#Russian prison

[sw1tchbackli]

Marc Fogel, a teacher from Pennsylvania speaks to the media at the White House following his release from a Russian prison and returning to the United States 🇺🇸. He’s beeen held there since 2021.

“I’m not a hero. President Trump is the hero”

President Trump once again made good on his promises to Marc Fogel and the American people.

[olyphantastic-world]

PAVEL PRILUCHNIY Show: Run! (2016)

Bonus:

[cruel-world-world-peace]

Carl De Keyzer “ZONA -Siberian Prison Camps" 2003

[kazifatagar]

Alexei Navalny dies in Arctic prison. Main opponent to Putin

Russian opposition activist Alexei Navalny has died in an Arctic penal colony, sparking condemnation from Western leaders who blame Putin for his demise. Navalny, Putin’s prominent opponent, fell ill after a prison yard walk, losing consciousness immediately. Resuscitation attempts failed, and the cause of death is under investigation. Social Media Links Follow us…

[sonyaheaneyauthor]

russian captivity for Americans vs russian captivity for Ukrainians

[panimoonchild]

“I tried to explain that I was a musician but it didn’t work. You say you are a musician and it irritates them so much they beat you more, and accuse you of lying,” said Merkotan

While international organizations inspect and have access to our prisons where Russian prisoners are held, they turn a blind eye and do not fight for proper conditions for Ukrainian prisoners.

Another thing that outrages me is the way "Putin's prison" is used. It was not Putin who tortured him and others, but russians. This is not Putin's war, but Russia's. These are not the decisions and crimes of one person. After 10 years of war, the Russians are still being singled out and absolved of responsibility. That's impossible levels of stupidity and cowardice.

[destielmemenews]

"Among those being freed are the American journalist Evan Gershkovich, who was detained in Russia last year and accused of espionage, and Paul Whelan, a former Marine who has been in Russian captivity since 2018."

source 1

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[o-nexis]

These terrible photos show a Ukrainian, Roman Gorylyk, after two years in russian captivity.

Roman and 74 other prisoners were returned from russian torture chambers on 31.05.2024 as part of a prisoner of war exchange, although he did not take part in hostilities.

Roman is a senior checkpoint controller at the Chornobyl nuclear power plant. He and the other 168 National Guardsmen who guarded the Chornobyl nuclear power plant were literally taken hostage by the russians and taken from Ukraine through Belarus in March 2022.

89 of them are still being held captive, and the russian side is using them to exchange them for russian soldiers captured in battle.

[thegirlwhohid]

Yesterday, after two years in russian captivity, my sister-in-law's friend returned home.

His relatives didn't recognize him. Shaved head, morbidly thin, quiet, and with an empty stare - he looked nothing like himself. His mother, though, who kept fighting for her son and for his brothers-in-arms, who organized rallies to remind everyone about the prisoners of war and conditions in the russian prisons - she recognized him. I saw the video of their first meeting, how she hugged him and told him everything would be fine now.

The worst part? He didn't recognize her.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Never Say Die [2]

| Part one | you are here | part 3 | part 4

Everyone seemed to want a part two… so here’s another part! (Also name title comes from a Black Sabbath song lol)

Steve took a few steps in the house. His hands shook as he barely could see through the shirt that was over his face. Concealing his identity from the neighbors. He knows that Hopper and Joyce’s intentions were positive, but his mind was playing tricks on him. For a split second he was back in Russia, blind fold over his eyes as he’s being dragged from a van. Still in his sailer suit. Blood all over his face, the ashes of star-court still lingering on him. Not even given the chance to wash them off on the flight here.

Though When the blindfold is pulled off he’s in the doorway of a very nice home, not in the middle of a Russian cell. He can feel his body shaking a bit from the memory. Before he takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes. All of this seemed a little to easy. What if he was making it all up in his head? What if he was currently in a cell right now losing his mind. He wouldn’t put it past himself. He has had dreams so real about returning home before, to only wake up and get the shit beat out of him.

Hoppers quick to stand in front of him. Protecting him. Steve’s eyes snap open quickly, tears slowly forming in his eyes when he realizes what the older man is doing. It’s been a while since someone’s protected him, and not the other way around. Sure, once upon a time in the prison someone did protect him. But that barely lasted a couple of days before the guy disappeared in the middle of the night. Now Steve knew he fought a demogorgan and lost.

“Mom, what’s going on?” It’s Will’s turn to voice his concern. Steve can’t see him through Hoppers back but he knows how his face is pinched up. Joyce, who was currently standing next to Steve smiles shakily. Tears in her eyes, light footsteps moving fast across the wooden floor start to come in their direction.

“Will, everything’s fine. It’s just.. a surprise guest dropped in. A good surprise. “ Joyce explains putting her hand up. Gesturing for the other to stop. Which is what immediately happens. “Why don’t you go back and tell everyone to go gather in the living room. Let them know we’ll be out in a second.” Joyce instructs. Moving forward out of Steve’s sight. Who can already picture her smoothing the boys hair, wrapping her arms around Will in a comforting manner. Something he’s seen thousands of times and has always envied.

“And tell them, if any of them even think about stepping out of that living room I’ll make sure no one’s allowed to play that Dogs and Donuts game.” Hoppers voice is stern. Steve was standing behind him and it was bringing the fear of god into him. Though he has to hold back laughter because he knows the guy was purposely getting the name wrong.

A few footsteps and seconds past and he can hear Will in the living room. Voices starting to echo through the walls as both of the adults. Who were very concerned, pull Steve into the kitchen. Joyce is already pulling food out for him. Setting a plate on the table within seconds. He hesitates, before he’s moving and awkwardly sitting down. Eyes skimming the room. A habit of his that he’s picked up. Within seconds he already knows where he can exit quickly if it was needed.

“How are you alive?” Hopper asks first, getting straight to the point. Moving and leaning on the table as he looks at Steve with that serious expression again. The same one he held in interrogation rooms.

Steve chuckles shakily, “Russian Prison.” He answers simply before he’s wolfing down his food. He’s sure he was going to throw it up in a little bit anyway. It’s been a long time since he’s had home cooked food. His stomach was already shifting uncomfortably from how much he was eating. “I didn’t die during the explosion thingy, I hopped down and well. Here I am. Woke up in a van in the middle of Russia later on and found my way back home. In quick summary.” Steve explains quickly. Body tense at even the mention of the prison. Thankful for the fact Hopper knew when to back down from something like this. Eyes filled with concern.

“How do you want to do this?” He asks changing the subject.

“We can pull them one at a time in here and have them see you?” Joyce tosses the idea out there.

“No. Just want to rip it off like a bandaid. Get it all done and over with. I cant-” Steve says shakily. Dropping the fork on the plate as he stares down at the table. “I can’t choose who I want to see first. I want to see them all at once or none at all.” He admits. Moving his eyes up to challenge Hopper. Unsure whether or not they were going to allow him to see them. There shouldn’t be doubt in his mind, but there was just a smidge. Hard to trust anyone anymore. He barely knew the two adults in front of him. Only a few awkward conversations in the past.

“Alright… you ready?” Hopper asks. Moving to stand properly. Not even bothering to battle whatever imaginary war that was in Steve’s head. Steve was not ready, he never would be. He moves standing up. Left arm holding his side as he nods his head. Moving to follow the other. Hearing the hushed panicked voices in the living room. A couple curse words following along with them.

Before Steve can get a step in Joyce is stopping him. “Hold on, let me give them a warning.” She smiles softly before turning and moving into the living room. That was still mostly bare from the move in. Steve shakily crosses his arms over his chest as he tries to focus on breathing. He didn’t want to freak out to much while everyone was. He had to be the emotional rock. He looks down at the floor, not wanting to look up at Hopper. Faintly listening to Joyce begin to ramble right behind him.

“So… this wasn’t planned at all. It’s news to me.” She sounded like she was crying already. “But- this person. You aren’t expecting him and I know some of you are going to be excited to see him but he has some injuries. So maybe try not to jump him or overwhelm him.” Joyce warns. Everyone’s already starting to ask questions all at once. “I’m serious guys. He came from god knows where, doing god knows what.” She says finally hushing the crowd down.

Steve finally gets his signal from Hopper. His hands were shaking as he moves. Carefully limping a bit to the doorway. One hand on his side as he leans on it. Eyes landing on everyone in the room. Searching for Dustin and Robin. “Where’s Henderson?” Is his first question. Eyes squinting trying to see, his vision wasn’t nearly as good as what it used to be. Along with the fact he could barely hear out of his right ear. But thanks to the amazing government he was able to get a hearing aid fitted.

He knew that everyone was going to be shocked, but the way everyone’s faces go white makes a shiver go up his spine. All color leaving the room with the acceptation of Eddie and the boy with long silky hair. Both who didn’t know him. Steve’s looking around the group, to many faces and reactions overwhelming him before he sees Dustin throwing himself at him. Moving away from Eddie, who was stunned by how fast the kid could move.

Before he could tackle Steve, Hoppers catching him as says something. Dustin’s already in tears as he moves more carefully as he still hugs him. Steve’s hands shakily wrapping themselves around him, only taking a second before he’s tightly hugging the boy. Squeezing his eyes shut as he feels like one of the numerous missing pieces was just placed in his heart. He didn’t realize how much he missed the little shit until now.

“I watched you die.” Dustin sobs, body shaking in Steve’s arms. Steve feels like a leaf, he’s close to falling from the effort to keep them both up. He’s in tears himself, when he catches the green of his letterman jacket walking in from the other side of the room. Coming from the bathroom most likely.

“What’s happening?” Robins voice is loud and clear as she looks at everyone. Not given a chance to process Steve standing in the walkway.

“Didn’t figure you to be a basketball jock there buck.” Steve laughs softly. Watching as it all hits her as well. And she’s already sprinting, squirming out of Hoppers reach as she nearly tackles Steve and Dustin.

“Ow ow ow, I think you guys just turned my lungs to dust.” He gasps in pain. Both of them stepping back from him as he nearly falls. Holding his side, as he try’s to steady his breathing.

“Here let’s get you sitting.”

Steve nods his head as he moves to Joyce, who’s concern was only peaking. Leaning on her a bit as she helps him to the empty spot on the couch. Which was right next to Eddie. He’s coughing a little, lungs burning from the pain in his side. A shaky inhale of air as he looks at the other curiously. Before his eyes move to land over on the boy with silky hair who was watching him confused.

“Hey.” He chuckles awkwardly lifting his hand up as the boy smiles waving back at him.

“This- this is Argyle.” Jonathan pops in. Looking anxious at the sight of him. Nancy looked like she was a goldfish.

“Hey wheeler.” Steve chuckles, not caring about her what’s so ever. Who he cared about the most were both standing in front of him now. Nearly hyperventilating. He opens his arms out a bit, “come on you dorks. Be careful of the stitches though. I am not redoing them again.” He laughs as they both move carefully. Robin in his lap curling in on his chest. He moves getting comfortable, the exhaustion getting the best of him as he offers a arm for Dustin who was also seeking some comfort. His eyes and nose were burning from the effort of holding back tears.

“No offense but you look like shit, and I can barely see.” Max tosses in. Standing up now to get a better look at him.

Steve snorts, “I can barely see or hear and you sound and look like shit kid.” He says amused. Earning a snort. “What happened to you?” He asks curiously.

“Vecna.”

He freezes. Everybody was looking at him as he glances around, “wait the big cone head looking dude with the ET fingers?” Steve asks. He hadn’t realized that he had made it to Hawkins within the time he was away. He’s gotten hints, even seen him once. Drawings of what he looked like up on the Russian walls. From his understanding he created a portal, to trade demogorgans for the life of the prisoners. Which was apparently how he got so strong to be able to finally reach his way to Hawkins and use his powers without needing the person physically in the upside down.

“You know who Vecna is?” Eddie asks, speaking for the first time. His voice is wavering a bit as he does.

“Well that’s not what me and the prisoners called him. But yeah. We were wondering why he stopped… well snapping our bones like twigs for.” He admits.

“Prisoners?” Is the question everybody all say at once. He winces as he tries to stay relaxed. He was starting to get overwhelmed. As much as it was a relief to see all of them it was getting a little to much.

“Yeah, Russians don’t take to kindly to someone ruining one of their bases.” He chuckles dryly. “Can we- um change the subject.” He winces as he moves a hand up to his head. Feeling a migraine forming. His head hasn’t been the same since he was near that radiation shit in the mall. He blinks as he feels a random nose bleed starting to hit him. Feeling dizzy Robin and Dustin hop off from him when he starts to shake more while underneath them. El moving and offering him a tissue with a knowing look. His hands shakily take the paper, confused as to why she would be looking at him like that. It was just a random nose bleed, he wouldn’t be shocked if he got radiation poison or something.

He moves back into the couch after a second of wiping his nose, completely worn out. Blinking at the effort it was taking him just to stay here mentally. His eyes meet Joyce’s who was already getting Hopper on it. “You look exhausted hon, why don’t you go get some rest in our room.” She smiles as he nods. Moving, his legs begin to shake as he holds the bloody tissue to his nose. Walking the way Hopper wanted him to.

Unaware but fully aware at the same time of the amount of eyes that were on him.

So… I only had a few scenes that I really wanted to write for this. This was one of them. The next part I also really wanted, and I don’t know how I’m separating each part. I’m used to writing 10k word chapters so this is kind of like fresh air lmao. So I’m just writing to relief some stress as I graduate in less then a week 🥳 I just didn’t expect so many people to also want to read this.

Though, I would like to say if you like the idea of Steve disappearing and coming back out of nowhere I do have another fic called Bark at the moon! (Sorry self plug) it’s on a pined post on my account and the link leads you to ao3! (It’s werewolf steve fic and he does disapear😉) ok self plug over. Thank you guys for showing so much interest! It means the world to me!

Tag list; I tagged everyone who seemed interested! Let me know If you want to be added :)

@totallynotagoraphobic @flustratedcas @shunna @spookednsaucy @steddie-as-they-go @estrellami-1 @xxbottlecapx @gregre369 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thing-a-ling @radioactiveartz @bestwifehaver @idkwwhatimmdoiing @goodolefashionedloverboi @bringmethelow @thescribblerdragon @starman-jpg @lilaclilyroses @resident-gay-bitch @wolfscreations @adhdsummer @victor-thee-corvid @happymediummm @decadentworld @sidebarre @foundintheshallows @jamieweasley13 @yellowdevilkitten @catlovesfandoms @gryffindorsareidiots @thephantomhood

[neboskhyl]

INKTOBER

Day 13: Horizon. Borodianka.

Day 14: Roam.

[smytherines]

I had a lot of fun writing this one. I think reintegrated Tatiana Slozhno sort of necessitates a different style of writing than what I usually do, so I got to be very spontaneous and informal with it and just get out of my own way for once, and I'm really happy with the result

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She blinks. She doesn't know. She blinks again. Shouldn't she know? The voice on the intercom is cheery, and the room she's in is clean and well-appointed, and shouldn't she know the color of her mother's eyes?

Panic curls in her stomach and dread creeps up her spine as she realizes she cannot remember. She can't remember her name. She can't remember picking out the blouse and skirt and heels she is wearing. She can't remember how she got here, or where here is, or what here is. 

The voice on the intercom says something, but she can't hear it. She launches herself at the door again, banging at it until her fists are sore. Screaming. Begging to be let out. Threatening and cajoling, kicking until the toes of her dark blue pumps are scuffed and deformed.

The voice on the intercom speaks again, but all she can think about is leaving. She steps out of one mangled shoe, holding it in her hand like a weapon, ready to strike the moment the door--

"Jesus, what the fuck?" It's Curt. His voice is high and loud and alarmed. Curt is here in front of her. In his house, his hands held up in front of his face like he's about to be--

Tatiana notices the boot in her hand, inches away from smashing into him. But that can't be right. She was just... 

Shit. Reghabi told her to stay put, but she had to see him. Curt. Her friend, Curt M. 

Mega. His name is Curt Mega. 

And he's staring at her, equal parts confused and irritated, because while she knows him, he does not know her. For part of her, he's the only friend she has. For part of her, he's a stranger. For this version of him, she's nothing but the lunatic who accosted him at the automat.

Her head hurts.

She slowly lowers the boot until she ends up dropping it onto the floor. Curt relaxes, sort of. He runs his hands through his hair. He checks it a lot, or at least the other one did. 

But it is him. Not the same him, but it looks like him, and talks like him, and has the same red-rimmed eyes as him. So it must be him. And if it's him, she can trust him. If it's him, she'll be safe. 

Tatiana follows him down the stairs, into the basement, watches as he takes the cover off of a large brown couch and hands her a sleeping bag. And the whole time she can still hear it in her head.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She doesn't know.

"Well-- uhhh--," One of his hands rubs anxiously at the other, "you can sleep down here tonight. And tomorrow we can..." He nods, but doesn't finish.

The basement is sparse, just the couch and a few boxes piled up, but it's warm. And she is so tired. 

There's a cigarette case-- silver filigree-- and a matching lighter on the little makeshift table near the couch. She reaches for it on impulse, because who wouldn't want a cigarette after the night she's had? Curt snatches it off the table, clutching it to his chest. 

"I wouldn't have taken you for a smoker," she manages. She can spot nicotine stains better than most. She was trained to be observant. 

"I'm not." His face twists uncomfortably. "It's... someone I knew."

Curt opens the case reflexively, clearly familiar with it. He examines the contents carefully. And finally, reluctantly, he hands her a cigarette and lights it for her. The case and the lighter go into his pocket. 

"I always wondered why you were so sad." She takes a drag. The tobacco is old and stale, and it stings her lungs. 

"What do you mean?" Curt asks, his voice oddly low and rumbling, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs the same way her friend does. Restlessness spilling out of him like a pot boiling over.

"Down there." She takes another drag, the pain in her head overwhelmed by lightheadedness and nausea. "Sometimes when you came in, your eyes--"

She ashes her cigarette.

"You're even sadder here." Tatiana finishes quietly. 

He looks away like he knows.

Tatiana wonders if that is the kind of thing you're only supposed to say to a friend. It's been so long, she must've forgotten the rules.

Curt clears his throat. He won't meet her eyes now.

"Okay, well... if you need anything I'll be upstairs."

Upstairs with the empty liquor bottles. Upstairs with the reason why Curt M. always smells of alcohol, why he shakes and sweats at the end of the day. Upstairs with whatever thing is haunting him. She knows the feeling well.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She still can't remember. She isn't sure if she ever knew. How old do you have to be to remember a detail like that? 

If she thinks carefully, she can remember golden red hair shining in the sun, a faint melody ringing in her ears, deft fingers braiding her hair.

She can remember the state facility, with its grey walls and the stench of antiseptic. The way light twisted and warped the dark hallways. 

She can remember the sweater with her initials hand-stitched into the collar, burned in front of her for failing an objective.

She can remember the people she has killed and the ways that she killed them. 

She can remember taking a job with Chimera to protect a family which exists only vaguely in the corners of her memory.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

But not that.

Curt is fiddling with the boxes, like he wants to leave but doesn't know how.

Tatiana takes a final inhale, stubbing the cigarette to save the other half for morning. She crawls into the sleeping bag, pulling it up over half her face. She wants to disappear in it. She wants to go back. 

She hears Curt moving something as her eyes drift closed.

When she opens her eyes it is pitch black. 

She struggles out of the blankets, wearing her older brother's boots with newspaper stuffed inside them, and even in her coat and her boots she is the coldest she has ever been. 

She can just barely make out the shape of the room now. She creeps along, hands held out in front of her, needing to find her way out. 

She steps into the doorway and she can see a faint light. One of the kitchen chairs her grandfather made is in the fireplace turning to ash. She moves toward it in a trance. It looks warm.

"Tanechka, you should be in bed." Her mother's golden red hair takes on the glow from the fire as she approaches.

She kneels down in front of Tatiana, and sweeps her hair back, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

What is or was the color of your mother's eyes?

She watches as Curt's shadow disappears up the steps, and she whispers.

"Blue."

[shattered-pieces]

“You have a choice - either sew for camp and sew mittens, or a real man’s job” On a date with his wife, Artyom Kamardin said that in the Moscow pre-trial detention center-2 there is an active recruitment of persons under investigation and convicts from the Ministry of Defense. Three employees came to his cell to persuade him to sign a contract - the conversation lasted half an hour: Even if you got here by accident, do not think that lawyers will be able to get you out. You have a choice - either sew for camp and sew mittens, or a real man's job. When there is mobilization, you will all be taken and you will die there, now there is at least a chance to get into a well-coordinated team, and on favorable terms, 150 thousand Moscow additional payment. In our detachment, only four died. All the prisoners in his cell refused this.

https://t.me/mayakovskoe_delo/853

[mus1g4]

Russian Convicts wearing winter issued prison uniforms

[andarthas-web]

Unexpected consequences of John Wick fanfic

A short while ago, my family and I went to the local thermal baths for a day of rest and relaxation. There was a group of bulky, tough looking guys there, with tattoos. Now, seeing people with tattoos at the thermal baths or at the swimming pool is fairly normal around here, this isn't Japan after all, so nobody blinked an eye, but I'm pretty sure that most people didn't realize that these guys were sporting Russian Mafia tattoos....and given that having those if you haven't earned them can get you in big trouble, I'm fairly certain they were genuine. So yeah, there's at least one moderately high-ranking Russian Mobster (recognizable by the stars on each shoulder) who likes visiting the local thermal baths together with some of his crew. And he'll never know that I knew because of very smutty John Wick fanfic. XD XD XD

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