Volodya

3

The Granny Ripper

When we think of the appearance of a serial killer, the last thing many of us would envision is a 68-year-old grandmother. This was the case with Tamara Samsonova, the infamous “Granny Ripper”, who was arrested in 2015, ensuing one of the most bizarre true crime cases worldwide.

Samsonova was apprehended on suspicion of murdering 79-year-old Valentina Ulanova, whose dismembered body was discovered in a pond. Samsonova, who shared an apartment with Ulanova, first became a suspect when she was discovered on CCTV disposing of Ulanova’s body. When authorities went to the apartment, they discovered a macabre diary, detailing not just this brutal murder, but many others.

In this diary of death she explained how she had killed at least 13 people, including her husband, whom she killed in 2005, and another tenant -  “I killed my tenant Volodya, cut him to pieces in the bathroom with a knife and put the pieces of his body in plastic bags and threw them away in the different parts of Frunzensky district.” She also confessed to cannibalising her victims, before disposing of any unwanted body parts and organs.

I Was Scared and I’m Sorry (Part Three) (Vladimir x reader)

You put the tube of deep red lipstick down on the counter as you sang along loudly to one of your favorite Bearhands songs blaring from your Bluetooth speakers: “Go sell that shit somewhere farther from the heart. Running and running and running and stop, come on, we both knew this thing would be hard. I see art, you see class. You think, you ask. You say “Darling am I a chore?” I said I know you love me, I am loving you more.”

You did a quick spin in time with the music, smiling as you walked out of the bathroom, your black heels clacking when they hit the rich hardwood floor in your loft. You went into your room to take a quick glance at yourself in your full length mirror. Satisfied with the reflection––especially how well the ripped, dark denim hugged your body––you walked back out toward the living room, but paused suddenly as you suddenly remembered an important task you neglected.

“Whoops, can’t go out without my meds,” you thought to yourself, turning back to the bathroom to look for your orange bottle of prescription anxiety medication. You frowned, it wasn’t in its usual place. You scanned the floor and opened the cabinet, seeing if you had misplaced it. Nothing.

You swore irritably, moving into your room and shaking out your comforter to see if the pills were there. You waited for a sound against the hardwood floor to no avail, now starting to panic slightly. Without those pills, you knew how your thoughts would speed up, how the slightest touch could set you off, how you would want to claw out of your skin amidst the sensory overload and probable full-fledged anxiety attack––and you were about to head out to God knows how many crowded bars and clubs with the guy you deeply, deeply liked who had no idea about your mental illness. And you intended to keep it that way.

As if you weren’t stressing enough, you suddenly heard your apartment door open––you forgot to lock it again––and heard excited barking coupled with Vladimir’s laugh and murmured Russian––normally, you would smile knowing he was already playing with your German Shepherd Koda, but his arrival exacerbated your growing anxiety.

No no no fuck, I am not telling Vladimir about this, he’s going to think I’m weak and crazy and that I can’t do my job and he won’t like me anymore and it’ll be a shitshow,” you thought frantically. “It’s one night, just hold it together and you can look in the morning. You’ll be ok, girl. You’ve survived worse. And remember, he wants to be here. He doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do.


Keep reading

english diminutives are so shitty, like, “johnny” and “jimmy” and “bobby” sound incomparably lame compared to “volodya” and “masha” and “moyshele” and “yankele”

continuation of singing venom!

he sings with his entire body, a total opposite of the way he speaks; he has a deep voice, overwhelming and strong, but not piercing. warm

a nice example is Cias ‘Chandelier’ (the last time she sings ‘i’m’ part in the chorus) i think he’d be able to make it sound as raw and emotional as she does

then there’s ‘Still Loving You’ by Scorpions which nicely illustrates the contrast between his speaking and singing mode. albeit he’d sing lower than klaus meine

another part i’d love to cover in this is that i see v as a nonbinary person and singing is one of the occasions where he likes to show it. he can go from the typical low macho tone to the way Marina and the Diamonds sounds, deep and smiling, mostly singing in the lower register

the art i attached is a redraw of a scene from the music video ‘Delfiny’ by Mumiy Troll, which fits v to an impressive extent (voice And lyrics). not so much the intonation, but his timbre, the low-key ringing combined with the nasal way he speaks? yeah

anyway, thank you for reading! if u have something to add i’d love to listen!

Prince Vladimir Pavlovich Paley, morganatic son of Grand Duke Pavel Alexandrovich. Though born as illegitimate, Volodya, as he was undoubtedly one of the most intelligent representatives of the young Romanov generation, as well as a talented poet. He was murdered in 1918 along some of his legitimate Romanov relatives.

Me playing the Scorcher Mission in S.T.A.L.K.E.R: SoC

“FUCKSHITFUCKINGFUCKERMOTHERFUCKINGASSFUCKINGPIECEOFSHITFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK”

(+65 Different Medkits used, 88 Bandages used, Down 1,500 rounds of 5.45x39mm, Down 600 rounds of 9x39mm, with only 55 .45ACP +P+ Rounds left. Having to fight through several groups of Bloodsuckers, a pack Flesh Beasts, Ghosts, and a Group of some seriously edgy Gnome Looking motherfuckers, on top of nearly four dozen Monolith guys on the way there.)

  “SWEETMERCIFULFUCKSHITJESUSTAPDANCINGZOMBIFIEDGIMPYCHRISTFUCK