Servant of the People sideblog | Rita | 23 | Hungarian/Romanian | they/she | lesbian
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one gifset per episode servant of the people | sluha narodu s2e13
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Volodymyr Zelenskyy in »8 New Dates«
✦ більше коров'ячих очей — more baby cow eyes ✦
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Oh goodness, Yuri’s giggles, that really scared me too…😅
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Servant of the People ✦ 1x18
✦ короткий король — short king ✦
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Servant of the People ✦ 1x18
✦ Ода до радості — Ode to Joy ✦
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Some random alignment charts I made:





Lmk if you want any templates and apologies for the photo quality 🙃
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From Yuri with love, Part V
Yuri Ivanovich jerked awake with a quiet gasp. He looked around, slowly making out his surroundings. His hand touched a band aid on his forhead. Ah, yes. The hospital ward.
With a tired sigh, he sat up. Slowly, carefully; the headache had subsided, but he felt utterly exhausted. His eyes went to the next bed and its perfectly still occupant.
Vasily Petrovich, tucked in on a narrow hospital bed, was still asleep, blisfully recovering from Yuri’s masterstroke. His lips were slightly parted, and he breathed with a quiet wheezing sound, but to an accidental onlooker, didn’t appear to be in any major pain.
Another onlooker, however, would noticetwo bloodied plugs in his nostrils, dark circlesunder his eyes, a colourful, massive bruise on the bridge of his nose, and ultimately draw his own, obvious conclusions.
Vasya was hurt.
The doctor, an older, slightly overweight man with melancholic indifference in his eyes, touched, poked, tilted, and finally told the former prime minister, that the patient had suffered a broken nose and a minor concussion, and because of the loss of consciousness had to be admitted for observation.
It actually took some time to clean all the blood, Yuri Ivanovich mused. The care was not exactly delicate, but very quick and practical. Unconscious Vasily Petrovich was a malleable patient, enduring the washing, drying and dressing up with no complain.
At some point, though, Yuri was almost certain he saw the dark brown eyes fly open in panic, heard desperate gasps for air, but there were too many people, too many overlapping sounds to be sure.
There was one thing he was absolutely certain of; ifall his years in office had taught him something, it was the ability to pinpoint the moment a politician was dead to the world.
He may have saved Vasya’s life that time, but the brutal reality of the prison life began creeping into his mind, as he lied back down.
„I’ll think about it tomorrow”, he thought. Yuri Ivanovich closed his eyes, batting away the sudden thirst for amber liquid in a cold glass.
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Yuri: *taking responsibility for a mess* I am in charge of this disaster.
Vasily: … I have a name Yuri Ivanovich.
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