#1212 nat

[haveyouusedthispokemon]

i didn’t realize there was a second color pallet for magearna :0

@porchenjoyer @honey-skulls

Yeah, the pokeball coloring is the ‘Original’ color and is not a shiny variant! It even has its own shiny!

Here is how the standard vs shiny forms look:

[torbli]

based off my friends characters from this picrew

@1212-nat @trifecta-guy @myself :33 @sweetnsillyy

[icarus-reads]

intro post ig, I'm matteo, im just a guy?

i like reading and myths and sleeping a ton

my favorite people are @1212-nat, @trifecta-guy , @torbli , and a few others that barely use tumblr

dni list is basically homophobes, transphobes, racists, anything MAGA stands for, idiots, so on so forth

my tags that I use are below:

#icarus asks are for the random asks I get

#icarus reads is for some reblogs if I remember, also sometimes book or poetry I like

#icarus talks is for my commentary

#icarus rambles is for my rambling if it's like 6 am

#icarus writes is for my poetry or writing in general

[t0rbz4evr]

<:3)~~ Request from @1212-nat

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest 2023 - Day Two

The Aquarium

Warnings: a visit to the aquarium is cut short :(

Word count: 1212

Pairing: Clint/Nat

This fic is thanks to @broken--bow ‘s amazing art (for my eyes only) and borne of a conversation for Clint and Nat having a place to meet, that only they knew about, and meant something to them. The penguins of Kyoto Aquarium are famous for having their relationships recorded. A fluffy piece before we get into the real angst of the week. As always, your likes, comments and reblogs are always so appreciated. Welcome to day two of bwfest2023.

Clint rubs his arm, the scratch from the katana not deep, but itchy as it heals. He nods and smiles to the straight faced Japanese man sitting across from him.

The man nods and stares back.

Clint forgets that, as an American, his mannerisms are not universal. He wonders how Natasha is getting on.

He sends a quick text and stands to get off at the station he has no hope in pronouncing.

His phone vibrates and he smiles.

She’s almost there too. He opts to wait for her train, and sits on the bench.

He loves the Japanese train system.

It says the next train arrives in 4 minutes.

And it will. He loves the fact that if it’s even if a minute late, they apologise.

The train system in America is horrible.

Natasha steps off the newly arrived train, the announcement permeating the station.

Clint waves low and smiles big.

“Hey,” he grins, giving her a hug and kiss into her hair.

“Hey,” she grins back.

“How long do you think before they realise we aren’t on the plane right now?”

He laughs.

“Soon I think.”

“Shall we?”

He takes her hand, and rubs his thumb over her knuckles.

“You’re doing okay?”

She nods.

“I’m wearing like a pound of makeup. And the stupid rib wrapping is making me sweat in all the wrong places.”

She lifts her top slightly to show that she’s actually strapped her broken ribs.

“Well done,” he tells her, slightly proud that she’s taking care of herself.

“You?” she asks.

He shrugs, lifting his sleeve to show his bandage wrapping, then slightly lifts his t-shirt to show the bruising on his hip.

Natasha nods, taking his hand and squeezing it.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Clint smiles as they ascend the stairs, squinting in the bright August light.

To anyone, they look like tourists, not international spies, one back from a mission in Sapporo and the other from a mission in Singapore.

Kyoto was a midway point, somewhere to meet, reset and have a much needed date.

“This felt like a shorter walk last time,” she huffs.

He squeezes her hand and lets go, the sweat on his palms making it uncomfortable.

He agrees but doesn’t want to tell her that it’s likely because the injuries she’s carrying are taking it out of her.

They round on the Aquarium, Natasha seamlessly buying tickets and leading him to the entry.

The Giant Salamander is the first thing they see, and they stop to see them piled on top of each other.

“They’re so large.”

They stop and stay still with the salamanders, before Clint is distracted by the seal. It swims fast and he migrates over to follow it’s movement.

Natasha grabs his hand again, and points to the sign for the penguins.

“How long do we have?” she asks, looking to the sign and then the café.

“Food, then penguins? Or penguins, then food?”

“Mostly I just want to see the penguins,” he laughs.

Natasha loves this side of Clint, the one where he seems so playful and carefree. He just enjoys life and what’s in front of him.

They guide each other until the large board of the penguin relationships greets them, and she can’t help but laugh too.

“There’s been some changes since we’ve been here,” she tells him, pointing to the board.

“Oh no! Sen and Maru are not together.”

“What about Barney?”

“Clint, just because you can’t read Japanese, doesn’t mean you can make up names for the penguins,” she chastises.

“I can, it’s consistent. Barney, the one that starts with the hiragana ば, then ど for Doris.”

“You know some hiragana, and you’ve just generalised that?”

Clint continues to the tell her the hiragana he knows, and Natasha doesn’t have it in her to correct his poor pronunciation.

It’s like when she tries to teach him the Cyrillic alphabet.

He’ll get there. It just takes time.

He often gets sad about how quickly she picks up languages and how long it takes him.

“Barney and Doris aren’t together anymore.”

He points to the broken love heart and traces it with his finger to the two penguins.

His pout makes her laugh again, and she points out a few more changes before moving onto the actual penguins.

“They’re just cool,” she breathes, staring at them as they play and move around the keepers.

Clint looks to her and then to the small animals, playing and squeezes her hand.

“They are, aren’t they?”

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, as he takes a step towards the window.

He knows it’s Phil.

They’ve both missed their check ins.

Natasha’s phone is next.

“Don’t answer,” he implores, with his best puppy dog look.

She sighs and shakes her head, unlocks the phone and says hello.

“Yeah, we’re together.”

He laughs at her rolling her eyes, as they move along, sidestepping children until they find a quieter spot.

“Medical won’t miss me. Yes they’re strapped. Umm. I don’t know. Fine. 8pm.”

Natasha hands him the phone.

“He wants to talk to you.”

He growls low.

She smiles in revenge.

“He called you first,” she whispers, pressing the phone into his hand.

“Hello?”

“Clint? You missed check in.”

“Yeah.”

The keeper moves into the cage with food, and they sit together next to everyone else.

“You’re both okay?”

He starts to feel bad, not telling Phil their plan to meet up.

“Yeah, we just needed… time. After Suriname, and the girls. I think. Even though we had separate missions, we just needed a break.”

Natasha’s head pops up at the mention of Suriname.

He shakes his head, hoping to convey that it’s all okay.

“Understood. You have til 8pm. Then, I can’t keep it from Fury, and he’ll probably have disciplinary actions. If you miss the plane, I can’t help, okay? You have four hours to get to Kansai.”

“Yeah, yeah okay, okay.”

Phil pauses.

“She said she strapped her ribs, did she?”

Clint glances at Natasha.

“Yeah, she did.”

“And you, you took care of your wounds? Including the stab wound?”

Clint nods, “yeah, it’s fine.”

Phil’s huff, and pause conveys nothing but patience for his charges.

“8pm Clint.”

And he hangs up the phone.

The penguins are eating.

Natasha smiles and takes his hand.

He passes the phone back to her.

“You just had to answer, didn’t you?”

“8pm, the curfew?”

Clint sighs, looking out as they waddle along then dive.

“More like 6 for check in, and an hour and a half to get from here to the airport. Which means…”

“We have to leave now?”

He stares out.

“Yeah. I think so.”

They take the long route out, passing the dolphins, then the sharks and jellyfish. They’re both quiet as they approach the end, and even quieter as they exit.

Silence on the train, each lost in their own thoughts.

“We’ll come back here,” she promises, “just like we always do.”

“Yeah,” he replies quietly, “maybe Doris and Barney will be back together.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

It’s clear that both of them don’t want to go. That the brief interlude of normalcy, whilst gave them pause, is not their lives.

Clint glances to her.

Kisses the top of her head.

“We’ll be back,” he promises.

“We’ll be back.”

.

[garlic-sauc3]

@1212-nat they were cute in the movie

[icarus-reads]

THIS WAS NOT IN THE 2 EPISODES I WATCHED @1212-nat

[haveyouusedthispokemon]

When i first played pokémon black v2 and ultra sun i named most of my pokémon fairly “generic” things (my starters for each were Osha and Flame respectively)

but!!! since replaying bv2 i’ve got some new mons and i love my leavanny, Verdita, very very much :]

two others are Swinnipeg the swoobat and Forkbolt my wonderful jolteon, and ofc i still chose oshawott as my starter and i love Wotwott a ton too <3

I think Osha and Flame both make a lot of sense! ''Generic'' names for a pokemon that's new to you can help with remembering their species a lot, while still helping make a personal connection, I feel ^^

Verdita is a lovely name for a Leavanny!! Swinnipeg, Forkbolt, and Wottwott are all fun to say, as well ^^

[barbie-movie-confessions]

#1212: "I feel like the new movies seem to be aimed more towards younger kids than the older ones. Of course, they were all meant for kids, but in the older movies there were more mentions of violence, like in the song 'Love is for Peasants'. Queen Ariana sings 'then I'll use the king's head for croquet.' Not gonna lie, I kind of miss that."

[torbli]

@trifecta-guy witch, @1212-nat orange

WHAT KINDA CAT ARE YOUR MUTUALS

I REALLY WANNA SIT HERE AMD GO THROUGH TAGGING EVERYONE BUT I HAVE TO GO TO BED NOW SO I’LL DO SO TOMORROW!!!

[nekoannie-chan]

Something weird

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Enhanced mutant! Reader.

Word count: 1212 words.

Summary: How was your life affected by HYDRA's experiments did with you? Although Steve was there to help you to deal with it.

Warnings: Mentions of death, some smut references, nothing explicit.

A/N: Flashback is in italics.

This is my entry to the @criminal-cookies ‘s Mel’s 400 Writing Challenge with the dialogue prompt #4:

“Baby, please tell me you can explain why there is a hole through the window”.

Also is my entry to @19mrs-rogers18 ‘s 400 Writing Challenge with the quote prompt # 6:

“Shh, it’s okay it was just a dream. I’m here”.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog. 

You hated what was happening to you in last months, there were days when you had no powers and others when they were out of control.

They had done several analyzes and tests to discover what was happening to you, however, everything seemed to be fine.

Even though they had found your records of the experiments that HYDRA had done on you, they couldn't find the cause. You also didn't remember much about your childhood so you weren't entirely sure if your powers were inherited or obtained by experimentation.

Before all this lack of control, you felt like every time you left experimentation or like the day they had found you at the HYDRA’s compound, although that day was not a bad memory for you, it had been the day that your life had had a real change and also when you had met the love of your life.

"Hello, calm down, I'm here to help you" Steve said, lowering the shield.

Carefully approached you, he thought you were a hostage.

“No…”

You tried to attack Steve, but he managed to cut you down.

You did not try to fight or free yourself while you were being transferred, all your life until that moment you had been told that S.H.I.E.L.D. He was the enemy, but you were proving that they were not as bad as you thought.

Steve tried to interrogate you, you were still saying nothing, and he left the room a little desperate.

"She refuses to speak, Nat maybe if you interrogate her you will succeed," Steve asked her.

"I think she's very scared," she said before entering.

"Hi, I'm Natasha, what's your name?" she asked trying to sound friendly.

There was no answer, according to a physical exam that they had done, your health was good, and nothing prevented you from speaking, so she deduced that you surely did not trust them.

“You know maybe we have a similar story, I was one of the Bolshoi’s dancers, they recruited me for the Red Room, the KGB experimented with me and turned me into an assassin, perhaps I am the only one who can understand you here”.

You bit your lip, you didn't know exactly what to say.

“I'm Y/N Y/L/N, I'm 23 years old.”

“What were you doing at that compound?

"I'm not sure, they told me I should be there and if you attacked, and defend the compound”.

"Steve said you were hidden," she interrupted confused.

"I don't like harming people, nobody, they said that I was a monster."

"Tell me about your childhood."

“No… I don't remember much of my past, nor who my parents were, I don't even know if I ever had one, the experiments were very painful and they never stopped, they didn't care if they hurt me, they were training me to…

"What for?" She asked interested.

"To attack S.H.I.E.L.D., but I don't think you guys are bad, this is all very confusing."

She kept asking you a few more questions, then came out.

"She's just another victim," he reported.

 Little by little you and Steve had fallen in love, now five years later you two were married.

You had a terrible headache that day, your powers were out of control, various things were out of whack, many others had accidentally broken, you hid under the kitchen table, and you didn't want to continue causing more damage.

Steve entered the house and immediately worried when he saw the disaster, he feared that someone had attacked you or something bad had happened, he immediately raised his shield.

"Y/N?” he called, walking carefully.

"I’m here, Stevie," you replied without leaving the place where you’re hiding.

“Baby, please tell me you can explain why there is a hole through the window.”

"They're all out of control again," you sobbed, referring to your powers.

He lowered his shield quietly, he couldn't help but feel tenderness every time you hid, and that was the way he knew you were afraid; you saw that he bent down and began to approach you.

"No, don't come closer, I don't want you to get hurt," you asked without moving.

"Okay, nothing happens," he assured you.

He came to you and hugged you. He always made you feel safe and protected in his arms.

You were still having nightmares, although you didn't know if they were nightmares or repressed memories, sometimes you saw someone murdering people. Maybe HYDRA had murdered your parents.

Or maybe they were the ones who had died in the experiments, you were sure you felt the same pain again, you didn't want to feel that anymore in your life. You woke up disturbed

"Honey?" Steve asked a little sleepily as he felt the movement on the bed.

"I-I'm fine," you murmured.

He knew you and knew it was not true, he immediately stood up and turned on the light of the bedside table lamp.

“Shh, it’s okay it was just a dream. I’m here.”

 He hugged you and wiped away the tears that fell down your cheeks.

“Do you want to tell me about the nightmare?” he questioned trying not to push you.

You shook your head.

"Okay, so you want us to sleep holding each other?"

"Yes," the voice barely came out.

The next morning he got up before you, you assumed he had gone for a run so you went down to prepare breakfast.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked when he saw you when he returned.

"Yes, I made pancakes for breakfast."

"Natasha gave me the idea that maybe a pet can help you."

You looked incredulous, they had never talked about having a pet, but you knew there was something else before you could say something the puppy taught you.

"He's adorable, but what if he gets hurt?"

You couldn't trust your powers at those moments and you would feel very bad if something bad happened to that innocent being.

Steve left the puppy in your arms, the little one licked your face while moving his tail.

"Okay, we'll keep it."

“Can you think of a name?

"I like Mickey."

You remembered how you had been taught to control your powers, so if you wanted Mickey to be safe you would do your best.

You put the blocks in and started moving them slowly.

"Fine," you murmured.

You were testing for a while, Steve saw you, but he didn't want to interrupt you.

"What is the matter with me?"

"Nightmares and traumas cause instabilities in the mutants' powers, although hers were altered as well, mainly these are the causes of instability," Bruce explained.

The way back home was quiet, you kept thinking of a way to fix the problem.

"Honey," Steve called you.

“Babe”.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Why don't you ever tell me about your past? Maybe if you let off steam you can have control again “Steve suggested.

"I don't remember much, practically nothing, HYDRA brainwashed me," you answered.

Steve did not know what to say.

"I always wanted to have a family," you continued.

He took your hand and raised your face with the other.

“Well, then we must practice a little to fulfill your dream.

He kissed you and carried you to take you to the bedroom you shared.

[stony-ao3-feed]

try not to move

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NQbN2Y

by allstars

"I was cutting my hair. I guess fighting the evil can't wait, so when you called things got messy but I'm here."

"You're a walking disaster." [...]

Cap breaths out. "Guess I am. But—"he throws his Shield at another creature. It goes back to him with a pleasing metal sound. "—you're the one who told me to hurry the fuck up."

"Hey! Language, Rogers."

"Ha-ha. Funny."

Words: 1212, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of happy steve bingo 2019

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Additional Tags: Marvel Universe, Post-Avengers (2012), Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Haircuts, Steve gets a funny haircut, and the Avengers make so much fun of him, Nat fixes his hair, i'm a sucker for this friendship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NQbN2Y

[torbli]

(@1212-nat look at this!!)

Don't remember when or why I drew this

[ao3feed-stevenatasha]

try not to move

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NQbN2Y

by allstars

"I was cutting my hair. I guess fighting the evil can't wait, so when you called things got messy but I'm here."

"You're a walking disaster." [...]

Cap breaths out. "Guess I am. But—"he throws his Shield at another creature. It goes back to him with a pleasing metal sound. "—you're the one who told me to hurry the fuck up."

"Hey! Language, Rogers."

"Ha-ha. Funny."

Words: 1212, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of happy steve bingo 2019

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Captain America - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Additional Tags: Marvel Universe, Post-Avengers (2012), Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Haircuts, Steve gets a funny haircut, and the Avengers make so much fun of him, Nat fixes his hair, i'm a sucker for this friendship

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2NQbN2Y

[doctortreklock]

Said the Turtle to the Bagpipe - April 17, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: "It may come as a surprise, but if I'm being honest, there are nights when I'm simply not in the mood to be held at knifepoint." (x)

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Title: "The Bagpipe Who Didn't Say No" by Shel Silverstein

Words: 1212

"Some might call me old-fashioned, but if I'm being honest, there are nights when I’m just not in the mood to be held at knife-point." There was a distinct drawl to the senior agent’s voice that seemed at odds with the sharp blade scraping against his throat and causing blood to well up along its silver surface.

Clint barely managed to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the serene tone of his handler’s voice. Only Coulson could be that damn calm while being used as a human shield by a human trafficker and still bleeding sluggishly from a bullet hole in his shoulder.

On the floor below where Clint was hidden in the beams of the warehouse, Human Trafficker held Coulson in front of him. Coulson's hands were already zip-tied together behind him (courtesy of the half hour he'd spent in Trafficker's custody before backup had arrived), and Trafficker was gripping him tightly by the upper arm, holding him close, a knife clutched in his other hand. His grip was also helping keep Coulson upright. Clint could see him swaying slightly where he stood, his face pale from blood loss and his weight shifting on his feet as he tried to remain vertical.

"Shut up," Trafficker snarled at Coulson. "Before I make you."

There were three other burly henchmen behind and flanking Trafficker, each one armed and aiming a submachine gun at the two lone figures directly beneath Clint's feet. One was a bald Hispanic man with glasses and a tie. The other was a redheaded woman in an evening dress.

Clint and Coulson had been tasked with checking on the warehouse while the other two members of their team went undercover at a swanky party across town. As soon as the pair had set foot in the warehouse, they were under fire.

Clint had gotten separated from his handler immediately and had been pinned down across the warehouse when Coulson was captured. Clint had managed to escape into the catwalks suspended above the floor, where he'd dispatched all who followed him with extreme prejudice. By this point, he was pretty sure that the three on the floor were the only ones of Trafficker's bunch still alive.

Coulson had called for backup as soon as they realized the warehouse wasn't as empty as anticipated, but it had still taken Sitwell and Natasha nearly an hour to leave the party and make it to the warehouse. Below Clint, he could hear Sitwell's calm voice as he tried to engage Trafficker in conversation, but he tuned it out. Coulson was still pale, and Clint could see him struggling to keep from nicking his skin on the knife. They had better get this over with soon, before Coulson lost more blood than he already had.

Nat seemed to realize that too. She was talking now, playing slightly-bad-cop. It was like bad-cop, but less likely to get a captured ally killed over a misplaced threat. Coulson didn't do anything as obvious as glance up, but he took a breath and gently rolled his shoulders, which Clint took as the sign it was.

He settled down into a crouch on the metal grating, balancing perfectly on the balls of his feet in his well-worn boots. He pulled two arrows out of his quiver and fit them both to the string. Then he held the bow loosely in front of him and his body relaxed, as if he were sunbathing on the hundred and third floor of a Manhattan skyscraper instead of supervising from a catwalk as his best friends tried to keep his boyfriend from getting his throat slit.

Goon One looked professionally bored - alert and passive, waiting to be needed. Goon Two was getting increasingly nervous as the conversation escalated, glancing back and forth between the undercover SHIELD agents and his boss as his fingers tightened on the stock of the gun. Goon Three held his gun with limp fingers, staring off into the middle distance, completely zoned out. Trafficker himself was working himself up into quite the agitated frenzy as Sitwell chimed back in.

"I'm not sure the Italians will see it that way." And Sitwell's mild tone was straight out of Coulson's playbook, designed to make you so unobtrusive you would either vanish in plain sight or drive your enemy mad, depending on the context.

This was the latter situation. "Well you can tell the Italians--" Trafficker's apoplectic rage was abruptly cut off by the arrow in his throat. In his frenzy, the arm holding the knife flush to Coulson's neck had loosened. Now, with Trafficker permanently distracted, Coulson threw himself backwards enough to widen the gap before turning and maneuvering out of arm's reach.

Half a second after the first arrow found its mark, a second took out Goon One while twin shots rang out from Sitwell and Nat, leaving Goons Two and Three lying on the concrete.

Clint slid his bow onto his back, vaulted the railing of the catwalk, and quickly made his way down to the floor, landing gently next to Nat in a crouch. He straightened up and matched her step-for-step to Coulson, who was swaying more noticeably, but still on his feet.

"C'mon, sir," Clint said affectionately, resisting the urge to pull his boyfriend into a tight hug with a kiss. "There's a first aid kit in the car." Instead, he put an arm around Coulson to help brace him while Natasha took the other side, her gun vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. She cut the zip-tie with a knife she pulled from thin air and gently rubbed circulation back into abused wrists. Coulson swayed forward a bit at that, nearly overbalancing.

"Easy, there," Nat murmured as she steadied him. Sitwell walked around them, double-checking all four figures on the ground were down. Clint knew he'd also be keeping an eye out for any other belligerents, giving the two of them a chance to get Coulson medical attention.

Coulson hummed absently in agreement with Clint, leaning heavily on the two agents flanking him as they slowly made their way to the door of the warehouse. "A bandage...might be nice," Coulson managed breathlessly. Now that he was surrounded only by friends, the calm facade that had kept him upright and on alert had cracked, and Coulson was fading fast. The hole in his shoulder had mostly stopped bleeding, but there was still enough to dye his snow white shirt a deep crimson.

"A band-aid," Clint suggested. "I think we've got some with Cap's shield on 'em. Whadda you think, Nat?"

Natasha gave the matter serious thought, the palm of her hand pressed tight enough to Coulson's bullet wound to make him hiss. "I think we used all of those up in Quebec. But I'm pretty sure there's some Robin Hood ones in there still."

Clint pouted a little at the idea of Coulson using up his Robin Hood band-aids. "Those are limited edition!"

Coulson huffed. "That's alright, Barton." He winced. "Pretty sure I need something a little bigger anyway."

Sitwell snorted from where he was following behind them.

"Don't worry, sir," Clint told him cheerily. "I'll share."

"Oh joy," Coulson sighed as the four of them shuffled out of the warehouse into the cool night.

[schoolcalidity]

Its all about the Tent

The Significance of Kerbogha’s Tent

Kerbogha’s tent would have arrived by the time the council began. The Hystoria de via et recuperatione Antiochae atque Ierusolymarum states that the tent was sent to Bari by sea and left Antioch straight after the battle, on the 28th of June (D’Angelo, 2009: 89, chap. 13.57). The council opened at the beginning of October and three months would have been ample time for such a journey, especially given that the summer months were optimal for sailing (Eadmer, 1964: 108–14; Protospatarius, 1724: 197). John Pryor (1992: 117) has shown that commercial vessels were able to travel from the West to the Holy Land and back within a single sailing season (from March until late autumn), sometimes setting out as late as early August and still making it back to their home port before winter. Because of the prevailing winds in the Mediterranean, it was always slower to travel from East to West than vice versa. However, a journey from the Eastern Mediterranean to Italy could have been made comfortably within three months. In the 12th century, most voyages between the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem and the ports of Italy took between four and eight weeks (Menache, 1996: 151, note 34). In the 9th century, Bernard the Monk travelled from Jaffa to Rome in 60 days (Wilkinson, 2002: 268), and Frederick II made a similar voyage in the summer of 1229, from Acre to Brindisi, in 40 days (Menache, 1996: 151). When the news of Bohemond’s great victory at Antioch reached Bari, together with the impressive tent that he had taken from his enemy, it must have caused excitement that would have been heightened by the arrival of Urban II, the instigator of the crusade. It is easy and logical to imagine that the tent would have been displayed in the church during and after the council. Eadmer tells us that the council took place ‘before the body of St Nicholas’, which might imply that it was held in the crypt, but that is impossible (Eadmer, 1964: 108–14). The crypt is nowhere near large enough to accommodate all the delegates, who must have numbered at least 200. Probably the discussions were held in the upper church, begun nine years earlier. Although the structure may have been in place, it is doubtful that the church was much more than a shell. All additional ornament would have been welcome. Although we have no evidence of how the tent was used in Bari, it is interesting to speculate. Perhaps the tent was erected in the space of the nave or outside the church, in order to provide a temporary shelter for the council. Another possibility is that it was cut up and used as carpeting or wall hangings within the half-finished building.

The symbolic value of Bohemond’s donation can be contextualised with other examples of tents being used as gifts. During the crusaders’ stay in Constantinople in June of 1097, before they travelled into the Holy Land, they were required to pay homage to the emperor. Bohemond’s nephew Tancred was more reluctant to comply than the others, but did so, begrudgingly. After he had sworn the oath of allegiance, Emperor Alexius offered him a gift of his choice, expecting that Tancred would ask for gold or something of monetary value. Instead, Tancred requested the emperor’s tent, despite the fact that it was cumbersome, requiring 20 camels to move, and would have been a hindrance to Tancred on the crusade. Alexius was very angry and refused. The tent was perceived to be akin to the emperor’s palace, and the request was seen as symbolic of Tancred’s ambition to usurp the emperor, who stated that the tent was part of his insignia and responded, ‘he desires nothing other than my palace, which is unique in the world. What more can he ask except to take the diadem off my head and place it on his own?’ (Ralph of Caen, 2005: chap. 18). A second illuminating parallel comes from a century later. During the Battle of Navas de Tolosa in 1212, King Alfonso VIII of Castile captured the tent of the Almohad caliph, al-Nasir. Alfonso donated part of the tent to the Abbey of Las Huelgas de Burgos and the other part to Pope Innocent III, along with the caliph’s lance, standard and a letter describing the battle (Ali-de-Unzaga, 2014). The pope ordered that the letter be read publicly in Rome, and the standard was hung in St Peter’s Basilica (O’Callaghan, 2003: 72). These two examples demonstrate the significance of the tent in medieval culture as highly symbolic of kingship. The Spanish example also shows the importance of donations to churches. It seems likely that the arrival of Kerbogha’s tent in Bari would have been similar to the arrival of al-Nasir’s tent in Rome: it would have been accompanied by a description of Bohemond’s victory that would have been read aloud during the council, in the presence of the pope, and the tent itself would have been displayed in the church.

Figure 7

The Fall of Antioch in 969 from the Chronicle of John Skylitzes, cod. Vitr. 26–2, fol. 153, Madrid National Library. By Unknown, 12th/13th century author [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. Available at: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/81/Fall_of_Antioch_in_969.png (Last accessed 1 May 2018).

What Did Kerbogha’s Tent Look Like?

Frustratingly for art historians, Fulcher of Chartres and Albert of Aachen tell us only that the tent was an impressive, large, fairly complex structure and that at least part of it was made of multicoloured silk. Therefore, we must look at examples of other medieval tents to attempt a reconstruction. Most tents in the central Middle Ages seem to have been circular bell tents, with a pole through the centre. Seljuq tents like Kerbogha’s were usually domed pavilions of this type (Redford, 2012). This kind of tent can be seen in multiple images in the Madrid Skylitzes manuscript (Codex Matrit Bib. Nat. Vitr. 26.2), which is an illuminated copy of a Byzantine chronicle, full of military scenes, produced in the Sicilian royal chancery during the reign of King Roger II (Boeck, 2015; Cavallo, 1982: 35–6). The manuscript depicts 33 circular bell tents, all decorated with curved bands of ornament, either at the top, bottom or halfway up the sides (Figure 7). Both Byzantine and Arab tents are represented, and although the Arab tents are slightly more ornate, there is no difference between the two (Mullett, 2013: 277).  The tents of prominent Islamic military leaders like Kerbogha were richly decorated with animals, ornamental designs and sometimes figurative and narrative scenes (Golombek, 1988: 31–2). Both Byzantine and Arab tents were sometimes embroidered with inscriptions, and sometimes with poetry or good wishes for the owner (Mullett, 2013: 277). Jeffrey Anderson and Michael Jeffreys (1994) have suggested that short poems were sometimes embroidered onto tents. We have two excellent examples of Arabic and pseudo-Arabic inscriptions on circular tents, both from 13th century manuscripts. Al Hariri’s Maqamat (St Petersburg Institute for Oriental Studies ms c-23, folio 43b), painted in Baghdad in the 1220s, depicts a pilgrimage scene with two inscribed tents (Figure 8). The tent on the right has an inscription running around the top of the tent, where the roof joins the side. The tent on the left has a pseudo-inscription in the same position. Another example can be seen in Alfonso X of Castile’s Book of Games, which features a scene in which two figures play chess within a tent inscribed with a band of Arabic. Therefore, it is entirely plausible that Kerbogha’s tent (or part of the complex structure that made up the ‘tent city’) was circular and that the hem of the fabric was decorated with a pseudo-Arabic motif, like the one we find on the semi-circular mosaic pavement at San Nicola.

https://olh.openlibhums.org/articles/10.16995/olh.252/