#January 7 1922

[zumainthyfuture]

Marie Van Brittan Brown, born on January 7, 1922, was an African-American nurse and inventor from Queens, New York City. In 1966, at the age of 44, she came up with the brilliant idea to create a unique home surveillance device with a closed circuit television security system.

She and her husband, Albert L. Brown, applied for the patent and invented a system with a motorized camera that could show images on a monitor. That patent (#3,482,037) was eventually granted, and her invention went on to become a technological precursor to how modern day home security systems would be designed.

Brown's invention had very unique features for the time; The motorized camera at the door could slide up and down to look out of four peepholes. Anything the camera captured would be displayed on a monitor. Her system also included a radio-controlled lock that would allow the front door to remotely unlocked, and an audio-video alarm system that could be used to see and communicate with whoever was at the door.

For her genius invention, which obviously contributed to the future of home security systems, Brown was given a prestigious award by the National Scientists Committee (NSC). But for the most part, her invention has gone unnoticed and undocumented by the mainstream media and literature.

Sadly, Marie Van Brittan Brown died on February 2, 1999 at the age of 77-years old.

[rockpaperscissuhs]

Band of Brothers Birthdays

January

1 John S. Zielinski Jr. (b. 1925)

21 Richard D. “Dick” Winters (b. 1918)

26 Herbert M. Sobel (b. 1912)

30 Clifford Carwood "Lip" Lipton (b. 1920)

31 Warren H. “Skip” Muck (b. 1922) & Robert B. Brewer (b. 1924)

February

8 Clarence R. Hester (b. 1916)

18 Thomas A. Peacock (b. 1920)

23 Lester A. “Les” Hashey (b. 1925)

March

1 Charles E. “Chuck” Grant (b. 1922)

2 Colonel Robert L. “Bob” Strayer (b. 1910)

4 Wayne “Skinny” Sisk (b. 1922)

10 Frank J. Perconte (b. 1917)

13 Darrell C. “Shifty” Powers (b. 1923)

14 Joseph J. “Joe” Toye (b. 1919)

24 John D. “Cowboy” Halls (b. 1922)

26 George Lavenson (b. 1917) & George H. Smith Jr. (1922)

27 Gerald J. Loraine (b. 1913)

April

3 Colonel Robert F. “Bob” Sink (b. 1905) & Patrick S. “Patty” O’Keefe (b. 1926)

5 John T. “Johnny” Julian (b. 1924)

10 Renée B. E. Lemaire (b. 1914)

11 James W. Miller (b. 1924)

15 Walter S. “Smokey” Gordon Jr. (b. 1920)

20 Ronald C. “Sparky” Speirs (b. 1920)

23 Alton M. More (b. 1920)

27 Earl E. “One Lung” McClung (b. 1923) & Henry S. “Hank” Jones Jr. (b. 1924)

28 William J. “Wild Bill” Guarnere (b. 1923)

May

12 John W. “Johnny” Martin (b. 1922)

16 Edward J. “Babe” Heffron (b. 1923)

17 Joseph D. “Joe” Liebgott (b. 1915)

19 Norman S. Dike Jr. (b. 1918) & Cleveland O. Petty (b. 1924)

25 Albert L. "Al" Mampre (b. 1922)

June

2 David K. "Web" Webster (b. 1922)

6 Augusta M. Chiwy ("Anna") (b. 1921)

13 Edward D. Shames (b. 1922)

17 George Luz (b. 1921)

18 Roy W. Cobb (b. 1914)

23 Frederick T. “Moose” Heyliger (b. 1916)

25 Albert Blithe (b. 1923)

28 Donald B. "Hoob" Hoobler (b. 1922)

July

2 Gen. Anthony C. "Nuts" McAuliffe (b. 1898)

7 Francis J. “Frank” Mellet (b. 1920)

8 Thomas Meehan III (b. 1921)

9 John A. Janovec (b. 1925)

10 Robert E. “Popeye” Wynn (b. 1921)

16 William S. Evans (b. 1910)

20 James H. “Moe” Alley Jr. (b. 1922)

23 Burton P. “Pat” Christenson (b. 1922)

29 Eugene E. Jackson (b. 1922)

31 Donald G. "Don" Malarkey (b. 1921)

August

3 Edward J. “Ed” Tipper (b. 1921)

10 Allen E. Vest (b. 1924)

15 Kenneth J. Webb (b. 1920)

18 Jack E. Foley (b. 1922)

26 Floyd M. “Tab” Talbert (b. 1923) & General Maxwell D. Taylor (b. 1901)

29 Joseph A. Lesniewski (b. 1920)

31 Alex M. Penkala Jr. (b. 1924)

September

3 William H. Dukeman Jr. (b. 1921)

11 Harold D. Webb (b. 1925)

12 Major Oliver M. Horton (b. 1912)

27 Harry F. Welsh (b. 1918)

30 Lewis “Nix” Nixon III (b. 1918)

October

5 Joseph “Joe” Ramirez (b. 1921) & Ralph F. “Doc” Spina (b. 1919) & Terrence C. "Salty" Harris (b. 1920)

6 Leo D. Boyle (b. 1913)

10 William F. “Bill” Kiehn (b. 1921)

15 Antonio C. “Tony” Garcia (b. 1924)

17 Eugene G. "Doc" Roe (b. 1922)

21 Lt. Cl. David T. Dobie (b. 1912)

28 Herbert J. Suerth Jr. (b. 1924)

31 Robert "Bob" van Klinken (b. 1919)

November

11 Myron N. “Mike” Ranney (b. 1922)

20 Denver “Bull” Randleman (b. 1920)

December

12 John “Jack” McGrath (b. 1919)

31 Lynn D. “Buck” Compton (b. 1921)

Unknown Date

Joseph P. Domingus

Richard J. Hughes (b. 1925)

Maj. Louis Kent

Father John Mahoney

George C. Rice

SOURCES

Military History Fandom Wiki

Band of Brothers Fandom Wiki

Traces of War

Find a Grave

[oatflatwhite]

BOBSTROLOGY

A completely serious presentation by @pegasusdrawnchariots and oatflatwhite

written version under the cut!

♈️Patrick O’Keefe [April 3 1926] ♈️Robert Sink [April 3 1905] ♈️John Julian [5 April 1924] ♈️Renée Lemaire [10 April 1914] ♈️James Miller [11 April 1924] ♈️Walter “Smokey” Gordon [April 15 1920] ♉️~Ronald Speirs [April 20 1920] ♉️Alton More [April 22 1920] ♉️Henry Jones [27 April 1924] ♉️Edward “Babe” Heffron [May 16 1923] ♉️John Martin [May 12 1922] ♉️Joseph Liebgott [May 17 1915] ♉️Norman Dike [May 19 1918] ♉️William Guarnere [April 28 1923] ♊️David Webster [June 2 1922] ♊️George Luz [June 17 1921] ♊️Roy Cobb [June 18 1914] ♋️Frederick “Moose” Heyliger [June 23 1916] ♋️Albert Blithe [June 25 1923] ♋️Donald Hoobler [28 June 1922] ♋️Thomas Meehan [8 July 1921] ♋️John Janovec [9 July 1925] ♋️Robert “Popeye” Wynn [July 10 1921] ♋️James "Moe" Alley [July 20 1922] ♌️~Burton “Pat” Christenson [July 23 1922] ♌️Eugene Jackson [29 July 1922] ♌️Donald Malarkey [July 31 1921] ♌️Edward Tipper [3 August 1921] ♍️Floyd Talbert [August 26 1923] ♍️Alex Penkala [August 30 1922] ♍️William Dukeman [3 September 1921] ♎️Eugene Roe [October 17 1922] ♎️Harry Welsh [September 27 1918] ♎️Lewis Nixon [September 30 1918] ♎️Ralph Spina [October 5 1919] ♎️Thomas Peacock [October 9 1923] ♏️Denver “Bull” Randleman [November 20 1920] ♑️Lynn “Buck” Compton [December 31 1921] ♑️Antonio Garcia [January 17 1925] ♒️Richard "Dick" Winters [January 21 1918] ♒️Herbert Sobel [January 26 1912] ♒️Carwood Lipton [January 30 1920] ♒️Warren “Skip” Muck [January 31 1922] ♓️Lester Hashey [23 February 1925] ♓️Charles “Chuck” Grant [1 March 1922] ♓️Robert Strayer [March 2 1912] ♓️Wayne “Skinny” Sisk [March 4 1922] ♓️Frank Perconte [March 10 1917] ♓️Darrell “Shifty” Powers [March 13 1923] ♓️Joseph Toye [March 14 1919]

6 Aries 🥉 8 Taurus 🥇 3 Gemini 7 Cancer 🥈 4 Leo 3 Virgo 5 Libra 1 Scorpio 0 Sagittarius 🥄 2 Capricorn 4 Aquarius 7 Pisces 🥈

10 🔥 13 🪨 12 💨 15 💧

20 cardinal 17 fixed 13 mutable

22 masculine 28 feminine

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Citroën B2 Scarabée d'Or (replica), 1922. The Golden Scarab half-track (Autochenille) made the first ever crossing of the Sahara by an automobile between December 19, 1922 and January 7, 1923 (101 years ago today). It was driven by Georges Marie Haadt and Louis Audouin Dubreuil (pictured) who travelled 3,200km on the outward journey. No return journey had been planned but they had such a great time on the way out they turned around and went back the same way.

source

[oliversrarebooks]

roger, whats it like being fitz's thrall? (aka how does it feel to be living my dream... im not jealous... totally not living vicariously through you...)

Masterlist

January 1922

TW: mind control, conditioning, blood drinking mentions of past abuse, fear of death

"You have to get up, sir." 

Roger gently shook the lump of tangled blankets and sheets that most likely contained a vampire at its core. The only real indication that his master was within was the soft groan from inside, a mumble that sounded a lot like "leave me alone."

"I can't leave you alone, sir. You have a show at 7, remember? If you don't rise and shine soon, you won't have enough time to do your hair and makeup and make it to the theater."

"Uggggggh. Why'd I schedule a show so goddamned early? What is wrong with me?" The pile of blankets huddled in on itself more tightly.

"...I suspect there may be several things, sir," said Roger, unable to resist the obvious opening and knowing that a bit of banter might put his master in a better mood. "Regardless, you did schedule the show, and you do need to leave the house for it."

"Horrible. Torturous. Excruciating." The bedclothes rustled, and Fitz poked his head out just enough to take a look. "It's so early that the sun is leaking around the curtains! The sun could kill me, Roger, you can't expect me to get up in those conditions. I could die."

"I believe that's what the curtains are for, sir. To prevent you from dying when you're unjustly forced to wake up during the day." Roger sat down on the side of the bed. He'd done this often enough to know when he was in for the long haul, and he was quite capable of patience -- a good quality to have when serving Fitz. "You were looking forward to this show, weren't you? It's a large venue, and you have your new rotating box trick."

"Mmm."

"I'm sure it will go over splendidly, sir, and you'll be afforded all the praise and applause you deserve," he said. Cheap flattery rarely failed to soften his master's mood. "Aren't you looking forward to seeing the looks of delight on your audience's faces when you perform your new trick? And besides that, aren't you looking forward to being paid?"

Fitz seemed to be lowering both his blankets and his guard. "I suppose so..."

"Excellent. Then forgive me for this, sir." Roger grabbed the covers and pulled them away, as his master produced a sound not unlike a dying cat.

With lightning fast reflexes, the blankets were wrenched from Roger's grasp, and Fitz was clutching them to himself and huddling in the middle of the bed. "How could you? How could my own thrall do such a thing? Heartless, you're simply heartless." He curled up under the blankets and stubbornly closed his eyes as if to go back to sleep.

"Of the two of us, sir, it's technically you who is heartless." Roger sighed. It was always most difficult to wake Fitz in the dead of winter. The long nights enticed his master to stay out too late sampling the city's nightlife, and the cold made him especially reluctant to leave his chambers, which, thanks to the radiators, were as hot as a furnace.

He reached down to the blankets, intending to tug on them again. This time, despite Fitz pretending to sleep, he was faster than Roger, and grasped his wrist.

Roger felt a delicious, drowsy warmth coming from his master's touch, filling his mind with cotton candy haze. It was blissfully dreamy and intoxicating, and, most dangerously, it was sleep-inducing, enticing him to shut his weary eyes and rest.

"Go back to sleep, Roger," Fitz lulled. "Curl up here. Keep me warm..."

Roger was swaying on the spot, eyelids drooping, rapidly losing himself to enchanted slumber -- but he'd been caught by this trap on plenty of occasions, and each time it ended with Fitz regretful that he'd overslept and missed his obligations. It was that memory that kept Roger just awake enough to wrench his arm away and mostly free himself from his master's dangerous temptation. Fitz was making sad little grabbing motions as Roger moved out of range of his hands.

"I'm afraid that if you wish to use your powers on me, you'll have to leave your bed to do so, sir," said Roger, standing several feet away. "The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you can get to the pleasant business of washing up." They both knew that it was a bluff. Roger had been under Fitz's thrall for many years now, and his master didn't need hypnotic touch to compel him, body and soul. But it was a bluff that usually worked.

"Fine, fine, you win." With one final dramatic groan, Fitz threw off the covers and sat up. "I'll take my shower, then. But I expect you to attend to me when I'm finished."

"Of course, sir." Roger watched as his master stumbled into the bathroom, and in a moment he could hear the sound of running water and upbeat humming. Fitz loved long, warm showers as much as he loved rolling around lazily in bed. He'd spend at least a half-hour relaxing in the steamy waters and performing his elaborate and ever-changing skin care routine, one which involved enough distinct products as to cover most of the vanity table.

This gave Roger plenty of time to make the perpetually disheveled bed, the foot-high pile of blankets, and the mountain of pillows in every shape and size. He made quick work of it, picked up the dirty clothes that had been tossed on the floor yesterday morning. 

Housekeeping was Roger's primary responsibility apart from providing blood and humoring Fitz's varied whims. With only the two of them in a reasonably sized flat, it wasn't especially difficult or time-consuming compared to when he'd lived on his own, before he'd been snatched off the street by a vampire. He'd even come to enjoy the simple chores. He wasn't sure how much of that was due to his own feelings or to Fitz's coercion -- his master grasping his shoulders and softening Roger's mind, whispering to him how much he loved to serve.

Really, it hardly mattered any more.

When he'd finished tidying up, Roger got down to the business of setting out his master's clothes. Serving Fitz was really about anticipating his moods more than anything else. With a large venue, he'd want something particularly flashy -- something on the warmer side for a chill day -- deep blue, perhaps?

The door to the bathroom cracked open, Roger's signal to enter.

The steam was blinding, mixed with the almost overwhelming scent of flowers, as Roger entered. Fitz was fussing with his hair, as usual, despite not being able to see it in the mirror. "You simply must help me out with this," he said.

"Of course, sir," said Roger, taking the comb from him. This was a ritual they performed nearly every night Fitz went out. Even as the years went by and Fitz grew from a young vampire to a seasoned one, he still seemed so irritated at not being able to see himself in the mirror, sometimes requiring excessive reassurance from Roger that he was still handsome.

Tonight, though, his master seemed deep in his own head as Roger ran the comb through his hair, taking some pomade in hand to smooth it back. He pulled the longer hair into a neat tail, the sort of style usually reserved for unsavory sorts, but then, Fitz didn't mind presenting himself as a bit unsavory. Roger's tense shoulders relaxed as faint hypnotic power flowed from his master's proximity, fogging his mind at the same time it increased his desire to help fix Fitz's brooding.

"Is everything all right, sir?"

Fitz seemed startled back into the waking world by the question. "Of course," he said with his fake smile plastered firmly to his face. "Just running through the show in my head. If I'm going to be dragged out of my bed and into the cold this early, it had better be worth it."

"I'm sure it will be, sir. You're looking quite handsome this evening."

"Obviously," he said, lacking the usual cheer that punctuated their banter.

With Fitz's hair squared away, the two then left the bathroom for Roger to assist dressing him. "While the rest of this outfit is acceptable, this bowtie is just not..." Fitz seemed to be fishing around, thinking of what could be wrong with the bowtie, clearly eager to find some minor fault to distract himself from his own worries. "It's blue, isn't it? You can't have blue on a night that's already cold and gloomy, that won't do. It must be red. The color of excitement and passion!"

"I don't know what I was thinking, sir," Roger deadpanned, picking up the blue bowtie that Fitz had tossed aside and fetching one of his half-a-dozen red ones.

Fitz allowed Roger to fit him with the new selection. "That's why you should leave the thinking to me."

"I'm not so sure about that, sir."

That got a genuine smile from his master. "Come now, when has that ever not worked out?" he said. "With this outfit and your expert attention to my hair, I'm sure tonight's show will be an absolute triumph."

"There's not a single doubt in my mind, sir."

As Roger adjusted his master's cummerbund, Fitz leaned in a bit more, in an unsubtle fashion. The undercurrent of tension Roger had felt all night bloomed into something more recognizable: hunger. His master desired his blood, and, as always, Roger felt himself falling into a pleasurable daze, one where all thoughts fled from his mind apart from offering himself to his master.

"I think I'll need to feed from you when I return. You don't mind, do you?" Fitz whispered in his ear.

"No, master," said Roger, shivering involuntarily. "It's my pleasure to serve you."

"And it's my pleasure to feed," he said, grinning with his fangs bared. "Yes, I think that'll be just the thing to lift my spirits. Something to look forward to after the show."

"Yes, sir. I'll also look forward it." He meant that -- he had long since given up being troubled by his desire for vampiric feedings. He'd felt that desire even for his previous master's painful, harsh feedings, and it was far easier to accept Fitz's gentle trance of bliss.

A few minutes later and Roger had wrangled a semi-unwilling vampire into two layers of winter coat and sent him on his way. Sometimes Roger went along with Fitz to the theater, to help with makeup or hair or just for support purposes, but just as often he was left behind to his own devices. 

He didn't mind either way. It was nice to have a few hours to himself. He often spent the bulk of the time painting, something he'd never gotten to do much of even before he was taken by vampires. He wanted to eat breakfast first, though, especially given that his master might be feeding later.

Roger did hope he was. Sometimes he instead chose to feed on his volunteer from the audience, and that was always a bit of a disappointment, denying Roger the opportunity to fulfill his primary purpose in life. But Fitz seemed interested in feeding at home, and if he was going to do that, it would behoove Roger to be well-fed.

Soon enough, a generous portion of ham and eggs was sizzling on the stove. Fitz had made a promise early on that he'd always keep Roger fed, and although he forgot and broke promises all the time, he hadn't broken that one. Unlike his previous master, he never punished Roger with starvation -- a particularly spiteful punishment, since it also seemed to lower the quality of Roger's blood. His previous master did seem to enjoy punishment more than feedings.

When Roger's former master had been destroyed in a duel, Roger had assumed he was going from bad to worse. That feeling had grown stronger when he'd been dragged to a secondhand thrall appraiser and his worth was assessed at far lower than it had been when he'd first been bought. At the time, Roger had been little better than a beaten dog, cringing at every sound, barely daring to speak or think. He'd lost hope for anything better.

And, well, Fitz was far from the savior he'd often imagined during those days. He was still a vampiric master, a dramatic one whose moods changed like the wind. He could still effortlessly control Roger's mind, and he made Roger do all the chores in the house. Roger still wasn't free.

But rather than beatings and torture, Fitz's "punishments" generally amounted to snippy words and extra chores. There was always food, and he was allowed to paint and read and relax. His master might have a terrible habit of tossing out every piece of clothing in his closet when choosing what to wear and then telling Roger to clean it all up, but compared to what life had been like...

He hoped that Fitz came home safe. He'd strongly prefer to not change hands again, even if it meant dragging a protesting vampire out of bed each night for the rest of his life.

Roger had busied himself painting a bird from an illustration in a nature book when he heard the front door creak. "It's goddamn cold out there! Windy, too."

"Welcome home, sir," said Roger, helping his master out of his frigid coats. He was pleased to see Fitz in a better mood than when he'd left. "I take it your show went well?"

"Of course! Didn't you say there wasn't a single doubt in your mind?" he said with a grin as he kicked off his shoes, leaving Roger to line them up neatly in the shoe rack. "The crowd loved it! The spinning box trick is a real winner -- I just need to think of some ways to jazz it up further -- perhaps doing up the box in spangles to really dazzle them..." 

He shook himself out of his train of thought, seeming to remember Roger was there. "All of that applause did have me work up an appetite, though," he said, stepping close and brushing his hand against Roger's. Roger could feel the influence flowing through him, stoking his need for the feeding. "Why don't you go start the fire? That and your blood will provide me with some warmth tonight, I think."

So he was going to feed. Roger tried to keep his face neutral to preserve a scrap of dignity. "Very good, sir."

Roger allowed himself to hum a bit of a jaunty tune as he stacked wood in the fireplace and lit the kindling, using the bellows to raise the fire higher. He could hear his master making a commotion in the bathroom, likely getting out of his fine clothes and washing off the stage makeup. By the time Fitz arrived in the parlor, the fire was crackling merrily.

"Ahhhhh," said Fitz, sprawling out onto the old leather couch and beckoning Roger close. "This is the life, isn't it, Roger?"

"It certainly is, sir."

"Well, I suppose I'm not technically alive. The point still stands."

His master put his hand to Roger's cheek, and Roger sank into the mind-numbing bliss that came from his power, the familiar sense of captivation and contentment. As always, he could feel his master's desire to feed, and as he dropped deeper into a trance, his hands came up to unbutton his shirt and pull his collar away.

"You really are an excellent thrall," said Fitz, and Roger soaked in both the praise and the sense of security that came from pleasing his master. "Now just relax and let me have what I need."

Sharp fangs punctured the old scars that would never heal, and Roger's pliable mind slipped further as his master began to drink. There was nothing but bliss and contentment and hunger and need --

-- and, as always when his master was anxious, the sound of ticking clocks and the undercurrent of a lonely void.

Perhaps the good reception to his show hadn't brightened his mood as much as Roger had thought.

Fitz drank hungrily as if to fill that void with his thrall's blood, and Roger could feel his senses buckling, his vision tunneling and his eyelids growing heavy. His master was overdrinking again. "Sir," Roger managed to say as he fought to stay awake. "Sir -- sir, you're --"

"Oh!" His master mercifully stopped. "Damn it, I'm sorry, Roger. I don't mean to do that, you know I don't."

"I know you don't," Roger parroted in a dazed voice, slumping against his master's shoulder, allowing his eyes to close now that the danger had passed.

Someday, his master was probably going to kill him. He'd drink too much blood, and Roger would fail to stop him in time, collapsing into his master's arms and closing his eyes for the last time.

But tonight was not that night, and Roger was glad of it.

Masterlist

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

[audreyhepburninblackandwhite]

Audrey Hepburn holds a toy while having a cigarette break during the Hollywood Bowl on 7 January 1954.

The Hollywood Bowl is considered as Southern California's premier destination for live musical events since its opening in 1922.

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Franklin Delano Roosevelt to Dr. Egleston Regarding his Polio Attack

Collection FDR-FDRFBP: Franklin D. Roosevelt Family, Business and Personal PapersSeries: General Correspondence FilesFile Unit: E General

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Hyde Park, Dutchess County

New York

at Warm Springs, Georgia

October 11, 1924

My dear Dr. Egleston:

Please excuse my delay in replying to your letter which has been forwarded to me down here in your neighboring state where I am spending a few weeks swimming and getting sunlight for my legs.

I am very glad to tell you what I can in regard to my case and as I have talked it over with a great many doctors can, I think, give you a history of the case which would be equal to theirs.

First symptoms of the illness appeared in August, 1921, when I was thoroughly tired from overwork. I first had a chill in the evening which lasted practically all night. The following morning the muscles of the right knee appeared weak and by afternoon I was unable to support my weight on my right leg. That evening the left knee began to weaken also and by the following morning I was unable to stand up. This was accompanied by a continuing temperature of about 102 and I felt thoroughly achy all over. By the end of the third day practically all muscles from the chest down were involved. Above the chest the only symptom was a weakening of the two large thumb muscles making it impossible to write. There was no special pain along the spine and no rigidity of the neck.

For the following two weeks I had to be catheterized and there was slight, though not severe, difficult in controlling the bowels. The fever lasted for only 6 or 7 days, but all the muscles from the hips down were extremely sensitive to the touch and I had to have the knees supported by pillows. This condition of extreme discomfort lasted about three weeks. I was then moved to a New York hospital and finally moved home in November, being able by that time to sit up in a wheel chair, but the leg muscles remained extremely sensitive and this sensitiviness [sic] disappeared gradually over a period of 6 months, the last remaining point being the calf muscles.

As to treatment--the mistake was made for the first 10 days of giving my feet and lower legs rather heavy massage. This was stopped by Dr. Lovett of Boston who was, without doubt, the greatest specialist on infantile paralysis. In January, 1922, 5 months after the attack he found that the muscles behind the knees had contracted and that there was a tendency to foot-drop in the right foot. These were corrected by the use of plaster casts during 2 weeks. In February, 1922, braces were fitted on each leg from the hips to the shoes and I was able to stand up and learned gradually to walk with crutches. At the same time gentle exercises were begun, first every other day, then daily, exercising each muscle 10 times and seeking to avoid any undue strain by giving each muscle the correct movement with gravity. These exercises I did on a board placed on the bed.

The recovery of muscle paralysis began at this time, though for many months it seemed to make little progress. In the summer of [complete transcription at link]

[whiskeylover75]

Marilyn Monroe’s family.

Gladys Pearl Monroe was Marilyn’s mother. At age 15, Gladys had married John Newton Baker, an abusive man nine years her senior. They had two children together, Robert and Berniece.

Gladys’ second marriage occurred in 1924 when she married Martin Edward Mortensen. In 1926 she gave birth to Norma Jeane, (Marilyn)

Gladys told Marilyn that her father was one of her co-workers (and her superior) at RKO Studios—a man named Charles Stanley Gifford.

Marilyn sought out Charles Stanley Gifford and told him who she was, only for him to respond: “I’m married, and I have a family. I don’t have anything to say to you. Call my lawyer”

In 2022, a scientists performed a DNA test on a strand of Marilyn’s hair and a cheek swab from one of Charles’ great-grandchildren, which confirmed that Charles was Marilyn’s father.

Marilyn also had two other half-siblings from Gifford’s marriage with his first wife, a sister, Doris Elizabeth (1920–1933), and a brother, Charles Stanley Jr. (1922–2015).

Gladys, who had long suffered from mental illness, lived most of her life from 1934 until 1967 in psychiatric facilities.

She went on to live with her daughter Berniece, and moved into a retirement home in Gainesville, Florida, where she died on March 11, 1984

Marilyn’s father, Charles Stanley Gifford (1898-1965)

Marilyn’s mother, Gladys Pearl Monroe (May 27, 1902 – March 11, 1984)

Marilyn’s half brother, Robert Kermitt Baker (January 16, 1918. August 16, 1933) He died of kidney failure as a result of the tuberculosis

Marilyn’s half sister, Berniece Inez Gladys Miracle (July 30, 1919 – May 25, 2014)

Marilyn’s niece, Mona Rae Miracle, was born on July 18, 1939.

Photo 1- Berniece at 75 years old, 1994

Photo 2- Marilyn as a baby

Photo 3- Gladys and Norma Jeane

Photo 4- Gladys

Photo 5- Marilyn’s half brother Robert.

Photo 6- Berniece, Gladys, Marilyn

Photo 7- Berniece, Marilyn with her niece Mona and Gladys

Photo 8- Stanley, Marilyn’s father

Photo 9- Stanley Jr. Marilyn’s half brother, her father’s son.

Photo 10- Gladys

[fibula-rasa]

Lost, but Not Forgotten: What Price Beauty? (1925)

Direction: Thomas Buckingham

Scenario & Story: Natacha Rambova

Titles: Malcolm Stuart Boylan

Production Manager: S. George Ullman

Camera: J. D. Jennings

Art Direction: Natacha Rambova 

Production Design: William Cameron Menzies

Costume Design: Adrian

Studio: Circle Films (Production) & Pathé Exchange (Distribution)

Performers: Nita Naldi, Pierre Gendron, Virginia Pearson, Dolores Johnson, Myrna Loy, Sally Winters, La Supervia, Marilyn Newkirk, Victor Potel, Spike Rankin, Rosalind Byrne, Templar Saxe, Leo White Maybe: John Steppling, Paulette Duval, Dorothy Dwan, and Sally Long

Premiere: None, general release: January 22, 1928

Status: Presumed entirely lost.

Length: Variously reported as 5000 and 4000 feet (more commonly listed as 4000) or 5 reels

Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot):

Mary, a.k.a. “Miss Simplicity” (Dolores Johnson) is a starry-eyed, country-to-city transplant. She works at a beauty shop operated by a glamorous matron (Virginia Pearson) and owned by the young and handsome Clay (Pierre Gendron). 

Mary is in love with Clay, but doesn’t have the nerve or feminine wiles to woo him. The uber-sophisticated Rita (Nita Naldi), however, is chock full of nerves and wile. Rita’s fancy clothes and perfumes and advanced flirting skills leave Mary feeling destined to fail at winning Clay’s amorous attention. 

These feelings sublimate into an expressionistic dream for Mary, where she finds herself transformed into a sophisticate like Rita. Her boss is seen as a magnificent wizard, converting her clients into archetypes of glamour: exotic types, flappers, and sirens. Her competition, Rita, is seen as a bewitching spider.

In the end, surprising Mary, it turns out that her fresh-faced, unassuming charm is more appealing to Clay than Rita’s more practiced charm.

Additional sequence(s) featured in the film (but I’m not sure where they fit in the continuity):

Scene of the trials and tribulations of a fat woman trying to “reduce”

Points of Interest:

Only one quarter of Nita Naldi’s Hollywood films have survived (7 extant titles/21 lost or mostly lost titles).

——— ——— ———

What Price Beauty? was the first and only film produced under Natacha Rambova’s own company. Coordinating production for the film was the business manager for Rambova and her husband Rudolph Valentino, S. George Ullman. The couple met Ullman when he was working for Mineralava beauty products, the sponsor of their 1922-3 dancing tour. 

When Rudolph Valentino entered into a contract with United Artists, said contract reportedly stipulated that Valentino-Rambova were not a package deal. Therefore, Rambova could not collaborate with Valentino on his productions for United. Possibly as consolation, Ullman funded a production for Rambova while Valentino worked on The Eagle (1925, extant).

For Rambova, What Price Beauty? was meant to be a proving ground for her idea that an artistic film could be made on a modest budget. She also wished to remind people that she was a skilled artist in her own right.

In an interview in Picture Play Magazine from August 1925, Rambova asserts:

“…I do not want the production in any sense to be referred to as high-brow or ‘arty’. My reputation for being ‘arty’ is one of the things that I have to live down, and I hope by this picture, which is a comedy—even to the extent of gags and hokum—to overcome that idea. “A woman who marries a celebrity is bound to find herself in a more or less equivocal position, it seems, and her difficulties are only increased when she happens to have had some artistic ambitions of her own before her marriage. I am afraid that those who have accused me of meddling in my husband’s affairs forget that I enjoyed a certain reputation and a very good remuneration for my work as well before I became Mrs. Valentino.”

“What I desire personally is simply to be known for the work which I have always done, and that has brought me a reputation entirely independent of my marriage.”

There isn’t a vast amount of information on what exactly prevented WPB from gaining release in a timely fashion. If the film was truly nothing more than a ploy to separate Rambova from Valentino, that would be an absurd waste of time, money (~$80,000 in 1925 USD), and talent—Rambova employed soon-to-be famous designer Adrian for costumes and William Cameron Menzies for set decoration. Not to mention that, in front of the camera, Nita Naldi was still a popular star and the Rambova discovery, Myrna Loy, made her quickly hyped debut. 

When Pathé finally purchased WPB for distribution in 1928, they did very little to promote the film. Naldi had moved on from the film industry—as had Rambova. And, while Loy hadn’t become the huge star we know today by January of 1928, Warner Brothers had already given her top billing in a number of films. Pathé barely mentions Loy’s role in the little promotion they did do.

To put WPB’s release in the context of Rambova’s personal/professional biography (which you can read more about here):

June/July 1925 – WPB is completed, Rambova and Valentino separate (in July according to Rambova’s mother as quoted in Rambova’s book Rudy)

August 1925 – Rambova leaves Hollywood for New York City, reportedly to negotiate distribution for WPB. She and Valentino would see each other in person for the last time. Rambova leaves NYC for Europe.

September 1925 – Valentino draws up a new will disinheriting Rambova

November 1925 – Rambova returns to the US to act in a film, When Love Grows Cold (1926, presumed lost), a title which Rambova objected to

December 1925 – Rambova files for divorce

August 1926 – Valentino dies 

January 1928 – WPB is finally released with no fanfare by Pathé

In my research for my Rambova cosplay, the suspicious production/release history for this film stood out to me. I hoped that I might find some reliable evidence of whether WPB was a consolation prize and/or a scheme to keep Rambova and Valentino apart. Honestly and unfortunately, circumstantial evidence does support it!

After poring over what few contemporary sources cover WPB, there seemed to be no plan in place for distribution as the film was in production. United Artists, at whose lot the film was shot, claimed to have nothing to do with its release. Ullman had a news item placed about negotiating the distribution rights in the East. However, in Ullman’s own memoir, he admits that when he travelled to New York with Rambova, it was in a personal, not professional capacity—navigating the couple’s separation. (Ullman’s book contains many disprovable claims and misrepresentations, so anything cited from it should be taken with a grain of salt.) That said, Ullman’s failure to secure even a modest distribution deal for WPB in a reasonable timeframe speaks to how ill-founded Valentino’s and Rambova’s trust in his business acumen was.

WPB cost $80,000 to produce, which converts to $1.4 million in 2023 USD. While that wasn’t an outrageous budget for a Hollywood feature film at the time, especially one with such advanced production value, it’s certainly an absurd cost if the goal was only to separate a bankable star from his wife and collaborator.

A close friend and employee of Valentino and Rambova, Lou Mahoney, recalled in Michael Morris’ Madam Valentino:

“The picture was previewed at a theater on the east side of Pasadena, and Mahoney remembered the audience reaction as positive, but, thereafter, What Price Beauty? was consigned to oblivion. Mahoney knew why: ‘No help came from anyone, no thoughts of trying to get this picture properly released. No help came from Ullman, Schenck, or anybody else. Their whole thought was that if the picture were a success, Mrs. Valentino would be a success. She would then start producing under the Rudolph Valentino Production Company. But this nobody wanted—except herself, and Mr. Valentino.’”

——— ——— ———

The few reviews from 1928 that I was able to find are not very complimentary of WPB. The critics seem thrown by the film’s tone or genre—reading it as a drama. (Part of that is Pathé’s fault as they listed it as one.) But, according to sources contemporary to WPB’s production, it was intended to be a farcical satire of the beauty industry and social expectations of feminine beauty. Given the simple story, the intentional typage of characters (“The Sport,” “The Sissy,” and “Miss Simplicity”), and the over-the-top-but-on-a-budget art design of WPB, all signs point to high camp. In 1925 as well as 1928, the stodgier side of the critical spectrum would likely fail to see its appeal.

It’s a true shame we can’t find out for ourselves how good, bad, or campy WPB was as of yet, but here’s hoping the film resurfaces!

More about Rambova

GIFs of some of her design work on film

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!

[broadcastarchive-umd]

#QSLfriday WNAX is the oldest surviving radio station in the state of South Dakota. It was first licensed to the Dakota Radio Apparatus Company on November 7, 1922. WNAX was the last AM station in the state to receive a call sign starting with a W instead of K; all subsequent AM stations in the state were established after the January 1923 shift that moved the K/W call letter boundary from the western border of South Dakota to the Mississippi River.

WNAX was purchased by Gurney's Seed and Nursery Company in 1926 and became known as "WNAX—-Voice of the House of Gurney in Yankton." The station was used to promote Gurney products and services, making Gurney's a household name.

Committee to Preserve Radio Verifications   |   Tumblr Archive

[breezingby]

Notable Deaths in 2023 . . .

Tom Smothers (February 2, 1937-December 26, 2023)

Ryan O'Neal (April 20, 1941-December 8, 2023)

Legendary TV producer Norman Lear (July 27, 1922-December 5, 2023)

Sandra Day O'Connor (March 26, 1930-December 1, 2023)

Former first lady Rosalynn Carter (August 18, 1927-November 19, 2023)

Pulitzer Prize-winning composer David Del Tredici (March 16, 1937-November 18, 2023)

A U.S. Air Force fighter pilot and instructor at West Point, astronaut Frank Borman (March 14, 1928-November 7, 2023)

College basketball coach Bob Knight (October 25, 1940-November 1, 2023) 

As Chandler Bing, a quick-witted, sarcastic member of the coterie of "Friends," Matthew Perry (August 19, 1969-October 28, 2023)

As the star of the trailblazing 1971 action movie "Shaft," Richard Roundtree (July 9, 1942-October 24, 2023)

Actress Phyllis Coates (January 15, 1927-October 11, 2023) "Adventures of Superman." 

Character actor Burt Young (April 30, 1940-October 8, 2023)

Irish-English actor Sir Michael Gambon (October 19, 1940-September 27, 2023)

Actor David McCallum (September 19, 1933-September 25, 2023)

The songs of Jimmy Buffett (December 25, 1946-September 1, 2023)

Singer Tina Turner (November 26, 1939-May 24, 2023)

Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot (November 17, 1938-May 1, 2023)

. . . And MANY More...I just couldn't post ALL of them.

NOTHING Last Forever...! (Remember That)

[gaysindistress]

When Night Comes - Fifteen

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: cursing, lowkey smutty times, talks of sex/sexual things, mentions of death/murder/dead body, angst, there's a second rat in the Strigoi gang (sorry not sorry)

Word count: 2.7k

Fourteen | masterlist

A/n: Once again the wonderful @vonalyn came in clutch and helped me with this part💕💕 I'm officially done with my bachelor's so I'll have more time to write 😭

tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

March 3, 1922

New York City

Sweat beads on her brow as she shoves her exhausted body behind a brick wall. Her chest constricts when she hears the sick sounds of laughter and inhuman like growls. The group of disgusting feral men that were chasing her are nearing with every passing moment and she is running out of options. They call out to her: “Celeste, come out come out wherever you are. Your Strigoi bastard of a husband can’t protect you now.” 

Another round of sick laughter falls on her ears as she chokes back a sob when their foul smell rips into her nose. Celeste’s fight or flight senses are working themselves into the dirt but nothing is coming up to help her. Having been turned many years before, she gave up any magic that she had been born with and she pleads with her ancestors to save her just this once. 

“Please,” she begs internally as she looks tearfully to the sky. The Lycan gang is closing in on her when the dark night sky opens up and a steak of lightening answers her prayers. 

May 25, 1923

Bucharest, Romania

“What do you mean I can’t go back?” Celeste scoffs at her husband who is refusing to look at her, “Bucky.”

He keeps his calm composure when he issues his final verdict, “It’s too dangerous. Your coven agreed to keep you safe as long as you remain here.”

“You spoke to my coven without me? You could’ve gotten yourself killed, you absolute fool! Any agreement with them will only result in your suffering, you must know that.”

“All that matters is that you’re safe, okay? End of story,” he hisses after turning to face his angry wife.

She shakes her head at his stupid decision, “when?”

When he doesn’t answer, she demands again, “When did you do this?” 

“Yesterday.”

She takes a deep breath and twists the ring he had given her the night before, “What did you agree to?”

Bucky doesn’t speak for a long while and meets her stare. 

He relents but only to give up one piece of information, “As long as you’re on Romanian soil and wearing your ring, you will be safe.”

“I can’t believe you,” she whispers, “You went behind my back, made a century long deal, and hid it from me? I told you that I had this handled but of course, you had to do it yourself and make things worse in the process.”

“I did what I had to do, Celeste. We didn’t have the time to wait around another 10 months for you to negotiate with those con artists” and with that he leaves her to ponder over his words. 

Her anger boils to the surface, unable to keep itself under control. She lets out something akin to a roar and in the process, breaks Bucky’s heart. 

January 7, 1945

Peggy smiles nervously at Celeste as they both jitter and anticipation. Bucky and Steve are awaiting the bride and her maid of honor just on the other side of the doors. Seeing as how Peggy ran away, there’s very few people in attendance at this wedding. Very few meaning quite literally only ten. Various Strigoi from other territories and witches forced there by treaties make up the small crowd. 

A townsperson well trusted by Bucky holds the doors shut. He gives them a brief and tightlipped smile before opening the doors.

Onward goes the wedding, and within moments, the happy couple are married. An elaborate celebration follows all thanks to Bucky and his love for his best friend since birth Steve. A witch that Celeste recognizes as an elder for the coven, Marguerite, beckons her towards the back of the room and away from the prying eyes. When she approaches the woman, she’s led out and that’s when Marguerite lays the worst news Celeste would be given - the full truth behind Romania’s curse.

In his efforts to protect the one he loved most, Bucky made a blood deal with her coven - one that would mean his ruination as well if it breaks. While the coven agreed to protect Celeste by banning Lycans for a century, what they did not tell him was if he didn’t do as he promised to keep her there, Celeste would no longer be protected and a ban on both Lycan and Strigoi would be put in place.

While the coven’s power pulls from Celeste’s line of doppelgängers, she had been the most powerful that was until she was turned. Becoming a Strigoi meant that her connection to her coven and the power they needed ended. If they wanted to ever regain that beacon, Celeste would need to die and soon so that the new doppelgänger could be born.

Seeing as how the Lycan had tried to kill her in the past several times, her death would be inevitable so the coven would get everything they wanted; a thought that made her skin crawl and her stomach to rotten. 

“What else did you lie to him about?” Celeste hissed at the old woman. 

Marguerite shrugged, “We did not lie to him. It is his fault if he did not ask for the full agreement.” 

“I’ll ask then, what else did he agree to?”

“He will bring us our next binecuvântat, blessed one.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She smiled a devilish smile, “He will. We have made certain of it.”

June 26, 1948

The Wright Lycan family had finally made true on their promise to take all that Bucky loved from him. 

The evidence? 

Celeste’s body floating lifelessly in the foul waters of the Hudson river and a picture of her nailed to the front door of their shared home. 

Steve could do nothing to console Bucky and figured it best to let the feral, grief driven man hold his wife one last time. Peggy collapsed into Steve’s arms as Bucky pulled Celeste from the water, chanting that it had been her fault, that she was supposed to be with her but wasn’t feeling good so she stayed home. 

His screams of agony could be heard for miles. All else had been fallen silent as Bucky mourned the murder of his love. 

Sometime in 2022

The thin silver chain never bothered him but the weight of the ring that it carried was a constant reminder of the hole in his heart. 

The metal of the small band that she had worn for years burned against his neck as Bucky got out of his car to pick up Wyatt. The burn turned into a deep ache that engulfed his entire body to the point of him almost doubling over in pain. He had to grip the door handle to the school as it raked over his body. The smell of jasmine and honey instantly soothed his pain and Wyatt tackled him moments later. 

Picking up the small boy, the ache turned into a pulling sensation that wanted Bucky to follow that sweet smell and his breath left his body once again when he found the source. Before him stood Celeste or what appeared to be a doppelgänger of her. That small sweet smile was what he saw noticed first but he hopes of his love returning to him were dashed when he saw the hallow look in this woman’s eyes. Years of heart ache and misery had dampened the light that he knew used to live in her warm eyes but still the necklace begged to take its rightful place around her neck. 

“Hi, can I see your ID?” she asked. 

Wyatt giggled in his arms and brought Bucky back down to earth as he fumbled for his wallet. 

She handed back his ID, “Thank you Mr. Barnes. I’m the new site director and I’m carding all adults at pick up until I know everyone.”

Her voice nearly shattered him as he hadn’t heard it in years, “Bucky… You can call me Bucky.”

She smiled, “Sunny.”

Present 

Luca paces the kitchen, wearing even more ruts into the ancient stone floor with his anxiety. Thor, Loki, and Ana Cristina ignore him as they hunch over their own books, all searching for something to lead them into the right direction. They had been at it for hours but nothing had been found. Loki makes a show of slamming his book shut and leaning back as he speaks,  “Maybe this isn’t something we fix, Ana. Y/N is the doppelgänger that he’s supposed to bring back and she’s here now so I don’t really see how the Lycan being here has anything to do with us.”

She shoots him an angry look, “They shouldn’t be here so yes this is something that we fix. If they’re here, that means something is wrong.”

“I don’t see it that way,” he counters, “We get to Y/N first and boom, no more problems. We get our magic restored to full strength and then we can deal with those demoni, demons.” 

Luca gasps in horror and looks around to make sure that no one else is around, “those demoni as you so brashly called them are our friends, neighbors, employers. Show them more respect than that and get back to searching for an answers.”

Thor takes his cue to speak up, “I agree with Loki. Why do we have to protect them when we could very easily get Y/N to come with us? She hates Bucky doesn’t she?” “It’s becoming quite the opposite,” another voice pipes in and the group freezes. Peggy steps out from the shadows and all but glides over to them. She lands a hand on Loki’s shoulder as she continues, “they’re starting to develop feelings, dare I say fall in love so she’s not going to just leave. You’ll have to convince her and with how stubborn she is, I doubt any of you’d be successful.”

She looks around the group and narrows her eyes on the elderly woman, “But you. You’re the only other person that she trusts besides Bucky.  It wouldn’t be that hard if you were the one to do it.”

“I would…”

Peggy waves a hand in annoyance, “‘I would never do that.’ Don’t feed me some lie about how he’s been kind to you and you could never betray his trust like that. Bucky turned your beloved doppelgänger and nearly ended your entire coven. He was the one who got her murdered and nearly cursed your people in the process. He would do it to you and you know that because he is not a loyal creature. You are though, Ana Cristina, show that loyalty and do what’s right by your coven.”

Alix’s phone rings and John looks to her. 

“Apparently Loki and Thor are the only ones that are willing to take one for the team,” she sneers, “Peggy is pretty much useless now so looks like we need another plan and quick before Ana and Luca blab to Bucky.”

“Already ahead of you,” John says as he drops his phone into her lap, “Juliette found a way in… well more like she found someone to get us in.”

Alix twists her head back to look at Juliette is curled into a ball, reading a book, “Oh? Finally started pulling your own weight?”

Eyes trained on the book, she says, “no, gaining trust actually takes time but it’s not like you’d know that.”

“Excuse me?”

Brock chokes on his coffee on the other side of the couch and John shots him a stern look. 

“People don’t usually respond well to physical intimidation. Didn’t your mom teach you that violence isn’t always the answer or did you beat her too?”

Alix is on her feet in seconds, her chair sliding backwards from the force of her standing. She rips the book from Juliette’s hands and pushes her further into the cushions. 

“I never beat anyone.”

Juliette can feel the Lycan in her wanting to shrink back but she can’t. She refuses to back down from this, “I saw the bruises, the marks, the handprints. I saw the way Y/N shook when you were next to her or how she’d flinch when you’d touch her. I watched her become more and more afraid of you but still stayed. I saw it all, everyone did.”

“I didn’t beat Y/N.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but you’re not fooling anyone. Why else would you be chasing after her?”

Alix fights the urge to rip Juliette’s throat out with her teeth, “I love her.”

The former rat of the Lycan gang rolls her eyes, “No you’re abusive and pissed off that your victim got away.”

Alix growls and goes to lung at her but Brock and John are quick to pull her away before any damage is done.

Brock slides over and gently pushes Alix back, “Let it go. We need her to get to Yelena.” 

She freezes, “Yelena? That’s who your fucking contact is?”

John speaks up, “Apparently she didn’t know some things about Bucky and Peggy enlightened her for us.”

“I have a hard time believing that but,” she growls again at Juliette, “we don’t have a choice. After this, though, you’re fucking done and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Okay okay, so what does it feel like?” 

Bucky stares up at the night sky, blue eyes scanning over the stars and the full moon. The grass under his head crunches as he turns it to look at Y/N. 

“What does what feel like?” 

“Drinking, what does it feel like?”

His brows furrow although he knows what she’s referring to. 

“Don’t make me spell it out,” she gives him a bored look but does so anyway, “what does drinking someone’s blood feel like?”

“What does drinking water feel like?”

She rolls her eyes, “I mean does it feel good?”

“It can feel like an orgasm sometimes.” 

Sharply inhaling, she quickly recovers and attempts to pick a new subject, “can you eat human food?”

He turns his head back with a smirk, “it’s like when you can’t stop thinking about someone all day and you’re so turned on that it hurts. Nothing makes it better, your hand doesn’t do the job but there isn’t a toy that compares either. The only thing that makes it even a little bit better is the person that you’ve been thinking of. When you finally do get to fuck them, you almost don’t last but when you do cum, it’s life changing. You forgot your name and how to breathe , all that you can think of is them. That’s what drinking from someone feels like.” 

While he can’t see her, he can feel how her body has gotten hotter and how she’s started to squirm so much that she accidentally brushes against his side. He didn’t need to use any of his heightened senses to tell that his little monologue had the desired effect. 

“I can show you,” he offers. 

“Show me? What are ....” She trails off when she realizes what he’s actually offering and he chuckles, “do it.”

Courage swirls in her chest albeit not for long as he moves from laying beside her to settling between her legs. The muscles of his bicep bulge as he lowers himself to whisper against her ear, “you think I don’t hear your moans at night when you touch yourself or how frustrated you get because it’s your hand and not mine?” 

Y/N’s eyes open wide at his confession and she can feel his smirk grows even bigger as he dips his head to kiss under her ear. 

“I can’t say that I’m much better though. Ever since that night, all I’ve thought about is you. Everything is you, you, you,” he emphasizes his point with wet kisses that trail down her neck and jawline, " I can't tell you how many times I’ve found myself in front of your door at night.”

“Coward,” she mutters and he freezes. 

Bucky pulls back enough to look at her, “what did you just call me?” 

Taking this opportunity, she pushes up onto her elbows and almost causes him to fall to the side. 

“I called you a coward for not doing anything,” she playfully teases him, “if you can hear me saying your name, you can definitely hear everything else I say in between.”

“I’m the coward? No no,” he leans into her, “I think you’re the coward here. My room is only two doors down, Dragă and i’ve never found you outside my door..”

“I only found that out a few days ago.”

“That’s a lie,” he snorts, “I distinctly remember pointing out my room to you when we got here. If you weren’t listening because you’re too hard headed, that’s on you.”

Y/N fully pushes him back and he does fall to the side this time. She springs to her feet and starts to walk backwards. 

“Where are you going?” He asks as he gets to his feet and she starts walking faster away from him. 

“To my room.”

“Why’s that?”

She gives him a wink and says, “to test if you’ll come into my room tonight,” before taking off in a full sprint towards the house. 

He shakes his head and chuckles before chasing after her. 

A twig snaps off to his right and a pair of gold eyes flash beyond the tree line.

Yelena curses under her breathe as she ducks behind the trees so neither Bucky nor Y/N sees her. The owner of the gold eyes comes to her side, shivering and wrapping her coat around her tighter.

“We couldn’t have met during the day?” Juliette muttered, rubbing her arms with her hands.

The blonde nervously looks toward the house before speaking, “no. I’m already doing something stupid, I don’t want to add to it.”

“Fine. Did you bring it?”

The it being a gun, Bucky’s matte black Glock 19 to be exact, that Yelena pulled from her holster.

“You can get rid of the hex, right?”

Juliette takes it from her hands and examines the gun, “I mean not entirely. I can reverse it so that the hex effects Peggy but that’s all. Will that be a problem?”

Shrugging, Yelena glances back at the house, “if you’re not lying to me, then she deserves this. Alix still thinks I’m helping you, right?”

Juliette nods, “only problem is she’s starting to get impatient so the timeline is speeding up and I don’t know how long you have anymore .”

“Don’t worry about me,” Yelena assures her, “just get the hex reversed and bring it back as soon as you can. I’m sure Bucky’s going to find out you’re here soon enough so we’ll be ready for her.”

The other woman gives her a skeptical look but let’s her worries go nonetheless. She tucks the gun into her waist and disappears into the forest behind them.

Stress grows thick in Yelena’s heart but she still knows that what she’s doing is the right thing… for Y/N. Partnering with the enemy would be frowned upon usually but if the enemy is turning against their own, it’s a different story or so she hopes.

[conradscrime]

The Disappearance of Mountaineer George Mallory

November 02, 2023

George Mallory was born in Cheshire on June 18, 1886, and from a young age he was interested in climbing. When he was only 7 years old, Mallory climbed the roof of his father's church.

In 1904, an experienced mountaineer named Robert Lock Graham Irving took Mallory on as a climbing companion after the death of his original partner. Both Mallory and his friend, Harry went with Irving for a trip to the Alps.

In February 1909, Mallory was invited to Wales for a climbing trip at Easter. After this, Mallory was given an application form for membership into the Climber's Club, joining in May 1909.

On July 29, 1914, Mallory married a woman named Christiana Ruth Turner, just 6 days before Britain entered World War I. The pair ended up having three children together, two daughters and a son.

Though Mallory had an extensive education and worked as a school master, he did have to enlist in the army and served throughout World War I, eventually ranking up to lieutenant in 1917.

By January 1919, Mallory returned to his teaching position which was at Charterhouse, though he was not fully happy being a teacher. He wanted to get back into mountaineering. In January 1921, the Royal Geographical Society and the Alpine Club established the Mount Everest Committee to finance an expedition.

Mallory was contacted by the committee asking if he would be interested in this expedition, the crew planned to do a trip later in 1921 to figure out the best route to reach the summit, and then in 1922 they were going to go again, this time actually reaching the top.

Mallory at first was not sure if he wanted to go -- it would mean that he would have to be away from his wife Ruth, and children for a chunk of time and he was sceptical the group would be able to accomplish this.

Eventually Mallory and his wife were convinced it would be the opportunity of a lifetime, and in February 1921, Mallory accepted the invitation formerly, though it was noted he showed no emotion and was definitely not excited for the trip. It was in February 1921 that Mallory resigned from his teaching position.

Leading up to this point, Mallory had quite a bit of experience having done various climbs and reaching summits. He completed several expeditions in the Alps, since his first climb in 1904. Specifically in the Alps, both Mallory and his friend Harry suffered from altitude sickness.

On August 18, 1921, Mallory and 3 others left their camp at around 20,000 ft. They discovered a gateway to the mountain, and after figuring out the most viable way to reach the summit, on September 23, 1921, a group of climbers left camp to descend into the East Rongbuk Glacier, to pitch camp. The frostbite and winds were extreme however, and eventually on September 25, 1921, Mallory called off the expedition.

It was the groups goal to be the first to reach Mount Everest's summit. On May 20, 1922, Mallory and his group began this goal. After two failed attempts to reach the summit, in June 1922, the group tried a third.

At one point during their ascent, an avalanche began on an ice cliff above, sweeping over the group. Mallory and three others were able to dig themselves out of the snow, unharmed, but saw a group of 4 porters had fell 150 ft below them. The avalanche had caused another 9 porters to be swept into a crevasse.

A search and rescue effort was started, and 8 out of the 9 porters were found. Unfortunately only 2 of them had survived. This was the end of the third attempt to the summit.

Mallory's next attempt at reaching Mount Everest's summit wouldn't be until June 1, 1924.

By June 8, 1924, Mallory and Andrew Irvine, would begin their attempt to reach the summit at 8 am. This morning, another climber, John Noel, perched himself at Eagle's Nest Point, with a camera so he could film Mallory and Irvine. The flimer also had 2 porters with him, however no one could see Mallory or Irvine.

By 10am, still having not seen any sight of the two mountaineers, the cloud and mist had completely obscured the view of the summit ridge.

The last person to see Mallory and Irvine alive was Noel Odell, a support climber, just after 12:50 pm. He saw them from a distance, two black spots moving, before the clouds obstructed his view. Mallory and Irvine were never seen alive again.

On June 9, 1924, Odell and another inspected the Camps, looking for Mallory and Irvine to no avail. It was impossible for the two mountaineers to have returned to camp, as everything they had left there was as it was — having not been touched. After days of searching and finding nothing, the expedition was over and on June 15, 1924, the surviving members returned home. 

On June 19, 1924, Ruth and Mallory’s children received a telegram stating that Mallory and Irvine had died. On October 17, 1924, a memorial service was held. 

On May 30, 1933, almost 11 years after Mallory and Irvine had disappeared, an ice axe had been discovered at an elevation of 27,723 ft, by the leader of the expedition, Percy Wyn-Harris. At first, Wyn-Harris and his climbing partner, Lawrence Wager left the ice axe where they had found it, but after their own failed attempt at reaching the summit, on the way down Wyn-Harris decided to take the ice axe, leaving his own in it’s place. 

The ice axe was eventually determined to either be Mallory’s or Irvine’s, though it is unsure which mountaineer’s it was. After Odell inspected it, he noticed there was 3 marks on it, which Irvine used to mark his equipment. Ruth stated that she had never known Mallory to mark any of his stuff that way, so most likely the ice axe was Irvine’s, however, some of the expedition members from the 1933 expedition believed the axe belonged to Mallory because it had Swiss manufacturers. 

In 1962, Irvine’s brother found a military swagger stick, which belonged to Irvine and it had the same 3 identification marks on it. 

In 1937, a man named Frank Smyth wrote a letter, and in the letter he stated that during the 1936 British Mount Everest expedition, he scanned the North Face of Everest with a powerful telescope and saw a body, believing it to be Mallory or Irvine. This sighting was unknown until 2013, when Smythe’s son revealed it in a book, after finding his father’s letter in a diary. 

The 1999 Mallory and Irvine Research Expedition began, with the goal to find evidence of the 1924 British Mount Everest expedition and find information about whether or not Mallory and Irvine reached the summit. 

On May 1, 1999, around 10 am, members of the expedition reached 26,900 ft, where they were going to set up camp. Setting off, it was 11:45 am when a member found a corpse laying at 26,760 ft. The body was partially frozen, but well preserved to the cold condition, fully extended and had both arms outstretched with the head pointed uphill. 

The right leg was broken, with the left leg crossed over it, suggesting the mountaineer must of been still conscious. The rear of the body was exposed, the wind having blown away some of the clothing. The exposed skin was white, but the hands and forearms appeared dark. Most of the internal organs had been consumed by alpine choughs, a specific type of bird. The birds had pecked away leaving damage to the right leg, buttocks and abdominal cavity. 

Tied to the waist was braided cotton climbing rope, the right foot had an intact green leather hobnailed boot, but the left boot only had the tongue remaining on it. Many had suspected that Irvine had fallen in 1924, and this body was his.

When looking at the layers of clothing and removing them, there was a label on the shirt with red print, “G. Mallory.” The body of George Mallory had finally been discovered, almost exactly 75 years later. 

Mallory’s body had several injuries — his tibia and fibula of his right leg were broken, his right scapula was deformed, his right elbow had been fractured or dislocated. He had multiple cuts, bruises and abrasions, his ribs had been fractured. It was without a doubt that Mallory had fallen. The climbing rope that had been looped around Mallory’s waist had crushed his ribs and burned his skin. It was also determined that when this happened, Mallory and Irvine were roped to each other. The exact circumstances are unknown, no one will ever know what caused the accident or made them fall. 

A few weeks later, an oxygen cylinder was found at an altitude of 27,789 ft to 27,805 ft. The cylinder’s stamp no. 9 confirmed that it was from the 1924 British Mount Everest expedition and was used by Mallory and Irvine. 

Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay, the first mountaineers to have reached the summit of Mount Everest, welcomed the news of the discovery of Mallory’s body, and acknowledged that Mallory might have reached the summit of Mount Everest decades earlier. 

There are many theories about what led to Mallory and Irvine’s deaths in 1924. Research in 2010 suggested that an extreme storm may have led to their deaths. The research provided stated that when Mallory and Irvine attempted the summit on June 8, 1924, there was a drop in barometric pressure and temperature. Believing this could have resulted in a blizzard, however, Odell described the morning of June 8, 1924 as clear and not extremely cold, but turned into a severe blizzard by 2pm which lasted until 4pm. 

While it is unknown what exactly happened, many researchers believe the weather was way more extreme than previously believed, and this could have contributed to the deaths of both Mallory and Irvine. 

On November 14, 1944, Mallory’s younger brother, Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, an Air Chief Marshal, crashed into the French Alps, everyone on board was killed. Mallory’s daughter, Frances Clare, married a man named Glenn Allan Millikan who was killed in a climbing accident on May 25, 1947 at Buzzard’s Roose in Fall Creek Falls State Park. 

Frances’ sons, Mallory’s grandchildren, Richard and George Millikan became climbers and were very well respected in the 1960’s and 70’s. On May 14, 1995, George Mallory, Mallory’s grandson reached the summit of Everest, leaving a photo of his grandparents on the summit, ending “unfinished business” for his grandfather. 

In early 1923, Mallory was asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, his answer: “Because it’s there.” 

[hawon-ee]

旭川市アイヌ記念館（2024年9月7日）「カムイのうた」上映におけるサラシからの情報

Information from the leaflet about the showing of 'The songs of Kamuy' at the Asahikawa Ainu Museum (September 7, 2024)

Movie background

The movie takes place in Higashikawa town (in Kamikawa district, Hokkaidou) in 1917.

The story is about a 19 year old Kitasato Teru (北里テル) who passes away young, in Toukyou, as she translated oral traditions from Ainu into Japanese. If this seems familiar to you, it is because the movie is heavily inspired from the real life story of Chiri Yukie.

The movie came out in 2023, and it promoted the natural scenic beauty of the area around the Daisetsuzan National Park, as well to promote the importance of passing down and transferring information on the Ainu culture and history.

The movie's aim was to decrease the discrimination of Ainu. To achieve this, they cooperated with ALL HOKKAIDO to make this film.

The movie premiered in November 2023 inside Hokkaidou before being screened to the rest of Japan in January 2024.

Who is Chiri Yukie?

Chiri Yukie (1903-1922) is the first translator of many of the Ainu oral traditions, comprised in the book 'Ainu Shinyoushu'. Usually, these oral traditions would never be written down.

She finished her work when she was 19. As she was Ainu, she had to fight against the discrimination, oppression, and harassment from much of the Wajin.

Her endeavour lead to the preservation of the culture for generations to come. Her passion and spirit in her book had and has left a deep impression to many kinds of people.

What is the plot of the movie?

Teru (テル), an excelling student who wishes to extend her studies, fails her exams just because she is Ainu.

After this, 1917 comes, and she becomes the first Ainu to become enrolled in an all girls vocational school. But in this school, bullying and discrimination continued; even being called Dojin (土人); a slur commonly used to discriminate and abuse the Ainu population.

One day a leading researcher in the Ainu language, who travelled all the way from Toukyou to meet Teru's aunt, Inuyematsu (イヌイェマツ), came to visit. He came to listen to Yukar, Ainu epics. He listened intently, and said, "Please take pride in being Ainu. You are one and only, a unique kind in the world." 「アイヌ民族であることを誇りに思ってください。あなた方は世界に類をみない唯一無二の民族だ。」

Moved by his words, Teru soon begins her goals to preserve Yukar in writing.

As the result of her hard work proves to be amazing in quality, the professor offers her to continue her translations in Toukyou. After a while, she accepts this offer, and leaves, seen off by her aunt and a young Ainu man called Hisashi (一三四). At this time she did not know that she would never set a foot on Hokkaidou again...

Main cast

吉田　美月喜 （北里テル）

望月　歩 （アイヌの青年、一三四）

島田　歌穂 （テルの叔母、イヌイェマツ）

加藤　雅也 （アイヌ語研究学者、兼田教授）

阿部　進之介 （一三四の祖父、レモㇰ）

Staffs

Directed by Hiroshi Sugawara

Screenplay by Hiroshi Sugawara

Produced by Cinevoice

Special help from 写真文化首都 北海道　「写真の町」　東川町 (Photo Culture Capital of Hokkaido "Town of photography" Higashikawa town)、旭川アイヌ協議会 (Asahikawa Ainu Council)

Ainu language and culture supervisor: 加藤久和

The movie's take-away message

To recognise that Ainu are indigenous to Japan, and have their individual language, religion, and culture

Chiri Yukie had risked her life to preserve the Oral epics of Ainu, which was never written before

The natural beauty of the Daisetsuzan region, as the movie is modelled after Chiri Yukie's life

We should aim to educate ourselves on the Ainu cultures that were once lawfully suppressed, and to work towards a world without discrimination

To convey the wide diversity of norms and values within Ainu cultures, and the beautiful natural environment as well as the harsh social environment they lived in

To raise awareness of the current bullying and discrimination that still exists today, and to teach and encourage the future generations to build a more equal world and value coexistence

Gratitude to everybody who had helped in the making of this project

Final

Once again, the movie is called 「カムイのうた」。This movie is categorised as fiction, although it is historically and culturally accurate, and the story of Kitasato Teru is very closely inspired by the life and achievements of Chiri Yukie.

We are approaching a world where there is increasingly more, well researched media about the Ainu. Let's support these projects so this pattern continues on strongly.

These information was written down under the translation of this account.

[the-al-pals]

Meet the Als

(screencap redraw done by me!)

NAME: Alastor Calloway Guillory NICKNAME(S): Calloway, Cal DATE OF BIRTH: April 10, 1898 DATE OF DEATH: Novermber 6, 1933 AGE: 35 (at death), 126 (chronologically) NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: mixed (haitian creole & some form of white that he isn’t sure of) HEIGHT: 7’ / 213 cm WEIGHT: 110 pounds /  50 kg OCCUPATION: overlord, radio host, facilities manager of the hazbin hotel, serial killer (in life

Alastor was born on April 10th, 1898, on the outskirts of Cut Off, Louisiana. Sometime in 1916, he made the move to New Orleans before being picked up as a protégé by a man that, at the time, specialized in military radio. In 1922, the first Louisiana commercial station opened up, and as radio began booming in popularity, Alastor became one of its local stars, which allowed him to live his best life.

On the side, however, he was also a budding serial killer. He did’t go after just anyone; instead, he followed an odd moral code that, in essence, told him he could only kill those that were guilty of muder, and only after finding conclusive evidence of this fact. In his eyes, he was righting society’s wrongs, and more often than not he was also the one delivering news of his killings to the public, with no one ever being the wiser for it.

His luck—and, consequently, his life—came to an end on November 6th, 1933, when he was tracked down and shot by deer hunters and their hounds. It was a terrible misunderstanding in which the dogs picked up on the blood trail left behind by Alastor’s victim as he dragged it into the bayou for disposal—and the hunters, seeing their hounds tackling and tearing away at something, assumed it was a deer and took their shot.

When Alastor arrived in Hell, he possessed unimaginable raw power, which was never before seen in a human soul. After getting a handle on this power, he trampled and killed powerful demons who had been in charge for centuries, all while broadcasting his carnage on the radio for everyone in Hell to hear. Other denizens began referring to Alastor as “The Radio Demon”, and he eventually grew powerful enough to rival the Overlords of Hell, but never officially took up the title for himself.

After several decades of “lacking inspiration” and feeling rather aimless, Alastor happened to come across Charlie’s announcement of the up-and-coming Happy Hotel on TV. Finding the idea of a rehabilitated demon absurd (yet entertaining at the same time), he decided to help Charlie run her hotel, if only to watch sinners try and fail to better themselves for his own amusement.

(screencap redraw done by me!)

NAME: Alastor Doucet NICKNAME(S): Frosty DATE OF BIRTH: January 26, 1912 DATE OF DEATH: February 15, 1933 AGE: 21 (at death), 112 (chronologically) NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Unknown HEIGHT: 7’ / 213 cm WEIGHT: 110 pounds /  50 kg OCCUPATION: assistant manager at rosie’s emporium

Alastor, more commonly known as Frosty due to his very blue appearance, grew up in Louisiana with his mother, Audrey Florence Billiot; his father is unknown to him due to being absent for as long as he can remember. The only thing he knows about him is his surname, which he’s taken for himself. 

His mother suffered from Munchausen syndrome by proxy (MSP), and as a result she often made Frosty sick so she could garner money, sympathy, and attention. As a result, Frosty spent most of his life at home with his mother, due to being too weak and sickly to leave. Much of that time was spent in his room, where he would listen to the radio he kept on his windowsill. This was one of his only sources of comfort and entertainment.

Once he became “too old to control,” his mother decided to send him out for firewood during the winter, specifically instructing that he go a certain distance to ensure that he wouldn’t make it back before freezing to death. She got what she wanted.

When Frosty fell into Hell, he panicked. Since he had no control over his newly-found ice magic, he wound up creating a blizzard that spanned the entirety of Pride and wreaked absolute havoc. It was Rosie that found him first, and she managed to calm him down before too much damage was done. After that, she took him under her wing, and he sees her as the mother he never truly had.

(artwork done by me!)

NAME: Alastor  NICKNAME(S): Naasháłiini (pronounced nash-a-lee-i-nai) DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown AGE: Unknown; legend claims he’s lived for over 10,000 years NATIONALITY: N/A ETHNICITY: N/A HEIGHT: 12’ / ~366 cm WEIGHT: 500 pounds /  ~227 kg OCCUPATION: N/A

The legend of the Wendigo is well-known to the Native American tribes inhabiting North America: a creature born from starvation and greed. Some say these legends were inspired by Alastor. 

No one knows where this entity came from, or even how long he’s lived. The Clovis people, who are thought to have arrived in North America between 13,500 and 13,000 years ago, were the first ones to tell tales about Naasháłiini (the word for ‘murderer’ in their language): a being, half man, half deer, that stalked the forests and killed anyone that tread too deep into his territory. They also claimed that, in leaner years, he would even eat those he killed in order to sustain himself, letting his hunger overpower his respect for human life.

In addition, whenever a life is believed to have been claimed by the beast, it’s said that he does so in gruesome ways. He wouldn’t just kill them outright, but instead, he’s thought to have toyed with them: resetting their traps and putting them in paths he knew they would walk, then waiting for them to be caught before gutting them and letting them bleed out so the local wolves would find them, or caving their heads in with a few strong stomps of his hoof. Their screams would be joined in by his cackling laughter, making it clear that he didn’t just kill them for trespassing, but also for sport.

There have only been a handful of sightings, but all of them say the same thing. Alastor is tall and imposing, with blood soaked into his fur and hooves and hands. His human body is littered with scars from the lucky few that have managed to land a hit, but their bones adorn the leather strap he keeps slung around his waist.

What’s most unnerving, however, is not his height, or the blood, or the bones—but his smile. He’s never been seen without one…especially not when he’s in the middle of a new kill.

(artwork done by my friend ckret2!)

NAME: Alastor Baudin NICKNAME(S): Gremlin DATE OF BIRTH: June 9, 1894 DATE OF DEATH: September 22, 1933 AGE: 39 (at death), 130 (chronologically) NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Mixed (Haitian Creole and English) HEIGHT: 5’4" / 164 cm WEIGHT: 90 pounds /  41 kg OCCUPATION: owner of a butcher shop called ‘chop devils’

Not much is known about Alastor’s past, considering he doesn’t talk about it much. What is known is how mischievous and deranged he is, hence his nickname of Gremlin. While he does carry normal cuts of meat such as beef, pork, and chicken, he also highly prizes his cannibalistic cuts, obtained from other demons that have either wronged him, or simply crossed his path at the wrong time.

He also seems to get great enjoyment out of his work, especially when it involves making the cuts themselves. He always keeps his cleaver handy and sharp, ready for chopping at a moment’s notice. His apron, which he wears over his suit most of the time, is permanently stained red with blood.

Despite his murderous appearance and crazy behavior, he can still be sociable.

Sometimes.

(artwork done by borossir!)

NAME: Alastor NICKNAME(S): N/A DATE OF BIRTH: Unknown DATE OF DEATH: ?? ?? 1933 AGE: Unknown NATIONALITY: American ETHNICITY: Mixed (Haitian Creole and English) HEIGHT: 7’ / 213 cm WEIGHT: 110 pounds /  50 kg OCCUPATION: overlord, director and head of a porn studio

This version of Alastor essentially takes over Valentino's place in his universe, leading the porn studio and having many demons working under him through porn movies and/or sex working on the streets. Unlike Valentino, Alastor cares about his workers, paying them fairly and ensuring that they're well protected from abuse.

[thepastisalreadywritten]

SAINT OF THE DAY (August 9)

On August 9, the Catholic Church remembers St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, also known as St. Edith Stein.

St. Teresa converted from Judaism to Catholicism in the course of her work as a philosopher and later entered the Carmelite Order.

She died in the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz in 1942.

Edith Stein was born on 12 October 1891 – a date that coincided with her family's celebration of Yom Kippur, the Jewish “day of atonement.”

Edith's father died when she was just two years old, and she gave up the practice of her Jewish faith as an adolescent.

As a young woman with profound intellectual gifts, Edith gravitated toward the study of philosophy and became a pupil of the renowned professor Edmund Husserl in 1913.

Through her studies, the non-religious Edith met several Christians whose intellectual and spiritual lives she admired.

After earning her degree with the highest honors from Gottingen University in 1915, she served as a nurse in an Austrian field hospital during World War I.

She returned to academic work in 1916, earning her doctorate after writing a highly-regarded thesis on the phenomenon of empathy.

She remained interested in the idea of religious commitment but had not yet made such a commitment herself.

In 1921, while visiting friends, Edith spent an entire night reading the autobiography of the 16th-century Carmelite nun St. Teresa of Avila.

“When I had finished the book,” she later recalled, “I said to myself: This is the truth.”

She was baptized into the Catholic Church on the first day of January 1922.

Edith intended to join the Carmelites immediately after her conversion but would ultimately have to wait another 11 years before taking this step.

Instead, she taught at a Dominican school and gave numerous public lectures on women's issues.

In 1931, she spent her time writing a study of St. Thomas Aquinas and took a university teaching position in 1932.

In 1933, the rise of Nazism, combined with Edith's Jewish ethnicity, put an end to her teaching career.

After a painful parting with her mother, who did not understand her Christian conversion, she entered a Carmelite convent in 1934, taking the name “Teresa Benedicta of the Cross” as a symbol of her acceptance of suffering.

“I felt,” she wrote, “that those who understood the Cross of Christ should take upon themselves on everybody's behalf.”

She saw it as her vocation “to intercede with God for everyone, but she prayed especially for the Jews of Germany whose tragic fate was becoming clear."

“I ask the Lord to accept my life and my death,” she wrote in 1939, “so that the Lord will be accepted by his people and that his kingdom may come in glory, for the salvation of Germany and the peace of the world.”

After completing her final work, a study of St. John of the Cross entitled “The Science of the Cross,” Teresa Benedicta was arrested along with her sister Rosa (who had also become a Catholic) and the members of her religious community on 7 August 1942.

The arrests came in retaliation against a protest letter by the Dutch Bishops, decrying the Nazi treatment of Jews.

Teresa Benedicta of the Cross died in the concentration camp at Auschwitz on 9 August 1942.

Pope John Paul II beatified her as a martyr on 1 May 1987 and then canonized 11 years later on 11 October 1998.

She is one of the six patron saints of Europe, together with Benedict of Nursia, Cyril and Methodius, Bridget of Sweden, and Catherine of Siena.