#and like. i understood it in german without having to...translate?

[awondrousway]

.......hey that was really weird and cool

[hedgehog-moss]

"rn I feel like reading about someone's quiet daily life, maybe a diary or letters, set in a place or context I don't know much about, without turmoil or tragedy" oh! do you have any recommendations for books like this?

This is one of my favourite types of books! Here are 30(ish) recs...

May Sarton's The House by the Sea or Plant Dreaming Deep

Gyrðir Elíasson's Suðurglugginn / La fenêtre au sud (not translated into English unfortunately!), also Bergsveinn Birgisson's Landslag er aldrei asnalegt / Du temps qu'il fait (exists in German too)

Gretel Ehrlich's The Solace of Open Spaces, which iirc was originally written as journal entries and letters before being adapted into a book

Kenneth White's House of Tides: Letters from Brittany and Other Lands of the West

Sei Shonagon's Pillow Book

The Diary of a Provincial Lady, E. M. Delafield

Growing Up with the Impressionists: The Diary of Julie Manet

Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim (do not read if you don't like flowers)

The Road Through Miyama by Leila Philip (I've mentioned it before, it feels like this gif)

The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, I keep recommending this one but it's so nice and I love snails

Epicurean Simplicity, Stephanie Mills

The Light in the Dark: A winter journal by Horatio Clare

The Letters of Rachel Henning

The letters of Tove Jansson, also The Summer Book and Fair Play

The diary of Sylvia Townsend Warner—here's an entry where she describes some big cats at the zoo. "Frank and forthcoming, flirtatious carnivores, [...] guttersnipishly loveable"

The Letters of Rachel Carson & Dorothy Freeman were very sweet and a little bit gay. I mostly remember from this long book I read years ago that Rachel Carson once described herself as "retiring into her shell like a periwinkle at low tide" and once apologised to Dorothy because she had run out of apple-themed stationery.

Jane Austen's letters (quoting the synopsis, "Wiser than her critics, who were disappointed that her correspondence dwelt on gossip and the minutiae of everyday living, Austen understood the importance of "Little Matters," of the emotional and material details of individual lives shared with friends and family")

Madame de Sévigné's letters because obviously, and from the same time period, the letters of the Princess Palatine, Louis XIV's sister-in-law. I read them a long time ago and mostly I remember that I enjoyed her priorities. There's a letter where she complains that she hasn't received the sausages she was promised, and then in the next paragraph, mentions the plot to assassinate the King of England and also, the Tartars are walking on Vienna currently.

Wait I found it:

R.C. Sherriff's The Fortnight in September (quoting the author, "I wanted to write about simple, uncomplicated people doing normal things")

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Betty Smith

Pond, Claire-Louise Bennett

Rules for Visiting, Jessica Francis Kane

The following aren't or aren't yet available in English, though some have already been translated in 5-6 languages:

ツバキ文具店 / La papeterie Tsubaki by ito Ogawa

半島へ / La péninsule aux 24 saisons by Mayumi Inaba

Giù la piazza non c'è nessuno, Dolores Prato (for a slightly more conceptual take on the "someone's everyday life" theme—I remember it as quite Proustian in its meticulousness, a bit like Nous les filles by Marie Rouanet which is much shorter and more lighthearted but shows the same extreme attention to childhood details)

Journal d'un homme heureux, Philippe Delerm, my favourite thing about this book is that the goodreads commenter who gave it the lowest rating complained that Delerm misidentified a wine as a grenache when actually it's a cabernet sauvignon. Important review!

Un automne à Kyôto, Corinne Atlan (I find her writing style so lovely)

oh and 西の魔女が死んだ / L’été de la sorcière by Kaho Nashiki —such a little Ghibli film of a book. There's a goodreads review that points out that Japanese slice-of-life films and books have "a certain way of describing small, everyday actions in a soothing, flawless manner that can either wear you out, or make you look at the world with a temporary glaze of calm contentment and introspective understanding [...]"

I'd be happy to get recommendations in this 'genre' as well :)

[sopiao]

König with civilian!wife! reader that naps on your lap when he wakes up from a nightmare, idk i saw this on a tiktok and found it very cute (n_n)

König usually is very restless and often stays up. And you’d stay up with him, regardless if your tired or not. You’d rub his back, scratch his head. But what works the most is softly patting him to sleep. It helps if theres soft, classical or piano instrumental music lowly playing in the back.

But even with all of your help he always feels bad that you stay up just to help him get some sleep. But you insist that you’re not bothered by it and it would stop you from being able to have a peaceful rest if he’s up.

The two you have tried everything, reading before bed, a cup of tea or a glass of hot milk before sleeping, even sleeping pills. Well they work until he wakes up a couple hours later, unable to go back to sleep.

It’s like you have a sixth sense for this, whenever he sits up in the middle of the night or tosses and turns a little more than usual, you automatically wake up to try and soothe him back to sleep.

—

Tonight he managed to sleep peacefully after being at a family party for hours. It was already 12:46 when you two arrive home. Both drowsy and exhausted when you brush your teeth together in your pajamas. He was already incredibly tired from having to talk and catch up with your side of the family, so once he hit the pillow he was snoozing.

It was a miracle, once in a blue moon event for him to slip into slumber without having a glass of milk, and 40 minutes of you scratching and rubbing his back.

You chuckled, happy that your husband could finally sleep without his insomnia getting in the way. Sliding into your side of the bed, next to him, turning off the lights and pulling the covers over the two of you.

Around 4:24 you stirred awake, startled by the sudden and sharp shift in the bed, you turned around calmly. Feeling around the bed for König, ready to hold him and soothe him back to sleep. When you can’t find him you sit up, seeing your husband sat up, hunched over with his hands in his face.

Worriedly, you get up, sitting next to him while resting a hand on his shoulder. He slightly jumps, not expecting you to be awake, too stuck in his own thoughts to notice you move. He couldn’t hide the tears that streamed his face, staining his cheeks, making them glossy when he turned slightly to face you.

You sigh sadly, usually you know what to do when he just wakes up from his insomnia, but right now you don’t know what happened. König felt bad for waking you, feeling that he’s troubled his wife enough for having to deal with his restless nights. But right now he couldn’t help himself, immediately leaning in to squeeze you into a tight hug.

Decided to stay quite and not ask him what’s wrong when he’s already overwhelmed, you hug him back, one hand rubbing his back while the other ran up and down from his hair to the nape of his neck. Murmuring soft reassurances.

He started to explain and talk in german, probably too upset or overwhelmed to speak in english. Only thing you could translate from his frantic words were ‘mom’, ‘family’, and ‘nightmare’.

After a while he seemed to calm down, he was less manic and frantic, but he was still in tears. You started to feel an aching pain in your lower back from holding up his and your weight.

So you patted his back to signal him for his attention. You sat up so your sitting in a way that your legs are folded under your thighs, patting your lap for him to rest his head on.

The tall Austrian understood, resting his cheek on your soft thighs, wrapping his arms around your hips. Squeezing you like you would slip away if he held you any looser.

You started to play with his hair, massaging his scalp. Feeling his tears stain and fall on your plush thighs than his cheeks, slightly dampening the edge of the boxer shorts you borrowed from him for pajamas.

You started to hum. Partially to try and comfort your spouse, but also to try and occupy yourself. You knew that he was calming down when his tears started to gradually fade away, and his breathing started to slow.

By now it was 6:24. The pale blue sky started to peek through the window curtains, and you could hear some of your early bird neighbors beginning their day.

In a couple hours both of your days would start and you two would have to start on your errands. But it’s fine. You’ll just turn off the alarm and today will just be another lazy Sunday. He needs the rest anyway.

After what felt like 20 minutes, you felt like he had calmed down and fell asleep. Trying to slip out of his grasp, to try and sneak away to the bathroom for a couple seconds. Not wanting to leave him for too long. But whenever you slightly moved away from him he unconsciously pulled you tighter, somehow closer to him.

Sighing, you continued to pet his hair with a soft smile. Not sure if he’s still awake or if he just moved in instinct. Either way you decided not to move, not wanting to wake him or disturb him.

[special-mooon]

More TWST Headcanons I have bcs why not (Part one here)

(en español aquí)

One time the translation magic at the school that helped everyone understand each other stopped working and it was chaos, no one knew what the other was saying.

Kalim and Jamil were speaking in Arabic and trying to communicate to a very confused Vil, Epel, Jack, and Cater as they spoke back in German.

Riddle, Trey, Ace and Deuce are frantically speaking English and trying to understand Azul, Jade and Floyd, who were speaking back in Danish.

Ruggie and Leona are just watching everything unfold and talking in Swahil (Lowkey taking advantage that one one understands them to talk sht).

Idia gave up completely since he knew no one would understand him, he spoke Ancient Greek.

Malleus, Lilia, Silver, and Sebek are amused by the situation and talking among themselves in a mixture of medieval French and Russian.

Rook and Ortho were the only two people who understood everyone and were the main translators that day.

Sam has a sweet spot for Ruggie to the point where he’ll just give him stuff for a cheap price without Ruggie knowing.

Yuu introduced UNO to the twst boys and had a game night at Ramshackle dorm. It went just as you expected (friendships destroyed, dignity gone)

Also Yuu introduced Monopoly and of course, Azul won most of the games.

Now every time they play Monopoly, everyone gangs up on Azul (he still somehow wins tho???)

Speaking of Azul, while in his Octo form, Azul is actually colorblind and can only see Black/White

Same with the twins, they can only really see color thats green-ish

When they first came to land in their human forms, boy were they shocked to see so many different colors, it was Lowkey a little overwhelming.

Seeing each other in their true colors was a wholesome moment tho.

Also the twins have SHIT eyesight in their eel form. On land they’re fine but in the ocean? Blinder than a bat.

Since Ruggie is a hyena-type beastmen, that means his bite strength is STRONG, stronger than anyone else’s. Everyone in the Savanaclaw dorm knows this which is why they don’t really mess with him but it’s not really common knowledge around the school.

One time Ortho gave Ruggie a Jawbreaker and he was able to bite into it casually. Everyone was shocked to say the least.

Deuce is REALLY good at rhythm games. Idia played some with him once and he was able to pass most songs on extreme mode.

Malleus’s horns are VERY sensitive. Also the tip of his tail wags up and down when he’s angry, kind of like a cats. But since his tail is HEAVY, he ends up leaving cracks on the floor, poor guy

Silver has slept on everyone’s shoulder/lap at least once. Yes even the professors, don’t ask how

Thats all for now gamers

[umseb]

Vettel on comeback: "Not a firm no, but..."

Sebastian Vettel was also surprised by Lewis Hamilton's change announcement. Vettel left it open whether the place at Mercedes after this season could be an option for the four-time German world champion to return due to Hamilton's future Formula 1 commitment to Ferrari.

"[Mercedes team boss] Toto Wolff didn't call me, but we exchanged text messages briefly," said the Heppenheim native in an interview with the Neue Zürcher Zeitung . "But so far it's not an issue for me, also because at 36 I still have all the time in the world. So it's not going away." Vettel ended his career after the 2022 season. After his successful title years with Red Bull, he moved to Ferrari in 2015, but he was unable to achieve another World Cup triumph. In 2021 and 2022 he drove for Aston Martin.

Vettel: "So far there is no active plan"

His signs had not changed. "I think that I have learned and understood a lot in this one year without racing, including about myself. Being on the other side has had a big impact on me, a lot of questions have come up. So far there are no active plans," explained Vettel. When asked whether that was a clear no, he replied: "No." He said back then that there wouldn't be a clear no, "because I believe that everything is a process. And maybe at some point there will be a point where I say: Yes, I would like to go back." If he can sort it out in his mind so that it suddenly makes sense again. "At the moment I'm doing very well without driving in Formula 1. There's no firm no, but also no firm yes," the Swiss-by-choice told the NZZ .

op's note: this is just a google translate, sorry for any inaccuracies 💙

[ganondoodle]

i have never played or seen anything of outer wilds (game) and im just now watching someone play it and i keep thinking like .. man .. the sonau could have been something like that in totk, like even the architecture of the nomai in OW looks similar - very angular and mostly off-white green and gold, the name nomai is similar to the english translation for the sonau (zonai), the only(?) somewhat living one of the old and gone people is called solanum which reminds me of sonau and the ore sonanium (engl. zonaite), heck the nomai are goat like looking people with three eyes and use a highly advanced but little understood tech that you need to discover!!! they got swirly patterns alot! they even fuck up some time stuff!!

and im not saying nintendo copied them or something, the general idea isnt something all too unique (as no ideas are) but some of the similarities (like highly advanced in tech three eyed goat people that have a white and green/gold color scheme) do just make me sad bc i keep thinking about thats how the sonau could have been (minus the space stuff but moreso the VIBES and theme, game design aorund them!!), the way its done in OW is so neat, also i love that you cant understand them without a tool and you cant really communicate with them in turn like either! like the fact that there is not even a hint of a language barrier to the sonau in totk is like??? especially given the time span that is supposed to be between the past and the present in totk, not being able to clearly communicate would have been a really good and rather easy way to make the sonau more mysterious! even if you gave them subtitles that translated their language later on it would still make them feel a little more ancient

... actually ..its even worse .. in totks present theres only few people that can translate the text of the sonau, so the idea is there .. but how is zelda able to talk to them no problem? and rauru with you also mineru you could argue its bc they spent a long time as ghosts on the islands or in the shiek- purah pad but neither of them had any contact to the surface so that doesnt work, zelda teaching it to them also doesnt work bc that would take time she doesnt have and she literally talks to them all normally the literal first time they even meet ... it just being bc the hylian language never changed somehow so rauru and mineru just talk hylian is ...... the most boring answer tbh, not even slightly different manner of speech? over all that time? not some sort of accent?? even some of the old zora got one in botw (at least in german .. then again they also removed dumsda (engl. hudson) quirky way to talk ..... ), nothing? no??

it kinda plays into the whole lot that is a big problem with totk imo, the idea is there or even mentioned but its either not acted upon, never adressed or answered the most boring way

[lafcadiosadventures]

So, there's this scene in Cousin Bette, which has a pretty striking line:

– On a marché, dit le vieillard en se retirant, et les morts vont vite à Paris !

(Honoré de Balzac, La cousine Bette, 1846)

“The world moves on,” said the old man, as he withdrew, “and the dead move quickly in Paris!”

(tr. James Waring) (given the implications, I would translate the first half of Vautrin's reply as “We have made our move”)

and I was like, critique of capitalism, etc etc. My friend @madmerchant said she was pretty sure she'd read something very similar in Dracula. Was Stoker referencing Vautrin? Was it a coincidence? There's a persistent shroud of the Fantastic surrounding Vautrin, it would not be surprising if someone would have thought of him as a vampire, or an immortal creature of some kind... however:

“You are early to-night, my friend.” The man stammered in reply:—“The English Herr was in a hurry,” to which the stranger replied:—“That is why, I suppose, you wished him to go on to Bukovina. You cannot deceive me, my friend; I know too much, and my horses are swift.” As he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger’s “Lenore”:— “Denn die Todten reiten schnell”— (“For the dead travel fast.”)

oooh. this lead to discovering that Lenore, is one of the cornerstones of Romanticism. So it wasn't that Stoker was referencing Vautrin's last incarnation, but rather, the same originary poem Balzac hismelf was referencing. The influence of the poem was huge, and epsecially the french went crazy over it. The first translation was published in the Journal des Débats in 1811, translated from English. The newspaper published it, not without adding the poem put in display "the most odious vices of the German School".

It was not until Mme de Saël (she of the North vs South temperaments fame) wrote an article trully valuing the work as the poetic masterpiece it was, that the fever for Lenore started to root on the young minds of a Certain Group of Artists-and their readers- in 1820. Madame de Saël had thrown the gauntlet:

"No french translation, be it prose or verse, could express all the nuances and detaild of the German original."

and one Gérard de Nerval picked it up, offering FIVE translations of his own throuout the years...

The poem collects a German folk story, and as soon as you read the summery you *know* why the more edgy Romantics were crazy about it. Like other German folk tales (as Der Erlkönig) it features a frenzied ride through the forests, and a lover that is not what he seems to be (he is DEATH. The RIde is A TRAP) Embroildled in the poem are some anti nobility aspects:

"(in Lenore, we hear) The powrful and pained voice of a Titan, tormented until death by the aristocracy. (...) In German language, 'Bürger' (the poet's name) is synonimous to citoyen"

(Heinrich Heine)

and a desire to revindicate the autochthonous, popular poetry from the lower classes -the Lenore poem is recolected from a popular song Bürger heard a young peasant singing- as the true voice of a nation:

It will remain eternally true that if we have no Volk, we shall have no public, no nationality, no literature of our own which shall live and work in us. Unless our literature is founded on our Volk, we shall write eternally for closet sages and disgusting critics out of whose mouths and stomachs we shall get back what we have given.

(Johann Gottfried Herder)

So, what I'm saying is, I must read Lenore, and also, it is very likely that that Vautrin line is a direct reference to that icon of the dawn of French Romanticism, something the then elders (cousin bette was published in 1846) would have remembered and understood...

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Rebecca Ferguson: “ On Top with Tom”

Tom Cruise is famous for finding his female leads always himself. How is happened with you?

Exactly like that. Tom and Christopher had watched hundred thousand  casting tapes and then asked several actresses for the next round, me among them. And when I met with Tom we lost ourselves in conversation immediately. We talked about everything - the film, our roles and life itself *laughs*. Somewhere Christopher said: “Maybe we can start with audition?” and Tom said, “it’s ok, she got the part!” 

Were you a bit intimidated to be filming with the world famous start Tom Cruise?

You know, I live in a small village in Sweden where you learn not to judge people by their image *laughs* I love meeting people and I try to see everyone if possible without prejudice. And with that in mind I met Tom for the first time: the only thing I was afraid of is not getting the role. But as mentioned Tom and I understood each other right away. I really like him a lot, he is unexpected and he is honest. 

Can you tell us a little bit about your character?

Ilsa Faust is a top agent, born in Sweden and recruited by the british secret service. When she meets Ethan they both understand that they are each other’s match (they are equals). But neither Ethan nor the audience know till the end who she is working for, she is quite mysterious.

And quite strong - did you have to train a lot before the shoot?

Yes, for months six hours a day six days a week. Everything was perfectly planned and organized: Pilates, weights lifting, fitness and of course martial arts. It was hard but important. For this kind of film you need enormous amount of strength and stamina, But I admire Tom who is almost always in training. He gets through his fitness program and he is also producer, actor, he is taking part in editing...I do 1% a day from what he is doing and fall in bed dead tired! But I also enjoyed training a lot. I like moving.  And I could really test my limits and have learned things that I never thought I was capable of doing. 

For example?

I've learned to hold my breath [under water] for 4 and a half minutes. I had severe vertigo before this film and had to film a scene where we jump from 35 meters high. I mean before that I haven't even stepped foot in the elevator *laughs* There was my phenomenal stunt double Lucy Cork, but you know, Tom does all his stunts himself - I was really disappointed if I couldn't keep up. And now when I watch the scenes, I think: “Wow,  I actually did it!”.

What else did the trainings program give you?

I was feeling super. To build muscle strength we had a to keep a strict diet, we were given instruction what and when to eat. So everyday I had a thought through nutrition program that was tailored to my training with the best scientific nutrition knowledge. And it really worked - never in my life have I been feeling so well physically. 

Translated from German by @edwardslovelyelizabeth for @rebeccalouisaferguson. For the scans special thanks to @kiwirazzi on Twitter.

[kaineillian]

"Poe is a timid, cute looking man who enjoys writing books about you and him together, married and having sex—"

Would you be willing to write parts of this weird books?

Also your amazing<3

Ehe, thank you anon! ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

Warning(s) : Suggestive, a little gore, freak poe.

Poe fantasizes about you all the time yet he cant bring himself to make a move towards you. So, to cope up with it he made books about the both of you together. The first book is called ' My lover and I'.

________________

-Edgar Allan Poe's Point of view.

On a faithful and sunny day , is where i met my first love. I had been stressing out on my newbie partner, he's clumsy and would trip and fall on air. He is starting to annoy me but he is too nice to get yelled at and me being so timid that i can't even talk properly.

Ah!

Oh no, thats not a good sign—

SPLASH!

"AHHH! POE-SAN I AM SO SORRY! "... My documents... My project... Its wet... ohhhh NOOoO! Boss is going to kill me! I have to pass this by tomorrow and i now its wet! I just finished it awhile ago are you serious?!

I looked down feeling miserable;ignoring my clutz of a partner apologizing to me. I grabbed my things and head out without a word. I mean, who would forgive and forget about this! This is by due tomorrow! And i have to start all over again!

Now you might think im being overacting and saying i should just blowdry it but no. My boss is too picky and when he sees a mess on any report he will make them re-write it again and decreasing their pay check for a week. And i can't have that! The limited edition Karl plushie is already out;i need to get that plushie! I've been working my ass off because just to buy that thing. And its expensive as hell! If i wont buy it there will be no next time.

-3rd person Point of view.

Poe grumbled stomping on the ground;cursing the world. Bystanders looked at him with a confused and weird expression, with poe acting like that no-one walked near him and kept their distance. They might have think he's a madman.

"verfluche diese heilige Welt. Verbrennen Sie es zu knusprig mit diesen sich einmischenden Leuten darin. verflucht alles. verflucht..."

(curse this sacred world. burn it to crisp with these meddling people in it. curse it all. curse it..)

A man heard his strange curses and was intrigued by poe. He listened to poe continually curse the world and more specifically—his clutz of a partner. He laugh quietly making his way towards poe. "Du solltest solche Leute nicht verfluchen, weißt du?". Poe got startled by the sudden voice and looked up to see a man in black. Poe stood completely still by the man's beauty. Poe knows German but he isn't fluent enough to understand it well.

"Pardon...? "

"Oh, you don't understand me? I thought you know german. "

"Well, yes. I do know german but im not that good yet so i don't understand what you said... " The man smiled and translated what he said in English (you shouldn't curse people like that you know?).

"Ohhhhh... " Poe nodded then blushed when he realize that the man understood him. 'Ah! How embarrassing!'.

The man laugh at poe's red face with poe even more embarrassed. "You look like a good lad, what's your name?i am (Male name)" With his short introduction, his coat flew up from the wind, his hair flying back ever so slightly. Poe saw his hidden face, he could feel his heart beat.

"Poe.... Edgar Allan Poe... " He whispered enough to (Male name) to hear. "Its nice to meet you, edgar. "

I think im inlove...

_________________

Now, after your interaction. Poe seems to be very attached to you. When both of you got in a. Relationship with each other, poe clings onto you whenever you go. Poe cooks for you, cleans for you and works for you. He insisted to do everything and for you to relax in the house, but of course you cant let your dearest boyfriend to get overworked. So you continued your job with poe doing all the house works.

Few years later. Both of you are married and started a family. You two had adopted a boy that was named ' Cooper ' .

A very romantic and fluffy book eh? Now. Lets head on to the erotic ones.

_________________

If i remember it correctly... Poe only haves 3 or 5 books that are fluff and romantic while the others are erotic. 10 to 15 erotic books...

How bizarre.

How bizarre.

__________________

-3rd person point of view.

Edgar Allan Poe... What a beautiful name, no? A tall handsome man, such cute features, his waist so small, his eyes rolling back every time (Male name) thrust in him. The timid mans eyes always capture his lovers attention.

(Male name) always loved his eyes, those eyes looking at him, those eyes covered by poe's hair, those beautiful violent eyes that someday he will gouged out of those eye socket of his. He tried to test his waters and asked poe what he would do if he would have gouged his eyes out during intimacy. Poe supringly, didn't mind and agreed on the idea! He even said to keep his eye so it would remind (Male name) that por is always watching him.

With a bright and petite look comes with a messy mind and kinks.

(Male name) recently knew that poe is a masochist and a freak which is a good combination. He himself is a sadistic maniac too. How bloody romantic.

Maybe one day they will drank their bloods as a promise.

________________________

-3rd person point of view.

Poe scribbled on his paper with karl clearly disturbed sitting on his shoulder reading the paper. You can almost feel like the raccoon said 'What the fuck'. Karl could not handle such gore anymore and jumped off poe's shoulder.

"Ah! Karl, where are you going? " poe halted his writing looking down at the raccoon.

"Rawr." Im getting the fock out of here away from your twisted ass.

"Huh?! You we're reading my notes! " Poe blushed heavily, feeling embarrassed that his friend raccoon saw his sick mind.

"Rawr, rawr. " Of course i am, i got curious on what you were writing. And you were also panting. You're such a weirdo. Im telling (Male name).

"W—WAIT NO! KARL COME BACK HERE! "

And there goes the two bolting outside the office, karl went to start his journey on finding the man while Poe is starting his hunt;trying to find the small raccoon.

Little did they know that ranpo and (Male name) was behind poe all this time.

"Damn, i didn't know he had this in him. " Ranpo chewed on his lollipop looking at the paper poe had written.

"I definitely did not see this coming. " Ranpo snicker at him, ranpo took out his phone and took a picture of the paper .

"What are you going to do with that? " "Blackmail."

" Understandable. "

[herrlindemann]

Metal Hammer - February 2002, part 2, interview with Paul and Schneider

Thanks to ramjohn for the scans!

Rammstein are without a doubt currently the biggest German rock band and at the same time the biggest export hit when it comes to hard music. 2001 was the year of the Berliners: release of the third album MUTTER, US, Germany and Europe tour and the publication of the 'Rammstein' book by Gert Hof. Before the Freiburg concert in December, there was a lot to discuss with guitarist Paul Landers and drummer Christoph Schneider.

The intensive tour, which took you through the USA, Australia and Japan to Russia and then all over Europe, is coming to an end. How did you cope with it?

Christoph Schneider: We've been to America twice, and one of the two tours was quite exhausting for us. It was long and just didn't want to end. In between we came home again, recovered, and now I have to say that the European tour is a lot of fun.

Why is Freiburg the only one Germany concert on your route?

Paul Landers: The promoter knew that we also want to play in Germany if the tour goes past it. In Freiburg, however, the fans see the 'Europe' version of our show - not what they are used to. It's a slimmed-down production because we can't be on the road with eight trucks and set up the entire structure due to the long distances. Think of it as a kind of special concert.

How difficult is it to remember the many concerts of this year's tour?

Christoph: I always remember the places when I go there a second time. Paul is different: He mostly remembers the food of the respective region. For me it's more the people or small experiences.

Paul: The concerts that you don't forget are important. Nobody manages to remember 150 concerts - it doesn't have to be. We always sound the alarm, and even when things get a little quieter in the band, the audience doesn't even notice.

Because you've played in many cities, you have the best opportunity for comparison in terms of the audience and their respective reactions. Can you name differences?

Paul: There are two different views. First: the evening performance. Second: the trappings. The environment is much more important than you think. In contrast to the US tour, the shows in Europe were a piece of cake. The concert tour through America seems more like a galley voyage to me. One city is like the other, only the big cities of New York, San Francisco or Los Angeles are the highlights. The rest is almost like an oversized Neubrandenburg - a snoring town without character. The whole thing then degenerates into hard work. The fans are usually as spirited as the climate, but the air burned at the concert. Moscow was also amazing - in general, things are always very hot in the Eastern bloc. Overall, however, I have to admit that certain character traits are the same among Rammstein audiences around the world.

What do you think when Russian or American fans sing along to the German lyrics?

Christoph: That's the coolest thing of all, because right at that second I feel validated for myself and my work. Transporting German beyond national borders and encouraging other people to sing in our mother tongue - that's a special feeling.

Are you worried about how the foreign fans will interpret the lyrics?

Paul: I don't know how good your English was as a kid - mine was lousy. That's why I was sorely disappointed when I found out what 'Smoke On The Water' really means. For me it had something to do with smoking and cigarettes. And that's how people feel about us. Fred Durst said that for 'Sehnsucht' he always understood 'Chainsaw'. Back then at Kraftwerk, instead of ‘driving, driving, driving on the Autobahn’, people understood ‘fun, fun, fun’. They knew ‘Autobahn’. There are funny mistranslations. A song like 'Links 2 3 4' is also difficult to translate, but the fans know that. The only thing that really matters is that the music and the lyrics go well together.

Were you welcomed with open arms everywhere on the US tour? Or were you met with a lack of understanding or did you even have trouble with the authorities?

Christoph: There were more restrictions on our pyro show. Also Christian demonstrators who - like Marilyn Manson - called us devils and blasphemers. Even in London there was such a rally car in front of the door, and the association propagated that one should not get involved with Satan - that is, us.

Paul: When we perform outside of Germany, the fans encourage us to keep singing in German and not start with the English language.

But you tried the two English versions of 'Engel' and 'Du hast'...

Paul: ...and failed miserably. That wasn't because of the English lyrics, but because the songs were written in German. If we were to write a song in English that wasn't German from the start, it could be good. We have nothing against globalization - at least not in the Rammstein context.

Christoph: It worked with 'Stripped' - it doesn't sound stupid when Till sings in English, but it has to be good English lyrics.

Paul: We're lucky that German is such a cool language for evil music. If I were English or Belgian, I would definitely sing in German. When it comes to bad, hard music, nothing beats the German language. English has too much soul, it sounds way too nice. They can turn on a eater or yell around... That leads to the problem that the English have with us in particular. When people hear German texts there, they immediately stand to attention and think that bombs are being thrown at them. We first had to explain that we don't want to start a war, we just want to sing in German. The English still associate the Germans with the bombs that fell on London in World War II - after that they heard nothing before us. Perhaps a Mercedes drives through London from time to time, but other than that, German has negative connotations. Rammstein try to transform the negative image of the Germans in the world into a positive one. The Reichstag also had a negative image. Since Christo covered it, you think differently about it - that's a new component. In a similar way we try to communicate that being German can also mean something good.

Do you see this as a challenge or as a tedious, tiring task?

Christoph: Even if that may sound pompous: I believe that we are pursuing foreign policy. Later, after our death, we will be written with honor in the history books. (Everybody is laughing)

Paul: We consistently get positive feedback on our band because the world is not used to something good in the musical field coming from Germany. That happens far too seldom.

Christoph: In Russia, the children learn German with our texts, and we were very happy about that.

So you had to grow into the task of being an ambassador, because you couldn't have known at the beginning of the band's career that it would take on such proportions, right?

Paul: No, no one could have guessed that we would sell even one record across national borders.

Christoph: In many areas, such as the American Midwest, people have heard nothing else about Germany than Rammstein...

Paul: … BMW also know a few…

What happens after the extended tour?

Christoph: We will take a four to six month break and do a lot with our friends and families during this break. In the summer of 2002, festival appearances are planned - the big European festivals.

Paul: Then money will be collected. Solid. The European tour and another tour of Germany will follow in autumn. Then we want to venture into the next record with a breath of fresh air. We hope that the whole thing will happen a little faster, but the work on MUTTER and the lengthy live activities showed us that we have grown together as a real band more than ever. We come to Stockholm and 12,000 people want to see us, it's unbelievable. It's just us...

Do you fight on tour?

Christopher: Very often! We never agree and that hampers the flow of the band. Democracy within the structure has also reached a limit where it no longer works. Everyone insists on their point of view...

Who then takes the initiative?

Paul: Democracy has not given way to a dictatorship. In the past seven years, we've learned to argue in ways that don't touch the substance. Schneider and I used to almost cut our throats. On the other hand, arguing makes you tired, and the consequence is that not everyone takes care of everything anymore. For example, I stayed completely out of the book. In the coming break we will recharge our batteries so that afterwards we can fight again with fun.

Aren't you afraid of falling into a deep black hole after the band's intensive life together at the end of the tour?

Christoph: Small children and women are waiting for us at home. It's pretty quick to get used to it again...

Paul: Wipe your ass and change your diaper, then you'll feel at home again. On tour you have a kind of royal life, it spoils the character. We're fighting to keep from going insane. But sometimes I enjoy not having to do the dishes or take out the garbage. The food is introduced to me orally, I hardly need to chew anymore...

How did you get along with Slipknot on the US tour?

Paul: In the beginning we had a lot of prejudices and thought they were stupid.

Christoph: It was very inspiring. I can understand that the kids love this band.

Paul: Slipknot stand for a certain quality. In the States, we've also been lumped into the category of bands that the kids listen to but the parents hate. In the beginning we felt like well-to-do old gentlemen and had a little Scorpions syndrome. Slipknot enjoy the same status in America that we had in Germany three or four years ago. The band polarizes strongly and is provocative. We have put our provocative phase behind us. Everyone knows who can expect what from Rammstein. I don't want to use the word 'solid', but you can't believably play the fright of the citizens for seven years.

You find out for yourself that the fans are getting used to Rammstein more and more and that events that would have caused a stir a few years ago are now part of the agenda. Is the consequence that you constantly question yourself and your actions so as not to stand still?

Paul: For as long as we have existed, we have tried not to repeat ourselves. Especially in Germany, we entered the show business at a high level, so that we had to spend enormous sums on the last Germany tour to always go one step further. The fans are also worth that to us.

Christoph: People don't come that often anymore, they keep a certain distance. When we go on tour again, we can set ourselves on fire - because that's what people want to see.

At some point, however, the show can no longer be improved.

Christoph: Yes, a lot is a question of ideas. Going new ways, incorporating new elements is better than multiplying what you are currently doing.

Paul: Ten flames are no better than one - we quickly realized that. A few simple lamps as stage decorations are enough for a good show.

Do you still enjoy performing live?

Paul (laughs): Yes, with 200 concerts a year, that's unavoidable. But we always try to put the unfunny concerts in places where nobody notices.

Christoph: I always tell myself it's an honor to play for so many people every night. I would envy any other band for this state of affairs.

Rammstein as an art form, as a phenomenon, is limited. What could a logical continuation of the band look like?

Paul: We want to dissolve the Goethe Institute and rename it the Rammstein Institute... (laughs)

Christoph: We are maybe just as limited as Kiss. I don't want to pat myself on the back, but we've already achieved a lot. In my opinion, success abroad is the greatest success.

Paul: We do what we want: 'our' music - not because we changed, but because we didn't change.

Could you ever go back to normal jobs? And if so, which ones would they be?

Christopher: No. Because you don't go in one direction to turn back. You go somewhere else.

Maybe someday you will be forced to do it?

Paul: We'd rather stop. We will not go back to the jobs we once learned and grow telephones for strangers. What job an aging rock star has, we don't think about it. All I know is that I won't start with any record company. That's disgusting. I don't want to have anything to do with music-related activities, because then I would always be chatted up on Rammstein. Maybe later I will compose music for films or advertising with Schneider...

So you're not worried when it comes to future issues?

Christoph: Life always takes care of you, you don't have to worry. The new signposts are coming, you just have to learn the ability to see them.

Paul: So far we've been great. The trouble only started when the money came in abundance. We had to learn to remain carefree despite this huge chunk, this lottery win. We then quickly put it on pointlessly, wasted everything, and now we can be more carefree again.

Christoph: You have more worries with money than without.

With Gert Hof's book, which was published in November 2001, you give an intimate insight into your private life for the first time, in that you have been photographed with friends and relatives, among other things. Why?

(Silence)

Christoph: The book should have a bit more colour, and we thought it would be nicer not just to use press photos. For one or the other, it may be interesting to see what Rammstein looks like privately.

Pau: But the amount of privacy is still very low.

The people with whom you can be seen in the pictures, are these the people who are closest to you?

Christoph: Yes, our mothers, our wives, girlfriends, children...

Paul: You can't see all of them, some are standing and even closer, but they'll be in the next book.

I can see you only want to sell books.

Christoph: It was very difficult to find a sensible concept for a Rammstein book. The result is a mix of photos, not too much text, a bit of band history, personal thoughts - I like that.

Paul: I would have liked some explanations about the photos, but I was pretty much alone with that opinion. With Oliver you think what kind of girlfriend he has, but it's his mother. The band wanted the photos to stand alone, leaving fans guessing who it is.

Can you still call yourself spontaneous? After all, the Rammstein entourage is a heavyweight, sluggish monster that, due to its marketing potential, cannot allow any wrong steps.

Christoph: You're right: the bigger, the more cumbersome. Rammstein is an oversized aircraft that needs a huge runway. Before a Rammstein concert can take place, a lot has to be prepared. We can't just take the bus and play.

Paul: Even if we want to add a new song to the program, it takes three to four shows. We submit an application to Schneider, which he ignores, then hesitates at first, but eventually changes it.

Which fans do you prefer? Those who like you because of the music, or those who just like Rammstein's image? Or don't you see any difference?

Paul: We can't choose who we like. As a band you have all the fans to find. this is your job. Anything else would be arrogant. The fans are allowed to say who they think is good and who is shit in the band, but we can't. We play for everyone.

Does it also cause problems that you as Rammstein always have to maintain the image of the tough, grim men and aren't allowed to cry?

Christoph: If we weren't having fun anymore, we would change it. The overly masculine is just a game, we live out a side that fits the music.

Paul: Before Rammstein I played in a fun punk band for ten years and it was a lot harder. Because as a fun punk - Die Ärzte can confirm that - you always have to be funny. The fans throw a beer over your head and you have to come across as nice. At Rammstein I can be 99 percent what I want. Being fierce is easy, it needs no pretense. Even when you're in a bad mood, it's totally awesome. If everything pisses me off, it promotes the show 100 percent. I can stand there like a pawn in a chess game throughout the concert and don't have to bat an eyelash - but the concert is still great.

Christoph: That's why the band is so successful. We convey what we do honestly. I'd like to talk to the doctors and see if they're starting to get sick of always acting funny.

Do you think honesty pays off?

Paul: We used to see it as a weakness that we were so normal in interviews and never tinkered with the image, but always said what we thought.

Christoph: There was a phase when we weren't washed up with the journalists. When the accusations came that we were politically right-wing, they unsettled us and we didn't react properly.

Paul: We even let ourselves be denied because we had no idea. We made up stories and didn't even know what we were talking about.

You must have broken something with that.

Christoph: No one wanted to talk about music, we were constantly being questioned about politics, which really annoyed us.

Can Till actually get carried away with interviews?

Paul: He never has, only in exceptional cases.

Christoph: Many people want to talk to Till because they expect to find out the truth about Rammstein. Actually, he doesn't want to talk, and it wouldn't be good at all because he doesn't have the experience to do so, because he always tries to give official answers...

Paul: He doesn't have the necessary routine.

I rather think that a lot of people have respect or even fear for Till because he embodies the uncouth, coarse block.

Christoph: That's a good thing, we're happy to leave the picture as it is. Till will definitely give interviews at some point, maybe after Rammstein, but we don't want to push him at the moment.

Do you think about solo projects?

Christoph: From time to time, but because we've been together for so long, I can't imagine starting in another band again.

Paul: If I made other music, it would be best if all Rammsteiners were involved. You see it with other bands: When the artists record solo records, the result is usually not nice.

Christoph: If you spend your whole life in a team, however, at some point it's time to make your own borderline experiences.

[ihhfhonao3]

fic where klavier speaks german to apollo a lot but apollo is fluent in the language?

Here ya go!! Under the cut :)

“Ach, I hope I’ll see you later, mein Liebling,” Klavier said coolly as he headed to exit the courthouse. “And take care, ja?”

“Yeah, you too,” Apollo mumbled. It sounded cruel, but he really just wanted Klavier to go away and leave him alone.

Klavier didn’t take the hint at Apollo’s disdain, but smiled fondly at Apollo and then exited the courthouse. Once he was gone, Apollo let out a huge sigh of relief.

“God, I thought he’d never leave,” Apollo grumbled, rubbing his forehead and trying to stop himself from blushing. 

Their banter and pseudo-flirting had been going on for a while now. Apollo couldn’t remember when Klavier first started calling him by German pet names, but he did know one thing… that somehow, someway, he… kind of liked them. Apollo was convinced, however, that Klavier still had no idea that Apollo was fluent in German just like he was- Apollo having learned it from a young age and only enhancing his abilities by talking with his co-worker, Athena. Fortunately or unfortunately, Apollo being fluent meant that he secretly understood everything Klavier said to him. From calling him bunny, to asking him out, to saying he looked beautiful, all compliments and loving affirmations were hidden behind a different language that Klavier thought Apollo didn’t know. But even if he was fluent in German, part of Apollo still didn’t know what any of it meant. He knew the meaning of each word and its English translation, heck, he could understand what Klavier was saying completely! But he didn’t know how Klavier meant it… were the nicknames meant to be platonic? Were they supposed to be teasing? Were they possibly… romantic? Apollo shook his head vigorously. No, no falling in love with Klavier Gavin. None of that. No star-crossed lovers allowed, rivals are rivals and are never anything more.

But Apollo had to wonder. Maybe he was denying and refusing to address his own feelings towards Klavier, but… what if Klavier actually liked him like that? What if the names were intended to be romantic?

Apollo pinched his arm in an attempt to break out of his funk and speed-walked out the courthouse doors. He unlocked his bike and hopped on it, then started to ride back to his apartment. I have to tell Klavier about this eventually, right? Apollo thought to himself. It’d be embarrassing for him if I just kept letting him call me seemingly romantic pet names without telling him that I know what he’s saying. But what good does telling him do? It’s not that I want to date him or anything… right?

Apollo suddenly stopped his bike and looked out at the sunset falling across the city’s skyline. Looking out at it, his mind was suddenly, as if on cue, flooded with vivid images of him spending time with Klavier. Holding Klavier’s hand, getting ice cream with him, eating dinner with him… kissing him under the sunset… soft lips touching and embracing each other. Apollo felt an immense heat rise to his cheeks with each passing image.

Holy fuck, Apollo thought. I have a crush on Klavier Gavin.

Apollo started biking again, pedaling at a faster pace than before, trying to reach home as fast as possible so he could eat and fall asleep and never think about this again. But the images wouldn’t go away. As he was eating his instant ramen dinner, he imagined sharing his meal with the prosecutor. As he got ready for bed, he imagined brushing his teeth by the prosecutor’s side. He went to sleep and dreamt about Klavier giving him a beautiful bouquet of roses and lilacs, and upon finding out about Apollo’s pollen allergy, planting the flowers in the garden and giving him a box of delicious chocolates. Apollo’s dream continued with him feeding Klavier some of the chocolates, the blonde man’s tan cheeks turning pink at his love for Apollo.

The dream caused Apollo to wake up wishing for some more air conditioning. He woke up late enough for him to be up for the day, so Apollo rose from his bed and went to shower, attempting to forget his dream in the process (with little success).

The thoughts and dreams about his rival continued for a couple weeks, changing in their intensity and lust. Some nights, Apollo dreamed about sitting in the park with Klavier and sharing some street food, other nights he dreamed about holding hands with Klavier and kissing him on the beach, and some nights… Well, some nights came with dreams that made Apollo’s bed sticky and wet in the morning, much to his disdain and irritation with his own body. But each dream was similar in how they all featured Klavier calling Apollo those beautiful German pet names with his beautiful voice.

Eventually, Apollo reached a point where he couldn’t bear any of this anymore. The dreams, the thoughts, the feelings, the secret wishes, they all frustrated Apollo immensely and fueled his desire to do something about all of it. It took some thinking and some self-confidence exercises, but Apollo eventually decided that he was going to ask Klavier out. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t back out of it now, because a certain rookie attorney in his office had a knack for always knowing how he was feeling.

“You’ve gotta tell him about all of this, Apollo!” Athena squealed. “This could be the start of something… wonderful…” Athena sighed dreamily.

“How romantic!” Widget chimed.

Apollo slumped over his desk. “No, I don’t really have to tell prosecutor Gavin anything. He doesn’t know. We should keep it that way.”

“You better make a move soon, Polly,” Athena giggled. “Or else me and Trucy are gonna tell Klavier ourselves since you’re so hopeless.”

“NO!” Apollo shouted. “No, uh… there will be no need for you to tell him anything.”

“So does that mean that you’ll tell him yourself?” Athena questioned.

Apollo sighed. “I really hope so.”

“Wimp!” Widget complained. Apollo scowled at the comment and groaned in despair.

~~~

It took another week and a little bit of alcohol for Apollo to finally text Klavier to ask him out on a date, to which Klavier accepted eagerly (to nobody’s surprise). The two planned on taking a walk in People Park. Apollo thought it would be a nice callback to the first time he and Klavier met, and the perfect place to finally tell Klavier that he knew how he felt… and that he felt the same way.

The days passed quicker than Apollo thought, and soon enough, Apollo found himself waiting in People Park nervously fiddling with his jacket as he waited for his date to show up. Apollo arrived at the park a bit earlier than their planned time just to be sure he wouldn't be late, but he found that that only made him more paranoid that Klavier wouldn’t show up. He checked his phone. Five minutes before their date. He checked it again. Still five minutes to go. Apollo groaned.

“I can’t do this!” he said to nobody in particular.

A frustrated Apollo sat down on a rock and continued to wait, trying to think about different things to keep his mind occupied. Unfortunately, he realized too soon that he could only spend so much time thinking about his cat before his thoughts just went back to Klavier. Apollo found himself thinking about the best possible way to approach Klavier in telling him that he knew what his nicknames meant all along. Hey prosecutor Gavin, just by the way, I know that you’re calling me German pet names and hey! I actually like them, can we date please? Apollo ruled that one out. Prosecutor Gavin, when you call someone ‘bunny’ in German, does that mean you’re close with them as a friend or does that mean you want to kiss them? No go. 

Apollo thought for a moment. What if I was kinda… smug about it?

In the middle of Apollo’s thought process, Klavier showed up to people park.

“Ah, hallo Hase!” Klavier said upon seeing Apollo.

Apollo flinched. Bunny. “Erm, hello to you too… Klavier.”

Apollo got up from his spot and started to walk around the park with Klavier. They chatted about simple things, talking about their pets, their latest cases, and their workplaces. Apollo learned that Klavier had a dog named Vongole, and that the prosecutors went out for team dinners every now and then, much like how the agency celebrated its victories by going to Eldoon’s noodle stand. Apollo would never admit it, but walking with Klavier felt very natural and normal, and Apollo almost completely forgot about his second task at hand. The two eventually went to get some coffee together, and then prepared to part ways.

“Well, this was very nice,” Apollo said. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Ja, indeed,” Klavier smiled and started to head to his motorbike. “It was nice spending time with you today, Schatzi.”

Treasure. Apollo was instantly reminded of his mission.

“W-wait!” Apollo called. “Klavier, um… before you go.”

“Hmm?” Klavier stopped and turned around.

Apollo coughed curtly and mustered all his strength to switch into the hidden smug demeanor that he reserved for when he was winning a case. However, he felt that he really had to use it now in order for his plan to work. Apollo inhaled and then forced his smile into a sly smirk.

“So, Klavier,” Apollo said coolly. “I just wanted to say… you sure like calling me random names in German, don’t you?”

“Ja, I really didn’t think you actually noticed,” Klavier said, confused. “But yes, I guess that is a true statement. Why?”

Apollo’s smirk broadened. “I actually did notice the names, actually. Would you mind telling me what they mean?”

Klavier’s face turned slightly pink. “Ah, they mean… er… they mean friend, partner, rival… and other… similar phrases…”

Apollo’s bracelet tightened at Klavier’s statement. Apollo was almost amazed by how easy this was. “You’re lying.”

“Was?”

“I know that that isn’t what they mean.”

“...What do you think they mean?”

“Schatzi is treasure. Hase is bunny. Mein Liebling is my darling, and so on.”

Klavier gasped and looked purely embarrassed. “...How long have you known all of this?!”

“Ever since you started calling me by them,” Apollo smirked. “I’ve always been fluent in German.”

“Wh…Why did you never tell me?” Klavier asked, near mortified.

“I guess I thought it was kinda funny,” Apollo said nonchalantly. “And I guess part of me thought that that was just how you talked with your friends.”

It was now Klavier’s turn to smirk. He stepped forward, using his height to tower above Apollo. “Well then, do you like them at least?”

“Wha…what?” Apollo stammered as his smug facade started to fall. Now he was the nervous one.

“I asked, do you like my nicknames for you? Do they make you feel… funny inside? Make you… nervous? Make you… think about things that you’d never share with anyone?”

Klavier moved to put his hand to wrap around Apollo’s back, his other hand sliding Apollo’s hair behind his ear.

“Um… I mean…” Apollo said nervously. The park suddenly felt very warm.

Apollo swallowed and tried to regain himself. “I actually do. I like your nicknames.”

“Ah, really?” Klavier said as seductively as possible, his face inching closer to Apollo’s. “...That means we like each other then, does it not?”

“I guess it does…” Apollo trailed off. There was barely an inch of space between their lips now.

There was a pause.

“Can I kiss you?” Apollo whispered. Klavier nodded slowly.

With that, Apollo got rid of the last bit of space between them, gently pressing his lips to Klavier’s in a small yet sweet kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other, gently touching and locking them together. They stood there, at the entrance gates of People Park, not caring about who might come by and who might see them. None of that mattered to them. They were kissing. They were kissing! Both men felt like a weight had been lifted off of their shoulders, like a thing they had been waiting for since forever was now given to them and was just as wonderful as they both had expected it to be.

They pulled apart after a minute or so, still in each other’s arms, now looking into each other’s eyes with love and fondness.

“So…” Klavier started. “How long have you been fluent in German?”

Apollo chuckled. “I started learning at a young age, and Athena helped me brush up on any I forgot. It’s pretty useful to know a second language, you know?”

The two resorted to simply holding hands as they walked back to their vehicles.

[kayfabebabe]

Chocolate and Champagne

You have one rule - You do not kiss clients. It blurs too many lines between professional and personal, but... You can't help considering it with Claudio.

This was entirely based on a specific scene from the movie 'Pretty Woman.' Everyone thank @regalityandcoffee for helping me through a serious writer's block for the past 2 months. Also, here is the translation of the German that Claudio says to the reader:

Sonnenschein - Sunshine Schatz - Treasure Ich bin wahsinnig in dich verliebt - I'm madly in love with you (Apologies if this isn't right. I tried to double-check everything in different places.)

Claudio Castagnoli X Female Reader WARNINGS - NSFW. Spicy. Blowjobs. Reference to sex work/Reader is a sex worker. Established relationship. Pining. So much pining.

~ ~ ~

“Sonnenschein…” 

What if you kissed him? Just once. The thought is fleeting, but it slams into you and you need to put some distance between yourself and Claudio before you do anything irrational. You stand from the floor to grab a cushion from the sofa behind you and place it at Claudio’s feet. This used to be easy. You could slip into a quiet corner of your mind for a while, let the outside world fade into the background and drift. Now… You couldn’t slip away with Claudio. 

You leaned forward between Claudio’s legs to undo his tie and the buttons of his shirt. Despite the only light in the room being from the television, you could make out the finer details of his face. Faint lines framing the corner of each eye and a pale scar on his chin, nearly hidden beneath the shadow of his stubble. He was beautiful. Your eyes linger on Claudio’s mouth before being caught by his gaze. There was a warmth behind his expression that felt undeniable. One of his hands lifted to brush the back of his fingers across your cheek until you flinched at the touch. Too fond. Without saying a word, Claudio understood and dropped his hand to the arm of the chair. Your hands drifted down to his belt whilst your mouth trailed after them, desperately trying to ignore how your heart fluttered behind your ribs. 

This arrangement had been going on for months; Claudio would sweep you off your feet with grand romantic gestures at every opportunity and you revelled in the fantasy of a relationship until you received a bank deposit at the end of the week. Then you’d come crashing back to reality. There was no relationship between you. You were being paid to do whatever Claudio wanted and keep him satisfied. That was it. 

The first slow drag of your tongue over Claudio’s hardening cock earned a low hum above you. A soft sound that encouraged you to sink further down, mouth enveloping and suckling on the tip. More and more sweet noises filled the air. You still for a moment when Claudio rests his hand on the back of your head before returning your attention to his cock. His fingers were gentle, not pulling or pushing, simply resting there as a grounding weight. Occasionally, they’d stroke through your hair, behind your ear and down the nape of your neck. The touch bordered on being loving, but you allowed it. 

Claudio can’t look away from you. Knelt before him, you appeared to be something born from his dreams. He has travelled across the world and seen the wonders that have inspired artists for generations, but they paled in comparison to you. Claudio finds himself sometimes, even in intimate moments like this, wondering if you’d notice him under different circumstances. If you’d met in a cafe or somewhere entirely normal, would you have been interested in a man like him. And if there would be a chance that you’d fall in love with a man like Claudio.

Time becomes irrelevant. The air around you grew hotter, almost stifling, as you drew more of Claudio’s cock into your mouth. Saliva pooled under your tongue and dripped down your chin. There was a dull ache blossoming in your neck from being bent awkwardly over Claudio’s lap for such a long time. You didn’t care. You wanted to draw this out, you wanted to hear the bitten-off groans and small huffs from the normally restrained man. The mere prospect of being the cause of Claudio losing control makes your hips grind onto nothing, searching for some source of friction. In hopes of distracting yourself from the ache in your lower stomach, you risked a glance up to Claudio.

Oh, he really was beautiful.

You’ve been here, taking someone apart on your knees, before. None of them looked as divine as Claudio. None of them made your cheeks warm and hands shake with excitement. With his head tipped back and most of his clothes still on, he was a picture of pure debauchery. It takes barely a handful of minutes for Claudio’s back to lazily arch from the chair and his cock twitched hard, cum spilling into your awaiting mouth. You don’t hesitate in swallowing until you feel Claudio’s thighs tremble on either side of your shoulders. Then you let his cock fall from your mouth with a lewd pop. 

“Up… Schatz, come up here, please.” 

You couldn’t help smiling to yourself at Claudio’s perfect manners whilst standing from the floor and moving to straddle his thighs. Always a gentleman. There have been times when Claudio has been rougher, allowing his desperation to control his actions, with you. And, afterwards, he always made it a point to check on you. To ensure that you were okay. One of Claudio’s hands raised to cradle your cheek, thumb wiping a drop of his mess from your lower lip before pressing it into your mouth. Instinctively, you licked it away as he watched you with a softened expression. 

“Ich bin wahsinnig in dich verliebt…” 

~

[joswriting]

⸻ WIP intro: On the end of everything

✶ Key words: science-fiction, multiverse, self-acceptance, queer main characters, gloomy comedy, omniscient narrator, toxic friendship / qpr, death

Most inhabitants of the multidimensional Whole (whether they be human, animal, sentient toothpick or hyper intelligent gas cloud) were out for more or less the same thing: to understand and to be understood. However, with existence being so enormous and complex, and their own minds being filled to the brim with contradictions and meaninglessnesses; they barely managed to understand themselves, let alone the situation they were in. Each person had their own way of dealing with this — some found God, others wrote poetry and many decided to ride their bicycles on pavements topped with 20cm snow. And though everyone had to deal with themselves on their own, all were connected through the shared experience of having to take part in existence.

It is fitting, then, that those who were connected by the mere act of living at the same time, should also meet their ends together; without ever having understood what it was all for, anyway. And so the "world" ended neither with a bang nor a whimper, but with a collective "What?". - Prologue

✧ general info ✧

✶ genre: soft scifi approaching science fantasy at times, NA, comedy, philosophical? perhaps not, apocalyptic (technically)

✶ pov: third person omniscient, past tense

✶ status: worldbuilding all but done, writing first draft

✶ (tentative) full title: On the end of everything + 25 ways to feel comfortable in your own skin

✧ main cast ✧

— Celia

full name: Silke Quesada

nickname: Celia

pronouns: she/her

origin: our universe

age: 21

occupation: student

orientation: lesbian

flaw: wishes she was normal

fear: being a burden, not being liked

sources: picrew | faceclaim

— Lea

full name: Beatrix Lea Reiter

pronouns: she/her

origin: our universe

age: 23/24

occupation: cashier

orientation: aromantic hetero

flaw: wishes she was normal

fear: being a bad person (she kind of is)

sources: picrew| faceclaim

— Cornelius

full name: Cornelius Brož

nickname: Nelly

pronouns: he/him

origin: a universe not quite unlike our own

age: 30s-40s

occupation: professor

flaw: wishes he could go back to normal

fear: never getting back the life he had

— Mouse

species: non-sentient mouse

function: former lab mouse, Nelly's pet

origin: universe that I like to call. the eugenics universe (it's not pleasant)

pronouns: it/she

now flaws <3 just mouse 🐁

sources: picrew

✧ practical ✧

✶tag/s: #wip: on the end (for reblogs), #wip: oteoe (for orignal posts such as intros and snippets)

✶ possible CWs: medical malpractice, experimentation on human subjects, dissociation, body horror, death, xenophobia, internalized homo-/queerphobia, internalized ableism, "romantic" relationship with bad power dynamics

✶original title: Über das Ende von Allem + 25 Tipps, um sich in der eigenen Haut wohl zu fühlen

✶ languages: German (original), English (translated by myself once completed). I will probably also translate snippets now and again

✶ writing tools: analogue writing in note book (1st draft)

✶ edit sources: images: space-like background | fonts: Heavy Rain, MS Gothic

✧ taglist ✧

no one here yet. ask to be added (comments, asks, messages, carrier pigeon)

[faintingheroine]

This may be a stupid question: are there any alternate ways to translate the title of Aşk-ı Memnu? 'Forbidden Love' has a very obvious Bihter-Behlül slant, but are there any nuances to the original that can't be caught e.g. 'Love is Forbidden'. My own untrustworthy internet research only brought up 'An Illicit Love' which narrows in on Bihter and Behlül even more.

Some of the stuff I read (which I only vaguely understand) seemed to identify the noun-adjective format as old fashioned, and I did wonder if that format could lead to a slightly different emphasis i.e., 'Love, Forbidden' or 'Love: Forbidden'. I'm finding it difficult to convey without vocal intonation, but anyway: is there any ambiguity you notice?

Okay, so this won’t be an academic answer but based on my knowledge “Forbidden Love” is the most accurate translation of “Aşk-ı Memnu”. “Memnu” means “forbidden” everywhere I have looked and “aşk” means “love”, 98 percent of the time it is used for romantic love but it can also sometimes be used for passionate loves of non-romantic kind, but rarely. I don’t think “An Illicit Love” is the way to translate it, I think “Forbidden Love” is more appropriate.

“Memnu” is also a word especially associated with the “forbidden fruit” in Heaven. Considering that Firdevs and Adnan’s names mean “Heaven” I am pretty sure that this association was intended by Halit Ziya, which lends even more credence to your pre-lapsarian reading.

Now, on whether an alternative reading is possible, I am not sure. I don’t assume that the phrase can be taken to mean “Love: Forbidden” or “Love is Forbidden” but there is still a possible ambiguity in the title:

1) In 1910s, someone who was probably the Turkish author Ömer Seyfettin accused Halit Ziya of taking the book’s title from Rene Maizeroy’s Les Amours Defendues.

“Les Amours Defendues” is obviously plural. Can Aşk-ı Memnu’s title be read as “Forbidden Loves” instead of as “Forbidden Love”? The book has been translated as “Forbidden Loves” into languages like German and Croatian. It seems to be a debatable point.

2) Does “Forbidden Love” mean a single love affair or does it mean a type of love?

Gül Mete Yuva says in her book:

“The novel’s name Aşk-ı Memnu seems to mean Bihter and Behlül’s extra-marital love at the first glance. But when looked at more closely, it is understood that the singular use of the word “love” equates to a type of love, a “forbidden” relationship type rather than to a single love. (…) In the rare cases when the author uses the phrase “aşk-ı memnu (pages 219 and 271) the subject is Bihter and Behlül’s relationship. That being said, with a careful reading we realize that the whole novel is laden with unnameable and undiscoverable loves and progresses with the tensions borne from them.

Two powerful individuals, Bihter and Nihal, clash for the man who is the husband of one and the father of the other - Adnan Bey. The characters’ insatiable appetite for love fills the novel. While talking about Nihal Halit Ziya writes “There was in her soul a need that could never be calmed, to be loved always, at each moment, with an affection that strengthened second by second””.

From Gül Mete Yuva’s book The French Sources of The Modern Turkish Literature (translated by me)

Yuva continues this by mentioning Nihal’s potentially incestuous love for her father.

All in all, I think these interpretations (outside of Ömer Seyfettin mentioning Les Amours Defendues in 1910s which is intriguing) can have been made after the fact, to further justify Nihal’s prominence in the book. But this interpretation had enough weight for German and Croatian translations of the book to translate it as “Forbidden Loves”, in plural. So I don’t know. It is intriguing. I have to know more about Ottoman Turkish “noun + adjective” (which is indeed very archaic in Turkey now) to decide for myself.

@pileofsith

[daiseukiis]

╰ ⋆ 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ଓ.° ╮

𓄹 ⌗ 005. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ take the l bitch

CONTENT. suggestive & profanity

004 | MASTERLIST | 006

⠀⠀⠀⠀“alright, everyone get ready to be called out and make sure to take your ear pieces off. it might distract you if it’s translating the music.” mae announced to her team, slightly yelling due to the sound of the crowd blasting all their cheers to their football team. but who could blame them? the football team was in the lead by two-zero, the audience was sure the players were going to end the game without a single point for their opponent.

“they’re pretty handy though.” kuneda shohei had placed his ear pieces in its case, his hearing open to all sorts of languages that he once understood turned into mush in his brain. he stuff the case into his pockets. sarumi kiyuri had nodded with his statement, doing the same thing as she quickly fixes her outfit.

“yeah but it translating to your language would mess up the timing of specific lyrics.” mae points out to her two vice-captains, her on the ground as she ties her shoelaces so it’s secure and tight on her feet.

“touché.” her two vice-captains glance at each other, nodding their head in agreement to her facts. she wasn’t wrong, a mistranslation could cause them a beat and mess up their dancers. so the decision of taking it off was quite a smart move.

“technology’s great and all, but for music you don’t have to understand to enjoy it.” mae stands up straight as her fingers quickly take off the pieces from her ears as the sounds of cheers switch from japanese to multiple other languages. it wasn’t the first she heard such loud enthusiasts, in fact it was quite the norm to hear a language barrier yet despite it it lures people into their respective passions even if you don’t understand it.

quickly her ears pick up in a specific mother tongue of hers— german. peeking her interest she turns her to face the direction of the voice, looking behind her to the football players of her school returning to the benches for mid game. though it were a mix of german and japanese, she couldn’t help but listen in to what the conversation was about.

“deutsch?” she approaches the trio that seemed to have not been seeing eye to eye, a black haired male that seemed to be japanese, a taller blonde boy with blue tips and a deep auburn stranded boy beside him— which mae had figured out were the germans. her appearance catches them off guard, eyes shooting towards her direction as the blonde scans her figure with his sky-like eyes. 

“ja…” michael kaiser trails on, looking at the rather baggy grey sweatpants and white shirt that was tied to become a crop. mae’s outfit was identical to every other female dance, while the guys had a tank top, but something about her stood out to kaiser.

“woah, du kannst es auch reden?” ( woah, you can talk it to? ) the alexis ness is astounded by mae, soon realizing how she wasn’t even wearing the ear pieces given by the university to help translate languages between students. the girl brushed her midnight strands of hair behind her ear giving a small nod at his words. her iris hues glancing between the array of eyes, “ja, was war das problem?” ( yeah, what’s the problem? )

“er versteht uns nicht.” ( he doesn’t understand us ) kaiser stares a bit at her, seeing her was new to him— in fact he’s convinced that it was the first of their encounter ever. kaiser would’ve noticed someone as entrancing as her if they passed by each other. mae could feel the stare that kaiser was giving her, and she tries her best to ignore it though piercing. 

she says to isagi yoichi in japanese, “why can’t you understand them?” the football player slightly thrown off when mae easily switches languages like that, especially when it’s the first they met. to say that he was impressed is an understatement— he’s even thankful she’s there to help with the language barrier before he could probably throw a punch to kaiser’s face. “i lost my earpieces during the game.”

“you should’ve said that in the beginning, yoichi.” that was all kaiser had to hear, he sighed with a rather devious signature grin following suit. though the language barrier didn’t help isagi, he had a feeling that it wasn’t anything nice either. “i don’t get what you’re saying but i feel like you’re bitchin’ me.”

“ladies and gentlemen! introducing the dance team!”

“everyone out, get into positions!” now mae was speaking in fluent english? every second that kaiser is with her the more he’s interested and dragged into the fascination of the one and only aoki mae. she digs into her pocket and reached out to grab isagi’s hand before placing her own pair of ear pieces into his palm. “take mine. see you around.”

though the clear remarks of people booing and telling the team to leave, mae still turns on her heels and immediately the moment she stepped on the field the atmosphere changed around her as the entire stadium started to get entranced by her figure alone. the huge big screen at the top shows the confidence and presence just in her walk alone to silence the negativity of onlookers.

the moment the music started is when the reputation of one of the worse dance teams became the envy of japan.

people were screaming left and right, many were even speechless at such a performance all created by one individual. just the way that mae moves her body was a sight to see, in fact the footballers were all instructed to head into the locker room to quickly take a break but even their bodies couldn’t help but stop to watch the dance team mae had created— especially kaiser.

aoki mae that night was definitely deemed as japan’s true glory.

as the very last beat played, mae was broadcasted nation-wide with her face the main feature of the audience's screens. all the words that doubted her team’s ability were out the window the moment she stepped foot on a stage she alone created, and she truly ruled the story which she called music. kaiser’s jaw gaped at the sight of her performance, how her chest went up and down suddenly trying to catch her breath with that same fierce look on her face; he wants more.

“didn’t you look pretty huh?” kaiser’s words are spoken in german, but that wasn't much difficulty for mae to comprehend. mae who had went to leave last, being congratulated and thanked by many of her fellow dancers stops and nods at kaiser, giving him a small smile. “thanks.”

“i like you, how about we stay in touch?”

“yeah, no. i’m good.”

many football players and even a few of the audience watch the interaction go down, baffled to witness mae's straightforward response that ultimately left kaiser in his spot. it took a bit for him to realize it, but was this the first? certainly.

“did kaiser… just get rejected?” ness and a few others were at a loss for words when they see mae's figure disappearing into the exit along with her group members. it was a shock to kaiser as well, she didn't even think about it!

“take the l bitch.” izumi grins at kaiser, one where he wanted to slap the look off her face as she directed an 'L' figure with her hands at him.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐖 ! ⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ the team performed this dance.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ despite being older than izumi, isagi yoichi is a bit intimidated by her wealth and casualness.

⠀⠀⠀⠀￫ mae made the team learn the choreography within three months.

SPONSERS ( OPEN ) ,,, @okkotsuus @hyomagiri @yuyan @ryuverse @renjiishot @aoshei @heartyouwon @deskaisersliebling @roe-sinning @vvasant @eishtar

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED !

© daiseukiis 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, translate without permission. do not claim work or layout as yours.

[cazzyf1]

My Favourite Quotes from: Niki Lauda Das Dritte Leben

So it's been 4 years since Niki has passed now. Over a year since I became so involved with Niki's life here. It's crazy how short of a time it's been.

It's been a while since I made one of these, but as I have brought two new Niki books recently, I figured I should make this to share. The book is fully in German, which I have had to use google translate on; so there will be grammatical issues in this but for the most part, I'd say this is accurate.

Enjoy

"Only Graham Hill and Chris Amon had private planes, and they were simple propeller mills. It had more to do with sport than luxury or gaining time when they came to the races in Fleger. Once they flew from Spa to London in Graham's Piper Actec, and because I was going the same way, they took me with them. Back then, you didn't travel 20 minutes after crossing the finish line of a race, but on Monday morning. It all started with Graham complaining about a headache that morning from drinking so much at the Grand Prix party. It was raining miserably and the runway was a grass runway. We barely made it over the embankment and darted rather noncommittally into the laundry room over the canal. Hill and Amon constantly argued and yelled at each other. Hill was a captain but only had a visual pilot's license, Amon understood instruments, and I think that's where the trouble came from. I sat in the back and had no idea of ​​anything. Anyway, we ended up in London. I didn't feel like I wanted to be a pilot or have an airplane." - 8

"The impression improved when my cousin of a clear friendly tone took me in his Cessna 150 for a sightseeing flight over the Inn Valley. Everything was nice and smooth and friendly, and flying so easy. The view over both sides of the Alps suggested a direttissima between Salzburg, where I now lived, and Ferrari. I became a student pilot and I loved practicing in Salzburg-Bologna. That's how flying got a meaning." - 8

"Stay in your own house on the edge of the forest. Breakfast with Marlene. Fifteen minutes drive to Salzburg Airport, Kemetinger has already fired up the Golden Eagle, an hour later she sails into Bologna. Sante Ghedini picks me up. Two hours at Ferrari's circuit. Enzo Ferrari himself comes over from his office. We're going to Cavallino for lunch, I can do Polsk at the old man's (unfortunately very important). Another hour of testing. Off to Bologna. At half past five I walk in at Marlene's door, like someone who comes home from the office happily. To imagine that day with a scheduled airliner was impossible to fit in twice a six-hour drive: a horror." - Niki's routine

"A few years earlier I had been a hopelessly incompetent loser in high school, in my apprenticeship as a mechanic and then again at high school, and now I was playing the great analyst of Formula 1. I had a good sensorium in my butt, I could feel it Car lived, also in details." - 10

"I met Marlene in the summer of 1975. She was Curd Jürgens' girlfriend and as such the lady of the house at a party in Salzburg. She has a Spanish mother and an Austrian father, was born in Venezuela and mostly grew up there. She has a lot more Spanish than Austrian character. The name Niki Lauda meant absolutely nothing to her. Marlene was infinitely far away from racing and asked the most hair-raising questions, like a child. A few months later she definitely didn't marry the racing driver in me, she took that with her without realizing what she was getting into. As a racing driver you need naïve optimism ("nothing's going to happen to me anyway"), otherwise you wouldn't be able to get into the car at all, and Marlene was willing to believe in it just as I said she would. She was endlessly carefree, and before she knew she was right in the middle of the horror. I was 27, world champion and on my way to my second title. Before I got into the Ferrari on August 1, 1976 at the Nürburgring, Austrian journalists told me that the Reichsbrücke in Vienna had collapsed a few hours earlier. It was a strange feeling: that the biggest bridge in the city, in the whole country, could simply collapse in a second." - p11

"Frank Gardner in a Cortina Lotus had won. At the podium he put down the wreath and descended with tears in his eyes. He had just been told that Jim Clark had died in Hockenheim. Jim Clark was also my big idol, so that also affected me. What particularly bothered me about it was that it was caused by a technical defect, back then there weren't safety bolts in the rims, and if you had a puncture, the tire could jump off the rim. So Clark simply took a turn on the long straight in Hockenheim and pulled straight into the forest without it being his fault. That kept me busy for a long time." - p16

"First, there were these microscopic slivers of burned face shield (balaclava) that had been transplanted with the fresh skin I had developed an allergy to. He got 70 such things out of me in a three-day ordeal with tweezers, carefully treating everything with peppermint oil. The ears, or what was left of them, were raw flesh and painful beyond belief. Willy called the surgeon, who said: The rest of it will probably rot off as well, then the pain will be gone." Willy marched down to Lake Fuschi and dug up some roots, to which he said things like: That helped the Crusaders. As a result, I was able to sleep for the first time in three days, and for 15 hours, and two weeks later I had skin again over what was left of my ears. Then it happened incredibly quickly, also because I was so eager to return to normal life. I soon started running and strength training, and I noticed the progress every day." - p25

"Hannes was a good conversation partner in my euphoria for the future Lauda Air, which was already going through my head in 1977. He had an idea for the "style" that we wanted to develop, for our self-representation and our self-image. We talked about flying, about upcoming planes and an upcoming airline. No detail was too small for us, no fantasy too big. It "It was just fun to sand the contours of a vision. Hannes sketched a jumbo tail and painted a red L in it. This is what the logo could look like. No type of aircraft was better suited than the jumbo, because of the corresponding slant of the towering tail. However, since there was no company yet, the corporate design of the Lauda Air could initially only be applied to my crash helmet: a double red L, lightly scripted, on a white background." - p31

"In the years that followed, Hannes Rausch accompanied me to almost every Grand Prix. Of course there was also Bertl Wimmer. Bertl lived in my (Salzburg) area, worked as a salesman for motorcycles and mopeds for KTM and, through his enthusiasm for motor sports, came into contact with Walter Wolf and finally mine. Our common interests were motorcycling, flying and all kinds of nonsense, and by about 1975 we were friends. Ideally, I packed a team of four as a Grand Prix accompaniment in the Citation or the Lear Jet: Marlene and Messrs. Willy Dungl, Bert! Wimmer, Hannes Rausch (one for the body, one for the heart and one for the brain", at least according to Hannes' interpretation)." - p31

"I only passed the theory part of the exam on the second attempt in Braunschweig. For the practical part, I needed a long-range flight, so I shipped the flight instructor and examiner to the Lear in New York and then flew on to the US Grand Prix in Long Beach. Bernie Ecclestone was already waiting there, saying he urgently needed to go to Las Vegas. So I flew him there. Before I left, I flipped through the messages that Bernie had brought me from the hotel. I should urgently call Frau Maier, our housekeeper in Salzburg. In the phone box at the airport I was told: "An Buam ham S', an Buam ham S'." Our first child was born: Lukas." -p44-45

"Of course, I also drove a full Formula 1 season. When I came home from the Monaco Grand Prix, our kitchen was slightly damaged. Did the dogs behave like that?" I asked Mariene. "No," she said. I had a tantrum" She had her fit during the TV broadcast from Monaco when she saw Didier Pironi try to pass me at Mirabeau, riding on the back of my Brabham and missing my neck by six inches before slamming into the guardrail . Pironi's maneuver was so bloody stupid that you could get angry about it. But that wasn't why Marlene dismantled the kitchen. She was just so incredibly angry because she once again had to watch what she had been doing since the Nürburgring in 1976 knew exactly: That racing is idiotic. Everyone who takes part is idiots, and I, right in the middle, played a brilliant leading role: Congratulations!" and a kitchen box was due. When I got back into the car six weeks after the fire accident, she didn't stop me because she basically allows everyone every freedom, but she thought I was stupid. She thought the whole racing sport was stupid, our rituals, the rush, the heartlessness, and that you can cripple yourself. Marlene never again had a relaxed relationship with racing. My selfishness was strong enough not to let that deter me. I believed, and I do the same today, that in a partnership, too, the free development of the individual must be out of the question. If there isn't room for it, it's just not the right partnership." -p47-48

"Back then, I actually wore beige lace-up velvet trousers every day that had a burn hole over which Marlene had sewn blue fabric in the shape of a fish. I also wore a beige Niki sweater and the shoes painted by Hannes." - p51

"Gilles Villeneuve died in Zolder on May 8, 1982. I liked him for his charm and naturalness, admired his willingness to surrender unconditionally to sweet madness (which, however, had nothing to do with his death fall). In the last hours of his life I had two typical experiences with him. Thursday night at the hotel: I was about to go to bed and heard the flop-flop-flop-flop of a helicopter gone mad. It was pitch black and a searchlight scanned the area in front of the hotel, trying to sort out pylons and cables. The thing did land, it was Villeneuve's Agusta 109, a nice twin engine with retractable gear, Gilles had an immaculate Clarification: "I flew away from Nice when it was still quite light." The next day, first training, first ride. I happened to come out of box right behind Gilles and saw him in the allerer. flew out of the first curve. When we stood together later, I asked him out of genuine interest why a person would throw themselves out in the very first corner of a training session. He said: "Niki, I can't do it different." There was something in him, that simply does not allow him to drive in a calculating or cautious manner, no matter what the track (at the beginning of a training session, the ideal line is not yet sanded clean, that only becomes apparent after a number of laps) That was the last thing I heard from him heard: "I can't help it." - p61-62

"Now, sitting still on the plane, sadness, worry, anger and the burning uncertainty, of course also self-pity seeped into me: What had I done that I had to be the center of such an oversized disaster? In Kennedy I was finished, physically and mentally. I trotted to the PanAm counter, handed over my ticket. The Man looked at it, looked at me, made two dashes through, gave me the ticket and said Stand By". I hadn't bothered with the ticket before, no- had no idea I was stand by to Washington. When the PanAm man said "stand by", I didn't give a damn for the first time in six days. I thought I did like me Out of. Tilt Then again: I have to go to Washington. But how? should i cry shouldn't I cry? I was remote controlled, but the helmsman was not at the post I turned and walked back into the hall and squatted down. I couldn't do more. As if I had been beaten and can no longer hit back. I stared at the ticket without any realization. I almost passed out, I didn't care, I couldn't take it anymore. I would sit here, just sit there I couldn't sleep either. Except for race fans, no dog in America knows me, but now everything was different. - p139

"I flew from London to Salzburg to see Marlene and the children. Marlene was still completely distraught. The ten days that had passed since the crash hadn't lessened her shock. Lukas also showed concern, only Mathias was quite relaxed, listened to a lot and said he was going to play tennis." - p149 (about the plane crash)

"Lukas then came out with the fact that jokes about it were already circulating at school. For example, if you don't love your wife anymore, then send them with the Lauda Air."" -p150

"Niki Lauda's wife loves the neighbors was the headline in August 1989. With a photo (not of the neighbors on Ibiza, but of me), the report took up half the front page. The lover was not only described ("he is 33, tall, blond, blue-eyed"), but also called by name. It was the partner, now husband, of Marlene's sister Renate and one of our closest friends So they didn't bother with even a minimum of research. Since Renate was pregnant at the time, we were able to win the lawsuit against "Bild", which is otherwise hardly possible in such cases in Germany. By and large, the tabloid writes what it wants." - p240

"When the first journalist somewhere heard that I had an illegitimate child, he confronted me about it. "That's right," I said, but it doesn't help anyone if it's in the newspaper, not the child, not the mother, not the father and his family." right Okay, said the journalist and didn't write a word. Over time, others found out about it, too, and I said to them: 80 Yes, it's true, but anyway, he's known about it for a long time. He doesn't write it because he's helping me with it." They didn't write it either, and at some point quite a lot of people knew about it, at least beyond the narrow circle. None of them developed the ambition to make a particularly nice headline with the private life of Niki Lauda. Until at some point a German writer from wind and put it boldly in his newspaper, then followed short confirmations in the Austrian newspapers, but Christoph was already in kindergarten age. That's how my mother experienced it, for example. In her slightly crumpled Schönbrunner German she said: Niiiki, did that have to be?"- and never a word of it again." - p241-242

"Christoph is a bright fifteen-year-old growing up in Vienna and with whom I have little contact. We see each other about three times a year, so of course no sensible father-son relationship can develop from that. I only have one family, it stays that way, married or divorced, it doesn't matter. I have a bad conscience that it happened," and I can't get rid of it either. The situation presents itself as unsolvable in the sense of a result that could make everyone happy. I don't want to cut myself in half, and I can't see a middle ground that I could reasonably walk. Christoph grew up completely differently than the children under Marlene's and my influence. I feel the difference very strongly, but of course it's okay." -p242

"Marlene is my life person. She has uncanny strength and security, and she rests in the midst of a chaos she beautifully crafts." -p242

"I had lived with a very disciplined young lady for seven years and married Marlene within a few months. I didn't take it that terribly seriously, I just wanted to know what it's like: being married, and Marlene was exactly the kind of person who could understand it well." - p243

"When I confessed the illegitimate child to her, she was hurt but decided that if I wanted that to happen, nothing about our family should change. Of course I wanted. If we did eventually divorce, she demanded, "I'll have the kids, the dogs, the camera." So we continued this weird kind of marriage that we were both comfortable with. A relationship can only be based on how two people understand each other, and we got along well. I remained stubbornly focused on my egocentric life, racing, company, and Marlene accepted that. Normally you can only choose between family and freedom, I could choose as much as I wanted from both. I could lean my head back when I felt like it and when I felt fit I could run away and do whatever I wanted. Everyone knows that I wasn't a saint anyway. But even there it depends on what is ultimately the case remains. It's easy for me because I can decide for myself in this constellation. We do not need to discuss the responsibility for the three. If Marlene pulls the lace and says, what now?, I'm there immediately. Just: She has never pulled the lace. I know exactly the limits. And if the boundaries need to be shifted, then we'll shift them against me too. But since Marlene gives me such freedom, thank God, I also live it. But when push comes to shove, she always wins. Just as we got married, we divorced in 1991. It didn't matter and it didn't change anything. The official in Thalgau asked about the reason for the divorce. ..There isn't one, I want a divorce." "It's impossible without a reason." ..What could be a reason, for example?" ..If someone wasn't at home for six months." I haven't been home for six months." ..Are you sure?" Yes, of couse." "The marriage is divorced." On leaving, Marlene said: "The children, the dogs, the camera." I was flabbergasted. It had worked the way she always said it would. And nothing changed. Of course I took all the steps to protect her, and also signed the house in Salzburg over to her." -p244

"For five years only the very closest circle knew about it. Marlene wanted to spare the children who went to school in Hof near Salzburg the public discussion of our private lives. So we kept quiet" - p244

"Accordingly, it turned out that Lukas had nothing in mind with cars and motorcycles. He just got comfortable with cycling, that was all. I resented how he grew up with no technical spark. I had to do something. When he was about thirteen, I bought him a small motocross bike for his size. He was super excited about it, but for two months he just started the thing up in the garage and went wrrrrmmm, wrrrrmmm. No, he doesn't want to drive, he doesn't want to. One Saturday the whole family was sitting at the Schloßwirt in Anif, it was a wonderful day. I said to Lukas, let's drive home quickly, I'll show you something. On the lawn in front of our house I put him on the front of the motorcycle, sat on the back, grabbed the handlebars, showed him how to use the gas and clutch. But he only stopped in the middle of the handlebars and wasn't willing to move his hand towards the accelerator. So we drove around in the meadow, two on a small bike. It seemed like a solid hour before he finally parted his hands enough to get the gas and clutch. I suddenly jumped off. He roared like crazy, made a slow giant arc, and I had to run alongside. In the end I had to catch him because he couldn't get his feet on the ground properly. Very slowly, in first gear, he trembled through the meadow and scolded me. Anyway, he was on his way. - p246

"The next time I came to Salzburg, Lukas said: So what?" Come down with me. I'm going to go motocross." "Come down." He dressed carefully. Leather outfit, boots, fall home, the whole fuss. I stood there bored and waited for him to shake his way out. He jumped on his motorcycle and sped out of the garage on the back wheel - an image I'll never forget become. I ran to Mathias.,,What's the matter?" The little brother then told me that the day after our first trip, Lukas had gone down to the farm boys on his motorbike, and he had driven with them until he could, becoming more and more ambitious, and in the end totally stupid." - p247

"With Mathias, the result was the same, only the way to get there was much easier. He wouldn't have gotten up on his own, so I put him on the bike, said that's the gas, that's the clutch, he said yes, I know. He drove away, made a detour, came back and drove unsharpened to the garage door. ,,Are you dumb?" "I don't know where the brake is." He was fearless. Full throttle from the first second. And his brother was such a protégé. Anyway, they started riding motocross together" - p247

"If you really aspire to a motocross career, you should start just after walk school. So it was by no means too early when Lukas and Mathias, aged 14 and 12 respectively, asked for decent motocross machines for further training. Marlene had a fit, but I told her to let her go: Motocross is the hardest thing there is. You will never get ahead. There's no money to be made, the sport is just exhausting, dusty and dirty, they'll soon stop doing it." Marlene accepted and I bought the boys two 125 Hondas. They drive it really well and there is no longer any difference between the two. They are equally wild and equally good. I hope that it doesn't turn into a motocross career, and that suggests that they're jumping around like crazy out of sheer jokes and frolics. But they lack the seriousness of cardio, running and weight training every day, so I believe I think the racing bacillus will eventually suffocate in the eternal dust of motocross. Marlene has now fully embraced the kids' hobby, drives the machines back and forth, checks in between Barcelona and Ibiza." - p248

"My mother survived him by eighteen years. I didn't see her very often either, but there was always a bond and affection, maybe there was also a hidden longing for the family that had been lost so to speak. Her last days were moving. She had cancer, only wanted therapy up to a point, and then no more. Brother Florian and I took turns at her bedside for the last week and never left her alone. They were important days for me and for this last remnant of family. I think after all our mother understood that she had sons who loved her. Now only Florian is left. We had always had little contact, but after the death of our mother we became closer again. He lives his life completely differently from me, hasn't done anything in all his 46 years that I would call work, but that's by no means criticism, on the contrary, I admire him for it. He studied but didn't finish, did this and that, was always happy, and because of them Family circumstances he could also afford it." - p250

"I never had a problem with my appearance after the accident. problem That's what I look like, that's it. I therefore only had the medical technically necessary operations on the eyes and ears chen, but no plastic surgery. James Hunt, my 1976 World Cup rival, said the accident was the best thing that could have happened to me: "You finally have a face to look at." - p253

"In the meantime, an Austrian brewery had expressed interest in providing me with a Gösser"-Kapperl, green of course. Practical and unsentimental as I am, I thought five million schillings is a lot of money these days, so why shouldn't I have one green Kappl marching around?” I really didn't have any major concerns and made a preliminary contract. Then I showed up at the company with the green Kapperl on a trial basis. The employees were stunned. They thought I wasn't quite tight anymore. Lauda can't wear a green cap, he can't have any other cap but this red thing, and the fact that it says Parmalat isn't an advertising message, it just happens to be written on Lauda's cap. Of course, I have so much respect for symbols and the opinions of the employees that I allow myself to be taught. So I canceled the Gösser lecture with difficulty, wept briefly and violently over the beautiful coal and politely put the red cap back on. It will probably stay that way, I think." P254

"I had just come back from Miami, with the flu, overworked, overtired, came to the Viennese apartment next to the Hotel Sacher and suffered a heart attack. I fell to the ground, unable to move. With the utmost effort, I crawled to the phone, but who should I call? Emergency call, ambulance? It was the time of my worst argument with the AUA, and even in my fear of death I couldn't give them the triumph that the red Kappl was being carried out of the Sacher-Haus on a stretcher. So Willy Dungl, but he wasn't there. I asked for a call back, extremely urgent. Meanwhile, still on the ground, I scribbled notes for Marlene, account numbers and so on, farewell. After hours I think Dungl finally called. I'm having a heart attack, I said, please take me to the hospital discreetly. Willy and his wife picked me up, took me out of the house and straight to the general hospital, where on the Cardiac station everything was already prepared. First check: everything ok. healthy heart, as in the last pilot examination. Infinite relief, however wrong with unchanged Pains. So it could only be a misaligned vertebra, a pinched nerve, which is Dungl's specialty anyway (actually it was the fifth thoracic vertebra, I think). I'll take you straight to Gars, where I can treat you properly," said Dungl. I was dragged to Willy's car in the hospital yard. It came to me like a rocket from the subconscious Remembering Willy Dungl's car skills. ..Who's driving?" I asked, suddenly wide awake. I'll drive," said Dungl. I whimpered, "Let me drive, Willy."- p272-3

"The greatest driver personality over my 25-year span has been Ayrton Senna. The strongest, the best, innovative, extremely sensitive as a driver and as a person. He dealt with racing perfectly and with unbelievable intensity. He had everything under control and was creative in all his ideas. He was warm-hearted and friendly and inspired me as a person, although his religiosity was completely alien to me" - p291

"At the time of the 1993 Spanish Grand Prix, I tried to lure him to Ferrari. I met him in his Barcelona hotel room and told him how great it was to immerse himself in the Ferrari myth. But he didn't give a damn about myth and said he was only interested in a car that he could win races in. We didn't even get to talk about money, and in the end he probably drove for Williams almost free of charge in 1994 because he basically had to buy Prost out." - p292

Hope you enjoyed the read! When I finish the next book I'll try to get it out. Also tagging @f1yogurt