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aaknopf · 18 days

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Martyr!, the poet Kaveh Akbar’s propulsive debut novel, tells the tale of Cyrus Shams, the son of a lost mother (victim of a 1988 U. S. Naval snafu in the Persian Gulf that killed 290 people on a commercial airliner) and the long-suffering father who emigrated to Fort Wayne, IN with his baby boy. We meet Cyrus as a student of poetry at Keady University and a reformed addict. In this excerpt, he’s at the local open mic with his friends; we also share one of the poems from Cyrus’s bookofmartyrs.docx, helpfully supplied by Akbar, the poet behind the fictional poet.

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The Naples Tuesday night open mic had become a mainstay of Cyrus and Zee’s friendship. It was a small affair, not much to distinguish it from the myriad other open mics happening elsewhere in the country—except this was their open mic, their organic community of beautiful weirdos—old hippies singing Pete Seeger, trans kids rapping about liberation, passionate spoken-word performances by nurses and teenagers and teachers and cooks. As with any campus open mic, there was the occasional frat dude coming to play sets of smirky acoustic rap covers and overearnest breakup narratives. But even they were welcome, and mostly it felt like a safe little oasis of amongness in the relative desert of their Indiana college town, a healthy way to spend the time they were no longer using to get drunk or high. Naturally, Naples didn’t have its own sound equipment, so Zee would usually show up fifteen minutes early with his beat-up Yamaha PA to set up for Sad James, who hosted every week. Sad James was called this to distinguish him from DJ James, a guy who cycled nightly through the campus bars. DJ James was not a particularly interesting artist, but he was well-known enough in the campus community to warrant Sad James’s nominative prefix, which began as a joke but somehow stuck, and to which Sad James had grown accustomed with good humor, even occasionally doing small shows under the name. Sad James was a quiet white guy, long blond hair framing his lightly stubbled face, who played intensely solemn electronic songs, punctuated by sparse circuit-bent blips and bloops, and over time at Keady, he had become one of Zee and Cyrus’s most resilient and trusted friends. On this night, Cyrus had read a poem early, an older experimental piece from a series where he’d been assigning words to each digit 0–9, then using an Excel document to generate a lyric out of those words as the digits appeared in the Fibonacci sequence: “lips sweat teeth lips spread teeth lips drip deep deep sweat skin,” etc. It was bad, but he loved reading them out loud, the rhythms and repetitions and weird little riffs that emerged. Sad James did an older piece where the lyrics “burning with the human stain / she dries up, dust in the rain” were repeated and modulated over molten beeps from an old circuit-bent Game Boy. Zee—a drummer in his free time who idolized J Dilla and John Bonham and Max Roach and Zach Hill in equal measure—hadn’t brought anything of his own to perform that evening, but did have a little bongo to help accompany any acoustic acts who wanted it. On the patio listening to Cyrus talk about his new project, Zee said, “I could see it being a bunch of different poems in the voices of all your different historical martyr obsessions?” Then to Sad James, Zee added, “Cyrus has been plastering our apartment with these big black-and-white printouts of all their terrifying faces. Bobby Sands in our kitchen, Joan of Arc in our hallway.” Sad James made his eyes get big. “I just like having them present,” Cyrus said, slumping into his chair. He didn’t add that he’d been reading about them in the library, his mystic martyrs, that he’d taped a great grid of their grayscale printed faces above his bed, half believing it would work like those tapes that promised to teach you Spanish while you slept, that somehow their lived wisdoms would pass into him as he dreamt. Among the Tank Man, Bobby Sands, Falconetti as Joan of Arc, Cyrus had a picture of his parents’ wedding day. His mother, seated in a sleeved white dress, smiling tightly at the camera while his father, in a tacky gray tux, sat grinning next to her holding her hand. Above their heads, a group of attendees held an ornate white sheet. It was the only picture of his mother he had. Next to his mother, his father beamed, bright in a way that made it seem he was radiating the light himself. Zee went on: “So you could write a poem where Joan of Arc is like, ‘Wow, this fire is so hot’ or whatever. And then a poem where Hussain is like, ‘Wow, sucks that I wouldn’t kneel.’ You know what I mean?” Cyrus laughed. “I tried some of that! But see, that’s where it gets corny. What could I possibly say about the martyrdom of Hussain or Joan of Arc or whoever that hasn’t already been said? Or that’s worth saying?” Sad James asked who Hussain was and Zee quickly explained the trial in the desert, Hussain’s refusing to kneel and being killed for it. “You know, Hussain’s head is supposedly still buried in Cairo?” Zee said, smiling. “Cairo, which is in which country again?” Cyrus rolled his eyes at his friend, who was, as Cyrus liked to remind him when he got too greatest-ancient-civilization-on-earth about things, only half Egyptian. “Damn,” Sad James said. “I would’ve just kneeled and crossed my fingers behind my back. Who am I trying to impress? Later I could call take-backsies. I’d just say I tripped and landed on my knees or something.” The three friends laughed. Justine, an open mic regular whose Blonde on Blonde–era pea-coat-and-harmonica-rack Bob Dylan act was a mainstay of the open mic, came outside to ask Zee for a cigarette. He obliged her with an American Spirit Yellow, which she lit around the corner as she began speaking into her cell phone. In moments like these Cyrus still sometimes felt like asking to bum one too—he’d been a pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker before he got sober, and continued his habit even after he’d kicked everything else. “Quit things in the order they’re killing you,” his sponsor, Gabe, told him once. After a year clean he turned his attention to cigarettes, which he finally managed to kick completely by tapering: from one and a half packs a day to a pack to half a pack to five cigarettes and so on until he was just smoking a single cigarette every few days and then, none at all. He could probably get away with bumming the occasional cigarette now and again, but in his mind he was saving that for something momentous: his final moments lying in the grass dying from a gunshot wound, or walking in slow motion away from a burning building. “So what are you thinking then? A novel? Or like . . . a poetic martyr field guide?” asked Zee. “I’m really not sure yet. But my whole life I’ve thought about my mom on that flight, how meaningless her death was. Truly literally like, meaningless. Without meaning. The difference between 290 dead and 289. It’s actuarial. Not even tragic, you know? So was she a martyr? There has to be a definition of the word that can accommodate her. That’s what I’m after.”

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar.

Browse Kaveh Akbar's poetry collections and follow Kaveh on Instagram @kavehakbar.kavehakbar.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

#poetry #poetry month #national poetry month #Knopfpoetry #Knopf Poetry #Kaveh Akbar #AkbarAudio #Arian Moayed #MoayedAudio #MartyrANovel #Martyr!#Martyr! A Novel #Excerpt

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suguru-getos · 1 month

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Yakuza Gojo Satoru idea that's rotting my brain away:

A/N: Should I write a fic on this? 0_0 The name and fame of the mafia world, someone's whose roots touch the pungent rabid base of Tokyo's drug and criminal cartel and head touches the sky. Famed and named as the biggest potential bachelor and businessman. A front so strong no one dares question, a front so intimidating no one opposes, a front so challenging it's a Fibonacci series of failure for private agents allegedly working with the government.

Some even say that the government is also his little lap-dog he can throw treats as and get what he wishes. Now, to establish something so humongous and bulletproof isn't an amateur's job. His family has been in it for generations. He knows his guts and he knows when to use them.

How fun when the Mafia group across the west has their little princess on a lavish vacation to Tokyo? Of course they would ask the esteemed and trusted Gojo group to host her. Satoru doesn't really bore himself with maintaining relations with other groups. As long as they leave Tokyo untouched; we wouldn't have a problem.

Luckily, he has a few other people by his side to aid him with this, Geto Suguru his right hand man and his best friend. Someone he went to school with, someone who would die and take a bullet for his boss without hesitance. Geto's mother was murdered by his father in a fit of drunken haze, the depressed boy had a noisy, cocky best friend in high-school and when Satoru gave Suguru the revolver to shoot his deranged, rotten, ungrateful and not so guilty father with it? Yeah he hasn't looked back since.

Geto explained to his boss that it would be good to host the spoiled bratty Princess and let her play around Tokyo. "The girls out there in the west are too occupied with the Kawaii-core aesthetic of Japan to bother us."

Oh how wrong, because when they met you? Coming down from your private jet, smoking and wearing looming, unapproachable shades across the bridge of your nose. Expression embodying power and ruthlessness as you smirk. You're not here to be the 'Mafia Princess', you look so different from that. The way that you don't have any bodyguards seems cocky enough, the way your body language only gets more upfront, head held high, arms breezy, shoulders broad.

Satoru has a favourite…

#yakuza gojo #stsg #satosugu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo hcs #gojo imagines #gojo x you #jjk imagines #jjk hcs #gojo

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friendzenn · 10 months

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8 on Quesadilla Island and The Federation

ok so by now we all know about The Federation’s obsession with the number 8, right? but let’s see just how many times 8 has been shown

8 original eggs, and thus 8 english speakers and 8 spanish speakers (something of note: Quackity is an outlier here, not counted as one of the 8 among the english speakers or spanish speakers)

On July 8th, at 2pm PST, Jaiden and Cellbit (secretly) were sent on a mission (where richas, foolish and bbh tagged along) where they discovered a cold room with 8 chambers and a countdown

Also, July 8th was originally set to be election day, but was postponed due to TwitchCon Paris

In the dungeon found on July 8th, Cellbit and Richas found 8 books with months as titles, from June-January, pictured here

(also just a quick thing i noticed while doing alt text, on page 2 of october's book, it ends with a quotation mark but there is never a quotation mark to start it. could be a typo or it could mean whoever was writing it didn't believe that no irregularities were detected.)

When ElQuackity loaded up the QSMP, it was top of his list of servers, of which (including the QSMP) there are 8

Now we get into things I can’t corroborate with screenshots. This includes:

Cellbit saying the dungeon had 8 floors

Luzu’s computer (Arin) had a number 8 on it. Everyone seems to agree this is the case, but I couldn’t find a good screenshot or clip of it

8 can also be interpreted as infinity, by just turning the symbol 90 degrees. The Federation seems obsessed with perfection and according to them, people being able to come back or have 'infinite return' is closer to perfection.

i have no idea what any of this means. irl, 8 is considered to be lucky in chinese culture. it's the 6th or 7th number in the fibonacci sequence (depending if you count 0 in the sequence), which shows up in nature a lot and is often referred to as the 'golden ratio' and it is said that people whose face matches this ratio are objectively beautiful (you can believe this or not). 8 is also the only number in this sequence to be a perfect cube (2 to the 3rd).

could the federation consider 8 to be perfect? could this just be a series of coincidences? theories?

#qsmp #quackity #forever #forever player #the federation #cellbit #jaiden animations #foolish gamers #bbh #foolishg #qeggs #philza #roier #chayanne #quesadilla island

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gragrace · 2 months

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Unraveled Tensions

Summary: "Unraveled Tensions" follows the Specncer and Y/N as they tackle a complex murder case, with Spencer Reid and Y/N engaging in intense intellectual competition amidst the investigation. Their professional rivalry escalates to heated arguments and the reveal of something more than academic rivalry

WC: 1566

AN: Angst is my middle name...

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The BAU team found themselves in the midst of a complex case involving a series of gruesome murders that left the entire city on edge. The victims, all seemingly unrelated, shared a common thread of intricate, staged crime scenes. While the urgency of solving the case weighed heavily on the team, Spencer Reid and Y/N were more focused on outdoing each other than on solving the case.

It all began during the morning briefing when Y/N confidently presented a piece of evidence. "Did you know, Reid, that the pattern of these murders matches the Fibonacci sequence?" Y/N smirked, challenging Reid's renowned intellect.

Spencer furrowed his brow, not one to back down. "Interesting, but the Fibonacci sequence is just one aspect. The geographical locations also align with a potential mathematical pattern based on prime numbers."

Their colleagues exchanged glances, clearly picking up on the tension. Hotch cleared his throat. "Let's stay focused on the case, team."

As the investigation progressed, the competitive banter between Reid and Y/N escalated. They contradicted each other's theories, questioned each other's deductions, and even challenged each other's profiling skills.

One evening, as they were reviewing case files in the dimly lit bullpen, the tension reached its peak. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team watched silently as Reid and Y/N engaged in a heated argument.

"I can't believe you would dismiss my theory without even considering it, Reid!" Y/N snapped.

"And I can't believe you're so quick to jump to conclusions without proper evidence!" Reid shot back.

Gideon intervened, his patience wearing thin. "Enough! Both of you, go home and figure out how to work together. We can't afford this discord in the team."

Fuming, Reid and Y/N found themselves outside the building, caught in a standoff. The night air was thick with tension, and suddenly, their bickering took an unexpected turn.

"You think you're always right, don't you, Reid?" Y/N snapped, eyes blazing.

"At least I base my conclusions on facts, not wild guesses," Reid retorted, a hint of condescension in his tone.

Y/N scoffed, "Facts? More like irrelevant statistics that no one cares about."

Reid shot back, "Irrelevant? It's called being thorough, something you might want to try."

Their exchange escalated, each word a sharp weapon in their verbal sparring match. The night became a battleground of intellect, their voices echoing in the deserted parking lot.

"You're insufferable!" Y/N exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice.

"And you're intolerably stubborn!" Reid shot back.

"You're so difficult, Reid," Y/N finally spoke, voice dripping with frustration.

"And you're impulsive, letting your emotions cloud your judgment," Reid retorted.

In a sudden surge of emotion, Y/N shoved Reid against the wall, the impact echoing their internal turmoil. "You don't get it, do you?" Y/N whispered, their breath mingling with Reid's. "This isn't just about the case. It's about you and me, about the fractured mess we've become."

Reid's eyes bore into Y/N's, a turbulent storm of emotions reflected in his gaze. "I don't need distractions. I need solutions."

Y/N, infuriated by Reid's stoic resolve, crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. It was a desperate attempt to break through the walls he had built, to shatter the carefully constructed facade.

For a moment, the world around them ceased to exist. The kiss was fueled by frustration, longing, and the acknowledgment of a connection that transcended their bitter rivalry. It was a collision of two opposing forces, a turbulent dance between chaos and order. The kiss was messy, certainly not romantic, but a culmination of the hate and passion they felt for one another.

When they pulled away, their breaths mingling, a realization settled between them. The tension wasn't just a byproduct of the case or their conflicting methodologies – it was a reflection of the unresolved emotions that had festered beneath the surface.

Reid's expression softened, a vulnerability breaking through the façade. "This...this changes nothing," he muttered, almost convincing himself.

Y/N, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions, simply nodded. The unspoken agreement hung heavy in the air – they couldn't undo what had transpired, but they could choose how to navigate the aftermath.

The next evening, as they worked late in the bullpen, the unspoken tension became too palpable to ignore. Y/N, her voice hesitant, broached the subject that had been looming over them. "Reid, we can't keep avoiding the elephant in the room. We need to talk about what happened."

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Y/N. It's just... this complicates things."

She nodded, a mixture of frustration and understanding in her eyes. "I get it, Reid. But if we don't address this, it's going to affect the team even more than we already have."

The truth in her words hung in the air, a heavy reminder of the responsibility they carried as members of the BAU. With a shared nod, they decided to confront the unresolved issues that had lingered between them.

Sipping their coffees, Reid began, "I've been thinking about why we clash so much, and I realized there might be more to it than just our differing opinions."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious about Reid's perspective.

"I've always admired your intelligence," Reid admitted. "But I think it frustrated me that someone could challenge my ideas and theories. I'm used to being the 'know-it-all,' and having someone who could keep up was both threatening and intriguing."

Y/N chuckled, "So, your problem is an ego thing?"

Reid blushed, "Well, not entirely. It's just... I didn't know how to handle it. And maybe I projected that frustration onto you."

Y/N nodded, "Fair enough. I guess I've been guilty of the same. I wanted to prove that I could be just as brilliant, if not more so, than the great Spencer Reid. It became a competition, and we lost sight of the bigger picture."

Reid sighed, "Maybe we should learn to appreciate each other's strengths rather than seeing them as threats."

Their conversation took a more introspective turn as they discussed their personal insecurities and how it had fueled their constant clashes. The coffee shop became a safe space for them to open up, and as the barriers between them crumbled, a newfound understanding emerged.

The was raw and uncomfortable, filled with admissions of pride, ego, and the acknowledgment of their own shortcomings. The wounds of their clashes were laid bare, and the process of healing began. It was a delicate journey, marked by moments of vulnerability and shared introspection.

Days turned into weeks, and as they navigated the intricacies of rebuilding their fractured dynamic, a gradual shift occurred. The tension that had defined their interactions transformed into a cautious camaraderie. Shared glances turned into genuine smiles, and the once-avoided conversations became a pathway to understanding.

The team, observing the subtle changes, couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The collaborative spirit that had been tested in the crucible of conflict emerged stronger, a testament to the resilience of the BAU.

As the days passed, Spencer and Y/N found themselves working together seamlessly, their shared victory serving as a bridge between the past and the present. The scars remained, but they were no longer open wounds. The lessons learned from their tumultuous journey had forged a connection rooted in mutual respect and a shared commitment to the work they did.

Late one evening, as they sat in the quiet of the bullpen, surrounded by the hum of computers and the distant echoes of the city, Y/N spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "Reid, I never thought we'd get here."

He looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Neither did I. But sometimes, the most challenging journeys lead to the most unexpected destinations."

The sentiment lingered in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the growth that had emerged from the chaos. The BAU, once tested by internal conflicts, stood united once again. Spencer Reid and Y/N, having navigated the storm together, found themselves on the other side – stronger, wiser, and bound by a shared understanding that transcended the trials they had faced.

Spencer: Hey, Y/N, can I ask you something?

Y/N: Of course, Spencer. What's on your mind?

Spencer: Well, uh, I was wondering... Would you ever, you know, want to go on a date?

Y/N: Really, Spencer? Are you asking me out?

Spencer: Yeah, I mean, if you're comfortable with that. I just thought it could be nice...

Y/N: I'd like that, Spencer. I'd really like that.

Spencer: Oh, good. I was hoping you'd say that. I mean, I've never been great at this kind of thing, but you're... you're important to me, and I thought maybe we could spend some time together outside of work.

Y/N: Spencer, It means a lot that you asked, and I appreciate your honesty.

Spencer Reid: Great! That's great. I'll, uh, figure out some plans and let you know. Looking forward to it.

Y/N: (playfully) I am too, Spencer. It's a date then.

Spencer Reid: Yeah, it's a date.

As they continued their work, the echoes of their past clashes served as a reminder of the fragility of human connections. The scars remained, etched into the fabric of their shared history, but they were now symbols of resilience rather than wounds of discord. The BAU moved forward, united by the strength that emerged from confronting internal conflicts and the unwavering commitment to the pursuit of justice.

#criminal minds #mgg x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid x reader

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talonabraxas · 3 months

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The Yogic Yang Spiral Meditation

The aim of the yang spiral meditation is to bring into awareness of the participants the presence of Cosmic Consciousness and to be part of the worldwide efforts of raising the consciousness of the planet and of entering into a superior stage of evolution of humankind.

The Yin-Yang Concept

Everything that exists in the Universe is polarized, i.e., formed of yang-solar (+) and yin-lunar (-).

The presence of these complementarily opposed counterparts creates a tension. From this tension, Life is born. For maintaining the tension (therefore, life), one of the poles must predominate. This predominance leads to movement, change, transformation.

The two poles of the manifestation are contained in a tremendously big circle that keeps them together (in the above drawing, the exterior circle should be extremely big, but considerations of space makes this unpractical in this material). This symbolizes the existence of a Transcendental Principle that controls and dominates from a higher level. Only in this way Creation is possible. If the Transcendent Principle wouldn’t compel the two poles to stay together, they would return into Unity, Invisibility, Non-manifestation.

Each polarity contains, in seed, its opposite, which means that everything is relative. Everything, in some deep, mysterious way, is his opposite. Every moment of life includes, somehow, qualities diametrically opposed to those apparently implied. It is well known the truth of the original androgyny (having male and female characteristics in one) of the human being. By virtue of this, the balance between male (+) and female (-) hormones, condition sine-qua-non of life, is possible in all humans irrespective of sex.

Man is predominantly Solar; his seed (the semen) is Lunar (-). Woman is predominantly Lunar (-); her seed (the ova) is Solar (+). Thus, tai-ki is a perfect symbolic synthesis of Universe and Man, defining in a masterly manner the essence of Yoga Science. The representation of the two poles, the Solar (+) and the Lunar (-), as being equal is an idealistic point of view. A perfect balance leads to absence of tension, hence non-manifestation. In the manifested worlds, there always is and must be a predominant pole. The state of power appears when the two poles are very close to a perfect balance. A strong lack of balance between them results in weakness, suffering, illness, lack of self-control and lack of power.

Another important aspect is that yang is centripetal (it proceeds toward a center or axis) and moves in energy vortexes that turn counterclockwise, while yin is centrifugal (it proceeds away from a center or axis) and moves in energy vortexes that turn clockwise. Yang is the principle of order, structure, decrease of entropy. Yin is the principle of chaos, lack of structure, increase of entropy.

The spiral is charged with multiple symbolic meanings. Many of these meanings include the dynamic interaction between yin and yang.

The yang-spiral expresses the luminous, solar, dynamic and optimistic energy. When moving along the arm of this spiral in a counterclockwise sense, it is just natural to reach the center, which represents the Source of Creation from which everything that exists started and to which it will return.

The yang-spiral thus represents the circular centripetal movement of returning to the Center. The yang-spiral is related to the movement of spiritual evolution leading to liberation from the cycle of reincarnations, while the yin-spiral is related to the movement of involution and chaining to the reincarnation wheel, since it gets further away from the Center.

The spiral is often seen in nature: the snail shell is a well known example. The symbolism of the spiral is scientifically funded by the mathematical theory of the logarithmic spiral and of the Golden Number, or Fibonacci series. This Golden Number was discovered by the Italian mathematician Leonardo Fibonacci (c. 1170 – c. 1240), also called Leonardo of Pisa.

Fibonacci numbers have many interesting properties and are widely used in mathematics. Natural patterns, such as the spiral growth of leaves on some trees, often exhibit the Fibonacci series. A corollary of this is the well-known fractal structures and the discovery of fractal geometry. --Gregorian Bivolaru

'Celestial Lovers' Tao Teh King Talon Abraxas

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nehadata · 1 year

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#fibonacci sequence #fibonacci series #fibonacci spiral #pascals triangle

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beebopboom · 3 months

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A Kind of Magic

(Intro, part 1, part 2)

This is part 3 to the series exploring the Metatron as a character - Is this my decent into madness? That might actually be my last post.

For this part I am only going to delve into some symbols and lay out the tarot cards I've seen connected to the Metatron. I'm just going to be upfront and say I'm not the most knowledgeable about this subject - so it's just going to be a general meaning of them so I don't put my foot in my mouth. If I get something wrong or if you want to add to it pls feel free. I’m just putting out to the world what I have come across

And at the end will be a magic trick theory that is a little based in these findings - so stick around for that if you want

Symbols and Numerology

The probably most recognizable symbol in relation to the Metatron is the -

Metatron Cube

This symbol is made up of 13 circles, which can be said to represent a feminine power, and lines that connect them all, which can be said to represent a masculine power. It is said to be the blueprint of creation that symbolizes balances and harmony.

It contains the symbols for the 5 platonic solids - fire, earth, water, air, and ether.

Metatron is said to use this cube to control/watch over the flow of energy in the universe - which ties in with his work with the Tree of Life

It has been used as a symbol of guidance, healing, and protection

It’s also said that Leonardo Pisano, or yknow Fibonacci, was the one who discovered this

Number 11

He has also been linked to the number 11 which is symbolic of

Higher ideals

Invention

Refinement

Congruency

Balance

Fulfillment

Wisdom

but anyway moving on to tarot cards

King of Angels/Cups

This one is from the official Good Omens tarot

General meaning (upright) - represents kindness, compassion, and wisdom. As a person he is caring, affectionate, empathetic, a good listener, diplomatic, and easy going.

General meaning (reversed) - overly emotional or too sensitive. As a person he is manipulative and controlling

Associated with water signs such as Cancer, Scorpio, or Pisces

The Dreamer/The Fool

This is one I just came across when researching so I figured I just include it.

General meaning (upright) - on the verge of a new adventure that is exciting and unexpected - you may be expected to take a leap of faith

General meaning (reversed) - A new beginning that you may be reluctant to jump into. Reckless and Irrational

The Chariot

another one I just came across when researching

General Meaning (upright) - overcoming obstacles through determination, focus, and willpower

General Meaning (reversed) - feeling powerless and lacking direction

Wheel of Fortune

from the Angel Tarot plus the Good Omens Tarot had the portal as this one.

General meaning (upright) - big changes are coming that should be for the greater good. Is an indicator of luck, change, and destiny

General meaning (reversed) - unwelcomed and negative change. It may be that things were going well are suddenly falling apart

Death

this will come into play when we start talking about the theory - so just bear with me.

Also his finger freaks me out when he points it at Muriel - reminds of touch of death imagery

General Meaning (upright) - spiritual transformation, time of change, and new beginnings. It signifies the need to let go of old beliefs or issues.

General Meaning (reversed) - resisting this change and holding onto old energy

Ok and that’s all I’ve seen associated with him. Like I said I’m just putting the information out there.

Magic Theory Time

you may be wondering what is up with Death - I mean Death is Death.

Death is holding Coffee.

In Nina’s shop, Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, there is a repeated drawing - I can find at least three. And it’s a Skeleton arm and hand holding out the torch which has coffee on the top.

It’s a great piece for her shop admittedly

It’s also a great piece to parallel the final offering our darkly clad angel with flowers on his tie gives to Aziraphale.

an offer that comes with a big change.

And how does a magic trick play into this?

Well the King of Cups is parading around dressed as Death - with a to-go cup

The thing is though the only other times we see an Angel - or yknow God - wearing dark colors is when they are performing Magic.

Aziraphale specifically called out Professor Hoffman’s book - which just so happens to contain an element of how one is supposed to dress.

This book also contains a trick called the Cup and Ball trick.

Now I’m not saying something was up with the coffee -though that almond is a little suspicious- I’m saying it was a distraction.

Aziraphale knew going into that conversation that something was off. He didn’t want that conversation or that coffee - I mean it had to be offered to him three times.

But it’s the actual conversation I want to talk about - we see three different sections.

Deceitful - He has been kind of joking around using his silly words. It's like when your higher up is trying to get down to your level - make conversation as if you are buddies. But it just feels off.

Buttering him up - praising Aziraphale and hinting at bigger things for him

Subtle Threat - bringing Crowley up, bringing up their past

This conversation is set at a round table with them sitting across from one another and a cup between them - a classic set up for a magic trick

3 sections = 3 balls

Between sections 2 and 3 Aziraphale even brings the attention back to the cup

But to pull this trick off one needs four balls - so this could be a part we didn't see or it could be when the Metatron reveals the second coming to Aziraphale at the lift - when the act is finally done and has succeeded

————————————————————————-

so yeah just wanted to throw that in there so it wasn’t just me regurgitating information.

In the next part we will wrap this up with how he has fashioned himself a King and what all of this means for our Metatron

and here it is - the final part

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens theory #good omens tarot #good omens metatron #the metatron #metatron

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