#a thousand years of my loved ones deifying the thing that eats me

[roomba-mangga]

actually actuallyyy thistle getting devoured by that lion was a game changer. worldview altering. at some point you think "that kid was violated by his brother's god" and have to stop and sit down and absorb it all. the fact that everything that led up to that moment was more or less good intentions, from the party from yaad from thistle imprisoning the god of desire to protect his loved ones. lion aside there were no malicious actors here. if anything it was self-violation made manifest are you seeing this shit

[camoolla]

The world has their Jaskier, and Geralt has his. 

The soft-spoken poet capable of wrenching lyrics, raw gospels from the very heart of humanity, lute strung across his shoulders like that of Excalibur, the once and future herald of a new generation of musical genius has once again bestowed his wisdom upon the world.

Disciples, who dub themselves the ‘Florets’, continue to sing his praises up and down the country as Julian ‘Jaskier’ Pankratz, known by his stage name Dandelion, has released his latest album Garrotter to the public this month. Comfortably sitting on its rightful throne at the #1 spot on the Official Global Charts for the fourth week in a row, the round table has grown a head to which Jaskier has conquered and is settled to stay for a decidedly long reign.

We fans can only speculate on how this titan of the music industry is spending his amply earned morning. Tapping his foot to the beat of our collective hearts? Strumming the chords to the melody of our souls? Penning the words to the anthem of the generation? Does everything this man touch turn to such benevolent artistry- 

“Oh fuck,” 

Geralt looked over the top of his phone. 

“I put salt in the coffee again.”

The once and future herald of a new generation of musical genius indeed. 

The titan of the music industry pouted as he poured out two mugs of steaming, salty coffee. He turned back to the maker, pressing a few of the various buttons on the over-expensive machine; it buzzed suddenly to life and he jumped. Geralt looked back down at the article. The corners of his mouth twitched. 

He scrolled through many more paragraphs worshipping and deifying the man currently humming and tapping his fingers against the counter to the beat of Cotton Eyed Joe until he paused at an embedded photo. It was the one from Oxenfurt Pride two years ago - a picture that currently sat on the Instagram jaskierxo at a steady 1.2 million likes, but also tucked into a not-so-secret photo album labelled Jask. 

He was mid-set, his hair slightly sweaty so it was perfectly askew, tumbling over his forehead, the dark locks glittering with tiny artificial jewels. His mouth was open in a grin as he sang his heart out. Glitter swiped across his cheekbones in pink, purple, and blue - the blue the same startling hue of that of his eyes, shining and shimmering in the sunlight staring out in awe and joy at the crowd shouting his own lyrics back to him. The stage light behind him was a deep yellow, bouncing off the golden trimmings of his shirt, the hues in his hair, and the light illuminated him, circled, haloed, around his head. He was heavenly. He was beautiful. He was wearing Geralt's dirty hoodie. 

Too large and too dark on him, shoulders drooped over his, the sleeves reaching past his hands. What he matched Geralt in height he lacked in girth meaning all Geralt's clothes swallowed him a bit. Geralt adored it. He watched Jaskier push the stubborn sleeves back up his arm to free his hands for stirring. He hummed as he took a sip.

"Almost forgot how good coffee tastes without salt." Jaskier picked up both mugs and made his way over to Geralt at the table. Geralt hummed, reaching out for his. 

"How can you mess up the only two steps you have to do?" He mused as he took a long gulp of the hot, bitter liquid. Jaskier huffed and then suddenly Geralt had a lapful of still sleep-soft and second-hand sweat-smelling bard. He steadied an arm around him, forgoing his phone for a warm handful of his own hoodie on Jaskier's stomach. 

"Three! I have to put the mug underneath it too." He tilted his head to lean against Geralt's head, cradling the mug between his hands. 

"How gruelling." He chuckled and moved his mug of out Jaskier's reach as he lunged for it. 

"Mean people don't get coffee from their lovely husbands! I lied; there are four steps, but I shielded you from the actual most arduous ingredient: love! I have to scrounge every morning to summon the barest sprinkle for you, and this is how you betray me?" Geralt laughed, kissing away the playful crease between his bard's eyebrows and the downturn of his mouth. He tasted like coffee, milk, sugar and... yes, a bit of salt. 

"You taste of salt." 

"That's just from talking to you," Jaskier placed down his mug and noticed Geralt's phone still lit on the table. He picked it up, catching his name in the lines of text, "What are you reading?" 

Geralt quickly plucked his phone from his hands, "An article Yen sent me." 

"I saw my name." 

"It is... about you." 

"Can I read it then?" 

"No." 

"What why?" 

"She said you're not allowed." 

"What does it say about me?" 

"It's... mean?" 

"Mean?" 

"Yes." 

"Geralt, dear, I've read mean things about me before. I'm a big boy I can handle it." 

"It’s... really mean?" 

"...Are you lying?" 

"...Yes." 

"Give me the phone!" He laughed and moved abruptly, forcing Geralt to sweep his arm of hot coffee out of harm's way, but in doing so, left the side with the pocket his phone was stashed in open. Jaskier's nimble hand wriggled and brought it out, unlocking it and scrolling. He blinked as he began to read, lips parting and then curling minutely, "Oh." 

"Yen said your head was big enough already." Jaskier’s grin widened bit by bit as he read each paragraph, the gleam in his eye the exact one Yennefer had warned Geralt against. 

"Not remotely big enough as by evidence of this spectacular article! In comparison to the scripture of this journalist, my head is microscopic! I'm practically a monk with all this modesty! I better buy some extra-extra-large hats, my dear, because I have some major cranial engorgement to do!” He trilled, squirming in Geralt's lap to evade his hands. Geralt jabbed him in the side and Jaskier relinquished, Geralt snatching the phone from his nimble fingers. 

”I think you've read enough.” Jaskier pouted, and in punishment shuffled off Geralt to perch on the table, which in hindsight was more punishment to himself really by how Geralt's warm hand didn't move from his thigh. But he stood his ground. Or sat it, he supposed.

Geralt's phone buzzed, officially breaking up their playful moment, and Jaskier sighed, taking a long swig of his coffee as if in preparation, "What toil does Yennefer have for me to do today?" Geralt pulled up their shared calendar, looking for the dreaded yellow dot on the day. There wasn't one. He smiled. 

"Nothing." 

Jaskier whipped up from his cup and tilted Geralt's phone to see - oh to see, miraculously, incredibly, unbelievably - a white square without a trace of yellow, "Nothing?" 

"Hm." And Jaskier had never heard a hum so pleased. His shoulders slumped with relief, and, placing his mug down, he carded a hand through his hair ruffling it back out his face. Today was a day of possibilities. He probably should, and Yennefer would agree, work on the few very early drafts of his next album, he was still struggling to find a rhyme for amber-eyed after all, or, even just as the bare minimum, interact with some fans. But it seemed Geralt had made the decision for him as he reached over to place his mug next to his. 

Two large hands engulfed his thighs and with a tug, pulled him down to fall on Geralt's lap, pulling and pulling until his knees bracketed his hips and his nose bumped his. But Geralt leaned down and to the right instead, his mouth sliding around the curve of his jaw. Jaskier exhaled softly, his arms gliding over his shoulders automatically, and he smiled, "No responsibilities," 

Geralt moved his mouth further down his neck, "No photoshoots," 

behind his ear, "No interviews," 

over his pulse point, "No taunting evil little yellow dot." 

"We'll have to be quick," Geralt rumbled, unwillingly to pull back from Jaskier’s throat to make the words clear, “Ciri’s coming for lunch.” 

Jaskier squirmed, and his patience snapped as he fisted his hands into Geralt's hair to bring their mouths together as he rolled his hips, delighted to find that the fabric of Geralt’s sweat pants were thinner and more revealing than he thought. Geralt groaned, circling his hands to keep the pressure against him hot and taut - Jaskier’s restlessness as he constantly shifted, twisting, rising higher to claim Geralt’s mouth at newer angles, creating gorgeous bursts of friction. Jaskier keened as he squeezed his handful and Geralt bit desperately at Jaskiers lip at the flare of hot pain. He pulled back for a brief gulp of air. 

“Plenty of time,” Jaskier smirked down at him, his mouth sinfully red and curved. Geralt briefly grinned wolfishly and with a swift movement that had Jaskier's heart dropping into his stomach and thighs tightening their grip, stood the both of them up with Jaskier lined particularly up where he needed him most. 

"Back to bed." Geralt muttered before licking back into his mouth with distinct possessiveness. With a muffled moan, Jaskier agreed.  

The phone laid abandoned on the floor, knocked by Jaskier's hip, and the ignored even when notifications flooded the screen. JaskierStan999, jaskiersbrokenlutestring, jasss_bitch, and hundred of others were commenting and tagging the article Yennefer had taken the liberty in warning the two of them about. Is he even real??, have y'all seen the fucking photo renaissance painters are quaking!!, jaskier is my god and i pray by being gay bitch!!, can you believe this man walks around and breathes and eats like we don't know he's an immortal nymph; reverence in all varieties swamped their feed, liking and praising and loving and worshipping the image Jaskier had created. 

But what nobody saw, what nobody would ever be allowed to see (sans a curious Jaskier who upon finding, smiles wetly with a silent promise of secrecy and a whispered, “Fucking sap.”) is the photo found if one were to scroll to the very first photo in the album Nudes (Fuck Off). Taken off-stage, the two of them blended into the crowd, two faces into a parade of thousands. A front camera photo, an accident, an overlooked distraction from a planned photo snapped, a moment of time caught and treasured. Geralt has been positioned to press a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek, but, having turned suddenly to check the timer, instead had glitter smudged across his nose. Jaskier had exploded, forgetting the camera to press his forehead to Geralt’s as he leaned into his laughter. Geralt grinned back, full and fond, eyes magnetised to the scrunch of his nose, the pink blush beneath the glitter, the brilliant blue of his eyes. The two of them shimmered in the sunlight, basking in one another’s glow. 

The world had their Jaskier, and Geralt had his.

[worldsbuild]

continued with @thestanfordmoose​, from here

Chuck was used to the ‘college dropout, one of the guys’ persona he’d perfected during his time on earth. It basically wasn’t a persona anymore -- he was that guy. He felt like that guy more than he felt like God, these days. It was like a suit that fit pretty well, and he liked how it looked and how it felt, and he liked walking around as this guy. Metatron had said he’d gone full method, and maybe that was true, but so what? He’d done the whole ‘Alpha and Omega, First and the Last’ thing for literally thousands of years. He didn’t wanna be that dramatic anymore. He just wanted to... chill. He was done with the ‘Lord of Hosts’ schtick. Besides, he was stuck in this world, so he had to go along to get along, for his own freaking sanity.

But there was one guy who he knew who always struggled with God being Carver Edlund, and that was Sam Winchester. He wanted the religiosity, the piety, the holy nine yards. He wanted to deify Chuck in a way that he was really sick of being deified. Sure, he was the creator of... well, everything, but he didn’t want to be idolised anymore. He wanted to be the Winchester’s buddy, their go-to guy, their friend who slummed around in boxers and ate takeout and watched porn on Dean’s computer, who also happened to be God. It was the only way he was gonna keep them on-side, if they saw him as their pal. And that was what Sam needed. His obsession with being holy and worthy and spiritually clean was really unhealthy. It had been a necessary evil for his whole ‘demon blood’ arc, and it had cropped up later during the trials of Hell, but Chuck really wished the kid would get over it now. He’d hung out with God in the bunker, seen him in  a t-shirt and boxer shorts, eating cold Chinese food. You couldn’t get further from holiness than that, right?

So, he told Sam he wanted to talk because he did. Just talk. No appearing in a heavenly flash of light, no booming voice from the sky calling Sam his ‘son’. None of that. He just wanted to talk. Sam said that he’d prayed, and Chuck sighed. “Yeah, I know you did,” he said, wearily. “I heard.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave Sam a long-suffering smile. He’d heard all of it -- Sam’s faith paralleled the faith of the saints from biblical times, David writing the psalms. How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? Everything was so emotive and passionate and the end of the freaking world.

He loved Sam -- of course he did -- but he didn’t know what Sam wanted from him. Dean was easy -- he wanted Chuck to be an absentee father, the fall guy, so he could get pissed and hate him for every single thing that went wrong in his life, XTC’s ‘Dear God’ style. But Sam? Sam wanted him to be a Father, sure. He wanted him to be his supporter, to validate him. But he wanted something else. Something Chuck couldn’t give because he didn’t even think it existed. Some sort of holy anointing, divine cleansing... thing. If that had ever existed, he’d quit doing it hundreds of years ago. Humanity just didn’t go in for stuff like that anymore -- Sam was about two thousands years late. The vial in the Basilica of the Holy Blood was just a bottle with a piece of cloth in it, the Shroud of Turin was just a shroud. There was no hallowed mystery to anything anymore. Chuck couldn’t give Sam what he wanted, so he gave him what he needed instead, even if Sam couldn’t see it was what he needed, like a good father should.

“I didn’t answer your prayers with words, Sam,” he said. “But I was always rooting for you guys. You know that. I’ve told you.” He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but he knew he had to bring up Dean. “I guess you know your brother’s not my number one fan right now, huh?” he asked, conversationally, as if it didn’t piss him off every freaking day. “But you and me, we’re still good, right?” It was a question, because he didn’t want to tell Sam that they were good, but he figured he knew the answer. Sam couldn’t hold a grudge against God. It was literally impossible for him. They would always be good.

[epic-summaries]

Women in Mythology - Hausos the Dawn Goddess

Has anyone thought about how weird it is to have a deity for the dawn. The dawn isn’t like the sun or the moon, you can’t really see it. It’s not an important everyday function like caring for the hearth. It’s not a job like blacksmiths. It happens and it’s beautiful but it’s not physical. I googled “dawn definition” and the first thing that comes up is “the first appearance of light in the sky before sunrise.” (The Google Dictionary). It’s weird to deify a small period of time. It’s probably why there are so little dawn deities. There are only two mythologies with dawn deity/spirits (maybe three but Tefnut is the goddess of the morning dew and moisture, that’s not really the dawn) which are not from Indo-European cultures. These deities are the Shinto’s Ame-no-Uzume-no-mikoto and the Sioux’s Anpao (which btw has two faces and I love that fact, it makes a lot of sense to me). All other deities are from Indo-European countries. Which is why “Dawn goddesses are crucial in Indo-European comparative mythology…” (Source 1 to an article about Eostre and Bede.) Dawn goddesses, lunar and solar chariots and Sky Fathers are the backbone of comparative Indo-European mythology studies. (I seriously considered doing something comparing Indra and Zeus but I was already looking up dawn goddesses for funsies. This whole thing was written for funsies tbh).  

What is Indo-European Mythology? Short of it, so I can get to the comparing of deities, is that Indo-Europeans are a theorized people that that originated the Indo-European languages (English, French, Spanish, Sanskrit, Hindi, Hittite, Persian, Greek, etc.). There are also a few similarities between the mythologies. Which, you can explain as surrounding cultures influencing each other or if you a psychoanalyst you believe that the similarities between all of them is because of a deep shared self conscious or that they all originated from one original deity. Indo-European mythology exist because of the last mindset.        

Using comparative mythology, we can assume some of the Indo-European Pantheon. It’s a bottom down perspective. And I want to do this exercise, so let’s compare some Dawn Deities. 

Was the original Indo-European Dawn Goddess really named Hausos? I can say with 99.9% certainty no. Hausos is scholar’s best educated guess

1. Auseklis - Latvian Mythology

Sadly, I can’t find to much about him (or her, Auseklis is either one). Yeah, this is the god of the dawn and morning star (aka Venus). He is subordinate to the moon but also serves the sun. He is associated with marriages, bath-houses and birth.

2. Aušrinė - Lithuanian Mythology

I can find more about her then I can about her Latvian counterpart. She had an affair with the Moon God, which caused Sun Goddess and the Moon God to basically divorce. Aušrinė lived on sea-girt island where she takes cares of magical apples that will bring love to people who eats them. Also she had cows that made boiling milk (ummm) that will make you beautiful (sure). Also, she’s connected to maidens, weaving, love, weddings and baptism (she’s later connected with the Virgin Mary when Lithuania was Christinized). And there is a myth of a man falling in love with her after finding her golden hair in the water of a lagoon. She also makes the sun’s fire every morning (that makes a lot of sense). 

3. Aurora - Roman Mythology

Sadly we don’t have much from just Aurora and most stories with Aurora are actually stories about Eos. She gave sight to Orion.

She is the mother of the morning star, Lucifer. It’s cool that the dawn and the morning star are separated. 

4. Brigid - Irish Mythology

Every list of dawn goddesses has her or some articles will say that she comes from the original Indo-European dawn goddess. But they never explain why. In her list of what she is the goddess of, they never mention the dawn. She’s the blacksmith goddess, the goddess of the spring, the fertility goddess, the healing goddess, the poetry goddess.

My favourite quote from my research is “About Brigid there has been scant evident. (...) questions need to be asked about her origins, her functions, in early Irish society, and existing tradition (...)” (Mother Worship:There and Variations, source below)

Sure, spring and beautiful things are often associated with the dawn but that is not enough to convince me that she is a dawn goddess. Also, her name doesn’t fit well, unlike Ēostre.

5. Eos - Greek Mythology

She’s properly the goddess who’ve heard the most about, she’s Greek. She’s the daughter of Hyperion (titan of light) and Theia (she was a titaness and probably had something to do with light, being also called wide-shining). Eos is the sister of Helios (the sun) and Selene (the moon). She is also married to Astraeus (dusk), but if you didn’t know that, I don’t blame you. Eos was well known for getting around a lot. She loved Orion, Tithonus, Cephalus, Cleitus and Ares. Tithonus is a pretty famous story, Eos asks Zeus for Tithonus to become immortal which Zeus does, but as the asshole he is, he didn’t make Tithonus eternally youthful and Tithonus becomes dust. (Zeus it was in the subtext to make him eternally youthful.) When she has an affair with Ares, Aphrodite curses Eos to be constantly falling in love or just to have an unsatisfied sexual desire. Eos also had some children in the Trojan war, when he died, she cried which created the morning dew. And she was the mother of the anemoi (aka the winds).

She had the classic job of announcing the coming of her brother Helios. She seems like his assistant. She also rides her own chariot of Pegasi.

I love how she is constantly being called the rose finger goddess. I find that pretty.  

6. Ēostre/Ostara - Germanic Mythology

She’s more of a spring goddess then anything. But I keep seeing her on list (not just Wikipedia), so I have to add her. Though, I’m more confident in adding her because she linguistically looks like she belongs. And I can see how the dawn goddess becomes a spring goddess (still very iffy on Brigid mainly due to linguistics). Spring announces summer, like dawn announces day (I have no proof of this, it’s just logically I can see how this can happen). Though, there are some scholars who believes that Ēostre might have been an invention from Bede, because that’s the first time they hear about her.

So, Ēostre is associated with spring and fertility. Then there are tons of theories of how she very probably connected with Easter celebration, rabbits how she might just be a spring goddess and not a dawn goddess. She can’t be both? She couldn’t have started out as dawn goddess then became a spring goddess? Bede is writing in the 8th century, at the very least over a thousand of years after the Indo-Europeans migrated. Things change in a thousand years, especially without writing. Hell, Eos and Ushas changed even with writing.

7. Thesan - Etruscan Mythology

She was the dawn goddess and evoked in childbirth. All I could find about her.

8. Ushas - Vedic Hindu Mythology

For brevity sake, there are many different sects of Hinduism. Anyway, Ushas is found in the Rigveda which is one of the oldest texts written in an Indo-European language. In this text the three most important gods are Agni (fire), Soma (moon and plants) and Indra (the king of gods and the weather god). The most important goddess is Ushas, she’s found in many hymns. Her sister is Ratri (night) and her brother is Chandra/Soma (moon) and sometimes she is married to Surya (sun). In her Vedic hymns she is considered the most beautiful of the goddess. She rides a chariot of either horses or cows so she could make way for Surya. She chases away demons and the dark. Interestingly, she is renewed or made young again everyday (reminding me of Ra’s journey). She also breaths all life. I’m very interested in the fact that in that she’s all seeing much like Helios is in Greek Mythology. And, she is sometimes the sister of the twin horse gods Ashvins (and health and medicine gods too), which also are theorized to be originally Indo-European.

9. Zorya - Slavic Mythology

Hahahaha, who decided they would also be known as the Auroras. I have a feeling it was some Western European with classical knowledge decided that. Anyway, one is the dawn and the other is the dusk and one is midnight. The dawn Zorya, named Utrennyaya, has been described as Perun’s wife (Perun is the law and weather god) or both her sister and her were the wives of Jarylo, the god of springtime (interesting). Utrennyaya’s job is to open the gates for the sun every morning. She was the goddess of horses, protection, exorcism, and the planet Venus. I like how there job was guard a chained dog who wants to eat Ursa Minor, because if that happens the end of the world would start. Zoryas are also protectors of warriors where they would show up like maidens with veils and shields of their favourite battles.  They also lived on a paradise island, much like Aušrinė (though the two cultures are neighbours).

So, what educated guesses can we make about the Hausos? The dawn goddesses is beautiful (who would have guessed? It’s not like sunrise is stereotypically the most beautiful time of the day? Sarcasm btw). Dawn goddesses usually have a story involving immortally and aging (see I didn’t just mention Tithonus because it was famous). Many are either springtime goddesses or somehow connected to the deity of the spring. Hausos might have also been a love goddess, since the other dawn goddesses will either be love goddesses or have many lovers (of course there were the apples that made you fall in love too). I don’t know where Wikipedia gets that she might be a weaving goddess. I get it. She weaves the the cloth like she weaves the day but I didn’t see weaving as a theme in enough goddesses (only one) to be confident in making an educated guess that the Indo-European dawn goddess would have anything to do with weaving.

Women in Mythology Series: Previous Morgiana  

Links to sources because I got lost in research a lot: 

1.  The Goddess Eostre: Bede’s Text and Contemporary Pagan Tradition(s)

2.  Indo-European Deities and the Rgveda

3. Wikipedia 

4.  The Routledge Dictionary of Gods and Goddesses, Devils and Demons

5.  SIGNS OF MORNING STAR AUŠRINĖ IN THE BALTIC TRADITION: REGIONAL AND INTERCULTURAL FEATURES 

6.  Encyclopedia of Goddesses and Heroines 

7.  Sun Myths in Lithuanian Folksongs

8.  Mother Worship: Theme and Variations 

9. Theoi 

10.  Greek and Roman Mythology, A to Z 

[sidpah]

Glory! 2

Ending up here again I wonder, why is there never any light? By light I don’t just mean brightness, I mean color, levity, Sun… Where are you, you beautiful hot-blooded creature? Why do you run from me? I won’t turn my back again, I promise… Tenderly eased into a state of approximated pleasure,I’m nearly carried away somewhere fantastic when that one-legged preacher starts his maniac call sending shivers through my blood-packed eardrum… “Oh, but don’t you see how they’re wasted! And they’ve tasted the sweet vagrant sin… The fragrance of entropy bleeds from their skin as it touches other warm bacteria-riddled skin! And how my bile riiiises soon as they set about it… Never forget: the most pious man’s the one who claims to have forgotten all about it... Animals needn’t be animals! Beasts, cast your burden off! And kneel down before you eat, before you sleep, before you leave this temple you walk in, the hair and the skin are all nails in your coffin, tell me, must we return there again and again to remind yourself how dreadful the whole cursed cycle truly is?”

Feeling cued, I stand, not sure whether I can walk, but goddamn it, it’s gotta be an easier death on those sand dunes the next block over… I’ll fall on the trunk of a cab, hook my fingers into its wheel wells and hang on to get gone… But as I stand and my head dips down, long gobs of half-clotted blood oozing from perforated skull, I get the woozies and trip those three deadly feet from curb to the middle of the street and I hear a screeching of tires on pavement and curl to protect my already shotgunned head and I’m gone to that sandy shore, that mythopoeic desert surrounded by a million others who tried to fail so completely that they were honored as true pioneers… Bloody swamps made by dead fellahin in deserts collecting their prizes for dying in the heat of gunpowder and fury. The hour struck zero and they all braced themselves for the bitter memorial homage to their Great Omnipotent Delusion…

Curtain rises, protagonist slips on stage, no merchant peddler wiser than tourist mark – snapshot lens glare a wide dusty American grin – Even he isn’t sure if he’s acting or being acted – Green fatigues eye each hunched extra with gated suspicion – A finger twitches, nearly setting off a thick wave of gunfire – Everyone breathes a heavy sigh – muscles relax – A vengeful hallelujah, a bright flare, a second burning Sun, an eruption of visceral smoke and red dust of the lurid town snows all around…

Or it’s red ambulance lights, a curse driven into my ribs. Jerry’s still yelling… But it’s not his voice anymore. It’s Kalday Suglaj, that god-healer in rags… It’s the cloying rhythmic cadence of the street-evangelist, but it’s a ragged pagan voice drilling them directly into that eighth hole in my head…

“Two-thousand years come and gone, and just how many more before the dawn’s shot down from its seat in the sky and laid sacrificially upon the ground feeding buzzards all tradition-bound?… Tradition bound us to the fabled lives of men who’ll never again walk the earth, as if they ever truly did, and weren’t just legends, deified by mouths hungry for heroes – A plague, a god, a fraud, just who are we kidding? Leave it up to the merry men, those denizens of disgrace! Every one of them’ll sell you a book for your soul, all the while impaling you on their devoutly righteous pole. They all take to survive, but greed makes survival so much more palatable. So every time, mark my words, my friends, ev-e-ry time, they’ll steal more flesh than the pound they tell both you and themselves they need as they take a dull butter knife to your love-handles!

Let me tell you ‘bout a man… a man I met recently who lived through the horrors. He is a hero, and yet no one would listen to a word that came out his mouth… I listened, I listened and I’m here to tell you all of his harrowing account… Lie yourself down on a street at night...”

I’m there, waiting as the red lights close in, the siren deafening… I push my good ear to the pavement to drown out the noise…

“Somewhere in the uncharted boondocks lit up by the full Moon and pickup headlights… Around him the gravel shatters and then shatters and then shatters into pieces of pieces of pieces while dark blood splatters steel-toes and asphalt meteors gouge his cheeks, scratch his eyeballs. Heavy links of chain yank tight round his neck bruised purple black, grated and fired by stone rockets and torn apart on streets on the outskirts of right fuckin’ here.”

I hear the loud squeals as ambulance doors open and a collapsible stretcher unfolds its wheels with a clang... There are hands on my body turning me right side up, but I refuse to respond.

“His wrists, impotent, roped together grinding spine since he was kidnapped and shackled like four hundred years refused to pass after one night stepping out of a bar with no words to drunken strangers who were looking for a scapegoat on which to vent their ancestor’s frustration…”

“Pack his head…”

“Support his neck… don’t lift him yet…”

I feel the rough hemp digging into bony wrists… I’m rolled onto the low stretcher, lifted, strapped, thick velcro gripping my arms and chest, legs and ankles, and I’m yelling at them, “Just get me to the next street! Get me to the dunes, man! Get me to the dunes!” But they don’t seem like they can hear me.

They keep shining a light into my eyes and that’s okay, I’m feeling warmer already…

Face of a young Tibetan boy looks down on me. He’s scratching “Liberate Tibet” on a mud wall… Before he can finish, he’s swarmed by drab military uniforms dragging him to a brutal tortured death… This is the land that Mercy forgot…

I feel the burn of my face peeling off grinding against the raging asphalt…

He dies nameless and noble…

Who am I to receive their misguided anger? Am I representative for any in-group? I’ve always been the meekest of outsiders…

Ghosts are gathering in the streets… pale generations clinging to each other’s waists… They all know what’s coming, but no one dares say it aloud… As the truck doors slam shut and Chinese guns flood the thin markets and alleyways… Cell doors shriek embracing robed prisoners, raped and cut…

Sirens wail from the scene but words, manic words, Jerry’s words, still bounce inside the confined little cell, wires and tubes across my face…

“…Reverently they severed that black devil man with the cane in his grip from the white woman at his hip – They did this to him so they did this to me! Tell me it didn’t happen! You know it did! Those dreary soldiers rushing, marching, folding their hands at their hearts… set on getting back the nothing they once were so quick to dismiss! Well they can dismiss us and while they’re at it, they can kiss us a fine ‘fuck you too’ as we pray to be freed from their blessed tyranny – The prince in his finery was shameless. Now we are stones laid before his merciless feet. We threw mud into their faces, on their uniforms, across their eyes and hair, but ended up wearing their mark on our bare chests... You know, I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And I may hate what I change but it will never change me… I will say it a-gain. Say it with me! I will change what I hate but it will not change me… And though I will hate what I change, it will never change me…”

 If I could talk, I’d love to tell him how wrong he is… that we must grow and be flexible, that hate versus hate never succeeds… I can’t even pretend he’d be able to listen… Words never matter to someone who’s caught in his own perpetual rut, so full of righteous fury he thinks he can alter a course of events he himself helped to instigate… Prejudicial anger has an inertia that’ll steamroll even the most skillful and best-intentioned humanitarians. And what use are these thoughts speeding at seventy miles an hour away from the very man I wanted to meet? And what would he know with the likes of a case, and like that, I remember the scaly tote… I yell at the medics, “Give it to me! It can’t fall in the wrong hands. Are my hands the wrong hands? Whose hands are yours?  Bring me back! I must speak with him!”

But they make like they don’t understand. Those sly bastards. They know the sides we’re on. I will get away, though, I will get away… I vow without a breath. And the strange thing is, in this careening ambulance taking me not to a hospital but to an underground blacksite prison, for a moment I really believe it’s possible…

[the-cryptographer]

wrapped up playing final fantasy ix

yeah, idk, at some point it became clear to me that the game wasn’t really heading in the directions i wanted it to. that was... a while ago, lol. but i’m usually committed to finishing these things once i start them, even if they’re less than what i’d hoped.

on the game side of things... it’s a final fantasy game. it’s got all the regular final fantasy stuff going on. for this one in particular, i guess i like this type of ability system. otherwise it’s your standard, mostly-mindless turned based combat. summons take way to long to play. as usual i tend to favour physical combat interspersed with a healer that can cast holy. but i ended up relying a lot on Frog Drop and Dragon Crest, heh. my favourite team is something like Eiko and pick 2 {Quina, Freya, Amarant}.

Also this final fantasy gets credit for finally getting me to like moogles. they are... so cute in this. Stiltzkin is pretty great, as was Mogmi and Moguta being silly in love, but my absolute favourite was Moorock, who gets so gd excited about writing a letter and loudly exclaims ‘I love Mognet!’ even though he’s never heard of it before. why are he and Mozme not on disk four tho?! tell me they made it out okay D’x  Although, hmm, I’m not sure why we trusted Artemicion with more superslick at the end there. Since he apparently he got high snorting the last bottle. god, don’t trust the addict with more of his substance.

idk, I guess I’ll go through the story characters. and just... kind of hope I cover everything that way.

Quina

I... love them. And I tend to like gag characters but... I love them. Such ambition... to eat everything. So cute. So silly. So relatable. I also really like the nightgown/smock kind of thing going on. Need more characters dressed like granny that are trying to eat us out of house and home.

Amarant

Um... there seemed to be a lot going on in this sector of the story that kind of... needed more time. Or otherwise needed cutting out, probably. I find it conceptually interesting, at least: loners being confronted with the boundaries of their... determination to be alone. So I like him in spite of myself. But Zidane’s played a pretty shitty trick on him, once upon a time, and it’s a little hard to justify the kind of devotion Amarant has in lieu of that. Because... yes... it is devotion... somehow. And it’s a little hard to buy the way he becomes so easily enamored with how Zidane’s mind works with so little development.

Eiko

Mmm, again, there was some interesting stuff here about her growing up alone, and the way she immediately clung to Zidane as a way to escape that loneliness. But her crush on him is taken a bit too seriously by the narrative, like she’s really in love with him, and that gets a bit creepy, imo. The stuff with Mog is interesting, but kind of too much trying to tug on the heartstrings when the heartstrings haven’t been wound and tuned, if you know what I mean. I suppose, at the end of the day, I didn’t end up liking her all that much. But feel like I could have and should have if they had written her even a little better.

Freya

I love this aesthetic... so much. Kind of a mix of red mage and dragoon, both of which I love individually, plus rat person. She is one of my faves on this basis alone. In terms of her actual personality... it’s so sparse and inconsistent. Ah, there are some landmarks I like - the kind of quiet and sternly professional bits, the loyalty to her homeland, she has some good moments deciding to fight after the destruction of Cleyra, and talking with Amarant too. Just- I’m left feeling like she was never pushed to a workable extreme anywhere in the narrative, and so she doesn’t really have any clear, defining personality characteristic. It’s more like... a lot of shit happens to her, and she’s sad but not too sad, and strong but not too strong. And it’s kind of lacklustre at the end of the day.

Steiner

I don’t really know how to say this except to say it. He’s funny and sweet at times. Overly distracted by rules and decorum, of course. But he also veers hard into being rather annoying to watch at times. He is... not a practical person. Overall, I’m kind of impressed with his bit in the story, though. Even if it fades as the narrative progresses. His relationship with Beatrice was kind of a bright spot in the narrative as a whole for me. I maybe... can’t help but like the fact that this hypercompetent, beautiful lady falls for his bumbling ass. Beatrice in general strikes a neat line between being chilly and needy and, really, way too good for anyone else in the cast.

Vivi

A great character and... ultimately a huge copout. There was a lot of build up to Vivi dying and, ultimately, it felt rather unsatisfying. It felt like they were trying to rob the sadness out of it by limiting what they showed us of him in the epilogue to his breed of offspring. But, even before then, they touched on so many themes about him in a way that really attempted to distance itself from the fear of human mortality. Like, this isn’t something that only happens to weird artificially constructed lifeforms. Human being sometimes find out they only have a couple months or a year left to live, and have to come to terms with that. Hell, all of humanity is on a timer - and not once did anyone really say to Vivi, ‘yeah, it’s true for all of us. We could all die at any moment. We’re only going to last so long, whether it’s a year or ten or a hundred.’ Kuja came kind of close to communicating some of this ‘i’m going to die, just like the Black Mages’. But never in a way that emotionally impacted Vivi, which ws kind of shitty writing, imo.

Dagger/Garnet

I don’t know. She’s rather generic. Which... doesn’t necessarily preclude my attachment in of itself. But, yeah, she’s generic in a way that doesn’t resonate with me, heh. She leans super hard on Zidane the whole narrative, and it’s really not even a little fun. There was some interesting stuff with Ramuh, and with Eiko and her being from the same summoner clan, and her relationship with her mother was great as well. I liked that Dagger got to be sad about Brahne - because let her be sad about losing the people who loved her and who she loved. But... Brahne herself is such a conundrum. I don’t dislike her character and her design as a whole. But I don’t like the game’s ‘fat and ugly are evil’ vibes. And I also don’t like the way she’s immediately forgiven in the public eye, and the eyes of the narrative, once she dies. She... literally destroys cities and kills thousands of people. That’s not really forgivable.

But, regarding Garnet... I started liking her a bit more once she cut her hair and started smiling in her in-game portrait. so, if nothing else, we know I am very shallow.

Zidane

Aaaaand, if I wasn’t already, this is where I start really running into problems. When you don’t really like the main character. When you’re not invested in the main character’s romance that is front and centre of the story and its ending. When you really don’t believe the strength of the emotional connections between the cast that the game is attempting to sell you on... It just makes it really hard to enjoy things. Zidane often seems dismissive, in his own head, and even shallow in the way he attempts to relate to the rest of the cast. It’s everyone else that has to come around to his way of thinking and learn from him, rather than the narrative making much of an effort to teach him about how to actually empathise with others. and it’s kind of grating then that we hear them praise him so casually.

I think, then, combined with the womanising aspect of his character... I don’t know, because I’m certainly not opposed to somebody wanting to sleep with all the ladies. That is an A+ relatable feeling. But, for someone that’s so casual about cozying up to every woman he runs across, I was left feeling like the only woman he had any kind of legitimate connection to was Garnet. (The game tells us he’s good friends with Freya, but does it really show us why? or how?) Which is... I suppose why Garnet, and not Ruby and Freya, was propped up as being Zidane’s major romance. But... idk, it feels a little too much like entitlement. He’s allowed to hit on all the ladies and look good while doing it, while he has a serious relationship developing with Dagger and she’s arguably right there to see him hit on other women, and he also has basically no interest in providing any kind of emotional support or developing any kind of connection with pretty much any woman (except maybe Dagger). Combine this with Cid cheating on Hilda and then she jealously turns him into a beetle - but, wait, this is a happy marriage, the game tells us. and the fact that the game’s major villain is pointedly described as ‘not a skirt chaser like you’... it’s just deifying an entitled straight boy ‘boys will be boys’ kind of attitude when that’s already an accepted social norm. and it’s kind of disgusting. I think there are better ways to talk about infidelity and promiscuity and the desire for the ladies, ones that are still sympathetic to all the parties involved. I think the final fantasy series /has/ talked about it better. With Edgar, who wants to get with all the ladies, but who lets Terra and Celes into his protection and the bounty of Figaro castle without touching either of them, and who is pointedly single even though he’s the sole heir of a kingdom and pushing thirty. And with Tidus, who had a power fantasy dream where Yuna and Rikku are hanging off each of his arms as they roast his father, but that’s before he gets to know each of them better as people. once he does the objectification wanes. I’m not saying that Edgar and Tidus are perfect heroes and wonderfully written, but I think this aspect of them was delivered with more nuance and a more critical eye, and it makes a huge difference.

Also... Are you a team player, Zidane? Or are you just a team player until you’re angry, or decide your pride is on the line? For a kind of ‘friendship is everything’ message, it certainly gets muddled everytime Zidane’s in a snit. Running back into Ispen Castle alone was a weird moment when we’re just getting done telling Amarant not to run around alone. Only okay when I do it(tm) And when he’s being kind of an insufferable bastard at the end of disc 3... just... why are you chasing after him guys? and why, after all that hoopla about accepting his friends’ help, does he deny it when going after Kuja at the end? I'm not saying that there aren’t things one needs to do alone just- why is Zidane always right when he says he needs to do things alone, but everyone else is wrong when they say the same thing? it’s a terrible case of protagonist-centred morality, and it’s really terrible and trite.

idk, I just- I understand why people are sick of the angsty final fantasy heroes after Cloud and Squall (the former I love, the latter I don’t). But I feel Zidane basically fell short in every way that wasn’t being upbeat and energetic, and I’m not sure what everyone sees in him.

Kuja

I can’t help but like this flamboyant bastard. God, he... soooo did not need a tacked on redemption arc. Again, mass genocide isn’t really forgivable. He is a terrible person. full stop. But I’m irrationally pleased he got some sympathy from the narrative anyhow. He’s just... I never liked Sephiroth, but Kuja has convinced me I could have liked Sephiroth if Sephiroth had even a fraction of a personality in ff7.

other than that... the wind/earth/water/fire shrine part of the game was weird. give me real dungeons, devs. also the coffee sidequest is nigh impossible to complete and then the game guilted me, and i hate that.

in the end, i suppose i feel the game was messy. the tone whip-lashed quick between whimsy and pure horror - which should be my jam but, idk, it didn’t work here for me. and a lot of the major characters and storylines lacked depth, or otherwise lacked nuance, or otherwise lacked payoff. it’s kind of hard to watch so much effort and so many good ideas flop so hard, but it flopped hard for me. i don’t get the hype about this game.

[aham-bramasmi]

HE WAS ROUGH. HE WAS CRUDE. HIS METHODS WERE UNORTHODOX Prophet TB Joshua

Biography

Born 12 June 1963

Died 5 June 2021

Nigerian charismatic pastor, televangelist, and philanthropist. He was the leader and founder of Synagogue, Church of All Nations (SCOAN), A Christian mega church that runs the Emmanuel TV television station from Lagos. He was one of Nigeria's millionaire church pastors who fly private jets.

Joshua, then known as Balogun Francis, attended St. Stephen's Anglican Primary School in Arigidi Akoko, Nigeria, between 1971 and 1977, but failed to complete one year of secondary school education. In school, he was known as "small pastor" because of his love for the Bible. He came from a poor background and was brought up by his Muslim uncle following the death of his Christian father.

According to Joshua, he spent 15 months in his mother's womb.

His Rise To Firm

· He started his ministry in 1989.

· In the early Nineties, his performance could be characterized as that of a magician, an entertainer in the mold of popular street performers. In the early Nineties he could not preach a sermon because he couldn’t speak English.

· When he started his ministry on television in the mid-90s, his hair did not glisten, his shoes were not shiny and he did not have an American twang - he spoke with a Yoruba accent, and a mixture of English and Pidgin. He mostly wore a Jalabia - a loose-fitting garment worn by Muslims, and kept a moustache that gave him an intense look.

· He refined himself as he became wealthy, adding a fleet of cars and a private jet to look the part, but he remained an outsider.

· His followers found him charismatic and down-to-earth, and his message spread around the world.

· In recognition of his humanitarian activities, he was awarded a National Honor by the Nigerian government in 2008 as well as receiving a letter of appreciation from the United Nations.

· He was further honored as an Ambassador of Peace by the Arewa Youth Forum, a predominantly Muslim organization, as well as being recognized with an 'award of excellence' by ZAKA, Israel's primary rescue and recovery voluntary service.

· Ironically, it was pressure instigated by the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria, with the NBC acting as a gatekeeper that allowed Joshua to flourish even further and set up Emmanuel TV. On April 30 2004, a law by the National Broadcasting Commission (NBC) came into effect, making it illegal to broadcast material containing the performance of miracles that have not been verified before the broadcast.

· In 2011, Joshua was third on the Forbes list of Nigeria’s five richest pastors, whose net worth was estimated at close to $15-million.

Religious Controversy

The Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) and Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria (PFN) both acknowledged Joshua was not a member of either organization and denounced him as an 'impostor'. Enoch Adeboye, David Oyedepo, Ayo Oritsejafor, Paul Adefarasin and Matthew Ashimolowo are among the pastors that publicly denounced Joshua as an "impostor" who belonged to a group of "occults" that had infiltrated Christianity.

The CAN and PFN have also maitained that Joshua had no traceable record of mentorship and grounding according to the biblical model.

When he started his ministry probably up to the point of his death he didn’t have a church council, elders or deacons because he believed this would limit the grace of God that works through him.

He did not publish a statement of faith or theology in line with mainstream churches and practice.

Famous Ghanaian witch doctor, Nana Kwaku Bonsam once claimed T.B Joshua goes to him to acquire spiritual powers and challenged the Nigerian prophet to come out openly to deny.

Blacklisted in Cameroon:

He was 'blacklisted' by the government of Cameroon in 2010 and termed a 'son of the devil'. Rumours of a visit by Joshua to Zimbabwe in 2012 led to an intense national debate, culminating with pastors and politicians strongly objecting.

US election prophecy:

Joshua incorrectly predicted that Hillary Clinton would win the 2016 US election. After this prophecy failed to materialize, with Donald Trump winning the election, Joshua stated that he was referring to Clinton's win in the popular vote and any misinterpretation was due to a lack of "spiritual understanding".

Coronavirus:

Joshua claimed that COVID-19 would disappear globally on 27 March 2020.

His Ministration & Practice

He wielded enormous power - people fell when he spread out his arms, rolled when he snapped his fingers, and his breath pushed back rows and rows of his congregation.

To witness his prayer sessions in the early days of his televised ministry was to be treated to exorcism that many felt bordered on the occult.

On some occasions, he gazed intently at those he was praying for and seemed to control the movement of others with an invisible remote. His critics believe he could use his eyes with demonic powers in them to superimpose his thoughts into people a practice referred to as mesmerism or hypnotism.

Some of it felt like a hypnotic session, others like that of a magician at work.

His critics believe, telepathizing, hypnotism, occultism, kabbalah magic are processes of ruling the minds of weaker men. It could go to the length of seeing the magic maker in the dreams once the weaker person allows the demonic spirit of the conjurer to influence his mind.

He prayed over handkerchiefs, photographs and other personal belongings and asked people to take them home with them.

He also prayed over little bags of water, which were handed out at the church for people to suck and receive healing.

There were also reports that Joshua referred to the water in the bags as the ''blood of Christ'' (What about Holy Communion and its interpretation?).

His critics also associated the extreme shaking of the hand to shamanism.

He believed illness was caused by sin. If someone was healed and become ill again, it is because the person had sinned again.

Question & Answer Interview

“Given by T.B Joshua in a book called Pastor W.F. Kumuyi and Prophet T.B. Joshua: Are both messengers of God? By Isaac B. Agbaje and Abieye Kalu.”

Q: Why he doesn't criticize other men of God?

A: "Despite the fact that many fellow ministers of God daily blaspheme against me, I refrain from retaliating, because I know the grave consequences of criticizing an anointed man of God ... For instance, if you are a minister of God, but deliberately go out of your way to blaspheme against another man of God, whom you knew is a true man of God, you have lost one or two of your spiritual powers to the colleague you blasphemed against unjustifiably."

Q: Why he is a vegetarian?

A: "I was not born a vegetarian. In fact, when God sent me on this mission, I realized that my work is tedious. I will refer to John 5:37: "And the Father who sent me hath borne witness to me, His Voice you have never heard, His form you have never seen."

"In a week I deliver contrary spirit carriers (Ogbanjes), witches and wizards (about 1000 of them). They are not ordinary human beings. Some are half human and half fish. So if you eat fish you cannot deliver them."

Q: His unique divine personality.

A: "The divine person in me can do a million things simultaneously. I can appear to thousands people in their dreams in any part of the world to set them free of their sicknesses, problems and afflictions."

My Opinion

Unlike his peers Prophet Joshua did not establish church branches on every street corner and mostly kept his family in the background. The church was him and he was the church, each a reflection of the other. It was a typical one-man show, although he has disciples. It will be interesting to see how the church will chart the way forward without him.

Many of the things he was criticized for are also practiced by many of the Pentecostals who are no less deified by their members but because he did not belong to the clique or fall into their own description of God, he was demonized.

Religion has been used to a larger extent to divide people and take away their dignity and their identity it is for this reason that I am not a fan of religion.

Spiritual laws will always trample on religion because they are no respecter of any human being, place and time. Regardless of your colour, creed and nationality wherever you are the law of gravity will always work and the same goes with other laws of creation.

He was rough. He was crude. His methods were unorthodox!

By Reul Reul

REFERENCES & CREDITS

BBC World Africa

Adom TV - Bishop Kayode Peller

Wikipedia - By TBJ Arabic - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0

Apologetics Coordination Team

Mail & Guardian

[andrewuttaro]

Why should I be a sports fan?

I’ve been writing this article for years. I’m not kidding. I have been asking myself this question for at least five years. I’ve struggled to frame this question in a compelling yet personal way for a while. As much as watching and consuming sports had become a big part of my life it provided so much pain along the way. Then sports were taken away from us earlier this year. In a way so rare and normally reserved for labor disputes, the global pandemic of Coronavirus (COVID-19) caused the whole sports world to go on haitus. It’s insensitive to put this loss as anything but minor next to the tremendous human toll of a once-in-a-century contagion so let’s start by saying are just entertainment. Even if it’s your livelihood you are probably aware deep down that you work in the candy shop.

That said what we decide to entertain ourselves with says a lot about us. As much as we view Ancient Rome as the jewel of antiquity these were also depraved people who used gladiatorial, often genocidally-oriented slaughter as their entertainment. In a non-pandemic world the deepest conversation in the sports world is probably how much violence should we tolerate. Not having any sports to consume allowed me to go into the deeper question of why should I be a sports fan at all?

I’m soon to finish Graduate School with an education to work in government so you don’t need to tell me there are more important things then sports. But that is really part of the why isn’t it? Sports is an escape but also a function of all that chaos in the broader world. Sports are not separate from politics, in many cases sports only exist because of politics. On the other hand, they should be an expression of depth. At its best sports express the depth of human flourishing: our yearnings, our joys, our sufferings, our need for togetherness. The poetry is warranted: sports helps humanity process the ups and downs of our own existence. Then again, it’s also really, profoundly stupid. Need I remind you of the butt fumble?

I was a giant nerd for the first decade and a half of my life. I still am now really but the classical definition of being a nerd precludes loving sports as much as I do. My family had always paid attention to World Cups and even club soccer on a casual level. My family had gone to a hockey game here or there but if I told you I was aware of the Buffalo Sabres President’s Trophy Campaign in 2007 I would be lying to you. My true sports life begins in 2011 watching the NHL playoffs with my dad. Those memories are precious to me. He probably would’ve preferred I get into the real sport of the family: American Football.

None of us actually played Football but like many American families mine gathered around the television on Sunday afternoons to watch the NFL. If it wasn’t the nearby Buffalo Bills it was my father’s Kansas City Chiefs, or my sister’s Philadelphia Eagles, or my uncle’s Oakland Raiders, or my mom’s whatever-team-Peyton-Manning-is-on. Football didn’t really capture my heart until last year and the likes of one Josh Allen, but it was always a part of my family life. Sports weren’t an interest of mine until those early 2010s Stanley Cup playoffs with my dad. I am hooked on hockey to this day.

I suppose many of you reading this can see your own story in similar terms. If you’re a lifelong fan of a team you probably have a full journey of ups and downs, wins and losses, joys and pains to look back on. I have far more pains to share than joys. I have been provided with so much pain in this decade of being a sports fan that I questioned: Why should I be a sports fan anyway? Why bother? If it gives me pain do I really need that in my life? On a deeper level most people who own sports teams are the worst kind of degenerate fat cats. I would feel less comfortable making that generalization if it weren’t true 80% of the time. Just take a deep dive into stadium and arena financing and you’ll agree with me before sundown tomorrow.

As stupid as the real-life ramifications of the sports industry are they reflect our own societal ills. The Ancient Romans hated foreigners and religious dissidents, so their entertainment was feeding those groups to tigers. In modern America we deify the wealthy so we let them walk all over our local governments to get tax breaks for giant stadiums we can chill at. The off-the-field stuff really grinds my gears, can you tell? Long before social distancing was in the everyday lexicon all these issues with sports in general made me seriously fumed on a regular basis. Then a Superbowl changed my thinking.

My dad’s Kansas City Chiefs won Superbowl 54. Ironically they did it against my father-in-law’s San Francisco 49ers. The Chiefs won the Superbowl fifty years after winning their only other championship in Superbowl four. My father, not even ten years old at the time, was entranced for life after that game. A fun rivalry with his cousin’s Raiders made it his team among other sports he loved. He went ahead and suffered through fifty years of Chiefs football which, the more I learn every day: really sucked for a long time. Five decades of suffering only magnified the joy of the eventual return to the mountaintop. The journey through thick and thin was a companion that my dad takes pride in. Recently he expressed some relief to me that the Superbowl the Chiefs finally won wasn’t cancelled by Coronavirus. After five decades of frustration I can see why.

Then I wondered if my dad was a sucker. The Hunt family who own the Kansas City Chiefs have bankrolled half the American Sports world. Their hand is in decades of American sports including being one of two guys keeping Major League Soccer afloat twenty years ago. The Hunts are one of a handful of people who can be considered the kingpins of this industry in North America. Was my dad just another one of their marks? Was I a mark for loving the Buffalo Sabres through their roughest decade in franchise history and still buying all the merchandise? Was all of Rochester, NY a mark for a beautiful experiment in the predatory world of American lower-division soccer called the Rochester Rhinos?

Well… Coronavirus happened, and those questions became silly next to images of mass graves and empty streets. That was the perspective it took for me to stop worrying about whether sports are some latent capitalist scheme to channel money from the middle class to the wealthy. Money goes where money comes. A healthy portion of social awareness is critical to be a good sports fan, but the off-the-field-stuff doesn’t undermine the spirit of the thing itself unless it REALLY does (I’m looking at you NYCFC letting fascists salute at your games). So what am I trying to say here? What am I going to wrap this up with: a feel-good message about how what really matters is the friends and experience we get along the way? Bonding with family and friends is the meaning of sports?

No, I’ll spare you that tired resolution today. I’m a campfire guy. I am no Boy Scout level camper, but the campfire is my jam: the campfire of shared experiences. Beyond family, religion, sports and a few common landmarks in our personal lives how many things really bring giant groups of humanity together? Like I’m talking about millions of people: what are things we all still share together as one whole? War I guess but if you find that fun in real life I am a little worried for your mental health. It just so happens I am something of a family man and a religious zealot. I just live for those things that bring humans together, the more the merrier!

In internet parlance the phrase is “concurrent viewers”. I’m a moth to the light for things we can all do together. I haven’t missed a Superbowl as far back as I can remember. And these thoughts are where I really found the answer to my question. Why should I be a Sports fan at all? In a time when we’re all craving human contact like I do as a part of my personality it reminds us what brings thousands and millions of us together is the glue of society. Glue is a fickle thing if you haven’t used it recently. It sticks and if you give it time it hardens into something almost inseparable. In these tough times healthcare workers, essential workers and the government are welding things together like sports once glued us together.

The metaphor isn’t perfect but my reason for sports is simple: it’s an us thing. It’s why we watch movies, eat certain places and go to certain live events when we’re not quarantined; we’re attracted to the things that bring us together. Okay, so maybe it is the friends-we-made-along-the-way argument, but I don’t hate that as much as I used to. Life is better together and living through a life-altering pandemic opens the mind to what that deeper, albeit corny truth really means. I’m a sports fan because I get to share it with others.

[kyuu-rereads-umineko]

Ep6, Chapter 11

I forget what happens in this chapter exactly, beyond the next part of the love trial. Let’s get right into it!

On that note, I’m officially behind the Rokkenjima Tea Party, which is great, because I’d still love to join in on the Ep7 podcast. I’d love to just speed through the rest of Ep6 so I can catch up, but we’ll just have to see how things go, I guess. What I’ll probably end up doing is reading through the rest of Ep6 on my own, then reading Ep7 for the podcast, taking notes on things to revisit for this blog later for both Episodes. 

We open on Rosa, alone in the parlour, relaxing during a break in the family conference.

“...A pleasant silence. Now that no one was in sight, Rosa’s heart finally awoke.” Huh, that’s an interesting line. I’d forgotten about it.

The narrative notes that the other siblings would treat her almost like an impartial mediator in their conferences, and she reflects on having to use that status to steer the conversation in the direction she wants. All the political jockeying the siblings end up getting into with each other must be exhausting...

“That [debt] was supposed to be my great commitment, a burden I bore to help support ‘that man’s’ business. [...] If I can pay off my debt... will he call me again?” I forget, do we ever get details about Maria’s father and Rosa’s debt anywhere else? I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s touched on in Ep1, with the whole ALL THE SIBLINGS WANT A LOT OF MONEY RIGHT NOW thing, but other than that...

And then Rosa thinks, “even if you do contact me again after all this time... I’ll be the one to refuse. ...But still... you are Maria’s father, aren’t you? Please come and see her... if only just once...”

That first part in particular is quite interesting. I feel like there’s a parallel to be drawn there, between Rosa and Yasu (what with the latter “moving on” from Battler, only to be devastated when he actually returns), but.

(alternatively i feel like i’ve been doing a shit job with the whole analysis thing and am looking for the tiniest thing to latch onto i’m not really sure)

Rosa’s thoughts are interrupted by Kanon, who... arrived silently without her noticing. lol

Aaaand as usual for this episode, Kanon is extremely forward. “The reason you are currently in pain is because of love, Rosa-sama. ...Am I wrong?”

Interesting - Kanon shows explicit knowledge of Rosa’s financial situation. She brushes it off as him overhearing Krauss from the hallway earlier...

...and the narrative immediately josses that explanation. “Krauss had seen through to the fact that Rosa was bearing a massive debt because she had become a co-signer on a loan. However, he hadn’t said that her partner had been Maria’s father... Why... did Kanon know so much...?”

(Note: this thought is split across a period of like, two weeks, because I just wasn’t in the mood to write anything, so apologies in advance if it’s incoherent) The narrative drawing attention to Kanon like this reminds me of something we talked about a bit on the Rokkenjima Discord server - Namely, the idea that Ikuko wrote Episode 5, while Tohya/Battler wrote Episode 6. It’s true that the two of them together are what makes Tohya Hachijo, but even then, Ep5 and 6 are drastically different in terms of tone. Episode 5 is probably the most ruthless depiction of Yasu we ever see, whereas she doesn’t even seem to be planning a murder in Ep6. Ep5 also presents Erika as pretty unapologetically terrible, while Ep6 has its tidbit with her backstory to humanize her (even if she goes way off the deep end later, but, y’know).

In terms of timeline, I imagine it’d be something like... Between Ep4 and 5, Tohya has his seizure and is hospitalized for a while. During that period, Ikuko writes Ep5 on her own, much to his chagrin (this is also why, on a meta-level, Battler is boycotting most of the 5th game - it’s symbolic for Tohya’s hospitalization). Once he recovers, Tohya starts writing Ep6 on his own, making a point of portraying everyone more lovingly (relatively speaking, of course) than Ikuko had.

Bringing this back to Kanon - in the question arcs - Ep1 and 2 in particular - there’s a pretty strong focus on him as being suspicious. His death is the only blatant fantasy scene in Ep1, and he’s constantly fingered as the culprit in Ep2. In comparison, Ep5 really does brush over him and Shannon almost entirely. Assuming Ikuko wrote Ep5, as a sort of “pure mystery” type thing (i.e. the culprit is a cold-blooded killer intent on framing Natsuhi), Tohya’s Ep6 is, in a way, a sort of “return to basics.” Yasu’s romantic relations take centre stage again, and no one is portrayed as an irredeemable monster (well, except maybe Kyrie, and Erika once the murders start, but).

Anyway, Rosa mentions that she’d considered helping Maria’s father out financially her “responsibility as his future wife.” Which, of course... didn’t happen. “So afterwards... Rosa was always alone. And Maria... never had a father.”

“Maria, who should have been a symbol of their union, just kept growing, almost like a living hourglass measuring the length of the hell Rosa had crawled through...” Hmm. Pretty evocative of Kyrie’s talk to Jessica last chapter. Between this and their daughters, I wonder if there are more parallels between Kyrie and Rosa that we’re meant to see...

Rosa mentions trying to forget Maria’s father several times, but also says, “If I can manage to pay everything off, it’ll mean that I’ve passed the trial of love that he gave me.” 

She’s using a bit of her own magic to keep herself going here, huh... “If she was able to succeed in paying back the loan... he might acknowledge her usefulness as a wife...”

Oooh, I’d forgotten this. The narrative mentions that Rosa viewing the loan as a “trial” “might have been her blindness due to love.” Again, we’re getting the message that love isn’t always necessarily a force for good.

And Kanon wonders out loud if this is the “hell” Kyrie was talking about, lol. Rosa agrees, “though [she’s] not sure what [he’s] talking about.”

“And how can that be put to an end...?” Ouch. Rosa replies, “Who knows? If anyone did... no one would ever be crushed by the disease of love.” 

“That disease is a serious one. ...It sometimes eats into a person for their entire life, spreading to and hurting the people closest to them... That disease was torturing her now as much as it ever had...” And there it is. The heart of many of Yasu’s troubles, and the heart of the story itself.

Erika was right a few chapters ago - the counterpoint to “without love, it cannot be seen,” is that love will end up blinding you to things as well. Vilifying someone and deifying them are both just as dangerous, and just as naive - in doing so, you’re missing “half of the story,” as it were.

At any rate, Rosa expresses... admiration, I guess, for Kyrie and her perseverance. She comments that she’s only waited half of Kyrie’s 18 years, and Kanon asks if she thinks a miracle will happen sometime in the next nine. She responds with, “If I doubt that, it’s all over.”

“In a sense, I’m a ghost. ...I’m already dead. I’m just living on without noticing.”

“...A ghost waiting for eternity for a person who will never come...” The parallel’s pretty obvious here, isn’t it? Rosa finishes with, “I wish someone would just kill me.” are you sure about that

Zepar and Furfur show up, commenting that “losing and dying” isn’t the frightening part - it’s being unable to win, but unable to die, too. Elder adds, “They say the most torturous toxin for humans is made from rotting love.” Bits like this really make my heart ache, because of how vividly they paint Yasu’s suffering.

Elder says something pretty revealing here - when Chick expresses understanding that she needs to either “kill that seed [of love for Battler] or make it bud,” Elder says that the poison of rotting love “is the most fearsome torture in the world, even for us thousand year old witches.”

Back on the board, Kanon kills Rosa quick and painlessly. “Sleep well, Rosa-sama... Your hell... has ended.” He even goes on to cover her with a blanket, to make it look as though she’s just sleeping. Again, Ep6 really makes a point of portraying the family and servants in a much more positive light - this is the same Kanon who’d normally be decrying Rosa as a terrible human being for how she treats Maria, after all.

“Those demons had not exaggerated when calling this trial a battle of love. It was at least accurate on this cruel but unassailable fact: that those who have their love shattered meet with death...”

As Kanon declares his part to be over, Maria arrives and attacks him, screaming bloody murder. “In MARIA’s eyes, though Rosa was the black witch... she was also the vessel of the mother she couldn’t help but love. Her anger at having that stolen from her was near madness.”

Sakutarou appears, preventing Kanon from retaliating, but before Maria can kill him, Shannon appears, declaring Maria as her target for the trial. She uses her barrier to crush Maria and Sakutarou against the wall, since she’s technically not targeting them that way. lol technicalities

Instead of crying, Maria accepts her death, realizing that the parlour would be a closed room. “This might be just perfect for that wannabe detective who’s trying to deny Beato’s magic.” I can’t help feeling that her nonchalance here is meant as a pretty big hint as to what actually happens on the board before Erika gets involved...

Zepar and Furfur acknowledge Shannon and Kanon’s efforts as “truly splendid,” then notice that Chick’s disappeared - she’s off picking a target of her own: Natsuhi.

In her own room, Natsuhi looks into her spirit mirror (that we last saw in Ep2, as I recall, so it’s been a while) and laments her inability to support Krauss by being at his side. 

“It’s tough, isn’t it... waiting for the sake of love...”

And then Chick arrives. “Because of your love for your husband, you couldn’t bear to be made to care for an unfamiliar child.”

It’s funny and sadly ironic - Chick says she isn’t holding Natsuhi’s sin of 19 years ago against her, but the narrative goes on to mention that she does view Natsuhi as an “enemy” because of Battler’s blue truth from the end of Ep5. If only she knew...

(though if she did then I suppose this scene wouldn’t even be happening like this in the first place so)

“...Please do not hold it against me when I kill you for the sake of my love.”

As she goes to strangle Natsuhi, though, the spirit mirror falls to the ground, and she glances at it... which hurts her and breaks her concentration, much as it would against Elder. Both Elder and Chick express surprise over the fact that the spirit mirror has an effect on her, seeing as spiderwebs don’t. I’d forgotten that we actually get clued into  the fact that “Beatrice’s” weakness to mirrors isn’t strictly related to her “being a witch” here.

Natsuhi realizes immediately that the mirror will protect her, and uses it to corner Chick.

“If I lose here... I’ll be the only one... to fail this trial... Just like George-san and Shannon-san... Jessica-san and Kanon-san... I also want Battler-san to acknowledge me... and treasure me...”

Zepar and Furfur tell Chick to “believe,” because “the miracle of love will surely occur.” With that, she realizes that she’s in love with Battler. “I want him to notice me. And I want him to acknowledge and accept my feelings...”

“I was born because I love Battler-san... and I want him to love me back...”

With that, she steels her resolve. “I cannot lose here...! After all... I was born for Battler-san’s sake...!!” And then, in stake form, Lucifer flies into the room, knocking the mirror out of Natsuhi’s hand and breaking it. GO LUCIFER

Chick moves to choke Natsuhi again, and Natsuhi reaches for the door to unlock it. “A closed room is one of the definitions that makes a witch. Just unlocking the door made the anti-magic toxin strengthen a little. Since Beato was at her limit even within a closed room, if Natsuhi undid that lock... Beato’s power would weaken immediately, and Natsuhi would surely escape into the hallway.”

She gets closer and closer to the lock - “The power of the living to live is fundamentally stronger than the power of magic” - but before she can reach it, Battler instructs Lucifer to finish things, staking Natsuhi in the forehead.

“Hey, Zepar! Does this count? Beatrice didn’t complete the trial by her strength alone, right?!” theatrics etc. etc., and the two say in unison, “A pair in love are as one! This doesn’t count as help from outside!”

Battler appears, gently chastising Chick for scaring the hell out of him by almost getting herself killed, lol. Chick apologizes for not staying in her room...

...and Battler apologizes for being so harsh to her. When she slips and calls him Father again, he grins and says, “It’s okay. Call me whatever you like.”

“True, the old you may have called me just ‘Battler’. ...At first, I might have tried to force you to speak to me that way. ...However, that would be pointless. You are Beato... but you’re yourself. You can call me whatever you want.”

She calls him Battler-san again, and he quips, “Can’t say being called Father is really my thing.” ew

“...Now, she was allowed to call Battler by his name. If you just looked into her eyes... there would be no need to describe just how happy this made her feel...”

He muses a bit on the “strange game” that’s started, then throws his hat in the ring... and mentions that he’s already picked his sacrifice. lol game master

“The resolve of all six [of the lovers] is the real deal! Let us test them further in the next trial!” With that, they disappear, leaving Chick and Battler some time to talk one-on-one.

Back in “1998,” Ikuko asks Ange what she thinks of the story so far. this is on chapter 11 out of 18 ffs it’s almost as bad as ep1

Ange is pretty clearly upset that she got so immersed in the forgery, lol. She goes on to say, “Normally, I’d try to skip over all the love and illusions and call them unnecessary, useless scenes for the mystery... but Okonogi-san disagreed with that way of thinking. He thought that, by looking at things without love that way, the truth could never be reached.” are we getting the message yet readers

“After all, she’s used up all these pages talking about love and trials. ...In other words, those are the themes and keywords of this tale.”

And Ikuko says, “And there are many who claim that all words not written in red ink are not worth reading. It is an honour, child of man, that you have read the black letters as well.” loool

“Stories are written because the writer has something they want to communicate. And some writers feel that it’s unrefined to lay everything out too directly.” meta-commentary etc. etc., but I feel like there’s another point to be made here - that some writers, like Yasu, basically can’t lay things out directly, whether it’s due to circumstances, the nature of what they want to say, or not having a voice of their own to speak up with (or in Yasu’s case, all three).

“...All of this about how you’ll never reach the truth without love has shown up many times in the works before this one. This new work makes that even more striking. ...It means that that is the one thing the writer wanted to tell the most... the thing that they want us to think about the most.”

Ange realizes that, even when Beato first started appearing on the board, way back in Ep2, love was a constant theme. Her first meeting with Shannon was all about love.

“Then, in the tale right before this one, where Beato had become like a doll, the scenes shown made it seem almost as though Battler and Beato accepted each other as rivals... or possibly something more.”

Ange challenges that Ikuko’s writing is talking about love from her own viewpoint, which she acknowledges. “That is what I wanted to tell. And it is my own sort of ‘answer’.” Ange replies pretty unhappily.

“Foolish child of man. ...After reading all of this, do you still not understand?”

Though Ange is pretty unhappy with how things are going, she does realize something - Ikuko’s writing really does have “the same presence, the same scent” as the genuine message bottles. “The author is certainly different. However, because it reached the real truth, it had the same scent...”

“If one has reached Beatrice’s truth, they can create a new tale, whoever they are. ...With this new manuscript, I’m sure some other than myself will appear and reach the truth. Those people will be qualified to create new tales of their own.” I’d forgotten that Ikuko makes this point - that the more “Endless Witches” there are who write tales of Rokkenjima, the more people will reach the truth.

“...When that happens, the very first Endless Witch, Beatrice, will finally be rewarded for writing such long letters, packing them in bottles, and throwing them into the sea...”

Ange reluctantly admits that Ikuko’s tale somehow rings true. Ikuko replies, “Very well, child of man. Perhaps, as the final survivor of the Ushiromiya family, it was fated that you would find the truth and become an Endless Witch. ...I exist only as a guidepost to awaken you as the true successor. ...ANGE-Beatrice.”

“...I don’t know the truth even after the two message bottles Beatrice left behind... and I’ve read several tales with hints afterwards. So... these hints are challenges, provoking me to think.” Ikuko agrees.

“Perfect. ...I’ll find this truth you say you’ve reached. ...It’s a good thing I came here. Let the truth I see and the truth you see overlap. Just as you see things with a single eye, so do I. Now that I’ve found you, I can finally look at the truth with both eyes.”

Back in the Meta-World, Erika yawns, complaining about things taking so long again. for once i am in complete agreement. Battler makes a jab at her for sleeping through things, lol.

“As you wish, let’s begin. ...First off, the first twilight.”