly aggressive-combative side, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t have it in him (after all, he used to literally turn bad people inside out - among other things - before he earned a desk job). He’s still a work in progress in an ongoing story, but we’ve already seen him get real testy with Trevor over Eleanor, dabble in post-mortem individual soul-weighing, impose “trials of judgment”, and finally conclude that the bad people he was entrusted with are not deserving of the kind of punishment they were sentenced to.

He’s willing to step in and push back when he feels demons are out of line or if the “system” itself is unfairly harsh on humans. So he may not be a stereotypical warrior but he’s already fighting for humans in his own way (which is increasingly confrontational but still relies more on brain than brawl). He may not be a commander or have an army, but he’s already shifted away from being a blind follower to making his own choices, so who knows where he will end up at the end of the story.

Now the other side of St. Michael’s dual character, the “merciful and long-suffering” side, is already evident in our Michael. The Archangel is primarily a guardian, famous for protecting and championing the human race. He is a compassionate ally, an “agent of revealed knowledge” and an intercessor. He shows concern for sinners and advocates on their behalf. He’s an “ambassador-of-sorts to the heavenly court” who’s capable of interceding with God and mitigate judgment. In III Enoch, he also laments the Lord’s unwillingness to save His people.

Yes, this is our Michael. He has a soft spot for humankind and grows unhappy with the afterlife system he functions within. First, he refuses to hand over his humans to Shawn and the other demons, then he goes to plead with Judge Gen on their behalf and for the re-tuning of the “soul weighing system” since it’s clearly badly failing those who are grey in moral character, i.e. most human beings.

In the Testament of Abraham (ToA) there’s a somewhat similar scene where St. Michael and Abraham encounter a soul whose good and bad deeds are equally balanced. Angels keep a detailed record of human activity, both good and bad, which are balanced and tested, then the result either warrants punishment or salvation. This brings the ticker tape room and the point system of TGP to mind + the central question Eleanor repeatedly voices: what about those who fall in the middle? Abraham asks St. Michael to help intercede on behalf of the “grey soul” in front of God, which the Archangel does and they are successful. Our Michael advocates his humans’ case in front of Judge Gen and she agrees to put his claims to one final test.

St. Michael is set over humankind in general but sometimes he’s closely associated with specific individuals, their life and death, acting as a personal guide and guardian, a permanent companion and protector of their souls. ToA again is a good example of this but the Virgin Mary also enjoys St. Michael’s special attention (Assumption Apocrypha). He escorts her on a tour of the underworld where he shows her how the sinful are punished, helps her intercede on their behalf, and later on he is the one who conveys her to heaven, which is also among his core duties. As a psychopomp, St. Michael facilitates the transition from this life to the next. He’s charged with the care and guidance of the dead and can also convey souls from hell.

Our Michael is the first to meet, greet, and give a tour to Eleanor & Co. after they die. Even though it’s a ruse, he still helps orient them (everything he says about the point system, the rules of the afterlife is, after all, true), and he continues to act as their afterlife guide and protector when they decide to team up and later sneak into Bad Place HQ. He’s also the one who gets them through the portal to see the Judge since he promised to take them to the Good Place and that is the only way.

As for the tour of punishment, we have the perfect TGP parallel in the Museum of Human Misery. And our Michael - despite being fond of human stuff & the gang in general - is def partial to one of them by the name of Shellstrop. Also, he is literally trying to take unfairly judged souls from hell (TBP) to heaven (TGP), which - similarly to going up against your misbehaving coworkers and your superior - is a very St. Michael-y thing to do.

St. Michael is also associated with water (rain and thunder in the Qur'an) and agriculture. In The Shepherd of Hermas, for example, he is shown caring for a garden which represents hope and redemption. Our Michael’s connection to water/rain/thunder & agriculture is not the most tangible but one can always reach a bit by noting details like

sounds of water in the waiting room of his office in the pilot when Eleanor “wakes up” there after her death + there is water everywhere in his neighborhood (fountains, lakes, rivers, sea).

he also messes with Eleanor by unleashing two storms

he does keep a wooden dragonfly figurine on his desk and dragonflies are associated with water (+ acc to folklore dragonflies weigh human souls and they were believed to be dragons once - all these connect back to St. Michael too)

also, the neighborhood Michael creates and cares for is a garden of sorts in the middle of a desert region, and the result of this experiment is what provides hope for avoiding eternal suffering.

Last but not least (my favorite tidbit), in the Ethiopian Orthodox Bible, it is mentioned that St. Michael is “skilled in song” and… well…

work consulted, paraphrased, and quoted:Saint Michael the Archangel in Medieval English Legend by Richard F. Johnson

#anonymous #the good place #michael tgp #musings #speculation

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