#curtains bali

[parkerpeter24]

Request where reader and Peter are married and on vacay she’s been trying to hide she’s sick because she’s pregnant and she tells him at dinner 🤗

cute cute cuteeee!! this turned out longer than i’d expected 😳 kinda proud of it!

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open

masterlist

peter parker, your husband, was as bad at connecting the dots as he was at keeping secrets. usually he was the one who’d sneak around. at a time you didn’t know about his alter ego– spider-man– he used to hide his costume and his web shooters but now he did it with the bruises littering his face. he would steal your concealer on various occasions and try to cover them up. however, you’d know about them reinstating his inability to hide things, especially from you.

but this time, it was you. you were keeping a secret and not just anything.

you were pregnant.

but not quite ready to tell peter, not knowing how he would react. it wasn’t like you guys hadn’t he married for three years and known each other for all eight of them, but having a kid together was quite a big deal.

it was hard to keep a secret. even though peter would never guess, you didn’t want him to mistake your morning sickness for something serious and fuss over it.

it was harder to keep a secret from peter when you two were supposed to be under the same roof for most part of the day.

tony had decided it was time all the avengers had a break so he’d flown everyone to bali. so now you were laying beside him in this extraordinarily expensive hotel room as the morning sun peaked in through the curtain.

you rubbed your eyes, shifting slightly as the first thing you felt was the weird taste in your mouth. and you just had to make a run for the bathroom before you puked all over the soft, lavish carpet under your bed. peter woke up with a jolt when he felt you throw his arm away from your body. he watched with sleepy eyes as you slammed the door to the bathroom.

“babe?” he hurried out of the bed. he could hear you retching on the other side of the door, “baby? what’s wrong?”

“it’s nothing!” you responded, “be out in a minute!”

it took you around two minutes to collect yourself back and brush your teeth before you made your way out of the bathroom. not so much to your surprise, peter’s hands grabbed both your shoulders as soon as you opened the door, “is it food poisoning? maybe it was the hotdog we had before dinner. it must be that! don’t worry, i’ll get you medicines.”

he started leaving but you stopped him, “peter, wait!”

“what?” he turned around.

you wish you could tell peter now but this just didn’t feel like the right moment. you sighed, “you’re not um, wearing any pants.”

“oh. right, silly of me.” your husband chuckled sheepishly as he grabbed his pair of pants that he’d left on one of the armchairs in the room.

you were sure peter would have found out in a week when your baby’s heart started beating, anyway. you felt a little ridiculous as you took the medicine from his hand and assured him that you would take it before you sneakily flushed it down the toilet.

peter noticed you being weird at breakfast too. you poked around at the salad in front of you. the smell of olive oil was making you nauseous itself and you were sure you’d have to rush if you had it. you would really go for a burger right now. honestly, you weren’t up for running three flights of stairs.

peter placed a hand over yours, running his thumb over the ring that rested on your finger, “hey, you okay? did the medicine not work?”

you gave him a shrug, “not hungry.”

“take it easy, parker.” wanda interjected, “just get her a burger and some fries.” she gave you a wink before taking a bite out of her bagel.

she knew.

you gave her a small smile.

thankfully peter took wanda’s advice and got you some fries, a burger and an added milkshake, which made you love him even more than you ever thought you could. you threw your arms around his shoulders as he placed the brown bag containing your breakfast on the table back in your room.

peter hugged you back as he smiled. however, his smile quickly faded away when he felt your shoulders shake against him, “y/n, are you-”

his sentence was cut short when you sobbed into his chest. his hand instantly wrapped around you protectively, “baby, what’s wrong?”

you just shook your head as you continued crying. peter rubbed your back until you calmed down. you pulled away to wipe your tears while the brunette’s arm remained intact around your waist, “i’m sorry.”

“you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” he said as he tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, “is everything okay though, hun? you’ve been acting kinda... weird. which isn’t bad, i-i mean, i’m just worried about you.”

“i’m okay, peter. i just got a bit emotional.” you gave him a little smile.

he nodded, though still unsure.

peter was nothing short of a delight for the whole day after that. he served your breakfast for you and even denied going to the beach with the others because you didn’t feel like going, even though you’d told him you’d be fine in the hotel room. then you two spent the day watching disney movies.

in the evening peter asked you to get ready for dinner and you were a little confused because you thought you two were going to go downstairs and have dinner with the gang. but peter insisted you get ready so you did.

peter then took you to the beach and the two of you walked until a candlelit table was in front of you. you gasped with joy, “remember our first candlelight dinner?” peter asked as he watched your smile grow.

“i do! i was so nervous.” you chuckled.

“you were nervous? i was freaking out! i didn’t know what to speak. you looked so gorgeous.” peter gave you a small smile, “you still do.”

“you’re way more gorgeous.” you gave him a little kiss, “oh my god. i just remembered i spilled wine all over your favourite shirt that day.”

peter laughed. and just like that, you knew. this was the moment. it was your chance. you didn’t wanna wait for peter to figure it out himself or for him to hear the baby’s heartbeat. you wanted him to hear it from you.

the two of you sat down and peter ordered your favorite for both of you. you smiled, watching you two’s fingers interlaced. peter ran his thumb over your ring finger, a habit of his that made your heart swell every time.

“peter?”

“yes, beautiful?”

“there’s something you gotta know.” you stated as your heart started beating a little faster.

“what is it?” peter asked, giving you his fill attention, a look of concern etched over his face.

“i’m... uh, i’m pregnant.” you stated, watching his face for any major expression.

“yeah, what about that?”

“i know! i couldn’t believe it eith- wait what?!” your pupils enlarged in surprise.

“you’ve been pregnant for around five weeks, what’s new with that?” peter asked.

him being so confident made you doubt if you’d already told him. peter laughed softly at your confused expression. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow, “is this funny to you?”

“no! no. not at all.” peter gave a little squeeze to your hand.

“how’d you know?” you asked, your expressions softening.

“well, i noticed the little changes your body was going through.” peter explained, “and i found the pregnancy test you forgot to throw out.”

“oh shoot-” you facepalmed, “that’s so stupid.”

“hey, it’s alright.” peter chuckled, “i would have probably been worse at keeping a secret like that.”

you laughed, “guess we’re both bad a keeping secrets.”

[letmeapologise]

❝ 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❞

.ೃ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ! 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢�� 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 ✰ ´ˎ˗

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ⌇ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌇ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐞. 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭. 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⌇ 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐝 "𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲" 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

ೄྀ࿐ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⌇ 𝟐.𝟑𝐤 !

↳ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ೃ⁀➷ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 !

IT SEEMED AS IF NOTHING WAS GOING HIS WAY, even the weather; crisp air biting and nipping at the cut on his cheek, a sharp sting coming from it when the wind blew at his face. It was nine sixteen, somewhere in north-east London, he didn’t know where – Dushane just gave him an address and he drove over with Dris in the passenger seat, listening to him complaining about Erin being home alone. Sully eventually found the building he assumed they were staying in, and strolled up to it, eyeing two pedestrians walking on the other side of the road. The street lights flooded yellow shadows around him, he walked past it to the door with Dris tailing behind.

“Took your time, bruv,” Dushane shook his hand and gave him a side hug, doing the same with Dris as they made themselves acquainted in the decrepit building, Sully collapsing onto a sofa and spreading himself out onto it for comfort. He sighed deeply, there were various people gathered around the room, some youngsters even being there which was untypical. Everyone was decked out in black puffer jackets, only Jaq had her hood down, hands stilled in her pockets as she watched him and Dris be introduced to the room with a slight frown.

“What we doin’ then?” he glared at Dushane. “Fuck you mean what we doin’ Sully, take a guess,” he kissed his teeth and looked around the room, half-torn curtains flailing about in front of the window. He glared at one of the people in the back of the room, a black balaclava adorning their face. “Yo, what are you wearing a bali for, stupid yute,” he shouted, half-chuckling to himself at their apparent stupidity. They narrowed their eyes at him, staring right back. “Sully, calm down, fam. Leave her be,” he looked away, addressing everyone’s attention to the table in the centre of the room and jabbing a finger at it. “Listen, yeah, this is where we’re all gonna meet from now on. But don’t be stupid ‘n’ come in through the front entrance, go through the back ‘n’ only when you need to be here. Yeah?” people nodded, grumbling affirmations and their own understandings at him.

“What’s going on with Jaime then?” someone asked, Dushane contorted his face up as if disgusted by what they just said. “Don’t worry about Jaime, he’s just a yute. Worry about yourself,” he announced, his eyes searching around the room for whoever asked. There were a good twenty people crammed into the room, Sully was just surprised no one had nicked the seat he was sitting in before, though word had probably gotten around that he had told someone before to move off of one before, to say politely, it was more so a threat involving the gun stashed in the front of his jeans. “If it’s not an emergency or something that ain’t important, just meet in ends, don’t be stupid about it,” Dushane continued. “If I catch you here tryna waffle about what you’re doing, won’t end well for you, trust me,” he enunciated. 

People nodded around the room, but out of the corner of his eye Sully could still see the masked individual giving him a dirty look. They were, as he described before, wearing a black puffer jacket like everyone else – must have been a new trend amongst the youngers – a black bali, with a matching black baseball cap, hands stuffed in their pockets – or her, as revealed by Dushane – must’ve been one of Jaq’s mates or some gyal Dushane was linking. Dushane was too boujee about his women, this one clearly wasn’t, Jaq’s mate it is. He glared at her momentarily, looking her up and down. Only her eyes were revealed, piercing into the side of Sully’s skull, maybe she was just thick or a junkie.

“A’ight, now get out. Don’t tell anyone ‘bout this place, yeah?” everyone ushered their way out except for Sully who was still lounging on the chair, Jaq, Dushane, and Dris, who was now smoking. Dushane tilted his head at him, ignoring the flow of teenagers beside him going out the door. “Yo, Dris. You taken your meds today?” he just nodded, Dushane smacked the cigarette out of his mouth and stood on it. “Stop takin’ other shit then.” Dris rolled his eyes, staring at the stamped out cigarette on the floor. “Fuckin’ dickhead,” he mumbled, Sully laughed, his eyes locked on the people still leaving until he noticed a necklace hanging around the masked woman’s neck, he frowned, recognising it and subtly pouting to himself. Then he saw the matching bracelet on her wrist, he stood up immediately, shouting at her while she was halfway out the door. “Yo, come ‘ere,” he flicked his head at her, she looked down and exhaled deeply, walking up to him without saying a word.

He looked down at her, at the necklace, different coloured links going round her neck and ending in the middle with a seashell; the same one he had bought before for his you. He was originally going to ignore it, being realistic to himself it was just a necklace, probably only cost one quid from a beachside shop. Maybe he was making a mistake entirely, he just wanted to make sure. Maybe she had stolen it from you. He remembered you pleading with him to get a matching necklace, and he just scoffed at you, grinning.

“I don’t like necklaces,” he had said, smiling at you while you looked up at him with pleading eyes, then held out a bracelet. “That’s why I got you this,” you had said, it was the exact same, but small enough to fit around someone’s wrist. He rolled his eyes as you laughed. “Please, Sully, come on. It would suit you, wanna remember this day don’t you?” the corner of his eyes crinkled, looking away and placing a hand over his head, then slipped the necklace on his wrist with thinned lips as you celebrated, dancing around in the sand in front of him. Of course he wanted to remember that day, it haunted his dreams and his nightmares so much that he woke up in cold sweats with visions of you sleeping beside him. Once he rubbed his eyes and cleared his vision you were no longer there. He had only given you the bracelet when he left to stop the nightmares, at least that’s what he told himself, he didn’t tell you anything. Just left it on your bedside table while you slept, unaware of him being there at all keeping in mind it was three in the morning and he had just broken into the house through an open window.

He had wondered if you always kept a window open for him, somewhere. In case you wanted him to come back. “Where’d you get the necklace ‘n’ bracelet?” he interrogated, she said nothing. “Why you wearing a hat inside too?” he criticised, still nothing. “Ay, what’s wrong with this bitch?” he stared at Dushane who looked at him as if he had something to say, but didn’t want to. He turned to Jaq. “Who is this yute?” he questioned her, she just shook her head, shrugging and looking at Dushane. “Why’s no one talking, ay?” he kissed his teeth. “Dickheads,” then pulled her into a separate room, still saying nothing. “Take off your bali,” she shook her head. “Hey, I said take it the fuck off.” She finally made an audible noise, kissing her teeth and tilting her head up at him, taking the baseball cap off and stuffing it in the back pocket of her tracksuit bottoms.

Then peeled off the balaclava bit by bit. Sully stared at you in shock, his eyes widened. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hissed, half-pushing you against the wall of the room and locking the door best he could. You shoved him back, throwing the cap and the balaclava down onto the floor. “Why you so rude, man?” he furrowed his brows at you, his bottom lip tucked in. “I said, what the fuck are you doing here?” it was you, he couldn’t believe his own eyes, he knew he recognised the jewellery. He just couldn’t comprehend that his girlfriend – if you were still calling yourself that – was now in this industry, the one thing he didn’t want to happen, the one reason why he left in the first place.

“You fuckin’ left, Sully. What was I supposed to do?” he ran a hand over his face, exhaling deeply, murmuring profanities under his breath that gradually gained in volume. “Why here?” he hissed, his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you doing this?” he almost growled out, a rasp in his voice, you just kissed your teeth. “I dunno Sully, why’d you leave?” you continued, jabbing a finger at his chest while he looked away. “There’s your fuckin’ answer for you,” he sighed deeply, stepping back and basically kneeling onto the floor with his hands covering his face. He had loved you, present tense, he loves you, he will always love you; but this was overstepping the mark and you knew it. He couldn’t even imagine comparing you to the woman he left with his daughter a year ago, now you were decked out as he never even knew you, as if you were like him. He didn’t want you to be anything like him. You dreamed of a white picket fence life in a two-bedroom flat, you didn’t know what he dreamed of. That’s the problem, what did men like Sully dream of?

“Née, you have to go,” he reprimanded, not even looking at you. “Please, just go, it’s not worth it.” You looked down at him with a cruel glint in your eye, lip threatening to start quivering as you faced the man who left you. “What’s not worth it? What’s changed, Sully?” he looked up at you with a disappointed expression, his facial features hardened with an unbecoming guilt, as if he caused this, a corruption of something so pure. The whole point of him leaving last year was to keep you safe from a rival gang that was so very close to ending his own life, what was stopping them from using you as leverage? He couldn’t help himself, he needed to leave for your sake, of course he didn’t want to – he was selfish like that – but he had to, and yet the consequences of his actions got you into even more danger. “You were fine with doing this shit all those years before, when I said it wasn’t worth it,” you tore through him, adding to your argument.

“It’s different, it’s not like that, Née. It’s not that simple, you know that,” he mumbled. “Don’t fucking call me Née,” you sharply declared, both of you in silence, staring at each other until Sully returned to looking at the floor, staring at the dust residue beneath you and him – there was no more you and him – he held in a tingling sob threatening to escape through his mouth and nose. “What was I meant to say to tell Josie, huh?” you blinked at him, anger overcoming your senses and you had to hold yourself back from letting it do so, you had experience doing so in the last year. “What was I meant to tell our daughter,” you repeated. “When she asks me ‘where’s daddy’?” Sully was glad he was hiding his face from you, ashamed, as his eyes turned wet at the mention of his daughter, gulping back a wail, or a scream. 

“Where’s daddy, huh?” you shook your head down at him, lip curling up as if you were about to cry, a single tear slipping out which you quickly wiped away without him seeing. You sniffled. “Sorry, baby. Daddy left ‘cause he’s too much of a fuckin’ pussy to stand up for himself ‘n’ his family, huh?” you shoved his shoulder again, he remained unmoving. “Why’d you fuckin’ leave, Sully?” you shouted. “Babe, I was gonna come back, I just needed time,” he mumbled his excuses, standing back up with gleaming eyes, you didn’t even correct his word of endearment, just shook your head at him with trembling lips, screwing your face up. “What was I meant to do? Wait for you? How long? Let me ‘n’ your daughter starve?” he shook his head dumbly at you.

“You didn’t put food on the fucking table, Sully. This is me stepping up for our daughter, so fuck off ‘n’ leave me be,” you leaned down and grabbed the balaclava and hat off of the floor, dusting it off with your shirt, stretching it out. He watched you unlock the door and leave, and opened his mouth, he didn’t even remember what came out of his mouth but all that it was met with was silence.

A few moments passed as he just stared blankly at the open door, then went through it, the group of people from earlier darting their eyes over at him as he came out through the door you just went through. “What, blud?” he narrowed his eyes at Dushane interrogatively. “Nothing, brudda,” he kissed his teeth, watching as Sully peeled back the curtains to watch you crossing the road with your headphones on. “Why’d you let her join, you fuckin’ wasteman?” Dushane raised his hands in mock surrender. “Listen, fam. She needed some p’s, we’re just helping her out, you know what I’m saying.” He glared at him, and then at the two other people in the room. “Fuck off,” he mumbled, walking towards the stairs and pulling his phone out his pocket.

୨୧ @𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 ୨୧

[greenlaut]

fuck it,

LIST OF INCENSES I THINK AC 1 - AC UNITY CHARACTERS WOULD LIKE

credentials: (1) incense is a big thing in my country both for daily and religious uses; (2) i have a shit ton of incenses bc i use them regularly

ALTAÏR IBN LA'AHAD — his most familiar scent is frankincense bcs either umar or rashid lit up a lot of frankincense (haha old man incense). BUT his favorite scent is jasmine because it's sweet and calming it's like a soothing balm to his running thoughts and worries. also the scent of jasmine here has supernatural connotations, so i think it's fitting for altaïr as the master assassin herald of death etc etc

MALIK AL SAYF — oud. definitely oud. very charismatic and heavy. definitely suits him bcs as soon u enter his space u will think he's someone not to be trifled with. it also has a family/brotherly connotation to it which suits malik. if u want combination; oud + sandalwood

KADAR AL SAYF — champaca. it's sweet and bright. reminds u of a singing bird maybe? if u catch a whiff of it in the wind it feels like napping in a hazy afternoon.

MARIA THORPE — jasmine with tuberose. almost woody? floral. probably reminds you of moonlit night with silk curtains blowing in the wind

EZIO AUDITORE DA FIRENZE — sandalwood. a classic. with frankincense and myrhh. this scent reminds me of church (our churches usually light these scented incenses). it's heady and heavy. if you smell it too much it can overwhelm you.

LEONARDO DA VINCI — citrus and agarwood. very playful and has creative vibes to it. it also smells very unique and reminds me of a warm person

CONNOR KENWAY — majegau. this one is very specific. majegau is a type of tree sacred to people in bali region (i'm from java so i dont know much). but the scent is very mountainous. it reminds me slightly of sandalwood but much lighter, and gives off a more foresty vibes. it has a very respectful but down-to-earth air to it that suits connor's person

AVELINE DE GRANPRE — citrus and vanilla. i'll be honest i never had this one, but i'm trusting what people said. it's apparently very unique and refreshing scent when burnt. kind of woody surprisingly with just a hint of sweetness to it. i also think aveline would like clove incense. it's sweet and has something underneath that feels like it's ready to strike

ADÉWALÉ — also an oud enjoyer methinks. maaybe oud + frankincense. i think smelling the incense will help settle down his thoughts and pain, bcs it's a very meditative and heady scent. charismatic vibes

EDWARD KENWAY — tobacco, clove, and cinnamon. it's smoky and heady. kind of pirate vibes. it's a very overwhelming scent to some people bcs of the tobacco

HAYTHAM KENWAY — i feel like he has a very old man taste so i'm chucking lotus OR frankincense. i think he'd like both bcs they're the most "classic" incense scents. definitely charismatic tbh

SHAY CORMAC — tobacco. smoky. just a classic "smokes and mirrors". it's kinda sad? it's a very lonely scent i think

ARNO VICTOR DORIAN — vanilla with sandalwood. it's heady and sweet with woody undertone to it. it has a european vibes to it that i personally dont like to light (vanilla doesnt smell good in humid weather to me), but definitely suits arno. it's sensitive yet strong, kind of tragic

ÉLISE DE LA SERRE — rose. definitely rose. cloying, floral, and sweet. has mixed receptions; it's a classic scent but i personally dont like it. i think it suits élise for her complicated nature. flitting and impossible to mistake

fin.

[blushedarmybunny]

Horny Morning | Kim Namjoon

♔Pairing: Husband! Namjoon x fem reader

♔Word count: 1.1 k

♔Genre: slice of life, smut

♔Summary: Hubby wants a special treat before going to work.

Your eyes opened early in the morning of a very typical Tuesday, sun rays filtering through the curtains, birds singing outside the window, the comforting repetitive sound of the air conditioner, mundane and routinary. As always you woke up first, your husband sleeping figure was just besides you, he liked to sleep on his stomach, and with his arm above you, he had to have any sort of contact with you when he sleeps, he needed to feel you besides him, so as the lucky girl you were, you got to see him as the first thing in the morning.

You work at home and Namjoon work as researcher in a lab, so he got up to work Monday to Friday, you shape your routine around his as the team you were, so you got up early to prepare coffee and breakfast so he can get ready for work, then you walk the dogs, take a shower and start with your own work and so on and so forth.

You slide Namjoon’s arm from your body, he seemed so tired, an important paper was about to be published and he and his team were working extra hours the entire weekend and yesterday, you didn’t mind, you like how passionate Namjoon was about his career and you support him 100%, he also made good money, and you knew this paper would end up paying for your Bali holiday this summer, sacrifices needed to be made. You knew your husband though, poor Joonie probably felt guilty no giving you much attention these days, he can recover the time lost when you two were at the beautiful beaches of Indonesia.

You got off the bed and went to the bathroom to wash up, when you open the door your husband was calling for you in bed, his groggy grin and half open eyes that gave you that look. The lustful look that meant he wanted you, so early but already eager for your touch.

“Morning” he said with raspy voice, you gave him a smile.

“Morning, Baby” you responded getting on the bed, he put you immediately on his lap with his strong arms, you felt his erection on your core sending a familiar twist to your lower stomach, your pussy already clenching for his dick.

“I want you” he simply said “I’d been turning crazy for the past days, only thing in my mind was my hot wife” he confessed getting rid of the hoodie, leaving his chest exposed, you licked your lips.

“Same babe, I know you’d been busy, so when I needed you I had to conform with my trustworthy Charlie” that’s the name you both gave to your vibrator, you had it before meeting Namjoon and now you two used it when you wanted some spice in the bedroom, or when Namjoon was very busy though you did not tell him, for some reason he did not like it that much when he wasn’t the one to use it on you.

“Oh no sweetheart, I’ve been that neglectful?” he said frowning “I need to take care of you asap” he said grabbing your ass under your  satin nightgown, his hands squishing your flesh made you moan.

“Not neglectful, I’m just needy all the time” you took your panties of leaving nightgown on.

“And I love that about you” he took his sweatpants and underwear off. “It’s my duty to satisfy you, not that pesky toy, when you need me you call me, ok my love?” his cock was out but half erected, you could not resist to take it and give it some strokes, Namjoon moaned in a low tone.

“Yes, understood…fuck-“ you moaned when you felt his finger behind you introduced in your pussy “like that” he started to stimulate your clit.

“You are so beautiful” he said to you heavy breathing “Kiss me” he begged, you took his face with one hand and lean to kiss him, his hot tongue sliding to your mouth, you moaned again, you felt his cock twitching in your thigh, that’s what you love about Namjoon, he was whipped for your touch and your body, you always felt his excitement every single time, he could never get enough of you.

He took his finger out, you were wet already, before he fingered you, you also missed his touch, you were starved for him.

“I want your cock inside me, right now”  you pleaded.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he cursed “You are perfect for me, you know that?” you squirmed at the clit stimulation “You wanna ride me today, huh?” you nodded and whined when he took his dick and placed it on your entrance, stimulating you as well as teasing you.

“Daddy please” you begged, you saw his smile while he guided you hips until were fully seated in his cock, he moaned at the sensation of your walls wrapping around his swollen dick.

“I’m sensible today, sweetheart” he said already worked up, you started moving, rolling your hips like a maniac, you wanted to feel every inch as you jump like bunny in heat, he could not repress the sound that his mouth made, the sounds of pleasure.

“Fuck daddy, you cock feels so good” you fasten your pace.

“Is it baby?” he replied grabbing your hips “I’m gonna cream all over your cunt and fill you up, you like that?”

“Fuck yes” you were feeling your orgasm arriving, and for the way Namjoon’s body was tensing, you knew he was close too. ”I’m gonna cum” you said to him.

“Let’s cum together, princess” he guided your hips at a more desperate pace until you finally had an orgasm, his hot seed filled your cunt and waves of pleasure travelled to your body, pure bliss on your faces.

You both laid there, you still on top of Namjoon for a few minutes, until you got off of him gaining a little protest.

“You have to go to work, and I’m starving” you said to him “But we can take a shower together”

“Deal”

After a quick shower, he got ready putting on his suit, your husband without doubt was hottie, you still drool over his athletic tall physique, and him in a suit was the next best thing only topped by him naked. You cooked the breakfast and you both eat talking about things you enjoy, everything was on a very good mood, sadly he had to go.

“Have a great day” you peck his lips, but he deepens the kiss and you gladly responded.

“I love you so much” he said giving you a small peck at the end.

“Love you too” but before he left he got near your ear and whispered:

 “Daddy’s is gonna take care of you all night afterwork, you gotta be patient, no toys, no touching otherwise you would be punished, understood?”

Gosh why he was so sexy? You were so lucky.

“Can’t wait for tonight”

The end.

[idontplaytrack]

I’ll Take Care Of You

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, coarse language

In which, AJ cares for reader following her discharge from the hospital after her injury

Part 1 | Part 2

Who wants part 4? Let me know:3

You were currently waiting on your discharge papers with Dylan’s Mom. AJ’s just walked in with a cup of hot chocolate that she’s got you from the vending machine down the hall. “Thanks, AJ.” You gave her a crooked smile, accepting the warm beverage. “Do you want anything, Julia?”

“Oh, no- mija. I’m okay.”

You were very cautious about what you put into your mouth because you were still experiencing a lot of nausea and even vomiting- well, it’s been a night. But at least you were allowed to go home now. “Everything okay, AJ?”

“Yeah, just Gabs texting me to ask how you were since didn’t respond to her text from earlier this morning.”

“Oh, noooo. I didn’t see it.” You gasped, “Shit.”

“Babe, it’s okay. She gets it, don’t worry.”

“My God, what is taking them so long?” Dylan’s mon shot up from her seat, annoyed. “You don’t even have a prescription.”

“Señora, I’m not the only one in this place that’s waiting to go home.”

“And your doctor isn’t the only one around here that can handle discharge papers.” His mom continued. AJ stifles a laugh, “It is taking awhile.”

“Yeah, I just- can’t be bothered to think right now. And I can’t actually because they told me not to stress myself out by doing that and make things worse.” You leaned your head on AJ’s shoulder.

“I’m just gonna ask them real quick.” The lady decided.

“Okay.” You shut your eyes briefly as you nod. But right as she was about to step out, your doctor’s head popped in through the door, “Sorry to keep you all waiting- there was a bit of a situation at the ER. Here are your discharge papers and a leaflet with the precautions to take and symptoms to watch for. She’ll need someone to watch her constantly for twenty-four hours.”

“Yeah, we’ve been told.” She said back, “Where do I sign?”

“On the blanks with the x’s beside them.” The doctor instructed. Julia properly skimmed through every line in the document before signing in on the two blanks.

“Alright, y/n, you’re free to go hun. Take care.” Your doctor smiled.

“Thanks.” You replied, standing up while AJ held onto your band, brushing her thumb over your knuckles.

“Thanks Doc, let’s go girls.”

AJ was going to be missing half a day of school since the track team was returning to school today after their meet. But that was the last thing on her mind. All AJ could focus on now was you- making sure you didn’t feel so sick that you’d have to throw up, making sure that your headache didn’t worsen to the point that it’d warrant a visit back to the hospital. Since your Mom and Dad were still in Bali, AJ insisted to stay with you even though Julia was going to be around.

“I think we’ll be okay.” AJ told Julia, “I’ll stay with her if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course, mija. I’ll leave you two be. But please call me if something’s amiss and I’ll come right back here.” Julia agrees, “There’s some frozen meals in the freezer so if you guys wanna eat, just heat any of those up, the leaflet's here. Along with her doctor’s contact information.”

“Okay, thanks so much.” AJ acknowledged with a nod, accepting Julia’s hug.

“No problem, sweetie.” Julia gives her a pat on the back before breaking away, “Bye, girls.” With that, you and AJ were alone. She shut the curtains partially before sitting with you on the couch. “Do you wanna go up to your room, honey?”

You shook your head telling her no, reaching up to grab her cheeks in your hand while your head was in her lap, “Hi.”

It made her giggle, “Hi, you. How ya feeling?”

“My head still hurts.” You sulked, “And my stomach. And my cheek.”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.” AJ said as she gently stroked near the top of your head, “You wanna get some sleep, baby?”

“Will you stay here with me?”

“Of course, my love.” She smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’ll be right here.” Easily, you dozed off feeling the warmth of AJ’s palms against your achy stomach, “Do you wanna try some Tylenol?”

“No.” You mumbled.

“Okay. That’s alright.”

————

When your eyes fluttered open, it was an hour later. And sure enough, AJ was right where she’d been like she promised— but asleep. You slowly pushed yourself to sit up and get off the couch so you could use the restroom. When you walked back outside, AJ was awake too.

“Did you get sick?” She asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“No, just had to pee.” You assured. Quickly returning back to your seat for cuddles. “That’s good.” She snakes an arm around your waist, “Dylan texted to ask if he and Stacey could come over with some pizza tonight? You up for it?”

“Sure.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile, “Would be nice to see them.”

“I’ll let him know.” AJ brushes the hair out of your eyes then grabbed her phone again to text Dylan back.

Right around dinnertime, Stacey and Dylan arrived. But at the same time, you felt the nausea amp up in the pit of your stomach causing you to yank AJ on the arm while you ran to the bathroom. You had to have AJ with you whenever this happened and she didn’t mind- she knew you would appreciate the moral support. Also, without her right behind you, you wouldn’t have made it to the bathroom considering the sudden bout of giddiness.

“What the fuck- is she okay?” Dylan asked aloud.

“Yes- it’s normal.” AJ answers while rubbing your back and holding your hair up.

“I hate this.” You mumbled shakily, standing back up on your feet.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay, just take some deep breaths, okay? The doctor says you can’t get too worked up.” She soothed. You did as she’d instructed, taking in a slow breath, and letting it out. Grabbing a tissue to wipe off your mouth, you then rinsed it out a few times to get rid of the horrible taste. A few tears still fell, out of frustration that you felt so unlike your usual self in more ways than one. Right now, you felt like your head was empty- like you were walking through a force field of confusion and a lot of aches and pains. Except, you knew everything that happened that led to your current state. So, your feeling this way only felt worse because you shouldn't even be in this state if it weren't for Evans.

Stacey and Dylan both gave you a hug each, which was very much appreciated. "We brought your fave." Dylan says, referring to the pizzas. "Thank you guys for doing this- it's really sweet."

"I know." Dylan chuckles, "I hope this makes up for the pizza dinner we promised the other night." "Oh, for sure." You said back, helping yourself to a slice- you took a small bite, "This is much better because it's just you guys."

Having them hanging out with you allowed you to feel a sense of normalcy that you were needing. Later, they left to allow you to turn in early. But not before they promised to hang out with you again soon. "Good night, guys. Thanks for tonight."

"Nighty night." Stacey hugs you, kissing you on the cheek, "Sweet dreams." "Keep this girl away from schoolwork, huh?" Dylan jokes, "We told our teachers about her concussion. They get it and will let her return to the workload gradually."

"Thanks." AJ smiled appreciatively, closing the front door, "G'night."

You slowly made your way upstairs while AJ trailed behind you. Crawling under the covers, your girlfriend does the same, holding you in her embrace. "I know you don't feel good, but it just has to run its course, hm? Let your body heal and strengthen itself for the next two days or so. Focus on resting and the recovery will be quicker. In the meantime, let me worry about things and take care of you."

You didn't give her a verbal response, but she knew you were listening by the way you snuggled closer to her. "I'm sorry you have to be the one looking after me. My Mom and Dad are landing in Newark tomorrow morning so, you don't have to-" "Don't be sorry for that, baby. You're my girl, I don't care how long it takes for you to feel 100% again. I'll take care of you- I will be right by your side every step of the way to make sure you're okay. I love you, now get some sleep." Her arms around you tightened again and she presses a kiss onto your shoulder. "Go to sleep, you're safe here with me, honey."

She told you that wholeheartedly and meant every word. You knew that, but what you also knew was how your parents would react to seeing you snuggled up in bed with a girl. You had no energy to think anymore, or worry about that, so you let the fatigue take over and just slept.

"I got you, honey. Don't you worry about anything at all."

[yjhariani]

Movie Night Banter

Jason Todd X Reader (GN) Word Count: ±760 Warning: Mostly dialogue. I am not used to writing in this form of sentences, might be awkward.

A/N: This is another chance where I submit to my Kahlil Gibran obsession and I do need something to make me feel better about myself lately so I write something that I can indulge something that I learn from college into. As always, further context and resource will be at the end of the piece.

Sometimes, movie night goes emotional. This time, surprisingly, is because of a book to film adaptation. Book to animated film to be exact.

It does sound like something not even Damian would choose to watch. However, it all started last night. Also, yes, Damian was involved.

"This week's theme is book to film adaptation. I say we go with The Portrait of the Lady on Fire," Jason begins.

"No."

"Anything Stephen King?"

"No!"

"Give me suggestions, then," Jason whines.

"My friend just returned from Bali and they did recommend some local books and films. I think they mentioned something about 5 cm and Rainbow Troop. You know, it's just that Rainbow Troop one isn't about queer people," Y/N explains.

"We have foreign film next week," Jason shrugs.

Y/N takes a moment, really thinking about what they think will make Jason be a little emotional.

"What about," Y/N puts a finger on Jason's chest, "The Prophet?"

"I don't think the Bible counts as a book in this category, darlin'," Jason chuckles.

"First, I'm glad you got that right. Kahlil Gibran indeed was a Christian. Second, it's nothing religious. Third, let's invite Damian," Y/N lists, with a mischievous smile.

"What?" Jason raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, Mr I-Spend-My-Free-Time-Reading-Poetry never touched The Prophet?" Y/N scoffs, but immediately cringes, "That sounds wrong."

"Oh, that one," Jason exhales.

Y/N nods in confirmation.

After a moment of consideration, Jason nods.

"Okay. We're not inviting Damian, tho," Jason states. "Can you at least give me a recap of the book? I don't think I'll have time to read it."

"I can't. It's too complex. I'm surprised you haven't read it," Y/N says.

"It's not really my domain," Jason admits.

"One time you made an elaborate presentation about Mahmoud Darwish because you interpret his poem differently from Damian," Y/N recalls.

"We don't talk about it," Jason points out.

***

Now, almost twenty-four hours later, Jason and Y/N are in the middle of the film and Jason aggressively pauses the film. He brushed his hair back with his fingers as he leans forwards, putting his elbows on his knees.

Y/N follows the gestures, a little concern. They put a hand on Jason's back.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

"I can't continue watching this," Jason says, turning towards Y/N, his eyes darkened. "I need to read the book first and that," Jason points at the screen, "if we ever... get married, I want that to be read in our wedding."

Y/N lets out a chuckle.

"Now, give me the book," Jason seriously says.

"Oh, Jason, we can continue watch—"

"I can't," Jason insists. "I need the book!"

"I don't have it, darling," Y/N calmly says. "There's ebooks on the internet."

"No! I want the book," Jason clarifies.

Y/N looks at Jason, seeing his frown. There is a sense of need in his eyes. With that, Y/N holds Jason's hand.

"Damian has it," Y/N informs.

Jason huffs out a blow of air.

"I'll head to his place, then. I'm sorry we have to cancel tonight," Jason says.

"Oh," Y/N chuckles, "I'll keep watching and by the time you return, I'd have finished the movie, sobbing my eyes out, and you're a few pages into the book, also sobbing your eyes out. We'd be crying together all night long. Won't that be romantic?"

"I won't... cry," Jason emphasised.

***

Y/N wakes up with Jason cuddled on their chest. Looking at the window, they see that it is morning already, with the sunshine sliding underneath the curtain.

"Hey," Y/N softly greets, brushing Jason's hair with their fingers.

As a response, Jason lets out a hum without opening his eyes.

"Were you up all night?" Y/N asks.

"I finished the book and watched the movie," Jason murmurs.

"Yeah?" Y/N replies. "How long'd you cry?"

"I didn't cry," Jason insists, "longer than fifteen minutes."

Y/N exhales a bit of air through their nose.

"I won't tell anyone," Y/N promises before pressing a kiss onto Jason's forehead.

Jason lets out a hum before he mumbles, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Y/N replies. "Now, I'm gonna get up and cook breakfast."

"Let's be together when the white wings of death scatter our days," Jason quotes.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Y/N chuckles.

"Just... five minutes? Until I fall asleep?" Jason bargains.

Y/N cannot help but smile.

"Alright," Y/N agrees, once more kissing Jason's forehead, which Jason returns with a kiss on their chest.

The Prophet (Book; Project Gutenberg)

The Prophet (Movie; Trailer)

On Marriage (from the book)

[green-for-the-win]

Riding the Gig Rollercoaster: Freedom, Precariousness, and the Future of Work

The traditional office cubicle feels like a faded photograph in the age of Uber and Upwork. Today, the buzzword is "gig economy," a world where work morphs into bite-sized tasks, platforms serve as matchmakers, and flexibility reigns supreme. But is this a revolution liberating us from corporate shackles, or a rollercoaster ride with hidden ticket prices? Buckle up, because we're about to explore the exhilarating highs and gut-wrenching lows of this work transformation.

On the plus side, the gig economy whispers sweet nothings of freedom. Ditch the rigid schedule, say goodbye to the fluorescent-lit prison, and become your own boss. Students can juggle studies with income, parents can craft work around kids, and anyone with a skill can set sail on the platform sea. Suddenly, the world becomes your office, the internet your commute, and your pajamas the ultimate power suit. Businesses, too, find themselves waltzing with a flexibility tango. Need a website built? Hire a designer in Bali. Marketing blitz needed? A team of writers in Argentina awaits. This agility in a hyper-connected world is music to any CEO's ears.

But hold on, partner, before you trade your keyboard for a hammock. The gig economy's charm carries a hefty precariousness tax. Unstable income, a social safety net as thin as a cobweb, and benefits that disappear faster than a magician's rabbit – these are the hidden costs of freedom. Algorithms, the invisible puppeteers behind the platform curtain, control work opportunities, potentially squeezing worker autonomy and raising the specter of exploitation. Suddenly, that freedom feels less like a liberating sunrise and more like a tightrope walk over a shark tank.

So, what's the verdict? Gig utopia or precarious purgatory? The truth, as always, lies somewhere in the messy middle. This new work model throws open doors, but leaves windows precariously ajar. That's where the cavalry, in the form of policymakers and regulators, come charging in. Minimum wage? Check. Social security? On its way. Algorithmic transparency? The battle cry has been raised. But finding the right balance is a delicate dance – too much regulation might clip the flexibility wings, and that wouldn't fly with anyone.

The future of work hangs in the balance. Can we build a gig economy that's a win-win? The answer lies in collaboration, a three-legged stool where governments, platforms, and workers all come together. Imagine platforms committed to fair treatment and data transparency, workers equipped with skills to navigate the digital jungle, and policies that offer a safety net without stifling the entrepreneurial spirit. That's the dream, the gigtopia where freedom doesn't come at the cost of security, and flexibility doesn't mean vulnerability.

So, the next time you think about joining the gig economy, remember: it's not just about chasing rainbows, it's about shaping the storm clouds. Together, we can build a future where every ride on the gig rollercoaster is not just thrilling, but safe and empowering for all.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: It’s so good to have you back posting. You mentioned seeing Wagner’s Ring Cycle at the Bayreuth Festival no less during your five month hiatus from your blog. How was that? I’m one of the lucky few to make a full time living as a musician in a symphony orchestra. I’m a Wagner fan as you are too and so I hope you could settle a question about Wagner. I’m sure you know how picky he was about the demands he made on his audiences. If Gustav Mahler contributed to the origination of the modern concert hall experience then did Richard Wagner really make the noisy audience shut up and be silent during opera performances on stage?

It’s easy to look at any stern looking portrait of Richard Wagner with his mutton chop whiskers and not think yes, this Teutonic cad is a killjoy (even if you can get past the lurid anti-semitism etc). But I fear for some things we do Wagner an injustice. Many bad things usually attributed to him are in reality unfair and even untrue. Things are so easily believed because it reinforces the nasty bad boy image we have of him.

This past summer I did see Wagner’s Ring Cycle in Bayreuth, the shrine of all things Wagnerian. My French partner grumbled we were better off spending and extra week of vacation in Bali rather than waste a week on Wagner. As a strong Wagnerian, this was all sacrilege to my ears of course. But in hindsight I should have known better. Any opera staged at Bayreuth these days should be approached with fear and trembling. In short, I was better off listening to Wagner on my headphones whilst sipping cocktails on a beach in Bali than live through the dross on display at the Bayreuth festival.

Growing up everyone told me, the best place to see Wagner’s Ring is Bayreuth, in the magnificent Festspielhaus that the composer built for that very purpose and opened in 1876. That’s what they used to say in Wagner’s day but not today. These days if you want a traditional production, as paradoxical as that sounds, you stay away.

Bayreuth has for some time now specialised in clever, sometimes too-clever-by-half, productions that place the master’s operas in a new context. But at least they try for coherence, unlike some other venues which have assigned each of the four operas to a different director. But at least they try for coherence, unlike some other venues which have assigned each of the four operas to a different director. Earlier this year Stuttgart went even further by entrusting each of the three acts of Walküre to three different production teams. Madness - and this new production has plenty of it, whether a good or bad thing depends on your attitude. Minor cheers mixed with extensive booing greeted the first opera Rheingold, and a thunderous boo followed the second, Walküre, immediately the curtain closed. Bayreuth is famous for such disapproval. I admit I was ticked off, annoyed, and then finally seething by the end. I wish I had a flame thrower so I could burn the whole stage down.

This Ring Cycle was being staged byValentin Schwarz, a 30 something Austrian opera director, and under the musical direction of Cornelius Meister. Schwarz was handpicked by Katharina Wagner. She’s the controversial director running the Bayreuth Festival - not because of talent (she has none) but by virtue of being Richard Wagner’s great-granddaughter (as well as Lizst’s great great granddaughter). In fact Schwarz’s production of the Ring Cycle was actually delayed from 2020 because of the Covid lockdown - so he had all these two years or so to fine tune it and get it right. He did neither and it was a like someone taping your eyelids back and strapping you down before forcing you for nights on end to watch a mind numbing TV soap opera on huge plasma screen.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment I opened the programme notes. My heart sank. Schwarz wasn’t looking to make a coherent Ring Cycle with Wagner’s libretto in a traditional sense, and is instead intended to be “constructively disrespectful”. Such a concept, which includes a deliberately “liberal approach to the plot”, and shifting representations of objects and ideas over the four evenings, is justified by alleged inherent inconsistencies within the work itself.

Oh. Dear God. No.

So this chap’s artistic approach was to go for ‘coherent incoherence’ to his overarching message. No, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

I know Wagner traditionalists, and I include myself, are always a hair trigger away from getting our knickers in a twist but when you’re putting on the complete Ring Cycle over four days then we can expect the bare minimum. So there has to be Ring because it’s called the Ring Cycle and preferably gold. And maybe throw in moving funeral march of Siegfried and a heart breaking farewell of Wotan to his daughter Brunnhilde. The bar is quite low. But no, we had none of this. Not even spears or swords and certainly no dragons (as Wagner had intended).

Wagner’s original conception embraces a three-fold division of the world: the Nibelungs beneath the world, the giants on the surface, and the gods in the cloudy heights; all this is made explicit in the third opera Siegfried. But what do we the audience get: a cheap and nasty prime time TV soap opera with studio sets to match. The paddling pool of Rheingold, where the Rhine maidens appear as nannies with children, had become a deep but empty swimming pool. There Hagen kills Siegfried, while his vassals lie half asleep in the fenced-off area above. Brünnhilde, who is supposed to be the tragic but awesome agent of destruction and rebirth, settled herself on the bottom of an empty and dirty swimming pool next to the dead body of her husband Siegfried with the remains of her mutilated horse in a plastic bag.

I tried to look past this travesty and honestly digged deep to make sense of what the production was trying to say. The whole staging and the costumes had a TV family soap opera flavour, that was blindingly obvious. But to what end? If there was an overarching theme then perhaps it was to focus on families and how wealth transforms and poisons future generations such as child abuse. The opening E flat chords of Das Rheingold played to a projection of twin foetuses in the womb. At first, they were intertwined peacefully, before one attacked the other, ripping the umbilical cord from its stomach. Moreover, through his programme notes, if not via actions on stage, Schwarz tells us that these warring foetuses are actually brothers of his own creation – Wotan and Alberich. What this sets up is an attempt to place the majority of the work’s characters into one of two branches of the same family – broadly, the have and have-nots – in order to compare their contrasting, or sometimes similar, fortunes, throughout the four evenings.

If that was the theme then I not convinced that it worked. Wotan at the start appears as a wheeler-dealer with a mobile phone, willing to be utterly ruthless, as when he shoots his own extra-marital son Siegmund in the second opera. This is Wagner’s Ring as dynastic soap opera but who cares? It’s not going anywhere. Schwarz’s idea, in Rheingold, that the cycle’s foundational sin was the seizure of a child, not of the gold from which a ring of power would be created, was not convincing. In Die Walküre, successfully subverting another big moment to the horror of traditionalists, he placed the final focus of the opera on Fricka’s futile triumph over Wotan, not on Wotan’s farewell to his daughter Brünnhilde. cycle ran out of steam in the end because it had no big or unifying idea.

New Ring cycles are springing up as the world’s opera houses get back into their rhythms after the pandemic. It is a competitive market. Among others, there was a well received one in Leipzig in June of this year, a promising one in Zürich, there’s another in Berlin this autumn and two in London in the years to come. Bayreuth remains an extraordinary venue, its ambitious ability to mount a new cycle in a single season is remarkable, and the 150th anniversary Ring, to be mounted there in 2026, will doubtless be a global event. But the festival feels as though it needs a radical rethink if it is to merit the reputation and attention.

My feeling, after mingling and chatting to others present to witness this travesty, is that many of the audience who were there this year may not have the patience to return for the revival of a Ring that went nowhere.

Increasingly I will tell anyone who wants to experience Wagner is to stay away from Bayreuth. Go and see a production anywhere else but Bayreuth that actually honours the spirit of Wagner’s artistic vision and above all respects the operatic lore and the source material.

So let’s move on to more pleasant matters. Your question of Wagner and silence in operatic performances.

In effect you're asking about audiences at performances rather than the performers which I think is an interesting question!

Wagner the composer, not the man, was responsible for many things which I think he doesn’t get enough credit for. In effect he revolutionised the operatic stage. Of course one one of his reforms was to dispense with the term "opera," which he replaced with Music Drama. It was at his iconic Festival Playhouse in Bayreuth that he pioneered innovations which we all now take for granted as traditions. It was Wagner who first hid the orchestra in a sunken pit. It was Wagner who insisted on darkening the theatre. And it Wagner who did away with boxes (except for King Ludwig) and instead built in amphitheatrical seating with no aisles. All these innovations were designed as a way to focus all the attention to the stage. The atmosphere of ‘consecration’ striven for at Bayreuth - Parsifal, Wagner's last stage work, was called something like a "Stage-Consecrating Festival Play" (Bühnenweihfestspiel) - meant that talking, moving, etc. were strongly discouraged. Since all the seats were in long rows that spanned the entire auditorium with no aisles, it was basically impossible to leave your seat during an act without making a scandal.

But did Wagner innovate the idea of silence of the audience before an operatic performance? Back in the day, Mark twain found himself writing a letter back home from Beyrouth where he had seen Tannhauser and suggesting the audience was quiet. He wrote, “I saw the last act of "Tannhäuser." I sat in the gloom and the deep stillness, waiting--one minute, two minutes, I do not know exactly how long - then the soft music of the hidden orchestra began to breathe its rich, long sighs out from under the distant stage, and by and by the drop-curtain parted in the middle and was drawn softly aside, disclosing the twilighted wood and a wayside shrine, with a white-robed girl praying and a man standing near. Presently that noble chorus of men's voices was heard approaching, and from that moment until the closing of the curtain it was music, just music--music to make one drunk with pleasure, music to make one take scrip and staff and beg his way round the globe to hear it.”

An audience at Bayreuth hasn’t always been known to be silent especially when they witness what they see as sacrilege on stage and they vent to make their feelings known with boos and cat calls. The story is similar in Milan at the equally famed La Scala too. In Italy to boo and catcall at the opera is positively a national past time. At La Scala opera singers were (and still are) at the mercy of a small group of Milanese musical purists - known as loggionisti, because of their fondness for the cheap seats (loggione) - if their performance was not up to scratch. It’s perfectly normal to interrupt the performance several times with noisy catcalls, and then round off the evening by booing loudly during the curtain call. How charming.

But did Wagner definitely usher in the silent audience for an operatic performance? It’s hard to say. We need to step back a little.

When the first public opera houses were founded in the mid-17th century, they were designed more as venues for social interaction than as sites of pure and sacrosanct aesthetic experience. Fanning out from the stage in glittering tiers were the boxes. Owned or leased by aristocrats or wealthy bourgeois, these intimate little spaces were perfect for entertaining guests, exchanging gossip or simply being seen. Down below was the parterre. Usually left open and generally without seating, this was the preserve of lower-income groups, including soldiers, students and servants, who used the space to meet friends, share a drink and gamble. Accordingly, the music was treated with noisy indifference, at best, or vocal contempt, at worst. Audiences were more interested in their own conversations than with what was happening on stage. They might perhaps listen to an aria, or watch the ballet (if there was one), but no more; and, if they did not like what they heard, they would make their displeasure known.

By the 18th century – when many theatres installed seats in the parterre and converted the top tiers of boxes into open loggione - the unruliness of performances had already become a commonplace of literature. In Les Liaisons dangereuses (1782), for example, Pierre Choderlos de Laclos indicated that well-bred patrons thought it quite acceptable to chat throughout a performance. In a letter to Sophie Carnay, Laclos’ ‘heroine’ Cécile de Volanges relates that she had been invited to the Marquise de Merteuil’s box at the Paris Opéra so that they could talk about her forthcoming marriage ‘without any fear of being overheard’. Naturally, such sociability all but smothered the music. After a visit to La Scala in 1770, the English music historian, Charles Burney, complained that the ‘abominable noise and inattention’ of his fellow patrons had made it impossible to make out anything but a few bars during some of the better known arias.

We can assume that British opera-goers were more reverent than their Italian counterparts. Samuel Sharp, a Brit visiting Naples in 1765, wrote in horror that at the San Carlo opera house “the crowd laughed and talked through the whole performance, without any restraint; and, it may be imagined, that an assembly of so many hundreds conversing together so loudly, must entirely cover the voices of the singers.” 85 years later, Mary Shelley expressed similar frustrations in Milan: “Unfortunately, as is well known, the theatre of La Scala serves, not only as the universal drawing-room for all the society of Milan, but every sort of trading transaction, from horse-dealing to stock-jobbing, is carried on in the pit; so that brief and far between are the snatches of melody one can catch.” In fact, for a while, La Scala was the only place the Milanese were allowed to gamble.

But this was entirely understandable. Imagine you’re an upper-class citizen in 18th or 19th-century Italy. You go to the opera regardless of what is playing, simply because that is where you will encounter the rest of society. You might attend in hopes of catching the eye of an attractive young lady or gentleman. Or maybe you want to talk politics - you can do that during the performance, too. Disappointed in a singer? Mention it to everyone else in your box. Hungry or thirsty? Flag down a seller of drinks or oranges. Buy and eat them - no need to wait for an intermission.  Mid-eighteenth-century composers intentionally gave a less important singer the first aria in act two. This was known as the “sorbet aria”: it was traditional to serve sorbet at that time, and the clinking of the spoons made the music difficult to hear.) If the opera truly bores you, you can always pay a visit to friends in another box or head to the gambling tables.

Angered by the lack of respect for their music, some composers attempted to fight back – even writing works satirising their audiences’ bad manners. The anonymous Critique des Hamburgischen Schauplatzes (1725), for example, offered a comical defence of opera against the frequent interruptions of German loggionisti. But it was a losing battle. Realising that no audience would listen to an entire work, composers started to produce pieces that took account of their inattention. These often included an aria di sorbetto (‘sherbet aria’), an incidental passage that allowed the audience to buy food or drink without fear of missing anything important.

Such concessions only encouraged further raucousness. By the early 19th century, it was almost out of control. In Paris, the situation was particularly bad. In the 1830s, Honoré de Balzac admitted that no one went to the Opéra for the music; while in Stendhal’s Le rouge et le noir (1830) Julien Sorel quickly learns to disregard the performance in favour of his own intrigues. But in Milan, it was even worse. In 1840, Mary Shelley wrote: ‘The theatre of La Scala serves not only as the universal drawing-room for all the society of Milan, but every sort of trading transaction, from horse-dealing to stock-jobbing, is carried on in the pit; so that brief and far between are the snatches of melody that one can hear.’

This kind of control the audience had even influenced what performance happened onstage as well. We still see the occasional encore of a famous aria by a star singer, but in past centuries the audience could and did demand multiple encores of many pieces (little wonder, given how difficult it must have been to hear them the first time around!). In Vienna in 1786, Le nozze di Figaro was received five encores its first night and seven its second (prompting an emperor-imposed ban on encores at future performances, to keep the opera to a reasonable length). Verdi’s Otello had a particularly successful premiere in Milan, with even interludes encored and 20 curtain calls!

Not until the late 19th century did the composers and music directors gain the upper hand and in turn imposed silence as the norm for watching audiences. Even then, it took longer to reach some countries than others. An amusing illustration of the difference between Britain and Italy can be found in E.M. Forster’s novel Where Angels Fear to Tread (1905). Hoping to talk their widowed sister-in-law out of marrying an Italian, the interfering siblings, Philip and Harriet Kingcroft, rush off to the Tuscan town of Monteriano. Soon after arriving, Philip spots a poster announcing a performance of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor and tries to persuade the sceptical Harriet to go with him. ‘However bad the performance is to-night’, he warns, ‘it will be alive. Italians don’t love music silently, like the beastly Germans. The audience takes its share – sometimes more.’ And so it turns out. Though Harriet does not care for music, Forster noted, she knows ‘how to listen to it’, and is outraged by the constant shouting and whistling. Not until the mid-20th century would poor Harriet have been able to find an Italian theatre where silence more or less reigned.

Why did audiences change their minds? Part of the reason is undoubtedly the evolution of opera itself. Although composers had previously been willing to accommodate unruly behaviour, the advent of Romanticism persuaded Germans to adopt a more uncompromising approach in their music. Beginning with Louis Spohr – who abhorred the ‘vile noise’ of Italian opera houses – attempts were made to make opera more like the Singspiele (‘sing-plays’) of folk tradition. This entailed grouping arias into longer and more coherent scenes, which could not be interrupted or missed without the narrative thread being lost. The culmination of this trend was Richard Wagner’s notion of the Gesamtkunstwerk (‘total work of art’).

And now we come to Richard Wagner.

Most people blame Wagner for turning on the sound of silence. Because he was in total control at Bayreuth, he went ahead and eliminated audience boxes, hid the orchestral pit, and plunged the audience into darkness. The message was clear: look at the stage, not each other. Pay attention to the music and the action. Let the artists control your experience.

Wagner though didn’t just control his environment that his art demanded (or enforced) but he made demands on the audience for his music in the name of art. Combining music, poetry and drama in epic form, Wagner greatly expanded the role of the orchestra and relied more on the use of leitmotifs - recurrent musical themes associated with a particular character or idea - much beloved of movie soundtracks today, just listen to any John Williams composed films or Howard Shore’s Lord of the Rings - than on structural divisions to advance the story. So great were the demands placed on audiences, that little scope remained for inattention – or interjection. And, as Wagner’s influence spread, so did the silence.

Of course that silence by the audience during performances was also due to social changes and who went to the opera and it’s important to note that. Between about 1650 and 1850, opera was ‘enjoyed’ by a relatively broad range of people. Though public opera houses tended to be financed by monarchs, nobles or wealthy merchants, performances were attended by high and low alike. In the later 19th century, however, the emergence of music halls changed everything. Offering every kind of entertainment - from music to magic - and a deliberately relaxed atmosphere, these quickly won the favour of the working classes and those who didn’t have spare cash to burn. And so opera houses became the preserve of the upper and middle classes.

And what happens when the bourgeois and the middle classes capture an art form as an exclusive preserve of their class entitlement? They become snobby about it. They had to socially distance themselves from the great hoi polloi and the crude ways of the working poor. And what better way to virtue signal your civilised class refinement that than to socially enforce a reverential code of sacrilegious silence when watching an opera performance on stage?

Indeed it’s ironic that Wagner himself who did much to usher in the silence was a victim himself. At Bayreuth performances audiences do not applaud at the end of the first act. This tradition is the result of a misunderstanding arising from Wagner's desire at the premiere to maintain the serious mood of the opera. After much applause following the first and second acts, Wagner spoke to the audience and said that the cast would take no curtain calls until the end of the performance. This confused the audience, who remained silent at the end of the opera until Wagner addressed them again, saying that he did not mean that they could not applaud.

After the performance Wagner complained, "Now I don't know. Did the audience like it or not?"At subsequent performances some believed that Wagner had wanted no applause until the very end, and there was silence after the first two acts. Eventually it became a Bayreuth tradition that no applause would be heard after the first act, but this was certainly not Wagner's idea. In fact, during the first Bayreuth performances, Wagner himself cried "Bravo!" as the Flower maidens made their exit in the second act. But on this occasion when he did this he was severely hissed by some of the audience watching. Wagner was scolded in his own theatre for being a rabble rousing lout. Charming. 

All this is to say that this has rather uncomfortable implications. In preferring to listen to an opera in silence, are we really just perpetuating a form of Victorian snobbery? I will leave that for you to think further on.

I confess that I grew up in the Wagnerian tradition, like most opera fans, of respecting an operatic performance as it was happening with silence (even if I wanted to scream abuse at someone on stage as if I was at a football match). I’m no different from anyone else if some idiot is coughing loudly and I give him a look of silent despair or if some poor dear starts chatting to her neighbour then I just get mildly annoyed.  I’m there for the opera to lift me out of my body and immerse me into the full drama and music. But even I can understand that such an imposed passivity might make opera inaccessible to everyone (or at least the ones it used to appeal to in the early days). Operas are long - especially Wagner’s operas - and it’s a rare person who can sit through an entire performance hanging on every note with almost religious devotion.

Perhaps the time is long overdue when we need to be so precious with such conventions, if only to broaden the appeal of opera. I’ve been fortunate to have seen operas all across Europe and few exceptional venues overseas too such as the Met in New York. These days if I go to the opera it’s to the Palais Garnier here in Paris. Surprisingly it’s not a stuffy affair as people come dressed as they please and the prices are more affordable, more so than in London. Change in the opera house culture comes at a glacial pace of turning a tanker around, but I feel they are heading in the right direction with their outreach work to appeal to a broader audience.

I’m all for innovation in that regard. Pop up performances in cafés or art galleries or other cool public venues may help people take a second look at opera again…and wrest control away from the stifling hold of the bourgeois. It’s not pure opera but hopefully it helps young people especially to embark on a journey to the opera house.

I hope we can have it both ways. I want to hear the music, and I also want the opera house to be a gathering place for all of society and a true diversity of people. I can’t imagine how one does that. Perhaps longer intermissions for food and drink? A beer tent with premium German beer? Or maybe a quiet gambling den area in the lobby area? And  perhaps a brothel sponsored bonking boxes for…well, I’ll let your imagination run riot. And it would be keeping with tradition too.

The foyer de la danse in an opera house was a backstage room that essentially served as a brothel for opera and ballet patrons and aficionados in the 19th Century. While other international ballets and operas at the time had similar practices, the 19th century Paris Opera Ballet at the Palais Garnier was perhaps the most notorious and most celebrated by Parisians - how else do you suppose Edgar Degas hang out drawing sketches of nubile ballerinas. The opera house managers were positively pimping out the ballerinas and other artistic performers to keep the wealthy patrons sweet. Not that I’m condoning the legitimacy of courtesans flogging their wares during a performance of La Traviata, although Giuseppe Verdi might smile at the irony given that his celebrated opera was essentially about a Parisienne courtesan, Violetta Valery.

I’m sure the surly and serious minded Richard Wagner would get his mutton chop whiskers in a twist.

Thanks for your question.  

[a-forbidden-detective]

Crossing the enemy lines

Fandom: Ron Kamonohashi Deranged Detective

Last week, an anime in the making was announced to the delight of manga readers like yours truly. This is a prequel to the first chapter, with some hints of spoilers, yet canon divergence and a mix of head canons and fan theories.

If you haven’t read it, I urge you to do it.

Trying out for the first time to join @flashfictionfridayofficial for this week’s prompt.

Totomaru Isshiki is on the run. Face, beet red and sweating, and heart racing, he turns around for a split second to check if someone is following him. Nary a soul. No one. Nothing. He walks along the coastal beach, strange that there are no divers to be seen, no beachcombers, not even the locals. The white sand, however, keeps on entering his white sneakers.

Kilometres it seems as he comes across the fields of rice where patient water buffaloes are waiting for their masters. His burner phone starts again to vibrate. In fact, it has been vibrating ever since this morning. Like a wilful child, he decides not to answer it at all.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck me!” Cursing is not particularly in his vocabulary, but at this moment, cursing at himself seems to be the only thing he can do. Paranoia grips him. Regrets. He has a lot of those. Especially if you are born in a powerful family operating in the shadows. He’s been cooped up for two days on the beautiful Yaeyama Islands. He’s walking aimlessly. The view is right—a row of Bali style lodges in the middle of luxurious jungle facing the blue waters of the ocean against the backdrop of loud yellow sunshine, verdant rice fields, temperature shooting up to more than 30 degrees, perfect for a getaway—but everything is wrong, off. Toto’s ideal vacation is without a doubt no disturbance coming from anybody, lest his own family.

The old Nokia model vibrates again. He resolves to answering it all at once. “Hi!” Toto knows the owner of that voice, Milo Moriarty.

“No greetings? Oh, you wound me, Toto. Are you enjoying the views at least? Have you been touring the whole island? You are so unreachable. It is exhausting to be ignored. Don’t try me, Toto. Don’t make me angry.”

Of course, Milo will know where he is. He has eyes and ears on everything. His omnipotence scares him, a family trait. Besides, he’s the one who kidnaps him away from the comforts of his new flat. He’s the reason he has probably lost a day prior to his arrival to the islands.

“It is not my fault to be here, Milo. I was doing my job and the next thing I knew I was on an island.” Toto is irritated that intermingles with his fear. He knows what Milo is capable of. He has seen how he destroys his enemies, witnessed what happened to those who oppose him. Yet deep inside, he knows Milo won’t dare touch a strand of his brown hair. He has other ways to punish him.

“Your job? If that’s your way of making me laugh… you only got it because you insisted of doing the right thing when you don’t even have the talent for deduction.” Loud chuckle rambles on the receiver. Toto could smother him. “The curtain rises.” Milo has the penchant for the dramatics. “Your stage is ready.”

“Ron Kamonohashi is not bothering the family. He’s suffering from depression, wallowing in his own loneliness…why do we need to lure him out?” Toto asks. He’s not used to violence so he’s resorting to a more sinister plan: befriending him, earning his trust. Milo has instructed him. He’s been taught how to mind his manners after all, all thanks to their grandmother, who is particular with etiquette by keeping the appearances of a respectable family.

“Because he’s nothing but a pest, Toto. He’s akin to a rat that needs to be eradicated. He’s an anomaly. He’s a taint.” Milo, who has taken over the family empire, means business. He can go on and on, declaring a hundred ways to destroy Ron Kamonohashi.

“He’s walled up in his room for five years, don’t you think it is punishment enough?”

“Are you backing out? Are you defying me? We have talked about this.” Milo raises his voice. Toto, shocked and defeated, tries to defuse Milo’s anger.

“All right. All right. You don’t need to be hyper. I’ll do it, okay?!” Toto assures Milo.

“Very good! Enjoy the last few hours of your holiday, Toto. Details will come to you once you are back in Tokyo.”

“Will you be there?”

“Maybe. Though I doubt it. If my schedules in London will permit me. Goodbye, Toto. I am counting on you this time.”

Toto lets out a sigh. He packs the personal stuff he has, goes to the terrace, and watches the sunset. Very soon he will meet the descendant of Sherlock Holmes. Not long now.

—

Expanded version now on AO3.

[nnmarudkar]

Reading Heeramandi Poster

Look at this beauty. Just look at it. How could someone do this? I am in complete aww of this picture since it was dropped by the makers. Such a masterpiece. Well SLB always comes with a masterpiece having his gloomy yet shiny lighting, look and feel and who can not notice the stars and their poses. But this particular project could attract a bigger cast to mingle their star value and his ambitious venture. Though Sonakshi, Manisha Koirala, Aditi Rao Hydari and Richa Chaddha are still mainstream stars in their own way but read that purpose to add elegance than star value. WOW! I am glad for such a huge show but a subtle starcast and extravagant poster. Forget everything but this poster.

The makers released two of them but I fell for the black piece rather than yellow. I feel the yellow just burns in the eye. It’s too blown with that effect. But the black one is a complete art with I am sure innumerable heads and eyes. I can’t just get my eyes away. I stare at it at least for 10 seconds to find every detail of it each time it comes while scrolling. It's a very thought through poster.

The colour palette for both the posters is strictly inclusive of only 4 dominant colours.

YELLOW, Red, Gold, Brown

BLACK, Silver, Red, Gold

Do not believe me? Look at this.

You can’t even make out that green curtain and green in Manisha’s ghaghra because there is so much of black. I did because I zoomed in too much in love. I am obsessed with it. Who thinks of putting black and grey in a  somewhat dark room? But yet this poster wins and every small detail stands out.

Now lets talk about the marvelous symmetry. Oh My God! If you draw lines on this poster, they are all going to end linearly. I did it. Look at this. 

They maintain the rule of thirds exactly how it is explained. No Faces outside the grid. Gosh! I am overwhelmed because there are 6 people, not 2 or 3.

If you just look at the poster softly with a casual approach you see some sharp yet invisible lines. These lines put the faces just one below or above each other creating a shape of an object. This does not happen by coincidence just randomly. It is created to be like that. Sanjay Leela Bhansali, you can’t guess wrong here. But who is the DOP?

A common element in both the posters is the clear reflection that falls on the floor. While unique elements of the posters are the background. While one stands against the curtain, the other against wood and glass door structure. 

However candles are beautifully placed, common and illuminating objects behind the subjects in both the pictures. Black poster gets more aesthetic value with the gold and yellow candle flame and white crystal accessorized stand.

Now let's get to their faces. See those consistent expressions on each lady’s face. GRACE, you call it. A free and confident body. Sense of Pride in their posture of owning that body reflects in their subtle smiles and eyes. It’s gorgeous art one can frame and put on a wall. The women really look like queens.

You know I can go on and on if I sit with equally cinema obsessed nerd. The last time I saw a similar poster was of Kalank. But this is something magnificent. I wished I saw Huma Qureshi on this. I don’t know why I feel like it but I am used to seeing Huma in such a look with maang tika, jhoomar tika, chand bali, garara etc.

But I must say that there is some magic in it and you hardly fall in love with a poster like this one. 

[notwiselybuttoowell]

There are a variety of AC units available, and some will be more efficient than others, but the best-case scenario is they’re electric, and until our electricity grid is 100% renewable, all energy use is exacerbating climate change. Most units will be ejecting hot air into the urban spaces between the buildings, so you are heating up the outdoors and increasing discomfort for anyone in the line of your hot exhaust, including people outside and people desperately trying to get some fresh air in through their windows.

Almost all systems use refrigerants that are extremely potent greenhouse gases. Also, as with all electrical equipment, AC units include rare Earth metals that leave a wake of devastating social and ecological harm through their extraction and processing.

There are other, well-established solutions we can turn to. If you can, retrofit your home to make it more comfortable year-round with loft insulation (it works both ways!), external shading (such as shutters), painting external walls and flat roofs in pale colours that reflect the sun’s energy back out, and planting deciduous trees in front of south-facing windows that provide free shading in the summer that conveniently disappears in winter. Quicker fixes include closing windows when it’s hotter outside than inside to trap more cool air, closing blinds and curtains or fashioning external shades, and reducing heat by turning everything off standby.

For new-build homes or deep retrofits, we need to apply principles of passive design such as treating facades differently depending on whether they face north, east, south or west, introducing overhangs, especially on south-facing facades, positioning windows and organising layouts to allow cross-flow ventilation, and of course, external shutters. In the UK we’ve not typically built our homes with shutters since glass became the preferred material for holes in walls, but maybe it’s time they made a comeback. Wouldn’t towns and cities resplendent with beautiful, colourful, shutters be preferable to a melted wasteland with a few fortresses decorated with condenser units?

There is of course a place for air conditioning in our built environment, especially in care settings. But the solution is definitely not a glut of individual, inefficient AC units. Rather the solutions must be large-scale and infrastructural, such as heat pumps connected to fifth-generation heat networks – a recent pilot in Plymouth allowed users to both import and export heat into the network, improving efficiency and sharing of resources.

Fundamentally, this comes down to short-term individual solutions versus longer-term collective action. How can we culturally adapt to our new climate? How can employers offer more flexibility? How can the construction industry (including AC manufacturers and installers) be encouraged to maximise passive – non-power-sucking or chemical-burning – measures before relying on active cooling? How can the government offer good advice, resources and grants to retrofit all our homes for long-term sustainability? How can we learn from indigenous technologies that better incorporate collective management of resources and collaborate with natural systems? For example, the subak irrigation system in Bali, which collectively manages steep terraces of rice paddies with a network of channels that distribute cooling water while facilitating healthy nutrient cycling and organic pest control.

[varangianviper]

Cactus, nutmeg and papyrus for the ask game <3

Cactus: I‘m currently learning about politics concerning Russia‘s development from USSR to modern Russia and Putin. A bit with focus on German/Russian relations (and wtf is wrong with Putin). Also I‘m refreshing my knowledge of the thyroid gland a bit for medical reasons.

Nutmeg: I‘ll tell you about my ‚study‘ because it is exclusively my room in the house (I‘m living with my s.o.).

One wall has black wallpaper with structure and a golden pattern in art-deco style. The next wall is painted in petrol-color and has a big, copperish steel artwork that looks a bit like leafs swung in an open swirl like a fox‘s tail. The other walls are plane white, there‘s a black modern TV Set, a small bookshelf with scientific books and pictures and a plant. The floor is dark brown hardwood, with a small fluffy rug in Creme. Then there is my leather sofa, my desk (mahogany colored wood) with computer and printer. There‘s a round shelf with pictures on the wall, a painting of Thor (2011) Loki and next to the desk a small glass table with a wooden monster-figure from Bali which looks quite creepy (I heard Coconuts tame them and make them protect your house). I have some plants on my windowsill as well, behind a see-through curtain to protect them from my cats.

Papyrus: It‘s ‚Brainless‘ by BBno$, a canadian musician I just discovered some weeks ago. It has no special meaning or association for me yet. But I really like the beat of it.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: "What do you do?"

"Other people's boyfriends, apparently."

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn't sure if he's hitting his lowest point, but at least he's hitting something.

Bali (ao3) - Ashstars1998 michael/calum M, 4k

Summary: "Late night dip?" Michael jumped a little from the disruption of the silence.

"Yeah, the sunburn was just killing me and I thought hey? Why not a swim to relieve the pain?" Michael splashed the water around him giving Calum that toothy grin of his.

Chevy Malibu (ao3) - Lostideas calum/ashton M, 4k

Summary: Ashton’s name pops up from the top of his screen, a whatsapp message reading ‘outside’. Calum gets up, walks to his windows and peeks through the curtains. He can see Ashton’s chevy a bit further down the street, headlights turned off.

Calum carries his docs in his left hand as he sneaks out of his room.

or; Ashton picks Calum up in his car late at night sometimes. They scream into the void and love each other.

chicago thighs (ao3) - allmywill michael/ashton M, 904

Summary: Ashton loves getting gifts from fans. He usually expects notes, candy, and stuffed animals; not lacy black panties with matching garters and thigh-high socks.

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Hotel California (ao3) - persephone_evans michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: Ashton wakes up in the most expensive hotel he's ever been in. Only problem, he can't remember how he got there or how he paid for it. But when he meets Calum and gets introduced to Michael and Luke, he doesn't care anymore.

a hotel california au that i wrote in a fit of depression

LA is not for the weak (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton M, 34k

Summary: Anybody who has ever lived in LA can second that the vibe is off. So much goes down in Los Angeles every single day that there is no way you can know everything about this city. Negative energies have the tendency to spread much quicker than positive ones, and it shows. Having lived in Los Angeles for as little as a couple of months, perhaps even less, can change you for the rest of your life. Some people recover from LA, almost as if it were a flu, but some people can never seem to snap out of it. For those of the last category, even if they are on the other side of the world, they are still in LA. Or, really, LA is still in them.

After everything that has happened in the past couple of years, Luke Hemmings is not doing okay. Los Angeles has really started to take its toll on him, and the constant pressure of being in the public eye doesn't make it any easier.

Ocean Avenue (ao3) - CliffordAffliction calum/ashton M, 20k

Summary: Cashton adventures based off of the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

With a New York State of Mind (I Wanna Take My Heart to the End of the World) (ao3) - Lxverxofmxne G, 1k

Summary: 4 strangers, same destination. One road trip, 14 hours max. — “This is going to sound really weird, but do you wanna road trip with me?”

The men stared at Luke weirdly. He shrugged before continuing.

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

[heyitssai]

While watching this show is Bali with Eurona and Shiong, I told them that my fav scene of this entire series is when Tim was invited to Mary's house for dinner. Behind that closed door, with the curtains drawn, just a bunch of queer people drinking, dancing and laughing loudly, hesitation free. It felt safe.

It felt safe in that room. It felt enough in that room. It felt whole in that room. This reminded me of the rooms I was in, locked doors, music concealing the conversations, where the pretending stops. Out of that room, it is the harsh reality we eventually have to return. But those precious fleeting moments, were enough.

I think we're alone now. The beating of our hearts is the only sound.

[samyamameditation]

A Quick Breakdown Of Meditation Teacher Training Bali: A Step-By-Step Guide

Do you want to pursue your career as a meditation trainer? Are you ready to dive into the world of meditation teacher training bali? It is not just a course; it is an adventure into the heart of mindfulness. Here’s a sneak peek at what awaits at such training camps:

1. Mindful Learning Journey: Brace yourself for a learning experience that goes beyond the ordinary. meditation teacher training bali is a mindful journey, where each lesson becomes a stepping stone to a deeper understanding of meditation practices.

2. Dive Into Diverse Techniques: Bali’s training is not a one-size-fits-all deal. Get ready to explore a variety of meditation techniques – from concentration practices to mindful walks. The training is a toolbox, equipping you with diverse methods to guide yourself and others on the path to inner peace.

3. Instructors With Heart: Meet the wizards behind the curtain – your instructors. These are not just teachers; they're mentors with a genuine passion for helping you unfold your potential. Expect a supportive environment where questions are welcomed, and growth is celebrated.

4. Real-World Application: Meditation Teacher Training Bali is not just about theory. It is a hands-on experience. You will delve into practical applications, honing your skills in real-world scenarios. Whether it's guiding a meditation session or tackling common challenges, this training prepares you for the real deal.

5. Community Vibes: Picture a tribe of like-minded individuals sharing the same journey. That's your community. Bali's training isn't just about learning; it's about forging connections, sharing insights, and building a network that extends beyond the course.

6. Bali Magic: Last but not least, brace yourself for the Bali magic. The island’s enchanting aura adds a unique flavor to your training. Apart from a curriculum; the course is also about absorbing the essence of Bali – a place where spirituality and tranquillity intertwine.

Final Words So, if you are gearing up for meditation teacher training bali, get ready for an immersive experience. it is not just about becoming a teacher; it is also about embracing a lifestyle steeped in mindfulness.

[myfrenzi]

OTT for Travel Enthusiasts: Exploring the World from Home

OTT for Travel Enthusiasts: Exploring the World from Home — Best Movies on OTT

Wanderlust is a powerful and pervasive feeling, but sometimes life’s demands keep us grounded. Enter Over-The-Top (OTT) platforms, your passport to the world from the comfort of your home. Myfrenzi takes you on a journey through the world of “best movies on OTT” that cater to the travel enthusiast in you. Let’s embark on this adventure together.

Act I: The Power of Cinematic Travel

Cinema has a magical ability to transport us to far-off places and immerse us in different cultures, making it the ultimate escape for travel enthusiasts.

Beyond the Screen: Movies recreate the sights, sounds, and emotions of travel, enabling us to explore the world vicariously.

Act II: The Appeal of Travel Movies

Travel movies offer a unique blend of storytelling and wanderlust, stirring the desire to explore new destinations.

Inspiration Awaits: These films inspire us to embark on our adventures, fueling our dreams of visiting uncharted territories.

Act III: The “Best Movies on OTT” for Armchair Travelers

Let’s explore some of the “best movies on OTT” that take you on a cinematic journey around the world:

1. “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” (Netflix): Join Walter Mitty on a whimsical adventure that spans Greenland, Iceland, and the Himalayas, as he embarks on a journey of self-discovery.

2. “Eat Pray Love” (Hulu): Follow the transformative journey of a woman who embarks on a global quest for self-rediscovery, visiting Italy, India, and Bali.

3. “The Darjeeling Limited” (Amazon Prime Video): Experience the train journey of three estranged brothers through the breathtaking landscapes of India, all while dealing with their personal issues.

Act IV: The Power of Storytelling

Movies tap into the power of storytelling, offering us narratives that resonate with our innate desire for exploration and adventure.

Connection Through Stories: Travel films connect us to people, places, and cultures we may never have encountered otherwise.

Act V: The Emotional Journey

Travel movies not only showcase beautiful destinations but also delve into the emotional landscapes of their characters.

Journeys Within: These films explore not only geographical locations but also the internal journeys of the characters.

Act VI: FAQs for Armchair Travelers

Q1: How do travel movies impact our perception of the world? Travel movies broaden our horizons, fostering a deeper appreciation for different cultures and locations.

Q2: What makes a great travel movie? Great travel movies combine storytelling, visuals, and cultural insights, inviting viewers to connect emotionally with the characters and their journeys.

Q3: How can travel enthusiasts satisfy their wanderlust from home? Watching travel movies, reading travel blogs, and exploring virtual tours of destinations can help quench your travel thirst.

Curtain Call: Traveling the Cinematic Way

In conclusion, travel movies are the perfect companions for armchair travelers. They whisk us away on global escapades, enabling us to explore new cultures, landscapes, and experiences without leaving our living rooms.

As you explore the “best movies on OTT,” remember that the world is at your fingertips. Each film is an invitation to explore, learn, and dream of your next adventure, all while basking in the glow of your screen.