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soviet-amateurs · 18 hours
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Igor Stomakhin Summer Camp 1987
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mysummerfilm · 4 months
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Sandy Secrets..
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brownliqor · 10 months
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hauntel · 10 months
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awzer · 5 months
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SOURCE Awzer
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akai-ito-official · 1 year
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Moody
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hanscphoto · 1 year
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Ok here we go with first post ❤️
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kocalls · 4 months
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İstanbul’a bir siyah bakış.
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vishnunyr · 9 months
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lightningcola · 10 months
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:) black and white time
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photofoxbox · 1 year
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soviet-amateurs · 7 months
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Leningrad Region, commuter train 1993
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mysummerfilm · 4 months
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In the solitude of the open spaces she creates a symphony of her own thoughts, the poetry of distant horizons.. She finds solace, strength, and the profound beauty of being both the seeker and the sought.  The Lonely Traveler.
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quietlyimplode · 2 years
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Things you taught me when I was young
4 times Melina’s life intersects with Natasha’s; and the one time it doesn’t.
AN: warnings for child abuse, death, relinquishment of a child. I’m not really happy with this one, but has been clarifying in setting straight some of my thoughts about Melina. (bwf2022 (day 4), 3.2k, gif not mine.)
1/
Promises. Promises.
Melina stands in front of Dreykov, the urge to roll her eyes terminal as she curls her fists instead.
The genetic testing of the first line of Widows had proved that whatever they had been injected with had made them sterile.
Followed by the complete hysterectomy, the Red Room had shot themselves in the foot.
Women, were child bearers, they didn’t need to steal children, buy them, traffic them, when they could birth them onsite.
But, the men running the program decided that they wanted the enhancements more than they wanted to fund child bearing women, so, the mission was finding those that would inevitably be worthy.
Dreykov pats her face condescendingly.
“You’re supposed to be smart, this can be your special mission. Pick two others. Find six children with potential. If they succeed, you live. If they don’t, I suppose back to basics for you.”
She knows he means reconditioning.
Reprogramming.
Mind wipe.
She sighs inaudibly.
“Yes sir.”
Melina has a good place to start. What men don’t know is that women will always be ten times more cunning and street smart than their oppressors; survival always breeds it’s own type of street smarts.
Homeless shelters.
Since the end of the Cold War (if it had indeed ended) meant the displacement of thousands, the divide between those that were aligned with the bureaucracy and those that didn’t.
She knows it’s self serving, that it’s wrong, but if she’s honest with herself, she doesn’t care.
.
There’s a holy man she ignores as she walks through the door.
“Can I help you?” he asks, gently.
“I’m here for my sister,” she tells him, looking around for where the women’s quarters are.
“Where are the women held?”
She pushes past him, seeing a small child peeking from around the door.
Jackpot, she thinks. Where there are children there are women. The man doesn’t stop her as she enters and looks around. There’s two woman sitting on beds, both holding small infants.
Melina stands tall, changing her approach, her demeanor and rearranging her face to one of kindness, just like the instructors taught her.
“Hello,” she opens.
The women look to her and almost shrink. They’re unkempt, skinny, and wary.
She explains to them who she is, that the Red Room is an orphanage for girls, that they are fed; educated and supported.
It’s a safe life. A good life.
She tells them they can come back for their children when they want, and they can take them back.
It’s a lie, but they look to her with hope.
Melina knows it’s a long term play. But it’s a good one. If it works, it means a stream of girls.
The women hug their children tighter as she talks. She assures them, food, education, safety, and leaves them with a card with an address.
She visits two more and gets another idea.
.
There are orphanages.
Abandoned children, traumatised lives. It reeks of poverty and pain.
She tells the director she wants the youngest of girls. There’s no shortage.
They agree to two a year, with proper payment of course. He grabs her arm, and tells her he’s only doing this so he can feed the rest of the children.
She shrugs. She doesn’t care for his guilt.
Tells him she’ll return in three days for the two girls agreed upon.
Dreykov will be pleased.
She sees two more orphanages before lunch, and realises that by the end of the week, she got the six girls that he asked for.
.
The woman meets her at the gate as she walks to it. The day has been long but still she recognises her from the first orphanage.
She knows her because her infant has a wisp of red hair and her eidetic memory recalls the way the infant had watched her with intelligent eyes.
The infant is scrawling now, as the woman shushes her and calms the child with just words. She looks distraught as Melina meets her.
The woman is skinny, and Melina thinks she must have missed the cut off for the shelter.
Wind bites at her face and Melina shivers deeply and looks expectantly at her. The compound looms over them as they stand opposite each other.
“She will be safe?” The woman asks, desperate, angry at her choices in life.
Melina nods. Lies.
“The red room will be her home,” she tells her.
There’s a beat as she seems to battle inwards.
“I’ll come for you,” she promises, kissing her baby’s nose, her face, nuzzling in, appearing to memorise every inch.
“Stay alive,” Melina hears the woman say, “and I will too.”
She hugs the child tightly.
“I’ll come for you,” she promises.
“This is not forever.”
But Melina knows it is. Once the child is in her hands, she is the property of the Red Room.
The woman turns her back, hunching over her little girl, almost keening in grief.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobs, tears coming fast, “this is not the end, I’ll come for you. Just stay alive; ok my Natalia? I’ll find you, I’ll always find you.”
Melina moves to touch her shoulder.
“Give her to me,” she says gently.
And the woman does.
She lifts the baby away, the blanket going with her. The bereaved stares as her red headed child, starts to cry, pathetically.
“You can go now,” Melina tells her.
But she seems to be rooted to the spot.
She wants her baby back.
“I’m sorry,” the woman sobs, falling to her knees as Melina walks off, indifferent, ignoring the pull in her heart, unsure what it means.
2/
Melina throws the knife at the target, hitting just above the girls head. The girl has a far away off look, that Melina knows, if she’s caught distancing herself from the activity she’ll be punished.
She knows she was.
Two more throws land next to either of her ears, seemingly waking her up and bringing her back to the present.
The training is interrupted as Dreykov enters the hall, flanked by two men in suits.
“Come here,” he orders.
She sighs inwardly and follows her feet to stand in front of him, eyes down.
He hands her a dossier and tells her she has a mission.
Hope springs in her gut at being able to leave the darkness of these four walls.
She nods at his orders and he dismisses her, telling her she has twenty minutes to meet her handlers at the front gate.
Wandering back to her room, she tosses the dossier on the military made bed, and changes into tactical gear.
She pushes down the anger and disgust at herself making sure the mirror is covered still.
She gathers herself.
A simple mission. A simple assassination.
The Red Room is the most depressing place, and when she leaves it’s like she remembers colours, smells and sounds. Even if those colours are still red, the metallic smell of blood and the sound of a gun shot.
She grasps for the dossier and looks over it, stopping short at the picture and name.
The woman.
The first one that gave her child to Melina.
She looks older now; it makes sense, four years have passed. The child is now close to six, she’s completed the first round of Black Widow training.
Not that Melina has been keeping tabs on her.
She hasn’t. She doesn’t care for anyone.
But she never forgets a face.
Scanning down, she wonders what the woman has done to deserve the wrath of the Dreykov.
Oh.
Melina thinks.
She wants her child back.
A laugh breaks free of her lips as she reads some of the things the woman has attempted in efforts to rescue and get back her child.
Breaking into the red room? She’s lucky she wasn’t shot on the spot.
This must be one special child.
Melina moves through the hallway, stopping where the class of six year olds have headphones on their heads learning the intricacies of English. She spots red hair straight away and stares.
What about this child is so special that the woman would risk her own life for her? She moves on, the paper heavy in her hand.
She doesn’t understand.
But she does understand orders.
The two large men flank her as she leaves in a black car and contemplative thoughts.
.
She watches her for a day.
The woman seems insignificant. No power. No pull on state of the world.
Irrelevant.
The sniper rifle is heavy on her shoulder as she watches from the rooftop. She plans to kill her in her sleep, then set her house on fire. No one looks for a bullet in a fire, no one should think twice anyway.
But she’s not one for making mistakes.
The night grows around her, the woman setting a fire, sitting on the rocking chair as she nurses a drink, looking at a worn photo that Melina zooms in at.
Natalia, the woman had called her. They’d kept the name for within the Red Room, she’d noticed the change to Natasha, the American diminutive, for obvious reasons.
It takes her ages to settle, to do something other than drink and stare.
Finally, she heads to bed, and Melina watches through the scope. Watches as she completes her mundane routines, eating, bathing, placing the photograph carefully on her night stand.
She lines up the shot, takes a deep breath and slows her heart rate down.
3. 2. 1.
The shot is clean and the woman is dead.
Melina feels strange.
It’s not a sadness, she knows that, maybe it’s a pity. The woman was killed because of her love for her daughter.
Moving carefully, she drops down to the pavement, entering the house.
The kills is confirmed as she sees blood and the body.
Pouring the gasoline, first on the body then she moves from room to room, dousing everything as she goes.
Lastly, the room that could be a child’s bedroom she finds a shrine built, to honor the living. A teddy bear, a small pink infants dress, a candle and a small poem sit on a table.
Melina licks her lips, the smell of gasoline becoming strong.
It’s not sadness she’s feeling, because she doesn’t feel that. The tears that threaten are because of the smell. The guilt that hangs low in her gut is nothing, she just needs to leave.
Exiting through the back, she takes a match and sets it to the fumes.
She stays to honor the dead, the poem in hand, wondering what it might be like to love that fiercely.
3/
Melina feels sweat dripping off her body.
The training regime she’s set for Natasha is child’s play.
“Almost there,” she tells the wiry girl.
Natasha runs, her small legs beating fast on the pavement, they reach the house and slow down to a stop.
“Was it faster?” Natasha asks, a small amount of hope in her voice.
Melina looks; it is faster but she doesn’t want the girls hope.
“No,” she lies.
“Again.”
“Oh,” there’s so much disappointment in her voice that Melina almost feels bad.
They set off in a steady pace, and Melina feels her mind go blank as all she concentrates on is the way her muscles are propelling her forward.
“Start,” she commands.
Natasha’s breath is audible as she starts talking in German, recounting the story of Sleeping Beauty.
She gets half way and stops, heaving for breaths.
“Come on Natasha, pain only makes you stronger,” she encourages.
It’s enough to scare the child into moving.
She gives her reprieve and then nods.
“Start.”
Natasha starts again.
.
The food is in a locked box.
Yelena thinks it’s hilarious, but Natasha knows better. She hasn’t eaten in a day and a half.
Melina had hidden the key in front of her in the morning. She should have been paying attention to everything.
“Think Natasha,” she says in Mandarin.
“You saw me put it away this morning.”
Melinda knows how it feels when you’re hungry, that the only thing you want is food, you can’t think of anything else. It’s why this is so important.
When they leave here, Natasha enters the next stage of training. It’s brutal.
Melina would know.
She needs to be prepared.
Natasha climbs on bench, opens the cupboard and looks in the sugar bowl.
She’s right of course, looking up in triumph.
“Good, child,” she praises, unlocking the box and handing over the muffin that lived inside.
Natasha takes it, and without thinking hands half over to Yelena.
It makes Melina’s heart pull.
The return to the Red Room is going to break her and take her heart.
.
Natasha and Alexei are sparring. He’s not holding back and she worries that he’s going to break her tiny bones.
She tests Yelena on her Arabic, focusing on verbal instructions, when she hears the distinctive sound of a backhand hitting skin.
“Get up,” Alexei growls.
She wants to intervene, spare Natasha some pain, but that’s not who she is.
Melinda knows this is nothing compared to what’s coming.
She turns her back and guides Yelena out.
“Don’t worry,” she’s assured the blonde girl, “Daddy will make sure she is okay.”
Later; she finds Natasha crying in the bathroom, holding ice to her bruised cheek, gently touching her broken nose. She enters, and shows her how to reset it.
“Pain only makes your stronger,” she whispers to her, like it’s a long held secret, as tears leak out of Natasha’s eyes.
Blood is wiped away, and Natasha looks to her, with sadness.
Melina flashes to the picture of her mother, their eyes the same as she places a hand on her shoulder.
.
“Hide and seek,” she says to Yelena and Natasha, grinning.
Yelena cheers and Natasha gives a rare smile.
“Don’t fall for the traps,” she hints.
First, she handcuffs them both, then she ties them to a chair.
“You have twenty minutes to ring the bell,” she stipulates.
“First one to ring it, chooses dinner.”
It’s a meager prize but seems motivating enough.
“Go.”
Natasha is first out of the cuffs, Yelena close behind as she frowns and stops at the door. Yelena doesn’t stop and runs straight into the tripwire, setting off the smoke grenade.
Immediately, Natasha covers her face and encourages Yelena to do so, she moves into the next room and finds the doors locked.
Vision obscured, Melina watches as Natasha picks the lock, coughing harshly as smoke permeates the air.
Yelena attempts the other door, but Natasha is first.
There’s two more traps, and Melina watches with interest as Natasha stops and thinks, even though the air is thick.
Yelena sets off the alarm and Natasha grins knowingly. She opens the next door slowly, running her finger along the side finding the string attached to the handle. She produces a knife cutting it then opening the door, finding the bell inside.
She rings it and smiles.
“Mac and Cheese,” she announces, much to Yelena’s delight.
And Melina’s heart sinks.
They’re going to kill you, child; she thinks.
4/
Melina wakes up, pain radiating throughout her body.
There’s doctors around her as she drifts in and out of consciousness. She’s handcuffed to the hospital cot and she sighs.
The plane, the girls, the escape, all come back to her.
She’s lost them.
She’d said to Natasha she was sorry, and it was the first time she’d ever said those words.
But they were truthful.
She is sorry.
The Red Room is her home; it should not have been Natasha’s.
If she’d turned her mother away…
If she’d chosen another homeless shelter…
If she’d helped her mother instead of killing her…
Guilt makes bile rise in her throat, but she pushes it down.
Melina understands why no one came for her when she was young, she was rotten, even then; abandoned, unwanted; but that’s not the case for Natasha.
She wonders if she will ever see her again.
She doubts Dreykov will ever let that happen.
Pain only makes you stronger, she says to herself, believing it with every essence of her being.
This experience may just make her invincible.
She misses them.
Natasha’s stoic face and the rare smile.
Yelena’s easy laugh and simple understanding of life.
She pulls against the handcuffs, preferring the pain on her wrists than the one in her heart.
.
She’s sent back. She’s always sent back.
Reprogramming, Dreykov tells her, and then she’ll be sent away.
“We have a new program for you to work on,” he smiles.
She will never admit that the thought fills her with dread, even if her life is not her own.
Melina wants to know, what’s happened to the two girls.
She sees Natasha first, her hair now red, face now more serious as she fights ruthlessly against another girl twice her size.
“You taught them well,” a voice in her ear says.
She can’t repress the shudder.
“The younger one is a spitfire,” he laughs.
“We’ve sent her to Dikson.”
Melina’s heart sinks.
Everyone knows what happens in the small coastal town.
If she believed in God, she’d pray.
Instead, she turns to him and smiles at his mirth.
“I’m ready,” she tells him.
And she is, ready to die again and come back as someone new, without all this guilt and pain.
+1
The Avengers.
Her Natasha is an avenger.
She has the power of a god, a scientist, a science experiment and a man of iron at her side.
The worlds greatest spy.
She doesn’t care about the happenings in New York, although the appearance of aliens was a surprise, it doesn’t concern her.
Melina watches Natasha with interest on the news, her near perfect American accent, as she stands next to Iron Man asking for privacy at this time.
She sets up her scanner to always alert her to Natasha, whether she is on the news, radio, or being hunted by police.
Maybe.
Just maybe, the choices in her life have not lead to destruction and ruin.
The break of the day brings with it the birth of piglets and feeling of renewal.
.
<3
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lunar-crater · 5 days
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Black and white expired film. Don't remember brand name sorry.
Place: Black Sea (Anapa, Russia).
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invalidentity · 9 months
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