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ψ My way with words ✙ The hothead # BFF4UA ✙ ᛒᚨᚾᛞᛖᚱᚨ᛫ᚠᛖᛚᛚᚨ паляниця △

Shorts

My home view this morning. Fuck russia, terrorists.

541,325 次观看

A true miracle! Instant medical recovery of a russian wounded - as soon as a Ukrainian drone appeared overhead, the “injured” suddenly found strength in his legs and sprinted like his spine had never heard of war.

275,660 次观看

Wow that's great camera work😁

696,412 次观看

A russian X-101 missile thought it had a date with Ukrainian civilians. But a French Mirage 2000 had other plans. One precise intercept. One war crime canceled.

132,013 次观看

💥 Ukrainian Intelligence (HUR) has reportedly eliminated the commander of Russia’s Black Sea Fleet. The deeper they hide — the harder they fall. No one is untouchable.

171,007 次观看

Ukrainian operators tracked a russian Mavic drone - followed it to the launch point and caught the crew red-handed. Used the drone’s own buzzing as cover, then wiped out the operator while he stared at his screen. Send one drone - lose two scumbags. Fair trade. 🎯💀

88,576 次观看

“All right, Katyusha, we are rolling out. That’s it.” 🎥 😄 A Russian soldier records a sweet little video message for his wife… one second later, a Ukrainian FPV slams straight into his truck. From love letter to death note in a heartbeat.

83,082 次观看

A Ukrainian mother pulling her crying child to safety under a russian drone attack. Every night. Every siren. Another piece of childhood stolen. Stop asking us to be silent. Stop asking us to endure. Start asking why this child is learning fear before they learn to read.

41,619 次观看

Sensitive content

📹 Self-Liquidation 101. Russia’s “second army of the world” just gave a masterclass in how not to use an RPG — occupier confused the grip with the exhaust nozzle and pressed it to his own shoulder.

50,840 次观看

💥 Ukrainian Air Force just dropped two strikes on Russian positions near Polohy, Zaporizhzhia region. Another day, another pile of meat left wondering why air defense is just a suggestion.

51,400 次观看

Moment of impact: GMLRS rockets hit the power plant in Belgorod. Lights out. Most of the city reportedly without electricity.

35,229 次观看

🐀 Russian soldiers scatter like cockroaches, but the fiber-optic drone with a fragmentation payload doesn’t care. It hunts them down and nails them - together with their precious “bukhanka” van.

36,515 次观看

💥 Ukrainian forces hit a cluster of Russian troops with an airstrike in Selidove, Donetsk region. Another tight formation, another smoking crater. More and more strikes. Less and less Katsaps. God bless the Air Force—and aim for center mass.

42,430 次观看

Russian insurgents seize Putin’s troops in Belgorod. From a 3-day march to Kyiv to over 2 years later, Russian soldiers are now being captured in their own cities. Undying classic: 💬Please, I didn't even shoot

63,689 次观看

$Avdiivka basement & a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. I hear it again—the distinct, ominous roar of an enemy Su. Every time that jet screams across the sky, it's like a knife twisting in my gut. I'm here, in this shattered husk of a home, not by choice but by necessity. It's not my house, but the remnants around me—a child's discarded toy, a photo half-burned—whisper stories of a life that once was. Did the kid make it out? The thought haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my already frayed sanity. The sound of a missile launch is a trigger. Not just the physical flinch, but something deeper, a primal fear that freezes my blood. When that KAB comes howling down, reality fractures. It's not just the explosion, the devastation it brings; it's the anticipation, the waiting, that shreds my nerves. The fear is palpable, a thick presence in my throat that makes it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. When the KAB (guided bomb) lands, the devastation it brings is unimaginable. Entire blocks, homes like mine, are reduced to rubble. I avoid looking my brothers in the eye. There's guilt, shame... I've seen too much, done too much. But in the moment the bomb hits, our eyes lock. There's something there—fear, yes, but also a defiance, a refusal to be broken. It's what keeps us going, this shared flame of resistance, flickering but never extinguished. The ground shakes, and dust chokes the air. Somewhere, distant yet terrifyingly close, screams pierce through the aftermath. The radio crackles to life—300! Help!—a statistic that's become all too familiar. Each code 300 announced, is a blade twisting in an already festering wound. This war has blurred the lines between what's real and what's conjured by my frayed mind. At night, when the gunfire fades, the battle rages on in my dreams. I'm trapped in a cycle of reliving the horrors by day and battling them in my sleep. It's a relentless assault on the psyche, a war on two fronts where peace seems like a concept from another lifetime. Yet, I endure, driven by a flicker of hope or perhaps the stubbornness to not give in. But at what cost? With each passing day, the line between the soldier I am and the person I was fades, leaving behind a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. Reflections on pain, fear, and struggle have become my constant companions. What I've seen, the choices I've had to make—there's no escaping the memories. They're etched into my soul, a permanent reminder of the darkness that war breeds. And in the quiet moments, when the dust settles and the adrenaline fades, I'm left with the haunting question: Who have I become? I find myself lost, struggling to cling to the fragments of who I used to be, even as I brace for the next wave of terror that the skies promise to unleash. The line between reality and imagination blurs, creating a world where fear, pain, and the struggle to endure define my existence. We are but a flicker of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadow. And we will continue to fight, to stand, to endure, for as long as we draw breath. Slava 🔱 Follow Bandera Fella *-^ || Support my work$

Avdiivka basement & a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. I hear it again—the distinct, ominous roar of an enemy Su. Every time that jet screams across the sky, it's like a knife twisting in my gut. I'm here, in this shattered husk of a home, not by choice but by necessity. It's not my house, but the remnants around me—a child's discarded toy, a photo half-burned—whisper stories of a life that once was. Did the kid make it out? The thought haunts me, gnawing at the edges of my already frayed sanity. The sound of a missile launch is a trigger. Not just the physical flinch, but something deeper, a primal fear that freezes my blood. When that KAB comes howling down, reality fractures. It's not just the explosion, the devastation it brings; it's the anticipation, the waiting, that shreds my nerves. The fear is palpable, a thick presence in my throat that makes it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. When the KAB (guided bomb) lands, the devastation it brings is unimaginable. Entire blocks, homes like mine, are reduced to rubble. I avoid looking my brothers in the eye. There's guilt, shame... I've seen too much, done too much. But in the moment the bomb hits, our eyes lock. There's something there—fear, yes, but also a defiance, a refusal to be broken. It's what keeps us going, this shared flame of resistance, flickering but never extinguished. The ground shakes, and dust chokes the air. Somewhere, distant yet terrifyingly close, screams pierce through the aftermath. The radio crackles to life—300! Help!—a statistic that's become all too familiar. Each code 300 announced, is a blade twisting in an already festering wound. This war has blurred the lines between what's real and what's conjured by my frayed mind. At night, when the gunfire fades, the battle rages on in my dreams. I'm trapped in a cycle of reliving the horrors by day and battling them in my sleep. It's a relentless assault on the psyche, a war on two fronts where peace seems like a concept from another lifetime. Yet, I endure, driven by a flicker of hope or perhaps the stubbornness to not give in. But at what cost? With each passing day, the line between the soldier I am and the person I was fades, leaving behind a stranger wearing my face, carrying my name. Reflections on pain, fear, and struggle have become my constant companions. What I've seen, the choices I've had to make—there's no escaping the memories. They're etched into my soul, a permanent reminder of the darkness that war breeds. And in the quiet moments, when the dust settles and the adrenaline fades, I'm left with the haunting question: Who have I become? I find myself lost, struggling to cling to the fragments of who I used to be, even as I brace for the next wave of terror that the skies promise to unleash. The line between reality and imagination blurs, creating a world where fear, pain, and the struggle to endure define my existence. We are but a flicker of light in the darkness, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadow. And we will continue to fight, to stand, to endure, for as long as we draw breath. Slava 🔱 Follow Bandera Fella *-^ || Support my work

61,674 次观看

🎭 “This might be my last broadcast. Someone’s come for me. I won’t surrender…” That’s Egor Guzenko, aka “Thirteenth” - Russian soldier, Z-blogger, drama addict, and full-time hallucination enjoyer. Last night, he claimed armed men were hunting him down.

26,190 次观看

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