#maksym

[jeanrainier]

Cast lineup from an old rp group. A bit painful to look at now.

[carbuncleinawig]

ported Westlaketea’s “Atonement” to TBSE Echo! [for private use]

 aughghgh i just adore maksym so much

[erstersatzletztersatz]

In dieser Geschichte komme ich nicht gut weg. [...] «Weißt du», sagte Erika. «Manchmal schreibt man über Dinge, die man erlebt hat, manchmal über Dinge, die man noch erleben wird.»

Stermann, Dirk, Maksym, Hamburg 2022.

[folklorespring]

Here are two poems by Maksym Kryvtsov, a Ukrainian poet, who was killed defending Ukraine back in January. One of the poems is dedicated to a ginger cat that followed him around faithfully and later died with him. Please read his words, don't let them die too.

[aestum]

(by Maksym Sirman)

[thunderstruck9]

Maxim Mamsikov (Ukrainian, 1968), Snowdrops, 2005. Oil on canvas, 100 x 120 cm.

[dontforgetukraine]

"When someone asks me what war is, I will answer them without hesitation: names. Oh, black sea of ​​sunflowers, receive me. I’m tired of waiting..."

—Maksym Kryvtsov, poet and fallen Ukrainian soldier

[theophan-o]

Khmelnytsky, Kryvonis and Bohun

Хмельницький, Кривоніс та Богун

Chmielnicki, Krzywonos i Bohun

Painting by a contemporary Ukrainian artist, Viktor Poltavets (Віктор В. Полтавець, 1925–2003) from 1997/2000.

Three Cossack Heroes depicted together. From the left to the right: Maksym Kryvonis, Bohdan Khmelnytsky, Ivan Bohun.

@wanderer-on-the-steppe, specially for you, because I suppose, you may like to see them together?

It is a fan&didactic account, existing only for the Cossack Heroes glory and promoting Ukrainian & Polish heritage worldwide. Copyright belongs to the Artist/Museum.

[vintage-ukraine]

Ukrainian writers Maksym Rylsky, Pavlo Tychyna, Petro Punch, and Volodymyr Sosiura helping rebuild Kyiv after the war, 1940s

[harri-etvane]

prompt fill: for @my-whortleberry-friend ❤️ - no. 7 from this list & the addition of "don't you dare let me pass out right now - Maks - not with the media / the delegation behind the door' *through gritted teeth* 'please'"

Mornings often set the tone of the day. If they've had a night of unbroken sleep, the following day already seems half-won, there are fewer thoughts embraced with fog or a lack of clarity; there are moments of levity, a chance for a joke, a second or two of brightness, a snippet of time in which they can just breathe. On the opposite side, the nights when they don't sleep, when there are nightmares and sirens and a bone-deep ache - the day is somehow more difficult, endless, no time to catch their breath, to stop; a careering rush to the end of the line.

Volodymyr hasn't slept. Maksym knows. He hides it well enough, swallowing another mouthful of coffee, frowning at the report before him, loosely fiddling with the pencil between his fingers, scrawling small notes in the margin. He can't quite hide everything; the way a muscle jumps in his jaw, the way he digs a knuckle absently into the small of his back to try and alleviate the ache there, the way he swallows a yawn, his eyes red. Breakfast has long since been abandoned, the eggs congealing miserably on their plate, replaced with coffee and the grim desire to tackle the day head-on. It feels like an awful cocktail that will inevitably end in disaster; little sleep, even less food, caffeine.

Maksym was right - as he often is when it comes to Vova.

It's been hours since breakfast (three meetings, four phonecalls, seven cups of coffee) and Volodymyr looks ready to drop, gripping hard onto the edge of the table as he forces himself to his feet. One half-stumbled step across the floor of the meeting room is enough before he sways dangerously; Maks reaches forward immediately, on instinct now.

“Don't you dare–”

Maksym blinks, feeling the small tremor that runs through him, his hands around Volodymyr's elbows, taking the other man's weight as he sways, his gaze still fierce and sharp-edged.

“What?”

“Don't you..dare let me pass out right now. Don--Maksym.”

The bodyguard bites down a groan at a now familiar routine that each time makes him hurt; for Vova more than anything. He longs to say what he thinks, what he knows - that this is your body telling you to stop, listen to it, please. But he doesn't - not this time. He knows the mood Vova is in; his grim, burning determination refusing to allow anything else in, not compassion or kindness for himself. He has to keep going - he can't stop, not now, not yet. There is always too much to do, not enough space for the driving, dull pain of his body to take any precedence.

“You need to sit down.”

“Not with the–”

Ah. Of course. There's always something else, someone else who Vova would rather prioritise than himself.

“The delegation. America. They'll be here. In a minute. Don't let me, Maks –”

He grits his teeth.

“Please.”

Perversely Maksym wonders what would happen if he didn't do as Vova asked - if the door swung open and the American delegation strode into the room to see him collapse on the polished parquet flooring; exhausted, defenceless, nothing left to give.

What would Maks say then; so full of rage, so full of grief that he could choke on it - look at what you are doing - to him, look at what you are allowing to happen to his country - to our beautiful country because you fight amongst yourselves while our people die, you stubborn, spineless, slow-moving sack of sh–

He won't do it. He knows that he couldn't bear it; it would hurt Volodymyr and Maksym would rather die than do that. Instead, he takes a deep breath, swallows down his anger.

“Alright, sir. It's alright. Take a deep breath for me.”

He hears the stuttered inhale and offers a small smile in reward.

“There. And another one. Keep hold of me.”

They stand there for a long minute together, Volodymyr breathing deeply, Maksym his silent echo. It passes, in the end; Volodymyr's world stops spinning wildly out of control, brought back to anchor by a pair of steady hands, a familiar, careworn face.

[cryptixotic]

Tranquil Waters

[jeanrainier]

Follow up to an old post with some ASC characters in a lineup. Found the clean standalone images in a back folder. Only Cel and Cain are mine, but the other players don't have tumblrs to link.

[carbuncleinawig]

enjoy 2 seconds of effort family picture

[is-this-working]

Proud and honored Vova:

Meanwhile Maks be like:

Kills me 😂

[sheltiechicago]

Photographer Maksym Popelnyukh wanted to find a different way to portray Kyiv’s St. Andrew’s Church, a commonly photographed Elizabethan baroque landmark in Ukraine. They did so by getting to the location at 5 a.m., before most of the city was awake.

Photo by Maksym Popelnyukh, CC BY-SA 4.0

Wiki Loves Monuments 2023

[dadsinsuits]

Maksym Timchenko