#Yalta rest

[searuss8]

Сезонные водопады на карнизах Штангеевской тропы Ялта Крым 🍎

[sgiandubh]

Speed Bonnie Boat

The irony has not escaped me, that Baby and I finally made it back home on the 278th anniversary of the Battle of Culloden. Of course, nothing of this was planned - how could we? it's way above our heads, literally -, but didn't we laugh, Baby and me and Shipper Mom, finally content to have all the menagerie in one place, now cracking at its seams with unpacked boxes, tchotchkes, and irrelevant shite (why did I even pack this?).

You know this land is your land, when you finally start to see this, through the windshield: the glorious canola fields of the Deep South, near the Danube - my grandma's feisty, quick-witted and generous people's territory.

Uncharacteristically, I realized I came to Athens on a very unlikely Dubliner autumn and went back home on a very unlikely early summer April. Helps with the overall surreal impression:

All the roads leading to Rome, we can almost say "Hello, the house" in this pic. Smack dab downtown, where everything happens:

And then, the Jihad, between Lola the corgi and Baby the 'beige' (Greek passport says so) lab. This old lady is not really thrilled:

And for much of the rest of the tired, yawny human evening, the state of play was protracted war and a difficult Yalta negotiation of sorts:

Pasha ran in the shadows of the kitchen corridor. Nothing to report yet and unable to document properly: at night, all cats are black, says the Chinese proverb.

I have roughly two months to make this happen. For now, they can work with staying together in the same room and I think the one who's going to offer a truce is the Greek. With all this, I forgot to pour myself that Laphroaig. #Silly

'Carried the lad who's born to be king/Over the sea to Skye...'

PS: To all of you who offered their warmth and thoughts and even prayers, let it be known you are deeply loved by all of us. This land is also yours, my house is your house. No questions asked. We're good people. You will always find a spot for the outlander at a Romanian table and we like them long and boisterous. Mark me.

[loiladadiani]

"In St. Petersburg we work, but at Livadia, we live."

Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna

In 1909, Nikolay Krasnov, who was responsible for the Yousupoff Palace in Koreiz, was engaged to design a new imperial palace in Livadia (before that, there had been an imperial residence in Livadia consisting of a large and a small palace used by Alexander II and later by Alexander III, who died at the smaller residence.) When Nicholas II decided to build the new palace, he also demolished the older residence but left the small palace where his father died.

The Tsar's diary indicates that the Imperial Family discussed the design; it was decided that all four façades of the palace should look different. After 17 months of construction, the new palace was inaugurated on 11 September 1911. In November, Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna celebrated her 16th birthday at Livadia.

The family was always the happiest at Livadia.

One of the Tsar's "motors" at Livadia. If you look carefully, you can see the "side of the palace" where the car is parked and the main entrance in both the contemporary colored and black and white photos.

Above is the beautiful Italian Courtyard of the palace as it stands today. If you look at pictures taken when the Romanovs used the palace, the centerpiece of the courtyard was different. Today, there is a fountain at the center. Examining the older pictures (below), you can see that there seemed to be what I can only describe as a "well" at the center of the courtyard. There was a column on each side of the well. In one of the photos below, you can see Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich; he had his own rooms at the Livadia Palace.

Nicholas II and his family were so at ease at Livadia that they also conducted some minor official functions in addition to family activities. When the family went to Livadia, they usually went as far as Yalta by sea; it is easy to infer that the official activities they conducted were related to the crew of the Standart. In addition, at the time, it was believed that mountain air and rest could cure tuberculosis, and there were several spas and sanatoria in the mountains in the area. The Empress and the girls visited the sick there (they also participated in other charitable activities.)

The Yousupov family gifted the beautiful door above to Nicholas and Alexandra. The painting next to it is from a beautiful book by Kravnov ("Fiftieth Anniversary of Yalta"), who worked on the palace's design (and on that of the Crimean summer residences of several Grand Dukes.) The window is also featured in the painting.

The "solarium" seems to have been a very popular area. Nicholas and his children preferred the outdoors, and Livadia seemed to provide the Empress with the perfect environment to get sun and fresh air in comfort regardless of her many ailments.

This is the "Moorish" courtyard of the palace. It is small, but notice the exquisite tilework on the walls. And, of course, the little balcony between the windows seemed perfect to Alexis for him to "address" his family.

The palace had a chapel so that the Romanov family could worship in privacy.

A few of the interiors of the palace. The chandelier is Murano Glass (amazing that it survived all these years.) Olga's coming-of-age celebration took place in Livadia in the formal dining room in the photograph above, dancing spilling into the flower-perfumed courtyard. That is a luxury of the type you cannot buy! The girls' rooms are currently being restored. There are pictures of the rooms as they were, but I was not sure they were from Livadia, so I did not include them.

Finally, some photos of the "Tsar's Path" (or Sunny Path), which exists to this day (it goes from Livadia Park to the city of Gaspra.) The family loved to walk this path (regardless of its name, it is not sunny but pleasantly breezy). This path is on one level so that anybody can walk it, regardless of their cardiovascular status. I have read two stories about how it "emerged," and as usual, the truth is probably in the middle. First story: The new Livadia Palace did not exist yet, but the Romanovs used the old palace and always loved coming to Livadia. Alexander III kept gaining weight, and his doctor recommended that he walk but not overdo it...so Alexander had the path leveled. The path's beginning and end differed from what they would be later. Second Story: Sandro had the path from Ay Todor toward Livadia built because Nicholas and Sandro's families always visited each other (they started calling it the Prince's Path.) Nicholas loved the idea and extended the path.

Today, the main path remains, and other routes to other small towns can be hiked from it. Many of the same benches and sculptures are where they were at the time of the Romanovs.

Just one last photo. Here, you can see how close the palace is to the mountains and the sea. A beautiful big house full of fresh air and light with flowers perfuming the air. No wonder Olga liked it so much! (gcl)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Dove of Peace by Picasso

* * * *

World peace is not a party question. [...] The structure of world peace cannot be the work of one man, or one party, or one Nation. It cannot be just an American peace, or a British peace, or a Russian, a French, or a Chinese peace. It cannot be a peace of large Nations- or of small Nations. It must be a peace which rests on the cooperative effort of the whole world. It cannot be a structure of complete perfection at first. But it can be a peace—and it will be a peace—based on the sound and just principles of the Atlantic Charter— on the concept of the dignity of the human being—and on the guarantees of tolerance and freedom of religious worship. [...] We shall have to take the responsibility for world collaboration, or we shall have to bear the responsibility for another world conflict. [...] Peace can endure only so long as humanity really insists upon it, and is willing to work for it—and sacrifice for it.

—Franklin D Roosevelt, Address to Congress concerning the Yalta Conference, Mar 1, 1945

[a-tale-never-told]

Yalta, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, 1030:am August 31st, 2012.

*As a Gaz 13 Chaika limousine drives down the mountain roads to its destination, one man is preparing himself. He is wearing a business suit with a fedora, has small eye contacts, a little mustache, and a briefcase. This is Shinjo Nomuri, the general secretary of the Communist Party of North Japan*

*Nomuri had been earlier confronted from the airport by a few Kgb guards, who said that their boss asked for a meeting with Shinjo and that he sent them to pick him up. Shinjo went alone quietly, fearing they would kill him if he tried*.

*Eventually, they reach the destination, a huge Dacha that is with a Lenin statue standing in front of the entrance and all the other cars parked near the clearing. Watchmen and Security armed with AKM assault rifles and Mosin Nagant Rifles watch closely at the car.*

*One of the men steps out of the car, a Kgb escort, and looks at Shinjo*.

Kgb guard: Мы прибыли, сэр. Выйти из машины ( We've arrived sir, get out of the car)

*Shinjo nods and steps out of the limo, escorted by Kgb. One of the guards looks at the security and waves his hand at them. Upon seeing the Signal, they let him through*

*They enter inside the hallways of the Dacha and proceed to walk to the office. Inside the hallways lining them up are pictures and paintings of famous hallmarks of Soviet history, such as the 1917 October Revolution, a Stalin-era building of the 1930s, and the Soviet flag being hoisted on the Reichstag. the detonation of the first Soviet nuclear device, a scene of Sputnik 1 in space, Yuri Andropov giving a speech to a crowd of Kazaks in the Kazak SSR, and more*

*Eventually, they reach the office where the front entrance is guarded by two Kgb guards wielding assault rifles. The escort looks at the guards as they proceed to check if they have any weapons hidden in the suit *.

Kgb guard : Он с нами. Товарищ Николай просил о срочной встрече с ним ( He's with us. Comrade Nikolai requested to see him for something urgent)

*One of the guards looks at Shinjo intently and then goes inside the office for a bit. A few minutes pass untill the guard comes out of the room*

Kgb guard: Товарищ Николай попросил пригласить его. ( Comrade Nikolai has asked to send him in)

Kgb guard: Понял ( Understood)

*With that, the guards pass so that the door is opened by the escort. entering the office. Behind the desk, is a portrait of Leon Trotsky, while the rest of the room has two paintings depicting the Soviet countryside. Sitting at the desk signing papers, is a 6ft skinny yet well-built tall man wearing a Soviet officer uniform, with his black hair and surprisingly youthful face concentrated on signing the documents*

Nikolai: Господин Генеральный секретарь, присядьте, пожалуйста.( Mr. General Secretary, have a seat please)

*Shinjo does as asked and proceeds to take his seat thus kickstarting the meeting*.

[blickarmenie]

Jour 8

Ce jour, je le consacre à l'identité culturelle arménienne... Que peut bien cacher ce titre ronflant? Et si j'abordais un faiseur de croix?

Les croix en pierre, nommées Khatckar,  sont des prodiges ancestraux d'entrelacement, et surtout l'un des symboles qui affirme l'identité de ce pays. Je découvre Hambik dans son atelier que bien sûr j'ai eu du mal à trouver. Qui peut se douter qu'au rebord de l'élégante allée pleine de fontaines aux jets variés, qu'entre les kiosques premium, qu'entre les élégances actuelles et bruyantes, sur le bord du trottoir, de l'autre coté du nouvel immeuble audacieux, en fait, se cache un quartier très ancien et totalement invisible du promeneur qui, trop attiré par les vertiges du neuf, ne peut distinguer la muraille en bois protégeant l'intimité des irréductibles.

"C'est nouveau toute cette merde. Moi j'ai grandi ici, et tout le monde se connaissait et toutes les maisons étaient sans étage. Erevan s'est inversé. Les vrais habitants sont tous partis soit à Los Angeles soit dans les villages. Mais mon atelier, je le garde ici. Mon père faisait des croix. Je continue. Regarde, une seule croix pèse 800kg. Celle là va partir en Amérique. Il y a longtemps, je suis entrée au séminaire. Je voulais être Katolikos, le pape de l'église arménienne. Puis j'ai vu que les textes servaient juste à contrôler les personnes. Puis ils ont eu peur alors ils m'ont expulsé. Mais les prêtres continuent de venir me voir. Mais je dit à tout le monde que ce sont des menteurs. Et je fais des croix. Je ne travaille pas... en fait, je m'amuse. Ah, voici ma seconde femme, tu as vu ma première épouse. Mon désir est d'avoir 7 enfants. Par les temps actuels, une femme ne suffit pas pour ce projet donc j'en ai 2. Oui, au début ce fut compliqué mais maintenant c'est accepté. Et j'ai déjà 2 enfants. Lora est enceinte.

... Bonjour Lora, dis je à la belle sortie d'un film des années 30.

... Lora : d'où je viens? Je suis née à Yalta donc en Union soviétique, puis je suis devenue ukrainienne et comme j'habitais en Crimée, je me suis transformée en russe. Non je n'ai pas fui. Je suis ici car j'aime ce pays, je ne sais pas pourquoi, mais oui....

... Hambik: tout n'est que mensonge sauf ce que je fais de mes mains et c'est pour cela que chacune de mes croix est unique.

Faire par ses propres mains, voilà ce que je désire répandre auprès de la nouvelle génération, m'explique Koryun.

Lui, il est analyste financier. Il travaille 4 à 5h dans ce domaine, puis il descend tout en bas pour participer à la gestion du projet d'éducation artistique qu'il a lancé il y a 15 ans.

Faire par ses mains sinon toute notre identité va disparaitre. Il ne nous reste que ça. Maintenant, les écrans attaquent nos traditions. Tout devient pareil partout. C'est un grand danger. Mais avant, les Turcs nous ont massacré. Aujourd'hui, les azéris veulent nous détruire. Avant, Staline a voulu enterré nos musiques et nos danses. Mais en secret, les anciens ont conservé la mémoire.

Une de mes équipes a d'ailleurs recueilli de nombreux chants dans les villages. Tiens, voici un livre pour toi, avec des chants et avec le QR code tu as l'audio. C'est fait par les mains des élèves. On a des professionnels qui viennent les aider.

Le prototype de cours d'art inclus dans ce collège, tout ce que je te montre, c'est pour prouver au gouvernement que c'est possible, que cela a des résultats et que l'on peut répandre le programme dans toutes les écoles.

Nous on veut élever les âmes par la culture. On veut transmettre la beauté de nos chants, de nos histoires... Les actualiser.

Nous ne sommes pas des conquérants. Nous voulons juste vivre tranquillement.

Qu'est ce qu'ils ont les politiciens à vouloir nous forcer à haïr notre voisin? C'est eux qu'on devrait abattre!

[noisynutcrusade]

Pupo will no longer go to the Moscow Festival: "But the controversy has nothing to do with it"

“The unpredictable, the impossible happened around my eventual participation in the festival Road to Yalta. By virtue of reflections and absorbed in my thoughts on the journey I am making from Lugano to the city of Spa, in Belgium, where I will stop for a few days to rest and reflect again”, he announces baby. I have decided not to leave for Moscow.” “Certainly it doesn’t depend on the…

[infinitesofnought]

When they got out of the droshky at Oreanda they sat down on a bench not far from the church, and looked down at the sea, without talking. Yalta could be dimly discerned through the morning mist, and white clouds rested motionless on the summits of the mountains. Not a leaf stirred, the grasshoppers chirruped, and the monotonous hollow roar of the sea came up to them, speaking of peace, of the eternal sleep lying in wait for us all. The sea had roared like this long before there was any Yalta or Oreanda, it was roaring now, and it would go on roaring, just as indifferently and hollowly, when we had passed away. And it may be that in this continuity, this utter indifference to life and death, lies the secret of our ultimate salvation, of the stream of life on our planet, and of its never-ceasing movement towards perfection.

Side by side with a young woman, who looked so exquisite in the early light, soothed and enchanted by the sight of all this magical beauty — sea, mountains, clouds and the vast expanse of the sky — Gurov told himself that, when you came to think of it, everything in the world is beautiful really, everything but our own thoughts and actions, when we lose sight of the higher aims of life, and of our dignity as human beings. Someone approached them — a watchman, probably — looked at them and went away. And there was something mysterious and beautiful even in this. The steamer from Feodosia could be seen coming towards the pier, lit up by the dawn, its lamps out. “There’s dew on the grass,” said Anna Sergeyevna, breaking the silence. “Yes. Time to go home.” They went back to the town.

– Anton Chekhov, "The Lady with the Dog", trans. Ivy Litvinov

[searuss8]

Ялта. Приморский парк. Пляжи: Дельфин, Солнечный, сан. Россия, Ялта, Наб...,

[deadpresidents]

Unfinished: April 12, 1945

As March 1945 drew to a close, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was exhausted. At the beginning of February, Roosevelt had attended the Yalta Conference with Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin -- a meeting which required the American President to undertake a physically punishing and extraordinarily dangerous trip halfway around the world to the Crimean Peninsula in the middle of a raging world war. At Yalta, Roosevelt’s appearance had shocked the foreign leaders and their aides. In his last face-to-face meeting with Churchill, on February 18, 1945, FDR was seen as a dead man walking. Churchill’s personal doctor, Lord Moran, told a friend that Roosevelt had “only a few months to live”.

Being President of the United States for just one term is taxing enough on a young man or a healthy man. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been President for twelve years. He had campaigned for the Presidency and been victorious in four national elections. His Administration faced one of the greatest domestic crises in American History -- the Great Depression -- and the greatest crisis and bloodiest conflict in world history -- World War II. FDR had attacked these problems (and other issues that arose during his terms) with energy, creativity, and a relentless pursuit of victory.

A healthy and athletic man who stood nearly 6′2″ and weighed about 200 lbs. as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt had been stricken by polio in 1921. The disease robbed him of his ability to walk and, at the time, looked as if it had robbed him of a political future. He rebounded politically but physically he was never the same. Confined to a wheelchair, the muscles in his legs withered like the branches of a tree in winter. Although he could not walk under his own power, FDR taught himself to stand while wearing heavy steel braces around his shins. He needed the assistance of a muscular partner -- sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a military aide -- in order to feign the appearance of walking. Through sheer will, however, Roosevelt learned to take a few steps without anyone’s help -- a handy skill that he would show off at important campaign rallies. But as he began his unprecedented fourth term in the White House in the early months of 1945, FDR no longer had the energy to show off.

Roosevelt was as gravely ill as Lord Moran suggested. The successful 1944 Presidential campaign had severely drained his already tapped-out reservoirs of energy and stamina. His fourth inauguration was low-key, partly because it took place in the midst of war and partly due to the President’s failing health. Instead of the traditional inaugural ceremonies at the U.S. Capitol, Roosevelt took the Oath of Office at the White House and gave his brief fourth Inaugural Address from a balcony at the Executive Mansion. The famously verbose Roosevelt gave the second-shortest Inaugural Address in American History. By the time the crowd realized that he was talking he had already finished. Only George Washington’s four-sentence-long second Inaugural Address in 1793 was shorter than the address given by FDR on January 20, 1945.

FDR now looked entirely different than the man who had told the nation that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” in 1933. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, which seemed sunken into his skull. Since his first Inauguration, Roosevelt had lost 40-50 pounds. His hands shook so violently at times that some observers wondered how he was able to eat. He smoked constantly, but rarely finished his cigarettes. Most shocking of all, FDR no longer went to great lengths to conceal his disability. Frail and tired, he found it almost impossible to wear the heavy braces that he long wore on his crippled legs. On March 1, 1945, Roosevelt addressed a joint session of Congress on the results of his Yalta Conference with Churchill and Stalin. In an unprecedented move, the President sat in a chair on the floor of the House of Representatives and apologized to Congress, beginning his speech by saying, “I hope that you will pardon me for this unusual posture of sitting down during the presentation of what I want to say, but I know that you will realize it makes it a lot easier for me not to have to carry about ten pounds of steel around on the bottom of my legs.” It was the first time that President Roosevelt had ever publicly acknowledged his physical disability.

Twelve years of the Presidency, economic depression and war had strained Roosevelt’s health, but the 14,000-mile trip to the Yalta Conference on the Black Sea had pushed FDR to the limit. On March 30, 1945, Roosevelt arrived in Warm Springs, Georgia for a few weeks of relaxation and, hopefully, recuperation. Roosevelt loved Warm Springs. He had started visiting the small town in western Georgia in the 1920s, hoping that the warm waters from the natural mineral springs nearby would help him regain the use of his legs. When he was Governor of New York, FDR purchased a small house that he used when he visited Warm Springs. As President, the home was called the “Little White House” and although FDR only visited it sixteen times during his Presidency, many of those trips were for 2-3 weeks each. When his train pulled into Warm Springs at about 1:30 PM on March 30, 1945, many longtime residents said that things seemed different. Roosevelt looked terrible and while he waved to onlookers, it was with noticeable weakness.

The first few days in Georgia were tough. FDR was obviously ill and seemed to struggle making it through a church service on Easter Sunday. Roosevelt also avoided his beloved Warm Springs pools. Instead, the President rested, caught up on sleep, and visited with guests. The goal was for FDR to regain enough of his health to make a trip to San Francisco for the charter meeting of what would become the United Nations. At the Little White House with Roosevelt were some personal aides, military attaches, and cousins Daisy Suckley and Polly Delano. During his first week at Warm Springs, Roosevelt did very little work, dictating a few letters and reading briefings, stronger and more animated in the mornings and evenings but completely drained in the afternoon. Another goal for Roosevelt was to gain weight -- by the time he left Warm Springs, he hoped to be up to 170 lbs.

Still, there was no noticeable improvement in FDR’s health or spirits. Then, on April 9th, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd arrived. As President Wilson’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt had become involved in a passionate love affair with his wife’s social secretary, Lucy Mercer. It was 1918 when Eleanor Roosevelt discovered the affair between Franklin and Lucy and threatened to divorce him unless he promised never to see or speak to Lucy again. FDR agreed to the ultimatum -- an ultimatum that was strengthened by his mother’s threat to cut off his inheritance if he and Eleanor were divorced, as well as the fact that Franklin’s budding political career would be crushed if the affair was revealed. The relationship between FDR and Eleanor was never again passionate or loving after the discovery of the affair, but Eleanor kept her word and remained married to Franklin. Franklin, however, didn’t keep his word to Eleanor.

The Franklin-Lucy affair probably resumed shortly after Roosevelt’s first Inauguration in 1933.  By that time, FDR and Eleanor had more of a professional relationship than a personal one. He respected the First Lady’s political viewpoints, supported her activism, used her as a sounding board, and tried to act on many of her suggestions. Personally, however, there was no passion or tenderness or intimacy between the First Couple. It was FDR and Eleanor’s daughter, Anna, who helped rekindle Franklin’s relationship with Lucy. She arranged for Lucy to visit the President in the White House when Eleanor was out of town. And on April 9, 1945, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd was in Warm Springs, Georgia visiting President Roosevelt due to Anna Roosevelt’s invitation.

FDR was so excited to see Lucy that he didn’t wait for Lucy to make the drive all the way from Aiken, South Carolina to Warm Springs. The President and his cousin Daisy decided to meet Lucy’s car en route. At Manchester, Georgia, 85 miles away from Warm Springs, the highway rendezvous took place. FDR looked happier than he had in months as Lucy got into FDR’s car along with her friend, painter Elizabeth Shoumatoff. Lucy had brought Shoumatoff along to paint a portrait of the President -- a portrait that she hoped would be an improvement on the recent photographs that had made Roosevelt look “ghastly”.

For the next two days, Roosevelt and Lucy enjoyed their time together, going on small drives, eating happy meals, and sitting together while Shoumatoff prepared to paint the President’s portrait, studying photographs and making preliminary drawings. Daisy Suckley had the opportunity to observe the unique relationship between FDR and Lucy Mercer and also had some private conversations with the President’s longtime mistress. In her diary, Daisy recorded her thoughts about the two after she accompanied them on an automobile drive that they took: “Lucy is so sweet with F(ranklin) -- No wonder he loves to have her around -- Toward the end of the drive, it began to be chilly and she put her sweater over his knees -- I can imagine just how she took care of her husband -- She would think of little things which make so much difference to a semi-invalid, or even a person who is just tired, like F(ranklin).”

On April 12th, President Roosevelt woke up and ate a light breakfast. He had a slight chill despite the warm, humid weather that day and wore his cape draped over his shoulders throughout the early afternoon. Roosevelt did a little bit of work, reading the Atlanta newspapers and dictating some correspondence. Elizabeth Shoumatoff had set up her easel in the living room where the President worked behind a card table that served as his makeshift desk. As Shoumatoff painted, FDR continued reading, and at about 1:00 PM, Roosevelt said, “We have got just about fifteen minutes more to work.”

In the quiet of the room, Daisy Suckley thought that the President had dropped his cigarette and was searching for it because his head slumped forward suddenly. Roosevelt could barely lift his head when Daisy asked what was wrong. He placed his left hand gently against the back of his head and, in a barely audible voice, told Daisy, “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head!”

Roosevelt quickly slipped into unconsciousness as the women in the room summoned help. They called for a doctor who was staying in a cottage close to the Little White House and they helped two of FDR’s valets carry the President into the bedroom. Roosevelt’s hands and feet were ice cold, but he was still breathing. Smelling salts were administered but FDR was unresponsive. As the doctor and aides tried to help the President, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd and Elizabeth Shoumatoff recognized the hopelessness of the situation. They also recognized the potential scandal that was possible if it was learned that the President collapsed in the presence of his longtime mistress.

Shoumatoff packed up all of her paints and the unfinished portrait she had been working on. Lucy Mercer grabbed her belongings and took one last look at her beloved Franklin. He was still alive when they left, but he was breathing laboriously and his eyes no longer recognized Lucy. Lucy and Elizabeth Shoumatoff had been on the highway back to Aiken, South Carolina for an hour when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in Warm Springs at 3:35 PM. The official cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage. FDR was 63 years old.

Eleanor Roosevelt was notified of her husband’s death a few minutes after 4:00 PM. She summoned Vice President Harry Truman to the White House while he was having a drink at the U.S. Capitol with House Speaker Sam Rayburn. Truman wasn’t told why he needed to hastily come to the White House, but he knew it sounded urgent. As Truman left the Capitol, he ran into a young Congressman who questioned the Vice President about his speedy exit -- a young Congressman named Lyndon Johnson.

At the White House at 5:30 PM, Eleanor Roosevelt broke the news to the Vice President simply a directly: “Harry, the President is dead.” Truman was stunned and asked what he could do for the widowed First Lady. Eleanor smiled sadly and asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? For you are the one in trouble now.” At 7:00 PM, Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone administered the Oath of Office to Truman as the 33rd President of the United States.

By that time, Eleanor was on her way to Warm Springs to claim her husband’s body. At about midnight, she arrived at the Little White House in Georgia where she asked about her husband’s last hours. It was then that she learned news almost as shocking as the President’s death. Eleanor found out that FDR had been with his former mistress Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd when he was stricken. She spent 45 minutes alone with his body, picked out the clothing for his burial, but never lost her composure despite the shocks that she experienced that day.

A funeral train returned FDR’s body to Washington, D.C. the next day. Roosevelt was embalmed by morticians who found that the President’s arteries were so hardened that they could barely inject the embalming fluid into his body. FDR’s body laid in state in the East Room of the White House almost 80 years to the day that Abraham Lincoln’s body rested in the very same place following his assassination. On the 80th anniversary of Lincoln’s death -- April 15, 1945 -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt was buried in the garden of his beloved estate Hyde Park on the Hudson River in New York. Upon his death, the New York Times wrote of the deceased President:

“Men will thank God on their knees a hundred years from now that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House. It was his hand, more than that of any other single man, that built the great coalition of the United Nations. It was his leadership which inspired free men in every part of the world to fight with greater hope and courage. Gone is the fresh and spontaneous interest which this man took, as naturally as he breathed air, in the troubled and the hardships and the disappointments and the hopes of little men and humble people.” 

Elizabeth Shoumatoff’s Unfinished Portrait of President Roosevelt -- which she was working on when he died -- now hangs in the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Sunday 10 May 1840

8 ¾

1 40/..

finish morning R10 ¼° at 10 a.m. about before breakfast at 10 ¼ to 11 – then had Mr. Besoc and then Captain Tolstoy who staid after Mr. B- and till after 1 – I had just turned all my things out of my bag and began packing before they came – all the rest of the day packing and putting away my papers etc. (to be left behind) in the top of my Moscow portmanteau and put my own dresses and A-‘s in the portmanteau to be left behind – about 8 went down to see about the kibitka packing – tis now 9 and we have not dined or had tea – Madame Latchinoff sent the translation of her voyage to Erivan by 10 this morning (before breakfast) – It seems, after all, that Mr. T- (not captain – only Lieutenant as yet) [likes] better reading than that of light travels etc. etc. his favourite work Mignards’ French revolution 4vols. 8vo. and likes Hume and Gibbon and Robertson – the black sea said B. and T. very stormy from 1 September to 1 May – short hay-cocky waves – government bought 5 steamers in London – one of 130 horse power lost – could not contend against the storm – but from 1 May to 1 September 4 months of summer the sea stormless (storms have been known in May) and beautiful – one goes from Kertch [Kerč’] to Yalta and thence to Odessa but regular post road by land – vessels have been 3 months instead of 30 hours (or 2 or 3 days with wind) from Constantinople to Odessa – B- himself was a month and all but lost – 1 ½ day from Constantinople to Trebizond – the Tcherkess pirates [?] to [?] vessels – fine day – felt queer from not having walked out for several days – Read Madame L-s’ little work after dinner – Sense well enough – French bad –

[arkadiy-sidorenko-blog]

На #квизиумялта в ресторане #gussi.yalta. Пиво просто огонь!!! #пиво #бокал #blanchedebruxelles #beer #cerveza #bier #pint #rest #restraunt #fujifilm #fujifilmeu #fujifilmru #xt2 #yalta #color #crimea https://www.instagram.com/p/B2Y0yl1JWk8/?igshid=4cjd021a77kn

[lgbhistory]

Olga Tsuberbiller (Ольга Николаевна Цубербиллер)

Olga was a Russian mathematician famous for creating the textbook Problems and Exercises in Analytic Geometry. The book has been used as a standard text for high schools in Russia since its creation in 1927 and still is widely used nowadays.

Olga Tsuberbiller (born Olga Nikolaevna Gubonina) was born in Moscow, in 1885.

Her mother was engaged in farming and her father was employed by the Chinese Eastern Railway.

She was the granddaughter of the industrialist Pyotr Gubonin and spent part of her youth on the family's estate at Gurzuf (Yalta, Crimea). The resort, which now makes up Gurzuf was founded by Gubonina's grandfather and uncle. The two designed the 93 hotels and summer cottages and it quickly became a favorite place of writers, as it had been in earlier years for Alexander Pushkin.

Olga immediately began teaching analytical geometry in the Bestuzhev Courses, right after graduating from the courses herself.

The Bestuzhev Courses  in St.Petersburg were the largest and most prominent women's higher education institution in Imperial Russia.

She was married once, hence the last name Tsuberbiller. Although she was widowed during the Russian Civil War.

Olga counseled and tutored students and worked to popularize the study of math, while she was working in the women's courses.

She also was a professor at the First Moscow State University.

In 1923, Tsuberbiller met and became friends with Sophia Parnok, a famous Russian poet of a Jewish descent. The exact nature of their relationship wasn't clear, because Sophia didn't refer to Olga in the same sexual context as she described the rest of her relationship with female lovers.

While occupying an important place in her life, Tsuberbiller was a protector, as expressed in the poem cycle Half-voiced, which describes Tsuberbiller as a type of guardian angel.

Olga became Parnok's closest friend, and when Parnok's lover Ludmila Erarskaya was hospitalized for a mental break, Tsuberbiller was the one to whom Parnok turned to regain her equilibrium. Parnok moved in with Tsuberbiller, though Tsuberbiller was already busy providing care for her mother and her brother, who was at the time unemployed.

In 1927, Tsuberbiller published the first edition of  "Problems and Exercises in Analytic Geometry", which became a standard text in Soviet high schools.It is still a standard text in Russian high schools and technical institutions.

By 1928, Parnok had begun to have serious health issues and Tsuberbiller, who was also ill took her to Ukraine for the summer.

 In 1930, Tsuberbiller became a professor at the Institute of Fine Chemical Technology and at the end of that same year, she and Parnok moved to a new apartment on Nikitsky Boulevard with more room where the couple could regularly entertain colleagues of Tsubersbiller's.

Tsuberbiller and Parnok must have had a kind of "open" relationship, because Sophia openly dated other women while still living with Olga, and the latter allowed Sophia freedom.

Sophia died while living with Olga and she took responsibility for Parnok's literary estate upon Parnok's death.

Soon after Parnok' death, Tsuberbiller began a relationship with Concordia Antarova,a noted opera singer.

Tsuberbiller became one of the Honored Scientists of the Russian Soviet Federative Republic in 1955. As she had with Parnok, Tsuberbiller took care of Antarova through various illnesses until her death in 1959. She retired from the university in 1969.

Tsuberbiller died on 28 September 1975 in Moscow and was buried in the Novodevichy Cemetry near Antarova.

Olga was featured in the series "Butch Heroes" , the art project by Ria Brodell about butch lesbians from all around the globe and throughout the history.

[onesoulforbalkans]

Central European Silence About Genocide and Racism in Europe

I wrote this for subject in university and my friends thought that more than my lecturer should read this. So here goes nothing.

To start this essay, I want to look back at a situation where an old lady told me how lucky I am that I live in a time of peace. At the time, I also thought so but knowing what I know now; I realise it was a lie. I had taken on this Central European stance as child, not looking at problems that were in front of me. In this essay, I will look at situations in which Central Europeans kept silent about sufferings happening so close to them.

          If we look at Central Europe already historically, they always have wanted to take over other countries, looking at people that lived there as some lower human beings. We could say nothing has changed at all: medieval times, World War II, and then other situations in 20th century where they thought the right thing was to turn a blind eye on it all. In this essay I will concentrate on the Eastern Europeans who suffered from this whole situation. Beginning with World War II, because it was a catalyst for new wave of ignoring Eastern Europeans and we could say selling these countries for peace with Soviet Union. Eastern Europeans are looked at as still “not-quite-white” (Fox, J., 2017). We as Europeans look at USA and are shocked at how widespread their racism is, when we ignore our own. As they say deal with your own problems before you start pointing fingers at others.

           As already mentioned before, United Kingdom and United States of America sold out Eastern Europe countries to have peace and help from Soviet Union. While the UK had promised Polish government in exhale that they will get back their independent and democratic country (History.com editors, 04.11.2019.) same went to the rest of the occupied countries. Eastern European countries were left back in the dark ages while other parts of the world moved on. Such state of things was okay with Central of Europe, until in the middle of 1980’s people of Eastern Europe started to move the calm boat in the need of independence. Now they could not turn a blind eye on this situation, they had to react and support people in their quest of becoming independent.

           What came with independence was not what people expected at all. Central Europeans straight up were looking at Easterners as lower-class people, people who were far, far behind because they had only just come out of a Communistic political system. This view of Eastern Europeans has not changed at all in last 30 years. We can see it in UK where they say Eastern Europeans are taking away their jobs when these people work in places where British people would not even step in. If you listen to, for example, RTE Radio 2 which is Ireland’s radio station, you will hear about Eastern Europeans being killed, beaten to a pulp or something else happening to them. They try to play it down to fights inside the community but in the end, it always ends up being hate based crimes. We again come back to phrase “not-quite-white”. This phrase shows all the hate they have over Easterners when Eastern Europeans should be the angry ones. They are the ones whose countries were treated like tokens, who were occupied for over 50 years.

           Still the situation that hurt Eastern Europeans more than any other was Independence war in Balkan region or to be exact in ex-Yugoslavia territory. It was biggest refugee crisis in Europe since WWII. Stories that came from people that lived through this war showed that this demon of hate is still alive in people. Most noticeable is story of Croatian National Football team defender Dejan Lovren who tells that if German government did not accept his parents papers this time, they would need to go back to Bosnia where the war was still raging on (Herbert, I., 08.02.2017.). To live in constant fear till you are finally booted out of democratic country because you simply do not fit their agenda.

           That was not worst people turned blind eye to. We have to talk about darkest dot in history of 1990’s and that is Srebrenica massacre in 1995. Something we all still feel guilty about, but some try to hide, or to wash their hands clean. Srebrenica massacre went on for five days, but the real numbers of this event came out only in 2005. Sudetic Chuck in his research about Srebrenica massacre wrote:

             “According to a demographic study issued in 2005 by the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, some 97.1 percent of the 7,661 persons recorded as dead or missing as a result of the events at Srebrenica were males from 15 to 69 years of age; 68 were women, including two between the ages of five and nine, four between the ages of 15 and 19, and 11 between the ages of 20 and 24. More than 99 percent of the dead and missing were Muslim.”

Female victims of the genocide are still asking for other facts of massacre to be disclosed. So the whole world can know the truth, this fight is still alive to this day. We still have information that is kept away from the rest of the world. But we sometimes must think twice about the information we have. None of this can give peace to mothers and wives that lost husbands and their own pride. Who will answer why United Nation peace makers that were in Bosnia since 1992 (Peacekeeping in Bosnia, n.d.) put only 500 men in Srebrenica when it was established before that there needed to be 5000 well-armed men in this region? (Chuck, 07.07.2010.). Only some people stepped away when such information finally slipped out. It was like damage control.

           In lecture we watched a video from 1972 Munich massacre that happened in the Summer Olympic village. All 12 people who were held hostage got killed because Germany wanted to show that they are not the same country that they were in WWII and this situation can be resolved by peaceful talks. We can pull parallels with Srebrenica massacre because here too, Central European politicians in power ignored the facts that were put in front of them. UN already had forces in Croatia and saw how quickly situations can escalate. It took seven years for the Dutch Government and UN to say they were partially responsible (Chuck, 07.07.2010.). They can say these are mistakes, but these mistakes are human lives that could have been saved.

           In conclusion, I want to say Central European historians and authors, who say Europe has not experienced genocide in history after WWII, should open their eyes and start owning up to so called mistakes of their governments because we are all united. As Zygmunt Bauman said we are all in same boat. The sooner we deal with this racism and are honest with ourselves about these situations, we will reach the goals the European Union puts in front of us. Right now, you could feel Europe filling in with more hate, and that is not something we all want to live through again. Let us work on peace, and not hate.

Selected literature

Chuck, S. (07.07.2010.). The Srebrenica Massacre (July 11-16, 1995). Retrieved from https://www.sciencespo.fr/mass-violence-war-massacre-resistance/en/document/srebrenica-massacre-july-11-16-1995.html

Fox, J. (2017). Eastern Europeans, Brexit and Racism. Retrieved from https://www.britsoc.co.uk/about/latest-news/2017/may/eastern-europeans-brexit-and-racism/?fbclid=IwAR2fSgVvhChSS7F3Od4QNcNaypnfeGEX8Rbin0VDAEgEB_6g5_5OgbuiTnM

Herbert, I. (08.02.2017.). Liverpool's Dejan Lovren on being a refugee: 'I know what some families are going through, give them a chance'. Retrieved from https://www.independent.co.uk/sport/football/news/liverpool-s-dejan-lovren-searing-insight-his-childhood-people-think-again-refugees-a7570001.html

History.com Editors. (04.11.2019.). Yalta conference. Retrieved from https://www.history.com/topics/world-war-ii/yalta-conference

Peacekeeping in Bosnia. (n.d.). Retrieved from http://www.globalization101.org/peacekeeping-in-bosnia/

[yanamiers]

This photo was taken last year In Crimea. I felt free there. I'll be back there in August. I really need a rest after exams. Who loves amusement parks as much as I do?

[sargeantwoof]

Lean Back And Breathe

In a school full of geniuses Peter expected to keep his secret?

Yeah, right.

Luckily for him, those who know aren't that interested in exposing that tidbit of information.

*************************

Peter shuffled to the side, dragging his face buried in his arms across his desk, missing the looks the team shot him. MJ cleared her throat, her face impassive aside from the minor tightening of her eyes.

"Well," she said, "The Yalta Conference was held when? And it was about what?"

Peter slid to the side again, his head getting dangerously close to the edge, knocking pens and papers from the desk. The muted thuds startled him, his head shooting up as he looked around panicked. His eyes caught on Ned first and then MJ, his body softening as he realized where he was.

"Peter?" Betty said quietly, causing Peter's face to swing to hers, his eyes blinking owlishly. When he realized where he was, in the middle of Decathlon practice, his face turned bright red and he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Peter," Betty continued. "Are you okay?"

He waved his hands at her, not bothering to lift his head. Above him, Ned and MJ exchanged a look, the glance not missed by anyone else in the practice. The silence lasted another beat before Ned cleared his throat, blushing lightly as the rest of the team swung to look at him.

"Peter- he's, he's fine," Ned said, his voice growing stronger with each word. "He- uhh, he had to get- help his aunt late last night."

"Right," Cindy said, her brow arched. "That's why he's always tired." 

Peter groaned again, lifting his head up, tired annoyance etched across his face. "Why do you guys care so much?" He rubbed his eyes, unaware of the sweet picture he was portraying. In the back of the room, Flash snorted, covering his mouth at the glare MJ shot him. Peter yawned, dropping his hand. "I just- I had a lot of stuff to do for Mr. Stark and Aunt May."

"Oh, I'm sure you did," Flash muttered, keeping his gaze focused above Peter's head to avoided MJ's worsening glare.

Peter scrunched up his nose, blinking at them again, as if he had just realized where he was. "What time is it?" He asked, frowning. He glanced down at his watch, freezing for a moment before swearing and scrambling for his stuff. "Shit!" He cried. "I gotta go, Mr. Stark-" he shoved a pencil in his mouth, shoving his chair back, the two muffling the rest of the sentence. "Gottagobye!" He ran for the door, never looking back.

MJ sighed, dropping her head into her hands. "Well," Abe said brightly. "It really is never dull in practice is it."

"Are we continuing?" Charles asked, glancing around. "Even though Flash is his alternate he really doesn't offer much."

"Hey!"

"No," MJ said, sliding her notebooks in bag. She stood, Ned rising across from her. "We will reconvene tomorrow. 3 pm sharp." She offered the group a blank stare and a nod before she turned to go. "Later losers."

"Yeah, bye!" Ned called cheerfully as they left the room.  

There was a moment of silence after they left. One beat, two beat, before the rest of the team drew closer together.

"So," Betty said, raising her eyebrows at them. "They really think they're fooling us all don't they?"

Abe snorted, Charles rolling his eyes. "Uh huh," Cindy answered, her tone vaguely fond. "Parker thinks he's slick."

"I still think you guys are wrong," Flash said, scooching closer to them. He ignored Sally's scoff and lowered his voice, leaning in even closer. "There's no way that it's true."

Abe rolled his eyes, irritation flashing across his face. "Peter has to be."

"No-"

"DC?" Sally said, interrupting. "C'mon Flash he has to be."

"No," Flash repeated, the word sour in his mouth. "Because if he is, why hasn't he decked me yet?"

Betty huffed, . "It's Peter, Flash. It's like you've forgotten that you, and most of us," she gestured around the group. "Grew up with him." She shook her head, eyeing him with disbelief. "He cried when one of us stepped on a beetle in 2nd grade, obviously he's not going to punch you."

"But-"

"He's protecting people," Charles cut in. "You were gonna say, 'but now he's out there punching people' - and yeah," Charles admitted. "He is." He looked over at Flash, taking in the tense lines of his body. "But the difference is that those people deserve it."

"I called him Penis."

"You still call him Penis," Sally said, a wry twist to her mouth. "I think at this point we all assume it's more of a weird fond nickname than an actual issue."

"But-"

"But nothing," Cindy said, slapping a hand down on the table. "We all know Peter is Spiderman."

A clap echoed from the doorway, the six of them tensing and spinning to look. MJ stood there, backlight by the harsh hallway lights of Midtown. "God," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It took you idiots long enough."

***

Tony Stark: I may have bugged your classroom.         4:23 PM

Peter Parker: mr stark???       4:25 PM

Tony Stark: c'mon Pete, like you didn't have my number before.       4:25 PM

Peter Parker: i didn't realize u'd know mine??        4:26 PM

Tony Stark: You thought that I'd not know your number - that I'd know you were the spiderling but not know your        4:27 PM  number?

Peter Parker: … in hindsight that feels dumb        4:28 PM   wait, y'd u bug my class? Tony Stark: why wouldn't I?        4:29 PM

Peter Parker: basic privacy laws???        4:29 PM

Tony Stark: those don't apply to me. I'm Tony Stark.        4:30 PM

Peter Parker: I think they still do        4:30 PM

Tony Stark: whatever, not the point        4:30 PM The point is that I bugged your classroom and your fellow nerds know Peter Parker: know what?        4:31 PM     wait, mr stark??   they know what??        4:34 PM    mr. stark?? ***

Peter scrambled from the car, his face flushing when Happy sighed behind him. He had told Mr. Stark that he was more than capable of swinging to him after school but the idea had been vetoed every time. He shut the door behind him, mindful of slamming it. The last time he had forgotten about his strength he had crumpled the car door. Mr. Stark had thought it was hilarious but Happy had been more than a little upset.

"Bye Happy!" He called over his shoulder, slinging his bag over his arm and scurrying in through the doors Friday was holding open for him.

"Good afternoon Peter," Friday said, her voice a familiar tone in his ears. "Boss is waiting for you in the lab - would you like me to take you there?"

"Yes, please!" Peter said, glancing down at his phone. Around him the elevator hummed, the doors clicking shut behind him as it began to rise. He frowned at the sight of Mr. Starks texts, still open on his screen. He sighed, shoving his phone back in his pocket, resigned to having to ask Mr. Stark what he meant in person.

The doors opened, a tiny woosh of sound, the hallway empty in front of him. Peter glanced through the windows as he walked towards Mr. Starks labs door, taking in the scattered tools and bits of machinery strewn across the tables inside. He pushed through, the sudden noise almost overwhelming him.

"-And you need to stop!" Tony said, staring at Dum-E, a fond look on his face. He shook the wrench in his hand at the bot, ignoring the way the he drooped in response. "If you go towards the fire extinguisher one more time-" Friday cut the music, startling him into turning around. "Fri- Kid!" He said, grinning at him. "Just in time!"

"Just in time for what Mr. Stark?" Peter asked warily, sliding his bag off his shoulder and setting it on the table closest to the door.

Tony blinked at him, the gleeful expression dipping for a moment. "Are we not re-calibrating the webs today?" He rubbed his forehead, smearing oil over his eyebrow. "I thought we were?"

"We are," Peter said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "I was just - nevermind." He cut himself off, instead wandering closer to Tony. "Friday can you bring up the schematics from the last time I was here?"

"Of course Peter," Friday answered, the outlines unfolding in front of him in a haze of blue.

"Thanks Fri," Peter said, his eyes catching on a mistake he hadn't noticed before. He fiddled with it for a moment before glancing up and catching Mr. Stark smiling at him. He flushed, yanking his hand back from the schematics. "What?" He said, self-consciously.

"Nothing, Pete," Tony said, his face fond and open. "Just proud of you."

Peter blinked at him, blushing an even deeper red, his mouth dropping open. "Me- me?"

Tony snorted, rolling his eyes. "Who else would I be talking to here?"

"Friday?" Peter squeaked.

"Incorrect," Friday said, her voice as fond as she could get. "Boss is proud of you Peter."

Peter looked down, the action doing nothing to hide the shy smile on his face. "Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Of course kid."

Peter fell silent, reaching back towards the schematics, his hands much slower than they had been. He worked for another moment before realizing that he had never asked Mr. Stark his question. "Mr. Stark?" Peter said, getting a nod in response, though he didn't look up from what he was working on. "What did you mean earlier?"

"Earlier?" Tony said, highlighting a section of code to be revisited, willfully ignoring the fact that the entire section was basically neon yellow. "Like when I said I was proud of you?"

"No-" Peter said, a tiny smile on his face. "Like with the texts?"

"Oh," Tony said, looking up. "Your nerd friends figured out your Spiderman."

Peter frowned. "MJ and Ned already knew that Mr. Stark."

"No," Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "The other ones who are on your team." Peter's face drained of color. Tony stood, setting down the tablet and striding over to him. "Did you really not know kid?" Peter shook his head, completely mute. Tony sighed, slinging an arm around him. "If it helps, it sounds like they've known for a while."

"What?" Peter said, his face shocked and voice strangled. "Since when?"

Tony bit back a smile at the obliviousness of Peter. "Since DC?" He said, the smile coming out full force when Peter groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

"God," Peter said, his voice slightly muffled. "They must think I think they're idiots."

***

"MJ, heyyyyyy," Betty said, her face slightly panicked. "How long- how long were you standing there?"

"Long enough," MJ answered, her face impassive. Ned appeared over her shoulder, his expression equally unreadable. They slipped inside the room, MJ locking it behind her. The six in the center of the room swallowed hard, fear flickering through their eyes. Though they knew that Peter would've never laid a finger on them, MJ was a complete anomaly.

"We were just-," Flash began.

"Shut up Flash," MJ said, her voice betraying nothing. She slung herself over a chair, turning it so she was bracing her arms on the back of it. Beside her, Ned followed, snagging another chair and sitting in it, his face completely serious. "Here's how this is going to go," MJ said. "We're going to have ourselves a little discussion."

Ned leaned forward, staring each of them down. "No one is going to tell anyone about this discussion." They nodded, Ned leaning back once he was satisfied. He glanced at MJ, gesturing for her to go ahead.

"If Peter Parker was Spiderman," MJ began. "Then he would have quite a reason for being Mr. Starks intern." She glanced at Flash, taking in his rapidly paling face and didn't fight the coil of satisfaction that settled in her stomach. "And,  he would have a well-deserved reason for missing so much practice." She smiled at them with more teeth than needed. "Isn't that just so interesting?"

"He sure would always be tired," Ned said, his voice low. "Would be hurt far more than most." He glanced around the room again, taking in Betty's pained face, Abe's pressed lips, Charles' tightening grip on his water bottle. He blinked rapidly, his face suddenly pained. "Of course, this is all speculation."

"Of course," MJ echoed. "However," she leaned in close to the group, the others leaning in almost unconsciously as well. "If word were to get out that this rumor was spiraling, well," she exchanged a look with Ned. "Someone would have to go down for it, wouldn't they?"

For a moment no one moved, the room falling even quieter, as if the school itself had heard MJ's warning and was committing it to memory. In front of her, Sally shifted, everyone's gazes snapping to her. She blushed, almost lowering her gaze from MJ's but soldiered on.

"No one here would do that," she said, her voice quiet but firm, her conviction backed by the rapid nods of everyone around her. "And we're the only ones who ever even thought-" she cut herself off, her voice quieting. "You don't need to worry."

MJ sighed after beat. "I like you guys," she said, smirking a little bit at Flash's shocked face. "Yes, even you Eugene. But," she said, her face dropping back into impassivity. "This is Peter's life we're talking about." Beside her, Ned coughed suddenly, his eyes wide.

"Uh," Ned said, his eyes on a familiar figure on the window. "I think we're about to get some company."

***

"Activating," Friday said, in response to Peter's query about the listening devices. "Broadcast begins in 3, 2, -"

"Shut up, Flash," MJ's voice came through, Peter's brow furrowing. "Here's how this is going to go. We're going to have ourselves a little discussion."

"Is this old?" Peter asked Mr. Stark, frowning.

He shook his head, his face placid. "This is all live, kiddo."

Ned's voice began. "No one is going to tell anyone about this discussion." There was a beat and then MJ started speaking again.

"If Peter Parker was Spiderman - then he would have quite a reason for being Mr. Starks intern." Peter groaned suddenly, gesturing for Friday to stop the device.

"I have to go," Peter said, glancing at Mr. Stark who was smiling at him.

"Keep your stuff here," he said, reaching over and ruffling his hair. "You and your partners can come back after. I know Pep wants to meet them."

Peter flashed him a smile, pushing his chair back and heading to the bathroom off to the side to go change. "Can you ask if Aunt May can come?"

Tony spluttered. "Your hot aunt can always come," he said, ignoring Peter's familiar Mr. Stark!

He strode out of the bathroom, fixing a glare on Tony before it melted off his face. "Can- can you send Happy to pick us up?"

Tony held up his phone. "Already texted him kid." He raised an eyebrow at him. "Got a change of clothes?"

Peter nodded. "Ned made me stash one in my locker."

Tony stood up, tugging Peter into a hug. "See you in a few hours kiddo."

Peter pulled back, smiling up at him. "Thanks, Mr. Stark," he said, his smile shy. "Love you."

"Love you too, Petey," Tony said, swallowing down a lump in his throat. "Friday can take you up to the top so you can swing from there."

Peter grinned, turning to go. "MJ's gonna wanna have words with you," he called cheerfully over his shoulder. "She doesn't like being bugged." The door shut behind him, Tony watching as he slid his mask on, bouncing up and down in place as the elevator doors opened. He turned, waving at Tony before Friday shut the elevator, bringing him up to the balcony.

Tony smiled, shaking his head. "Friday," he said, the AI already bringing the audio from the device back up. "Keep playing and continue to record. I want to hear these threats."

***

"What?" Sally said, before the window slid open and Spiderman tumbled through.

"Oh shit," Flash whispered, his face dropping. "We're about to die."

Spiderman stood in silence for a moment, the whites of his eyes narrowed at Ned and MJ. In front of them, the others were mostly frozen, their hands tangling together in their sudden nerves as if that would protect them from a pissed off superhero.

"Goddammit," Spiderman said, reaching up and yanking his mask off, the brown eyes of Peter meeting MJ's. "I told you not to threaten anyone."

"I knew it," Cindy muttered, her face splitting into a massive grin. She yanked her hands back, knocking her fist gently against Flash's shoulder. "Ha! You're the idiot now." Flash groaned, his eyes never leaving Peter who flashed Cindy a smile before going back to stare at MJ.

Surprising everyone but the three of them, MJ cracked first. "Protection?" She offered, her mouth twisted. "Cause you wouldn't do it yourself?"

"I wouldn't do it myself because I thought it was just rumors," Peter stressed. "If I had known that Cindy had figured it out, I would've done something."

MJ shrugged, her elbow knocking into Ned's. "We were trying to help." Ned shot her a betrayed look and she shrugged again. "It was a group plan Leeds."

Peter shifted his gaze to Ned, ignoring the fact that the others were enthralled in their discussion. Ned sighed. "You do too much sometimes," he admitted. "We wanted to take something off your plate."

Peter sighed, looking impossibly fond all of a sudden. "Just a little warning next time?"

"To be fair," Betty said slowly, looking between the three of them. "It was very spur of the moment I think."

"Oh," Peter said, blinking. "Just don't do it again?" He offered, grinning when MJ shrugged and Ned nodded.

"How did you know?" Abe said, wonder in his tone. He flushed lightly at the looks he got. "That this was happening?" He clarified.

"Wait, yeah," Sally said, her brow furrowed. "Do you know when people figure it out? Who you are?"

Peter laughed, snagging a chair and sitting in it, neatly sliding into the group. "No," he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Nothing like that." He glanced around the room, nothing sticking out to him. "Mr. Stark bugged the room."

"What?" Flash said, his voice strangled.

"That's illegal," Charles said, though his voice was light.

Peter's mask crackled to life, Mr. Stark's voice suddenly coming out of it. "And I'm Tony Stark, what of it?"

The room froze, Peter rolling his eyes at his mentors ego. "Mr. Stark," he said, ignoring the looks everyone but Ned and MJ gave him. "Please stop bugging my classrooms."

The mask was silent for a beat before his voice came through again. "We'll talk about this at dinner," he said, evading the plea. "MJ, Ned, you're coming with him, right?"

"Mr. Stark!" Peter said, fond irritation in his voice. "You know I haven't asked them yet, please, please stop interrupting this."

"Fine," Tony sighed. "I'll leave you to it." The mask crackled once more and when silent.

"Er," Peter said, glancing up at them. "Sorry about him."

Abe grinned at him. "This is the best day of my life," he said. "You've proven me right and I got to hear Tony Stark harass you?" Peter grinned back, grateful that someone was pleased with the turn of events. Abe shook his head. "It's an honor Spiderman."

"Oh geez," Peter said, flushing. "You don't - please-"

"I have questions," Cindy announced cutting him off.

Peter nodded but turned to Ned. "Can you-"

Ned cut him off. "I'll grab the change of clothes." He turned, leaving the room, exchanging a fond look with MJ as he left.

Peter smiled after him, turning back to Cindy. "Sorry about that- your questions?"

"Yeah, how are you Spiderman?"

"Do you produce those webs?"

"When did you become Spiderman?"

"What do you do with Mr. Stark?"

"Have you met the Avengers?"

"Okay!" MJ snapped, her glare silencing them all. "Peter can-"

"MJ," Peter said quietly, reaching out and squeezing her hand, the rest of them watching avidly. "It's okay." She glared at him for another beat before squeezing his hand back. "Right," Peter said, turning back to Cindy. "One at a time?"

Cindy smiled at him, her normally open face even more delighted than usual. "How are you Spiderman?"

"I got bitten by a spider," Peter said, rubbing his thumb over MJ's knuckles. "It was, uhhh, biologically altered and so it altered me."

"What the fuck?" Sally and Charles said in tandem, blinking at each other and then back at Peter.

He shrugged. "It was an Oscorp spider," he said, as though that made it make sense. "It died after it bit me."

Flash snapped his fingers, pointing at him, things clicking into place. "You- you were sick for like a week after," he said, ignoring the look MJ shot him. Peter nodded, smiling tentatively at him. Flash flushed, dropping his eyes and falling silent.

"So," Abe said, breaking the slightly awkward silence. "Those webs- do they come out of you?"

Peter snorted, glancing over at the door and dropping MJ's hand. "It's Ned," he said, nodding to it right before the knock sounded. MJ rolled her eyes but stood to get it as Peter ignored the slightly shocked looks he was getting. "No," he answered, turning back to Abe. "I made the webs myself, and Mr. Stark helped me improve both them and the web shooters." Abe wiggled his eyebrows at him and Peter huffed. "You are not going to get to wear them."

"Damn," Abe muttered, a grin on his face. "I really thought I had you."

Behind Peter, MJ let Ned slide through, relocking the door. Ned tossed the clothes to him, nodding at the teachers closet. "Best place for you," he said, grimacing. "Someone on twitter posted that Spiderman was out swinging so people are frantically looking for you - phones are everywhere, even in the hallway."

"Fuck," Peter said, dragging his hand over his face. "I really thought I could be stealthy this time." Ned poked him, urging him up and towards the closet. Peter sighed but complied, trying to change as fast as he could.

MJ snorted, leaning close to Ned. "He definitely needs to listen to Natasha more," she said in an undertone.

"Hey!" Peter said, popping his head out of the closet, yanking the sweater over his head as he reached behind him, tapping the suit as it folded up. "Not cool, MJ!"

"You heard that?" Betty asked, her face twisting. "I barely could and I'm right here."

"Oh, yeah," Peter said, slipping the suit into Ned's bag and reseating himself, scooching closer to him, his hand snaking out and gripping his. "I've got like super hearing and strength."

"Like how-"

"Stronger than Captain America," Peter admitted, frowning when Flash shrunk in on himself. He glanced at Ned and MJ, only to see the both of them shaking their heads at him. He arched an eyebrow, sighing when all they did was shrug back at him. "Anyways," he said, turning back to them. "I actually do have to be somewhere now," he said, sighing. "I wasn't even supposed to be here, I had stuff to do with Mr. Stark in the lab today."

"That's okay, Peter!" Sally said, cutting off everyone else. "We can definitely text you questions later, right?"

"Sure?" Peter said, before frowning again. "Though I think I'm gonna have to ask Mr. Stark if it's okay - secret identity and all that." His face suddenly got serious, all the humor leaving his eyes. "I really really really need this to stay on the dl," he said, biting his lip. "I will do all I can to answer your questions and stuff but I can't have this getting out."

"Of course," Cindy answered, the rest of them following. "We've kept a secret all this time, we can keep doing it."

Peter smiled at her, the relief clear in his eyes. "Great!" He said, standing up from his seat and tugging Ned up with him. "And like, not a threat, but if Mr. Stark finds out someone leaked it-" he shrugged, his face not nearly as amused as it had been. "He takes that shit seriously."

"Got it," Charles said, shooting a look at Ned's backpack, where the mask lay. "We won't piss off Mr. Stark."

"Awesome," Peter said, grinning at them. "I'm gonna go," he said, gesturing to the door and holding his hand out for MJ to take, which she did with a sigh. "See you guys tomorrow!"

MJ unlocked the door, the three of them exiting, Peter's excited chatter carrying through the hallways for a moment before they rounded the corner and the sound muted before disappearing entirely.

"Oh fuck," Flash said, his face pale. "I'm going to die."

"Well," Sally said, her eyes alight. "I think that went really well." She exchanged a look with Cindy and Betty, the three rising together. "We're gonna go chat about this in a classroom that isn't bugged," she said. "My place?"

"Sure," Cindy said, Betty nodding in agreement. The three gathered their stuff, leaving as quickly as they could without outright running down the hall.

"Fuck," Flash repeated, staring at nothing. "I used to bully Spiderman."

Charles began laughing, Abe grinning at Flash. 'Well," Abe said, his voice bright. "At least it's a 'used to'."

Flash sighed, burying his face into his arms. "My life is a fucking nightmare. God." He sighed again once more before muttering. "Fuck!"