#russian elite forces

[taiwantalk]

I’ll take battle tested ukrainian units over russian elite forces anytime in ukraine’s own backyards. not even americans would drop in elite special forces to reinforce broken frontline defensives without knowing how to extract them or to reinforce them with a bigger force shortly.

that’s nearly an one way ticket for russian elite forces. oh well, putin must think it’s better to have them killed in action than they turn mutiny later inside russia.

[dalekofchaos]

The Punisher Fancast

With the inevitable success of Daredevil:Born Again, I do hope we get a Punisher continuation. So here's my fancast

My other Marvel fancasts

Spider-Man

Ultimate Spider-Man

X-Men

Fantastic 4

Dark Avengers

Masters Of Evil

Blade

Black Widow

X-Force

Wolverine 

Spider-Verse

Jon Bernthal as The Punisher/Frank Castle

Rainn Wilson as Microchip/David Liberman(EMB is now Ben Grimm so I felt a recast needs to happen)

Katee Sackhoff as Lynn Michaels

Sadie Sink as Rachel Cole-Alves

Jason R. Moore as Curtis Hoyle

Amber Rose Revah as Dinah Madani

Jack Quaid as Detective Martin Soap

Royce Johnson as Det. Sgt. Brett Mahoney

Tricia Helfer as Lieutenant Molly von Richtofen

Kate Mara as Joan the Mouse

Aaron Paul as Spacker Dave

Tyler Labine as Nathan Bumpo

Lauren Cohan as Kathryn O'Brien

Alexander Skarsgard as Hate-Monger

Gabriel Macht as The Elite

Anjelica Huston as Ma Gnucci

Diego Boneta as Eddie Gnucci

Louis Cancelmi as Bobby Gnucci

Michael Zegen as Carlo Gnucci

Michael Imperioli as Nicky Cavella

Ian Hanmore as Don Massimo Cesare

Dolph Lundgren as The Russian

Thomas Jane as Bruno Costa

John David Washington as Barracuda

Kevin Durand as Carl Burbank/Bushwacker

Chris Messina as Hammerhead

Arian Moayed as Damage

Vincent D'Onofrio as Kingpin/Wilson Fisk

Wilson Bethel as Bullseye

Laurence Fishburne as G.W. Bridge

[in-sightjournal]

Ask A Genius 1093: Kursk Oblast Incursion

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: What is your assessment of the Kursk Oblast incursion by Ukrainian forces into Russian Federation territory? Rick Rosner: It appears that they have seized approximately 400 square miles of Russian land, which is relatively minor given the vast expanse of Russia, the largest country in the world. The territories captured hold no significant strategic value. However, the…

[anyaharveyii]

the batfamily ABSOLUTELY uses duolingo.

every single one of them. every day. without fail.

in fact, the batfamily think duolingo is fun the same way that most families think playing monopoly is fun.

the batfamily members constantly compete against each other in petty shit, like who is learning the most languages? who can get the most sessions done in one day? who has the longest streak? etc.

they make use of their language skills by bantering with each other over coms while simultaneously confusing the villains they're fighting. they do the same thing to talk shit about the snobby elites around them when bruce forces them to go to galas.

and they will purposefully do it so that they use multiple languages, like duke asks a question in french, damian responds in russian, and steph adds onto his point in chinese.

the batfamily unironically worships the duo owl, bruce bought every single member of his family a personalized plushie, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

[lizzy019]

НИКТО Personality Analysis

-> Information Given

Some form of dissociation disorder

Tortured by Zakhaev, leaving heavy scarring and forcing him to wear a mask to avoid ridicule, fear from others, and shunning by society

Age is in the range of late 20s to mid 30s, not confirmed yet

-> Theories

Nikto says "us" a lot in his voicelines, and in his description it only says he has ACUTE DISSOCIATIVE DISORDER, which is when you zone out and fall into a heavy state of haziness and confusion for a short period of time before regaining focus. However, DISSOCIATIVE IDENTITY DISORDER is all about dissociating for however long, the range is limitless, and another identity will take over while you're spaced out. Therefore, this is why I believe Nikto had DID and not ADD.

Nikto has this animation where he's supposedly showing that he'll slit your throat in a very oddly realistic manner. What pressure to use and how he'd end off your head. I believe he's witnessed and first handedly experienced this when Zakhaev tortured him, and he began doing it while in the military. Why? Nikto has a very gruff, harsh tone, but it's only when he's yelling and putting too much pressure to his vocal cords. I believe he has a scar on his neck, maybe a bit too close to his esophagus and lower chin that didn't heal properly and affected how he projected his voice.

Now, Nikto has one voice line that goes, "I hear enough voices, I don't need another!" Referring back to my first theory, I believe Nikto also has very short patience and all of his alters do as well. His whole personality is built off of acting fast, doing as instructed, and constantly going. You never see Nikto stop. I believe this voiceline is a very strong giveaway to a part of Nikto's personality on how he functions. It also shows how his temper is kind of wonky.

-> Personality Scan-over

Nikto is presumed as a very harsh Russian man, brutalized by his captor Zakhaev and taken advantage of when he was at his absolute lowest. This has caused major issues with trust, abandonment, and self-love. Nikto struggles with expressing himself, often resulting in violence and anger as heard in his voicelines.

He typically doesn't like speaking to people, only his fellow military personnel, but even then it isn't guaranteed. Nikto is a very self-sufficient person, he's head-on about lots of things and isn't scared to take charge when need be. His main frustration is when people don't listen to him, he already lacks control mentally with all his alters.

Nikto is the type of person who struggles with letting people into his life, or into his head in general. He's reserved, too reserved. He doesn't like letting people in, and who could blame him with all that he's suffered?

But if you do manage to break down his barriers, expect tough love and lots of strange surprises. He'll become more protective of you in a physical sense, not caring too much about you emotionally. If you've brought him comfort in any way, shape or form, he will tell himself how much he cannot lose that solace you bring him.

Nikto is cold, and typically isn't good in relationships. In his voicelines, he's very aggressive and doesn't show any sympathy, much less many manners. The occasional "spasibo" (thanks in Russian) and that's all. It'd be hard to be dependent on him when he's just more independent than you'd expect.

-> Background Theories

True Name: Igor "Nikto" Vasilyevich Yurievich

Age: 33 or 34

Born in: Siberia, Russia

Family: No mother, no siblings

-> Summary

Nikto is a Russian soldier who fights in the private military dubbed "KorTac", an elite group of military personnel who fight alongside other military units to achieve a shared goal.

Nikto is a torture victim survivor, captured my Viktor Zakhaev and ending up with some severe scarring to his lower face and neck. This is why he hides his face with a mask, and also covers his whole body in dark clothing.

Nikto is an individual who struggles with a dissociative disorder, causing some of his work to be a bit half-done, not purposefully however. His lack of control due to his disorder brings him only disadvantages, making him stop mid-fight and inevitably making him an easy target.

Regardless of this, Nikto has proved himself to be a worthy soldier on the battlefield, exceeding many expectations and climbing the ranks cleanly and efficiently. His character is the embodiment of determination and dedication despite everything going wrong much to his dismay.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Triple D.

Perlude

“We need assistance!”

Shouted the elite Navy SEAL into his earpiece. He was taking cover behind a low, nearly destroyed concrete wall to avoid the many bullets flying at him and his small task force. They’ve been in Aleppo, Syria for a little over two weeks and each day becomes increasingly violent. Senior Chief Petty Officer, John Stevens–Kelly, with his team of fellow SEALS are outnumbered by the Russian Military.

“Chief, this is base! We’re doing all we can to find you some backup! With the Marines and the Army being dispatched throughout Sudan and Iraq, we’re spread a bit thin! We will do our best to send assistance!”

Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer, is trapped in an abandoned building across from them and without proper backup, John Stevens–Kelly can’t get to her to see if she’s alive. Dust and debris crowded his vision and one by one he watched in horror as his men fell to their knees and died. It was supposed to be an easy escape and rescue of a CIA operative who was taken hostage by a suspected pro-Assad paramilitary group. It turned out to be the Russian Military.

“Damnit,” John fired rounds from his AK47 that was nearly out of bullets, “Guys, we’re on our own! Watch your six and try to keep out of the fire!”

A few SEALS tossed grenades to buy them some time as they moved toward the abandoned building. Structures were exploding and coming down on them and hostiles were coming in fast. If the base doesn’t send anyone, they are all dead. The mission was a disaster from the beginning. All they had to do was collect the hostage, get some intel, and get the hell out. A few days stretched into two weeks.

“Chief?! We’ve got you covered! They’re dropping in now!”

John hid himself behind a brick wall and spoke into his earpiece.

“Who’s dropping in?!” John replied firmly.

Dirt swirled like a small tornado when two helicopters swooped down and soldiers wearing all black slid down from a rope with guns blazing and ninja–like abilities. The Russians didn’t stand a chance. One-by-one they were taken out by the unknown soldiers. There was one soldier that stood out above the others and moved as if he were bulletproof.

John took that opportunity to run as fast as he could to the abandoned building to find Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer. He ditched the AK47 for a pistol and when he finally crossed over into the building, Russian troops jumped out of their hiding place and John took them out immediately. He could see the soldiers dressed in black enter and spread out in search. One soldier, however, took his place in front of John. He removed his all black balaclava and helmet, revealing himself to John.

“Killmonger.” John says, a slow laugh echoing from his mouth, “Nigga, where have you been?! You show up now?!”

Erik Stevens, a former United States Navy SEAL who was eventually assigned to a Ghost Unit for the Military, stood before his twin brother after two months of no contact.

“You know we work off the grid, bro. Deeper shit than rescuing some crooked ass CIA officials. Glad to see you’re still breathing.”

“Glad to see you’re not dead in a fuckin’ ditch somewhere, E. What the hell have you been up to?”

“The less you know, the better,” Erik handed John a gun, “Let’s make this shit speedy before more Spetsnaz show up.”

The twins together were the strongest. John missed the days when he worked alongside his brother, but Erik grew tired of the straight arrow. He wanted to get his hands dirty in ways John couldn’t agree with. Erik becoming a mercenary formed a wedge between them for a while, especially because John didn’t enjoy killing for sport like his twin. Erik was ruthless and cynical, whereas John only showed that side of him in the line of duty. There were plenty of times where John and Erik bumped heads.

The brothers made their way deeper into the abandoned building and finally discovered Lieutenant Commander Karen Greer and the CIA Operative hiding in a small room. The CIA Operative had a gunshot wound to his left thigh. Relief washed over Karen Greer’s face when she spotted John. She leaped up into his arms and hugged him tightly.

“Aight, save the reunion for later! We gotta go!” Erik shouted aggressively.

Erik carefully pulled the CIA Operative up and they quickly made their way towards the helicopter. Karen Greer bit her tongue while following them out of the room. She couldn’t stand Erik, and it was partly due to the fact that he was the reason things never worked out between John and her. She disliked the fact that John defended his hot-headed brother, even when he was wrong. She’d craved John’s love but deep down she knew it would never be the same.

Back outside, they succeeded with making it out alive and the helicopter took off. Karen Greer attended to The CIA Operative’s wound by creating a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. John made eye contact with his brother and he reached his hand out to clasp Erik’s firmly. Karen Greer watched the interaction with a neutral expression. It was silent the entire ride to base. Killmonger and his team remained on the helicopter while the few remaining SEALS, Karen Greer, and John Stevens–Kelly helped the CIA Operative to base.

__________

One Week Later:

Lagos, Nigeria was where John went to meet with his twin brother. It’s been a week since they’d seen each other and it would be good to catch up. John made his way into a striking waterfront home within a gated community wearing a v-neck, long-sleeve, khaki tunic with matching pants. He removed his shades and began pacing the grand entryway with curiosity.

John took a chance and stepped forward, eyes moving from left to right. Before him was a double, rounded staircase and to his left was a large study and to his right was a family room. John entered the family room and placed his duffel bag on the floor next to an end table with a large African head statue crafted from a tree trunk.

“Pay him handsomely. He deserves it…”

John spotted a portly, Nigerian man with a big grin wearing a traditional Nigerian caftan in all white with colorful embroidery and matching white pants. Killmonger stood before him at a towering height of 6’4 wearing a fitted black T-shirt with dark camouflage pants and black boots. He shook the man’s hand firmly with a slight smirk before turning his dark gaze onto a butler that held out a recondite sepia leather duffle bag for him to take.

“We will do business again, Killmonger. In the meantime, Make you enjoy your stay in Lagos…”

John watched the man and his servant leave the magnificent home. Killmonger’s heavy hand clasped John’s shoulder and he turned towards his identical twin abruptly.

“Didn't think you’d actually show up, bruh. Good to see you J.”

They hugged each other tightly before letting go.

“Whose house are we in?” John questioned.

“Don’t worry about all that. Just know it’s ours for a few days. You hungry? Want something to eat? Drink?”

John didn’t automatically respond to Erik. He was being hyper vigilant. His eyes scanned every nook and cranny of that enormous estate.

“My bag—”

“John. Relax. It’s just me and you here. No more unorganized missions and Karen’s mess. You get to put all that shit behind you and unwind. When was the last time you had that, bro? And please don’t tell me that old story about us drag racing on the Los Angeles River. That shit happened when we were eighteen.”

Erik thrust a glass filled with amber liquid into John’s hand. John was the definition of the ‘perfect soldier’. Loyal, noble, and dependable on top of being a tactician and strategist. When he’s in the war zone, he’s ruthless. That part of his life has always been hard to relax from. Even when it comes down to relationships. He’d always been afraid to grow with a woman because of what he does for a living. Too many times he’s witnessed fellow SEALS slaughtered in their own homes.

Unbeknownst to his crazy brother, John would love to have a companion. Someone he could come to whenever he made it home safely. Whether it be a serious commitment or strictly physical. He could never have that with Karen no matter how hard he tried. He craved pillow talks, massages, the smell of a woman’s perfume. So many things. Erik was right, he needed to decompress. John drank the entire contents of the glass, realizing it to be whiskey.

“Fuck it. You’re right. What’s the move?”

Erik rubbed his hands together like the mastermind he is.

“Aight, figured we could get some food, meet up with some ladies, and hit the town. I know some good spots here in Lagos. Tomorrow we can take a yacht out and smoke some cigars. Just live it up, you know?”

John smirked, “Sounds all good to me. What ladies? Hopefully nobody you touched. We all know what happened back in college. Sydney…”

“Ahhhh…Sydney. She was…” Erik kissed his fingers, “Scrumptious. You ain’t have no problems with me hittin’ that!”

They walked out towards the back of the home and took a seat near the inground pool. Erik took a small sip from his glass before sitting it on the ground beside him to remove his boots. John lounged back and placed his shades over his eyes.

“So, now you’re silent?” Erik teased.

“I’m silent because you love to leave out certain details. I was falling DEEP for that girl. Her excuse was she couldn’t tell us apart.”

“Both of us had the same cut, J! Like I told you before, I didn’t know. Anyway, she’s married with a son or some shit… good for her.”

John chuckled, “It’s been too long for me. So long that I’ve become picky. I don’t want just any woman.”

Nigga,” Erik scuffs, “You serious? It’s been three months for me. I miss the sex. I miss giving and receiving. Shit…I got a job in a week and this job gotta be one of the worst and I mean my whole fuckin’ chest will be covered in scars by the time I come back home to the Bay—you think I’m fuckin’ lying? I need this. I wanna be pissy drunk in a bed full of women before I touch down in Vietnam.”

John took his shades off to look at Erik.

“You scarring again? Thought you said that shit was over?”

“I guess old habits don’t die hard,” Erik shrugged, “I enjoy it.

John squinted, “You enjoy having that reminder on your body? You’re fucking crazy…”

“Says the nigga that ain’t never giving this life up. You live for this shit too, J. Don’t act like me and you are any different. Just because I do shit dirty doesn't mean you ain’t getting a thrill out of it. See, ever since you became best buddies with Sam Wilson you've been acting brand new.”

“Your thrill and my thrill are not the same, E. And what’s wrong with Sam? He’s cool peoples. Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do. But…it’s a job for me. For you, it’s a game. You have this killer instinct. Example,” John sat up, “You remember what happened in Iraq? What you did to that family? Torturing? That shit was…that was brutal.”

“Yeah…I remember. I also remember very clearly that they were the enemy. I also remember losing friends to those enemies. When I get behind that heat,” Erik made a gesture with his fingers to mimic a gun, “I don’t care who I’m aiming at. If it’s meant for you, it’s meant for you.”

“…Wild,” John stood up and stretched, “I’m getting some more to drink…”

“Fill me up!” Erik held his glass out, “And bring the whole bottle. We gotta get ready in another hour to head out.”

“Damn, I just got here,” John shakes his head.

“The pussy don’t wait for no one!” Erik shouted after his brother.

_____________

“This is…?”

“I’m Malaika.”

“Oh yeah! Malaika. Good to see you again, sweetheart.”

Erik nudged John while they were seated in Silverfox; a luxury strip club on Victoria Island in Lagos. John perked up and gave his twin brother a sideways glance before reaching out his hand to greet Malaika. Her soft, graceful hand within his calloused one felt warm and friendly. John took the time to admire Malaika. She has some outstanding characteristics that make her irresistible. Among them all, her rich, dark skin with big, dark brown eyes stood out to him the most. Skin so lovely and smooth. She had a curvy figure with a tall stature that made him wonder if she were a model. She wore her hair in straight-back stitch braids that hung down to her butt and a form-fitting, cyan-blue dress with silver stiletto sandals.

“How you doin’ I’m John.”

“Hi, John,” Malaika’s eyes scanned his body, “First time in Lagos?”

“It is, yeah.” John responded.

Malaika took a seat next to John with her drink in hand trying to spark conversation. Her best friend, Zola, sat with Erik on the opposite end of the sofa on his lap. Malaika was used to seeing her best friend being all over Erik. She was his ‘girl’ whenever he touched down in Lagos. Zola’s coarse, voluminous Afro shielded Erik’s face while she leaned in to give him a kiss on his plump lips. Erik had a handful of her bubble booty that stood out in her denim shorts. When she faced forward again, she caught eyes with John and waved. Zola was just as gorgeous with her toasty-brown skin and mahogany eyes. Her sheer-black halter top gave a brazen view of her pierced nipples.

“How do you like it so far?” Malaika asked.

“It’s a vibe. Definitely into it.”

John reached for his drink and Malaika’s eyes tracked it.

“What’s in your cup?”

“STARR Rum. I’m a rum kind of guy. You?”

Malaika twirled the last remnants of her drink around, “It’s some Patron mix the bartender did for me. I don’t really like it.”

She pouted her lip before sitting her cup down on the low table in front of them.

“We still got rum left in the bottle. I can pour you some…”

John uncapped the bottle and proceeded to fill Malaika’s cup. Meanwhile, Zola and Erik are watching the various women twirl and do tricks on the pole. They had already thrown cash and some of it littered the floor of their section.

“What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

John angled his body to face Malaika while relaxing back against the lounge sofa.

“I’m a Navy SEAL.”

“Hmm,” Malaika roamed John’s body with her sultry eyes, “Is it dangerous?”

John chuckles. In his mind, he was saying what he really thought but he’d just met Malaika so he didn’t want to give off bad vibes. Of course being a SEAL is dangerous.

“It’s considered one of the most dangerous military occupations. Combat operations…hazardous training…specialized missions…it’s risky. You gotta be prepared for that.”

“Wow. I bet you’ve seen a lot.”

John nodded his head, “I have. More than I’d like to discuss,” John cleared his throat, “Tell me a little bit about Malaika.”

Malaika tucked her chin bashfully, “I’m in medical school currently. Not much of a social life at the moment but it’s worth it.”

John’s unruly brows shot up with interest, “that’s dope. Educated and gorgeous…I like that.”

Zola sipped her drink while watching John and Malaika get to know each other. She held a tiny smirk on her face. Erik was too busy making his dick jump against her ass. Zola looked down at him over her shoulder as best as she could with all the hair she had.

“You need to cut it out, Killmonger. Calm that big dick down…”

“I’ll calm it down when you get that phat ass up off my lap, girl.” Erik retorted.

“So it’s my fault? Teh,” Zola rolled her eyes, “Not my fault you can’t control yourself.”

“Here we go,” Erik threw his head back and laughed, “Zola…stop acting tough. Because we both know that I’ll put your ass through the mattress and have you screaming big daddy at the top of your lungs. Stop it.”

“Who did you fuck in Cuba?”

Erik’s eyes went round at her outlandish question.

“Zo, are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. I want to know.”

“I thought you ain’t care who I fuck when I’m away?”

“I haven’t seen you in months and you’ve been giving this big dick to some other bitch and I wanna know…”

A chuckle could be heard from across the table and Erik peeked over to see John and Malaika tittering into their cups.

“Help me out, bro,” Erik gave John a pleading look.

“I wish I could, E. I haven’t seen you in months either.” John bantered.

Erik put his middle finger up at his twin. John simply laughed. He knew his brother all too well. He was definitely fucking some women in Cuba. He’d caught his brother in many nefarious situations with women. Some of which almost got them killed. Erik’s sex drive had to be sated even through war. John had control for some time because he’d been in a long-term relationship with a high school sweetheart at one point before dating Karen on and off for three years.

“Forget all that. I’m here right now with you. Let’s make the most of this shit before I’m gone again.” Erik said with finality.

Zola simply rolled her eyes in response. Erik’s hands caressing her frame as he stared her down with an unwavering gaze while whispering to her seemed to melt her jealous core. She couldn’t fight the urge to blush when Erik’s hand palmed her ass and gripped it tight and possessively.

“You two are so different,” Malaika whispered to John, “you’re very laid back and he’s very outspoken.”

“Believe it or not, we play off of each other well,” John replied, “My silence is just me being observant for the most part.”

“You seem shy.”

John licked his lips and cracked a dimpled smile, “I’m not. I promise you.”

Malaika giggles.

“You definitely are though,” John elevated a single brow and squinted at her, “You’ve been avoiding eye contact with me.”

Malaika opened her mouth to speak but she quickly realized he was correct.

“It’s not that I’m shy…you’re just fine as hell.”

She turned and crossed one leg over the other, causing her hip to poke out. John fixated his lustful gaze on her generous curves. The colorful luminance bouncing around the club against her dark skin had him salivating for a taste. It’s been too long since he’d had some good pussy. And Malaika could be just the girl to soak his dick.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” John scooted closer to her, “But don’t let that intimidate you. I love eye contact. And the way you walked in here tonight showed me you have a lot of confidence,” John took a chance and placed his hand over her knee and started stroking it with his thumb, “That’s a huge turn on for me.”

“Mm, oh yeah? What else turns you on?”

Malaika traced John’s thin, gold chain with her gemstone-covered acrylic nail.

“A woman that knows what she wants…isn’t afraid to express it and show it…release her inhibitions.”

“Mmm…”

John’s words had Malaika yoked up by the pussy. Her breathing changed, her eyes went low, her nipples hardened, and she couldn’t keep her hands off of John. She ran her hand down his chest and down his thigh. John’s dick bricked-up so fast he didn’t see it coming. She was stroking his thigh while his dick expanded in his pants.

“Ayo, J!”

John looked up to see a woman so fine he almost groaned. A pole dancer with fat titties, thunder thighs, and a top-shelf ass started showing out in the section. The red-hot one-piece with a large keyhole cutout that left little to the imagination and a pair of stunning stockings attached to the bodice barely covered her body. John had never seen so much ass in his life.

“Throw that shit, baby!” Zola shouted while throwing hundreds.

Erik stood up and started making it rain over her. John grabbed a stack and flicked it towards her direction. She kept popping that ass like she didn’t own a vertebrae. Malaika clapped her hands in time to the bounce of the dancer’s cheeks.

“Damn, ma! Show out!” Erik yelled. L

“Aye!” Malaika said loudly.

“That ass is crazy,” John shook his head.

When she finished dancing, she collected her money and walked off as if she didn’t just render everyone speechless.

______________________

They were lucky to make it back safely to the mansion in one piece with the way Erik was driving his yellow Lotus Emira V6. The ladies took off their five-inch heels at the door and John had to bend down and help Malaika because she couldn’t keep her balance from all the rum she drank. Erik took off his embroidered crochet shirt that matched his shorts and threw it over the banister. His locs fell into his eyes at that point from the wind when he was driving.

“Are we still getting in the jacuzzi?” Zola asked.

“Hell yeah. You got an extra bikini for Malaika?”

“I do. Let me go get it,” Zola climbed the stairs while gripping the banister.

Erik followed her and he caught up with her to slap her on the ass.

“You okay?” John had a tight hold on Malaika’s waist so she wouldn’t fall.

Malaika drunkenly giggled, “I’m good. Let's change.”

John grasped Malaika’s hand and they climbed one side of the staircase. When they got to the second landing, John led Malaika down the hall to the room he’s in during his stay. John pushed open the double doors to a large room with a balcony that oversees the yard and beyond. John grabbed his bag to find his swim shorts while Malaika started taking off her dress. John paused to watch her. She was standing before him in a strapless, nude bra and matching thong. Malaika caught him staring and gave him a seductive smirk.

“This will be all yours tonight,” She crawled over to him on the bed like a feline, “All yours…”

John’s eyes followed her movements until she reached her destination and pressed her sweet lips against his. The kiss felt damn good. John could kiss for long periods. He looked from her lips to her eyes and then he closed the space between them and his lips were on hers again. Malaika sat up on her knees and started unbuttoning John’s boxy-fit, black top. She smoothed the fabric from his shoulders and broke the kiss to see his body.

“Fuck, you’re body is…mmm…Abeg, come fuck my pussy…”

Malaika’s hand found its way between John’s legs and she squeezed his stiff dick. John grunted against her lips.

“You’re so sexy, John…”

She was hungry for attention. Malaika started fumbling with his black pants to free his third leg. John paused her horny pursuit with a gentle grasp of her wrist.

“Protection.”

Malaika gave John a slight pout. John slipped away to his bag and opened a small pocket to grab a SKYN elite large condom. He made his way back over to her and Malaika proceeded to take off her bra. John stopped her again and then he tilted her chin up to make her stare directly in his eyes.

“Let me,” John reached around her and unhooked her bra.

His eyes admired the slope of her well-endowed breasts with large, brown areolas and small nipples. John didn’t waste time crouching down to suck on each erect nipple just so he could taste her luscious, dark skin. Malaika thrust her chest out and tried her best to watch John but the way he looked her in the eyes was too much for her to handle.

“Fuck, John…just like that…” Malaika moaned.

She tasted just as good as she looked. John was drooling. The door to the room opened and in walked Zola wearing a sage green bikini with her hair styled in a bun to avoid getting wet. John popped Malaika’s left titty out his mouth and sat up quickly. Zola and her bouncy, glistening cleavage crawled onto the bed and she held out a royal blue bikini for Malaika to wear.

“Here, bitch! Hurry up!”

Malaika sat up and Zola took it upon herself to remove Malaika’s thong. John’s eyes stared between Malaika’s thighs at her semi-hairy pussy. Erik approached the door with a bottle of amber liquor in his hand, drinking straight from the rim. He had on a pair of black and white striped swim shorts. Malaika slipped on her bikini bottoms while Zola helped with her bikini top. John’s dick wouldn’t go soft and he really wanted to continue where they left off but Zola was dragging Malaika out of the room.

“You still ain’t ready, nigga?! Did we fuck up a moment?”

“Whatchu think?” John replied sarcastically.

He snatched up his red swim shorts.

“Can I get some privacy?”

Erik walked away and took his laughter with him.

After John got dressed, he made his way out to the jacuzzi. When he got there, Erik was seated on the edge of the jacuzzi with his feet in the water that bubbled up like a witches brew. Zola and Malaika were splashing each other and shrieking. John lowered himself into the jacuzzi and wrapped his arms around Malaika’s waist, pulling her towards him. He started peppering kisses down her slender neck. Zola placed herself between Erik’s legs and he fed her some liquor straight from the bottle. Some of it dribbled down her chin. Erik sank into the water and wrapped his hand around her bun, extending her neck so he could like and suck on her neck.

Malaika’s eyes couldn’t stray away from Erik’s broad, muscular back littered with tiny, raised scars. John noticed that she was staring and Malaika tried to play it off by kissing his cheek. John wasn’t surprised, Erik’s scars drew a lot of attention. And it made you question what type of person would do something like that over and over.

“I noticed you don’t have any scars…”

“…I have a few. We started them together. I just didn’t have the desire to continue…”

Malaika turned to face him, “Can I see them?”

John took Malaika’s right hand and brought it to his right side. Her fingertips grazed three small raised bumps.

“What made you stop?” Malaika stared up at John with curiosity.

John removed her hand and leaned in to give her tongue. That seemed to distract her. John wanted to focus on the sex and the good times. As beautiful as Malaika is, he knew what it would be between them. She didn’t need to know about that.

“You kiss like…I no get! I no get…”

Zola had her legs wrapped around Erik’s waist as she watched John and Malaika kiss over his shoulder.

“How come you never brought John around before?”

Erik pulled back to look at her. He scrunched his face at her question.

“Wetin? I mean…you’re identical twins. I’ve never seen twins so separated…”

Erik cocked his head to the side, “John has his own thing and so do I. That doesn’t mean we’re not close.”

“But—”

“Zo, you know you’re ruining the mood right? Look,” Erik points to John and Malaika, “Instead of you worrying about me and my brother's bond, you could be worrying about this big dick you missed so much.”

Erik lets Zola down and he climbs out of the Jacuzzi. He motions for her to come to him and he lifts her out of the water. Erik picks her up bridal style and Zola squeals. Malaika and John were too busy swapping spit to care.

____________________________

Zola missed his big dick alright.

That slight curvature to the left with the perfect amount of width-to-length ratio that would have you in the falsetto was back in Lagos after five long months. Despite Zola wanting to keep Erik all for herself, he’s a side dude. Zola is married and from what Erik knows, unhappy. They don’t talk about her marriage whenever they link. That’s Zola’s rule.

Her husband couldn’t fuck like Erik could. Despite her famine, Zola enjoyed the feeling of his fat dick sinking into her creamy center like it was the first time. Zola arched her back and took that long dick like a champ on the edge of the bed. Her wild, kinky fro shielded her face and she gripped on the bed as best as she could.

“I thought you said you liked big toys, Zo?!”

He pounded her pussy at different angles and different strokes to make her feel it. Zola had chills all over her body. His 6’4, 225 lb frame towering over her from behind could be seen in the reflection on the ceiling mirror. She looked back at him with tears in her eyes and nothing but cries escaping her mouth.

“Comot from dia…oooh…I can’t take it…Abeg, big daddy!”

Erik’s response to that was more strokes. His balls slapped her clit and her body convulsed. He popped her on the ass and that triggered her to cum hard on his condom-covered dick.

“Come up off this pussy, bitch? Huh? I thought I told you to take this fuckin’ dick? Huh?”

“Na so,” Zola replied weakly.

“Don’t play with me, Zo. I know how to get you…”

Erik slipped out and Zola released a heavy squirt. His dick and that curve was pressed against her spot on purpose to make her do that. Erik used his thumb to rub on her clit from the back causing more to release. She was a quivering mess in a puddle of her own release. Erik positioned Zola on her back and locked her legs with her knees pinned by her ears. Erik’s dick sank back inside of her and she almost lost it again.

“Fuck! Oh fuck…”

Zola gasped. Erik fucked her with a roll of his hips. He watched her face contorted in many different ways while grunting and biting his lip.

“Pussy creamy, you hear all that? Damn, girl…”

“Oh!”

“You lookin’ at this? Hm?”

Zola’s eyes looked down and all she could see was his big dick going in and out of her. He hit her spot so good she couldn’t keep still.

“Zola, how deep this pussy go? Deep enough for daddy?”

She could only nod and tremble. That bottom lip would not stop quivering. Staring up into his onyx eyes that were shielded by his locs, Zola watched as he cracked a smile.

“Right there…oh my god I’m cumming—”

Erik slowly pulled out and his dick sat on top of her waxed pussy lips as he released into the condom.

“Fuuuck. That pussy good, Zo. So good, baby…”

Erik coaxed Zola into a tongue kiss. She gripped his chin and he rubbed her pussy.

“You wish you could have me every night?”

Zola’s eyes welled up with tears. They weren’t sad tears. The definition of dickmatized was Zola. She knew that as soon as Erik left, it would be a long while before he returned.

“I’m on top now,” Zola sat up, “I want to feel that dick from another angle, daddy…”

Erik removed the old condom and grabbed a new one.

“You can ride it all you want, girl.”

Erik could recall sleepless nights filled with multiple sessions with Zola. Erik had hoes in different area codes but one thing about Zola, she could take dick well. And she was his best eater thus far. Zola climbed on top of Erik and got up on her feet to bounce. She lined his dick up with her opening and lowered herself. Zola gripped Erik’s shoulders and started bouncing.

“Unh! I love the way it feels going up inside of me!”

“I know, you got my nuts hurting, fuck!”

That ass collided with his balls each time she came down.

“DAT’S IT…fuck this dick…ride this shit so good…just like that…Suck the nut out this dick with them pussy lips…pussy hella tight…take this nut like you tryna get a baby…”

Zola moaned loudly and she fell to her knees on top of Erik. Her walls gripped his dick with tight pulses. Erik’s hips jerked and he groaned while painting the inside of the condom milky-white.

_____________________

While Zola and Erik were busy, John and Malaika made their way back to the room. Their wet swimwear resided on the bathroom floor and Malaika was on her back in a flash. John was leaning over her body, kissing down her neck. His dick throbbed against her inner thigh the more his lips moved closer to her breasts. Malaika was trying to steal peeks at his dick. It felt heavy against her thigh, but did it match the sensation? She could only hope so.

Malaika and her hairy pussy were begging for attention. She cradled the back of his head while his lips went from nipple-to-nipple. John’s lips tugging on her nipples made her clit pulsate. This man was teasing her and she couldn’t take it. Malaika pushed him so that he would sit up. John lifted to his knees and Malaika anxiously lifted to admire his dick.

She blinked slowly at what would be the prettiest dick she’d ever seen. It had a slight curve to it, which was new for her because she’d never taken dick like that. From first glance, she flinched because of how intimidating his dick looked. Prominent veins, wide tip, girthy, and at least 8 ½ inches. John startled her by caressing her bottom lip with his thumb. Malaika’s eyes met his. He had this hungry look in his eyes. She liked that a lot. Very primal.

“You want it? Come get it…”

Malaika found herself on her knees. John stood up and Malaika wrapped a hand around his shaft. She bounced it in her palm and realized how heavy it was. Her stomach clenched. She was going to fuck all this dick?

“Malaika.”

She opened up and wrapped her lips around him and started sucking. A longing sigh escaped his mouth. It was as if he’d forgotten how good it felt to have his dick sucked.

“Mhm…mhm…good girl…”

He gently strokes her chin with his thumb. Malaika sucked as much as she could.

“Damn…I needed this…”

John shut his eyes and drew his bottom lip into his mouth. Malaika’s loud slurping filled the expansive room.

“You like that shit?”

Malaika bobbed her head. He even tasted good. She slurped and John had a tight grip on her shoulders and he started bucking his hips. Malaika did her best to relax her throat. Spit trickled down the sides of her mouth continuously. John’s tongue swiped his bottom lip and his eyebrows knitted together. He was close. Malaika could tell because he was swelling in her mouth to the point that her jaws were sore.

“I’m finna nut…ughhhhh—”

Malaika’s pussy ached to be fucked when the first taste of cum from his beautiful balls hit her tongue. She had to moan herself. The more she jerked, cum painted her tongue. John watched with low eyes and parted lips. When she finished, John lifted her to her feet and instructed her to get on her back and spread her thighs. She grabbed him by the dick impatiently and John had to grab the condom to roll it on.

“Slow down, mamas…”

Malaika spread her pussy lips, “I should have shaved—”

She wasn’t prepared for that intrusion. Malaika cried out so loud her voice bounced off the walls. John didn’t care about some hair. He had some himself. He wanted—NEEDED to be inside of her. He had his hands on her hips while his big dick pumped her. With each thrust, Malaika would whimper. Silent but deadly. He could fuck some pussy up.

“John! Oh my god…”

He was swimming in her pussy. The wetness seemed to overflow the more he fucked her.

“Mhm…”

His chain in her face and the scent of sandalwood on his skin stimulated her senses. Malaika was going to cum hard. Whenever she looked up into his eyes, stroked the back of his head, and said his name, he would just stare back with this neutral expression. That was dangerous. It meant he KNEW his dick was lethal.

“Oooh, here it comes, YES—”

“Good girl…cum for me…”

Malaika spasmed beneath John. He kissed her temple and then he picked her up, walking Malaika over to the dresser. He sat her down on the dresser and without a word he hooked her left knee over his arm while using his right hand to line his dick up again and before she knew it he was back inside. Both of her knees over his arms, John thrust in and out of her. Malaika locked eyes with him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“I gotchu baby…”

“Yeah?”

He was fucking her so good Malaika couldn’t believe it. Her rich, dark skin glistened with sweat and so did his russet skin. John watched as his dick went in and out with a bite of his lip. He lifted Malaika completely off of the dresser and bounced her on his dick.

“John! John! John!”

Her cries were beautiful. John felt that sensation.

“Shit, I’m cumin’—”

John gave Malaika two more thrusts before he erupted into the condom.

_____________________

Time was lost to them as they slept in a pool of their own secretions. The silence that surrounded them in the darkness of that room alerted John to a ruckus. His ears could pick up the faintest of noises. John slowly sat up in bed, rubbing his left eye with the back of his hand. He was still naked with no desire to get dressed in case Malaika wanted to go another round.

John glanced down at the sleeping beauty before looking towards the door. He gently pulled the sheets back and climbed out of bed to grab a pair of shorts and a white beater. When he finished getting dressed, out of habit John grabbed a black pistol with a long barrel and a slightly lighter trigger pull for ultimate precision. He approached the door and carefully twisted one of the handles to open it.

The hallway was pitch black. John entered the hall, eyes moving from left to right, making his way towards his brother's room. When he approached Erik’s door, John tried to push it open but he was met with the muzzle of a silver, chrome plated Glock. Erik was on the other end. His hard, menacing expression relaxed when he realized it was John.

“You heard something too.” Erik whispered.

“Yeah,” John motioned for Erik to follow him, “it came from this way…”

The twin brothers stealthily moved towards the top of the stairs. When they got there, John spotted what looked like a militant. He didn’t think twice before pulling the trigger. They fell to their knees and as soon as they did, more shots rang out causing John and Erik to take cover.

“What the fuck?!” Erik pressed his back against a wall.

He could hear footsteps drawing closer so Erik jumped out and fired his pistol, the bullets connecting with the intruders head. John covered his brother by aiming his shots over the banister. He hit one in the chest and the other in the leg. They rushed down the stairs two at a time and broke out into combat, disarming whoever came at them.

“Argh!”

John dragged one of them away while Erik had his knee in the back of the other's head with his gun pressed against their cheek.

“Who sent you?! SPEAK!” John barked out.

“Erik!”

Erik looked towards the top of the stairs to find Zola and Malaika captured by more militant men. They were both barely covered with a sheet to conceal their nudity.

“If you shoot, we will kill them…”

Erik scowled furiously at whoever it was making threats.

“You’ve been on our radar for a while, Killmonger…”

John looked from his brother to the men holding the women hostage.

“Bandits?” John questioned.

Erik clenched his jaw. He kept a low profile in Lagos. No one knew about his whereabouts except Adewele, who he did business with. Did he betray him?

“How did you find me?”

The bandit wearing Nigerian militia and a red scarf shielding half of his face pointed his gun at Zola. John closed his eyes for a second. Erik looked at Zola with venomous suspicion.

“She’s our eyes and ears, isn’t that right? My wife?”

“What?” John couldn’t believe it, “You’ve been fucking the wife of your enemy?!”

Erik lost it.

“Erik, please–I–I–”

John watched as Zola’s brains were blown. The apparent leader of the bandits didn’t expect that turn of events. Malaika wailed, trying to escape. John watched her struggle, his mind racing. He didn’t know whether to trust Malaika. Erik didn’t hesitate to kill Zola. Malaika was tossed ferociously to the side while guns blazed. Erik raced up the stairs to handle the leader himself while John fought his way up towards Malaika. He got to her in time and fought off a militant before tossing his lifeless body down the stairs.

“John,” Malaika stared at him with tear-stricken eyes, “I didn’t know…I swear.”

“Here,” He helped Malaika to her feet, “I want you to hide until we make sure it’s safe, okay? Go.”

John watched Malaika run into a nearby room and close the door behind her. John ran off in search of Erik. He could hear commotion and found Erik fighting the leader of the bandits. A knife fight. John barged over and was nearly knocked over when a militant tried to subdue him. Erik swung his blade expertly while covered in blood.

“When I get you, I’m cutting your fucking head off!!!!” The leader shouted.

John brought the militant to the floor and wrapped his hands around his neck. He watched the life leave his body. Erik took a slash to his chest before throwing his blade, precisely hitting the leader in the eye. He dropped like a sack of potatoes to his death. Erik rocked back on his heels and dropped the blade in his hand. John approached his brother to check on him. Erik looked up at John with a smirk before laughing. John wasn’t in the mood for laughter.

“…I’m gonna go check on Malaika—”

“Nah, she’s probably in on this shit just like Zola. I can’t believe that bitch betrayed me.”

“You can’t believe it? Are you fucking serious? You ain’t learned from last time?”

“Whatever,” Erik picked himself up and stormed over to the door, “I gotta make a call. We need to be outta here before they come knocking.”

John clenched his fists and instead of going after Erik he went in search of Malaika. John made his way to the room she hid herself in and when he got closer he realized the door had been opened. John kicked the door open and flicked on the light. It was empty. He made his way back to the room he was in and noticed it was empty too.

Malaika had fled. He didn’t have time to process his emotions in regards to Malaika’s true intentions. All he hoped was that the girl was safe.

“How soon can they get here to clean up? I gotta disappear before shit gets hot…I’m gon’ keep it real with you, Adewele, I don’t trust anybody right now. Not even you. I appreciate how you came through, but I’m cutting ties…just wire me my last payment and we’re good…”

John listened in on his brother’s phone call before revealing himself. Erik paused to look John square in the eyes.

“I called a friend, they’ll meet us outside of the city to fly out. I’m gonna be off the radar for a bit to clean up this mess…”

John shook his head, “Do what you gotta do, bro. Just keep me the fuck out of it. I don’t wanna know what you did to have these people on your back. I got my own shit.”

Erik chuckled dryly, “Yeah, I know. Fuck me and my shit. I get it…”

Erik started packing his things. John had another mission when he got back.

“Listen, E. You should cool off for a while. Lay low someplace safe and leave this shit alone—”

“Can’t. I got a big job in Vietnam. I’m looking at a million dollar paycheck, bruh. I’m not laying low and missing that opportunity. You wouldn’t know anything about that…”

He didn’t have the energy to argue with Erik. And arguing wouldn’t change his mind. John walked away to get his things together. While he cleaned up and got dressed to leave, whoever Erik’s business partner called showed up to clean up the house. John watched the large men toss the dead bodies onto a five ton M939. John followed Erik out of the mansion and towards an armored, all black, Military hummer. They tossed their bags onto the back and climbed into the front.

Erik and John drove for five hours until they arrived at a dirt strip in the middle of nowhere in rural Benin. It took a lot of effort to get there without running into trouble. There was a helicopter waiting to transport them to their jet. John hopped out of the vehicle and gathered their bags while Erik spoke with his friend.

“This is my twin brother, John. John, this is Turk. We used to work closely together doing odd jobs…”

He appeared to be an Ethiopian man wearing a turban head wrap and dingy clothes covered in ultisol.

“Nice to meet you, John. Are you two ready to fly out?”

John shook Turk’s hand, “Yeah, let’s bounce.”

Once their bags were secure on the helicopter, they strapped themselves in and Turk took off.

John took a sip of water out of a canister while Erik focused below to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“E…”

Erik cut his eyes at John.

“I think it’s time to be abstinent.”

Erik snorted, “I see you got jokes…”

“You didn’t know who Zola’s husband was?”

“…She told me her husband was a limp-dick Doctor. There were no signs pointing at the shit being suspicious.”

“Malaika left.” John said.

“Who gives a fuck? You should have killed her ass. What happened to all that without remorse type shit?”

John shrugged, “It doesn’t matter now. Let’s get out of here now before shit blows up. You're still coming home after your next job, right?”

“I ain’t got a choice. I don’t want G-ma lighting a fire under my ass about it.”

John chuckled tiredly, “You know she don’t play.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Aye,” John leaned forward on his knees and reached out his hand, “Make it home in one piece.”

Erik clasped his brother's hand and gave him a pointed look, “Always. They don’t call me Killmonger for nothing. We touchin’ down in The Bay the same day and gettin’ hyphy.”

___________________

Promises couldn’t be kept. John was back in California within two weeks, but Erik hadn’t shown up. He had another top secret job awaiting him and he communicated to John via email that he’d be home in a few days. John drove to his new apartment in his all-black, BMW M340 with the windows rolled down, his favorite shades on, and a smirk on his face. The first stop he wanted to make was to his favorite barber in Oakland. He needed a good fade with a crisp line-up.

After his appointment, John headed to his new apartment and walked into a halfway furnished living space. He sat down on his black leather home theater sectional and released a sigh of contempt. It felt good to be home. No more sleepless nights, death knocking at his door, and covert missions. He could shower, eat, sleep, beat his dick, and watch crap TV. He could play COD and do normal things like grocery shop and spend time with his family.

After a long shower, John moisturized and threw on a pair of shorts with a white tee. He slipped on a durag and decided to order in. He had a long talk on the phone with his grandmother and promised that he would be over on Sunday for dinner. John ordered himself a meat lover's pizza and some hot wings. He sat at his high top on a stool with his laptop opened to a dating site. After Malaika, John was fiendish for another woman to spend some time with.

He settled on Hinge. He wasn’t really feeling Bumble at the moment. He was looking for someone to hook up with to scratch that itch for pussy. Bumble had too many women looking for commitment and John wasn’t ready to be locked down quite yet. He hadn’t checked his profile in a while so he was curious to see how many matches he has.

“Dana…26…art major…”

John read her profile and he instantly lost interest. He continued.

“Kayla. You’re too young…”

He washed his food down with some wine.

Hi, handsome

You have a nice smile

Are you interested in hooking up?

He started to wonder if this was a good idea. He’d gone through thirty profiles and not one was enough to make him pursue. That was, until he came across a woman he’d matched with a few days ago. He had to get through almost fifty matches to find her.

Her name was Gia; a thirty-one-year old woman with undeniable beauty. She’s a Spelman graduate with a degree in Biology and Anthropology. John read her dating profile and found Gia to be captivating and he hadn’t even spoken to her.

She’s looking for a low commitment relationship with good vibes, food, and conversation. She makes it known that she’s career-driven and is looking for a man in uniform, specifically a soldier. That narrows down the dating pool. There are other traits about her that John loved and he didn’t waste time sending her a message.

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[tanadrin]

It turns out that "nationalism is a not-even-once drug" is antisemitic because it leads a person to not support the state of Israel (but really I appreciate your firm and clear position on nationalism).

There was *maybe* a time when nationalism was conditionally a useful liberatory ideology in the 19th century, when it was a force that helped carve democratic states out of reactionary empires; but even in that context it feels like it was mostly dumb luck, and the alternative scenario where multiethnic empires could have become multiethnic democracies strikes me as more desirable in many ways—not least because it might have helped avoid the process of national calcification and brutal ethnic cleansing and population transfers that occurred after both world wars.

But even the most ardent nationalist will admit not every people can have its own nation—just as German nationalism required suppressing Sorbian and Czech and Polish nationalism, or Russian nationalism required running roughshod over Ukrainian nationalism, or French over Breton, etc, etc—it is ultimately an ideology which requires some nations to be more valid than others, and minority nations to be subsumed, forcibly assimilated, or expelled. And even within the nation, the national elites, the “true” carriers of the national spirit, will necessarily be privileged over those who are considered “lesser” or more contingent members. Nationalism does not actually entail democracy—it’s an ideology that legitimates state power, regardless of who is running the state.

And it sucks! And making a carve out for special kinds of nationalism under the label “indigeneity” doesn’t seem like a great solution to me either. We can end and try to correct the historic wrongs done to oppressed people without recourse to an ideology that fundamentally validates oppression, you know? We sort of have to. And on the flip side it should surprise no one that linking territoriality and statehood to a national identity leads to projects of bloody conquest and oppression. That’s kind of what nationalism is for!

[lesmana-enterprise-ltd]

Our Story, Meet the Lesmanas.

Meet the Lesmanas—the family behind the powerhouse that is Lesmana Enterprise. As the driving force behind one of the Simworld's most influential companies, they blend tradition with cutting-edge innovation. Led by patriarch Kieran Lesmana, every member of the family plays a crucial role in sustaining their empire’s global reach. From Tyo, the poised heir, to Mia and Amira carving their own paths, they embody the essence of wealth, influence, and responsibility. The Lesmanas are more than a family—they are the foundation and future of the enterprise.

(Left)

Kieran Agung Lesmana Birthdate: March 12, 1966 (58 years old) Occupation: CEO and Chairman of Lesmana Enterprise

As the head of Lesmana Enterprise, Kieran oversees the massive business empire that his family has built. He's a shrewd and pragmatic leader with a vision for the company that spans decades. Despite his strict and focused demeanor in business, Kieran often finds himself enjoying his late-stage life, yet he maintains control over his image as the powerful patriarch of the Lesmana family.

(Right)

Seo-Yeon Lee

Birthdate: October 7, 1997 (26 years old) Occupation: Celebrity and Shareholder in Lesmana Enterprise.

Seo-Yeon, the wife of Kieran, is a social media sensation and an ex-Spop artist. Her role within the Lesmana family has elevated her into elite circles, but she maintains a vibrant public persona. She often enjoys the luxuries being a new Lesmana offers, but behind the glamorous facade, she’s sharp and calculating when it comes to maintaining her status.

(Left)

Tyo Saputra Lesmana

Birth Date: January 12, 1989 (35 years old) Occupation: Chief Operating Officer (COO) of Lesmana Enterprise

Tyo Saputra Lesmana is the eldest son and COO of Lesmana Enterprise. The chosen heir to lead the family business, Tyo balances corporate pragmatism with family tradition. A firm but steady leader, he works to shape the future of the enterprise while maintaining the family's legacy. Married to Clara, he’s often the anchor in family affairs, though the weight of the business constantly looms over him.

(Right)

Clara Ivanova Lesmana

Birth Date: April 17, 1990 (34 years old) Occupation: International Lawyer

Clara Ivanova Lesmana, born into a multicultural heritage of Indonesian, Russian, and Ukrainian descent, is Tyo's no-nonsense wife. With her international legal expertise, she brings a sharp perspective to the family. Clara's strong demeanor complements her role as a devoted mother and wife while navigating the intricate dynamics of the Lesmana family.

(Left)

Anindita Dianti Lesmana

Birth Date: February 7, 1992 (32 years old)

Occupation: CEO of Lesmana-Unternehmen Windenburg AG  

Anindita, also called “Anin” serves as the Lead of the Enterprise’s projects in Windenburg such as The Windenburg Royal Cathedral Restoration Project. Her work focuses on historical preservation and infrastructure projects. With a strong sense of family tradition, she is respected for her meticulous attention to detail.

(Right)

Arthur-Satria Lesmana

Birth Date: August 1, 1996 (age 28) Occupation: Chief Creative Officer (CCO) of Lesmana Enterprise

Arthur-Satria Lesmana heads the creative division at Lesmana Enterprise, responsible for marketing, branding, and the company’s public image. Known for his vibrant, carefree lifestyle and connections to the world of influencers, models, and pop culture, Arthur brings a modern flair to the family business. While his approach sometimes clashes with the more traditional values of the family, his innovative strategies have helped keep Lesmana Enterprise relevant to a younger demographic.

(Left)

Mia Citra Lesmana

Birth Date: January 15, 2004 (20 years old) Occupation: Influencer and Shareholder in Lesmana Enterprise

As Kieran’s fourth child, Mia is still figuring out her path in life but enjoys the perks of being part of the Lesmana family. She’s currently pursuing a degree at Del Sol Valley State University while being an active Simstagram influencer. Known for her luxury lifestyle, Mia enjoys her status but can be perceived as tone-deaf when it comes to the reality outside her bubble of wealth.

(Right)

Amira Malinda Lesmana

Birth Date: June 7, 2008 (16 years old) Occupation: Student and Shareholder in Lesmana Enterprise

The youngest of the Lesmana family, Amira is still in school and balancing her life between being a teenager and growing up in a powerful family. She is slowly gaining traction as a social media personality, often appearing in Del Sol Valley events and sharing glimpses of her life online. Despite her privileged upbringing, Amira is exploring her identity and figuring out where she fits into the family's empire.

(Left)

Liam Mas Lesmana

Birth Date: June 16, 2016 (8 years old) Occupation: Elementary School Student

The eldest child of Tyo Saputra and Clara Ivanova Lesmana, Liam is growing up under the guidance of his ambitious parents. He's intelligent, a bit mischievous, and already shows signs of being quite the negotiator like his father. Liam enjoys being the center of attention among the younger generation of Lesmanas and is often seen shadowing his father during corporate visits.

(Right)

Rania Putri Lesmana Birth Date: February 10, 2019 (5 years old) Occupation: Kindergarten Student

The youngest member of the Lesmana family, Rania is a playful, curious child with a bright personality. She's doted on by her older sibling, aunts and uncles, always the center of affection in the family. Rania is already learning how to balance her mixed cultural heritage and often mimics her mother Clara's no-nonsense attitude in a more innocent way.

[ripstefano]

"If Alexander were a woman," he wrote Josephine, "I would make him my mistress."

-Napoleon

TMW (proto) Orthodoxy, Autocracy, and Nationality gets in the way of your Napoleonic Yaoi, divine right of monarchs vs. Napoleon being quoted as saying that those days at Tilsit were the best in his life’s

We finally get to to Russian Empire’s uniforms, my personal favourite. What is it the kids say on the internet, “fail something”, that was the early stages of the army. Fighting Napoleon couldn’t helped either. But there’s a simplicity to the uniforms, the greens and whites, that is funkily contrasted with the most obscured addition; an elite soldier, neatly dressed in well tailored clothing and simple colours, but they got an exclamation mark on their heads.

A distant relative of mine fought in the army too from Suvorov to the Decembrists, so it’s not hard to romanticize the force.

I’ll get around to making another one for the cavalry and maybe artillery, that’s where they excelled.

From The Russian Army of the Napoleonic Wars, infantry, 1799-1814.

[lisenberry]

Blend In

Suggestive/Explicit Language, Mystery 141 x F!Reader.

MDNI!

1111k words (heavy on the -ish)

For @the-californicationist Nameless Challenge!

Congrats on 500K words, Cali!!

Put your guess in the comments as to who you think it is!

You had no idea why you’d been chosen for this assignment, but you were not going to argue.  Certainly not with him.

Keeping any doubts to yourself, you checked the mirror in the bathroom one last time before exiting into the hotel room you shared with your teammate.  Well, not your teammate yet, but if all went well, your fingers were crossed for a spot on his elite task force. 

“What do you think, sir?”

As a mere corporal, just about everyone had a higher rank than you.  There was the distinguished Captain Price, Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish.  Big (huge) shoes to fill, but you were ready to prove yourself.

“It’ll…do,” he muttered, turning his head quickly towards the surveillance equipment set up on the nearby desk.  “And don’t call me that.  We’re undercover, remember?” 

“Do I get a code name or something?  You all have badass nicknames, and I’m just...the new girl.”  You shrugged your shoulders and tried not to fuss over the plunging depth of your neckline that barely covered your pushed-up boobs, or the uncomfortable way the fabric hugged your hips.

“No, New Girl is the new girl.  You’re—Ah, fuck.  Here we go.  Time to get out there.”  He picked up something on the camera feed of the hotel’s ballroom and pointed to it with his finger.  “Target’s moving.”

“Who picked this dress?  I thought I was supposed to blend in.  It’s obscene for a wedding.”

“Not for an oligarch’s wedding.  Tits up, back straight, and do your job.”  He gave you one last look over, dragging his gaze up to meet yours, finally, before giving you an encouraging nod.

“Aye, aye.  Sir.”  You couldn’t help but add the last with a bold smirk.  Maybe it was the dress, or the mission, or the unexpected glint in his eye, but you had a good feeling about this.

********

You’d been gone for only ten minutes, and he was already doubting every aspect of this assignment.  As the only fluent Russian speaker who didn’t scream special forces in the ranks, you’d been the easy choice.  But you were also soft around the edges, and sweet as hell, with a smile and an inner kindness that would lower anyone’s defenses. 

What the fuck you were doing in the military, or how you’d made it this far, he had yet to figure out.

He’d only agreed to this at all because the stakes were low, as was the risk of danger.  All you needed was a cigarette butt or a discarded champagne glass.   A piece of cutlery left behind on a tray.  Even just a partial fingerprint would be enough for Laswell to make a positive ID.

He was not prepared for you to strike up a conversation with the third most lethal psychopath on the watch list, or let him put his hand on your ass and squeeze you close to his hips as he whispered suggestively in your ear. 

“Careful, sweetling,” your commanding officer gritted low into his radio.  The comms device in your ear was undetectable, but he didn’t want to startle you or alert the target that you were in contact with someone.

It could also pick up your conversation, not that he understood any of what you were saying.   It seemed to be mostly flirty banter and coy laughter.  The man was obviously trying to get in you back to his room.

He didn’t know much Russian, but he knew enough about men’s appetites to get the idea.  He’d had his own thoughts, just the good sense not to say them out loud.

And he could not believe what he was seeing on the camera.  A sudden, sinking flood of anxiety made him jump in his chair and clench his fists at the stress.  You were going with the man, following him as he escorted you out somewhere beyond the surveillance feed.

“Do not leave that ballroom.  I can’t track you out there.  Get back.  Abort!”

He knew you could hear him, but you weren’t following orders.  Being ignored was most certainly the root of his blinding rage, not his concern for your safety.  Or the hungry way the bastard had looked at you in the dress he’d handpicked himself for the way the color made your skin practically glow. 

The cut and size may have been a miscalculation, he admitted to himself, as he checked the clip in his handgun and hurried toward the door.   

“Fucking hell.  You’re going to get yourself killed, and if you don’t, then I’ll do it myself.  When I get my bloody hands on you, Cupcake, I swear—”

“Cupcake?  That’s the best you can do?”  You stood on the other side of the door, with your hands on your hips as he pulled it open, with a fierceness you’d only heard about from other recruits.

Suddenly directed at you, it was worse than you’d imagined.  He looked ready for war as his words caught in his throat. 

“There you are.  You’re alright?”

“I got his prints on my purse, his DNA on my tits, and a retina scan on my phone.  And his phone, for shits and giggles.”  You quickly held up your loot for his inspection, before he could catch his breath long enough to lecture you on your recklessness.

He swiped a big hand along his mouth for composure, but he still looked like he wanted to kill something.  Mostly you.

“DNA?”  His eyes darkened quickly, somehow even more than before, as he looked from your face to your aforementioned tits.

“Saliva, big guy.  I’m committed, but not that committed.  Calm down.”  But he didn’t of course, because you’d never actually seen him relaxed.  At least not around you. 

You’d heard stories that he was a generally likable bloke once you got to know him.  Earned his trust.  Maybe someday you would get to see that side of him.  From the looks of it, this wasn’t it.

“Your country thanks you for your service.”  He deadpanned, not appreciating your snark.  

“What about you, sir?  Did I make the team?”  You shifted on your heels hopefully, still brimming with energy from knocking out a man twice your size, watching him piss himself, and staging the scene to look like he’d passed out on his own.

“I’ll put in a request to my commanding officer as soon as we get back.” 

“Really?”  You stifled the urge to hug him in your excitement.

“No.  You’re never allowed to leave the base again.”

You weren’t deterred as you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue behind his back.  You’d wear him down.  One way or another.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.2

Apprehension

TW: Torture, graphicish violence, angst Summary: Backstory time >:)

A Study in Torture, Rescue

1 Month, 3 days ago

You grunt softly, hoisting yourself over the wall and dropping near silently to the ground. You cradle a fractured wrist to your chest, cursing Ghost and his inability to fly a helicopter. 

“Hang on kid!”

“I’m trying!” 

“Shit! Ghost you’ve got to level the chopper!”

“I’m! Trying!” 

“Don’t let me fall, MacTavish!”

“Y/N!”

“Oh my God.” 

“Ghost you have to turn around!” 

“I can’t!” 

“Y/N!”

You shake your head, breaking out of the reverie. Focus, you tell yourself. You creep silently through the enemy encampment, sticking to the shadows. Your eyes dart back and forth, constantly scanning your surroundings for danger. 

You crouch, moving behind a tent as voices sounded from in front of you. You watch as soldiers walk past you, sighing in relief when they don't seem to notice you. That relief is short-lived however, as cool metal is pressed into your back.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Heavily-accented English sounds from behind you. The man holding the gun pulls it away, then slams the butt of it into your temple. You don’t even have time to respond before the world goes dark. 

You come to in a dark room. Grunting, you try to sit up, but stop when spikes of pain flare through your wrists. Your head spins and you look down, blinking sluggishly. Your eyes widen as you finally notice that you are handcuffed to a table, hands up above your head.  

“Good morning, pretty bird.” Slightly Russian-accented English sounds from behind you, “about time you woke up.” A man comes into view, and though it takes you a few seconds, you recognize him. 

“Colonel Kravchenko.” You mutter, tongue thick and heavy in your mouth. 

“So you know me.” You say nothing, just follow him with your eyes. He sighs softly, moving next to the table you are strapped to.

“So, Y/N L/N. You know, you really should not be in enemy territory with an I.D. on you. As it is, I now know pretty much everything about you, including the fact that you are a member of an...elite team I have been hunting.” He double checks your restraints as he speaks, circling the table and stopping by your side. 

“Being as such, you have information I want.” He grins, “You can give this to me the boring, easy way, or you can let me have fun.” 

Fear coils in your belly, but you do not let it show. You are a trained, battle-hardened soldier, and you will not give up your team for anything.

“Well, pretty bird? Are you going to talk to me?” You remain silent, watching him. He grins sharply at the silence, almost eager. 

“Good. I hate the boring ones anyways.” He moves out of your line of sight, returning with a covered cart next to him, “There are a few rules we’ll have to go over before we start, of course. But we can introduce them slowly, I don’t want to…overwhelm you. The first, and most important, is that you will address me as Sir whenever you speak.” You snort, rolling your eyes at that.

“You think that's a funny, pretty bird?”

“A little, yeah.” You snark, trying to hide your fear.

“Sir.” He says, annoyed.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t.” 

“You are a soldier, no?” You nod instinctively, confused at the turn in conversation. 

“It would be a shame for you to never be able to hold a gun again, wouldn’t it be, pretty bird?” he croons. He slides his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. If you weren’t concussed, maybe you would be able to guess what he was about to do, but your brain is foggy, thought process muddled. So it comes as a surprise when he jerks his hand up, forcing your fingers back. There is a crunching noise as your bones shatter, fire lacing up your arm. He squeezes the broken fingers and you scream. 

“Pretty bird, you and I are going to have so much fun together.” The man laughs, letting go of your hand, “Now, we’ll start off simple. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, teeth clenched, eyes watering. He turns his back to you, flipping the cloth of the cart. You watch through blurry eyes as he pulls something from it before flipping the cloth back over. In his hands is a towel.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, just stare at him. He smiles, delighted by your decision to play hard to get. 

“Your choice, pretty bird.” He drapes the towel over your face, obscuring your vision. You panic, breaths coming in rapid bursts at the inability to see anything. You calm down slightly as the towel is flipped down so you can see again, still covering your mouth and nose. You blame the concussion again for not being able to put two-and-two together, but you are confused until he returns, bucket in hand. 

You squirm pointlessly, trying to get away. The man simply chuckles, pouring the water over your face. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually you exhale, gasping as your lungs demand air. Immediately, the wet cloth is sucked to your skin, suffocating you. You panic, no longer able to control your breathing as you inhale sharply and gag at the water running down your throat in a vicious cycle. 

Though it feels like hours, you are only under the water for about a minute before the cloth is pulled away. Your body heaves as you choke, gasping greedily for air. 

“What were you doing in our airspace?” You say nothing, just sob softly. 

“Have it your way, pretty bird.” The cloth is placed back over your face and the water is poured again. And again. And again. 

~~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~

“Bloody hell.” Ghosts snarls as he brings the chopper to a rough landing. He jumps out, followed by Soap and Gaz. Price stands in the hanger, waiting for them.

“I heard.” He says solemnly as Gaz opens his mouth, “They are sending men out to look for them, and it took every favor Laswell has ever owed me to get us sent out.” He turns on his heel, not bothering to check if his men were following. He leads them to a briefing room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

A map of the enemy territory is projected on the white board, upon which Price draws a small red circle. 

“This is our best guess as to where they landed. We have received no communication from them since they fell.” He pauses, sighing softly, “Officially, they have been marked K.I.A and this is a body recovery. Unofficially, this is a rescue op. We don’t lose hope until their body is on the table in front of us, okay?” 

“We are rolling out tomorrow.” He continues, “So get to the infirmary, get checked out, and get some sleep.”

Sounds of agreement echo from the room, and Gaz and Price exit, leaving Soap and Ghost alone in the room.

“Not your fault Johnny.” 

“Not yours either Lt.”

Neither of them believe the other. The guilt lays heavy in the room, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The minutes drag out for hours as they sit in stony silence.

"If anyone can survive out there, it's Y/N. We'll find 'em." Soaps voice trembles slightly as he breaks the silence. Ghost nods in agreement.

"Lets hit the rack." It's not a suggestion. They walk out of the room side-by-side, both thinking the same thing.

My fault.

 Soap still holds the glove that had slid off your hand as you fell from the chopper. 

Okay question. When you finally get rescued do we want major PTSD or only some PTSD?

Also do y'all want more torture scenes or do you want the rescue?

[workersolidarity]

🇵🇸🇮🇱 I'm so tired of hearing about Hamas' "war crimes" against "Israeli civilians" even as Occupation Forces are on their 10th or 11th day of straight bombing residential neighborhoods in Gaza.

There is absolutely NOTHING civilian about Israeli settlers. They carry weapons publicly (which Palestinians cannot do) and use their positions of being a protected class under Israeli Law over Palestinians to beat, bully, rape, and murder them with impunity, and with the full backing of the Israeli Occupation Forces and the funding, arming, and training of the occupation forces by the United States Military.

Israeli settlers CHOOSE to bring their families to what is essentially a war zone where only one side has any significant weaponry. If you brought your child to Bakhmut and decided to settle into a home there and your home gets bombed by the Russians, are you blaming the Russians or yourself for knowingly bringing your family into danger?

It's so insane to call Hamas war criminals. You have to have no context for the present conflict to believe that.

For example, Hamas and the Palestinian people of Gaza previously tried non-violent protest in 2020 with the Great March of Return.

Palestinians in Gaza, with the full backing of Hamas, peacefully protested Israeli occupation near the fence that blockades Gaza in.

They had NO WEAPONS. They protested peacefully, non-violently; marching, chanting and singing and waving the Palestinian flag as they resisted Israeli occupation and oppression they've suffered under since the end of WWII.

And what happened?

Israeli Occupation Forces used snipers to gun down men, women and children peacefully protesting near the Israeli occupation fence, shooting civilians from Israeli territory into Gaza.

When the medics showed up to try saving the lives of those who were shot, Israeli Occupation Forces sniped the medics as well, killing many of them and resulting in the deaths of those they were trying to evacuate.

When journalists showed up to record the unprovoked violence, Occupation Forces shot them too, famously killing an Al Jazeera News journalists, Shireen Abu Akleh.

So what exactly are Palestinians supposed to do according to US and Israeli Elites?

The answer, of course, is leave or die. That is the proposition being offered by Israeli Occupation Forces and their Imperialist Western allies.

Leave or die.

So go ahead, call Hamas war criminals and terrorists if you like, but at the very least, remember they tried literally EVERYTHING before launching Operation Al-Aqsa Flood, and just like generations before, they died for trying.

Israeli settlers are NOT civilians. They are Colonialist occupiers ethnically cleansing an entire nation since 1948. Just because all you see of Palestine now are a few small enclaves surrounded by occupied territory, does not mean that "Israeli" territory isn't part of Palestine, it's ALL Palestine.

And Palestinians have an inherent RIGHT under International Law to fight that occupation through violent and non-violent means however they see fit.

Israel itself as a Zionist State is a War Crime.

#FreePalestine #FreeGaza

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[ohsalome]

love seeing people (westerners) WHO HAVE NEVER EVEN MADE A SINGLE PEEP ABOUT UKRAINE AID, EVER, reblog russian lgbt aid funds after the recent news.

i'm very anti whataboutism but holy hell. when it comes to a certain country we all agree that liberation comes before improvement of lgbt issues. *i* agree with that, at least. but then the same people would rather pay to save lgbt people from a country that's actively besieging another country, it's just... beyond words how hypocritical it is.

I have so many things to say, none of them being nice.

Ukrainian army is, so far, the only force that is presenting challenge to "putin's regime". Wouldn't it make sense for people who "want to protect russian lgbt+s" to support us then? We are conctantly being degraded for "not allying with good russians" who are supposed to be our "natural allies" because they are "anti-putin".... Funny how it doesn't work the other way around, doesn't it? And yes, I have personal experience with russian lgbt+ and feminist circles (prior to the full-scale invasion), and I remember clearly how they explicitly ignored all pleas from ukrainians to speak up on our behalf. And how can one forget the famous "women have no nationality"...

This is, from my memory, the third time russia has "banned lgbt+s", and I believe I have a good reason for being sceptical about the real consequences of russian laws which, as we all know, are worth a little more than toilet paper. It is common knowledge which people of russian elite are gay, and I sincerely doubt their life will change in any way with this new law. As a matter of fact, most of them are a part of russian propaganda machine, like the infamous Anton Krasovsky. Also, what is the point then of this law, if it functionally duplicates all the previous ones already existing and brings nothing new to the table? I will not repeat the conspiracies about "diverting attention from Ukraine", because you've probably already heard of them. My own conspiracy is that its goal is to further the international reputation of russians as innocent victims of the regime, all while ukrainians are being actively slandered and forced into fake opposition with palestinians. One example relevant to the discussion I've seen recently is a post of a russian "war refugee" who has fled from russia either when the war started, or during one of the mobilisation waves. She was complaining about how much she dislikes living in the West and how she plans to return to russia, fully knowing that it is an authoritarian hellscape, and she will have to collaborate with it, because "it is more comfortable there"... This is what I think about russian "victims of the regime" - this is all masquerade for them, which they are ready and happy to take off once they are tired of play-pretending being part of the civilized world and want to return to their comform zone swamp.

Just like pussy riot monetizing Bucha imagery for their fame and profit, russian lgbt+s jumped on the oppostunity to appropriate the suffering of ukrainian war victims to earn more $$$$$. And I blame western media which has for day one has put us on the same scale, equating ukrainian civillians to russian ones, even though only one side has to live under constant bombardment, only one side had to seek refuge due to the threat of occupation, only one side is being actively genocided... But russians are having meanie mean words said about them on the internet, and this is just as bad - nay, mayhaps even worse! Remember how during the first months of full-scale invasion westerners were claiming that russians will starve to death due to sanctions, and I was preaching to the choir trying to explain that we are literally dying due to west feeding the russian war machine that is exterminating us? Well, almost two years have passed, no russian have famished because Chanel has left the market, they are successfuly importing all the missiles components through Kazakhstan, and Ukraine cannot even count all the losses we've had because how much of our territory remains under the occupation. But westerners have already congratulated themselves about how they've "immediately gifted ukraine all the weapons they need once the war started" (hahaha!) and moved on to playing with their new palestinian toy, all while for some reason pitting us against each other (and stealing footage from Syria and Ukraine to misrepresent them as Palestine)

Oh and don't get me started on western "political activists" who go out of their way to mention every single conflict happening on planted earth, excluding Ukraine. I will never forget that.

[very bitter and pessimistic conclusion censored]

[neerons]

Kei Soejima's Main Stories summarized

[This summary's purpose is to help people remember the most important details of the main route, or to make others discover the story more easily. The stories in-between the seasons are not detailed but put in the right order of reading (normally). If I have made any mistake, which can definitely happen since it was pretty tricky to summarize, don't hesitate to point it out so I can edit!]

MS 1 (mainly Japan - Antagonist: Clark - Crossover with: Luke Foster)

Kei and MC meet in Japan at the Raven, and soon, Kei gives her the golden choker his grandfather, Chad Romley, had sent him as a way to dominate her while she's on a surveillance mission. He realizes she must be an assassin or spy and keeps her close to him so she doesn't ruin his plans in Japan.

We find out about Kei's difficult and mysterious background as an orphan raised in an English church. Kei's purpose in Japan is to find a lost rosary that's directly linked to this place. The rosary acts as a "key" that opens the basement of that church.

When Kei finally gets the rosary/key along with MC who ends up helping him at Clark's residence, they open the basement, and it revealed traces of past abuse (like being tied up) the orphans, such as Kei, had to endure. Among everything that was there, Kei only kept a list of names which contained the identity of people involved in these secret crimes.

Then, he burned the rest of the church down to erase his past and ease his pain.

→ Stories that follow:

Lover Obscura

Lover's Nudus

Lover's Afterglow

Misguided Love -Restart-

MS 2 (mainly USA - Antagonist: Eric Fillmore - Crossover with: Eiji Kiyosumi, Luke Foster)

MC has been promoted to work at EAC's headquarters, and has said good bye to the 3S's. However, she's surprised when Kei follows her along with his friends to New York.

Kei's visit to the USA has other purposes: find Eric Fillmore, a man who is in possession of leaked classified information about military use from the UK government, AND secure the safety of some very important people Eric has kidnapped.

Kei and MC both meet Eric, a man with a personality disorder, who is very obsessive toward Kei's beauty. It turns out Eric kidnapped elite scientists, such as a Japanese genetics expert, and an English brain surgeon, to force them to help him "become" Kei via a brain transplant.

Keep in mind that Eric had also searched a lot into Kei's past and knows many things due to his obsession.

In the end, Kei and MC manage to have him arrested with MI6's and EAC's help. They saved the victims and deepened their relationship.

→ Stories that follow:

Lover Devians

Lover Occultus

MS 3 (mainly England and Russia - Antagonist: Kai Soejima - Crossover: Eiji Kiyosumi, Ishigami Hideki, Tsugaru Takaomi)

By then, Kei had joined MI6 as an active agent on the field. He went through tough training and became strong and skilled. He got intel through MI6 that a double agent was trying to leak UK information to Russia and has been captured.

On the other hand, MC was sent on a mission to Russia to retrieve the remains of a dead EAC female agent. This agent left behind her clues about the location of the GRU (Russian military intelligence agency) which will be important to remember later.

Soon after, Kei hosts a party for Black Moon, an event where all shady people gather to make deals with each other. Sadly, MC is being targeted by an unknown enemy who wants to capture her there.

She is accused of being a criminal and now all organizations are looking for her, while she is under her Russian alias "Natalya". This situation leads her to travel and hide a lot on her own while finding out who is behind this, but also to make sure Kei is not involved in her mess by protecting her. The EAC also had suspicions about her and basically abandoned her.

Meanwhile, Kei received a confidential information file about his birth family. Upon reading it, he realizes that he has a twin brother, which doesn't particularly interest him either personally nor for the current situation MC is facing. However, with further research, it turns out his twin brother, Kai Soejima, is an elite Russian soldier, and the one behind MC's current downfall.

Scared for MC's safety, and wanting to finally be needed by her, Kei goes to his grandfather Chad, who was both a soldier in the army and a legendary spy during the Cold War, to ask for his help to locate MC to protect her.

Kei manages to find her and decides to not let her fight alone anymore, as he sees the many wounds she got because of all this mess his brother started.

Then, following a clue left by the dead EAC female agent that could be a trap, MC goes to Russia alone and ends up finally facing Kai, who keeps her locked inside the GRU palace. She's handcuffed while he tortures her whenever she refuses to reply to his interrogations about Kei. As he kicks her to the ground, Kei arrives.

We find out Kai's goal was for Kei to deliver Boris, the double agent who worked with the GRU and was captured by the UK because he knew confidential information. If Kei agrees, Boris will leak UK's secrets to Russia, which could start a war.

We learn the reason Kai targeted MC was to use her as bait so that Kei had to choose between his country and her. It's a trade between her or Boris. MC realizes that far from protecting Kei, she actually lured him into a trap unintentionally.

Kei decides to protect MC and fights Kai in a sword duel, but Kai pins him to the ground. At last, Kei pulls out from his breast pocket a soldier puppet/toy made by Yuzuru. Kei yanks the puppet's legs which makes the puppet's gun shoot one of the palace's windows.

Noticing the signal, helipcoters and tanks surround the palace. It was Kei's friends from Black Moon that allied with him to save them from this situation, since many of them held grudges against the Russian Military.

In the end, Kei mentions the GRU palace/facility was already purchased and made into an embassy by England, which means Kei has diplomatic authority and Kai doesn't anymore. Kei lets Kai leave as he doesn't judge it necessary.

Then, Kei and MC also leave since she's still a fugitive and her name hasn't been cleared yet. But they meet the MC's Boss in the snow, and since the EAC turned their back on her when she was depicted as a criminal, she tells her Boss she won't be working with the EAC anymore. Not really wanting to part with her, the boss tells her they can postpone this decision as she's still supposed to be "on vacation". But she insists that she's leaving.

In the end, Kei and MC go back to Kei's room at the Raven in England, with MC now being jobless but reunited with Kei. They both chose each other despite not knowing what the future will hold.

→ Stories that follow:

Lover Opacus: To the Next Stage

Paranormal Case File

Supplicated Lover

Office Romance With An English Diplomat

Sacrificial Lover

Blessed Lover

Eden's Love

That's it! There are a lot of details I wasn't able to mention as it would have been overly complicated both for me and anyone reading, especially Season 3! But that's the main lore of the main stories and development at least. Thank you for reading ❤

[mariacallous]

With Ukraine’s counteroffensive stalled and the U.S. Congress deadlocked over crucial military aid, some analysts have begun raising the specter of a turning point in the war that could lead to a Ukrainian defeat. While the situation on the ground is still far from dire, it could rapidly deteriorate in the absence of a significant infusion of U.S. military support for Ukraine.

The consequences of a Ukrainian defeat need to be fully understood. The likely geopolitical consequences are easy to anticipate. The defeat of a Western-backed country would embolden Russia and other revisionist states to change other borders by force. A Russian victory would frighten Russia’s European neighbors, possibly leading to a collapse of European collective security as some countries choose appeasement and others massively rearm. China, too, would conclude that Taiwan cannot rely on sustained U.S. support. Indeed, the ripple effects of U.S. indecision have already begun: In a move that recalls Russia’s illegal annexation of several regions of Ukraine, Venezuela this month claimed more than half of neighboring Guyana as its own. While there are no signs of an impending invasion, it would be naïve to think that other countries aren’t watching closely to see whether Russia’s land grab succeeds.

Many analysts have already described these far-reaching security risks. But they pale in comparison to the dire consequences for Ukraine and its inhabitants if Russia wins. It is important for both supporters and opponents of Ukraine aid to know what these consequences would be.

To understand Ukraine’s likely fate if Russia turns the tide, the best place to start is what the Russians actually say. On Dec. 8, Russian President Vladimir Putin made clear that in his view there is no future for the Ukrainian state. On Dec. 5, he spelled out his intention to “reeducate” the Ukrainian people, curing them of “Russophobia” and “historical falsifications.” On Nov. 12, former Russian Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev made Russia’s appetites clear: “Odessa, Nikolaev, Kyiv, and practically everything else is not Ukraine at all.” It is “obvious,” he posted on Telegram, that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is a “usurper,” that the Ukrainian language is only a “mongrel dialect” of Russian, and that Ukraine is “NOT a country, but artificially collected territories.” Other regime propagandists assert that the Ukrainian state is a disease that must be treated and Ukrainians a society that must be “de-wormed.”

More explicitly, Russia’s highly censored state television has, over the past two years, consistently promoted the rape of Ukrainians, the drowning of children, the leveling of cities, the eradication of the Ukrainian elite, and the physical extermination of millions of Ukrainians. For an excellent snapshot of these and other statements, Russian Media Monitor has compiled a must-watch collection of short clips from Russian television, complete with English subtitles. This coordinated campaign is not bluster but a harbinger of what awaits the Ukrainian people. In these remarks, we can see the contours of the atrocities awaiting Ukrainians under a total or nearly total Russian occupation.

We can also project the effect of a Russian victory from the atrocities that are already widespread in the Russian-occupied territories. According to official Ukrainian sources, nearly 2 million Ukrainians have already been removed from their homes and communities in the occupied areas and resettled in Russia, either temporarily or permanently. Other estimates range from 1.6 million to 4.7 million. Russian children’s commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova said that more than 700,000 Ukrainian children have been taken from Ukraine to Russia since February 2022; nearly 20,000 of these are known to Ukrainian authorities by name. Transferring children from their home country and denying them access to their language and culture is not only an internationally recognized war crime. Such forced assimilation is also defined by the U.N. Convention on Genocide as a genocidal act. It is why the International Criminal Court has issued a warrant for Lvova-Belova’s arrest.

Russia is not only ridding its occupied regions of Ukrainians but also replacing them with Russian settlers—a tragic continuity with Soviet and Russian imperial practices of systemic deportation, colonization, and Russification. In the Ukrainian city of Mariupol, where the Russian advance killed tens of thousands of civilians and destroyed 50 percent of the city’s housing stock, a handful of new apartment buildings were recently constructed. Some of that housing is being offered for sale, with Russians carpetbaggers snatching up real estate at bargain prices.

Ukraine’s partly occupied south offers a clear picture of the techniques used by the occupying forces to establish authority. A Human Rights Watch report from July 2022 documents a pattern of torture, disappearances, and arbitrary detention in the region. Citizens endured torture during interrogation, including beatings, electroshocks, and sensory deprivation. Several prisoners died from the torture, and large numbers have simply disappeared. Among the victims were local officials, teachers, representatives of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine, NGO activists, and members of Ukraine’s territorial defense. There also is a massive amount of information collected by human rights monitors and journalists about the operation of filtration and detention camps.

Political indoctrination and the militarization of youth are already key characteristics of life under Russian occupation. Political banners and posters promoting Russian patriotism are omnipresent in the occupied regions. New children’s textbooks expunge Ukrainian history and preach hatred for Ukraine’s leadership. The Ukrainian language is being removed from much of the education system and relegated to its colonial status as a quaint dialect representing nothing but a gradually disappearing regional culture soon to be subsumed in the Russified mainstream.

Already, millions of Ukrainians have had their lives destroyed in one way or another by Russia’s monstrous occupation. Were Russia to complete its conquest, it would be a multiple of that number. After almost a decade of war against Russia, Ukrainians are united and highly mobilized in the defense of their country’s borders, democracy, culture, and language, to which many Ukrainian Russian-speakers have switched out of disgust with Moscow’s invasion. Millions of Ukrainians have been enraged and radicalized by Russia’s war crimes and destruction of their towns and homes. Millions of Ukrainians have volunteered to assist the war effort, millions have contributed funds to support the military, and even more have turned to social media to vent and publicly register their rage at Putin and the Russian state.

That would not only make any conquest brutal and bloody. Should Ukraine lose, almost all of Ukrainian society would need to be punished, repressed, silenced, or reeducated if the occupation is to quell resistance and absorb the country into Russia. For this reason, a Russian takeover would be accompanied by mass arrests, long-term detentions, mass deportations into the Russian heartland, filtration camps on a vast scale, and political terror. If a serious insurgency emerges, the level of repression will only widen and deepen.

A major effort will also be required to rid the country of seditious materials, which is to say all films, novels, poetry, essays, art, scholarly works, and music that may contain positive references to Ukraine’s period of independence. Libraries and schools will be purged of all such subversive content—in essence, the majority of all writing and cultural output that Ukraine has produced during the last three decades. Writers and scholars will face the choice of repudiating their identity and past work or becoming nonpersons in the new order. Many will face arrest or worse, simply because they transport Ukrainian culture and stand in the way of Russification. Again, this is not speculation but widespread practice in other territories that Russia has occupied.

Russian territorial advances would be accompanied by a second wave of Ukrainian refugees far more massive than that of early 2022, when some 7 million Ukrainians crossed the border into the European Union. For the remaining Ukrainians, the future would be one of totalitarian controls on culture, education, and speech, accompanied by a mass terror on a scale not seen in Europe since the 20th-century era of totalitarian rule.

There you have in distilled form what a Russian victory would mean. Members of the U.S. Congress are free to vote against assistance to Ukraine if they think—wrongly—that the war’s outcome does not affect the U.S. national interest. But they should not be allowed to oppose assistance to Ukraine without being fully aware of the tyranny they will be helping to empower—and their responsibility for the massive and entirely predictable crimes that will ensue.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Milunka Savić, the Most Decorated Female Combatant in History: Savić disguised herself as a man in order to join the Serbian army during the Balkan Wars, then served again during WWI, earning medals from Serbia, France, Russia & Britain; she also provided medical support to anti-fascists during WWII and spent 10 months in a Nazi concentration camp

This is a total rewrite of a post that I did last year, with much more detailed information, more photos, and some additional sources.

Milunka Savić is regarded as the most decorated female combatant in history. She fought for the Serbian Army during both of the Balkan Wars, before returning to the battlefield again during WWI. Savić was wounded in battle on 9 separate occasions and survived the Serbian Great Retreat, making the perilous journey across the mountains of Montenegro and Albania through the dead of winter with a serious head injury.

Her military career began during the First Balkan War in 1912, when her younger brother was called up to serve in the Serbian army, and she decided that she would covertly take his place. She cut her hair, wore men's clothing, and presented herself as her brother.

The First Balkan War, 1912: Milunka Savić as a young soldier during the First Balkan War, shortly after joining the Serbian army

She was able to hide her true identity for quite some time. Her skills as a soldier quickly became evident as the war progressed, and she earned her first medal/promotion during the Battle of Bregalnica in 1913. Unfortunately, she was hit by shrapnel from a Bulgarian grenade during her tenth deployment, causing injuries to her chest and abdomen, and those wounds (along with the subsequent medical treatment) ultimately led to the discovery that she had lied about her identity.

In recognition of her accomplishments on the battlefield, her commanding officer decided not to punish her for the initial deception, but informed her that she would not be allowed to return to combat -- as a woman, she could only be transferred to the nursing division instead.

As the story goes:

Savić was called before her commanding officer. They didn't want to punish her, because she had proven a valuable and highly competent soldier, and the military deployment that had resulted in her [sex] being revealed had been her tenth; but neither was it suitable for a young woman to serve in combat. She was offered a transfer to the Nursing division. Savić stood at attention and insisted that she only wanted to fight for her country as a combatant.

The officer said he'd think it over and give her his answer the next day. Still standing at attention, Savić responded, "I will wait." It is said he only made her stand an hour before agreeing to send her back to the infantry.

Savić was able to serve in a combat role throughout the remainder of the Balkan Wars.

The Second Balkan War finally came to an end in 1913, but that peace was short-lived, as World War I erupted just a year later. Savić returned to the military once more, serving in the elite "Iron Regiment" of the Serbian army.

World War I, c.1915-1916: Savić was no longer forced to hide her identity when she returned to battle during WWI, and these images show her posing in uniform with her hair grown out

Savić received the Serbian Karađorđe Star with Swords medal on two separate occasions during WWI; the second medal was given to her after the Battle of Crna Bend in 1916, where she was credited with single-handedly capturing 23 Bulgarian soldiers. She received several other medals throughout the course of her career, including the French Legion of Honor (twice), the French Croix de Guerre, the Russian Cross of St. George, the British Medal of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael, and the Serbian Miloš Obilić.

WWI, c.1915-1916: Milunka Savić as a Corporal in the Iron Regiment

She suffered a serious head injury while fighting along the Macedonian front, and she was still gravely wounded when Austro-Hungarian, German, and Bulgarian forces gained control of Serbia in the winter of 1915. The Serbian army was then ordered to make a full retreat from Serbia; Savić and her fellow soldiers, along with the Serbian government and more than 200,000 civilians, were all forced to flee through the mountains of Montenegro and Albania in the dead of winter, hoping to reach Allied forces along the Adriatic Coast -- a perilous journey that would later be known as the Serbian Great Retreat (or the Albanian Golgotha). Roughly 400,000 people embarked on this journey, and less than 180,000 of them survived, eventually reaching the Allied ships along the Adriatic coast.

Despite her injuries, Milunka Savić was among the survivors. She was sent to an infirmary, where she spent several months recovering from her injuries, before she returned to the battlefield alongside Allied forces.

At the end of the war, the French government offered to provide Savić with a full pension and living accommodations in France, in recognition of her actions while serving alongside the French military during WWI. She ultimately declined the offer and chose to retire back in Serbia instead, where she and her husband settled down to raise their daughter and three other girls that Milunka had adopted. The couple would later separate, however, and Milunka was left to raise her children as a single mother, working at a local bank to make ends meet.

In 1941, Serbia (which was then part of Yugoslavia) fell under Nazi occupation. During this period, Savić was involved in providing medical support to local partisans and anti-fascists who had resisted the Nazi occupation. She was eventually arrested by German officers; there are differing accounts of the events leading up to her arrest, with some sources suggesting that she was arrested as a result of her involvement with the local partisans and other anti-fascist elements, while other sources claim that she was arrested after she offended several Nazi officials by openly refusing to attend a formal banquet that was being held in honor of the German military campaign. In any case, she was imprisoned at the infamous Baljinca Concentration Camp for ten months before finally being released.

She faced other forms of hardship in the aftermath of WWII, as she struggled to support herself and her children. She worked several low-paying jobs over the years, while living in a dilapidated, decaying house in Belgrade. Her name (and her long list of accomplishments) had largely faded into obscurity by then.

Serbia, 1972: Milunka Savić proudly displaying some of her medals in 1972, when her story became more widely known

It wasn't until the early 1970s that her involvement with the military finally began to receive more widespread attention, both in Serbia and abroad. Following the 1972 publication of an article that told her story, her local community in Belgrade quickly rallied to provide her with newer, more suitable living arrangements.

Sadly, she passed away within just a year of the article's publication.

In 2013, Milunka Savić's remains were relocated from the small mausoleum where they had been interred since 1973, and she was reburied in Belgrade's "Alley of the Greats," where some of the most well-known and most widely respected Serbians are laid to rest.

Sources & More Info:

Research Gate: Milunka Savić: the Forgotten Heroine of Serbia

Girl Museum: Milunka Savić

Law and Politics: The Position of Women in the Serbian Army

Medium: The Fearless Woman-Bomber Who Died Proud, Broke, and Forgotten

Wikipedia: Milunka Savić

Mental Floss: The Serbian "Great Retreat" Begins (WWI Centennial)