#evening Vladivostok

[du-sailarar-nerilia]

Probably a hot take but Paolini kinda effed up with that world map

Aside from people from Surda and Hadarac, most people of Alagaësia are basically Knockoff Europeans and many are described as pale-skinned. And as we know, pale skin is something that evolved under pressure of cold European climate. And Alagaësia very much does have that cold, sort of European climate around the Palancar Valley and along The Spine.

But the problem is that humans aren't native to Alagaësia! So where do they come from!

What the hell!

-Mist

[sgiandubh]

Hi!

Fitness Anon here....

Living in Europe and being a frequent concertgoer together with my husband and friends (mostly couples) in large stadiums, I have repeatedly observed the behaviour of S and C during the TS concert both with my husband and myself and other couples. What could be seen in the last video shared by sdreamersc82 (🙏🏻) of S and C (swaying, cuddling, C snuggled up to his chest) is precisely what hundreds of couples do here in concert venues quite often.

This isn't how brothers and sisters or co-stars behave towards each other.

To me, this is almost more meaningful than the video with the kisses and hugs. This is a truly intimate gesture that only happens between SO.

Dear (returning) Fitness Anon,

You'd have to be blind not to get the message:

[ Gracias a ti, @malu1997, por aclarar las cosas 🤣😘: https://www.tumblr.com/malu1997/753285666589310976/sdreamersc82-thank-you?source=share/ Thank you, @malu1997, for literally bringing more CLARITY in here]

If I would do that, at a concert, with a 'friend' (gay, bi, straight or even Klingon), I can assure you'd hear THE ROAR from Madrid to Vladivostok.

Someone's roar. Rolled in a cape, carefully hiding a dagger.

Yeah, my lovelies. This time, They forgot to BOLT THE DOOR and it feels great. Also, the fact that it's all about C going amorous on S annoys and scares the hell out of some.

[zvaigzdelasas]

When I was 16, I attended the Laureate International School in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, where I followed the British curriculum.

I played sports, and my coach used to organize trips to North Korea.

I was 16 the first time I went in 2015, and 17 the second time I went in 2016.

The camp was very accommodating. All the time, we just felt special.

They were always on our case: "Do you guys need this? Do you guys need that?"

Also, as Africans, we usually tend to have very different traditions and cultural choices.

But out of all the countries that I've been to, North Korea is one of the few that actually has a linkage to our culture.

I remember we spent two days in Pyongyang and went to the war museum and found out that our first president, Julius Nyerere, was actually friends with their first president.[...]

It was interesting to go there and hear about my country from their perspective because our ways of life were so different.

For example, North Korean kids didn't have phones, and even we were not allowed to use phones in the camp.

There was no internet network, but they had service, so we could call through landlines. It was like taking a network break.

When we came out of the camp for visits in Pyongyang, North Korean civilians came and talked to us.

That reminded me of home. If you come to Tanzania, people are going to come and talk to you. They're going to want to get to know you.[...]

My favorite memory was performing in front of a thousand people. Both times I went to the camp, I had to represent my country as a singer.

Tanzanians complained a lot about not having internet on camp.

But that was just perfect for me because sometimes I try to look for the perfect hideout and don't find it.

The scenery was beautiful, lively, and natural.

I also really made long-term friends from the camp, especially with Russian kids.

I'm still in touch with them today. I wouldn't have met them here. Most of them are from Moscow, Nakhodka and Vladivostok.

The only thing close to propaganda that I saw was that when we were at the airport, a friend of mine had some sort of film about the US president and the North Korean president on his laptop.

When we were passing through the last checkup at the airport, authorities somehow saw the clip and had him delete it.

But I didn't feel scared anywhere in the country.

27 Jul 24

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 5 - healing salve

Warnings: guns/talk of compromised food

Word Count: 1.8k (gif not mine)

Summary: Some reprieve is granted, but it’s not without cost.

<3

.

Thompson stares at Clint, then at Natasha.

“Fine,” he agrees.

“Fine. But given the events of the last couple of weeks, you can only use it before 7am or after 8pm. If you stray out of this, if you create trouble; whether it’s your fault or not, then the privilege is revoked. I’m allowing this because the intel you gave about Vladivostok has been valuable and saved two agents from certain death. So if you fuck up, that’s on you. You have to then earn the rights again. Do you understand me?”

Natasha looks straight past him, but Clint smiles easily, and thanks his superior.

“Clint. Stay.”

Natasha takes two steps out the door, standing at attention waiting for Clint to follow.

Met by Agent Coulson, she stands a little straighter and watches the man approach.

“Romanoff,” he greets mildly.

“How are you?”

She doesn’t want to be rude, but she also doesn’t want to say anything. The self imposed silence since the attack had been one way of keeping her anger close by, and her thoughts to herself.

Though mandated to talk in therapy, she tried to be cautious with her words, considering them before speaking and focusing on the questions in front of her. It was the same for the continued debrief.

They still only touched on the make up of the Red Room and the KGB, even the FSB and not delved too much into her own history, though she felt it was coming.

Too much did not make sense without the context behind it, Odessa and Chechnya loomed ahead and she knew that if she were to talk about them, it would take days to explain the compounds and layouts and what they actually held.

She nods in acknowledgment and he takes it as permission to step forward and engage her in conversation.

“Did Thompson allow the request to go through?” he asks as though he didn’t already know the answer.

Natasha nods again, waiting for another inane comment or question that he already knew the answer to.

Instead, he starts to talk about the weather and the variability of the day. He describes how one of the shooting ranges was on the roof, the other; for sniper shooting, stood just outside so the targets could be far enough for ranged shooting.

He talked about how the latter is Clint’s favourite and how he likes to show off with arrows.

“He’s going to want to make you shoot arrows with him,” he warns with a wry smile.

“I think it’s a right of passage for anyone who is his partner.”

Natasha frowns and looks at him, the conversation not requiring much; if anything, from her but instead gives her company whilst waiting.

She doesn’t know if he’s smart or an idiot in telling her things, whether it’s a trap, or if telling her that Clint is going to be her partner that she’s passed some kid of test.

What she wants to ask is what’s going to happen next. The days feel sisyphean, monotonous of late.

She continues to be debriefed and reliving moments of her life that she doesn’t want to, the process leaving her numbed out and hollow.

Life doesn’t seem like anything but a chore, but still she persists.

She made a choice and if anything she feels like she wants to see how it plays out.

“Have you ever shot an arrow before?”

Even as Natasha considers an answer, Clint opens the door and smiles to find Coulson standing with Natasha.

He greets him with a smile, a rare one that doesn’t feel faked.

Natasha feels she has come to tell the difference in the months she’s been with him.

Coulson turns his attention to Clint, asking him a couple of questions about Thompson’s debrief before turning back to Natasha.

“I’d take the sniper range if I was you. But your choice.”

Clint looks between the two in a question but neither Coulson nor Natasha elaborate.

There’s a beat of a moment before Coulson bids them good bye, knocks on the door and with a shout of admittance, and heads into Thompson’s office.

.

The rest of the day passes without incident.

Natasha is deposited back into her glass cell and she can’t help but feel caged.

Pacing like an animal, she tries to dissipate the feelings that lays below her skin, and recites numbers in English, then French, and as she hits her hundredth lap and pauses. She wishes there was a window or at the very least a clock in the room.

With no way to tell the time, except by way of food delivery, Natasha feels the heaviness of apathy as she begins her count again.

.

Clint finishes his paperwork, wanting to get to the shooting range. Glancing at the time that reads just past 7, he thinks that Natasha should have finished her dinner and likely is waiting for him.

It prompts him to stretch and stand, and go and find food for himself.

He finds the cafeteria mostly empty as he buys a chicken curry and rice, wondering if he’ll be able to handle the spice.

He thinks on Thompson’s words as he wishes he’d grabbed a drink as well, his mouth smarting in the spice.

He’d been asked who would support and take Natasha to and from therapy and debrief whilst he was gone.

Truth be told, he’s slightly excited about getting out.

The monotony had been feeling oppressive.

There was a toss up between Coulson and Maria, but the decision that Coulson needed to go with him to England rather than Maria had sealed the deal.

He hadn’t told Natasha, as he wanted her to know that he wasn’t abandoning her.

He felt guilty but knew that this mission had to be him.

His contact in Manchester was getting cold feet, and just needed some reassurance to continue to feed Shield information on Hydra.

As it stood, he’d been quiet reliable so Clint was unsure what had gone wrong.

He’d wanted to at least get to the shooting range once with Natasha, it felt mean to have be able to go and not do it, now that it had been approved.

He was unsure just how involved Maria wanted to be, given her apparent indifference to Natasha and if it was just escorting her to therapy and debrief and sitting through the debrief as Clint had done then he probably needed to give her a heads up on that.

He finishes his meal, throws out the packaging and starts on his way to the cells.

“Clint! Wait!”

Sharon jogs to catch up to him and he smiles to greet her.

“Are you still on guard jury?” Clint enquires, realising he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days.

Sharon nods.

“I just wanted to tell you that there’s been a couple of people trying to come to see her,” she tells him.

“I think it was Thompson’s order that it was only you, but they’ve been trying. I don’t let them, but the other guards, I don’t know.”

She looks down.

“I just wanted to let you know.”

Clint nods, anger building.

“Who?” he asks softly.

She looks uncomfortable.

“I.. Uh. I’m new. I just wanted to tell you that she might not be safe.”

Clint understands the underlying meaning to her words.

“When was your last shift?”

“Tuesday,” she pauses, “around 7pm.”

“Thanks,” Clint tells her, “I really appreciate it.”

Sharon makes to move away.

“Is it true what they say about her?”

Clint knows he’s missed the Shield gossip line.

“What’s that?”

“That she’s going to kill us the first chance she gets and take shield apart from the inside out?”

Clint shakes his head.

“No. She couldn’t. Even if she wanted to.”

He tries to be reassuring.

“She agreed to come, help and defect, she wouldn’t go through all of this just to take us all out. They’re just scared.”

Sharon lowers her eyes and stares at her hands.

“I know, when I take her food, she always says thank you when she sees me. They were putting things in it, I noticed when you changed it around, that they tried to change it back. When I asked them why they wanted me to take particular foods they just smiled. So I ate some, and it was foul. I think they’d been putting ground up bones or something equally as hard in any of the food and in the tea, they’d put another liquid that made it taste off. I don’t know Clint, I’m new, but I feel like they should have more integrity than that?”

Clint’s blood boils.

“How often are you on guard duty?” he asks, wondering just how safe she is.

He thought she just hadn’t been eating because the food was different, or the events of the day had been too much and not left much of an appetite.

But to hear that people had been messing with her, with her food and now wanting access, he can’t help but wonder just what else was going on.

If he was going to be away for the next week, he couldn’t imagine just what might happen to her without his protection.

“Every Monday to Wednesday,” she replies, almost as if it’s a question.

Clint leads her to Coulson office, and knocks twice, hoping that he’s still there and not gone home.

Predictably, the door opens, and Coulson seems unsurprised to see Clint standing with Sharon.

“Can we come in?”

Coulson steps aside and Sharon balks at the door.

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” she hesitates.

Clint smiles, in what he hopes is a practiced, reassuring smile.

“No trouble, we just need a little more information and maybe your help, if you’re willing.”

Coulson looks confused and Clint shuts the door behind them.

.

Natasha curls into herself on the bed.

The thin anti suffocation sheets were not warm and the temperature of whole room was at the mercy to outsiders.

She was either too hot or too cold, but at least, she thought that she had clothes to keep her warm.

She had thought Clint would come, given the permission of being able to go to the shooting range. But he hadn’t.

Natasha hates herself for being disappointed.

She had come to trust his words, and she had thought that he was excited, given Coulson’s chat and Clint’s grin when it had been approved, but he hadn’t come.

No one had.

Hours she had been left alone and she was beginning to think she should start her bedtime routine.

Sighing softly to herself, she stretches her body and heads towards the tiny shower room, feeling sorry for herself.

.

Clint waits, wondering just how long she’d take in the bathroom, feeling quite creepy as he standing just outside the glass.

He was late, the time almost midnight, but wanting to be true to his word when he said he would come back.

If she is surprised when she exits, she doesn’t show it.

He starts with an apology and tries to explain.

“Your time here, over the past couple of months hasn’t been great, has it?”

Natasha doesn’t say anything.

He didn’t expect her to.

“Do you want to shoot some guns? We can only go to the one on the roof but there’s no one there and maybe it’ll help.”

He thinks he sees her smile.

She holds out her hands for the handcuffs and the door opens with Clint’s keycard.

“Hopefully we won’t have to do the whole handcuff thing too much longer,” he tells her, the click of them closing audible.

“I don’t mind,” she replies softly.

The walk to the roof is slow, and Clint seems to be deep in thought as he leads the way.

The gun range isn’t what she thought.

Enclosed, likely sound proofed, the room was black, lanes to shoot in there’s guns, to her left, in a cage.

“What do you want to shoot with?”

The question feels innocuous but Natasha feels that she can tell a lot from people in the gun they have.

Dreykov’s chosen firearm was a Makerov PM.

She hated that gun. He would shoot it and then make them smell the residue.

Clint picks the beretta 92fs.

“Here.”

She takes it, feeling the weight of the weapon and feeling more at ease that she had over the last months.

She disassembles it with ease, looking over the components and then reassembles it.

The monotony of it like a healing salve at having a means of protection and being able to do something that isn’t talking.

He hands her the clip and she inserts it in.

Clint takes his own gun and leads the way.

Earmuffs on, Clint shoots the first shot, allowing Natasha’s focuses her breathing, counting a breath in and out before she shoots.

The first shot goes wide.

Anger curls within her.

Grasping it with two hands, she presses the trigger again.

It hits centre.

The third and forth follow.

The next shots punch through and she feels at ease.

Glancing sideways to Clint he signals to ask if she’s finished.

They spend the next hour just shooting.

Clint doesn’t stop her.

For Natasha it’s the most cathartic thing she’s done and the most at peace she’s been in such a long time; and even though the night is late, he just lets her continue.

For once, her brain quietens.

She thinks that maybe she’ll even sleep.

As she expends the last clip, she knows they need to stop.

She joins him on the bench.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely.

Clint reaches across and squeezes her hand, letting go as quickly as he touches.

“I have to go to England tomorrow,” he tells her.

The world tips.

There is no good without the bad, she thinks idly. She should have known this was coming.

“Maria will be here and make sure that you’re okay.”

“I’ll be gone for about a week.”

The words seem to overshadow the last hour and a half and Natasha’s anxiety peaks.

She nods, unsure what to say; her mind reeling with the repercussions of not having him there.

“Can we go back now?” she decides on.

The walk back is slow.

She finds Sharon sitting guard, and then another at the next post.

In her mind she wonders how to protect herself.

They approach her cell and she turns on him.

“Can I keep these?” she asks, holding up the handcuffs.

Clint frowns.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid? That you won’t jeopardize the work we’ve done here? All the things you’ve done and put in motion already?”

Natasha doesn’t meet his eyes as he removes the cuffs but giving them to her anyway.

On a whim, she holds onto his hand, squeezing it.

“Thanks for trying,” she whispers, so softly he could have imagined it.

She pulls back before he can react and takes three steps back, just as she always does.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he promises.

She turns away from him and he does the same, unsure what’s left.

It’s only when he returns to his car, that he realises she’s stolen his watch.

.

[glossysoap]

pssst im dropping this and then running-

rtc!ghoap finding reader after they “deactivated” hydra’s control to their darling. and someone interferes with their secure comm link on a mission and they have to watch in rapt horror as reader becomes a winter solider once again. rtc!ghoap unable to help them through the mental breaking down.

n e wayssss hi glossyyy how’re you doing💕

DIVINE <33

oh???? OH????????? MY GOD

OK I PROMISE I PROMISEEEE that i’ll be doing a whole ass drabble for this and OF COURSE adding it into the fic so for right now take these ramblings <3

referring to y/n as “you” for my own convenience lol also if you want an expanded scene from any part of this just let me know! wink that smut mention wink

reactivation

tags: mentions of torture, brainwashing, etc. tease at smut. ghoap being protective. also i’m so so sorry for taking so long with content hskajdks there’s just been so much going on and i’ve been having a hard time coping with it but i hope this kind of makes up for my absence? idk :)

masterlist

word count: 1k+

🏷️: @viylikescats @warenai @briacreations96 @fullmoon-94 @breadboyye @kiroshang @zvdvdlvr @lunitalloronaa @itzzjxlyn @lonely-ofc @m0rganit3 @badbishsblog @wolfyland07 @angelsdemonsmonsters @unkn0wnd3ad @itstokyo-cos @c1rice @venusianlustt @bugonawall @wakusbonkus @shadowycreatormentality @blackrose4242 @blackgaladriel @lilpothoscuttings @thvxr @tapioca-marzipan @jinxxangel13 @luvmeijii @atjamesbbarnes @h-leigh @writingmybeloved @chloeforde @divine--serenity @hunterbunter3000 @zittles3000 @thriving-n-jiving @mar-mar-mel @namgification @ivymarquis @crazy-phan-girl13 @goodsoup03 @schaarfyx @rhyanna6012 @abbiesxox @kenz-ee @whateverwhocares6 @sae1kie @thychuvaluswife @elichisstuff @grippingbeskar (more tags in rb)

It all started, your behavior started changing, when the mission was announced in the conference room. The Task Force was gathered in that room to brief on the intel and targets that needed to be taken out. You were the first of the force to take a seat at the table, leaving plenty of other seats available for everyone else. But of course, Ghost and Soap sat with you. Ghost on your left side, Soap on your right. Even though, after everyone was seated, there were four empty seats. But they always followed you, gravitated to you.

Ghost and Soap’s hands itched to touch you as the meeting began. They wanted to hold your hands, caress your clothed thigh. anything.

Meanwhile, when Ghost and Soap were glancing at you, their eyes burning into your face — you were analyzing the situation. Starting with Price. Every furrow of his brows, every clench of his jaw and intonation to his voice. You noticed how Price paused before reading the file aloud. Most of all, you noticed how Price heaved a shaky sigh, blue eyes darting to you before scanning the documents. Your brow would furrow, he almost seemed nervous about this mission — especially because you were involved in it.

Only a moment later, you would find out why Price was nervous about the mission and you joining it. “This mission is taking place in Russia. Vladivostok, to be exact.” Which is the city HYDRA took you to.

And they all knew it. you could feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially the ones on your left and right. But you paid them no mind. You simply took the files from Price’s outstretched hand and began reading it.

You weren’t fragile. You weren’t defenseless. You were a fucking war machine. You weren’t just going to tuck tail and run at the mention of the Russian city you were held prisoner in.

So while you held firm and unshaken, Ghost and Soap were reeling. They couldn’t even focus on anything else during that meeting. Every detail, every single word that came from price’s mouth went in one ear and out the other. All they could think about was that you would be going back to that same city you were held captive in. You would be going right back to the lions den.

They were so scared that somehow you would get taken again. Somehow, you would get hurt again. You would get snatched right out of their lives again.

You’re not nervous as much as you are shutting yourself down. Reverting back to that mindset you were in for two years, the mindset where your survival is what matters most. Acting like a caged animal — only speaking when spoken to, following orders like a robot, not an ounce of humor. Never any reaction to Soap’s jokes or Gaz’s quips. Always brushing off Ghost’s calls for concern.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Soap would be dejected when he noticed you closing yourself off from the team, building those walls back up again. He would find himself reaching for you only to see that you were out of his reach — literally and figuratively. He just wanted to pull you into his warm arms and hold you tight, until your walls crumbled around you and you relented into his hold. He wanted to cup your face in his gentle hands and pull you into a kiss, pouring every ounce of desperation and passion into it.

Ghost could tell you were isolating yourself from everyone — and he would want to put a stop to that, immediately. Him and Soap had made so much progress with you. They had broken down your walls and convinced you to let them in. Ghost could just see you building those walls up again, brick by brick. He wanted to just drag you to their shared room and pull you out of that headspace. He wanted to grip your jaw and force you to look at him, really look at him, instead of avoiding eye contact or using those blank stares. He wanted to smash his lips to yours and swallow any of your worries. He wanted to feel you melt in his arms while he slotted his mouth against yours, holding your face in his hands — just like he would before you were captured, cupping your face and checking that you were unharmed. He wanted to be your shelter from the storm outside. Especially because he couldn’t stop you from being taken in the first place.

He wanted to storm into Price’s office and demand for you to be taken off the roster for this mission. He wants to keep you here, unharmed and out of HYDRAs clutches.

He wanted to finish that damned mission, get in and get out. He wanted to kill any Russian soldier that entered his sights, almost as if that would ever avenge everything that happened to you.

He wanted to come back to you after the mission, storming back to your room with Soap in tow. Both still wearing their gear, all sweaty and bloodied, not even bothering to shower yet. They would slam your door shut behind them and lock it, before grabbing your face in his hands and crashing his lips to yours. Whoever wasn’t kissing you breathless would be flush against your back, his chest pressed up against you. He would be leaving wet kisses down the span of your neck, his hands grazing up and down your chest and stomach.

They wanted to worship you. They wanted to force you into giving a shit about yourself, and your happiness. Your safety.

Whether that would come in the shape of them marking you on every inch of your body, leaving love bites on your most sensitive areas, or pulling orgasm after orgasm from you, making you cry in pleasure and overstimulation — they would happily do either if it meant you would stay with them. If it meant you would stay unharmed.

They wanted to just pull you in their arms and keep you away from the horrors of the world that you had already experienced.

But they knew they couldn’t do that. They couldn’t just derail the whole mission because of their feelings.

The weight of the mission caught up with them, and before they knew it, the task force were in the plane on the way to Vladivostok.

You stepped onto the plane and looked for a seat. You saw that Ghost and Soap were on one side of the plane, strapped in with their duffel bags by their feet. Their eyes darted to you, and as much as you loved them, you were in no mood or headspace to talk. Especially when you knew that they would talk your ears off about their worries with HYDRA. They would fill your own head with their worries about your safety. You just wanted to spend the flight in casual silence, unburdened by their nerves and worries.

Your wishes were answered by Gaz waving you over to where he sat on the opposite side of the plane. “Oi, y/n! Wanna go over our plans one more time?”

You would head over to gaz with your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, before sitting down next to him and setting your bag down on the seat next to you.

Gaz pulled out his tablet so it would look like you two were going over mission plans, but then he leaned in to whisper to you.

“I figured you wouldn’t wanna be stuck next to them for the whole flight, with how tense they are.” He gave you a knowing nudge. He was always perceptive. He could easily tell that you were in no position to dwell on the anxieties and problems that will arise when you touch down in russia.

“You’re a life saver, Garrick.” You grinned.

About ten hours later, the plane touched down in Vladivostok.

Everyone got up from their seats and picked up their duffel bags, slinging them over their shoulders.

Everyone filed out of the plane, with you behind Price and Gaz, and Ghost and Soap behind you.

The moment you stepped off that plane, you felt a chill run down your spine. You could tell yourself that it was from the chilly weather and the snow crunching at your feet, but you knew that it was your bodies natural reaction to returning to where your trauma took place. You didn’t let it show, though. You just kept following Price.

Meanwhile, while you were holding your head up high and appearing utterly unfazed, Ghost and Soap had their eyes on you the entire time. Watching for any signs of your walls crumbling down. Any bricks falling, any cracks in the foundation of the barrier you had built back up.

They watched for any falter, any wince or tremor. Any sign of your nerves or terror or anxiety. They looked at your hands, to see if you were clenching your fists or picking at the skin around your nails. They looked at your chest, to see if your breath was picking up with panic. Finally, they looked at your face, to see if your eyes were widened or if your lips were trembling. They were practically at your heels in case you needed help from them. In case you had an anxiety attack, they would be right there for you - ready to hold your face in their hands and stare into your eyes and reassure you that you would be alright and nothing would happen to you. If you fainted from pure panic, they would be right there to catch you before you hit the snow.

But there was nothing. No sign of panic or nerves, no terror or anxiety. You looked just fine. Perfectly prepared to execute this mission to the fullest of your ability.

On the inside, your senses went in overdrive. You could hear every crunch of the snow beneath the boys’ boots. Every huff and grunt as they hiked through the cold terrain. Every click as they loaded their guns and checked the ammunition. You could hear so much. Too much. Most of all, you could hear your heart pound in your ears, so so loudly. Just as it did every single day in that bunker in Russia.

Your mind and body were running on pure instinct. It was running on every skill and lesson that HYDRA had taught you — had forced into you. Fight. Kill. Eliminate.

Your brain was filled with different methods of execution. You imagined curbstomping a Russian soldier’s brains in, their blood and brain matter covering your combat boot. You imagined jumping down from a roof, landing on a Russian soldiers shoulders before snapping his neck, a loud crack hitting your ears. You imagined catching a Russian soldier’s neck in your metal grip, watching the color drain from his face as you squeezed and squeezed. You imagined every single possible way to take an opponents life.

It made you feel in control. It even calmed you.

Soon, the Task Force arrived to the first intel point - a warehouse. You and Gaz were leading the way into the warehouse, starting out on the roof. Price, Ghost and Soap would be on standby, hiding next to a few abandoned cars.

Gaz would use his tablet to get the heat signature of anyone inside, revealing it to be full of Russian soldiers. You would be the first to drop into the building because of your advanced skill and your fluency in the Russian language.

You identified a hatch on the roof that you could use to drop in, before reaching for your radio to update Price, Ghost and Soap.

“Found a hatch on the roof, I’m going inside.” You reported, not waiting for a response as you swung inside and grabbed one of the pipes running along the ceiling.

On the other side of the comms, Ghost pressed on his radio to respond. But his voice never went through.

So instead of the British voice belonging to Ghost, you heard an accent that made your blood run cold. The accent that flooded your headphones was Russian.

You tightened your grip on the pipe to prevent yourself from falling to the floor in shock.

You used your other hand to try shutting off your comms but that voice began talking before you could succeed.

On the other side of the comms were Price, Ghost and Soap. Still hiding behind those abandoned cars as they scrambled to turn off their comms, in hopes to stop the hijacker in their tracks. But no matter how many times they shut the comms off, that Russian voice just kept speaking.

The Russian voice in your ears droned on, barking out the very words that had controlled you for your entire captivity.

“Желание.” Longing. “Ржавый.” Rusted.

As each word hit your ears, your grip on the pipe faltered until finally you let go. You fell from the ceiling and landed on your feet, your boots hitting the floor with a thud.

“Печь.” Furnace. “Рассвет.” Daybreak.

You were met by multiple Russian soldiers surrounding you, all with their guns drawn and ready to attack.

One soldier caught your eye, though. He had his gun drawn just like the rest of them, but he wasn’t wearing a Russian ensemble. No red beret or flag representing Russia. He was so familiar that it almost made you wince. It almost reduced you down to that wide eyed, trembling state you were in when hydra captured you.

His hair was black and styled into a point and his jaw was clenched. His eyes were dark, rid of any emotion besides anger and sick satisfaction. His voice was gruff and gravelly, with an accent that lived in the deepest recesses of your brain ever since you escaped hydra.

Suddenly, you remembered him. You remember him storming into your HYDRA cell every day. You remember him sending shocks throughout your body, with a single press of a button on that damn remote.

That man who was right in front of you, speaking into your headset, was your handler. Brock Rumlow.

His hand was on his ear piece as he spoke into his mic. You watched as the words he spoke melded perfectly with the words being fed through your comms.

“Семнадцать.” Seventeen. “Доброкачественный.” Benign.

By now, Gaz had met with the rest of the task force at those abandoned cars. They were all watching his tablet that was connected to that warehouse’s security footage — where they had a perfect view of you being surrounded by Russian soldiers.

They all watched you wince with every word, as if struck by electricity. All of those signs of panic that they were looking for previously? They were showing clear as day right now. Your chest was heaving and your jaw was clenched, lips pulling back in a snarl as you fought tooth and nail to resist giving in.

They all watched with bated breath as the HYDRA soldier barked out your trigger words. Your metal hand kept clenching and unclenching, the metal ridges rippling.

“Stop.” You growled, voice filled simultaneously with anger and desperation. Desperation not to be dragged back to that bunker, back to HYDRAs clutches. Desperation to stay with your Task Force, with your boys, so you could have one last chance to let them in. To stop taking them for granted because you were too scared.

But he didn’t stop. Your eyes watered as he kept talking, kept feeding you those trigger words. You could feel your brain ache and throb with every word, as if it knew it was going to be reprogrammed again. As if it knew it was going to be hooked up to that machine and electrocuted again.

“Девяdть.” Nine.

Ghost and Soap were panicking. You were getting reactivated right in front of their eyes. Soon you would be stuck back in that emotionless state, doomed to only care about the mission. They would lose you again. For what felt like the millionth time.

They also felt frozen. They knew that they could just dart forward and rip the comms headphone from your ears and stomp on the device, rendering those words pointless. But they just couldn’t move. Their feet felt glued to the wood beneath them, legs feeling heavy as if filled with lead. They couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked Soap’s eyes, red rimming the whites of his eyes as he could only watch you being violated. As your mind was being hijacked, just like those damn comms.

Ghost was angry. Angry that those Russians could still effect you even after all this time. He was angry that those comms got hacked, and he blamed himself so bad. Those were his comms. You were reaching out to him. And he failed you. Even if he didn’t mean to, he still did it.

Their throats tightened and their hearts sunk as they saw tears track down your cheeks. Soap’s lips trembled when you sniffled. Ghost’s fists balled when you sobbed.

They felt like they were watching the footage of your capture all over again. They had to watch you cry and experience searing pain, just like they had to watch that two years ago. Your mind was being torn apart and rewired with every word Rumlow spoke, each word bringing you closer to that brainwashed state.

Wasting no more time, the Task Force left their post at the abandoned cars and broke into a sprint towards the warehouse. They needed to be ready to take down the Russians and get you back with them, no matter what state you were in.

“Возвращение на родину.” Homecoming.

Their backs were flush against the wooden door of the warehouse as Rumlow continued talking.

Ghost’s hand darted out as if it had a mind of it’s own, grabbing Price’s radio. “Y/N! Listen to me! You can fight this!” Ghost, no — Simon, shouted into the radio. “That’s right, Y/N! Stay with us, please. Listen to us!” Johnny shouted into it next. Simon watched you on the tablet, pleading for you to listen to him. Desperate for you to let him in, let him be your anchor to sanity. He watched as you gasped from his voice, biting your lip to stop a sob. He knew you could hear him. He knew you were trying.

“Один.” One. There was only one more word after that.

They were running out of time. With the tablet forgotten, Price kicked the door down and they rushed inside with all weapons drawn. Immediately emptying rounds into any Russian soldiers in their path. Only a few moments passed until they saw you, though they felt like minutes with how it stretched on.

You couldn’t even look at them. Your eyes were frozen at Rumlow, all glossed over with tears. You knew what was going to happen. There was no avoiding it. You were going to be treated like some caged animal. Feral.

“Грузовой.” Freight car. Rumlow finished, wearing that same fucking smirk that he always wore.

The second that the last trigger word left the man’s lips, Ghost and Soap’s stomach sank even further. It would only be a matter of a few seconds before you were gone. The you that they knew. You would be loyal to HYDRA once again, your mind would be in their clutches. HYDRA would still be pulling the strings even when you weren’t with them.

Their fears were confirmed when they saw your face change in a split second. Your expression went blank, completely stone faced. Your brows would be relaxed, and no longer furrowed from crying. Your eyes would no longer be glossy with tears, but instead glazed over and unseeing. Just staring out into space. Your lips were no longer trembling, instead they were just pressed together. Not downturned into a frown or upturned into a grin. Just.. nothing.

The boys watched in horror as you were just staring blankly at Rumlow, as if you were waiting orders. Just like you did for over a year.

“с возвращением, солдат.” Welcome back, soldier. Were the last words Rumlow could utter before his brains were splattered against the walls. Skeleton gloved hands lowered their gun as Rumlow’s body collapsed onto the floor.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

[gosiksmallspace]

The Merciless Timeline

@inashoe and I have been talking lately and it got me thinking about The Merciless timeline.

First, we have to remember that the movie has flashbacks to pre-prison (probably 2013-2014) and the main timeline past the prison, which happens in 2016-2017 (I'm leaning more towards 2017).

I assume Hyunsoo was born in 1990. He is a rookie cop, even if he spent some time working for Golden Cranes. I would say he was around 23-24 before being sent to prison. He would be around 27 when he's out.

Jaeho could have been born around 1970, because between Hyunsoo and him is 20 years, more or less. I'm basing it on what he said to Hyunsoo:

"Even the boss I dedicated 20 years to is trying to backstab me with a smile on his face." "I got started here at your age. Do you know how many have betrayed me in those years?"

His parents died when he was 12 (so around 1982?) and he ended up in an orphanage. When he was a teenager, he began selling drugs. According to the priest in prison:

"Han started by dealing meth in his teens".

Then around 1997, he began working for Ko Byungchul. Once again:

"Even the boss I dedicated 20 years to is trying to backstab me with a smile on his face."

That would make him 27 then, so kind of old, but it also makes sense that first Jaeho would have to go to the military and then work with Byunggap on smaller illegal things to prove himself). He moved to Busan with Ko in 2008, at age 38. He could be around 43 when he was sent to prison and then 47 when he was released.

Now, in a police meeting, before Chun send Hyunsoo to prison, it is said that Ko Byungchul aka Chairman Ko is 52, so he was born in 1962, making him 8 years older than Jaeho. He used to provide strippers for a Russian bar in Seoul before he partnered up with Vladivostok's Gegard mob. In 2008 he relocated to Busan and founded Oceane/Oceans Trading, an aquatic importer.

Ko Byunggap is likely to be Jaeho's age (or really, really close) because he calls Jaeho '친구' (chingu). He's also Chairman Ko's nephew, which is interesting because according to my math, Ko Byungchul was 8 when Ko Byunggap was born. Byunggap mentions that it was his uncle who gave him up for an orphanage, which means that Byungchul had to be an adult then. So my lose theory is that Byunggap could be around 15 then when his parents died (that would make Byungchul 23). Byungchul could have given Byunggap up so he wouldn't get in his way.

That means that Byunggap's father was Byungchul's older brother and Ko brothers could have 10-year age difference because Byunggap's dad should have been at least 18 when he had him (I know he could be younger but let's go with the legal age).

What's interesting, although Byungchul calls Byunggap nephew, they both have 'Byung' in their names and that makes me wonder because in Korea children from the same generation and the same family can have a syllable in common. Maybe they are cousins? Because I don't remember Byunggap naming Byunggap's father as his brother. But this is just a small speculation because I don't know if '조카' literally means 'brother's son' or simply 'blood relative'. I will stick to Bynggap's dad being Byungchul's older brother.

The only person whose age we actually know for sure is Hyunsoo's mom, Jung Kyunghee. Because unfortunately it was inscribed on the tree dedicated to her after she died. She was born on 18th August 1962 (so same as Byungchul according to my math). If she gave birth to Hyunsoo in 1990 that means she was 28 then. And she died on 7th May 2014 at the age of 52.

So, summarising my estimated timeline: 1962 - Ko Byungchil and Jung Kyunghee are born. 1970 - Han Jaeho and Ko Byunggap are born. 1982 - Jaeho's parents die. 1982-1987 - Byunggap gets to orphanage. 1990 - Hyunsoo is born. 1997 - Jaeho and Byunggap began working for Ko Byungchul. 2008 - Ko Byungchul moves his business to Busan and takes Byunggap and Jaeho with him. 2013 - Jaeho is sent to prison, Hyunsoo works for the Golden Cranes gang. 2013-2014 - Hyunsoo is sent to prison. 2014 - Hyunsoo's mom is killed. 2017 - Jaeho and Hyunsoo are released and the movie begins.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

If you have different informations or other theories I would love to listen!

[kalys-404]

Atlas "Sentinel" Osmerova backstory and headcanons

So I finally decided to give my OC a background story, which is kinda complicated so I'm just going to put the big lines here. There is also some headcanons on how she interacts with the rest of Shadow Co. and her personal life.

Background:

she was born in Vladivostok and has two older brothers who were already in the military when she was born.

her mother was very absent and uninvolved in her education.

her dad raised her in a military-like style because he didn't want a daughter.

when she was in 5th grade she got into a navy cadet class (cadet classes are a thing that lasts the child's whole education in Russia).

in 8th grade she was noticed as an excellent student and offered a transfer to an elite military school in Moscow, which she accepted.

she started coding at 6 and was fascinated by the dark web and more specifically the classified info that can be found there.

at 16 she knocked on the door of the FSB with a file that contained classified info from the Russian government and asked them to hire her because she was bored at school and knew she could do more.

they refused but offered her a position as soon as she graduated.

she was given a cyber-security degree from Moscow State University without ever going to university to make her employment look more legit.

she actually spent a year doing missions with the Spetsnaz as a form of field training. Afterward, most of her duties were centered around the FSB headquarters especially when she started rising in rank.

she got annoyed with the political bullshit and how it limited her range and freedom of action and left at 21yo.

she offered her services as an intelligence contractor on the dark web and met graves when he hired her for a job.

he hired her once, was impressed by her work and how she made sure the whole thing stayed quiet and hired her a second and then third time. Ultimately, he thought it would be a good idea to develop Shadow Co.'s intelligence by creating a designated department and offered her a leading position as it was safer than hiring someone he had never worked with.

Personal life and relationship with the rest of Shadow Company:

she has no contact with her family whatsoever and does not wish to contact them.

she functions solely on RedBull and spite.

she has a schizoid personality disorder and therefore does not have a very close relationship with the rest of shadow co., she is relatively close with 7-11 though and they banter daily.

even though she might seem distant from the rest of the shadows, she still gives off the "no one bullies my siblings but me" vibes and will kill anyone who messes with her guys.

she doesn't do any sex or romantic stuff but is an amazing cuddle buddy if you catch her at the right time and give her enough puppy eyes.

she doesn't really do any combat and people often assume she can't fight at all. Little do they know, she has been able to kill a fully armored soldier with her bare hands since she was 15 and is one of the most dangerous snipers to ever live. The shadows have bets going about her kill count, which only Graves knows.

her lack of empathy due to her mental illness makes her the voice of reason in any and all situations, which can be crucial during missions that take a bad turn.

she knows everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, like a shadow comes up to her like "Hey, have you seen my-" and she immediately goes "In the gymnasium.", or when someone starts telling her an anecdote about someone and she's like "I already knew that" even though said anecdote happened like 30 secs ago and she wasn't even there when it happened. She also knows a lot of stuff that is definitely some of the most classified shit on earth but no one mentions it.

she has 50 backup plans and is creating more by the second.

knows some of the more elaborate torture techniques to ever exist and will not hesitate to use them if need be.

her lack of facial expressions makes it impossible for people to know what she is feeling, even the shadows have a hard time guessing her emotions (if she even feels any).

probably the most blunt and honest person in the company.

she goes by her callsign most of the time and Graves is the only one to call her by her first name when he feels like he has a death wish.

she is fluent in French, Russian, ASL, FSL, Spanish, Japanese, Korean, German, RSL and Mandarin. (and obviously English)

she is semi-verbal and uses sign language when she doesn't feel like talking.

I don't have any other ideas right now but if you'd like to know how she would react to certain situations let me know and I will add it.

[dcdreamblog]

In your opinion are there any “villains” who were only considered villains because of politics(USSR, etc), or any “heroes” only considered heroes for the same reason?

I'm going to say no, if only because the superhero community in itself wouldn't allow that. Let's take your biggest example, the USSR and other communist countries during the Cold War.

While there are some who are seen more as villains (The People's Heroes, The Blue Trinity) this was because they were used more as military assets for violent altercations with American super teams like The Outsiders or The Flash.

Stepping outside of that we have...

Red Star, who is a long time member of and ally to the Teen Titans in good standing

Red Trinity, allies of The Flash Family. (Incidentally, they changed their name shortly into their careers and are now best known for running the lovingly named delivery service "Kapitalist Kouriers" if you need something delivered NOW)

Soyuz, a team of teenage superheroes who during the late Soviet Era and even into the modern day are most well known for their constant battles with the corrupt parts of the Russian government (read, all of it)

And last but not least, those of you living in former Soviet territory are screaming at me from Warsaw to Vladivostok the second this topic came up.

The only

The Beloved

The Rocket Red Brigade!

(Art from a recruitment poster of the Brigade, mid 80s)

Originally active in the mid to late 80s and still often seen throughout all former Soviet territory, the Rocket Reds are adored the world over but especially in the nations where they operate. While their iconography has updated substantially in the past 30 odd years (removing the hammer and sickle and the CCCP across their helmets) the Reds are still seen as the be all, end all of superheroism in Eastern Europe and Central Asia even when relations to Russia itself have become...frosty to say the least.

They are, and have been basically since inception, a partnered organization of the Justice League and Global Guardians. One of their number, Gavril Ivanovich served with distinction in the Justice League International where he is still concerned the beating heart of that line up.

Soviet heroes, when they acted heroic, with the intention to protect the innocent, to stand against those who would cause harm are treated like heroes because "American" or "Western" heroes are not beholden to the geopolitical bugbears of their home nations. They're vigilantes for the most part.

The example that the Rocket Reds provide is unassailable. Because they're superheroes, and anyone who has seen them operate knows it.

[ketrindoll]

"Putin's War", they tell me. *smirks and rolls eyes*

This Putin is one hell of a guy, I gotta say. He's more impressive than Santa Claus who delivers presents to all the kids around the world in the dead of night before sunrise on Dec. 25.

In addition to being the president of Russia, Putin is also a foot soldier booby-trapping an empty home in occupied Ukraine, a fire controlman on a Kilo-class sub in the Black Sea launching Kalibr cruise missiles at Odessa's grain warehouses, a pilot of a Tupolev bomber launching a Kh-101 cruise missile from Russian airspace at the children's hospital in Kyiv, a "camp counselor" at a "summer camp" near Vladivostok for kidnapped Ukrainian kids, a smug civilian from the Russian hinterland who's moving in as a squatter into an evicted Ukrainian's apartment in Mariupol, and a military doctor harvesting organs from Ukrainian corpses.

When will enough Westerners wake the fuck up and tell it like it is that the invasion of Ukraine since February 20, 2014 has been the Russians' war instead of some one-man-show called "Putin's War™"?

It bears repeating:

● No one calls the German invasions of the rest of Europe in WW II "Hitler's War".

● No one calls the Japanese invasions of the rest of Asia in WWII "Hirohito's War" or "Tojo's War".

● No one calls the Russian invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 "Brezhnev's War"

● No one calls the American invasion of Iraq in 2003 "G.W. Bush's War".

● Even right now no one calls war in Palestine "Netanyahu's war"

Make it make sense how the Russian invasion of Ukraine since 2014 is "Putin's War"???

How come everyone else is collectively responsible, but not ruzzians who are committing horrible, incomprehensibly unhuman acts???

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR GENOCIDE

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR WAR CRIMES

ALL RUZZIANS ARE GUILTY FOR THIS WAR AND ALL OTHER IMPERIALIST LAND-GRABS

[usafphantom2]

This story reminds me of a movie I heard about when my Dad was still flying the SR-71 called “The Russians are coming! The Russians are coming!

In 1977, Buz Carpenter and John Murphy’s TDY at Mildenhall, United Kingdom, was extended to support the air tattoo celebration of the Queen's silver jubilee open house. This would be the first public display of an SR-71 since the record-setting speed record in 1974 from New York to London in under two hours

The SR-71 would be part of the static display but roped off so that people could not touch the aircraft. We were advised that, indeed, the Russians were coming. To prevent the Russians or anybody else from exploiting the display. No sensors were left on the aircraft, all fuel had been removed from the tanks, and the plane was heat-soaked to an ambient temperature to prevent infrared cameras from discovering the aircraft's secrets, internal structure, and support systems. We four crewmembers Buz Carpenter, John Murphy, JT Vida, and Tom Alison were standing around the aircraft, answering questions from the crowd when sure enough the Russians showed up in numbers. They took numerous regular and infrared photos. Some of the Russians even had hidden microscopes.

They were a site to see coming up like a convey of quails. It looks like the Salvation Army had outed them. Their dress sense was from a 1930s movie about American mobsters. They were wearing double-breasted suits made from a rougher cloth than one normally sees.

The head of the Soviet delegation is a former MiG-23 fighter pilot who’s quite relaxed and talkative in his demeanor. He asked John and me to drop in on Vladivostok ( the USSR) as a gesture of peaceful relationship.

We just quipped “please forward that request to our state department” 😆. Buz Carpenter

I found this story in Paul Crickmore‘s new book Lockheed Blackbird Beyond the Secret Missions, the missing chapters.

Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[beardedmrbean]

South Korea summoned the Russian ambassador to Seoul Monday to criticise Pyongyang’s decision to send thousands of soldiers to support Moscow’s war in Ukraine, the foreign ministry said, calling for their immediate withdrawal.

About 1,500 North Korean special forces soldiers are already in Russia acclimatising, likely to head to the front lines soon, Seoul’s spy agency said Friday, with additional troops set to depart soon, Pyongyang’s first such deployment overseas.

South Korea, which has long claimed the nuclear-armed North is supplying Russia with weaponry for use in Ukraine, has expressed alarm over the deployment, which comes after Kim Jong Un and Russian President Vladimir Putin signed a military deal in June.

Vice foreign minister Kim Hong-kyun expressed Seoul’s “grave concerns regarding North Korea’s recent dispatch of troops to Russia and strongly urged the immediate withdrawal of North Korean forces and the cessation of related cooperation,” the ministry said in a statement.

Kim told the Russian ambassador to South Korea, Georgiy Zinoviev, that North Korea supplying Russia with weaponry and troops for the war in Ukraine “poses a significant security threat not only to South Korea but to the international community.”

He also “emphasised that such actions violate multiple UN Security Council resolutions and the UN Charter.”

North Koreans in Ukraine?

On Friday, Seoul’s National Intelligence Service (NIS) released detailed satellite images it said showed the first deployment of elite North Korean soldiers being moved by Russian military vessels to Vladivostok.

Seoul’s spy agency said that between October 8 and 13, “North Korea transported its special forces to Russia via a Russian Navy transport ship, confirming the start of North Korea’s military participation” in Moscow’s war in Ukraine.

The first contingent of troops—which South Korean media said were from an elite unit under North Korea’s Special Operations Forces, also known as the “Storm Corps”—are currently stationed in military bases across Russia’s Far East.

The special forces “are expected to be deployed to the front lines (of the Ukraine conflict) as soon as they complete acclimatisation training,” according to the NIS.

The NIS also said Friday that the North had “provided Russia with more than 13,000 containers’ worth of artillery shells, missiles, anti-tank rockets and other lethal weapons” since last August.

Pyongyang and Moscow have been allies since North Korea’s founding after World War II, and have drawn even closer since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

Last week, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky flagged intelligence reports saying North Korea was training 10,000 soldiers to support Russia in its fight against Kyiv and said Moscow was relying on the North to make up for its substantial losses.

Ukrainian media reported earlier this month that six North Korean military officers were killed in a Ukrainian missile attack on Russian-occupied territory near Donetsk—which South Korea’s defence minister said at the time was “highly likely” to be true.

[laylanightingale]

(Reuploaded to reach out to the Russian STP community; перезалила, чтобы связаться с русским сообществом STP)

Оооо, ребят, ребят, ребят!

Всё думаю написать, какие русские акценты у Голосов могли бы быть, был бы дубляж. Есть идеи?

Ooh, fellas, fellas, fellas!

Been thinking of writing a thread on what kinds of accents would the Voices have should there ever be a Russian dub of STP. Any ideas?

Hero (Герой) - нормальный питерский попаданец. (Your typical St Pete Dimension Hopper)

Broken (Сломленный) - Акает. Точно. Южанин?. Неть. Владивосток. (Deffo stretches his ahs. Southie? Nope. Vladivostok.)

Cheated (Обиженный) - бандитский, к лешему, Петербург! (A callback to a 90s mafia series about St Petersburg. Fits his suburbian, ghettoish nature)

Contrarian (Спорщик) - с этим фиг поймёшь. Постоянно меняет акценты на бегу. Реальный - с запада. (Can't understand hell with this guy. Constantly changes accents on the go. Real one - Westie.)

Cold (Холодный Рассчёт) - Северянин. (Northie)

Hunted (Гонимый) - скрытый горный мари/мокша/эрзя (covert mountain mari/moksha/erzyan kel. Dialectal, but natural like hell)

Opportunist - ооочень навороченный район Москвы (не знаю пока, какой) (seems to be a real fancy region in Moscow. Idk which one yet)

Paranoid (Параноик) - не знаю, почему, но Якает. Восток? (Idk why, but there's this manner of accenting the "ya"s. Eastie?)

Skeptic (Скептик) - МААСКВААА с примесью ВОЛОХДЫ (Moskau with a dash of VOLOKHDA [stretched o's and the [gh] sound in place of [g]]

Smitten (Влюблённый)- культурная столица (Петербург) (The actual Cultural Capital St Petersburg)

Stubborn (Упрямец)- ЮЖАНИН 100%. Ростов, Астрахань и дальше. Мб даже Крым. (Deffo Southie. Rostov, Astrakhan and so on and so forth. Prolly even Crimea. Yes.)

Narrator - the most ancient Moscow accent one can find (самый, что ни на есть, древний московский диалект)

Discussion open)) Обсуждение объявляю открытым))

This will be up until the end of the week. Feel free to comment) Пост повисит до конца недели. Спокойненько комментируем))

[quietlyimplode]

Black Widow Fest - Day Six

Stay Alive.

Warnings: broken bones and car chases, swearing?

Word Count: 2047

Pairing: Clint/Nat

@broken--bow asked - and I should have replied to the ask box rather than making a post, but we’ve come too far now - for a fic where (as in the hunger games with Peeta and Katniss) a simple thing is asked, to stay alive, even though it turns out to be one of the harder things to do. Ty for sending in solid asks, my friend, they are ⭐️.

“How is this the first time you’ve ever broken your collar bone?”

Clint shrugs, regrets it and pouts.

“Do broken collarbones always need surgery?” Natasha asks the doctor.

The doctor looks to her clipboard and then back to Clint.

“No, not always, but if you leave these things for a week and keep…”

She looks back down and quirks her eyebrows

“Keep shooting arrows and guns?”

Clint smiles, easily.

Natasha stands in front of him, knowing his fake smile hides the worry of questions he won’t ask.

“He’ll be able to shoot again, right? No problem?”

He peeks out from behind her to watch the doctor nod.

“Yes, of course, but he needs to let this heal, 4 weeks in a sling. And physiotherapy - the you need to follow - otherwise, you’ll always have pain and it will always not feel straight.”

Natasha smirks, sharing a look with Clint.

“Guess I won’t be coming with you then,” he says, holding her hand with his good one.

“Surgery is scheduled for around 1.30pm, don’t have any more to eat or drink.”

She turns to Natasha, “you’ll be here to pick him up?”

Natasha’s face turns sour.

“Uh, no actually. Maria will be here, um a friend. I’ll leave my number and her number here though, in case you need anything, or if he’s not being cooperative.”

“Hey,” Clint pipes up, “drugged me is delightful.”

The doctor puts her clipboard away, and nods.

“I’m sure Mr Barton. No food, no drink until we come and get you. Ms Romanoff, you can stay until he goes in if you want.”

Natasha nods, sighing softly as she sits down next to him

“You’ll be okay here without me?” she asks, guilt on her face.

“Of course,” he tells her, “it’s a simple operation, no gunshot wounds, no knife wounds, no complex broken bones or head injury. It’s easy in and out.”

Natasha smirks again, “that’s what she said.”

Clint laughs and winces.

“Where are they sending you?” he asks, knowing she’s now going alone.

“Vladivostok.”

“You’re not.”

His stomach drops.

“Nat, you’re going into Russia, alone?”

She swallows and nods with a small smile. More of a grimace, he thinks.

He wants nothing more than to talk this through with her, tell her not to go, and hug her tight.

“I’m the only one that knows the dialect.”

He hates this.

He also hates that if he hadn’t asked, she wouldn’t have said anything, not complained, just gone.. Whilst he was under and couldn’t do anything.

He still can’t. He’s going into surgery, and she’s going to Russia alone.

The laughter from seconds ago is now abject fear for her.

The small peninsula town.

Anyone could spot her.

Know her.

Take her.

“It’s only for a day, not even. More like hours. In and out,” she tries.

He tries too.

“That’s what she said.”

Except this time, they both don’t laugh.

He moves over in the single bed and motions for her to sit.

Hesitating slightly, she crawls next to him.

Using his good arm he encircles her and kisses the top of her head.

“You’ll be okay?” he whispers.

The nurse comes in and cocks her head at the way they’re curled.

“I need to put the drip in, Mr Barton,” she tells him.

Natasha starts to move away, the nurse stops her, tells her to stay.

“I can move around you, don’t move, hun.”

Clint looks away as his vein is pierced.

“All done,” she says, moving away.

“They’ll be back in fifteen minutes to take you up, okay?”

She turns to Natasha, “you can stay in the waiting room, but it may be a while.”

Natasha looks at her watch.

“No, it’s okay I need to leave soon anyway.”

The nurse nods and leaves the room.

He continues to hold her, bring her head down so that it’s touching his.

“I have to go,” she sighs, not moving a muscle.

“When exactly will you be home?”

“Tuesday 11.20pm, the flight should land.”

She really is counting down the time.

“Stay Alive,” Clint tells her, looking at her directly in the eyes.

Slowly she manoeuvres her body out, kisses him softly and breathes him in.

“Maria will be here when you wake up, and I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He growls, the sound low and guttural.

“Promise me again.”

“I promise.”

One last kiss and she finally stands.

“Stay alive, Natasha,” his voice commanding.

Head butting him again, and one last peck, she waves off his worry and leaves the hospital room as the nurse returns.

She says something to the nurse that he can’t hear but he lays back in his worry and prays the next two days go quickly.

.

Vladivostok is not what she expected, or remembered.

Slightly removed from the mainland, Natasha sighs and pushes down the apprehension.

The last time she was here, she has visited a widow and his daughter, made them give her information. It had been a pleasant trip, ending with some candy.

The hire car is slow, white and generic and the gps guides her to the meet with the man Fury had deemed worthy of her time.

Clint would be out of surgery now, she hopes anyway. She wants to message Maria and make sure they’re all okay, but her cloned phone doesn’t have the level of security and her own phone is in the locker at the airport.

She was now Rosa Tuttle for all intents and purposes, and so she acted as such.

Blonde wig.

Long nails.

Make up to change the structure of her face.

She was not Natasha Romanoff.

And she was not worried about her partner.

The café is a small hole in the wall.

Posters line the walls, maybe to cover some holes, the corners peeling and old. The old woman approaches her, scarf covering her hair as she shuffled around.

Natasha orders the strongest coffee she can think and the woman nods with a gentle smile.

She faces the door, eyes on the two exits and waits.

The man that enters afterwards is dishevelled; her mark clearly.

“Hello,” she smiles.

He hands her an envelope and looks around in vigilance.

Natasha has seen this before, the skittishness of man who is too stupid to follow the basic instructions. They think they’re smarter and can be better at basic espionage than the people they’re informing on.

“You didn’t follow the rules, did you Igor?”

He looks behind him, and the car he’s parked haphazardly out the front.

“It’s fine. We do this quickly. This is the information. Where is my money?”

Natasha shakes her head.

“No, it is not fine. You think you weren’t being watched? That the Komutet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti, don’t have eyes everywhere, even here in Vladivostok?”

He looks guilty, shocked and scared, and knows she’s right. Especially when a large black car pulls up next to his blue one.

Natasha sighs heavily, looks to the back exit and pushes him towards it.

She apologizes to the woman and tells her to tell them which way they’ve gone. She doesn’t want the elderly woman’s blood on her hands.

Natasha’s car is old, but the fact that everyone here has a similar one, she’s confident of losing the tail they’ll surely have.

“Get in.”

The words are said harshly as he moves slowly, fear locking him up and making him move slow.

He does eventually and she drives away carefully.

The KGB knows though.

She sometimes forgets how much autocracy it is here, and how closely the citizens are watched.

“Igor. How long have they been watching you for?”

“They aren’t. They’re not, they..” he stutters, looking back around at the cars that surround him.

There’s two options Natasha can think of.

Run and hide.

Fight.

Neither are good options.

If they hide, she’s not making her flight.

Not going home to Clint and spending another day in a country she feels least safe in.

Fight.

Well there’s an option that she’s not getting out alive if she does that.

“Igor, you’re not helping yourself.”

The first shot ricochets off the car, and Natasha’s mind is made up.

Fight it is.

Calling quickly off the sat com phone, she puts the distress through, finding Fury on the other end.

Whilst not strange in itself, she knows there are others who could be on the night phone for this.

“Ah, we are coming in hot, the idiot didn’t follow procedures, and we have the KGB on our tail. Any exit plan?”

Fury’s silent and considering as she hears him typing and then..

“There’s a boat, the contact will meet you in 15 minutes if you can get there.”

Natasha looks down and nods.

“Affirmative, we’ll be there.”

Igor looks terrified.

There’s cars around them and although there’s still bullets flying, Natasha’s mind is clear.

“What did he say?” Igor asks.

She ignores him.

The side street she turns down is narrow enough that only one car can follow and she tells Igor to get ready to move.

He doesn’t need to, the car is hit on the side at full speed and it flips into the nearby building. Natasha is held by her seatbelt, but Igor, who never wore his, is thrown out of the car through the windshield.

Natasha assumes he’s dead on impact, not moving, his body brokenly laying on the asphalt.

She has bigger issues.

Held by a seatbelt that didn’t release, upside down and a dripping blood nose, she works at wiggling out.

Clint’s voice echoes in her head.

Her knife finally cuts through the seatbelt and she’s dumped upside down onto the ceiling of the car.

Pain pulses through the her left arm.

Ignoring it, she crawls out, grabbing the files she came for.

She needs to disappear, get out of here and get to the rendezvous point in less than ten minutes.

Natasha wipes her face.

Her wig now askew.

If she takes it off, there’s a greater chance of being recognised for who she is.

If she doesn’t, they’ll find her quick.

If only she had time to go back to the airport.

Natasha rolls her eyes, remembering. Her phone and her jacket.

Fuck.

Wiping the blood from her nose, she hopes Fury can send someone for them.

She hates starting a new phone again. In reality she shouldn’t have taken it but she was worried about Clint being in surgery. It feels stupid now. It was just resetting the bone.

Deciding on removing the wig and tying her hair up, she changes her appearance quickly.

Her arm hurts.

Quickly checking, she finds the quickest way to the port, and moves.

7 minutes.

At 3 minutes she finds the boat.

At two minutes, she’s on the boat.

And as time is up, they’re moving out of the port and she’s in the cabin, with the captain by the name of Ned steering her away.

.

“Broken collarbone? You’re kidding me.”

Clint laughs, arm in a sling.

“She what?”

The doctor points to the break and tells them again.

“When you landed, you must have landed on your shoulder because it looks like it’s a kind of green stick fracture. Unlike his, which needed surgery, it’s likely yours will just heal with immobilization and a sling.”

Clint laughs again, gleefully.

“Matching slings!”

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“How long am I benched for?”

The doctor looks to Clint, and then back to Natasha.

“You’ll probably be going back at the same time.”

“Six weeks?!” Natasha exclaims incredulously.

The doctor nods.

“If you both immobilize it, do the rehab and take care of it.”

Clint smiles.

“Don’t worry, Doc. She has a good right hand and I have a good left one. We’ll be a good team.”

The doctor remains straight faced, then can’t hide her smile as Clint helps Natasha back up.

She sets Natasha up with a sling and teaches her how to strap it.

Watching the two spies leave, the doctor watches as Clint readjusts their positions so he can half hug her.

Even though she hopes to never see them, she knows it’s likely they’ll be back before she knows it.

.

[omo321]

omg hiiii I just finished watching s3 of gk want to talk about why it's your favorite season??? <- wanted to ask this before but didn't just in case of spoilers

hello!! :333 oh glad to hear! :D Im actually not quite done with the 4th season yet (so far 3rd is still my favorite, but I liked 4th's ending) so you're catching up to me haha

*vaguely gestures to the entirety of it* I mean?? haha okay lemme think of specific things I loved... (besides the better animation, or at least i felt it was better)

-russia(n empire) mentioned!! and in a way that is interesting, too! I mean, as opposed to how usually russians in anime are just a flavor of europeans, even tho russia has maritime border (and active territorial conflict yaay) with japan, so you'd think they'd have more to say lol. +also solid (if accented) russian is delightful. I recently read that Tsukishima's voice actor went out of his way to get Russian pronunciation right and I did love it <33

btw the first time I watched it, I couldn't understand what Ogata's "barchonok" is supposed to mean :D some time later it dawned on me (ahhh like, "barin's kid"), so the meaning can be deduced, but the word is obsolete ig... which makes sense with the time period

-kiroranke's whole arc

-wolverine scene

-asirpa vs ogata!!!!!!!!

-ogata vs vasily!!!

-koito and tsukishima's time to shine and their dynamic too (I love this sm theyre so silly)

-sugimoto's group in the circus jdkghdfgj koito especially

-vladivostok flashback (I am unwell about tsurumi's backstory and have a soft spot for the wilk-kiro-sofia trio too)

-the ending of the shinsengumi guy's episode almost made me tear up

-yuusetsu (I heard it after hibana, but they both were what convinced me to watch GK)

-tsumikegare (plays over asirpa vs ogata, for one)

to be honest it's been something like a year and a half since I last rewatched it so i would otherwise have more to say, but those stood out the most to me I guess :DDD

ps. I wanna say Tsukishima's flashback too, but while I did reread it recently, I don't remember the anime version too well. I sure remember thinking about it a lot :DDD it left me confused about if Chiyo was dead or not in the end (I get that she's alright now, which means Tsurumi didnt even lie that much?? all he did was tell tsukishima the truth, then briefly lie to make Tsukishima more attached to him? really not as bad as I initially thought lol.....)

which season is your favorite? you did say something about how its better at what 1 and 2 seemingly tried to do, or something like that (I forgor)

[synthapostate]

WIP List

I'm going to keep doing this until my head explodes.

Resist Psychic Death - Possessed Newt.

The Tropes Nobody Asked For - A bodyswap AU. This would be complete if I could come up with a concluding paragraph to wrap things up.

I could be writing sweaty nerd sex like a normal person but no - Maybe if I changed the title I could wrap my head around this?

Heating Pad - A cat adopts Hermann.

Miserable, Lonely and Depressed (Pathetic) - The return of Cool Uncle Newt. (He’s not cool, he’s possessed.)

Vampire AU - I mean obviously I had to write a vampire AU at some point. (Comedy.)

Some Days You Just Can’t Get Rid of a Bomb - Newt tries to solve capitalism. I don’t think this is even going anywhere, but I like the title too much to let it go.

Cold as Ice - Hurt/Comfort? Something. Contains no hurt/comfort and has nothing to do with cold or ice, but…it’s…something. A convergence of “whoever will take him” and (numbers) “will never betray me”. Hurt people hurt people, but survivors can be kind.

Newt’s Passion - A sex pollen fic. (No, it isn’t.) (Zom com.)

Other, Funnier Ghost Story - Vampires, full horror. Gore, angst, little bit of body horror. About 20k words so far.

Consent is Sexy - A team-building exercise leads to certain confessions that would not be made while sober.

Cold as Ice 2: Alaskan Boogaloo - Set in Vladivostok and it turned out to be about the Kaidonovskys.

The Worst Thing I Can Possibly Imagine - My genuine attempt to work through something, but then I thought of a punchline so now it’s a funny little shitpost.

Splash - A…feelings thing. The first tentative steps toward getting along.

Caffeine Blues - I swore I would never write a coffee shop au, but…One chapter to go? December is becoming a monster chapter that might have to split again.

Fields of Azure - Newt and Hermann are sent on an outdoorsy team-building retreat with some rangers (possibly by mistake) and both turn out to be full of surprises. Pure fluff.

Stop You Have Enough WIPs - Some silly fluff for these stressful times.

Shoes - Newt’s past catches up with him. Hermann is intrigued.

Groundhog Day - Hey man, these sci fi tropes exist for a reason.

Newt and Hermann Go On Six Dates - I write fluff now 😊💖

Hermann Gets Shot - It is so dangerous to start a fight in an elevator when one of the people you’re fighting has a gun.

Return to Sender - Newt leaves Hong Kong to work for Shao. Angst. Uhhhhh I used that title for something else. What’s another song about letters?

Find Me in the Drift - Some very disorganized ramblings that might be a sequel to Dinner With a Friend.

The Curse of Gottlieb Manor - In which I actually try to write horror on purpose, and give myself the most intense nightmares I’ve had in years. I’m toning it down for the actual story.

Painting the Kitchen - About finding a future after the apocalypse is averted.

Total Eclipse of the Heart - Jake Pentecost doesn’t trust Newt, decides to keep a close eye on him to guard Hermann’s back, and accidentally ends up with two new dads.

A Kidnapping - Um…it’s a kidnapping.

Wake Up, Dr. Jones! - More trauma. Possibly too much trauma actually. Scrap this?

Space Opera - When the first kaiju comes through the breach, Newt fires off a plea for help into deep space. There can’t be just one alien race out there, right? Maybe some of them will be on our side.

Cherry Bomb - Apropos of nothing, Newt decides to bite the bullet and seduce Hermann.

Third Act Breakup - I hate romcoms. Let’s do this thing.

Sweet Siren Song - Newt is doing his biology thing in the Atlantic, Hermann is an inexperienced sailor who shouldn’t be out alone on a day like this, they both get caught in a storm, turns out mermaids are real. (Romance.) (Accidental horror.)

What’s Your Angle - Turns out mermaids are real. (Horror.) (Accidental romance?)

Etiquette and Protocol - Loosely based on a dream, the boys are forced to take an etiquette class because anger management isn’t working. (Protip: if you encourage me to add something to my list, I probably will.)

Am I Blue - In which Newt learns how far Hermann is willing to go to save him.

Mr. Cellophane - Post-war, they go their separate ways, but when Newt is involved in an unlikely lab accident, obviously his first thought is to go to Hermann for help.

Hanahaki - I never thought I would write a hanahaki fic, not because I hate the premise but simply because I had never heard of it until this year and it seemed too specific to intrude on. But when do I ever pass up the opportunity to gorge myself at the angst buffet? Still angst but I have entirely dropped the hanahaki premise.

Time is On My Side - I reuse the tag “Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves,” whether it's applicable or not.

Chuck Punches Hermann in the Face - He was aiming for Newt.

I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm - In which Newt owns a space heater, and Hermann does not.

Marriage of Convenience - Lars Gottlieb has a scheme, Hermann will do anything to get out of it, Newt is an agent of chaos, fake dating ensues.

The Allegations - In which Hermann is not beating them.

Perspective - A very nice day. :) (Lie.)

Regency - In which I decide not to let all the meticulous research I've done go to waste. Apparently I'm writing a full regency romance novel, and it will be held to Harlequin's publication standards. (For historical accuracy. I already know I'm too gay for market.)

Alternate Universe - Hermann Gottlieb bends all of time and space to his will for the man he loves. Again.

Genie in a Bottle - I'm putting Hermann through too many shenanigans. It's only because he's my favorite.

Straight to Voicemail - An urban fantasy AU. Possibly horror. We'll see.

Spacewalk - In which the Shatterdome is a deep space colony ship, and I pay homage to my favorite sci fi author.

Search Party - Post-precursors recovery fic, in which Newt relearns that he is the good man Hermann says he is.

Hospital Whump (Take Two) - In which I will NOT get sidetracked by feels, and they WILL end up in the hospital, and there will be both hurt and comfort.

Hermann Holds a Baby - Too dark, might delete.

Blue Christmas - Because I love working on things that wouldn't make sense to post yet.

Dragonslayer - High fantasy AU. Obvious premise, but what the hell, dragons are cool.

[ohsalome]

During his Monday appearance on 60 Minutes, State Duma member Andrey Gurulyov declared that “Today, the whole world is a special military operation!” Throughout the segment, the lawmaker and other panelists claimed that Russia is not interested in peace accords—a view that is frequently echoed on many pro-government TV and radio programs.

Referring to recent comments by General Mark Milley—the U.S.’s highest-ranking military officer, who recently suggested that a peace deal might be one of the ways of ending Russia’s invasion of Ukraine—Korotchenko stressed: “General Milley included diplomacy as one of the options, meaning the signing of a peace deal on conditions that are not acceptable to Russia: return to the borders of 1991 and reparations that will have to be paid by generations of Russians to the Kyiv regime. Would this option suit us? I think not.”

Instead, according to the Putin loyalists, the Kremlin intends to expand its horizons far beyond Ukraine, undermining and confronting the West at every turn. Gurulyov laid out what he sees as the Kremlin’s potential course of action—not just in Ukraine, but across the world.

“Of course, North Korea’s goal is the unification with South Korea and the disappearance of the border that separates one people. People ask, ‘What if they lose? What is our part in this situation?’ For us, it’s not acceptable for the North Koreans to lose. Otherwise, NATO forces will be stationed across from our Vladivostok!” he said. “For us, there is no other option but to get prepared for the challenges that are happening in the Asia-Pacific region. These challenges are already happening, we should be preparing today, right now and figuring out how to solve this problem!”

During his appearance, the lawmaker claimed that Russia’s Pacific Fleet is “actively preparing” for such a conflict—and predicted that the “the first strike will be against the oldest enemy of Koreans, Japan, accompanied by supportive hooting from South Korea.”

[...]

On Tuesday, Marina Kim, one of the hosts of Russia’s Channel 1, appeared on Vladimir Solovyov’s show Full Contact, where she talked about her role in the soon to be released TV project, The New World. Kim said it would be aimed at forecasting what the new world order will look like in the coming decades, considering Russia’ efforts to undermine the U.S. dollar as a currency and Western influence as a whole. Arguing that Russian experts are so highly intellectual that they know more about China than the Chinese, Kim noted that even those superb intellectuals are not sure what the map of the world will look like in 2073.

Solovyov, who frequently threatens the West with nuclear strikes, asked an uncharacteristically sobering question: “Will Russia even exist in the future?” Kim cheerfully assured him that Russia’s destiny is to keep leading the world—but acknowledged that it can do so only in concert with China.