#Tod's Workshop

[severalpossiblemusiks]

Have you learned any fun history facts recently?

Thanks for the ask!

I don't think I have a "short and sweet" fact that could be summed up in a sentence, but I did watch a cool video about fire arrows.

They were basically a lot of animal fat and such with a lit match that would stay burning while the arrow was in flight. The nasty bit was that once the arrow was burning, you couldn't really pull it out of the target, so any poor sod who got hit with one just kinda had to burn. Very nasty.

I'll find the video if you want to watch:

The YouTuber is Tod's Workshop, he's an engineer and historical weapons creator, he did some of the weapons for the Witcher TV series, and has a line of medieval cutlery under the name Tod Cutler, while his weapons are sold under the Tod's Workshop name. He does a lot with archery in his videos. He's very easy for me to follow in terms of video topics and presentation, and he has good quality production. One of my favourite medieval hsitory and warfare YouTubers.

[erikacousland]

Tods Workshop | Facebook

Anglo Saxon 9th and 10thC Spoon Fork 'Spork' – Tod Cutler

An amazing and rare 9th and 10th C eating utensil. A spoon, fork on one shaft. Anglo Saxon in origin, but of course would be suited to Vikings as well. For serving or eating but is finely cast in polished brass. An unusual piece for the time, but based on a museum piece and shows that nothing is really new! We have named this ourselves…….enjoy! Please note this is for one piece (fork one end, spoon the other) Overall length is 26cm Copied from an original. Material: Brass

[educationaldm]

I'm still thinking about what my first weapon purchase will be, and a beautiful flanged mace is definitely in the running. Here's Tod from @TodWorkshop talking us through their manufacture and use.

[robotsprinkles]

so I dunno if this (practice) balisong I bought last week is just crap (it was a comic-con purchase so that might well be the case)

or if my choice to not search up how to do any actual openings and instead just do the basic one I learned in 2015/2016 and a heavily modified version of that opening which blends all three individual steps into one smooth step put improper stress on one of the handle scale screws

but yeah the upper screw on one of the handle scales fell out and I'm concerned that the rest are going to follow suit

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

First Date..? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: Gepard, after becoming ill to the point of passing out, asked you to go on a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum with him. Today is that day!

▸ Genre(s): fluff, a sprinkling of angst

▸ Word Count: 5.5k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, mentions of domestic abuse

A/N: MY LAST POST SHOWED IN THE TAGS!!!! It brought a ton of new people in <3 hello gepard fans, this is a part of my series! You can find more in the masterlist. (Or don’t. I try to make it so you can start wherever.)

the dividers are being stupid but i decided to keep them

MASTERLIST

Gepard, the heir to the Landau name and a sworn Silvermane Guard, wasn’t sure if he had ever felt this nervous in his life.

From his first interview as a cadet to the ceremony promoting him to the position of “Captain,” his heart had never beat as loudly as it did that day. It sent tremors through his chest that traveled all the way to his throat.

He stood resting an arm on the counter of the Neverwinter Workshop reception desk, paying no mind to his sister as she milled about, rummaging through drawers of tools and combing through filing cabinets.

A heavy sigh escaped the captain’s lips as he tapped his fingers apprehensively. All he could focus on was the antique clock on the wall taunting him as it tick, tick, ticked away. Closer and closer to the time he’d be meeting you.

Serval’s voice drew him out of the thoughts weighing his mind down.

“Earthwork should be good to go,” she said, hoisting the shield device slash guitar case onto the counter with a thump.

The bronze safety goggles resting precariously on the top of her head tumbled to the floor. Those would definitely cost a pretty penny.

“Let me know if the shield deployment acts up again, alright?”

Gepard took the procedural report from her and nodded. “You have my gratitude once again, sister. The guards should send you an invoice soon,”

Suddenly, the bell in the central plaza rang. Its sound sent shivers down his spine, which he tried to shake off by glancing absentmindedly out the window. This did not go unnoticed by his sister.

“You seem a little antsy today, Geppie. What’s messing with your rhythm?”

“Ah?” Gepard responded while tucking the yellow slip of paper into his pocket. “I merely have a few affairs that need attending to. The concern is appreciated, though,”

He straightened his collar, averting his eyes. She stared at him incredulously at this pathetically conspicuous act.

“You know?” she snorted. “You are possibly one of the worst liars on Jarilo-VI,”

She dropped her wrench on the desk carelessly, and he stiffened immediately.

“You never act this distant when it comes to affairs. In fact, most of the time you’re pretty quick to pass them off to me!” Serval shook a finger at him. “I’ve had my fair share of headaches, so you better fess up right now, little brother,” she hissed.

She stomped around the counter over the unfortunate pair of goggles and leaned in a good five or so inches away from his face. Gepard mustered all the will in his body to keep his lips straight and his facade up. “Ah— um,”

“Does this, in any way, shape or form, have to do with (Y/N)?” she barked.

“N-no, I…” His eyes flickered for a second at a pot of indigo flowers behind her. Serval, like her namesake, used this as an excuse to pounce.

“It does, doesn’t it? You broke eye contact!” She accused.

“Anyone would, in that situation!” He defended himself, clenching his jaw tightly. “You need to find better methods of interrogating people than that, sister,”

“Excuse you,” Serval snapped. “I’m just curious! We DO share a lot of friends, but (Y/N) is the only one I don’t work with.” She folded her arms.

Gepard ran a hand from his chin all the way to his hair with a groan. The last time they had squabbled like this, he hadn’t yet graduated from cadet school.

He cleared his throat. “That wasn’t what I was thinking about. As for (Y/N), I happen to be seeing them at the museum today. Are you satisfied with this information?”

His sister rolled her eyes at the biting remark and wiped a hand across her brow, smearing motor oil on her forehead. “Yeah. Fine. Don’t bother telling all the juicy details of how that came to be. They’d just be wasted on me!”

Gepard’s shoulders dropped in exasperation as he stared at her. “Why are you so invested in this, sister? You hardly give a single snowflake about my personal life. What changed?”

If looks could kill, Gepard would be six feet under.

“Hey. I’m trying to help you and your hopeless love life!” His sister nearly exploded with frustration. He quickly took a step back.

“Every time you two are in the same room, your face goes pink and you’re completely paralyzed,” she said, exasperated. “At this rate, you’ll grow old before your feelings reach them!”

She stuck a finger in her mouth with a gagging noise. Gepard blushed even harder.

“My feelings have nothing to do with you, sister,” he sputtered while simultaneously going over every single time you’ve happened to be in a room together in his head.

Serval stopped for a moment, her hackles seeming to fall. Her voice dropped an octave. “They do, actually,”

Serval sucked in a breath through her teeth.

“Y’know, Gepard… I’ve seen you go your entire life laying down everything you’ve ever had for Belobog. Isn’t it about time you pursue something— someone, that makes you happy?”

She paused, letting the words linger in his mind. Then she spoke again.

“Y’know, that you love,”

The air between them became thick with silence.

Serval sighed, leaning her back against the counter. Her little brother seemed to lack the words to respond.

“I’ve seen how you light up when you see them. And it hurts me seeing you stamp your feelings down each and every time,”

She searched in his eyes for any sign that her message was reaching him. But she did not find one.

“I’ve told you this before. Love isn’t something you can half-ass. You have to put your all into it—,” she twirled a pen around in her hand to blow off some steam. “—I don’t even care if you don’t want my help. I just want you to feel like you can confide in me, okay?”

She looked back at her brother, who was now staring at the floor, and smiled wistfully.

Well, Belobog wasn’t built in a day, after all.

Serval shrugged. “Anyways. You don’t have to listen to your big sis. I just think you should spend as much time with them before you’re sent away on another campaign.” Her tone became humorous. “Make sure you’re aaa-ll they think about when you’re gone,”

Gepard’s head shot up, his mouth going agape, and he quickly shut it.

“Why would I want to do that??”

“So you two can send each other looong letters about how much you love and miss each other, of course!” Serval chuckled teasingly, sticking her tongue out at her furiously blushing younger brother.

“They— they don’t feel that way about me,” he choked out.

She folded her arms at his defeated tone. “Maybe they don’t, but you two have chemistry!”

She slapped him on the shoulder heartily, which caused him to choke on the breath he was taking. “I can tell they care for you. And since when have Landaus been ones to give up?”

Gepard let out an exhale through his nose at the saying his sister would always repeat when they were kids.

“…never,”

“That’s right, little brother! Now, how long before your little date?”

He sighed again. “I’m going after I put my shield in the barracks,”

This time, it was Serval’s turn to freeze. “Right now?!” Her eyes burned holes into him.

“Yes, right now,”

She launched herself at him and dug her long nails into his shoulders. He stumbled backwards, trying to keep his balance. “NO. NO YOU CAN’T. NOT LIKE THAT,”

“Why is that?” Gepard blinked in surprise.

“You’re off duty today and you’re still in uniform? We’ve gotta get you tidied up,” she gasped.

“I sincerely doubt that they care—,” he started, remembering the time you showed up to a cafe with your gardening gloves on and dirt smudged on your face.

Serval bristled at him. He swallowed nervously.

He knew better than to keep talking.

His sister grabbed him harshly by the shoulder and yanked him out the door towards the estate.

Oh Aeons. This wasn’t going to be good.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

And finally, there you were. Gepard spotted you people watching as you waited outside of the Belobog History and Culture Museum, back rested on the handrail languidly, like a tourist.

You turned towards him with one hand gripping a pamphlet, the other shielding your eyes from the sun and—

Oh wow.

Why did he look like that?

He was taking long strides towards you, in an outfit that could only be described as way over-the-top. His hair was slicked back so you could see his forehead and (very strong) jawline, and he wore a brilliant white suit with silver accents that was most definitely meant for something more formal than a trip to the museum.

Additionally, he had on a long white cape that stopped at his ankles. With the bright sunlight shining down, it was blinding.

He looked like a foreign prince, from one of those novels Vaska liked to read. One woman’s jaw dropped as he passed by.

Oh, Aeons. Serval had definitely played a part in this one.

You, on the other hand, wore the same thing you always did. The green florist’s uniform coupled with a beret (which was rather charming, in your opinion). You shook yourself off and walked up to meet him.

“Hiya Captain!” You said as he approached.

Gepard felt something stab through his chest at the formal title, but he brushed it off.

“Glad to see you’re back in shape— and whoa, you look nice today.”

You looked him up and down keenly, and Gepard thought he felt his heart stop.

“Y-yes. I happened to have made a full recovery, thank you. Shall we go in?” He cringed inwardly at his inability to speak.

As much as he hated it, Serval was right. His heart was beating sixteenth notes as he looked at you. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t slow it down.

You nodded. But your eyes darted to the side for a second, showing a hint of uncertainty.

“Yeah! Um… Maybe lose the cape though?”

You gasped as you saw him quickly cover his face with his hand.

“N-not like it doesn’t look good on you! I was just thinking it might catch on the displays, y’know,”

“No, no. I get it.” Gepard let out a small groan, much like an arctic bear cub. “Serval insisted on dressing me up before I left. I should have told her not to.”

He grimaced, knowing all too well that it wouldn’t have made a difference either way. He then unclasped the cape and rolled it up into a tight ball, tucking it under his arm.

Whew. That was most definitely better. He looked less like a prince and more like your average rich noble. Although, if you were being honest, that wasn’t great either.

And so, he showed you into the museum with the hospitality of an attendee (he had worked there, after all). You felt like royalty. And Aeons, the lobby was absolutely perfect. It had an air of welcoming in it, and it smelled like history! Or dust. One of the two, you figured.

In true Underworld fashion, you waltzed up to the reception desk and immediately began making small talk. The blonde woman seemed startled but made nothing of it.

“How much for tickets?” You leaned your elbows on the counter. Her eyes landed on Gepard, who unbeknownst to you, was approaching from behind.

“Oh? Are you two here together?” She gasped. You whipped around, startled. “Volunteers are allowed to bring one guest for free. We appreciate your visit, Captain Gepard,”

She bowed her head respectfully and he nodded. He lightly placed a hand on your shoulder, which in turn, caused you to jump nearly half a foot in the air.

Great. Just great.

“Would you like to accompany me to the automaton section first?” He inquired. You weren’t certain, but you thought you heard a hint of shyness in his tone.

Like I’d run off without my tour guide in a building this big, you thought, glancing up at the huge arching ceilings in the main area.

“Sure! You’d better give me a tour worth a five-star review, Captain,” you chuckled.

That seemed to flip a switch. “I’ll do my utmost,” he declared.

He glanced down at you as you laughed lightly at his fiercely determined demeanor, feeling his cheeks warm at the sound of your voice. And with that, you began your tour through the museum.

First you stopped at the side parlor, which housed numerous automatons borrowed from the Robot Settlement. The models were polished and the descriptions were lengthy, which made you beam with pride. They sure knew how to treat the robots right.

Next you made your way to the main hall. It had an abundance of artifacts in sturdy glass cabinets, and beautifully intricate paintings that stole your breath away.

Gepard made sure to narrate every piece you seemed even moderately interested in. He loved how your eyes seemed to sparkle when he’d quote something he’d read in a history book, giving you a taste of the delves of information he kept stored in his brain as a Belobogian noble.

If it were up to him, you’d have access to every archive on the face of Jarilo-VI.

And you, you loved how he’d get so absorbed in explaining things that the words seemed to pour out of his mouth as he pointed at the displays. Even with the hum of the Geomarrow heaters and the constant chatter of visitors, his voice was the only one you seemed to hear.

Such simple joy it brought you. Here, staring at the photograph of the Eversummer Florists together, and chatting as if you weren’t two whole worlds apart. Gepard’s eyes took in every detail, every flower and every ray of sunlight trickling in through the windows.

You tore your gaze away from his profile to stare at your leather shoes just for a moment. Something vague flapped at the corners of your mind, but now really wasn’t the time to try and sort it out, you told yourself.

“Why don’t we tour the projector room next?” Gepard said, leaning down to look you in the eyes intently. You felt your heart leap at his voice.

Boy, were you in deep.

You mustered a smile as best you could, hoping it wasn’t too stiff.

“Sure! Lead the way,”

You had never seen such a wonderful piece of technology before. You both sat down on the velvet benches, entranced by the images flickering across the canvas.

This time, it was Gepard’s turn to stare. He’d seen it all before in his days as a volunteer. But seeing you gazing in awe at the projection as the light reflected in your eyes. That was something new.

Sitting there, shoulder to shoulder. Like equals. Watching the same screen, seeing the same things. It made his heart flutter like nothing ever had.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

“Wow. I am wiped!” you exclaimed after departing from the museum. “That was a great tour. Do you accept tips, Mister Volunteer Guide?” You grinned at him and Gepard let out an amused huff.

“I simply repeated what they taught me in primary school,”

“Yeah?” You inquired. “It was super immersive, though. I think you’d make a great history teacher,”

He went almost entirely pink at the compliment.

You chuckled to yourself. It wasn’t hard to make him blush, you thought.

“And also, what’s a primary school?” You piped up.

“Oh?” He paused. “It’s the first school kids attend on the surface. They learn to read, write, and all the other various things required of them,”

“Really? I remember Natasha teaching us how to read and write, but then it was straight to the mines for us,” you pondered, reminiscing back on your childhood in the Great Mine.

Suddenly, Gepard’s shoulder crashed into yours, sending you reeling into the Geomarrow heater to your left with a loud bang. You hurriedly grabbed it before it crashed to the ground.

Interestingly enough, the cause of this confusion was a small but speedy child, who had rammed into Gepard’s right leg by accident.

The child with short umber hair didn’t look back once after knocking into you, shouting “sorry,” and continuing to sprint, as a gang of ten or more children trampled after him. Their footsteps echoed along the walls of the lower floor of the Administrative district, which amplified them until it really did sound like a herd of animals.

All of the kids were carrying flags and pinwheels, staple items for the upcoming Solwarm festival, but they were wearing clothes belonging to both the Overworld and the Underworld.

This sent a jolt of surprise to your core. They played together so easily, it was like the past few decades hadn’t even happened.

“Little rascals,” you snickered, pulling away from the bench and brushing yourself off. You both stood and watched the children barrel down the road, knocking unsuspecting grown-ups into the next week. At one point, they stopped in a wide-open area and began to kick around a beanbag, their laughter ringing like bells.

Gepard’s brows furrowed, a pensive look appearing on his face.

“What’s on your mind?” You tilted your head at him with a smile on your lips.

His thoughtful expression had to have been one of your favorites.

He returned your gaze from where he was staring at the children chattering, running, and playing without a care in the world. Gepard felt the pang of a familiar memory in his chest.

“I was just considering… how nice it is to see relationships between the Overworld and the Underworld lessening in tension.”

He sighed. “I know it may sound silly, but some used to discourage interactions between the two,”

The look in Gepard’s eyes became a little more distant. “My father, for instance,”

You looked at him questioningly as he drew in a deep breath.

“I remember he once threw a vase at me in a fit of anger, after discovering I’d been visiting a group of kids from the mines,”

He glanced at the ground, looking quite like a lost puppy. “I had never heard the stories that they were telling before, so I just… kept going back to listen,”

You felt your mouth fall slightly ajar. He kept speaking.

“Thankfully, I didn’t get hurt that day, but the only reason is because my sister stepped in order to protect me,”

Your eyes widened in shock. “How— how old were you?”

“I believe I was five at the time,” Gepard stated. Almost like it was nothing.

“I think that’s where I gained some of my resolve,” he continued. “My own sister stepped forward to protect me without a thought for her own safety. So I grew up wanting to be strong, like her,”

Gepard curled his hand into a fist, letting memories of his childhood wash over him in his usual manner of acceptance. But when he looked back at you, only a glimpse of your face could be seen. You stared at the ground silently, and he could very well tell that your fists and jaw were clenched tight.

Waves of frustration at the realization crashed over you and your breath went hot. You stared back up at him, tears brimming in your eyes.

“He threw… a vase at you?” You said.

Hurt leaked into your voice against your will and you felt your heart had snapped in two. It seemed like both he and Serval harbored animosity toward their father.

And now you knew why. There was no way this was a one-time thing.

“That’s— wow, I don’t know what to say, Gepard,”

The captain showed little to no reaction. He looked back at the plaza with a soft exhale. One that exuded both sadness and gradual adjustment.

“He’s… always been that way. The Landaus, well, they all have their own sort of stubbornness in their values. His just tended to come out more,” he said.

“Stubborn, maybe.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “But he had no right to throw something at you. That could’ve really hurt a small child,”

You remembered being trapped in a landslide as a kid, and another child had kicked you in the face trying to escape. You were sent tumbling down the canyon where you fractured your shoulder and leg.

But to live with someone who, at any moment, could snap and hurt you? That was something else entirely.

Communities in the Underworld were based on a mutual network of trust. You couldn’t imagine having no one to turn to when you were scared. You stifled a sob.

“If I’m being honest with myself,” Gepard said softly, resting a hand on his chin. “It’s stuck with me well into my adult years. I haven’t quite dispelled all the preconceptions I’ve been raised with,”

“It doesn’t seem like he would have give you much room to, anyways,” you commented. “I think you two have both grown up to be wonderful people, even though you’ve faced so many hardships,”

He nodded solemnly, taking each and every word to heart. “But now, seeing these children at play, it gives me hope for the future… That Belobog truly can heal,”

It was at this moment you remembered, the captain was a kid too at one point. Behind the stoic exterior and steadfast resolve, there was a child that laughed and cried. One that had his own internal struggles, besides leading an army and reporting directly to the Supreme Guardian.

His childhood must have really had an impact on him. How would he have been different, if he had grown up in a happier home, you wondered. Despite the pain, you smiled.

Out of the blue, an idea popped into your brain.

“You know what I think, Gepard?” You chirped. “I think you just might be right!”

In a fit driven by inspiration, you leaped onto the nearest cafe table, offering your hand to your startled companion. He took it and carefully stepped onto the steel chair to join you.

“Overworld. Underworld. Why should it matter?” You shrugged confidently. “We’re here already, aren’t we? Look at us!”

You beamed at him and spun around with your arms outstretched on the wooden surface.

Turning to face him, you took both of his hands in yours. They felt warm. A soft kind of happiness filled Gepard’s eyes as he slotted his fingers in between your own.

“That’s right, we are.” He smiled gently.

You stood there for a moment, ignoring all the passerby and also the confused waitress calling for the shop owner.

If only you could take this sliver of time and put it in your pocket. You both held your breath, hoping that if you didn’t move, you could stay there until the world stood still.

Your eyes trailed to Gepard’s cheeks, which still had a slight blush to them, (maybe from the cold), down to the silver clasps that held his jacket together.

Glancing back up at his kind eyes, you felt something inside you chipping its way out.

—love you.

Your eyes went as round as the shield coins they exchanged at the Eversummer Florist’s.

What?

Oh no— oh no. Hold on. I knew something was, um, off, but is my brain playing tricks on me?

Was I just caught up in the moment? Why did I even think that?

Gepard stared at you quizzically, unaware of the mental battlefield you had just gotten your left arm blown off in.

Your heart began to race faster than one of those antique cars they had at the museum. His hands still clasped yours tightly, even as you tried to drop them gently.

You let out a strangled sound from your throat that sounded like “huegh” while steam poured out of your ears.

“(Y/N)?” He said, confused but seemingly unfazed.

You turned towards the closest brick wall, still holding his hands. Your eyes darted around like a cat after a loud disturbance.

No. I cant keep lying to myself like this.

You braced yourself for the realization as best you could.

I’m… in love with Gepard.

It still wasn’t enough. The sky and the ground seemed to reverse that very second as everything went upside down.

Still holding his hands, the first round of mental gymnastics began. You felt almost dizzy as thoughts flooded your brain, so you looked at your shoes to combat it.

(His were there too so it didn’t help much.)

Thoughts like:

Have… I been in love with him this whole time?

And, When did it start? And why? And, Did he notice? What if I’ve been super duper obvious??

And last but not least, Oh, Qlipoth. Please preserve my sanity—,

You blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Sorry, I was just thinking about—,”

You were lifting your head again in order to make your statement seem sincere when, something that was crazier than the time you decided to go crowd surfing on a line of robots, popped into your mind.

Kiss him. A part of you whispered internally.

Every muscle in your body froze.

Do it. You know you want to, the voice spoke again.

Your eyes travelled slightly downward to his lips. All you had to do was—

You yanked your hands away from his harshly, opting to stare at his chest instead of his face in shame.

Oh. My. AEONS. You grabbed your face with both hands. Did I think that? Did I just think that??

No. I don’t think I did, you consoled yourself hurriedly. I think Serval developed a device that projects thoughts into people’s heads, and I’m her test subject!

Gepard made a slight movement. A jerk of the head, which was nothing noteworthy now that you look back on it, but with everything going on at that moment, it was enough to set you off.

You yelped. Just like a snow fox.

The next few moments were a blur. You had taken a step backward without realizing you were on a table, and the surface was in fact, finite, and ended up toppling onto the cold stone ground behind you.

You narrowly missed a stack of crates, which would have definitely left a mark, had you landed on one of the edges.

Gepard had practically leaped off the table to check if you were okay, but the shopkeeper had appeared, waving his broom furiously at the both of you.

Your companion tried his best to placate the man but he wasn’t having it.

In a rush of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and took grabbed Gepard’s hand, making a quick dash around the corner.

Hopefully the man wouldn’t recognize him. With this particular outfit, you thought Gepard might stand a chance.

In a cruel twist of fate, you both ended up huffing and puffing in a narrow alleyway behind a drugstore. All that dotted the area was a dumpster and a few posters advertising a play that was five months out of season.

“I think we lost him,” you panted, and promptly dissolved into giggles. “Did you see his face? He was all like—,” you cut off, waving your arms around with a wacky expression.

You wheezed once more and doubled over to hold your stomach as cackling erupted from your throat. Gepard was resting against the wall as well, while his chest heaved with effort.

“Ohhh!” You said, raising your head once more. “Now I remember what I was saying— I wanted to thank you for showing me around so often. I hope I’m not being too much of a burden,” you chuckled to yourself.

Gepard pulled the cape out from where it had been caught between his legs before he responded.

“Not in the slightest, (Y/N). I’m always happy to be of assistance,” he responded.

You wiped fake sweat off your brow (even though you really were sweating). “Sweet. I’m gonna go grab a drink from the vending machine, if ya don’t mind. Want one?”

“I’d appreciate it,”

You ran to the vending machine while Gepard waited, keeping a lookout while his back was pressed against the wall. He was certain his jacket would need a fair amount of dry cleaning afterward. You bounded back with two Strawberry Svarog sodas in hand and popped them open.

Gepard threw his head back and drank heartily. He let out a satisfied sigh after drinking the last drop, while you clutched your bottle tightly after only drinking it halfway.

He was almost seen. You were struck with this thought.

You grimaced. There’s no way the higher ups at the fort would appreciate whatever tomfoolery you were dragging him into.

I shouldn’t let these feelings— no, myself, get in his way.

You two were completely different people, after all. He had a job and a reputation to hold down. You were just a florist.

Maybe they’ll fade with time. You hoped. I guess… I just have to hold on until then,

Because… because there’s no way he’d feel that way about me.

For a split second, it seemed like all of your happiness had leaked out of you and disappeared down the storm drain.

You quickly swallowed the feelings that had formed a hard lump in your throat. Hoping to clear up the silence, you whipped towards Gepard with false cheer, in hopes he wouldn’t notice your mood had dampened.

“So, Captain—,”

His lip stiffened. Again with the “captain?”

“Didja hear the news about the observatory?” You chattered, kind of absentmindedly. “They’ve finally been able to repair the main telescope, and soon it’ll be open for public use again!”

“Is that so? The last time I used that telescope, I was just a boy,” he replied, slightly shocked.

“Yep! I’ve seen the sky before, but I’ve never seen it, like… up close. You know?”

He smiled as you spread your arms grandly.

“Do the guards have a telescope?” You asked with a curious look in your eyes.

Gepard thought for a second, before he replied, “I imagine we did, many hundreds of years ago. But I think the Fragmentum threat posed too great a danger on the surface that—,”

He glanced up at the small patch of sky unobscured by the walls of the alleyway. It sparkled in his eyes.

“—we could no longer afford to pay attention to the sky,”

You joined him in gazing at the clouds.

What a world that would be.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

Bonus Scene 1

After the events that had transpired, and you both had gone home, Gepard was now focused on unbuttoning the seemly endless number of clasps on his coat.

This clasp in particular was incredibly frustrating. Every time he’d get ahold of it, it would slip out from between his fingers.

The captain was considering giving up and just wearing the gaudy thing forever when numerous alerts from Serval went off on his phone.

From: Serval at 15:19

Serval: geppie

Serval: geppie

Serval: geppie

Serval: hey

Serval: howd it go

You: Well, thank you.

The captain pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. Couldn’t she have waited at least an hour or so before barging in on his affairs?

His phone dinged once more.

I suppose that’s a no.

From: Serval at 15:20

Serval: is that all?

Serval: You’re totally leaving something out

Serval: oops. im being nosy again.

Serval: Call me if u wanna talk, ok?

Gepard sighed, debated for a moment what he’d rather do, then finally gave in and hit the “call” button.

[“Geppie! You called!”] Serval’s voice crackled to life through the speaker.

He could hear her smile radiating through the phone. The corners of his lips rose slightly, much to his own surprise.

“Indeed I did, sister,”

Bonus Scene 2

Back at the scene on top of the cafe table!

To keep his hands from trembling, Gepard stayed completely and utterly still.

Probably too still.

Your hands were warm, so warm. Although standing on top of a table at a random cafe wasn’t the most romantic setting, he felt like he could bring you into his embrace right then and there.

Never before had he felt so lacking in control of his own desires. Something seemed to be tugging at your thoughts, as you were looking around anxiously.

Could it be you didn’t want him to be spotted because his face was so well known? Gepard could only guess what kind of thoughts were bouncing around your brain.

He watched as you looked, back up from your shoes, to his sheepish face. Your eyes were more beautiful than the clearest ice crystals. Warmer, too. His gaze softened as he saw your eyes flick toward his lips.

And then Gepard did the unthinkable.

He leaned in closer.

❆ — ❆ — ❆

That choice did not end well for either of you.

After checking if you had hit your head and ducking into the nearest alleyway, Gepard wanted to strangle himself mentally.

Why? Why had he made such a stupid decision?

Out of all the choices, that was the most reckless one.

He really should have known better. At this rate, he risked losing your friendship because of his own selfish feelings.

The captain rested his back against the wall in shame as you ran to get drinks from a vending machine.

A man of his caliber shouldn’t be making such mistakes. He should get his act together and court you correctly, for the love of Qlipoth.

But Aeons, he could only ask himself:

What if he had waited a single second longer?

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

[rainbowsky]

I haven’t had any questions lately but love your blog and your insights. In a video of the group photo at Milan fashion week, GG is sitting next to the older man and they are talking. I figure in some videos when GG is talking to others he has translators but it does not look like anyone from his staff is around and I was wondering if they were speaking in English or what other languages he might speak. Love to hear your insights and hope you are doing well.

Hi coyote! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! 😊

The man he's seen talking with a lot is Diego Della Valle, the CEO of Tod's. GG has a fantastic relationship with him, and he even referred to him as yeye (grandpa) in his Vogue interview from the show.

Last time GG was in Milan Della Valle took GG on a tour of some beautiful sites around Italy - including the Colloseum in Rome -and some sites significant to the brand (the workshop, the flagship store, etc.). GG got to spend a lot of time with him, so they had plenty of opportunity to build a strong relationship.

You can tell just by his entire demeanour around GG that Della Valle adores GG. Which makes absolute sense given how cute, gracious and charming GG is. When GG arrived at the Tod's show this year Della Valle lit up like a Christmas tree.

They sat together last year at the Tod's show as well (those who missed out on last year's trip can check out my 'gg milan fashion week 2023' tag).

Anyway, you weren't asking about Della Valle, you were asking about how GG is able to communicate with him. The simple answer is that GG does have some English!

Many students in China learn English in school, although they sometimes don't get as much opportunity to speak it, so it's probably kind of like my French - I understand quite well to hear, read and write it, but my accent and pronunciation are a bit rough around the edges (that's putting it mildly 😅).

With the international travel he's done and all the elbow-rubbing he's had to do with foreign celebrities and brand stakeholders I think GG has had a lot more opportunity than the average person to exercise his language skills, so I've no doubt he's improving all the time.

He's also a huge music lover and has many times been seen singing English songs from Avril Lavigne, Ellie Goulding, Sam Smith and many more. A couple of English performances he's done in the past:

Starts at 3:22 (I'll never get over hockey player GG 🥲).

It also seems clear that GG has a general interest in languages. He knows a fair bit of Korean and he and DD are seen in The Untamed BTS speaking various languages and dialects, including English. This is also a common feature of LRLG rumors.

There are many clips to be found online of GG speaking English for ads, occasionally a few lines for drama roles, throwing in English phrases into interviews, etc. Just based those alone I think one can tell that he's got pretty good English. His pronunciation is quite good.

If you watch some of the vlogs he's posted from the international events, and some of the clips shared by brands and magazines, you can catch moments of GG having English interactions with many people at those events. One of my absolute favorites is when he's replying to a bodyguard in a vlog when he was in Florence last year (starts at 4:08).

The bodyguard is trying to teach him how to roll his r to pronounce Florence in Italian ('Firenze') and GG says, "I can't do it." The way he says it is so damn cute, I almost died when I heard it.

Anyway, so to answer your question, GG speaks in English with Della Valle and others at those events!

[farel-dal]

This weekend @sophiefranz and I will be at artist’s alley table 64a at the always fun BOISE COMICS ART FEST.

I’ll have copies of my new companion book to ROBOT TOD, SEPT n EMBER as well as selection of my now out of print books which I can draw in for you. It’s also our second year doing our popular workshop “inking with traditional materials” Saturday 11:00-11:45 room 120B. #BCAFXII #boisecomicartsfestival

[adafruit]

🐍🎉 THIS Friday - August 16, 2024 - CIRCUITPYTHON DAY! 🐍🎉

Join the community of creators, hackers, educators, and more - celebrating python on hardware! The easiest way to program microcontrollers!

11am 3D Hangouts with Noe & Pedro 1pm Maker Chat: Guy Dupont 2pm CircuitPython Project Highlights with Paul Cutler & Tod Kurt 4pm JP’s Workshop 5pm Deep Dive with Scott 6pm CircuitPython Game Jam with Tim

Ladyada is doing a special event during the day (stay tuned for the time), AND there will be discounts at Adafruit, ALL DAY!

[adridoesstuff]

So all I've seen of Czech Elisabeth is what you've posted, but - thoughts/notes on Smrt's and the angels' costumes?

I'm always here to talk about the Smrt and angel costumes because oh my god, do I love them.

(More under the cut)

Smrt and his angels are designed to look very birdlike, specifically like carrion crows/ravens, who are frequently associated as symbols/bringers of death. The choice to really lean into the bird-inspired costumes was especially smart when combined with the Czech translated lyrics, which really leaned into the bird-associated symbolism in the text.

I must confess that when I first saw the production photos, I didn't like the costumes. I think it might have been because I already had the association formed that Tod in a pleather costume is not a good choice. However, what really made me love the costumes is when I saw them onstage and saw them in movement. I don't know what kind of weird pleather the costume workshop used, but despite obviously being pleather, it had such beautiful light movement on both Smrt and the angels and flowed so beautifully every time they moved.

The angels all wear long coats with hoods, one of their sleeves is close fitting and covered in little "feathers" and the other is made to look like a wing. The wings, aside from creating gorgeous movement, were also used to create Rudolf's grave during Totenklage, which was an absolutely genius move.

(Two of the angel dancers with Jan Kříž as Smrt)

Smrt is given a different costume to clearly differentiate him as the leader of the flock/not an angel himself. And I honestly think his costume is ICONIC. He wears a pretty standard undercostume of pants with knee high boots and a vest, but I like that instead of buttoning straight down the front, Smrt's vest buttons diagonally. Which is a tiny detail, but it shows that Smrt is not a human.

And then, there is that absolutely EPIC coat. The coat is pretty simple at first glance, but just the way it's patterned and cut is very interesting, since the front is cut a bit shorter so the Smrt actors don't step on it, but the back pieces are kept longer to have more movement in the garment. And the back was given triangular gores in the "skirt" of the coat for even more movement.

And of course, instead of the wing sleeves, Smrt has a feathered shoulderpiece made out of various types of feathers, most prominently rooster feathers, which throw subtle green and blue reflections under the stage lights. Once again, I have to mention the movement, because those feathers at moments seemed to live a life of their own, almost ruffling themselves up with the movement.

Also, you might have noticed I talked about the coat and vest, but not a shirt and that is because Smrt just doesn't wear one. Which is just a detail that is so subtle, but when you know about it, it is just one more of those details that just show that Smrt is not a human. And if you need proof that there indeed isn't a shirt (and this is an excuse for me to include one of my favorite silly pictures of Pavel Režný as Smrt):

And of course, the makeup deserves a mention, because once again, it's ICONIC. Both Smrt and the angels wear a bold black eyepaint, with the angels sporting a more graphic liner look alongside black lipstick and Smrt having a more simple, but varied look through the production's 4 year run.

And what I think speaks to the greatness of the costumes is that the actors themselves were fond of wearing them. Pavel Režný in particular seemed very fond of his Smrt costume and makeup, doing the pre-show soundchecks in almost full costume and with the eyepaint, donning the full Smrt costume and makeup for concerts only to have to immediately take the full thing off and after the production derniere in Brno evidently not taking the Smrt makeup off until he returned home in the middle of the night.

Pavel Režný also went through multiple hairstyle changes through his run as Smrt, since he had to grow his hair out for Jesus Christ Superstar. So, after the derniere, we got a full on Jesus!Smrt moment for an offstage event. Tbh, I wish we had gotten this more flowy hairstyle on Smrt onstage while the show ran, because it is a look tbh:

Hope I didn't make this one too long and overwhelming, but I just love this production so damn much and feel free to ask more about it!

[bygonestiel]

omegle you will be missed 🫡

howdy y'all, i'm tod aka bygones | he/him | fair warning that i'm full-time undergrad and employed, but in the words of dean winchester on the creation of the deancave - when it's important, you make time :)

- 18+ | pacific time | discord + email + dms - will play dean or cas (as well as outsider perspectives) - open to any au/canon prompts - open to short-term AND long-term rps/partners - open to texts, paragraphs, and alternating - open to nsfw, a/b/o, and dark/dead dove as well (i love it) - open to fluff, domestic, and lighthearted hijinks too! - OPEN to 'cringe' trope-y trash rping to pass the time - comfortable with most things, just give me a heads up of kinks or traumas you're gunning for | i'm 50/50 on mpreg most of the time - i'm more than happy to workshop or revise prompts if there's something we want to tweak or ideas that come up - i'm technically multifandom/multiship 👀 - i have a stash of tons of prompts, both made by me and shared with me

if i'm not interested, i will let you know. if i'm busy, i will let you know. i do my best to be relatively reliable and respond in a few days tops, but never hesitate to poke me if it's been a bit. we can even like, schedule time to rp together if you want. ALSO if you're running into me again, hi, good to see you! if either of us have flaked on each other before, that's fine, i get it, i don't mind - and i'm more than happy to pick up where we left off or kickstart something new :)

[omi-papus]

I really want to know who was the funny bitch at Unknown Worlds that came up with the idea to name the god damn ancient alien Alan. Like I need the console wars style documentary moment where theyre like:

So Im sitting at my desk, thinking, “ugh man what are we going to name this alien”. And we workshoped around with ideas and we had a list of names based on like, greek gods and big mathematical equations, we even thought of naming him after some famous sci-fi stories. We considered Arcturan, in reference to A hitchhikers guide to the galaxy. But none of it was really sticking. *pixel art animation of the guy at his desk and someone walking in* And so one day, Tod just walks into the office, on his way to pick up some papers, and he hears us having this heated discusion about what to name the precursor. And he just stops, looks at us, and says “Hah, wouldnt it be funny if it was just some guy called like Alan?” *music stops, and it cuts to the guy talking in the chair* And I said, “Tod youre a genius”.

And then theres a bit where they break down the acronym the came up with to justify it. And thats whatever but it ends with:

And *clap* we got our alien!

And it cuts to Matthew like:

So I walk into the booth for this game, and I know what its about somewhat, so Im expecting to be playing an explorer, or a captain or a stranded survivor, and they tell *footage of him walking into a booth and putting on his headphones* “Alright Mat, you have to play this old wise alien.” And I though, Oh thats interesting, alright. “His name is A L slash A N.” And I stop for a second and say “Alan?” And he goes, “Yhea”. *Music stops and it zooms in on his face for one second* I thought they where making fun of me.

And finally it cuts to Kimberly just laughing.

[daughterofhecata]

Once again I aimed for complete blackouts on @batmanisagatewaydrug's and @macrolit's reading bingos and this time, I actually succeded! (Even if I took some liberties with the term 'novel' on the macrolit one, mostly focused on the 'classics' aspect.) Lowkey proud of myself ngl.

Titles for both under the cut, full reading list here.

batmanisagatewaydrug:

graphic novel: Christopher Tauber, Hanna Wenzel: Rocky Beach. Eine Interpretation. [no english title]

horror: Jáchym Topol: Die Teufelswerkstatt [org. title: Chladnou zemí/engl. title: The Devil’s Workshop]

author you’ve never read before: David Henry Hwang: M Butterfly

translation: Władysław Szlengel: Was ich den Toten las [org. title: Co czytałem umarłym/engl. title: What I Read to the Dead]

poetry collection: Richard Siken: Crush

a book recommended by a friend: James Oswald: Natural Causes. An Inspector McLean Novel.

verse novel: Alexander F. Spreng: Der Fluch [no english title]

novella: Thomas Mann: Der Tod in Venedig [engl. title: Death in Venice]

a book w/ vampires: Michael Scott: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel #2. The Magician.

book w/ a cover you think is cool: Cornelia Funke: Tintenwelt #4. Die Farbe der Rache. [engl. title: The Color of Revenge]

2023 release: Jonathan Kellerman: Unnatural History. An Alex Delaware Novel

book w/ an animal on the cover: Faye Kellerman: Der Zorn sei dein Ende [org. title: The Hunt]

book published before 1980: Josef Bor: Die verlassene Puppe [org. title: Opuštěná panenka/engl. title: The Abandoned Doll]

science fiction: Ursula K. Le Guin: The Dispossessed

romance: Akwaeke Emezi: You made a Fool of Death with your Beauty

historical fiction: Alena Mornštajnová: Hana [org. title: Hana/engl. title: Hannah]

450+ pages: James Ellroy: Die Schwarze Dahlie [org. title: The Black Dahlia]

memoir: Jeanette McCurdy: I‘m Glad My Mom Died

re-read a book from school: Frank Wedekind: Frühlings Erwachen [engl. title: Spring Awakening]

short story collection: John Barth: Lost in the Funhouse

non-fiction: Vera Schiff: The Theresienstadt Deception. The Concentration Camp the Nazis Created to Deceive the World.

book w/ a movie adaption: Vladimir Nabokov: Lolita

book published in your birthday month: Jan T. Gross: Neighbors. The Destruction of the Jewish Community in Jedwabne, Poland.

anthology: Alain Locke: The New Negro

macrolit:

Classic Author A/B/C: James Baldwin: Giovanni‘s Room

Published between 2000-2023: Kim Newman: Professor Moriarty. The Hound of the D‘Urbervilles

Philosophy or Literary Criticism: [various books and essays for three literature courses]

Harlem Renaissance: Claude McKay: Harlem Shadows

Children’s Literature: [various Three Investigators books]

Fan Fiction: [various works]

Essays or Satire: Mark Thompson: Leatherfolk. Radical Sex, People, Politics and Practice.

Book of Short Stories: John Barth: Lost in the Funhouse

Classic Author G/H/I: Lorraine Vivian Hansberry: A Raisin in the Sun

LGBTQ+ Author: Ocean Vuong: Time is a Mother

Published before 1940: Friedrich Schiller: Maria Stuart

Classic Author J/K/L: Ursula K. Le Guin: The Dispossessed

Detective, Horror, or Suspense: Maurice Leblanc: Arsène Lupin und der Schatz der Könige von Frankreich [org. title: L'Aiguille creuse/engl. title: The Hollow Needle]

Classic Author M/N/O: Vladimir Nabokov: Lolita

Classic Author S/T/U: J.D. Salinger: The Catcher in the Rye

Poetry or Play: Arthur Schnitzler: Reigen [engl. title: La Ronde]

Biography or Non-Fiction: Peter Hallama: Nationale Helden und jüdische Opfer. Tschechische Repräsentationen des Holocaust. [no english title]

Classic Author P/Q/R: Sylvia Plath: The Bell Jar

Graphic Novel: Christopher Tauber, Hanna Wenzel: Rocky Beach. Eine Interpretation. [no english title]

Published between 1940-1999: Hanna Krall: Dem Herrgott Zuvorkommen [org. title: Zdążyć przed Panem Bogiem/engl. title: Shielding the Flame]

Classic Author D/E/F: Bret Easton Ellis: American Psycho

Young Adult: Kathy Reichs: Virals #1. Tote können nicht mehr reden. [org. title: Virals]

Gothic Fiction: E.T.A. Hoffmann: Nussknacker und Mausekönig [engl. title: The Nutcracker and the Mouse King]

Classic Author V/W/X/Y/Z: Frank Wedekind: Frühlings Erwachen [engl. title: Spring Awakening]

[erikacousland]

Tod's Workshop - Historical reproduction weapons and shields

Tod Cutler - Handmade Historical Reproduction Knives, Daggers

[educationaldm]

The idea of the Roman Pilum, designed to stick in shields and hamper the enemy has always been fascinating to me. Here's Tod from Tod’s Workshop taking a look at throwing ranges of them.

[fabiansteinhauer]

On the making of Law/ Love in Chanceries

1.

Ein Kollege sagt einmal nach dem Tod von Cornelia Vismann, das Werk von Cornelia Vismann sei todlangweilig gewesen.

Das war damals von der Art jener kleinen achtlosen Randbemerkungen, die Freundschaften zerstören und Kriege auslösen können. Eine Raserei und Rage hat die Bemerkung ausgelöst. Oft verlieren nicht nur Leute ein Wort gegen das, was man liebt. Das, was man liebt verliert auch selbst, verliert gegen Worte, die dem Lieben und Leben entgegengestellt scheinen - und irgendwann verlieren sie alles auf Erden.

In der Raserei und Rage kann man den Kollegen, die achtlose und würdelose Worte gegen dasjenige verlieren, das man liebt, Unruhe bewahrend geschmacklose Worte um's Ohr hauen. Du Arsch habe ich mir gesagt, im Kopf ihm. Geradeso, ebenso habe ich die Fassung in zitternden Lippen zittern lassen.

Wer ein Rad abhat, kann Rad abhaben. Alles hilft nichts, nur kleine Schritte, nur minore Objekte helfen. In dem Fall hilft, die Bemerkung als ein Lob zu verstehen. Bei Vismann wird der Tod langweilig, durchaus, aber nur, weil man mit ihr den Tod langweilig erscheinen lassen kann. Sie lebt ohnehin nach, wen schreckt schon der Tod, wenn jemand so nachlebt wie Vismann? Canceln als Chance: Davon handelt das Buch über die langweilenste Kanzleikultur in Europa, über Rom, das Aktenbuch. Soll der Kollege sich mit dem Tod, mit Vismann langweilen: In Liebe und Law, Recht und Gesetz ist man ohnehin auf sich gestellt und auf sich außer Sinn und Sinnen.

2.

Gestern haben Manuel, Ricardo, Arthur, Sweti und Moses mit mir Tafeln gebrochen. Wir haben eine alte Tafel weggestellt, neue Tafel hingestellt. Dazu musste ich zum fantastischnamigen 'KFZ-Referat' an der Uni, die neue Tafel musste nämlich am Dom in Frankfurt abgeholt werden, gegenüber vom Italiener. Dafür brauchte ich einen Laster. Das letzte mal, als ich da war, da lebte Cornelia noch und an dem Tag wurde ein Esser (Joseph) zum Papst gewählt, ab da hieß er Benedikt Nr. 16.

Zwischendurch sind viele Jahre vergangen, aber an dem Tag war ich dann auch mit einem Laster vom KFZ-Referat unterwegs, weil ich ein Atelier in Wuppertal auflösen und lauter, einen Haufen Bildtafeln nach Frankfurt bringen musste. Auf der Autobahn hörte ich im Radio Habemus Papam - und bin zufälligerweise auf die irre Idee gekommen, als erstes Cornelia anzurufen.

Vismann, hallo?

Hallo Cornelia, wir haben einen neuen Papst, hier spricht Fabian.

Östliches Pastorentöchterchen und sogenanntes Plakattier Vismann. Die hat sich am Telephon gar nicht eingekriegt vor thrakischem Lachen, dass ich ausgerechnet sie angerufen habe, um ein bisschen Aufregung zu teilen.

Hast Du ein Rad ab, mich deswegen anzurufen?

Bin gerade auf der A 3, Wuppertal Richtung Frankfurt, kann sein.

Ruf doch lieber später noch mal an.

Hach, Canceln! Hach, Gerechtigkeit als Zufall, so soll es sein, alles just by coincidence.

3.

Vismann ist tot, lange lebe Vismann. Zufälligerweise, umwegigerweise gibt es jetzt eine Institution, ein 'Institut' für die Forschung, die Vismann initiiert hat, genau an dem Ort, an dem sie ein paar Jahre gearbeitet hat.

Zwischendurch mal alles weg, gut so, aber einem Weg ist ohnehin egal, ob er gut ist, er will doch sowieso weg. Jetzt, nur eine kurze Phase lang mit vielen Jahren, die immer zwischendurch vergehen, gibt es am Max-Planck-Institut Forschung, die den Namen Vismann hochhält, wie ein Schild, wie ein Digma und ein Dogma.

In diesem Jahr gab es den ersten Workshop zu Recht und Anthropofagie, Vorträge und Workshop in Brasilien, wo die Neugierde groß ist, wo man vor allem auf produktive und irritierende Weise immer schon mehr über das weiß, als was die Vortragenden bewußt so und nicht anders mitbringen. Das ist ein Zauber Brasiliens, vermutlich auch anthropofage Praxis: Man trägt jenem professionellen Publikum bewußt so und nicht anders vor, das auf nicht hemmende, sondern bezaubernde Weise sowohl signalisieren kann, dass es mehr vom Thema weiß, als man gerade sagt und ihnen vorträgt und die gleichzeitg große Neugierde signalisieren, ob man das denn auch schon weiß, was sie mehr wissen. Lockendes Publikum, ein verführerischer Luxus! Immer wissen sie weiter als der, der vorträgt.

Im Vortragen fallen einem dort lauter Sachen ein, von denen man noch gar nicht wußte, dass man sie vorträgt oder überhaupt etwas von ihnen wußte. Verrückt, dafür bezahlen die einen noch, zahlen Flüge und Hotels, führen einen aus, gutes Essen und Strand - und natürlich law clinic unter Palmen, perfekt.

I wish you were here, i wish you where there: Vismann, weil Vismann die Technik des Cancelns so gut ausüben und wahrnehmen konnte. Das Buch über die Akten oder dasjenige Vom Griechenland, dasjenige über das Schöne am Recht: Ich lese, also messe, misse und vermisse ich. Gibt es was Schöneres auf der Welt als Frauen, die einem schreiben? Gibt es was brutaleres, grausameres und schrecklicheres auf der Welt als Frauen, die einem nicht schreiben?

In der Schönheit gibt es, wie im Recht und der Liebe Hitparaden, immer wieder Schlag auf Schlag. Mit Superlativen sollte man vielleicht nicht um sich schmeißen, den Peinlichkeiten entgeht man auch ohne so eine Superlativschmeißerei schon oft genug nicht.

4.

Was mir erst jetzt, nach zig Jahren auffällt: Dass Cornelias Buch die Zweisprachigkeit braucht - und zwar eine Zweisprachigkeit, die bigendert und die binational ist, dabei aber römisch gesprochen wird.

Das ist eine Entzweiung der Sprache, die polarisiert, weil in der Übersetzung die Worte zu Gegenworten pendeln. Die Theorie vom Gegensinn der Urworte macht insofern Sinn, wenn man sie sowohl beim Wort nimmt als auch bildlich versteht. So verliert sie auch ihren Sinn, wie sie ihn macht. Am Anfang der Medien des Rechts ist Thomas Vesting Vismann ausgewichen, als er geschrieben hat, der Umkreis um Kittler bringe zu schnell, zu bald (die wörtliche Formulierung ist entscheidend, sie ist auch bildlich entscheidend, präzise lasse ich sie hier aus, um sie in ihrer Präzision und Paraphrase zu würdigen) Medien in Zusammenhang mit Macht. Vesting hat inzwischen auch Institutionen angepeilt, die Vismann mit dem Verb Instituieren angepeilt hat. Entweder zu früh, entweder zu spät, saturiert und darum satyrisch kommen alle daher und laufen vorbei.

Auf einer Tagung, die wir in Weimar unter dem Titel Instituieren organisiert haben, gab es, was sonst?, Anstösse und Anstössiges, eine Kritik der rein Vernünftigen und ihrer Badezusätze, der Waschbären. Viele Jahre sind vergangen, da kann man gerissene Fäden gut wieder aufgreifen und nach dem Verhältnis zwischen dem Instituieren als einer Technik und einer institutionellen Macht fragen.

Institution wäre dann etwas, was warten oder erwarten lässt, weil es als Gegegebenheit oder Gelegenheit erscheinen kann, als Zufall zum Beispiel. Das ist nur so eine Annahme, nichts als eine Annahme.