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Last time we spoke about the beginning of the battle of Nanjing. As the relentless tide of war approached Nanjing in December 1937, fear gripped its residents. As atrocities unfolded in the countryside, civilians flocked toward safety zones, desperate for refuge. Under the command of General Tang Shengzhi, the Chinese forces prepared for a fierce defense, determined to hold their ground against the technologically superior invaders. Despite heavy losses and internal strife, hopes flickered among the defenders, fueled by the valor of their troops. Key positions like Old Tiger's Cave became battlegrounds, exemplifying the fierce resistance against the Japanese advance. On December 9, as artillery fire enveloped the city, a battle for the Gate of Enlightenment commenced. Both sides suffered grievously, with the Chinese soldiers fighting to the last, unwilling to yield an inch of their soil. Each assault from Japan met with relentless counterattacks, turning Nanjing into a symbol of perseverance amidst impending doom, as the siege marked a critical chapter in the conflict, foreshadowing the brutal events that would follow.   #167 The Battle of Nanjing Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. By mid-December, the landscape surrounding Nanjing was eerily quiet. The Japanese Army marched through what seemed to be desolate fields and mountains, but they were not truly empty. Civilians were scarce, with most having fled, but a few remained in their homes, hiding in cellars and barns, clinging to the hope that the war would bypass them. Meanwhile, thousands of Chinese soldiers, left behind and unable to keep pace with their units, still posed a significant danger to the Japanese forces. The Japanese Army had not truly conquered the territory east and south of Nanjing; they had merely passed through. Mopping-up operations became a top priority. Soldiers from the 16th Infantry Division, stationed near Purple Mountain, spent early December conducting these missions far from the city's walls. “Chinese stragglers may be hiding in this area, and they must be flushed out. Any small structure of no strategic value to the Japanese Army must be burned!” This command rang out to the division's soldiers as they spread across the countryside around Unicorn Gate. Soon, isolated fires began to illuminate the horizon, one for each home. Soldiers from the 9th Infantry Division, who were not directly engaged in combat south of the Gate of Enlightenment, were also conducting similar mopping-up operations. On December 11 at noon, one squad received orders to investigate a suspicious farm building. Although it had been searched previously, movement inside prompted renewed caution. The Japanese entered carefully, moving from room to room. In the basement, they discovered eight Chinese soldiers who offered no resistance, immediately raising their hands in surrender. Bound together, they were brought outside. Using a few Chinese words supplemented by sign language, the Japanese gathered that the Chinese had been in the vicinity where one of their comrades had been killed days earlier. Unanimously, they decided the prisoners should be executed in front of their comrade's grave. Some of the older soldiers hesitated, reluctant to partake in the killings, leaving it to the younger ones to carry out the order. Soon, eight headless bodies lay sprawled before a solitary Japanese grave.  On the morning of December 11, the first soldiers of the 6th Japanese Infantry Division finally spotted the distant city wall of Nanjing. They had been engaged in fierce combat for nearly two days, attempting to dislodge the tenacious defenders of the Yuhuatai plateau, the elite soldiers of the 88th Division. In a desperate bid to maintain their foothold on Yuhuatai, the 88th Division deployed its reserved 528th Regiment along with a battalion of engineers. Despite their efforts, the regiment's ranks had been depleted, filled with inexperienced recruits, and their leadership nearly obliterated, limiting their effectiveness. Under the relentless assaults from the Japanese forces, their defenses began to falter almost immediately. Faced with the stiff resistance at the Gate of Enlightenment, the Japanese shifted their focus to the Chinese Gate on December 11. Japanese aircraft were summoned for tactical air support, forcing the 88th Division's defenders to retreat behind the wall. This withdrawal occurred swiftly and somewhat chaotically, allowing the Japanese to pursue closely. Before the Chinese could regroup, 300 Japanese soldiers had breached the wall. Only the mobilization of all available forces enabled the Chinese to push the attackers back outside. Meanwhile, the left flank of the 88th Division, stationed east of Chinese Gate, remained outside the wall. Here, they clashed with elements of the 9th Japanese Division but faced intense pressure and were compelled to fall back. By the end of the day, the Chinese division had shortened its defensive line, regrouping in front of the city wall. Plans for a nighttime counterattack were ultimately abandoned, as it became clear that the division's soldiers were too fatigued to mount an effective offensive. Overall, it proved to be a successful day for the Japanese 10th Army. Further south, the Kunisaki Detachment successfully crossed the Yangtze River at Cihu village, beginning their advance toward Pukou. Its special amphibious training made the detachment ideally suited for the operation, but its limited numbers, essentially a reinforced infantry regiment, raised concerns at field headquarters about whether it could accomplish the task alone. Prince Asaka proposed transporting part of the 13th Division across the Yangtze further north to sever the railway connecting Tianjin to Pukou, cutting off a potential retreat route for Chinese forces that had escaped Nanjing.  On December 11, Japanese artillery shells rained down relentlessly, targeting both the interior and exterior of Nanjing's city walls. Administrators of the Safety Zone were alarmed to witness several shells landing perilously close to its southern edge. In a bid to provide some semblance of security, American and foreign flags were raised around the zone's perimeter, though their protective influence against artillery fire from miles away was negligible. The leaders of the Safety Zone faced an unexpected dilemma: how to handle lawbreakers with the city courts now out of operation. That day, they encountered a thief caught in the act. As Rabe noted in his diary “We sentence the thief to death, then pardon him and reduce his punishment to 24 hours in jail, and ultimately, due to the absence of a jail, we simply let him go”. Refugees continued to pour in, with a total of 850 having found shelter at Ginling College. Vautrin and her colleagues began to feel that their initial estimate of 2,700 women and children seeking refuge on the campus was overly optimistic. They were soon proven wrong. On the banks of the Yangtze River, hundreds of injured soldiers and civilians were lining up to be ferried across to Pukou, where trains awaited to transport them further inland and away from danger. Many had been waiting for days without food. While ferries made continuous trips across the river to rescue as many as possible, the process was painfully slow. As of late December 10, approximately 1,500 wounded civilians remained stranded on the south bank of the Yangtze. The Japanese forces were confronted by a fiercely determined enemy composed largely of young soldiers from the Training Division. These soldiers had the advantage of having been stationed near Purple Mountain for several years, making them familiar with the terrain. Additionally, they were part of an elite unit, groomed not just in equipment and training but also instilled with a sense of nationalism rooted in Chiang Kai-shek's ideology. Li Xikai, the commander of the division's 3rd Regiment, had set up his command post directly in the path of the primary Japanese advance, yet his regiment continued to resist. Despite the fierce resistance, the Japanese gradually gained control over the Purple Mountain area. General Nakajima Kesago, commander of the 16th Division, visited an artillery observation post early in the day and was pleased to receive reports that his troops had captured two peaks of Purple Mountain and were poised to take the main peak.  Yet there loomed a problem on Nakajima's right flank. A widening gap was emerging between the 16th Division and the 13th Division, which had advanced along the southern bank of the Yangtze. There was a risk that Chinese forces could escape through this lightly guarded area. The 13th Division was stationed in the strategically important river port city of Zhenjiang, preparing to cross the Yangtze. The Central China Area Army ordered the 13th Division to mobilize three infantry battalions and one artillery battalion. This new formation, known as the Yamada Detachment after its commander, Yamada Senji, was tasked with remaining on the Yangtze's south bank and advancing westward to capture two Chinese fortresses on the river: Mt. Wulong and Mt. Mufu. This redeployment alleviated concerns about the gap, allowing the 16th Division to focus on the city wall. As the sun dipped towards the horizon, one Captain Akao Junzo prepared for what he believed would be his final assault. He had been ordered to seize a hill northeast of Sun Yat-sen Gate that overlooked the city entrance. His commander told him “The attack on Nanjing will likely be the last battle of this war, and I hope your company can be at the front when the enemy's lines are breached”. The hill was fortified with numerous machine gun positions, reinforced with mud, bricks, and tiles, and connected by an intricate network of trenches. Dense rows of barbed wire lay before the positions, designed to halt attackers and expose them to machine-gun fire. Additionally, the area was likely heavily mined, and Chinese soldiers maintained a high level of alertness. Akao knew this all too well; when he crawled forward and slightly lifted his head to survey the landscape, he triggered a hail of bullets, one of which grazed his helmet. Around late afternoon, four mountain guns from the regimental artillery began firing on the Chinese positions, sustaining the bombardment for over an hour. By 5:00 pm, as the winter sky darkened, Akao decided it was time to launch the attack. Expecting close-quarters combat, he instructed his men to carry only their rifles and small entrenchment tools. With the entire company poised to move, he dispatched a small group of soldiers ahead to cut openings in the barbed wire while receiving covering fire from the mountain guns and the rifles and machine guns of their comrades. The remainder of the company advanced with swords raised and bayonets fixed. As they approached within about 700 feet of the enemy positions, the artillery bombardment ceased as planned. The enemy, still reeling from the ferocity of the earlier assault, scrambled in a panic from their trenches, retreating in disarray. Akao and his fellow soldiers pressed forward, cutting down any opposition in their path. Seizing the momentum, Akao charged to occupy the hill that had been his target. He found it deserted upon his arrival and sent a triumphant message back to command, reporting that the objective had been achieved. However, the reply he received left him baffled: he was ordered to withdraw with his company and return to their lines. Apparently, the regimental command deemed the position too precarious. Sensing that a precious advantage was being squandered, Akao disregarded the order. Before his company could establish a defensive position on the hill, the Chinese launched a counterattack. Lying down, the Japanese soldiers returned fire while frantically digging into the earth to fortify their position. Gradually, they began to form a rudimentary perimeter at the summit. The fighting continued into the night. Exhausted from days without sleep, many soldiers rotated between guard duty and rest, dozing off intermittently in their shallow trenches, reassuring one another that everything would be alright before drifting back to sleep. They successfully repelled all attempts by the Chinese to reclaim the hill and were eventually relieved. On December 11, after leaving his capital, Chiang Kai-shek took time to reflect on everything that had happened in his diary. He reassured himself that his nationalist revolution would persist, regardless of whether he held Nanjing, “Temporary defeat can be turned into eventual victory.” Yet he did not fear so much the Japanese invasion itself, but rather how the weakening of his nationalist government might allow the Communists to rise. He wrote about how his nation was on the brink of becoming a second Spain. While foreign invasions were undoubtedly disastrous, they could eventually be overcome, if not immediately, then over years or decades. Sometimes, this could be achieved merely by absorbing the outmatched invader and assimilating them into Chinese society. In contrast, internal unrest posed a far more fundamental threat to the survival of any regime. As we have seen in this series, going back to the mid 19th century, was it the foreign empires of Britain, France and Russia that threatened to destroy the Qing dynasty, or was it the internal civil war brought on by the Taiping? As Chiang famously put it “the Japanese were a treatable disease of the skin. Communism however was a disease of the heart”. Chiang could accept a humiliating but rapid retreat from Nanjing. In his view, it would be far more difficult to recover from a bloody yet futile struggle for the city that might cost him what remained of his best troops. A prolonged defensive battle, he reasoned, would be a tragic waste and could shift the balance of power decisively in favor of the Communists. This new mindset was reflected in a telegram he sent late on December 11 to Tang Shengzhi: “If the situation becomes untenable, it is permissible to find the opportune moment to retreat to regroup in the rear in anticipation of future counterattacks.” On December 12, tankettes cautiously plunged into the Yuhuatai plateau. Unexpectedly the Chinese defenders abandoned their positions and rushed down the hillside toward Nanjing's walls. Upon discovering this, the Japanese tankettes opened fire on the retreating Chinese, cutting swathes through the masses and sending bodies tumbling down the slope. Some Japanese infantry caught up, joining in the slaughter and laughing boisterously as they reveled in the chaos. A tankette column escorted a group of engineers to the Nanjing wall and then drove east along the moat until they reached a large gate, flanked by two smaller openings, all securely shut. A chilling message, painted in blue, adorned the gate's surface. Written in Chinese characters, it conveyed a stark warning: “We Swear Revenge on the Enemy.” The wall itself loomed three stories high, but Japanese artillery was already targeting it, this was known as the Chinese Gate. Now that Yuhuatai was virtually in Japanese hands, capturing the gate had become the primary objective. At this location, the wall stood 70 feet tall, protected by a 100-foot moat to the outside. All bridges spanning the moat had been destroyed. The area around the gate was heavily defended, with approximately one machine gun positioned every 50 yards atop the wall. Inside, the gate was reinforced with a formidable barrier of sandbags. Chinese infantry armed with mortars and small arms could fire down on the Japanese attackers while others had established isolated positions in nearby buildings that had survived the “scorched earth” policy. Taking the gate and the heavily fortified southwestern corner of the wall was the responsibility of the 6th Division. The division was deploying its regiments: the 13th, the 47th, and the 23rd from east to west. The 45th Regiment, the final unit of the division, was tasked with skirting the western side of the wall and advancing northward, aiming for the Yangtze docks at Xiaguan. The soldiers of the division had already formed a rough understanding of the formidable defenses they were facing. During the night between December 11 and 12, they had advanced nearly to the wall, gathering intelligence to prepare for an assault at dawn. As planned, the assault commenced. Field artillery fired round after round at the gate, but the wall sustained minimal damage. A Japanese tank rolled up, firing point-blank at the gate but producing no visible effect. Next, it was the engineers' turn. A “dare-to-die” squad, equipped with long ladders, crept as close to the wall as possible without exposing themselves and then sprinted the final distance. The moment they broke into the open, a Chinese machine gun opened fire, cutting them down to the last man. At noon, three Japanese planes soared overhead, dropping bombs near a Chinese-held building outside the gate. The smoke from the resulting fire briefly obscured the area. Seizing the opportunity presented by the reduced visibility, a large group of Chinese soldiers holed up inside attempted to dash back to the wall. The Japanese spotted their movement instantly, and every soldier in the line opened fire. The fleeing Chinese were mowed down like ripe grass, collapsing in heaps.  Meanwhile the battle for the Gate of Enlightenment was drawing to a close. On the Chinese side of the wall, confusion reigned regarding the overall situation on December 12. Chen Yiding, brigade commander of the 87th Division, had been warned that heads would roll if the Gate of Enlightenment fell to the Japanese. Hearing the sounds of fierce fighting on the edges of Yuhuatai and seeing the smoke rise from numerous fires on Purple Mountain, he was left in the dark about their implications, surrounded by the fog of war. Chen's troops had finally managed to establish a telephone link to the rear, but by mid-afternoon, it was cut off, likely due to a stray artillery shell. After dark, Chen sent an officer to his left flank to make contact with the Chinese forces there. The report that followed was far from reassuring. A unit from Guangdong Province was abandoning its positions and retreating north, attempting to exit the capital through one of the gates in the city wall. The officer had attempted to inquire about their destination, but the retreating soldiers ignored him. With neighboring units evacuating autonomously, a significant gap was opening in the Chinese line atop the wall between the Gate of Enlightenment and Sun Yat-sen Gate. A frightening possibility emerged: the Japanese could walk right in across the undefended southeastern corner of the city wall and surround Chen Yiding's troops before they had a chance to withdraw. The situation was becoming untenable, a fact underscored by the artillery fire raining down on Chen's position. Despite this, retreat was not a simple decision for Chen and the other commanders of the 87th Division. They had been garrisoned in Nanjing before the war, and the city had become home to many of the soldiers. Shortly after midnight, Chen called a meeting with his senior officers. After considerable discussion, they concluded that they had no choice but to withdraw. Nonetheless, Chen insisted that everyone sign a document confirming their support for this decision, recognizing the potential danger of taking such a significant step without consensus. After all, his own life had been threatened if the situation deteriorated further. Soon after, the Chinese began to move out of their positions. The Japanese were initially unaware of the retreat; all they noticed during the night between December 12 and 13 was that the Chinese artillery fire began to grow increasingly distant. By 4:00 am it had stopped completely. The few remaining Chinese were quickly overwhelmed and killed. In the end, the gate, which had cost so many lives during the seemingly endless battle, was taken almost effortlessly by the Japanese. Soldiers of the 9th Division, stationed outside the wall, scrambled up the slope created by the previous days' shelling. Once at the top, they thrust their hands into the air, shouting “Banzai!” so loudly that they believed their families back home in Japan might hear them. Tears streamed down their faces as soldiers embraced and shook hands, reflecting on the friends they had lost throughout the months of fighting, from Shanghai to their current position. They reassured each other that their sacrifices had been worth it for this very moment. On December 12,  the slopes of Purple Mountain  were ablaze. Zhou Zhenqiang, commander of the Training Division's 1st Brigade, led his men in a desperate struggle to maintain control of the mountain's forested peaks. However, they were being overwhelmed by the better-equipped Japanese troops, and Zhou knew it was only a matter of time before he would have to relinquish his position. Zhou found himself unable to obtain any information from his superiors about the overall situation, despite repeated attempts to contact the Training Division's headquarters. He dispatched a runner, who returned a few hours later with disheartening news: the divisional commander had left late in the afternoon. Other reports indicated a general breakdown in command. The elite 88th Division was in disarray, and an entire division of Guangdong troops, that being the same force that had abandoned the wall near the Gate of Enlightenment, had been spotted marching out of the Gate of Great Peace, seemingly intent on returning home. With indications of collapse all around him, Zhou decided to execute an orderly withdrawal from Purple Mountain, leaving a small contingent behind to cover the retreat. His troops entered through the city wall at Sun Yat-sen Gate and marched in disciplined columns through the streets of Nanjing, where signs of imminent anarchy were evident. Chinese soldiers were scattered everywhere, speaking a cacophony of dialects, yet they appeared to lack any coherent command. Tang Shengzhi's grip on the situation was weakening. Meanwhile Japan's 13th Air Group had been busy with the final stages of the battle for Nanjing.  In the morning of December 12, after raiding Chinese positions at Sun Yat-sen Gate, they  received new orders. Intelligence indicated that Chinese ships, laden with troops, were moving up the Yangtze from Nanjing. Japanese infantry on the ground could only watch as this prize slipped through their fingers, and the army requested air support. All available planes at Changzhou, a mix of A4N fighters and Yokosuka B4Y bombers, totaling 24 aircraft, were assembled for the crucial mission. The day was clear, providing excellent visibility as the pilots headed toward the section of the Yangtze where they believed the vessels would be, based on reasonable assumptions about their speed. At 1:30 p.m., 28 nautical miles upriver from Nanjing, the pilots sighted four ships. Trusting their military intelligence, they saw no need for further identification. Initially, the B4Ys bombed the vessels from a considerable height. One bomb struck the lead ship, a military vessel, disabling its forward gun and snapping the foremast. Then, a first wave of six A4Ns dove down over the line of ships, attacking individually. In total, they dropped about 20 bombs. Several exploded close enough to the lead vessel to damage its hull and injure crew members on deck. A 30-caliber machine gun on board was manned, with gunners stripped to the waist firing at the Japanese planes but failing to score a hit. Several of the A4Ns strafed the ship with machine-gun fire. After 20 minutes of sustained bombing and strafing, the result was utter devastation. The lead vessel was stuck in mid-river, riddled with bullets, aflame, and listing to starboard. Two other ships were beached on the right bank, while another sat stranded on the left. Satisfied with their mission, the Japanese aviators broke off and returned to their temporary base. Upon their landing in Changzhou, instead of receiving accolades, the pilots were met with reprimands. Why hadn't they sunk all the vessels? They were ordered to return immediately to finish the job. Though they didn't find the original targets, they stumbled upon four other vessels closer to Nanjing. One aircraft dove toward the ships, releasing a 60-kilogram bomb that struck one vessel. As the pilot pulled up, he caught sight of the Union Jack on the hull and realized his mistake; he had inadvertently targeted neutral ships. The other pilots recognized the significance of the markings as well and withheld their bombs. The vessel was identified as the SS Wantung. Soon after, the Japanese pilots understood that the ships they had attacked earlier upriver from Nanjing were also Western; three of them were Standard Oil tankers. The last vessel, which had sustained the most damage, was the USS Panay, a lightly armed flat-bottomed gunboat,  tasked with protecting American lives and property along China's longest river. The Panay had been instrumental in evacuating American citizens from the war zone in November and December. On the day it was attacked, the Panay was carrying four American embassy personnel and ten American and foreign journalists to safety. The ship's doctor converted the engine room into a makeshift sick bay, treating a steady stream of injured personnel. By the end, he was tending to 45 patients. The soldiers and passengers were evacuated in two small boats to a nearby marshy island covered in reeds, where they hid, fearful of further strafing. From their hiding place, they watched as a Japanese powerboat filled with soldiers approached the Panay. After firing more volleys at the vessel, the soldiers boarded it, remaining for only five minutes before departing. The American flag still flew from the bow at that time. At 3:54 pm, the Panay rolled over to starboard and sank in seven to ten fathoms of water. Cold and frightened, the survivors waded through knee-deep mud to a nearby village, assisting those too severely wounded to walk.  Meanwhile back at Chinese Gate, the mutual slaughter continued into the afternoon of December 12. The Japanese made no significant progress, although their failure was not for lack of trying. The commanders of the 6th Division had strategically placed the boundary between the 13th and 47th Regiments exactly at the gate, encouraging both units to compete to be the first to seize the position. Yet, despite their efforts, it became clear that willpower alone was not enough to breach the Chinese defenses at Chinese Gate. In peacetime, Nanjing's city gates served as entry points into a bustling capital, but in wartime, they transformed into heavily fortified and nearly impregnable strongholds. Any Japanese officer hoping for a swift victory would soon be disappointed; by early afternoon, the situation at the gate had devolved into a stalemate. The section of the wall manned by the 47th Infantry Regiment, located east of the gate, also saw little meaningful movement as the day wore on. Japanese soldiers, pinned down by Chinese fire from atop the wall, could do little more than take pride in a symbolic triumph. A small group of soldiers had managed to reach the wall and place a ladder against it, but it fell nearly ten feet short of the top. One soldier skillfully scaled the last portion, gripping protruding bricks and crevices of the nearly vertical surface. The entire Japanese front watched him with bated breath. He reached the top and unfurled a Japanese flag, but it immediately drew intense Chinese fire, forcing him to duck for cover. Soon, he vanished from sight, raising concerns among his compatriots about his fate. Later, it was revealed that he had taken refuge in a depression in the wall, waiting out the battle. The real breakthrough of the day would occur west of the gate. The 23rd Regiment was deployed there with orders to capture sections of the wall near the southwestern corner. It became evident that the wall could not be scaled without first bringing up artillery to create gaps in its solid masonry. A significant portion of the divisional fire support, 36 small-caliber mountain guns, four 100mm howitzers, and four 150mm howitzers, was assigned to this section. Artillery observers were also sent to the 23rd Regiment's forward command post to coordinate with the infantry and assess the effects of the shelling. By mid-afternoon, the artillery bombardment had created a ravine-like hole in the wall large enough for an assault. The 23rd Regiment positioned its 2nd and 3rd Battalions at the front, with the 1st Battalion held in reserve. First, the engineers undertook the challenging task. As the assault commenced, the rest of the regiment provided covering fire to force the Chinese defenders to seek shelter while the engineers charged into the 70-foot-wide moat. Once a human chain formed, they held up ladders as a makeshift bridge, allowing a company from the 3rd Battalion to rush across and into the gap in the wall. As the batteries switched to close infantry support, they laid down a barrage around the breach to prevent Chinese interference as the attack entered its decisive phase. The Japanese soldiers scrambled up the rubble, created by the artillery fire, which rose several dozen feet high. Shortly before 5:00 p.m., the Japanese seized control of the southwestern segment of the wall. The Chinese launched several counterattacks to reclaim the position, but none were successful. This action ultimately sealed Nanjing's fate; beyond the wall, there was nothing left to save the ancient city and its inhabitants. As defeat appeared imminent, more and more civilians sought safety in foreign-controlled areas, though danger still loomed large. Bits of shrapnel narrowly missed Dr. Robert Wilson while he operated in the Safety Zone. Every square foot of John Rabe's property became filled with families, many camping in the open with their own blankets. Some sought refuge under his large swastika flag, believing that this would make the area especially “bomb-proof” given the growing friendship between Tokyo and Berlin; they assumed Japanese aviators would think twice before targeting a region seemingly under German protection. With just hours left before the Japanese Army was expected to gain control, the residents of Nanjing made their last preparations, prioritizing personal survival. The brutal behavior of Japanese troops in conquered territories fueled intense concern over the possible fate of injured soldiers who might fall into enemy hands. As Nanjing's last hours as a free city unfolded, it became imperative for local hospitals to evacuate as many wounded soldiers as possible across the Yangtze. On December 12, doctors found a motorboat stranded on the riverbank, having apparently broken down. They managed to repair it and ferried several hundred patients to safety throughout the day. Throughout December 12, the citizens of Nanjing were subjected to the unsettling cacophony of heavy shelling, mixed with the roar of bombers overhead. By evening, the entire horizon south of the city glowed with flames. The sound of fighting emanated from all directions, continuing long after sunset. However, in the middle of the night, activity began to wan. Every few minutes, the muffled thuds of shells could still be heard, though their origin was unclear. For the most part, an eerie silence prevailed, as if the city was holding its breath in anticipation of the final onslaught. Chiang Kai-shek had indicated he would understand if Tang chose to abandon the capital. However, on December 12, he reversed his stance, sending a telegram to Tang expressing optimism that the Nanjing garrison could hold out significantly longer. In his words “If you do not shy away from sacrifices, you will be able to hold high the banner of our nation and our army, and this could transform defeat into victory. If you can hold out one more day, you will add to the pride of the Chinese nation. If you can hold out for half a month or more, the domestic and international situation could see a substantial change.” Tang adopted a hardline approach toward any signs of defeatism among his troops. When he learned that General Sun Yuanliang, commander of the formerly elite 88th Division, was leading approximately 2,000 men from the Gate of Enlightenment to the dock area, Tang acted swiftly. He dispatched Song Xilian, the commanding general of the 36th Division, to halt the retreat. When the two units met, a fratricidal clash nearly occurred. Fortunately, the 88th Division agreed to return to the gate and continue fighting. Whatever Tang's plans, they were rendered irrelevant at 3:00 pm,  when he received another telegram from Chiang, this time ordering a full retreat. Rumors that the Chinese Army had started evacuating Nanjing triggerec panic among many units. Thousands abandoned their positions and joined the throngs of soldiers and civilians moving slowly down the city's main avenues. The crowd seemed to have collectively decided that getting a boat out of Nanjing was the best option, and by late afternoon, a solid mass of humanity stretched for miles through the city toward the dock areas at Xiaguan. To reach Xiaguan, everyone had to pass through Yijiang Gate. This relatively modern structure had served as the main entry point for visitors arriving in Nanjing by boat in recent decades and now only half of the main entrance was open. A crowd of that size trying to get through such a narrow bottleneck was a recipe for disaster. Those unfortunate enough to be right at the front felt the crushing pressure of tens of thousands of individuals pushing from behind. In that densely packed throng, stumbling and falling to the ground was akin to a death sentence; anyone who went down was inevitably crushed by the oncoming waves of terrified civilians and soldiers. As chaos erupted, discipline evaporated entirely. Officers lost control over their men, leading to infighting among the soldiers. Pushing and shoving escalated into fistfights, and trucks drove directly into the mass of people to force their way through. Tanks, emitting sounds akin to prehistoric beasts, rolled through the mob, crushing many under their weight. Amid the madness, some soldiers, driven by frustration over the lack of movement, began shooting into the crowd at random. To relieve the pressure at Yijiang Gate, some units were ordered to exit Nanjing via the Gate of Great Peace at the northeastern corner of the city wall. Upon arrival, they found the entrance nearly sealed shut. Thick walls of sandbags had been erected around it, leaving only a narrow opening through which one person could pass at a time. Massive crowds fought among themselves to get through; even under perfect order and discipline, it would have taken the entire night and most of the following day for everyone to pass. In the midst of the frantic chaos, it could take a week or more. During the night of the 12th, a select group of Japanese soldiers, chosen for the offensive, stripped their equipment down to the bare essentials: rifles, bayonets, and helmets. They avoided any gear that could produce a metallic noise, alerting the Chinese defenders to their approach. Stealthily, they moved up to the wall, carrying bamboo ladders tied together in threes for added height. Ascending the rungs, they ensured not to make a sound that could betray their position to an alert Chinese sentry. Everything hinged on remaining undetected; even a couple of hand grenades tossed down the wall could halt the attack in its tracks. Reaching the top without being noticed, the soldiers quickly fanned out. Chinese soldiers stationed on the wall saw the swift dark figures and opened fire, but it was too late to thwart the assault. A brief fight ensued; most Japanese soldiers were too close to use their rifles and immediately resorted to their bayonets. The stunned defenders were pushed back, and the successful assault team established a perimeter, awaiting reinforcements from outside the wall. They didn't have to wait long. A massive assault along the length of the 6th Division's front line commenced at dawn on December 13. Japanese artillery concentrated its fire on a narrow section of the city wall, progressively working its way from the bottom up. Gradually, the shells formed a slope of debris that soldiers could use to scale the wall. A short air raid was executed, and after the planes had weakened the remaining resistance, a group of soldiers rushed up the slope. While their comrades provided covering fire, they climbed the last stretch, rolling down a rope ladder. Within minutes, 40 other Japanese soldiers had joined them. By 10:30 am, the Rising Sun flag was flying over the wall. The Japanese invaders were met with a horrific sight at the top of the wall. Beyond lay the grim aftermath of days of shelling. Some houses were leveled, while others burned. The ground was littered with bodies, some decapitated or disemboweled, and pools of blood surrounded them. As Chiang Kai-shek's order to abandon the city gradually filtered down to the troops manning the wall around Nanjing, things began to move rapidly.  By late morning on December 13, all the major entry points into the city had fallen to the Japanese. These included Chinese Gate in the southwest, the Gate of Enlightenment in the south, and Sun Yat-sen Gate in the east. The first thing that struck the Japanese soldiers upon ascending the wall was how starkly different it was from their expectations. They had anticipated a bustling city teeming with people, but instead, the area adjacent to the wall was characterized by farm plots, resembling countryside more than an urban center. The second notable observation was the complete absence of inhabitants. Cautiously, the Japanese soldiers entered the city they had just conquered, their bayonets fixed and rifles at the ready. Yet, surprisingly, very few shots were fired. After weeks of fearing death and injury, once the immediate danger receded, a certain stupor settled in. For most civilians in Nanjing, their initial encounter with the city's new rulers was uneventful. It took several hours for the Japanese to move from the wall into the urban parts of the capital. It was not until around noon that residents noticed the first groups of Japanese soldiers marching down the streets in clusters of six to twelve men. Initially, many met the conquerors with relief, hoping they would be treated fairly. Their optimism was bolstered by Japanese planes dropping leaflets over the city, reassuring residents of humane treatment. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. On December 9, fierce battles erupted, especially at the Gate of Enlightenment. Despite heavy fighting, the Chinese showed remarkable resilience, turning Nanjing into a symbol of determination. However, the tide shifted as overwhelming Japanese artillery and tactics began to breach defenses. By December 13, as chaos engulfed the city, the invaders claimed victory, but not without significant loss. Civilians, caught amid the destruction, clung to hope amid despair.

Ever wondered how your day of birth could hold the key to your destiny? Uncover the groundbreaking approach to Chinese astrology that puts the spotlight on the day rather than the year of birth, with a deep dive into the 10 Day Masters. These masters fall into elemental categories like water, wood, fire, earth, and metal, each with yin and yang aspects. Our episode illuminates this unique perspective and offers personalized monthly forecasts through our "QiCast" Specifically, for the month of August, we begin with tailored insights for Yang Wood (Jia) and Yin Wood (Yi) Day Masters, exploring profound themes like "spirit" and "shadows."Stealthily moving forward into the other 8 day masters, we delve into the essential process of letting go of the past to stride confidently into the future. We discuss how holding onto past experiences can stifle growth and why confronting baseless fears—"False Events Appearing Real"—is crucial for progress. Learn actionable strategies to overcome hesitation and make more informed decisions. We'll also introduce you to our QiCast astrology forecast, featuring comprehensive monthly insights, personalized forecasts, and a specialized calendar marking auspicious and avoidable dates, as you gear up for the transformative month of August of 2024.Grab Your Personal Monthly Video Forecast: HEREOrder Your Annual Update With Sam: HERE

Ariella becomes the object of many desires.by jane700bond, Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. When Ariella awoke, she was seated in one of the easy chairs in Miss Peacock's office, covered in a light blanket. Her clothes were lying in a neat pile next to her, smelling fresh and newly ironed. On a small table was a note. “Finishing class, back soon, stay and rest x x x Gabriella P.”Gabriella Peacock was an Animagus, Ariella realised. A witch who could shapeshift, in her case, into a white cat.With a small flash of magic, Gertrude, the house elf reappeared and leered at Ariella. “Enjoy sex do we, young human? Thinks me you are only just starting to learn. Gertrude good teacher. Human want to learn sex magic? Me help young human Sex Goddess be, like mistress Peacock?”Ariella looked at the strange creature and wondered if Gertrude might be an ally in her competition against Lucille. “Gertrude, can you really help?” she asked.“Gertrude made mistress Sex Goddess and Gertrude she like you. Very pretty human, Gertrude likes pretty young humans.”Ariella looked a little nervous, was the elf wanting to make love to her too? Now? She was not sure she could cope with another sex session just yet and, well how did an elf make love?Seeing her discomfort, Gertrude laughed at her and said “No sex now. We learn lessons later. Now to dress is time. You no miss lunch for sex with elves! We give you good time later.”Ariella uncovered herself and stood up naked expecting to pick up and put on her clothes, but the elf instead helped her. She jumped onto the chair with Ariella's bra. This brought the small creature up to Ariella's height. With gentle hands the elf assisted the gal with it on, carefully seating Ariella's breasts one by one into each cup and then fastening it securely at the front. Ariella, thought the elf's touch quite erotic.The elf then got Ariella to turn around and helped her into the blouse, the elf's baby-smooth face leaning around over Ariella's neck to carefully fasten the buttons slowly and sexily one by one, almost like a strip-tease in reverse. The elf went slowly from the bottom to the top, taking particular attention with those that were straining over her chest, caressing Ariella's breasts to ensure the cotton was smoothed around each fabulous boob. Ariella found herself fascinated by the pale, large-eyed creature whose fingers were warm and smooth against her skin.“Gosh!” thought Ariella aware of a heat rising in her cheeks, “It's happening again!”Finally, Gertrude got down from the chair and lifted up the kilt, carefully wrapping it around Ariella's waist, brushing the gal's silk-smooth naked thighs and taut midriff with her hands as she did so. It was, Ariella thought, like foreplay. Then jumping on the chair and with a quick soft kiss to Ariella's cheek, the elf disappeared in her distinct puff of magic and Ariella stood alone and more than half-turned on.Miss Peacock suddenly bustled in.“Thank you, Ariella, for waiting for me and not running away - as you, might well have done after what my cunt did to your cunt. Sorry about that!”Ariella looked at the Divinity teacher and said “Gabriella, may I call you Gabriella?”Gabriella nodded. “It was okay, and really rather fun. But I didn't know you were an Animagus, and it was all a bit of a surprise, especially when you put your paw inside me, it was so silky smooth and my organisms were like an electric shock. I just fainted away with too much ecstasy! ”She was silent for a moment and then said: “I have to confess I have been incredibly horny over the last few weeks and the way you treated me was incredibly arousing. I mean, I seem to want to have sex continually. Is that normal?”Gabriella smiled at her. “It happened to me too at your age, which is why I first became Sex Goddess in my college senior year. It's nothing to worry about, just part of being a nymphomaniac, or in my case now, a 28-year-old nymphomaniac. Ye gods, by the powers of magic, the smell of you when I found you under the desk was so intoxicating! The smell of sex around you so powerful that I was in a frenzy of longing. I just wanted to pull your clothes off there and then and drink all that sex juice straight out of you. But at least I managed to hold-off until we got in here.Some of the powers you are developing can be quite dangerous around the wrong people … I hope you don't think I'm one of the wrong people.”Ariella shook her head. “No.” she said, “You are rather nice, a bit dominating! But you're quite attractive, even if a bit older than me and, well that was one exciting climax. In fact, could we make love again sometime, soon? The next time, let me give you an orgasm too?”Gabriella, took Ariella's hand and both sat on the sofa. Gabriella answered “I would be proud to make love with beautiful you any time you like! But you need to understand all sorts of people are starting to find you irresistible. It was the same with me when I was 18. Have you noticed strange behaviour from other people?”Ariella thought for a moment, “Let me see, Dr. Snake had a hard-on when I spoke to him in his office yesterday. I thought he was going to rip my top off at one point. The new gal, Lucille started kissing me and we made love within a few minutes of meeting, and then, er, we had a foursome!So far today, well two guys made love with me this morning, never mind George who put his hand under my bum when I sat down in class, and then I fucked him. And then of course I discovered you loved licking cum from my cunt and you paw-fucked me when you were a cat. Even Gertrude, your house elf seems to find me sexually alluring! Yes, people are behaving strange, but you know, I don't think I want it to stop! I just seem to want more and more sex! That's a bit worrying.”Gabriella sighed and turning and putting her hands on Ariella's shoulders said “Ariella, you must understand two things. One, you have developed a natural powerful glamour. It is a sort of magic which attracts people to you.” Gabriella's hands moved slowly from Ariella's shoulders and around and under her arms where she pressed them against the sides of the coed's breasts. “Even I find your power nearly irresistible.” The teacher sighed, moved her hands around and cupped the tight mounds. “By wand and magic I need to resist you or we'll be at it again, like rabbits.”“Nice idea!” giggled Ariella.Gabriella moved away and said sternly “The second thing you must know is that Lucille is a dangerous black witch who takes after her father and if the college is to be safe, you mustn't let her become Sex Goddess instead of you.” Her glamour, is not like yours, it is a spell she uses to manipulate people, whereas you - you just turn people on!This was astonishing news and Ariella asked the older woman to explain. It seemed that the Marquis l'Astic Le Grand had been arrested for turning a class of Mademoiselles at a local convent in France into his sex slaves. Using spells, he and other black practitioners had raped the gals, who were completely mesmerised and unable to resist the magicians' evil desires. It appeared that Lucille may have been taught some of the spells and it was suspected that she had also joined in, or even organised her own orgies. The rumour was she had enslaved some of the local guys to meet her own particular whims. Hence, why she had escaped the country when the Magic Police called to arrest her father. Lucille has a desire for power, like the Dark Lord, and wants to enslave people for her evil purposes.“Ariella said "Whoops! I might have given her the wrong impression about what being Sex Goddess meant. I think I said something like ‘slaves to your desire'. I also think I saw some of her black magic last night. She hypnotised Dave and Tony and although she and I had some fast and exciting sex I wasn't sure the guys enjoyed being mere sex machines.”Gabriella looked into the young woman's eyes. “The Sex Goddess awakens desires in others and lets them fulfil their own fantasies through her own vast appetite for sex. She does not enslave! She gives and takes pleasure and fun. You must understand this and you must use your power to gain the crown. Otherwise we will see a Briarwood full of slave automata, no longer truly human. Do you understand?”Ariella nodded and the woman came close and, breathing heavily, brushed the coed's lips with her own. Then seeming to remember herself, pulled away again to stand beside the chair where Ariella sat.“I must give you weapons in this war, and maybe Snake will help too. The future is occluded and I cannot see it clearly. It is a close call as to which one will come out on top. Yes, I must teach you spells and charms and Dr. Snake has some powerful potions that might be useful. Now, I think it is time for lunch!”These memories of Gabriella Peacock that morning made up Ariella's mind. She got off the bed and without even bothering to remove the charm that hid the hole in the wall, slipped through to the guys' bedroom next door and slipped into bed beside Dave.It was now about two in the morning and George, wand in hand slipped down the stairs to the Briarwood College common room and silently opened the door to the staircase to the female dormitories. With soundless unshod feet he gradually made his way up the stairs until, when he reached one landing, the figure of a gal appeared in the dimmed stair lights, coming from one of the rooms. She only wore a pair of pyjama bottoms and her top-half was naked. Almost in panic George used his wand to cast a stillness spell on the gal who halted halfway to the bathroom.George moved closer and began to take an interest in this unexpected delight. She was a coed called Peggy. She had tussled mousey blonde hair which framed her pretty young face with its small nose and very kissable mouth. Her eyes were closed and she breathed softly under his spell. George was fascinated and experimented with a soft kiss on her slightly open lips. There was no reaction.His eyes wandered downwards and took in her small boobs with their darker brown centres, the colour of milk chocolate. He could not resist but to cup them in his inexpert hands. Despite losing his virginity to Ariella, he had never before seen and felt a real chick's breasts. They were so soft to the touch, like silk. His dick stuck out from his dressing gown in excitement as he gently rubbed the teats, feeling the softness of the aureole and the firmness of the nipples. George's dick pressed against the gal's pyjama bottoms, catching on the material as he pressed against her.George was in heaven, the babe stood silent except for her quiet regular breaths as he took one nipple in his mouth and whirled his tongue around it, tasting the salty sweetness of her young skin. Another first for George.His hands roamed around her naked back as he suckled the beautiful breast and slowly moved down and in under the material which was covering her small soft ass.The feel of a real tit was driving him insane with excitement. Moving his mouth to her other tit, he slowly pulled down the pyjama bottoms and fondled her now naked arse. His boner pressed against the chick's stomach and he rubbed it around the smooth young skin in delight. “Oh, Peggy” he thought “I could fuck you and you would never know.”He moved his mouth once more to the slightly parted lips and put his tongue between them, but they could not get past her still closed beautiful teeth. Disappointed, he moved back to licking the delicious tits as he tried to force his dick between her legs. But again, with her legs together where she stood, there was no way in. Likewise, her cunt lips while soft and pliable, would not let his probing fingers advance into the locked cavern within.Disappointed, George realised he was trying to rape a soft, but unpliable statue and where was the fun in that when Ariella was in her bed upstairs. Dissatisfied, George stood back from the beautiful Peggy, gave a last rub of her arse with his dick and then pulled up the pyjama bottoms back up over that so fucking tempting ass.He crept to the next staircase, and once at the corner, turned back, and used his wand to remove the stillness spell and creep creepily further up the tower.When the release spell touched her, Peggy came to as though waking. She wondered for a moment muzzily why her breasts felt cold and damp and the nipples were hard, but needing to urgently get to the bathroom, shook her head and moved off. Later she dreamt of firm hands caressing her body and enjoyed a beautifully erotic dream.Georgy Porgy got to the top of the staircase where he knew Ariella slept. He did not know who she shared with, but once in the dim room it became obvious to him that only one bed was occupied, so that was all right. Stealthily, George knelt by the bedside and slowly pushed a hand under the duvet where it met the warm back of a naked sleeper. Very subtly he caressed the skin and a moan issued from the sleeper.He stopped for a moment and then pushed his other hand under the duvet and began to stroke the gal's body up and down the curve of the back.The gal was facing away from him with her legs one over the other and George soon found the curve of her hips and the crease in her ass. His hands moulded the cheeks and the chick moaned again. Then one hand found the gap between her legs and he pushed on to find the slit of her cunt lips. Here he held his breath and then gently pushed the knuckle of his thumb back along the slit, parting the lips slightly.Another groan from the babe and George was aware of his aching dick pushing against the cold iron of the bedframe as his knelt there.With the one hand massaging the cunt lips, his other explored its way over the babe's arm to find the breast that it cuddled. With another groan, the arm moved out of his way and to his delight and lust-filled wonder his hand found itself holding a warm soft breast.Suddenly the babe moaned and turned over towards him, trapping the one hand under her ass, thumb tightly in place on the cunt lips and the other being clamped in place on the gal''s left breast by her arm.George knew about trapped hands and female genitalia from his experience with Ariella from the previous morning and to his mounting excitement he realised that the cunt was getting warmer and wetter, beginning to exude its sex oils. He worked his fingers around so that his thumb was pushing up into the slit whilst his fingers found the gals clit.George was both in agony and in heaven. His monstrous hard-on was now under the bedframe and pressing against ancient springs, but exploring the gal's cunt more than made up for it. As he massaged, he used his head to push the duvet back to reveal the fabulous body beneath. His head went down on other now exposed breast and for the second time that night he was sucking a real gal's tits. With an effort, despite his trapped hands he moved his ass backwards and brought his dick up and over the bed without scraping it on odd bits of sharp metal. The sleeper slept on, apparently unconscious of its increasing sexual arousal and very unaware of Georgy Porgy getting his evil way.Slowly, George moved his trapped hand from under the chick's ass and used it instead to attack the cunt from clit downwards, fingers now pressing deeply into the babe's vagina whilst his thumb played with the clit. The dame's head moved and suddenly there were hot lips around his dick, sucking deeply on his overexcited manhood.He looked at the head and in shock realised this was not Ariella, it was the French dame she had seen her with earlier. But George wasn't complaining, he was enjoying himself thoroughly and his fingers fucked deep into the dame's cunt and his dick went ever deeper into the dame's mouth.Just when he thought he was going to cum, the dame, Lucille? Yes, Lucille was her name, released his manhood and pulled his hand out of her cunt. In a swift and almost impossible movement, she lifted the guy from the floor and plonked him on his back on the bed. Lucille then straddled him, rubbing her cunt lips up and down his shaft. She then lifted herself up and plunged herself down on him hard, his dick going deep within her.She was growling like a tiger as she rode him, up and down, thrusting as if her life depended upon it. One hand massaging her breasts with an unbelievable roughness and the other rubbing hard on her clit. The guy appeared to be forgotten, he was just a dildo and she was taking her pleasure. George felt his hips bang under the pressure of her abandoned movements, the bed jolting hard and noisily on the springs.George was aware of the wave of cum released from his ball sack that eagerly sought entrance into the dame's awaiting vagina. He came, and still she rode him, not allowing any rest. He whimpered as he fought to release himself from the mad bitch who was fucking him even faster now with his cum juices lubing her cunt. She came with a mad roar, but still went on, up and down faster and faster. George felt another load about to shoot and shoot it did deep inside her and she came again. Still Lucille did not stop but bounced up and down on his aching cock.Finally, after another orgasm, Lucille left his cock and made a leap like a frog to his head that left her with her dripping cunt pushing on George's mouth.“Tongue me, you bastard!” Lucille shouted and George found his tongue deep inside her, his own sperm mixed with her flow of sex juices pouring into his mouth. His nose was painfully pressed against her wet clit Lucille worked her clit against it, whilst his tongue lapped at the still flowing juices. Lucille's hand went behind her to find George's now limp cock and she started to work it like she was trying to milk a cow. Rubbing up and down its we length until again it rose.In another swift movement Lucille turned around, forcing her cunt lips over George's mouth. She grabbed her wand from beside the bed, shouted “Cumus atlanticus” pointing at the cock and then clamped her mouth over it drinking deeply at the new torrent of cum that was spraying out.Finally, Lucille appeared to be satisfied, she lifted her mouth from the still spraying cock and pushed her cunt hard into George's face. Then she turned a final time and dibbled his jizz from her mouth over George's face and into his eyes before getting off his limp and aching body and heading for the shower.With great difficulty and in severe pain, George grabbed his dressing gown and fled down the stairs and was rewarded with a scream when another beautiful naked chick appeared on her way to the bathroom.Dr. Adolphus Snake was a great and powerful wizard and following the incident in his Necromancy class where he had been tricked by a spell from an 18-year-old new gal to cum all over her in front of the class, he was seething. Lucille L'Astique was playing with fire and he was going to have his revenge.Snake prided himself on how in his ten years of being House Master, back at Slither-In, he had never let his animal urges get the better of him. No matter how tempting any of his female students were (and some were very tempting), he had never taken advantage and seduced them, always resisting their young shapely bodies and beautiful faces.Now, to be clear, that is not to say he couldn't fantasize about them, not to say he could not enjoy erotic wet-dream orgies of wrestling with their naked bodies. If he imagined lifting the kilt of Ariella or Peggy and thrusting his cock deep inside them from behind, it didn't mean he was actually planning to it. If he fantasized about beautiful cum-swapping teens massaging each other's breast with his cum after an enormous shared orgasm, that was his affair. If he dreamt about Peggy sitting on his face while Ariella thrust up and down on his lightning rod, they were his dreams, he liked them and he would keep them to himself, thank you very much.Snake's nocturnal skills with lucid dreaming meant he could fulfil his most wicked desires in his sleep. He would frequently awake in the morning to damp sheets covered in the cum he had just dreamt he had spurted into his most beautiful student's mouth, or erupted in torrents over her fabulous naked body. He had just never taken advantage of any of them physically, not even the irresistible Gabriella Peacock. Gabriella could make guys cum just by looking at them.“Nice to have her back in the college!” he thought.No, but that supermodel strawberry blonde bitch Lucille was a different matter and she needed to be punished for showing him up in-front of Priti, Sabrina and of course Henry.This last night, whilst beautiful Ariella slept soundly in Dave's arms and whilst George had failed to fuck pretty Peggy, Adolphus Snake did not dream about any of them as normally he might have wished. Instead he had recurring nightmares about Lucille growing fangs and drinking the life-blood out of him. So, it was a tired and sorry Snake that crawled out of his, for once, crisp dry sheets. He dressed in just shirt and chinos for the coming day was forecast to be rather hot for Scotland.Ariella had slept well, but was woken this sunny morning by two things. Firstly, Dave had an enormous hard-on which, although he was asleep, was pushing at the lips of her labia as he snuggled up behind her in a gentle embrace. The second was the urgent need to get to the toilet. So, regrettably she carefully removed Dave's arm which was lying over her warm breasts, slipped out of the narrow bed and through the invisible hole in the wall into the room she shared with Lucille L'Astique. As she found her robe, she glanced at Lucille who was asleep, her twisted duvet snaked in knots around her naked golden limbs. Her pert breasts and nipples of darker burnished gold were beautiful to behold. Her cupid-bow lips were slightly parted showing pearlescent teeth.Ariella regretted that such a beautiful golden creature had such a black heart. She went to the bathroom, showered and then got dressed without waking Lucille, her eyes forever glancing at the French dame's perfect beautiful and sexy form with a instinctual desire that warmed her belly.Once dressed Ariella, left the sleeping Lucille and started her way down the tower with the intention of going to the lavatory, then breakfast in the college refectory, with her best friend Peggy.Earlier, hulking Henry had awoken to the sound of whimpering. In the morning light he looked across at George who was sitting on his bed with his dressing gown on and making strange noises. Henry lumbered out of bed, his usual morning hard-on beginning to subside, and pulled on his own gown as he went over to see what was wrong with his room-mate.

Today, Joe Biden will memorialize the Holocaust with a denunciation of anti-Semitism. His address will likely join myriad other examples of this president's dishonesty, especially of late with respect to the State of Israel.  Biden has repeatedly professed support for that nation – the world's single most important bulwark against anti-Jewish bloodlettings. And, until recently, his administration has provided some resupply of Israeli weapon stocks.   Yet, Team Biden has increasingly intervened to save Hamas, the terrorist organization that perpetrated on October 7th the worst act of anti-Jewish violence since the Holocaust. It would be in keeping with such bad faith if the president tries today to pander to his partisans' growing pro-Hamas sentiment by suggesting that anti-Zionism is not, in fact, anti-Semitism or hatred of Jews is morally equivalent to so-called “Islamophobia.” Both are lies and must be repudiated as such.  This is Frank Gaffney. Securing America Tv Links

Take stealth wealth and reverse it: Stealth frugality is what happens when a person lives big without spending lots of money. On today's show: A laundry list of the ways in which we can each live a rich life but do so frugally. *A note from Stephanie: I mention a ridiculous amount of companies in today's show. None of them are sponsored! Here's a preview:[6:00] Home is where the heart is, so open up your home![10:30] Pizza? Cocktails? Manicures? Learn how make/do what you love but better[14:30] #selfcare culture is a capitalist construct (and you should never have to pay to care for your SELF)[19:00] How to enjoy your hobbies without going all-in with the extras[23:00] Want to eat like royalty? Learn how to cook[30:00] Get yo' hands on some great reading material (without overspending!) Resources mentioned:Living The Good Life, Just Cheaper? (via The Frugal Girl)The Buffalo Wool CompanyEpisode #194: Safer Nail Polish Dazzle Dry nail polishLego Replay--Resources mentioned:This show is listener-supported. Thank you for supporting!Join our (free!) community here.Find your tribe. Sustainable Minimalists are on Facebook, Instagram + Youtube.Say hello! MamaMinimalistBoston@gmail.com.Our Sponsors:* Check out Puro Air : getpuroair.com* Thank you to Equilibria! Use code SUSTAINABLE for 15% off sitewide: http://www.myeq.com* Thank you to LifeStraw! https://lifestraw.com/Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/sustainable-minimalists/exclusive-contentAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

AP correspondent Jennifer King reports on California New Tech City.

A Chinese Communist Party that has bought American “elites” is reaping now a huge return on that investment. A chilling webinar yesterday shows Team Biden and other “friends” of China are scrambling to save that mortal enemy from possibly imminent financial disaster.  For example, Biden has lately effectively enabled further, reckless technology transfers to China by issuing a deceptively limited executive order and then by renewing a bilateral accord that facilitates sharing with Beijing the fruits of American science and technology.  For its part, Wall Street is pretending there's no reason to cut its clients' potentially immense losses in China by an urgent sell-off. To the contrary, it's promoting further, vast investments there via two new IPOs. Stealthily propping up the CCP as it works feverishly to undermine the dollar and prepares for a shooting war is nothing short of treason.  This is Frank Gaffney.  

In the realm of relationship turmoil, there exist four formidable forces that can wreak havoc upon the bonds we hold dear: the harbingers of destruction - criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. Stealthily, these insidious elements slither into our connections, gnawing at the very core until they unravel the fabric of love. Join us in this captivating video/podcast as we delve into the depths of these four horsemen, unraveling their destructive tendencies, and uncovering the secrets to mend your relationship once they rear their ugly heads. Be sure to tune in and share your invaluable thoughts in the comments section. Don't forget to subscribe to our channel for more enlightening content, and know that your support and feedback are profoundly cherished. Gratitude abounds. #viral #trending #relationships #trendingshorts #love

Mike Benz, Executive Director of the Foundation For Freedom Online, warns how federally funded researchers conducted a ‘social science censorship experiment' with millions of tweets they dubbed as “misinformation” during the 2020 election. Benz says the strategies they used could empower Big Tech to censor users and keep the public in the dark, by using “virality circuit breakers” to halt the spread of topics they dub “misinformation.”See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The Valley is seeing a massive increase in people experiencing homelessness. We visit "the zone" in downtown Phoenix and learn why so many of them are seniors. And the plan to help revitalize a beloved Tempe landmark. That and more on The Show.

Lockdown may be over, but our store of lockdown tales is not. Music: Creepy — Bensound.com.   Here are some Totally Made Up Tales brought to you by the magic of the internet.   Try placing your hands on my thighs and then rub.   Language makes it easy to understand other people and animals.   Friends don't listen to moaning. Friends tell each other to shut up.   One day, Maisie got out of bed, stretched, and thought, I wonder what I should do today. She arched her back and flicked her tail and stretched her claws. Perhaps she would go and chase birds. That will be a wonderful thing to pass the time, particularly if she could catch that fat blue tit that had been taunting her for days. She jumped up onto the window sill and out, climbing up onto the roof. From her high up vantage point, she looked over the gardens of the neighbourhood that she regarded quite rightly as her own. There, three gardens down, sat a bird. Perched on an old fashioned flat surfaced bird table covered in bacon rinds, pecking away at them with an arrogant swagger in its manner. Maisie extended her claws and licked them carefully, making sure that they were sharp and ready for action. Stealthily putting one paw in front of the other, she crept across the tiles of the roof, with the smoothness of a monorail. First, from her own house to the next door. And then the one beyond that, and finally to the one in whose garden the bird perched. She crouched low against the roof tiles, peering intently down at the bird, still unaware of her presence. And then, letting out a yodelling screech, she leapt for the bird table. Midway through her jump, the bird, alerted by her yodel, turned, looked at her, and took flight. Maisie landed on the bird table, which wobbled precariously. As it wobbled slightly, it fell onto its side and an ungainly heap of cat, bacon rind, and table were left on the lawn. From inside the house, Maisie heard the owner yelling. He was fumbling for the key for the back door and looked like the sort of angry red-faced man that might teach geography. Maisie took off like a shot. And crouched in the branches of a nearby tree where she wouldn't be able to be reached, she licked the bacon fat off her paws and was surprisingly pleased by the taste. Perhaps, she thought, I should hunt bacon next. The end.   Timothy sat down on a rock, at the side of the road. He was weary, having walked from the village all the way out to where he was now. The flat, marshy fields of the fens stretched out in a featureless expanse, as far as the horizon in all directions. He was beginning to worry that the pub that he was heading for, maybe didn't actually exist. It had sounded so attractive when his Airbnb host had recommended it to him as a pleasant Sunday afternoon outing. But now, the wind whistling between the rocks and the heather, he was having second thoughts. As he sat on his stone, a cold feeling started to creep from the rocks into his bones. He thought he should get moving again, but somehow couldn't quite pick up the energy to stand up. It seemed that he was getting heavier by the moment, and that his thoughts were slowing. His heart rate seemed to be slowing too. His pulse, almost impossible to discern. Eventually the sculpture park in Lowestoft became Britain's top tourist attraction for 2020.   Walking home one afternoon, Melissa stopped by a bank by the side of the road to pick some wild flowers. They were a wonderful selection of colours, bright yellow, dark purple, and pale cornflower blue. She wrapped them carefully in a scarf that she had with her, and took them home and arranged them in a vase. The smell of the flowers filled her living room. It was rich and intoxicating, with that edge of the night that comes from wild flowers. Even by the time she was getting ready to go to bed, she could still feel permeated through the house, the magic and feeling of dusk. As she slept, the land of dreams washed itself over the horizon of her consciousness. She saw herself dancing, dancing through fields of flowers, dancing with flowers, just dancing throughout the night. When she woke in the morning, it was not in the comfortable and familiar bed that she had gone to sleep in. Although the bed was still there, now it was twined with flowers. Every surface covered with creepers, with blooms, and even the very sheets had turned to patterned flowers. She lay in a bed entirely of flowers. As summer turned to autumn, the bloom of the flowers faded and the leaves of the creepers crinkled and shrivelled and prepared for the winter ahead. Now the house felt more cold than it had ever done. And she started to resist going to bed, staying up later and later, the bed feeling cold and unwelcoming when she slipped into it, finally. At last, on a chill October night, the first frost of the year came and carried her away. When they found her body cold, dark, and alone, creepers were still entwined with her limbs and a small wreath of still vibrant flowers sat upon her brow. The end.   Philip loved the colour purple, and everything that he owned, wherever possible, he would either buy in that colour or subsequently paint or dye to match his preference. He had purple socks, shoes, purple t-shirts and hats, purple house, a purple car, and a purple cat. He preferred purple food, although it wasn't always easy, but beetroots and certain types of broccoli for instance were among his favourites. He liked purple music, and that meant that he listened to a lot of Prince. And, at work sitting at his purple desk, wearing his purple suit, he picked up his purple phone and spoke to other people who did not appreciate purple to the same extent he did. Philip was a purple consultant. If the metaphor isn't clear to you at this point, then there's no hope for you in the modern world. The end.   The river flowed lazily between the sun-kissed fields. It had been a long summer, but Annabel was looking forward to the autumn. She had the kind of fair skin that burned easily, and much as she loved the bright summer days, she had found it taxing to constantly have to be lathering on factor 50, and finding a tree to be in the shade of, and covering up her arms. But now she could see that the harvest was coming in, and that meant that summer was at an end. Not only would she not have to worry about the sun for much longer, but she would soon see some of her friends again, returning from their summers. She walked along the bank of the river, enjoying the soft gurgling sound that it made as it flowed through the rushes and the low hanging bushes and overhanging trees on its banks. She wasn't really taking care of where she was going. She knew the landscape so well, she could find her way home from anywhere. But soon it was beginning to get dark, and then she realized she wasn't sure where she was. She looked up for a familiar marker for some sense of how far she had come, and whether it would make sense to continue or to turn back. There weren't any buildings that she could see nearby. Although the hills looked vaguely familiar in shape, but when she looked down to the river, it was much smaller than it should have been had she been anywhere near home. The light was fading, and the shadows were lengthening and thickening around her, and the now unfamiliar countryside was beginning to take on the sinister aspect of night. Desperately, she looked around, turning towards the setting sun to see if she could see any smoke rising from a settlement. But there was nothing, even the sounds of the motorway, which was less than 10 miles from her home, or of planes overhead, or of machines bringing in the harvest had dropped away. All she could hear was the burbling of the stream. And, as the sun went down, she heard the wolves crying. Ooh: the end.   Fly a kite in the wind. It'll be your freedom. Shopping with your mother leads to strife.   Jennifer pruned her rosebush. It was the first time in the year that she'd been able to get out into the garden, and she was relishing snipping off the bits that displeased her. This bush was her pride and joy, she had been tending it for many years, and it was hardy and produced fat flowers reliably every spring. As she pruned, she hummed to her herself, contentedly. She hummed a selection of popular classics, and she found that this not only soothed her but also seemed to please the rosebush in a way that she wasn't quite able to quantify. By the time her husband called her in for tea, she had pruned away all of the unwanted matter and left with a perfect rose bush fit for the growing season. She went into the house and closed the door behind her and looked out through the window as she sipped the delicious cup of tea that her husband had made for her. I think I'm in with a good chance at this year's show, she said to him. Out in the garden, the rose bush hummed softly to itself the overture from Cavalleria Rusticana. The end.   Dear Maggie, My breasts are not growing as fast as I'd like. What can I do? Yours, Apples   Dear Apples, Have you tried pumping your breasts using a bicycle pump? Alternatively, just get over it. Yours, Maggie   I'm James and I'm here with Andrew. These stories were recorded without advanced planning, and then lightly edited for the discerning listener. Join us next time for more Totally Made Up Tales.   Andrew: I mean there was a whole thing there... Cause there's a whole thing in medieval literature about, oh, her breasts were small and round like apples. They really loved, Medieval Britons really loved apple shaped – James: They really loved describing breasts, I think is what you're saying. I'm sure that there are many instances of, so: monk, this illustration you've done. Why exactly are you so keen on these breasts the size of apples? Do we have to see them? I mean, is it necessary to the story you're illustrating in any way? And also, what's this flying penis doing? Andrew: It's a useful sex aid for church-sanctioned marital intercourse. James: Surely in medieval church-sanctioned intercourse breasts are generally not for sex. I mean, I'm guessing a little, but I can't imagine that there was a Papal Encyclical going: it's okay to motorboat. Andrew: No, but the point is that as a visual cue... James: Breasts mean sex. Andrew: Yes, yes, yes. James: Yes I suppose so. Andrew: Hemispheres is like, oh, fleshy hemispheres. It's like, oh, razzle. That's just how we work. James: Certainly if you were a monk, and didn't see any women, I can imagine you're just going: oh, it's a pair of apples. Andrew: Oh, two eggs have aligned in a bowl. James: I'm just imagining a monk, a monk preparing dinner in the kitchen and he calls over his monk buddy, going, "Hey, look at that!" And he just looks at him... And it's just two eggs. It's like, "Yes, yes, yes Michael it's two eggs. What's your point?"

When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town; Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing; Lazily and incessantly floating down and down: Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing; Hiding difference, making unevenness even, Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing. All night it fell, and when full inches seven It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness, The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven; And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare: The eye marvelled—marvelled at the dazzling whiteness; The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air; No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling, And the busy morning cries came thin and spare. Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling, They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing; Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees; Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder, ‘O look at the trees!' they cried, ‘O look at the trees!' With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder, Following along the white deserted way, A country company long dispersed asunder: When now already the sun, in pale display Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day. For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow; And trains of sombre men, past tale of number, Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go: But even for them awhile no cares encumber Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken, The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken.

Soccer America columnist and Episode 49 guest Ian Plenderleith ("Rock 'n' Roll Soccer: The Short Life and Fast Times of the North American Soccer League") returns to the show for our initial hot take on the ill-fated "Super League" - a long-rumored, big-money elite European club tournament concept that is already being left for dead a mere two days after its official  launch on April 18th. Stealthily announced on the eve of a UEFA Executive Committee meeting set to revamp and expand an already-lucrative Champions League competition, the breakaway Super League aimed to expedite the process by way of a new 20-team circuit featuring 15 permanent "founding clubs" (supplemented by five annual qualifiers), each guaranteed bankable spots in each season's competition. Among the twelve announced at launch were some of the richest soccer clubs on the planet: La Liga's Atlético Madrid, Barcelona and Real Madrid; Serie A's Inter Milan, Juventus and A.C. Milan; and six from the English Premier League: Arsenal, Chelsea, Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United and Tottenham Hotspur.   The reaction from the world's soccer establishment was swift in its condemnation and ferocious in its hostility - with some of the hottest protestations coming from the very fans of the proposed league's charter members, already wary of foreign investment in their domestic leagues.   Plenderleith helps us understand how we got here, what happens in the immediate aftermath (especially to the "Treasonous Twelve") - and why the "Super League" will likely not be the last of efforts to squeeze more corporate riches from the peoples' "beautiful game."

This week I will read to you an original story by Sergei Prokofiev in English. Happy listening! Early one morning, Peter opened the gate and walked out into the big green meadow.On a branch of a big tree sat a little bird, Peter's friend. “All is quiet” chirped the bird happily.Just then a duck came waddling round. She was glad that Peter had not closed the gate and decided to take a nice swim in the deep pond in the meadow.Seeing the duck, the little bird flew down upon on the grass, settled next to her and shrugged his shoulders.“What kind of bird are you if you can't fly?” said he.To this the duck replied:“What kind of bird are you if you can't swim?” and dived into the pond.They argued and argued, the duck swimming in the pond and the little bird hopping along the shore.Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention. He noticed a cat crawling through the grass.The cat thought; “That little bird is busy arguing, I'll just grab him.Stealthily, the cat crept towards him on her velvet paws.“Look out!” shouted Peter and the bird immediately flew up into the tree, while the duck quacked angrily at the cat, from the middle of the pond.The cat walked around the tree and thought :”Is it worth climbing up so high? By the time I get there the bird will have flown away.”Just then grandfather came out. He was upset because Peter had gone in the meadow.“It's a dangerous place. If a wolf should come out of the forest, then what would you do?”But Peter paid no attention to his grandfather's words. Boys like him are not afraid of wolves.But grandfather took Peter by the hand, led him home and locked the gate.No sooner had Peter gone, than a big grey wolf came out of the forest.In a twinkling the cat climbed up the tree. The duck quacked, and in her excitement jumped out of the pond. But no matter how hard the duck tried to run, she couldn't escape the wolf.He was getting nearer, nearer, catching up with her. Then he got her, and with one gulp, swallowed her.And now, this is how things stood: the cat was sitting on one branch, the bird on another . . . not too close to the cat.And the wolf walked around and around the tree, looking at them with greedy eyes. In the meantime, Peter, without the slightest fear, stood behind the closed gate watching all that was going on.He ran home, got a strong rope, and climbed up the high stone wall.One of the branches of the tree, around which the wolf was walking, stretched out over the wall.Grabbing hold of the branch, Peter lightly climbed over on to the tree.Peter said to the bird: “Fly down and circle over the wolf's head. Only take care that he doesn't catch you.”The bird almost touched the wolf's head with his wings while the wolf snapped angrily at him, from this side and that. How the bird worried the wolf!How he wanted to catch him!But the bird was clever, and the wolf simply couldn't do anything about it. Meanwhile, Peter made a lasso and carefully letting it down, caught the wolf by the tail and pulled with all his might. Feeling himself caught, the wolf began to jump wildly trying to get loose.But Peter tied the other end of rope to the tree, and the wolf's jumping only made the rope around his tail tighter.Just then, the hunters came out of the woods, following the wolf's trail and shooting as they went.But Peter, sitting in the tree, said: “Don't shoot! Birdie and I have already caught the wolf. Now help us take him to the zoo.”And now, imagine the triumphant procession: Peter at the head; after him the hunters leading the wolf; and winding up the procession, grandfather and the cat. Grandfather shook his head discontentedly: “Well, and if Peter hadn't caught the wolf? What then?”Above them flew Birdie chirping merrily. “My, what brave fellows we are, Peter and I! Look what we have caught!” And if one would listen very carefully, he could hear the duck quacking inside the wolf; because the wolf in his hurry, had swallowed her alive. Un bel mattino Pierino aprì la porta del giardino e uscì s...

Nonprofits and advocacy groups signed on to an organization called Communities Against Rider Surveillance—without knowing that the ride-hail giant was involved.

Stealthily Loses The Race ... Your fave Aunties Sade, Farrah, Nana and Akua discuss if Beyonce's Black is King album is appropriation or celebration. Whether we should celebrate our children for trying or put a time limit on their attempts and inspired by I May Destroy You they ask why stealthing is a still a thing ... Follow the Aunties on Instagram & Facebook: @yourauntiescouldnever Aunty AK - @thebritishblacklist Aunty Farrah - @FarrOutProductions77 Aunty Nana - @LoveYaaYaa Aunty Sade - @SadeSalami / @EverydayFroDay The Aunties want to hear from you! If you have a dilemma DM us via Instagram or Email: dilemmas.yourauntiescouldnever@gmail.com DM The Aunties your unpopular opinions and they'll read them out during the show! And share with them what's made you Sad, Mad and Glad this week ... Your Aunties Could Never goes live via Facebook on Tuesdays 4pm

This week, Jeff and Rebecca talk about the NBCC imploding, campaigns to buy books by Black authors, Marley Dias continuing awesomeness, and much more. This episode is sponsored by: Hey YA TBR The Secret Women from Amistad Books Neon, presenting Shirley starring Elisabeth Moss. Discussed in this episode: Book Riot’s Reader Survey NBCC board in shambles because racism #BlackoutBestsellerList Jefferson Davis home to lose Literary Landmark designation Marley Dias continues to be a hero Deacon King Kong by James McBride The Deficit Myth by Stephanie Kelton

As the party engages in a late-night dungeon delve, they regret not taking unique language advancements. While looking for a way across the Turschwelle River, Baer and Hubert have a nightmare hitchhiker scenario. Find us online at thelollygaggers.com.

The past several episodes have been focussed on two things. First, you and I are here on earth so that we can be the best version of ourselves in terms of our productivity. Second, that our greatest enemy is the person that will do everything possible so that we are not productive. This enemy would use secretive weapons to take you out. This is a catalogue of all the stealth weapons that are crafted against a visionary. Listen in.

Having dazzled Phoenix Academy's drama department, our heroines get serious about the curse haunting them. But what awaits them in Porcelain's palatial manor, home of the Effigy dynasty? Chapters: 00:20: Post-audition celebrations. 07:40: Eavesdropping on a sinister conversation. 12:12: Stealthily tailing Porcelain. 18:22: Getting into the manor. 24:42: What would Hellbinder think?! 35:37: Hacking their security. 38:48: Who is Mandrake? Cast: Danni, our MC (@battidanni) Alice Kyra, playing Saoirse Olivera/Crash Override/CRASH OVERDRIVE (@magicalgirlkyra) bea mcjanda, playing Cynthia Krull/Jupiter Rising/SATURN ASCENDANT (@spacedoobie) Jay Iles, playing Becky Lancaster/The Green Knight/WEEDKILL (@jayciles) NPC roster: Abby Juration (she/her) - A gothic lolita spell-weaver from a storied family of mages. Crash's rival for Class President. Porcelain (he/him) - A smooth and arrogant heir to the Effigy dynasty, with literally chiselled features and marble skin. Crash and Abby's other rival for Class President. Princess Arizella (she/her) - A privateer princess who abdicated her title to her undersea kingdom to fight villains as the swashbuckling hero Cutlass - and act as Phoenix Academy's teacher of English and Drama. Mandrake (she/her) - a time-travelling antihero who then reformed, saved the city, and sacrificed herself in the process. Saoirse's aunt (or at least, that's the simplest way of explaining it). Links: This podcast uses Masks: A New Generation by Magpie Games. This work uses material from the Phoenix Academy playset published by Magpie Games in Masks: Unbound and written by Rob Wieland which is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/deed.en_US).

The need for quiet at times. Comments? Send them to me at info@kennethwajdaphotographer.com and find me on the web at KennethWajdaPhotographer.com, on IG at www.instagram.com/kennethwajda/ and on YouTube at HeresToGoodLight.com - We can post our photo assignment photos and connect on the Daily Photography Blog FB Group at www.facebook.com/groups/2151928021601330/ --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/kenneth-wajda/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/kenneth-wajda/support

Dunkin’ announced earnings, but we’re focused on the subtle hints that it’s transforming into a fancy coffee chain. World Wrestling Entertainment stock dropped 9% and we’re blaming the XFL situation. Twitter shares surges as the social network tries to convince you it’s in the most healthy shape of its life.

Confidence builds in the party as they work to clear the troglodyte menace from Brinewall.  Stealthily, they begin their approach into the heart of the Castle Visit us at: https://www.strangegodspodcast.com Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/GodsStrange Email: strangegodspodcast@gmail.com To support this podcast and hear bonus content, please visit: https://www.patreon.com/strangegods

To celebrate International Women's Day, your male co-hosts Dave (@shallow_state) and Will (@WillAndras) go halfsies on the major issues of the week, including: John Hickenlooper (D-CO) enters the field, necessitating a Power Rankings Update.(1:00) Foreign influence over Trump and other Republicans via a massage parlor owned by registered lobbyists for the People's Republic of China (16:00)  Stealth drones from Syria: The Trump Admin ends reporting of civilian casualties of the CIA's drone program and the rumored un-retirement of the F-117A sheds light on the latest in targeted assassination policy and technology. (25:00) Music and Nonsense: (49:00) feat. The Distillers ("Seneca Falls" and "City of Angels" and Leikeli47 ("Miss Me" and "Girl Blunt"). 

Cloud services host vast quantities of valuable information, making them perpetually attractive targets for hackers. Attackers regularly develop new and clever ways to access cloud accounts—or find ones that have been left exposed—and exfiltrate data. Those in charge of protecting cloud accounts have their own methods of shoring up defenses and securing account perimeters.

Along with their new winged friend, the group attempts to make their way into the temple. Our cast includes: TheGmTim – Dungeon Master and Creator of the campaign Josiah – […]

Join us this week as we try a martial arts beatdown against corporations and cancer. There are a number of intense experiences to talk about on episode 204 of the Apple’N’Apps and AppAddict Weekly Podcast. This week, we discuss a stealth turn based strategy game, kids video app, beat ’em up platformer, martial arts adventure,... Read More »

Ryan and Matt "0Pants" Amberg think it's time we talked about Road Hard and The Fast and the Furious (which is possibly the first one!) before moving on to a touch more Batman Arkham Knight (bonus DLC ramblings!), a dash of Fallout Shelter, an hour's worth of Watch Dogs Bad Blood DLC, and a ton O' Titanfall. Then maybe you heard about The Witcher 3's disappointing Modkit, Splatoon's new content, the choose your own Madventure trailer, Star Wars Battlefront's game modes, Rock Band 4's console exclusive tracks, LEGO Dimensions' horrible Scooby Doo trailer, stealthy dog kills in Metal Gear Solid V, Crackdown 3's non-moving orbs, Mass Effect Andromeda's new characters and game engine, Uncharted: The Nathan Drake Collection for PS4, remaking Resident Evil 2, Phantasy Star Online 2 for PS4, the Playstation Experience 2015, Rainbow Six: Siege delayed, and Guillermo del Toro's bird-like status.

R Bridges read by Classic Poetry Aloud: Giving voice to the poetry of the past. www.classicpoetryaloud.com -------------------------------------------- London Snow by Robert Bridges (1844 – 1930) When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town; Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing; Lazily and incessantly floating down and down: Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing; Hiding difference, making unevenness even, Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing. All night it fell, and when full inches seven It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness, The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven; And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare: The eye marvelled - marvelled at the dazzling whiteness; The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air; No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling, And the busy morning cries came thin and spare. Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling, They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing; Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees; Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!' 'O look at the trees!' they cried, 'O look at the trees!' With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder, Following along the white deserted way, A country company long dispersed asunder: When now already the sun, in pale display Standing by Paul's high dome, spread forth below His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day. For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow; And trains of sombre men, past tale of number, Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go: But even for them awhile no cares encumber Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken, The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber At the sight of the beauty that greets them, for the charm they have broken. First aired: 30 December 2007 For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

E Thomas read by Classic Poetry Aloud: http://www.classicpoetryaloud.com/ Giving voice to the poetry of the past. Out in the Dark by Edward Thomas (1878 – 1917) Out in the dark over the snow The fallow fawns invisible go With the fallow doe ; And the winds blow Fast as the stars are slow. Stealthily the dark haunts round And, when the lamp goes, without sound At a swifter bound Than the swiftest hound, Arrives, and all else is drowned ; And star and I and wind and deer, Are in the dark together, - near, Yet far, - and fear Drums on my ear In that sage company drear. How weak and little is the light, All the universe of sight, Love and delight, Before the might, If you love it not, of night. First aired: 28 December 2007 For hundreds more poetry readings, visit the Classic Poetry Aloud index. Reading © Classic Poetry Aloud 2008

It can happen in the blink of an eye, and always when you least expect it. Stealthily, the predator moves in on their target and closes in for the kill. Before you know it, the bitch has slowly moved all her things into your house, she's wearing your clothes and buying you gifts on YOUR credit card...and you never saw it coming. It's the drive-by move-in.