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hohoz · 3 years

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The ones that suffer the most

I wanted to talk about this for a long time.

I’m a Resident evil addicted, I finished almost every RE game released and I must say that Capcom made some poor choices regarding Jill and Chris, they are EASILY the most mistreated characters in RE Franchise.

But let’s explain why is that:

Jill and Chris are survivors, they had to survive in a mansion with a lot of puzzles and zombies, while looking for items that could help them to progress and find a way to reach Brad.

When they arrive at STARS Office, they are revolted that Umbrella did all that under their noses and innocents were dying because of that and they explained EVERYTHING in a report - but Irons made that go away.

In the ORIGINAL RE3 we had this special file (Jill’s Diary)

August 7th Two weeks have passed since that day. My wounds have been healed, but I just can't forget it. For most people, it's history now. But for me, whenever I close my eyes, it all comes back clearly. Zombies eating people's flesh and the screams of my teammates dying. No, the wounds in my heart are not healed yet...

August 13th Chris has been causing a lot of trouble recently. What's with him? He seldom talks to the other police members and is constantly irritated. The other day, he punched Elran of the Boy's Crime department just for accidentally splashing Chris's face with coffee. I immediately stopped Chris, but when he saw me he just gave me a wink and walked away. I wonder what happened to him...

August 15th Midnight. Chris, who has been on a leave of absence for a "vacation," called me so I visited his apartment. As soon as I walked into his room, he showed me a couple of pieces of paper. They were part of a virus research report entitled as simply as "G". Then Chris told me that, "The nightmare still continues." He went on to say that, "It's not over yet." Ever since that day, he has been fighting all by himself without rest, without even telling me.

August 24th Chris left the town today to go to Europe. Barry told me that he would send his family to Canada and then he would follow Chris. I decided to remain in Raccoon City for a while because I know that the research facility in this city will be very important to this entire case. In a month or so, I'll be joining with them somewhere in Europe. That's when my real battle begins...

For some weird reason this file isn’t available in RE3 Remake.

But ok, here we see that Chris was doing some investigation - in the RE2RMK you could see this letter that Chris left in a way that normal people wouldn't understand - the only thing that Claire says is that “doesnt look like him” but how normies would understand what Chris is like is he is not well represented in media ??????????????????

And Jill had all the detective work in her wall.

So far so good - we understand the basics about them - they are Special police force, the elite, they had a traumatic experience and they survived to tell the story.

Some problems until now:

Jill had a MAJOR personality change in RE3 RMK- I honestly like most of that, she is a badass in the originals and she is a badass in the rmk but I still dislike the fact that she swears all the time (specially because in RE1, RE Rev, RE5 she doesn't do that)

We can tell a lot about her personality just looking at her room, but I still miss some stuff (I had expectations - so this is not a real problem. but still) like a Vinyl player (since she is probably into classical music), some letters from her father so new players can understand her origin and why is she so good in lockpicking and more about her dog (she had a pic in the original that could’ve been her boyfriend but it was replaced by a dog in RE2 rmk but in RE3 Rmk there in no dog)

Okay - after you finish the game the only thing we see is this:

In my opinion this is Chris since he is always associated with Green colors while Jill is associated with blue.

So my speculation here is that she found him while in the original we had this:

This is not a major chance but still is important (lore of course - duh) but the problem here is that while Jill is looking for him - Code Veronica is happening.

So I can only assume two things, they did not show him because they DON’T HAVE A FACE FOR HIM or I am wrong and that is Jill, but if that is Jill so why there is no decent epilogue like the original ?

Okay, now we are arriving in the real trouble area

I will do RE5 first and the Wii and Rev1 (even tho those two comes first in the lore)

RESIDENT EVIL 5

So before the game was release we had some propaganda, including this:

So have in mind that Jill was dead, I thought that she died and RE5 would explain that shit.

But in the beginning we see that Chris is looking for her and have in mind that Chris HAD A MAJOR CHANCE IN HIS APPEARANCE, and I’m not talking about his muscles.

I will not address Chris in CV since he was good in that game but I the team that made CV also made the original, it had CONSISTENCE.

Here we have Chris, he’s THE classical american soldier protagonist from Hollywood in the 80′s/90′s and he had some omage to TOPGUN

He also shares some traits with his sister

A major trait here is that HE HAS BLUE EYES, typical good looking soldier from US.

and now let’s have a look at Chris in RE5...

Yeah... I still hate this face even tho I love his Character in this game, this ugly a** monkey looking mf and he had a lot of steroids

So we have some lore to him in RE5, Jill and Chris went to a mansion looking for Spencer (one of the fathers of Umbrella and the one that was behind project Wesker, he wanted to do this Virus so he could live forever, so RE has a good lore, it’s not just about zombies) but when they found him, he was dead and Wesker was by his side, in a fight Jill sacrificed herself to save Chris’s life.

Chris started doing mission after mission because her body was never found, and he made a name for himself, he became a ‘legend’ inside BSAA and you can see that in the beginning of RE5.

The reason behind the muscles was probably to fight Wesker mano to mano but still is not well made, it really felt weird playing for the first time.

So now we have a problem here, there is thing that you use in a narrative that is to make someone strong af powerless, and they did that to Jill. (a good example of this is in TWD- Ricky is a fucking legend and Negan made him powerless in the face of a event)

Jill was used in a Boss fight and that is it... She is not in the game as a character, she is being manipulated and her whole design was changed, she looks like Nina from Tekken. WTF. - BTW, the fact that Wesker had mind control over her created 1000 fics of sex

So that is it, my main problem here isnt Jill itself, but it’s the fact that they used her character as a boss even tho she is the heroine, she never appears in RE lore again until some guy inside Capcom said “Well people are asking about Jill so let’s place a file in Rev2 saying that she is in rehab”

The only time that she appears again is in a 3DS NINTENDO ONLY game, it felt that Capcom simply don’t care about her character.

By the way Revelations 1 is a great game and was adaptable some years later for PC and consoles

But you think that this is bad, wait until we arrive at RESIDENT EVIL 6

When I learned that Jill was not in RE6 I was mad... But after I played that game I said “thank you God” that game was bad, transformers kind of bad, it had bad writing, the lore was all over the place and Chris was the one that suffered the most in this game.

He was responsible for the death of an entire squad, suffered amnesia and people still wanted him in the command

THEY MADE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC

The golden boy of BSAA reduced to THIS.

By the way, the director said that HE WANTED TO KILL CHRIS IN THIS GAME to SUBVERT EXPECTATIONS - so if you liked Piers now that he died only because of that.

So now let’s analyse what we know:

The first 2 main characters are not well represented in media until RE6, they don’t know how to re introduce Jill in the games and Chris was reduced to a normal guy at a Russian bar;

But it gets worse...

Capcom LOVE Leon, we know that. he is always the hero, he is the protagonist in almost every movie and he is always the cool guy so when he get’s a new model, he looks like this:

But When Chris get’s a new face he look like this:

WHO DAFUQ ARE U, no offense to the model but he has NEGATIVE JAW LINE.

And still he doesn't look like Claire’s brother, there is no blue/green eyes and he looks younger that he was in 6 (and 6 still uses that ugly character model)

But let’s go in the lore- we HAVE 0 info on Jill in RE6 / RE7 and no sight of her in RE8

And speaking of which, they tried to make Chris the bad guy in the trailer so when we play we see “Ohhhh he was not the bad guy, that happened and that is why he did that”

But still...

If they are going to do that to his character don’t use this character, shit ! Do something with that Wesker’s son that made 0 sense in RE6 but leave Chris out of this - it really feels that they simply don’t know how to treat him right

And you may think that I may be complaining a lot because of his appearance

But this is him in RE8

(to me this is some random dude from Russia)

And this is him in RE:Verse (that is going to be release TOGETHER)

So this tells me that they have 0 clue of how to handle his looks

Jill got RE3Rmk but it felt like a cheap game compared to RE2Rmk where the original RE3 was SO MUCH BETTER

And this is bad because there are so many new fans joining the fandom only to see 2 great characters suffering from poor director’s choices.

I’m sorry about this rant, if you like Chris face and looks its okay, really, but dont tell me that Chris from 5/6/8 is the same from 1/CV and if you think im wrong about Jill its fine, but she is an amazing character that could have so much more impact in RE universe (I mean, she never even appeared in a RE movie - animations)

But it’s sad to see so many characters that receive good representation in media and good games/lore while Jill get’s almost none and Chris is handled like random face guy.

I was going to talk a little bit more about Rev 1 and RE Umbrella Chronicles but there is no need since Im mad right now and it seems that Capcom has 0 interest in making Code Veronica and Umbrella’s fall after that since their fav boy Leon need a rmk in RE4 even tho RE4 is not that old.

Bonus:

Fun fact: Chris served in the Air force, so yeah, to me even Tom Cruise looks more like Chris than Chris from the games

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Whew!

Darklina + academia AU? (Professors, students, whatever dynamic you find most interesting)

Alina Starkov has always loved maps.

There’s just something about them: the deeply human struggle to understand the world, to sketch it out, to imagine fantastic beasts and lands and people on the margins, here be dragons. It’s half illusion and half reality, a guidebook both to what lies out there and what is dreamed of. She is fascinated by the relative accuracy of maps drawn long before satellites and space photographs – that, say, the sixteenth-century Europa recens descripta à Guileilmo Blaeuw does look pretty much like the modern continent. Well, mostly. She wrote her undergraduate senior thesis on the fictional island of Frisland, long believed to exist in the North Atlantic Ocean just south of Iceland, and its role in premodern cartographic and geographic imagination. Rereading it now gives her a twitch, as it always does with academics trying to revisit their past work, but it’s not all bad. It won her a prize and it impressed Professor Baghra Morozova, the fearsome head of the Department of Medieval Studies at Central European University, Vienna. (Best method to survive her class: Pray.) And it’s why Alina, still feeling very, very much like a terrible fraud – though she’s been assured this is likewise common to academics, so yay? – is working late in the main library on Quellenstraße, stifling yawns. She has a supervision meeting tomorrow, and if she half-asses this, Baghra will eat her alive.

Alina has been working for a while, pausing only to slug lukewarm coffee from her travel mug and answer texts from her flatmate Genya, when she becomes aware that there’s some other late-night diehard skulking in the stacks. This isn’t uncommon, but this guy doesn’t look like your usual desperate slacker. He’s tall, lean, and elegant, wearing a black shirt and crisp slacks, and – Alina has eyes, sue her – he’s extremely good-looking. Thick dark hair with a bit of a curl, a sharp dark gaze, and although he has his own stack of books, he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to any of them. In fact, he is looking – a little unsettlingly – directly at her.

Oh, hell. Alina hasn’t spoken to him before, but she knows who this is. Aleksander Morozov is an urban legend at CEU, for rather ominous reasons. He is rumored to be in some indeterminate year of his own PhD, but disappears at long stretches for “research trips,” and nobody is any the wiser about what he’s actually doing on them. Noting the similarity of surname, Alina once asked Baghra if they were related, and got a face that looked like someone had died. “Unfortunately,” her supervisor said, lips pursed, “he is my son. But I assure you, his presence on this campus has nothing whatever to do with me.”

Understanding that familial relations were, to say the least, chilly, Alina hasn’t pushed it. She’s also not sure what to make of her professor’s estranged (and disturbingly attractive) offspring sitting here and watching her study, as if he has nothing better to do than haunt first-year PhD students like the Ghost of Bad Decisions Yet To Come. At last, she gets up and marches over. Keeping her voice at librarian-approved levels, she hisses, “Excuse me, can I help you?”

She speaks in English, the lingua franca of CEU, though the Morozovas are political exiles from the Putin regime, like White Russians fleeing the Bolsheviks once upon a time. Alina herself is ancestrally Russian – born in Moscow, adopted by a nice British couple out of an orphanage and raised in suburban Sussex – and as Aleksander Morozov flicks those onyx eyes up at her, she can sense him weighing how to respond. As if he wants to test her, examine her bona fides, and Alina’s Russian is limited to “da,” “privyet,” and “dosvidaniya.” Not that he should know that. Not that he should know anything about her.

“Good evening,” he answers, also in English. His Received Pronunciation is even more posh than hers. “I wasn’t aware that I was disturbing you.”

“You’re – ” Alina wrestles with herself, tells herself not to be rude. It’s not a crime to sit and watch someone study, even in a mildly creepy fashion. “You’ve just been watching me for, like, an hour now.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t apologize or explain why that might be. He sits back in his chair, studying her like a piece of rare porcelain. “My apologies, Miss Starkov.”

Alina glances at him again, despite herself. There’s an undeniable thrill at actually talking to the campus heartthrob, even if the reason for it leaves something to be desired. She should say something else, when she becomes aware that he’s addressed her by name, and she doesn’t remember introducing herself. That doesn’t exactly do anything to convince her that he’s not a stalker. A little uneasily, she says, “How do you know my name?”

“You’re my mother’s student, aren’t you?” He cocks his head. “Alina?”

“I – yes.” That does explain it, although she didn’t realize the two of them were on speaking terms, or that they discussed her. Her name sounds unusual in his mouth, deliberate in a way nobody has spoken it before, and all at once, he gets to his feet. He stands several inches taller than her, and he starts piling his books into his bag, as if to discreetly absent himself now that she’s noticed him. “You don’t – ” she starts. “I didn’t mean to – ”

He looks at her again, sidelong. Then he says, “I should go home and get some sleep. I’m returning to Oxford tomorrow morning anyway.”

“Oxford?”

“I went to school there.” He utters a short, dry laugh. “All the good Russians do. And they live in Londongrad.”

That explains the accent, at least, and he seems to have some other business there, whether it’s another of the “research trips” or a guest lecture or whatever else. (Alina hasn’t seen his CV, but she has a sneaking feeling it’s the kind of thing to make her throw her drafts in the trash and never do anything in academia again.) Despite herself, she’s curious, and even though she has just told him to get lost, kind of, she wants to know. “Will you be back?”

Aleksander Morozov studies her with utter, unblinking intensity, as if he sees past flesh and bone, blood and sinew, to the very core of her, something that even she does not fully comprehend. Then he shrugs, his eyes never leaving her face, until Alina feels a shiver travel down her from head to toe, cold and powerful, twisting in her stomach. “Perhaps I will. Good night, Miss Starkov.”

With that, he nods to her, then turns on his heel, vanishing into the shadows as effortlessly as if he is made from them. No sound, no breath. Simply there one moment, and gone the next. Alina rubs her eyes, but she is alone in the library. Just as she wanted. Wasn’t it?

She can’t help her eyes from searching for him, or rather the vanished impression of him, the flutter of a curtain after someone has left the room. Before she can stop it, she has the thought that he very much is a map of his own, a path that leads into a strange dark land beyond the boundaries of the known world, a dragon or a doorway, a dream of what could be. Maybe something entirely ordinary. Maybe something not.

Alina shivers again, and returns to her carrel. She sits down and pulls the next book toward her, forcing her tired eyes to focus. Just because Aleksander Morozov – Aleksander Morosov – is a map, albeit the strangest one she has ever seen, it does not mean she needs to follow where he leads. She knows damn well the danger.

(And yet, despite herself, she wants to.)

#fic prompts #darklina #was this more than 500 words #yes #yes it was #anyway more prompts later #but this will do for now #mearcatsreturns #ask

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 4 years

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The PA - part 3/3

Pairing: Tony Stark x named!Reader

Summary: You have had neough of Tony Stark and his arrogant, selfish ass. So you leave... At least for a while.

Warnings: Swearing (a lot), angst, fluff.

A/N: Ok, this a hostirical date for me, as this is my FIRST EVER story I finished. I know it was a short one, but I am still proud. There is a lot going on in this chapter and I thought of ending it differently but here you go. I hope you all liked it <3

Comments and opinions are always welcomed :*

Words: 6000+ (ooops)

nothing really changed. You were hidden in your office doing everything your boss needed without the need to ask. You sent him everything via email and cared for his health fr the shadow. A cooked dinner and bottles of water were always waiting for him. Adding a hot chocolate for the night. Nothing changed. And yet everything did.

Those hot chocolates you used to make were now drunk alone. There was no billionaire to join you in it with his sarcastic and fun comments. There were no back massage that you enjoyed giving almost as much as he receiving. And what's more, there were no parties for you. You couldn't bear to see him dancing, kissing and flirting with went. You knew you were pathetic. You loved the man who would never see you as more than just a worker and a "kid".

Who were you kidding. You had nothing on the women he was 'seeing'. All those pretty little things with perfect bodies and probably experienced enough to keep him entertained for a whole night.

You swallowed and shook your head to get that image out of it. You were tired. There wasn't more work per se but it exhausted you mentally to always try to omit him. You missed him his face, the smile and cheeky comments. But you couldn't do it to your heart. A heart that has already been broken so many times by the same man.

You looked up when a ping when an email showed up. To your personal email. Your heart skipped a beat and eyes widened their twice size, when you noticed the sender.

"What the fuck?" You whispered and turned around hearing a gasp. You met with a smiling Romanoff, leaving on the edge of the doors.

"This is the first time I heard you swear" She said teasingly. "What got you so worked up?"

You moved away from the laptop for her to see. She read through the email carefully and she looked at you with the biggest softness and pride anyone has ever showed you.

"This is amazing. A damn MIT wants you to work with them. This is huge, honey!" You bit your lip and looked away. "But for some unknown reasons you don't look happy."

"It's just an interview, it doesn't mean I will get the job, and… " You looked away, a shame of even thinking about it in the moment like that.

"And you would have to leave Tony… " You closed your eyes, hating how she was able to just understand you without words. A damn Russian spy stuff. "He's an adult… you'll just find him a new assistant. Or a babysitter, I'm never sure what your official position actually is." You giggled at her playfulness and rolled your eyes at her.

"I have been working for him for so long… I can't just leave him alone." You looked away when she frowned and sighed. Of the 'Disappointed Natasha Romanoff' comes to action.

"What about you? When will you finally take care of yourself?" Her stern tone made you flinch and start to nervously play with the hem of your Iron Maiden shirt. "You had dreams, and I sure know you have hobbies. You're still young, but act like a 60 years old woman, for God's sake." You clenched your fingers and shut your eyes, to stop the tears from falling. She was angry and that was the first time you noticed this. What was worse she was disappointed at you, and that hurt you more than anything.

Natasha Romanoff was like an older sister for you. You learned to love her and you felt her love towards you, despite the fact that she showed it differently to other people. She was there for you and knew about your hidden feelings to Stark. She always supported you and told you how everything will be fine. She understood your shyness and tried to work through your low self esteem. She was always patient with you. Until now. You guessed, everyone had their limit, and ger has just ended.

"You stay here, hidden in this cave. Running away from your feelings. You are afraid to do anything. You got so used to being his assistant that you are afraid of being alone. And your pinning to Tony? I hoped you'd understand that int hat party. He isn't a relationship type of guy and you're not a one night stand type of girl. Your love for him? Stop going for something you can't have!" You lowered your head to hide the tears that started to fall. You clenched your fingers on your thigh so hard that you could feel how your nails climbed into your clothes. But it didn't bother you. The physical was not even close to your mental one. It was one thing to make yourself believe that this love you had would never happen, but when someone else said it to you. It made it real. "Stop living in a dream world and wake up, before it's too late! " She hissed and stormed out of your lablab. And this was when everything you hidden so deep inside you, went out to the light. You asked Jarvis to lock the doors to your lab and you screamed and cried until you had no more tears.

"Weren't you a bit too harsh?" She looked at Bucky who was leaning on the wall, near the elevator.

"She needed that." Barnes scoffed and followed the redhead. "She's was about to turn down her dream job for him." Bucky frowned and sighed. "She loves him and all he does is hurt her. It isn't his fault really. He doesn't know, doesn't understand. Stark isn't the type of person that would be able to see true love. This is why she needs to let go. Live her own life. And if getting her dream job and leaving him would make it happen than she needs to. " Barnes smiled sadly. Nat really cared about you. Hse loved you like you were her little sister and he found it charming. But he did feel bad for you. You fell in love with a wrong guy. A very decent human, but a dumb man.

You looked at you clothes and sighed. It wasn't you. You didn't dress like that. A pencil skirt and a white shirt. You felt uncomfortable and stupid. You flinched when you put the heels on and sighed. Well it was a job interview. You needed to look presentable. You took your bag with everything you needed in it and took a deep breath. Yes, it was just an interview. Not like you'd get that job. There were hundreds applicants will were probably better than you. But after Nat you decided to give it a try. You didn't speak to her, and if you were being honest, you didn't speak to anyone. No one new about your bid day, not even Tony. He didn't need to know. It was only an interview. The first step of it. Not like you were leaving him just yet.

And so you walked to the elevators and dl being deep down in your thoughts you didn't notice Tony waiting for the elevator, just as you walked out.

"To… Mr. Stark… " You whispered, when you almost walked into him. He looked you over and frowned.

"A hot date?" He asked. You knew he tried to joke but there was something in his tone that made you wonder it he was really kidding.

"I…" You clenched your bag and bit your bottom lip nervously. "I will be back soon." He raised his brow and nodded, not saying anything else walked into the elevator, leaving you standing there. This did not help your anxiety at all. You tried to relax and went to your already waiting Uber.

"She has a what now?" Tony shouted looking at Natasha with anger in his eyes. "She never told me! "

"It was hard to tell you when you both omitted Yourselves… " She answered with a roll to her eyes. "MIT if I remember right." His eyes widelec, remembering how much you always wanted to work there. A job interview. You went to a job interview without telling him.

"Well good for her." He shrugged, turning around to miss the way the woman rolled her eyes. "What should I do? Isn't it like breaking some kind of contract? Going to a job interview still working for me?"

"Don't be petty, Tony." She warned him and he scoffed.

"I thought she would at least tell me. You know for references… "

"She wasn't sure she'd get the job. Not to mention the fact I needed to force her to go." He frowned and she rolled her eyes. Men were really stupid. "Talk to her, Tony. But like a proper human being. An adult." She patted him on the shoulder and left the room, leaving him alone.

You sighed and sat at your desk, feeling more than tired. The whole interview was exhausted, and you weren’t sure if most of those questions were even appropriate. ‘How close are you with Mr Stark?’ ‘Do you believe Mr Stark would be up to donating money for our cause?’ And more inappropriate and too personal questions for your liking. You were happy when the rector finally showed up. It was when you shined the most. Talking about your PhD project, the possible prospects of it and your father ideas. Even Though he asked you about Stark, those questions were thoughtful.

“He has his reputation”, he chuckled softly and you nodded unable to disagree. “Not many people would leave a safe, warm, probably well-paid job, to come work with us.” He took off his glasses and looked at you. “Is there something I should know? The reason for your application with us?”

“I was right after Uni, when Mr Stark gave me that job.” You answered quietly, feeling a weird shame for even being here. “It was a great opportunity for me to grow, but I want to be a scientist, not a PA.” You smiled and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t get me wrong. Working with Mr Stark was a privilege and I was able to learn so much from him, but it’s time for me to make my own projects.” Visibly satisfied with your answer he put his glasses back on and looked at your CV.

“How about you tell us more about that idea you had?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. You felt good after the whole discussion, but it still felt like you would not get the job. Not to mention, that you would probably have to talk to Tony about your references. You whined and lay on your desk.

“Are you alright, Miss?” Jarvis’ voice was filled with concern, after registering your annoyed noises.

“Not really. I think I have an existential crisis.” You chuckled to yourself, at how stupid that sounded.

“Anything I can help you with?” You smiled at his thoughtfulness.

“Is there some kind of algorithm that would help me choose between what my heart and my brain tell me?” There was a silence for a moment after Jarvis turned on your computer showing you multiple web pages opened.

“I’m afraid there is no algorithm, but there some sociological and psychological studies regarding the issue.” You sat up and laughed out loud at this. “But Mr Stark always considered social sciences an, let me quote, “utter bullshit”, so I am not sure if they would help you.

‘Thank you Jarvis, you’re the best!” You quipped looking through the pages.

“I’ve been told!”

“I know that, she worked for me for some time now.” He murmured through the phone. He expected the call for references, but not so soon. He was sure to hear you just come back.

“This is a huge deal. We have never hired someone so young and with so little experience before.” The rector sighed on the other side of the phone. “I need to know if she will work out.” Tony frowned and looked through the window. He had Nat’s voice in his head telling him to be an adult, to not be selfish. But he can’t. He cannot lose you. You were the best and brightest thing in his life now. WIthout you he would be lost. As an Iron Man, and as Tony Stark. So he did something selfish, already hating himself for it.

“She’s a good PA. That’s all I can say.” It was harsh, and was definitely burying your chances. He knew you were more than that. He saw you in his lab, repairing his armour, or adding comments to his plans. You were more than a secretary. You were a genius. The best possible person for this job. But he was petty. He was once again acting like a kid. He heard the rectors deep sigh and he understood, that he just fucked up. Your career, your life. And the solemn idea of you finding out about it, was killing him.

“I understand confidentiality is still a thing up there?” He asked and could hear the man chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Tony.” He turned the phone off and threw it across the room, watching it crack on the wall. He fucked up. Badly.

“I see!” You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, despite the tears appearing in your eyes. “No, no I understand, of course.” The strings of thanks and apologies were thrown and you bit your lip, hoping to end the call ASAP. “Yes, I will!” You lied, when the rector told you to keep on trying. You ended the call and let the tears flow.

It was stupid really. You knew deep down, that you wouldn’t get the job and yet. Yet it still hurt to know you weren’t enough. You wanted to climb the highest of mountains so it should not have surprised you to fall.

“What’s wrong?” You wiped your tears and put your phone away.

“Nothing, Natasha, everything is under control.” You stated, your voice only a bit shaky. You didn’t turn to welcome her. You opened your laptop and started to work.

“Did you go?” She asked, and you rolled your eyes. Can’t you just be left alone?

“Yes” short answers, hoping for her to understand you didn’t want to talk. Especially not with her. Not with the person that pushed you to go. “I’m sorry Natasha, I have lots of work to do.” The woman raised her brows and sighed.

“What happened?”

“I’m just a PA.” You answered after a moment of awkwards silence. “Without much of experience in the field. I’m nothing more than Stark’s PA, who happened to finish MIT.” You shrugged your shoulders and sighed. The tears were back and the screen was starting to get blurry. “At least I don’t have to choose anymore!” You chuckled through the sobs and hid your face in your hands. “I’m sorry. Can you… I did what you told me to. I went and I failed, please can you leave me alone? One time in my damn life I thought I am worth more than I truly am! And I knew that, but then you …!” You got up and looked her in her beautiful eyes. “Do you know why I always hide in that fucking shell of mine, you seem to have such a problem with!?” Widow’s eyes widened at your use of language. She never seen you like that. Never heard you speak so that. That little, quiet mice seemed to have enough. “Because my life taught me, that I will never be more than I am. I was never enough for anyone. My parents, people at school and Uni, my professors, and him… I learned to live with the fact that I am nothing more than a loser, unwanted by anyone. But then you had to make me go and…”

“I’m sorry.” She pulled you for a huge and kissed you at the top of your head. “I just wanted to help. I wanted to see you happy. See you live your own life. I’m sorry, sweety.” She cooed you and you couldn’t help but hug her back, repeating words of apologise into her neck.

He closed his eyes hearing your cries. Your tone, the raised voice. He wondered how long were you keeping those feelings inside. It broke his stoned heart to see you, hear you like that, only to know that he was the reason for this. You blamed Nat for it, only because you didn’t know how awful he was. He took a deep breath, and deciding to leave you be, he came back to him room. Hoping Romanoff would help you.

“What’s wrong, kiddos?” He announced looking at the Avengers assembling in the kitchen.

“Please stop saying that. There are at least three people here who are older than you.” Clint sighed, playing with his chips.

“What’s up with Lex?” Steve asked with his Captain America voice, glancing at Stark, his guts telling him, the billionaire had something to do with it.

“What do you mean?” He asked, playing stupid. It has been two weeks since the MIT call and Tony hasn’t seen you. He wasn’t sure if you were ignoring him even more than after the Christmas party, or you were just that busy. You did work. Yes, definitely did work. Everything went more smoothly than ever. He noticed because he had more free time. And if he was being honest, he was starting to get bored.

“I haven’t seen her since the party. I thought it was die to the New Year party workload, but then she seemed to disappear even more.”

“Yeah not to mention that I actually miss that big smile on her face, when she sees her favorite Avenger. “Sam chimed in, making Bucky and Nat roll their eyes. “But seriously, should we worry?” Everyone looked at Stark who sighed deeply, taking his cup of coffee with him.

“I’ll talk to her, kids. No worries, daddy will take care of it.”

“I really hate when he says that!” He chuckled, hearing Steve’s disgust in tone.

“So she lives!” You jumped at his voice, behind you. It was a middle of the night and you truly hoped he would be sleeping already. Or at least at his room. “Are you making the magical chocolate?”

“Magical chocolate?” You raised your brow at him and he smiled, shrugging his shoulder.

“I never had a better massage than during that hot chocolate night meeting last time.” you blushed and looked away, hearing him chuckle. “Any leftovers?” You nodded and prepared him a cup, pouring the mixture into it, and adding the marshmallows. She put it in front of him and was about to leave, when his fingers circled at your wrists, stopping you. “Sit with me, please.” You bit your lip nervously and obeyed taking the sit opposite. As far as possible. “I have something to tell you and you have to promise me you will listen to everything before you slap me and slap the doors behind you.” You frowned and looked at him. Your heart broken a bit, when you noticed the face he made. He looked like a kicked puppy. Like a little kid that knew he messed up.

“Mr Stark, I don’t…”

“Please… They worry about you. I worry about you. Since that damn stupid Christmas party everything went to hell. I fucked up, you saw it and…

“Listen. When you started working for me I made it clear fuck complete of a mess I was, right?” You raised your brow but nodded, even a small smile appearing on your lips. “I am a messed up person. A guy in his…” He coughed awkwardly. “Well my age doesn't matter here.” You bit your lip not to laugh, which made him smile. “I always got what I wanted. A spoiled, stupid kid, with more money and looks than brain.

“I still don’t know what you see in me.” He smiled at you softly. “I am not stupid, kid. I see the way you look at me. I do. And it flattens me. You are this genuine girl, with kind heart, smart and beautiful in and out and… You are too innocent for me to break you. I am not someone you should fall in love with. Someone who should be your first boyfriend. Your first love in life.”

“Forgive me, but I think I should have a right to decide who I fall in love with…” You bit your lip nervously, staring at the table. You missed the way he smiled softly at that. His look softened and he sighed.

“Of course. But this… This is not the reason why I needed to talk to you…” You nodded, giving him a go to continue. “How was your interview at MIT?” You stiffened and looked at him with big eyes.

“Natasha told you?”

“The rector called.” You swallowed and frowned. “For references…” Something in his tone made you realise where this was going and you felt your heart beat fasten. “I… I’m sorry kid. I-I couldn’t let you go. I needed you. I… fuck I didn’t want to live in a life where you wouldn’t be there to help me. Be there for me and…”

“What did you say, Tony?” If the situation was different he would enjoy the fact that you said his name, but not now, not with the seriousness behind it.

“I said you were a good PA.” The pain in your eyes broke his heart. You opened your eyes to say something, but couldn’t. All this made sense now. The good interview and an awful ending. “Listen… I know you may hate me now…”

“Is this all that I am?” You asked and frowned. “Is this really what you think of me? A good PA?” There was a silence between the two of you. A painful one. For both him and you.

“Of course not. You are so much more.” He tried to hold onto your hand, but you backed away. “You are so smart and incredibly talented. You can do so much more than just this job. I…

“I was afraid that you would leave and I would be alone. And this scared the shit out of me.I can’t imagine you not being here. Not being able to…”

“I quit.” His heart stopped at your proclamation. You stood up, still looking down at the table. Your hands starting to shake with anger, your heart beat fastened and you felt like you were about to cry. “I can’t… You crossed that line…”

“What line?” He asked, looking at you, hoping that whatever you just said was a stupid slip off. “I apologised, damn it!”

“And, what? Everything should be fine now? Because you apologised!?” You shouted, staring at him with your angry expression. “For so many years I hid my anger towards you. I hid it, because I loved you more than I was angry at you.” His eyes widened. He expected your feelings, but hearing them was a totally different aspect. “But this? You ruined my future, my dreams because you are a selfish bastard!” You pushed your hands away from him to make sure you wouldn’t punch him.

“I told you I was afraid…”

“Yes!” You shouted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “You were afraid. You didn’t stop for a second to even consider how I was feeling. You knew… I told you so many times before about my dreams. About my insecurities about them, and yet you used them against me. You used that biggest doubt and used it for your own good! It shouldn’t surprise me, not should it hurt. But yet here I am, with my heart broken. Because I was so close in burying that dream, only to make you happy. To stay by your side, because helping you was more important for me than pursuing my own dreams!” You shook your head and clenched your fingers. “I went for that damn interview, because Natasha made me. She told me I hiding behind you, afraid to take a step forward. But it wasn’t it. I was just trying to protect you. Make you happy. And what do I get in return? you betrayed me, Tony. The one person I thought I could trust, the one person who I thought new about my insecurities. The one man I was able to trust and love in my stupid life, used me, because his needs were more important than what I’d want.” You wiped your eyes and turned around. “I will send you an email with PA that would gladly take my place.”

“I don’t want them!” he shouted, getting up to get closer to you. “I don’t want anyone, but you. I know! Fuck, I know i made a mistake. I know I was selfish, but please… one more time. Give me a chance to prove myself. To show you I am not a dick! Please! I won’t survive without you. I need you. I…”

“No Tony... “ You smiled sadly and took a step away from him. “You don’t need me. You need the idea of me. You need a person who would follow your every step, Who would do your job without saying a word. Who would follow you like a lost puppy. A part of me always thought you gave me this job due to my powers, but that it wasn’t it. You just needed someone who would adore you the same way you adore yourself. But I had enough.”

“I thought you love me!” He hissed at you, when you were almost at the corridor. “Was that a lie?” Not able to control yourself you laughed through tears. You turned around, walked towards him and slapped him across the face.

“Don’t you ever dare to say that! i loved you for so long. I loved you when you brought all those women here. I loved you when you shouted at me and made me feel like I was nothing. I loved you when you were away to those damn missions. i loved you while I was healing you and I loved you when you pushed your tongue in that blonde’s mouth.” He flinched, remembering the Christmas party. “I loved you despite hurting. I loved you so much that I decided to stay by your side for so long, despite being unwanted. I knew… I knew how absurd those feelings were. I knew someone like you, who has everything, would never fall in love with me. And you made that completely clear at the party. You gave a little hope, and then crushed it. But not anymore Tony. I have had enough and before it escalates I need to leave.”

“You won’t get any opinion from me. You won’t get a job anywhere in the industry” He shouted. He hated himself when those words left his lips. He hated the look you gave him. He wanted to apologize and say that this was bullshit. He wanted you to stay. But he knew, there was no way. No way for you to forgive him. Not anymore.

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr Stark. It was a pleasure to work for you!”

***

He watched you smile at the kid, who giggled at your adorable, funny face. She was crying and you did everything you could to stop her from crying, while her mom went to the bathroom. He didn’t know how good you were with kids. He never seen you with any. He watched you give her a chocolate cookie, which had probably brighten her day. And he watched when you smiled at the woman, who was probably thanking you for taking care of the little girl.

He looked at the place and sighed. This was not something you dreamed of. It was an MIT nor a technological industry. When you left for real, leaving him with a three page long email with names of the best PAs in the country, he called every big business, including MIT, giving them the best references he could give. His heart broken even more, when the MIT’s HR called and told him that you have declined their job offer. You hated him and he hated himself.

He knew Natasha talked to you from time to time. Clint and Steve came here for your coffee and “The best apple pie’ in Boston. They took that extra way to see you at least once in three months. Bruce send you emails regarding some new tech Avengers were using and you answered him with possible ideas of how to make them better.

You still loved that world. He could see it and hear how you missed that and the Avengers. he was able to see through Jarvis’ system, that you connected to talk to him. You kept in touch with everyone, even a stupid AI, and not him. You left the next day. Your bags were gone, room cleaned up and only an email waiting for him.

Mr Stark.

According to our contract I should be giving you a two weeks notice of my leaving, however, due to my unused vacation days, I am taking them and I quit immediately from today. As I promised, you can find attached the list of the best PA in this country. I made you all of your business had been taken care of.

I would greatly appreciate if you didn’t try to get in touch with me in any ways. I am planning on starting a new life. I hope our paths won’t have to cross in the future and....

I wish you well, Tony. I really do. When I think about it, it was me who was an idiot. It was me who fallen in love with someone who could only love himself. I was the idiot one. So yes. I do wish you all the best Tony.

Love,

Lex

He hated and loved this email. It was the last thing from you. He didn’t contact you, didn’t try to find you. You deserved it. After everything he’s done for you, you deserved freedom from him. Away from his selfish ass.

He was able to keep that promise for two years. Two years of his teammates talking about your new coffee place, your new flat in Boston and a boyfriend you broke up with two months ago. They tried to stay quiet when he walked in but he was still able to hear them. They loved and cared about you. And who was he to neglect that.

But two years were enough. He had enough and he decided to be selfish this one time. One more time. Come here see you and if you give him a chance, apologise.

“Iron Man!” He froze hearing a boy shouting from the inside of the coffee place. He noticed your frozen figure and he wanted to run away. He was actually very close in just walking away, when you turned around and he felt his heart stopping. You became so beautiful. You have lost some weight, your hair gotten longer at those eyes. Those beautiful eyes were still so mesmerizing. “Mommy, It’s Tony Stark!”

You watched with disbelief at the man outside of your coffee place. You followed his every move, when he walked in, and smiled at the boy, taking some pictures with him and signing his cap. You scanned him and something you hoped died a long time ago, came back to life. The butterflies were back. You closed your eyes and turned around, pretending like you were focused on cleaning the coffee machine. Anything not to look at him. not to focus on those beautiful face, and charming smile.

“Lex”, you flinched at his quiet, almost scared whisper. He walked closer and you were afraid to turn around. “Ma’am can i order?” You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t just say no. It was possible that it was a coincidence. Maybe he came here for business and… No! It was Tony Stark, nothing was just ‘lucky’ for him.

“Of course, sir. What would you like?” You turned around and tried to give him your most natural, customer service smile.

“How about that chocolate you used to make and 10 minutes of your time.” You bit your lips and took a deep breath.

“We have three types of chocolate, Sir. What is it you want? White, milk or dark?”

“Lex, please!” He whispered, his hands travelled to cup yours, but you took a step away from the counter. He closed his eyes and looked around. “Can we please talk when you close? Please?” It wasn’t often that Tony Stark was begging and the mean part, which hated him, was happy to see him in emotional pain. But the part that still loved him felt sorry for him. And so you agreed, telling him you were closing in three hours. He ordered a dark chocolate and an apple pie and sat at the corner of the place, patiently waiting.

“I told you not to contact me!” You hissed, when the last customer left the place. You turned around and gave him your angry look. “One thing I asked of you! Damn it, Stark!”

“Two years… Come on, Lex. It’s been two years I missed you.” He sounded and looked so small. He looked like he wanted to cry and run away as quickly as possible. Like coming here was the biggest mistake of his life. “I… Fuck… Can we sit down?” You crossed your hands on your chest and he sighed. “I never apologised.” You frowned at him and smiled at you. A small, unsure smile. “I never said what I truly wanted to say to you that day. So if you give me ten minutes, I will tell you. 10 minutes and maybe one more of your chocolate?”

“I turned off the machine.” You stated, making him swallow hard at your tone.

“Sure. Yeah.” He took a deep breath and sat down on one of the stools. “I was the biggest asshole in the Universe, but I was afraid. I was afraid that the only person I truly trusted and loved would leave me. Like my mom did. I was a mess when she died. She was the only one that really knew me, the same as you. But she had to be there for me, she needed to love me, because I was her child. Her only son. You didn’t have to and yet you still did. And it scared me, because I didn’t understand why someone like you would ever love me. So when I heard you went for a job interview I got scared, that I will lose you. Yes I was a selfish prick and if I could turn back time I would, trust me.

“All those things you said to me that day were true. And I just wish you would have told me them sooner, I would have the opportunity to work on myself not to lose you. I wanted to stop you and so out of fear I did something I was only good at. I pushed you away. Even more. When I heard you took down proposition from MIT I knew I fucked up.”

“I felt like I would owe you something and I didn’t want that.” He nodded and hid his face in his his hands.

“I fucked up big times. The worst thing was not because I tried to hurt you, but because I tried to not feel pain myself. I was selfish. Hell, I am still selfish for coming here.” You raised your brow but let him continue. You heart slowly melting at his words. You never stopped loving him and this all was not making it easier to forget about him. “I know those words mean nothing to you now. But I love you and I miss you. What I wouldn’t give to have you back in my life. Even if only as a friend. I am not afraid to say that I love you. And I need you. And not the idea of you, but you. That selfless, kind hearted woman, with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. I want and need you. With me in my life, in NY. I know you have your life here in Boston, but… I just want you to know that.”

“It took you hell of a lot of time, Stark.” He looked up and frowned seeing a little smile on your lips. “I guess I lost a bet with Nat.”

“A bet?”

“Yeah”, you shrugged and chuckled. “I believed you’d forget about me and never come to see me, and well, Nat was sure you’d come to find me in the first three years I was away.”

“Yeah. She’s scary. I think it’s a Russian thing.” He rolled his eyes dramatically and you chuckled. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Oh, I hate you, don’t get me wrong!” He opened his mouth to say something, but was smart enough not to. “But I still love you and people say love is stronger than hate.” He was looking at you with those big puppy, brown eyes. “But I want to start over. Be your friend. Get to know Tony Stark, and…”

“And? I will give you anything you want, Lex!” He took a step closer and took your hands in his. This time you didn’t pull away.

“That place on Brooklyn. There used to be a pancake place, but now it's free and no one bought it. I want it.” He looked at you and chuckled. Pulling you closer, he kissed the top of your head.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. It’s all yours. So am I.”

#tony stark #tony stark x oc #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #PA #Avengers #Happy Ending #angst #Iron Man #Tony Stark fanfiction

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starkerforlife6969 · 5 years

Text

Pre-Starker. Peter is Nat’s little Brother

It’s nice, Tony thinks, all of them living in the tower together.

It curls warmly in his heart, the sight of Bucky glaring at the coffee maker, or Steve watching some documentary. He likes seeing Wanda and Vision baking cookies, or Clint out on the balcony shooting tracking arrows at pigeons for one of Bruce’s migration studies.

It feels a lot like…(family).

Not that’d he’d ever say it aloud.

He feels like he knows everyone better now. Thor’s not there all the time, but he drops down for a few weeks every couple of months, with some new drinking game and stories about huge battles he won that Tony knows he must exaggerate.

In fact, he thinks he knows everyone pretty well- everyone except-

Natasha.

Which is ironic, considering he’s known her the longest.

But she’s a mysterious person, that’s her shtick. He’s prodded and poked at the facade, but like him, she’s very tightly wound, and every inch she seems to give, is actually a metre she’s taken to ensure she’s still guarded. Still protected.

Even after combing unashamedly through SHIELD’s files, Tony’s still not sure about her past. A lot of spy work, but no family on record, no real name on record. Sure, Russian ancestry she says, and he’s certain he’s heard her speaking it on the phone from time to time, but he’s not really sure.

He doesn’t mind too much, because he’s the same. No matter how much he loves Bruce, Tony will never let slip the nights he’d go out to that road and sit there and think of his mom. No matter how much he loves Steve, he won’t ever say that sometimes the resentment he felt as a kid over his dad’s obsession eats him up inside. He won’t tell Vision that losing JARVIS was one of the hardest things he ever had go through, or tell Thor that every time he leaves it aches deep.

He won’t divulge his need to succeed, to prove himself, to anyone. Not even himself.

So, he understands Natasha. He thinks that because they’re so similar- she probably understands him too.

“Easy there, cowboy,” Tony chuckles, knocking Bucky out of the way to sort the coffee machine out for him as the early morning sun shines into the penthouse kitchen.

Bucky grumbles but moves easily. There’s a bowl of cornflakes in a bowl, half eaten, and Tony feels warm again at the domestic ease of it all. “Coffee’s supposed to be easy,” Bucky mutters, not for the first time, still bleary eyed, but he mutters a thanks when Tony hands him a fresh brew, and hunches over his bowl as he makes his way to the couch.

Tony rolls his eyes, and pours himself a cup. “Where’s Nat?” He asks, because she’s the one who normally makes Bucky his coffee. She wakes up first, always, then Bucky, then Tony, and then the rest whenever they feel like it.

“Someone buzzed for her at reception, I think,” Bucky says around a yawn, losing himself to the Saturday morning cartoons.

But Tony freezes. Someone called for Nat at reception? On a Saturday morning before 8am?

He’s grinning and heading for the elevator before it’s too late.

“Nat with anyone down at reception, Friday?” He asks eagerly, as the elevator takes him down.

“Yes.” Friday says mysteriously, and nothing more.

Tony laughs in surprise, gesturing expectantly. “Well…gonna ID them for me? Anything other than that?”

There’s silence for a moment, before Friday replies: “They don’t match anyone on my database, Sir. I’m running an extended scan but I’m unable to find a match.”

Of course. The plot thickens. Off-the-grid friends? Ex-spies? A Nick Fury who’s found a way to hide his face from diagnostics? Tony’s keen to find out.

When he gets to the ground floor, there are only a few people around. His receptionist, a few cleaners, a few scientists and interns dotted around here and there enjoying a coffee for an early start, or stumbling home after an all nighter, and there, sure enough, the shock of red hair gets his attention.

Natasha’s standing near the revolving doors, talking to a-

Tony frowns.

It’s a boy.

A young boy, a college student if his attire’s anything to go by- he’s got a backpack on, and tight jeans with oversized pink flannel. He’s bathed in the white light of morning, and he’s beautiful. Loose curls, hickory highlights and eyes of honey.

Tony can’t quite piece it all together. Does Natasha have a young lover?

He saunters over; straining his ears.

He hears Natasha say: “I know you do, solnyshko, but Mr Stark is really busy.”

Which is weird because Nat’s never called him Mr anything. Moron? Sure. Pain in her ass? Most definitely. Tony Stank on one awful occasion, but never Mr Stark.

So, he smiles, straightens his shirt, and clears his throat.

She whirls around so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t get a knife to the throat, but when she sees him- there’s something naked on her face. Something he’s never seen before- something she doesn’t quite school fast enough. The bare emotion of fear. It’s so painfully human that he suddenly regrets coming downstairs- regrets intruding on whatever this is-

“Oh my god! Oh my god! You’re Tony Stark!” Comes the ecstatic voice of the college student, and Tony doesn’t have time to say sorry, because the boy is stepping forward and gushing about how much he admires Tony, which is, you know, pretty great. The boy’s so pretty, with sharp cheekbones and long lashes-

“The very same,” Tony grins, holding out a hand. “And who might you be?”

Natasha cuts in smoothly, face back to fairly impassive. “Mr Stark, this is Peter, he’s a big fan of all your work- both scientific and Ironman-relevant.”

Peter and nothing more. How do they know each other? And she’s still calling him Mister Stark. Peter nods so forcefully it ruffles all the curls on his head. “I’ve ready everything you’ve written, Mr Stark! And Ironman- I have like- all the posters!”

Tony resists the urge to pull Peter closer where their hands are joined. He knows exactly what he’d do if he’d found this boy at a club, tug him closer and use that hero-worship to have quite the night but-

Natasha’s shifting. Almost imperceptibly. She’s uncomfortable. Her eyes are subtly raking over the lobby as if waiting for someone else to walk in-

Tony helps her out. “Well, Peter, any friend of Ms. Romanov’s is a friend of mine. Apply for an internship at SI and I’d be happy to look over your CV myself, I’m sure we have a position here for you in some department.”

He does mean to help, but the look he gets from Nat feels like he should be murdered on the spot for his generous offer. Well damn, he tried. He called her Ms Romanov.

“An internship?” Peter whispers, eyes-wide and jaw slack. “I will, Mr Stark! Thank you-“

“He’s very busy, Peter,” Nat reminds, voice gentle, and Peter nods, cut short from going onto another long ramble over how much he respects Tony. “You should go,” she urges softly, and Peter nods- but not before he tiptoes and throws his arms around her for a hug.

If Tony were drinking coffee, he’d spit it out.

Natasha ignores him, and wraps her arms around the boy, one hand cradling the back of his head, fingers buried in the curls, and Tony might be seeing things, but he’s sure she kisses his forehead and murmurs something like: “Be safe. I’ll call you later.”

“Love you too,” Peter beams, not at all covert, so whatever it is she’s hiding, Peter doesn’t know it’s a secret, that much is clear. Or he’s just very bad at keeping secrets which seems…unlikely for someone who apparently loves Natasha. And, if the soft voice and worried eyes are anything to go by, is loved in return. “It was an honour meeting you, Mr Stark Sir!” And then he’s out of the revolving doors and into the city’s bustling morning.

Neither of them speak for a moment, they just breathe: waiting.

Tony breaks the silence. “A friend of yours?” He asks breezily, and Natasha squares her shoulders and turns to look him right in the face.

She feels taller than him. She must be wearing heels. Or Tony’s thoroughly intimidated. “Tony,” she mutters, shaking her head, “we have an understanding, you and I, right? That sometimes you leave well enough alone. That you trust me when I tell you- you don’t need to know anymore.”

He nods slowly, wondering if he’s being manipulated. It’s hard to tell with Nat. It’s one of the reasons he likes her so much. She’s as good as deferring as he is. Good at distracting people with irrelevant things to squirrel away the crux of the matter. As it is, he’s content to let it lie. “Fine by me. Does anyone else know anything?”

He’ll be a little jealous if they do. She shakes her head, eyes hard. “It’ll stay that way.”

He crosses his heart, and thinks no more of it.

* Oh sure fine, he scans everywhere for a Peter at any of the nearby college’s but there are thousands and Friday can’t seem to match anyone to the boy in reception from earlier. It’s like his face is scrambled and Tony’s sure Natasha’s protecting him.

For what? The boy had seemed harmless enough. Unless he’s some sort of ex-Hydra mind controlled operative, which seems unlikely, there must be another reason.

Family, is Tony’s first thought. You do for family.

But he’s not sure Romanov is her real name and Peter Romanov or even Pietro brings nothing up. Blank. Suspiciously blank.

Tony sighs, and decides to actually let it lie.

But then it happens again, another accident.

His muscles ache and it’s nearly three am when he leaves the lab. Sleep has finally demanded his attention, and he’s headed to his bedroom when he feels a cool breeze ruffle the sweaty strands of hair pressed against his neck.

He frowns and heads to the balcony, but all the doors are sealed.

The wind blows again, so he follows it up the stairs towards the roof and sure enough, lit by the light of New York, is Peter.

He’s sitting on the ledge, a bowl of cereal in his palm, spoon in his other hand, gesturing wildly about something or other, so milk sloshes dangerously around each side.

Natasha comes into view too, she’s in her pyjamas unlike Peter who’s wrapped up warm in a coat, and she’s carrying a box of Lucky Charms. She laughs; face unguarded, relaxed in a way Tony’s never seen. He watches, hidden by the shadows, as she pours more cereal into Peter’s bowl until it’s teeming with sugary tokens.

Peter laughs, gesturing her away. “I’m not that hungry!”

“You’re too thin is what you are,” she teases lightly, sitting right beside him.

Tony sees it then, in that moment. The sharp cut of their jawlines, the delicate slender slope of their noses- siblings.

Natasha has a little brother. He feels winded.

“And you’re sure Mr Stark won’t mind us being up here?”

She rolls her eyes. “No one ever comes up here. Besides, it’s one of the perks in being his personal assistant.”

Peter shakes his head in awe. “That is so cool. You have the coolest job ever.”

It’s like a heavy punch to the gut. His personal assistant? Natasha has never been that- not even when she technically was, she wasn’t really. Not for years. She’s lying to her brother.

Tony can understand why, of course. To keep him safe. It also has the double benefit of making sure that even if Peter were captured, he wouldn’t be able to say anything.

Tony thinks it’s probably more so for the former reason.

He heads back down, shaking his head and trying to picture it. Natasha with a little brother. As a protective older sister. Making sure he does his homework, inside jokes, beating up bullies, making sure he eats, texting him. All normal things. He struggles to piece it into one person.

* Over scrambled eggs on brown toast, Tony brings it up.

“What’s your brother’s major?” He asks innocently.

Natasha takes a mean bite out of the corner of her toast, as if she wishes the bread were Tony’s jugular. She chews deliberately slowly, and then swallows. “Tony.” She says warningly, and he shrugs, lifting up his hands in innocence.

But he’s never known when to quit. “Science? Engineering? Give me a hint.” The kid had gushed over everything Tony had written, he must know at least a little bit of science. Plus, Nat’s always been scarily rational. “Math?”

She sets down her breakfast, and folds her hands under her chin. She doesn’t speak. She just stares.

He refuses to sweat under her glower. “You know you can trust me, right?” He says, more softly.

Her face softens at that, and she returns to her breakfast, looking at is as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “I know that, Tony. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Peter.”

“He thinks you’re my personal assistant.”

She doesn’t ask how he knows. Just takes it in stride, like she does with most things. “Yes.”

“You’re protecting him?”

Her eyes gleam. “Always.” She says fiercely, and Tony’s struck by the strength of it. He’s never had any siblings, any close friends like that. Someone to look out for him, always, something in his blood. He has Rhodey, but Rhodey’s never needed protecting. It’s different. He’s never known his whole life with someone loving him as ferociously as Natasha loves Peter.

“I could protect him too,” Tony offers, going for off-hand and light-hearted, even as her eyes, razor-sharp, dart to his face. He busies himself by sprinkling black pepper over his eggs. “You’ve done a pretty good job hiding him from the database, but I could add a whole other level of protection. Keep him off everything for good. No one could ever get their hands on him.”

She’s silent for a while. Pondering it. She’s not stupid enough to reject it outright through sheer stubbornness. “You would do that?” She asks tentatively, and Tony scoffs.

“Of course, I would. I’d do anything for you.”

The look she gives him makes him feel warm. Like maybe he’s her older brother.

“He would probably die for the chance to meet you,” she muses, before smiling in that way that says she’s given in. “If I introduced you, you could never tell anyone, Tony, I mean it. Not if we fight, not if you’re trying to get to me, I would destroy you.”

He thrums with excitement, even as his brain says: maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

* For obvious reasons, Nat doesn’t want to bring Peter to the penthouse.

Instead, she and Tony find themselves on the jet to MIT.

“MIT, really?” He scoffs at her, “my terf! And you didn’t even tell me!”

“Don’t pout.” She hums, looking out of the window. “He’s very smart. Smarter than you, for sure.”

Tony blinks affrontedly. Before he shrugs her off.“You would say that. You’re biased.”

“He’s majoring in Aeronautics and Mathematics, and he’s averaging an A in Jefferson’s class.”

“Bullshit,” Tony gapes, “no one gets an A in Jefferson’s class.” He knows the old bullfrog wouldn’t give a student an A if his life depended on it. It was something of a legend back in Tony’s day to try. He’s not surprised the man’s still there. Like a statue, probably embedded into the building’s heart.

She smiles smugly. “Peter does.”

“Peter does,” he mimics in a high-pitched voice. They enjoy silence for a moment, before he clears his throat to ruin it: “Your brother, he’s…eighteen?”

She arches an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Right, right,” he nods, phew. “He’s very…pretty.”

“Tony.”

“Of course, I wasn’t gonna try anything-“

“Jesus,” she rolls her eyes, but her tone is firm. “Do you have to try and get in the pants of everything that moves?”

“Not everything. Just very pretty things. And I never said I was going to try, I was just making an observation. Anyone could see it. You’ve got some great family genes.”

“I didn’t think I’d need to say it, Tony, but touch my brother, and I will kill you.”

He slouches in his seat and sighs. Beautiful and smart and completely off limits. He’s sure he’ll have no problem adhering to that rule.

#starker #nat and tony friendship #peter is natasha's younger brother #protective natasha #peter x tony #preslash #flirting #hero worship #really prestarker #precious peter parker #playboy tony #pining tony #oblivious peter #natasha #tony #peter

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some-creep · 4 years

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SERIOUS and OFFICIAL RE3 Creep Review

Resident Evil 3 Remake is a good and fun game that I have already dedicated more energy into than all of RE2 Remake.

However. We can’t leave it at that so here’s a stupid long post.

First off: This will not include any mention of the freebie multiplayer game bundled in, RE: Resistance, a game that I unfortunately like but also realize it adds absolutely nothing to the purchase of this game itself.

Second: I have no goddamn idea what other people are saying about this game because I haven’t even clicked on the steam store page to see the general review scores. I don’t have twitter, and I refuse to watch reviews. All I know is vague youtube titles I’ve seen in my feed. That’s it.

Third of all: Everything I’ve ever written on here is disjointed and confusing so buckle the fuck up.

Oh. And spoilers.

To start this story we must go back to everyone’s favorite year, 2003, when RE3 released on the Gamecube and I was in third grade. Watching my cousin play it when he stayed over was my first actual experience with the series. And Nemesis was, like, really fucking scary at the time because I was a child. I bring this up because as you all might know, I’m a bit of an obsessed weirdo sometimes. This is where it started for me, so RE3 is kind of a big deal for me personally. Conceptually, this game means kind of a lot to me I guess.

As a “remake”, RE3 does, like, a terrible fucking job at being one of those. This is flat out, just, not a remake. At all. It’s a re-imagining. It would be easier to count the things they included from the original over the things they cut, that’s how different it is. OG RE3 had like. Three environments. And the remake just straight up cuts one of them and slaps a different character in the other. Alright I guess. We don’t see Brad get killed by Nemesis, because that just… doesn’t happen anymore. Jill doesn’t go to the police station… at all even. There’s no missile countdown during the final boss fight which was my favorite part because it was like. I know it was just a glorified timer but it was much scarier to me than the self destruct timer? Idk for some reason the concept of a missile destroying the whole ass city is an idea that genuinely just kind of freaks me out to this day.

This will sounds very hyperbolic but the ending was kind of garbage. Mr. Paul I love my Wife Anderson did a shot for shot recreation of the original ending and I guess I was just expecting something like that instead we got. Not. That. I don’t know if these complaints are valid but they are things I’ve been thinking about a lot. Half that scene straight up just takes place in a map that is just an empty white void. If that after the credits scene wasn’t a possible hint at a Code Veronica remake I will riot. CV is my other favorite game (conceptually. CV itself is a completely fucking unplayable nightmare game).

There’s no helicopter fight. There’s no gravedigger. There’s no giant spiders. There’s one bonus costume. Hell, there frankly isn’t even a lot of Raccoon City at all.

I guess it is short. My first play through was 4ish hours of logged gameplay and 6ish hours of total playtime with cutscenes and nemesis chases which apparently pause the timer since they’re basically QTEs? This doesn’t really bother me like it does other people. I don’t have a lot of free time anymore. Everyone fucking hates that this game is short from what I’ve seen? Idk. (It’s no shorter than RE2. RE2 just seems longer since you can be Leon or Claire but their stories are basically identical. B scenario in RE2 Remake was a fucking joke.)

Buuut… I really, really like this game. Carlos is fine. He’s in this game. I still don’t like him that much but he’s the best of the male sidekicks. Maybe I like him more than Leon. He isn’t offensive or anything I just don’t stan him as hard as everyone on here seems to. Mikhail is way, way better now. Love how he knows who Jill is. Nikolai has… good facial mocap I guess. He’s certainly in the game and is evil and Russian again so no change there. Tyrel is a character who does things and is in scenes. He seems nice. He’s doing his best. And then there’s Jill. Who got the best treatment of anything in this entire game. Not like, physically of course, her ribs are absolutely destroyed and her spine has been snapped several times after all of that shit they put her through in the cutscenes.

I loved, loved, loved the opening. So much. Jill’s apartment. Her nightmares. The fact her life is in shambles. I’ve gushed about this before but I genuinely loved how the game opened. It’s everything I could have asked for and so much more. It’s an idea I’ve toyed w/ before in one of the only finished stories I’ve ever put on AO3 and I’m so glad to see it acknowledged canonically. I just. Ugh. I loved it.

Everything she says is beautiful and perfect and sassy and sometimes angry and it’s just. Good. They let Jill say fuck and she became unstoppable. Also she at least still says the You want S.T.A.R.S. line. It’s way, way, way early, in a scene that makes no sense for it to be in at all. But she says it. And I liked that she said it. I’m easy.

That stupid railgun bullshit at the end?? I was streaming it live and just exclaimed “is this game even real???” because I was just so all about it. We’re all still giggling at “Bitch can’t even swim.”

It’s fun to play as Jill and do sick dodge rolls. I’ve gone through this game four times now, once on each base difficulty and again on Assisted with just the hot-dogger fire knife w/o healing. Sick dodge rolls make the game very easy if you don’t fuck them up. I always fuck them up. But, still. I feel like all the bits are there from RE2 but just better. I intend to go through the game on the other two difficulties. Wish me luck. I am frankly terrified. But I want to do it.

Two of the nemesis fights are just straight up identical though. Which is. Okay. Sure. Whatever.

This game only had two puzzles for reasons I do not understand. The subway puzzle was the hardest of the two. It is the first puzzle in the game. Arguably, it is the only puzzle in the game because it is the only one you have to think about for more than 11 seconds to solve.

When the credits play the new version of Free from Fear I genuinely forget every weird problem I have with this game because it’s just… so good. Once again. I am easy.

This whole thing probably sounds like more complaints than praise for a game I’ve put this much time into, and maybe it is, but it is easier to talk about about something bad about a game than to pinpoint what you liked. And I love to complain as we all know. This is horrible as a remake. It’s great as a follow up to RE2 Remake probably. I think plenty of people already disagree with that. But plenty of people like to just be wrong on the internet.

Speaking of RE2 remake why did Pale Heads return from.. the ghost survivors dlc of all the fucking things. That’s just weird. They were a weird inclusion. Maybe I’m not totally surprised something like that made it over but it’s still… weird. They’re fine as an enemy type. I just ignored them though.

I think that for me it is just enough to have good and fun characters that I enjoy. I just. Like how Jill is written. And honestly, that’s kinda just all I need. It doesn’t really matter to me that this game is something of a horrible amalgamation of vaguely borrowed concepts from the original game. Sure, the RE1 remake is great because it’s mostly completely faithful, but that doesn’t mean it’s the only way to do it. Re-imaginings like this can also be good. This one is good. It’s fun.

There are a strange amount of tentacles in this game to the point where I wonder if someone on the dev team just straight up had a fetish. Especially after you get the lockpick. That scene is. Um. Yeah. It’s in the game.

Is that really how I’m going to end this? Talking about the tentacle fetish?

Yeah.

#resident evil #resident evil 3 #re3 #re3 remake #resident evil 3 remake #very little of what i wrote made actual sense #pls @ me so we can fight about it #creep ranks

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sturlsons · 5 years

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french in 1.5 years anon

Kinda random but I just found out that I’ll be required to be intermediate/advanced in French by the next 1.5 years; ALL I KNOW IS THAT MEIRDE IS A BAD BAD WORD! Idk if you’re a native speaker but I was wondering if you could provide me of any good French language resources (or language in general since I’ll be needing to learn Arabic soon as well), and like tips for language learning and how to go about it? Sorry to bother you haha this is MY stress but I appreciate any help! Have a great day!

HEY. so i really fucking dropped the ball on this one, i’m sorry. 2019 has been one health fiasco after another (or more like the same fiasco again and again) and i kept telling myself i want to sit down and make a proper post for this, until i realised that that’s just never going to happen given the way things are rn. and i’d rather give you a quickly-written post which is actually helpful than never write that perfect bullet-pointed one.

first of all, i’ve been in your EXACT position (so no, i’m not a native speaker) except i had about...six months to go from je m’appelle teesta to voyez-vous, le problème qui se cache derrière tout ça n’est pas le manque de respect mais la personne dont il s’agit or whatever. i was like, i can so do this. (spoiler: i didn’t, because i was 18 and overconfident and stupid and didn’t actually know how to learn a language.) GOOD NEWS: having learned 3 more foreign languages since then, i am now REALLY GOOD at learning languages REALLY FAST. 1.5 years is a good amount of time, so don’t stress.

i’m going to go generic on this, with some extra tips about french since i speak it, unlike arabic.

first thing, that typical thing everyone hates to hear but knows is coming from the mouth of an accomplished person (pat on my back) in any field whatsoever: you’re going to have to work really hard and practice like fuck.

there’s just nothing else that can replace it. i’ve filled up notebooks and notebooks with japanese verb conjugations, once i did like 1800 of them in one sitting. but you better believe that a bitch will never forget those now. resign yourself to putting in at least three hours of your day to this until you get to the level you need. (and three hours is...kind. at my peak i was literally reading through french dictionaries at the library, 10 AM - 8 PM. i treated it like a workday.)

now, what you need to establish is: are you a hands-on learner or a digital one.

i don’t really care for all the auditory learner and visual learner stuff, i don’t know about anyone else but i personally used those as excuses to avoid certain exercises. unless you have actual disabilities preventing you from accessing certain methods of learning, you can train yourself into anything. it’s a matter of practice. i could barely understand a new song without reading its lyrics first, now i eat up podcasts.

SO. the question here is different. a hands-on learner, like i used to be more or less throughout my bachelor’s, is someone who absolutely cannot retain information unless they’ve written it down BY HAND at least once. pen and paper. (i’m still like this but i’ve learned to combine it with digital methods to go faster.) if this isn’t a hurdle for you, congratulations. your process is going to go that much faster, at least for french. (you’ll have to spend hours practicing your written arabic however, if you’re not familiar with the script.)

now, if you’re a hands-on learner, you need to add an extra hour to your daily time. no matter how fast you write, you will take that time. and you cannot shorthand your way into languages. you need to understand how french is spelt, what accents it uses, that they put a space before exclamation points, question marks, and semicolons. (side tip: learn the IPA. it will be useful to you forever in language learning, at least for the romance languages.) i’m not gonna teach you how to make notes since i’ve never benefitted from copying someone else’s style, so if you don’t have a set method start establishing that. you need regularity and rhythm when you learn a language. my grammar notes look the same regardless of the language. i don’t have my french ones since it’s been years and i didn’t take good ones then anyway, but here’s my japanese and russian stuff.

JAPANESE NOTES // RUSSIAN NOTES

now, it bears mentioning that these notes are NOT the notes i take when i don’t know shit. these are final level notes. they’re brief, idiosyncratic, and only reminders. something to refer to when i’m revising and suddenly forget a rule. the first notes i make are much more elaborate, whether they’re pretty or not. i’ve gradually lost the fucks i had about really going ham on academics so my russian notes are very messy, but my japanese ones from back in the day are magnificent. here’s a look. during lesson one i realised that japanese and my mother tongue, gujarati, are syntaxically similar as shit, and i started taking notes with references in gujarati. it sped up my learning process 2x while my french classmates were still going “BUT WHY IS IT LIKE THAT”.

PRACTICAL GRAMMAR // THEORETICAL GRAMMAR

if you plan to learn more languages in the future, this will be so valuable. sometimes a phrase i learn in russian doesn’t make sense in its french explanation, but a phrase in english might use the same logic. bam, put down the translation in english then. you get what i’m saying? the more languages you learn, the easier it gets to learn languages.

now if you’re a digital learner, i’ve got great news for you. duolingo and anki are your best friends. duolingo’s memed to hell and has a system that might not work for everyone, but they’ll do the brunt work of compiling grammar notes for you in the beginnings/ends of their lessons. note those down and transform them into anki flashcards, and you can learn grammar concepts without doing 20 exercises. (do those exercises if you can, though, nothing beats mindless practice.) now anki is an intimidating-looking but actually super intuitive app that basically builds digital flashcards for you and shows them to you in a rhythm based on your own learning speed. it’ll show you the front of a card, let’s say merde. you say the english translation out loud, shit, and hit enter. correct! was that easy? anki’ll show it to you in 10 minutes. hard? it’ll show you in 1 minute. super easy? merde won’t come up again until tomorrow. eventually you get so good at it that you can bury a card for 2 months. anki will also show you the same cards reversed, which is harder but trains you better. you’ll see shit and have to remember what it’s called in french, which is more difficult than you’d think it is.

you can use anki for more than just vocab, like i mentioned. it’s a little tricky learning to convert grammar concepts into front/back flashcards, but you can do it. for example, here’s a sample of one of my russian grammar cards:

front ^^

back once i hit enter^^

see? not that difficult. now don’t be an idiot like me who manually entered every single flashcard into anki. you can find pre-made packages online (but you can’t guarantee they’ll be correct) or you can make your own without killing your fingers. what you wanna do is open up a spreadsheet and make two columns, A for front of the card and B for back. it’ll look like this:

then you’re gonna save that spreadsheet as a .CVS (comma separated values) and import that into anki. bam, your flashcards are made for you with half the effort. there’s also a script floating around somewhere to make excel translate words automatically for you, but i don’t recommend that unless they’re really easy words. google translate can fuck up. reverso is your friend.

you need to review your anki cards every day. it’ll take less and less time as you go along. i can review 300 russian cards in 15 minutes now. but you need to keep the rhythm going. download ankiapp and sync your cards, review them on commutes or in the hallway or whatever. trust me, it’s magic.

apart from this, if a traditional textbook helps, go for that. i’ve always used textbooks and workbooks, more as supports than as principal methods, but it does help. it’s structured and organised and these people know how to train you. bescherelle is a good go-to for french.

media is always a great way of immersion too, until you get to the country itself. it’ll show you how french people speak french. when i first came to france i didn’t have that experience and even though i spoke an arguably decent amount of french when i got here, it was like, if this is french then what the fuck was i learning in high school. if you like watching movies this is your chance. watch the classics first so that you can get an idea of french pop culture. amélie (though the pop culture aspect here is about shitting on it) and les intouchables, for starters. watch your favourite films, first subbed, then subbed and dubbed, then just dubbed. i watched all ten seasons of friends with french subs, it was wild. with music you want to start off with some indie-ish singers since they will universally sing softer and slower, making things easier to understand than idk, la tribu de dana. (if you’re into bts there’s a hilarious video of their baepsae choreo set to la tribu de dana.) anyway - angèle, cœur de pirate, céline dion, fréro delavega, uhhh that fucking french sufjan stevens. what’s his name. VIANNEY. don’t fucking listen to biglo and oli or like, fatal bazooka right away. you will not understand shit. i barely understand it. white people are wild. ooh listen to stromae. orelsan too, he’s a rapper but he has a relatively clean diction imo. he also sang the french opening for OPM. they call him orelsan-san in japan.

last but not the least: if you have the opportunity to interact in french with people, DO IT. native speakers will do their best to help you and be kind about it. people who learned french might sometimes be assholes from experience. it’s a whole superiority complex thing, and very hypocritical. anyway - online or IRL, wherever you can practice your french, do it. it’ll be immensely helpful. there’s nothing like the frustration of not being able to express simple things to get you motivated to get better. do your best to immerse yourself - changing the language on your devices can make a difference too.

i think that’s all i have and again, i’m sorry for taking this long to finally deliver, thanks for your patience! if you have any specific questions don’t hesitate to hit me up, on anon or not.

good luck - it’s not going to be the easiest but nothing is as gratifying as beginning to understand the workings of a language. you’re gonna love it!

#teesta talks for ts #uni tag #anons #replies

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knifeshoeoreofight · 6 years

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

(Disclaimer: many wild liberties taken with the academic hiring process, North Atlantic sailing, etc. etc.)

My writing music for this section: X

Bringing Vero and Cath in on the entire thing proves to be a godsend, and Cath makes it her mission to help Zhenya prepare to try and find work in the Maritimes. She sits down with Zhenya and spends hours helping him translate some of his more celebrated papers and articles into English. He does the basic translation and she refines the grammar and the syntax.

“I’m learning so much about marine mammal behavior,” she laughs. When he tries to thank her she waves it off. “I’m supposed to be taking it really easy, with the baby coming so soon. This is keeping me from losing my mind out of boredom, frankly.”

She’s late in her last trimester, belly swollen and heavy. Zhenya knows she’s probably incredibly uncomfortable most of the time. “You saint, too good for Kris,” he only half-jokes, much as he likes Kris.

“Oh, and doesn’t he know it,” she twinkles, and grins cheekily at her husband as he comes in carefully balancing a plate of doctor-approved snacks.

“Don’t I know what” Kris asks, leaning down to kiss her bright hair.

“Don’t know anything,” Zhenya grumbles, to cover up how much their devoted rapport affects him.

Fuck, he misses Sid.

***

By the time his CV is ready to start sending out, Magda and Sid are somewhere off the coast of Virginia.

The closer they get the more Zhenya’s restlessness sharpens. He buries himself in his research, but Vero seems to know just when he’s ready to tear his hair out.

“Take a baby,” she tells him, and hands Scarlett or Estelle off to him. He’s happy to babysit, after all she and her husband are doing for him. And the kids are sweethearts.

Somehow, time passes and Magda and Sid draw ever nearer.

***

A cold call to the Memorial University of Newfoundland miraculously leads to him being invited to speak to the biology department chair via Skype.

“Your credentials are impressive, Dr. Malkin,” he says. “But I’m told you held a secure position in a prestigious university in Russia. Why here, and why now?”

Zhenya answers as best as he can. “Focus for last couple years has been Atlantic humpback population. This area one of the best places to study. Was here last summer, tagging whales for research study. But that’s not biggest reason.” He pauses, and gathers his words.

“Political climate in Russia is… difficult. There are laws about what they call, ‘propaganda.’ And this winter, I meet someone who live in this area. Someone that is not safe to be with in Russia.”

“Ah,” the man says, understanding dawning in his face. “Well, you know as well as I that the university hiring process works in cycles, and that it’s not the time of year we’re looking to hire new faculty.”

“I know,” Zhenya says, heart sinking.

“But,” the man continues. “I’ve looked over your body of work. It’s extremely impressive. We host a lot of different visiting researchers at the Ocean Sciences Center. I’d like to work something out with you. And in terms of next year, I’m very interested in expanding our course offerings regarding marine mammal studies, if the university can be made to agree.”

Zhenya ends the meeting elated and grateful.

***

They have a celebratory dinner after that.

“And another thing,” Marc-Andre says as they discuss Zhenya’s work opportunities. “If Sid says yes to making this public, you could probably have any position or facilities you wanted, anywhere.”

“If,” Zhenya stresses. “Up to Sid. And I’m think about this a lot. If this doesn’t work out, can just work on fishing boat or some other job like that. Anything, so I’m close.” Cath smiles and pats his hand.

“Explain it to me again,” Vero asks. “Why tell anyone, ever? Wouldn’t they just, I don’t know, put him a lab somewhere?”

Zhenya feels a wave of revulsion shudder through him. “No. Never. Die before I let happen.”

“Yeah,” Marc-Andre says, jaw set, his normally impish expression serious and set like iron. “But it might… change things. Force the hands of organizations like the U.N. Create a global movement towards conservation. Wake people up.”

They’re all silent for a moment. They all have the images to draw on, the dire statistics and the horrifying data that keep them up at night. But Sid didn’t ask to be an ambassador for his species. The decision has to be his.

***

Kris’s in-laws own a sailboat. She sails best with a crew of three, so Zhenya, Marc-Andre, and Vero start taking her out on shakedown voyages into the Bay of Fundy while Kris stays behind with Cath, whose due date is approaching rapidly.

They figure the boat’s the best way to find Sid once Magda reaches her feeding grounds. Her top speed is about eight knots, or fifteen miles per hour. Just fast enough to catch up with Magda if she isn’t moving at her full traveling speed.

They take a longer trip all the way around the southern end of Nova Scotia, to Halifax. The open water of the Atlantic is rough, nothing like the tropics. But they work together well, and start making plans for the long sail up the coast followed by the more than sixteen hour crossing to Newfoundland.

They spend late nights with charts all over the table, laptops spilling pools of blue light. Every night, Zhenya checks the data to watch Sid’s progress.

Closer and closer.

***

Zhenya nearly loses his mind when Magda lingers near Cape Cod. Then, before he knows it, the tags ping within a day’s sail of Cape Sable Island, right off the southern tip of Nova Scotia. He wants to take the boat out right away to chase them, but he knows it’s foolishness, putting them all at risk.

But they start packing, and prepare to follow, up past Cape Breton and into the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

***

Two days before they set sail, Cath delivers a baby girl. She and Kris name her Victoria. Zhenya goes with Marc-Andre and his family to visit, bringing along a little stuffed whale, because, why not.

Cath is exhausted but radiant, and Zhenya almost can’t look at Kris’s face as he watches his son kiss his new little sister’s downy head.

“I can’t help but feel that it’s...not good luck, exactly,” Cath says, when Zhenya is given the chance to hold Victoria. She’s so tiny and so light in his arms. “But just… it’s significant somehow. Her coming now.”

“Life,” Zhenya says, staring down as the baby blinks hazy blue eyes and yawns a miniature, perfect yawn. “New things starting.”

Cath smiles at him. “Exactly.”

Zhenya takes a dozen pictures for Sid.

***

The Atlantic feels like it wants to fight them, either to cast them right out of its storm-shattered currents again or drag them down in pieces. But Vero and Marc-Andre have been raised on the water, and Zhenya’s learned fast. Magda’s slowing, moving less linearly each day. She’s stopping to feed in the rich waters, replenishing the weight she lost nursing Pasha in the Caribbean.

***

The day they come within a mile of the last satellite ping, the sky is gray but calm. Zhenya stays topside, binoculars trained on the horizon, watching for spouts. They put a speaker into the water, playing a looped tape of Zhenya’s voice. When they made the recording, Zhenya was too embarrassed to speak in English, so it’s in Russian. He talks to Sid, telling him how much he misses him, how the months without him dragged.

And then they wait.

***

There’s a thud on the hull. Splashing at the waterline. Zhenya’s binoculars clatter to the deck, he lurches for the rail, and Marc-Andre has to haul on the back of his jacket so that he doesn’t slip and go overboard.

Sid.

There he is, reaching his hands out so Zhenya and Marc-Andre can haul him up. There’s ice-cold water streaming off him but Zhenya kneels on the deck and wraps him in his arms anyway, buries his face in Sid’s neck, can’t stop the hot tears coursing down his face.

Until this very moment, a small, deep part of him had been certain that they’d never find him.

Sid’s making a low keening sound deep in his chest, and his hands are clutching at Zhenya’s jacket like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear. They move to the back of Zhenya’s head, to his waist, back to clutching at his jacket. He wrenches loose, but it’s only so he can take Zhenya’s face in his hands and kiss him, little biting kisses all over his face, followed by a deep press of his lips to Zhenya’s.

“Sid,” Zhenya says brokenly. Sid murmurs back the sound he makes for Zhenya’s name. His eyes are dark and wild. He leans forward and sets his teeth to the base of Zhenya’s throat, holding him in place.

When he pulls back there’s blood on his lips. His sharp canines scraped Zhenya’s skin.

Sorry sorry sorry, he signs wildly, but Zhenya shakes his head. He leans forward, and kisses Sid in the same place, right above the shine of his gold chain. He bites down too, and Sid jerks against him.

Mine yes mine Sid declares more than asks. Mine.

Yes, Zhenya says, and rests his forehead against Sid’s. Yes.

#more things in heaven and earth #sidgeno #sidney crosby/evgeni malkin #hockey rpf #dana writes a thing #yes that means they're pretty much mer-married #also this fic is now my longest #barring the Vegas WIP

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onceuponawildflower · 6 years

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Let's talk about feminine care for a moment.

Ever wonder how many used tampons and pads are in the world? With the bleak and desperate push by the world's leading scientists to make real changes to how we're living to avoid a legitimate end of world issue, I got thinking about waste. And that got me thinking about tampons and feminine care.

Did you know there were toxic chemicals, dyes, and scents put into tampons? I mean anyone who has a vagina or has been in close contact with a vagina knows that they're basically the body's sponge, so anything that goes into them should be clean and safe. But mainstream tampon companies don't really see that as a priority, and that's scary. (But also given how this country views women, are we really surprised they're trying to poison us for attempting to manage inevitable bodily functions?)

When I first learned about all of this, I decided to call it quits on tampons. I was never much of a pad person, so I moved over to the cup. For those of you who don't know about this, it's a silicon cup you place in your vagina and with a bit of finagling, pull it into a seal so it will catch all your blood. You change it out just like you'd change a tampon, except you don't throw it away, but rather clean it with unscented soap (think tattoo soap) and reuse pretty much indefinitely. As far as waste is concerned, it's the least wasteful of period care products.

But if you're like me, sometimes trying to put a big pink cup into your body as it's already in a sore state is less than desirable, and can actually make it more painful. I used the cup for about a year because I'd rather have some mild discomfort than poison my body or wear pads which made me feel like I was wearing a diaper.

But just last month, I saw an ad for Cora. Cora is a female run feminine care business that is doing a ton of awesome stuff for women.

Number one: their tampons are 100% organic cotton. Period. No chemicals. Nothing but trusty organic plant-based absorbency.

Number two: for every box of tampons they sell, they give another box to a girl in a developing country so they can continue to go to school, even when they're on their period. If you weren't aware, a lot of the time, girls will stop going to school once they hit puberty because of the shame, stigma, and inconvenience of having their period. In a lot of places, there isn't access to feminine care, so these girls have to stay at home from school, which sets them behind. Cora is working to change that by providing feminine care to these girls so they can keep on going learning and achieving.

Number three: they pay the feminine tax. You know what I'm talking about if you've ever compared the price of male and female... Well, literally anything. Razors, deodorant, shampoo, soap, socks, underwear, etc. I think we're at a rate of 4-7% more for women's products than men's. Which is ludicrous. I won't go too far into this because I could go on and on --- but what I'm getting at is that Cora covers that tax so you don't have to worry about that surcharge.

Number four: they're actually affordable. First, you get a free trial so you can see if you like what you're working with. And then you set up a subscription, and they send out every three months. I bought three months worth tampons for $24. As I'm used to spending about $6-7 on a box of generic tampons at CVS a month, that's pretty much the best price I could ask for for something that's miles better than toxin-laden tampons.

Number five: their packaging. A box of 18 tampons is the size of my palm. You can opt for applicator free tampons, which saves on waste and space. Their high quality tampons shipped to you in a small box, with an even smaller box of neatly organized tampons in minimalist packaging, kind of like a Russian doll for your moon cycle. This made me especially happy.

Number six: they're female founded and run. What's better than women seeing change that needs to happen and stepping up to the plate to make that change? Try me.

Bottom line: I'm sold on Cora. They're doing so much good stuff for females everywhere. It's fantastic. And what's more, it's affordable. That's really important.

If you're interested in trying them out, click on this. That'll take you to the free trial page. They'll send you six tampons for you to give it a go. No obligation necessary. No dodgy sales tactics to sneak attack you with a subscription. They comminicate with you ahead of time about if you'd like to subscribe, so you're totally in charge of that. Cora really seems to be a genuinely good company looking to better women and women's health as a whole.

If that's something you can get down with, try them out. I'm posting this because I want everyone to have happy healthy vaginas, and know that it is possible to have a say about what goes in your body.

Additionally! They do offer pads and sanitary wipes for those who are more attuned to that. I can't speak for them because I haven't used them, but if they're anything like their tampons, I can bet they're super absorbent and affordable too.

Here's to many healthy happy cycles, ladies!

#personal #cora #referral #cora referral #free stuff #take back the power #our bodies our choice #feminine care #moon cycle #tampons #organic tampons

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thong-in-the-twist · 6 years

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Alright, for the ask thing: 4, 7, 10 and 16. ♥

Yeah! I’ve already answered 4 (pączki!) and 7 (Chrząszczyżewoszyce, Pierdoła, źdźbło, żółć), so I will start with 10!

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

GREAT QUESTION. Swearing in Polish is a form of art. You can go really easy with that and throw some kurwa (literally a whore, but used just like an exclaimation, similar to fuck) here and there as a comma, but! Once more, Polish is a fusional language and most of our swear words are verbs. I will not go into linguistics, but another important part of Polish is that we have a long list of morphemes that when attached to a word they slightly change its meaning. Which gives us an amazing ability to jugle with our swear words. There was actually a research that proved that we can communicate using only swear words, and that we are able to hold meaningful conversation using only swear words. If we are allowed to use Nouns, than we can freely live our lives using only swear words as verbs.

Which is not really an answer. So, my favourite would be “spierdalaj” which basically means “fuck off”. But to show what I meant:

Spierdalaj is an order to 2nd person. But I can use it in 1st person as spierdalam, which would be a greeting amongst friends meaning “ok, I am going now”. If you put an negation in front so nie spierdol się would mean “don’t fall off/down” or if it’s spoken to unnanimate object “don’t break down”. You can also say nie spierdol tego which means “do not fuck this up”. The basic form of spierdalaj comes from spierdalać/spierdolić which means to “run away”.

S-pierdolić stems from pierdolić, which can mean “to fuck”, but it mostly means “I am not bothering with that anymore” as in pierdolę to.

If you add different syllabe in front, e.g. za-pierdolić it can mean both “to steal” or “to hit someone really hard”. In 1st person zapierdalam it would mean “I am going really fast”. If you add na-pierdolić it means to “get drunk”, u-pierdolić means “to get something dirty”, o-pierdolić means “to chasten” or “to eat everything”. Pod-pierdolić would again mean “to steal”, but sometimes it means “to tell on somebody”.

I could go on, but I think you got the idea. I am also so happy you asked that because I can rarely go into rant about my country’s swear words and I LOVE THEM, so thank you for that! ❤️

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

So, to prepare to this one I had to search for stereotypes about Poland (because seems that what I knew is now outdated, ha!) and I think the one that irked me the most was that we don’t speak foreign languages. I mean, the sole fact I am writing this right now kind of negates the statement. But let’s jump a little bit deeper into it.

My view on this problem is distorted, I know it - I’ve attended Spanish high school, now I am studying Korean Linguistics, I am surrounded by people that speak at least two foreign lanuages, most of us knows three. But even outside of my social group, people are stopping putting “English” on their CVs because that much is obvious. But yes that is the young generation. In terms of my parents and grandparents, yes the majority doesn’t speak English. But most of them speaks Russian. Some of them speak German. This stereotype stems from Polish immigrants arriving in USA during and after WWII, when yes, they were refugees that didn’t speak English, running away from new regime that appeared in Poland. The same thing happened in the ‘90s and then ‘00s after fall of communism and when we joined EU and people were emigrating, mostly to UK.

The one I agree with is the fact that we don’t smile. Foreigners take it personally when they visit Poland because we keep emotionless face at most of times, e.g. on the streets, in shops, especially when we are alone. But the fact I don’t smile at random people on the street doesn’t mean I am in a bad mood or that I am being rude. In Poland smile doesn’t mean greetings it means laughter. So if you smile at me on the street I will automatically assume you are laughing at me. It is really a thing, I can’t count how many times I saw someone smiling at me and I turned around to my companion to ask if I have something on my face.

Which doesn’t mean we don’t smile at all, we do! But not at strangers.

Thank you for asking, hon! You’ve really made me happy with your questions!

Hi, I’m not form the US - ask this proud Pole about her country!

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svartikotturinn · 5 years

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My strangest tutoring story

When I was in high school I was briefly a Na’vi tutor. Yes really.

Background

About the Golden Mouse competition

There is (or was?) this sort of contest called ‘The Golden Mouse’ (a.k.a. ‘The Virtual Olympics’), an annual competition for geeks held by the Tel-Aviv University and Mif‘àl haPáyis.

The way the competition works is that 50-odd schools that have a building paid for by MhP gather middle school students (20-odd in total, rough assessment) who are given subjects they have to study, like math and history and some more niche subjects, under the direction of one of the teachers at the school. The students normally divide into sub-groups, each dedicated for one topic or more. After some time spent studying, they are gathered to answer those questions online within a set timeframe.

After this, the 50-odd teams get whittled down to 30-odd for the second stage, and the process is repeated. Those 30-odd teams are in turn whittled down to 5 for the finals, for which they are taken (on a school day!) to TAU to hear three lectures. Then they are sent to separate rooms, where they answer questions related to those lectures. Finally, there’s a big ceremony and the top three places are announced.

Now, the second stage (or sometimes the first) usually requires basic knowledge of a given languge: one time it was Old High German, another time it was Esperanto, another year it was Italian, and that’s as far as my knowledge goes.

My personal connection

When I was 18, a loose friend of mine randomly asked me if I was familiar with the competition, and if I was willing to help her because she had to study a language for it and she knew I was a language geek. What she didn’t know was that I had competed in the competition myself twice: when I was in the eighth grade, and again the following year. The first time I was there, the language was Mandarin; six kids wanted to learn it, but they all gave up pretty quickly, and I was the only one who stuck with it. Nowadays I speak a bit of Mandarin, but I’m not remotely fluent or anything. That year we also won the competition. (The next year there was no language, and we didn’t win, but we did get to the finals.)

Naturally, I was overcome with sweet nostalgia and said yes. When she told me she needed my help with learning Na’vi, I was even happier, even though I didn’t know the first thing about the language.

The process

The first thing I did was tell my friend to learn to read IPA while I read about the language on Wikipedia. Then we started making little sessions on MSN Messenger, in which I taught her linguistic terms and how they’re applied in Na’vi, based on the Wikipedia article on the language and later the Wikibooks articles on it, essentially translating what it said and improvising little drills on the way, like:

‘In this sentence, which word is in the accusative?’ (She’s a Russophone Ukrainian, which was somewhat helpful.)

‘How would you change the sentence to convey that you’re going hunting, but you’re not happy about it?’

‘Name the noun cases and the suffixes that indicate them.’

I also taught her what ejective consonants are; while I was familiar with the concept, I originally misread the name as ‘ejaculative’ and told her not to laugh at—she didn’t even know the English word ‘ejaculate’, though. It took her a while to master, but she was so proud when she got it.

Meanwhile, the other girls who comprised the Na’vi group tried learning Na’vi on their own, but they focused more on vocabulary, using a website they were given by the organizers. As a result, they didn’t know the first thing about grammar or pronunciation—my friend told me she’d heard one girl pronouncing px as [f] instad of [p’], and she explained the mistake to her (‘once I was done laughing’). So they pretty much divided the work so that my friend was in charge of grammar and pronunciation and her group mates were in charge of vocabulary, and then taught each other the material they’d studied.

At one point my friend told me about a funny incident that had happened that day: the teacher in charge of their team once came up to them while they were studying with the transcripts of our sessions. He wanted to say something, then noticed the transcripts, picked them up, turned pale, gave them a thumbs up, and went to talk to another group.

Conclusion

Eventually they didn’t really need my lessons. They just had to translate a very short text in Na’vi, then call TAU and pronounce Oe-l nga-ti kam-ei-e properly. (In case you’re wondering, it’s a Na’vi greeting featured prominently in the film, glossed as ‘I-ERG you-ACC see-LAUD’, i.e. ‘I see you and I’m happy about it’, but more like ‘I see the inner you’.) Furthermore, Na’vi grammar is pretty much made of a collection of the most esoteric grammatical features of human languages, and the language with the most similar grammar to Na’vi I know is Georgian (which also shares ejective consonants with it). Not only that, but they didn’t even pass the first stage.

But at least I sparked her interest in linguistics, and now she can write in her CV, ‘Languages: Hebrew, English, Russian, Japanese [which she was taking at Berlitz], Na’vi...’, and I can write, ‘Also, I was once a Na’vi teacher…’ (I actually did have that in my CV for a while, until I realized it was pretty cringe.)

And, of course, we both have an nice anecdote to share.

#me #personal #Na’vi language #Virtual Olympics #Golden Mouse #Tel-Aviv University #TAU #language learning #tutoring #linguistics

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businessliveme · 4 years

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From Amazon Ring to NASA Moon Project: 15 Predictions for 2020

(Bloomberg Opinion) –It’s been my habit, as the year draws in the day, to offer my predictions for the coming year, but only after doing what every commentator should do — assessing my predictions for the year just ending. So before I get to my predictions for 2020, in the second half of this column, let’s see how I did in 2019.

Let’s put one of last year’s prediction right up top:

“The Washington Nationals will overcome the loss of superstar Bryce Harper in free agency and win the World Series over the Houston Astros.”

Nailed it precisely! If you need end-of-the-year help, Las Vegas or ESPN, give me a call.

The 2019 Scorecard

Now, as to the others, I predicted:

That Amazon would react to bad publicity during its 2018 HQ2 search by promising to put another headquarters in an economically distressed part of the country. Instead, the company is donating millions of dollars for “affordable housing” in Northern Virginia, where its new campus is planned. Mostly false, but I did get Amazon’s motive right.

That President Donald Trump would achieve neither his border wall nor a Fed hewing more closely to his views. True.

That the level of CO2 in the atmosphere would continue to rise. Although final figures for 2019 are not in, this one will almost certainly wind up in the “true” column.

That the melting Arctic ice cap would continue to pour thousands of gallons of water per second into the oceans. True, and true again.

That significant numbers of U.S. armed forces would remain in both Afghanistan and Syria. True, despite the president’s efforts in Syria.

That the New England Patriots would win Super Bowl LIII. True. Not a hard prediction but still true.

That allegations of fraud in the settlement fund established to pay former professional football players who have suffered neurocognitive damage would turn out to be a big story. Sadly, true. This month’s federal indictments were big news.

That despite investigations of Trump’s conduct, no resolution of impeachment would reach the floor of the House of Representatives for a vote in 2019. False, but so, so close. If they had but waited two more weeks!

That special counsel Robert Mueller’s final report would find no clear evidence that Trump committed a crime (true) and that NeverTrumpers would try to raise $1 billion to pay the president to resign. (I was mostly kidding but I wasn’t wrong.)

That homeschoolers would turn to virtual reality as a principal educational tool, and that over time others would embrace the idea. Still feels inevitable, but much too early to tell.

That during the summer of 2019, Marvel would finally announce a release date for the second “Black Panther” movie (true, right down to the time of year); that the highest-grossing film of the year would be “Avengers: Endgame,” if we count actual revenues during calendar 2019 (true, both worldwide and domestic); and that if we were instead to count all revenues for the movie’s run, the late-December-premiering “Star Wars: Episode IX” would win (I thought this was a slam dunk, but between tepid reviews and fissures in the fan base, I now believe this one may not work out.)

That despite the openly expressed skepticism of the federal judge overseeing the case, the $69 billion merger of CVS and Aetna would go forward. True.

That wealthy progressives who continue to sneer at the Republican tax cut as a giveaway to the rich would not offer the U.S. Treasury their gains from the rate reductions. True — and now members of Congress from high-tax blue states are demanding that their well-heeled supporters get an even bigger cut.

And that — sorry, but I can’t resist repeating — the Washington Nationals would win the World Series over the Houston Astros!

2020’s Predictions

Now we come to my predictions for 2020. As always, not all are seriously meant but some are meant more seriously meant than they might appear. I will leave it to the reader to figure out which are which.

1. Except for Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders, the Democratic presidential candidates will condemn the Secure Act’s new limits on the ability of non-spouses who inherit retirement accounts to stretch their disbursements over a long period of time. In particular, the candidates will agree that adult children who inherit should be able to leave the money invested for as long as they like. (Those who voted for the new rules will say they didn’t understand the implications.) Most of the candidates will stop short of promising repeal, however, and will instead promise unspecified adjustments.

2. Due less to government spying than to the growing popularity of Amazon’s Ring and similar devices, the number of surveillance cameras in the world will blow swiftly past recent estimates of one billion. By the end of 2020, all but a fraction of the outdoor spaces in most cities around the world will be recorded on video somewhere, and significant inroads will have been made in suburbs and towns. (Say goodbye to the “shadow map.”)

3. Speaking of technology, for the second year in a row, the final appropriation for NASA will be insufficient to allow any significant progress on its goal of returning to the Moon by 2024. Rather than surrender the dream, proponents will push the realization a couple of years further down the road.

4. Despite concerns by consumer activists, the merger between T-Mobile and Sprint will survive judicial scrutiny.

5. The New England Patriots will win Super Bowl LIV in February. No, I’m not a particular Patriots fan. But I pick them every year anyway, because … well, come on. Even if you’re a Patriot hater, you know I’m right.

6. Due to global warming, the rate at which the Arctic ice cap is melting will continue to increase. (This has become an even easier prediction than picking the Patriots.) Meanwhile, such innovative ideas for mitigation as pumping river water southward instead of letting it flow north will be rejected by climate change skeptics as too expensive and by climate change activists as a distraction from the urgent need to sign lots of treaties.

7. Swirling rumors that Russia might annex its longtime ally Belarus will drive dictator Alexander Lukashenko to seek rapprochement with the U.S. and the West. Already Belarus imports nearly half a billion dollars worth of goods from the U.S. annually, with fertilizer leading the way. Russian boss Vladimir Putin will view closer ties between Washington and Minsk as a strategic threat and begin to rattle his sabers. President Donald Trump will assure everyone that his “good friend” Putin will “allow Belarus to go its own way.” Pundits will jump not only on “good friend” but also on “allow.”

8. The highest grossing film of the year will be Warner Brothers’ “Wonder Woman 1984.” People will look around and say, “Wait, this intellectual property isn’t owned by Disney? Is that even allowed?” Disney, wondering the same thing, will take swift measures to fix the problem.

9. A congressional near-ban on vaping products will pass and be signed into law by President Trump, well in advance of serious clinical studies about potential health hazards.

10. Despite news reports to the contrary, Virginia Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax, accused of rape by two black women, will announce unequivocally that he will not be seeking the governorship of the state, or even another term in office.

11. The U.S. stock market will continue to rise through the first half of the year, bringing several new highs. As the political conventions approach during the summer, the market will begin to stutter. When the election season reaches full swing, we will see a significant drop, which the left will call a collapse and the right will call a correction. After the election, the markets will rise sharply.

12. The Los Angeles Angels will be the surprise team of the baseball season, but will lose in the playoffs to the Houston Astros, who will go on to defeat the Atlanta Braves (the other surprise team) in the World Series. (Bonus prediction: If Braves star Josh Donaldson jumps to the Washington Nationals, then the Nationals will reach the World Series once again, where the Astros will get revenge for 2019.)

13. Speaking of sports, nobody in the news media will offer any but the most half-hearted apology for the cravenness and stupidity of running all those photos of the Army-Navy game and asking whether the cadets who circled thumbs and forefingers were flashing white power signs.

14. Despite concerns raised in other countries, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration will adhere to its position that there is no scientific evidence of any health problem from the trace amounts of nitrosamines in some prescription medications.

15. In the presidential election, the Democrats will flip Arizona, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin but the Republicans will flip New Hampshire. The result will be a tie in the electoral college. Under Article II, section 1, of the Constitution, the choice must then be made by the House of Representatives. Democrats cheer the perspicacity of the Framers until they realize that when the House sits to break an electoral tie, each state gets one vote. At that point Democrats remember that the Framers were white supremacists trying to protect slavery, and that the opinions of such monsters should play no role in contemporary governance.

The 26 states that have a majority red House delegation will vote Republican; the 22 states that have a majority blue delegation vote Democratic. The other two states, where the delegations are divided, will cast no vote, resulting in another tie.

The issue will be thrown to the courts. A letter signed by several hundred law professors will argue that all judges and justices appointed by President Donald Trump should recuse themselves, as they are likely to be biased. Television commentators will take up the cry. Conservative bloggers will reply that the argument is “another” attempted coup d’état.

Before the courts can rule, the political parties will agree to hold a new presidential election in February of 2021. Under the agreement, Trump will remains in office until that time but can take no action without the concurrence of Congress. Lawsuits will immediately be filed to block the plan, including by Trump himself, who will claim that not having been defeated in the election, he should win by default.

Alas, we don’t know how the lawsuits will come out, because my crystal ball runs only through 2020.

Those are my predictions for 2020. For you, my loyal readers, I wish a new year full of awe, joy, rationality, civility, and love.

The post From Amazon Ring to NASA Moon Project: 15 Predictions for 2020 appeared first on Businessliveme.com.

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peckhampeculiar · 5 years

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A moral direction

PECKHAM RESIDENT JAMES JONES IS A MULTI-AWARD-WINNING DOCUMENTARY MAKER AND INVESTIGATIVE JOURNALIST.

His work has taken him all over the world, tackling difficult subjects from police corruption to homelessness

WORDS: SEAMUS HASSON; PHOTO: LIMA CHARLIE

The first thing that strikes me about James Jones when he walks through the door of the Prince of Peckham is how fresh-faced he looks. Given that his CV includes two Emmys, three DuPonts, a Rory Peck and a host of other awards – as well as five Bafta nominations – I was expecting to meet someone a lot older.

It turns out he’s still only 36 and an annoyingly young looking 36 at that. Good genes aside, James is also a man who is willing to take risks when it comes to making documentaries. His harrowing 2015 film, Children of the Gaza War, placed him in the middle of a war zone.

Earlier this year he travelled to the Philippines to shoot On the President’s Orders – a film that saw him confront a trigger-happy police force with scant regard for human life. For now though, he’s back in the UK and is currently working on a documentary about the 2011 London riots for the BBC.

James grew up in west London and his parents relocated to Camberwell when he was in his late teens. He has been based in south London ever since and moved to Peckham via Brixton seven years ago.

“I have a fantasy about living by the sea in Italy, but I don’t think in reality I could,” he laughs. “I’ve always lived in the city – I love the buzz and the atmosphere of the place and Peckham’s got that.”

When I meet James he’s just off the train from Nottingham, where he’s been researching his latest project. He seems at ease in the familiar surroundings of his local pub.

“I love it here,” he tells me over a pint of Neck Oil. “Unlike some places in Peckham, this place does feel like there’s a genuine mixture of people. It feels more reflective of the area, you know – different ages and different backgrounds, which is nice.”

From early on James knew that he wanted to work in journalism and carried out various internships at magazines and newspapers. “I just found it hard to get paid to do stuff,” he explains. “I guess I was lucky that my parents were based in Camberwell so at least I had a place to live, but I still needed to earn a living.”

After graduating from Oxford with a degree in Russian language and literature (he speaks fluent Russian) he landed a job as a translator on a BBC film about Russian oligarchs. It would prove to be a game-changer.

“I was getting paid £100 a day, which was for me a huge amount of money and it was fun, it was interesting,” he says.

“They were filming [Boris] Berezovsky and all these cocky Russian businessmen. I couldn’t believe what documentary makers got to do, just hang out with people like Berezovsky, go to his house, go to a nightclub with him, all this stuff. For someone just out of university it seemed like this brilliant adventure.”

The process was a real eye-opener for James and he quickly realised the possibilities of filmmaking. “Just because you had a camera people would let you see intimate details of their life. I find that anywhere you go in the world, people open their door to you.”

Since making his first documentary – Secret Iraq in 2010 – James has himself opened many doors. A 2011 documentary about rogue landlords for Channel 4 was followed by Britain’s Hidden Housing Crisis – a film about homelessness for BBC’s Panorama. “It was a very difficult film to make,” James admits.

“I’d done the Channel 4 film where everyone wanted to talk on camera about their rogue landlord, but there was something about losing your home which tapped into a real British sense of shame.

“We were talking to middle-class families whose businesses went bust and then we were meeting these amazing people who had lost everything, but they were too embarrassed to be shown on camera.”

In the end they found four separate cases of people who had lost their homes and were willing to share their experiences on film. One of them was a previously successful businessman who had run his own Wall Street firm. After his company went bust, he returned to the UK and was sleeping in a park in Croydon.

Another heart-breaking case highlighted in the film was a woman who had breast cancer and was evicted from her home. “In some ways it’s the film I’m most proud of,” says James, “because one, they were really strong and powerful characters, and two, it felt like a subject that was affecting so many people and because it’s so hard to tell, it wasn’t getting that much coverage.

“These were people who were really smart, they weren’t drug addicts or any of the things that you associate with the stereotypes of being homeless. They’d made a couple of mistakes and it’s just amazing how quickly everything unravelled. I think that’s why it struck a nerve.”

Although James sees himself as a journalist and filmmaker and not an activist, there is a common thread that runs through all his documentaries: injustice. His 2016 film, Unarmed Black Male, is about a white police officer accused of killing a black teenager in Portsmouth, Virginia. The officer in question had also been suspected of killing the teenager’s friend four years earlier.

“We made the film around the victim’s families,” James explains. “Then quite late on in the process, after the trial we approached his wife [of the accused] who did an interview with us, which we were pretty surprised about. After the interview she said I would love you to meet Steve [her husband].

“This guy had been this absolute demon in our lives because we’d been hanging out with the other side. Then we met him, and it was kind of surreal.”

James again found himself coming face to face with rogue cops when making On the President’s Orders – a film about drug wars in the Philippines and the local police’s shoot to kill policy.

“They [the Philippine police force] were killing thousands of people and with that we never expected them to give us that much access. But the police chief we approached was such an egotistical and vain guy that he just loved the idea of being in a film.”

So, what attracts him to the various subjects of his films both domestically and internationally? “I am drawn to injustice and subjects that feel important,” he says. “I’m not one of those people who feels I’m going to change the world, but I like films that make people angry and I like taking rich subjects and shedding light on them.

“The Philippines drugs war for example, people know about it, but you feel that you’re bringing something new to it. You know we really got inside the police’s heads. To hear them talking and laughing manically about killing these people with no conscience or remorse I think is shocking.

“It was unexpected because we thought it was going to be confrontational, but in the end, they just admitted it. I guess it’s because their president is saying it’s OK so therefore your president is giving you a licence to kill.”

Now he’s finished his unnerving trip to the Philippines I ask James about his current project. It’s a film for the BBC about the riots in 2011, which started in Tottenham and spread throughout the country.

While James says there were some documentaries made about the subject, they were filmed closer to the actual event.

“The problem with that is that people involved were not willing to talk in the same way,” he says. “The beauty of doing it now is that lots of the police who were involved have now left the force so they can talk openly.

“Also, the rioters who went to prison have now come out, they’re a bit older and feel able to speak more candidly about what happened and maybe understand a bit better why they did what they did.

“It just feels like it was this huge moment for society and because it was dismissed as just criminality, there was no real self-reflection on why this faultline between young urban communities and the police and the state exists.

“There was the Olympics the following year, there was terrorism and there was Brexit, and no one really wanted to just sit back and have this conversation about what had gone wrong.”

As with his previous work, James intends to approach the subject with an open mind and a nuanced view of the events that led up to the riots. “No one is going to pretend that people nicking a pair of trainers from JD Sports is politically motivated,” he says.

“But if you look at the areas where it happened, places like Tottenham and Hackney, they are places with the highest unemployment and the highest number of kids growing up in poverty.

“These are areas that are socially deprived and for one reason or another the relationship with the police and with the state has broken down. They don’t have a stake in society and have nothing to lose.”

No doubt James will shed some light on the subject.

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funface2 · 5 years

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The 50 best jokes from Edinburgh Fringe 2019's shows – and how to watch them all live – iNews

Culture

As the festival enters its final days, we round up the funniest gags on offer this year

Friday, 23rd August 2019, 09:28 am

Updated Friday, 6th September 2019, 16:32 pm

John Luke Roberts: I remember what my grandmother said to me on her deathbed. She said: ‘I wish I’d bought a normal bed.’ (Photo: Natasha Pszenicki)

I remember what my grandmother said to me on her deathbed. She said: ‘I wish I’d bought a normal bed.’ John Luke Roberts, Assembly Studio Two, 5.30pm

I went for my driving test the other day and the instructor said, ‘you’re in the wrong gear’. I said, ‘Why? What’s wrong with this tuxedo?’Nick Helm Pleasance Dome, 5.40pm; read i’s review of the show here

The best thing about being disabled is nobody ever wants you to babysit. In case you drop them. And recruit them. Rosie Jones, Pleasance Courtyard, 7pm

Do you reckon the band Chic ever found any takers for that free cow they were always trying to get rid of?Joz Norris, Heroes at the Hive, 4.40pm

The i newsletter cut through the noise

What do I want played at my funeral? Rugby.Goodbear, Pleasance Dome, 9.40pm

True crime documentaries are the only time the entertainment industry will take a chance on an unknown female lead. Jena Friedman, Assembly George Square Studios, 9.20pm

My teacher told me to make a vacuum – I thought, no pressure then.Leo Kearse Gilded Balloon, 9.15pm

Rosie Jones: ‘The best thing about being disabled is nobody ever wants you to babysit. In case you drop them. And recruit them’

In his job my dad’s never lost a case. That makes him Gatwick’s top baggage handler.Glenn Moore, Pleasance Courtyard, 4pm

I find it hard to believe Melania Trump had a body double for public appearances. It would definitely be for the private stuff. Laura Lexx, Gilded Balloon, 5.15pm

My mate came second in a Winston Churchill lookalike competition. He was close, but no cigar. Goose, Assembly George Square, 5.20pm

My mother doesn’t like the word vagina, so she calls it a ‘Lulu’ which was very confusing when I met my cousin Lulu, who coincidentally is a c***.Janine Harouni, Pleasance Courtyard, 5.45pm; read i’s review of the show here

Do I enjoy randomly appointing people to judicial positions? I’ll let you be the judge of that.Ivo Graham, Pleasance Courtyard, 7pm; read i’s review of the show here

I didn’t have sex at university for religious reasons. God hates me.Phil Wang Pleasance Courtyard, 8pm; read i’s review of the show here

Tiff Stevenson: ‘Jeremy Hunt has said he would lower abortion limit to 12 weeks. That’s funny because I’d raise it to whatever age Jeremy Hunt is’ (Photo: Steve Ullathorne)

My grandad died on April Fool’s Day. Every year for 10 years. Rhys James, Pleasance Courtyard, 6.30pm

I’m pleased to be getting a beer belly, I’ve always wanted a father figureCam Spence, Pleasance Courtyard, 4:30pm

I love Lorraine Kelly. I’m a big fan of her earlier work – the stuff she does before quarter to nine.Martha McBrier, Laughing Horse @ The Counting House, 7.15pm

Jeremy Hunt has said he would lower abortion limit to 12 weeks. That’s funny because I’d raise it to whatever age Jeremy Hunt is.Tiffany Stevenson, Monkey Barrel, 9.15pm

A cowboy asked me if I could help him round up 18 cows. I said, ‘Yes, of course, that’s 20 cows’.Jake Lambert, Pleasance Courtyard, 8.15pm

My new boyfriend told me he’s got my face as his wallpaper, which I thought was cute until I saw his lounge.Steff Todd, Just the Tonic @ The Caves, 2pm

As a Russian, I admire Jeremy Corbyn – he’s tough. The KGB could interrogate him for a week and still not find out what his position on Brexit is.Konstantin Kisin, Gilded Ballon, 7pm

Ivo Graham’s sixth show at the Edinburgh Fringe is about becoming a dad

I fully support the school strikers on climate change. I’m just annoyed that they didn’t call it the minors’ strike.Matt Winning, Pleasance Courtyard, 4.25pm

When applying for a job as an estate agent, the interviewer worried that my CV was a bit small. I said ‘actually it’s really cosy’ and I was immediately hired.Alex Kealy, Just the Tonic at the Caves, 6.40pm

Did you know the word ‘Ikea’ is actually made up of two Swedish words? “Ika”, meaning “Sunday”, and “Keya”, meaning “f***ing ruined.”The Scummy Mummies, Assembly Rooms, 7.50pm

I won Jewish comedian of the year, my mum was judging, then again, she always does.Joe Bor, Laughing Horse @ The Lockup, Cowgate, 3.45pm

Some people think being working class is a negative thing but I think there’s loads of benefits. I’ve claimed them all.Kelly Convey, Pleasance Courtyard, 7.15pm

I got invited to a gender reveal party – when you invite all your friends over to find out the gender of your child and release pink balloons if it’s a girl or blue balloons if it’s going to earn more.Robin Morgan, The Pear Tree, 4.05pm

They say some people ‘inhale books’. I know someone who injects books right into his veins. Particularly ones with female protagonists. He’s a heroine addict.Izzy Mant, Underbelly Bristo Square, 2.50pm

Adam Hess: ‘It must be annoying for clocks that from their perspective their hands are moving anti-clockwise’ (Photo: Matt Crockett)

I know that Banksy’s my dad, because I never see him.Flo & Joan, Assembly George Square Gardens, 6pm

I tell my friends I’m here for them 24/7 because it sounds better than saying I’m only here for them on the 24th of July.Andy Field, Just the Tonic, 2.10pm

It must be annoying for clocks that from their perspective their hands are moving anti-clockwise.Adam Hess, Pleasance Courtyard, 7.15pm

With enough revs and determination any restaurant is a drive-thru. Tom Taylor, Pleasance Courtyard, 6pm

My name is Sukh, which is short for Sukhjeet, which is Sanskrit for you’re never going to find it on a fucking keyring in a gift shop.Sukh Ojla, Gilded Balloon, 5:15pm

I haven’t looked up the definition of hyperbole in, like, forever.Caitlin Cook, Just the Tonic at the Grassmarket Centre, 5.50pm

British people are like coconuts. Hard on the outside but sweet once you crack us. Also often found full of alcohol and holding an umbrella.Milo McCabe, Underbelly, 5.30pm

Catherine Bohart: ‘I suppose lesbian sex is a bit like cricket, in that it goes on forever and there’s a lot of men watching it at home, alone, on the internet’

I’m making a TV series about the different parts of my gas cooker – I’ve already filmed the pilot.Olaf Falafel, Laughing Horse @ The Pear Tree, 2.50pm

I’m pretty sure Jesus is Gay because every time I go to God’s house he’s got pictures of him on the wall with 12 hot guys having brunch.James Barr, Underbelly, 5.20pm

I suppose lesbian sex is a bit like cricket, in that it goes on forever and there’s a lot of men watching it at home, alone, on the internet. Catherine Bohart, Pleasance Courtyard, 6pm

I look the wrong way when crossing the road, so people think I just got back from Paris.Joe Sutherland, Banshee Labyrinth, 10:10pm

My dad is like a black James Bond: it’d be great to see him, but he’s unlikely to make an appearance.Alexander Fox, Pleasance Courtyard, 6pm

In Poirot you meet six really posh people, and you know one of them is going to be murdered. In real life, you rarely get such good odds.Alasdair Beckett-King, Pleasance Dome, 6.50pm

In my show we won’t be using things like a Ouija Board. Or if you don’t speak French – a Yesja board.SÉAYONCÉ, Assembly George Square, 10.20pm

Ahir Shah: ‘The Arab Spring was 8 years ago. I thought “How long can a crisis conceivably last?”, and then I looked at my own personal life and was like “Yeah, that makes sense”’

My girlfriend and I are saving up for a mortgage, but it isn’t going very well – because sadly, all of our grandparents are still alive. Matt Richardson, Just the Tonic at The Tron, 9pm

Devon, the county of the UK where you put the cream on the scone before voting Leave.Ivo Graham, Pleasance Courtyard, 7pm

I was living in my office for a while, until it failed its MOT.Jim Campbell, Just the Tonic at the Caves, 5.20pm

Scotland heckled Boris Johnson so badly he had to leave by the back door, like one of his mistresses.Grace Campbell, Gilded Balloon, 3.15pm; read i’s review here

I like to watch Love Your Garden when I have my tea and then True Crime before bed. I feel really confident about being able to bury a body and know what to plant on top of it.Lucy Beaumont, Pleasance Courtyard, 4.45pm

Me and my partner were going to go on holiday to Norway this year but we costed it up and in the end we couldn’t af-fjord it. Tom Parry, Pleasance Courtyard, 6pm

The Arab Spring was 8 years ago. I thought “How long can a crisis conceivably last?”, and then I looked at my own personal life and was like “Yeah, that makes sense.”Ahir Shah, Monkey Barrel, 1.45pm

Behind every successful man is me, trying to get his attention.Lou Sanders, Monkey Barrel, 3.15pm; read i’s review of the show here

I find it quite ironic that erectile dysfunction is on the rise.Rob Auton, Assembly George Square, 2.50pm

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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Lippi interview: Ex-Juve boss on his relationship with United legend Sir Alex Ferguson

& # 39; He was almost like a brother to me & # 39 ;: ex-Juventus boss Marcelo Lippi opens his relationship with Sir Alex Ferguson, the couple's text exchange about the best wine … and why he Tottenham job refused

Iconic boss Marcelo Lippi opened his relationship with Sir Alex Ferguson

The former Italy and Juventus boss reflected on players he almost acquired

Lippi wanted Roy Keane from Manchester United when he managed Juventus

He also revealed that he once held a leading position with Tottenham

has rejected]

By Alvise Cagnazzo for Mailonline

Published: 20:58 BST, 6 September 2019 Updated: 20:58 BST, 6 September 2019

Legendary Italian boss Marcello Lippi decides which anecdote first tells when the conversation changes to his & # 39; fraternal & # 39; relationship with Sir Alex Ferguson.

& # 39; Yes, he was almost like a brother to me & # 39 ;, says Lippi Sportsmail .

& # 39; We have exchanged many gifts. I brought him the Turin Gianduiotti (chocolate) for his grandchildren, but he even finally got them. & # 39;

Marcelo Lippi (L) has thought about his relationship with Sir Alex Ferguson over the years

The two managers fought over the years but soon they attach themselves to their mutual love of wine [1 9459013]

MARCELO LIPPI CV

Player

1969-79: Sampdoria (274 games, 5 goals)

[LOAN] 1969-70: Savona (21 games, 2 goals)

1979-81: Pistoiesce (45 games, 0 goals)

1981-82: Lucchese (23 games, 0 goals)

Manager

1985-86: Pontedera

1986-87: Siena

1987 -88: Pistoiese

1988-89: Carrarese

1989-1991: Cesena

1991-92: Lucchese

1992-93: Atalanta

]

1993-94: Napoli

1994-99: Juventus

1999-2000: Inter

2001-04: Juventus

2004-06: Italy

2008-10: Italy

2012-14: Guang zhou Evergrande

2016-PRESENT: China

The two bosses span generations and built sides that were able to be the very best in all of Europe.

Lippi, now 71, has fond memories of his time sharing a touchline with Ferguson when Manchester United collided with the Italian Juventus.

And while the couple had mutual respect in their technical areas, respect spread to a shared love of wine.

He continued: & Even the wine, the good one from my Tuscany. He liked to send me the Matrioska's, the Russian, with boxes in the boxes with his 1971 Whiskey Maccallan. One day I have to call Alex and ask him for another box. & # 39;

Competition, as is often the case with those who devote their lives to sports, got the best of them when they had a bet on the name of a particular bottle.

& # 39; He was in love with a wine that he & # 39; Tigno & # 39; In reality it was called & # 39; Tignanello & # 39; but he was convinced it was wrong & # 39 ;, Lippi explains.

& # 39; We made a guess and called the sommelier of that restaurant: I won! We used to send wine suggestions via cell phone: he was a big fan. & # 39;

Lippi left Juventus in his first spell before the old lady faced United in that famous Champions League semi-final double-header that saw United become the first English side in 14 years to reach the European final.

Roy Keane got the opening goal for the fightback in Turin in the second leg and it was the no-nonsense midfielder who, now thinking about it, wanted to bring Lippi to Juventus when he was the manager.

& # 39; I loved (Roy) Keane, & # 39; he said. & # 39; He was very close to the move to Juventus, but then failed to negotiate. I also loved (Paul) Scholes: he had liked it everywhere and always played it.

Lippi revealed that the only player who wanted Manchester United from Ferguson was Roy Keane was

He had two spells in Turin but was not the manager of the defeated side by United in 1999

& # 39; (Ole Gunnar) Solskjaer was very good as a player and I hope he will do very well as a coach: he deserves it. & # 39;

Solskjaer, who was previously disappointed while he was in charge of Cardiff, is back in English football and is trying to improve United's fortunes.

Lippi himself almost arrived on the English coast when Tottenham made an offer to lure him away from Turin.

& # 39; Yes, I was very close to Tottenham when I coached Juventus & he said.

& # 39; They were very kind to me by contacting my son Davide. But I didn't want to leave Turin and Juventus. For me, Juve was as Manchester United for Ferguson: a unique club that I loved.

& # 39; I didn't speak English well and that was another reason why I refused. Someone told me that Ferguson didn't speak English well because he was Scottish! & # 39;

Even after years of competition, the Italian can still laugh when he remembers the fighting with his former enemy.

Now 71, Lippi is now 71 still in management while in the dugout as the Chinese national boss

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floraexplorer · 5 years

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Pyramiden, Svalbard: Exploring the Arctic’s Soviet Ghost Town

Welcome to Pyramiden, Svalbard: population 7

High up in the north of Norway in the Svalbard archipelago is a town called Longyearbyen. It’s generally known as the northernmost town in the world: about a thousand people live and work here, despite its remote location above the Arctic Circle.

But there’s actually another place which deserves the ‘northernmost-everything’ accolade – except it’s virtually uninhabited.

This is Pyramiden, a Russian coal-mining settlement which was hastily abandoned by its residents in 1998. Ever since, the streets, buildings and once-loved possessions have been left to the Arctic elements.

And today, I’m paying Pyramiden a visit.

Arriving in Pyramiden, Svalbard

From the deck of our boat, my first glimpse of Pyramiden is like something out of a spy film. Two Russian men in long dark trench coats stand waiting silently on the dock, with rifles slung across their chests. Their stoicism is completely at odds with the pent-up energy of my fellow boat passengers, all itching to explore Pyramiden.

Our boat drops anchor and I watch as the hordes of tourists jump eagerly onto the rickety boardwalk before we’ve even properly docked; cameras out immediately, as soon as their feet touch the creaking wood. I choose to hang back, watching the way they behave while warming my hands, red-raw with the Arctic cold, on the back of my neck.

I’ve long harboured a desire to visit Pyramiden.

Like many would-be urban explorers, the idea of exploring an entire town abandoned to the elements – and one that’s isolated at the very top of the world, no less – gave me goosebumps of the best variety.

So when I realised that my Arctic expedition from Scotland to Svalbard would actually lead me straight to this surreal place, I could barely contain myself.

People seem fascinated by the fact that Pyramiden is a ghost town. I’m more amazed by the handful of men who choose to keep living there still. Amongst the ghosts.

A map of Pyramiden, Svalbard

Meeting Sasha, our Pyramiden tour guide

We stand on the pier as our boat group is split into two. I’m in the second half, watching as the first group sets off towards the Pyramiden settlement in a little minibus with a polar bear crest on its side.

Looking at the Russian cyrillic it’s my first realisation that, although we’re still on Norwegian landmass and I’ve never visited Russia before, we’re very much back in the USSR.

A guide walks over to us and introduces himself as Sasha. He may look slight, but he pulls no punches: as he approaches, a Polish tourist is joking about the safety messages we’d heard on the boat, saying that the danger of polar bears is totally overrated and we could easily walk to Pyramiden instead of waiting for the bus.

Sasha pointedly re-adjusts his rifle and says, “We are not playing around here. This is the Arctic, a wild terrain, and polar bears are a significant danger.”

The same rule applies throughout Svalbard: polar bears can and do attack people, and it’s a legal requirement to carry a rifle at all times.

Our first stop is at the sign which welcomes visitors to Pyramiden in both Russian Cyrillic and English.

As Sasha begins to speak in a soft voice about Pyramiden’s history, I look behind him to the triangular mountain which gives the settlement its name – and which caused the Russians to be here in the first place.

The story behind why Pyramiden was abandoned

This patch of land was first established by Sweden in 1910, but Russia quickly bought it in 1926 in order to mine the pyramid-shaped mountain for its coal deposits. For a period of seventy years, working as a coal miner in Pyramiden was a sought after opportunity: at the height of Soviet Union rule, their sole settlement in the West was a perfect platform to show off their country’s wealth to the rest of the world.

At least 10,000 CVs were submitted each year, and only the best coal miners were eligible to work in Pyramiden. After arriving with their families, they lived at the settlement for a two-year shift and enjoyed a pretty pleasant life: the town had a cinema, sports hall, school, nursery, music hall, library and hospital, and all these services were free of cost to everyone living here.

Unfortunately when the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991 it meant the coal industry was much less profitable, and Pyramiden quickly became redundant. In 1998 the coal mine closed down and everyone was told to leave – which they did in a hurry, thanks to a Russian boat docking at the harbour along with the announcement that it would leave in just three hours time.

Suddenly this town’s population crashed from 1000 to less than 60, and in just a few months the Russian Arctic settlement quickly became a ghost town.

It’s a sobering story: the idea that a close-knit community had to drop their possessions and leave immediately, cutting their Pyramiden life short.

But the fact that there are still a handful of residents living amongst those abandoned possessions? That’s what gives me chills.

What is life like in Pyramiden now?

As Sasha leads our group up the main street towards the settlement, I ask him questions about how he came to be here.

Sasha is from St Petersburg, but he’s lived in Pyramiden since 2012 along with five other guides who live on this desolate bit of the Svalbard archipelago. They’re all Russian, albeit far away from Russia, and seem staunchly patriotic (a friend on my Quark ship suggested I shouldn’t bring up politics when visiting Pyramiden!)

Yet when he spots my bright yellow Quark-branded jacket, Sasha’s eyes brighten. “I would love to work for Quark!” he says. “Do you know if they need any guides?” He has a PhD in geography and is interested in guiding trips around Antarctica, as an alternative to the Arctic. We chat about travel writing and social media, and Sasha looks contemplative.

Social media isn’t something he uses. There is no internet signal in Pyramiden; no radio and no TV either. They do have a satellite phone for hotel bookings, but there’s only one little patch of signal along the bay which can be picked up thanks to the mountains and the snow reflecting it. Sasha has to be patient, heading up there each day to wait for a text message to see if there are hotel guests coming.

Outside Hotel Tulip in Pyramiden, Svalbard

We’re passing Pyramiden’s Tulip (or Tulpan) Hotel at this point – the only habitable accommodation in the entire town. Sasha explains that this is where he and his fellow guides live, as do the few visitors who decide to spend the night in Pyramiden.

A sleepover in the rural Arctic is not without its dangers, though: only a few months before our visit, a polar bear broke in through the first floor window, beating his way through the beer cans in the bar under the managers desk and promptly licking up the spilled beer.

“I was supposed to be eaten first because I sleep on the second floor and the others sleep on the fourth floor,” Sasha tells us. There’s now a red sheet of dull metal over the window as a rudimentary fix.

Apparently the bear wasn’t shot or killed as punishment for the break-in, which seems to make Sasha happy. I imagine he’s keen to maintain as many lives as possible around here, whether man or beast.

Both sides of the street are lined with brick and wooden houses dating back to 1947 and earlier. With every step, I see further clues to the lifestyles of Pyramiden’s previous inhabitants.

Every building is set on stilts driven deep into the ground. If they weren’t, the interior heating would melt into the ground’s permafrost and force the buildings to sink because of the permafrost. However, that same Arctic climate also means most of the buildings are impervious to rot and decay – or, at least, that decaying happens very slowly.

Although most citizens used to eat in the town canteen, there are iron fridges still hanging from the outsides of windows – although for five months of year they turn into freezers instead as temperatures fall below zero.

There used to be a very good hospital when Pyramiden was ‘alive’, Sasha says. Now, unfortunately, there’s no doctor – which means hitching a ride to the nearby settlement of Barentsberg on a tourist boat whenever there’s a medical issue.

When we pass a single memorial cross standing amongst the stones, Sasha explains that nobody is buried here in Pyramiden – or anywhere else on the Svalbard archipelago. Corpses don’t decompose in a land of permafrost, so the body of anyone who dies on Svalbard has to be shipped back to the Norwegian mainland for burial.

We arrive into Pyramiden’s main square and walk towards a bust of Vladimir Lenin – ‘the grandfather’, as Sasha calls him. His stone profile gazes out towards the Nordenskiöld glacier far off in the distance.

Behind him is Pyramiden’s cultural centre, the hub of all the settlement’s activity.

Exploring Pyramiden’s abandoned buildings

As soon as we step inside the cultural centre it’s all cameras, all action. Everywhere I look, my fellow explorers are busily capturing every detail they can find of the weirdest, most ‘abandoned’ looking scenes.

I stand at the entrance waiting for them to disappear so I can try imagining what this place really feels like without a single soul around.

There are rows of empty coat hooks, with broken light fittings hanging from the ceiling tiles. Photo montages are pinned to a communal notice board: old sports teams, performers on stage, and scenes from a raucous-looking party.

Along the empty corridors, doors are flung wide open for me to peek inside. I see plant pots with dried out stalks; a leather chair facing a wall of windows; framed postcards and a set of neat little drawers overflowing with index cards written in a neat script.

In the empty sports hall, half-deflated basketballs lie beside score cards, maps, and a half-empty bottle of nondescript soda. Hidden at the back is a storage room with broken nets, pommel horses, and weightlifting benches with ripped seats.

My imagination is filling these spaces with the shadowy figures of intrepid Russians from a bygone age. It’s an urban explorer’s paradise, and I love it.

Yet strangely, my impressions start to shift as I explore further.

Some of the scenes which greet me seem almost too ‘abandoned’ and ‘destroyed’ – like the broken floor tiles which look like someone’s taken a large hammer to them, or the musical instruments laid out neatly on a windowsill.

In one room, I see a single chair placed poignantly in front of a wall mural depicting the same glacier outside. There’s a red velvet jacket laid artfully over the back, and I can’t reconcile myself to the idea that this happened accidentally while in a rush to leave Pyramiden twenty years ago.

Surely somebody’s placed this here on purpose?

I want to keep looking for more evidence of abandonment, but I hear Sasha shouting downstairs that we have to leave.

His voice rings out commandingly as I race back down the stairs, dragging at the zip of my jacket to be ready for the chill outside.

We cross the main square on the way to the canteen, our next stop, while taking care not to step on the grass. It was imported by plane from Siberia and still grows pretty well – although the neighbourhood reindeer are like cows, and only graze on the local grass!

Sasha leads us past the school house building, telling us that the younger kids used to study on the second floor because it was a bit warmer for them. The painted fairytale scenes which surround the school are still bright, as is the peeling green fence they’re attached to.

Inside Pyramiden’s canteen

The canteen is a pale lilac colour with reindeer antlers strewn on the straw-dry grass outside. Sasha stands on a concrete plinth just beside the door and explains that the canteen’s ground floor is just a lot of dark, dirty corridors.

“Go up to the second floor,” he advises as we prepare ourselves to enter. “There’s a beautiful dining hall up there, plus some really large kitchens.” He’s clearly aware of the time restraints we have to abide by on this tour.

The canteen in Pyramiden, Svalbard

We flood through the doors and inside the canteen; up the grand staircase on both sides, hands skimming the blue bannister and feet pounding the bright red tiles.

Above our heads is a huge mosaic in blues, whites and pale terracotta. Polar bears look upward towards the blazing round sun, accompanied by large huskies and what looks like a Norse god with white flowing hair and beard and eyebrows, a bear-clawed cloak around his shoulders.

Sudden the rush starts again — and this time I’m part of it!

There’s a sense of urgency as I shove my head around splintered doorways to catch glimpses of big cavernous rooms. I try to move quicker than everyone else so I can take photos without people getting in the way.

The canteen presents its details in fits and starts: mosaic tiling on the pillars; sickly yellow wallpaper peeling from the ceiling; old work benches scattered with debris; rusting taps above huge metal sinks.

Whenever I spot the mountains through the long narrow windows I stop in surprise. It’s a surreal view which keeps reminding me just how isolated this place really is.

The tourists are busy investigating everything they can lay their eager eyes and camera lenses on: the tiling of the columns, inside the giant vents above the ovens, behind the air ducts. It’s a frenzy of photography with little thought behind it.

I find myself snapping without thinking, inadvertently capturing blurred legs of people behind me in rusted mirror reflections. As I head towards a stairwell covered in peeling paint I stop, amazed at the variation of colours on the walls. This little patch of Pyramiden has been redecorated so many times – and suddenly I’m firmly back in the past, when an old metallic bell clanged for dinner time, and dozens of unseen hands glided over this bannister on their way to eat.

I wanted to stop and absorb these thoughts for longer, but there’s no time.

In fact, my entire experience at Pyramiden feels timeless – just not in the way I’d expected.

Meeting the other citizens of Pyramiden

Our third and final stop is at Hotel Tulip. It’s just next door to ‘the crazy house’ – the building where families used to live, which has been overtaken by seagulls. They are absolutely everywhere, sitting like sentries in rows along the top and nesting in the window ledges. There is guano caked as thick as icing all over the walls, and the shrill sound they make is haunting.

Hotel Tulip is the first place which actually shows signs of real life, from the shoe rack at the bottom of the stairs (complete with a few pairs of slippers and boots) to the discernible warmth coming from pipes and radiators.

Upstairs is a small corner bar, manned by an impassive-looking Russian lady. In the fridge behind her are rows of vodka bottles and shelves of cigarette cartons with Russian labels.

While the other tourists are sidling towards the bar for shots of vodka, I head for the rudimentary museum. Its centrepiece is a stuffed polar bear and various sad-looking stuffed Arctic birds, as well as cabinets and cupboards filled with souvenir trinkets: Pyramiden-branded keyrings, china plates and matchboxes.

And just like that, our time in Pyramiden is over. We’re ushered back onto the waiting bus, driven to the dock and placed back on our boat, leaving Sasha and his fellow guide behind.

Maybe the hordes of snap-happy tourists racing through the site for two hours before vanishing again have made Pyramiden feel somewhat less mysterious. But as our boat pulls away from the harbour and I watch Sasha and his friend striding purposefully away from the dock, I can’t shake the feeling that my initial hopes for Pyramiden were different to what I’ve seen.

What had I actually expected from Pyramiden?

The idea of visiting an abandoned town in the middle of the Arctic was immediately mysterious and intriguing to me. I’d wanted it to feel abandoned. I wanted some sense of drama; to see evidence that people had left in a hurry against their will. We want places like Pyramiden to be abandoned – haunted, even – because that makes us question what impact humans have on a landscape. It’s surreal to explore a place which has begun to decay. Which nature has begun to reclaim.

But Pyramiden didn’t used to be an asylum or a prison or the site of multiple murders, like hundreds of the most popular urban exploration sites. Pyramiden doesn’t need to draw on a gory past history because it’s fascinating purely for what it was and still is: an isolated part of the Arctic wilderness which people made into their home.

And yet it makes sense that Pyramiden’s ‘abandonment’ might have been orchestrated to be more photogenic. There’s probably been a group of Russians setting up the site for tourists, rearranging the abandoned elements at the same time as renovating the Tulip Hotel’s rooms, museum and bar in readiness for future guests.

Or perhaps the final residents back in 1998 were responsible. Perhaps they strode between familiar buildings as the boat sat waiting in the dock, knowing even then that Pyramiden was special and bizarre enough to attract others. That one day, their home might be an Arctic tourist attraction.

Is Pyramiden really an abandoned ghost town?

Seven people live in Pyramiden to carefully maintain its appearance, so it’s not really abandoned; more ‘utterly isolated’. It’s not really left to the elements to reclaim (apart from grazing reindeer and the occasional prowling polar bear). It actually makes sense that the settlement’s Russian caretakers would want it to feel somewhat lived in. For the majority of each year, it’s the place they call home. Regardless of enjoying one’s solitude, this is somewhere where every bit of homeliness helps.

Besides, I think it’s more fascinating that a stalwart group of Russians are living in an abandoned town at the end of the world to guide occasional tourists around the last vestiges of Soviet Russia.

It may be twenty years after that era ended, but Pyramiden will stay frozen in time for decades to come.

Have you ever visited Pyramiden? Would you take a trip to Svalbard or is it too remote for you?

How to organise a Pyramiden tour:

When to visit: There are daily departures from Longyearbyen to Pyramiden between May and September (the summer season). These departures are dependent on weather and are NOT guaranteed. Check with the company a few days before your booked trip. In the winter season it’s possible to visit Pyramiden on a snowmobile safari.

Which boat company: There are a few different companies operating tours to Pyramiden with differing trip lengths, stops and food. I went with Aurora Explorer, which offers a direct service to the settlement via the Nordenskiöld glacier but only had tea/coffee and snacks on board. Be aware that your visit around Pyramiden will be led by a guide who lives on site, who you’ll only meet on your arrival at the settlement.

Trip length: The direct service takes 6 hours, departing at 12.45pm and returning to Longyearbyen by approx 7pm.

Trip costs: NOK 1800 per adult (£164 or $210) or NOK 850 for those under 13 years (£77.50 or $99.50) This includes pick-up from your guesthouse or hotel, a boat ride to/from Pyramiden, and life jacket. You can also combine the Pyramiden trip in the afternoon with a visit to Barentsberg in the morning, usually on the same boat.

Accommodation: As of 2014, there are two possibilities to stay overnight in Pyramiden: at the Hotel Tulip (from 800 NOK per person) and at the Pier Hostel (300 NOK per person). Both options allow you to dine at Hotel Tulip, where you can eat breakfast (150 NOK) lunch (250 NOK) and dinner (200 NOK). The hotel bar is open until 2am.

Solo travel in Pyramiden: Please be aware that attempting to travel to Pyramiden by yourself is hugely ill-advised and extremely dangerous. The closest inhabited place is Longyearbyen, 31 miles away, and there are stories of people trying and failing to hike to the site. However, if you do choose to travel to Pyramiden on your own, you need to arrange a firearm and necessary equipment for polar bear protection.

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