#c: konstantin

[crownrots]

hattie | xander

marge | pearl

dawson | konstantin

esther | archie

used these picrews to make some clowns 💕

tagging @queennymeria @risingsh0t @faerune @roberthouse69 @jennystahl @corvosattano @thedeadthree

[milaxkorshunova]

@konstantinvorshevsky

“I didn’t know you like actresses and schnitzels.”

[storms-corner]

a little fic with eve and konstantin talking about oksana that just wouldn't leave my mind.. enjoy! (855 words)

Oksana lays sleeping in Eve’s arms. Her cheek on the comfortable swell of Eve’s breast. Her legs resting on Konstantin’s lap. Her hand is curled small on Eve’s chest and even in sleep her mouth continues the gentle suckling motions on her pacifier. Eve cradles her, propping her sleep-heavy body up with one arm and resting her other hand on Oksana’s belly. The little one had complained about a bellyache earlier.  

Konstantin has one hand on Oksana’s calf and holds a cup of coffee to his mouth with the other. It’s early in the afternoon and the three of them had just eaten a slice of homemade marble cake. Oksana had gotten sleepy not much later and, naturally, used her mommy as a pillow.  

“Getting her to nap by herself is a battle, but as soon as I’m available to sleep on she doesn’t miss a single opportunity,” Eve chuckles.  

Konstantin barks out a soft laugh. “You’re warm and comfy, why would she pick her bed over that?” 

“True, true,” Eve smiles. She looks down at Oksana lovingly. “I can’t complain. Not really.” 

“She is very clingy,” Konstantin ascertained. He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “I’m not very proud of how I acted the first time I met her. Little her, I mean.” 

“No?” Eve inquired, her hand rubbing Oksana’s belly gently. “How come?” 

Konstantin sighs and looks at Oksana, as if to make sure she was truly asleep. Which she was. She was nothing but a heavy lump on Eve’s lap. 

“I didn’t understand it, and because I didn’t understand it, I was cruel,” he admitted. “I came to her flat in Paris one evening. She had gotten a job with short notice, she had to leave the morning after, so I had to hurry to tell her. I usually never visited in the evening; she always said it was her time. I respected that, but this time I had to make an exception.” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. “So, I used my key and came in. She was sitting in her bed with a colouring book, already in her pyjamas. I figured it was just one of her strange ideas, she was always a little childish, so I didn’t care. I told her about the job, that she had to go in the morning, and she was upset. She was never upset! She said ‘no, no, I don’t want to’, and her eyes were all full of tears,” he said and gestured to his own eyes. “She was like Irina when she was little and didn’t want to get dressed, so I did the terrible thing that I also did to Irina. I yelled that she had to do it, that she had no choice, that The Twelve would be angry. She seemed to ... snap out of it. And she agreed to do it.” 

Eve listens attentively to Konstantin’s story. Villanelle had never told her, he hadn’t told her either. But it seemed like he needed to let it out.  

“I put her on the train the next morning and I could see she had been crying the whole night. She didn’t say anything, she just sat in the corner with her thumb in her mouth,” he said. “That was the first time she was hurt on a job. It was terrible all around. Sometimes I don’t understand why Oksana lets me get close to her, let alone watch her when you’re not here.” 

“Your relationship has always been far from conventional,” Eve reminds him with a smile. “We can’t expect ourselves to understand everything the first time we see it. You knew the assassin, you didn’t know Oksana. You responded that way because it’s how you responded to Irina, and it’s probably how your dad responded to you.” 

“Now you’re digging deep,” Konstantin chuckled. “Eh, I think you are right. There was a lot of yelling. I just passed it on.” 

“I know it sounds cliché, but Oksana did help me look at things differently,” Eve said. “You don’t yell anymore. I can’t remember you ever yelling at her. She talks about you a lot, and it’s never anything bad. It’s mostly ‘when’s Konstantin coming?’ over and over until I call you so she can ask you herself.” 

Konstantin laughs heartily. “You’re saying I shouldn’t torture myself with it?” 

Eve smiles. “Yeah. If she can let it go, you can let it go,” she says. “Oksana and I have worked a lot on letting things go. She trusts me with basically everything now, but that wasn’t always the case. She used to scream if I moved too suddenly, she used to throw herself out of the bathtub when it was time to wash her hair, she used to hide food in the closet because she was afraid I wouldn’t feed her.” 

She looks down at her sleeping girl and kisses the top of her head. “But she’s never scared anymore. And she’s never scared of you,” Eve says.  

Konstantin hums and smiles softly. He reaches over and caresses Oksana’s cheek tenderly. A smile twitches on her lips around the pacifier.  

[junglejim4322]

Viy (1967)

[yulivorshevsky]

@konstantinvorshevsky

"Hey," Yuliya called her brother's attention, her hand lightly tugging on his arm to bring him to a halt. The space felt quiet enough where Yuliya could safely assume they had some sort of privacy from curious passers-by.

"Just so you know, if you don't feel like staying, we can go anytime." She offered Konstantin a small smile. Yuliya was aware of the nominations her brother got, not all of them...pleasant. It happened every year, and knowing Konstantin, she could surmise Konstantin was unaffected by what other people thought of him. That came with the territory of his position, didn't it?

Still didn't mean he had to sit there to take it.

This year was also different, given it would be the first awards since his divorce with Mila. Though Yuliya didn't know the full story, no breakup, even mutual, was smooth-sailing. "I don't visit London often, and as much as I enjoy dressing up and reconnecting with everyone again here, I'd much rather spend it with just family and knowing they're okay."

[jolieeason]

WWW Wednesday: May 17th, 2023

WWW Wednesday is a weekly meme hosted by Sam at Taking on a World of Words. The Three Ws are: What are you currently reading?What did you recently finish reading?What do you think you’ll read next? What I am currently reading: The nation of Trylia believes that the gift, a force that can alter the world through the intent of the person who wields it, is a myth. The stuff of children’s tales,…

[leatherandmossprints]

‘Nightlife on the Rue Venis, Paris’ by Konstantin Korovin, c. 1932.

[lemuseum]

[testoster0ne]

konstantin by savros c

[permament-witzelsucht]

Konstantin Korovin | Paris.Venice street, 1927 | Paris. Saint Denis Arc, c.1930 | Paris, 1933 | Paris Boulevard, 1939 |

[crownrots]

just a breakdown of clowns bc brain rot is in.

HENRIETTA ‘HATTIE’ MILFORD & XANDER YATSKO

strangers to enemies to frenemies on thin ice back to enemies and maybe to friends pipeline 🫶

misadventures of a vault dweller (fake ass vault 11) and a misinformed vault dweller hunter

person that never talks vs person that won’t shut the hell up … ever

ABEL DAWSON & KONSTANTIN ZISKO

dumbass to dumbass communication

buddy criminal comedy vibes

one dude has no idea who he is and just lies constantly while the other just goes along with whatever he says … very “yeah, what he said.” energy

guy that’s friends with everyone vs guy who’s prejudice against anything that isn’t explicitly human

‘not so bad once you get to know him.’

ESTHER DAVIS

damn bitch you live like this?

serial arsonist

super smart. borderline insane. tinkerer

left vault 4 because she couldn’t light stuff on fire … claims it was traumatizing being denied the greatest invention of mankind.

cat mom … but they’re definitely not cats.

banned from at least four settlements and has burned at least one down

MARGARINE ‘MARGE’ STERLING & GHOULMOTHER PEARL

yes. margarine. supposed to be named after her grandmother, margery … but, well.

back alley surgeon (totally know what i’m doing vibes.)

no caps? no problem.

cap swear jar ????

ghoul fucker (not elaborating) 🤠

great great ghoul mother pearl (debatable whether or not it’s her actual great great grandmother)

fierce old ghoul who gambles for caps and always wins

pet radroach named jonathan

wasteland creature taxidermist

[milaxkorshunova]

@konstantinvorshevsky​

“You can still not fight, you know?”

It was grasping at straws at best, though she had to try. One last time, at least.

The blood from the last year's fight had still not washed away from their carpet and considering the past months' developments, Lyudmila had no wish to see Konstantin beaten up. Or perhaps find out yet another piece of puzzle about his life, but now with Varden Lefebvre in the main role.

If she finds out that he, too, was involved in hurting someone from Konstantin's family, she'd sign her husband for therapy right then and there, and right after, she'd go home to pack for her stay in a mental institution.

The truth was, Lyudmila was worried sick. And anxious.

The idea of staying alone under the same roof with the same people that had put her in a hospital just months ago, logically, did not sit well with her. In addition, the stress and uncertainty of Konstantin's well-being in a fight (mostly after what had happened the last time), resulted in her stomach twisting in ways she'd already forgotten.

So, yes, she was grasping at straws, even if the lawyer knew there was no use.

[storms-corner]

Oksana sits on Eve’s lap by the kitchen table. There’s coffee and cake set up on the table, the cloth stained with coffee and full of crumbs. Konstantin sits on the other end, shovelling big chunks of cake onto his fork and chatting loudly with Eve, hands gesturing and his laugh filling the small space they’re in.

His loudness is a comfort to Oksana, whose eyelids are growing heavy.

Eve puts a fork full of cake to Oksana’s mouth, and the little one barely opens up.

“Sausage,” Konstantin barks out an affectionate laugh. “You are falling asleep.”

Oksana pouts and shakes her head. “Nuh-uh,” she objects, contradicting herself as she snuggles further into Eve. “Am not.”

Eve puts the fork down. “Oh, but you are,” she chuckles, her hand beginning to stroke Oksana’s back. “It’s your naptime, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Oksana mumbles. She clings to Eve. “Stay here.”

“You can stay here, baby,” Eve promises, patting Oksana’s bottom.

[divineandmajesticinone]

Paintings of men that I’ve fallen in love with: 

Portrait of a Young Man, Sandro Boticelli, c. 1483

Portrait of a Young Man, Andrea del Sarto, c. 1517-1518

The Tailor, Giovanni Battista Moroni, c. 1540-1545

Charles William Bell, Thomas Lawrence, c. 1798

Portrait of George Catlin, John Eagle, 1825

Étude pour “Garde du Harem”, Frank Duveneck, 1879

Portrait of Albert Belleroche, John Singer Sargent, 1882

Inok, Konstantin Savitsky, 1897

[balkanparamo]

Princess Taraknova, c. 1864, by Konstantin Flavitsky

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

SET SIXTEEN - ROUND THREE - MATCH TWO

"Saturn Devouring His Son" (c. 1819–1823 - Francisco Goya) / "Agnus" (2022 - Konstantin Korobov)

SATURN DEVOURING HIS SON: okay so Goya’s Black Paintings in general make me want to stare into the void and scream but the one most people will know is “Saturn Devouring His Son”. but they’re a series of paintings he painted DIRECTLY ONTO THE WALLS OF HIS HOUSE over a few years while he was seriously ill. we don’t know a lot about them as a result because they were only later carefully transferred to canvas and moved to museums, he never named them himself. so they appeal to the part of me that loves how dark and mysterious and spooky they are, and that they were created while he was ill but he still wanted to paint and make art. (horrorgirlhood)

AGNUS: never fails to fill me with a sudden and furious desire to sink my teeth into something (spottedsnake)

("Saturn Devouring His Son" is a 1819-23 mixed media mural transferred to canvas (originally painted on the wall of his dining room) by Spanish artist Francisco Goya during one of the darkest periods of his life. It measures 143.5 cm × 81.4 cm (56.5 in × 32.0 in) and is displayed at the Museo del Prado in Madrid.

"Agnus" is 2022 oil and gold on canvas by Russian artist Konstantin Korobov.)