Hehe. Vodka. You drink it like water. Do you know? In Macedonian, and it is the same in Russian... "voda" is water. Vodka, voda, vodka, voda,...
Judging by this one song, dubstep is not my cup of tea. I do not avidly dislike it, but I couldn't say that I would seek it out and listen to it...
Oh, and also. Let's make it so that, you have to answer the questions you ask. Equivalent exchange. I like pastrmajlija, had go google spelling...
It is. Not going to lie, I can be rather awkward in chat. An understatement. Haven't heard enough of it. Dubstep, dub stepping... what would...
You always wondered? And I have it, though it is usually unused. Most of my contacts ignored. A sad fate, I confess, I don't treat them too well....
Yes. It works, you are gray. A dull, gray, lifeless fool. Join us, comrade.
It was a bad attempt at a joke, nevermind my bad attempts. I'm not Russian, though I have been asked several times, name sounds it as the majority...
Also. IDK. Should I screenshot? Oh, and... aah... how do you know I am online! You don't know that. She is offline, she is. For all you know....
You won't show? Prussia. I know near nothing about the character, haven't seen the second series, only the one in which it revolved around the...
Show cosplay, da? :smile: No, it is a rather late request, timing coincidental. I have wanted for a Soviet Russia theme for some time now.
Well... I've still some hope left. I could always leave for Macedonia, ja... I'm not stuck here. Which countries have been affected? Trying to navigate the site, it's a hassle. I will plead my parental figures for a move, if this is taken into effect-- I highly doubt that such a small country will be affected. Out of the US before then, and hopefully, into an unaffected country... Pack up your bags, guys. We've still some time left. We flee the states! For liberation. For freedom. Freedom from the land of the "free". *scoffs*
I thought the same, I had neither smiled nor frowned in watching the video. Bored me to death. Mundane observations is right, spouting out platitudes. Of which we already know. The obvious. Comedians aren't funny, in my experience... well, that is, comedians I've seen in passing. When I happen to come across them on tv, and even that is not very often considering I don't watch tv. When I happen to come across other people watching them on tv, that's it. Mainstream comedians are no fun. Too light on your eyes? I realise. This is utterly off topic, I also realise, but has anyone any font color suggestions? I'm so disappointed, that the above coloring doesn't work on this new layout. So disappointed. Sidetracking, sidetracking, yeah yeah.
Tis very good. Three vers, I feel a bit privileged-- did you do that out of guilt? For taking more than a week. But I like it. Thank you. Also. Pains me to ask this of you, but by chance would it be possible... do you have the icon in 150x150? Hesitant to ask, as if you don't... might have to redo the icon. In which case, don't worry about it. Would be nice, though. Ghh, sorry. I am having great difficulty deciding which font to use. The above better fits the sig, but might be too light in this new layout... oh, trouble trouble.
Ehm... Should I stop waiting? No pressure, no pressure, just unsure if I should take this as an indicator. That you are too busy, or something, don't feel like taking on the request. It has been well over a week. And that is perfectly fine, if so. Get the feeling you might apologise, please don't.
God damn. Wait here. Pesky, pests, saving the image and reuploading it to another site did not work. I'll try screenshotting it, cropping it in paint and then reuploading to another site. This must not fail. Be back with edits. You can't not see this or it is you...
Damn. I'm gonna have to upload it to Tinypic, the image, apparently you cannot link to zerochan. I forgot. Will edit when back, I can assure you that this image will have you grasping a woman Ivan... quite nicely. I did NOT mean for that to sound so... ehm... dirty. edited. Also. Her name is Ivana. Says I. Or should we vote on it?
I hadn't intended on continuing this, was going to allow the readers to continue it. But you readers, how lazy you are. I refuse. You, you continue it yourself. Come now. A continuation should be in order. And if you do, please be sure to introduce sunflowers at some point in the story. Even more fitting, for a woman Ivan. Spoiler: sunflowers
Yes. Hetalia is my guiltiest pleasure, but in all honesty Hetalia was not my original inspiration, except... well, with the vodka... I thought of their Russia. Ivan Braginski. I couldn't help it, vodka had to be included.
The year is 1945. The two world powers are seated at a table, mommy America a mere arm's length away from mother Russia who, at this range of closeness, was tense. Mommy America, however, had no sense of personal space whatsoever and felt not a qualm with reaching across the table, bumping elbows and snatching a single 'nother chili dog, sighing contently as the meaty goodness filled her belly's inners. What a surprise it had been, strict and severe mother Russia inviting mommy America over to a tea party! She was no fan of tea. But the other world power had offered her a helping of dogs on the side, and how could she refuse then? Junk food, the light of her life, fire of her loins. Her sin, her soul. Junk food. "PožÃ¡lusta. Help yourself, da?" And America would help herself alright. To another chili dog, that is. She hadn't a clue what language that woman was speaking in, but it sounded funny. She was pretty suspicious at first, Russia inviting her over to a tea party (dogs included no less!). And Russia never invited anyone to anything, let alone little ol' missus America. Never invited her to anything. To anything. And, and suddenly, mommy America found herself all too aware of her shortage of gowns; all secondhand, all shabby, and all largely unworn. She settled finally on a red 'n' white striped one. She liked the colors red and white. And she liked stripes. And the shock of mother Russia inviting her over for a girls' night out soon slipped her mind; her suspicions soon swept away, swatted like flies. "...tea good?" America giggled. Mother Russia trying to lessen the air of awkwardness surrounding her, quite obviously, and quite frankly, mommy America found it quite endearing. <3~ She cursed under her breath. She was beginning to sound an awful lot like missus Britain, her cranky old bat of a mom. Quite. But no. She didn't like tea, much preferred a coke, and mother Russia was not getting the hint. The ruskie continued to up out of her seat and refill, rerefill, rererefill her half-empty teacup. She had had enough. "Is time we talk business." Mommy America's eyes narrowed, brows furrowed. So, so it was... the ruskie was not interested in her, for a get-together. Of course. She allowed her hopes to be raised, raised as had her billowing flag after her split from the missus on 1776. Mommy didn't want for any of this business shit; she left that shit to England, the shit eater of the family. Haha. Shit eater. Shit. Shit! Repeated reiterations... funny words, she don't know what those means. Haha. Oh, bloody hell. Her mother would say. Not even yet gotten into the rum and acting a total drunkard. "Talk business?" A hand was stuffed into the front of her shinel, and out a bottle of vodka was whipped from Russia's pocket. A gasp from America, her breath having been held for several seconds. She had been taken by surprise. Totally by surprise. Totally. By. Surprise. "Very dense. You are, mama. Tea was facade. You choose now. In right hand vodka, in left vodka. You choose vodka or you choose vodka. Best vodka in all of Moscow. Choose quickly, mama." Then mother Russia surprised mommy America once more, by producing a crystalline glass out of what appeared to be, not a split of a second before, thin air. A vodka glass out of thin air. Mother Russia must have spiked her visitor's teacup with alcohol before proposing the vodka/vodka offer, because she was seeing things. Must uh been. And now, she was seemingly trapped. With what the ruskie would think to be a fork in the road for her. Oh, yeah! Bitch. She'd show her. "I'm sorry. Your tea tastes like piss, and I'm willing to bet that your alcoholic beverages ain't any better." And with that, mommy America whipped a bottle of bourbon out her coat sleeve. And she stared mother Russia straight in the eyes, she was no wuss like her missus, and would be damned to back out now-- she was determined to show this bitch who the real world superpower was. She had gone and made herself another path, another road in the fork... or whateva. Now, now it was a proper fork. Three choices, not two. I mean, two, not one. Vodka, vodka, one choice really. I mean, forks have three tines! America was no ace at math but she was fairly sure of her calculations. And then, they both raised the bottles... Then, they both lowered the bottles to their lips... And began to drink. And began to chug. And the Cold War began. Spoiler Now! What happened after America and Russia whipped out the alcohol? I leave that to you. What happened? What occurred? Let your creativity carry you and please, be descriptive.
I don't know. I shouldn't have said a thing, now people will hold it to me. Will feel it an obligation. I wrote a little something but made not much of an effort. This is not the play, if ever I made a play I think, I would write a bit more seriously... didn't even bother to cut up into paragraphs. too much effort. entirely unedited writing. effortless writing will get me nowhere. Spoiler UNTITLED m u s i c "Those imbeciles! Those heathens! How dare they leave my poor, beloved Wikipedia in a self-induced coma! Curse the heavens, the stars, and all the skies themselves!" Ashwin's knees buckled and he staggered, his chair toppling backwards he fell onto the floor and began to flail. Mad, he was. Not just. Mad? A petty word, it paled in comparison to his truest emotions... mad, enraged, fucking pissed... never before had he felt such a surge, not of what he had been expectant of-- which was, pain, but instead a surge of something unlike he had ever before felt. Of absolute madness. The surge overwhelmed, and he doubled over and began to bang the floor. Ashwin was never angry, his closest of friends would stutter at the thought. They could not imagine, and rightfully so; he was calm, collected and composed. A bag of smiles. Anything but a madman, anything but a raging bull. But now, he was shuddering under the pressure. Pressure that was rage. Flailed some more. As if the harder his fists pounded into the floorboard, the harder his fists... his fists... egad! He could not even properly articulate his words at current, no he could not think, let alone make a lick of sense of his thoughts. Thoughts? No. No, no. A bitter laughed erupted out him. No. Everything was red, red, and he flailed. And pounded. And flailed some more. Desperate, he was. He needed... oh, another one! Something, thing, too vague. He needed to fill the void, egad! Fill up the void that his dearest beloved had left him, his dearest beloved... she was stubborn, he of course knew after all these years. Stubborn. A feminist if ever he saw one, with a light fuse to boot, oh she would stop at nothing... she would pay no notice to his shambled state of mind. With temper flaired, Wiki-chan had decided on self-induced coma... In order to protest something, soap or something, SOAP, SOPA, what did it matter to Ashwin. All that mattered was that he was ruined. In ruins. She would stop at nothing, not until she could obtain what she was so ferociously set on, Wiki-chan was like that. Did not stop to think, to consider what Ashwin's reaction would be or anyone else's for that matter; she hadn't even given him much of a notice, and by the time he came around to see it it was too late. Far too late. Wiki-chan was gone. Until she would arrive victorious, protests a success, but by deuce that could be... who knew, when it came to Wiki-chan. Wiki Pedia, oh by god... for how much longer could he take of this off and on inconsiderate behavior, he didn't know. And so she left him. A void. A void, a void, "A VOID!" As if screaming the actualities would liven up Ashwin, lighten him up, but no. He felt no better... tears threatened to spill... his eyelids tightly shut... "WIKI-CHAN...!!" To be continued...? Maybe. Or to be rewritten, more like.
