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sapphic-coded · 3 months

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I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and misses her gun home. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Hunted animals. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Life has been crazy. It still is. But this series is so much fun to write. Please know that your comments and love have kept my days bright. I read all your comments. Your likes and reblogs make me do my happy dance. It makes me happy that you guys are enjoying this series as much as I am. I apologize for the wait. I hope this new chapter makes up for it!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox @fxckmiup

Chapter Eight: You Can't Raise Hell With A Saint

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You watched the station wagon slowly back out of your driveway from your bedroom window. As you watched, you folded and then unfolded the piece of paper in your hand several times. Your father’s departing words echoed in the back of your mind.

“This is vital to maintaining our relationship with our allies. Remember. When the time comes, we must position ourselves on the correct side.”

You waited until the station wagon disappeared from view before your attention shifted onto the snowman across the street. Your father is gone for the weekend. Your assigned homework is already completed and buried in your backpack. You had hoped for two uninterrupted days with your friend. You two had discovered a perfect hill for sledding not too far away. You had hoped you could return to it this weekend with Nat. But before your father had left, he had given you an assignment. One you were not allowed to ignore.

But if you finish it quickly like your homework…

You turned away from the window and got dressed. The house was quiet as you descended the stairs and hunted through the kitchen for breakfast. Your father had given both your brother and sister assignments. You figured your siblings were already out doing them. You found an opened pack of pop-tarts hidden behind the jar of two dead mating frogs. You ate the delicious blueberry pop-tart and washed it down with tap water from the sink. Once breakfast was done, you pulled on your snow boots and put on your heavy winter coat. You unfolded your father’s note once more to reread the words hastily scribbled in fine black ink. Then, you refolded up the note and shoved it into your coat’s pocket.

You left out the back door and pulled on your gloves as the morning winter air scratched at your face. The snow crunched beneath your boots as you headed towards the treeline. The woods behind your house stretched onwards for roughly two miles. It was one of the reasons why your father had chosen to settle here. He could disappear into this patch of quiet woodland and no one but you and your siblings would know.

For a while, the only noise was the steady rhythm of your footsteps and the chirping of birdsong as you left your house behind and walked deep into the woods. The sunlight shone brightly off the surface of the snow and made your eyes water if you stared at it for too long. You felt the wind beginning to pick up and blow against your back as you walked. Your pace did not slow until you reached the base of a tree with a dead hare hanging from a snare.

You knelt down into the cold snow and pulled your hunting knife from your coat pocket. You cut the rope and lifted the dead animal up by the rope’s lead. Its dark lifeless eyes stared at you and you searched for any ounce of pity. When you didn’t find any, you stood up and continued walking. The weight of the hare hanging from the small noose made you feel less alone. You kept walking until you spotted a smooth, round rock. You picked it up and it nearly covered your whole palm.

You tied the end of the rope around the rock as you continued further into the woods. The light of the sun had started to dim when you finally reached a large pond. Your feet carried you to a narrow dock that stretched out over the water. The wooden boards groaned beneath your feet as you came to the end of the dock. You looked down into the dark water. It hadn’t frozen over yet which made your assignment easier. The wind continued to blow at your back as you tossed the dead hare into the water. The lifeless animal hit the cold water with a splash and floated on the pond’s surface for a moment. Then the dark water pulled the dead hare down into its depths. You waited for some kind of response. A sign that your assignment was complete. But nothing happened. So you turned and started the trek home.

Your thoughts returned to your friend as you began following your footprints back the way you came. You would have the whole rest of the day to do whatever you wanted. And tomorrow you wouldn’t have to waste any time with another assignment. Your immediate future was bright and that fueled your quick pace.

But your pace started to slow when you lost sight of your footprints in the snow. The wind that had been blowing must have covered them up. You ignored the first sour taste of fear and kept going. You had planned to just follow your tracks back home, but you could make it back without them. You had only gone in one direction. It wouldn’t be difficult to find your way back home. You shoved your gloved hands into the pockets of your heavy coat as the wind now blew against your face.

The light of the sun continued to fade as you made new tracks in the snow. You were going in the right direction. You had to be. But you spotted new bushes and weird leaning trees that you hadn’t seen before. You felt yourself shivering against the cold as the light faded into the coming dark. You kept walking until you finally leaned against a tree and sank towards the freezing ground. You closed your eyes and tried to curl yourself up as much as you could within the fading warmth of your coat.

You don’t know how you messed up your assignment. You thought you knew your way back. You thought this would be so easy. Your father had dragged you and your siblings out here plenty of times. Yet you’re lost and you don’t know what to do other than sit here and–

“Y/N!”

Nat.

Triskelion, Washington D.C. – 2012

You miss your little piece of woodland paradise. You had discovered the small cabin during your fourth job. You had been posing as a realtor for your target. The cabin had caught your eye because of its remoteness. It was tucked away along the mountainside and far enough away from all the main roads that all you heard when you stepped outside was birdsong and the wind brushing through the trees. It was the perfect spot to kill your target. The cabin had been left on the market for years and only maintained by a vendor who came out once a season to keep the place from falling apart. You would have no interruptions to deal with. If your target tried to flee, it would be a long run back to a main road. And even if your target got that far, they would need to run from there back to the nearest town. This spot was an open playground. You could kill your target however you wanted. Chase them around if you were feeling energetic. Sever their head with an axe like a lumberjack cutting up wood.

But when you had pulled up to the cabin for the first time, you realized that you couldn’t do any of that here. Sure, you had plenty of space. The cabin was remote. The main road lightly traveled. When you let out a scream to test if anyone would come running, no one did. It wasn’t until you walked through the cabin and into each of the small, cozy rooms that you understood why you couldn’t bring your target here. The cabin felt too much like a home.

The pictures that hung on the walls were snapshots of the owner’s life. Frames full of smiling faces and captured happy moments. You saw the lives of their children begin with innocent, small, round confused faces and stop at handsome young faces decorated in medals and gowns. The furniture bore the nicks and marks of a life used. You could even see the spots of soot left behind in the fireplace where the vendor failed to clean.

You had only ever been in a home like this once before. You had sat down onto the couch in the cabin’s small family room and looked over at the kitchen. You imagined the smell of Nat’s home. You imagined Nat’s mother standing in the kitchen. It was the only thing you could think of. You sat there for a long time. It had been the first time in years that you thought about your friend without all the other stories hanging onto the memory. You thought about Nat. You thought about how happy you had been around her. You tried to imagine her as an adult, but you couldn’t. She was dead, and you were no longer the kid she met back in Ohio.

You ended up killing your target during a private tour of a much larger home far away from the cabin you found. By the time you had bought and moved into the cabin, the new owners of the other much larger home had only finished finding all your target’s missing fingers. The cabin had become your home. Your place to unwind after your jobs. You had filled it with everything you knew that belonged in a home. You loved the feeling of walking through the front door after a long job and just breathing in the smell of your home.

Your bunk is nothing like your cabin. You are buried beneath all the important floors. Your room has no windows. Your room has four white walls, harsh overhead lights, and a white tiled floor. The brightness of the room often gives you a headache which is why your favorite time to be in your bunk is when you are sleeping. All the lights are off and you can listen to the hum of the air conditioner. The best part is that you don’t have to wear that stupid suit when you are in here. You are even allowed to speak, however the only person you ever talk to is Rumlow.

You miss your cabin so much.

The lights in your room come on when the door opens. The twin sized mattress you lay on offers the bare minimum of comfort, yet you don’t bother to sit up. Instead, as you wake and hear familiar footsteps, you drape your arm over your eyes. It successfully blocks out the harsh light, but does nothing to stop the approaching footsteps.

“The bosses up top were impressed with your Bardstown mission,” Rumlow says.

You can’t fight back the small laugh that works its way past your curling lips. With your arm draped over your eyes you can see Sikora’s bent neck clearly. You can still hear each crunch as his body collided down each step. “I killed one person and they weren’t even my target.”

“Which worked out in your favor,” Rumlow says as his approaching footsteps stop. “You played your part. The mission was a success, and no one will look deeper than that.”

You lift your arm away from your eyes and let it flop down to your side. The harsh lights already make your eyes water, but you focus on Rumlow who stands beside your bunk looking down at you. “Do you find your work fulfilling?” Instead of answering you, he turns and steps away from your bunk. You sit up. “Satisfaction is very important to me.”

Rumlow causally makes his way over to a small table. He picks up the half finished bottle of bourbon Nat gave you before leaving Bardstown. You couldn’t drink it then. Removing your helmet around her would go against everything Rumlow has been drilling into your head. But you had ripped your helmet off the moment you returned to your bunk. You had brought the bottle to your lips, and you had drunk so much while thinking of her.

“What are you asking for?” he asks.

“Let me work,” you reply. “Without the suit and the rules. Tell me who the bosses want dead, give me back my gun, and let me kill them.”

Rumlow sets the bottle down. “That’s not how this works.”

You roll your eyes and flop back down onto your bunk.

“I also don’t have your gun,” he adds.

You close your eyes and swallow back the urge to yell. You hate this role so much. If you were impressing these bosses so much, why wouldn’t they let you show them how good you really were? What was the point of all the secrets if most of SHIELD was really HYDRA anyways? Or at least, most of the important people. Or whatever Rumlow had told you during those first few days.

“The bosses were also pleased with how you handled Romanoff,” Rumlow says.

Your eyes open and you stare up at the bland white ceiling. You fight back the smile you know is coming when you think back to the best day of your life. You hope you end up on another mission like that. Just the two of you. The one little new piece of your life that made tolerating this role just a bit more manageable.

“How do you feel?” Rumlow asks.

Like you want to pour over the office directory until you find her office. You’d race up there and sneak in when she isn’t around. You’d sit in the comfortable office chair that you hope she has up there. You’d take your helmet off and wait. And when she finally enters you’d spin around in her chair for a proper dramatic entrance.

You turn your head to look at Rumlow. “Depressed. My favorite gun is lost.”

Rumlow holds your stare. You know what he’s looking for. Perhaps if he could read minds then he would have found it. Instead, you hide all your fantasies and memories behind your little lie. It’s easy. You do the same trick your father always did. String together a story from bits and pieces of truth and mold it into what you need. You know it worked when Rumlow finally breaks your little staring contest. You don’t move when he turns away from you. You don’t want to give away your victory.

“You have training with Rollins in twenty,” Rumlow says before he leaves.

You wait until the door to your room shuts behind him before you get up. You move towards the table and grab the half empty bottle of bourbon. You bring it to your lips and take a sip. The smooth amber liquid washes across your tongue and burns down your throat. You think of when she handed you this bottle. You remember the way her hands briefly brushed across your gloved ones.

You set the bottle down and change while your mind lingers in that memory. Rollins is already waiting for you when you arrive at one of the training rooms a few floors up. Bright sunlight pours through the windows that run along the far side of the training room. You feel uncomfortably hot underneath your suit, and you already miss the cool kiss of the air conditioning that hums in your bunk. When you see Rollins in the training room, your interior visor screen lights up with data you already knew. Except for the healing ribs. That part is new.

Rollins leads you over to a bunch of blue mats. The hand to hand combat drills still feel weird. You know what you are supposed to do. You had learned back when Rumlow first shoved you into this stupid suit that going for kill strikes was not in compliance. You had to work your way up to kill strikes to make everything more believable.

“You’re not an assassin anymore. You’re a SHIELD agent.”

Which wasn’t even the truth. You found that this dance they forced you to do felt awkward. Your movements felt sloppy as you fought not to go for the opening that would put your target down permanently. And when a kill strike was considered acceptable, it always came far too late. It never felt right. These lessons pressed up against the memories of your training back in Ohio, and it often left you feeling more frustrated than anything else.

Your training with Rollins is quickly following the same trend as all the others. Your punches feel sluggish and off. Every time Rollins dodges your hit or counters, you know exactly what you should have done instead. Your frustration grows as you hold back. Your thoughts scream at you in the roar of your father’s voice. You want to give in. Why trade blows when it can easily be only you hitting your target? But you’ve already tried giving in. You had managed to bloody your knuckles a bit before Rumlow had started talking to you about compliance. Everything had stopped despite your urge to keep going. Then you were back at the beginning as if your outburst hadn’t happened.

Rollins dodges one of your punches and delivers a blow to your torso that pushes you back a step. He doesn’t advance. He stands there and waits as you swallow back all the foul words that usually tumble out of your mouth whenever something hurts. It’s hard not to say anything. Especially when he stands there looking bored. But you aren’t eager for them to start fucking with your mind again, so you keep quiet. The sound of your heavy breaths fills up your helmet as you return to your spot in front of Rollins. You duck under his right arm as it swings out. Your fist slams into his healing ribs and the noise he makes is exactly what you needed to hear. His cry is short-lived as he quickly masks it with a grunt. He retreats from you, and you let him. You watch as his breaths become more labored as his hands press against the very spot you hit. You don’t know if you just broke one of his healing ribs. It hadn’t been your intention, but you certainly didn’t pull that punch.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

Her voice steals your attention. She stands by the door dressed in a dark gray sweatshirt and black joggers. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, and her head tilts slightly as her question is first met with silence. Well, more like your silence and Rollins’ heavy breaths. You could shatter this stretch of quiet in a heartbeat, and you want to. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you bury the urge. Your eyes greedily take in the sight of your friend. You are grateful for your stupid helmet as your eyes run down the length of her legs and stop at the black sneakers that cover her feet.

“I thought you were heading back up to New York with Rogers,” Rollins finally says.

“Eventually,” she replies with a slight shrug and walks further into the training room. “But I have some stuff I need to take care of first.” She uncrosses her arms as she casually approaches the mats. “You should head back before anyone from medical catches you here.”

“I’m a bit busy training the quiet one,” Rollins says.

You should have tried to break his ribs. He’d be too busy dealing with that pain to put a premature end to this wonderful moment.

“I can take over,” she offers.

Your helmet conceals the wide smile that cuts across your face. You don’t know what you have done to deserve so much alone time with your friend, but you will happily do whatever it takes to keep ending up in these wonderful moments. You don’t hear Rollins leave, and when you look over at the man, you can tell that he is unsure if he should leave. The questions he cannot voice are written plainly across his face and your smile falters. Is he…is he not going to leave? Is he really going to ruin this for you? You want to tell him that his concerns are unnecessary. If you were going to spill the beans, you would have done it the moment you and Nat were alone on the quinjet. Or sometime in Bardstown. Not in some fancy building secretly full of HYDRA agents ready to put you down with just a couple of random words.

“Don’t worry,” her voice pulls your attention back to her. Despite the fact that she is addressing Rollins, her focus is on you. You spot the beginnings of a smirk that stirs up something inside you. Something exciting and warm. “I won’t break her.”

You hear Rollins sigh and you feel the buzz of your excitement grow.

“If you do, you’re the one having that conversation with Rumlow,” Rollins replies. “Not me.” Rollins gives you one last warning look before leaving. You watch the man’s retreating form and feel at ease when you see his hand come up to gingerly touch the spot where you hit him.

When you look back over at Nat, you find her pulling her dark gray sweatshirt over her head. The uncomfortable heat that sticks to your skin beneath your suit returns as you feel your hands begin to sweat inside your gloves. You ignore the information that attempts to clog up your visor. Your focus is first on the black sleeveless shirt she wears. The hem of the shirt gets caught briefly on her sweatshirt and lifts to reveal the barest hint of a firm ab. You blink when the shirt falls back down.

Nat sets her sweatshirt aside and steps onto the mats. “Are they always that serious around you?”

You nod, but you are not thinking about Rollins, or Rumlow, or how painfully serious both tend to be at all times. You are too consumed by the realization that you have never seen this much of your friend before. No. That wasn’t it. You can recall several old memories of warm summer days and cool lake water. But you hadn’t felt like this back then. You are staring at her lean biceps and you just want to touch her.

She steps forward. “Your missions with them must be fun.” She shifts into a fighting stance and raises her fists. “Let’s see what you can do.”

You raise your fists and shift your stance. Your smirk at your friend’s earlier sarcasm falls away as your visor’s screen identifies multiple places to strike first. You know what you want to do, but that option isn’t listed anywhere on the screen. If it wasn’t for Nat standing in front of you, you would have quickly returned to your sour, frustrated mood. But instead, you wait for her to strike first. A few moments pass and all you two do is slowly circle the mats. You realize that she’s waiting for you to strike first. A hint of your concealed smile returns. You happily oblige.

Your fist swings towards her, and you feel her arm quickly block your strike. Your focus is on her face, and you can tell that she barely had to think about her reaction. You continue to move in a slow circle and she does the same. You fall back into the training that Rumlow has been drilling into you since they freed you from that chair. You move in and strike. You frown slightly as she blocks or dodges every one of your strikes. It makes you feel like she’s in your mind. That she knew what you planned to do the exact same time you did. You retreat back a step when your fifth punch doesn’t land.

You wait for her to move in with her attack, but it doesn’t come. You know she can’t see your face, but it feels like she can when she offers a small shrug and that small smile creeps back in.

“I’m guessing that was your warm-up?”

You know it’s bait, but you take it anyway. You move in with another series of attacks. Every single one of your punches feels just as sluggish as before. The rhythm feels off. You feel like each attack is wrong. Your strikes aren’t landing and just as you are about to sink into the seething grip of your frustration, you see Nat’s fist coming towards you. Your hand catches her wrist before her fist can make contact with your helmet.

You watch as her brow arches in a silent question. You ignore the data that races across your visor’s screen and focus on the weight of her wrist in your hand. The familiarity of it lures out pieces of warmer memories. The touch of her hand taking yours. How her touch would melt the rigid cold left after early summer mornings with your father. You abandon the awkward dance you have been following. You can hear whispers of your father’s voice in the back of your mind as you take a breath and move.

Her wrist slips free before you can pull her towards you. She goes on the offensive and the attacks you block send you back a few steps. You spy her foot moving to hook behind yours and you maneuver away from that pitfall only to feel her fist connect with your side. The pain is barely there. You two are sparring. But it lights a very familiar fire inside of you.

You press forward with an onslaught of strikes that feel more natural. She continues to block most of them until you manage to slip past her defenses and successfully hook your foot behind hers. As you sweep her foot out from underneath her, her hands come up to latch onto the fabric of your stupid suit. She lets her falling body pull you down, and you both land on your side. Your one hand reaches to dislodge the grip she has on your suit while your other instinctively reaches out towards her neck. You feel her legs wrap around your waist and in one quick movement, you are on your back. Her hand stops yours from reaching her throat and pins it against the mat. She quickly pins your other hand to the mat, and you stare up at her as your heavy breaths fog up your interior visor.

She doesn’t let go of your hands as she looks down at you. You know all she can see is her own reflection staring back at her, and you want her to pull the stupid helmet off your head. You wouldn’t be breaking the rules if she exposed this game. But she doesn’t. Instead, she leans down just an inch or two closer and asks, “How do you feel about opera?”

You shrug.

Her smile returns as she finally lets go of your hands. She gets up and you instantly miss her warm weight on top of you. You sit up as she returns to where she left her sweatshirt. She digs into her sweatshirt’s pocket, pulls something out, and tosses it towards you. You catch it. You can feel another burst of excitement rush through you as you stare at the phone in your hand.

“That’s yours,” Nat says as she pulls her sweatshirt back on. “I thought it might be easier for us to communicate. I already loaded my number into your phone.”

You have her phone number. You don’t move from your spot on the mats as your fingers wrap tenderly around the phone. Direct access to your friend without needing to go through anyone else or jump through any additional hoops. It feels like you’re back in Ohio. All you need to do is cross the street, and she’s there waiting for you.

“I’ll be in contact soon,” she says as she moves towards the door. “Don’t put Rollins back in medical while I’m away.”

You watch her leave. You wait until she’s gone before you lean backwards onto the mat and let out a quiet, short laugh.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow fanfiction #natasha romanoff fanfic #my fanfic #fic: i swear that i don't have a gun

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asexualannoyance · 8 months

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“[...] Like other movements within political Islam, the movement [Hamas] reflected a complex local reaction to the harsh realities of occupation, and a response to the disorientated paths offered by secular and socialist Palestinian forces in the past. Those with a more engaged analysis of this situation were well prepared for the Hamas triumph in the 2006 elections, unlike the Israeli, American, and European governments. It is ironic that it was the pundits and orientalists, not to mention Israeli politicians and chiefs of intelligence, who were taken by surprise by the election results more than anyone else. What particularly dumbfounded the great experts on Islam in Israel was the democratic nature of the victory. In their collective reading, fanatical Muslims were meant to be neither democratic nor popular. These same experts displayed a similar misunderstanding of the past. Ever since the rise of political Islam in Iran and in the Arab world, the community of experts in Israel had behaved as if the impossible was unfolding in front of their eyes. [...]

In 2009, Avner Cohen, who served in the Gaza Strip around the time Hamas began to gain power in the late 1980s, and was responsible for religious affairs in the occupied territories, told the Wall Street Journal, “the Hamas, to my great regret, is Israel’s creation.” Cohen explains how Israel helped the charity al-Mujama al-Islamiya (the “Islamic Society”), founded by Sheikh Ahmed Yassin in 1979, to become a powerful political movement, out of which the Hamas movement emerged in 1987. Sheikh Yassin, a crippled, semi-blind Islamic cleric, founded Hamas and was its spiritual leader until his assassination in 2004. He was originally approached by Israel with an offer of help and the promise of a license to expand. The Israelis hoped that, through his charity and educational work, this charismatic leader would counterbalance the power of the secular Fatah in the Gaza Strip and beyond. [...]

In 1993, Hamas became the main opposition to the Oslo Accord. While there was still support for Oslo, it saw a drop in its popularity; however, as Israel began to renege on almost all the pledges it had made during the negotiations, support for Hamas once again received a boost. Particularly important was Israel’s settlement policy and its excessive use of force against the civilian population in the territories. [...]

It also captured the hearts and minds of many Muslims (who make up the majority in the occupied territories) due [to] the failure of secular modernity to find solutions to the daily hardships of life under occupation. [...]

The new Israeli methods of oppression introduced during the Second Intifada—particularly the building of the wall, the roadblocks, and the targeted assassinations—further diminished the support for the Palestinian Authority and increased the popularity and prestige of Hamas. It would be fair to conclude, then, that successive Israeli governments did all they could to leave the Palestinians with no option but to trust, and vote for, the one group prepared to resist an occupation described by the renowned American author Michael Chabon as “the most grievous injustice I have seen in my life.” [...]

The obvious failure of the Palestinian groups and individuals who had come to prominence on the promise of negotiations with Israel clearly made it seem as if there were very few alternatives. In this situation the apparent success of the Islamic militant groups in driving the Israelis out of the Gaza Strip offered some hope. However, there is more to it than this. Hamas is now deeply embedded in Palestinian society thanks to its genuine attempts to alleviate the suffering of ordinary people by providing schooling, medicine, and welfare. No less important, Hamas’s position on the 1948 refugees’ right of return, unlike the PA’s stance, was clear and unambiguous. Hamas openly endorsed this right, while the PA sent out ambiguous messages, including a speech by Abu Mazen in which he rescinded his own right to return to his hometown of Safad. [...]”

—Ten Myths About Israel by Ilan Pappé, Chapter 9: “The Gaza Mythologies”, the section titled “Hamas Is a Terrorist Organization”

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #hamas #quotes #this book is very good

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peasantexchangeprogram · 2 months

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helloo since we're on the topic: top historical fiction (or adjacent) ? can be any time period I just really love your taste in shows/games/etc and am always on the lookout for history inspired media !

thank you!!! im rly glad im like. inspiring other ppl to engage w things im insane abt hudofajsdfdassfsad. anyways. i will probably expand that list bc i literally forgot every single thing i ever read. also i havent watched that many movies so far

ancient times: i havent really watched a lot of movies/series set in ancient times so far :(

rome HBO (2005-2007) (tv series) - OF COURSE. i personally think its one of the best series ever made. they combine political, miliatry history with the lives of every day people in an incredible way. they never let you once engage with the series through modern lenses. according to my teacher (a historian, archeologist & self described 'romaphile') its incredibly historically accurate, mostly the clothing, set designs, characterization, military practices, etc. except for the things they straight up made up, of course.

i really enjoyed gladiator (2000), i think its a masterpiece.

prince of egypt (1998) i guess?

all the asterix movies of course, all the animated ones and most of the live actions. but i wouldnt really call it historical fiction

ok i havent actually finished watching it for now but sebastiane (1976) - an erotic, x rated, gay interpretation of the martyrdom of st sebastian. its in latin also.

wait i cant believe i forgor about assassin's creed odyssey - so far the only one ive played. its so fun and incredibly immersive visually. especially pour moi who cries into the pillow about how ill never experience the ancient world. also you can b a faggot which is always fun. i have things to say about their portrayal of same-sex sexuality and slavery in classical greece but i get why they did that considering its supposed to like. appeal to a lot of people, and a more "historically accurate" portrayal (for example of pederasty or how common slavery was etc.) would b v difficult for a lot of their target audience. alas.

medieval and early modern era:

the name of the rose (1986) - my medieval history teacher literally showed us bits of this movie to teach us about monasteries and monks fhdosiasdjasd.

the borgias (2011-2013) - incredibly messy, lots of political intrigue, and so so fun to watch. about the history of the borgia family. filled to the brim with drama.

the three musketeers (1993) - my favorite adaptation, also coincidentally the one i grew up on. casting tim curry as richelieu was genius. he slays so hard.

i also like bbc's the musketeers (2014-2016) - a neat little series. very fun and entertaining to watch.

outlaw king (2018) - like i dont think most ppl heard of this movie. its about robert the bruce's fight to reclaim the throne of scotland. starring chris pine

vikings (2013-2020) - its fun. i havent watched the entire series tho. dont expect anything resembling historical accuracy

the northman (2022) - you will see something resembling historical accuracy

mihai viteazul (michael the brave) (1971) - a fun movie. very much romanian propaganda tho.

1670 (2023-) - such a fun series!!! incredible cast, shows respect to the actual history and the lives of historical people. really cute and funny.

caravaggio (1986) - a biopic about caravaggio.

wait i also forgor about pentiment - an intriguing, immersive, and incredibly beautiful video game! it has a lot of 'the name of the rose' vibes, with it being a medieval murder mystery taking place in a monastery. its incredibly touching and made me cry, and in the last few years i very rarely cry. also im 99% sure its an indie game? go support the creators!

vaguely-medieval/early modern fantasy:

mirror mirror (2012) - a retelling of snow white. a very fun movie imo, with incredible costume design. julia roberts plays the evil queen and she SLAYS. armie hammer is unfortunately in that movie.

stardust (2007) - one of my fave movies growing up. more modern-inspired but still.

the green knight (2021) - controversial i know but i actually loved this movie! i liked it both as a standalone movie but moreso as a 21st century adaptation to sir gawain and the green knight.

galavant (2015-2016) - !!!!!!! one of the most series ever! they manage to tackle such difficult concepts and conversations with a hilarious wit. so fun to watch. i listen to a lot of the songs still, and rewatch every once in a while.

disenchantment (2018-2023) - very fun to watch, especially the first season.

i also really liked the novel uprooted by naomi novik. its a polish-inspired fantasy.

modern era:

killers of the flower moon (2023) - of course. a masterpiece

aferim! (2015) - a romanian movie set in 19th century wallachia, about two officers, a father and son, who were sent by a nobleman to retrieve an escaped enslaved romani man. a lot of the people in the comments were calling the movie humorous and funny, maybe im missing smth (as im watching with subtitles n dont understand the original language) but it was a very difficult watch for me??

the handmaiden (2016) - need i say more

black sails (2014-2017) - a prequel to the famous novel 'treasure island'. not an easy series to watch. incredibly good.

the favourite (2018) - need i say more pt 2

the rabbi's cat (le chat du rabbin) (2011) - animated movie set in early 20th century algeria. a rabbi's cat learns to talk overnight.

the nice guys (2016) - a fun murder mystery set in the 1970s

o brother, where art thou (2000) - a retelling of the odyssey set in the southern us in the 1930s

victor/victoria (1982) - set in early 20th century paris. julie andrews pretends to be a man and takes on a job as a drag queen. extremely fun, extremely gay movie.

lady chatterley's lover (2022) - very much porn for moms but it was a nice watch imo

amulet (2020) - set in like. idk. sometime in the 20th century. this is a horror movie, deals a lot with misogyny, sa, and so on. i really like it, personally. a lot of people, mostly weird men, dont tho.

the great (2020-2023) - i have mixed feelings about this show. on the one hand, its really fun to watch. on the other hand, its basically ofmd for girls who have public mental breakdowns whenever someone claims corsets were oppressive. and theyre so weird about russians, jesus christ.

disses:

domina (2021-) - i just couldnt get into it, esp since i tried right after finishing rome hbo. it was kind of silly, and not in a good way. takes itself wayyyy to seriously.

i didnt like spartacus (2010-2013) - the dialogue was almost grotesque and the editing, especially the transitions, straight up killed me

damsel (2024) - holy fuck what a trainwreck of a movie. absolute waste of angela basset and robin wright. the only good thing were the costumes.

lancelot du lac (1974) - i just didnt like it at all. couldnt get into it. i guess it was way too french and artsy fartsy for me. a movie that was trying to say both too little and too much at the same time.

i didnt rly like bram stoker's dracula (1992) - i mean. it was a fine movie. it was definitely not the godfather. the movie itself was meh. the visuals tho? absolutely stunning

#asks #anon #mine*#slavery ment #sa ment

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incognitobobcat · 1 month

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Headcanon Tomáš

Photo Source: @jojogreg8441 on Twitter

Name: Tomáš Vrbada

Birthday: July 11, 1993

Zodiac Sign: Cancer

Birthplace: Prague, Czech Republic

Languages: Czech, English, Chinese (dialect unknown), learning Japanese

Fighting Style: Ninjitsu and Pencak Silat

Weapon: Karambit

Religion: formerly Catholic

Favorite Colors: Silver and light shades of blue

Favorite Foods: Svíčková, Řízek, Rajská omáčka, Madam Bo’s cooking, homecooked meals, Gyoza, and food from the Osaka night markets (ie. Kuromon), enjoys food in general

Favorite Beverages: Water, Pilsner, milkshakes, and some juices

Favorite Pastimes: movies and tv shows, music, walks in nature, traveling, enjoying various foods from restaurants and night markets

Favorite Actor: Johnny Cage

Favorite Movie Genres: Action, adventure, suspense, psychological thrillers, comedy, and whatever else from other genres that appeal to him.

Favorite Music: Contemporary music, alternative metal, classical and soothing instrumental music.

Favorite Dating/Hangout Spots: Osaka night markets, cozy and casual and cozy restaurants, and romantic and peaceful natural spots.

Personality: He is stern, intimidating, and quiet on the outside. He is able to command the respect from his subordinates. He is assertive in a firm and confident way. As a trained assassin under two established clans, he is true to his oaths and never backs down from kombat. He is loyal, courageous and deadly in his profession. As a person, he is kind, gentle, soft-spoken, eager to help and caretake others. He is intelligent and kind. He enjoys favorite past times with people he likes to hang out with and a woman he’s interested. He can be funny and is a good actor.

Ideal Woman: Tomáš likes a soft and gentle personality who can really connect with him on an emotional level. He values kindness, compassion, and empathy. He needs a partner who can give him the emotional safety and space to be vulnerable. Being a giver himself, he loves it when a woman graciously and enthusiastically accepts his gifts and chivalrous gestures. He also wants a woman who can handle his constant need for reassurance and appreciation, so constant attention and physical touch are very important to him.

Turnoffs In A Woman He Dates: Abrasive, angry, negative, careless with how she words things (straightforwardness is a gray area as it varies from individual to individual), blunt to harsh, overall oné who isn’t “feminine” in behavior. Fiercely independent women are frustrating for him to deal with. He may not be aware of this: even though he has fought alongside strong women who are fierce warriors, he has traditional views of how his woman should be and prefers her to be meek and dependent on him, as it feeds his masculine ego and need to look after someone who is weaker.

Deepest fears: To expand on the last point mentioned above, Tomas’ need to look after someone weaker stems from his past traumas of losing loved ones. He has a fear of abandonment. Subconsciously, this is his way of being in control of what he views as his and those who he sees are in need of his help. This brings him alot of gratification and allows him to feel like he is in control, sometimes in an intrusive way.

Furthermore, When Tomas feels he is not being seen and recognized for his acts of kindness, this will further fuel his fear. When someone can do for themselves what he desires to do for them, he interprets this as a message that he is no longer needed, and therefore discarded.

Turn Off For A Potential Partner: Once Tomas has decided that you are the woman that he wants because you check all of his boxes and meet his needs, he will physically and emotionally latch onto his partner. He would want to be with her as much as he can. Tomas is a very physically affectionate person and will want to cuddle, hold hands and make out as much as possible. He loves frequently having sex as a way to pour himself into his partner and bond with her, and it helps him de-stress, so he will make sure that he gets this as much as possible. This may drain the woman, especially when she is tired or not in the mood.

If the woman isn’t on the same level as Tomas is regarding falling in love at his pace or is more reserved regarding his physical and emotional needs, is not ready to open up about the details of her life, or cannot be emotionally present for reasons ranging from business to tiredness to being with girlfriends, he can get frustrated, insecure, and extremely jealous, to which he will verbally express this making him come across as whiny. If she is careful with her body and not want to have sex during certain times of the month out of fear of unwanted pregnancy, Tomas may eventually accuse her of making excuses to not want to be intimate. In his mind, there must be something wrong with him or she may be falling out of love that she’s distancing herself from him. Repeated reassurances may fall on deaf ears as he may shut down and walk away, or argue her points in such a way to make her feel guilty. The woman may feel obligated to give in to soothe his fears and build resentment over time or she may have to end the relationship.

Tomas expects his partner to be able to pick up on what he is feeling and can’t shut down when his partner doesn’t. Because he fears abandonment, he can be emotionally selfish where he will emotionally manipulate his partner with guilt trips on how much he has done for her, her not appreciating him, and playing the victim to get reassurance and physical affection from her. This may make the woman feel like her efforts are not good enough, which affects her self-esteem, she may feel abused and and be emotionally drained to the point of apathy. Her pulling away from him will further trigger his fears and Tomas may cry and beg, promising to change. If she chooses to stay, things may get comfortable for the old habits to come back. If she walks away, Tomas may double down on his efforts, making it even harder for her to leave.

These behaviours only manifest behind closed doors when you are his person. Outside of that, things are normal to untrained eyes.

Healthy Tomas: If he is healthy and secure in himself and his partner, Tomas is the most giving to her beyond the physical. He will make her feel like she is his priority and she will feel emotionally safe and contained by him. He is empathetic and is attuned to her moods and needs. He also knows when he needs his space and can communicate clearly with his partner, and vice versa. He is also able to walk away from a toxic relationship or once he feels that a relationship has run its course while holding on to the good memories. Tomas is respectful of his partner’s refusal to be intimate for her reasons and will make sure that her needs are taken care of when she is tired or stressed while putting his feelings aside. He is a great friend and lover, and wants to build a family with his future wife when she is the one. He will make an excellent father and husband and would die to protect his family.

#mk1 2023 #mk1 #mortal kombat #tomas vrbada #mk1 tomas vrbada #mk smoke #smoke #mk1 smoke #mortal kombat 2023

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queersatanic · 2 months

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Hindutva's Foreign Tie-up in the 1930s

Archival Evidence

To understand militant Hinduism, one must examine its domestic roots as well as foreign influence. In the 1930s Hindu nationalism borrowed from European fascism to transform 'different' people into 'enemies'. Leaders of militant Hinduism repeatedly expressed their admiration for authoritarian leaders such as Mussolini and Hitler and for the fascist model of society. This influence continues to the present day. This paper presents archival evidence on the would-be collaborators.

By Marzia Casolari

Source: Economic and Political Weekly, Jan. 22-28, 2000, Vol. 35, No. 4 (Jan. 22-28, 2000), pp. 218-228

'Fascist' was in Sumit Sarkar's words, "till the other day a mere epithet" ('The Fascism of the Sangh Parivar', Economic and Political Weekly, January 30, 1993, p 163). It has come to define the ideology and practice of the Hindu militant organisations. It is a common place, accepted by their opponents, as well as by those who have a critical, but not necessarily negative, view of Hindu fundamentalism. Defining the Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh (RSS) and, in general, the organisations of militant Hinduism I as undemocratic, with authoritarian, paramilitary, radical, violent tendencies and a sympathy for fascist ideology and practice, has been a major concern for many politically oriented scholars and writers. This has been the case with the literature which started with Gandhi's assassination and continues up to the present day with works such as Amartya Sen's India at Risk (The New York Review of Books, April 1993) and Christophe Jaffrelot's The Hindu Nationalist Movement in India (Viking, New Delhi, 1996), the latest book published on the subject, or the well known Khaki Shorts and Saffron Flags (Orient Longman, New Delhi, 1993), which came out soon after the destruction of the Babri masjid. As a result, the fascist ideological background of Hindu fundamentalism is taken for granted, never proved by systematic analysis. This is an outcome that is, to a certain extent, explained by the fact that most of the above-mentioned authors are political scientists and not historians.

It is a fact that many of those who witnessed the growth of Hindu radical forces in the years around the second world war were already convinced of the Sangh's fascist outlook. Particularly acute was the perception that the Congress had of these organisations and their character. There is no need to mention the already well known opinion of Nehru, who, right from the beginning, had pointed at these organisations as communalist and fascist.

Less well known is the fact that, as shown by a confidential report circulated within the Congress most probably at the time of the first ban of the RSS, after Gandhi's assassination, the similarity between the character of the RSS and that of fascist organisations was already taken for granted. In fact, the report itself states that the RSS

...Started in Nagpur some sort of Hindu Boys Scout movement. Gradually it developed into a communal militarist organisation with violent tendencies.

The RSS has been purely Maharashtrian brahmin organisation. The non-brahmin Maharashtrians who constitute the bulk of C P and Maharashtra have no sympathy with it.

Even in the other provinces the chief organisers and whole-time workers will be found to be inevitably Maharashtrian brahmins.

Through the RSS the Maharashtrian brahmins have been dreaming of establishing in India 'a Peshwa Raj' after the withdrawal of Britishers. The RSS flag is the Bhagwa Flag of the Peshwas - Maharashtrian rulers [who] were the last to be conquered by the British - and after the termination of British rule in India, the Maharashtrians should be vested with political powers.

The RSS practises secret and violent methods which promote 'fascism'. No regard is paid to truthful means and constitutional methods.

There is no constitution of the organisation; its aims and objects have never been clearly defined. The general public is usually told that its aim is only physical training, but the real aims are not conveyed even to the rank and file of the RSS members. Only its 'inner circle' is taken into a confidence.

There are no records or proceedings of the RSS organisation, no membership registers are maintained. There are also no records of its income and the expenditure. The RSS is thus strictly secret as regards its organisation. It has consequently... (National Archives of India (NAI), Sardar Patel Correspondence, microfilm, reel no 3, 'A Note on the RSS', undated). Unfortunately the document stops abruptly here, but it contains enough evidence of the reputation the RSS already had by the late 1940s.

This document, however, is by no means exceptional. An accurate search of the primary sources produced by the organisations of Hindu nationalism, as well as by their opponents and by the police, is bound to show the extent and the importance of the connections between such organisations and Italian fascism. In fact the most important organisations of Hindu nationalism not only adopted fascist ideas in a conscious and deliberate way, but this happened also because of the existence of direct contacts between the representatives of the main Hindu organisations and fascist Italy.

To demonstrate this, I will reconstruct the context from which arose the interest of Hindu radicalism in Italian fascism right from the early 1920s. This interest was commonly shared in Maharashtra, and must have inspired B S Moonje's trip to Italy in 1931. The next step will be to examine the effects of that trip, namely how B S Moonje tried to transfer fascist models to Hindu society and to organise it militarily, according to fascist patterns. An additional aim of this paper is to show how, about the end of the 1930s, the admiration for the Italian regime was commonly shared by the different streams of Hindu nationalism and the main Hindu leaders.

Particular attention will be devoted to the attitude adopted by the main Hindu organisations during the second world war. During those crucial years, Hindu nationalism seemed to uneasily oscillate between a conciliatory attitude towards the British, and a sympathy for the dictators. This is in fact far from surprising because - as will be shown - in those years, militant Hindu organisations were preparing and arming themselves to fight the so-called internal enemies, rather than the British.

More generally, the aim of this paper is to disprove Christophe Jaffrelot's thesis that there is a sharp distinction between nazi and fascist ideology on one side and RSS on the other as far as the concept of race and the centrality of the leader are concerned.^2

I Hindu Nationalists and Italian Fascism

None of the works mentioned above, Jaffrelot's included, deals with what I consider a most important problem, namely, the existence of direct contacts between the representatives of the fascist regime, including Mussolini and Hindu nationalists. These contacts demonstrate that Hindu nationalism had much more than an abstract interest in the ideology and practice of fascism.

The interest of Indian Hindu nationalists in fascism and Mussolini must not be considered as dictated by an occasional curiosity, confined to a few individuals, rather, it should be considered as the culminating result of the attention that Hindu nationalists, especially in Maharashtra, focused on Italian dictatorship and its leader. To them, fascism appeared to be an example of conservative revolution. This concept was discussed at length by the Marathi press, right from the early phase of the Italian regime.

From 1924 to 1935 Kesari regularly published editorials and articles about Italy, fascism and Mussolini. What impressed the Marathi journalists was the socialist origin of fascism and the fact that the new regime seemed to have transformed Italy from a backward country to a first class power. Indians could not know, then, that, behind the demagogic rhetoric of the regime, there was very little substance.

Moreover, the Indian observers were convinced that fascism had restored order in a country previously upset by political tensions. In a series of editorials, Kesari described the passage from liberal government to dictatorship as a shift from anarchy to an orderly situation, where social struggles had no more reason to exist.^3 The Marathi newspaper gave considerable space to the political reforms carried out by Mussolini, in particular the substitution of the election of the members of parliament with their nomination (ibid, January 17, 1928) and the replacement of parliament itself with the Great Council of Fascism. Mussolini's idea was the opposite of that of democracy and it was expressed by the dictator's principle, according to which 'one man's government is more useful and more binding' for the nation than the democratic institutions (ibid, July 17, 1928).%4 Is all this not reminiscent of the principle of 'obedience to one leader' ('ek chalak anuvartitva') followed by the RSS?

Finally, a long article of August 13, 1929, 'Italy and the Young Generations', stated that the Italian young generation had succeeded the old one to lead the country. That had resulted in the 'fast ascent of Italy in every field'. The article went on to describe at length the organisation of the Italian society according to fascist models. The principal reasons of the discipline of the Italian youths were strong religious feelings, widespread among the population, attachment to the family, and the respect of traditional values: no divorce, no singles, no right to vote for women, whose only duty was to sit at home, by the fireplace. The article focused then on the fascist youth organisations, the Balilla and the Avanguardisti.

One may wonder how the Indian journalists could be so well informed about what was going on in Italy. Very possibly, among their sources there was a pamphlet in English, published by an Italian editor in 1928, entitled The Recent Laws for the Defence of the State (copy in NAI, Foreign and Political Department, 647G, 1927). Emphasised, right from the beginning, was the importance of the National Militia, defined as "the bodyguard of the revolution". The booklet continued with the description of the restrictive measures adopted by the regime: a ban on the "subversive parties", limitations to the press, expulsion of "disaffected persons" from public posts, and, finally, the death sentence.

Significantly, the shift from the liberal phase to fascism is described by the pamphlet in strikingly similar terms to those employed by the above-mentioned articles:

This step [the shift to fascism] has struck a death blow to the thread-bare theories of Italian liberalism, according to which the sovereign state must observe strict neutrality towards all political associations and parties. This theory explains why in Italy the ship of state was drifting before the wind, ready to sink in the vortex of social dissolution or to be wrecked on the rocks of financial disaster.

Another inspiring source of the literature published in Kesari must have been the work by D V Tahmankar, the correspondent of the Marathi newspaper from London and admirer of the Italian dictator. In 1927 Tahmankar published a book entitled Muslini ani Fashismo, (Mussolini and Fascism), a biography of the dictator, with several references to the organisation of the fascist state, to the fascist social system, to the fascist ideology, and to Italy's recent past. An entire chapter, the last, was devoted to description of fascist society and its institutions, especially the youth organisations.

One can easily come to the conclusion that, by the late 1920s, the fascist regime and Mussolini had considerable popularity in Maharashtra. The aspects of fascism which appealed most to Hindu nationalists were, of course, both the militarisation of society and what was seen as the real transformation of society, exemplified by the shift from chaos to order. The anti-democratic system was considered as a positive alternative to democracy which was seen as a typically British value.

Such literature made an implicit comparison between fascism and the Italian Risorgimento. The latter's influence on Indian nationalism, both moderate and radical, is well known.^5 However, whereas the Risorgimento appealed to both moderates and extremists, fascism appealed only to the radicals, who considered it as the continuation of the Risorgimento and a phase of the rational organisation of the state.

The first Hindu nationalist who came in contact with the fascist regime and its dictator was B S Moonje, a politician strictly related to the RSS. In fact, Moonje had been Hedgewar's mentor, the two men were related by an intimate friendship. Moonje's declared intention to strengthen the RSS and to extend it as a nationwide organisation is well known. Between February and March 1931, on his return from the round table conference, Moonje made a tour of Europe, which included a long stop-over in Italy. There he visited some important military schools and educational institutions. The highlight of the visit was the meeting with Mussolini. An interesting account of the trip and the meeting is given in Moonje's diary, and takes 13 pages (Nehru Memorial Museum and Library (NMML), Moonje papers, microfilm, m 1).^6

The Indian leader was in Rome during March 15 to 24, 1931. On March 19, in Rome, he visited, among others, the Military College, the Central Military School of Physical Education, the Fascist Academy of Physical Education, and, most important, the Balilla and Avanguardisti organisations. These two organisations, which he describes in more than two pages of his diary, were the keystone of the fascist system of indoctrination - rather than education - of the youths. Their structure is strikingly similar to that of the RSS. They recruited boys from the age of six, up to 18: the youths had to attend weekly meetings, where they practised physical exercises, received paramilitary training and performed drills and parades.

According to the literature promoted by the RSS and other Hindu fundamentalist organisations and parties, the structure of the RSS was the result of Hedgewar's vision and work. However Moonje played a crucial role in moulding the RSS along Italian (fascist) lines. The deep impression left on Moonje by the vision of the fascist organisation is confirmed by his diary:

The Balilla institutions and the conception of the whole organisation have appealed to me most, though there is still not discipline and organisation of high order. The whole idea is conceived by Mussolini for the military regeneration of Italy. Italians, by nature, appear ease-loving and non-martial like the Indians generally. They have cultivated, like Indians, the work of peace and neglected the cultivation of the art of war. Mussolini saw the essential weakness of his country and conceived the idea of the Balilla organisation...Nothing better could have been conceived for the military organisation of Italy...The idea of fascism vividly brings out the conception of unity amongst people...India and particularly Hindu India need some such institution for the military regeneration of the Hindus: so that the artificial distinction so much emphasised by the British of martial and non-martial classes amongst the Hindus may disappear. Our institution of Rashtriya Swayamsewak Sangh of Nagpur under Dr Hedgewar is of this kind, though quite independently conceived. I will spend the rest of my life in developing and extending this Institution of Dr Hedgewar all throughout the Maharashtra and other provinces.

He continues describing drills and uniforms:

I was charmed to see boys and girls well dressed in their naval and military uniforms undergoing simple exercises of physical training and forms of drill.

Definitely more meaningful is the report of the meeting with Mussolini. On the same day, March 19, 1931 at 3 pm, in Palazzo Venezia, the headquarters of the fascist government, he met the Italian dictator. The meeting is recorded in the diary on March 20, and it is worth reproducing the complete report.

...As soon as I was announced at the door, he got up and walked up to receive me. I shook hands with him saying that I am Dr Moonje. He knew everything about me and appeared to be closely following the events of the Indian struggle for freedom. He seemed to have great respect for Gandhi. He sat down in front of me on another chair in front of his table and was conversing with me for quite half an hour. He asked me about Gandhi and his movement and pointedly asked me a question "If the Round Table Conference will bring about peace between India and England". I said that if the British would honestly desire to give us equal status with other dominions of the Empire, we shall have no objection to remain peacefully and loyally within the Empire; otherwise the struggle will be renewed and continued. Britain will gain and be able to maintain her premier position amongst the European Nation (sic) if India is friendly and peaceful towards her and India cannot be so unless she is given Dominion Status on equal terms with other Dominions. Signor Mussolini appeared impressed by this remark of mine. Then he asked me if I have visited the University. I said I am interested in the military training of boys and have been visiting the Military Schools of England, France and Germany. I have now come to Italy for the same purpose and I am very grateful to say that the Foreign Office and the War Office have made good arrangements for my visiting these schools. I just saw this morning and afternoon the Balilla and the Fascist Organisations and I was much impressed. Italy needs them for her development and prosperity. I do not see anything objectionable though I have been frequently reading in the newspapers not very friendly criticisms about them and about your Excellency also. Signor Mussolini: What is your opinion about them? Dr Moonje: Your Excellency, I am much impressed. Every aspiring and growing Nation needs such organisations. India needs them most for her military regeneration. During the British Domination of the last 150 years Indians have been waved away from the military profession but India now desires to prepare herself for undertaking the responsibility for her own defence and I am working for it. I have already started an organisation of my own, conceived independently with similar objectives. I shall have no hesitation to raise my voice from the public platform both in India and England when occasion may arise in praise of your Balilla and Fascist organisations. I wish them good luck and every success. Signor Mussolini - who appeared very pleased - said - Thanks but yours is an uphill task. However I wish you every success in return. Saying this he got up and I also got up to take his leave.

The description of the Italian journey includes information regarding fascism, its history, the fascist 'revolution', etc, and continues for two more pages. One can wonder at the association between B S Moonje and the RSS, but if we think that Moonje had been Hedgewar' s mentor, the association will be much clearer.^7 The intimate friendship between Moonje and Hedgewar and the former's declared intention to strengthen the RSS and to extend it as a nationwide organisation prove a strict connection between Moonje and the RSS. Moreover, it makes sense to think that the entire circle of militant Hinduism must have been influenced by Moonje's Italian experience.

II Moonje’s Plans for Militarising Hindus

III Eve of Second World War

IV Savarkar and Nazism

V Waiting for the Right Enemy

VI Conclusions

Notes

#hindutva #Hindutva's Foreign Tie-Up in the 1930s #Marzia Casolari

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demifiendrsa · 11 months

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Weekly Shonen Jump 55th anniversary appendix in Weekly Shonen Jump 2023 issue #33

1968 Weekly Shonen Jump Issue #1 Otoko Ippiki Gaki-Daisho by Hiroshi Motomiya 1969 Dr. Toilet by Kazuyoshi Torii 1970 The Gutsy Frog by Yasumi Yoshizawa 1971 Tezuka Manga Award 1st Edition Samurai Giants by Ikki Kajiwara & Ko Inoue Boy of the Wilderness Isamu by Soji Yamakawa & Noboru Kawasaki 1972 Astro Kyudan by Shiro Tōzaki & Norihiro Nakajima 1973 Play Ball by Akio Chiba Hochonin Ajihei by Jiro Gyu & Jo Big 1974 Akatsuka Manga Award 1st Edition 1975 The Circuit Wolf by Satoshi Ikezawa Doberman Deka by Buronson & Shinji Hiramatsu 1976 Toudai Icchokusen by Yoshinori Kobayashi Kochikame by Osamu Akimoto 1977 Ring ni Kakero by Masami Kurumada Susume!! Pirates by Hisashi Eguchi 1978 Cobra by Buichi Terasawa 1979 Kinnikuman by Yudetamago 1980 Dr. Slump by Akira Toriyama 1981 Captain Tsubasa by Yoichi Takahashi Cat's Eye by Tsukasa Hojo Stop!! Hibari-kun! by Hisashi Eguchi 1982 High School! Kimengumi by Motoei Shinzawa 1983 Fist of the North Star by Buronson & Tetsuo Hara Ginga -Nagareboshi Gin- by Yoshihiro Takahashi 1984 DRAGON BALL by Akira Toriyama 1985 City Hunter by Tsukasa Hojo Miraculous Tonchinkan by Koichi Endo Sakigake!! Otokojuku by Akira Miyashita 1986 Saint Seiya by Masami Kurumada 1987 JoJo's Bizarre Adventure by Hirohiko Araki The Burning Wild Man by Tadashi Sato 1988 Bastard!! by Kazushi Hagiwara Jungle King Tar-chan by Masaya Tokuhiro Rokudenashi BLUES by Masanori Morita Magical Taluluto by Tatsuya Egawa 1989 Weekly Shonen Jump reaches 5.000.000 copies in circulation Dragon Quest: The Great Adventure of Dai by Riku Sanjo & Koji Inada Video Girl Ai by Masakazu Katsura 1990 SLAM DUNK by Takehiko Inoue Chinyuki by Man Gataro Yu Yu Hakusho by Yoshihiro Togashi 1992 Hareluya II Boy by Haruto Umezawa 1993 Tottemo! Luckyman by Hiroshi Gamo Hell Teacher Nube by Makura Sho & Takeshi Okano 1994 Midori no Makibao by Tsunomaru Rurouni Kenshin by Nobuhiro Watsuki 1995 Weekly Shonen Jump reaches 6.530.000 copies in circulation Sexy Commando Gaiden: Sugoi yo!! Masaru-san by Kyosuke Usuta 1996 Hoshin Engi by Ryu Fujisaki Yu-Gi-Oh! by Kazuki Takahashi Kochikame 20th Anniversary & Chapter 1000 1997 I's by Masakazu Katsura Seikimatsu Leader den Takeshi! by Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro ONE PIECE by Eiichiro Oda 1998 Rookies by Masanori Morita Whistle! by Daisuke Higuchi HUNTERXHUNTER by Yoshihiro Togashi 1999 Hikaru no Go by Yumi Hotta & Takeshi Obata The Prince of Tennis by Takeshi Konomi NARUTO by Masashi Kishimoto 2000 JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stone Ocean by Hirohiko Araki BLACK CAT by Kentaro Yabuki 2001 Bobobobo Bobobo by Yoshio Sawai BLEACH by Tite Kubo 2002 Strawberry 100% by Mizuki Kawashita Eyeshield 21 by Riichiro Inagaki & Yusuke Murata 2004 Death Note by Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata Gintama by Hideaki Sorachi Katekyo Hitman Reborn! by Akira Amano D.Gray-man by Katsura Hoshino Muhyo & Roji's Bureau of Supernatural Investigation by Yoshiyuki Nishi 2005 Neuro: Supernatural Detective by Yusei Matsui 2006 To Love Ru by Saki Hasemi & Kentaro Yabuki 2007 Sket Dance by Kenta Shinohara 2008 Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan by Hiroshi Shiibashi Toriko by Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro Bakuman. by Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata 2009 Kuroko's Basketball by Tadatoshi Fujimaki Beelzebub by Ryuhei Tamura Medaka Box by Nisio Isin & Akira Akatsuki 2010 ONE PIECE New World Begins 2011 Nisekoi by Naoshi Komi 2012 Haikyu!! by Haruichi Furudate The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. by Shuichi Aso Assassination Classroom by Yusei Matsui Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma by Yuto Tsukuda & Shun Saeki 2013 World Trigger by Daisuke Ashihara Isobe Isobee Monogatari by Ryo Nakama 2014 Hinomaru Zumo by Kawada My Hero Academia by Kohei Horikoshi 2015 Black Clover by Yuki Tabata 2016 Yuuna and the Haunted Hot Springs by Tadahiro Miura Kimetsu no Yaiba by Koyoharu Gotouge BORUTO by Mikio Ikemoto & Ukyo Kodachi The Promised Neverland by Kaiu Shirai & Posuka Demizu Kochikame 40th Anniversary and Serialization End 2017 We Never Learn by Taishi Tsutsui Dr. STONE by Riichiro Inagaki & Boichi 2018 Jujutsu Kaisen by Akutami Gege

2019 Chainsaw Man by Tatsuki Fujimoto Mission: Yozakura Family by Hitsuji Gondaira 2020 Undead Unluck by Yoshifumi Tozuka MASHLE by Hajime Komoto Ayakashi Triangle by Kentaro Yabuki Me & Roboco by Shuhei Miyazaki BURN THE WITCH by Tite Kubo SAKAMOTO DAYS by Yuto Suzuki 2021 The Elusive Samurai by Yusei Matsui WITCH WATCH by Kenta Shinohara Blue Box by Kouji Miura 2022 Akane Banashi by Yuki Suenaga & Takamasa Moue

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cazzam · 2 years

Text

THE NEW AND IMPROVED CASSANDRA CAIN READING GUIDE

Cassandra Cain is the daughter of assassins David Cain and Sandra Wu-San (better known as Lady Shiva), and was raised by Cain. She is an expert hand-to-hand combatant, and able to read body language to the point of interpreting complex thoughts, but learning to communicate better through speech and text. She has operated as a vigilante under the names of Batgirl, Kasumi, Black Bat, and Orphan, and is currently sharing the title of Batgirl with Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon.

Basic Reading

Batgirl (2000)

Batman: Gates of Gotham (2011)

Detective Comics (2016) #934-987

Batman and the Outsiders (2019)

Batgirls (2021)

Spirit World (2023)

Birds of Prey (2023)

Cassandra's major appearances are listed in chronological order (mostly) under the cut. My favorites are bolded.

No Man's Land

All issues collected in Batman: No Man's Land (2011) vol. 2-4. I recommend reading the entire event.

Batman (1940) #567 [first appearance]

Detective Comics (1937) #734

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #120 [Cassandra takes up Batgirl mantle]

Azrael: Agent of the Bat #56-57

Batman (1940) #569

The Batman Chronicles #18

Azrael: Agent of the Bat #60-61

Robin (1993) #73

As Batgirl

Issues that are part of events may be confusing out of context.

Batman: Gotham Knights #2, 5

Batman: Gotham City Secret Files and Origins [first story]

Batgirl (2000) #1-2

Young Justice (1998) #21

Batgirl (2000) #3-11, 12 [Officer Down start]

Birds of Prey (1999) #27

Catwoman (1993) #90 [Officer Down end]

Batgirl (2000) Annual #1, #13-19

Harley Quinn (2000) #10

Robin (1993) #88 [first meeting with Stephanie Brown]

Batgirl (2000) #20, 21 [Joker: Last Laugh start]

Joker: Last Laugh #3

Supergirl (1996) #63 [transphobia cw, Joker: Last Laugh end]

DC First: Batgirl/Joker

Batgirl (2000) #22-23, 24 [Bruce Wayne: Murderer? / Fugitive start]

Robin (1993) #98

Batgirl (2000) #25-29

Batman (1940) #605 [Bruce Wayne: Murderer? / Fugitive end]

Batgirl: Secret Files and Origins

Batgirl (2000) #30-32

Batman: Gotham Knights #33, 35

Batgirl (2000) #33-38

Batman: Family #7

Detective Comics (1937) #782 [backup], 790

Nightwing (1996) #81

Superboy (1994) #85 [first meeting with Kon-El/Conner Kent]

Batgirl (2000) #39-44

Batman: Gotham Knights #42, 45-46, 48-49

Robin (1993) #119

Batgirl (2000) #45-47

Superman/Batman #5

Batgirl (2000) #48-50

Birds of Prey (1999) #61, 63

Batgirl (2000) #51-53

Solo #10 [third story]

Detective Comics (1937) #796 [backup]

Robin (1993) #127-128

Batgirl (2000) #54

War Games

All issues collected in Batman: War Games (2015). I don't recommend reading the entire event.

Detective Comics (1937) #797

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #182

Nightwing (1996) #96

Batgirl (2000) #55

Batman (1940) #631

Batgirl (2000) #56

Nightwing (1996) #98

Batgirl (2000) #57

Batgirl in Bludhaven

Robin (1993) #132 [Fresh Blood start]

Batgirl (2000) #58

Robin (1993) #133

Batgirl (2000) #59 [Fresh Blood end]

Batman Allies: Secret Files and Origins 2005 [third story]

Batgirl (2000) #60-73

With the League of Assassins and Deathstroke

I don't recommend reading anything in this section except Batgirl (2008) #6.

Robin (1993) #148-151, 161-162

Supergirl (2005) #14

World War III #2

Teen Titans (2003) #43-46

Batman and the Outsiders (2007)

Batgirl (2008) [recap of this era. Bruce adopts Cassandra]

As Black Bat

Battle for the Cowl: The Network

Batgirl (2009) #1 [Cassandra gives Batgirl mantle to Stephanie]

Red Robin #17

Batman Incorporated (2011) #6

Red Robin #25

Batman: Gates of Gotham

As Orphan

The New 52 reboot changed Cassandra’s origins, personality, and relationships with other characters. Rebirth was a soft reboot that kept New 52 canon but brought back elements from the previous continuity.

Batman and Robin Eternal #1-9, 11-14, 17-26 [New 52]

Detective Comics (2016) #934-940 [Rebirth]

Batman (2016) #7 [Night of the Monster Men start]

Nightwing (2016) #5

Detective Comics (2016) #941

Batman (2016) #8

Nightwing (2016) #6

Detective Comics (2016) #942 [Night of the Monster Men end], 943-962

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #15

Detective Comics (2016) #963-964

Batgirl and the Birds of Prey #15-17

Detective Comics (2016) #965-981, 983-987

Batman and the Outsiders (2019)

DC: The Doomed and the Damned [seventh story]

Batman: The Joker War Zone [second story]

Batman (2016) #104

Return of Batgirl

The Infinite Frontier reboot considers all past continuities canon.

Infinite Frontier #0

Batman Secret Files: The Signal

Batman: Urban Legends #3, 5, 7, 8, 10, 14

The Joker (2021) #3-4, 7, 11-12, 15

Detective Comics (2016) #1038 [backup], 1049, 1052, 1057

Batman (2016) #112 [main], 115-116 [backups]

Nightwing (2016) #85-86

Batman (2016) #117 [backup]

Batgirls #1-6

Task Force Z #8

DC Pride: Tim Drake Special

Robin (2021) #15

Detective Comics (2016) #1061

Batgirls #7

Catwoman (2018) #45

Batgirls #8-12

Batman One Bad Day: Two-Face

Tim Drake: Robin #4

Batgirls Annual 2022, #13-19

Lazarus Planet: Dark Fate [fourth story]

Spirit World (2023)

Birds of Prey (2023) #1- [ongoing]

Detective Comics (2016) #1084 [backup]

Other Appearances

Ghost/Batgirl [Dark Horse Comics crossover]

Batman: Outlaws #2

Batman: City of Light [not recommended]

Justice League Elite [as Kasumi]

Wonder Woman (2006) #600 [second story]

Batgirl (2016) #50 [third story]

DC Festival of Heroes [first story]

Truth & Justice #6 [#16-18 digital first]

Alternate Universes

Tiny Titans #33, 39, 43, 45

Batgirl: Futures End

Convergence: Batgirl

Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey (2020)

DCeased: Unkillables / Dead Planet #5 / War of the Undead Gods

Shadow of the Batgirl [YA graphic novel]

Dark Knights: Death Metal Robin King [backup]

Future State: The Next Batman #2, 4 [second stories]

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures [webtoon]

DC vs. Vampires

Dark Knights of Steel #9

Thanks for reading! If you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Last updated: April 23, 2024

#dcedit #comicedit #cassandra cain #batgirl #batgirls #wayne family adventures #batgirl 2000 #black bat #orphan #reading guide #reading list #reading order #batman

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ectonurites · 1 year

Note

Are Tim and Cass Cain actually close in canon? Or is that more of a fanon thing that gained canon status?

Alright, so the tldr answer is that yes pre-reboot they were close—but it wasn't something that happened immediately/right off the bat, it took time, and they didn't always perfectly see eye-to-eye. But like, it's not just some totally fanon thing, they were absolutely close.

I'm using past-tense in the above though because it's like... all the actual content with them becoming/being close is pre-reboot. Anything post-reboot with them either had them back at square one (during N52 stuff) or like, just sort of handwavey 'oh they're close again' without much actual elaboration/explanation. Theoretically nowadays everything's canon again so all the old stuff applies, but as far as I'm aware nothing has really dug all that deep back into the two of them/their dynamic.

Now, to give a brief crash course on Tim & Cass's relationship in canon...

Early on they weren’t all that close because Tim was absolutely intimidated by her & her background and like, in general seemed to just find her kinda off-putting:

(Robin (1993) #73)

However Tim eventually gets over himself & after working side-by-side with her a little bit realizes he shouldn't let being intimidated by her stop them from being friends and working together:

(Batgirl (2000) #18)

After this point they work together on several occasions, definitely communicating much better than in their initial appearances together and clearly getting along well. They're a fun lil duo:

(Superman/Batman Vol. 1 #5, Superboy Vol. 4 #85)

Then… after a while, War Games happens. Gotham goes to shit, Steph dies (well, we nowadays know she didn't really, but they sure were both grieving) and so they both independently move to Blüdhaven, which leads us to the Robin/Batgirl: Fresh Blood crossover. Which has some fun little moments with them:

(Batgirl (2000) #58)

As well as some on the more tense side, as they both navigate mourning Steph and the clashes in their ideologies/approaches to hero work—the fact that Cass wants to be & be like Batman, and the fact that Tim absolutely does not:

(Batgirl (2000) #59)

After the crossover they mostly do their own thing staying out of each other's ways in Blüdhaven—though they do get another little story together in this timeframe in Batman Allies: Secret Files & Origins that sort of rehashes the above conflict during some training together & a team-up.

And we DO also get the cute (and oft-mentioned by the fandom) moment where Tim mentions she frequently breaks into his house to shower & steal rice krispies (just for clarity sake, while fandom almost exclusively calls her 'Cass' largely to avoid confusion with Cassandra 'Cassie' Sandsmark, within the comics themselves both Cassandras get called 'Cass' and 'Cassie' at various points—considering Cass is the one who lives in the same city as Tim at this point in canon, that's definitely who he's talking about here)

(Robin (1993) #138)

So like, at this point they are absolutely comfortable with one another and pretty close, but just, they don't see eye-to-eye on everything so it's not some flawless friendship (and I say friendship specifically because at this point we're still a few years out from them actually becoming siblings). But it's absolutely an interesting dynamic!

Then… after Infinite Crisis we get to the One Year Later/OYL era which is... bad for Cass. Terrible horrible character assassination we all refer to as the 'Evil Cass arc' which began in Tim's book. I don't wanna pull panels from it because it's just... it's bad!!!!!!!!!!!! There's a reason it got retconned into Cass having been brainwashed—because it was bad.

I guess the only thing worth bringing up here in relation to Tim & Cass's relationship though (because as mentioned, Cass gets retconned into it having been brainwashing so anything from her in this era is irrelevant/moot) is the fact that Tim was obviously very upset about the whole situation because Cass is someone he cares about and he even says he considers family.

To fast forward through that mess, when we get to the end of it and the 'oh it was brainwashing haha!' retcon, Tim was the one to have on hand a counter-serum that could free her from Deathstroke's control:

(Teen Titans Vol. 3 #44)

Once Cass is no longer forced to be evil and ooc, she gets a little mini at the end of which Bruce formally offers to adopt her (and Tim, who had earlier been adopted by Bruce, is present for this—so from this point on they go from a more general 'we're like family' to actually 'we are adopted siblings').

Buuuut then Final Crisis & Battle for the Cowl both occur and Cass gets extremely pushed aside by DC, giving up the Batgirl mantle to Steph and heading off to Hong Kong.

At which point we find out that Tim & Cass have actually kept in contact (just... off-panel) during this time when she's been out of Gotham and he's been off doing all sorts of stuff:

(Red Robin #17)

When they see each other in person again, Tim urges her to be a Bat again. Maybe not Batgirl if that's not what she wants, but to wear the symbol and be part of the family. (Which she does take him up on, keeping the suit he brought her and becoming Black Bat).

She pops up again at the end of Red Robin to save Tim & also help him pull off a fake assassination attempt on himself—ya know standard stuff.

And then right before the reboot we get to see them working alongside Damian and Dick in Gates of Gotham, and see one final time that yeah—these two have kept in touch after everything, and are definitely far more on one another's wavelength nowadays than they were back in the 'fresh out of War Games' era:

(Batman: Gates of Gotham #2, #5)

So like, does fanon over exaggerate them and their relationship? Aaaaabsolutely—that’s what fanon does. But they did definitely become close after everything they went through and had a fun dynamic together!

Sadly though, as I mentioned at the start of the post, the n52 wiped everything back to a clean slate. And while nowadays post-Infinite Frontier everyone’s histories have been restored their dynamic has never really been the same again.

#sam explains

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sapphic-coded · 8 months

Text

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and did not choose her codename. Childhood trauma hanging out in the background. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author's Note: When writer ADHD hits, it hits. Sorry for the wait friends. Been working on this for a comically long time. Thank you for all the love and support for this series. I love that you love this. Enjoy!

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @taliiiaasteria @alowint @yerisdumbass @natashasilverfox

Chapter Seven: You Don't Know Me

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1993

You counted the small rocks in your black gloved hand. Neither one looked the same. All were varying shades of gray. A few were smooth and round while others were rough with sharper edges. It was the best of what you could find around the neighborhood. You looked up when you heard the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow.

The ends of Nat’s blue hair spilled out of her dark gray knitted hat. Her black puffy jacket swallowed up most of her body. In her white gloved hands was a single stick. It wasn’t very long. Hardly more than four inches. Some pine needles still hung off of it. You watched as she approached while the chill that hung in the air after the first snowfall stabbed at your cheeks.

“Aren’t we supposed to use a carrot?” you asked as she came to stand next to you. You were also pretty sure that you were supposed to use coal instead of rocks.

“My mom already cut up the one we have,” Nat replied.

You certainly didn’t have any carrots lying around at home. Your refrigerator and Nat’s were so different that it was jarring the first time you saw it. You hadn’t realized how much food one refrigerator could hold when you didn’t have to make room for your father’s weekly experiments.

You looked at the headless snowman in front of you. You had spent the better part of the last two hours alongside Nat and her younger sister building the snowman in front of their house. The snowman’s base was large, round, and a bit lopsided. But it supported the slightly smaller packed ball of snow on top of it. You and Nat had done your best to brush off any dirt or blades of grass that stuck to the snow. Now you waited for Yelena to return with the snowman’s head.

You heard Nat shift next to you while you stared at the empty spot where the snowman’s head will go. You wondered what kind of person this snowman would be. It was a shame when your brother told you years ago that snowmen don’t actually come to life after they are built. There’s no singing or dancing. It was as your father put it when he overheard your conversation:

“It is a byproduct of man’s lust for godhood.”

But maybe they did come to life. In secret. Perhaps at night. You read about all kinds of supposedly fake creatures coming to life in secret in your sister’s books. If it was possible, would this snowman end up being a good person or a bad one? Would the lack of a carrot make a difference?

“Are you going somewhere?” Nat asked.

You looked at her and found her looking across the street. You followed her gaze. Outside on your driveway was your father. The trunk of his station wagon hung open while he shoved a couple large bags into it. His back remained toward you and you hoped it would stay that way. The freshly plowed street put enough distance between him and you that you felt like you could breathe normally without him noticing.

Your gaze landed back on Nat. “My father is attending a convention. It’s a tradition.”

“What kind of convention?” she asked.

You shrugged. “One for people like him.”

He would come back giddy from talking with his fellow scholars. You knew that when he returned you and your siblings would be forced to spend at least three hours trapped at the kitchen table with nothing to eat but plenty to listen to. If something particularly interesting happened, you would definitely be trapped at the table for five hours.

“You’re not going with him?” she asked.

You heard the trunk of your father’s station wagon slam shut. You looked over your shoulder and watched as your father started back up the driveway. You looked at Nat and shook your head. “Kids aren’t allowed.”

Yelena hurried around the house from the backyard carrying a mostly round snowman sized head. It was pretty impressive when she reached you guys. Since you both were taller, you and Nat carefully took the soon to be snowman head and set it on top of its cold, round body. You pushed one smooth light gray rock into the snowman’s left eye socket and then pushed a square black rock into its right. You let Yelena help you set the rest of the rocks into a wide smile. Nat pushed the stick into the middle of the snowman’s face. Then, all three of you stepped back to admire your work.

“We should give him a name,” Yelena said.

You tried to imagine the snowman’s rock eyes blinking. You imagined puffs of white mists slipping from between his rocky lips. You tried to imagine him with a carrot for a nose. “He looks like an Ian.”

You heard Yelena giggle and when you looked at Nat you saw the beginnings of a smile curling her lips.

Triskelion, Washington D.C. – 2012

Being part of a team sucks. There are rules you have to follow. Sure, there were rules back when you were working for your father. But those rules were different. You could bend and shape them into whatever you needed. As long as the job was done, your father was content. Maybe he’d nitpick if the job got messy. But you had the freedom of choice. There were so many ways to kill people. Some days your imagination would run wild with new possibilities. You had yet to surprise a target in their bathroom and drop a toaster into their bathtub while they were bathing. Then there was the old classic you had yet to try. This idea demanded the perfect costume, but tying a target to train tracks and watching a high speed train obliterate their body into nothing more but tiny bloody chunks would be great fun.

You loved that part of the job almost as much as you loved watching your target’s life drain from their eyes. But now that freedom is gone. You don’t get to decide how you are going to do your job. You are told. Ordered. The worst is when you’re not even allowed to kill your target. You remember the first time you were given that bizarre job. You remember how punchable your target’s face was. You remember how easy it would have been to just push the ridiculous man over the edge. No one would have known. But you couldn’t. You watched that opportunity pass you by and you wanted to scream.

You did scream. At Rumlow. You cornered him and demanded to know why. Why did they keep fucking with your head?

He reminded you of your role. The chains that kept you bound to these nonsensical rules. You work for SHIELD. You don’t kill targets unless SHIELD wants you to kill them. You keep to your role and you don’t raise suspicions. You live out the story Rumlow crafted for you. He found you on one of his missions. He saw your potential and peeled you up off the ground like some frozen, sick, dying, abandoned mutt. He molded you into the weapon you are now. A weapon he happily handed to SHIELD.

You hate that story. You hate it more than the stupid suit he forces you to wear. The black tactical suit covers every inch of your body from your neck down to your feet. It had taken a while to get used to the added weight of the black body armor attached to the suit. You still don’t like it. It makes you feel as if you are a child running around with pillows tied to your chest and a foam sword in your hand. But it’s the mask that feels the most suffocating. Despite being able to hear clearly from within the black helmet, you feel cut off from the world. The black tinted visor that conceals your face is full of fancy technology that often gets in the way when you are just trying to watch your target die. You hate the stupid suit. You hate that you can’t do anything without having to wear it. The only time you can strip the stupid costume off and breathe in lungfuls of air conditioned air is in your bunk buried beneath all the levels of SHIELD and fake SHIELD and real HYDRA.

But if you could choose, you’d stick with the stupid suit if you could craft a different story. Preferably one that didn’t include anyone molding you into anything. But that freedom is gone, and all you have is a boatload of memories to distract you from how angry you are. That anger burns deep inside you. It fuels your every step as you walk alongside Rumlow down a bright, busy hallway. You ignore all the data that blinks across the inside of your visor screen with every SHIELD agent that hurries by. In the beginning you had been curious, but now all the data was familiar and boring. Mostly low level clearance agents with spotless records because they never did anything but sit at their desks or hurry around places looking busy.

You walk out into a large hangar and board one of the waiting Quinjets. You spy two empty seats in the cockpit and a black duffel bag resting on one of the seats in the cargo bay. Rumlow hands you a small, black flash drive. You roll your eyes despite knowing that he can’t see your face. If he let you take off the damn helmet you could read the mission briefings perfectly fine. You didn’t need to clog up your visor’s hub with all the unnecessary tidbits of information on your targets. You hate this role.

“This one is routine,” Rumlow begins as you insert the flash drive into the slot along the backside of your helmet. Almost instantly, information clogs up your interior visor screen. “Your target is Tomek Sikora. He’s an arms dealer that SHIELD has kept an eye on.” The picture of your target fills up your visor. Tall, muscular build. Short, dirty blonde hair. Blue eyes. Mid thirties. “We have good intel that he’s operating out of an abandoned storefront in Bardstown, Kentucky. His main clientele is HYDRA.”

Your visor floods with images of your target standing with or shaking hands with other important looking men and women. A few of the faces look familiar, but the images scroll too quickly across your visor for you to be certain.

“Your objective is to shut down Sikora’s operation,” Rumlow says. “SHIELD would prefer Sikora alive, but if you have no choice, do what is necessary.”

The coded orders hidden behind his words brings a small hint of relief. A nice simple kill. You know that if you read more into the file scrolling across your visor that you could piece together why real HYDRA wants Sikora dead. But you don’t care. All you care about is watching your target die. All you care about at this moment is that you won’t be forced to watch your target walk away breathing. A straightforward mission is exactly what you need. Something easy. Sikora will probably put up some kind of fight. You’ll engage and end it when it feels right.

You pull the flash drive from the slot at the back of your helmet. Your visor clears.

“Rollins will accompany you on this mission,” Rumlow says.

Eh. It could be wors–

“Slight change of plan.”

Both you and Rumlow turn towards the open cargo bay door. You see her clearly through your visor screen. You feel the chains of your boredom lift. That familiar energy that buzzes right beneath your skin awakens. You haven’t seen her since you put a bullet through Erik’s head. Even then, you can’t count that as your official last parting. You were buried beneath your costume. She didn’t know you were there. Because if she did, she wouldn’t have let you go like that.

The weight of the costume you wear now feels heavier as you watch her ascend up the Quinjet’s ramp. She’s dressed in civilian clothes. You love the black, leather jacket that she wears over her red shirt. Dark denim jeans cover the length of her legs, and a gun sits in a black holster strapped to her right thigh. You’re envious of her clothes. You want to look into her wardrobe. You want to strip out of this stupid suit and wear anything else.

“Agent Romanoff,” Rumlow greets.

Nat. Your teeth bite into your lower lip. You know you can’t say anything. The rules of your role have been drilled into your head. You don’t speak. You only act. If anyone asks questions, Rumlow has your pathetic sob story ready to share. You know all this. You know you must comply. But you really want to say something.

Her olive green eyes settle on you as she steps into the cargo bay. You instantly miss the recognition as she looks at you. Her eyes travel up and down the length of your body, taking in your forced getup. You want her to see right through it. You want her to say your name and rip the damn mask from your face so the chase can resume.

“What’s the update?” Rumlow asks.

Her attention shifts to him. “Rollins can’t make it. He’s in medical. I’m filling in.”

Now you really really want to say something. You watch as she walks over to where the black duffel bag sits. A smile stretches across your face. You had wanted to start slow. A coffee date scheduled on a day that neither one of you needed to even think about work. But if you can’t have that, then you will happily take this.

“That’s not necessary,” Rumlow replies.

Your smile drops away, and you turn your head to give Rumlow the most threatening glare he will never see. He ignores you as Nat zips up her duffel bag and looks over at him.

“I’ll get one of the other guys to fill in for Rollins,” Rumlow continues. “It’s a routine operation, and you’re needed for more Avenger missions.”

You wonder what would happen if you punched Rumlow in the face. If you swing hard enough, there is a good chance you could knock him out. That would give you a couple seconds to say something to Nat before all hell breaks loose. You’d definitely apologize for the stupid thing you said before. And if Rumlow didn’t go down in one punch, you could always follow it up with a solid kick.

“Fury disagrees,” Nat replies.

The name sparks two recent memories of the Director of SHIELD. Both memories consisted of you standing in this stupid suit and staring at the bald man with an eyepatch while he interrogated Rumlow about you. You played the part of a lost puppy well enough despite wanting to smash your head into the closest wall.

“Besides,” Nat looks first at you and then back to Rumlow, “I’ve been dying to meet your new sidekick.”

Oh god. That one hurt.

“They’re not much of a talker,” Rumlow says.

You have so much to say.

“We’ll figure it out,” Nat replies.

Rumlow shakes his head, but finally relents. He looks at you. “Stay focused. I expect results.”

You watch as he steps out of the cargo bay and descends down the jet’s ramp. For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. You thought that Rumlow would have done just about anything to rip you away from Nat. He had made sure to keep you as far away from her as possible. But the reality of your amazing luck settles when Nat comes to stand next to you.

“Has he taught you how to fly one of these?” she asks.

You shake your head.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll fly. You fill me in on the mission.”

This is the greatest day of your life.

The Quinjet, Kentucky Sky – A Short Time Later

You pull the flash drive free from the tablet’s port. The tablet’s screen goes blank while the hub screen built into your interior helmet visor lights up with a selection of unnecessary data about the tablet. Battery at 68%. No security update needed. Software version 3.8.27. You don’t understand why you are forced to tolerate the random extra tech. Rumlow told you it was to make your story more realistic. You still didn’t understand how something only you see makes others believe you more.

You look up from the tablet, and the extra data clears. Bright sunlight floods the cockpit. The sky outside is so blue that it is almost painful to look at. You are sitting in the co-pilot seat. The various buttons and screens stretched across the dashboard mean nothing to you. Nat has been doing all the flying. All you’ve done is find a SHIELD issued tablet and plugged in the flash drive so Nat could review the details of your mission. So far she’s asked you easy questions about the mission. Your answers are simple nods or a shake of your head. You want to say more. You need to say more. But you stay quiet. You comply with your role.

But there is sweet happiness in your forced silence. You look over to the empty pilot seat next to you. Nat left a few minutes ago to change after switching on the autopilot. You are tempted to lift up your helmet and sniff the pilot seat. You want to know what she smells like. You want to peel your black gloves off and touch the cushions of the seat. Feel the warmth left behind by her touch. A couple different scenarios float through your head and each one is far more entertaining than sitting in silence. But at least you get to be near her. You don’t have to hurry off and leave her. Despite all these stupid rules, you’ve discovered a piece of freedom that kept eluding you before.

You turn your gaze forward when you hear Nat emerge from the tiny bathroom directly behind the cockpit. She settles back into the pilot’s seat. Her casual clothes are gone. You miss the leather jacket, but the black catsuit is a warm familiar memory. You tuck the flash drive into one of your suit’s many pockets.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” she comments as her green eyes dart across the various screens and lit buttons. “About fifteen minutes out.”

There’s a moment when you taste that bitterness of disappointment. You don’t want this to end. The two of you up in the sky without anyone else to distract you. But that moment ends when you remember what’s to come. For the first time you won’t be on opposing sides. Sort of. Not exactly. But it sends a thrill through you.

“So,” she looks over at you, “Silent Type.”

You frown at the stupid codename. You know she can’t see your face, but she sees something because she starts to smile. The tablet’s screen comes back to life as you navigate to the application you need. A virtual keyboard pops up along the lower half of the tablet. Your gloved fingers are quick as you type your message. You turn the tablet around so she can read it.

Rumlow’s idea. Not mine.

Your answer seems to amuse her more as she nods.

“That does sound like a name he would come up with,” she says.

You turn the tablet to face you again and delete what you wrote. Your fingers are quick to tap out another message.

Did you choose your codename?

Her smile falls a bit as she reads your question. “What did Rumlow tell you about me?”

It doesn’t take you long to delete your question and type out your reply.

Avenger.

“That’s it?” she asks.

You lower the tablet and nod. It’s not entirely a lie. Rumlow had spent most of his time preparing you for this stupid role. That meant filling your head with a bunch of random bullshit about fake SHIELD and real HYDRA. He trained you to remember your story. He did his best to polish off the grime of freelance and make you seem more refined. He rarely brought up Nat. And when he did, he never let you think about her for long.

“I guess we’ll need to get to know each other better after this mission,” she says.

More time with Nat? This day just gets better and better. Your fingers tap against the tablet’s digital keyboard again. When you lift up the tablet, you are very interested in her answer.

What did Rumlow say about me?

“You’re his pet project,” she says as her smile returns.

You frown. You want to somehow clarify that you are nobody’s pet project, but one of the buttons on the dash lights up and steals Nat’s attention. You watch as she turns off the autopilot and takes control of the Quinjet.

“We’re approaching our target,” she reaches up and flips a switch. “I’ll set us down somewhere close. With our stealth systems engaged, they shouldn’t be able to spot us.”

You turn your head and look out at the bright blue sky. While you love the quality time with Nat, you also need to come up with a plan for this mission. Rumlow’s coded orders had been clear. Kill Sikora. If Rollins had joined you on this mission, you wouldn’t have needed to do much thinking beyond when to kill your target. But Nat’s fantastic presence complicated things. You doubt that she’s part of fake SHIELD. Which meant putting a bullet in Sikora’s head outright wouldn’t go over well. Especially if your target decides to surrender.

Your plan starts to take shape within your mind as Nat guides the concealed Quinjet towards the ground. It’s a simple plan. Draw your target away from Nat and kill him where it is just you and him. It would ruin the foreplay. You probably wouldn’t have much time and would need to kill Sikora quickly. But you’d get to talk to Nat later which seemed like a generous trade.

The bright onslaught on sunlight fades as Nat sets the Quinjet down in a clearing surrounded by eastern white pine trees. Based on the data you had skimmed earlier, the abandoned storefront your target is operating out of is just north of your location. When the Quinjet’s engines fall quiet, you stand. You leave the tablet on your seat as you head for the cargo bay. You approach a metallic box bolted onto one of the walls. Your gloved fingers type in a code on the keypad fixed to the front of the box. The front panel unlocks and opens to reveal a small armory.

Smaller than usual. No fancy explosives. Your usual selection of guns has been paired down to one: a single black Glock. You suspect your limited selection is thanks to Rumlow. You figure this has something to do with your training, but you don’t really care. You’re more disappointed in how the gun feels in your hand. You miss your Beretta. You don’t feel the same without it.

You slide the Glock into the empty holster at your right hip and turn when you hear Nat enter the cargo bay. She holds the tablet you left behind. Her finger slides across the tablet’s screen, and you watch the way her head tilts slightly as she reviews the mission data. You imagine that she looked exactly like that whenever information on you ended up in her hands. Your smile starts to return as you grab the tactical knife left in the armory and slide it into place on your belt.

She turns off the tablet and sets it down next to her black duffel bag. She lifts her hand and speaks into her wrist. “Comms check.”

You hear her voice flood your helmet and you don’t want it to stop. When she looks over at you, you nod. Her smile threatens to break you. You want so desperately to say something. You want her to look at you like she knows you. Like she did before whenever she appeared on one of your jobs. But your mouth stays shut. You comply.

It’s quiet when you both exit the Quinjet. As you make your way through the cluster of trees, you can’t help but think back to your last freelance job in the middle of nowhere. The sound of gunshots ripping apart tree bark. The smell of sweat and blood on your target’s body. The feeling of her hand around your wrist.

You stop when you reach the treeline. Roughly fifty yards ahead of you is the bland backside of the abandoned storefront. The back door is unguarded. You don’t see any cameras either. It’s no wonder why HYDRA wants Sikora gone. The lack of security is almost offensive. It’s as if your target is inviting you inside.

“We’ll split up and sweep the area,” her voice is low and when you look at her, you nod.

Perfect. As long as you find Sikora first, this mission should be easy.

“I’ll take the upper floor while you secure the lower,” she says.

As you nod, you hope that you’ll find Sikora in the storefront’s basement. If you don’t, you don’t know exactly how you’ll get your target far enough away from Nat.

You both step out of the treeline and make your way towards the storefront’s back entrance. By the time you reach the back door and press your back against the wall, you notice that both you and Nat have drawn your guns. You bite your tongue to hold back a laugh at the thought that instantly springs to life within your mind. This must be the first time you both have a gun in your hand and you’re not pointing them at each other. Now would be a great time to take your helmet off.

Nat reaches for the door handle, and it’s unlocked. You decide that it’s your target’s inflated ego that left the door unlocked and not stupidity. Or a trap. You try not to let that last thought get you too excited as you follow Nat through the backdoor.

You enter a narrow hallway. Directly ahead of you is a wide open doorway that reveals a large empty room. Remains of what was clearly a counter mark the worn looking floorboards. Dark colored wallpaper peels from the walls. The room itself is lit only by the light that spills out from the hallway. Large, thin boards are nailed across the windows. Littered about the floorboards is trash, random dark wet spots, and the occasional clothing hanger.

To your right is a set of stairs leading to the upper floor. To your left is the remains of another door. You see the hinges, but the door that clearly once occupied the space is gone. Beyond it is another set of stairs leading down towards the basement. You turn to your left and start to descend the stairs. You hear Nat ascending the stairs behind you. You force yourself not to look back as you lift your gun and keep going.

Your footsteps are quiet on the stairs. When you reach the bottom, you find yourself alone in an empty room. The lights are on. Boxes and crates are stacked against one of the walls. On the other side of the room is another doorway, but this one still has a door attached to it. As you walk further into the room, you hear a loud thud shake the low ceiling. You feel a tiny spike of jealousy that Nat found her targets while you are alone in a basement. Another loud thud shakes the ceiling again. That lingering spike of jealousy flees when the door on the other side of the room opens.

You pull the trigger the second you see someone fill up the space in the doorway. You see the person drop and no one else comes out. You move towards the open door. One quick look down at the man dying on the basement floor at your feet confirms that they are not your target. You step over the dying man and into the room. It’s a small break room with a fold out plastic table that eats up most of the space. Sitting on the table, directly in the middle, is a small, square television. It’s on and playing an old western.

When you return to the dying man laying in the doorway, you find him dead. The man’s lifeless eyes stare up at you. His mouth is slightly parted. His hair looks greasy. He looks about as old as any average college student. The sounds of the western playing on the television fills up the quiet as you stare down at the dead man. The sounds of shouting pulls you out of your odd stupor.

You step over the dead man and hurry back towards the stairs. You quickly climb back up into the narrow hallway and start towards the stairs that would take you up to the upper floor when you see it. You are standing at the base of the stairs when you see a body falling. You see their arms first as they come up, and you see how their legs trip over each other. You notice a mop of dirty blonde hair right before it smashes into the first uppermost step. The body falls hard down the stairs with a series of sickening crunches. You take a few steps back when you notice the body picking up some speed. When the body finally reaches the bottom of the stairs, it rolls over once and stops.

Sikora lays at your feet. His neck is bent at a terrible angle. His blue eyes are wide open. You see a piece of bone poking out from his forearm. Your gun lowers at the sight of your target’s still body. You feel numb at the sight of it. No satisfaction. No sense of pride. Not even relief. You don’t know how to feel when you step over your target’s body and ascend the stairs. That strange feeling persists as you find Nat standing near a table. Littered across the floor are six bodies. You can’t tell if some are alive or not, but you feel the corners of your lips curl into a smile. Nat doesn’t have a scratch on her. None of the bodies scattered across the room were a challenge for her and you just want to run up to her and kiss her and hug her tight because it makes sense. One piece of your life hasn’t changed. She’s still your friend even if you can’t act like hers.

As you walk further into the room, carefully stepping over fallen bodies, Nat closes up a black laptop that is sitting on the table. Her smile melts away any lingering numbness hanging on from seeing your target’s body.

“Good work,” she says. “SHIELD will be here in ten to clean up.”

You savor her praise before looking at the laptop again.

“Just a little side project,” she says after following your gaze. She picks up the black laptop and moves towards you. “You ever have bourbon from here?”

You shake your head.

“Then we’re making a quick pit stop before we head back,” she says.

You follow her, and you can’t help feeling like you are back in Ohio. It’s as if school is finally letting out and you two have the rest of the day ahead of you. You want this day to last forever. You’d rather her know it’s you, but if this is all you can have, then you’ll take it.

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