#Frank Hermann

[gnawgag]

joan of arc’s death at the stake by hermann stilke// foundations of decay - mcr

[illustratus]

Charlemagne destroys the Irminsul (details) by Hermann Wislicenus

[benevolenterrancy]

It's the 10th anniversary of Pacific Rim and I've been seeing so much fanart on my dash over the past couple days, so I'm joining in the fun

Being "drift compatible" completely rewrote my brain 10 years ago and frankly we're under-utilizing it

[nightsongsrandomness]

I LOVE MY GRANDMA BRO 😭😭

I swear my two grandmas are polar opposites when it comes to my interest in the Reich. My grandma on my dad's side doesn't want me to have ANYTHING AT ALL do to with the Reich. BUT my grandma on my MOM'S side loves that I have an interest in history.

The books are "H*tler's Third Reich in 100 objects", "The diary of Anne Frank", "German: how to speak and write it", "Göring: The rise and fall of the notorious N*zi leader", and "Night" by Elie Wesel.

I also got some warrior cats books from the half-price books as well :3

[cursedreverie1945]

One nazi that was quite famous, but isn't really spoken about today is Karl Hermann Frank.

Karl Hermann Frank (1898 – 1946) was a Sudeten German Nazi official in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia prior to and during World War II. Attaining the rank of Obergruppenführer, he was in command of the Nazi police apparatus in the protectorate, including the Gestapo, the SD, and the Kripo. After the war, he was tried, convicted and executed by hanging for his role in organizing the massacres of the people of the Czech villages of Lidice and Ležáky for the assassination of Heydrich.

Fuck this piece of trash.

In many pics, he is often seen with Heydrich. How I keep coming back to Heydrich, I swear to God.

He was also under the Reich Protector Konstantin von Neurath. Himmler named him the protectorate's Higher SS and Police Leader, making him its ranking SS officer. Although nominally under Neurath, Frank wielded great power in the protectorate. He controlled the Nazi police apparatus in the Protectorate, including the Gestapo, the SD, and the Kripo.

Frank thought von Neurath was weak and often tried to discredit his superior.

In waltzed Heydrich.

The working relationship between Frank and Heydrich was a good one as they both were ambitious and brutal. They launched a reign of terror in the protectorate, arresting and killing opponents and ramping up the deportation of Jews to concentration camps. According to Heydrich, between 4,000 and 5,000 people were arrested and between 400 and 500 were executed by February 1942. Adolf Eichmann described Frank as a Jew-hater of the "Streicher kind" who carried out oppression with exceptional brutality.

Did I mention fuck these nazis? Oh good. I did. Karl Hermann Frank was executed in Prague in 1946. Weird thing? There are a lot of pictures online of Frank right before, during, and after execution.

Rest in shit, Frank.

[boselliart]

[the-lost-get-loud]

[perfettamentechic]

30 gennaio … ricordiamo …

30 gennaio … ricordiamo … #semprevivineiricordi #nomidaricordare #personaggiimportanti #perfettamentechic

2024: Chita Rivera, all’anagrafe Dolores Conchita Figueroa del Rivero Anderson, attrice, ballerina e cantante statunitense, nota soprattutto per il suo lavoro nel teatro musicale di Broadway. Nel 2002 fu la prima donna ispanica e latino americana a ricevere il Kennedy Center Honors e nel 2009 fu insignita dal presidente Obama della Medaglia presidenziale della libertà. Si sposò nel 1957 con il…

[rwpohl]

männer ohne bart, rainer simon 1971

[bauerntanz]

27. Januar - Zum Gedenken an die Befreiung des KZ Auschwitz

27. Januar - Nationaler Gedenktag an die Befreiung des KZ #Auschwitz vor 79 Jahren - Veranstaltungen im #Emsland und umzu

Am 27. Januar 2024 jährt sich die Befreiung des Konzentrationslagers Auschwitz durch die Rote Armee zum 79. Mal. Seit 1996 ist der 27. Januar Gedenktag für alle Opfer des Nationalsozialismus, seit 2005 auch internationaler Gedenktag der Vereinten Nationen. Viele Gruppen, Kommunen, Kirchengemeinden, Bildungseinrichtungen etc. halten mit ihren Veranstaltungen die Erinnerung an die Gräueltaten der…

[joaquimblog]

A L'ENTORN DE LA DIRECCIÓ ESCÈNICA A LES ÒPERES DE WAGNER (6): DIE WALKÜRE A BAYREUTH

Die Walküre acte 3r Bayreuth 1976-1980 Patrice Chéreau Seguint aquest projecte de recopilació de documentació visual de totes les produccions que han passat pel Festival de Bayreuth des de la inauguració del 1876, avui proposo Die Walküre i amb ella traspassem l’equador dels drames wagnerians permesos al festival. Ara “l’escandalosa” producció de Chéreau que encapçala l’apunt, per a mi una…

[contemplatingoutlander]

"Hitler had campaigned on the promise of draining the 'parliamentarian swamp'—den parlamentarischen Sumpf."

--Timothy W. Ryback, The Atlantic, Jan. 8, 2025

Ninety-two years ago this month, on Monday morning, January 30, 1933, Adolf Hitler was appointed the 15th chancellor of the Weimar Republic. In one of the most astonishing political transformations in the history of democracy, Hitler set about destroying a constitutional republic through constitutional means. What follows is a step-by-step account of how Hitler systematically disabled and then dismantled his country’s democratic structures and processes in less than two months’ time—specifically, one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours, and 40 minutes. The minutes, as we will see, mattered. [...] Joseph Goebbels, who was present that day as a National Socialist Reichstag delegate [when the Reischstag voted to give Hitler dictatorial powers], would later marvel that the National Socialists had succeeded in dismantling a federated constitutional republic entirely through constitutional means. Seven years earlier, in 1926, after being elected to the Reichstag as one of the first 12 National Socialist delegates, Goebbels had been similarly struck: He was surprised to discover that he and these 11 other men (including Hermann Göring and Hans Frank), seated in a single row on the periphery of a plenary hall in their brown uniforms with swastika armbands, had—even as self-declared enemies of the Weimar Republic—been accorded free first-class train travel and subsidized meals, along with the capacity to disrupt, obstruct, and paralyze democratic structures and processes at will. “The big joke on democracy,” he observed, “is that it gives its mortal enemies the means to its own destruction.” [emphasis added]

Although I don't believe that Trump is a Hitler, he is a fascist, and he (as well as members of his future administration like Project 2025's Russell Voight) seem to be drawing lessons about how to quickly consolidate power for Trump's second administration from other countries' previous & current fascist/authoritarian governments.

This is a terrifying article, because there are so many echoes of Hitler in the strategies that Trump has suggested he might use here in America, including "draining the swamp" by replacing civil servants with partisans, viewing opposition parties as the "enemy" (and in Hitler's case declaring some of them illegal), using the legal system against political enemies, dismantling the opposition media, attacking academia, scapegoating certain groups of people, considering using the military against civilian protests/"unrest," giving immunity to police who use lethal force, and consolidating power in the executive branch.

This is a gift 🎁 link, so there is no paywall. I encourage you to read the entire article

[edited]

[darlingshane]

First, Last & Only

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: You don’t know his name yet, or much about the life of the tall and brooding coffee-addict that likes sitting on your section. The only thing you know, besides his favorite beverage, is that he’s traveling across the country, and that this little town in Indiana is just one more stop in his journey. He’s been staying at Odell’s Motel for a few weeks and during that time, he’s become a regular customer at the diner you work at, and sort of acquaintance of yours. His order is always hot black coffee. If you had it on tap, he'd drink it directly from it, you believe.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Fluff, Smut, Making Out, Vaginal Sex, Unsafe Sex, Pet Names, Coffee, Alcohol, Mention of Death and Kidnapping.

Word Count: 4,5k

A/N: This was inspired by the first episode of season 2 of the punisher. Reader is loosely based on Beth, but works at a diner instead, makes pottery, and has a cat.

— Read below or at AO3.

“If this was a bar, this would be the time to ask for your keys and call you a cab,” you smile, refilling your most notable bearded patron's mug.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” his voice sounds like gravel covered in molasses when he uses that pet name, only for you. “If I promise not to drive, would you sit down and have a cup with me?”

“I uh…” you quickly glance around the diner. There’s only one more customer left at the counter. “Sure, let me finish first.”

The man sitting at the booth gives a small nod, lifting his cup to his lips. You brush his shoulder with your free hand before walking back behind the bar.

You don’t know his name yet, or much about the life of the tall and brooding coffee-addict that likes sitting on your section. The only thing you know, besides his favorite beverage, is that he’s traveling across the country, and that this little town in Indiana is just one more stop in his journey. He’s been staying at Odell’s Motel for a few weeks and during that time, he’s become a regular customer at the diner you work at, and sort of acquaintance of yours. His order is always hot black coffee. If you had it on tap, he'd drink it directly from it, you believe. Rare nights he’s had any food. A couple of times, you’ve comped him with a sandwich or a piece of pie to make up for the fact that he always leaves generous tips.

As you set the pot in its place, you smile in his direction one more time before going back to your task. The kitchen has closed already and all you have left to do is clean your station.

While you wipe the tables, you casually glance at him from the corner of your eye to see him peering out the window as usual, like a dog on neighborhood watch. He seems to do that a lot. It looks like a habit; like you chewing the inside of your mouth when you're too focused on a task.

The next time you gaze at him, however, you catch him staring back at you, and you quickly avert your eyes away to your hand, wiping a rag on the sticky surface of the fourth booth.

You're not sure why, but you revel in the fact that he might be still staring at you right now.

Probably. Hopefully.

Do you want him to look at you and see you past the mustard-yellow uniform and white apron?

Maybe you're just lonely and can't help but see signs that aren't there. But like a moth to a flame, when you look at him a third time, his eyes, as you hoped, are still fixed on you as if wanted to pin you against the wall.

He's not a man of many words, but his stare speaks volumes right now. There are no mixed signals there. You've witnessed a handful of times that urge, that darkness, that comes from a primal desire. Whether it is voluntary or not, you can't say. But clearly, it isn't all in your head.

As you carry the tray with dirty dishes to the sink, you manage to contain the itch at the corner of your lip to curl into a grin.

“Look, they’ve found the two missing girls,” Hermann, the man at the counter, points at the TV, driving your attention to the screen above the bar.

You listen closely to the newscaster from the local channel at the scene, narrating how the two teenagers were locked in a basement in the outskirts of town for over a month, up until this morning. A stranger appeared out of the blue, told them they were safe now, before smashing the bolted door open. When they climbed out the staircase, their captor was dead in the living room, hanging by the neck on a wooden beam, and the vigilante that helped them escape was nowhere to be found. Presumably he was the one that killed their kidnapper, the police suspects. After all the information and gritty details, there’s some brief footage of the girls reuniting with their families before moving on to the next story.

“At least they’re home now,” you settle the dishes down, wash your hands, and pick up the money Hermann left on the counter.

“Have a good night, honey,” the old trucker says before heading out the door.

“Yeah, you too.”

Once Hermann is out, you’re left alone with the mystery man in the booth. It’s then that you pour yourself a cup of coffee and sit at the other side of the table.

“Guess nobody's waiting home for you either,” you say casually, capturing the warmth of the mug on your palms.

“What gave it away?”

“I don't know… Lonely recognizes loneliness, I suppose.”

“You feel lonely, sweetheart?”

“Sometimes,” your shoulders give a small shrug. “Don't you?”

He pauses, swallows as his stare goes down for a second to the beat of his tapping finger on the mug, “all the damn time.”

“Is that why you come here every other night and sit alone?”

“It's complicated.”

“I bet.”

As you take a sip from your mug, tall-dark and handsome produces something from the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I believe this is yours.” He slides a silver charm bracelet across the table that you thought you'd lost. “I found it on the floor the other day. I was going to give it back, but you were busy… I saw the clasp was broken and I–”

“You fixed it!” this time you can't really stop the smile taking over your lips. “I keep forgetting to take it off for work. I thought I'd never see it again. Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. I could tell it was important to you.”

Your chin bows as you secure the bracelet around your wrist.

“I was gonna leave it on the table and take off. But it felt… I guess it felt a little impersonal. And I'm leaving tomorrow and wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh, you're going on a trip?”

“No, I don't think I won't be coming back. You were kind to me and thought I ought to tell you.”

Though you were seemingly aware that he was bound to leave at some point, you can't help but feel a little disappointed at the failed prospect of getting to know him better.

“I uh… I don't know what to say. I guess I'll miss seeing you around… Don't even know your name.”

There's a light pull up on the corner of his mouth as he spells his name, “Frank.”

“Hm,” you let it sink in for a moment as you try to erase the made up names your mind gave him. “I thought you were a Nathan.”

“Who's Nathan?”

“Someone that used to live around here. You remind me of him, so I gave you his name. It's stupid.”

“You've been thinking about me?”

“I don't know… Sometimes. I don't have anything significant going on in my life. Girl's gotta have some entertainment and mysterious guys like you, Frank, that come and go, and sit here for hours really help pass the time some days.”

“Glad to be of service,” he huffs, lifting the cup to his lips.

“Listen. This might be a terrible idea, but since I won't see you again, I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me. I mean something stronger than this,” you tap your mug with your nail twice.

There goes that stare again that makes your stomach drop. It's even darker up close but gentle and cautious. His eyes travel to your lips, and it feels like an eternity until they finally lock again with yours.

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

Taking a customer home might be the craziest thing you've ever done. It's not really like you to be that forward toward someone you hardly know, but there's something about Frank that fascinates you and pushes you into getting out of your comfort zone.

When your shift is over, you trade your uniform for a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater, while Frank waits outside by your car. He knows exactly which one belongs to you cause one night, while he was driving that flashy, big van of his, he happened to drive by you in the middle of the road, changing a tire. You didn't need assistance, but it was late and having his presence there eased you up.

“You're not like a stalker or a serial killer, are you?” you ask in a moment of trepidation before unlocking your car.

“Would a serial killer tell you that they're a serial killer?”

“I guess not.”

“Look, we can call it a night, sweetheart. No hard feelings.”

“C’mon, get in,” you grin, firmly using your chin to point at the passenger door.

During the short drive to your house, you poke around for some more information about what he was doing in town exactly and where he's going next. As usual, he doesn't give you more than a few vague answers. However, you do learn that he doesn't really have a destination in mind at the moment. He's just driving aimlessly.

After putting your bag down, you give Frank a quick tour around the living space.

“If you see a cat around, don't let her sit on your lap. She’s very territorial and likes to pee on strangers,” you warn him from the kitchen, collecting two glasses from the cabinet along with a bottle of bourbon while he curiously looks around the place.

“Got it,” you can hear a chuckle in his voice as his eyes are drawn to the messy dining table that holds an assortment of homemade pottery like bowls, plates, vases, mugs, jars… that you craft and sell online.

“Do you make these?”

“Uh-hm,” you hand him his glass and silently tap your glasses together before taking a sip at the same time. “You like them?”

“Yeah, they’re something…” he lowers his glass and slowly scans your creations, “I can't find the word for it… but they’re unique. I like the texture. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s Wabi-sabi.”

“Wabi-sabi?” his hand smooths his beard, letting a finger slide in the middle.

“Yeah, it’s Japanese. Simply put, it’s the philosophical concept of embracing the beauty of imperfection and simplicity that comes naturally from age or wear. Whether it’s something personal or purely artistic. It’s about accepting, loving, and living with those flaws in harmony. Like your nose.”

“What about my nose?”

“It’s kinda broken, but it fits with your face.”

He bashfully looks down at the amber liquid in his glass before taking a swig.

“Did you go to art school?”

You shake your head, and gesture at the couch, “I took a few classes at the community center when I was younger, then picked up a few techniques from books, videos… It’s mostly self-taught.”

“You’re really gifted,” Frank follows you and takes a seat on the armchair while you kick off your shoes and sit crossed-legged on the couch.

“I’m not. If I was, I wouldn’t have to moonlight as a waitress to keep the lights on. What do you do for a living, Frank?” You lift your drink to your lips.

“This and that. Construction for the most part.”

“Any secret talents I should know about?”

“Not really.”

“Hm. You’ve really mastered the man of mystery art, though.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“I just… I’m not good at this. Talking to people. Or beautiful women like you.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Gorgeous,” he says under a breath, gazing intensely at you with those piercing browns that make your stomach flutter.

Trapping your bottom lip, you shyly glance down, unable to say anything other than a small, “thanks.”

“I’m not good at this either,” you confess after a beat. “I don't usually bring men that I hardly know home like this.”

“Does it make you nervous that I’m here?”

You lightly shake your head, “I don’t know why, but I trust you, Frank.”

“I trust you, too. It's funny how that works.”

“Yeah.”

You throw your glass back, downing half of it, letting it burn your throat and giving you the courage to stand up and take his hand.

Without objection, Frank laces his fingers with yours. His warm, large paw encloses almost your whole hand as you kiss his cheek, and guide him to your bedroom. Your heart pumps faster along the hallway and slightly settles when you turn on the lamp and feel Frank giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

As you turn to him, he releases your hand to hold your face instead. He captures your eyes with such care in his sweet browns, making your knees weak. His thumbs softly caress your cheeks and when he's ready, his head leans closer to press a chaste kiss on your lips. His beard tickles your skin, making your lips curve up the second time he sweetly captures your mouth. On the third try, his lips part and nibble your bottom lip. He lingers a bit longer before opening wider.

You close your eyes and follow his lead. It's hard not to. He takes it nice and slow, letting you get used to having his hands and lips on you.

Tentatively, you frame his waist while his tongue softly moves past your lips. Almost like asking for permission to enter, it swipes the curve of your mouth first and waits for your approval. You hum softly as you send yours to find the bittersweet taste of coffee mixed with bourbon lingering all over his mouth.

Once he's crossed that threshold, you both surrender to that underlying desire that's been clearly building up for weeks. One second is all paced and measured, the next one, he's eagerly stealing all the air from your lungs, claiming your mouth as his own.

“Wow,” you pull back to breathe, “I think I’ve found your secret talent.”

“Yeah?”

Top tier, you think, biting the inside of your cheek as your gaze falls to your own hands, still clinging to his sides. You watch them carefully move to unzip his black hoodie.

Transfixed, he watches your fingers just the same, letting you bare his skin. There's no shirt underneath when you push it behind his shoulders, just his hairless Greek-God defined torso molded in flesh and bones, adorned with several scars.

Frank lets the hoodie fall to the floor as you undo his belt, and tug the waistband of his jeans and step backwards in the direction of your bed.

“Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” That's the word, the pet name, that makes you melt like ice-cream left on the sun-bathed pavement on a hot summer day.

“I've never been so sure of anything in my life,” you overstate on behalf of that dormant lust that has been neglected for months.

His lips curve up as he pulls the hem of your knitted sweater over your head. Subconsciously, you then cover his eyes the next second before he can take a good look at you in your underwear. His mouth splits his beard into a smile that shows his perfect, bright teeth. Your palm runs down his face, stroking his beard and when his eyes are uncovered, instead of looking down, his browns stay locked with your gaze. His head leans close, as one of his hands holds your jaw, keeping your face still while he steals another kiss from your lips.

When his face pulls back, he softly draws the curve of your wet lip with his thumb pad, reverberating under his breath, “absolutely gorgeous.”

It's a good thing the mattress is right behind you, cause you feel like swooning. You sit down and look up at him as your back falls down against the covers.

His pointer finger makes first contact with your skin, tracing a line down your stomach, producing a good laugh out of you.

You beckon him with just a look and a lip bite, and Frank takes that as an invitation to help your legs shimmy out of your jeans. His stare darkens at the first sight of your almost naked form. You could've picked sexier underwear if you knew this would be happening tonight, you think. It’s not like it matters, anyway, cause you can tell it's not going to last much longer on you as soon as he unzips his boots and crawls on top of you, nestling between your legs.

The buckle of his belt presses on your skin as he claims your mouth one more time, with feeling. One of his hands slips between your hair as the sweet undoing of his tongue drives you out of this world. Your palms land on his back, nails dig in his flesh as his hips roll slowly, rubbing his growing bulge in the right spot.

There's an electric force at the tip of his tongue, an urgency of his hand to wrap around your neck without pressing. It makes you hold your breath, makes him feel in control. If he wanted to squeeze the lights out of you, he could. It should frighten you, but it does just the opposite. Your core aches at the thought of letting him use your body however he'd like.

His work becomes more sloppy and needy the harder his erection strains behind the denim fabric. He curls an arm beneath you, blindly fumbles with his fingers to undo the clasp of your bra.

Once he’s rid of it, the rest of your underwear follows the same path to the floor, and so does his own clothes.

His head bows, planting his lips on your abdomen, and from there he leaves a trail of wet kisses and beard tickles up to your sternum. One of his large paws is drawn to your breast as his lips veer off the path to find your opposite nipple. He gently nibbles the hard peak, as your back arches. You sigh in pure delight, letting your fingers weave into his mop of curls as his puckered lips blow cool air over the wet patch he's left. It makes your skin buzz as he moves to the other one to pay it the same attention.

You're drenched in your own juices when you adjust your legs as he carefully guides his firm cock to your entrance. Looking at the ceiling, you shut your eyes as the blunt tip breeches and stretches your wet walls. It feels as big as it looks, takes all the room, but doesn't hurt one bit.

Propping his elbows on either side of your head, he waits for you to be ready to roll.

“You good, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flick open, “yeah, just… go slow.”

With a tender curve of his lips, he nods as you experimentally move your hips back and forth, taking him a little further in.

Frank moves with you, following your cues. His mouth stays close to yours, breathing you in, watching you enjoy yourself as your walls get slicker and tender stroke after stroke. It helps you move a little faster each time as you get used to his size.

First times are always awkward, but there's something about Frank that makes you feel at ease. Ironically, this is the first, last, and only time you'll have him like this. Which is something that just dawns on you as your breathing quickens.

The embers of your core turn to flames and spread like wildfire across your body, consuming every thought and nerve ending for the sake of that final gratification.

You moan Frank's name, and use your hands to push his ass lower, coaxing him to go faster, dig deeper. Every inch of your body deliciously aches with each thrust, each grunt with your name laced to it, and that beautiful beard that brushes your skin after every push. His firm body grows hotter and firmer beneath your palms. Once you've given him the go, he doesn't hold himself back. His drive is sharp and nimble.

Frank buries his face in your neck as the room is filled with a symphony of grunts and moans, measured by the adamant rhythm of his hips slapping against yours.

You close your eyes and savor this moment as he slowly takes you up to cloud nine. It's a daunting climb, but he takes the challenge and waits for the right second to fall off the edge with you. As your opening contracts around him, and you ride that torrent of pleasure that overcomes you, he releases the most animalistic grunt you've ever heard when his seed spurts all over your walls.

A man like him hasn't ever trembled in your arms after an orgasm. His body goes completely limp on top of you. And you hold him close, petting the wet curls as his nape while he slips out of you and that high slowly ebbs.

“And you said you had no talents,” you say hoarsely, with a dopey smirk plastered on your face.

“I don’t like boasting,” he grins against your skin before lifting his head tiredly to look at you.

Combing your fingers in his hair, you push back those tousled-damp curls off his forehead.

“Well, If I had known you'd be that gifted, I’d have invited you over sooner.”

“Yeah?” Biting his lower lip, his head dips to sweetly seize your mouth.

“Hm-hmm.”

“I can stay all night if you want. Could make it up to you for all the time wasted. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

What the hell. If this is the only time he'd be in your bed, better take the chance of making this a memorable night, you think.

You simply nod and watch up close, one of your fingers slide across the texture of the pockmarks on his cheekbone.

“You like those? Is it wasabi, too?”

“Wabi-sabi,” you point out with a light chuckle, “and yes, I like them. They're like moon craters.”

Cradling his nape, you pull his face down and kiss that beautiful spot on his cheek, before settling his head on your shoulder.

He hugs you back and stays in that position for a while, in comfortable silence, as you gather the strength to switch places with him and go for a second round. Straddling on his lap is a vastly different experience. You ride him slowly, while he molds your figure to the shape of his hands. There's no place left untouched when you're done, and shortly after, you both go at it a third time as if you were running a marathon. You share stories and drinks and food in between a haze of sex, kisses, and hugs before finally succumbing to slumber a couple of hours before dawn.

You’re the first one to wake up a few hours later. The sun is already out and before slipping out of bed, you watch Frank for a minute, committing to memory the relaxed expression of his rough features. Then, you carefully pad out of the room to fill your cat’s bowls with food and water and find her sleeping in her favorite spot behind the couch. She only rises from her resting position at the sound of the coffee maker. Soon, she’s slinking between your feet as you go around the kitchen and doesn't stop until you pick her up, give her a kiss and a cuddle, and settle her beside her food bowl.

“Morning,” you hear Frank’s early husky voice as he steps into the kitchen wearing only his pair of jeans.

“Good morning,” your lips curve watching him prop his hands on the edge of the breakfast bar. “Guess you smelled the coffee brewing, huh?”

“Guess so. It’s like a Pavlovian response, I can’t help it.”

You snort, gesturing at bar stools, “please, take a seat.”

“It should be me making you breakfast,” Frank settles his ass on the stool.

“Force of habit. Sorry.”

“I was starting to think you had an imaginary cat,” he points at your furry friend focused on her food.

“No, she's very real. She just likes hiding at night.”

You place a couple of mugs on the counter, fill Frank’s up close to the rim, and only pour half of yours.

“Be careful, it’s hot,” you place his coffee in front of him.

Frank scoffs, picking it up and lifting it up to his lips as he says, “that's never stopped me.”

You dread every second left after that, knowing that once he’s out the door, you won’t see him again. You’ve grown used to having him around the diner and last night, what you two shared, was just one of the best things that’s ever happened to you lately.

Rather than expressing that out loud, you put one of your handmade mugs in a box and give it to him as a parting gift.

Then, you drive him back to the motel he’s been staying at.

“Thanks for the mug,” he gives you one last tight hug. “Take care, yeah?”

“You know… you could stay a little bit longer,” you awkwardly suggest when he releases you. “We have that roast you like coming in today, I think. If not for me, at least do it for the free coffee.”

“That’s tempting, but I gotta move on now, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I get it,” you sigh, tucking your hands in your jacket's pockets, as one of his palms moves to hold your chin. His head tilts to the side to leave one last kiss on your cheek before stepping away.

After climbing into your car, Frank closes the door for you, and watches you from the sidewalk as you drive away before collecting his bags from his temporary room.

You go back to your usual routine after that little adventure you had with him. You run some errands around town, mail some orders from your online shop, go grocery shopping and have some lunch before your shift at the diner.

Frank barely leaves your mind that day, especially after you slip into your uniform and open the new coffee order in the pantry and start a new batch.

“I swear he has a thing for you,” Jody, friend and fellow waitress, says as you work the coffee maker.

“Who?”

“The hipster. He’s in your section again. Look.”

You frown and turn your head to see Frank sitting in his booth, flicking the pages of a newspaper. A smile instantly takes over your lips as you try to hold the excitement of running towards him.

“Wow, I guess you have a thing for him too. I don’t know how I missed that,” she realizes. “Well, go on, say hi before someone swoops him up.”

Swallowing, you wait till the pot is filled to walk over his table.

Frank licks his lips when he sees you stepping closer, and turns over the mug sitting on the middle table.

“So, how far did you get?” you hold the pot steady, filling the cup.

“Dunno… a couple of hours, give or take.”

“Hmm.”

“Guess it took me a second to realize how good that coffee was.”

“Want something to eat with that?”

“Maybe later when you’re done… we could… would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

[entwinedmoon]

This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

[thequeerlibrarian-studyblr]

45/100 days of productivity - 27.04.24

Languages: 15 min French, 15 min German sign language, 15 min Russian alphabet, 15 min Morse-code, 15 min Swedish

Self care: Yoga & stretching, guided meditation, read 📖

Went on a 3 hour mini hike 🎧

Planned a Switzerland trip

🎧 Dune by Frank Herbert

📖 Narziss and Goldmund by Hermann Hesse

[letters2fiction]

Welcome to Letters2fiction!

The concept here is to send in a question or a letter request, and you’ll get a response from your fictional character of choice, from the list below. Please stick to the list I’ve made, but of course, you can ask if there’s some other characters I write for, I don’t always remember all the shows, movies or books I’ve consumed over the years and I’m sure I’m missing a lot 😅

Status: New Characters added - Thursday March 21st, 2024

TV SERIES

A Discovery of Witches:

Matthew Clairmont

Baldwin Montclair

Gallowglass de Clermont

Marcus Whitmore

Philippe de Clermont

Jack Blackfriars

Sarah Bishop

Emily Mather

Diana Bishop

Ysabeau de Clermont

Miriam Shepard

Phoebe Taylor

Gerbert D’Aurillac

Peter Knox

Father Andrew Hubbard

Benjamin Fuchs

Satu Järvinen

Meridiana

Law and Order:

Rafael Barba

Sonny Carisi

Joe Velasco

Mike Duarte

Terry Bruno

Peter Stone

Hasim Khaldun

Nick Amaro NEW!

Mike Dodds

Grace Muncy

Kat Tamin

Toni Churlish

Amanda Rollins

Olivia Benson

Rita Calhoun

Casey Novak

Melinda Warner

George Huang

Sam Maroun

Nolan Price

Jamie Whelan

Bobby Reyes

Jet Slootmaekers

Ayanna Bell

Jack McCoy

Elliot Stabler

One Chicago:

Jay Halstead (Could also be Will if you want)

Antonio Dawson

Adam Ruzek

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz

Dante Torres

Vanessa Rojas

Kevin Atwater

Sean Roman

Matt Casey

Kelly Severide

Joe Cruz

Sylvie Brett

Blake Gallo

Christopher Hermann

"Mouch"

Otis

Violet Mikami

Evan Hawkins

Mayans MC:

Angel Reyes

Miguel

Bishop

Coco

Nestor

911 verse:

Athena Grant

Bobby Nash

Henrietta "Hen" Wilson

Evan "Buck" Buckley

Eddie Diaz

Howie "Chimney" Han

Ravi Panikkar

T.K. Strand

Owen Strand

Carlos Reyes

Marjan Marwani

Paul Strickland

Tommy Vega

Judson "Judd" Ryder

Grace Ryder

Nancy Gillian

Mateo Chavez

The Rookie:

Lucy Chen

Tim Bradford

Celina Juarez

Aaron Thorsen

Nyla Harper

Angela Lopez

Wesley Evers

BBC Sherlock:

Greg Lestrade

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Moriarty

Molly

Bridgerton:

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

Simon Basset

Daphne Bridgerton

Eloise Bridgerton

Kate Sharma

Edwina Sharma

Marina Thompson/Crane

Outlander:

Jamie Fraser

Claire Beauchamp Randall Fraser

Frank Randall

Black Jack Randall

Brianna Fraser

Roger MacKenzie

Fergus Fraser

Marsali Fraser

Jenny Fraser Murray

Ian Murray Sr.

Ian Fraser Murray

Murtagh Mackenzie

Call The Midwife:

Shelagh Turner / Sister Bernadette

Dr. Patrick Turner

Nurse Trixie Franklin

Nurse Phyllis Crane

Lucille Anderson

Nurse Barbara Gilbert

Chummy

Sister Hilda

Miss Higgins

PC Peter Noakes

Reverend Tom Hereward NEW!

Narcos:

Horacio Carrillo

Peaky Blinders:

Tommy Shelby

Downton Abbey:

Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham

Cora Crawley, Countess of Grantham

Lady Mary Crawley

Lady Edith Crawley

Lady Sybil Crawley

Violet Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham

Isobel Crawley

Matthew Crawley

Lady Rose MacClare

Lady Rosamund Painswick

Henry Talbot

Tom Branson

Mr. Charles Carson

Mrs. Hughes / Elsie May Carson

John Bates

Anna Bates

Daisy Mason

Thomas Barrow

Joseph Molesley

Land Girl:

Connie Carter

Reverend Henry Jameson (Gwilym Lee's version)

Midsomer Murder:

DCI Tom Barnaby

Joyce Barnaby

Dr. George Bullard

DCI John Barnaby

Sarah Barnaby

DS Ben Jones

DS Jamie Winter

Sgt. Gavin Troy

Fleur Perkins

WPC Gail Stephens

Kate Wilding

DS Charlie Nelson

Sergeant Dan Scott

NEW! Once Upon A Time

Regina / The Evil Queen

Mary Margaret Blanchard / Snow White

David Nolan / Prince Charming

Emma Swan

Killian Jones / Captain Hook

Mr. Gold / Rumplestiltskin

Neal Cassidy / Baelfire

Peter Pan

Sheriff Graham Humbert / The Huntsman

Jefferson / The Mad Hatter

Belle

Robin of Locksley / Robin Hood

Will Scarlet

Zelena / Wicked Witch

Alice (Once in Wonderland)

Cyrus (Once in Wonderland)

Jafar (Once in Wonderland)

Gideon

Tiger Lily

Naveen

Tiana

Granny

Ariel

Prince Eric

Aladdin

Jasmine

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Hercules

Megara

Tinker Bell

Merida

Red Riding Hood

Mulan

Aurora / Sleeping Beauty

Prince Phillip

Cinderella

Prince Thomas

NEW! The Vampire Diaries / The Originals

Stefan Salvatore

Damon Salvatore

Caroline Forbes

Elena Gilbert

Bonnie Bennett

Enzo St. John

Niklaus Mikaelson

Elijah Mikaelson

Kol Mikaelson

Rebekah Mikaelson

Freya Mikaelson

Finn Mikaelson

Mikael

Esther

Marcel Gerard

Davina Claire

MOVIES

The Pirates of the Caribbean:

Captain Jack Sparrow

Barbossa

Will Turner

Elizabeth Swann

James Norrington

Kingsman:

Merlin

Harry Hart

Eggsy Unwin

James Spencer / Lancelot

Alastair / Percival

Roxy Morton / Lancelot

Maximillian Morton / The Shepherd

Orlando Oxford

Jack Daniels / Whiskey

Gin

BOOKS

Dreamland Billionaire series - Lauren Asher:

Declan

Callahan

Rowan

Iris

Alana

Zahra

Dirty Air series - Lauren Asher:

Noah

Liam

Jax

Santiago

Maya

Sophie

Elena

Chloe

Ladies in Stem - Ali Hazelwood books:

Olive

Adam

Bee

Levi

Elsie

Jack

Mara

Liam

Sadie

Erik

Hannah

Ian

Fourth Wing - Rebecca Yarros:

Xaden Riorson

Dain Aetos

Jack Barlowe

Rhiannan Matthias

Violet Sorrengail

Mira Sorrengail

Lillith Sorrengail

Bodhi Durran

Liam Mairi