A Russian Romance

Berlin Olympics

Victor looked in the mirror of the vanity. He had his new bejeweled fit for his skate and it was currently the Olympics. He frantically tried to cover his moldy receding hairline. It wasn't working so he ran to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper. (Wait did they have toilet paper in the 30s? Whatever.)
Anyways my man headed to the bathroom, and after he got his paper, he turned around and collided dramatically with a guy. The guy had a square mustache.
"Sorry!" Victor squealed.
"My 🅱️, by the way I'm Adolf." The guy grinned and took out his mustache trimmer. "Gotta look sharp for the Olympics yanno?"
"Aight." Victor replied.
"These are my homeboys, Churchill and Mussolini." He gestured to two other guys. One of them was polishing his baldass head. The other was just chilling and filing his fierce Union Jack patterned acrylics.
"You want wanna kno the tea on this man Stalin?" Hitler offered.
"Hell ye!" Victor responded because you know he likes drama. Periodt.
"Ok so, basically" Hitler's eyes roved the stalls and he beckoned Victor closer, and whispered intimately into his ear.
"I heard from Karl Marx that Stalins gay and thirsty. No cap."
Victors eyes widened.
"Whos Stalin?" He asked. Hitler looked at him in disbelief. "Wait he's president of your country 🅱️i🅱️🅱️🅰️ are you serious?"
Victor didn't know that because he is a dumb thot. Real shit.

(Le time skip 10 minutes):

Victor got his skinny ass out on the ice. It was his skate now, and if he wanted to win he can't fuck it up. In the bleachers he sees Yurio and Yuri holding a big ass sign that read "MAN FUCK VICTOR NIKIFOROV I HOPE HE CATCHES CANCER DIES AND LOOSES THE OLYMPICS".
He starts skating and he twerks in his lit ass fire routine that he worked on really hard with Yakov. By the end his ass is so sore it feels like its about to fall off. And part of it does. He skated to the kiss and cry, holding his ass onto his body bc it is falling off.
Stalin was there to congratulate him. Victor had won the Olympics!
"Comrade Victor! You won the Olympics for Mother Russia. Congratulations comrade."
Victor gazed upon the beautiful man in front of him. His hair was combed back under his military cap. He had intense brown eyes full of love for communism and mother Russia. Victor was mad thirsty and wet for daddy Stalin so he sauntered over, practically holding his asscheeks. Stalin tried to look behind Victor, but he sidestepped him. And tripped. His asscheeks fell clean off.

Stalin called an ambulance.