VII

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mr

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mr. loverman
by ricky montgomery

i'm headed straight to the floor

the alcohol served its tour

and it's headed straight for my skin

leaving me daft and dim

i'm mr. loverman

and i miss my lover, man

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it's ussr o'clock

i adore this man to bits, fictional only though haha.

sorry i had uploaded so late, was in the middle of something

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𝔸𝕞𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕘𝕣𝕚𝕡𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕤.

Seated in the couch in front of him, was USSR - the one and only father of Russia.

The scent of campfire wafting from his nose from what he guessed was USSR's perfume, or was that his natural scent.
He internally chastised himself for letting the thought become creepy.

"So, are you and my son..?"

"No."  He shook his head with vigor. 

Though he was planning to, he's convinced he'll get Russia by the end of the school year.

America coughs as he shooed that thought from his mind.

The USSR takes note of America's nervous demeanor as he squinted, hands clasped near his chin.

"That was quite... fast." He acknowledges. "Well, the rain does not look like it will stop anytime soon — so, make yourself at home."

Behind the USSR's form, was Belarus - doing finger guns as she silently cheered for America. America slightly grins before returning his attention to USSR.

"Беларусь, я знаю, что вы там."
(Belarus, I know that you are there.)

The tone in USSR's voice made Belarus flinch.

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