#><strong>Africa</strong></span></a>

[syoddeye]

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old. 

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess. 

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you. 

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that. 

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out. 

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying. 

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic. 

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit. 

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

~~

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years." 

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

~~

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

[youryurigoddess]

A nightingale sang in the London Blitz

When exactly was that certain night, the night Aziraphale and Crowley met — and spoke for the first time in 79 years in the midst of the London Blitz?

And what’s the deal with the nightingale’s song, really?

Grab something to drink and we’ll look for some Clues below.

The night they met

The Blitz, short for Blitzkrieg (literally: flash war) was a German aerial bombing campaign on British cities in the WW2, spanning between 7 September 1940 and 10 May 1941. The Luftwaffe attacks were carried out almost non stop, with great intensity meant to force a capitulation and similarly strong impact on British life and culture at the time.

Starting on 7 September 1940, London as the capital city was bombed for nearly 60 consecutive nights. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed, half of the total victims of this campaign.

The night of 29 December 1940 saw the most ferocity, becoming what is now known as the Second Great Fire of London. The opening shot of the S2 1941 minisode is a direct reference to recordings of that event, with the miraculously saved St Paul’s Cathedral in the upper left corner.

The actual raid lasted between 06:15 and 09:45 PM, but its aftermath continued for days. The old and dense architecture of this particular part of the city turned into a flaming inferno larger than the Great Fire of 1666. Multiple buildings, including churches, were destroyed in just one night by over 100,000 bombs.

Incendiary bombs fell also on St Dunstan-in-the-East church that night, the real-life location of this scene as intended by Neil. It was gutted and again claimed by fire in one of the last air rides on 10 May, when the bomb destroyed the nave and roof and blew out the stained glass windows. The ruins survived to this day as a memorial park to the Blitz.

Such a delightfully Crowley thing to do: saving a bag of books with a demonic miracle adding to the biggest catastrophe for the publishing and book trade in years. 5 million volumes were lost, multiple bookshops and publishing houses destroyed in the December 29th raid alone.

Even without this context, judging by the seemingly unending night, overwhelming cold and darkness, broken heating at the theatre, and seasonal clothing (like Aziraphale and Crowley’s extremely nice winter coats), it’s rather clear that it was the very beginning of the year 1941.

Everything suggests that Aziraphale and Crowley’s Blitz reunion happened exactly 1900 years after their meeting in Rome — which, according to the script book, took place between 1 and 24 January 41 (Crowley was right: emperor Caligula was a mad tyrant and didn't need any additional tempting; there's a reason why he was murdered by his closest advisors, including members of his Praetorian Guard, on 24 January 41).

Interestingly, both events involved a role reversal in their otherwise stable dynamic, with Aziraphale spontaneously taking the lead instead of letting the demon be the one to do all the tempting and saving, and ended with a toast.

The S2 Easter Egg with the nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl playing table tennis at the theatre suggests that the Blitz meeting happened on a Tuesday afternoon, which doesn’t match any of the above mentioned days, but sets the in-universe date for 7 January 1941 or later.

The Chattering Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the nuns are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.

The nightingale

January means one thing: absolutely no migratory birds in Europe yet. They’re blissfully wintering in the warm sun of Northern Africa at the time. But, ironically, when the real nightingales flew off, a certain song about them suddenly gained popularity in the West End of London.

It might be a shock, but A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square wasn’t a hit from the start — even though its creators, Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin, were certainly established in their work at this point. The song was written in the then-small French fishing village of Le Lavandou shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War with first performance in the summer of 1939 in a local bar, where the melody was played on piano by the composer Manning Sherwin with the help of the resident saxophonist. Maschwitz sang his lyrics while holding a glass of wine, but nobody seemed impressed. It took time and a small miracle to change that.

Next year, the 23-year-old actress Judy Campbell had planned to perform a monologue of Dorothy Parker’s in the upcoming Eric Maschwitz revue „New Faces”. But somehow the script had been mislaid and, much to her horror, replaced with the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. She had never professed to be a singer but even so, she gathered her courage and went out onto the moonlit set dressed in a white ball gown. Her heartfelt rendition of the now evocative ballad captured the audience’s imagination and catapulted her West End career to stardom.

It was precisely 11 April 1940 at the Comedy Theatre in Panton Street and the revue itself proved to be a great success — not only it kept playing two performances nightly through the Blitz, but also returned the next year. And the still operating Comedy Theatre is mere five minutes on foot from the Windmill Theatre, where Aziraphale performed in 1941, and not much longer from his bookshop.

Now, most Good Omens meta analyses focus on Vera Lynn’s version of the song from 5 June 1940, but it didn’t get much attention until autumn, specifically 15 November, when Glenn Miller and his orchestra published another recording. And Glenn Miller himself is a huge point of reference in Good Omens 2.

According to the official commentary the infamous credits scene is establishing Aziraphale and Crowley’s final resolve for the next season using the same narrative device The Glenn Miller Story (1954) does in its most crucial scene. It starts with the tune (and audio in general) totally flat, then adds a piano on one side, and gradually becomes fully multidimensional. The Good Omens credits not only emulate the same sound effect, but bring it to the visual side of the narrative by literally combining the individual perspectives of the two characters together. Even though they’re physically apart, their resolve — and love to each other — brings them even closer than before. Aziraphale smiles not because he’s being brainwashed, but because he knows exactly what to do next.

Some of you might have noticed that Tori Amos’s performance for Good Omens is actually a slightly shortened version of Miller’s recording — much less sorrowful than Vera Lynn’s full lyrics that include i.a. this bridge:

The dawn came stealing up

All gold and blue

To interrupt our rendez-vous

I still remember how you smiled and said

Was that a dream or was it true?

Which is a huge hint when it comes to what we can expect from the main romantic plot line in the Good Omens series. The original song introduces an element of the doubt — it seems like there was no nightingale at all, only the mirage woven by the singer clearly intoxicated with love, much like Aziraphale and Crowley for the length of the last six episodes. Crowley’s comment in the season finale might allude to that interpretation, stating that there are no nightingales — never have been. It was all a dream. But the version we’re working with here is short and sweet, and devoid of that doubt. In the Good Omens universe angels were actually dining at the Ritz, the streets were truly paved with stars (or will be shown as such in the next season), and a nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square, as the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent narrator, God Herself, had shown us.

All in all, it’s not an accident that the “modern” swing ballad activating Aziraphale’s memory and opening the 1941 minisode is the Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It’s a track naturally associated with A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square when it comes to music style and the sentiment in the lyrics.

But why the sudden popularity? In the great uncertainty and hardship of the Blitz, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square provided solace and escapism for listeners, offering a glimpse of hope and love amidst the darkness of war. It became a universal anthem of resilience and a reminder of the power of love transcending difficulties. By January 1941 the whole city knew this tune by heart, including a certain West End aficionado with a cabinet full of theatre programs in his bookshop. Thanks to Maggie’s grandmother, he most probably had a record at hand to play during his spontaneous wine night with Crowley. We can only suspect the details, but it was was mutually established as their song exactly at that time or soon afterwards. Pretty sure we will see a third installment of that minisode for many, many reasons, but especially because of this “several days in 1941” answer by Neil:

The Man Hunt

In 1941 A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square gained even more popularity as the romantic theme of the Fritz Lang’s newest film Man Hunt. The 1939 story by Geoffrey Household first appeared under the title “Rogue Male” as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly Magazine where it received widespread comment, soon becoming a world-wide phenomenon in novel form. Its premise criticizes Britain's pre-war policy of appeasement with Germany, ready to sacrifice its own innocent citizens to the tentative status quo. Sounds a bit like Heaven's politics, right?

Yes, I'm trying to make you watch old movies again — like all the other classics, Man Hunt (1941) is easily available on YouTube and other streaming websites.

The next part will include spoilers, so scroll down to the next picture if you prefer to avoid them.

The plot of the movie seems simple enough: the tall, dark, and handsome Alan Thorndike, who nearly assassinates Hitler, narrowly escapes Germany and back in London continues to evade the Nazi agents sent after him with the help of a young trench-clad “seamstress” named Jerry, bridging the class divide and becoming unlikely friends-partners-romantic interests. It doesn’t end well though.

Jerry's small London apartment serves as a hideout for Alan when he was being followed by Nazis, similarly to how Aziraphale's bookshop is a safe haven for both Crowley and Gabriel in S2. She helps the man navigate the streets and eventually out of London — by sacrificing herself and getting forcefully separated from him by a patrolling policeman. The last time they see each other, Alan watches Jerry look back at him yearningly and disappear in the fog, followed by the elderly officer.

Unfortunately in the next scene we learn that the latter is a Nazi collaborator and helps the agents apprehend Jerry in her own flat. Staying loyal to her love and uncooperative, she’s ultimately thrown out of a window to her death, but posthumously saves Alan once again — through the arrow-shaped hatpin he gifted her earlier that is presented to him as the evidence of her off-screen fate.

Long story short, thanks to Jerry’s sacrifice Alan not only survives, but is able to join the war that broke out in the meantime and go back to Germany, armed with a rifle and a final resolve to end what he started, no matter how long will it take. The justice will be served and the dictator will pay with his life for his sins.

I wouldn’t be myself without mentioning that the main villain has a Roman chariot statue similar to the one in Aziraphale’s bookshop, an antique sculpture of St Sebastian (well-known as the gayest Catholic Saint) foreshadowing his demise, and a chess set symbolizing the titular manhunt/game of tag with the protagonist.

Aziraphale’s song

Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself as well? Or has he already? If his coin magic trick can be any indicator, we should expect at least a shadow of a danger touching the angel’s wings soon.

Let’s sum up the 1941 events from Aziraphale’s perspective: the very first time they’ve interacted after almost a century, Crowley actively sabotaged his entire existence twice by stepping onto a holy ground and by being outed by agents of Hell, both on the very same night and both because of his undying dedication to the angel. That’s enough of a reason not only for performing an apology dance, but also maintaining a careful distance for Crowley’s sake for the next 26 years. Only when he heard that his idiot was planning to rob a church, he gave up since he “can't have him risking his life”.

That’s when Crowley, sitting in a car parked right under his bookshop, offered him a ride. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was supposed to be a date, this time both of them understood it. But Aziraphale wouldn’t risk Crowley’s safety for his own happiness, especially not when he can name his feelings towards him and knows that they are reciprocated — the biggest lesson he learnt back in 1941.

So he did what he’s best at, he cut Crowley off again, but this time with a promise of catching up to his speed at some point. Buddy Holly’s Everyday, which was originally planned to play afterwards instead of the Good Omens theme, adds additional context here:

No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know… Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Aziraphale, carefully looking around and feeling observed through the whole conversation in the Bentley, consciously used the “Dine at the Ritz” line from A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, from their song, as a code only the two of them understand. Not as a suggestion to go out for a meal, but a promise. A hope for the privilege of being openly in love and together — maybe someday, not now, when it’s too dangerous — even if it leads to a bad ending.

Fast forward to 2023 when for one dreadful moment Crowley’s “No nightingales” robbed Aziraphale even of that semblance of hope. He looked away, unable to stop his tears anymore. Only their kiss helped him pull himself together and make sure that a nightingale did sing the last time he turned — just like in their song — this time without a smile, as a goodbye.

[that-rad-jewish-girl]

Hi

I just wanna start with, I’m not Jewish, I’m black.

And I want to start standing for Israel. Before I’ve always kinda stayed out of it but something just really made me absolutely angry. It really made me understand why Jewish people need a homeland and need to protect it, why “never again” is so important. Honestly if I were in that situation I’d do the same, I’d protect my home. To me, Jewish people are strong, and I’m trying to be the same.

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of the “Rhineland Bastards”? It’s what H*tler called Afro-Germans. First of all, just the name only made my blood boil. Then I continued to read about the forced serialization of around 500 Black Germans children and teenagers. Apparently black Germans were “ negrofing” France and we would contaminate the white race. And if you do the math that’s about 12k people we could have been alive today, assuming each person has 3 kids around their 30s or 40s. And then all the victims who were murdered could have brought that higher. ( and dont forget abt the forced sterilization of blacks, Jews and Asians in early 1900s America)

It also angers me that we (Afro-Germans and black peoples) were thought to have been a stain on the Heart of Europe. Still after reading that I’m trying to twist my mind wondering what bad did we do?

I feel that’s it’s only now, (and as bad as this is) that’s I’ve realized the true horrors of the holocaust. And why Israel is so important for Jewish people today. There are so many people who could have been alive today, and Jewish people are so blessed to have a homeland where they can feel safe, free and protected to be who they are.

Seeings as we may have shared be a common enemy judging by this quote…

"Jews were responsible for bringing Negroes into the Rhineland, with the ultimate idea of bastardizing the White race which they hate and thus lowering its cultural and political level so that the Jew might dominate." ( I just don’t even know how to even respond..)

I want to support the Jewish people for their bravery and sacrifice. Regardless of if they live in Israel or not, because even living day to day in America is bravery in my eyes ❤️.

Ok that’s all!

I’m terrible at checking my notifications, so I apologize for getting to this so late.

I’ll start by saying we appreciate your support! And yes, we do share a common enemy.

I find people know very little people know about Mein Kampf, even though it was the blueprint for H*tler’s future plans. He lays the groundwork for the justification of persecuting multiple groups. Most notably Jewish, Black, and Romani people. And, like you quoted, these groups were tied together in his eyes. He thought we were working together to “stain” the Rhineland, and Europe at large.

This attitude started well before H*tler took power. The second Reich involved Germany taking control of parts of Africa and subjugating the people there in much the same way as during the Holocaust. Forced labor and extreme violence was commonplace.

So yes, we definitely share a common enemy. And it’s an enemy that spans back longer than most people realize.

[justforbooks]

The musician Ryuichi Sakamoto, who has died aged 71 of cancer, spent his life as a restless traveller, both personally and musically. “I was born in Japan but I don’t think I’m Japanese,” he said in 1988, two years before he moved to New York. “To be a stranger – I like that attitude. I don’t like nationalities and borders.”

A founder member of Tokyo’s pioneering computer-pop trio Yellow Magic Orchestra, whose work between 1978 and 1984 has proved a lasting influence on hip-hop and electronica, Sakamoto was able to combine his skills as an academically trained musician with an aptitude for electronic music and an ear for countless musical styles. He sustained a lengthy partnership with the British musician David Sylvian after first working with his band Japan on the track Taking Islands in Africa from the album Gentlemen Take Polaroids (1980), following which the duo collaborated on the double A-side Bamboo Houses/Bamboo Music (1982).

In 1983, Sakamoto achieved a peak of commercial visibility by not only writing the soundtrack for Nagisa Oshima’s film Merry Christmas, Mr Lawrence, but also co-starring in it (as Captain Yonoi) with David Bowie. The soundtrack, which won him a Bafta for best film music, contained the Sakamoto/Sylvian composition Forbidden Colours, a vocal version of the film’s main theme, which was a Top 20 hit in Britain.

Soundtrack work became one of the main planks of Sakamoto’s career. He won an Academy Award (along with his fellow composers David Byrne and Cong Su) for his soundtrack to Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Last Emperor (1987), in which he also had an acting role, and worked with the director again on The Sheltering Sky (1990) and Little Buddha (1993).

Sakamoto scored the 1990 film version of The Handmaid’s Tale, Pedro Almodóvar’s Tacones Lejanos (High Heels, 1991), and Brian De Palma’s Snake Eyes (1998) and Femme Fatale (2002). Oliver Stone hired him for the soundtrack to his TV series Wild Palms (1993). Alejandro González Iñárritu used some existing Sakamoto recordings in his 2006 film Babel, then recruited him to write the score for his multiple Oscar-winner The Revenant (2015). For the opening of the 1992 Barcelona Olympics he provided El Mar Mediterrani.

Sakamoto released solo albums regularly between 1978 and 2017, many of them reaching the Top 30 in Japan but not registering on charts elsewhere, as well as six live albums and a string of compilations. However, Sakamoto’s subtle, exploratory music earned him a charismatic reputation that drew international guest stars to his projects.

On B-2 Unit (1980), he collaborated closely with Andy Partridge from XTC, and the electrofunk track Riot in Lagos proved inspirational for the likes of Mantronix and Afrikaa Bambaataa. Thomas Dolby featured on the pulsating Field Work from Illustrated Musical Encyclopedia (1986), the track accompanied by an ingeniously conceived video, while for Neo Geo (1987) Sakamoto enlisted Iggy Pop, Bill Laswell, Bootsy Collins and Sly Dunbar.

Brian Wilson and Robbie Robertson appeared on Beauty (1989), an album that spanned rock, technopop, flamenco and classical Japanese music. Heartbeat (1991), on which Sakamoto tried rap, funk and jazz, and lyrics in French, Japanese and Russian, numbered Youssou N’Dour, Arto Lindsay, Bill Frisell, Sylvian and John Cage among its contributors. In 1993, Sakamoto co-produced Aztec Camera’s album Dreamland.

Born in Tokyo, Ryuichi was the only child of Keiko (nee Shimomura), a hat designer, and Kazuki Sakomoto, a literary editor. While attending the same progressive primary school that once taught Yoko Ono, he was already writing music for the piano with their encouragement.

The American presence in postwar Japan introduced new western influences to the country, and Sakamoto was enraptured by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. He attended Tokyo’s University of the Arts to study music composition, and felt a strong affinity for the compositions of Claude Debussy, in which he discerned an Asian influence. However, in addition he soaked up the work of contemporary composers such as Cage, Pierre Boulez, Györgi Ligeti and Stockhausen, as well as jazz musicians including John Coltrane and Ornette Coleman.

His early compositions were in an avant-garde vein, while he also performed with free jazz bands and played keyboards with the folk singer Masato Tomobe. He graduated with BA and MA degrees, having studied classical and assorted world and ethnic music, and taken his first steps in electronic music by working with Moog and ARP synthesizers.

He formed Yellow Magic Orchestra in 1978 with Haruomi “Harry” Hosono and Yukihiro Takahashi, whom he had met when they worked together as session musicians. Combining electropop with stylish graphics and costume design, the trio brought wit and warmth to the use of electronics, which contrasted with the studied alienation of European counterparts such as Kraftwerk or Gary Numan.

YMO released eight studio albums during their original lifespan, all of them climbing high in the Japanese charts, and three of them reaching No 1. The group inspired Beatlemania-like hysteria in their homeland. “We were very big, that’s why I hated it,” Sakamoto said. “We were always followed by paparazzi.”

YMO’s albums made little chart impact outside Japan, but their influence was nonetheless widely felt, not least in their innovative use of electronic sequencers, drum machines and sampling. Firecracker, from their 1978 debut album, was itself sampled in Afrika Bambaataa’s Death Mix. In 1980 they had a Top 20 hit in the UK with Computer Game (Theme from the Invaders), which chimed with the craze for the Space Invaders game. Behind the Mask, first conceived for a Seiko wristwatch commercial and then included on their album Solid State Survivor (1979), became a Top 20 UK hit for Eric Clapton; a version by Michael Jackson appeared on the posthumous album Michael (2010).

YMO paused their activities in 1984, though the trio continued to collaborate on each other’s solo work, and they reformed to make the album Technodon (1993). They subsequently reunited several times for recording and live performances, their last shows being for the No Nukes 2012 festival in Chiba, Japan, and the 2012 World Happiness festival in Tokyo.

In his teens in the late 1960s, Sakamoto had been a hippy with leftwing political beliefs – “not 100% Marxist, but kind of” – but he gradually became disillusioned with the failure of political movements to effect significant change. He decided that his music was not the place for social or political messages, observing that “I’ve changed from an avant-garde person to a pop person,” though he would subsequently support causes he felt strongly about.

He campaigned for changes to music copyright law, which he considered outmoded in the internet era, and founded Commmons, a collaborative platform to assist aspiring musicians. He formed a group of musicians called NML (No More Landmines), which featured Brian Eno, Sylvian, Kraftwerk and the other members of YMO, and in 2001 they released the single Zero Landmine.

In 2006 he launched the Stop Rokkasho movement by releasing the track Rokkasho (by a group of musicians dubbed Team 6), in protest at the building of Japan’s Rokkasho nuclear fuel reprocessing plant, and he campaigned to have the Hamaoka nuclear plant shut down to avoid a repeat of the 2011 tsunami disaster at the Fukushima facility. He and Byrne teamed up to record the single Psychedelic Afternoon to aid tsunami survivors.

His solo work continued to explore a huge variety of styles. In 1982 he had ventured into medieval and Renaissance music on the album The End of Asia, a collaboration with the Japanese early music group Danceries. Smoochy (1995) was a detour into easy listening, while Discord (1998) comprised an hour-long orchestral composition.

The album 1996 was a selection of Sakamoto pieces arranged for piano trio featuring the Brazilian cellist Jaques Morelenbaum, and Sakomoto reunited with him and his wife, Paula, a singer, for two albums in celebration of the bossa nova composer Antônio Carlos Jobim, Casa (2001) and A Day in New York (2003). In 1999, his multimedia opera, Life, was performed in Tokyo and Osaka.

Meanwhile, he struck up a fruitful collaboration with Alva Noto (a pseudonym of Carston Nicolai), which resulted in a string of electronica albums including Vrioon (2002) and Insen (2005), culminating in Glass (2018). With the Austrian guitarist and composer Christian Fennesz he recorded Sala Santa Cecilia (2005), Cendre (2007) and Flumina (2011).

In 2014 he was diagnosed with throat cancer, but by the following year was feeling “much much better”. His recovery from illness inspired the creation of his last solo album, Async, hailed as one of 2017’s finest forays into experimental electronica. Its making was documented by Stephen Nomura Schible in the film Coda (2018).

His final album, 12, was recorded during hospital stays in 2021 and 2022, and released in January. In December, he livestreamed a solo piano concert from Tokyo.

Sakamoto was first married to Natsuko, then to the musician Akiko Yano; both marriages ended in divorce. He is survived by his third wife and manager, Norika Sora, and their two children; and a daughter from his first marriage and another daughter from his second.

🔔 Ryuichi Sakamoto, composer, musician and producer, born 17 January 1952; died 28 March 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[bitey-baby-shark]

Facts of the Day: 🦊Red Foxes 🦊

Scientific Name: Vulpes vulpes

Height: 14 inches to 20 inches tall

Weight: 10 to 11 lbs

Lifespan: 3 to 4 years old

Reproduction: They have a breeding season spanning late December till the end of March, with a gestation period of 53 days. The average litter size is 6 kits, however they range from 1 to 11 kits per litter.

Diet: They are omnivores and will eat small rodents, squirrels, woodchucks, rabbits, birds, eggs, amphibians, and reptiles. Red foxes can also eat vegetation, fruits, nuts, insects, carrion, and garbage.

Habitat: They are present across the entire Northern Hemisphere including most of North America, Europe and Asia, plus parts of North Africa, with a preference towards a mix of habitats but more often than not lightly-wooded areas. 

Status: Least Concern

Summary: Red foxes are the largest of all fox species in the world. They are also highly athletic foxes, capable of running up to 31 mph and jumping over 6 feet in the air. They use their jumping abilities to pounce on rodents they can hear burrowing under snow. Their hearing is also incredibly strong, studies showing that they have the best known maximal absolute hearing sensitivity of any mammal. They are fully capable of hearing mice squeak from over a hundred feet away. 

Today’s fact of the day post is sponsored by Daddy Orion, my headmate and red fox kitsune caregiver. 

[youranemicvampire]

Favorite movies and shows i’ve watched in 2021

I've only watched a few because of my weak attention span that year. In no particular order.

Soul (2020)

I rarely watch animated films, but the premise is very interesting. I don’t think i have seen a before-life concept. Plus, music? Especially jazz. Light and heartwarming at the same time. Will make you reflect about your life, self, identity and purpose. 

Rafiki (2018)

SAPPHICS! You all need to watch this. Tired of white lesbians dominating film when this gem is right here. It is also banned in Kenya soooo let’s all support it! One of the best chemistries i’ve seen, vibrant cinematography, simple and well-executed, the best soundtack (made me cry) and the acting is natural, but deep. Just a content warning for blatant homophobia and violence near the end. And when i recommend a wlw media, there’s an assurance that it’s a happy ending so don’t worry my loves. 

Three Identical strangers (2018)

Oh this one was a big Mind F! I thought it was just a usual netflix documentary, but i was wrong. With my short attention span, i was focused from the start to end. And it started fun and chill, but has amazing lessons. Not a waste of time. 

Dickinson (2019 - 2021)

I have to admit that i haven’t finish this, but it’s not the show’s fault. Despite that, i still put it in my recommendation list because it is unique and entertaining. Modern dialogues that other shows can’t pull off. Also, it’s vert funny. 

Jiva (2021 -)

This show is fire! Female-centered and i think this is the only street dance show/movie where all leads are women?? Not sure, but please recommend if you know some. No white-washing too. It always boggles me everything white people are the center of dance media because uhm hello? It’s black people’s culture and creation. Also it’s time for people outside Africa to see the beauty of their dance (South Africa in particular).

Mine (2021)

You know it’s a good drama when Kim Seo Hyung is in it coz she is very picky on which project to choose. Not a typical infidelity story, it’s very feminist. I also think this is one of the best lesbian representations i’ve seen in media. Her character is very smart, calm, strong and didn’t make her sexuality or romantic life her whole personality. And i love the female-friendship and solidarity in this show. 

How to become a tyrant (2021 -)

The plot is on the title itself. If you think your leader is a tyrant, this is how you confirm it. Recommend it to everyone. Also, it’s not boring and dragging so you know, it’s digestible to people who are new or really not into politics. 

The sex lives of college girls (2021 -)

Ok this is one of the best teen shows i’ve watched and it’s college! We rarely get that. First of all, the leads are women! And there’s no unnecessary cat fights. I hate teen shows where women ang being pitted against each other and mostly because of a man. This is so fresh and authentic. It broke a lot of stereotypes too.  

Couple of Mirrors (2021 - ?)

Another WLW! This one is so cute and i also find it campy and dramatic (in a good way). And i’m a sucker for period pieces (except when they are white because i’m tired). I think there should be more chinese WLWs. 

More recs:

2020

2019

2018

2017

[rabbitcruiser]

National Tile Day

National Tile Day is on February 23, and we are supercharged to enjoy the aesthetic pleasure of the superb craftsmanship and creativity of the tile industry. Did you know that tiles have existed for thousands of years? Yes, mostly ceramic, mosaic, and stone tiles, and they have evolved into the many varieties so many of us crave today.

History of National Tile Day

Tiles are timeless elements of architectural endeavors and design. Seeing them on the walls, floors, and roofs provides aesthetic pleasure, and they have become inseparable from architecture and designs in all spheres, both domestic and public.

More than that, tiles can be used for flooring all through the house. Kitchens, bathroom, toilet, sitting room; every room in the house can have tiles on the floor to provide a strong, durable, and beautiful flooring. There are many types of tiles, from ceramic, porcelain, and glass to marble, granite, and other natural stone tiles, and many others.

The use of tiles in history began in ancient Egypt several millennia back, and they were used for decorative purposes. They were mostly found in murals, mosaics, and various other designs. The Egyptians had already begun using blue brick tiles to decorate their homes around the fourth millennium B.C., and glazed brick tiles were common in Mesopotamia also, as found on the famous Ishtar Gate in Babylon, which was tiled and decorated with lions, bulls, and dragons. The Islamic empires are given credit for the spread of ceramic tiles as wall coverings, and then the Chinese via their access to the silk trade routes.

Today, tiles exist all over the world, gracing the walls and floors of millions of structures. They have evolved to different designs, patterns, and arrangements that are beautiful and pleasing to the sight, and National Tile Day exists as a moment to celebrate this wonderful, awe-inspiring craftsmanship.

National Tile Day timeline

3500 B.C.Tiles in Egypt

In Egyptian culture, they decorate their houses with blue brick tiles.

1500sPortuguese Heritage

Portugal incorporates the ceramic tile arts as an integral part of its cultural expression, influenced greatly by the Moorish influence of North Africa.

1956Tiling Company

The tile company Osiarte creates tiles used by artist Cândido Portinari to create the mural ‘As Quatro Estações,’ located in Rio de Janeiro.

2017National Tile Day

The biggest international tile and stone show in North America, Covering, initiates National Tile Day to draw attention to the importance of tiles in architecture and designs.

National Tile Day FAQs

Do tiles make the room cold?

Not necessarily. And there are specially made tiles that can regulate temperature, be it cold or hot.

What are the qualities of a good tile?

It should be without cracks, sturdy, be of regular shape and size, and should make a clear ringing sound when you strike it.

What is the difference between interior and exterior tiles?

There is no clear-cut difference, but exterior tile should have grit that provides traction when it gets wet, and should be slip-resistant and frost-proof.

How To Celebrate National Tile Day

Browse through various tile designs

Pick out designs

Share your experience

Surf the net and browse the myriad tile arrangements and designs up there, feeding yourself on the aesthetic pleasures. You will find awe-inspiring craftsmanship that will blow your mind.

This is a time to pick out tile designs for your apartment, dream house, or building. You can also research the prices of the tiles, and what it would take to afford them in your apartment.

Talk to your friends and families on social media and around about tiles, their versatility, and why you love them. You can do this with the tag #NationalTileDay on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and other social media platforms.

5 Fun Facts About Tiles

It began in Egypt

The Arabs spread It

Spick and span

One million tiles

Freezing cold

The use of tiles began in Egypt before spreading to other parts of the world.

The Arabs were the ones who spread the use of tiles into Europe, where it soon gained ground.

A mixture of water and vinegar is a great and inexpensive cleaning solution for tiles.

More than one million tiles were imported from Sweden to cover the roof of the Sydney Opera House in Australia.

Porcelain tiles are best-suited to freezing weather conditions because of their density.

Why We Love National Tile Day

A time to appreciate tiles

Tiles are calming

They serve as a protective surface

What better day is there to appreciate the great craftsmanship behind tiles than this? This day affords us the opportunity to enjoy the beauty of tiles in their different facets.

Tiles can create a warm atmosphere, which adds to the feel of a home. This makes the home more enjoyable and the ambiance cozy.

Tiles protect surfaces in the house, and the building itself, as a shield against water, heat, and other things that can destroy it. It also protects the floor from dust and can last a lifetime.

Source

[middleearthpixie]

Homecoming

Armitage Summer Splash #27 ~ The challenge is winding down, but not over yet... and thanks as always to @lathalea & @fizzyxcustard

Trope: Anniversary

Quote: “Don’t lie to me.”

RA Character: John Porter

Relationship:John Porter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected intercourse

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,519

***

A soft breeze wafted in through the open windows, making the white sheers flutter into the room. The sheers were new. Prior to your arrival in London, John had blinds up. Blinds that made the room seem more like a cave, dark and small and claustrophobic. Thank God he’d been amenable to swapping them out for the sheers. It was amazing how even just a hint of sunlight could make a world of difference. Already, the room was warmer, far more inviting. 

Home.

You tried hard to make sure he knew you weren’t planning on taking over and remodeling his entire apartment, but at the same time, it definitely needed a woman’s touch to a certain extent. He’d only been living as a bachelor for not even a year, and since he traveled extensively for work, interior decorating was hardly his strong suit. 

He was away now. Somewhere in Africa. You didn't know and he wouldn’t tell you. He would never tell you where a mission would take him aside from the most general generalities possible. You understood, even if you didn't always like it. You liked it even less since he was wounded on a mission three months earlier. The two of you had argued about his taking this latest assignment. You wanted him to rest a while longer, to let his shoulder heal more. He was itching to get back out in the field. You were both stubborn. Both had a bit of a temper. And when he left, you were each fuming at the other. Not a great way to part and you knew it. He’d called you twice over the span of the last six weeks, and you both apologized, but you still just wanted to see him. It was silly, but you knew that if you could just lay eyes upon him, all would be right. 

Besides, you missed him.

But, you’d taken the time to get to know your new home city. Your company had an office in London, and when you’d put in for the transfer, your boss begged you to not leave New York, only grudgingly giving in when he realized you had your mind made up. You had to come to London. You wanted to be with John. He’d asked you to move in with him while he recuperated, and so you’d been settling in day by day. In time, London would be as comfortable to you as New York had been.

John was due home sometime in the next forty-eight hours. Or so he hoped. You hoped so, too, because the day after tomorrow marked the first anniversary since the fateful cab ride that brought John Porter into your life. A year had passed since you fell headlong into first an affair, then a true relationship with him. Since that day, his daughter, Lexie had warmed to you. In fact, she was coming to spend the next week with you and John in London since, after their divorce became final, John’s ex-wife, Diane had moved out of the city. And while Diane was civil at best toward you, it was a far cry from your first meeting where she made ice queens look warm and fuzzy. 

You were putting new sheets on the bed when the phone rang and you smiled. His ringtone was Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir, which was his favorite song. You snatched the phone up from the nightstand. “Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

“Were you now?” A hint of teasing wove into his deep, smooth voice. “Good things or bad?”

“Oh, very good.” You sank onto the edge of the bed. “Where are you?”

“I’m in Frankfurt, on my way home.”

You couldn't keep the smile off your face. “Really? I wasn’t expecting you home for two more days.”

“It didn’t take as long as we thought it would.”

“And you’re okay?”

A brief pause, then a sinful laugh rolled toward you. “I’m fine, love. Shoulder is a bit stiff, but nothing a few weeks away from reality won’t cure.”

You sighed softly. He’d been shot and wounded in Iraq over the winter and each time your eyes fell upon the scar, you worried for him all over again, even though to him, said scar was just another for his collection. You tried to push those worries out of your head now. He was on his way home now and he’d be fine. 

“So, how much of my flat have you renovated while I’ve been gone?”

“Not much at all. I just bought new sheets and a bedding set, but I think you’ll like them.”

“Tell me they aren’t girly.”

“No. Shades of blue from pacific to robin’s egg.”

“You say that as if those terms mean something to me.”

“You are such a guy.”

“And you’re complaining about it?”

“No. But yes.”

Another velvety laugh. “Okay, I’ve got to go. I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home and I’ll see you soon.” He paused. “I love you.”

You smiled. “I love you, too, John. Stay safe.”

“Always. See you hopefully sometime tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait.”

The worst part about John being on assignment were the nights. His apartment was noisy, with rattling pipes and city traffic and all, and while you’d grown used to those sounds, you didn't think you’d ever get used to sleeping in his bed by yourself. You missed him, missed the feel of his body against yours, as he usually held you against him as he slept. You missed the soft woodsy notes of his cologne, the faint hints of eucalyptus and mint from his shampoo and soap.

You missed him.

And the closer you got to his coming home, the longer those nights seemed to stretch on. 

Somehow, you managed to doze off, only to be awakened by the gentle flutter of your hair being swept away from the nape of your neck.

Soft lips grazed that same spot. 

A dull thud rent the air—the sound of a duffle bag hitting the floor. 

Then, the bed dipped and you offered up a sleepy smile as John whispered, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He came gently against you, peppering the back of your neck with those fluttering, teasing kisses. Your fingers folded into the pillow tucked beneath your head, your toes curling as his lips crept higher, then down over your ear. 

“I though you were’t going to be home until tomorrow?”

“I managed an earlier flight.” 

He lifted off you to give you room to roll onto your back and when you gazed up at him, you did a mental melt at the sight of him in his desert fatigues. The night light offered up just enough soft light to make out the man looming above you. Your soldier.

He lowered against you once more and when his lips found yours, you wound your arms about his neck, let your fingers slip up into his short black hair, let them graze down over the back of his neck, smiling as he shivered against you.

His kiss was slow and sweet and teasing. Playful at first, but it quickly grew serious and deeper. Six weeks was a lifetime to be away from him, and apparently he felt the same, for as his tongue swept along yours, he slid a hand down to the hem of tee shirt you’d been sleeping in lately, and tugged it up. He pulled away and shifted to sweep it up and off you, and smiled as he whispered, “That used to be mine.”

“You can have it back,” you managed to murmur back, tugging him against you once more. Your fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, flicked them open as quickly as you could work them. He rocked back and onto his knees, and you shifted to rise with him, tugging the shirt from his back before catching the bottom of the sand-colored tee shirt he wore beneath it to pull it up as well.

The cotton schwiffed over his head, landing on the bed behind him. His hands curved about your cheeks, tilting your head just so, his tongue demanding as it swept along yours, tangled with yours, drew yours back. You savored his kiss, fiery and demanding and it alone was enough to make your body begin a slow, steady hum. 

You melted against him, easing your arms about his neck as you pressed your body flush against his. His skin was hot and smooth and as your nipples ground against his chest, you sighed into his mouth. 

He wrapped his arms about your waist, gently maneuvered you onto your back once more, and eased his hips between your thighs. The thick, heavy cotton of his trousers couldn't hide his erection, his cock a firm bulge against the front of them. You slid your hand over that rise, smiling as he groaned low. He arched to meet your caress, and when you slid just your thumb over that thick ridge, he whispered, “Holy fuck, I want you…”

You smiled, your lips still locked with his, and caught his belt buckle, unbuckled it, tugged open his trousers, and slid a hand down in search of him. You found him—hot, hard, sleek—and savored his sharp inhale as you offered up a long, slow caress. He shivered against you, rocked to meet you, his lips more demanding now as they devoured yours. 

“Oh… yes…” he breathed, sweeping a hot kiss along your neck before letting his head fall forward into the curve of your shoulder. “Six weeks is too long to be away from you…”

You traced along that thick length with just the tips of your fingers. “It’s too long to be away from you, as well…”

His smile was a mix of sin and seduction and he winked before bending toward you once more. He caught your nipple between playful lips, flicking the tip of his tongue over it as it tightened into a small bead. Your eyelids grew so heavy, but you refused to give in, wanted only to watch him, as if you were afraid he’d disappear if you couldn’t see him.

Because this felt every bit like the steamy, erotic dreams you had of him in his absence. Each fiery kiss, each playful caress brought you to the edge in your sleep, and then… oh… your thighs would press together and you’d arched hard into the bed as the sensations washed over you. You’d be on the very edge, and then wake up to find yourself alone.

But you were not alone. Thank god. He was there. This was no dream, but a delicious reality. 

John winked, letting your breast slip from his mouth. He swirled his tongue about your aching nipple once more, then rained teasing kisses down over your stomach. Your fingernails scratched along his back as he slid lower still, and he pressed a kiss above the triangle of pink lace that kept you hidden from his smoked sapphire stare. 

He pressed a kiss into that pink, lacy triangle, and when he looked up and you met his gaze, there was a fire in his eyes unlike any you’d ever seen before. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice husky and low.

You smiled. “I love you, too.”

He winked, then hooked his fingers in the lace. A gentle tug and you lifted your hips to allow the lace to skim along your legs and vanish into the darkness and you caught our bottom lip between your teeth at John’s soft, almost inaudible whimper. Six weeks was too long, indeed.

He bent to you, pressing a kiss into the damp curls between your thighs. Then, the tip of his tongue slipped into your folds, flittered ever so gently about your clit. An airy moan bubbled to your lips, your fingers found their way into his soft hair, your hips rolling toward him with each caress. Heat built within you, warm at first, but it grew scorching. It bubbled through your veins with each silken pass of his tongue. He slid up, then down, then around, and finally, over that sensitive bead that had been ignored for so long. 

“John…” You arched to meet him, clutching at the sheet beneath you with your free hand as the knits tightened deep within your core. Sparks became fire. Fire melted that core, spread that delicious warmth through your entire body as he slowly drew you to the edge. Everything inside you twisted and tightened, ached for his touch, whether it came from his lips, his tongue, his hands, or his cock. It didn't matter, as long as he touched you somehow. You would go completely insane if he didn't shove you over that edge soon.

You rolled to meet him, to increase the pressure of him against you. You had to, your body tingled hotly with the need to release, your climax tight and wound up and desperate to explode. He moved faster now, circled your clit more tightly, slid down to tease your entrance before gliding back up. You couldn't hold back your gasp as his lips closed about it and he pulled gently at it.

That one motion shattered you. Your back bowed sharply as the knots burst and white-hot pleasure scorched its way through your entire body. He teased and taunted with each delicious pulse between your thighs, his hands tightening about them to hold you still as you arched and writhed beneath him. 

“John!” Your cry rang out, your voice raw with passion and need and delight. He drew out your climax, drew out that bliss until you went limp beneath him—limp, fighting for air, your body heaving from the sweet nirvana of orgasm. 

He rose over you, and as he moved to cover you, you caught the waists of both his trousers and his boxer briefs to shove them down. He straighten to tug both off the rest of the way, and then he was back, and when his body aligned with yours, his cock slid into the damp heat of your folds, slick and smooth along your aching flesh.

“Love…” His voice was little more than a growl as he guided himself to you and pushed hard inside you. He breached you, stretched you, and you wrapped yourself around him, angling to take him deep with his first thrust.

He filled you, thrust hard, stole your breath once more. His fingers twisted into the sheet just above your shoulders as he moved, each stroke more powerful than the last. There were no lazy, leisurely thrusts to tease you both. He wasn’t gentle or tender, but took you like a man who’d been starved of you for far too long and it was amazing. Pure, powerful, unyielding lust drove him and you loved every second of it. It was so much like the first time you’d made love, hard and hot and exciting and every thrust tore through you, each sensation more delicious than the last. He pounded into you hard and fast and relentless, sweat rising along his back, his breath almost gasps themselves. 

You wrapped your legs about his hips and he grunted, a low,” Oh, holy fucking shit…” breaking free as he went deeper still. You tightened all around him, gripped him, greedily squeezed him to steal every last bit of him that you could. And with each one, the knots tightened. The pleasure sharpened. The tingles grew hotter and surged harder just as he did. 

Everything inside you rolled over. Pleasure hot and sweet flooded you once more. You pressed your thighs hard against him and offered up a breathless, “Harder, John… please…”

“Oh, baby…” He obliged, hammering away now as if his life depended on it. “Oh, squeeze me… tighter, baby… tighter…”

A muscle bulged along his jaw, His eyes closed. He shuddered against you. And then—

“OH!” He thrust deep, shuddering once more as he came in a violent eruption that had you clinging to him, your fingernails sinking into his back, your hips grinding up against his. You exploded around him, pulsing and throbbing as you surrendered to your own bliss once more.

The wave ebbed, the roar of your blood quieted and you fought to breath as he went still, his body relaxing as peace reigned. He gently sank against you, his head falling into the curve of your neck and shoulder, and his breath came in hot blasts against your already overheated skin. “Oh, darling… I’ve missed you…”

“I’ve missed you, too, John,” you whispered back, your lips brushing his ear. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he said with a soft laugh before sweeping a teasing kiss along your neck. “You probably didn't even think about me this entire time.”

“You know that’s not true.” 

He lifted his head, his blue eyes sleepy looking and soft. God, he was so handsome, your soldier. Handsome and brave and strong and you fell a little more in love with him every day. You let your fingers trace along his cheek, your hand curve against his sandpapery skin. “I’m glad you’re home, Sergeant Porter.”

“So am I.” He brushed your lips with his, then carefully eased off to stretch out alongside you. 

His release mingled with yours to trickle out of you, but you didn’t care. You didn't want to move. Wet spot be damned, you just wanted to lay there, entangled with him. “How long are you home for?”

He lifted an arm, draping it about you as you curved against him. “I don’t really know, actually. I never know. But hopefully for a few weeks.”

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed as your tucked your head against his chest and just listened to the solid thump of his heart beating. His fingers moved lightly along your arm, the gentle strokes making you even sleepier than you already were. You peered over at the clock. Ten after four in the morning. “What time did you get into London?”

“About three. By the time I got my way out, I caught the first hack I could find and here I am.”

“Here you are.” You lifted your head to smile down at him. “And that’s a good thing.”

He smiled. “I thought it might be. So, Tuesday, what do you want to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.”

“So, give it some thought.” He carefully eased away from you and rolled onto his side. “Hard to believe a year has passed since you gave me shit about trying to steal your cab.”

“You did try to steal it.”

“It was pouring out.”

“Still.” 

He smiled. “I did it intentionally, you know.”

“What?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I saw you and I thought you were cute. I knew if I was a total dick, you’d give me shit and it would give me an excuse to talk to you.”

“You were married.”

“Diane and I were already separated.”

“Still.”

“Okay, yes. Technically, I was still married, but it was over and we both knew it. And I saw you and… I don’t know… I can’t explain it. I just had to talk to you. So, I tried to steal your cab.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “And it worked.”

“You’re such a jerk. I can’t believe—no, actually, I can believe it. Ass.”

“So I’ve been told.” He propped his head on his fist. “But, not quite a day later, I had you naked up against that window, remember?”

Heat flooded you at the memory of you and John, high above the city, your body pressed against the cool plate glass as he thrust hard into you from behind. One of your more memorable encounters, to be sure. “How could I forget?”

“And now, here we are.” He leaned over and caught your lips in a tender kiss reminiscent of the first time he’d kissed you, in the hotel restaurant where you’d met for lunch that first time you were together. He was walking you out to catch a cab when he turned and just bent to press his lips to yours. That was it. That was all it took. 

“Here we are,” you whispered back. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me, too, love.” His eyes sparkled despite that low light. “And I think we should go back to New York. I’d love to get you up against that window again.”

You smiled and sat up, then leaned over to brush his lips with yours. You slid to the edge of the bed and rose, saying, “We have a perfectly good window right here, you know.”

He just gazed at you, then a slow smile lifted the corners of his lips and without a word, he stood and as he reached where you stood, you melted into his arms once more. The glass was just as cool against your body as it was in New York, and you sighed as you surrendered to him once more, just as you had almost exactly a year ago. 

***

Like it? Love it? If so, please love it, leave a comment, reblog it, or do all three! 💜💜💜

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[mask131]

I found this old recap of why the neo-Nazis and racist fans of Tolkien are massively wrong, and I think it is quite fitting to recap some important points in front of the wave of racism RoP faces. This is not originally my recap, but it is one that has been going around, reformulated in different ways, so I’ll just list the key points shared around. Such as:

# The idea that all “good races” are white and all “evil races” are non-white is a misinterpretation and deformation of the original text.

# Tolkien, in real-life, was against racial segregation in South Africa and had many Jewish friends (elements that should be taken into account when people accuse him of racism or of antisemitism). 

# Tolkien also fiercely opposed Nazism, to the point that he wrote a letter that methodically pointed out, dissected and tore down the historical, cultural and linguistic fallacies of the Nazi ideology. 

# Yes, the enemy and villainous people tend to be “non-white”, while the heroes usually are “white” - this is something present and which did lay a groundwork for future racist interpretation. But other elements should also be taken into account : for example, the strong implications that the men of the East and the South are not naturally evil, but just happen to serve evil thanks to both Sauron’s lies and his threats. Or the fact that when Sam sees an Easterling die for the first time, he explicitely wonders who he is, what was his life, and if he was truly evil - he even considers and ponders if this enemy Easterling wasn’t just an ordinary young man who went into battle against his will, and did not particularly wanted to fight. 

# As an extension of the point above, the Lord of the Rings novels explicitely describe the wars against the Easterlings and Southrons as “Wars between Men”, and this is the reason why they are so ugly and repulsive (and also why Sam has such thoughts upon seeing the Easterling die). These small wars are, yes, part of a grander conflict between Good and Evil - but this specific “War between Men” is not a “good versus evil” fight, just a kin-slaying caused by the effects of evil. And of course I need to insist: a “war between men”, as still despite the geographical, cultural and visual differences, they are still considered “men”. 

# On the extension of this point, every time there is discrimination or conflict between Men in Tolkien’s works, it is always a bad stuff: for example the Numenorean corruption and decadence went by a notable discrimination and oppression of the “lesser men” ; and during the Kin-Strife of Gondor, the civil war that ripped it apart, it was the “purists” that opposed a “mixed” marriage that were clearly the villains. 

# The Elves are remembered are the “more perfect” and “superior” entities, the sort of “pure” Humans that would be what God intended to create if it wasn’t for natural sin - which leads to a lot of people also pointing out the whole “White is superior” topic due to the Elves being quite of “fair-skinned”. But this is forgetting that Elves are shown to be just as vicious and flawed as Men, prone to great arrogance, to bitter jealousy and to untamed wrath, which led them to civil wars just as brutal if not more than the ones opposing Men: plus it is their actions and their flaws that led to a LOT of big problems of the world that spanned for centuries. And again, one of their most vile actions stays the “Kin-slaying”. Kin-strife, kin-slaying, “war between men”, the message stays clear: conflict between people of the same kin, be it elves or men of all kinds,  (And given Tolkien experienced first-hand “wars between men”, it is easy to understand why his hatred of “kin-slaying” was so dear to his heart). 

# Yes, “Orcs are all evil”, and Tolkien knew very well that, and he also realized all the unfortunate implications and bad ideas that could come up with the idea of an entire race of evil beings. It is something he ended up disliking himself, and during his life he tried through his writings, letters and essays to find a way to correct this approach and to deepen the orcs - including things such as explaining that they were made evil through slavery, education and torture to the point of their minds and morals being utterly broken ; or informing that most of them served Sauron mostly out of fear, and that some good did exist in them that wasn’t seen in the stories. 

This is not a definitive or complete answer about racism in Tolkien’s works or in Tolkien’s fandom, but it is a lot of little tidbits, clues, trivias and important facts that should be remembered whenever the topic of discrimination is brought up. If you want to know more there are lots of more educated and informed people than me, who spend their life and work-time studying Tolkien and his writings, so go seek out those people. But here above are a few facts that should not be forgotten. 

[hangingoffence]

mecha ocs u say 👀 pls tell me more:]

HA are you ready for MORE world building(and science i dont know anything about but pretend to) ?! *evil laugh* strap in buddy >:)

ok SO this stuff takes place in the post-apocalyptic future. On Earth that is mostly populated by monsters that rule over the land. The air is also filled with dangerous gasses emitting from the monsters. They are dangerous for any animal to breath. Most of the gas and the monsters are concentrated in the Mediterranean sea, parts of Africa and southern Asia. Staying in warmer and dryer parts of the Earth.

Humans in this universe reside in a belt called the East Cross that spans all the way from Norway to northern parts of China. In the northern parts like in Russia humans can live quite normally due to the cold keeping the monsters away. There are also humans in southern Africa, the Americas and parts of Oceania.(but i havent gotten into them that much)

Due to the danger of the new environment humanity has advanced their technology far beyond what they would have thought which is where the mechas come in. After decades of research and studies humans have created tech that is capable of brain emulation. At first only partial brain emulation or PBE was achievable. In which a computer will create a 3D scan of the host brain and it constructs a software copy of it. The copy can be implanted into a mechanical body and through an emulator the human host can control the mechanical body from a distance.

A branch of military was created from this technology called the Android Emulation Corps(lazy name but it is what it is) or for short the A. E. C. They operate unmanned androids, called Self's through the brain emulation.

In the future, whole brain emulation or WBE was created. It is much more extreme version of the partial one. The human host's brain will be removed from the body and is sliced into small cubes which are then scanned with great accuracy. The immerse detailed scan of the brain, when ran on appropriate software is identical to the original host brain. The main difference in WBE and PBE is that WBE is able to simulate the host brains consciousness, whereas the PBE only allows the host brain to move into the copy and control it.

The WBE is a very delicate procedure and not always 100% successful. It is also not reversible and the original brain is impossible to be implanted into the biological body. But if successful, after booting the mechanical copy body the brain was implanted in, the host's personality and consciousness will live on without a biological body. Also this way if the mechanical body is destroyed the copy brain can just be implanted into a new body, basically making the host immortal.

ok not the the Self's. They are most of the time 300-390 meters in height and can weigh up to 10 000 kilograms. They are mostly made of flexible but strong materials like steel, fiber-reinforced plastic and thermoplastic. They have human proportions to make it easy for the host to pilot them. The most common PBE Self type is the Olympian. They are equipped with machine guns and a type of ultrasonic weapon that has deemed very effective against the monsters. The implanted copy brain sits in the lower spine. It is the one's used in the frontier against the monsters. The WBE Self's are commonly smaller and made for life outside of combat.

and ummm... yeah i just vomited this all here so how a bout a small snippet from my writing about the characters (im force feeding you here and you cant stop it)

He sits next to Bill and brings up his ticket to examine it. It reads. East Cross underground bullet train. From Copenhagen to Beijing C. 07:30 - 08:20. Cabin number 2. Seat number 87. “These trains really are fast.” Meyer says more to himself than to Bill next to him. In 50 minutes through the whole Eurasian continent. Impressive. “Have you ever been in one?” Now talking to Bill who fiddles his own ticket in his big fingers. “One time. When they were building the first of them. As a child.”  “Cool. I’ve actually never even been near one. Should be exciting.” Bill hums in acknowledgement and the conversation ends. Until Nemo walks into the hall. He slides opposite of Meyer and Bill and opens his mouth; “Where you sitting?” Nemo lifts his own ticket for them to look. Seat 91.  “I’m 87.” Meyer answers and Bill says that he sits in seat 75. “Hope we can still move in the train.” Nemo makes a face and pockets his ticket.

[vedansh23]

The Allure of Cricket: A Worldwide Sporting Phenomenon

Introduction

Cricket is a team sport that originated in England and has gained immense global popularity. It involves two teams, each consisting of eleven players, taking turns to bat and field. The team batting tries to score runs by hitting the ball and running between wickets, while the team fielding aims to dismiss the batsmen and limit their runs.

The game is typically played between two teams, each consisting of 11 players. The objective is for one team to score more runs than the other. Runs are earned by the batsmen, who try to hit the ball bowled by the opposing team's bowler and run between wickets. The fielding team's goal is to dismiss the batsmen by getting them out in various ways, such as catching the ball or hitting the stumps with the ball. Cricket matches can last from a few hours to five days, depending on the format.

Cricket is played in various formats, including Test matches, One Day Internationals (ODIs), and Twenty20 (T20) matches. Test matches are played over several days, emphasizing endurance and strategy. ODIs are limited to 50 overs per side, and T20 matches are even shorter, with each team facing just 20 overs.

Cricket's popularity spans across continents, with strong followings in countries like India, Australia, England, Pakistan, South Africa, and the West Indies, among others. Major tournaments like the Cricket World Cup, held for both ODIs and T20s, capture global attention. The sport has a massive fan base, and international matches draw large audiences both at stadiums and through broadcasting. Cricket players become iconic figures, and the sport holds a significant place in the cultural fabric of many nations.

[s4g2]

Harnessing Global SEO Power: Tailoring Strategies to Flourish in International Markets

The world is more connected than ever. Businesses, irrespective of their size, have the potential to reach a global audience. But as opportunities expand, so does the complexity of tapping into new markets. Each country, with its distinct cultural and digital footprint, demands a unique SEO approach. At S4G2 Marketing Agency, we delve deep into these intricacies, crafting tailor-made strategies for each nation. Let's embark on a journey across the world, exploring our specialized SEO services for various countries.

Australia and New Zealand: SEO Down Under

Whether it's Sydney's bustling marketplaces or Auckland's thriving hubs, businesses in the Australasian region need a unique approach. Localized content that resonates with the ANZAC spirit combined with mobile-optimized strategies makes for a winning formula here.

European Majors: France, Germany, United Kingdom, Italy, and Spain

Europe is a melting pot of cultures, languages, and digital behaviors. Each country, be it the fashion-centric Parisians or the tech-savvy Berliners, demands a distinct strategy. Our approach leans into cultural nuances while respecting GDPR and other regional regulations.

Emerging Powerhouses: India, Brazil, Nigeria, Indonesia

Rapidly growing economies with a vast digital footprint, these countries present immense opportunities. Local languages, mobile-first approaches, and understanding the pulse of the youth are key here.

Asian Tigers: Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Malaysia

With a strong emphasis on technology and innovation, businesses here need to be ahead of the curve. Incorporating the latest in tech trends, like AI and AR, into SEO strategies can be particularly rewarding.

North American Giants: United States and Canada

Arguably the most competitive markets, the US and Canada require a blend of localized and broad-reaching strategies. Keeping up with the ever-evolving algorithms of major search engines is paramount.

Nordic Nations: Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Denmark

Known for their tech-savviness, the Nordic countries appreciate well-structured, user-friendly websites. Transparent, ethical SEO practices resonate well with the audience here.

Eastern European Blend: Poland, Czech Republic, Romania, Bulgaria

A mix of languages and cultures, Eastern Europe demands regional and local SEO. Focusing on local directories and integrating with regional social networks can yield great results.

Middle Eastern Gems: UAE, Israel, Iraq

Businesses looking to penetrate these markets need to understand the delicate balance of modernity and tradition. Multilingual SEO, especially with Arabic content, is key.

African Potential: South Africa, Zimbabwe

While still in the nascent stages of the digital revolution, Africa presents vast opportunities. Mobile-focused strategies, combined with local content, are the way forward.

Latin American Charm: Mexico, Belize, Brazil

Spanish, Portuguese, and a host of indigenous languages make this region unique. Engaging with local influencers and creating culturally resonant content is vital.

Rest of the World: From Austria to Vietnam

Every nation, be it the snow-capped peaks of Switzerland or the bustling streets of Tokyo, has its own digital signature. At S4G2 Marketing Agency, we understand and respect these distinctions. By crafting bespoke strategies, we ensure businesses don't just reach their target audience; they resonate with them.

Conclusion:

In today's digital age, the world is your marketplace. But global reach demands global understanding. At S4G2 Marketing Agency, our expertise spans continents, ensuring your business's voice is heard, understood, and appreciated, no matter where your audience is. Dive into the world of possibilities with our tailored global SEO solutions.

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[dan6085]

The Ottoman Empire was a major world power that emerged in the 13th century and reached its height of influence in the 16th and 17th centuries. It was a multi-ethnic and multi-religious empire that spanned three continents, and was known for its military might, cultural achievements, and political and economic power.

The Ottoman Empire was founded by the Ottoman Turks, a nomadic tribe that migrated to Anatolia (present-day Turkey) in the late 13th century. Under the leadership of Osman I, the Ottoman Turks established a small state in Anatolia and began to expand their territory through military conquests.

Over the next several centuries, the Ottoman Empire continued to grow and expand, eventually becoming a major world power. It conquered a large portion of southeastern Europe, including the Balkans and parts of Hungary, and extended its control into the Middle East, North Africa, and the Caucasus.

The Ottoman Empire was known for its strong and centralized government, as well as its sophisticated bureaucracy and legal system. It was also a major cultural center, with a diverse population that included Muslims, Christians, and Jews. The Ottoman Empire was home to many intellectuals, artists, and scholars, and it made significant contributions to fields such as literature, art, and science.

However, despite its strength and influence, the Ottoman Empire began to decline in the 18th and 19th centuries. A number of factors contributed to its decline, including military defeats, economic problems, and internal conflicts.

One of the major factors that contributed to the decline of the Ottoman Empire was the rise of European powers, which began to challenge its dominance in the 19th century. The Ottoman Empire lost a number of wars to European powers, and was forced to give up territory and power.

The Ottoman Empire also faced economic problems, including a decline in trade and revenue, as well as a rising national debt. These problems were compounded by a series of internal conflicts, including revolts and uprisings, as well as power struggles within the Ottoman government.

The decline of the Ottoman Empire was a slow and gradual process, and it was not until the early 20th century that the empire finally collapsed. In the aftermath of World War I, the Ottoman Empire was dissolved and its territory was divided among European powers.

Today, the legacy of the Ottoman Empire can still be seen in the countries that were once part of the empire, including Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon, and Iraq. Its cultural and political influence has had a lasting impact on the region, and it remains a significant part of the history and identity of the Middle East and Southeast Europe.

[localmacguffin]

I have mixed feelings on the latest Sumeru teaser.

I'm very interested in the lore implications. I also think the environments are very pretty, and I love the new creatures.

But at the same time all I can think about is how lazy Mihoyo got with Sumeru.

They defaulted to bad stereotypes for SWANA people (desert mercenaries) which are annoying to me, but probably more insulting for the actual SWANA people in this fandom. They made every playable character pale, except for of course, the desert mercenary. Because we can't let dark skin people not be morally ambiguous. They didn't bother to make any clothing culturally accurate and just mishmashed different things together (Nilou being a Persian dancer but wearing an Egyptian belly dancer outfit, Dehya's whole thing, not giving Tighnari the head covering and just making it his hair for some reason, Dori's entire existence, whatever Al-Haitham and Nahida are supposed to be).

And for the environment, it kinda frustrates me? I think that it is possible that Mihoyo's using the Achaemenid Empire (which spanned from India to Egypt) for inspiration. But at the same time, it feels like they felt Persia didn't have enough interesting things and that they could just mash it together with other SWANA countries? Sumeru would be a lot more cohesive if they stuck with one country, and then maybe added Egypt/India inspired areas afterward, like Enkanomiya/Chasm/Dragonspine to Inazuma/Liyue/Mondstadt. But instead they just put whatever they thought looked cool, making determining cultural influence confusing. In the other nations of Teyvat, even with sexualized outfits, fantastical buildings, etc. you could still tell what belonged to which real life culture. But if you asked me to pick out a singular identity for the nation's origins, I couldn't tell you.

(Side note: I know that Mondstadt is a hot mess of European cultures. However given that at least said European countries had similarities in said cultures due to geographical proximity, I think it's not as bad. Also people know Europe is different from country to country. Many people think the Middle East/Africa is just one big blob. Which is not true, as India/Iran/Egypt/etc. all have distinct cultures which can have some similarities but are very, very different. Mihoyo creating Sumeru this way only feeds into this mentality.)

Also given Mihoyo's history of racialized topics, I'm not confident Sumeru's writing won't be a racist mess. The Hilichurls' role as mob enemies, their role in the story, and their inspiration from Native people leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Carole from Honkai Impact has anti-blackness and colorism built into her character. Tsurumi Island, which is based on the indigenous Ainu people of Japan, is portrayed as an ignorant human-sacrificing civlization. I don't trust Mihoyo to tell a story with a strong enough grasp on racial sensitivity.

Anyhow, this isn't to say that if you're a member of these cultures and you're happy with their representation in Genshin you shouldn't be. I'm not SWANA, so anyone from those cultures should have more say in this conversation. I just wanted to vent my frustrations and also reflect the frustrations I've seen other people, especially other BIPOC, people have on this topic.

[mp3gape]

Music Entertainment

What's Entertainment Music

Entertainment music refers to music that is created primarily for the purpose of entertaining people. This type of music is often popular and easily accessible, and it is designed to be enjoyable and engaging for a wide range of listeners. Entertainment music can take many forms, including pop, rock, hip-hop, country, and electronic dance music, among others. It is often characterized by catchy melodies, lyrics that are easy to remember, and upbeat rhythms that encourage listeners to dance or sing along.

Entertainment music is often produced by professional musicians and songwriters who work in the music industry. These artists may perform live concerts, release albums, and create music videos in order to promote their work and reach a wider audience. Overall, entertainment music is a popular form of artistic expression that brings joy and pleasure to many people around the world.

Naija songs refer to music produced in Nigeria, a country with a vibrant and diverse music scene. Nigeria is home to a rich array of musical genres such as Afrobeat, Highlife, Juju, Fuji, and Gospel music, among others. Naija songs are known for their high energy, catchy beats, and lyrics that reflect the cultural, social, and political experiences of Nigerians. Naija songs have gained global recognition in recent years, with Nigerian artists such as Wizkid, Davido, Burna Boy, and Tiwa Savage topping international charts and collaborating with international musicians. The popularity of Naija songs is also attributed to the rise of Afrobeats, a genre that fuses traditional African rhythms with contemporary Western pop music.

Naija songs often have a strong focus on dance, with many songs featuring infectious beats that are sure to get people moving. The lyrics of Naija songs often address issues such as love, heartbreak, politics, and social justice, and are delivered in a variety of languages, including English, Yoruba, Igbo, and Pidgin English. Overall, Naija songs represent a vibrant and exciting aspect of Nigerian culture that continues to evolve and capture the attention of music lovers around the world.

Nigerian music industry continues to produce a plethora of exciting and diverse music. In recent times, there has been a surge of new and talented artists, who have brought fresh sounds and unique styles to the industry. Naija Latest Songs Some of the latest Naija songs have been breaking new ground and setting trends in the music industry. These songs span various genres, from Afrobeat to R&B, and often feature collaborations between local and international artists.

Naija Afrobeat Songs Naija Afrobeats songs are characterized by their infectious beats, catchy melodies, and danceable rhythms. They often feature lyrics that address social and political issues, as well as love and relationships. The songs are usually performed in a variety of languages, including English, Pidgin English, Yoruba, and Igbo.

Naija Highlife Songs Naija Highlife songs are a popular genre of music that originated from Ghana and Nigeria in the early 20th century. Highlife music is characterized by its fusion of African rhythms with Western jazz and swing music. Over the years, Highlife music has evolved and diversified, with different sub-genres emerging in various parts of West Africa.

[semper-legens]

96. The Beggar of Volubilis, by Caroline Lawrence

Owned?: Yes Page count: 237 My summary: Flavia and her friends have been given a message from the Emperor - he wants them to journey into North Africa to find a precious emerald known as Nero’s Eye. Their travels take them into a troupe of pantomime artists hiding a secret - and across the perilous desert. My rating: 4/5 My commentary:

And now for something different! Flavia and friends are venturing south and (spoilers) won’t really return to Ostia or Rome for the rest of the series. I think this is a really cool direction for the series to take at this late stage. New locations, new perspectives on the wider world. Ancient Rome spanned parts of three continents at various parts of its history - Europe, sure, but bits of western Asia and northern Africa as well, and its people were as diverse as that summary implies. It’s cool to see the kids going out to explore more of the Ancient Roman world, even at this late stage.

Obviously we’re not going to see all of Africa, it’s a large continent, but since the kids get accidentally left behind by their transportation early on we get a bit of an overland voyage across parts of the continent, mostly through the desert. It’s portrayed as brutal and harsh, with one mistake from Flavia ending up almost costing everyone their lives, and it’s hard for even Nubia, who is obviously more used to the climate. (Her people are nomadic, and she’s used to travelling by camel.) This one’s more of a travel narrative than others, focusing on the kids’ journey to find Nero’s Eye and a few random encounters along the way.

So the idea that a bunch of kids would be getting a mission from the Emperor is a little hard to believe, right? I mean, I can still suspend my disbelief, but the handwave Lawrence gives about kids being able to go where adults cannot isn’t particularly strong as a reason why Titus would ask these random 12 year olds to go on a dangerous and secretive mission for him. I mean, sure, they’re up for it. And succeed, in the end. But still.

Nero’s Eye itself is not a historical reality, nor is the prophecy surrounding it, but I think it’s interesting for the place it occupies in terms of historical disability aids. Yeah, as it turns out, Nero was using the gem essentially the same way I use my glasses - to aid his vision. And the kids later find a glassblower who can get lenses cut to that specification to help a minor character. It’s interesting to see things like disability be addressed in a time period like this, showing that there were adaptations for people with limited vision even back in the past, and that innovations along these lines aren’t a modern invention.

Next up, back to the world of Doctor Who, for more short trips.