der Autor

He shook his head and chuckled sadly “Please I’m not Herr anything, here in this room, just call me Jean. Outside of this room just don’t call me at all it’s safer.”

"This is the most private room I know in this house and certainly one the most private room in all Paris. There is only one door and it’s guarded by my friend, sorry, majordome. We can hear them because they eat, drink and eruct like pigs but I swear they can’t hear us, as soon as we keep it quiet. I’ve noticed that your husband doesn’t really care about you as soon as he is with my wife and my wife certainly never cares about me, so I figure they aren’t looking for us. Your safety is assured and mine is in my belief that you won’t scream and draw attention on us." He glanced in her eyes and a faint glimmer of what his real smile is appeared on his lips, briefly. "You won’t right?" He sighed and avoided her glance. "By the way I wasn’t going to fire anyone. My condition is closer to the servants in this house than it is to…" He shook his head again "…anyone else. If you did know who I am then you would know that if you scream, my in-laws will believe anything you’ll say and my friendship with the staff won’t save me. That’s why I had to be sure. Even now, you have my life in your hands."

Else watched with some hesitation as he spoke. It was true what he said, that they most likely couldn't hear them... They were laughing every few moments, loud enough to hear, and there was music playing from the other room as well. But she still wasn't sure about Grognard --- he hadn't given her any reason not to trust him, but she didn't know him. And Jean, as well... How could she trust that the moment she said anything, she wasn't going to be dragged away and handed over to the SS? She was paranoid, and rightfully so. Her daughter had been sentenced to death for opposing the Nazis. Would she join her?

But Jean's smile reassured her, and for a moment a flash of one appeared on her lips. Initially it was genuine, but she forced it to stay, although barely visible. ❝...As long as you give me no reason to,❞ she told him. She hoped he wouldn't. Not only for her own sake, but...if this was true, if he really did believe the things she did, then it was a glimmer of hope that she wasn't completely surrounded by hatred. The hope that she could find someone to share in this comfort, this knowledge and support.

She listened to him, then, as she began wrapping up her hand with the kerchief. It had ceased bleeding, but was still a bit sore. ❝Fortunately for you...Jean, my opinion here isn't very important to anyone. Certainly not to my husband or anyone else. ...We must entrust each other, in this case.❞ She'd been looking down at her hand, but peered up to meet his gaze.

❝...I want to know that I can trust you. I want to...know with complete certainty. Please, do not raise my hopes only to shatter them, I can't bear it.❞

Closed WWII AU : first real encounter

"Yes… I…" Jean tried to take back control of himself. She was a decent woman, a decent human being before being a upper class German woman. That was just what he had prove, right? "I don’t think a word of what I said. I’m sorry. I was just testing you. I wanted to be sure that you shared my views."

"I can’t speak up here in this house or anywhere. I’m trapped. I was suspecting that you had the same problem but I couldn’t be sure before…" He glanced at her hand, closed on his handkerchief. "but I didn’t want you to be hurt in the process. I’m so sorry. I hurt you so much with my words that now you’re bleeding. That’s not who I am. I can’t stand it. My wife says that it is my weakness. A weakness that she does not share" He did get closer again to take her hand and observe the gravity of what he had done. "My majordome is good at bandage and taking care of wounds. He’s just outside, standing guards for us. Do you want me to call him? I trust him with all my soul."

#asecretagentleman #ic #tw; abuse

Despite everything inside of her which screamed not to trust this man, she took a hesitant breath and placed her uninjured hand atop his, which had grabbed her bleeding one. ❝Herr Lenormand,❞ she began, her touch as soft as he words. ❝...We...need somewhere more private to speak, so that I can assure my safety as well as yours. I....assure you that your words have done no more damage than my husband has.❞ He was much more verbally abusive, though most of the time they just stayed away from each other. But he had beat her a few times. A few cuts on her palm was nothing, and she'd heard other Nazi officers say worse than anything Jean had said.

Closed WWII AU : first real encounter

Jean finally noticed the blood. He forgot about his part in the play and rushed at her side not really taking care of her words. He took her hand in his and used his pocket silk handkerchief to stop the blood. “No, no I’m sorry. I needed to be sure but I didn’t want you to be hurt. I mean real hurt. I had to test you not harm you.” He interrupted himself realizing what he was doing.

He let go of her hand, letting his handkerchief inside it. Then he took some distance, his face became pale. “I’m sorry. I…” It was his turn to look down and wait.

"I have no excuses. This is unpardonable." She was German upper-class and he was a French street orphan. He certainly deserved punishment.

Else watched on, confused and hesitant. At one moment, she was certain she was going to jail, or worse --- and prepared to. But now the Frenchman was apologizing to her, and dabbing at the blood on her hand with a silk kerchief. She didn't know what to think at this, and watched him, cautiously, as he backed away.

❝I'm afraid I...don't understand,❞ she said slowly, closing her fingers around the handkerchief. She paused a moment, quickly peering over her shoulder as she heard wild laughter from the other room, from the officers. After a breath, she turned back to Jean. ❝You're...apologizing to me?❞

Closed WWII AU : first real encounter

She wasn’t looking at him anymore and Jean let the mask fall for a second.

But when his voice raised again it was the same as before and as he talked his expression followed the same pattern as his words.

"Is that why you act like them?" He said angrily. "Hiding your true self and then wait for punishment once you’ve been weak and dumb enough to reveal your ideas?" If Else had raised her glance at that point she would have meet the eyes of a real upset man. "It’s as if you are under harassment and mistreatment." He took another sip from his glass and hoped that she haven’t hurt her hand with the crystal from her shattered one.

Else kept her head cast downward, barely realizing she'd broken the empty glass in her hand until she heard the crunch of it when he fingers moved. She was used to being yelled at, although lately her husband hadn't even bothered to yell at her ever since he'd taught her the unspoken lesson. Ruthlessly kill- ing Jovita right in front of her... It was her fault, her kindness tow- ards the Jews had brought the maid's brutal death and her blood was on Else's hands. She'd learned very quickly not to help them again. And she'd hated her husband Heinrich ever since.

But Else was a strong woman. Too defiant and sarcastic for her own good, but strong nonetheless. And although she kept to her- self much of the time, her fear did not hold her back. Her daughter had been sentenced to execution for her own defiance of the law. Else considered her a martyr.

Casually, noting the blood on her hands, she carried her broken cup off to a table on the side and set it down, letting the piece of blood-stained broken glass slip out of her fingers. ❝I'm under no more harassment than anyone else in this country. Or yours,❞ she responded firmly, though her eyes were focused on her bloodied hand as she picked out slivers of glass. She hadn't actually shattered the glass entirely, so it was only a few pieces.

After a moment, she raised her head and turned to face him. ❝...Thank you for the tonic, Herr Lenormand. Will that be all, or will you first hand me over to the SS? Perhaps my husband could carry me out in shackles and save you the trouble of a telephone call.❞

Closed WWII AU : first real encounter

Jean smiled softly and took a sip out of his glass. “As your host, I’m deeply concerned for your health and I’m sorry to deduce that I did guess right : You were in fact nauseous. It seems to me that you are feeling unwell each time you dine with us. Maybe I should fire the cook. After all, I do think she is a Jew in disguise. You never know with those. They are clever.”

"and you know the females, even naked, can’t be distinguished from a real lady like you." Everyone can eruct insanities, with a bit of training and Jean sadly had a lot. The important thing was to don’t believe word, observe closely and make sure about who you’re talking to.

Else felt her fingers tightening around the glass she held. No matter what tonic she drank, nothing could help her nausea at his words. It wasn't as if she thought she would escape from this --- no, she'd lived here far too long to think she could escape the strictly-enforced mindset of Germany's people. Outside of her daughter, who she knew felt the same way, she felt very alone in this front.

She began chanting her inner mantra, be quiet, Else, quiet as a mouse. But it seemed that being compared in such a way broke her, and she had to physically bite down on the inside of her lip before her hand crushed the glass it held. ❝I never learned how to distinguish a Jew,❞ she said stiffly. ❝It must have not been on my school curriculum.❞

It's bitter, and probably enough to get her into trouble with the wrong, but after a long day, she had very little patience. Quickly, to pardon her mistake, she ducked her head, as if ready to receive some sort of punishment, though she offered no apology.

ginsbergisms

Mrs. Müller,

I’m sorry you have to live under such strict circumstances. Words would never be able to describe my admiration for your work, and how grateful I am for what you do. I’ve heard whispers about more and more people coming in contact with your writing more and more, which I am immensely relieved with. It’s… refreshing to see people shoot into action after having been given a little push in the right direction. I won’t pry too much about your circumstances, for they’re mostly none of my business and I wouldn’t want to dig into your private issues. My trust has been gained over the past couple of months, little by little with each letter. I know everything I need to know to continue exchanging letters, I know you’re a good person. Good at heart. And that’s all I need to know.

I haven’t had the time to finish reading the excerpt you’ve mailed me, but what I’ve read of it so far I’ve loved. It’s well constructed, and the wording packs an emotional punch that a lot of authors lack. I will let you know more on what I think about the entire thing once I’ve finished it. I’ve… met someone over the past couple of days. I know this might not interest you as much, but writing it down on a piece of paper is almost… therapeutic in a way. I won’t bore you with more details about my the matter, though, because it’s of little to no importance. It’s starting to get late, and I should really be heading to bed. I hope you’re still doing well, and as always, my thoughts and prayers are always with you, my heroine.

Love, Allen Ginsberg

#reblogs #fc #lmaooo #v; the modern novelist

Herr Ginsberg,

I apologize if this letter reaches you late. Admittedly, I haven't written in weeks. I've just suffered a tragedy at home. I do trust you with this information; you've proven yourself over all this time. However, I do not trust the world around us, and so I must refrain from any spe- cifics that may link this information to me. As you might assume, the name I use is only a moniker. But what I will let you know, is that unfortunately, I have lost the second of my two children.

But enough depressing news, I'm sure both of us could use a bit of good news. Who is this mysterious person you've met? Please, you cannot bore me with a good distraction. Perhaps a sweetheart of yours? (Here, Else has drawn a small doodle of a heart.)

I hope all is well in New York, my dear Allen. Stay strong.

Always yours, Edeltraud Müller

#ginsbergisms #ic

queencate

What is your favorite curse word?

mun sobbing from distance

#ginsbergisms #'MY HEROINE'#*has a heart attack*#ooc

ginsbergisms

Mrs. Müller,

I apologise in advance for my late replies the following days to come. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve been caught up in a few things the past couple of days. No need to worry, though, I’ve been doing fine. I don’t know how long this letter will take to reach you, seems like with every letter I receive it takes more and more time to cross the borders. People blame the mail system all the time but… I think there’s more at hand there. Those are issues for another day, though.

I’m glad to hear you continue to stay unharmed and safe, and I utterly applaud your bravery in contacting me over and over again. It feels like a relief every time one of your letters arrive. Things could definitely be worse right now, even being alive is a God’s gift at this point. Are you currently working on anything new? If so, I would love to proofread some of your work— if you wouldn’t mind, of course.

P.S. Your English is perfectly comprehensible, it’s superb. I’ve definitely seen much worse from native speakers alone.

Love, Allen Ginsberg

#no omg its great thank u #ginsbergisms #ic

Herr Ginsberg,

Things on my side have been busy too. Writing is a hobby for me, of course it must be straightforward to assume that I have another career as well. Because of such, I have been unable to write as much as I would like to...

I am glad you find comfort in my letters. Yours, too, delight me, to know that my words travel so far and reach American ears... My novels are banned here, and if I were to be discovered writing them, I would be handed over to the SS. For reasons I cannot say, it is especially difficult for me.

But my advice to you is this: If you know something must be done, do it. Nothing in this world is crueler than passiveness. The world will put everything in a box for you. Do this, do that. This is good, this is bad. There are some rules necessary and some that are meant to be broken. Rules made my country what it is now; strict, militarized. There is no life here. So I do my part to create one. And you must do the same. Don't let America follow in our footsteps. Do what you believe in, even if you are told otherwise. The pursuit of your biggest dreams is the most precious thing in life. Remember this.

As for the subject of novels... Attached I will send an excerpt of my most recent work. Please, let me know your honest opinion.

Be well, my friend, Edeltraud Müller

Dear Herr Ginsberg,

First of all, you'll have to excuse my poor English. I'm glad that you enjoyed the novel. Even writing like this is dangerous for me, as you may assume. Though the risk is worth it if what I write down can touch even one mind.

Things must be hard for you in America, but I can assure you they are worse here. Stay attentive to your books. Most importantly keep your eyes forward. The horizon will be brighter for all of us.

Yours, Edeltraud Müller

#ginsbergisms #ic #have a thingy

Closed WWII AU : first real encounter

Since one month that German couple had been invited almost everyday to dinner. As soon as he was with Marion Jean was putting himself in a sort of a trance : He was listening to everything but he wasn’t really here. He had quickly understood that this strategy was his only of surviving with his mental health somehow intact. The trance was even deeper during those social events that his wife loved to share with the invaders. Nevertheless, Jean had noticed, and could only notice, that officer’s wife who just couldn’t stay still for long, well, could stay still but a lot less longer than he could, when certain ideas and theories were eructed. To be fair those ideas were unbearable but considering her origins and her choice of husband it was very surprising that she was not approving them.

What Jean was about to do was maybe the most dangerous thing he ever did. But the wife of a German officer could be a precious ally for the resistance. Grognard wasn’t approving. But Jean needed another ally, well another friend, well someone else he could talk to. Grognard wasn’t talkative, he couldn’t know how that feels to don’t have enough people to talk to. Really talk.

Now that the house was familiar to the Germans. Marion was often willing to talk alone with the German officer while his wife was just reading in a corner. Jean took advantage of that to ask Grognard to go fetch her just after dinner.

Alone in the little living room that he had chosen, Jean expired and a bit of life came back in his eyes. Still, he didn’t totally came out of his persona of dull superficial man. He had to maintain a bit of the show in case the discussion turned out to be disappointing.

Jean had prepared 2 glasses of a green alcohol. Grognard introduced the woman in the room then closed the door behind her while he stayed to stand guards outside.

"I’m sorry for this unusual request of being alone with you. We are both married and I know this is improper, but" He turned around and took one of the glasses to offer it to her. "I thought that you would like some intimacy to get rid of your nausea? Why not drink a light mint liquor?"

"It does wonders."

Else had her nose in a book, which wasn't a particularly unusual site for the Hauptscharführer's wife. Today had been a night not unlike many others before it; dinner with a number of other Nazi officers and their comrades. It bored her to tears. No, more than that, it frustrated her. She didn't have a problem with the Jews, which was an extremely unpopular opinion of her company, to say the least. Speaking out about it would have her reported and handed over to the SS. But, of course, her husband Heinrich didn't want such a blot on his record, so despite knowing very well how she felt, he did nothing about it.

For now, Else was forced to stay quiet. She was quite used to it; staying quiet. Quiet as a church mouse, she always said. Her burdens were hers alone. But that didn't mean she had to sit and listen to her husband and the Frenchman's wife likening Jews to rats, right in front of the sallow, ragged maids and servants around them. She'd excused herself for a stomach ache and instead headed into the other room and pulled out a book. Stay quiet, Else, she told herself. Quiet as a mouse.

She was startled when another man entered the small den she had occupied; Grognard, she believed his name was (if she could remember properly). When he asked her to come with him, a certain fear struck her heart. Perhaps irrational, but she was wondering why someone would want to see her... So, she tucked aside her book and trailed after him, confused.

When he brought her to the room, she noted the Frenchman standing there, two drinks in hand. And she stood back a bit, awkwardly, peering at him through her round glasses. When he offered the mint liquor, she looked at the glass before back at the Frenchman --- Jean...something; she couldn't remember.

❝...Thank you,❞ she said after a moment, her delicate fingers wrapping around the neck of the glass before she brought it to her lips. She was eyeing him with a bit of suspicion, but sipped meekly nonetheless. After a moment, she licked her lips and spoke up.

❝...Is there something you needed or is this simply a... concern for my health?❞

#reblogs #self promo #ive been here all day

xsinful---archive-blog

No evil dooms us hopelessly except the evil we love, and desire to continue in, and make no effort to escape from. (click through to blog)

misterlancelot

“Cologne. Aftershaves never last long.” The fact is, he wants to smell and look the best as possible when he’s with her; whether it be an hour meeting or for the whole day. And whenever she’s around, he manages to turn into a school boy trying to impress that one girl in the class.

“I won’t believe a word of it. Oh, yes! Even when you are sick and look disgusting, or your face is all wrinkled and old––-say, even if that day is ever coming––-I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you, ever. You see, your beauty isn’t the only thing I––-” have hopelessly fell in love with. The words never leave his mouth, instead it’s replaced by something he had neglected and never bothered to remember: his food.

“––-think I forgot my hotdog.” Before he could do something any more damage by blurting out unwanted lines, George takes this as a perfect opportunity to run off to the stand, get his pair of hotdog, and walk back to her while still giving himself some time to think. When he’s back, he greets her with a smile accompanied by pants––-a lot of pants.

“I might leave you for a hotdog, though.” He jokes, holding his up just like she did to him.

#ofeconomics #ic #v; the modern novelist

She wonders what he was about to say, but writes it off as something trivial and unimportant --- sweet nothings, since he'd been buttering her up, of course. And she covers her mouth in laughter as he runs off to fetch his hot dog ---- her own is already mostly devoured, and just as he returned she plops the last part into her mouth and munches.

She struggles to swallow just a moment before replying to him. ❝Well, they are pretty damn good,❞ she says through a chuckle, wiping her mouth before starting to walk again, finding a comfortable spot nestled up against him once again.

Something catches her eye suddenly, and she points. ❝The zoo! Can we go? They're open, aren't they? Yes, let's go to the zoo.❞ She's already decided, and is dragging him along before she can finish her sentence. ❝I wonder what it's like this time of year.❞

obersthanslanda

"Ja. I am from Vienna. born and raised for some time though I moved around for a while in my youth until I finally came back. Spent time in Italy, even time in England when I was young. You might know my talent for speaking a few languages? That is why."

"My Grandfather did it, and then I went into the military and toured as a medic in the first world war. How ever I did do my detective work in a much minor scale then."

Else leaned back in her seat --- she loved car rides, though she did still want to get to the cafe rather soon. She was a bit hungry, the issue with working hours on end, typing up paperwork.

❝I'd like to see Italy one day,❞ she said softly, relaxing. ❝I've been to England... I think my English is not bad. But my French...It's mediocre at best. I love the French countryside, though. Your French is exquisite, from what I've heard.❞

#herrlanda #ic

obersthanslanda

Hans looked over as he was met with the question, he never thought about such a thing so he didn't have a quick answer.

"Well...I would - or could say winter as well. Winters in Vienna are particularly pleasant though I quite like autumn as well." He let a smiling smirk meet his lips as he looked at her.