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sanzaibian · 8 days

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This is part of the Secret TF Writers Swap, a small "secret santa" event between writers organized by the lovely @alphajocklover.

Thank you very much for organizing it !

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To @fafnir19

You sat at your desk, readying yourself for yet another soul-sucking day of office work.

You may be writing loads of stories on the internet, of people growing in and out of wealth, of demons and creatures, and most of all of transformation, but back in the real world, everything feels so much more static. Yesterday’s problems are today’s problems, and today’s problems are tomorrow’s problems. A never-ending series of crisis after crisis, which somehow always swap roots yet never swap effects. You can at least consider yourself fortunate that your pay is comfortable enough so that you can weather these, even if it means having to look in the eyes of someone who has little, and answer their request for starting something greater in the negative.

But today, there seems to be some agitation in the office. A change in the routine. Something to bring you out of the intensive mundane and the boring busyness.

So you ask the colleague with which you share desk a part in today’s gossip, and what he answers may surprise you :

“Nathaniel Nostitz has come here ! I don’t know why he’s here, but I’m sure everyone wants to bag him !”

Now, as a banker, you do keep an eye on the important fortunes in your area, and the Nostitz family is one of them – if not the most important. You know that their family comes from Silesia, but that there was recently some family drama with his son, or at least that’s what the few articles of showbiz about him that some colleague forced you to read said. You don’t actually care, but you do know that such an important family coming to see a standard local bank is quite… unusual.

But you know to keep your head down and not cause unnecessary problems. You won’t be able to convince him to do anything with you, and he may be tempted to destroy your career if you’re too annoying. Therefore, you go back on working on your computer, some case of investment account or something. Boring, but safe.

That’s why you were surprised when, suddenly, you hear a deep sultry voice speaking right next to you.

“Greetings. I think I have a proposal that may interest you.”

You look up to suddenly see a middle-aged looking blonde man, impeccably dressed and styled, sporting a bit bushy beard.

Is he… actually Mr. Nostitz ? He looks quite a bit younger than you expected… and more attractive… but it may be due to him having access to all the best treatments money can pay, after all. However, as he looks right in your eyes, you suddenly understand that the proposal – a business proposal, you guess – was aimed at you.

“Oh, er…” You stumble, not having expected this turn of events. “Greetings to you too, sir… what is that proposal about ?”

He smiles when you call him ‘sir’. Somehow, this smile seems almost… predatory ? Of some kind ?

“I’d be willing to place some of my fortune in your care… therefore in the care of this bank, if you were willing to grant me a few... favors.” He smiles, trying his hardest to look innocent while he is, in effect, holding you hostage to your company’s expectations. - I… I’ll think about it, sir…” You answer evasively, taken by surprise. - Of course, of course !” He smiles, looking even more predatory and threatening than before. He gives you a black piece of cardboard paper. “Here’s my business card, for when you’ve taken your decision.”

On that not-so-subtle order to accept, he takes his leave, leaving you confused in-between the jealous and judgy eyes of your colleagues. And as expected, you’re immediately summoned by your boss. He urges you to accept without delay, promising you a share of the high profits that a share of the Nostitz fortune will bring the bank.

And the door if you dare refuse.

That’s why you’re now here, in front of this huge manor, as ready as you can manage to be to throw yourself in the lion’s den.

The manor is very big, and very beautiful. Its fine architecture betrays its age, which shows how entrenched the Nostitz familly is, around here. A butler welcomes you inside, and leads you up to Mr. Nostitz’s office, though not without ridding you of your coat. And as you stand in front of the old wooden ebony door, you gather your courage before knocking.

“Enter.” The low and sultry voice orders.

You follow suit, opening the door, and finding Mr. Nostitz reading some files on a well-organized desk, with only a suspicious brown mallet throwing the neatness off.

“Hello, Mr. Nostitz.” You start, but as you’re about to continue, he cuts you with his authoritative voice. - Greetings. So you’re here to discuss my… proposition, are you not ? - Y-yes, sir, I am.”

He puts his files down, and stands up, towards one of the racks on the wall, looking through binder after binder.

“You see… ever since my son decided that our wealth was… problematic, I had a little project in mind. And when I saw you, I knew you were the perfect candidate for it.”

Son leaving ? Wealth problematic ? You the perfect candidate ? … it seems like the family drama you desperately wanted to know as little as you could about comes back to bite you in the ass…

“I’m sorry sir, I-” You start backing off, but he cuts you once again, his mere presence silencing you. - I want to do a little experiment on you.” He says, having found the documents he was searching for, reaching for the mallet and opening it in front of your eyes. “These… potions, you may call them, have some effects that I want to study. And you’re the perfect man for it. - Sir, I’m sorry to say that, but I don’t know if I want to risk my health with an untested substance !” You start refusing, tampering it as much as you can. - Of course, your refusal is to be expected when presented with so few information.” Somehow, this felt like a jab at you. “However, I guarantee that it is safe, it has been tested on numerous animals, and it’s been proven to be safe for humans. Besides, the papers I brought out here make me liable for any disease related to this… treatment.”

At least he was thoughtful, and didn’t ask you to jump in with full faith. However, he does ask you to jump in blind, which is more problematic.

“And, this treatment…” You interject, finding an opening in the conversation. “What does it do ? - Ah, yes, a most important query.” He comments, yet again preventing you from going further in your thought. “Let’s just say that it may trigger a few… changes in your body. Most importantly, it will make you look younger.”

Changes ? Younger ? These are two keywords that draw your attention, as they usually belong to that other part of your life… You are quite a bit more excited than you should be, but the chance to experiment with at least part of one of your oldest dreams, one that felt like it could only ever belong to fiction, clouds your judgment.

Such was Mr. Nostitz’s plan.

“I… I’m interested.” You finally manage, feeling it’s safe and enviable enough to throw the remainder of your caution to the wind. - That’s perfect. Then, I’d ask you to sign those papers, please.”

You skimp over them quickly before signing, hopefully catching anything big that would be lying in the text, but you find none. Assuming that no surprises remained, you sign. On that, Mr. Nostitz smiles maliciously, yet again looking like a predator, before reaching in the mallet and drawing a small glass flask, half-filled by an opaque cyan liquid.

“Then we should start now, don’t you say ? Please drink this.” He orders with his deep, authoritative voice. - O-okay…”

You were not expecting to start this so soon, but you’re quite weak to the strength of his voice… So you drink it. It doesn’t taste good, a bit too salty to your taste, but it’s not that bad. You know foods that tasted a lot worse. As you feel it coursing down your esophagus, you start expecting some effects, standing in silence, looking discreetly at your skin. But this just makes Mr. Nostitz elegantly laugh.

“Are you expecting instantaneous results ? You should wait until tomorrow, at the very least !”

You blush of shame from this, before deciding to cut this meeting there, since the treatment has already been administered. But before you can properly address your salutations, he stops you :

“I’m sorry, but now isn’t the time to go. See, it’s already late, so you won’t be able to go back to work.” He is correct, it is 7PM already, but you don’t understand why he’s stopping you like that. - I’m sorry, sir, but I… should really go home.” You say with the utmost care, not wanting to appear rude. - My, don’t you know you that, during the duration of the experiment, you agreed to lodging here ?”

You freeze.

You didn’t know that. Was it written in the document you signed ? Did you not notice it ? You did skimp through it, but surely such a motion would have jumped to you… However, taken in surprise, you improvise, lying to try and save face.

“Y-yes, of course, but I… need to get some things from home ! I can’t stay here with only what I have on me !” Hopefully he will buy your excuse. - Don’t worry, we have everything necessary on hand here. It might not be what you’re used to, but… everyone needs a bit of luxury in their life, if you catch what I’m saying.” He snidely smiles to you. - I’ll… see what I can do with…” You admit defeat, though surrendering to luxury isn’t the hardest thing to do. - That’s great ! The butler will lead you to your room.”

On that, the butler opens the door, and urges you to follow him. He leads you through beautiful corridor after beautiful corridor, all stinking money, until you reach another door. Inside is a spacious bedroom suite, likely bigger than your first flat, even without including the bathroom. It looks quite a bit more modern than the rest of the house, but with no less old money woody tones.

The butler leaves you alone inside, where, immediately after putting down the few things you were still carrying, you rush to the bathroom. However, you’re disappointed when you look inside the mirror and… it’s still you on the other side. Well, you expect it to still be you, but still, not seeing any change does bum you down.

This taken care of, you look around the room to get a bit more familiar with it. If it’s where you’re going to stay in the near future, you’d want to know where to find things of interest.

You start by the bathroom, finding a lot of hygiene stuff, including products for the skin and for the hair, as well as multiple bottles of expensive cologne and, weirdly enough, condoms… that are too big for your dick. Great. You move to the closet, in which you find a wealth of clothes, all fitted to your size – though they’re a bit loose on you, not by much, but noticeable enough – as if Mr. Nostitz knew you’d come. However, you’re surprised by their diversity. While there of course are the dress shirts and suits you’d expect, as well as polos, sweaters and other preppy clothes, there’s also some more young – for lack of a better word – clothes like a collection of jackets, t-shirts and even tank tops.

You close the closet back up, thinking to yourself that you’d never need this much clothes, but that you appreciate the thought. Having barely closed that piece of furniture, the butler invites you for dinner. He leads you to a grand dinner room, outfitted with a long wooden table, on which only two places were set.

You take place in front of one, while Mr. Nostitz takes place on the other side. On that follows a floury of expensive dishes, served as if you were at a high-grade restaurant. While you ate each of the courses, you entertained a lively discussion with Mr. Nostitz about investment, and about how his money would be taken care of, now that it is in your care.

That is, after all, the primary reason of your stay. Even if it got eclipsed by another.

Once the meal was finished, Mr. Nostitz waved you goodbye, and the butler accompanied you to your room. You did as usual, preparing yourself for bed, changing into your nightwear, brushing your teeth and all that. But as you were doing that, you noticed that your hair looked a bit… brighter than usual ?

It must have been the lighting, you think to yourself as you fall to sleep in the giant and extremely comfortable bed.

You are woken up by the butler at an early hour, as he tells you that breakfast will be served before you go to work. Ah… yes, right, you forgot, with how comfy the bed was, that you weren’t in holidays. So you stretch a bit, but as you enter the bathroom, something doesn’t look right…

It takes you a moment before you manage to figure it out.

Your hair was now blonde ! And curly !

You look out to your bedroom, but the butler isn’t here, so you look back in the mirror. God, that hair looks so healthy… You pinch yourself a few times, before you decide that you’re actually in the real world, and that this is now your hair.

A bit confused, you look in the myriad of products, and see that all the products for the hair are made for wavy or curly hair… how fortunate… So, you put some in your hair, hoping that they will make the mess that you woke up with more dignified, before continuing your morning routine as you usually do.

However, now the fact that there actually was a transformation makes you all excited for whatever comes next. You’re actually living your fantasy ! The one you thought wasn’t impossible in the real world !

Jovial, you eat, and enter the limousine, before being dropped off in front of your bank. You’re so happy about all that that you don’t even register the fact that you’re coming to work in a limousine, and sporting a healthier, curlier and blonder hairstyle than you ever had in your life. Though your colleague don’t ignore that, as you do manage to overhear people gossiping about those very things, you… really couldn’t care less. It just felt quite unimportant, really, when compared to everything else.

The day of work was over pretty quickly, and before you could even worry about going back to the manor, you see the limousine that drove you to your bank stationed in front, disturbing traffic in the meantime. You’d usually feel a bit guilty of being the reason of other’s frustrations, but somehow, you’re so happy that you just don’t care. Yet again.

As you enter, greeted by the chauffeur, it even starts feeling a bit normal, how you’re greeted with the utmost deference, how you are given privileges, how people are waiting for you…

You shake your head. This state of affairs is temporary, do not get used to the luxury. In a week, you’ll be back to your usual grind.

Arrived at destination, you enter the manor, expecting to see Mr. Nostitz, but he is nowhere to be found. That’s weird, you haven’t seen him in the whole day… you were eager to show him the golden curls you acquired… You furrow your brow at your sudden thought, finding them a bit out of character until you remember that you’re in an experiment. Of course the one responsible for holding the experiment should keep a close look on their patient.

But here you are, on your bed, not having seen him anywhere. You had the time to explore the mansion further, to write part of your next story, and relax, yet when the butler called you to go eat, you still hadn’t seen him. Taking place at the table, you also noticed that there was only one place setting. None for the elusive master of this mansion.

Adding insult to injury, before the first course, the butler comes back with a small flask, of the same kind that you took yesterday, filled in half with yesterday’s opaque cyan liquid. You sigh of frustration and take it from the butler’s hand, a bit more aggressively than you wanted to, and drink it, before unleashing your growing anger at the poor employee :

“Why isn’t Mr. Nostitz here ? He should be eating with me ! - Sir, Mr. Nostitz’s schedule is very busy, you were fortunate to have been able to share a dinner with him yesterday.” Explains calmly the butler, as if he’s seen this kind of tantrums many times. - That’s… understandable…” You answer, starting to calm down.

You eat each subsequent course in silence, trying to understand the reason of your anger. It’s not as if you really cared about Mr. Nostitz… he hosts you and runs this experiment, but you have only known each others for two days, and it’s not like it was love at first sight… After finishing your meal, you come back to your room, hoping to have a quiet evening after that feat of anger.

And as such started to create a bit of a routine for yourself.

On the morning, you checked the mirror for any change, noticing that you got taller, younger, more muscular and handsomer – for lack of a better word. You then take breakfast, ride up the limousine to your bank, slog through a workday becoming progressively boring as the days go on, and get relieved to find the limousine waiting for you in front of the building. Coming back to the mansion, you drink the flask, and then come out of your shell more and more, watching TV on the huge one in the living room, playing the latest Fifa if the urge takes you, going for a walk in the big gardens or even working out in the private gym, that seemed suspiciously new. And before sleeping, you use a progressively bigger amount of beauty products, noticing the odd few additional changes like your dick enlarging or your eyes taking on a blue color.

This life is becoming progressively comfier – not that it was painful by any means – and you feel more and more at home in the giant, faceless manor that you inhabit. Having a butler take care of you, being driven by a limousine, eating the finest foods, wearing the finest silk… all that luxury is starting to become second nature. The week flew by, and it was already time for the weekend. The last days of your experiment, the last days of a luxury that you will surely miss. And all that, without even having caught a glimpse of Mr. Nostitz.

You are now basically unrecognizable from the tired banker that came in this mansion. Now a handsome young man with blonde curls, all the fancy clothes that were bought for you fit like a glove thanks to the new muscles. As you take a last photo in front of the estate’s forest, you wonder if you should try opening an Instagram account. After all, your good looks aren’t going away, and work is just getting so boring...

But suddenly, your butler asks you to come urgently. Nonchalantly, you follow him to the mansion, where there seem to be a lot more people than usual. Is there a party of some kind happening ? You stroll in, finding Mr. Nostitz at the center of a small crowd. Finally ! He is here ! He will finally be able to see what you became !

So you hurry in his direction, drawing the ire of some of the guests. But you don’t actually care, they shouldn’t have been in your way in the first place. You are now in hearing distance from the architect of your experiment, but as you’re about to make yourself known to him, his voice overpowers you. However, it isn’t addressed to you, but rather at a guest.

“Cassandra, why must you raise this issue in a day of rejoicing !” As he told that, he looked briefly at you, noticing your presence. - Nathaniel, you cannot continue this charade ! Leandra has long passed, and even your own son agrees that you can’t continue claiming the fortune ! You are not part of our family anymore !” A well-dressed woman – Cassandra, you assume – with long curly dirty blonde hair insisted, angrily. - This son of mine isn’t able to manage our fortune, you can at least agree with me on that. Besides, I was married to Leandra, my beloved, so you know the implications. - Quit trying to act as if you’re part of our kin. We will need to see you in court, if you do not heed this last warning !” She said ominously, although it only drew Mr. Nostitz’s smile. An evil and predatory smile, as always. - If you’re talking like that… then I assume you are not acquainted with her second son.”

Second son ? You thought he only had one ! … and clearly, so did the rest of the room, who fell silent, looking at Mr. Nostitz with incredulity.

“Stop inventing excuses. If Leandra had another son, I would have been aware ! - Well, in this case, we may make introductions !”

He suddenly strides towards you, grabbing you by the arm, and as you stand there incredulous, he announces :

“I present to you my son. Leandra’s second son, and my second son. The true heir of the Nostitz family.”

A gasp of shock sleeps through the entire room, which would have included you if Mr. Nostitz hadn’t squeezed your arm at the right moment. Just what is he playing at ! Last you checked, you remember your parents, and none of them seem to belong to the Nostitz family that stands here, and you’re quite sure that Mr. Nostitz is in no way your father.

Yet, after the initial shock and denials, you hear people in attendance starting to notice similarities between you and your supposed parents. Some point out the curls like Leandra, or the blonde like Mr. Nostitz, some say your face looks like one member of the family or another, and other say you stature reminds them of Mr. Nostitz.

Out of them all, Cassandra, although she was just as shocked as the others, if not more, was the first to speak out against this assertions.

“This… is ridiculous ! You can’t just invent a new son to keep a hold of the money ! - I’m not inventing anyone. He was just… raised in another family to prevent him from being corrupted like his older brother. - This is pure and utter nonsense ! I require proof ! Irrefutable proof that he is your son, and Leandra’s son ! - All in due time, I knew you would react like that, so I prepared all the necessary prerequisites to make a paternity test. I wanted to present him to you all to continue this process.” Suddenly, he looks at you in the eyes. “Of course, my son will be enchanted to cooperate in your quest for proof, isn’t he ?”

His look was a dare. A dare to start living a life in a lie. A dare to continue living in the mansion you inhabit. Although he neglected you during your whole stay, although you have a life outside this mansion, although you have actual parents and family, you… can’t seem to be able to refuse his request.

Is it the luxury that drew you in ? Or the transformation, making you become a whole new person altogether ? Or is it Mr. Nostitz’s authority that you don’t want to defy ? Whatever the actual reason, you smirk, and cannot help but say, in the most proud and obnoxious voice that you have :

“Yes, of course, father.”

You pose, as your butler takes a picture in front of your vineyards.

You are dressed in an expensive shirt, with a luxury watch and obnoxious Gucci sunglasses. And you wouldn’t expect any less than this display of wealth. Because even though you don’t actually run those yards, your father being the one to generate all the wealth that you benefit from, you still own them. You also own a lot of other things, noteworthy between all these possessions being the Nostitz mansion.

However, now, you don’t work a day in your life. You quit you banker job as soon as the DNA test results came in, showing that you were indeed the son of Nathaniel Nostitz and Leandra Nostitz, as this life wasn’t yours anymore. Rather, you now spend your time on Instagram, modeling and throwing party after party with your new famous or otherwise wealthy friends. These activities let you earn a surprising amount of money, although it is just a drop in the ocean of all your wealth.

But you know that you are only a puppet, living a life of hedonism while your father cultivates power on your back, created with the only aim of holding on to a fortune. And you couldn’t care less. Hedonism is fun, once you give in, and it makes you happier than you have ever been. If the price for that is any sense of life achievement… then you are more than willing to pay it all.

Besides, it’s not as if you could actually say no to your beloved father.

#male transformation #male tf #secret tf writer swap #twunk tf #preppy tf #jock tf #hairstyle tf #mental change #identity change #transformation #tf story #collab tf

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nicklloydnow · 1 year

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“THE BORGIAS AND THE MAFIA

In 1455, the Holy See was occupied by Alfonso de Borja, a descendant of this eighth knight, under the name Callixtus III. Having gained the trust of King Alfonso Il of Naples, he came to power at the age of seventy-seven, while suffering from stomach cancer. His pain made him suspicious. He believed only in the loyalty of his Spanish family. Through the legacy of inheritance, his fortune fell into the hands of Rodrigo Borgia, who used it to fund his own ascension to the papal throne. Thus was born the first Mafia clan in history.

The Borgias possessed an absolute thirst for power. Europe had, by then, lost all hope in the goodness of God: the plague known as the Black Death had made miserably clear just how precarious human life can be, and with the bitterness of an orphan deprived of its supreme father, the populace consoled itself by indulging in carnal pleasures. It was in this context that Rodrigo Borgia, now Pope Alexander VI, began trafficking in a very powerful drug: papal bulls, which granted the forgiveness of sins . . . Every citizen could murder, steal, gamble, engage in prostitution or incest or unbridled gluttony, and all without fear: because in exchange for a handful of ducats, the Church offered absolution and the assurance that God would welcome the sinner into heaven.

The Borgias' passion for life, for dominance over all mankind, their disdain of any divine retribution, this absolute lack of morality, offset by their staggering appreciation of fine art, utterly captivated me. Knowing that the respectable Church of today once had a Spanish adventurer at its roots, a clever thief who was surrounded by his bought-and-sold lovers and by his children, each embodying a spiritual summit as well as an abyss - Cesare, strength and tyranny; Lucrezia, beauty and lust; Giovanni, intelligence and vanity; Gioffre, purity and stupidity - reminded me of the lotus plant, whose bright flowers spring from filthy swamps . . . And so I yielded to the temptation to write a comics script: in the form of a vast historical fresco on the creation, growth, and death of this provocative family, so similar to some of the people currently governing our planet.

(…)

In place of the Black Death, we have cancer and AIDS, along with pollution of our air, our water, and our planet. Instead of cities at war, we are witness to entire countries fighting. Christianity and Islam remain in conflict even today. The discovery of the Americas has now become interplanetary exploration. We're experiencing the artistic revolution of the Renaissance through personal computers and the Internet. The papal bulls of yore are today's commercial "benedictions" from the United States. Just as the ducat was the key to paradise during the Renaissance years, our only God is the almighty dollar: whether its value goes up or down and the gates of heaven open or close . . . Just as Machiavelli, in his book The Prince, recommended aggressive invasions to achieve Italian unity, in this day and age a powerful nation (that shall remain nameless) ruthlessly attacks any country, claiming to obstruct "Evil" but spurred on, in fact, by its thirst for oil . . . Today, the Borgias have been replaced by oil mafias, pharmaceutical industry multinationals, drug cartels, and greedy bankers.

And yet, the corruption that flourished during the Renaissance could not prevent the emergence of a Leonardo da Vinci, a Raphael, a Botticelli, a Michelangelo, a Dante, a Machiavelli even, as well as so many others who opened up new vistas to human awareness. This is what brings us great hope: the possibility that the decadence of the world today is just the pain of a chrysalis becoming a butterfly, and that from the last vast crisis into which we plummet a new humanity will arise, one that will look upon us with the same tender compassion we feel for the monkeys.

—Alejandro Jodorowsky

August 2011”

#jodorowsky #alejandro jodorowsky #manara #milo manara #borgia #borgias #graphic novel #comic books #dark horse #papacy #pope #Italy #renaissance #machiavelli

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olympic-paris · 1 month

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more …

August 12

1642 – France: Henri Coiffier de Ruzé, Marquis of Cinq Mars is beheaded for treason at Lyon. Cardinal Richelieu introduced King Louis XIII to the Marquis. Louis took him as his lover. The Marquis plotted against the king and was executed when the king discovered his plans.

1833 – Captain Henry Nichols hanged for "buggery." That was the actual British legal term for homosexual activity, and it was a capital offense until 1861, when the laws were finally relaxed to allow for life imprisonment. But that change came almost thirty years too late for Captain Henry Nichols. In 1833, the the London Courier printed the following account:"

Captain Henry Nicholas Nicholls, who was one of the unnatural gang to which the late Captain Beauclerk belonged, (and which latter gentleman put an end to his existence*), was convicted on the clearest evidence at Croydon, on Saturday last, of the capital offence of Sodomy; the prisoner was perfectly calm and unmoved throughout the trial, and even when sentence of death was passed upon him. In performing the duty of passing sentence of death upon the prisoner, Mr. Justice Park told him that it would be inconsistent with that duty if he held out the slightest hope that the law would not be allowed to take its severest course. At 9 o’clock in the morning the sentence was carried into effect. The culprit, who was fifty years of age, was a fine looking man, and had served in the Peninsular war. He was connected with a highly respectable family; but, since his apprehension not a single member of it visited him.

* Apparently, Captain Beauclerk suicided on being caught with Nichols at "buggery" of one "Boy Lawrence." Poor buggers!

1882 – André Germain, aka Loïs Cendré, (d.1971) was a French journalist, essayist, poet and writer. He became known, among other things, through the novel Mephisto by Klaus Mann, in which he appears as Pierre Larue.

Germain was the son of a banker who had made considerable fortunes as the founder of the Crédit Lyonnais banking house. As heir to the family fortune, Germain owned several million francs as well as a famous villa above Florence, to which in later years he mainly invited German artists and intellectuals.

At a young age Germain married a daughter of Alphonse Daudet. The marriage, which is said to have been "gruesome", was annulled after fourteen months in 1908.

Germain made the various aspects of art and culture, but above all literature, the focus of his interests. Even before the First World War, he was a well-known personality on the cultural stage of his home country and later of Germany - for which he developed a special weakness - as well as the rest of Europe as a dandy and author of poems and texts.

After the First World War, André Germain was co-editor of the magazine Revue Européenne under Edmond Jaloux . At the time he was living in a splendid Hôtel in Paris behind the City Hall, with a view of the Notre Dame Cathedral.

From the 1920s, Germain, who spoke excellent German, often stayed for long periods in Berlin and other larger German cities. In the early 1930s he harbored sympathies for the National Socialist ideology and the Nazi state. So he wrote a book "Hitler or Moscow?", in which he indicated that, given the choice, he was more in favor of Hitler. However, during the Vichy regime in France, Germain kept a clear distance from the Germans.

In Germany in the 1920s and 1930s, Germain met numerous important exponents of the cultural life of the time, in particular, the siblings Klaus Mann and Erika Mann.

After a long period of friendship, Germain and Klaus Mann fell out as a result of personal insults: Germain called Mann, who had tried to borrow money from him, "Narcissus of the swamp". Mann retaliated by mocking Germain as "the latest craze for Crédit Lyonnais".

Because of Germain's closeness to and sympathy for the National Socialists, Mann took the opportunity to use Germain as a model for one of the rather negatively drawn figures in Mephisto, which was a parable of the panorama of theater and cultural life in the early Nazi state. Specifically, Germain appears there in poorly-disguised form as a French diplomat and saloon lion who seeks to be close to the National Socialists and ingratiate himself with them.

Germain has been described as "a man who is slender in appearance and not very steadfast". Georg Zivier called him "immensely homosexual" and "in love with the entire Hitler Youth".

J.D. McClatchy and Chip Kidd

1945 – Poet J. D. McClatchy, Jr. (d.2018), was a master of traditional poetic forms, most notably the sonnet and sonnet sequence, and ranks as a significant voice in contemporary American letters. He was also a prolific anthologist, the editor of the prestigious Yale Review, and a noted librettist. McClatchy has written openly about gay desire and love, among other topics, combining the intelligence of W.H. Auden and the linguistic virtuosity of James Merrill with a unique ability to mine his memories and experiences to create emotional honesty.

McClatchy has also made some cogent remarks on gay poetry and the slippery notion of a "gay sensibility" in literature. As editor of the anthology Love Speaks Its Name: Gay and Lesbian Love Poems (2001), he states: "Over the centuries, the homosexual temperament has seemed especially suited to engaging the themes of bafflement, secret joys, private perspectives, forbidden paradises, hypocritical conventions, and ecstatic occasions. In fact, it would be fair to claim that our gay and lesbian poets are the wisest inquirers after love."McClatchy is the author of five original volumes of poetry. He is also author of two prose collections, Twenty Questions (Posed by Poems) (1998), a book of memoirs and critical essays, and White Paper: On Contemporary American Poetry (1989), another collection of essays that offers close readings of poets such as Elizabeth Bishop, Robert Lowell, Anthony Hecht, and Sylvia Plath.

Born Joseph Donald McClatchy in 1945 in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, the son of observant Catholics, McClatchy was raised in a wealthy suburb of Philadelphia and attended all-male Jesuit schools, where he received his introduction to classical literature.

McClatchy's sequence of three sonnets "My Old Idols" (Ten Commandments, 1998) remembers his childhood and teenage years. In one section, the speaker recalls a favorite Latin teacher, Father Moan, who made him "quiver" when "He'd slap the pointer against his thigh." In another, he looks back at his ten-year-old self and an initiation into sex with his friend's older brother in an ice rink's restroom. He writes, "I fumbled with small talk, pretending to be shy. / Looking past me, he slowly unzipped his fly."

Another section recalls McClatchy's teenage infatuation with opera legend Maria Callas. McClatchy's family was not literary, but it was musical. Not surprisingly, he has written several libretti for leading composers, including William Schuman.

McClatchy more fully realized a new focus in life in 1975 when he began living with fellow gay poet Alfred Corn, who he claims helped him clarify his sense of "vocation" as a poet. The romantic relationship of the two poets lasted thirteen years, during which time McClatchy showed Corn everything he wrote.

McClatchy, in a Lambda Book Report interview, states, "My sexuality itself is rarely the subject of my poems. Its consequences are." McClatchy adds, "The nature and formation of desires, the pleasures and anxieties of being gay--sure, these figure in my work. But I'm less interested in homosexuality as a subject than as a sensibility. Nowhere visible, but everywhere apparent."

McClatchy's other literary friendships over the years have included Robert Penn Warren, Anne Sexton, Robert Lowell, John Hollander, and Richard Howard, as well as Corn.

McClatchy's poetry has earned him praise as a writer of probing intellect and emotional acuity. In addition, he is a poet with deep insight into the nature of desire, especially the complexities of gay male desire.

He was in a longterm relationship with graphic designer, novelist, Batman expert, and vocalist Chip Kidd, nineteen years his junior. They were married in 2013.

1987 – Mike Verschuur is a Dutch racing driver. He won the Eurocup Mégane Trophy series in 2009 and the Renault Clio Cup Netherlands in 2006. He has also competed in other such series as Porsche Supercup. He is openly gay

Verschuur was one of 27 sports personalities to come out publicly during the first half of 2011. Others in that group included Dutch gymnast Jeffrey Wammes and Swedish national footballer Anton Hysen.

He has stated:

"Many fellow drivers – not mentioning any names – have told me they are gay, too. But they dare not say so in public, which is a real pity, because there is nothing to fear. On the contrary, it has only made me stronger. It's made me a better driver."

1988 – On this date the painter and graffiti artist Jean-michel Basquiat died of an overdose (b. 1960). In 1996 his story was made into a movie under the title Basquiat, with Jeffrey Wright as Basquiat and David Bowie as Andy Warhol.

2007 – The American singer, actor, game show host and talk show host Merv Griffin died on this date (b. 1925). His tombstone reads: "I will NOT be right back after this message."

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eddieredmayneargentinablog · 11 months

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"Day of The Jackal FIRST LOOK: Eddie Redmayne is every inch the suave assassin while filming Sky's 'modern reimagining' of the thriller in Croatia", Daily Mail, November 6, 2023.

Eddie Redmayne was seen for the first time on the set of Sky's new TV adaption of The Day of The Jackal in Croatia on Monday.

The British actor, 41, cut a suave figure as he shot scenes as assassin known as the Jackal, originally played by Edward Fox in the classic 1973 film.

Eddie was dressed all in black and teamed a sweater with smart trousers for the shoot which took place in a busy market.

The Oscar winner could be seen chatting to the crew before jumping behind the wheel of a swanky sports car for a complex action scene.

Originally a novel by Frederick Forsyth the story follows the story of the trained killer who is hired to is hired to assassinate French president Charles de Gaulle.

According to the Hollywood Reporter the producers, of which Eddie is one, have described the adaption as a 'bold, modern reimagining of the beloved and respected novel and film.'

And while the series, written by Top Boy creator Ronan Bennett, will pay homage to the original it will be set in the world modern world of geo-politics.

Producer Gareth Neame said: “We are excited to bring to life Ronan Bennett’s re-imagining of Forsyth’s revered thriller in the complex world in which we live today and are incredibly fortunate to have an actor of Eddie’s calibre as our Jackal'.

It comes after Eddie credited his parents for his successful career in a rare candid interview.

The actor said it was his father, Richard, a banker, and mother Patricia, who ran a relocation company, and their willingness to allow him to pursue his interest in acting at an early age that allowed him to flourish in his career.

'I loved music and singing and acting at school,' the Fantastic Beast franchise star told Today's Willie Geist in an interview. 'To my parents' credit, which now as a parent myself I really do hold high, anything I had an interest in or my brothers had an interest in, they supported.'

The future star attended the Jackie Palmer Studios Stage School in London where his classmates including James Corden, Jamie Dornan and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

The father of two shares Iris, seven and Luke, five, with his wife of nine years, Hannah Bagshawe.

Eddie, who won the Academy Award for his portrayal of the late physicist Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything.

In addition to the Oscar, Eddie won a Tony in 2010 for his work in Red and will soon return in a production of Cabaret after starring as Emcee in the musical in London's West End.

Still most fans know him for his role as Newt Scamander in the Fantastic Beasts films. He's starred in three of the magical adventures, but said he isn't sure when or if a fourth is in the works.

Speaking to Indiewire the actor explained, 'It’s more a question for J. K. Rowling and David Yates and Warners, but I don’t know, I’m afraid. I can’t add to that, adding, 'I love playing Newt, he’s a sweet man".

....

#eddie redmayne #eddieredmayne #redmayne #the day of the jackal #november 2023 #dailymail #on set photos #new series #the theory of everything #fantastic beasts #cabaret

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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Uline's billions fund voter suppression

Every billionaire is a policy failure, but every billionaire is also a factory for producing policy failures at scale. The political power conferred by massive wealth accumulation makes a sham of democracy, because “one person, one vote” is easily swamped by “one dollar, one vote.”

That’s why we need to abolish all billionaires, even the “good” ones who promise to support charities or causes we support. But today, I want to focus on some extremely bad billionaires, Dick and Liz Uihlein, owners of the packing-supply monopoly Uline.

The Uihleins are a multi-generational far-right clan of wealthy conspiracy peddlers. The family money starts with the founding of the Schlitz Brewery (and you thought Coors was the only fascist beer!).

The Schlitz fortune let Edgar J. Uihlein pour money into Charles Lindbergh’s America First movement, an antisemitic, pro-Nazi isolationist group that was part of a wider anti-Jewish movement that Lindbergh helped found, whose projects included translated and disseminating an English translation of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, a hoax document purporting to reveal a conspiracy of Jewish bankers to take over the world.

Edgar Uihlein Jr — father of Dick — was a major funder of the John Birch Society, another conspiratorial far-right authoritarian group, who campaigned against secret communists, water fluoridation and civil rights. Edgar lavished funding on pro-segregationists.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Today on Propublica, Justin Elliott, Megan O’Matz and Doris Burke document the vast and shadowy support that Dick and Liz Uihlein provide to far-right causes, using the windfall profits from Uline, whose sales have ballooned along with the rise of ecommerce:

https://www.propublica.org/article/uline-uihlein-election-denial

Back in 2002, Uline was pulling in $18m/year. By 2018, it was $712m. The pandemic goosed Uline’s sales still further. The Uihleins did their best to prolong the pandemic, putting money into local school-board races to oust trustees who advocated for covid safety measures:

https://urbanmilwaukee.com/2021/10/27/uilhlein-bankrolls-mequon-thiensville-recall/

They also campaigned against workplace shutdowns, and turned their own facilities into super-spreader sites where employees sickened at shockingly high rates:

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/feb/28/uline-dick-liz-uihlein-workers-covid-safety

That’s just a small corner of the Uihleins’ contributions to culture war bullshit in public schools. They’re also big donors to the American Principles Project and its anti “transgender ideology” attack ads, which also target abortion and “critical race theory.”

https://www.exposedbycmd.org/2022/07/19/uline-chairman-funnels-2-5-million-to-anti-abortion-pacs/

There’s no anti-abortion candidate too extreme for the Uihlines. They spent $50m to support Darren Bailey’s bid for the governorship of Illinois. Bailey says that the Holocaust “doesn’t even compare” to abortion” (and Bailey also condemns “perversion in our schools” in the form of curriculum that acknowledges the existence of queer people).

Dick and Liz named their foundation after Dick’s father. The Ed Uihlein Family Foundation sends tens of millions to the architects of anti-democractic, anti-majoritarian, pro-voter-suppression organizations, including the Federalst Society, the Conservative Partnership Institute and the Foundation for Government Accountability:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/new-filings-reveal-another-billionaire-dick-uihlein-behind-the-big-lie

The Uihleins play an inside/outside game, funding “think tanks” and other outside/astroturf groups, and also backing election campaigns directly. They’re the GOP’s largest federal donors. They’ve backed campaigns Jim Marchant, who is running for Nevada Secretary of State on a Big Lie platform that denies the 2020 election. They’re also backing the PA gubernatorial bid of Doug Mastriano, the Jan 6 insurrection participant who is associated with notorious antisemites:

https://whyy.org/articles/pa-2022-governor-elections-mastriano-jewish-democrats-press-conference/

The Uihleins epitomize the idea that rich people are born to be in charge of the rest of us, and that their wealth entitles — and even obliges — them to organize the lives of the people around them. They are workplpace tyrants, micromanaging bullies who force their employees to take down their kids’ drawings and ban women from wearing pants (they also ban corduroy!).

Employees who arrive for work one minute late are considered “tardy.” An employee may not display more than four personal items, and no item may be larger than 5x7 inches. “Liz would walk up and down the aisles, and if your desk looked off, you’d be written up.”

https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/23179330-uline-cubicle-dos-and-donts

The company hosts mandatory “lunch and learn” sessions for employees where they are required to endure speeches from Wisconsin governor Scott Walker and other far-right figures (the Uihleins once hired a Donald Trump impersonator as the warm-up act for one of these sessions).

The Uihleins are ideologues, but it’s a mistake to view their authoritarianism, antisemitism, racism, and homophobia as the main force of their ideology. First and foremost is their belief that they deserve to be rich, and that the rich should be in charge of everyone else.

That commitment to the one dollar, one vote system is the motivating factor behind everything else. The Uihleins fund voter suppression, sure, but that’s to weaken the power of the ballot box, which might otherwise check the power of oligarchs.

Oligarchs like the Uihleins say they believe the government is incapable of doing good, but it’s more true to say that they are committed to ensuring that the government can’t do good. They don’t want a small state — they want a captive one, one that will do their bidding.

In 2017, Donald Trump achieved the only significant policy victory of his presidency: a $2.3 trillion tax giveaway to the ultra-rich. Trump may have been in charge of the Executive Branch, but he lacked the executive function to get anything done. His plutocratic class solidarity overcame his poor impulse control for this issue alone.

The actual tax bill was an incredible mess. Lawmakers literally scribbled illegible hand-written amendments all over the 479-page bill, carving out tax breaks that sent millions to individual donors.

https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/2017/12/02/handwriting-wall-and-page-senate-passes-tax-bill/915957001/

Two of the biggest beneficiaries of this corrupt bonanza were Dick and Liz Uihlein. Their pet senator, Ron Johnson, threatened to tank the entire tax bill unless he was given a clause that created deductions for “pass-through” entities. Johnson claimed this would “simplify and rationalize the tax code” for a wide range of businesses, but that was a lie.

In truth, only a very small number of businesses benefited from this, and right at the top of the beneficiaries were the Uihlnes, who donated $20m to Johnson’s campaign and got $215m back in the first year. Overall, they stand to make $500m from Johnson’s amendment:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/11/the-canada-variant/#shitty-man-of-history-theory

The rich are a factory for producing policy failures, and the Uihlines operate one of the most efficient policy-failure factories in the world. Yes, they support causes that threaten to exterminate Black people, Jews and queers. Yes, they want to force women and children to give birth.

But most of all, they want to rule. They want to tell us all what we can wear and to dictate the maximum size of the keepsakes we post around our desks. They want to force us to attend their “learning sessions” and to watch their Trump impersonators and clownish politicians.

They derive this authority from being born rich, and from growing still richer. Having won the lucky orifice lottery and then leveraged the advantages of being born on third base, they get to impose their will on millions of others. They believe that some were born to rule, and the rest of us were born to be ruled over.

This is the core of the monopolist’s project — to deprive you of choices, so that you are cornered into doing the monopolist’s bidding. Not only do the Uihlines want to take away your vote, they also want to force you to fund it, by monopolizing the packing materials business, so that every time you ship a box, you support your own disenfranchisement.

https://marker.medium.com/we-should-not-endure-a-king-dfef34628153

[Image ID: A paper shredder that is shredding a document labelled 'official ballot'; the box is emblazoned with the Uline logo, as well as a VOTE HERE instruction and an 'I Voted' disc.]

#pluralistic

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azspot · 4 months

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Another counterintuitive fact: the Levant today appears to be an unstable part of the world, filled with warfare and intractable conflicts. This may lead people to overlook the fact that, between 1860 and 1948 (or more generally 1967, and, for Lebanon, 1975), the Levant was the most stable part of the world. It attracted a large number of what the French called “Levantins” — French and Italian merchant families in search of stability who settled in the Ottoman Empire, some of whom moved further south after its dissolution. There were bankers, doctors, dentists, piano teachers, and even French grammar specialists among these fortune-seekers. Additionally, the Levant was the main destination for Anatolian Armenians following their massacre in 1915. Remember, during that period, Europe was consumed with warfare, from the Franco-Prussian Wars to the Second World War, which completely spared the Levant. The area benefited from not being on the radar of the United States State Department, an institution that wreaks havoc when trying to ‘improve’ –usually unsolicited –yet remains unaware of its track record. It is my hope that we will revert to that situation at some point in this century.

A Few Things We Don’t Quite Get About the Levant

#levant

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bechdelexam · 11 months

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It’s 10:55 a.m. on a Thursday in early November, and I’m on the clockless, windowless main floor of Calgary’s Elbow River Casino watching a woman with a wispy grey braid and seafoam-green sleeves play Lamp of Destiny. Her slot machine is a Genie-emblazoned behemoth with two high-definition video screens (“set against a smooth black surface,” says the manufacturer, “to create a cinematic feel”). The woman pushes a button. Lights flash, music plays, reels spin. She pushes it again. And again. And again. Her body is still. Her face glows golden. I move along. Dozens of people are hunched at dozens of other machines: Lucky Buddha, Texas Tea, Strike it Rich, Merlin’s Wand, Lotus Land, Sparkling Nightlife, Lucky Ox, Mighty Cash, Buffalo Gold Revolution, Rakin’ Bacon, Money Link, Rising Fortunes. I push through the music and lights, past the green-felt baccarat tables where balding Asian men fiddle with their chips, past the off-track betting room (Wager on the Sport of Kings!), through Jackpot Junction, a battery of slots beneath a giant locomotive smokestack spewing cartoon coins and bills. None of this is meant for me: I’m not a customer, I’m a volunteer. In five minutes my shift starts in the cage, a locked room with barred windows along the far wall filled with plastic chips and real money, where I’ll be banker and cashier, paying out the table-game players—poker, blackjack, roulette. Instead of spending money, I’ll be funding my 8-year-old daughter’s education. A portion of today’s casino take will go to her school, some $65,000 for field trips, books, cultural shows, an artist in residence, iPads and basketball nets. Countless Albertans know these shifts, having volunteered for schools, community leagues, environmental groups, even churches. (And only Albertans do: no other province allows “charities”—this includes schools’ parent-fundraising-councils—to conduct casino events.) Experience isn’t necessary. Neither is police clearance. The job is just to count money and pay players, and the cage is ringed with surveillance cameras besides. As my shift starts, I’m handed $1.1-million in chips, lined up in trays, and a neat pile of elastic-band-wrapped blue, purple, green, red and brown bricks of cash totalling $350,000, more than I paid for my house. The main rule, I’m told, is to not congratulate customers. I might be handing them $600, but maybe they started with a thousand.

#only alberta??? girl what the hell???

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naoyaslut · 2 years

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Serpentine

synopsis: Murder, betrayal, drugs, assassinations, and the men of Bonten. Possibly the only witness to your father's assassination, you unintentionally tumble into the deep dark world of the Roppongi underground. Your older brother is in way too deep, you may be the only one who can save him. But does he deserve it?

pairings: ran haitani x femreader, sanzu haruchiyo x femreader, mikey sano x femreader, OC x femreader, naoto tachibana x femreader, hanma shuji x femreader

warnings: graphic description of murder, blood mention, minor character death

wordcount: 7.5k

a/n: another multi-chap, murderous, drama-filled series. with a lil bit of smut on the side.

It was now 11:45. Glancing at the hieroglyphic-like characters on the dainty silver Rolex wrapped around your wrist, you let out a frustrated sigh. Every Wednesday for the past year, you met your father at this exact restaurant for an 11 o’clock lunch.

There were times here and there he was a few minutes late, but for the most part, he was punctual every single time. If there was some kind of delay, he’d shoot you a text message, or even his assistant would… but there was nothing. No missed calls, no unread text messages, just radio silence on your father’s end.

You didn’t want to seem like a pain but even after calling his office phone and his personal cellular device, there was still no answer. This was odd, extremely odd.

Another sigh before you shuffled out of the private regular booth, your grey Chanel clutch wedged underneath your armpit, while you went back to fiddling with your iPhone on your way out of the dining room of the restaurant.

“Ms. Y/N, is everything alright?”

You whirled around quickly to meet the gaze of the restaurant's owner, Mr. Higasa – you didn’t know his first name you weren’t on a first-name basis.

You smiled faintly, listening to the ringing on the other side of your cell phone. You tried to contact your father once more, but he still wasn’t answering. You made a mental note to stop by his office on your way back to the art gallery.

Hanging up the phone, you signaled to Mr. Higasa that you were on your way out of the establishment, looks like your plans fell through.

“Ah, it looks like my father ended up a little busy today we won’t be having our usual lunch today I’m sorry for not mentioning earlier,”

Mr. Hagasa’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but he nodded in response before escorting you to the front door.

“Of course, please tell your father we missed him today and will see him next week,”

Another friendly smile and a handshake from Mr. Higasa before you were on your way outside skipping lightly across the asphalt in the Christian Louboutin wedge sandals your father had bought you as a college graduation gift.

You’d worn them a total of three times due to the bright blue/seafoam/navy colors, there weren’t too many dresses in your wardrobe that you could pull these off with. But today, you looked like a breath of fresh air. Dressed in a satin sundress, with a sash tied snugly around your narrow waist.

You looked the part of a well-known socialite when in reality you were merely a gallery assistant. You loved the arts, the old, the new, painting, and even digital art that has become extremely popular as of late.

One of your good friends from college owned a gallery and you were afforded the opportunity to work with her over the last year to learn the ropes and get your feet within all that was artistry. It was a dream come true.

Your father was a well-known investment banker in Tokyo. Extremely well known. In his time in Tokyo, he had managed to make a name for himself and he was sitting on a small fortune. He was set for the rest of his life in terms of money and so would his children, and so would your children, and even possibly your children’s children.

You didn’t know all the details of what he did, but you do know that he afforded you and your brother every single opportunity available as you were growing up. There was absolutely no reason that either of you wouldn’t be successful in your adult lives.

Be that as it may, your older brother by nearly ten years still had managed to earn your father’s ire. Rather than take advantage of the abundance of opportunities afforded to him, he still decided to be led astray. He worked for some shady people even now and your father ordered you to stay away from him and whatever he had gotten himself into this time.

The drive over to your father’s office building was uneventful, once and once you parked you made your way inside the building. It was oddly… vacant for a Wednesday afternoon. The front desk was even void of the normal clerk who you’d seen so often upon entering and leaving the premises.

Your eyes went back to the phone log displayed on your phone, you’d called your father a total of four times with no new voicemails or any response from him at all. Perhaps he really was busy.

The elevator doors slowly pried themselves open and you prepared to step into the sleek silver elevator car, but you weren’t expecting someone to exit abruptly and subsequently barrel into you.

Your phone flew out of your hand tumbling across the sleek tile below before a large hand swooped in quickly to pick it up. Thankfully before the screen shattered.

You watched in suspense as a much taller man exited from the elevator, eyes the color of a dusty wisteria meeting yours before extending your phone back in your direction. He had to two be at least two and a half heads taller than you were.

“I’m sorry about that sweetheart, I didn’t think anyone else was in the building,” his voice was smooth, a playful lilt to it as he pushed your phone back into the palm of your hand.

You’d never seen him before, nor the pink-haired gentleman who had exited after he did. They both wore differently colored tailored suits, the most outlandish colors you had ever seen. One was purple and the other bright verdant green. They had to be custom-made. There was no store in Tokyo where you could walk in and purchase suits of this caliber right off the racks.

After briefly eyeing their suits, your eyes went back to the one who had retrieved your phone his much larger hand enveloping your own in a firm handshake. His hands were extremely warm to the touch, a bit clammy, and left a faint trail of condensation on the screen of your phone.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing, you look like you belong on a beach somewhere,” he chuckled lightly, stepping aside so his friend could step out into the lobby. You assumed he was commenting on the bright colors you were wearing, but the comment alone made your stomach lurch, performing an unnecessary backflip.

Aside from pink hair and wide bright blue eyes, his friend had a white flu mask with an innocuous spray of auburn across the filter on the front. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed it may have been an accidental spray of coffee from an offending coworker.

But he on the other hand, the man in the purple suit, with the dense purple and black hair, seemed adamant about holding your gaze probing your face searching for any kind of change in your demeanor.

It was unnerving, you felt your face heat in embarrassment at his sudden proximity and the almost overbearing leer in his eyes. Finally wrapping your fingers around your phone, you apologized nervously, those deep unsettling eyes of his boring curiously into your own.

“I wasn’t watching where I was going, sorry about that,” you apologized timidly, taking a fraction of a step away from him.

You heard him laugh again light and humorless under his breath, preparing to rev up some sort of conversation when his friend mumbled something under his breath.

“Let’s go,” he didn’t wait, he waltzed towards the exit of the building, with a little more than a little pep in his step leaving his purple-haired friend behind without so much as a second glance. “No time to flirt,”

Those dim eyes of his never left yours as the pink-haired man exited the building and he himself didn’t utter another word. Instead, he offered you a wide grin before stepping around you to follow the man who had accompanied him only moments ago.

You watched them leave in silence, slightly taken aback when the last one out turned to send you a sly wink over his shoulder. Swallowing the sudden tightness that had begun to form in your throat, you turned away to step into the elevator.

The ride upstairs was agonizingly slow. The building must have been completely vacated because you heard no chatter, no printers, not even the light padding of loafers throughout the halls. You were baffled.

Once the elevator came to a complete stop on the top floor, where your father’s office was. You tried his cell phone once more while you made your way to the end of the hall down to the center office.

Even the corporate floor was empty, so strange. The only thing that you were able to pick up in the distance was the faint ringing of your father’s cell phone behind his office door which was slightly left ajar.

You pouted in annoyance once you passed his assistant’s empty desk pushing the office door open so you could step inside.

“Dad, why didn’t you call m-“

Upon entering the oversized office, you stumbled backward, cell phone once again slipping out of your hands before clattering to the ground. A loud, blood-curdling scream left your mouth before your lungs ceased up almost instantaneously after.

The oversized office reeked, thick with the scent of drying blood accompanied by something spoiled underneath. Your father was there. He was slouched in his leather office chair behind his desk, throat slit jaggedly from ear to ear with a wall of thick curdling blood staining the front of his suit.

After the initial shock and fear wore off you were certain you were going to spew your guts out on the floor right then and there but managed to drop to the floor to retrieve your phone before dialing 911.

#tokyo rev fanfiction #multichap fic #dramabloodviolence #ran haitani x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x femreader

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