#GERMAN MATRIMONIAL

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Matrimonial services in Germany #internationalmarriage #indianmatrimony...

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Stuttgart Matrimony Sites/Indian Matrimonial Service in Germany Stuttgar...

[snezfics-n-shit]

Sicktember Day 1: I'm Not Sick, I'm Just Hungover

Fandom: Ace Attorney Characters: Adrian Andrews, Franziska von Karma

Notes: First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a rager of a reception that could have served as a convenient explanation for being under the weather the morning after. Adrian attempts to use just that to deflect from the fact she’s feeling unwell on the first full day of her marriage to Franziska. 

     The hotel suite’s curtains remained shut, allowing anyone still sleeping to be ignorant of the fact it was already well into the morning. It was an act of both courtesy and practicality. The night before had been packed with festivities typical of celebrating the joining of a couple in holy matrimony, with (sometimes excessive) drinking being part of it. While Adrian had greatly limited her consumption of alcohol last night due to potential interactions with her prescription medications, she still found herself feeling significantly less than her best, much to her concern. 

Adrian sniffled as quietly as she could so as not to disturb Franziska, who was sleeping soundly next to her, now as her wife. Her heart skipped a beat in joy when she remembered that, leaving her thankful that this malaise was clearly not out of any regret as she had momentarily feared. Adrian tried to remember if Franziska had partook in more drinking than she did last night and wondered if she would wake up feeling the same effects. Sure, nasal congestion and a sore throat weren’t the typical symptoms associated with a hangover, but Adrian’s reluctance to be sick on the first full day of her marriage had her grasping at straws for it all to make sense. 

“Mmn,” Franziska stirred before sleepily greeting Adrian with a kiss on the lips, hardly awake enough to see Adrian’s look of panic at the thought of potentially being contagious. 

The straws in Adrian’s grasp were getting awfully slippery.

“G-Good morning,” Adrian said softly, “Mrs. Andrews,” she thought adding that would be clever now that Franziska had taken her surname. She still couldn’t believe it, such a common, probably boring name like Andrews being the one that her wife found so much comfort in draping herself in. Franziska did say something about how she felt like it was an act of independence, knowing very well how important growing independent was to both her and Adrian both as individuals and as a couple, so there was no arguing with that.  

“Good morgen.” Franziska’s mix of English and German while half-asleep had Adrian’s heart melting. She yawned and finally opened her eyes, then waited for Adrian’s response yawn to pass before speaking with more wakefulness. “Did you sleep well?” 

“Yeah,” Adrian said sleepily, “I think, um…” She bit her lip, unsure if she wanted to start her first day of marriage burdening her new wife with her not feeling well.

 It wasn't like Franziska had ever complained or expressed any feeling of being inconvenienced whenever Adrian was sick before. In fact, the only people Adrian knew to have such a disdain for that sort of thing had now been dead for years. Adrian couldn't help but have a deer-in-the-headlights look of fear at the thought of having accidentally insulted Franziska by the mere suggestion that she would have made the same comments as Engarde or Corrida had made.

“Adrian? Sweetie?”

“I-I think I'm hungover.” Adrian blurted out. 

Truth be told, Adrian had never actually had a hangover before. She attributed this fact to her being made an extreme lightweight by her psychiatric medications, which technically she knew meant she shouldn't be drinking at all, but sometimes a special occasion would arise and she made a small exception just once in a while. 

“Hungover? You only had one glass of champagne for the toast last night, then one glass of Riesling offered by Mama.” Franziska frowned and ran her hand through Adrian’s hair. 

“Yeah, I guess my meds, um, played a part in it, probably,” Adrian did her best to conceal a sniffle through her frustratingly blocked nose, “maybe age has something to do with it, too, since I haven't really drank in a long time.” She laughed nervously, hoping the crackling sound of chest congestion that accompanied such a laugh wasn't audible. 

“I'm so sorry.” Franziska kissed the top of Adrian's head. “I didn't think about that when we made the arrangements for the reception.” She quickly frowned, stirring up some anxiety in Adrian before speaking again. “Mama should have known better than to push you to have more alcohol, too. She knows you’re still working on saying ‘no’ to people. She had no right to do that!”

“No, really, it's fine.” Adrian fought a cough by muffling any semblance of it with her hand pressed to her mouth. “A little hangover never hurt anyone.” 

“But you're burning up.” 

Adrian froze. 

“I am?” 

She felt bad for essentially playing dumb, but at least she wasn't outright denying anything.

“Yes, sweetie.” Franziska ran her fingers through Adrian’s hair. “I guess you're the type to run a fever with a hangover, but I can't say I ever imagined a hangover fever to feel so warm.”

“Hangover fever?”

“One of our family's longtime maids, Martha Brandt, would get them.” Franziska explained. “Though they were always low grade and passed quickly.” She pressed her hand firmly on her wife’s forehead. “Something I can’t say the same for you.”

Adrian did recall hearing of Ms. Brandt before. She was the eldest von Karma daughter’s favorite maid, so it was understandable Franziska would know so much about her.

For some reason, though, learning that such a thing as a hangover fever was plausible just made the guilt of not being completely honest sink deeper in Adrian's stomach.

“I… I see.” 

“Just say the word and I will bring you anything you need.” Franziska stood up straight as she made her declaration. “As your wife, I have every intention in us fighting this hangover together.” 

“Aww, honey.” Adrian hesitated, but she knew now that she couldn’t start this marriage with deception. “Do you think you’d do the same for, say, a little cold?” 

“What? Of course I would!” Franziska answered swiftly. 

“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t think I’m hungover at all. I’m probably just sick.” Adrian sniffled, this time without trying to hide the noise she made in doing so. “I’m sorry I lied, and badly at that.” She couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Besides,” Franziska leaned in and whispered in her wife’s ear, “ich wusste es*.” 

fin

* - “ich wusste es” is “I knew it” (thanks hinative, btw you dropped this *holds crown*)

[ltwilliammowett]

Hark Olufs a pirate victim sold into slavery

Hark or Harck Olufs was born in July 1708 in Süddorf on Amrum. At that time, the island of Amrum was under Danish rule, a time when the island was always fought over and regularly changed crowns.

Now Hark's father was "Captain Oluf Jensen" and as a sought-after North German captain he owned several ships, including "die Hoffnung /the Hope", on which he sent his son Hark Olufs on board as a sailor in 1721. Three years later, what many sailors of that time truly feared happened. When Hark was on his way from Nantes to Hamburg, two of his cousins and the crew fell into the hands of the notorious Barbary pirates and were taken as slaves to Algiers to extort ransom.

Front of Hark Oluf’s talking gravestone (x)

"Here lies the great war hero, resting gently on Amrom Christenfeld. The blessed Harck Olufs was born there on Amrum in 1708, 19 July. Soon afterwards, in his younger years, he was taken prisoner by the Turkish pirates in Algiers on 24 March 1724. In such imprisonment, however, he served the Turkish Bey of Constantine as a casnadaje for 11 and a quarter years, until this Bey finally gave him his freedom in 1735 on 31 October out of kindness to him, since he then happily returned here the following year as A[nn]o 1736 on 25 April. April, he happily arrived here again on his fatherland, and thus in A[nn]o 1737 entered into holy matrimony with Antje Harken, who is now in a sad widowhood together with 5 children. In such marriage, however, they have begotten a son and 4 daughters. Thus they must all feel the death of their father, since he died in 1754 on 13 October, and brought his life to 46 years and 13 weeks.

Of course, Hark's desperate family tried to buy him free, but simply could not raise the enormously large sum demanded, although large fundraising campaigns were initiated. But Hark and his cousins were not the only ones, and since each of them was asked for about 6,000 marks, it was almost impossible to raise this amount. But his family did not give up and even turned to the Danish government, which had a special department for kidnapped sailors. But now there was a problem. The Hope was not sailing under the Danish flag, but under the free flag of Hamburg (the reason why his father was also allowed to call himself Captain, because this title was only allowed to Hamburger merchant Captains, others were only Commanders) whereupon Hark Olufs' application for release was rejected. As if this were not dramatic enough, the Olufs family was further dogged by bad luck. When Hark's father finally had the required sum of money together, he arranged for his son to be ransomed. And indeed, a Hark Olufs was also ransomed, but not his son, just someone else with the same name. All hope for the real Hark Olufs seemed lost and with each passing day, the hope of seeing him alive again faded. But Hark was lucky -

The following text is written on the back of the gravestone: (x)

"May God grant the body a joyful resurrection on the last day.

To my own I call back from the grave these lines for remembrance: Alas, in my younger years I must go to the robbery of the Algiers And hold almost twelve years the Slaverey. But God made me free by his hand. Therefore I say again: I know, my God, I must now die. I will, but one thing I ask. Let not mine own perish. Keep the widow's house. Oh God, because I cannot provide, take thee wife and children."

After being sold as a slave, he worked as a servant to the Beys of Constantine until 1728. On behalf of his owner, he killed many people and gained the trust of his master. Thus Hark not only rose to the position of treasurer, but between 1724 and 1732 he became commander of the bodyguard. Incidentally, he also took part in a pilgrimage to Mecca, from which it can be concluded that he converted to Islam. After Hark had helped in the conquest of Tunis in 1735, he was released in gratitude on 31 October and returned home to Amrum in 1736 as a very wealthy man.

However, he did not seem to leave voluntarily, because shortly after he was released, the Bey died. And with that, Hark lost his protector and leader, which threatened his own life again, and so he returned.

Title page of the first edition of Hark Olufs' Autobiography, 1747 (x)

When he returned to Amrum, he stayed there. He only married after a thorough examination by the pastor and the elders, but after proving that he was still a Christian, he was baptised and accepted back into the church and community. Once and for all fed up with dangerous seafaring, he held several offices on Amrum and even met the Danish King Christian VI. He told him his story and in 1747 his own autobiography was published. Hark Olufs died in Süddorf on Amrum on 13 October 1754. Even today his gravestone, which is one of the talking stones, stands in Nebel in the cemetery at St Clement's Church.  

But it doesn't stop there, because since his death he has been sighted again and again wandering around the cemetery and between the dunes in search of his treasure and obviously cannot find any peace.

[edwinadaily]

I saw your friedrich and edwina creations and im hooked! do you have any hc for them??

Our Friedrich x Edwina tag

Thank you anon! I’m gonna focus on their first encounter.

CONTEXT

After s2, the ton avoids Edwina and there’s lots gossip about her (she’s not the angel she pretended to be, she’s why Anthony chose her cold sister instead etc).

Edwina is broken and no longer believes in love. She still longs for true love but thinks she’ll never experience it.

Friedrich wasn’t keen on meeting anyone, especially someone chosen by his aunt. But he caves when the queen promises to leave him alone after this.

Charlotte doesn’t tell him anything about Edwina’s past in case he gets the wrong idea.

THE ENCOUNTER

To escape the gossip, Edwina ventures in the fairy tales section of the library. Her Appa and Kate used to read them to her and Edwina was hoping the nostalgia would numb her pain and transport her to fantastical lands.

Friedrich sneaked out of the castle in civilian clothing for a moment of peace before the ball. Knowing books to be a worthy distraction, he slips into the library.

While browsing the shelves, he saw a petite woman struggling to reach a book. He handed it to her. It’s a copy of  Grimms' Fairy Tales.

Fred stares at Edwina in awe. He's well acquainted with beauty, being part of the highest echelon of society yet he's never felt breathless like this.

Edwina was frazzled. The perfect debutante should regale herself with high-brow classics or books on matrimony, not a children's book. But Edwina wasn’t a debutante or perfect anymore, was she?

Snatching the book away, she tried to hide the cover. She couldn't bear a stranger mocking her fondness for fairy tales, a trait shared with her late Appa. A connection she clung to. She couldn’t let him tarnish that. “Thank you, sir. But I am not a lady in distress and your assistance was uncalled for. Good day” she snapped.

Friedrich gaped at her, giving Edwina the chance to appraise him. He was strikingly tall with golden locks framing a handsome face. A navy jacket hazardously thrown over his shoulders with a loose wrinkled shirt underneath. Edwina had no inkling of his rank but she should have heard rumours about him. Maybe he was a worker? Maybe he wasn’t from here? Maybe he didn’t know her?

As she turned to leave, the stranger stuttered in a German lilt “what is your favourite Grimm brothers’ tale?” Shocked, Edwina stared. So he was not from here, just like her.

Anger forgotten, Edwina's heart went out to him. It was not easy integrating the ton, an insulated community that did not look kindly upon foreigners. Edwina was spared some of its judgement thanks to Kate’s rigorous training and Mary’s lived experience. Did this man have similar connections and resources? Did he have family here? Did he miss home?

“Miss?” whispered Friedrich, uncertain. Edwina’s eyes softened. The man suddenly looked out of place in the shadows of towering bookshelves. Face haggard and eyes sunken. Had he been sleeping well? Edwina could not sleep a wink the first few weeks and would crawl into Kate’s bed at night.

Flustered by Edwina’s stare, Friedrich bashfully smoothed his hair and shirt.

“I apologise for my unseemly appearance, my lady. My travels have left me weary and I did not expect company.”

“No sir, the fault is all mine! You caught me unaware and-”

“there is nothing to apologise for.” Friedrich interjected “I should have announced myself."

“I certainty did no expect anyone from the ton to frequent the library so early, or ever really.” Edwina joked.

“That is a fair and just assessment.” Friedrich acquiesced, eyes dancing with mirth. “But I am not from here. I’m a mere boy valiantly escaping the clutches of an aggrieved aunt.”

“How so, sir?”

“Well, she is all out of sorts about tonight’s ball and my imminent introduction to a debutante. I am dreading it all, to be frank.”

“She only means well and hopes for your success in British genteel society. But she wishes for your happiness above all else.” Edwina concluded with finality.

“I shall relay your unwavering faith to her, my lady. She will be pleased to have a follower in you.”

“I am merely speaking from experience" revealed Edwina. "I was so distraught before my first ball and so was my family! Yet my sister sat me down and soothed my frazzled nerves. Her kindness knew no bounds despite everything. Because of everything.” Edwina mused, eyes faraway and sad.

“Your are a living testament of her then, I have never met a lady quite like yourself... It is decided, I will attend tonight’s festivities with a willing heart. A failed courtship will not dampen my spirits!” announced Friedrich, steering the conversation away from Edwina’s family.

“A failed courtship?!” Edwina exclaimed before slapping a hand over her mouth. How rude of her!

“Indeed, My Lady. Fortunately I was mere infatuation but her rejection weighs on me still."

Edwina wordlessly reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers, desperate to offer comfort. His tale was hauntingly familiar except she was in love. She had to leave her love at the altar. To her sister.

Composure crumbling, she choked back a sob when a thumb fluttered across her knuckles. I am here. Edwina steadied her breath and chanced a look at the stranger. They were leaning into each other and his face was so close. Azure eyes shimmering with worry and… affection?

She yanked herself back. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this encounter, sir?” she hastily stuttered.

Friedrich’s fingers flexed around thin air, mourning Edwina’s phantom touch. It had felt so right. Her touch cajoled his soul and left his senses in disarray. He yearned. Yearned to hold, touch and protect. To love.

“Sir?” a dulcet voice called.

“I-I came to find refuge. Before the ball. To escape reality. And I miss home.” spoke Fred in a stilted cadence.

“I see. Is there a particular book you’re looking for?”

“No, just… fiction will suffice.”

Edwina squashed her budding familiarity with this stranger. Love was not meant for her and he already had a lady in sight. This man was in need of friendship. He was trying to find his footing in a new country after fleeing heartbreak. Loosing sleep. Scouring the shelves at dawn for a taste of home. Edwina had judged him too hastily in fear of being hurt. She had to make amends.

“Are you familiar with the ton’s customs and moeurs, sir?” Edwina abruptly asked.

“It has been a while since my last lesson, My Lady. Why the sudden curiosity?” Friedrich asked quizzically.

“You must be nervous about tonight and being prepared always calmed with my nerves. I have a rudimentary knowledge of gentlemen’s etiquette but I can still be of assistance! I can be your dance partner? Or correct your posture? I know where the boutiques are too!” Edwina eagerly offered.

“That is very kind of you, My Lady. But I fear I do not follow.”

“There is no judgement here, sir. You must have noticed from my accent that I am a foreigner too. I know how it feels to reckon with the ton’s archaic traditions, the pressures of assimilation and the ton’s unforgiving scrutiny of foreigners. We are expected to be well-versed in everything that pertains to England to not risk social condemnation. The women more so then men. But It is primordial you make an impression at your first ball!”

“I… I see.” Friedrich’s mind was racing. She thought he was a foreigner who was about to attend his first ball! Pondering if he should correct her, Friedrich weighed his options.

He could reveal his rank, possibly humiliating the young lady. Or he could keep quiet and save her from mortification. Additionally, he enjoyed basking in her kindness and warmth. Not many were brazen enough to treat him like person. She was most likely married and he would reject his bridal prospect, never to see Edwina again. A white lie would not hurt, would it?

“I would very much appreciate your help. I am lacking in certain areas, mainly what the ton has to offer, My Lady.”

Delighted, Edwina forgot her book and she laid out a map of the ton to explain its key locations: boutiques, ballrooms, the palace etc. Friedrich was enthralled by her clear and often, humourous descriptions.

After two hours, their impromptu lesson came to a grinding halt as people started filtering into the library. Friedrich and Edwina became skittish, eager to avoid detection for different reasons.

“Sir I wish you and your aunt all the best tonight. If we cross paths, please act like we never met.”

“Why so, My Lady?”

“Associating with me could ruin your chances at happiness. It is not worth it.”

“Do you believe that?”

“It does not matter what I believe" Edwina bit back.

“From this encounter, you have done nothing to warrant that title. My opinion of you is dictated by your actions and words, not gossip. If we do have the fortune of meeting tonight, I would be honoured to dance with you, My Lady.”

Edwina was at a loss. Here was a man committing a grave social faux-pas… for her? Surely not. He was simply a man of exemplary character, nothing more.

“I would be honoured, My Lord” whispered Edwina. “And my favourite Grimm’s fairy tale is Rapunzel.”

[loiladadiani]

Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna and Prince Ioann Konstantinovich

Everybody knows by now that my favorite Romanov changes just about every week. Probably the one I "favor" most frequently is Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna. My heart goes out to her. In the time and place where she lived, a twenty-three-year-old girl was frequently already married and had children. Olga had to watch these and many other experiences pass her by from her captivity in Tobolks and Ekaterinburg. They say Olga was thin, withdrawn, sad, and did not seem to be coping as well as the other girls with the imprisonment. I think that Olga's "denial mechanism" was not working as well as that of the others, and she strongly suspected what was coming.

Enough of that....several names floated about (none of them seriously) as matrimonial prospects for Olga, such as that of her cousins Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich and Grand Duke Boris Vladimirovich. Prince Christopher of Greece and Denmark had expressed interest. Carol II of Romania had been considered. And then there was another, which I really liked for her (you may not): Prince Ioann (Ioannshick) Konstantinovich, the first-born son of Grand Duke Konstantine Konstantinovich and Grand Duchess Elizabeth Mavrikievna.

The following is a letter from Grand Duke Konstantine to his son when Ioann apparently mentioned the matter to him (not for the first time):

3 December, 1910. Pavlovsk. From bruderschaft [brotherhood, German], you very unexpectedly suddenly turn to Lubochka. You cannot marry her at this point, but without breaking the law, with which you need to familiarize yourself, taking advantage of conversations between AAs. Makarov and Kostya. During one of these conversations, ask for the federal secretary to explain to you the legalization of marriages of the members of the Imperial family. The Tatiana question has not been resolved by far, as it needs a change of the existing law. But let’s assume that it will be changed: then I advise you to be careful. Last year, you wrote to me about your love for Olga Nikolaevna and for Tanya and someone else, and now it’s Lubochka while you are still bringing up Olga Nikolaevna as well. Seems like you do not know yourself with whom specifically you are in love, but without a tested and faithful love, one should not marry. 

Ioann was at that age when we fell in love every other day. He did ask the Tsar, who dismissed the idea by not taking the matter seriously, and told Ioann that his daughter was too young (in 1910, Olga would have been 15). The Empress had never liked the Konstantinovichi as potential grooms for her daughters because of their "poor health." Other than that, they were one of the few Grand Duccal families Alix liked.

Ioann married Helen of Serbia in 1911. He fought in WWI, had two children, and was eventually murdered by the Bolsheviks at Alapaevsk in the Urals (along with several other Romanovs, at least one of whom was his brother.) He was 32 years old. Olga died with her family not far from where he was killed, in Ekaterinburg at the age of 23.(gcl)

[twittercomfrnklin2001-blog]

The Magician

After directing some of Hollywood’s greatest silent films and making stars of his wife, Alice Terry, Rudolph Valentino and Ramon Novarro, Rex Ingram (not to be confused with the wonderful actor) relocated to France in search of greater freedom. That concept of freedom was relative. His European films feature images and subjects that would have been untenable at his home studio, MGM, but they still reflect the tastes of the viewing public. His once-lost film THE MAGICIAN (1926, TCM, YouTube) is filled with transgressive imagery and a villain (Paul Wegener) who queers both domesticity and the world of science, but it’s classic Hollywood horror queerness, a destructive force that must be defeated in the name of traditional values.

Terry is a sculptress working on a large statue of a faun, a flirtation with the world outside normal society.  When it collapses on her, she’s left paralyzed. Her savior is a handsome doctor (Ivan Petrovich), and the two fall in love. But she also attracts the attention of occultist Oliver Haddo (Wegener), who uses his hypnotic powers to steal her from Petrovich. Ingram’s script, adapted from a W. Somerset Maugham novel loosely based on Aleister Crowley’s public image, tips us off to Wegener’s goal early. To complete an ancient spell for the creation of life, he needs the heart’s blood of a maiden, so his marriage to Terry is in name only. It’s a queer variation on the role of matrimony in creating new life and, as such, an assault on conventional morality.

Ingram directs all this quite seriously, which was rare for a silent film dealing with horror. He allows Wegener, the star and sometime director of several German expressionistic horror films to dominate his scenes, All he has to do is swell his chest and open his eyes as wide as possible to make you believe he can hold Terry in his thrall. Working with John F. Seitz, Ingram also creates striking imagery. There’s a terrific fantasy scene in which Wegener makes Terry visualize a bacchanal with near naked fauns and nymphs, some epic crowd scenes and vistas of Paris and Monte Carlo in the 1920s and striking compositions as Wegener exercises his control over Terry. There’s also some eft comic relief supplied by Gladys Hamer, who plays Terry’s roommate, and a man who loses his hat, played by Michael Powell, who was an assistant director on the film and later credited Ingram’s influence on his own work. Ingram also uses acting styles to reinforce his meanings. Petrovich and Terry are remarkably natural (and pretty darned beautiful) in contrast to Wegener’s more old-school silent-film posturing. THE MAGICIAN was a major influence on Universal’s 1930s horror films. It also features a rare on-screen appearance by Firmin Gemier, a French actor who worked with both Andre Antoine and Aurelien Lugne-Poe and created the role of Pere Ubu.

[pansy-out-of-the-wardrobe]

I am trying to pick up Swedish again after taking four German classes in Uni…. At this rate I am creating some unholy matrimony of Germanic languages. Who next will be added to the soup

[avictimofthejazz]

📂

Lieutenant Templeton ‘Face Man’ Peck

Face speaks multiple languages, with Spanish, French, and Vietnamese being the three he is most fluent in. However, he also speaks a decent amount of German, has picked up a dash of Korean from Hannibal and the Lee family, some Mandarin from Sam, a smidge of Arabic and several African languages from random jobs, a few regional dialects useless outside of Vietnam, and a surprising amount of Irish from Fathers Magill and O’Malley, One of the most niche language he speaks and reads, however, is Latin. When he was eleven, the priests were trying to think up ways to keep him out of trouble over summer break, and made him learn Latin. In the long run, it earned him detention in high school when he got caught translating profane graffiti from Ancient Rome to the great amusement of the other guys on the football team.

Sargent BA Baracus

BA’s dad Albert died while BA was between tours in Vietnam. He had already signed up for his second tour, and had gone home to Chicago for his month’s leave. While staying with his parents, Albert suffered a fatal heart attack, leaving BA and his mother alone in the world. If BA had not already signed on for a second tour, he would have stayed in Chicago to take care of his mother. He knew his team would understand why he could not return. The US government was not nearly so understanding, though, so he promised his mother he would return home for good as soon as he was free. At the time it was only supposed to be about thirteen months. It ended up taking BA a lot longer.

Doctor (Captain) Maggie ‘Mo’ Sullivan

Maggie almost hooked up with Decker when they were both young, and serving in Korea. At the time, Decker and Hannibal were still friends, and had taken leave in Seoul together. Maggie and a couple of her fellow nurses were also on leave. While Hannibal spent most of his time focused on Maggie’s friend Julia, Maggie herself spent a lot of time with Decker over the weekend. Despite a few opportunities, they never went too far since Maggie had a doctor she was seeing seriously back at her camp, and she did not want a fling to jinx a chance at matrimony. She still has a photo of that weekend tucked away in one of her memorabilia boxes.    

Doctor Kelly Stevens

The house Kelly is using as her home and office is her old family home. While her four sisters moved out and into large urban areas, Kelly inherited her father’s old veterinary practice that he ran out of their home for years. She also inherited most of her father’s patients, who are happy to see that the new Doctor Stevens has her father’s touch with all kinds of animals, and she never balks at anything from family pets to farm animals to abandoned litters of wild creatures that people leave on her front porch. While her sisters sometimes encourage her to move her practice into an urban area, Kelly cannot imagine leaving behind the challenges and joys that come with a rural practice.

Michael Knight

Long before he was Michael Knight, Michael Long also smoothed his life’s path with his smile and witty quips. Even back in grade school, he was famous for the excuses he pulled out to explain missing and uncompleted homework. Something as basic as ‘the dog ate my homework’ was not good enough for him—and some teachers let him slide on it just because they got so much amusement from his tales of aliens invading the kitchen and stealing his math book to plot the calculations they would need to enter the atmosphere safely. While most teachers were not as forgiving, a few of them saw the humor in his antics.

Murphy Michales

Murphy actually has an Irish/UK mashed-up accent. It is the product of both his parents being immigrants—his mother comes from outside of Galway and his dad hails from Manchester. His older brothers taught him how to master an American accent before he entered school so he would not be teased, but his natural accent still emerges occasionally. Mostly it happens around family—especially his parents and his English grandmother. It also happens around other people from the United Kingdom/Ireland if he is comfortable talking with them. The only reason it never happened around Steele is because he was never happy to be around the other man, so never relaxed enough to settle into his natural accent.

Elaine Grazzo

Elaine grew up in a family who valued the appearance of wealth above everything else. Her parents were very proud of their upper middle-class house, and the fact they had a membership at the country club was a bragging point for years. Elaine is not nearly as image and class focused as her parents, but mental scars from her upbringing linger on. Namely, she was always told she would never amount to anything if she did not snag a rich guy, so trying to make a life on her own terms is a rather overwhelming endeavor for her sometimes.

Officer James “Jim” Street

Street is the undisputed ‘mom friend’ of the younger guys on the SWAT team. Though he’s the middle in terms of age, being an only child left him quite mature, so he often acts a bit older than TJ and Dom. He is usually the one who reminds his teammates (mainly Dom) that they must drink water too, and not just coffee. He enforces light-duty rules as needed, always has snacks in a desk drawer that he hands out as needed, and tries to remind his friends to do paperwork before bolting out of the office for the night.

Officer James ‘Jim” Reed

Though they stay locked up in his locker while on duty, Reed is the kind of guy who keeps a wallet-full of photos of Jeanie and Jimmy Jr. He loves his wife and son—they are the light of his life, and he makes sure every guy in his unit knows about them. When cynical officers comment that it’ll only be a matter of time before he has an affair too, Reed takes particular insult. He is not the kind of man to treat his wife as a transitory relationship, and can’t stand officers who assume affairs and infidelities are a natural part of their career path.   

[91-09815479922]

Marriage Agency in Brandenburg/Brandenburg Matrimony/Find Compatible Br...

[germanmatrimonial]

(via Worldwide Match Maker)

[anghraine]

Unrelatedly, I was thinking about English as I was walking across campus to teach ... well, English, and for various reasons, I don’t usually go on rhapsodies about it as a language or anything. But I am actually very fond of it aesthetically, even if it’s not my #1 favorite on that front (that would probably be Catalan).

Anyway, I do enjoy the sharp contrasts and wild inconsistencies in English pronunciation (yes, I know this isn’t unique to English), and the ways that (in particular) Germanic, French, and more directly Latinate registers affect meaning and connotation. People talk a lot about the Germanic-origin vs French-origin effect on register (even though many French-origin English words are perfectly common and in everyday use), but I actually find the register shifts between English words largely taken/imposed from French vs words directly influenced by Latin as well as French really interesting.

For instance, the “normal” word for marriage in English is in fact marriage (from Old Fr. mariage), while matrimony is influenced by both Old French matremoine and the direct Latin mātrimōnium. The closest synonym from Old English is probably wedlock, which sounds very formal and dated (there were other Old English words for it as well, but they are unrecognizable and unpronounceable to most modern English speakers). Or for a closer shade in meaning, there’s reasonable (-> Old Fr. raisonable) vs rational (influenced by both Old Fr. racionel and L. rationalis), where both are pretty common, but reasonable seems that bit more “everyday.” Or more loosely, there’s something like nonsense (non- coming from Anglo-French noun and sense from Old Fr. sens) vs the more formal absurdity (-> L. absurditatem/absurditas).

IDK, I just really enjoy it.

[johnjankovic1]

Apollo

Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1601

The matrimony between statecraft and the conquest of the cosmos birthed the space industry in a concerted effort to seize the final frontier. A triumvirate of government, academia and corporations found common cause in the geopolitics of the Cold War to mobilize minds and machines against the Soviets whose Sputnik orbited the earth by 1957. This shot across the bow of a lone satellite in the outlands of the stars rattled American exceptionalism insofar as policymakers perceived it to be an existential threat over their monopoly of the sciences. The slender orb of 83.6kg evoked paranoia due to how swift the Soviet Union transitioned into a knowledge-based economy. Any robust space industry cultivates a panoply of ancillary sectors from vast spillovers to fabricate composite metals, semiconductors, liquid fuels and other things of this ilk. Prima facie the coup was prodigious by itself but the infrastructure behind it left Washington reeling. Manifestly the communists confirmed themselves to be lightyears ahead of their counterparts in the research of science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM). The postwar propaganda value of boasting the know-how of rocketry to escape earth’s gravity rallied brains and brawn around the flag in a species of a Manhattan Project redux.

In the infancy of the space derby the torrent of Soviet victories intensified rivalries in the bipolar world. The canine Laika became the first mammal to voyage the ether in 1957. Luna 2 probed the Moon’s surface on the maiden trip of its kind in 1959. Luna 3 purveyed to the world its first glimpse of the far side of the Moon in 1959. Venera 1 established a record as the first interplanetary vehicle to effect a flyby of Venus in 1961. Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin followed suit by entering the firmament as the first human in 1961. Cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova defied gender norms as the first woman to orbit earth in 1963. Cosmonaut Alexei Leonov partook in the first spacewalk in 1965. Mars 3 captured immortality as the first manmade craft to land on the Martian planet in 1971. The string of triumphs and their rapid succession aroused awe and dread on terra firma amongst the cognoscenti in the Beltway. Such a truncated turnaround from the ravages of WWII called into question whether in fact the communist model of governance was indeed leaps and bounds ahead of free market capitalism. The gulf of a knowledge gap that differentiated the Soviet space program from the amorphous one in America left skeptics of the former agog. For a time the legion of scientists under the auspices of the politburo’s central planning seemed omniscient.

Such centralization of the bureaucracy unmolested by partisanship or a farrago of stakeholders created small skunkworks under the nomenclature of OKBs wherein discoveries were made at the cadence of a metronome. Not at all enigmatic in retrospect this quantum leap also stemmed from its piracy that was more rapacious than America’s. Whereas Washington acquired intellectual assets via Operation Paperclip the Soviet’s variant of Osoaviakhim in 1946 conscripted a whole brigade of German minds to catapult space exploration. Wernher von Braun and a cohort of his scientists from Peenemünde were spirited away to Washington whilst Moscow’s dragnet repatriated exponentially more in human capital and technology (Neufeld 2004). The poaching of knowledge midwifed the series of records monopolized by the superpower in the incipient years of the space race. The spoils of war from German heuristics wedded to indigenous capabilities proved to be a boon for the Soviets who were keen to parade the merits of communism. Indeed the Kremlin’s industrial complex revolutionized space travel for the sake of ideological warfare against its nemesis. The disparities were quite vast. America’s Project Mercury sought to put an astronaut in orbit as the Soviet’s Luna missions were already plumbing the Moon in 1959.

In the prelude to the moonshot of Apollo the saga of America’s space industry begins with the importation of V-2 rockets from the Nazi regime which whetted the enthusiasm for escaping earth’s gravity. Under Project Hermes the autopsy on these missiles saw the technology reverse engineered in an effort to breach the Karman Line of the upper atmosphere. A whole 300 boxcars of miscellaneous V-2 hardware smuggled from Germany made their way to the White Sands Proving Ground in New Mexico where 67 units were reassembled between 1946 and 1951 (Buchanan et al. 1984). Telemetry data from subsequent tests telescoped the learning curve to spur the development for Apollo’s workhorse known as the Saturn V rocket whose pedigree veritably traces back to the V-2s. At this early juncture it was the firm General Electric with which Washington rendezvoused so as to scrutinize these artifacts for their ballistics and gyrostabilized guidance systems. A constellation of scientists were contracted to harvest the secrets hidden within the entrails of the V-2s in a bid to marshal propulsion and re-entry technologies into maturity. Borne from this fact-finding mission did GE design avionics that later computed the terabytes of data for the Apollo moonshot. The firm would be the first embraced in the bosom of the space program.

Post the industrial policy of this public-private partnership the space industry sired the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) as its guardian in 1958. The institution’s formation heralded a departure from space’s militarization towards its exploration to demystify the mysteries of the cosmos. The separate track charted a course to the stars for civilian ends at variance with the Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) that put a premium on technology for martial use. Founded fourth months prior to NASA this other agency’s mandate was written in rebuttal to the USSR’s launch of Sputnik. Within this bifurcation the raison-d’être for each hinged on war in the case of DARPA and peace in the case of NASA. The civilian program’s prime directive as distilled in section 102 of the National Aeronautics and Space Act of 1958 empowered the institution to one end alone of making America a leader in the Olympics of science. NASA wasted no time in engineering a stepwise roadmap between the triad of Projects Mercury, Gemini and Apollo in this chronological order. Each unique phase rested along a spectrum in the mastery of technology beginning with a manned craft in space to orbital docking and finally a lunar expedition. NASA summarily evolved into a hive of innovation.

After GE’s forensics upon reconstituting the hodgepodge of V-2 rocket paraphernalia amidst Project Hermes the next private firms entrusted with reifying America’s curiosity with outer space were Chrysler and McDonnell Aircraft. Industrial policy shovelled $277m or $2.9t in real value for its pecuniary commitment towards the first phase christened Project Mercury (DiLisi et al. 2019). The industrial heritage of Chrysler hitherto as a marque of Plymouths and Dodges appears paradoxical for such high-tolerance engineering but the firm proved its poise in WWII when it mass-produced 25,000 M4 Sherman Tanks (Davis 2007). To segue into this highbrow application the company collaborated with the prodigy von Braun who was the doyen of rocket science. Chrysler would be the proverbial blacksmith for the single-stage Redstone booster whose propulsion from 78,000 pounds of thrust bore astronaut Alan Shepard into suborbital space in 1961 (Bentley 2009). It fell to McDonnell Aircraft to manufacture the spacecraft itself meant to house the life support systems for a solitary occupant in the antipodes of space. Everything from the heat-shield for re-entry to the escape system that jettisoned the capsule with a parachute should the mission be aborted in the event of a catastrophic failure was designed by the firm.

[archduchessofnowhere]

“He won't get me”: some of the rejected suitors of Archduchess Elisabeth Marie

I am in a good mood so I decided to finish up this post that I had on my drafts since months ago, when I read the memoirs of Archduchess Erzsi's English governess. While I thought the memoirs itself were kinda dull I did find very interesting tidbits of information. Today I'll talk about two of her (alleged) suitors.

Erzsi, being the granddaughter of the Emperor and the only child of the late Crown Prince was considered a candidate for many princes, like her cousin Albert, future king of the Belgians. Other one was Prince Eitel Friedrich of Prussia, the second son of Emperor Wilhelm II.

After the review there was a grand gala dinner at the Hofburg, and I went with the Archduchess to watch the Royalties from the musicians' gallery over the banqueting hall. The table was gorgeous with gold plate, and I find I wrote my mother, in an account of the banquet : “Our dear Emperor has a splendid appetite. The German Emperor, who sees everything, noticed our Archduchess up in the gallery and asked who she was. Upon being told, he asked our Emperor that she might come down after dinner and be presented. She is certainly growing remarkably pretty.”

Evidently Emperor Wilhelm II. found her so, as later he sent his second son to visit the Austrian Court with the intention of making a matrimonial alliance between him and the Archduchess. But he counted without the Archduchess, for when she saw the youth, she exclaimed : “Marry that boy! Never!” and forthwith retired to bed, from whence she refused to emerge until His Imperial Highness had shaken the dust of the Austrian Court from his Royal shoes, and taken his departure.

The girl seemed to had a flavor for drama. The governess doesn't talk about this potential marriage again, but I was a still curious so I made a quick search to see if I could dig something more about the subject and I stumbled with this news article from 4 June 1890 published in The Toronto Daily Mail:

THE AUSTRIAN CROWN.

London Truth says:—The information given in a St. Petersburg paper about the possibility of the German Emperor's second son, Prince Eitel, being raised to the imperial throne of Austria is not wholly unfounded. But the condition would be marriage with the Archduchess Eizabeth. She is his senior, but the difference is not great enough to be disparity when both reach years of discretion (...) Both the Emperor and Empress of Austria hate to the degree of loathing the Archduchess Stephanie, who is as good (or bad) as excluded from their presence. “No more unnappy couple exist,” says to me a circus friend of the Empress, from whom she hides no grief. But their misery would be far deeper if he Archduchess Stephanie were to shine forth again as coming Empress through a marriage with the feeble-brained heir-presumptive to the throne. Such a marriage would probably secure the succession to a child of Stephanie. Were Elizabeth declared heiress, as Maria Theresa was, with the support of William II., with the understanding that she was to marry his son, and were, by this arrangement, the sons of the Archduke Charles Louis to be cut out, Francis Joseph and the Empress Elizabeth would die happy.

First of all, the age gap between Eitel and Erzsi was... two months. In his favor. So already we can tell this article doesn't have the best sources. However it also tells us that at least the rumor of this union existed even years before the governess started working at court.

While there was speculation about the succesion after Rudolf's death, and his daughter's name came forward, there never seemed to have been a serious effort of naming her heiress (there was however an attempt to remarry Stephanie to archduke Franz Ferdinand... actual crackshipping); Franz Josef, always the traditionalist, preferred to name as heir the nephew he barely standed that to bend the succesion laws in favor of the girl that was his favorite grandchild. So this engagement seems to be more wishful thinking for people that hoped for the unification of Germany and Austria rather than a serious plan; perhaps Wilhelm did thought his son had a chance with the archduchess, but I doubt that Franz Josef would've liked to give his empire to the Germans in a silver plate. In any case, Erzsi's reaction to the prince ended this project before it even begun.

The other potential bridegroom only gets marginally mentioned in a letter from the governess to a friend of hers. The Governess doesn't date this letter but given the context it is from early May of 1898:

The Archduchess wishes me to assure you she is not fianceed with the King of Spain. Her expression is: “He won't get me;” and I don't think he will.

He didn't got her.

Again a very quick search made me came across with several news articles published in January/February 1898 that announced the engagement of the fifteen-years-old Erzsi with the twelve-years-old King Alfonso XIII of Spain. And again, this really seem to be nothing but rumors. I know nothing about Alfonso but I doubt there was any serious attempt to get him a bride while he was still a literal child; by the time he had reached majority, Erzsi was already married.

And that is all I have for today on this subject; If anyone has any information (specially if it's from better sources that memoirs published almost two decades after the events happened and gossipy news articles) about this potential unions please tell me!

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 6 December 1833

7 55

11 ½

much rain last night two good but water motions one after five and the other on getting up breakfast at 9 read over and directed my letters - had the man from Mr. Delaval and paid for my passage in Danish species and dollars (the 1st worth 60 the 2nd worth 30 Hamburg schillings each, and 16 of these schillings = 1 Mark or 16 pence English) at 17 marks currency per £1 - then had Mr. Stäcker - very civil - would do anything for me at any time - I had only to write to him ‘Mr. John Stäcker Secretary the English post-office Hamburg’  under cover to ‘Thomas Pittwell Esquire Foreign office London’ - could only thank him as he was not a man I could pay - then came Mr. Canning for about ½ hour - very civil - thinking of Mrs. Milne, asked what chance the son of military officer had of being employed in a counting house here - none if his object was [?] - but there were a great many English here studying the language and in commercial houses learning the business, but these had all commercial connections to go back to at home - the only people who had influence here were the houses connected with Hamburg e.g. Rothschild; Mellish that is John Gore and co. Bishopsgate street; Barings brothers; Alexander and co. India bankers; Hammerlseys and co. - paid my hotel bill - then at 12 ½ Mrs. Canning called and sat about an hour and took me out in her carriage - stopped at the consulate office and gave Mr. C- my letters for the post – to ‘Madame la comtesse de Blucher, Blanco-gate, à Copenhagen’ – to ‘the Lady Harriet de Hagemann, Amaliagade, Copenhagen’ – and to ‘Madame la comtesse de Bourke Rue du faubourg St. Honoré no. 52 [53] à Paris’  then drove to the bank (Hunt Carr and co.) - went into a private house as I had done before and one of the Hamburg society young Mr. Goddefroi (know no to spell his name) took my 55 species and 100 dollars, and would let me have the value (according to the exchange)in the evening - then went to the great bookseller’s close to my hotel and here again Mrs. Canning was shaking hands with the old gentleman there who was also one of the leading men - got Schades’ English German grammar and 3 Gotha almanacs and we then took a little drive on the Ramparts Mrs. C- a rather pretty? good sort of person - seemed satisfied with me; at least, begged I would let her know when I came again and really pressed me to be at her house - Mr. C- has £1500 a year and some fees - a Mr. Jackson (who was

SH:7/ML/E/16/0145

secretary to Madame de Stäel when in England) writes against him in the English newspapers - told me a long history of his fancying himself opposed in a matrimonial scheme by Mrs. Canning, and the Lady having married a Mr. Prendergast a sir Henry Heathcote knight and his Lady here for economy - he a rear admiral - brought no letter to Mr. C- she will not call on the people here, so cannot get into the best society here, thro’ wishing it - she a violent tempered woman - also a Mr. [Pigoug] HP from some regiment (gunpowder man) and his wife here, and they not in the society here not liking to call on the people? or Mrs. Canning not liking to introduce either them or the Heathcotes, neither of them having brought any letter to Mr. C- Mrs. Canning a vainish liking to talk of herself not every genteel person    who was she?    but extraordinarily civil to me Mrs. C- set me down at home at 3 ¼ - met Lord H- just coming away - he had been to ask me to walk - walked with me on the Ramparts - looked down up the river and shipping - home at 4 ¼ after an agreeable walk - he going to dine at Mr. Smith’s - changed my dress - had my little banker at 5 - he said Crusens comptorist was scarce and dear, and very good for a person who wanted to learn arithmetical but thought Crugero’s tabelles pr. 10 marks 1 long thin volume would be better for me or for any traveller comparing the different weights and measures and monies of all the principal states and towns of Europe - I did not quite get so much as £1 for 17 marks - 21 ½ sovereign for 5 species + 90 dollars or half-species - expected £22 for this sum - dinner at 5 ½ - then packing travelling bag etc looking over my maps of Germany and almost tired of waiting for Mr. Canning’s carriage when Lord H- came with it at 8 ½ - off in 5 minutes at the river in ¼ hour - on board the Columbine (a longish way to row in a small boat) at 9 - Lord H- really very attentive - he wrote a letter below and then took his leave at 10 ¼ promising to write me some hints for Norway and leave them with old Lady Stuart - in fact I had not let him pay a farthing for his journey    except the value of a species in small money taken out of his bag that he would not take back    I even paid for his eating etc unless perhaps one or two glasses of rum when nobody else had anything - walked on the back till 11 ½ pm and then crept into my cottage - did not undress nor shall I during the voyage only 4 births in the cabin at the stern and nobody but Eugenie and myself - the wife of a captain of a large Russian vessel with a nurse and 2 children and one gentleman and perhaps one 2 sturage passion besides Thomas and that all - fair all today for a wonder - high wind during the day and now and right against our getting out of the river – F48° at 11 ½ p.m.