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sparkypantaloons · 7 months

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Metronomics

Sometimes it's too much, Gotham. Too much putting his body on the line for a city that can't and won't change.

Bruce imagines what his life could have been, what his children's lives could have been, if things had been different.

Sometimes it's too much. Gotham. Too polluted, too populated, to poor...

Morally poor, he should say. The money's never been more than a means to an end for Bruce and he's never cared who has or hasn't got it. Even if he knows that's evidence enough of how out of touch he really is. To not be, and never have been, the levels of desperate so many of his fellow Gothamites have. Are. But he can't change that now. Not after a lifetime of more money than he could ever hope to spend (and God knows he's tried).

And it's not that he thinks poverty equals moral corruptness. Of course not. But God, if it doesn't cause a rot that's hard to escape. An agony deep in the bones, like an atomic bomb. Almost a century since, but still poisoning the ground and the air and the lives where it fell.

It's too much, sometimes. Gotham. Decades of putting his body, his heart, mind on the line for a city that doesn't change and can't change and... Won't.

Part of his Brucie-rich-boy-bit has always been a pretend man of the people. 'Billionaire spotted on Chicago's L-train', a picture of him in $5,000 jeans, throwing a peace sign on the platform at Quincy. 'Bruce Wayne joins the commute on Bangkok's BTS Skytrain' sunburned and sweaty and grinning like a moron. Public transport is easy when you don't need it. The delays, the overcrowding, the cost. All part of the big adventure when you're rich and famous.

He's deliberate in his appearances. Shows up too big to be allowed and always lost. Asking fellow travellers for directions and breaking every unspoken, local rule. Stopping at the bottom of escalators and standing on the right and never having his ticket ready at the barriers... but he's deliberate in his anonymity too.

He's ridden the New York subway and Shanghai's metro and Vienna's U-bahn more times than he can count. Undercover, trailing marks and tailing suspects, slipping past local police and resident gangsters alike. Just another nameless face in the crowd.

But then there's the times he's just there as himself. Times he rides the lines as Bruce. Not the billionaire, not the Bat. Just Bruce. Grey Ghost fan, hates mushrooms, loves dinosaurs. Father, friend, son. Just another traveller amidst the millions. Nobody wanting anything from him, nobody talking to him, nobody even noticing him. It's freedom unlike any he's ever known.

It makes him wonder what his life might have been. If he hadn't been born in the South Wing's master bedroom of Wayne Manor. What his children's lives might have been, if their father had just been a man, and not this man.

Dick for sure, Olympic medallist. There's no doubt. Even without the money and the training and the classes, his boy was destined for greatness. Gold medals and podiums and adoration. Coaching and teaching and leading. And, Bruce fancies, probably the ESPN correspondent for major competitions. Team USA coach. International Olympic Committee. Whatever Dick wanted; in any life there's nothing he couldn't do.

Cass, Bruce likes to think, would have been an architect. If she'd ever been afforded a normal life, ever been given the tender love and care she so deserved as a child. She reads people with ease, drilled into her as it was by Cain; a skill as crucial as its learning was cruel. But given a normal life? Architecture, Bruce is sure. The way she navigates space, the way she uses it and understands it. What better way to make a life than creating in the space she so fully inhabits? Designing structures that change the way people live, challenge how they think. She'd have been glorious.

Tim, on the other hand... Tim. If Bruce thinks about him too long the guilt starts to set in. His brilliant boy, just next door; alone for so long. Bruce was intimately familiar with the experience, though at least he'd had Alfred when he'd been young. If only he'd just paid more attention, he could have— anyway. In another time, one where Bruce rides the subway and to work and Tim doesn't spend the first decade of his life by himself, surely he'd be some fintech billionaire wizz kid by now. He'd have created a Facebook or eBay or Venmo. But better. Kinder. Richer probably than Bruce, now. And he'd still ride the metro next to his old man.

Damian, Bruce's youngest, sweetest boy. Who knows what Damian could have been, in a life where Bruce and Talia kissed each other goodbye every morning and sweet dreams each night. He's a gentle soul, really, fierce as he is. Shows it in his affection for animals. Gives them the tenderness he never had as a child. Who knows what he could have been in a life filled with light instead of shadow. Warmth and love instead of the League's relentless dark. A scientist maybe, or an astronaut. A teacher, a vet, a nurse. Whatever he wanted. A gardener, a piano tuner, a cab driver. Happy, whatever it was. And safe in the knowledge he was loved.

And then... and then, Jason. Bruce thinks of his second son the most, as he rides the rails. Takes the Bakerloo south from Marylebone and the Tanamachi west to Hirano. What Jason could have been, if things had been different. It doesn't seem fair to dwell on it. To imagine the darling, sweet boy who had been Robin as anything but. To disrespect the incredible fucking gift he's already been given of a second chance, by imagining it as any different. So instead he thinks that Jason would still be Robin. Still Red Hood. Still saving people, still putting himself on the line to make the world better. Even if Bruce didn't love the way he did it, he still loved Jason. Gods did he love him. It's too much, sometimes.

Gotham. Sometimes she's too much. But most of the time, most of the time she was everything. His home, his children's home.

To see the sun rise from the east corner of the clocktower with Cass and swing between the crumbling art deco blocks of Coventry, Dick by his side. Racing down her labyrinth of alleyways and side streets with Tim and even negotiating her sewers with Damian. And Jason. Just seeing Jason's face, scowling at him though it usually is, as he waits outside the Collins Street station for Bruce to arrive.

"Your late." He grunts, as Bruce climbs the steps of the subway. He looks at his watch irritably. "If we miss brunch, you're paying."

"Of course," Bruce says, a warm hand on Jason's shoulder as they begin to walk. "Anything for you, chum."

She's too much, sometimes. Gotham. But most of the time? She's exactly where he wants to be

#bruce wayne #batman #gotham #batman fic #batfic #spbfic #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #damian wayne #tim drake #wayne manor

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blingblong55 · 1 year

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Vienna- 141

Based on a request.

Angst, death of a character, (spoiler it's you, lol), suicide, MDNI, GN!Reader

-Vienna (original story ending)

~Alternative ending~

Slow down you crazy child You're so ambitious for a juvenile But then if you're so smart tell me Why are you still so afraid?

Things to a turn for the worse. Your own mind messing with you. And you finally did it. Like any coward, you killed yourself. It was fast and sudden. But soon you had met your Vienna.

It was a rookie that found you. Lying on the floor with the gun in your hand. They called Price. He naturally thought it was a prank from Soap. So he stayed in his office, until his men were on the other side of the door, except Gaz. "Sir, they...they really did it" Ghost spoke up. Some regret and shame on his voice.

Turns out, you didn't have any family but them. That's why you showed them all of your unconditional love.

Without anyone else but Gaz and the rookie knowing, you were rushed to Med-Bay. Turns out you had missed the fatal shot to the head and shot yourself in the neck. You weren't dead, not for many more years to come, but the way you were laid on the floor made it seem like you were. For hours Price paced in the hallway, waiting for any news on you. Meanwhile, for the first time since you arrived on base, Soap and Gaz visited your room, and cleaned up the blood. Ghost made sure to pick up clothes for you, it was weird, to have him beg hell and heaven for you. For all that's worth, you were his little sibling, he just never told you or anyone because he hated to show so much care and affection.

It's stupid. He is crying behind the base, holding onto a stupid silly bracelet you gave him. He made it look like he had thrown it away when you first gave it to him but no, he held onto it, was the only thing that made him think he was needed around.

Soap and Gaz sat on the floor of your room. Both were silent and filled with guilt, knowing that they had probably been the reason to tip you over the edge. Why did they have to be this way with you? All you wanted to be was their friend and family. What were you without them? Because they know of all the little things you did for them.

Slow down you crazy child Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two (oooh) When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

"What is that?" Gaz pointed towards a notebook under your bed.

Once opened the men found recipes of food they liked, the same one they would find in the fridge after tough missions. You were the reason they didn't feel like killers on base, it was you the one who made them feel like they were still themselves away from all the gunpowder, bombs, wars and death. You had little notes made in the notebook.

~Gaz, can't live without his morning show. ~Price hates the smell of his hat today, I must wash it every other day now. ~Soap will be upset but I have to sneak into his room and get his mum's number to get the recipe for his favourite meal. ~ I will make sure Ghost knows I'll spend Christmas at base too, so he doesn't feel lonely. :)

There was so much more they found in that notebook, the story behind the silly song you liked, the one they made fun of you for. The reason why Vienna has become such an important place for you. And now their goal was to take you there, to make a better memory after you recover, who knows, maybe you can all be a family. A twisted, funny and tough family.

Once the four men were in the hallway of the Med-Bay, they got the news they so desperately needed.

"R/N, will be fine. It will take a while for them to properly talk again. So, I advise rest for three weeks and don't make them talk for at least a month." The doctor said and nodded once as he left, Price had many questions but the doctor had plenty more patients and families to see. Was it a cruel plan to bring all of them to care for you this way? Yes, but it was never your intention to do so, you really just wanted to end such pain and horrible thoughts.

It took months to finally get you back to yourself, Gaz no longer let you eat alone and Soap listened to all the silly questions you had for him and to be honest he enjoyed answering them all. Ghost was always talking, day and night. His stories were something that you always loved, he was the one who kept you entertained as you recovered. Price started to call you kiddo or when someone laughed about the scar on your neck, he'd say: "Do not mess with my kid, soldier." Slowly, it was the family you longed for. A family, a twisted family.

When will you realize, Vienna waits for you?

@liyanahelena @justmare @ethereal-night-fairy

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acontrariis · 1 month

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chapter 3. the dragonpit.

pairing. Aemond Targaryen x OC word count. 3.1k warnings. some harsh language, killing threats. violence, a broken arm or two.

⋆ prev. chapter

Grief brings out the worst in people, the fissures in an already fragile foundation grow with each cry.

Castle Driftmark had turned into a silent residence, the chipped away pieces from the now lost children left an emptiness in Rhaenys she feared would never recover. Pain and loss was not something unknown to her, in all her years they just made her stronger, a thicker skin born from the scars of her past. An armor and sometimes a curse that kept her going, after all this time.

As a thin veil fell on the residents, a fake calm reigned in their lives. The unforgiving time continued as it had before, the seasons changed again and again.

Some grew old, and some just grew.

Impatient, tired.

One could wonder how such a young soul felt so exhausted.

Through the years, Vienna went from an inconvenient eyesore, to the reminder of the lives that were lost.

A portrait of what could’ve been.

For her, the disdain from the people that called themselves her family had left a scar at a very young age that was too late to try and heal now. It would be a lie to say she stopped caring, but as the pain numbed, so did her anger.

So she grew, and she learned.

She worked hard, after all, learning everything you can about your adversary was 80% of the fight, and she planned on taking back what was hers.

Her trained memory helped when it came time to memorize. An old language only few spoke, the rules and traditions, the secrets, the scripts and maps.

The secret passageways called for her like a siren song leading to a new world. A world where she could dance under the moonlight, the sand sipping through her toes as she became someone else, someone closer to her true self.

The escapades had made her more adventurous, fearless in her search for a rebellious phase she was never allowed to have.

Even the most resilient oak will give after years to the relentless drop. A crack can break the strongest foundations, with the right push, that is.

A warm summer night would be the first witness of the young dragon’s cry.

Let's set the scene.

A young woman sneaks back into the old fortress she resides in. The tall walls carry a marvelous echo that was, no doubt, taken into account by the original artisans behind their creation. The woman in question was a gifted soul that could hear the voices of the dead. Something that haunted and, on occasions, saved her. This night in particular, they seemed quieter than usual. Whispers could barely be heard over the sound of her heels hitting the ground.

Experience had taught her to differentiate between the voices and others. That’s why her steps halted when hearing the murmurs echoing through the passage.

- “... It’s a waste, that’s what it is.”

The response was too low to be heard, and as the curious ( a bit noisy ) soul she was, she made her way towards the sound to get a better hear of the conversation.

- “Can they even afford to get rid of the dragon? The division among the main family is no secret, can they spear one dragon?”

Corlys.

- “It’s not as if they can use it. She won’t let any rider get close. They’ve lost count of how many men have died trying to tame it…”

Vienna’s heart stopped, a ringing in her ears covered the muffled voices as a heavy sat on top of her stomach. They couldn’t possibly be talking about her . After all this time, everything they’ve been through, they couldn’t kill her before she had a chance to get her back. She had to save her, she had to do something.

Her mind started going a million miles per second, she knew there was no time to panic, if news had already reached Driftmark, there would be no time left until it was too late. Still, her heart ached and fear closed her throat as her eyes filled with tears.

Think!

Do something!

Vienna, breathe!

A long inhale filled her lungs, as she found herself on her hands and knees.

That’s it.

⸺

Sneaking out of a castle without being seen is an easy feat when people prefer not to see you. The right outfit and enough coins will take you anywhere you need. That’s how the rogue Princess made her way into the heart of Westeros that early morning.

A fateful encounter brewing under the first rays of light.

That day had started like any other for the young Princes. In the reversed roles they grew into, the Youngest had early mornings of training and studying: the Eldest had late nights filled with debauchery and even later afternoons in between. Unless specifically called, their routines stayed the same.

This day, Aegon felt particularly tired of his set routine. He’d grown used to the excesses and now found them quite mild. He knew someone, however, that was not used to it. And what a great pleasure he would find in annoying his little brother.

Flea Bottom , he thought, would be the perfect place for him to drag the stoic young man. Not quite an easy feat, but one he was proud of pulling off.

A few hours had passed since Vienna’s arrival. Her mind colder as the rocking of the boat calmed the storm in her head. She knew this was truly it. Stealing a dragon, even if originally hers, would not be seen as a cute little prank.

This was treason.

There were people in the Capital who already wanted her head on a spike, and this would give them the perfect excuse. The Velaryons wouldn’t stand for her, if anything, they would probably be the first to throw her to the wolves.

She knew all of this, she pondered over every option and possibility and yet she had come to the same conclusion. It still made no sense for them to want to kill Zyros now, but that was a chance she couldn’t afford to take. She much preferred to put on a fight than let her dragon die alone.

Sneaking through the city was an easy feat, although a bit overwhelming, but she found no one truly paid her much mind.

She had been outside of the Dragonpit for a few hours now. Two men guarded the main entrance. The security was less than impressive, but then again, only an idiot would try to steal a dragon. Blending in with the crowd was her way of staying hidden until night time.

A bony hand squeezing her shoulder proved to be an obstacle to that intention.

Aegon was doing everything to stop Aemond from going back to the castle, it was proving impossible to drag him to a whore house, so he was desperately looking for something right there on the street to catch his attention. That’s when he saw her. Her face and body were covered, disguising what he was certain were womanly curves. The dark tones of her robes almost made her mix with the crowd, but the tension of her posture and the delicate hands showed she was not familiar with that establishment.

This should be fun.

As Aemond’s protests faded in the background, Aegon approached the sitting figure, whistling under his breath. A sardonic smile and a cheesy line, “What do we have here?” were met with a pair of bright purple orbs.

To say he was taken aback was an understatement. He hated history lessons, but even he knew those eyes were unusual. As quick as he saw them, the glow had disappeared, a pair of black hollows taking their place.

Vienna looked at the hand on his shoulder and back to the man attached to it. She knew who he was. Although dirty and oily, the characteristic white hair gave away his identity.

The look of disgust was something she could probably be able to hide better under other circumstances, but today was not one of those days. She looked truly royal, her back straight and the despective look she was giving him, as if he was a mere bug on the ground.

This brief interaction was not missed by Aemond, who stood a few steps away from his brother. This didn’t look like his usual encounters, and even he could tell that the woman was not a prostitute. Not that it mattered much. A tired sigh left him as he urged Aegon to hurry along, people were beginning to stare and he did not wish for a scandal to get back to the castle.

Nevertheless, the eldest Prince was stubborn. He was used to the looks of disgust, his family had never been one to hide their judging looks, but from a mere peasant? That was more than his pride could take.

Aegon threw 2 coins at her, intentionally hitting the side of her face.

- “I think that should cover your services. Hurry along now.”

Vienna could feel her blood boiling. She looked up at the heavens for some wisdom, someone to tell her not to do the stupid thing she really wanted to do.

Kill him. Breathe. Slash his throat. Calm down.

Without uttering a word, she stood from her seat.

Just walk past him, keep walking, ignore him.

Everything happened in a matter of seconds. As Aegon reached for her arm once again, she caught his hand and twisted it until the bones cracked…

… and then hell broke loose.

Run.

There were no guards around, all previously instructed by Aegon to “not ruin the mood”, but the shriek of pain was so loud, Aemond was sure it had reached the throne room.

Next thing he knew, his brother was on the floor, cradling his arm against his chest as the cause of his pain ran away.

⸺

Hours later, Aemond still had yet to return to the Red Keep. Aegon had left long ago, gone somewhere to tend to his broken hand… and ego. Going back would mean to explain his absence, and he was still looking for the perpetrator that attacked his defenseless brother.

Pfft, right.

He tried to find her, he truly did. He couldn’t stand his brother, but even if he most definitely deserved it, that was still his family. He had a duty and image he couldn’t afford to have questioned. Even if he had to swallow the laugh fighting to come out.

So he ran after her, and he searched every crook and cranny he could think of. Not only did no one know who she was, he didn’t think they would actually tell him even if they did. His brother’s reputation was notorious and to say he was not a lovable royal, would be an understatement.

Still, he did his best. Although an uneasy feeling sat in his chest.

The night air crackled with electricity as Venus cradled the moon lighting his path.

Vienna was on edge, not only was she almost discovered, she also went and caused a scene in the middle of the most crowded street in King’s Landing. The beating of her heart ticked as a clock reminding her time was of the essence. Then finally, during a shift change, with only the moon as her witness, she sneaked inside the Dragonpit.

… Or so she thought.

It was a mere coincidence, he was stalling and felt the most at ease close to the creatures. So he stayed around and that’s when he finally saw her. If she was not a prostitute, then was she an informant? A thief would not enter that place knowing they would most likely not come out. Mainly out of curiosity, he followed the dark figure inside. Her robes flowing in the air as a familiar scent stopped him in his tracks.

He couldn’t place it, but as his mind fogged with the memories, the uneasiness in his chest grew.

Vienna would beat herself later for her slip, she credited it to the lack of sleep and the stress, but as she continued following the cries of her dragon, she couldn’t see or hear anything else. The closer she got, the louder they became and she was entranced, walking down the familiar, and yet unknown, path.

As they dove deeper into the caved structure, Aemond hesitated for a second. He knew what was back there, and not even him, who tried long before to get a dragon by many means, dared to go. After almost being burnt to death, and seeing many more be eaten alive, he decided to stay as far away as possible from the untamed beast.

He almost stopped her, he could interrogate her and get the information he needed, but something stopped him. Maybe it was his own curiosity, maybe the fact she seemed to be enchanted, not even flinching at the growls from the dragons she passed on her way down.

Aemond tensed up as they reached the cage, ready to pull her back at any moment. The drops of sweat fell down his forehead to meet the dryness of his lips.

The large beast resided in the farthest cage in the pit. The tall iron gates guarded the dragon, its amethyst scales shining under the soft candlelight. It felt their presence, and it was not happy, as usual. The chilling growl reverberated through their bodies. Aemond held his breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible as to not further upset it. Just as he was about to pull her back and ask her what she meant to do, the woman pulled off the robes covering her face and carefully raised her hand to the dragon.

- “Shh, lykirī, Zyros.” Calm.

He couldn’t believe it, it took him an entire minute to remove the dumbfounded expression from his face. She was actually talking to the dragon, and the once murderous beast, now calmly approached her: its snout touching the extended hand.

Zyros’ hot breath was the remnant of her initial threat. A few tears left Vienna and as the dragon growled under her breath, she giggled with happiness. She drew her face close to Zyros, barely holding her snout as they touched.

- “It’s me. I got you. Now let’s try to not get killed getting out of here.”

How hard could it be? She had seen it a million times. She memorized every step to appeasing the dragon, securing the seat, setting the ladder, one foot in front of the other, over and sitting.

Breathe .

It was fine, she could do it, she had done it in her mind many times before.

She…

She was fucked.

Completely and utterly fucked.

She was not one for spiraling, especially not when she was in a foreign place and the escape route was exactly the same one as the entrance. But, as mentioned before, this was new. Her young mind and vivid imagination couldn’t have prepared her for what actually goes into it. This was work done by multiple people at once, multiple very experienced people.

Vienna could feel her breathing getting louder as a heavyweight sat on her ribs. She couldn’t panic. If she panicked, Zyros would panic, and if Zyros panicked, chaos would ensue.

There’s no time.

- “Would you like a hand?”

The question came out before he could stop himself. What on earth was he doing? He couldn’t help her, she was a thief, he couldn’t let her just walk out of here with a dragon … He knew all of that, and yet, it felt right .

The bond between a dragon and its rider is a complicated science no one has completely deciphered. Some think their souls had been bound by blood magic since the moment of their birth. He, particularly, didn’t believe in that, as he grew up without a dragon most of his life. The one certain thing, in this case at least, was that whoever this girl was, she was connected to this dragon, Zyros , and that was something he couldn’t bring himself to ignore.

Vienna’s breath stopped. This couldn’t be happening. She made sure she was alone. Closing her eyes, she slowly turned around before opening them. Behind her, Zyros growled slowly a warning, her head still bowed and closed to Vienna. And for a minute there, time stopped as the lovers lost in each other's eyes.

The spell had long been broken, so now Aemond could fully see the purple orbs that adorned her face and brought back foggy memories of a forgotten past.

Vienna took a second to take him in. He had grown, the sharp features of his face long left behind the little kid hiding from his family. His tall figure towered over her, and he raised his hands in peaceful surrender.

Carefully, without making a sound, Aemond gathered the things necessary. Zyros had never had a rider, so a saddle was never given to her.

- “May I?”

A slow nod was the only response he got, the woman too shocked to even speak out loud. Making sure Zyros wouldn’t attack him, he began prepping her. They worked as a pair, Vienna was familiar with the process, so assisting Aemond wasn’t hard. Although she appreciated the help, she struggled with simply accepting it. He had no reason for helping her.

You had no reason when you helped him.

True, then again…

- “Why are you helping me?”

He shrugged his shoulders before making sure the locks were properly set, and turning to look at her, hoping she could see his sincerity.

- “She’s yours, isn’t she? That’s good enough for me, and no one will miss her here.”

- “Even still, I’m pretty sure people will notice a flying dragon in the middle of the night. It will be a miracle if they don’t send someone to shoot me down.”

- “Let me worry about that. Okay, all done. Ready?”

Vienna nodded in response. A part of her was terrified, and she would be an idiot if she denied it. Mounting the dragon was a work in itself, as Zyros was by no means small and Vienna wasn’t exactly very tall. Not only was this the first time she would ride a dragon, the one she would ride was none other than one that has never been ridden before. If the guards didn’t kill her, the ride might.

- “ Dohaerās, Zyros.” Obey.

It took some effort, but once she was finally seated, Vienna let out the breath she had been holding. Her heart felt like it was about to burst, it was a euphoric feeling. Her joyful laugh echoed through the walls as she held onto the reins.

Her happiness was contagious and Aemond couldn’t help the smile creeping on his face.

- “Now, wait for the signal and then come out. Okay?”

She paused for a minute, their eyes meeting. She had no reason to trust him, and he had no reason to help her, and yet that wouldn’t stop either of them from doing exactly that.

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x original character #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #prince aemond

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maaarine · 6 months

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Invisible Women: Exposing Data Bias in a World Designed for Men (Caroline Criado-Perez, 2019)

"The good news is that this kind of male bias can be designed out and some of the data collection has already been done.

In the mid-1990s, research by local officials in Vienna found that from the age of ten, girls’ presence in parks and public playgrounds ‘decreases significantly’.

But rather than simply shrugging their shoulders and deciding that the girls just needed to toughen up, city officials wondered if there was something wrong with the design of parks.

And so they planned some pilot projects, and they started to collect data. What they found was revealing.

It turned out that single large open spaces were the problem, because these forced girls to compete with the boys for space.

And girls didn’t have the confidence to compete with the boys (that’s social conditioning for you) so they tended to just let the boys have the space.

But when they subdivided the parks into smaller areas, the female drop-off was reversed.

They also addressed the parks’ sports facilities.

Originally these spaces were encased by wire fencing on all sides, with only a single entrance area – around which groups of boys would congregate. And the girls, unwilling to run the gauntlet, simply weren’t going in.

Enter, stage right, Vienna’s very own Leslie Knope, Claudia Prinz- Brandenburg, with a simple proposal: more and wider entrances.

And like the grassy spaces, they also subdivided the sports courts. Formal sports like basketball were still provided for, but there was also now space for more informal activities – which girls are more likely to engage in.

These were all subtle changes – but they worked. A year later, not only were there more girls in the park, the number of ‘informal activities’ had increased.

And now all new parks in Vienna are designed along the same lines.

The city of Malmö, Sweden, discovered a similar male bias in the way they’d traditionally been planning ‘youth’ urban regeneration.

The usual procedure was to create spaces for skating, climbing and painting grafitti.

The trouble was, it wasn’t the ‘youth’ as a whole who were participating in these activities.

It was almost exclusively the boys, with girls making up only 10-20% of those who used the city’s youth-directed leisure spaces and facilities. (…)

In the city of Gothenburg in Sweden, around 80 million kronor is distributed every year to sports clubs and associations.

Of course, the funding is meant to benefit everyone equally. But when city officials examined the data, they found that it wasn’t.

The majority of funding was going to organised sports – which are dominated by boys. Grants benefited boys over girls for thirty-six out of forty-four sports.

In total, Gothenburg was spending 15 million kronor more on boys’ than girls’ sports.

This didn’t just mean that girls’ sports were less well funded – sometimes they weren’t provided for at all, meaning girls had to pay to do them privately.

Or, if they couldn’t afford to pay, girls didn’t do sports at all."

#invisible women #caroline criado perez #book #weaker sex

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cetaitlaverite · 3 months

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Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

please read chapter 41 before this!!! i've posted two updates today and this is the second. i repeat, please read chapter 41 first!! masterlist is linked here <3

42. Epilogue

The evening was chilly, the laughter was warm, and Freddie was laughing just as much because she was amused as because she was happy.

Millie and Brady had had a beautiful wedding day. The late September sun had held out for them and the rain had stayed in the clouds. Millie had only been running a little bit late to the ceremony after she had had a mental breakdown over her makeup - Freddie, with her years of experience doing makeup on Millie during their war years, had been right there to fix it at the first sign of tears.

Jem and Paddy just hadn’t been able to afford making the trip over, not with how the British economy was still suffering in the wake of the war, but Freddie had read aloud their letter to Millie before they’d started getting ready. They were there in spirit.

Many of Brady’s fellow airmen had made it in person, however - Rosie, for starters, since his wife was the maid of honour, along with Benny, who had been delighted to see Meatball dressed up in a bowtie for the occasion, and Croz, Bucky, Buck, Blakely, and Douglass to name but a few.

Millie and Brady both could not have been more made up about it.

They held the wedding reception in a hotel close to the church, so that everyone who had made the journey didn’t have to travel far to get to bed after a night of revelry. As such, there had been no excuse not to get blindingly drunk.

Freddie had her chin resting on Rosie’s shoulder as they danced slowly to the love song playing on the gramophone. She was giggling as she watched Bucky fight with Buck about whether or not he should sing over the top of the next song. Every so often Rosie would press a gentle kiss to her temple and that made her giggle, too.

After a while, when Buck had used a firm hand on Bucky’s chest to push him into a chair and prevent him from singing, Freddie lifted her head and pecked Rosie’s cheek softly. She waited for him to look down at her and smiled, gazing up into his eyes. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’ll miss America while we’re gone.”

Rosie smiled. “It’s got something to it, huh?”

“Yes,” Freddie agreed with a quiet laugh, “I see now why you were so keen.”

They’d spent such a beautiful few months in New York, going for late night strolls to get ice cream and seeing as many films in the cinema as they could be bothered to, taking Meatball for walks in the city’s many different parks and going to watch Broadway shows. They hadn’t ever managed to find a home to settle in permanently, not before they’d decided they still had unfinished business back in Europe, but Rosie’s apartment had suited them just fine up to now.

“I’m going to find it so impossibly difficult to be away from you,” Freddie confessed softly, sadly. “Ever since we first met we’ve never been apart for more than a month.”

Rosie nodded, his eyes similarly sad. “I know. But we’ll visit often.”

“And we’ll call everyday,” she added.

“Right,” Rosie confirmed. “And then there’s the honeymoon to look forward to…”

Freddie’s eyes glinted. “Paris and then Vienna, if I recall correctly.”

Rosie laughed, rolling his eyes affectionately. “Whatever my princess wants.”

Freddie pushed up onto her toes to kiss him firmly on the lips. “You’ll love Vienna,” she promised him.

Rosie grinned. “I got no doubts about that.”

“And isn’t Paris the city of lovers?”

“City of lights, I heard.”

Freddie shrugged. “Well, Paris is romantic, anyway. Since we’ll both be in Europe it would be rude of us not to visit on our honeymoon.”

“Exactly,” Rosie agreed, just to appease her.

Millie stole Freddie away a little while later to help her go to the bathroom in her wedding dress, and the two of them giggled the entire time because they just could not get the hang of holding the long skirt and train of Millie’s dress out of the way in spite of the fact they’d been doing it all day.

Once Millie was finished and they were both washing their hands in the sink, still giggling, Millie turned to Freddie with a bright smile. “Oh, Fred,” she said, turning off her tap and reaching for a paper towel, “do you have to go back to Oxford?”

“Only for two years,” Freddie reminded Millie.

“That is such a long time!” Millie complained.

Freddie laughed, shutting off her own tap and reaching past Millie for a paper towel to dry her hands with. “There’s nothing here for me while Rosie’s in Germany, Mils. He’ll be over there for a year, so it only makes sense that I go and make good use of his time away to finish my degree. By the time he’s finished - October next year, his company predicts - I’ll only have seven months left of my degree. It just makes sense for me to finish my degree where I started it and whilst Rosie’s over there, because we want to start having babies when we come back to New York and I don’t want to be juggling motherhood around university.”

Millie sighed loudly, with a big heave of her shoulders. She had no choice but to accept that it made sense.

“But what if John and I start having babies while you’re over there,” she said with a pouty bottom lip. “I don’t want my kids being born not knowing their Auntie Fred.”

“Then hold off for a little while,” Freddie replied with a laugh. “Then your babies and my babies can be best friends just like we are.”

Millie rolled her eyes, giggles spilling from her lips, and wrapped Freddie up in a hug. “Say hi to Jem for me, won’t you?” she asked softly, holding on tight. “Send her my love and tell her I miss listening to her whiny little voice everyday.”

Freddie laughed and squeezed her. “I will. You know I will.”

“And take lots of pictures,” Millie added. “I want one of you and Rosie in front of the Eiffel Tower.”

Freddie grinned, pulling out of the hug to smooth some loose hairs away from Millie’s face. “Done. Anything else you’d like me to bring back?”

“Some sort of souvenir,” Millie decided. “I don’t care what, just something Parisian.”

Freddie laughed. “Okay, I promise to bring you back a Parisian souvenir and a photograph of me and Rosie with the Eiffel Tower.”

“Good,” Millie declared. She tossed her paper towel and Freddie’s into the bin and linked their elbows together. “Now, I have a husband to dance with and a wedding night to enjoy. What time do you leave in the morning?”

“Ten,” Freddie said. “I’ll find you before we go to bed tonight to say goodbye, since I don’t imagine you and Brady will be awake before then.”

Millie shot her a giddy smile. “Well, you’ve had two wedding nights of your own by now, Fred, you know how it goes.”

It was so incredibly strange to be back in Oxford, and without Rosie by her side at that, but Freddie couldn’t have been more pleased to be reunited with her parents and her dogs. She spent days which felt strikingly, hauntingly similar to those before the war in playing with her dogs and helping her mother with dinner and practising her piano, all in between her classes at university. She made the trip to meet Rosie in Nuremberg as soon as the Christmas holidays arrived and he came back to Oxford with her, remaining until the Trials picked back up again in January.

They visited each other as often as they could, splitting their lives as evenly as possible between Oxford and Nuremberg, until the Nuremberg Trials ended. The Nazi higher ups prosecuted and condemned, Rosie and Freddie moved into a flat together with Meatball in Oxford while Freddie finished her degree.

And then, the evening of Freddie’s university graduation, he whisked the both of them off to Paris and then Vienna where, more in love than ever, they finally got their honeymoon.

Freddie, Rosie, and Meatball returned to New York City in the August of 1947. Freddie was seven months pregnant. Rosie’s mother had already found a house for them, complete with a garden full of flowers, and Rosie laid down the deposit as soon as they saw it for the first time. He filled their living room with a beautiful grand piano and their bedroom with a king size bed, and they welcomed their first baby girl into the world a month and a half later.

As Freddie sat in the hospital bed, wet with sweat, red in the face, breathing deeply and in pain, Rosie couldn’t stop kissing her. Her face, her hair, her hands and arms, he pressed kiss after kiss to every inch of her he could reach, whispering to her all the while about how proud he was of her and how grateful, and how beautiful their daughter was.

The tiny little creature perched in Freddie’s arms had her father’s bright blue eyes and her mother’s dimples. As Rosie held out his pointer finger and she wrapped her entire tiny hand around it, Freddie and Rosie exchanged infatuated smiles.

Little Ophelia Rosenthal was, to her parents, the brightest star in the sky. They spent many an hour sitting together on the rocking chair they pulled up beside her crib, watching her sleep. There were many nights when she would cry and Rosie would take her into the living room and play jazz music on a low volume, dancing with her until she settled. There were many days when he would come home from work to find mother and daughter sound asleep on the sofa, Ophelia still latched on after feeding.

And when little Ophelia was two years old she was joined by a little sister, and Freddie and Rosie were no less infatuated by her. A less boisterous and calmer personality than her older sister, Vienna Rosenthal bore the name of the city which had raised her mother and fell in love with the music her mother loved, too. She started piano lessons as soon as she was old enough and her parents couldn’t have been prouder.

Their final little girl was born when Vienna was three and Ophelia was five. Delilah Rosenthal was given a Hebrew name in homage to her Jewish heritage and, fittingly, she was obsessed with her father. While Ophelia was a free spirit and Vienna had always been attached to Freddie, Rosie found his companion in his youngest daughter and revelled in teaching her to love the music he did.

Freddie and Rosie decided to stop at three. They had their hands full, especially when the girls were young. Between piano lessons and dance classes, fights over princess costumes and insistence that one sister had more ice cream in her bowl than the others, it didn’t seem like such a good idea to bring any more little Rosenthals into the world.

“I can’t believe how fast they’re growing up,” Rosie said as he stood by the garden fence, watching his eldest daughter celebrate her thirteenth birthday with her friends. His arms were wrapped around Freddie, his chin on her shoulder as he leaned down to speak into her ear. “Seems like only a week ago you were refusing to dance with me.”

Freddie barked a laugh, turning her head to press a kiss to Rosie’s temple and then resting her head against his. “Seems like only a week ago we were sneaking into the back of your plane to mess around,” she countered quietly.

Rosie grinned. “I love the life we’ve created, but I miss those days sometimes.”

Freddie smiled, shutting her eyes as she recalled life at RAF Thorpe Abbotts during the war, when she’d been a wireless operator and Rosie had been a pilot and life had never been more difficult. “Me too,” she whispered back. “Though I do love not having to worry someone’s going to come and find me to tell me you’re dead every time you leave the house.”

Rosie rolled his eyes affectionately and turned to nuzzle his nose into Freddie’s. “You’re never letting that one go, huh?”

Freddie grinned, scrunching her nose where it was tucked up beside his. “Not a chance.”

Late that night, when the festivities were over and everyone had gone home and the remaining Rosenthals had all eaten enough birthday cake to make up for the entirety of the sugar rationing in England during the war, Freddie and Rosie sat snuggled up together in bed. Rosie had his back leaning against the headboard while Freddie had her back leaning against Rosie’s chest, sitting between his legs so she could read the book he was holding up in her head at the same time as he read it softly aloud to her.

When he got to the end of the chapter he yawned and shut the book, replacing the bookmark in it and setting it on the bedside table. But Freddie, contrary to their routine, didn’t climb out of his lap to lie down beside him just yet. Instead, she turned to face him.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” she informed him with a shy smile on her lips.

Rosie’s eyes got caught, for a moment, on the dimples in her cheeks, the glint in her eyes. He’d fallen in love with that smile of hers every day since he’d met her, but right now he was thrust back into the moment he’d first properly laid eyes on her, when she’d turned to him as he’d stood behind her, holding out a glass of lemonade in offering like an idiot. He couldn’t understand how he’d gotten so lucky. The life she’d given him was more than anything he had been able to imagine for himself before he’d met her. She was the reason behind all the best parts of his life. He’d known almost as soon as he’d seen her that she was the one for him and he knew it now with so much certainty his heart all but beat out of his chest, as though it wanted to land in its rightful place in her hands.

“What is it?” Rosie asked softly. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek and smiled when she nuzzled into it, shifting closer to him between his legs.

“I’m pregnant,” she confessed, her eyes flitting all over his face as she studied his reaction.

Rosie wasn’t sure what his face was showing, but his heart lurched. “Again?” he asked.

Freddie nodded.

Slowly, warily, a wide smile began to spread across his lips. “You serious?”

Again, she nodded. She was smiling back at him now. “I’ve been feeling sick the last few days but just wrote it off as a bug. But this is the second period I’ve missed now. Usually, I'm as regular as clockwork.”

Rosie’s eyes lit up. His smile was only getting wider. “You’re pregnant?”

“I am,” Freddie agreed, giggling softly at the look on his face.

“We’re having another baby?”

“We are!” Freddie exclaimed as quietly as she was able. “I realised this morning but I didn’t want to ruin Phelia’s birthday. Thought I’d wait to get you alone.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife,” Rosie breathed, reaching up to cup her other cheek in his hand and pressing his lips first to her forehead, then to her nose, and finally to her lips. “You’re the most magical thing that ever happened to me, you know that?”

Freddie smiled softly, fondly, and leaned forward to kiss his lips right back. “I know it.”

Rosie was grinning. “What’re the chances we have another daughter?” he asked.

“High, I’d say,” Freddie replied with a laugh. “But I’d really love a little boy.”

Nine months later, Laurence Rosenthal, or Laurie, as his family called him, entered the world with fists clenched, wide eyes taking in everything around him before coming to settle on his parents.

So Freddie and Rosie fell in love one final time and filled their home with one more person. With four children, two adults, and a dog, they were content that their work was now well and truly finished.

With days filled with laughter and music and hugs, kisses pressed to all available patches of skin and friends constantly making the trek to visit, Freddie could find nothing at all to regret about her life. It had been hard at times, and she often looked back on her younger years and resented the sorrow of her early twenties, but how could she ever have set a foot wrong when she had ended up here?

No, Freddie Rosenthal would not have changed a single thing about her life. The war had taken a lot of things from her but not nearly as many as it had given her. But as old as she got, as many children as she had or dogs she loved and lost, she always remained that wireless operator at Thorpe Abbotts airfield at heart, who had asked for lemonade instead of beer and stumbled into a man who would give her everything in the process. Because love didn’t have to be painful, as it had been in her experience. Sometimes, it could be kind. Sometimes it could be all-encompassing and still end in joy instead of tragedy. Sometimes it could end with a garden filled with flowers and a piano in the living room, a king size bed in the bedroom and a fresh bouquet of flowers everyday, evenings spent dancing and mornings spent wrapped up in sheets. Smiles and love and laughter.

Yes, sometimes, it could end like this.

#watm #my writing #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #hbo war #hbo war x oc #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal fanfic #rosie rosenthal fanfiction

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schnitzelsemmerl · 15 days

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THIS IS LONG OVERDUE BUT ANYWAY. ANNA MASTERPOST (using fancy english for this) (TW for some heavy topics, such as SH, drinking, abuse, depression, drinking and lots of tragic death)

Anna Lewis (née Anna Baumgartner) was born to her mother Clara Auer and Martin Baumgartner on February 28th, 1745. Her parents were teens (with Clara being 16, Martin being 18) at the time of her birth.

They lived in Vienna, specifically the part of the city called "Favoriten". Her parents worked a lot during her childhood, once selling things on the market, once sewing, whatever job they could find, so she was usually home alone.

When she was 10, her mother had 2 more kids: Johann and Elisa (August 3rd, 1755, twins). As a kid, Anna was closer with her paternal grandparents, who lived in the apartment below them.

When Anna was 12 (Christmas Eve 1757) the house got on fire. Her grandparents and siblings were away at that time. She survived with minimal injuries. But it made her first realize how shitty her situation was, when her family couldn't afford to fix anything. From that day on until her late teens, she dreamed of "greatness". Which meant "marrying rich to support her family". She helped her parents with work.

When she turned 16, she packed up her bagsand simply left. She sneaked onto various ways of transports: eventually reaching the city of London (May 1761). Eventually (2 weeks later), she met a young man her age: Stephen Lewis. His family was wealthy, owning a fabric business. His mother, Jane, a rich widow, approved of the marriage. Anna's mother Clara, however, did not.

She told Anna: "Annerl, wenn du den Deppen da heiratest, brauchst du nicht mehr heimkommen," ("Annerl (equivalent to Annie), if you marry that idiot, don't bother coming back home.") and Anna officially got kicked out from the home she had left.

Jane did take her in. Anna made a friend, Stephen's 15-year old cousin Caroline and was acquaintanced with Caroline's 23-year old stepsister Abigail "Abby" Waterton. Abigail granted Anna to become an apprentice at her sewing shop in Brighton, which Anna had to decline, due to the distance. Abigail sent the young woman money occasionally.

Anna and Stephen would get married on July 22nd of that same year. And on March 20th of 1762, their first son was born prematurely. Unfortunately, he didn't make it.

Luckily, they had another son. Eduard Lewis was born to Anna and Stephen on November 1st, 1763, being baptized the day after.

The young couple was in truly in love, the other being their soulmate. Anna had another child, a daughter: Katharina "Katja" Lewis (August 10th, 1766).

After the birth of Katja, the marriage spiralled downwards. The child wasn't most at fault (Stephen was disappointed he had gotten a daughter, though), but Stephen's mother, Jane, died of cancer only 4 months after the birth of her granddaughter.

Anna was suffering heavy postpartum depression and self-esteem issues. She began to question her choice of marrying. Stephen was mourning his mother and also questioning if Anna was truly "the one" for him. He began to gamble, spending their money. Anna even attempted self harm a few times. Stephen came home drunk more and more often.

Then, over Christmas and New Years of '68. Stephen, Anna and Katja caught an illness and were bedridden. They never found out what it was, but it left Anna with scars she would be insecure about her whole life.

So, she began to doll herself up more. Maybe Stephen would prefer her that way? And he did. He stopped hitting her. Anna had a strong temper and normally wouldn't take shit from anybody. Except from Stephen, who, in her eyes, could do nothing wrong.

They actually could live comfortably again. On April 19th, 1775, the Revolutionary War started. Stephen was a die-hard patriot. While Anna couldn't even speak English properly. She wasn't integrated into Britain at all, but would rather die than go back to her family in Vienna.

They joined the war immediately. The children were left behind at a cousin of Stephen's home: the cousin's name was Jeremiah Lewis, and the name of his "friend" who lived with him, was Isaac Johannson. (And they were roommates). Jeremiah was a priest, while Isaac was a theology teacher. Eduard and Katja would switch between their home and the home of Isaac's sister, Mercy. Eduard deeply respected Mercy, naming his future first-born daughter after her. Later, Jeremiah and Isaac were convicted to sodomy, imprisoned and hanged.

Mercy was in a deep state of mourning over her brother. And when she later found out about her young love (a woman named Mary) dying, she fell in a deep depression and spent her life alone in her home, eventually moving to the seaside. She began to drink. Eduard and Katja still lived in her house, but Mercy isolated herself so much that they didn't even see her anymore. Mercy died of her alcoholism.

Back to the battlefield. Anna worked as a nurse in the British camp, where she met Adele Antos from @imobsessedwiththeatre. The two immediately became friends. Anna also met Frederick Kenneth from @lil-gae-disaster, who taught her English. (There are more people, too)

Stephen didn't even last a month in the war, dying by a shot wound on February 13th of 1776. Anna deeply mourned her shitty husband. Her and Adele (who developed a crush on her) began secretly dating. Adele was the love of her life.

One night at a tavern (Anna was dragged along so she could make more friends), she met a man. His name was Francis van der Berg, son of an old Dutch families who settled in New York. The two took some time to get to know eachother, Anna left the army in October 1781.

So in January of 1782, her and Francis, who were good friends, moved in together in a house just outside New York. Anna was in regular contact via letters with Eduard and Katja. Katja had grown slightly bitter against her mother. Especially when she left them and failed to protect them.

Anna wasn't made to be a mother. She didn’t see her children as her children, but moreso as adults. She wrote a few angry letters at Katja, a literal teenager, which Francis kept her from sending. Thank God.

Francis and Anna got married in secret. Anna's name was now "Lady Anna van der Berg" and she visited the Netherlands with her husband a few times. He called her "his dear tulip". Adele and some other friends tried to contact Anna, but she never responded to any letters.

On December 6th, 1783, Anna gave birth to her daughter: Franziska "Franzie" van der Berg. Franzie's last name was later changed to be "Lewis" by Eduard and Caroline, the cousin mentioned earlier. The Lewis family pretty much despised Francis.

On December 7th, Anna died due to childbirth complications. Her last words to her husband were "Sag Adele, dass ich sie liebe. Ich liebe dich." ("Tell Adele that I love her. I love you.")

Francis died of a broken heart on December 24th, 1783. Anna's children were raised by Frederick Kenneth and his beloved Jonathan.

Anna herself wished to never return to Vienna. But her brother, Johann, let her body be buried at the Friedhof (cemetary) Oberlaa in Favoriten against her will. She got an unmarked grave.

#amrev oc #amrev #anna lewis

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polaroidcats · 8 months

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Dear cat, how would Austrian marauders look like.... Assign everyone a hometown and tell a little about their life in Austria

ohhhhhh okay amazing question!! I'm also tagging @neongreenllama bc in one of our first convos they were talking about Remus listening to Falco and I said if Remus was from Austria he would be from Vorarlberg, so that's what I'm sticking with. He's from the most western part of Austria, grew up somewhere in a village in the alps and has the most iconic beautiful dialect (I may have.. a thing.. for that region's dialect... it's just so great! It sounds almost more like swiss dialects than austrian and I barely understand the people there when they talk to each other but ugh I could MELT when I hear them talk. I digress uhmmm this was about the marauders, right!)

Peter is either from Amsttetten or Klosterneuburg or St. Pölten i don't make the rules but yeah. That's just facts (I love that pretty much no one will know any of these places anyways ahahah).

Sirius and James are both from Vienna, or maybe James is from Vienna and Sirius is from Salzburg. But I think they're both from Vienna.

Okay WAIT I WANT TO ASSIGN THEM VIENNESE DISTRICTS. this post is so unhinged and self-indulgent but idc here we go marauders as viennese districts:

Peter is Liesing. Also part of Vienna but kind of sometimes forgotten bc it's the 23rd district. it's all the way in the south. idk

Lily is the 9th district idk why just vibes (Uni, hipster cafés, pretty old buildings, one of my faves!). or maybe she's 5th, cool up and coming (aka currently being gentrified), close to the hipster areas but a little more affordable than the surrounding districs.

Remus is 21st or 22nd district, the ones across the danube. Or maybe actually the other end, one of the western districts close to the viennese forest? he would like that!

Sirius is either from the 1st,13th or 19th district bc old money. When he gets to chose where he lives he'd first move to the 4th, 6th or 7th bc of the queer spaces, but eventually they are not green enough for him so he moves out west closer to the forest, maybe 16th or 17th or 18th.

James is from the same area as Sirius but new money, Sirius grows up in an old inherited villa in hietzing or döbling that's starting to fall apart, James grows up in a flashy newly built ultra modern home with a pool on the rooftop. Sirius's parents HATE James's house "ruining the neighborhood", Sirius thinks it's the coolest house on the whole street!!

Sleepover ask game!

#bat tag #ahahahaha sorry this is so unhinged and probably not very interesting if u dont know the places #ask game

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thegreatimpersonator · 1 month

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i really don't think that anon, whose first language likely isn't english, really needed so much berating for saying "complicit" which yes, was the wrong word, but can we all take a moment and chill?

we have about 200.000 people who are currently being treated like scum wherever they turn just because we're looking for the barest of bare minimum of compassion from someone we've been looking forward to seeing for almost two years, and spent thousands on during difficult financial times because this is the first time she's coming to this part of the world. im glad we're all alive and well, but how about everyone takes a moment to realize they're a lot more likely to hurt someone they might know during this time. and it's just because they're treating a celebrity who's never going to see what people are saying about her online like she's in need of a knight in keyboard armor. she doesn't. she said it herself - sanctimoniously performing soliloquies i'll never see

it's not like she's going to commit a crime by sharing "i love all my fans" with that handwriting font on her story. it's not like isis specifically has it out for swifties. they could have planned it for last night when ed was performing. or next week for coldplay. but no, this event drew in the biggest crowd, which means the most harm potential. even london officials and representatives for wembley talked about it to let fans know what was going to happen. literally not a thing is stopping her

but no, the fault likes with vienna swifties for even getting tickets to the show. for spending money to arrange the one trip we can afford a trip throughout the year to see someone we look up to. for having feelings? and wanting her to acknowledge us? does anyone realize TN didn't even like a single swiftie post that was under the vienna shows? let alone repost outfits like it usually happens. how is that going to harm anyone? i would LOVE to give her and her team a pass for all of this and forget it, but we're all receiving SO MUCH vitriol for just being disappointed!

would you like a list of the things swifties are calling the disappointed fans in vienna? defending taylor staying silent about vienna and saying to be empathetic towards taylor while simultaneously harrassing the fans who were equally if not more affected by the whole situation in the same breath? but all we got was eight different ttpd variants, and photos of her attending a party? im glad she's doing well, i wish she had the tiniest minuscule of compassion for us - which right now no she doesn't because everyone on her team is acting like there was never even supposed to be a single show in vienna. it hurts. like kim and kanye are more important to her and what happened almost a decade ago compared to us. im glad im alive and okay. i wish people didn't keep wishing i had died for feeling disappointed taylor not saying she's also glad. that's all.

first of all, while I can't speak for everyone in the fandom, those I know of are in no way critical of swifties who were attending. I'm sorry if you were made to feel like you were in the wrong in any way, but there's endless empathy and kindness towards everyone involved - even taylor. She literally could have been asked to not speak about it by officials investigating the situation, and bringing any more attention to the attack could potentially attract more harm in turn. I don't know what her reason for not speaking out is, and I'm sorry it's hurtful to vienna swifties that she isn't acknowledging the situation right now

#you ask for the tab*

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wanda-little-baby · 2 years

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New Encounters - Wanda x Reader

Summary: You finally get to meet Wanda and her twin brother, things get a little too hard but somehow you bond with the twins

Warnings: doing superhero stuff, blood, use of magic, honestly I don't find so many warnings here

A/N: It sounds strange, but it's the second month that I get sick early in the month and I keep asking why?

Words: 3.621

Italics: thoughts - mental communication with Wanda

The most complicated journey I've ever done.

Once you've set the course, with your hands still on the yoke, you juggle the skies over the Atlantic.

With deep blue below the Quinjet and a light blue above, the view is monotonous and calm enough to put you on autopilot the jet and think a bit.

Not bad as a first time piloting it on my own

"I still have a long way to go so I can afford the luxury of making a plan" you whisper, rubbing your hands and looking around you. "Stay calm, that's the important thing, I just want to talk to them." you tapped your worried leg.

You have tried many times, various ways of presenting yourself, all very clumsy. "How can I get someone who would like to kill me to listen to me? I miss Steve's pep talks" I sighed, shaking my head and returning to fly the aircraft.

It was still the first light of dawn when you caught sight of the coasts of Portugal, indicating that you had reached Europe. The whole crossing went quite well, at least up to the Alps, where the weather began to darken before releasing a powerful blizzard accompanied by hail. I tried to go up to avoid the snow, but the hail damaged a wing forcing me to make an emergency landing.

Here you are, in the snow, with the only vehicle available broken, two kilometers from Vienna and cold.

So do the only sensible thing, put on a heavy jacket, a scarf, and go out for a hike to town

I need a few materials, most of them are already on jets, the tools too ... At most I will spend one night in Vienna.

I think, walking through the streets of the city and looking at the snow-covered buildings. The air is freezing, the locals move on outside, while a stranger like you is amazed by the beauty of the place.

Go to a kind of wholesale hardware and get the materials you wanted. On the way back, you book a room in an inn for prevention, and buy (with the money of a certain billionaire) a motorcycle (I know I will need it).

So, you get back to the jet and get to work.

Piece by piece, put the wing back in shape with a magical help, watching the hours pass little by little

When night comes, you go back to town and take a little break in a clean bed. At the first light of dawn, just as you darted into the city, you return to the Quinjet and resume the journey from where you were, it will be interrupted.

"Well, no more interruptions now," you sigh, starting the engines and getting ready for takeoff. The cell phone in the pocket vibrates

Join us in Seoul, South Korea. It's important!

A message, signed Nat, telling me to go to South Korea. Seriously?

"Why do I have to go to South Korea?" you wonder, obviously unaware of what your friends have been doing in the last couple of days, so you reply at the message

Why???

I await an answer quivering in anticipation

Ultron. Has the twins. He wants to get a new body. They took Dr. Cho's lab hostage. He has some vibranium and wants to use the regeneration cradle. Keep up. :-)

Time to read this message and you are already setting the route for the capital of South Korea.

——————————————————————

Push the engines hard, but eventually get there much earlier than expected by landing on a rooftop a few blocks from the lab.

"Guys, are you there?" ask by turning on the headset

"Y/N! Where are you?" Steve's voice comes out surprised, already making you understand his expression on his face you grin realizing that no one knew of your arrival. "On a roof, a few blocks from the laboratory. Where are you instead?" you ask looking down at the surrounding buildings.

"I'm chasing a lab truck on the junction near the bridge," he gasps, clearly in the middle of a battle. "Okay, I'm on my way" you say putting two pistols in holsters on your ankles.

The building is low so you jump off the bike and enter traffic.

The cars whiz by, you keep going straight ahead until there it is! The lab truck with Cap and Ultron on it to fight.

Just the instant before you can be close enough to get on the truck, they move inside the train that was passing at that moment. Instinctively you make a skid, you push yourself away from the bike and start flying towards the train.

Above the train you crash, as if you had taken off in autopilot and now you have regained consciousness, take a deep breath and get off in a carriage.

Pure adrenaline flows through your veins, a single spark would be enough to make you explode but you find yourself there with Steve getting punched by a robot. "Hey Steve! Would you like a little help?" you said attracting the attention of the two. "Maybe" he mumbles before getting punched in the stomach. Then a gust of wind, and the robot is pushed away by Steve.

Following the trail, there he is, a boy with white hair and blue eyes. Pietro, that's his name, seems nice.

And then a flash of red coming from behind you makes you turn around and you recognize her. Wanda, the girl you were looking for.

Brown hair adorned her head, hanging over her shoulders taut for battle. A face that will be difficult to forget (not that I want to forget it), with those deep green eyes like an abyss and the light dusting of freckles on her nose. Her fingers decorated with some rings and black enamel move sinuously wrapped in the magic that unites us. Her hips majestically covered by her clothes, wrapped in a kind of red shawl. In short, perfect, it is what you think of her as you study her passing your eyes over her entire body until you meet her gaze. The blush appears on both of your faces as you look away to return to reality.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Ultron punches another hole in the car and sneaks off, not before killing the driver. "Are you OK?" I ask, turning to Wanda for the first time, looking at her worriedly. "Yes" she sighs, leaving me to listen to that whisper a thousand times again to remember her beautiful voice.

The train arrives at the end of the line, but having died the driver continues to advance through the streets of the city.

"Civilian in our path," Steve says to the twins.

Then, Pietro runs away from in front of the train all obstacles or civilians to avoid casualties while Steve turns to me and Wanda "Can you stop this thing?".

Confusion, is what you see when you turn around and look for any expression from the sokovian and then you expose yourself "If she can, I can try" I say looking at her encouraging her to start.

Red threads begin to come out of Wanda's hands, red threads that wrap around the train to stop it, seeing her you start doing the same only with more effort than her leaving her even more amazed.

The train stops, Wanda goes to her brother and you make sure all the civilians get out of that thing before rejoining the conversation the two of them were having with Steve.

"The cradle. Did you get it?" Wanda says at Steve.

"Stark will take care of it" he reply

This conversation is so tense

At those words, Wanda's expression darkens. "No, he won't" this words come out almost if they were a sigh. "You don't know what you're talking about. Stark's not crazy" Steve said, in a tone a little angry.

"He would do anything to make things right!" Wanda said, becoming increasingly bristly towards the blond in front of her.

So, Steve tries to get in touch with Tony or any other team member but nothing, no one answers.

"Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?" were the last words she spoke in that country to anyone other than her brother, as we were making our way quickly back to the tower to prevent an impending disaster.

——————————————————————

"I'm gonna say this once" Steve stated as he entered the lab with us. "How about 'none-ce'?" that conceited being Tony pointed out, angering you and the twins even more. "Shut it now!" then the captain exclaimed, obviously being ignored. "Nope, not gonna happen" so Tony replied, continuing undeterred to plot with the cradle. "You don't know what you're doing" he remarked on the other hand, trying to make them think.

"And you do? She's not in your head?" Bruce interjected, hinting at something you couldn't help but respond to.

"Oh but do me a favor Bruce!" you screamed pointing out your nervousness. "I have the same powers of her as she does," you say pointing to Wanda behind you. "And if I had wanted to control the minds of each of you I would have done it at any time and you wouldn't have even noticed." take a short break and catch your breath. "So yes I trust Wanda because I feel I can do it!" you affirm with conviction, giving a brief glance of understanding to the brunette behind.

What you didn't notice, however, as you went out of your way to defend Wanda, a stranger, was that she was looking at you wondering

why you were doing this?

You were defending a stranger who until recently wanted to kill all your friends including you. Yet that gesture, that trust, was something Wanda hadn't seen for a long time, it warmed her heart and maybe made her flutter a little with her emotion.

So when she realized that Bruce was going to argue with your words she exposed herself to take all the blame, after all she felt she deserved it. "I know you're angry" she apologized, without even knowing why, but she did and was rejected.

"Oh, we're way past that. I could chocke the life out of you and never change a shade" impassively angry the doctor stated.

"Banner, after everything that's happened..." Steve started explaining, being interrupted again. "It's nothing compared to what's coming!" at this point Tony exclaimed in annoyance.

Here, here the uproar has broken out.

"You don't know what's in there" full of conflicting anger, Wanda exclaimed

"This isn't a game!" Steve pressed the situation

"What if Ultron already connected with that thing? We don't want another one!" with one hand in your hair and the other pointing to the cradle you pointed out trying not to go crazy for the absurdity of the situation.

It was then that Pietro made his move, in less than a second he disconnected the power and interrupted the transfer.

"No, no. Go on. You were saying?" sarcastically he addressed all of us still stunned

And then ... A shot, a bullet passes right in front of the Sokovian's face, breaking the glass he was standing on and knocking him down. "Pietro!" Wanda cried out, bringing out all her concern for her brother.

"I'm reroating the upload" Tony announced before going back to what he did as if nothing had happened.

To prevent any continuation then Steve took and threw his shield at one of the many computers destroying it before taking a beam from the thruster of the glove that Tony had mounted in the meantime.

So then the battle begins, dude huh? The closest thing you've had in the last couple of years to a family (dysfunctional but still family) was slaughtering itself for a stupid piece of vibranium.

The thought had just enough time to formulate itself before looking at Wanda gripped by Bruce. "Go ahead, piss me off" he urged him to make her give in.

Then an idea came to you, you approached making red threads shine from your hands and looking menacingly at Bruce "Leave her alone, I'll tell you once" I threaten Bruce thinking about activating the second part of the plan.

If Wanda has the same powers as me she can hear my thoughts, maybe I can use it to help her.

Wanda!!! If you are there, if you are listening, I distract him, you lay him down ok? If you understand, give me a sign!

For the first two seconds nothing then a red glint appeared in her pupils, here it is the sign, she listened.

With Bruce focused on you, he didn't notice Wanda hitting herself to get both of them off balance and then hitting him hard.

It was you and her ready to fight side by side when Thor carefully landed and he went to put on the cradle and charging a powerful bolt of lightning from his hammer headed for the cradle.

Upon receiving the discharge, the transfer is quickly finished, and in the general amazement and wind caused by the discharge the lid leapt up and the god jolted somewhere else.

One thing came out, he looks like a man, but he's not, you feel it and you're sure Wanda feels it too from the way she looks at him. So all you do is ask her.

Do you have any idea what this is?

you tell her, trying to tell in her mind, hoping he wants to hear it.

Ultron created it, that's enough

she replies in an intriguingly cold tone, surely there is something underneath but she doesn't want to say it, she's fine so we're not so friends and you can understand.

The "chat" lasts a few milliseconds during the squad's astonished looks at the thing in front of them before it tries to attack Thor to end up face-to-wall in the common area. The mystery was clear so with a nod everyone goes there to understand. When we arrived (you, Wanda and Bruce) it was different, he had "dressed up" and was talking to Thor.

"I'm sorry. That was... odd. Thank you" in a calm, quiet voice he addressed the god

Wait up? Too familiar a voice, JARVIS?

You didn't have time to ask why the conversation (more interrogation, than conversation) had already gone on.

"Thor. You helped create this?" Steve asked unsure of what prompted the god to do what he had done.

"I've had a vision. A whirlpool that sucks in all hope of life, and at its center is that" he said pointing his finger at the gem. "What? The gem?" Bruce tried to understand better.

"It's the Mind Stone. It's one of the six Infinity Stones. The greatest power in the universe, unparalleled in its destructive capabilities" Eventually he explained himself, making things less clear at the same time

"Then why you would bring..." Steve tried to continue. "Because Stark is right" the Norse god stated firmly.

"Oh, its definitely the end of times" then Bruce sighed demoralized

"The Avengers cannot defeat Ultron" Thor asserted with conviction. "Not alone" The "Vision" remarked, walking ever closer to us.

"Why does you Vision sounds like JARVIS? finally someone has the nerve to ask, and thank god that someone is Steve. "We reconfigured JARVIS's matrix to create something new" Tony promptly exposed, almost going face to face with the "Vision"

"I think I've had my fill of new" annoyed by recent events, Steve replied

"You think I'm a child of Ultron" the sytezoid firmly admitted a rather normal thought at this point

"You're not?" rightly Steve asked surprised, and wanting to make sure other wise

"I'm not Ultron. I am not JARVIS. I am... I am" at this point the AI no longer an AI realized it in amazement

Then Wanda stepped forward looking for explanations for her visions. "I looked in your head, and saw annihilation" with horror she remembered

"Look again" then the vision encouraged Wanda leaving you a little perplexed

"Her seal of approval means jack to me" Agent Barton scoffed at the words before he was struck by a very angry look from you deep inside.

"Their powers, the orror in our heads, Ultron himself, they all come from the Mind Stone. And they're nothing compared to what it can unleashed. But with it in our side..." Thor explained, matching all the pieces of the puzzle, except for one question.

"Is it? Are you? On our side?" the super soldier asked uncertainly, turning to the syntezoid.

"I don't think it's that simple" he admitted, a little to himself and a little to those present

In a tone more serious than sarcastic the archer said his last sentence "Well, it better get real simple real soon"

"I'm on the side of life. Ultron isn't. He will end it all."

"What's he waiting for?" Stark asked, unsure why you weren't all dead already.

"You" the newly born vision announced, with no little surprise

"Where?" Bruce asks worried

"Sokovia. He's got Nat there, too" the not-so-likable archer to you, he said as he walked around and looked (threateningly?) at the twins.

As Bruce approached the sentient being trying to peer an answer in his robotically alive eyes "If we're wrong about you, if you're the monster that Ultron made you to be..."

"What will you do?" curiously, the being replied thus, avoiding the continuum of the unspoken sentence.

There was a short pause, a few seconds, this made you realize whatever I'm about to say was going to be long and important.

Then Vision began to walk forward observed by all "I don't want to kill Ultron. He's unique and he's in pain. But that pain will roll over the Earth." painfully, as if he really cared, he recognized the baleful words before continuing "So, he must be destroyed. Every form he's built, every trace of his presence on the net." emphasizes emphatically before turning to us.

"We have to act now. And not one of us can do it without the others." he said staring one by one into the team's eyes

"Maybe I am a monster. I don't think I'd known if I were one." resigning himself, he looked at himself and expressed his thoughts

"I'm not what you are, and not what you intended. So, there may be no way to make you trust me. But we need to go." He concluded with a flourish, taking the mjølnir and handing it to Thor to the general amazement of the team before walking away.

"Right. Well done." Embarrassed, the god patted Tony on the shoulder before reaching the robot.

"Three minutes. Get what you need." was the order that the captain gave, giving his ultimatum.

——————————————————————

Ok what you need, I have it, but the twins? They have nothing and I know what they need

"Maximoff twins, please follow me, you will not regret it" you invite the two a little older than you to follow you.

To which, initially you receive strange looks from the two and then after a brief exchange of glances between them and a nonchalant shrug from Pietro you find yourself leading them into the armory where you keep most of your creations.

"This is all yours, you can choose!" nod to all the gear behind you letting the twins choose before you go to get your armor back.

When you return, you find Wanda staring at Thor and Vision from afar and then with a smiling look you approach her. "Nice view huh?" you ask pulling her abruptly away from the flow of her thoughts and making her jump in surprise "Eh, ah yes yes no, I was just thinking" awkwardly embarrassed of her he spits out a more than plausible excuse.

"A penny for your thoughts? Anyway, yes, I understand you, it happens" you touch her shoulder with yours, losing the slight thrill that follows.

You stood there for a while staring at nothing before Pietro threw a red leather jacket to his sister and received a crooked glance as a thank you.

"It'll look good on you, it's red, it looks good on you. And then I did it, so it's perfect, I won't be Stark but I can handle it." point out by explaining everything very carefully.

"Did you made it?" she asks, giving you the most beautiful look you can see

"You know, after two years in here you learn something" you continue ignoring the pressure on your stomach when you think about it. "Two years?" she asks you with more curiosity in her eyes.

"Yeah, since I ..." you stop mid-sentence when your eyes start to sparkle with tears and she looks at you like she understands, she probably does, that's what you need and she understands it . "No, it's okay, don't tell me. I've been there" she reassures you by passing a hand over her shoulder, shivering at the contact, while you instead rock yourself in her warm touch.

"See you at Quinjet, I'll wait for you there" you says sobbing before running away, fleeing but muttering a faint thank you hoping she hears it.

Pietro looks at his sister with a beaming smile before she begins to speak. "Piet don't say it!" she says annoyed. "What? That you have a little crush on your new friend?" he joked, fearful of danger, of such a powerful sister.

"I don't have a crush! She's just a girl, with my same powers, it's normal that we have a special bond, and then at the moment we're just friends" she poses a little embarrassed, with a slight blush on her cheeks, having a short laugh by her brother attenuated immediately after a flash of red passed between her eyes. "If you say so, sestra."

#natasha romanoff #new avengers #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #natasha x platonic!reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers age of ultron #the avengers #witch reader

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awesomefringey · 1 year

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"maybe it’s different for Harry because they really need to tamper down the queer allegations" but if that was the case then wouldn't he stop engaging in queer culture and not have done MP for one thing? If he makes comments like "we're all a little bit gay" then some people will question it. If he's flamboyant on stage some people will question it. Unless he is at war with his team and he's doing whatever he wants to on stage but has to abide by their rules when he's off stage lol. Which I guess is possible. I don't think he gets enough queer allegations for his team to be concerned but who knows. We live in such a heteronormative society that assumes everyone is straight unless they prove they're not. He would have to do something blatantly obvious for most people to even begin to question it. I'm just so confused. He went from saying "we're all a little bit gay" at a show to stunting with a woman the next day. Everyone was reporting how off he was during one show and not himself and we found out days later that his stunt was there and the TMZ team. So stunts do impact his performances too, we saw that with Olivia. Are the stunts purely to get the GP talking about him and draw new fans in? He can afford to be more relaxed at his shows because it's fans there. I go back and forth between being indifferent about his team and thinking they're soul sucking leeches. Sometimes they will needlessly push his het image and it's obvious that it's because they have a stake in his success.

Hi nonnie, the comment you took, was part of me brainstorming, I’m not saying it’s facts or I’m making the most sense. I mean your whole argument proves that it lacks logic here and there.

I just think there’s always a back and forth between Harry being himself (showing his pride) and Harry catering to parts of his fanbase (WS female orgasm debacle) and then Harry doing something that is very important to him (filming MP) and then leaning into the het fuck boy persona (“getting caught” with a female).

I wasn’t aware Harry had a ‘bad performance’ that night in Vienna? But I wouldn’t need a confirmation about it to know Harry must have felt different nonetheless. With us being able to watch every single show, we would notice if he was off.

#ask #hussell discourse

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citiesandtowns · 1 year

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Last year, troubled by the seeming intractability of these problems, I began looking for solutions outside the United States. Could the answer be rent control, as in Berlin? It might have seemed that way a decade or so ago, before investors and new residents began pouring into the city, causing land values to quintuple; now, despite rent-stabilization laws, even the apartments that no one else wanted to buy 15 years ago are huge moneymakers. Many residents with affordable rental contracts are locked into them because it would be too expensive or competitive to move. Frustrated by the housing squeeze, tenant organizers recently put forth an “expropriation” measure, which called for landlords with more than 3,000 units to sell their holdings back to the government at below-market prices. In a 2021 referendum, 59 percent of Berliners voted in favor of it, but it’s not clear whether it will ever be implemented.

Could the answer be loosening zoning restrictions, as Tokyo did in 2002? That has certainly helped. In 2014, there was more home construction in the city than in all of England. Since then, home prices have stabilized. Tokyo is largely celebrated as a model by YIMBYs (members of the “yes, in my backyard” movement) because they like its market-driven approach to housing abundance. They often point out that the city builds five times as much housing per capita as California. But Japan is a very different market because of its earthquake risk: Because regulatory codes and mitigation technologies are ever improving, structures often fully depreciate within 35 years. Older homes are often undermaintained because there’s little expectation that any investment might be recaptured upon resale; they’re thought of like used clothing or cars — you resell at a loss.

Auckland, New Zealand, might seem like a more applicable example. In 2016, the city, which has one of the most expensive housing markets in the world, “upzoned” 75 percent of its residential land, increasing its legal capacity for housing by about 300 percent in an effort to encourage multifamily-housing construction and tamp down prices. In areas that were upzoned, the total number of building permits granted (a way of estimating new construction) more than quadrupled from 2016 to 2021. As intended, the relative value of underdeveloped land increased, because it could suddenly host more housing, and the relative value of units in densely developed areas decreased, tempering sky-high prices. But there are limits to what upzoning can do. Often the benefits of allowing greater density are captured by developers, who price the new units far above cost. It doesn’t offer renters security or directly create the type of housing most needed: affordable housing.

That’s what differentiates Vienna. Perhaps no other developed city has done more to protect residents from the commodification of housing. In Vienna, 43 percent of all housing is insulated from the market, meaning the rental prices reflect costs or rates set by law — not “what the market will bear” or what a person with no other options will pay. The government subsidizes affordable units for a wide range of incomes. The mean gross household income in Vienna is 57,700 euros a year, but any person who makes under 70,000 euros qualifies for a Gemeindebau unit. Once in, you never have to leave. It doesn’t matter if you start earning more. The government never checks your salary again. Two-thirds of the city’s rental housing is covered by rent control, and all tenants have just-cause eviction protections. Such regulations, when coupled with adequate supply, give renters a level of stability comparable to American owners with fixed mortgages. As a result, 80 percent of all households in Vienna choose to rent.

The key difference is that Vienna prioritizes subsidizing construction, while the United States prioritizes subsidizing people, with things like housing vouchers. One model focuses on supply, the other on demand. Vienna’s choice illustrates a fundamental economic reality, which is that a large-enough supply of social housing offers a market alternative that improves housing for all.

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architectuul · 9 months

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Gabu Heindl: No To The Discriminatory Architecture

We are leaving the 2023 with the last Weltraum in this season. On the Independent Coastal Radio NOR we hosted Gabu Heindl, whose architecture says yes and no. Yes to the design of public buildings and infrastructures, cultural and educational buildings. No to chauvinistic, racist or discriminatory architecture, to exploitative project proposals, suburbanizing single-family houses or speculative buildings. All projects are positioned in the urban cultural environment from film, art, theater and music to kindergarten, school building and social housing.

***

What relationships in space create chauvinistic, racist or discriminatory architecture?

Gabu Heindl: I've written this statement on my website and it's been a bold statement to remind myself trying to see how architects can be less complicit in chauvinist building of our environment in supporting racist housing politics, in engaging in discriminatory or defensive urban space design. It is something that should assure us that we can actually as architects ask ourselves to what extents we can contribute to a less racist, to a less chauvinist, to a less discriminatory world.

Extension of the self-organized housing project Planet 10

Which approach you follow in creating and defining your projects?

GH: I wish there was one path or one way of working. It seems every task, every project somehow asks for its own project development. But I do believe that thinking about project development affects what we do and how we could in the best sense accommodate the engagement of those whom we work with. I hope that we rarely consider it as working for but rather working with; hence we take sides for those who will use the space but not always is the client.

If you design a school or a kindergarten the client may be sitting in some office in Vienna organising school buildings. It's the kinds and the teachers who we actually have to speak to. And when it comes to self-initiated housing, which my office is more and more engaged in: affordable, non-market and co-housing, that specially requires a different approach. We are not taking a brief and just turning it into architecture, but we are developing the brief with people.

How living in New York changed your perception of the city?

GH: Of the general city maybe more than of New York I would say. I lived in Tokyo and in New York, which were the largest cities that I lived in, and then I lived in Amsterdam for some time. All of that was really not important to me because it was so to say my lifestyle ideal of being in the biggest cities, it was much more an idea to move to places to understand how it is to live there. I also had experienced life in a small village. Since some time now I am based back to Vienna. As I am now commuting between Kassel and Vienna I can say it all supported to understand this one idea: if a city allows you to live well when it comes to affordable housing, public space, schooling, healthcare etc. this gives you freedom to be independent, freedom to choose what you want to work on. This is what I found really until today the best to experience in Vienna.

Gabu Heindl in discussion with Boštjan Bugarič

What about Vienna?

GH: I have the possibility to join the activism of some of my friends in Vienna who are fighting racist exclusion of social housing and the discriminatory Viennese first policy. There are still welfare structures existing in the city and still to a lot of people, yet we are fighting for that they apply for everyone: having your basic needs not to become your existential worry. is important for everybody. everyone should be able to chose what they want to engage with, what and who to work together. Of course also for an architect, it makes it easier for me to not engage in work I wouldn't want to do just for the sake of earning money.

Donalkanal Partitur, the regulation and development guidelines for the Viennese Donaukanal In cooperation with Susan Kraupp (2012 – 2014). | Photo © Gabu Heindl

Yes, I think that's more difficult in New York, to come back to your question, but then of course also too many people in Vienna are still exactly in this situation that they don’t know how to pay rent or pay food at the same time at the end of the month. That is really what drives me, to fight for these basic rights of everyone.

What about the rest of the Europe, can you see the indirect discrimination?

GH: For sure, there is discrimination, still East-West, South-North, but also within cities. Every city that we are working in, in every city that we are critically mapping we can identify areas that have less infrastructure, that are less equipped, and at the same time it doesn't even mean necessarily that they are more affordable. That's the absolute tricky part, that exploitation comes along the exploitation within just the simple need of housing. Affordability does not relate to the quality of space. Yes, we need to speak about the rights to decent housing and a decent life for all the people in Europe – for everyone who is here and including people who will want or need to migrate to Europe in the future.

The Promises of Modernist Premises: Pool Trakiya is a collective re-appropriation of a deserted pool as communal outdoor centre in Plovdiv, Bulgaria (2016).

To combine the social question together with the ecological question means at the end of the day that there will be some new distribution and that also means that if we speak just about distribution of space some will have to actually to give up of which they have too much at the moment. That is the hard message that nobody wants to talk about. If we speak about living with less CO2 emissions, sharing more space then the crucial question is who exactly do we address? And we shall certainly not address those who already live on so much smaller space and means than others.

Architectuul organised a conference about social housing in Ljubljana, Slovenia in 2018 with Gabu Heindl, Frédéric Druot, Rémi Buscot (Atelier d'architecture autogérée), Florian Köhl, Davide Marchetti, Alessio Rosati, Alenka Korenjak, Anja Planišček.

In 2018 we had the opportunity to host you at the conference Collective Housing: New Initiatives in Ljubljana to share different knowledge of cooperative housing, knowledge that is lost because of being shame of ideas coming from Yugoslavia; what projects from Vienna did you present to be useful in Slovenia?

GH: I think every place itself has a history of common ownership model and I think what we are planning at this moment with my dear University colleagues such as Iva Marčetić at the Master Studio in Kassel is to really look into different common ownership models in different histories of different places. It's not about bringing a Viennese model to some other places or a successful cooperative logic that is established somewhere to be imported somewhere else but in a way all the cities can relate to a common other history or maybe sometimes supposedly lost history or an alternative history that they could actually revive. I am interested in what logics of common ownership and common ways of organising, also governance, or questions of how to produce together have existed in a specific place. And there I would say, we should much rather share maybe the histories of reviving, of maybe sharing experiences of how some of this knowledge has been lost but how it also can be recuperated, further re-invented, critically inherited.

I studied the case of Red Vienna, which is a case of communal ownership housing models and with a supposedly successful continuity, and even there I did find alternatives in this already alternative history. If we consider Red Vienna to be an alternative case to so many cities of neoliberal housing development then even parallel to this public housing story you could find even more emancipatory, more feminist, more community-organization than top down housing provision. I am very happy that as an architect I can support activists and groups to self-initiate projects that have another solidarity idea than purely provision of standardised housing. I consider our work nearly as a reviewing of some of the historic emancipatory notions. If the groups I work with do so or not, doesn't matter. But we can see such a powerful agonistic drive in so many cities, especially if you think of the politics of all these powerful movements in Belgrade, Zagreb and so many cities in Southern Eastern Europe. Then I think there is a lot to learn for people in Vienna the other way around.

This question of mine was more a provocation.

GH: It really was. ☺

youtube

How do you see the work of women in architecture?

GH:I am really sad this still has to be a topic, and I am very grateful that a lot of my colleagues are actually working on this ever actual topic. I've seen my feminist engagement in architecture in looking into the very structural inequality not so much of architects but generally the structural spatial injustice between men and women and even more intersectionally with regards to class and race next to gender. I would try to always think these categories together. We need to look at what is happening in terms of accessibility to space, in terms of literally the possibility or rather impossibility to partake in anything, starting with being able to live peacefully, also affordably but also to take part in public space, to partake in the making of our cities, if we relate that to Henri Lefebvre for instance.

Radical Democracy in Architecture and Urban Planning PDF

In Kassel we are currently working on a project where we look into the interrelationship between the gender wealth gap and home ownership or freehold flats. The gender wealth gap is even wider than the gender pay cap. Looking at the trend or rather the political project of buying a home shows exactly how the structural inequality between men and women gets ever bigger. With little chance for wealth acquisition some people will never be able to afford to buy a house or an apartment. However, what we want to do is not to argue for every women to become as wealthy as some men but rather radically critique the idea of wealth and the constructed goal of owning an apartment and further look into common ownership housing, or “social property” and this comes again back to rental housing. We would like to develop good arguments against the idea of owning a home. With owning I mean to have a property title of it, but of course what we need to do is to have the idea of “owning” as belonging, in terms of that an apartment, a home is mine, I have the key, I have security, I will be able to live there and will not be thrown out, also that the rental price will not grow erratically. So in this sense we need to gain precision between the terms property and ownership and also the belonging to a place and all the security which should come with that.

We are highly inspired by Silvia Federici, who in the 1970s with a whole group of feminists were supporting the battle for wages for housework. But turned the battle even further and declared the slogan of wages against housework, said something like "we don't want just to be payed for house work, we want to change the logics of who is doing what sort of work and how we share it completely differently." Again I think the history of feminism has so much to offer for us, and how with their critical thinking we can do another turn and understand spaces within the logics of capitalism or also within the logics of white wealthy male.

How do you see yourself as an educator?

GH: The reason why I like to teach is because it is beautiful to see this young generation of students to be so political again. I can see how our generation has to keep up with the radicality that these kids are demanding and this is enormously empowering to see how some paradigm changes could really happen as well as systemic and radical rethinking. Our students literally demand demolition stop, they are demanding the stop of new construction as long as there is so much vacancy, as long as there is so much unused space. With this powerful force we are challenged to completely rethink what architecture is about. How can we engage in world without destroying so much, without using so much energy, without architecture being such a big part in emissions and all the waste production. When I took over the chair of ARCHITECTURE CITIES ECONOMIES | Building Economy and Project Development I realised that this is exactly where we need to be at this moment: to really redefine who and what project development does, how it could contribute to more justice, but also support solidarity and circular economies, the rebuilding instead of new sealing, concepts of using instead of owning.

Master Studio Urban Conflicts in Housing Development at the Department of Building Economics and Project Development: Architecture Cities Economies in Kassel, Germany.

And if we do construct newly then maximally social and ecological and that's already a big claim, which we need to define properly. Just as much as economies: I hope that students think about financial economy not more than of commoning, feminist or foundational economies. There are so many other concepts of economy which have to come to the foreground again. And since my department includes the term “project”, which is such a modernist driven concept, we need to rethink it and that applies of course also to the term “development”. How to conceptualize development without growth? At then, very simply at the end, who is a project developer? I would love to empower students, and also activist – as that's what I do in my architectural work – generally to make people understand that they can all be project developers. There is not only Benkos; quite the opposite. We have to democratize the idea of project development with regards to the housing crises and the overshadowing climate catastrophe. It is great that the University Kassel gives me a chance to do so, it is an important moment to engage and contribute to this change.

What about creativity?

GH: If I speak about this concept of building economy people think that architecture doesn't need any creativity anymore. I would really like to emphasize that to repair all our built environment and to make it a livable environment for everyone and every species, we have to use so much creativity and design so many beautiful things. We shouldn't worry that to work on a socio-ecological transformation wouldn't need all of our creative energy, let's share it for a more caring and just world.

Disposing of Hitler: Out of the Cellar, Into the Museum. an exhibition at Austrian Museum of Contemporary History Vienna. | Photo © Klaus Pichler

***

Gabu Heindl is an architect, urban planner and activist in Vienna. As professor at the faculty of architecture she is heading the design and research department ARCHITECTURE CITIES ECONOMIES | Building Economy and Project Development at the University of Kassel.Her office GABU Heindl Architecture focuses on public space, public buildings, common-ownership and non-market housing as well as collaborations in the fields of history politics and critical artistic practice. From 2013 to 2017 she was chair of the ÖGFA – Austrian Society for Architecture. Gabu has obtained a doctorate in Vienna and studied architecture in Vienna, Tokyo and Princeton. From 2018 to 2021 she was Visiting Professor at Sheffield University with a research focus on Urban Commons and subsequently Professor of Urban Design at TH Nuremberg. 2019-2023 she was Unit Master at the Architectural Association School of Architecture (AA), London. Gabu lectures frequently and and has been publishing numerous articles and books including the co-editing of Building Critique, Architecture and its Discontents, Spector Books 2019 and the monograph Stadtkonflikte. Radikale Demokratie in Architektur und Stadtplanung, Mandelbaum 2020 (2022 3rd edition).

Here You can listen to the WELTRAUM interview.

#architecture #women in architecture #interview #activism #feminism #collective #collective housing #social justice #weltraum

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fadedstarsfms · 11 months

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Maia Kelly Intro

MAGGIE, 21+, CST; SHE/HER. | if you’re hearing VIENNA by ULTRA VOX playing, you have to know MAIA KELLY (SHE/HER; CIS FEMALE) is near by! the 28 year old BARTENDER AT AMBROSIA LOUNGE has been in denver for, like, EIGHT MONTHS. they’re known to be quite MANIPULATIVE but being ADAPTABLE seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble COURTNEY EATON. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those ALWAYS QUICK TO RUN, LOOKING FOR ANSWERS, & WANTING TO FEEL LIKE YOU BELONG SOMEWHERE vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the RINO DISTRICT long enough!

absent parent tw

★𝘽𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣★

Birth Date: May 28, 1995 Zodiac: Gemini Gender: Cis Female Pronouns: She/Her Sexual Orientation: Pansexual Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic

★𝘼𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚★

Height: 5′10″ Faceclaim: Courtney Eaton Hair color/style: Long, Black, Wavy Eye color: Dark Brown Tattoos: She has a small moon on one wrist and a small sun on the other

★𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮★

Positive Traits: Adaptable, Loyal, Charismatic Neutral Traits: Observant, Determined, Ambitious Negative Traits: Manipulative, Impulsive, Calculating Fears: Being alone, Failure, Being known, Death Goals: Being loved for who she is, Settle down somewhere, Find a purpose Hobbies: She’s very crafty even if she hasn’t really explored it much - especially painting, Listening to music, Cooking, Exploring new places

★𝙋𝙖𝙨𝙩★

Hometown: Auckland, New Zealand Education: High School Mother: Kora Kelly (fc: Simone Kessell) Father: Rhett Lancaster (played by Audi) Siblings: TBD

★𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩★

Residence: Rino District Job: Former con artist, bartender at Ambrosia Lounge Significant Others: No one currently How Long She’s Been Here: Eight months

★𝘽𝙞𝙤𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙝𝙮★

Maia had to laugh that her name in Māori meant “one who has unconditional love” because she seemed to have anything but. She barely knew her father, only knowing that he knew her mother from a con she was involved in, so naturally when he wasn’t in the picture her mother tried her best to raise Maia on her own in her home country of New Zealand. However her mother, Kora, couldn’t stay out of the business for long. Most of the time Maia couch surfed, family and friends taking her in until Kora came back for her, and it wasn’t until Maia started being able to realize what the family business was that she realized she needed to be useful.

She started using her childlike charm and cuteness on her mother’s cons, always believing that if she did well enough her mom would make enough money and they could actually settle down together and live a normal life - maybe even her mom would reconnect with her birth dad. But the more Maia grew up the more cynical she got, knowing dreams were something that she should never afford to let herself fall into one. As Maia was of age she ran from home and started doing her own jobs, soon having a crew of trusted individuals that she thought she could call family.

Little did she know that trust was misplaced.

The last con that Maia did was one that was monumental, to say the least. She was to pretend to be the long lost daughter of a banker, and if she wasn’t used to breaking people’s hearts she would pity how happy he was to actually have someone in his life. After spending as much time was needed with him to trust her, Maia would start introducing him to a cast of convoluted characters and plot lines - eventually having him steal from his bank. He got so far as hiding the money in his own place. One of Maia’s crew members was supposed to set up a in-home robbery, even so much as getting the banker’s own personal savings, but on the big day when Maia walked into the house they were all waiting for her. Seeing the look on everyone’s faces, Maia knew they had double crossed her.

She grabbed what she could and got the hell out of dodge. She tried to go home to her mother but her mother wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, saying how she wasn’t a good con artist and therefor had no use to Kora. Maia stayed long enough to at least get information on her father. Kora didn’t have to tell Maia twice, she left town and never thought of looking back.

It didn’t take long in finding where her father was, she was good at finding information on people. So without thinking twice she came to Denver in hopes of getting help. Plus if Maia was being honest with herself, she wanted to know this other part of her history. But she had to reason with herself that it was just getting information - after all she couldn’t let herself dream.

★𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨★

Grounding Presence - Maia can be a bit of a wild child and would benefit from someone to calm her tf down

Family - Either her actual family or a found family, Maia would love to get to know people enough to trust them and not feel like she’s always On A Job™️ and trying to sell someone she’s not

Wild Child - On the other hand let’s go crazy, let’s get stupid and have some fun. She’s always down to have fun and try new things

Role Models - Maia could use some role models in her life, she hasn’t exactly had proper ones in her life growing up

International Friends - Maia has spent most of her life in New Zealand/Australia but has probably traveled to some countries around the world since turning 18 so maybe they met up?

One Night Stands/Friends With Benefits - Maia takes some time for true romance to blossom but she’s totally down for some sexy fun times/flirting

Neighbors - She’d make friends easily with those living near her (on the flip side maybe they have had a run in or two)

Old Marks - This doesn’t have to necessarily be her last mark that got her fleeing but it could be someone she scorned in the past (will be an official WC sent in)

Crew Members - Doesn’t have to be the one(s) to turn on her but imagine if it was 👀👀 (will be an official WC sent in)

★𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩★

Vienna by Ultravox

Stuck by The Aces

She’s A Guillotine by The Blood Arm

My Number by Foals

Heart of Glass by Blondie

Masseduction by St. Vincent

Drinkee by Sofi Tukker

Let’s Go On the Run by Chance the Rapper

Electric Feel by MGMT

Pursuit of Happiness by Lissie

#&& this means nothing to me (maia kelly)#maia intro #chq;intro #absent parent tw #literally nothing has changed except for updated amount of time here to reflect it ksdjrew

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