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tarjapearce · 1 month

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Pure Instinct

Symbiote! Miguel O'Hara x Spiderwoman! Reader

Art by Lenin Francis Yu

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Preying behaviors, bickering, ambiguous relationships, breeding kink, objectification, creampies, Monster fucking, overstimulation, prey/hunter dynamics, mentions of period. Canon places, Not proofread.

Summary: A little guest from another dimension has a penchant for ovulation.

Another one for the Miguelverse

Special thanks to this nonny for the wonderful idea ❤️❤️

If you had to hear another word about world domination or how mistaken your views as a hero from another anomaly were, you'd surely rip your hair out.

Miguel delivered the last kick on Doc Oc's variant while you handled the trap.

"God, I swear if he keeps talking about the fucking sun on his hands-"

"Can you shut up and help?!" Miguel grunted as one of the villain's tentacles squeezed his skull, with the intention of leaving his head a bloody pulp, while slamming him against a wall.

"On it! " With a huff you shot your webs and kicked Doc Oc's spine, earning a pained growl from the man, but it was enough distraction for Miguel to pull his talons out and slice through metal and wire in a vicious outburst, destroying the tentacles in several rubble pieces.

With a kick and punch combo, Dr. Octavius was stunted. Miguel's webs tied the remaining automated limbs.

"Lyla, we've got him. Prepare the cell."

The little quiet gave you a bit of peace, bit it was quickly interrupted by the dull cramps on your lower belly.

You had to support on a nearby wall and exhale as another stab was delivered to your insides. If there was something worse than having your period, was being a spiderwoman and having your period.

Heightened senses made everything to be felt tenfold. Miguel's mask disappeared and he threw a brief glance your way before securing the area and pick up the anomaly.

"You alright?"

"Yeah just... Wished my uterus wouldn't have a penchant for committing harakiri every fucking month."

His brow quirked and he pressed some buttons to open the portal back to HQ. Dr. Octavius chuckled.

"You'd need a tantō for that."

"What do you think it feels like, dumbass?"

His lid twitched at your brazen disrespect, but ignored it. The least he wanted was to keep wasting time and prolonging the anomaly's staying in this dimension too long.

But the little conversation was more than enough to create a distraction. Doc Oc pounced on Miguel with his bare hands, securing his steely grip on his watch before pushing him through the portal.

"Shit!" Despite the pain you didn't hesitate to jump after them. You shot a web to gain impulse and kick the villain's head before his fist collided with Miguel's face, but this Octavius seemed prone to a greater resistance.

He punched back on your stomach, blowing all air out of your lungs through a choked wheeze.

"Play nice!" Miguel growled before connecting a powerful uppercut underneath Otto's jaw as the latter used the marred machine as a weapon, creating a set of cuts on Miguel's arm.

The mass of fighting limbs and bodies went through different universes, thanks to the code error to finally land in a foreign looking land.

You fell on the floor with a hard thud, unable to stand due the waves of pain that subdued you remorselessly.

Miguel howevee had grown tired and punched Otto on the side of his face, repeatedly until the villain remained unconscious on the floor.

Miguel's attention quickly diverted to his watch that sputtered in sparks and electric jolts.

"Ay por Dios... Lo que faltaba." His hand immediately rubbed his face, annoyed.

You on the other hand had barely mustered some energies to stand up.

"Fuck..." you whimpered and held your lower belly, as a crawl rolled down your spine upon glaring mistrustful at the alien-like features of the dimension. "Where are we?"

"Earth 616, known as Klyntar." Lyla quipped from your watch before glitching next to Miguel.

The foliage was nothing alike, not even the local fawn. All seemed to be doused in a black goo, that if you looked closer you could swear it moved on its own.

The flower's leafs were either exactly that or white sturdy spines that resembled teeths. As if the plant had a set of elongated teeth that protruded on each petal.

Long and sturdy spines that crawled in twisted spirals in whatever surface they touched. The sky was like glancing at a sunset. But unlike it's pretty hues of pastels, the fiery red and orange and yellows took over. Like if witnessing the very sun burning before you, yet it was cold. Eerily cold.

"Yeah, no. Can we... can we go home? Please? Don't wanna remain another second in one of Stephen King's wetdreams."

"I'm on it, signal over here is quite hard to get." Lyla glitched in several spots, trying to get a proper reception for her data

Miguel secured Otto entirely this time, and as he popped some joints back, you couldn't help but shoot at the sentient goo that was already crawling up his ankle and hand. His face contorted into a scowl before seeing the black puddle scurrying away from him, crawling within the dense alien foliage.

His face scrunched in disgust to then haul Octavius on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?!"

"A symbiote. Amorphous creatures, I'm still trying to get a full on scan on what they are made of." Lyla's excitement would've been contagious if it wasn't for the icky feeling the whole place gave in it's already bizarre layout.

"Parasites, that's what they are."

Miguel mumbled gruffly as he crossed the portal, you followed. Otto was put in a cell. And you went to your dimension for a much needed break.

The boss himself went back to his base, ready to get lost in the many upcoming reports his way, ignoring the sudden itch that seeped through his body.

----

Dread crept in your head the closer you got to Miguel's office. The past weeks have been nothing but chaos in the Spider Society.

Anomalies doubling their presence, canon events bein6 almost disrupted, the cafeteria food lowering their quality and Miguel...

Oh no.

The main reason you were nauseous with anxiety as you entered in the threshold of his lab.

Not only your favorite leader and almost lover had been insufferable, but snappier, less tolerating towards Bullshit and mistakes, to the point of believing himself allergic to them. Cause they got him in such a mood the rest rather go to Jessica to report. Even to Peter.

And things were awful if people started to come to Peter for giving reports.

Sometimes you could hear him grumbling spanish nonsense to none but himself. With a deep sigh and a silent prayer to whoever above for you to not be killed in the go, you surpassed the doorframe.

As soon as you did the subtle tinge in your spider senses, thrummed through your body. A shaky breath was trapped on the state of his lab. Nothing but a mix of pitch black darkness and the red, ominous glow from the screens, barely illuminating his way, and outlining his heaving figure.

"Miguel?"

Your voice taunted and beady crimson eyes immediately locked on you.

"Here's the reports from last week. They're already done-"

Your throat gulped involuntarily upon picking up the ragged pants and heaves exhaling from his trembling mouth.

"Leave." he grunted and you frowned. He wasn't only a pain in the ass but a walking contradiction. How he wanted things done asap if he didn't even bother to take a look?

You were about to protest but a pained and shaky whimper from him, alerted you.

"You want me to leave when you're probably injur-"

"Fucking Leave!"

He roared, more concerned of what might happen if you didn't do exactly as you were being told.

"Mig..." Your eyes widened as he wheezed on the floor, the same black goo you saw back at Klyntar, was engulfing your sometimes lover at an alarming rate, that had Miguel grunting and growling as the amorphous creature fought to swallow him whole. But as you stepped closer he hissed your way, stopping you.

"I-I can smell you." He seethed through clenched teeth, struggling to remain in control of his words alone. But the statement made your brows furrow in disbelief. Hands rose in defense as you approached a step closer, to try and get the sentient slime out of him.

"The hell? I took a shower today you ass!." You mumbled while getting Lyla to fetch the Spider doc to the lab, trying to keep him grounded. Your spider senses tingled louder and harder the more you saw him fight against the thing.

"Not that kind of smell, you foolish woman."

But the sudden change of tone made you shiver. It wasn't him speaking, but something more eldritch and dern that finally managed to swallow him whole and overlapped it's voice with his.

The squishing noise ended in a lurid gurgle as a massive and dark figure stood before you. Breathing as if learning the proper way to inhale it for the first time. Drunk in the very air you exhaled, oozing with pheromones.

"M-Miguel?"

Miguel was big, but not this behemoth of a creature, crawling in it's own skin made out of abyss and darkness, in which chest remained your boss' spider emblem, fiery and bright red, like if fire itself emanated from within.

"I can smell you, little spider"

It took a moment for you to understand the implications of such words. You knew in this specific part of your cycle pheromones turned a bit more pungent. A reason why you remained in your dimension.

Even though colorless, the creature's eyes narrowed in a leering and borderline predatory glare towards you.

For every step forward he did, you took two back

"I gotta... Uh-" Your politeness melted into a pool as soon as the dangerous set of sharp teeth stretched over his lips, revealing a twisted wolfish grin that would put any creature to shame.

Your senses reached the peak of their alarmed state with a single thought.

Run.

Your feet didn't need to be told twice as they took you away from the creature's presence. An underworld roar echoed within Miguel's station.

You didn't know if it was a good or a bad idea. But it mattered little when the creature, the symbiote, chased after you. The earth trembled and echoed with every powerful lunge he gave.

You jumped through a window, and swung through the buildings and cars, throwing an occasional load of webs to slow him down that proved a nuisance if anything.

"Run, little spider, RUN!"

The ominous laugh echoed through the night. He jumped through structures, following the delicious scent you left behind.

If Miguel could recall, he had been studying symbiotes ever since the web of life showed him the many bad turns a Spider could take. He knew they were nasty creatures when finding a proper host.

Vicious and harmful parasites that did nothing but corrupt, if the host's willpower was weak. What Miguel couldn't decide yet was if he was being corrupted for giving in into his need to mate, or if the parasite had made him bigger, faster and more powerful because he knew he needed to mate, accepting his current emotions and feeding the creature's crave with them.

And your pheromones and stress only added another delicious smell to the list. The phenethylamine running rampant in your brain made his heightened senses to tingle in wicked delight.

His smile only grew wider.

With a powerful lurch, he jumped through buildings to finally catch you mid air before you shot your web again. His whole hand wrapped around you while he held you tightly over the building's ledge.

Bit by bit the row of sharp teeth appeared within his mask, to unleash his serpent like and slimy tongue out that, didn't waste a second longer and took a taste of your skin by licking your cheek.

"Let Miguel go!"

Voice firm, although your hands quivered while trying to pry yourself out of his steely grasp.

"Let him go?" Miguel laughed, but you knew this wasn't your Miguel.

Was he?

He wasn't harming you, if anything he was just licking your neck with that abnormally large tongue of his

"He's the one in control, spiderling."

The goo spreaded around you, like tiny and sentient webs that grope and tangled around your inner thighs, up your abdomen, breast and arms, swallowing your body, like it did with Miguel.

The ones around your arms secured their grip around your wrist, pulling and locking the limbs immediately behind your back.

Your little cries only ebbed him to inch closer to your face, the web extensions grope tighter, suffocating your suit.

Miguel's sharp talon slid softly on the fabric, giving the creature the perfect chance to rip the remaining linens to shreds off.

A yelp was drowned as his long tongue slid in within your mouth. Coiling and twisting on yours, subjugating the wet muscle effortlessly.

Your eyes clamped shut upon feeling the same sensation in your nipples.

The symbiote's biomass had split and smaller versions of his mouth appeared to immediately latch on each of your nipples.

With half lidded eyes and a swirling mind, your body squirmed at the delicious sensations running rampant through each cell that composed your form.

You were allowed to breath as the symbiote pulled his tongue out. Within seconds you were flipped upside down, head dipping into the abyss of buildings and landscapes underneath.

For a second you thought you'd fall down, but the steely grip in your body was foolproof. Monstrous hands spreaded your supple thighs open, your skin crawled with the deep, demonic growl grumbling in his chest upon taking a deep inhale of your cunt.

You could see him relish in it, as his salivation increased. Tongue teased by taking a deliberate slow lick on your folds.

"Y-You'll let me f-Nnghh!-"

Your teeth clenched in an acute whimper but eventually a shaky and loud gasp came out of your throat as Miguel or rather the symbiote plunged his tongue inside your heat with ease. Slimy texture tasted and twisted within.

His tongue curled and slurped your insides vehemently, tearing lovely and desperate cries from your pretty mouth. Composure cracked with each second as the tiny mouths sucked and kissed your nipples like no tomorrow. As if coaxing the dormant milk out of them was their main and only mission.

The symbiote lapped and gulped down the juices that soaked his tongue. You mewled and moaned, completely lost in the drowning debauchery the creature provided. His tongue felt heavenly as it slithered and fucked your insides with such viciousness you could feel your tightness trembling and succumbing to his corruption game.

The neglect in your body was catching up to his ministrations. It bent and twisted like putty into his mutated hands. A streak of drool oozed from the corner of your mouth as you gifted his ears with your sweet pathetic little cries.

Clit throbbed the more he pressed and curled his tongue against your cervix, teasing it nonstop.

You shouldn't enjoy it. You couldn't be enjoying it, but here you were, secretly begging him to keep going, to quench that urge flooding your rationality even if it ruined you.

Miguel ate like no other, that was much true, but this dark mass of living alien goo had your walls spasming and milking around him, and your brain synapses crazy with raw delight.

And when he had enough of your sweet cunt, the biomass etched you to his chest. To then jump out the ledge and land into a darkened area from another building.

His body spat you on the floor, but quickly propped you on your feet. His darkened giggles crawled underneath your skin, to then gasp as his hand crushed your frame against the thick glass. Hot pants echoed in a foggy cloud on the sheer surface, chest flattened against the sturdy crystal while your arms remained locked behind you. His fingers immediately pulled back your hair, arching your flexible spine to look up at him.

"Such a needy little spider"

His tongue licked your lips, the mouths latched once more in your nipples, earning him nothing but a exquisite sob

"So eager to be ruined."

Deep within your alarms flared upon feeling something hard and twitching behind you, at first you thought of it nothing but another extention of his mutated form until it positioned right in your drenched hole.

A pant turned into a wheeze as his broad tip pushed in, easing inch by inch.

Your eyes rolled back at the obscene size of his invading cock, stretching and molding your walls to his girth.

A choked gurgle came out of your gaping pit, panting for a much needed gulp of air. Your toes barely touched the ground as he bottomed deep, bulging and pulsing proudly inside your womb.

Your brain was turned into nothing but a puddle, swirling inside your head with every breath the creature behind you exhaled, all while he embedded and trapped you against the wall with his monstrous frame and cock.

The Symbiote's hand held your hips firmly, guiding you up and down with powerful yet paused strokes on himself, like a life sized fleshlight. Making sure your walls learned and memorized every curve and tangent of his twitching cock while receiving him whole with a wet squelch.

"S'big-" you wheezed with half lidded eyes, struggling to remain aware and sane. But how could you achieve such feat when air was lacking in your lungs and your brain tingled with the underlying need to procreate. You were in the peak of your fertile days.

And him was more than willing to give you exactly what you needed. Symbiote, Miguel, it didn't matter anymore who plowed you. You truly couldn't care less.

"Enough games." the creature seethed and with a tighter grip on your hair, he smacked your hips in a powerful thrust, knocking out all remaining air in your burning lungs. Then another and another and-

Oh god

You came. And came hard, clenching ever tight around him in violent and ruthless spasms. Shaky mewls and pleas turned into slurred screams but that didn't stop him. Your toes curled in.

His smile twisted upwards, before shoving it's tongue back in your throat as his hips begun ramming in a merciless tempo. Obliterating any remnants of common sense in your frying and overriding brain.

Good was too weak to actually describe the feeling. Something too raw, too vicious, viscerally inexpressible, like the unceasing whomps of his hips. Like, him.

Your mouth was unable to properly vocalize the searing heat the Symbiote's lust stirred within. Chipping away your need to stop him and simply take his swollen and pulsating cock the many times he pressed in.

Cause in truth, what else could you do but take it? To take it fast and remorselessly deep, with no signs of him stopping. Not when his snarls rumbled behind and his hot breath fanned over your face and neck. The mouths on your breast removed themselves with a pop, leaving your nipples puffed and swollen

Tears pooled in the inner corner of your lids, and soon slid down on each side of your cheek. Your voice was reduced to nothing but meek grunts and hushed breaths, to finally dissolve into a stuttering groan as your eyes widened at the hefty load of his seed being shot deep. Hot and spurting directly in your womb.

Your eyes rolled back as he pressed imposibly deep, overfilling you. His frame trembled upon sensing your womb trapping him, drinking and swallowing greedily every last of his drops, choking him exquisitely. A satisfied and animal-like growl rumbled through his chest.

But it wasn't enough.

His tongue pulled out of your throat, letting you have some air as a reward for withstanding him.

Your arms were numb, like your mind, legs too lightweight to support your whole frame. Too fucked out and overstimulated to articulate a proper word as you slumped against the glass wall that fogged in every weak breath exhaled.

Miguel's eyes raked over your body and smirked proudly. The dark and living webs fetched your quivering figure.

His eyes remained on your leaking hole and pushed all the escaping cum back inside with his slimy tongue.

"It needs to be inside" He grunted and pressed your head against the floor, while his webs spreaded your hips again.

Ass up high, he buried deep once again, earning a sweet and needy scream and some of his cum to spurt out in the floor in a lecherous splatter, pooling underneath your poor bouncing hips.

The rough and rhythmic slap slap slap deafened your pleas and begs. Your breast bounced at the wicked beat of his pistoning hips. Throat scrapped raw, breathless. Eyes glossy, too gone to a dark place where he was the undisputed sovereign.

"You spiderlings are so fragile" The symbiote smirked while his hand held your head in place.

"Miguel-"

His name was repeated over and over, like if you were learning it for the first time. Clit throbbed with such intensity it had your head shaking. Fighting to keep your sanity intact as his heavy balls slapped whatever skin they could reach.

"Can't-" you grunted between clenched teeth, eyes danced erratically, like your blown breaths. Your knuckles and toes turned white at the sheer pressure you held them in.

"You can't what?" The overlapping mirthful voices sent another painful throb in your punished pussy, "Is it too much for you?"

The brief and sadistic laugh echoed through the skies.

"How weak."

With a snarl and a deep plow, he sheathed, the webs lifted you and curled you on your own to see how his enormous cock buried inside and pulsated.

Thick and throbbing veins adorned his base, every contraction meant more hot spurts of his seed, flooding your already stuffed womb.

There was no sound from you this time. Your brain had shut off and you laid limp, on the floor, quivering and twitching at the minimum graze of air. The webs around your wrist were loosened, freeing your tingling arms.

The little puddle of cum kept growing underneath the more your muscles spasmed and contracted.

"Ten"

Your breath hitched, while trying to get up.

"Nine."

He sung and you whimpered, crawling away from him.

"Eight"

Your legs didn't move but rather quiver. It was amusing for him to see you gasp while trying to stand.

"Seven"

"W-Wait" You mumbled, feeling the remnants of pleasure toying with your mind.

Part of you knew that if you stayed, he'd destroy you completely, but if you go, you'd gain a bit more of time to let your body heal enough to withstand another round.

"Six."

You tried shooting a web. But nothing came out.

"C'mon!"

"Five"

A chill ran down your spine as you slapped your wrist, finally mustering some strength to stand up with wobbly legs. Your nakedness didn't matter, not when a symbiote had taken over your boss, corrupting him to the point of him playing the mouse and cat through the city.

"Four" He tittered with malice.

And finally you managed to shoot some. Naked or not you supported on the wall to catch some air before shooting again and swinging.

"Three"

He watched you go after covering your bits to spare you some shame in case someone saw you. But quickly frowned when disappearing through a portal.

The symbiote however left Miguel's body to latch on his back. His eyes held a different gleam, teeth sharper.

Soon, his seed would work, but he had to make sure your womb harbored enough of him so his future seedling grew.

"Lyla, where is she?"

"Back in her dimension-"

He cut her off before she kept talking. The alien goo swallowed him whole again, regaining his gigantic frame.

"One."

The hunt was on.

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #symbiote suit #Symbiote! Miguel #monster fucker #Miguelverse #Spotify

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txttletale · 1 year

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holy shit you were so right about lenin and his essay length callout posts. rip king you would have done numbers on tumblr

lenin would have done numbers on tumblr while mao's style lends itself more to twitter

#ask #really though lenin is so astoundingly clear and compelling and still very relevant

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lilithism1848 · 8 months

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mariacallous · 7 months

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The Russian Federation is the product of the Soviet empire’s collapse, just as the Soviet Union was the product of imperial Russia’s collapse. Looking at the long history of empires, it’s not at all surprising that today’s Russia has embarked on a project of re-imperialization—the attempt to recreate as much of its former empire as it can. Equally unsurprisingly, Russia’s effort will fail.

The vast majority of seemingly stable empires decay over time until all that is left is the imperial center. The Byzantine and Ottoman empires are perfect examples of this dynamic: Each lost more and more territory until all that remained of the former was greater Constantinople and of the latter the lands that became Turkey. Neither rump state attempted to re-imperialize. The same was true of the European overseas colonial empires: The British withdrew from most of their possessions more or less voluntarily and without firing too many shots, whereas the Dutch, French, Portuguese, and Spanish tried harder to hang on but lost to national liberation movements. All subsequently refrained from re-imperialization.

Russia falls into a different, more volatile category of imperial decline. At the height of their power, some empires fall apart suddenly and comprehensively, usually as the result of cataclysms that rip apart the formal ties between core and periphery. Imperial Russia, Wilhelmine Germany, and the Soviet Union all met this fate. Up to the moment of sudden collapse, the structural and institutional ties between the core and periphery were still vibrant. More importantly, the imperial ideology remained alive and well after the collapse, leading to attempts by the imperial center’s elites to recreate all or parts of their former empires.

Thus, the Bolsheviks—who never concealed their desire (and supposed right) to reconquer all of the Russian Empire’s territories, which even Vladimir Lenin rejected as Russian imperial chauvinism—recreated the empire in the form of the Soviet Union, brutally snuffing out more than a dozen newly independent states who’d seized the chaos as an opportunity to escape Russia’s colonial grip. The Nazis, on the other hand, tried but failed to regain Germany’s lost lands and build an even bigger Reich.

Success or failure of re-imperialization generally depends on the balance of power among the core, periphery, and any intervening states. The Bolsheviks were militarily and economically stronger than most of their neighbors and could revive the Russian Empire. The Nazis took on too many opponents and failed. Here, post-Soviet Russia’s trajectory is highly similar to interwar Germany’s: The German collapse in 1918 and Soviet collapse in 1991 were followed in each case by economic chaos, the delegitimization of a new democracy, and the mobilization of radical forces, which in turn gave rise to a strong leader who revitalized the imperial ideology, promised to restore the empire, and proceeded to annex bits and pieces of the former empire before launching a full-scale war.

Two other empires are illustrative, even though they fit the pattern of sudden collapse and re-imperialization only imperfectly. Although Poles lacked an autonomous state after the last of three partitions in 1795, the imperial ideology of the old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth thrived, motivating Polish elites to attempt to reestablish the commonwealth in several unsuccessful rebellions in the 1800s. As soon as Polish independence was restored after World War I, the new state set off to reconquer some of the formerly imperial Lithuanian, Belarusian, and Ukrainian territories. Enjoying the support of the Entente powers, and especially France, the Poles succeeded. Only a cataclysmic defeat by Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union finally ended Polish imperial dreams.

Austria-Hungary was torn to pieces in a catastrophic defeat but did not attempt to re-imperialize like the other cases in this category. The empire had been irreversibly decaying for half a century. The Hungarians—and later, the Czechs and Poles, assisted by the national movements of other restive nationalities—succeeded in getting Vienna to devolve authority to them to such a degree that leading Austro-Hungarian policymakers even discussed transforming the empire into a federation of semi-autonomous states. Defeat in World War I severed Vienna’s ties with its periphery, much of which immediately sought independence. Austria made no attempt to re-imperialize, as it lacked a virulent imperial ideology, powerful army, and strong economy. Its government was also in disarray. Likewise, Hungarian elites had no imperial plans, confining their ambitions to revanchism over Hungarian territories given by the Western Allies to Czechoslovakia, Romania, and the new Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes.

Russia’s career as an empire—in the forms of imperial Russia, the Soviet Union, and the Russian Federation—began in the 14th century with the relentless expansion of the Grand Duchy of Moscow, reached its totalitarian apex in the 20th century with the subjugation of Central and Eastern Europe, and went into steep decline around 1990, when the Eastern European satellite states broke free and the non-Russian Soviet republics became independent. Even in its diminished form, the Russian Federation—first quasi-democratic, then authoritarian, today fascist—is the heir to a vast internal empire, with dozens of conquered and colonized non-Russian peoples still imprisoned inside its borders.

The political scientist Rein Taagepera graphed the territorial gains and losses of past empires. Not surprisingly, the graphs resemble parabolas: Empires rise, persist, and then fall. Equally unsurprisingly, empires that manage to survive into the persistence phase generally last for centuries. Those that fall quickly usually do so after their founders enjoyed rapid military success and then die, which throws the nascent empire into crisis. Alexander the Great’s sprawling, unconsolidated realm is the classic example of this dynamic.

Some wide, some narrow, the parabolas are never smooth—not even in the seemingly stable persistence phase. Instead, they resemble the movement of the stock market: constant ups and downs that, when viewed over time, do in fact mark upward or downward trends. At times, empires can end temporarily before being revived, as was the case with Byzantium after the Fourth Crusade in 1204. It took several decades for the Byzantine emperors to regain what was left of their terrain. Imperial Russia collapsed near the end of World War I, only to be quickly revived by the Bolsheviks. In turn, the Soviet Union met its end in 1991 and has yet to be resurrected—though not for want of trying. Russian troops occupy parts of Moldova, Georgia, and, of course, Ukraine. Belarus, meanwhile, has been progressively sucked into Russia to the point that it nominally still exists but is largely bereft of sovereignty, having been reduced to a cross between a vassal state and colony.

The question facing Russians, their neighbors, and the world is whether Russian President Vladimir Putin’s realm can succeed in holding on to, and possibly expanding, the territories that it has effectively seized. Or will the Russo-Soviet empire’s remains continue on their downward trajectory until the Russian Federation itself cracks? A look at the factors that have accounted for the rise and fall of other empires will help answer this question.

Necessary conditions for re-imperialization are a powerful military, a strong economy, and an effective government. Facilitating conditions include preexisting institutional ties between the imperial core and the periphery, outside powers that are either indifferent or receptive to imperial expansion, and authoritarian rule at the core. The final push to action is an imperial ideology that spurs the desire for empire.

But consider what happens to a would-be reborn empire if the three necessary conditions are not met—even if the facilitating factors and an imperial ideology are present. If expansion is attempted without a sufficiently strong military and an economy capable of sustaining it, the result will be overreach and failure. Without an effective government, the sustained effort needed for expansion cannot be maintained. Overextension and defeat—and quite possibly regime change or state collapse—become probable.

A few examples from history will illustrate Russia’s inevitable failure to re-imperialize. Western Rome didn’t meet the three conditions, decaying and finally collapsing in the face of declining military effectiveness, an economy incapable of producing a sustainable surplus while under incessant barbarian attacks, and increasingly ineffective governance. The empire’s eastern half was distant from the main barbarian invasion routes, but there were other reasons it survived for another 1,000 years. Except for Byzantine Emperor Justinian’s reconquest of significant territories in the 6th century—territories quickly lost again after his death—the eastern empire refrained from trying to reach its old boundaries. That would have required taking on militarily stronger adversaries, including the Arabs, Seljuk Turks, Bulgars, and Rus’. No less importantly, Byzantium was continually wracked by internal power struggles and lacked an aggressive imperial ideology, preferring to see itself as the bearer of Orthodox Christianity. Byzantium therefore managed its remaining possessions and mostly refrained from overreach. As a result, its decline took many centuries.

Post-Ottoman Turkey refrained from re-imperialization because its ideology had shifted from allegiance to the empire to allegiance to the nation-state. Kemal Ataturk ethnically cleansed Asia Minor of the Greek population, but he avoided expanding Turkey’s boundaries to include Greece, focusing instead on relocating Turks from the former empire into the new country. Strong outside powers also hemmed in the new state.

The European overseas colonial powers all shared an imperial ideology as they expanded, but they abandoned it as they faced their own military and economic weaknesses following two world wars, national liberation struggles, and the international community’s growing condemnation. They didn’t all abandon their empires without a fight, but neither did they attempt to revive them.

Post-World War I Germany retained the aggressively imperial Weltmacht ideology that had motivated Emperor Wilhelm II’s expansionist policies. Despite the post-war economic collapse, the economy quickly revived after the Nazis took power in 1933. Adolf Hitler also revived the military and established a powerful government. With the necessary conditions and ideology in place, Nazi Germany unsurprisingly embarked on re-imperialization. It might have succeeded had Hitler confined his ambitions to the large swaths of Europe he controlled by 1941. After invading the Soviet Union and declaring war on the United States, however, he created a power imbalance that made defeat inevitable.

Like Nazi Germany, the Russian Federation will fail to re-imperialize. Its military is demonstrably mediocre, its economy is about as big as that of Italy or Texas, and its governance has become increasingly ineffective and unstable as elites begin to jockey for power in what they view as the rapidly approaching post-Putin era. The immediate future could be even worse, especially if the regime remains guided by the whims of a single autocrat and continues to discourage technological innovation and economic growth.

In a word, Russia’s imperial aspirations are dead, even if the Kremlin thinks otherwise. And the man who presided over their destruction is Putin. Could things have worked out differently for Russia? Could Russia have resisted the re-imperialization temptation? Given the vitality of its imperial ideology and the strength of its institutional and economic ties with the former Soviet republics and, at least until recently, the former Eastern Bloc states, the answer is probably no.

What should the West do? Since the Russian Federation’s re-imperialization project is doomed, all that anyone can realistically do is prolong or hasten the process, not stop it. Prolonging it means prolonging the misery incurred by the non-Russians targeted for re-annexation and by the Russians tasked with bringing misery to these targets. Anything that hastens re-imperialization’s inevitable end would reduce death and destruction.

Specifically, because the history of empires leads us to expect Russian imperialism’s demise, it makes sense for the West to take a page from the philosopher Karl Marx and “hasten the birth pangs of history.” Fortunately for the West, whose attention is currently taken up by the crisis in the Middle East, the United States and its allies only need to do a bit more than what they are already doing: supporting Ukraine in liberating its territories from Russian occupation by providing it with the weapons it needs—rather sooner than later. Should the West continue to slow-roll military deliveries—or even decrease them—it will only prolong an inevitable process and increase the suffering. Either way, Russian re-imperialization is destined to fail.

Since Putin has thrown all his resources and political capital at the war against Ukraine, stopping him there means stopping him and his re-imperialization project everywhere. As much as defeat will induce some in the Russian elite and general population to reconsider questions of empire, there is, alas, no reason to believe that Russia’s imperial ideology will meet a quick end. Rather, it will be long-term decay that guarantees that outcome. Russia will become a more or less normal, non-imperial nation-state only if it continues to lose territory it has occupied, and not just in Ukraine—a prospect that seems perfectly possible if Russia loses in Ukraine, the Putin regime collapses, and Georgia, Moldova, Belarus, and even some of the non-Russian peoples in the Russian Federation decide to escape the resulting chaos by retaking their occupied territories or otherwise cutting ties with Moscow. In the absence of defeat, a militarily and economically weak and misgoverned Russia will remain in thrall to the ideology and attempt, yet again, to re-imperialize—all but certainly with the same results: failure, death, and destruction.

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rachreads · 1 year

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y’all remember that adult job i said i was getting? well, i got it so the bruhl shrine has received a massive upgrade. >:)