#the russians are coming! the russians are coming!

[intheupside]

in the first game: Sidney Crosby was next-to-last coming out of the tunnel like he is with the Penguins ... followed by Mitch Marner. My understanding is Marner doesn't have any years in the Russian Superleague, let alone three. Curious!

they asked mitchy about it!

Q: Here's the most ridiculous question I've ever asked.

A "Oh, here we go."

Q: Okay. So, I noticed you came out last.

A: "Yeah."

Q: Crosby in Pittsburgh is second last.

A: "Yeah."

Q: Did he set it up, knowing how superstitious he is, that he was second last here?

"Yeah. I mean, I was kind of just sitting there and I didn't know what was going to happen. Then he just said, 'yeah you can go last. I go second last'. So, that's kind of how it went out and how it happened."

[partiallysame]

OK OK OKK JUUSTT LISTEN TO ME ON THIS ONE PLEAASEEEE. what about price's lil missus (or mister, we're gender inclusive here!) getting captured by makarov and being held for ransom. NEED to see this in your writing

No you’re so right Price’s lil missus can also be his lil mister. His lil love his lil dove. Not sure if I’ve used pronouns other than the term missus but we are inclusive here (also it’s on my list to write more male reader too)

Ok ok ok I think when the boys first moved in Simon was appalled at the lack of security. He immediately put in alarms on the doors and a tracker on your car (with your concern although he would’ve even if you said no. Safety is not an option). You had turned the beep on the front door off bc that’s annoying to hear everytime you open it buttttt if the door was ever left open for too long Simon would get an alert in his phone. Usually just you leaving it open when doing something in the yard or grabbing something from your car buttt this time he got the notification and checked the cameras to see you being carried kicking and screaming into a suv. Suddenly they’re in a military humvee tracking the car on traffic cameras. Price cursing himself bc he kept you a secret for a reason. Covert ops meant a covert personal life was the safest option.

While you were Price’s sweet dove you were anything but docile he simply wouldn’t leave you alone for work without knowing you could protect yourself. Makarov was not expecting the sweet lil thing his men grabbed to somehow get a knife into two of his men. But you know, gun pressed to your head helps everyone calm down. So you found yourself tied up in a dark room. The idiot Russian barely had a moment to take the ransom photo before he heard the gunshots outside. The door was exploded open (not their first idea but the fastest). On the way to you they had to discuss how to handle the situation bc they always did their best to make sure civilians weren’t harmed in this situation but now it’s you. It’s the sweet love of their lives. They wanted to rescue you without adding more trauma than already caused. Before the dust settles from the door you saw Johnny full tac gear. A uniform you’ve only ever seen in photos. Emerging behind him was Kyle and a man in a skeleton mask. Johnny found your gaze, his hand motioned over his own eyes, signaling you to close yours. You did and the room got so unbelievably loud. Eyes shut tight, you felt strong arms wrap around you, lifting and carrying you from the room and the noise. When the ringing in your ears stopped enough you could hear your husband’s voice trying to coax you to open your eyes. His hands working to untie you, too scared to bring a knife near you to just cut the restraints off. When you finally opened your eyes, he watched your body untense. Body falling into his only to feel more arms wrap around you from the back. Sobs falling from you and the men around you. Not so big tough when it comes to your life. You looked down and could see the skeleton mask resting on the floor. “Spooky mask Simon.” Your lil quip brought a small smile to their faces. You were ok. You were safe and still yourself. As they guided you to the humvee you tried to turn to look at where you were being held hostage “no nope nope eyes forward sweetheart” just because you were forced to experience some of their job didn’t mean they wanted you to see all of it. They had been chasing makarov for so long but his mistake of coming after Prices lil wife caused him a bullet (or 4) to the head

[traveler-at-heart]

Run, baby, run

Summary: Natasha is very competitive, and that includes your daughter.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Based on some real life events lol

Natasha was a lot of different things for many people. Depending on who you ask -friends, foes, family- she could be stubborn, deadly, relentless. To you she was kind, loving and supportive, in a way that no one else knew.

You would all agree on one thing, though.

Natasha was too competitive.

Being married for three years, you’d grown used to it. As a matter of fact, it could be entertaining especially if she was playing pool or darts against the boys.

But this morning, when she shows you the flyer, you actually have to look twice, sure that Natasha lost her mind.

“Baby crawl race?”

“Yeah, only for babies under one year. You know, they set a track and time them…”

“I mean, I figured. I just… why would we want Anya to do that?”

Your daughter perks up when she hears her name being called and you both smile.

Anya is ten months old, but she’s way advanced for her age. It must be Natasha’s genes, because you’re sure that before she turns one, she will be walking or even running after her other mother.

“It sounds fun”

“And winning has nothing to do with it?” you press, reading about the prizes. “Everything listed here are things we already have. A stroller, a crib… ooh, a formula machine, fancy”

“We can still register if we leave now” Natasha picks up Anya from her playpen, and the sight of their matching red hair melts your heart as usual.

“Fine. We better get going”

—

To your surprise, there are over a dozen babies registered to compete. Natasha takes care of everything as you walk around the store where they’re hosting the event.

She comes back with a smile and a little paper with the number 17 on it.

“Your lucky number” she smiles at you, taking Anya in her arms.

You both watch as other kinds play and stumble around the mat. Most of them seem younger than your daughter, and only a few look close to being one year.

“That one’s gonna be easy to beat” Natasha muses, looking at a small kid that can barely sit.

“Natalia” you slap her arm. “He’s a baby”

“No. They are all competition. And we have no mercy, right, detka?” Natasha insists, bouncing your daughter in her arms.

“Alright, I’m changing her diaper before everything gets crazier” you decide, noticing how there’s a crowd forming around the place where the kids will crawl.

You make small talk with some of the clerks, who seem excited at the prospect of a silly race that will entertain them in the middle of their shift.

By the time you return, Natasha’s quiet, looking at the parents and their children.

“Everything ok?”

“Perfect” she nods, taking Anya in her arms. “Now, kiddo, listen to me, we are Romanoffs. We are fighters and more importantly, winners. So go and make us proud”

Anya responds by giggling and pulling a strand of her mother’s hair. Natasha smiles, saying something in Russian and kissing Anya’s cheek.

The mat is split in half so only two kids can compete at the same time, a screen with a timer behind them.

As expected, some of the kids get distracted by their race mate or crawl around instead of going in a straight line.

“What did I tell you? We’re gonna crush the opponents” Natasha whispers and you slap her arm.

She’s taking this way too seriously.

As you stand next to some parents, Natasha sniffs around, speaking into Anya’s back.

“Baby, did you go potty?”

“I don’t think so” you know Anya frowns and makes a little grunt when she does number two and she’s been pretty quiet this whole time.

“Oh, never mind” she turns to the parents standing next to you. “Not ours, detka”

The parents hurry to the bathroom. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind when you notice how quiet Natasha is. It increases when the parents miss the race because they were stuck chaning a diaper.

Your wife tries to hide her smile, but there’s no way she planned this. Just a coincidence.

Right?

“Babies 10 and 11” the organizer calls. You noticed the girl is older than the other kids, standing out because she can close the distance faster.

“Best time has been 55 seconds. This should be interesting” Natasha comments.

Sure enough, the kid is about to finish when a bright blue ball crosses her path, getting her distracted and making her return to the start line.

The parents try to guide her back but it doesn’t work at all.

“Oh, well”

“Try not to look so happy about it” you whisper, but Natasha just chuckles and places a kiss in your temple.

After a few more minutes, it’s Anya’s turn. You carry her to the start line and Natasha kneels at the end of the mat, keeping her eyes focused on your daughter.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

All Natasha has to do is place her open palm on the mat. Anya’s seen her do it so many times and knows it means one thing: as soon as she touches her mama’s hand, she’ll throw her in the air the way she loves to.

It takes Anya 15 seconds to get to Natasha. Your wife rewards her with her favorite thing, and if it were anyone less graceful and quick, you’d be unnerved by the sight of your daughter kicking her feet while being lifted off the ground.

“Nicely done, pumpkin” you join them, smiling as Anya jumps to your arms.

“A worthy adversary, at last” a man comments as he takes his son to the race. “Let’s see if we can do it better than you”

“Doubt it” Natasha glares but you elbow her, smiling at the man.

“She meant to say, good luck. You’ll do great, sweetheart” you smile at his son, who waves back at you with wide eyes. He’s incredibly cute.

“Fraternizing with the enemy” Natasha tsks.

“He’s a baby, Nat”

“I didn’t like the way the father was looking at you either” Natasha grumbles, leaning forward to kiss you.

Definitely not complaining about her competitive streak now.

As your declared enemy gets ready to race, the father frantically looks around for something lost on their backpack.

“Did you bring it?” his wife insists.

“Yes! The purple elephant! We were playing with it a second ago!”

Apparently, that was their only resource, because the timer starts and their kid is focusing on everything but them.

They manage to finish after two minutes.

“Better luck next time” Natasha comments as they leave, her hand going around your waist.

She’s being so ridiculous but somehow you love it.

The winners are announced, and you cheer when the first place goes to none other than Anya Romanoff.

“Yes, baby. We are the champions” Natasha sings, bouncing her around. Anya has no idea what’s happening, but she’s enjoying the moment.

“Very nice” you comment when the organizers hand you the prize. “Good work, Anya. Keep it up and maybe we won’t have to pay for college”

“Of course she’ll get a scholarship. Or become a professional athlete. Or become president” Natasha says, walking back to the car.

“Oh, those are a lot of things. Maybe she’ll want to focus on just one”

“Nah, she’s got it. She’ll do it all” Natasha kisses Anya’s head and you can’t help but melt.

“Best thing you ever won?” you ask Natasha as you drive back home.

“No, that would be you” she says. “Of course, I mean the bet I made with Tony that I’d get you to date me over him”

“Ugh, you’re so ridiculous” you roll your eyes.

—

The excitement of the race exhausts your daughter, and she’s fast asleep by the time you get home.

You know this won’t last long, so you prepare her clothes to run a bath once she’s up.

As you’re going through her bag, you pull out a toy that’s definitely not Anya’s.

A purple elephant.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova!” you shout, looking for her.

“Oh-oh” Natasha mutters and clears her throat. “Yes, dear?”

“You took that baby’s toy!”

“I did not! Ok, I did. But look, I timed him when they were practising and Anya’s time was still better. I just really didn’t like the way he was staring at your boobs”

“Mhm, right. Winning was just a plus”

“See? You get me”

“That ball that distracted the other kid was not a mistake either, huh?”

“I don’t know what you mean, darling”

“And the parents that missed the race for changing the diaper?”

“Now, that was just a happy coincidence. The rest, yeah. Totally me”

“Evil! Stealing a toy from a toddler” you wave the purple elephant in her face. Natasha takes it and throws it over her shoulder, wrapping your legs around her waist in a swift motion. “What are you doing?”

“I got you that fancy formula machine, didn’t I? Where’s my prize?”

You laugh against her lips, but it soon turns into a moan, as you feel Natasha’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass.

“Anya's gonna wake up in thirty minutes or less. Can you handle that?”

“I do enjoy a good challenge” Natasha says against your lips, showing you how much she loves to win.

And honestly? After a mind blowing orgasm, you love it too.

[awesomecoolfandomart]

Vodkabrakes ❤️so beautiful wowwww❤️happy valetninss day

[mj-iza-writer]

Caretaker watched Whumpee slump onto the shopping cart while Caretaker picked out some apples.

"Whumpee, do you want oranges as well?", Caretaker gently brushed Whumpee's hair out of their face.

Whumpee looked up tiredly.

"Uh-oh, that's not a good sign", Caretaker sighed.

"Mm, ok", Whumpee mumbled.

"Read this", Caretaker held up a package.

Whumpee studied the package for a little too long.

"See you can't read English", Caretaker set the package down.

"I can barely read English on good days anyways", Whumpee sighed, "это ничего не объясняет (that doesn't explain anything)."

Caretaker set the apples in the cart, "I have a few more things to get. Can you hold out for a few more minutes?"

"Да...ye... yes", Whumpee frowned at their struggle, and finally nodded, "ymhmm", they hummed.

Caretaker sighed at the long lines.

"I'm okay", Whumpee leaned on the cart again, "just really... sleepy."

"Yes, and your accent is coming out stronger as well", Caretaker rubbed Whumpee's back.

"I'll fall asleep right here if you keep doing that", Whumpee mumbled into their arm.

Caretaker smiled weakly, "why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I... just start feeling  dis", Whumpee stuttered, "I'm done with English... too hard."

"Just hold on until I can get to the translator at home. Please hold on", Caretaker pleaded, "I am still very new to Russian... you remember that right?"

"Да (yes)", Whumpee whispered.

"Go ahead and get comfortable on the couch. Let's take your temperature", Caretaker hurried into the kitchen, "you always get hit so hard when you get sick. It always seems to hit so sudden. Or you refuse to admit that you're sick due to your Russian stubbornness. You won't say anything until it's really bad."

Whumpee collapsed onto the couch and burried their face into one of the soft pillows.

Caretaker came out with a cup of water and the thermometer.

"Sit up, please. I need to take your temperature, and I'll need to get some medicine in you."

Whumpee moaned an unintelligible reply.

"Can you understand me?", Caretaker knelt beside the couch.

"Я то тебя отлично понимаю (I understand you perfectly well)", Whumpee mumbled into the pillow.

"I will definitely look that up later on the translator app... if I can spell it at least", Caretaker sighed, "for right now, we will pretend that you said, Caretaker is the best person alive."

Caretaker lifted Whumpee's arm and tucked the thermometer into Whumpee's armpit.

"Mmm", Whumpee moaned.

"It's either your armpit or your butt since you won't lift your head up", Caretaker waited for the ding.

"Я чувствую, что сейчас потеряю сознание (I feel like I'm going to pass out)", Whumpee glanced up from the pillow.

Caretaker frantically pulled out their phone, "Whumpee I need you to repeat that really slowly into my phone."

That was never a face you wanted Whumpee to make.

Whumpee blinked slowly, "неа (nope)", they whimpered.

Caretaker watched as Whumpee's eyes rolled back. Their head fell to the pillow. 

"Whumpee... Whumpee", Caretaker pulled them up, "Whumpee?"

Whumpee woke up to a bright light being turned on.

"Ymph, "Где Я? (Where am I)", they looked around.

"In the hospital", someone grabbed Whumpee's hand, "you about gave me a heartattack."

"I'm glad to see them awake", someone from the opposite side of the room spoke up, "their temperature was quite high, and it kept climbing. Let's check it again."

Whumpee sighed as a thermometer was placed under their tongue.

"Wut hapen?", Whumpee side-eyed Caretaker.

"Please don't talk while the thermometer is in your mouth", the person sighed.

"I'm just glad they are talking in English, they switched to Russian on me", Caretaker squeezed Whumpee's hand.

"Is that normal?", the person looked at Whumpee with concern, "temp is still ellevated."

"Yes, it's their first language. It's easier for them to speak it. Except it makes it harder for those who don't understand. Such as when you tell someone you are going to pass out", Caretaker glared at Whumpee.

"I'm sorry... I couldn't remember how to say it", Whumpee whispered sadly, "everything was fuzzy and echoey."

Caretaker watched as the person left the room.

"We need to work on your English", Caretaker smirked.

"I understand and can speak English just fine. We need to work on your Russian", Whumpee sighed.

Caretaker squeezed Whumpee's hand again, "I thought you had died."

"I'm sorry Caretaker", Whumpee whispered, "I didn't mean to scare you. It happened quickly, and I couldn't form the right words."

"It's alright, I'm just happy to be talking to you again", Caretaker smiled weakly, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"Eh, you'll manage", Whumpee sat up.

Caretaker took the chance and got up to hug Whumpee.

"Что делаешь? (what are you doing?)", Whumpee grunted.

"What does it look like I'm doing?", Caretaker laughed while still hugging Whumpee, "let me hug you."

Whumpee sighed and patted Caretaker's back, "I'm sorry I scared you."

Caretaker sighed in relief, "it's okay. I'm just glad you're awake."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@weirdthingweee @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

@valravnthefrenchie @glennemerald

@jasperthecapser @does-directions

@jumpywhumpywriter @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @thenormalestever

@whatwhump @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

[xiaq]

Would you ever write a story or book about Kuzy? I need more of himmmm ❤️ one of the few characters I'd read MF for though I feel like if anyone would be chill about finding out he was bi and going with it, it'd be Kuzy lol #yeshomo

@rainbowsandcoconut

I don't currently have any substantive plans for a Kuzy story, but if you want some of my brainworms about him/his eventual romance, here you go:

He lives right next to a firehouse and there's a cute, kickass firewoman (cis, leans androgynous) named Nicole "call me Nic" with whom he has occasional banter-moments (I used to live next to a firehouse and if they were out front they'd always chat with me when I walked the dog; I loved that community dynamic).

One night after a rough game, Kuzy is going for a walk and Nic is sitting out on a lawn chair in front of the house processing a rough call, and they have a moment of shared vulnerability together, looking up at the stars. She's the child of immigrants and they bond over how stupid the English language is. Kuzy tells her about Eli/Hawk and she mentions that she loves dogs but can't have one with her work schedule.

Over the next few days, Kuzy can't stop thinking about her. He wants an excuse to see her more often that doesn't feel creepy, so he goes to the shelter nearby and offers to exercise dogs. Now, he has a perfectly good reason to walk past the firehouse (sometimes multiple times a day!) on the off-chance the firefighters are out and he can politely offer a dog's brief company for Nic's enjoyment.

Except he's not super smooth about it because the rest of the folks at the house realize pretty quickly that the giant Russian walking dogs only happens to walk dogs on the days that Nic is on shift.

Convenient.

This continues for longer than it probably should. Until Kuzy is hosting some of the Hounds and one of the rookies does something stupid. Not sure what. I'm thinking gets his hand stuck in an expensive vase. Or maybe his head. And Kuzy very sheepishly has to walk him over to the firehouse like, "hello, this baby is my responsibility, can you please rescue him?" And they eventually get the thing cut off of his hand/head/whatever but one of Nic's bros pulls Kuzy aside and says, "maybe you should just ask her out instead of coming up with increasingly more creative excuses to talk to her—at this rate someone is going to get hurt" and Kuzy is like, “ok, this was 100% not contrived and while I would like to go out with her, she is a goddess who saves lives and I am but a goofy athlete, undeserving of her attentions," and Firefighter Bro like, "you know, I think she'd settle for you."

So, spurred on by this bit of hope, he's like, "I need to do this right, this can't just be some hookup, I like her." And he starts Operation Woo Nic.

And the whole time Nic is like, "would you just fucking take me home, I would like to bang you," but he's trying so hard to be a gentleman about it that she lets him for a while. She's never been woo'ed before. Might be fun. Eventually she gets fed up and when he's dropping off cookies or whatever on his daily dog-walk she's like, "hey, do you want to be my boyfriend? Yeah? Great. We should have sex about that. My shift ends in three hours, what's your address?"

It is possibly the best day of Kuzy's life.

Anyway. As usual, there's no real plot, just vibes. But he is Smitten. And she is hopelessly endeared. And she's certified as a paramedic, so she's constantly ragging him for his little injuries and keeping him honest about PT. At some point she gets injured in the line of duty and he gets to be suitably dramatic and probably make declarations at her hospital bedside. He dotes on her for a while during her recovery.

And eventually he convinces her to move in with him so she can be close to work and she's like, "yeah? That's the only reason? For the ease of my commute?" And he says, "well that but also because I love you more than I thought was possible and when we're not together I miss you like a limb and our schedules are shit enough as it is, I'm greedy for every second I can have with you," and she's like, "yeah, fair enough."

So. Not really sure how it would end, but uh. There you go! Kuzy and his Firefighter Lady. Also he definitely foster-fails multiple times and hires a full-time nanny to take care of all his and Nic's dogs when she's on shift and he's traveling. It's great.

AND I imagine some very funny cultural confusion moments when her family (Japanese) interacts with his family (Russian) but they all generally bond over their shared love of fermented foods and dumplings. And alcohol. There are hijinks.

Ok. The End!

[b0xerdancer-writes]

To Prizrak, from Zima

Bucky Barnes x ExHydra!Mutant! Reader

Summary: The Avengers never expected much from an old Hydra base until a single terminal pinged to life, triggering alarms. Sent to investigate, Bucky Barnes found more than just an abandoned facility he found an old ally, someone who never slipped from the back of his mind.

Warnings: All things Hydra related, starvation, amputation, brainwashing, enslavement, human trafficking technically in a way, weaponry, mutant racism, war talk, bombing

Word Count: 1688

Notes: Prizrak=Russian for ghost/phantom, Zima=Russian for Winter

This has been sitting in the drafts for awhile. This one may be something I expand on. Kind of a short one.

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

When the Avengers got a ping from a ghost file, they had planted at a reportedly abandoned, now confirmed to be abandoned, Hydra base it had them on alert. The file they had planted was to access Hydras database and see any files the organization accessed, while the base was abandoned it had never gone offline since it seemed Hydra had all intent to come back to it eventually, since it had been an emergency evacuation during World War 2 during the blitz bombing but Hydra never came back to it just leaving it an abandoned loose end. It had been up to Bucky, who was just finishing a mission up nearby, to explore the random singular terminal ping.

But Bucky never expected to come face to face with the one person he considered a rival besides Steve or Sam, an Ex-Hydra agent who answered only to the codename 'Prizrak' as far as he knew. When he was still The Winter Soldier, he knew they had gone on a mountain of missions together, for whatever reason she was one of the only things Bucky could remember from within Hydra; for whatever reason The Winter Soldier had wanted to be able to remember her so bad that even through the memory wipes or if he went dormant he would be able to remember her, he had her so innately engraved into his memories. Maybe it was because she was one of the only good things that happened to him in Hydra.

He knew small things about her, the kind you would only know from nights sitting under the stars after a mission or when traveling back to base. She was 13 when she joined Hydra, she was a mutant, and her parents had sold her to Hydra because they were starving and needed the food rations and Hydra could use her and her abilities for experiments. The super soldier serum they had pumped through their veins had only amplified her mutant abilities, but Hydra had gotten angry the retractable claws she had weren't strong enough, didn't also get amplified so when she was still young, they had amputated her fingers at the first knuckle and replaced with prosthetics that activated the same way.

Yet, here she was gun already drawn and aimed at him without looking up from the terminal she was tapping away with one hand on, Bucky's walk through the building had given him flashes of memories of being in this base before, everything was covered in a layer of dust and looked like it had been evacuated in a panic with chairs knocked over and papers scattered everywhere. Yet he stilled when the foggy yet familiar figure came into view as he stepped into the experiment control room's doorway.

He raised his hands in surrender, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth when he saw her relax a slight bit. "Nice to see you again Prizrak."

It was only after he spoke that she looked up towards him and lowered the gun to the holster on her hip. "Ah, Zima, though it might have been you, the footsteps sounded familiar."

For some reason her calling him Winter didnt seem to bug him, only caused a light buzz of nostalgia instead. Afterall, that side of him considered her an ally and a friend. Someone just as hurt as him by Hydra, someone who would rather defend him than hurt him, even if it was Hydra orders. It had been that same part of his brain that wanted him to keep tabs on her through the years, she had gone rogue and defected in the chaos of Hydra that was caused by his own defection and she had been targeting Hydra agents since.

He chuckled dryly, crossing his arms he leaned against the doorway. "You know I was never really the stealthy type. That was always your job."

The air between them was lighter as she hummed in acknowledgement dropping her gaze back down to the terminal.

"What are you looking for?" His gaze was curious as it flicked down towards the terminal and the familiar metal fingers that nimbly typed away.

She narrowed her eyes at him, an attempt to evaluate his intentions probably. "My book, someone out there still has it. I want it back."

Bucky nodded, he knew well enough what she referring to, the notebook that held her own codewords. He couldn't deny that he himself was curious about it too, she had been trained the same way he had with the words and brainwashing, they had even been pitted against each other before they were put on missions together.

"You think you'll find the information here?" He stated more than asked.

"I think I'll find out who has it here." She corrected.

He quirked a brow at that, stepping further into the room but still keeping distance from her, he couldn't let his guard down yet even if he wanted to. His curiosity was peaked though, who indeed could have her book?

"And once you've found out, what do you plan to do?" He asked. He didn't expect a straight answer from her, she was always a bit more guarded due to being abandoned by her family because she was a mutant in exchange for food.

She growled slightly like it wasn't an obvious answer and she was annoyed he had even asked it. "Get out again. For good. No one would know the sequence, no one could control me like that anymore."

"Fair enough." He sighed, he knew well enough how it felt to be a puppet strung on someone else's strings. He found himself empathizing with her. "But you know I can't just let you go back out there; I can't let you go. You've killed numerous of the Avenger's missions' targets. We at least need you to tell us what you know."

The computer made a beep, and she was quick to plug a small USB drive in before pulling it out, pocketing it and corrupting the master file. "You can and will Zima, you were kidnapped by these guys, I was sold to them. There is no loyalty to Hydra in this room, you could care less if they were questioned."

Bucky sighed, she was right, and it was why he was never allowed to interrogate any of the ons they did apprehend even though Steve and Tony claimed it was in case they knew the words that would wake the Winter Soldier up.

Before he could answer her though, a beep came through his comms, Steve's voice flooding the room. "Buck? Everything okay at the base? What's your status?"

Her gaze hardened on him, like she was waiting for him to throw her under the bus, it was Steve after all the person he had managed to defect for.

"All good Steve," Bucky sighed, giving her a soft empathetic look, "Base is all clear, just a random terminal turned on must have been trying to back up files or something. It's just old wiring and bad circuitry. I'm gonna do one more sweep through and then head back to the rendezvous point."

Her gaze softened and she nodded her thanks.

"Sounds good Buck meet you there, keep us updated when you leave." Steve signed off.

Bucky moved to let her slip through the door, but before she slipped by, he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. "Stay safe, leave a call sign for me to know you are still okay, will ya? I'd blame myself if i let you leave here and you got hurt or captured."

She nodded as he removed his hand. "Will do, Thank you Barnes."

Bucky stilled as she slipped into the shadows and disappeared into the depths of the base. She had never called him by anything other than Zima, he knew nothing about who she was before Hydra, he only knew she got the name Prizrak because she was stealthy enough to slip in and out of places as if it had been a ghost.

He sighed and finished the sweep of the base, with nothing else worth any value to him he set off towards where he was supposed to meet up with the team for a pickup, apparently in the 20 minutes it had taken to clear the base some new mission had popped up.

For the next few months every time a Hydra themed mission came up, he'd watch for any calling cards from her, a small ghost carved into the underside of something like a desk or a shelf, and whenever they'd get to a base or person before she had he'd make a note to go through whatever info he could for her, which had resulted in him writing the synopsis of what he found down in a small compound notebook, disguised as the same thing Steve had been doing, writing down things he missed or wanted to experience while not the winter Soldier, about half way through the book but before the bookmark was a section of papers that all started the same way.

'To Prizrak,'

and ended just the same

'from, Zima'

and every once in a while, he'd drop off the notebook at a safe house he had figured out she was using based off a series of call signs from her, a random number or letter in the stomach of the ghost.

Without fail it would appear the next night on a bench that he'd made a habit about taking a breather at when he went on 3am runs with the next page filled in as:

"To Zima,"

always with some shred of info she had found before them and signed off the same:

"From, Prizrak."

It wasnt until two years later that he smiled down at the composition book.

To Zima,

I did it, I found the book, burned it, I'm out. Meet you here tomorrow, in person.

From, Prizrak.

He slipped the pen from his pocket, abandoning the rest of his run and instead walking towards the safe house. writing one final

'To Prizrak, From Zima."

[dreaminguponlilypads]

ok i take it back heres happy blurb yayy

Being married to Vladimir Makarov is like living in the heart of a storm—chaotic, consuming, and impossible to escape. And yet, in the middle of all the madness, there is you. Soft, bright, bubbly—a stark contrast to the bloodstained world he inhabits. You don’t belong in it, not really. But you do belong to him.

And Makarov is not the kind of man who lets go of what’s his.

You’re the only one who touches him freely, running your fingers through his hair without fear, leaning into his space without hesitation. He allows it—welcomes it, even—because you are the only thing in his life that isn’t laced with violence. You don’t flinch when he comes home reeking of gunpowder and death, don’t shrink away from the sharp edges of him like everyone else does. You love him, all of him, without question.

And maybe that’s why he lets you see the parts of him no one else does.

Because even someone like him knows what it means to hold something precious.

It’s in the way he pulls you into his lap when you’re upset, arms tightening around you with an ironclad grip, as if sheer force alone will keep the rest of the world from touching you. He doesn’t whisper soft reassurances—Makarov doesn’t do pretty words. But his actions speak louder. His thumb strokes slow circles over your back as he listens, his voice low and steady as he reminds you that whatever troubles you will be dealt with. And if it’s a someone rather than a something—well, they don’t remain a problem for long.

He may not understand emotions the way you do, but he knows how to protect. And that is exactly what he does.

On the rare nights you cry, shaken by something beyond his control, he holds you close, one large hand cradling the back of your head as you bury yourself in his chest. He doesn’t rush you, doesn’t tell you to stop—he lets you fall apart in the safety of his arms, his body a shield between you and the rest of the world. He hates seeing you like that. Hates how small you look, how quiet your voice becomes when you’re hurting. But he takes it, bears it, because it is you, and if there is one thing Makarov is willing to be patient for, it’s you.

Then, when the weight of your sadness finally lifts, he tilts your chin up, brushes his knuckles across your damp cheek, and mutters something sharp and possessive in Russian—something about how you are his, and as long as you belong to him, nothing will ever harm you.

And he means it.

Because love, to Makarov, is not gentle. It is not whispered affections and flowers and soft touches. It is brutal, unforgiving. It is a shield, a weapon, a war waged against anything that dares to hurt you.

And in the end, you don’t need sweet words when you have the unwavering truth—you are the only thing in the world that Vladimir Makarov loves.

And for that reason alone, you are untouchable.

[aroundthecoffeepot]

Here are Hetalia fics I highly recommend! It was difficult to keep it to ten fics and, as you will see, I failed L(° O °L) I've tried to select a good range of style, length and genres, so there's something for everyone ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

The list is in descending order of publication date:

A Singular Affair — Part 1 & Part 2 by original_yazzy (England/Prussia) Single dad Arthur, struggling to raise his eleven-year-olds Matthew and Alfred, meets single dad Gilbert, also raising a young son, Ludwig. AU.

This was the first Hetalia human AU fic I read way back in 2009, and it has gone on to mould in my mind of Arthur being this incredibly multifaceted character. I still recall it most fondly.

The Consolations of Philosophy by orphan_account (France/Russia) So if I was a Russianist I would write a proper study in English on Franco-Russian relations during the Enlightenment, since the currently available ones are atrocious. Since I am not, however, HERE, HAVE PORN. With dancing and philosophers in.

A historical fic that has touched my soul indelibly. I don't think I'll ever forget the electrifying feeling of my first read. An absolutely gorgeous piece *chef's kiss*

The Timbered by sadlygrove (Egypt/Greece/Turkey) The dark voice of the Empire does nothing to detract from the beautiful green eyes, like the sea at dawn in both color and chill. Egypt dives in.

M/M/M 3some pwp with dp and possibly the hottest piece of erotic fanfiction I've ever accidentally stumbled across in the fandom's heyday. When I say I couldn't breathe!

Unwritten Rules by jedishampoo (America/France) France/US. France gives Revolutionary America some lessons in diplomacy. Sexy diplomacy.

Funny, sexy, and sweet - just an all-round fun smutty read!

Only This Moment by archestofenemies (England/France) France/England: Victorian gentleman Arthur winds up in the company of the handsome farmer Francis. Will he be able to keep from throwing himself into those muscular, sun-bronzed arms? No. De-anon from the kink meme, finished.

This is the quintessential FrUK fic for me! I don't know who I love more in this fic, Arthur or Francis - they both deserve each other (complimentary)! A joyful read, 11/10!

Untitled.avi by Delgumo (America/Russia) [no summary]

Okay, fair warning, this fic is not for everyone. I first read it on AFFN, and when I say it had me in a grip...!! It was my first real experience of reading a confessional/"unreliable" narrator-type of fiction that truly shook me like no publication has ever managed to do - and I think this would struggle to be professionally published, it is just so visceral and plain horrifying. Truly a difficult read, one I can't recommend to just anyone, but I couldn't leave it off this list as it has completely changed my entire perspective of what not just fanfiction but simply fiction can evoke in a reader.

No Need for Long Goodbyes by Delgumo (America/Canada, America/England, America/Liechtenstein) The pain from a life filled with sexual and physical abuse festers inside of Alfred, pushing him to lash out at the people he loves the most.

Bruh this fic will have you feeling feelings (and not all good) but damn if it ain't the best piece of longfic I've ever read! It probably says something about me that I can't quite explain, but Arthur is my favourite character in here. I'm sorry uwu

Snatch your happiness from the days to come by Mossy_man (China/Russia) Omegaverse self-indulgent porn in communist uniforms. God save the Tzar.

Post-WWII RoChu fic that yanked me back to the heyday of canontalia, and GOD it's just an absolutely rich and beautiful fic! The imageries are to die for! Love it so, so much <3

acuerdo by southerngothics (Southern Italy/Spain) It’s still new to him; four months is an eternity for humans, perhaps, but perspective has shortened and condensed time into a coiled thing, folding over on itself until the entire stretch of it is thin as parchment. Four months is the blink of an eye. And the fighting has not stopped since he set foot upon that little island kingdom; he hasn’t had time to truly process it all. That Romano is his now. That they are together. That every morning he will wake up and Romano will be here, and that every night Romano will be asleep in this bed. It still seems like the far-fetched dream Pedro had cooked up in hushed tones, away from the menacing glares of el Papa. Spain is convinced, somehow, that if he blinks, reality will throw its punch and he’ll be back in Palermo, crushed under that damned France’s boot. In 1282, King Peter III of Aragon is crowned King of Sicily.

Another gorgeous piece of historical prose and a delightful, if disturbing, character study of Spain. How is it @torontofetish's first ever Hetalia fic in the year of our lord 2024? I need more from them!

My gentleness (is not for you) by Mossy_man (China/Mongolia/Russia) Our sex had always been full of misery. Of Mongolia's bitterness and China's sour resentment. But now when they are free from each other he can use another source of approval.

When I say I spent bloody years trying to capture China and Mongolia's relationship, and the one time I requested it of Moss and they delivered in spades... Biting my knuckle raw in envy at their talent, but also fuck writing I get to simply read this piece of pure perfection aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Bonus:

Holiday fling by Mossy_man (China/Russia) For smuttyandabsurd.

A birthday fic for me, tailored to a personal degree of the author's view of me (apparently?), and a gift I shall cherish all my life ( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ

Welcome to Feedback Fest 2025

Welcome to International Fanworks Day Feedback Fest of 2025! To participate, leave a comment under our post recommending 10 fanworks and spread the joy of fandom! Read more at: https://otw-news.org/yckvy6vh

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[incendiobrock]

russian roulette {chris sturniolo}

———————————————————————————

pairing(s): mafia!chris x fem!reader

warnings: language, drinking, mentions of sex, angst, chris is lowkey toxic

summary: chris doesn’t know how to take accountability for his actions. (loosely based on the song above)

not proofread bc i’m lazy oopsies

———————————————————————————

the air was brisk as my heels clicked along the pebbled road. begrudgingly, i wrapped my arms tightly around my body, trying to pull my black fur coat closer to my freezing skin. the doorman gave me a curt nod as i approached the entrance to the grand hotel, not needing my name as he already knew who i was. i brushed past him, entering into the lobby and making my way over to the event i was being forced to attend.

with soft whispers of ‘pardon me’, ‘excuse me’ i was able to snake through the crowd. everybody was wearing formal attire, the room mainly filled with men in suits and ties. in a large circle, the most important men stood talking amongst themselves. without a sound, i slipped into my spot, not drawing any attention to my late arrival. an arm immediately snaked around my waist, the hand squeezing my hip as a hot breath tickled against my ear, “finally.” i swallowed the small lump in my throat, looking up and to the side to send him a tight lipped smile, silently apologizing for my tardiness. he didn’t look back, his face firm as he listened intently to one of the other men speaking, a glass of whiskey held tightly in his free hand.

the lack of his gaze caused my attention to shift to the rest of the circle. only men. “well, this is a huge business opportunity for us and i know that you will get it done.” one of the men spoke, wrapping up the conversation just as i had begun to listen. the man stepped forward, breaking the circle and holding his hand out, “pleasure, mr. sturniolo.” the man’s voice husked out, chris’ arm immediately leaving my waist as he gave the man a firm handshake. chris smirked, thanking the man and patting his shoulder a couple times, promising to not let him down. as the crowd dissipated i could feel my heartbeat began to rise at the obvious tension between me and chris.

“care to explain? or did you think you were just going to stay quiet all night?” his voice dripped with venom as he finally turned to look at me, gazing down and taking a quick scan of my figure wearing the fur coat and tight dress he had specifically purchased for me to wear. the room began to feel hot under his gaze, the fur of my coat beginning to suffocate me. “i’m sorry chris-“ i began, my voice barely a whisper. “-sorry doesn’t cut it.” his words taking over mine. “you knew that tonight was the most important night for me.. for the business.” all i could do was nod in response, fidgeting with the expensive bracelet that laid on my wrist (another request that i had to wear). chris huffed as he continued on, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand, “you made me look like a fucking idiot you know that?” the question cutting through me like a knife.

“they chose me, the youngest out of all the men, to do this for them… organized this whole event so we could talk business and so they could present me with this opportunity, and my girlfriend doesn’t even show up until the fucking end.” he rambled on, his frustration showing as he took a swig of his drink out of the glass. i knew there was no point in arguing back, there never was, but for some reason i couldn’t help but try to defend myself. “i’m only thirty minutes late chris..” my voice was still soft, a slight tremble evident in my tone. chris huffed again, his free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. he let his eyes flutter shut as he tried his best to contain himself, to not make a scene in front of all of these important business partners. quickly, he dropped his hand back to his side, his face filled with anger as he looked at me once more, “if you were going to be late, you should’ve just stayed home.” i stumbled slightly on my feet as he pushed past me, leaving me alone in the corner.

a shaky sigh fell past my lips, my clammy hands rubbing down the front of my fur coat as i continued to grow warmer and warmer. after i spent a few moments collecting myself, i walked carefully over to the bar, making sure to hold my head high and confident. despite the pain i felt about the argument we had, everybody here knew who i was, who i belonged to. if i broke, or even cracked, it would be bad for his image. the image he cared so much about, the ego of being the youngest and only twenty four year old in the business. so as i made it to the bar, pulling out the chair, i kept my expression clear of any imperfections. the bartender quickly noted my presence and made his way over. “a glass of cabernet, please,” i ordered quickly, my eyes scanning the room for chris before returning to the bar where the bartender poured my glass of red wine.

“here you are.” the bartender said, sliding the glass towards me carefully. i grabbed the stem of the glass, pulling it closer to me as i began to fiddle around in my clutch for my wallet. “no- please.. it’s on the house.” the bartender quickly stated, nodding his head before he left to go attend to the other side of the bar. my mouth hung open slightly in shock, stuffing my wallet back into my clutch. i sipped on the wine, observing the room once more with no sign of chris. a soft scoff fell from my mouth as my eyes were trained on the dark red lipstick stain on the wine glass, lost in my thoughts. the music drowned out everybody’s voices besides the one in my head. ‘it’s not like i tried to be late’ i thought.

after a few more glasses of wine i decided to freshen up in the bathroom, the event still in full swing. my sight tunnel vision as i headed through the opulent hotel lobby, the bathroom hallway in the distance. a hand caught my wrist, pulling me backwards before i could make it into the hall. my head whipped around to see chris dragging me into another circle of people, his other hand on my hip, guiding me to face the crowd. “-i couldn’t do it without her.” chris stated with a confident smile, continuing his conversation with some men who looked important. before i could process what was happening, he pulled me closer into his side and grabbing my chin with his hand before connecting our lips together in a kiss. shocked, i halfheartedly kissed him back, his lips tasting of whiskey and spearmint gum. as he pulled back from my lips his hand traveled from my waist down to squeeze my ass, “you can go now baby, didn’t mean to hold you up.” he said, nodding his head back towards the hallway were he originally pulled me from. my eyebrows furrowed as i shot him a look only he could see. i stumbled backwards slightly as i went to step away from the group, his hand squeezing my ass once more as i turned over my shoulder.

pushing open the bathroom door, i quickly walked to the mirror looking at my own reflection. teary eyes stared back at me, finally able to feel my emotions now that i was out of shot from prying eyes. mascara ran down my cheeks, splotching the makeup i had spent hours perfecting. i felt pathetic as i watched myself cry in front of the mirror, my face turning red from embarrassment. the bathroom door swung open as somebody else walked in to use a stall, my head immediately dropping to my chest as i quickly snatched a tissue to pat my tears. suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing broke the silence of the bathroom nearly making me drop my clutch in surprise. “fuck-“ i muttered as i fumbled through the bag in search of my phone. shoving my wallet, lipsticks and liners, a pack of gum, and some tampons around i finally fished my phone out.

“h-hello?” my voice broke slightly as i picked up the call. i could feel my hand trembling as i held it to my ear, my heartbeat and breathing probably loud enough to be heard through the speaker. “where are you?” chris asked harshly. “i was… just freshening up in the bathroom.” i responded, quickly drying the rest of my tears and throwing my clutch over my shoulder. “we’re leaving.” chris demanded. “o-okay i’m coming-“ “i’m in the car. you better hurry or else you’re walking back.” his voice cut me off. my heart strained at his words, “yeah… i’ll be right out.” i muttered into the phone. without another word, chris hung up the phone, the sound of the disconnected call beeping in my ear.

my feet ached from my heels as i walked out of the hotel, searching the parking lot for the black rolls royce. a slight drizzle fell from the dark night sky casting a haze over the city. my skin prickled with goosebumps as i pulled the fur coat tighter around me, walking quickly down the sidewalk towards the car. i fumbled with the door handle, the drizzle picking up to a light rain. the door was locked, my knuckles wrapping lightly on the tinted window wishing to be out of the cold rain. as soon as the door unlocked i quickly pulled the door open, throwing my bag to the floor as i hurried into the passenger seat. before i could barely shut the door, chris was slamming down on the gas, steering the car recklessly around the other parked cars in the hotel’s roundabout. my eyes glanced over at him, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel tightly, not uttering a word to me. i sunk back into the leather seat, swallowing the lump reforming in my throat. the car was completely silent besides the squealing of the tires as he sped down the road.

as the highway flew past us, rain pelting the windshield, i finally decided to speak up. “can we talk about this please?” my voice coming out weaker than i had intended it to. all chris did was scoff as his grip seemed to tighten even more on the steering wheel, his gaze dead set on the road ahead. “i said i was sorry chris… please, forgive me?” i pleaded, knowing he was capable of holding this grudge for days. my hand reached out, resting on his bicep slightly before he shrugged me off. “chris-“

“i don’t wanna fucking talk to you.” he finally snapped. my body trembled as his words echoed in my ears. “what can i do? how can i make it up to you?” i whispered. chris rolled his eyes, refusing to look my direction. slowly, i rested my hand on his thigh, trying to break down his walls and get him to talk it out. he gripped my hand tightly, removing it from his thigh before dropping it back down onto my leg, “i said fuck off y/n, yeah?” a brief silence falling over the car once more. defeated, i nodded my head before turning to look out the passenger window for the remainder of the drive. chris pulled into the garage, throwing the car into park and quickly stepping out of the car. i jumped as the car door slammed behind him, still looking out the passenger window. my eyes fluttered shut as i tried to steady my breathing but before i got the chance my own door was ripped open, chris standing to the side. “come on.” i opened my eyes, seeing his hand outstretched for me.

timidly, i placed my hand into his, swinging my legs out of the car before standing up, his hand supporting mine. his fingers laced between mine as he led the way into the house, opening the door for me and allowing me in first. i nodded my head in thanks as i stepped into the foyer, immediately shrugging off my fur coat so i could hang it on the coat rack. “i got it.” chris said softly, taking the coat from me and hanging it up, running his hand down the back to smooth out the fur. silently, we both walked to the bedroom where chris once again opened the door. i slipped inside and immediately sat on the edge of the bed, grimacing as i shifted my feet inside the heels. chris kneeled in front of me, propped up on one knee. his rough hand ran over my shin, squeezing it before lifting it to rest on his raised knee. he tenderly slipped off my heel, massaging my foot before switching to do the other.

my eyes watched him carefully, a soft hum of satisfaction falling from my lips as i was relieved from the discomfort of my shoes. gently, he placed both my feet back down on the hardwood floors. his hand ran up my leg again before stopping at my thigh, patting it before standing up off the floor. his body towered over mine as i stayed slumped at the edge of the bed, my eyes drooping as my vision blurred. he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “want some comfier clothes?” he asked softly. i lazily nodded my head and he immediately went to find me something to wear other than my dress. i fiddled with the jewelry i was wearing, carefully taking it off and placing it delicately on the side table. chris walked back over with a big, soft t-shirt, one of my favorites of his to wear. my fingers brushed his as i took it from his hands. i reached awkwardly behind my back, struggling to find the zipper on my dress. chris placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me around so that my back was facing him, “here, let me.”

slowly, chris pulled the zipper down, revealing the bare skin of my back. he slipped the sleeves over my shoulder, letting the dress fall down to my ankles in a puddle. a firm kiss pressed against my shoulder blade, followed by a few more quick pecks up the back of my neck. “i know i was a dick tonight…” chris mumbled into my hair, planting another kiss to the side of my neck. i let out a soft hum in reply, his words only half registering in my sleepy mind. he pressed some more deliberate kisses along my neck and shoulder blade, his hands wrapping around my stomach and pulling my back against his chest. “s’pretty baby…” he whispered, the ghost of his lips hovering over my bare skin. i leaned my head back against his chest, my eyes shutting as i finally felt my emotions evening out for the first time the whole night. chris pulled me impossibly closer, “shower with me?” he asked softly. i shook my head softly, “m’ tired chris…” i whispered reluctantly. his hands now rested on my hips, slotting my ass perfectly on his lap. he frowned slightly, leaning back down to kiss my neck, beginning to gently suck on it.

“please baby? need you so bad…” he almost whimpered. i shook my head again, taking a slow step out of his grip and climbing onto the bed. “you go ahead, i’ll be here when you get back.” i assured him, pulling the t-shirt he had brought over my head. surprisingly he didn’t protest any further, quietly turning on his heel and going to take a shower. i pulled the covers over my body, the emptiness of the bed making me shiver slightly. hopefully chris wouldn’t take too long…

my eyes began to flutter shut as i lost my battle against my drowsiness, only awakening to the feeling of the bed dipping. through lidded eyes i saw chris with curly damp hair, some pieces sticking to his forehead. he quickly snuck under the covers, pulling them up over his bare torso. “sleepy baby?” he whispered, scooting closer to me and resting his arm over my waist as he laid on his side facing me. i hummed softly, nodding my head as i struggled to keep my eyes open. his hand moved to gently tuck some hair behind my ear, leaning forward to connect his lips gingerly against my forehead. “i was such an asshole to you tonight… i know you hate going to all my events and stuff that i have to attend..” he started. i shifted slightly on the bed, moving closer into the warmth of his body. “s’okay chris… don’t worry about it.” i murmured, still halfway asleep. his thumb brushed over my cheek, “you were crying?” he whispered. my eyes opened slowly, beginning to feel slightly more alert. i furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of why he was asking me that question. without another word he began to pepper my cheek with kisses making my heart flutter.

“i know i hurt you… let me make it up to you, please?” he murmured, his lips moving down to my jaw. his hand slipped beneath my t-shirt, running over the skin on my stomach and side. this is what he always did. it was never an apology, it was a negotiation. he would make me feel good, never own up to his hurtful behavior, and then do it all over again the next time. and for some reason i would always fall for it, maybe because i was foolishly in love… his fingers began to toy with the waistband of my panties, teasingly slipping under ever so slightly. a quiet, muffled whine left my lips before i could stop myself. “s’pretty… all for me yeah?” his voice was low and seductive. “chris…” i said, my tone slightly warning, my body wriggling beneath his taunting touches. he hummed into my skin, kissing lower down my neck. “tell me what you want babygirl..” he nipped at the soft skin on my neck, skillfully swiping his tongue on it after to soothe the pain.

“you can’t just… fuck the feelings away,” i mumbled, halfheartedly pushing at his chest to try and put some distance between us. he leaned back, propped up on his elbow as he searched my face with confusion. “what do you mean?” he questioned, his fingers now tracing up and down my arm. i sighed, unsure of why i had chosen tonight of all nights to confront his inability to accept his wrongdoings. “you really hurt me tonight chris.” i stated, looking deep into his eyes as he continued to study my face. his fingers stilled on my arm as my words filled his ears, “i know… that’s why im trying to make it up to you.” his reply lacking any notion that he was understanding my hesitation. my body shifted on the mattress, trying to escape his touch. “that’s my point chris… you can’t just kiss it better.” his eyebrows furrowed as a toothy smirk took over his face.

“that’s why i’m trying to fuck it better,” he clarified, playfully poking at my sides as he grinned. i gasped as i struggled to not laugh, slapping his hands away in protest of being tickled. “s-stop,” i choked out between soft, short giggles, still swatting at his hands. he smiled, pulling his hands away and holding them up in surrender, allowing me to catch my breath. as i sucked in some air, calming my heat rate, i thought of my next words. “you do this every time we fight… you think we can just have sex and then you never have to actually apologize… it’s like you don’t know how to take any sort of accountability.” i said, laying my cards fully out on the table. he scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “oh come on… i apologize.” he countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at me. i shook my head side to side, “you don’t chris… you never have.” my voice barely above a whisper.

he moved closer to me again, his arm wrapping around my waist as his face hovered inches above mine. “well, that’s what the sex is for… i make you feel good and then you forget about when i made you upset…” he whispered back, his thumb returning to my cheek. i shut my eyes, squeezing them slightly as his words dug at my heart. “i don’t want the sex, chris.” he stroked my cheek gently, watching my face as i scrunched my nose. for once, he stayed quiet, silently urging me to keep speaking. “sometimes… i just want to hear you say you’re sorry for hurting my feelings.” i admitted, opening my eyes again to look at him as he processed my words. something changed in his eyes, the dark lust washing away as it was replaced with a slight twinge of sadness. my breath caught in my throat as i waited for a reply, expecting him to come up with some sort of excuse. “i’m sorry…” he finally whispered after a moment of silence. i felt my heart nearly stop beating at his words, my stomach dropping. more silence fell over the bedroom as he looked deeply into my eyes, noting the pain behind my words. “i’m so sorry. you don’t deserve to be treated the way i treated you tonight.”

the sincerity in his words was foreign. the concept of accountability long lost on his end, yet here he was finally putting in an effort. it meant more to me than he probably ever could imagine. “if i weren’t so in love with you i would’ve left you a long time ago…” my words came out as my voice cracked. he quickly shifted on the bed, laying back on the black, silk pillowcase. “come ‘ere…” he whispered, slipping his arm under my neck and pulling me into his side. i curled into him, tucking my head into his chest as he rested his chin on my head. a firm hand rubbed up and down my back soothingly. the cool metal of his silver bracelet brushing over my skin as he slipped his hand under my shirt. i didn’t dare move as i stayed glued to his side. the scent of his cologne lingered in my nostril, filling me with a warm sense of familiarity and comfort. the warmth of his body luring me to sleep. chris stared up at the ceiling, watching as the fan spun while i drifted off to sleep in his arms. he pulled me closer, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he mulled over my last words.

‘if i weren’t so in love with you i would’ve left you a long time ago.’

[bitchinbarzal]

It’ll work out | K Kaprizov

summary: You and Kirill have been trying to have a baby for a long time. The struggle has taken its toll, creating a rift between you that neither of you knows how to fix. When things reach a breaking point, you both have to decide if love is enough to bring you back to each other.

-

The house is quiet.

Too quiet.

You stir your spoon in your tea, watching the amber liquid swirl around the cup, but you don’t take a sip. Across the kitchen, Kirill sits at the table, scrolling through his phone, lost in his own world. His face is unreadable, illuminated only by the dim blue light of the screen.

This is how it’s been for weeks now. You sit in the same room, breathe the same air, but you might as well be miles apart. The weight of unspoken words, of disappointment and exhaustion, presses down on you both.

It wasn’t always like this.

You used to talk about everything, filling even the quietest moments with laughter and warmth. Now, the silence stretches between you like a canyon neither of you knows how to cross.

“I have an early practice tomorrow,” Kirill says, finally breaking the silence.

You nod, lifting your mug to your lips. “Okay.”

That’s it. That’s all you say.

You don’t tell him that you cried in the car after work today, gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands after another coworker announced their pregnancy. That you smiled, offered congratulations, and then locked yourself in the school bathroom just to breathe through the ache in your chest.

He doesn’t tell you that he saw you last night, curled up on the couch, staring blankly at yet another negative test. That he wanted to come to you, to wrap you in his arms and tell you that it would be okay.

But he didn’t.

Because what if it won’t be?

Because what if the words aren’t enough?

Because what if he’s failing you?

The weight of hope is a cruel thing.

When you first decided to try for a baby, it had been filled with excitement, a whispered dream that seemed just within reach. The first few months, you were giddy with the possibility, already picturing a nursery, tiny clothes, late-night feedings with Kirill rocking your child back to sleep.

Then months turned into a year. And another.

And nothing happened.

Doctors. Tests. Treatments.

An endless cycle of waiting and heartbreak.

Each negative test was like a punch to the gut, but the worst was the time you truly believed it had worked. Your period was late, your body felt different, and for two glorious days, you let yourself believe you were finally pregnant.

You told Kirill in a hushed, excited whisper, his face lighting up with a kind of joy you hadn’t seen in months. He kissed you, lifted you off the ground, and spun you around the kitchen, laughing against your skin.

Then the bleeding started.

And just like that, the light faded from his eyes.

You had cried in his arms that night, gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the ache in your chest. He had whispered to you in Russian, soft and soothing, but it did nothing to dull the heartbreak.

And since then, something between you has been unraveling.

Kirill comes home late from practice, the front door closing with a soft click. You hear the rustle of his bag being set down, the quiet creak of the floorboards under his feet as he makes his way to the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, absently running a hand over the smooth surface, your untouched dinner sitting on a plate in front of you. When you glance up, Kirill is standing in the doorway, watching you with tired eyes.

“Hey,” he says, voice low.

“Hey,” you echo, unsure what else to say.

He hesitates before nodding toward the food. “You ate?”

“I waited for you,” you admit.

Something flickers across his face, something like guilt, but it disappears just as quickly. “I already ate with the guys.”

You nod, swallowing against the sudden lump in your throat. “Oh. Okay.”

You turn away, blinking rapidly. It shouldn’t hurt this much. But it does.

Kirill exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “What’s wrong? Kirill, we barely talk anymore. You come home, and it’s like I’m not even here.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair is feeling like I’m losing you.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and aching. “I feel like I’m drowning, and you’re just—” Your voice wavers. “You’re just letting it happen.”

Kirill shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“Then tell me what is true, because I don’t know anymore.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, as if struggling to find the right words.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable.

Then, finally, he exhales. “Maybe we need a break.”

The world tilts beneath your feet.

“A break?” you whisper.

“I don’t know what else to do, Y/N.” His voice is hoarse, desperate. “We’re hurting each other.”

Tears well in your eyes. “So your solution is to leave?”

His expression crumbles, and for the first time, you see the same pain reflected in his gaze. “I don’t want to. But I don’t know how to be what you need anymore.”

Your heart shatters.

You turn away, pressing your hands against the counter, willing yourself to stay steady. “Then maybe you should go.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Then, finally, you hear the quiet shuffle of his footsteps as he turns and walks away.

And when the door closes behind him, the weight of it all crashes down on you.

The bed feels empty without him.

For the first time since you moved in together, you wake up alone. No warm weight beside you, no steady breathing in the quiet.

Just silence.

And for the first time, you wonder if he’s ever coming back.

Four days pass before he returns.

You don’t hear the door open, but you feel his presence before you see him. When you turn, he’s standing in the doorway, looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll tell him to leave again.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

Tears prick your eyes, but you don’t move. “Me too.”

Kirill takes a slow step forward. “I don’t want space. I don’t want a break. I just want you.”

A sob catches in your throat.

“I don’t care how long it takes,” he continues, voice cracking. “I don’t care if it never happens. I just want you, Y/N.”

You stare at him, heart aching. “You mean that?”

His hands cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that spill over. “I love you. With or without a baby. That will never change.”

And just like that, the dam breaks.

You collapse into his arms, clinging to him as sobs wrack your body. He holds you tightly, whispering soft reassurances in Russian, pressing kisses into your hair.

You don’t know how long you stand there, wrapped in each other. But for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel alone.

And maybe that’s enough.

Maybe that’s everything.

Six months later, you’re staring at a pregnancy test with shaking hands.

Two pink lines.

Your breath catches, tears spilling down your cheeks as you press a hand to your stomach.

“Kirill?” Your voice wobbles as you step into the bedroom, the test clutched in your fingers.

He looks up, brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, you hold out the test.

His eyes widen.

And then he’s across the room in an instant, arms wrapping around you as he laughs—a joyful, disbelieving sound that makes your heart soar.

“We did it,” he breathes.

You smile through your tears, pressing your forehead to his.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “We did.”

And no matter what comes next, you know you’ll always have each other.

Always.

[fangdokja]

I don't know if anyone else has told you this, but you are a really captivating writer. Maybe it's just me, but when I read your writing I feel genuine fear, it is almost as if I've jumped into the screen and experiencing the story myself.

Hook, line, and sinker, I am reeled in by your words. Thank you for sharing your talent to the world!

WARNING: Semi-formal rambling + Library Recommendations, based on what emotions you want to awaken inside you.

Aww, very wholesome message, Anon :)). That’s very nice of you. I’m honored you think of me as a captivating writer, your genuine support and honesty it’s appreciated. Thanks for taking the time out of your day to leave such and encouraging message here with me, thank you.

Don’t worry, you aren’t the only one. I’ve gotten comments even from those who have read horror and yandere content for years, and don’t react or feel much, even personality-wise. They did say that they felt genuinely afraid or immersed in the story.

And now you too. That honestly makes me so happy :)). I always aim to create extremely immersive stories, characters, and worlds after all. Especially grounded in some form of moral grounds and logical world building, even if it takes place in a fantasy setting.

One of my musts as a write is that I always want my Readers to actually live in the role, to feel that they’re actually in the stories. Fully immersed and not simply reading it passively, or as a third person with a safety net. Especially when it comes to horror yandere content.

Whenever I write, I always aim to awaken and touch the emotions of people. Whatever emotion I’m aiming like for Yandere! Valentines! Special:

Yandere! Valentines Special

Novella : Red Roses, Black Hearts

This Valentine’s, your heart might be the last thing you give away.

Yandere! Yan-Apocalypse

Drabbles

The perfect Valentine’s present: something personal, thoughtful, and won’t scream anymore.

And Yandere! Otome Game, it’s full of dark humor and comedy.

Yandere! Otome Game

♡ Characters Included. Yandere! Crown Prince, Archduke, Supreme Mage, Demon King, War Hero, Master Thief, Enemy Spy, Demon Assassin

Drabbles

How do you escape a yandere harem? Asking for a very distressed friend (me).

How to Turn ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ Into a Very Literal Situation.

"Romance is a garbage genre, but if I have to play, I might as well do it on easy mode."

The love interests were bad. The backup plans are worse.

One of them wants to marry you. The other wants to make sure he never does.

Headcanons 1 : How to Survive a Reverse Harem (You Don’t) (General)

I hate it here.

System: “Would you like to resume the main storyline?” You click ‘No.’ They click ‘Yes.’

Imagine hating me so much that you chase me across lifetimes. Imagine being that obsessed.

It’s made to make people laugh and enjoy lighthearted feels. Dark humor is my lightest yandere content, and people love it. They laugh, enjoy, comment, etc. I consider it a huge success already for me if you found it funny or amusing.

Other times, I aim for fear, dread, panic, feelings meant to be inspired in horror. The best Yanderes for this would be my personal “Unhinged Yandere Collection”.

Other people already freaked out a bit in Yandere! Alpha! Hybrid Wolf.

Yandere! Alpha! Wolf Hybrid & Little Omega

Drabbles

“You look prettier when you cry.”

“Do you know what I love most about you?”

“You don’t get to decide anymore,”

“And treasures don’t get to escape.”

“You’re waiting for someone to come for you, aren’t you?”

“Cry for me,”

“But don’t worry, darling. I’ll fill it with something better. Me.”

“You’ll only ever have one choice with me,”

Novelette 1 : Marked and Mated

🔞Run all you want, little omega—I love the chase.

But the truly unhinged Yanderes I have? We currently have three who are part of this collection: Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss...

Yandere! Russian! Mafia Boss

♡ Main Story. 🔞"I trusted you, wife, and now I'll teach you what betrayal feels like."

Headcanons 1 : The Bride of Blood (General)

To him, you're perfect. To you, he's just a mission.

🔞"I don't need your love, I need your submission."

And, Yandere! Author.

Yandere! Author

Headcanons 1 : Fate’s Final Draft (General)

He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

There’s a third one, but those are major spoilers lol.

Or how about sadness, despair, and pain? Yandere! College! Bully did really well in this, which was what I was aiming for.

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Oneshots

The worst part? You’ve stopped trying to fight it.

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

Or maybe bittersweet and wholesome? Comforting, realistic, yet warmly wholesome. Ironic considering the character I wrote it for. Yandere! Light Yagami.

Light Yagami

Novella 1 : In the Name of Love

Two hearts, one unspoken promise—forever best friends.

The sweetest kisses are often the most dangerous.

And of course, we have the gaslighters who make you question reality, full on gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

Scaramouche / Wanderer / Kunikuzushi

Novella 1 : Lover or Captor?

Your body is chained, but your mind? Still free. Or is it?

Mixed Character Stories

You tried to break up with him… but did you ever really want to? (Chrollo Lucilfer, Johan Liebert, Geto Suguru)

I’m genuinely curious on what your favorite story is or who your favorite characters are, Anon. This is just me usually being curious on my Readers’ personal takes and perspectives. Plain curiosity. You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable or the like. Just have fun and relax, you’ve already done a lot just with leaving me this wholesome message :))

Haha, I liked how your described your feelings. “Hook, line, and sinker, I am reeled in by your words.” That makes me sound like a fisherman, and also reminds me of the verse, “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of men (Matthew 4:19).”

And no need to thank me. You’re welcome though. This also goes for all my Readers. The thanks is appreciated, but don’t need to thank me or anything. I enjoy writing, it’s healing for me. It’s not as if it’s a job or anything. I’m genuinely happy writing stories.

And, honestly? I’m genuinely shocked how much people are reading my stories. Engaging and even being genuinely impacted it, makes me really happy. It honestly feels like I’m running my very own social entrepreneurship project. Technical terms, it’s not. But, just the vibes.

Nevertheless, thank you for all the support. From you, Anon, and to the rest of my Readers.

Thank you very much for reading, immersing yourselves in my stories, having fun and relaxing, commenting, reblogging, and sharing your thoughts with me.

Actually all of you Readers have varying personalities. Most of you are lurkers, but it’s interesting to see this growing diversity in community.

∘₊✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 ✧₊∘

❝ 𝘈 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥 & 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘦. ❞ (✦ 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 ✦)

I’m well aware it’s not really a social hub, which is why I’m genuinely shocked with the influx of inbox messages. Though, even then, it’s a generally quiet community. And that’s alright. I don’t want any of you to feel pressured to engage beyond just reading if it makes you uncomfortable. All I want for each of you is to just relax and enjoy the stories here. It’s your digression if you want to do more or less. No worries. And no need to feel pressured with outside factors and people.

Life is already difficult enough as it is, so think of it as a breather in a life that’s always moving, always asking for more. In a way, it’s about appreciating the moment and present, the blessings you have. And slowing down to think, ponder, and relax in immersion.

Hope that’s understandable.

But if you want the short answer?

Please do continue to have fun and relax in The Library Of Forbidden Texts.

We welcome you all here. Whether you crave our dark humor cafe snacks, or the sophisticated erotic horror dining, we have it all here for you to enjoy.

All you have to do is read and relax. :))

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Scripted Redemption Bracket — Round 2.5

Propaganda

Graham Casner (The White Vault):

White Vault spoilers:

[Coughing violently]

Graham Casner survived the Forrmynður, the thing that will stop at nothing to sacrifice you

He deserves this as a break and a reward

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

Yaretzi (Hello from the Hallowoods):

Give it up for the werewolf lady Yaretzi. She's in a streamy romance with a vampire and co-parents her skull-floating-in-a-giant-metal-suit son with her demon former blood enemy. Also she wears dangly gold jewelry and IS strong enough to princess carry you.

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Graham Casner (The White Vault):

Peter Joseph Lewis hottest voice of all time

#I know he's gonna lose but gotta go with Graham

#I am tma girlie and I dropped The White Vault at season something #but Graham is sexier!!! (In reference to Tim Stoker)

#Look from the allos I know. The people voting have NOT heard TWV

#WHAT are these results #I understand that we're pitting the canonically sexiest men from each series against each other. But casner!!!! #Graham 'going to protect all of you if it kills me' Casner #Graham 'brooding in the corner but it's brooding like a mother hen' Casner #Come to think of it interesting that they both sort of kind of died the same way?? #Anyway pokemon go to the polls to vote for casner

#im sorry but have you people HEARD graham casner's voice #i think that might be the sexiest voice of every podcast ive ever listened to and that is. many #like i love tma and i love tim but this is specifically for sexiness and graham casner wins by a MILE. the injustice ...

#VOTE GRAHAM PLEASE GOD #i love tim so much but hes nothing put against Graham #im so sorry TMA girlies but i need you to listen to more than TMA #YOU SIMPLY DO NOT KNOW

With zero hesitation, it’s Graham. #sad strong Russian dad vibes #he’s such a gem

#Graham Casner #his voice is hot and he fought a giant arctic squid (and won???)

#i'm begging y'all listen to more than just tma #tim's voice isn't even that sexy compared to graham #graham got shit done #sorry tim #but i know you'd fuck graham too #AND YOU WOULDN'T SURVIVE

#it's graham casner #you're all wrong and i won't apologise

#rip casner I still love you

#Graham casner did not survive the nobody gets out alive ritual twice for nothing

Yaretzi (Hello from the Hallowoods):

#star werewolf with found family is very sexy

#yarezti is literally canonically big and butch and hairy. how much hotter can a fictional woman get

#YARETZI MY BELOVED#SHES SHORT SHES STONGG SHES HAIRY SHE CAN TURN INTO A GIANT WOLF

#GIVE YARETZI WHAT SHE DESERVES #SHES GAY #SHES DOING THE WEREWOLF VAMPIRE LESBIAN ROMANCE #SHES IN A QPR RAISING A KID WITH THE DEVIL #SHES BLESSED BY A HOT FEMMEBUTCH INDESCRIBABLE BEING

[dare-writes]

Oh God Collection

For Valentine’s Day, Aaron surprises you with a treat.

Aaron Taylor Johnson x Female Reader

Slight Tangerine x Female Reader

genre: fluff, smut; 18+ MINORS DNI

wc: 4.8k

sexual content warnings: DUBCON, drunk sex, nearly cheating?, fingering, f!receiving oral, drunk-sex Aaron has an identity problem, couch sex, wall sex, stair sex, roleplay, degradation kink, mentions of a threesome, (technical selfcest?), unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay, slight praise, hair pulling, wrist pulling, slut-shaming, dirty talk, overstimulation, i might have missed something, strength kink if you squint, implied breeding kink

content warnings: slight age gap (27/35), f!reader, tangerine dies and goes to another world, aaron taylor johnson x reader, established relationship, tangerine thinks your his girlfriend from his world, tangerine is lowkey just sad, and a russian lit major, tangerine misses lemon, tangerine gets a real name, aaron implies a threesome with reader and tangerine, lowkey slice of life for a little, unbetaed

the way there is so much more sexual content warnings, but there’s less porn than plot i’m pretty sure.

Happy late Valentine’s Day.

this went an entirely different direction than i planned it to go.

__

Honestly, you never got the chance to really watch Aaron’s projects except for the premieres he brought you to. You’d only begun dating before Bullet Train’s production, and for obvious reasons, he didn’t start taking you to carpet premieres until recently with Kraven and Nosferatu.

When you knew Aaron was returning, you’d relax in your shared apartment and put on any of his movies. Aaron lost count of how often he would come back when you were either sleeping through the credits or just at the end of a film. It was a pleasant surprise to see that when he saw the credits to one of his films. Aaron didn’t have a lot of films to watch with online streaming services, noticing you mostly do rewatches of his newer films like Bullet Train A Million Little Pieces, even kicking back into his 2010 films like Kick-Ass or (much to his surprise) Chatrooms.

His absence on Valentine’s Day was woeful, but he also said he deserved a little time with your partner despite his absence at the set of Fuze. It was fine enough that he would be out and about in London this time.

You managed to get out of university on Valentine’s Day. Most classes were on the four other days of the week, so you got to stay in and snooze this particular Friday. You knew having a partner in the film industry was going to be tough, so when Aaron told you he wasn’t free on Valentine's Day for some promotional stuff, you didn’t mind. He would find some grand way to make it up, and it was always more than perfect. It’s like he read your mind, knew when you wanted to stay in, and knew when you wanted to go out in town or just have a nice dinner.

For Valentine’s Day, you had your little dinner. An excellent pasta take-out meal and cue up any Aaron Johnson movie to exist across your various streaming platforms. (And the occasional pirating when you hooked your laptop to the TV.)

Aaron has seen your secret TikTok account, where you will mindlessly scroll between assignments or breaks from your university assignments. He’s also used it several times, even stalking through some of your reposts or saves. To your knowledge, he just went through your feed, not stalked your private Aaron Johnson edit collection called “Oh god.”

Throughout your lonely Valentine's Day, Aaron texted you randomly, sending a bouquet of your favorite flowers, sweet treats, and even a pretty dress with a card, saying, "We’ll make it up another day, my love." It was lovely and made you feel a little less alone. That and the plentiful edits saved in your Oh God collection you can always look back in if you miss Aaron extra.

Mindless scrolling was your third favorite hobby; number one was Aaron, and two was whatever activity your university friends wanted to do next.

By nine at night, you’d exhausted all your Aaron, Tangerine, Pietro, Count Vronsky, Sergei, Fredrich, Tom Ryder, and even Ford Brody edit sources.

A rattle came from downstairs, shocking you slightly as you crept around your bedroom. Light on your toes, you looked for the heaviest item you owned in the room.

“Dollface?” A voice called. It made your stomach twist. Was it Aaron? Why the hell was he putting on a different accent?

You crept downstairs. His facial scruff was gone. He was dressed in a navy suit with a waistcoat similar to the one Tangerine wore in the movie. The one thing that caught you off guard was the blood. It was ridiculous. Everything that was once white was now splattered red. Aaron looked great, you almost drooled at the sight of your boyfriend.

You just didn’t understand why he was dressed as Tangerine. Unless this was some sort of roleplay thing you once discussed ages ago.

“Aaron?”

“‘ Ou the hell is Aaron?'” not Aaron asked. That was undoubtedly Aaron’s face, though. His hair was no longer neat American military cut; it was longer, shaggier, and windswept.

“My boyfriend,” you answered as you raised your old laptop.

“The fuck you gonna do with an Apple laptop? Hit me?” He asked snidely. “Doll, whattrya on about? Last I checked, Doll, my name ain’t Aaron.”

He gestured his hands up and down his body like you should recognize him. You did recognize him, but there was no logical explanation as to why Tangerine was standing in your living room, blood dripping onto the hardwood floor. “No, this is fucking weird.”

Was this some weird roleplay thing? You and Aaron had talked about roleplaying and sex. If you had an actor boyfriend, you were doing roleplay without a doubt.

Before you could ask anything else to try to get a hint, Tangerine rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen. His bloody hands opened his shirt to shrug off his equally bloody shirt and discard it to the sink to run cold water on it. After also washing his hands and checking his non-existent bullet wound, he was back up to you.

You let your defenses down; you had no clue what else to do. Common sense fell out the window when Aaron was around you. His slightly damp hands, gruff from seemingly his gun and all his fights, held your face. His gaudy gold rings were cold to the touch.

“Doll, I missed you… Lemon— where’s Lemon?” He asked as he realized his new location. He was back in London without his twin.

“I don’t know— you. Look, Aaron, is this what I think it is? We never even talked-” Tangerine didn’t even let you finish. His lips were on yours, kissing and biting down on your lower lip. Aaron was aggressive during sex usually, but never this much.

Something in you wanted to playback, be more than just the innocently confused girlfriend. You tried to pull away, but this was still Aaron, and you trusted him. You were no physical match for him. His hands reached and trailed down your body, racing to your pants. Even in his acting, Aaron was still the same when he was in a mood. It made you smile in the kiss.

His mustache tickled. You were used to it enough with Aaron. You finally pulled away, only for him to spin you and toss your torso over the back of the couch.

“Stop! No, I’m not your— Fuck!” You shouted as you tried to sit back up. His hand shoved you down, his other hand yanking down your sleep shorts.

“Fuck, you’re not my what? Hmm? Ya, not my doll anymore?” Tangerine asked gruffly. His lips connected to one of your lower back and bit down. You yowled in pain, his teeth leaving marks down your backside.

“I’m not your girlfriend! Or whatever! I— I’ve got a boyfriend, A—Aaron!” You cried falsely, you were used to Aaron rushing in the beginning. It was also probably a long day for him, you excused it. Also cause you missed him so bad today.

A quick trail from your clit to your hole, Aaron shoved his fingers inside with no hesitation. It was already sopping wet, but Aaron let cold spit drip out his lips and landed where his fingers plunged inside.

“God, Doll, yer still so tight for me,” Aaron said as he pushed his fingers, curling them gently. It didn’t matter despite your (false) protests because the front door opened soon after. “Baby, I’m back!”

Your heart stilled. He’s back?

“Oi! What the hell, Baby? Doll you-“

Something clattered into the floor, and you returned from your room. Aaron… Tangerine… In the same room.

“Aaron! Fuck!” You cried out as he made eye contact.

Aaron and Tangerine still. The same man looked back at one another—Aaron looked back at his 2022 film Character in disbelief. “Aaron— I-“

“Love, what the fuck is this?” Aaron asked. You hadn’t even realized the flush of tears running down your face.

“I don’t know! I thought— I thought you came back early from filming… Then we were kissing, and I— I don’t even know what to— I’m so confused,” you said as you tried to escape Tangerine.

His hands dug into you. His hand reached for his back, then remembered he was gun-less. His gold knuckle dusters glinted against the warm lights of the walls. “The fuck are you?”

“Her fucking boyfriend!” Aaron shouted. He stormed forward and shoved Tangerine off. You bent up from the couch and down to grab your panties from the floor to put on.

“Aaron, honestly, babe, I don’t think you could take him—he’s a murder.”

“I played him!”

“And he’s murdered probably over a thousand people.”

“That’s nice of you, doll, but it’s more like 250? I’m not a serial killer or mass murderer—“Both you and Aaron just stared at him.

“Okay, then if you aren’t… my dollface, then who are you? Cause ya got the same face,” Tangerine asked. His fingers twitched around, his eyes eyeing the slick left on his fingers. He wanted to taste it out of habit but held himself back. Aaron rubbed his face and just looked between you two.

“This is a terrible Valentine’s Day,” Aaron mumbled.

“What do you remember last?” You asked as you grabbed Aaron’s hand with a glare at his comment.

Tangerine looked down at his bloodied pants. “Getting shot by that idiot American.”

“Well, got that right,” Aaron mumbled. He looked exhausted. A wrapped box of more gifts for you was still at the entrance. He just got off work.

“Well, uhm. Tough luck… Tangerine—Fuckin— Can I just get your real name? You’re very much not there anymore in that world.”

“Fuckin’ Thomas,” he mumbled. His eyes bleared at the idea of his brother, the girl he left behind. He scrunched his nose and pretended to weld the tears away.

“Ironic. Yeah, this isn’t a good one to tell you,” you mumbled as you took your lip between your thumb and forefinger.

Aaron took control of this, explaining it all. Bullet Train is a book and movie; Aaron is an actor and plays Tangerine in the 2022 film. Hesitantly, he told Tangerine about his demise, the gunshot likely hitting an artery and killing Tangerine permanently.

Tangerine stilled once again. It’s like his world ended—at least, it did end for him. Entirely. He had nothing left for him here, not a real place to live or an identity to fall back on. He may be a prick, but he did just try having sex with his real person’s girl. He never did that kind of shit (on purpose.) He wouldn’t ruin Aaron Johnson’s life to get himself back into a business he hated and stuck to only because of what else he had.

“Aaron, can we talk?”

Aaron nodded, but not before giving Tangerine water, and you took Aaron into your room. Aaron dropped off a few stuff for Tangerine to wear instead of the sticky yet stiff with blood clothing he just died in. Tangerine left for the guest bathroom and waited anxiously. He was never without Lemon. Thomas was never without Tyler ever. After an hour to Tangerine, you and Aaron emerged again. Tangerine felt certain when he saw Aaron’s hand holding your lower back, but he bared face.

“He and I talked. You can stay here until you can get on your feet. I’m sure you could find someone to create an identity for you or something… But Aaron and I think kicking you out is unfair when you have nothing else.”

__

Half a year later, Aaron proposed. On August 14th, 2025, Aaron got down on one knee and finally asked you to marry him. You cried joyfully, and he spun you around like his long-lost princess. Tangerine wasn’t bitter. He didn’t say much about it other than congratulations, and he’ll find a way to attend to support the two of you.

Tangerine was glad for the two of you, but he missed his girl. She was known as Nightshade in the Assassin world, but he didn’t even know her real name for safety reasons. (A very sensual and intimate relationship that teetered on romance, but he didn’t wanna go in-depth with his new roommates.) He regularly confided in both of you about missing her. You and Aaron were emotionally secure between one another, periodically letting Tangerine open up to you two.

Tangerine didn’t see Aaron as a brother, but he had no male figure to rely on except Tyler. Aaron was awkward initially, but living Tangerine’s life out was weird for those months during Covid quarantine. Tangerine could have spent his time in therapy, but instead, he decided to try getting a college education.

Tangerine was known as Thomas Henley, an orphan who lived in the countryside and had no documentation about himself. Honestly, you and Aaron did your best not to know much. Thomas didn’t talk about it either, wanting both of you to have complete deniability.

Thomas was still here. None of you had an issue with him sticking around; you found it lovely. Around nine months, he had secured an identity and dyed his hair a frosty blonde. He cut his hair and dolled himself up, but he kept his face clean-shaven except for his mustache, which he maintained, occasionally trimming it shorter and letting it grow out.

You and Aaron said nothing as the two of you giggled. He looked so much like Count Vronsky when he returned home from the hairdresser. Again, you and Aaron giggled when you saw Thomas reading Anna Karenina for his major—Literature with a focus on Russian Lit.

Aaron was away again, filming another movie. You and Thomas sat around, working on your dissertation for what felt like the hundredth time, and Thomas was preparing for his undergraduate exams.

“I fucking hate this,” Thomas groveled over his school-provided laptop. He refused your and Aaron’s attempts to buy him anything. He lived here for free, and his campus job gave him enough money to save.

“You picked Russian Lit—“

“Fuck off.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” You had been waiting for Aaron to be here for this, but you couldn’t resist.

“Break?”

“Yeah,” you nodded as you stood up from the dining table. Thomas agreed, and you picked an Aaron Johnson Classic.

“It’s Anna Karenina—I don’t want to hear about any discrepancies from the original if there are any,” you added hotly before you pressed play. You always admired the cinematic take on the play, with a very stage-theater visual look. For the entire beginning, Thomas was quiet, his eyes overseeing it all.

He even took the time to learn Russian while taking Russian Lit to read Tolstoy in the original text. Thomas was the kind to talk during movies. He mumbled and smiled at the actress for Anna, mentioning she was what he pictured Anna to look like when he imagined her.

When Levin was introduced, you got up from the couch. You set up your phone in the corner against the books in the bookcase behind the couch and press the record button. Then, you returned with a fresh bag of popcorn and passed it to Thomas. The two of you watched. Thomas even liked the stage-theater take on Anna Karenina.

Then Count Vronsky brushed his shoulder against Levin’s and turned to face the ginger man. Thomas burst into a tirade. He grabbed the remote and paused on Aaron’s face. His tirade continued, unbelieving that you took this long to show him Anna Karenina, how you and Aaron were the worst roommates for keeping this secret.

You were sending this to Aaron later. You snagged the remote back and resumed the movie. He kept going, even taking his phone out to spam Aaron, uncaring if he was filming. You managed to get him to shut up when Count Vronsky and Anna danced, which was your favorite part. Aaron had taught it to you on one of your early dates together for fun. You were swooning as he lifted you effortlessly that day.

You watched Aaron with such desire, and Thomas saw it. Nightshade also looked at him the same way while they worked together.

That same night, Thomas apologized to you. You brushed it off, saying that you knew he didn’t mean to do anything terrible to you, even admitting you thought he was Aaron for a Valentine's Day surprise. Thomas snorted at you and rolled his eyes.

“And you’re planning on marrying him; you didn’t even know I wasn’t him,” he said sarcastically. You slapped your hand into his shoulder.

“You have the same face, same body, same fuckin’ hands–even down to your sexual mannerisms! And you never progressed past fingering me,” you rolled your eyes back. The topic was rarely discussed between you, but you and Thomas were best friends. you and Thomas was strictly platonic.

Occasionally, you wondered if Thomas saw Nightshade in you like you saw Aaron in him (except visually). Deep down, his actions perfectly matched Aaron’s. Five years of dating an actor, and being able to meet his character from another world or universe or whatever was ridiculous so to speak. Your heart twisted at the thought of Thomas no longer having Nightshade. You and him talk for a lot longer that night, never grazing on the topic of his arrival or his previous life again.

__

Aaron and you had bought a house, yet you hadn’t moved out because you were still attending university nearby. Aaron was finally back, no longer filming, and done with Fuze. He was here to plan the wedding. You and Aaron wanted a small summer wedding, not needing anyone more than some friends. Neither of you talked to your family that much, finding the most solace between one another and the friends they had–actors and university friends alike. It took a lot of sifting friends to find out who were friends and who wanted to meet Aaron Johnson.

Of course, Aaron invited actor friends but was hesitant to invite Brian Tyree Henry for apparent reasons.

Thomas said to do it. He would stay away as much as he could, and he wouldn't drink any alcohol to avoid any emotional issues that may arise. In this entire year, you hadn’t rewatched Bullet Train once. You couldn’t, not with Thomas around the apartment. You could barely even watch Aaron–Tangerine edits without feeling some kind of way. Your gut twisted in unspeakable ways as you watched the silly bouncing and rhythmic edits of Aaron-Tangerine, trying to separate Thomas from Aaron as much as possible.

You stared deeply at Tangerine, you could see them both so clearly in Movie-Tangerine. Thomas’s poor smoking habit, and brotherly gentleness, while Aaron’s watchful stares, and facial expressions perfectly mirrored his real life expression.

Part of you swooned over the Movie-Tangerine, which can be considered Aaron-Tangerine too, right?

Back to the wedding, Thomas mostly stuck around the outskirts of the wedding as promised. Brian didn’t even glance his way, but he indeed stared Brian down. His American accent helped a little bit until Aaron and Brian were drinking together, giggling slightly drunk while they recalled their accents for the film. The wedding was lovely, small, and in the backyard of you and Aaron’s new home. It was floral, with a nice tent around the outdoor dining section. The house was overly large; Aaron, the sole provider, took the house payment upon himself. You owned their apartment, telling Thomas he could stay there when you graduated and visit the house whenever he wanted.

Thomas didn’t stay that night. He couldn’t. He knew you two were tipsy and would be consummating the marriage loudly the entire night.

He was right, too. Aaron didn’t even make it up the stairs with you in your sleek white wedding dress. He stripped you in the foyer, his hard-on pressed against his suit pants, and was eating you out while you sat on the top stair of the house.

Your skin was sticky with the summer sweat, and his shaved beard still scratched your thighs raw. After forcing your legs open, his drooly tongue lapped up the dampness between your thighs. He smiled up at you lazily as he slid in his fingers and hummed against your clit. His fingers stretched and pushed around, it was like his second home. Your arms were first. Aaron made himself plenty at home as he smiled up at you with a devilish smile, his lips still attached to your sensitive nerves.

All of Aaron's muscle prep for Kraven’s appearance in a Marvel film was overpowering no matter how much you tried to shove your legs shut. His large free hand shoved them back open without a moments break.

“Mhfm, taste delicious, don’t you, Pretty?” Aaron rhetorically asked.

With a sudden spin guided by Aaron, you then held yourself up on your knees. Your hands pressed against the cold hardwood floors as he pushed himself inside with a languid groan. The stretch was terribly achy. Aaron loved spending time on his knees for you, but the age gap made you giggle as you joked about his aging knees.

“Baby… god, you feel so good. Mhm,” he whispered into your ear. Drunk Aaron was a time, he was different each time. You loved each personality he fucked you in, slipping into different accents from time to time. After six years of being together, you’ve fucked each drunk personality he claimed to shed post-film production.

Allan "Ize" Isaac and his whiny tone while he thrusts into you needily while begging you to come around him was fun. Same with Dave Lizewski pretending to fuck his University history TA or Fredrich moaning in your ear lovingly as he asked to breed you with his children. Your personal favorite was when Aaron cockily fucked you with Pietro’s Sokovian accent teasing you as he overstimulated your clit. But there was one more who hadn’t appeared in the past year.

More often than not, Tangerine came out. Fuck, Aaron made you call him Tangerine multiple times before the appearance of Thomas one year ago.

Today was no different.

When the Cockney slid past Aaron’s tongue like it was his first initial accent, you knew you were done. He even called you Doll as he slid in and out. His cockhead crushed into your cervix more times than you could count. Not that you could count clearly while being impaled by Aaron. He groaned as he moved your hips to slide on and off his cock, “Fuck, so’wet for me huh, doll? Like this cock?”

You cried into the piled dress beneath you, his lips connected to your back. Your knees ache against wood panels, rocking back and forth. His wet lips sucked into your back as he grunted, “God, Doll, yer still so tight for me.”

It was like neuron activation, exactly what Tangerine had said to you a year ago while he fingered you against the couch. You didn’t think about it a lot, an awkward interaction you three claim. For you, it was intoxicating to hear Tangerine say doll, more or less Aaron say it.

You hummed a cry at his comment.

“Say my name, Doll, come on,” he said. Skin slapping echoed in the barely decorated home, your cries echoing off the cold, empty walls. “Fuck… Aaron, pl–”

His hands pulled up your wrists to your lower back, holding your front up as he used you.

“That’s not my name, Dollface.”

For just a moment, you swore this actually was the Thomas Henley you met on Valentine’s Day. You cried out again, “No, Aaron, no! I can’t–”

Morally, you can’t. Aaron (or Tangerine) at this moment had no morals. Never had, will.

“Say it!” He shouted as he released you to fall into your dress. His hands clamped on your hips with a bruising hold. His trimmed nails even dug at the plush of your thighs.

“Fuck, Tangerine!” You sobbed, you squeezed around him as he laughed. Your body was jolting as he did as he pleased, you always let him do as he pleased.

“Whore likes that, huh?” He asked as he snapped into your hole. The constant squeeze around him and the new twist around your stomach told Aaron you were nearing another finish.

You gasped out sobs as his hand dipped down and touched your clit hard; his fingers were rough against the sensitive nerves. Your thighs shook beneath Aaron’s thrusts, wet dripping down your thighs.

“Tan…Tange, I needa cum,” you softly mumbled as you felt him twitch in delight. The knot in your stomach tightened as he punched his cockhead against your g-spot. “Mhm, yeah? Gonna come already? Then you’re gonna make me fuck you again? Need my cock that bad? Need Tangerine that bad?” He asked condescendingly. You shook your head no pathetically, crying out in denial. Your stomach continued to quell, and you squeezed down to try not to cum before granted permission.

“Please let me cum,” you quietly begged.

“Slut wants to cum? Hm, with me and Tangerine? Do it, whore,” He groaned his permission, watching you limply twitch on him as you finished for the second time around him. Aaron smiled behind you before slowly sliding himself out and grabbed you by the wrist to pull you up with one arm.

His chest pressed against your back to help you towards his desired destination. Even while Aaron’s over-confident actions were harsh on your body, he kept and held you firmly with care. You hoped he would bring you to your bedroom, fuck for a bit longer then fall asleep in each others arms.

You neared the wall, your hand sliding along it to keep you up. Aaron stopped your movement, his hands firmly on your elbow now. To your left was the collection of pictures you and Aaron took together or treasured. Most importantly, the picture next to your face.

You, Thomas, and Aaron at your graduation just two months ago. The two boys held you on their shoulders, the black graduation gown billowing around their chests. Your various colored stoles and cords flew in the wind, your tassel was flicking around as well.

Before you were aware of anything else, Aaron hiked you up and slid himself back inside with a prideful moan. His hands still had a tight grip, moving from your elbow to your waist. Aaron spun you around to face him, his lips kissing and sucking down your neck. “Oh, fuck Doll, I’m gonna cum… But tell…me, you wanna fuck us both?”

Drunk, intrusive thoughts rolled back around.

Between them, Aaron and Thomas kissing you up and down your body, two sets of hands holding or even pleasuring you, the thought of absolute overstimulation flooded your cunt. A loud squelch followed as you thought about the possibility of Aaron and Thomas at once. Aaron pushed further inside, kissing your limit. Fuck it sounded wonderful.

While you imagined the chance, Aaron whispered into your ear. “Taking us both… you just want attention, don’t you? ‘m’I not enough?”

“Oh, ffuck. No, just… fuck!” You shouted as he rolled his hips into you. He had you pinned up against the wall, his hips endlessly torturing you in the best way you could dream of.

“No… just you,” you denied with a lazy shake of your head against the painted walls. Aaron, in response, pulled you down into his cock. Slamming you up and down on him while you choked up on air, “Doll, y’know I don't like when you lie,” a strangled moan left Aaron before continuing. “My cum not enough for you, want both of ours?”

“No! Aaron, I don’t want to,” You tried again. He rolled his eyes and sunk his teeth into your neck. His lips hummed with skin between his teeth. Aaron shot his load inside, groaning as he continued to thrust in and out. “Admit it, doll, you want him and me together.”

Even after he filled you up, he kept going.

His fingers took place, but not before taking any fallen liquid and scooping it back inside to fuck his cum inside of you. Shoving three fingers inside of you at once released a throaty “Oh god,” as Aaron’s other hand took your waist and thrusted your hips into his hand.

The wall rattled, and the picture of you, Aaron, and Thomas shook as Aaron shoved his fingers in and out again. A rush flooded down your thighs. Aaron smiled as he felt another fluttering squeeze around him.

Your throat was raw from begging, “Aaa...Aaron, let me cum; please, need’ta cum so bad.”

“Mhm, s’ not Aaron, princess,” the Cockney accent asked as he ground his fingers into the gummiest spot. The sudden pulse around him as he whispered, Princess, into your ear. His nose pressed against your hair with a deep inhale.

“Fuck, Tangerine,” you shouted out as you squeezed against him again. The third knot of the night was getting tighter as you panted the former code name of your closest friend out helplessly. Over and over again, Ta..Tange. Please Tangerine, been good.

Aaron smiled and kissed the back of your head. “Go on, doll. You can do it,” he whispered into your hair. His other hand slid to your front to push you over the edge. A pornographic cry passed your lips as your chest tried to hug the wall to cool yourself down. Aaron groaned quietly again, down to his wrist dripping with you. After leaving your hole empty, Aaron picked you up bridal style to finally lie you two to sleep.

He cleaned you as best as a hazy-drunk-man could. A warm cloth ran up and down your body before getting to the sticky mess between your thighs. It had cooled off by the time he reached your vagina, but he still treated you like porcelain. His lips trailed around as he cleaned.

He vanished again and returned with a bottle of water and he dipped beneath sheets with you.

“I love you Aaron,” you mumbled quietly. You faced his chest and held his waist gently, he set his hand onto your head and quietly kissed you. “I love you too, Princess.”

__

[alextydaisuda123]

It feels like if you give me any of my favorite songs to listen to, I'll immediately get inspired and come up with some PT AU. Seriously! I'm sitting here listening to one song (which probably few people know about, and it's in Russian), and I'm thinking about new character images. But damn! I already have so many AUs, why else would I do! :") Anyway, I want to hold off on creating new AUs for now and just at least work on the ones I have and those that are still in the works.

Why did I tell you this? :") Well...so that you understand what kind of mess is going on in my head right now ;w;👉👈.

[mesetacadre]

I'd disagree with "No working class in any country has anything to get out of either side winning." when it comes to Russia ngl. The working class of Russia doesn't benefit if the US was able to militarily succeed or worse balkanize Russia. Also, the people on Donbas and Crimea have chosen to throw their weight behind Russia because of the oppression they were already facing from the Ukrainian state far before the special military operation began. Dogmatic internationalism like this is what leads to groups like cpusa being functionally useless to actually advance any critique outside of "both sides must defeat their bourgeoisie" which in practice just becomes anarchism or at worse wrt to Palestine fully opposing national liberation struggles or refusing to take sides w/ Venezuela's oppositional communist party. Hopefully this comes off well, because it's meant as an earnest discussion. Highly recc the interview Rania Khalek did with one of the leaders of the Russian Communist Party on this topic.

context

Yes, the working class in Russia will suffer much more were the US to break Russia up (which a victory in Ukraine does not entail but that's beyond the point). Does that mean NATO's working class will benefit from it? or that Russia's proletariat will benefit from their victory? You're right, you're not thinking like a communist, you're thinking like a campist unable to see the interests of the working class in the entire world lies not with this or that dictatorship of the bourgeoisie but with their own self-government free of exploitation. Are we supposed to be tailists here? Are we actually meant to uncritically follow what x section of a working class ""chooses"" in an inter-imperialist context? Yes, Russians in Crimea and Donbass prefer to be under Russia, as do the Estonian people largely prefer to put their weight behind the fascist worshipping Estonian government. There is a difference between focusing on the criticism and struggle against our own bourgeoisies, and simply calling for the other side to win. You're making the exact same assumption the propagandists of NATO make when they label internationalists as Russian chauvinists, they distort revolutionary defeatism into "psyops" by the other side, and you're actually holding that position. Communism is not about taking the majority position of an arbitrary section of the working class because it just so happens to not be what our own bourgeoisie says. It's a revolutionary position, able to identify the revolutionary intuitions in the working class and push it to its farthest extremes through the framework of communism. You're following the exact same logic the patsoc groups follow when they decide to be the most transphobic and racist, because big swaths of the working class are transphobic and racist.

In what world is the defense of the interests of the working class in opposition to this or that bourgeois alternatives functionally anarchist? are you under the impression that working for a dictatorship of the proletariat is anarchism because we oppose bourgeois states? This is vulgar to an extreme degree. "Dogmatic internationalism", what a phrase. Is it dogmatic internationalism when the KKE blocks an arms shipment to Ukraine? is it anarchic when communists in Europe and the US aren't contrarian for opposition's sake and actually develop a position independent of this or that dictatorship of the bourgeoisie? Get real. What fantastical leap of logic to assume this automatically leads to holding left communist position regarding national liberation movements, if anything it's the constant confusion opportunists create around Russia's capitalist interests that leads people to assume it's comparable to the Palestinian genocide. You're arguing against a mirror.

I partly agree with you wrt to Lenin's imperialism, it is an unfinished definition. But "unipolarism" is not even close to an actually materialist approach. Are the contradictions between different capitalist factions suddenly fundamentally different because there isn't a "balance"? How exactly does this make the "underdog" capitalist share common interests with the working class he exploits and sends to a meat grinder? Do we support small businesses too because they have certain opposing interests to the Amazon and Google monopolies?