#visit mecca

[mimaalmaawy]

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Ya Allah, I prayed to be called by You to visit Your Greatest House with my family, ALHAMDULILLAH you answered me prayer 🤍⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, I prayed for the day I can be near The Kaaba walls and touch The Kaaba, ALHAMDULILLAH You answered my prayer 🤍⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, I prayed for the day to sit in front of The Kaaba listening to the adhan, pray and cry my heart out, ALHAMDULILLAH You answered my prayer 🤍⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, I pray You grant every muslim to visit Your Greatest House,⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, I pray You invite us to come visit Your Greatest House again and again, ⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, I pray You call us to come perform Hajj so we may answer You with, “Labbaika, Allahumma Labaik” ⁣⁣

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Ya Allah, The Hearer and The Answerer of every prayers, I have no doubt You shall answer my prayers, Allahumma Ameen 🤍🤍⁣⁣

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#makkah #masjidalharam #saudiarabia #familytravel #traveldairies #familytravelblogger #familyadventuretravel #contentcreator #beautifuldestination #travelbloggerlife #destination #wandermore #welovetravel #vacationwithfamily #traveltocreate #wanderfulplaces #makkahalmukarramah #umrah2023 #travelumrah #مكة #السعودية #مكةالمكرمة #kaabah #kaaba #haramain #islamicvideos

[nahsra]

(acts normal) guys no its ok i just need to experience ramadan in the city of medina (hyperventilating)

[dawat-e-islami]

One Day In Shaa ALLAH

God willing, one day we too will visit Mecca and Medina.

ان شاء اللہ ایک دن ہم بھی مکہ مد��نہ جائیں گے۔

For more updates: https://dawateislami.net/

[thursdaynights]

Look at me, look at me through your shark eyes.

[pltksa]

Umrah plus ➕ ⭐️ Makkah 🕋 - taif 🌳 * tour * . this trip starting from the holy city of Mecca to go to perform the Umrah rituals and visit the Holy Kaaba, then head to the city of Taif to enjoy its picturesque view from the top of the mountain and see baboons.

Book now! 👇🏼 Visit our website in Bio or contact us directly to WhatsApp * 00966500503998 *

[simply-ivanka]

PLEASE REPOST

This is who Tim Walz is.

“Let’s see how weird the Democrats’ new leadership is:

It’s weird that Walz mandated tampons in boys’ bathrooms in Minnesota schools.

It’s weird for the party that promotes itself as the guardian of democracy to install its leaders without an election.

It’s weird that Walz dawdled for three days while Minneapolis burned before calling in the National Guard during 2020’s BLM-antifa riots.

He abandoned the city’s Third Precinct police headquarters when it was overrun and set ablaze.

Walz explained his weird lack of action as a desire not to be “oppressive” to the rioters who had suffered “generations of pain” and “fundamental, institutional racism.”

It’s weird that Walz’s wife kept the windows open “as long as I could” during the riots so she could “smell the burning tires” and savor the historic moment.

It’s weird that Walz let his then-19-year-old daughter leak the National Guard’s deployment plans on Twitter so rioters knew they could keep destroying Minneapolis.

It’s weird that Harris and Walz base their campaign on “freedom” yet he was the most authoritarian governor in the country during the pandemic, ruling by decree for 15 months, enforcing draconian shutdown orders, mask mandates and curfews.

It’s weird that Walz tells Republicans to “mind your own damn business” when he created a COVID telephone “snitch line” so that people could inform on their neighbors who breached his draconian COVID restrictions.

It’s weird that Walz defended censorship of COVID dissenters by telling MSNBC: “There’s no guarantee to free speech on misinformation or hate speech especially around our democracy.”

It’s weird that Walz signed laws allowing teenagers to be sterilized and genitally mutilated without parental consent and called it “gender-affirming care.”

It’s weird that Walz signed into law a new definition of “sexual orientation” that deleted an exemption against pedophilia.

It’s weird that Walz has turned Minnesota into a “trans refuge” with a law that removes children from parents who don’t agree to their kids’ sex-change surgery and hormone treatment.

Even transgender Minnesota state Rep. Leigh Finke called the bill “beautifully weird.”

It’s weird that Walz has turned Minnesota into an “abortion mecca” with no time limit up to the moment of birth and sometimes beyond, and no requirement that minors inform their parents.

It’s weird that Walz is presented as the epitome of decency and “Minnesota nice” and yet the first time he spoke to the nation, he peddled a smutty sex joke about Vance and a couch cushion made up by the bottom feeders of internet trolling.

It’s weird that Walz has visited China about 30 times, including spending his honeymoon there.

“No matter how long I live, I’ll never be treated that well again,” he said after his first visit in 1990.

“They gave me more gifts than I could bring home.” He should compare notes with the Bidens.

It’s weird that Walz and his wife, Gwen, chose June 4 as their wedding date to commemorate the bloody anniversary of China’s brutal crackdown on democracy protesters in China’s Tiananmen Square.

“He wanted to have a date he’ll always remember,” said Gwen.

It’s weird that Walz quit the National Guard when he was about to be deployed to Iraq, then told everyone he had gone to war.

It’s weird that Walz said he wanted to provide ladders to illegal migrants so they could climb over Trump’s border wall.

It’s weird that Waltz says, “One person’s socialism is another person’s neighborliness.”

It’s weird that Harris and Walz claim they are defending “democracy” but he signed a law to give driver’s licenses to illegal aliens, the first step to voting ­illegally in elections.

It’s weird that Walz criticizes Trump for his record on law and order when crime in Minneapolis has soared on his watch.

It’s weird that he poses as a “folksy,” common-sense working man with “Midwestern dad vibes” who hunts and wears camo caps.

Yet he governs like a crazed, green-haired radical, with taxes among the highest in the country and residents fleeing the state as fast as they can.

It’s weird that Walz is a teacher married to a teacher, the son of a teacher and claims education is a priority, yet on his watch, Minnesota students’ average reading and math scores have plummeted to below the national average, according to the National Assessment of Educational Progress.

Despite record spending, for the first time majorities of K-12 students are not meeting grade-level standards, finds the Minnesota Center of the American Experiment.

Minnesota’s CNBC education ranking has dropped from fifth to 19th place in the country since he became ­governor.

It’s weird that Harris has not done a single interview since being appointed the presumptive Democratic nominee for president more than two weeks ago.

It’s weird that she laughs at her own jokes.

In psychology, attributing your own flaws to others is called projection, and Walz and Harris have a bad case of weird.”

[negotiumcrucis]

Yusuf closes the door with a heavy sigh.

The kitchen is dark and quiet, and the stove is cold to the touch. He puts down the parcels he carried all the way from the market, lights the oil lamp and hangs it over the worktable. He does not venture into the adjacent room. There’s no need for that. He knows Nicolò is not home, and he buries the uneasiness it all entails deep inside his chest.

It would not be the first time Yusuf had to dine alone since the winds had turned too strong and too cold, forcing many galleys to stay in port. The taverns are packed full and so is La Sacra Infermeria, where Nicolò has built quite a reputation for himself in the past months. Still, it is Christmas Eve and when Yusuf woke up in the morning, he found a note in Nicolò’s handwriting asking him to bring home meat – rabbit, if he could not find rooster. He could not.

Joe needed to add some finishing touches in the Oratory to get the Conventual Church ready for midnight mass and it was the thought of Nicolò’s cooking that had kept Yusuf company as he worked all day long. The focus demanded by the job made it a bit easier for Yusuf to refuse the food offered by the brothers, though he did not manage to dissuade his fellow workers from shoving a cup of wine in his hands at the end of the day. It was light Sicilian wine, very cheap, sour, sold from the cask, and it had upset Yusuf’s empty stomach as he gulped it all down.

He thought he would feel guilty about downing the wine after, but he did not. The Ramadan had started two weeks before, but the truth was, he had not fasted every single day thence, nor did he sneak out to pray five times a day with the Muslim slaves out in the harbour, but he did watch them bowing towards Mecca as he walked home at the sunset. Nicolò never asked, never judged. His heart understood Yusuf as Yusuf sometimes did not understand himself.

Yusuf lights the logs inside the stove and coaxes the flames into life. He washes his hands and his face, shivering at the contact of the icy water against his naked jaw. Not for the first time, Yusuf wonders if it was truly necessary to shave off his beard. Its absence did not bother him that much during the summer months, but since the weather became wet and chilly, he dearly misses that extra layer of protection.

Nicolò has mourned the loss of Yusuf’s beard since the very start. He made no attempt to disguise his resentment, but in the end, they both agreed it would be easier for Yusuf to pose as an artist from Messina if he did not have a beard. Yusuf could easily replicate a proper Sicilian accent and of course, he knew every single Christian prayer in the world.

He called himself Joseph then. Sometimes, when the brothers were out of earshot, one of his less pious co-workers would jest that, while Yusuf was busy painting fluffy wings, an angel was probably paying his Virgin Mary a visit. It was easy to laugh at the blasphemous joke, and it made all the hard work a tad lighter. Yusuf took everything in stride, yet he could not help thinking about Nicolò, who was definitely far from a virgin – though sometimes he could blush like one, especially the times Yusuf kissed and licked him between his legs, his coarse stubble turning Nicolò’s pale skin red.

The thought of Nicolò naked and squirming under him brings some heat to Yusuf’s lower belly, but it’s not enough to chase away the cold from his bones. That coldness, Yusuf knows, has less to do with the weather and more with the emptiness in his soul, something that only grew since Quỳnh was taken. They did not have time to deal with that emptiness for decades when they searched for her in every port, from the North Sea to the coast of Africa and around the Mediterranean.

They would have continued searching for her forever if it had not been for Andromache, who sneaked out one night, leaving behind nothing but a note telling them she had to do this alone for a while. Nicolò wanted to follow their remaining sister no matter what and followed her they did. They were two steps behind Andromache for almost three years until they ended up stranded in Melita during a storm.

The islands have been under the Knights Hospitaller’s rule for half a century then, teeming with people from all over the Mediterranean. Yusuf reasoned that if there was a sailor left alive who knew anything about a witch locked in an iron coffin and thrown into the sea, they would eventually sail their way into the Grand Harbour. So far, none did, but they have lost Andromache’s track, so they decided to keep themselves busy, nursing the wounds in their hearts as they tried to do some good.

Yusuf had grown used to going without his daily prayers during their search. They were in constant move, and every new lead that led them nowhere chipped off a piece of his faith. He promised himself he would do better when they found Quỳnh, and it felt like a bargain he had little to offer in return. Then when became if and eventually, his despair festered into a wound that he felt bleeding under his skin.

More than once, Yusuf woke up feeling as if he was drowning in that very blood, with the taste of salt and rust on his tongue where he had sunk his teeth into. And maybe, if he could multiply that feeling by a thousand, maybe he would be able to grasp a fraction of what Quỳnh was feeling. More than once, Yusuf found himself praying, but it felt hollow – as if no one was listening. Eventually, Yusuf stopped, and at night he buried his face into Nicolò’s neck, weeping in silence as he realised maybe he should pray for his sister to die instead.

If it was Nicolò in her place, what would Yusuf do? How would he even live?

A shiver runs through his body as those thoughts run amok, and Yusuf stokes the flames in the stove with more force than necessary. Nicolò is on his way. Nicolò is coming home. He left a note in the morning, they made plans to spend the night together. No one has found out about them, no one has overheard them making love in the dead of the night, no one has seen either of them heal too fast from a too-deep cut. No one is coming for them. They will be fine.

Yusuf closes his eyes for a moment, calming his heart. He takes a deep breath and picks up a knife to cut the rabbit meat into smaller pieces. He does the same with carrots, onions, and garlic.

The work in the kitchen distracts him from his daunting thoughts, from his fear. In a way, it’s similar to painting. Once you get the sketch done and it’s only a matter of covering layers, you need to focus on your task, your mind does not get to wander too far, otherwise, your work will be ruined. So Yusuf focuses on the menial tasks at hand and he does not think about Nicolò and his whereabouts. He cooks and he waits.

The stew is bubbling by the time Yusuf overhears the door open behind him. He stirs the pot over the stove once before turning to look at his heart. Nicolò’s face is pink from the cold, and he smiles brightly when their eyes meet. Nicolò only takes the time to remove his shoes before he eagerly bridges the space between them, pressing their foreheads together. As Yusuf feels their breathing mingle, he thinks, there is nothing more sacred than this.

“My heart,” Yusuf whispers, kissing Nicolò’s cheek and then his lips. He tastes the cold wind in them, and he wonders if Nicolò can taste the sourness of the wine in his. “You had me worried.”

Nicolò’s eyes soften, and he kisses Yusuf back with intent, before hoovering over his shoulder to inspect the stew. There’s a pained look on his face and Yusuf knows he’s feeling guilty.

“It’s no matter,” Yusuf says sincerely. “It’s not often I get to make you Christmas dinner.”

Keep reading

A little old something I wrote for the holidays <3

[msschemmenti]

fun police - 4

bau x reader / eventual emily prentiss x reader

“What is this place?” Emily asked, walking across the parking lot toward the younger woman. She’d received an email the night before with a location, a time, and a rather direct order to be there or ‘be square’ that she really had no choice but to chuckle at.

“Good morning to you too. It’s like you’re allergic to those words. Haven’t you ever had a good morning?” Y/n asked with a teasing grin. When Emily was close enough for her to see her scowl, she answered. “Oh alright, grumpy. This is the Mental Health Oasis. A twenty-four-hour wellness center.” 

“So a gym?” Emily summarized, with a smirk– aiming to ruffle the younger woman’s feathers. 

But as if reading Emily’s mind, Y/n just smiled and moved toward the door. “No, it’s a wellness center– like I just said. Now come on, we’ve got an appointment with Marta and she hates tardiness.” As the younger woman held the door open and urged Emily forward, the older woman finally relented and stepped into a space that was definitely more than a gym. Her eyes glazed over at the all-white interior and cushy receptionist area that met her. She turned to grumble some sort of statement to Y/n but was interrupted by a girly squeal behind the reception desk. 

“I totally thought Marta was lying this morning!” The young woman grinned as she made her way around the desk to pull Y/n into a bone-crushing hug. 

“I hoped you’d be working during my visit.” Y/n smiled before pulling away from the woman and turning her attention to Emily, who was perplexed. “I’ve got a challenging client and figured I’d bring her to the Mecca of Relaxation.” 

Emily scoffed, “I am not difficult!” The indignation was clear and Y/n and her mystery friend’s laughter only made Emily frown deeper. 

“Oh look at that frown, I bet she’s got so much tension behind her eyes.” The receptionist observed, stepping into Emily’s personal space to scrutinize her face. She brought her finger up to poke at Emily’s forehead and just as Emily was considering biting her finger, Y/n grabbed her wrist with a knowing smile. 

“Nina honey, remember our personal space conversation last time I was here?” Nina nodded with a grimace and took a step back sheepishly. Y/n smiled and nodded encouragingly, “Is Marta ready for us?” 

At the mention of the other woman’s name, Nina nodded and ran behind the desk to page the woman over the intercom. Once satisfied that the woman was coming, she turned her attention back to Y/n and Emily. “I wish you’d come by more often, it’s not the same without you here.” 

Y/n smiled and leaned over the desk, “I’ll try to stop in more often, but from what I’ve heard, everything has been running smoothly since I left.” Nina made to disagree but Y/n stopped her as she caught sight of Marta. With a promise to catch up later, Y/n grabbed Emily’s wrist and all but dragged her over to the open door being held open. “Thanks for fitting us in Marta.” 

“Anything for you, Y/n.”

They all stopped at a hallway and Marta finally turned her attention to Emily with a smile. “Hi, I’m Marta. And welcome to the Wellness Oasis. A sure-fire way to ensure even the most stressed individual discovers their inner calm. ” 

-

Emily couldn’t think of a time when she’d felt more comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time in her life. Hidden beneath a sheet, both she and Y/n were being rolled out like freshly formed dough. A mid-day massage, that she could get behind. The uncomfortable part was all in her head. As soon as they’d stepped into the dim candle-lit room, all she could think about is how her wellness agent was naked under that sheet and so was she. And had they been alone, she’s not too sure what she would’ve done. 

“Agent Prentiss, you carry so much tension in your neck.” The masseuse chided, as she added more pressure. They’d been doing that the entire time, interrupting her extremely unprofessional train of thought with a morsel of information. Sleeping positions, morning stretches, and all that stuff. But as soon as she mumbled out something close to acknowledgment, her brain was back to working overtime creating images and scenarios of how this could end. 

Lost in her thoughts, she seemed to miss the movement in the room altogether. But the new hands on her back brought her back to reality instantly. Emily cleared her throat roughly and tried to force her body relax as she caught the marruesus’ shoes leaving the room. 

“I hope you don’t mind, I just couldn’t resist putting my hands to good use.” Y/n spoke quietly as she slowly worked Emily’s shoulders. 

Emily fought tooth and nail trying to suppress a moan, “Do you even know what you’re doing?” She stuttered, grappling for a playful nonchalance.

Y/n rolled her eyes, pressing a bit firmer into Emily’s back and when she felt the older woman wince she answered. “Yes, I’m a licensed massage therapist. I also used to run this place.” 

“Oh?” Emily moaned out giving into the pleasure a bit too freely. 

“Yep, only started doing private sector work this year. Bureau scooped me up rather quickly. And now that I’ve gotten my hands on your back– I’m starting to realize why.”

“I’d pretend to be offended if you weren’t so good at this.” Emily groaned, rolling her neck to the side in content. 

“Gosh, if I knew this was all I had to do to get you to be more agreeable, I would’ve done two sessions ago.”

Emily didn’t say anything but she surely wished Y/n had started with this too. 

-

“So how do you feel?” Y/n asked as they both returned to the front of the building in their clothes again. 

Despite Emily’s dirty mind, she had to admit she felt much looser than she had when she walked into this session. “I’ve always been partial to a good rub down.” 

Y/n shook her head in exasperation, “Is there like a rolodex of innuendo up there?” Y/n asked prodding softly at her forehead. “Do you feel more relaxed? Feel like massages might be a beneficial wellness practice to incorporate into your life?”

Emily swatted the offending finger away softly before shrugging, “Sure, why not? If not for relaxation– for enjoyment.” 

“God, you’re ridiculous. I’ll see you next week. Your office, our usual time.” Y/n sighed. 

“Yes ma’am.” Emily saluted and headed for her car.

[ptseti]

"THERE IS NO GROUP THAT EVER CAME INTO AFRICA THAT MEANT ANYTHING GOOD FOR AFRICANS" -Dr John Henrik Clarke.

“The white man is very clever. He came quietly and peaceably with his religion. We were amused at his foolishness and allowed him to stay. Now he has won our brothers, and our clan can no longer act like one. He has put a knife on the things that held us together and we have fallen apart.” - From 'THINGS FALL APART' 1958, written by Chinua Achebe and was translated into Italian, French, Hungarian, Portuguese, Russian, Swiss, Flemish and other languages.

According to historian, Dr John Henrik Clarke, "every group of people that came into Africa meant nothing good for the Africans… and the very first thing each and every one of these groups did was to declare war on African culture…" What followed was the bastardization of African spirituality and ways that held the societies together for millennia before there was a Greece or Rome or before "the first European learnt to wear a shoe or live in a house that had a window." Or as Dr. Yosef Ben Jochannan put it, "Before there was Rome, Greece, Jerusalem or Mecca… Before there was a Jehovah, Jesus or Mohommet" (Muhammad ibn Abdul'Mutallib).

It most be noted that the first Hebrew to ever come into existence was a Chaldean from Ur, known as Abram in 1675 BC. Before then, their was no concept of a Jehovah or Jesus, whatsoever, and no Hebrew as a tribe, the world over, from as far as history revealed. By this time, the 82 pyramids in Kemet, and the over 203 pyramids in Meroe, the smaller Nsude pyramids in Udi highlands were already built. The Africans had their own spirituality through which they connected to the non-material world, through which they learnt science like iron smelting, as well as which herbs could heal what sort of disease, agricultural practice, astrology, alchemy, mining for useful minerals from the earth and so on.

Most of Africa were connected to the worship of a deity, Ptah. This was over 5000 years before the first Hebrew came into existence, it was thousands of years before Greece or Rome came into existence and before any Abrahamic religions (which are Judaism, Samaritanism, Christianity and Islam etc) came into the knowledge of anyone at all. Abram, the father of it all had not even come into existence.

In kemet, there was a belief that if one died far away from the Nile, one would not resurrect in the afterlife. Hence Kemet became the place of high culture for all tribal nationalities along the Nile from its source through modern day Tanzania, Uganda, Ethiopia Sudan etc. Abydos was a city of pilgrimage where most Africans, who could, travelled up the Nile, through the Sahara (Which was not a desert until about 5000 years ago, as archeological discoveries indicated), to worship and commune with other Africans. Osiris later become the god in Abydos while Memphis became the home for Ptah, after several foreign invasion from across the Mediterranean and the sands of Arabia.

Most of the magicians in Kemet came from Gao, a city-state of the Soudan(west Africa then). African regions and cities had their own gods and it was necessary to pay homage to the god of a land when visiting or passing through as a sojourner, merchant or gypsy. By this time, Arabian peninsula was the colony of Africans (Study from 'From Babylon to Timbuktu', 'The African Origin of Major Religions, Herodoctus, and Strabo's geographica).

{[IMAGE: The 'inner circle' of the Mossi people. Not every king on the throne rose to the societal status, necessary to attend this gathering. The first shattering effect on this 'inner circle' began when the Arabs arrived west Africa in the 7th century CE, while extending the trans-saharan trade routes through the desert.]}

[enriquemzn262]

I have found it guys, the Mecca of America, the institution everyone must visit at least once in their lifetime

A walmart!

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Massad is an ignoramus whose view of history is colored exclusively by his hate for Jews. 

He goes on:

Remember Judaism had been a missionary religion since its inception and continued to be so through another of the early part of the 11th 12th and 13th centuries and in that sense the idea that European Jews are somehow direct descendants of the ancient Hebrews is of course a bogus  claim...

The Talmud quotes a Baraita (2nd-3rd centuries CE) that explicitly says to discourage converts to Judaism. The rabbis are instructed to tell the would-be convert, "What did you see that motivated you to come to convert? Don’t you know that the Jewish people at the present time are anguished, suppressed, despised, and harassed, and hardships are frequently visited upon them? "

Does this sound like missionary religion to you? 

Again, in his zeal to demonize Jews, Massad makes up history.

What is special here about Zionism is not only the invention of Ancient Israel and the invention of Jews as descendants of the Ancient Hebrews – it is almost like a Hitlerian project to speak of Jews genetically in this fashion. It only becomes fashionable, of course, in the 19th century, with the rise of racial science and the biological sciences.

So tracing your origins is now "Hitlerian?"  

How about the Muslims who use the title "Sayyed" to indicate that they are direct descendants of Mohammed - are they Hitlerian too? Or the many Palestinians who proudly trace their origins to the Arabian Peninsula, preferably Mecca and Medina, but many from Yemen, and who keep track of all their families and tribes - are they "Hitlerian"? 

[mimaalmaawy]

[santatrackershowdown]

It's that time again! How are the Santas holding up?

Google still holds the lead at 3.6 billion gifts delivered, recently returning from another detour from Antarctica. I'll admit, I don't know what the efficient way to include Antarctica is.

NORAD Santa still holds a comfortable 2nd at 2.8 billion presents, having most recently been to the holy city of Mecca at the time of writing.

The Santa, of Tracker fame, also finds himself in Saudi Arabia, having now visited 160 million homes and eaten 69 million cookies. Nice.

Fusible Santa is making his way through India, with 740 million presents delivered and 17 thousand cookies eaten. It's no wonder Fusible Santa is apparently so slow compared to the others, typically traveling at between 2000 and 4000 miles an hour, while The Santa goes at a breakneck pace of usually over 1000 miles a second!

Santa Update was last sighted over Pakistan. This site is fascinating to me, but it's a bad competitor in the Showdown

[centrally-unplanned]

Another big stop in Tokyo for me was Jimbocho Book Town! It is a neighborhood of, depending on who you ask, up to 400 generally-secondhand bookstores flanked by some of the major universities in Tokyo. The local government even prints out maps of the stores to help people find them all:

Which, you will note, is not 400 stores, because the process of becoming an "official" Jimbocho Town Bookstore is an intensely political operation run by local stakeholders with tons of fights over what should qualify and what rights that entails - never change humanity!

"Book Towns" used to actually be quite a common thing, and they peaked during the literary boom of the late 19th century. Figuring out "what books existed" was a hard task, and to do serious research you needed to own the books (you weren't making photocopies), so concentrating specialty bookstores in one area made sense to allow someone to go to one place and ask around to find what they need and discover what exists. It was academia's version of Comiket! Modern digital information & distribution networks slowly killed or at least reduced these districts in places like Paris or London, but Jimbocho is one of the few that still survives.

Why it has is multi-causal for sure - half of this story is that Tokyo is YIMBY paradise and has constantly built new buildings to meet demand so rents have been kept down, allowing low-margin, individually-owned operations to continue where they have struggled in places like the US. These stores don't make much money but they don't have to. But as important is that Japan has a very strong 'book collector' culture, it's the original baseball cards for a lot of people. The "organic" demand for a 1960's shoujo magazine or porcelainware picture book is low, but hobbyists building collections is a whole new source of interest. Book-as-art-collection powered Jimbocho through until the 21st century, where - again like Comiket - the 'spectacle' could give it a lift and allow the area to become a tourist attraction and a mecca for the ~cozy book hoarder aesthetic~ to take over. Now it can exist on its vibes, which go so far as to be government-recognized: In 2001 the "scent wafting from the pages of the secondhand bookstore" was added to Japan's Ministry of Environment's List of 100 Fragrance Landscapes.

Of course this transition has changed what it sells; when it first began in the Meiji area, Jimbocho served the growing universities flanking it, and was a hotpot of academic (and political-polemic) texts. Those stores still exist, but as universities built libraries and then digital collections, the hobby world has taken over. Which comes back to me, baby! If you want Old Anime Books Jimbocho is one of the best places to go - the list of "subculture" stores is expansive.

I'll highlight two here: the first store I went to was Kudan Shobo, a 3rd floor walk-up specializing in shoujo manga. And my guys, the ~vibes~ of this store. It has this little sign outside pointing you up the stairs with the cutest book angel logo:

And the stairs:

Real flex of Japan's low crime status btw. Inside is jam-packed shelves and the owner just sitting there eating dinner, so I didn't take any photos inside, but not only did it have a great collection of fully-complete shoujo magazines going back to the 1970's, it had a ton of "meta" books on shoujo & anime, even a doujinshi collection focusing on 'commentary on the otaku scene' style publications. Every Jimbocho store just has their own unique collection, and you can only discover it by visiting. I picked up two books here (will showcase some of the buys in another post).

The other great ~subculture~ store I went to was Yumeno Shoten - and this is the store I would recommend to any otaku visiting, it was a much broader collection while still having a ton of niche stuff. The vibes continued to be immaculate of course:

And they covered every category you could imagine - Newtype-style news magazine, anime cels, artbooks, off-beat serial manga magazines, 1st edition prints, just everything. They had promotional posters from Mushi Pro-era productions like Cleopatra, nothing was out of reach. I got a ton of books here - it was one of the first stores I visited on my second day in Jimobocho, which made me *heavily* weighed down for the subsequent explorations, a rookie mistake for sure. There are adorable book-themed hotels and hostels in Jimbocho, and I absolutely could see a trip where you just shop here for a week and stay nearby so you can drop off your haul as you go.

We went to other great stores - I was on the lookout for some 90's era photography stuff, particularly by youth punk photographer Hiromix (#FLCL database), and I got very close at fashion/photography store Komiyama Shoten but never quite got what I was looking for. Shinsendo Shoten is a bookstore devoted entirely to the "railway and industrial history of Japan" and an extensive map collection, it was my kind of fetish art. My partner @darktypedreams found two old copies of the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible, uh, somewhere, we checked like five places and I don't remember which finally had it! And we also visited Aratama Shoten, a store collecting vintage pornography with a gigantic section on old BDSM works that was very much up her alley. It had the porn price premium so we didn't buy anything, but it was delightful to look through works on bondage and non-con from as far back as the 1960's, where honestly the line between "this is just for the fetish" and "this is authentic gender politics" was...sometimes very blurry. No photos of this one for very obvious reasons.

Jimbocho absolutely earned its rep, its an extremely stellar example of how history, culture, and uh land use policy can build something in one place that seems impossible in another operating under a different set of those forces. Definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

[chinesefortuneteller]

When white people visit Japan they make it sound like their pilgrimage to the Mecca

[kid-az]

All Tomorrow’s: Vanga Vangog’s Processor and Asteromorph’s HC’s

The grand finale of this saga of Vanga’s posthumans, and this one is on one of the saddest stories among the posthumans, the Mantelopes! In canon they had been born in bodies that made them unable to meaningfully interact in the world inspite of their sapience, and this would disappear quickly in a few thousand years as their songs of sorrow turn into regular mating songs and bellows.

Of course, that had not happen in Vanga’s timeline. Instead, the Asteromorph’s took interests on these posthumans due to the realization of their high intellect. This process, at first merely one of master and servant, would become a symbiotic one for both parties, with the Processors acting as the Asteromorph’s brains and memory-keepers, and the Asteromorphs the Processors hands and (Relative) brawn.

You can do a surprising amount with just a brain, and the Processor’s are the penultimate conclusion of that question, their relationship with the Asteromorphs making their empire far more technologically advanced and powerful than in canon, ironic considering the Asteromorph’s themselves wouldn’t become bigger brained.

-Their curious minds and natures made Processor’s extremely excited and interested on learning new ideas and things, to the point that they and the Asteromorph’s would make earlier contact with the Second Empire in this timeline, learning about all of their cultures and sharing some of their technology and ideas. This also had the benefit of stopping the Gravital’s from killing everyone.

-They kept their ancestral traditions of singing songs, their laryx (Voice box) being the only thing other than their brain to grow in size. Only instead of singing exclusively sorrowful songs, they instead sung songs of hope, rage, and so many other different emotions, including those only they can feel. Their laryx were so developed that they could mimic a ton of different sounds we couldn’t, including metal guitars, chainsaws, plane jet engines, and stuff that is beyond our hearing range.

-Most Processors are born offworld in the zero-gravity habitats of their Asteromorph Symbiotes, though there is still a very sizable trillions of them living in their home-Star system. This birthplace is effectively their version of Mecca, as almost every Processor visits once to several times during their lifetime. (With help from Asteromorph’s of course.)

-The Asteromorph’s are much less reclusive than in canon, and in fact a sizable amount of the population are now living in space habitats or even low-gravity worlds of other posthuman species. The highest populations of them live alongside the Modular People, Stickmen, Pterosapien’s, and the Satyriac’s .(Even they need to cut loose and party!)

-The Asteromorph’s knowledge of their ancient history, alongside the Processor’s general intelligence and assistance from the Second Empire, allowed them to find their ancestral homeworld earth far earlier. No one would inhabit the planet however, instead deciding to seed the almost deserted planet with new life from each of their worlds and millions of years later, when the sun threatens to blow up, they safely move earth into a new star system, allowing the introduced, establish and possibly sapient life to flourish.

-The Asteromorph’s and Processor’s of later times treat eachother like friends or even siblings, with an eachother being paired so long as they get along very well.

-After reaching connecting eachother’s consciousness’s, the Processor’s would offer their Asteromorph and other posthuman brethren the ability to do so as well, with them being able to agree or decline however they see fit.

-Once finding the Qu, this Posthuman empire would not horrifically mutate or kill every last one of them, instead deciding to strip them of all of their biotechnology, take down their leadership, and having them live alongside as equals….. the posthuman’s unwilling to stoop down to their abusers level.

-Like in canon, they would all disappear from this galaxy, but instead of it being a relatively ambiguous fate, the Author’s species would discover what had truly happened to humanity……… in that they had reached apotheosis and have left this universe altogether, instead deciding to seed new universe and life, so that they may love today, and seize all tomorrows.