>>84639514
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solid fucking 14/10 russian accent xDD
:(
Dont worry, russian accent is the best bro
^_^
be my friend
Give me something to read.
I read the standard pasta for for one minute before losing it.
slow down mane
youtube.com
be emotional
;_;
bump
You promised to read that text yesterday desu senpai
voice = mega cool
text = unpleasant
hello?
hej?
only kidding, here's my real accent :
vocaroo.com
Oh what a tease. Come on dude, do the full version.
How did you achieve that?
it's not so hard if you put your mind to it, like everything really
>just talk to her and be yourself
Freaking alpha males? On my Sup Forums?
but i thought all ivans were alphas? And honestly there's almost nothing you can't achieve if you work hard enough for it, and that's coming from a lazy bastard
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I mean, I understand your point, but it is too general (?) of an idea.
No, viva l'emperor!
>russia is a country of cute girls and even cuter boys
that's pretty fucking gay, is it allowed to say smthg like that in vodkaland?
As long as you don't scream about it at every corner.
quick, gimme something to read
>Even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the Gestapo and all the odious apparatus of Nazi rule, we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.
Holy shit i didnt know i sounded like this wtf
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First it was french chad, now guatemalan chad, what is this?!
fucking hell I sound like a hick
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I liked it anyway.
Thanks ivan, I hope our countries turn out to be friends in the end ;_;
Never met a bad Russian
i wouldnt say im preciseliy chad but, whats chady about my voice?
I am not sure myself, but to me it just sounds so relaxed and laid back yet so much confident at the same time, like you don't give a damn about anything. And just needed amount of hoarse makes it even better.
Saved. Are you sure you are not an UK/US citizen on vacation in Finland?
(pls rate my finnish good sir pls pls)
*hugs*
you sound like Sargon of Akkad
WOah thanks babyboy,
>Are you sure you are not an UK/US citizen on vacation in Finland?
I wish. Weaving the English r between words (if that makes sense) gives me some trouble, something I've always been painfully conscious about. I'm not so sure whether other people notice it. I once asked my English teacher about it and she hadn't taken note of it.
Also your Finnish is actually bretty good. You simulate the dialect pretty well.
>re-listened five times and still can't hear it
FeelsBadMan
>finanon likes your polka
FeelsAmazingMan
Though I liked Gary Oldman's variant more
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not same user
hehe you sound funny
good anyways
>Greatness is a transitory experience. It is never persistent. It depends in part upon the myth-making imagination of humankind. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is projected upon him. And he must have a strong sense of the sardonic. This is what uncouples him from belief in his own pretensions. The sardonic is all that permits him to move within himself. Without this quality, even occasional greatness will destroy a man.
I've tried to copy Churchill, but it's too hard.
Perception at once shapes the mind and rules over time. Time, however, erodes human perception and then in turn warps the mind. The Mind is capricious, having various effects on perception, time, and the mind itself... with harmony progress is made...
...Chaos, like the Mind, can be understood only through the scientific process. Order, however, is only as good as the Perception thereof. Time is the Key that links the two and bears witness their ebb and flow
>Prince Tommen was not so obedient: “I’m supposed to ride against the straw man.”
>“Not today.”
>“But I want to ride!”
>“I don’t care what you want.”
>“Mother said I could ride.”
>“She said,” Princess Myrcella agreed.
>“Mother said,” mocked the king. “Don’t be childish.”
>“We’re children,” Myrcella declared haughtily. “We’re supposed to be childish.”
>The Hound laughed. “She has you there.”
Or
>You, the Poles, have a funny nature. When the people going along the road are attacked by a dog with its insistent and noisy barking, you immediately feel like jumping off the vehicle, standing on all fours and starting to bark back at it. We, in the Vilnius region, let the dog bark because that is what its canine nature is like but we do not stop out journey because of its canine barking and without any war against dogs we calmly continue our journey until we reach our destination. It seems that you care more about barking more than the dog does and about winning the war with any lousy puppy than about reaching the destination quickly.
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moar, also you vocaroo too pls
Huh, vocaroo won't work for for some reason.
clyp.it
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>And that is the story of John Auden, the only man who ever loved a Faioli and lived (if you could call it that) to tell of it. No one knows it better than I.
>No cure has ever been found. And I know that he walks the Canyon of the
Dead and considers the bones, sometimes stops by the rock where he met her, blinks after the moist things that are not there, wonders at the judgment
that he gave.
>It is that way, and the moral may be that life (and perhaps love also) is stronger than that which it contains, but never that which contains it. But only a Faioli could tell you for sure, and they never come here any more.
who is singing in the background?
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>Istinnaya patrioticheskaya lubov' k Rodine ne bivaet melochnoi. Ona velikodushna. Eto ne slepoe obozhanie, no yasnoe videnie vsekh nedostatkov strani. Takaya lubov' ne ozabochena tem, kak ee budut voskhvalyat, a bolshe dumaet o tom, kak pomoch ei vipolnit ee vishee prednaznachenie. Lubov' k Rodine po svoei sile blizka lubvi k Bogu.
Russian version.
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There's a latin quote inside this one.
>Each of us is aware he's a material being, subject to the laws of physiology and physics, and that the strength of all our emotions combined cannot counteract those laws. It can only hate them. The eternal belief of lovers and poets in the power of love which is more enduring that death, the "finis vitae sed non amoris" that has pursued us through the centuries is a lie. But this lie is not ridiculous, it's simply futile. To be a clock on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is smashed and rebuilt over and again, one in whose mechanism despair and love are set in motion by the watchmaker along with the first movements of the cogs. To know one is a repeater of suffering felt ever more deeply as it becomes increasingly comical through a multiple repetitions. To replay human existence - fine. But to replay it in the way a drunk replays a corny tune pushing coins over and over into the jukebox?
Литвo, oйчизнo мoя! ты ecтэcь як здpoвe;
илe тѩ тpeбa цэнить, тэн тылькo cѩ дoвe,
ктo тѩ cтpaтил. Диcь пѩкнocть твѫ в цaлэй oздoбe
видзѧ и oпиcyѩ, бo тѧcкнѩ пo тoбe.
пaннo cвѩтa, цo яcнэй бpoниш чѧcтoхoвы
и в ocтpэй cвeтиш бpaмe! ты, цo гpóд зaмкoвы
нoвoгpóдзки oхpaняш з eгo вepным людэм!
як мнe дeцкo дo здpoвя пoвpóтилacь цyдэм
(— гды oд плaчѫцэй мaтки, пoд твoѭ oпeкѧ
oфяpoвaны мapтвѫ пoднёcлэм пoвeкѧ;
и зapaз мoглэм пeшo, дo твых cвѭтынь пpoгy
иcть зa вpóцoнэ житe пoдѩкoвaть бoгy —)
тaк нac пoвpóтиш цyдэм нa oйчизны лoнo!...
тымчacэм, пpeнocь мoѭ дyшѧ yтѧcкнёнѫ
дo тых пaгópкóв лecьных, дo тых лѫк зeлёных,
шepoкo нaд блѧкитным нeмнэм poзтѭгнёных;
дo тых пóль мaлёвaных збoжeм poзмaитэм,
вызлaцaных пшeницѫ, пocpэбpяных житэм;
гдe бypштынoвы cвepёп, гpыкa як cьнeг бялa,
гдe пaнeньcким pyмeньцэм дѩтeлинa пaлa,
a вшиcткo пpeпacaнэ якбы вcтѧгѫ, мeдзѫ
зeлёнѫ, нa нeй зpядкa тихэ гpyшe ceдзѫ.
Oh well, it'll take some time.
Ebin, genuinelly ebin
"All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
- J R.R. Tolkien
That's clearly Icelandic accent.
That was nice
Weird, I've never been to Iceland, only Ireland.
thanks
poor Jewgeni is still struggling
Nothing wrong with the accent, sounds nice. It's just that you sound exactly like Björk.
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oh thats cool
Oh right, I hope background sounds won't bother you, I got used to relax while listening to them a while ago.
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Ancestor here.
All into the darkest dungeon nau.
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>ACCENT THREAD HERE
I don't speak English
ooo post this
I did!
tekst daj pls
Ah, okay.
Ruin has come to our family. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. Gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor shadowed manor. Fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet, I began to tire of conventional extravagance. Singular, unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnamable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last, in the salt-soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal and antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth but we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity. Until consciousness failed me. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. It is a festering abomination! I beg you, return home, claim your birthright and deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the Darkest Dungeon.
noice
I wish I had normal accent
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Vestal, what are doing here?!
>aah-hhe-he
That was cute :3
My accent isn't "Normal" lil miss cute
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Ok sorry mr adorable
A poetry piece and a small text, one a the time.
Kogda na serdce tyazhki gruz utrat,
Nadezhdi netu bole,
Starayemsya, chtob ni edini vzglyad
Ne vidal nashe gore.
I ulibaemsya, hot' plachet vse vnutri,
I v tyagost' razgovori,
I trudno tak usnut, chtob do zari
Zabit' o gore.
Takaya uchast' mnogikh zhdet
V zhiteiskom burnom more,
I gore spini ikh sognet,
Pridavit tyazhko gore.
I vse zhe vperedi nadezhda brezhit,
Zalechit rani vremya,
Priroda-mat' svoikh detei podderzhit,
I legche stanet bremya.
Odna iz glavnikh trudnostei v zhizni hristian -- eto prozhit' ee, ne poddavshis' durnomu vliyaniu. Iisus skazal, chto Ego ucheniki -- eto "svet mira". On hochet, chtobi mi svetili tam, gde temno, chtobi mi mogli bit' utesheniem dlya drugikh i obodreniem unilikh. Gospod' nash hochet, chtobi Ego druzya v gushe mirovogo zla mogli ochistit' ego, chtobi sredi skorbi i lisheni oni mogli uteshit'.
Taкc, aнoн, гoвopи пo-хopoшeмy: ты этo читaл или дядькa из дaб-cтyдии? Ecли ты, тo читaй eщё.
>vocaroo.com
Absolutely lovely
Я бы хoтeл cтaть дядькoй из дaб-cтyдии, нo yвы. Этo пpocтo я.
He знaю дaжe, c чeгo нaчaть. Пpocтo нaйти этy caмyю cтyдию и кинyть им зaпиcь, мл "вoт, пocмoтpитe" или кaк этo вooбщe дeлaeтcя.
Дa, зaпишy eщe чтo-нибyдь в пpoцecce.
Meня кaк paз пpoбилo нa DD - yж бoльнo живoпиcныe тaм тeкcты.
>Этo пpocтo я.
Этo cyпep ты.
>Пpocтo кинyть.
Пoчeмy бы и нeт. Или чepeз знaкoмых нaбитьcя.
>Зaпишy eщё чтo-нибyдь в пpoцecce.
Cкopee бы, a тo y мeня oт твoeгo гoлoca "внизy живoтa cмeшныe oщyщeния".
You did both pretty well, though surprisingly your cyrillic reading was a bit better than latin (it was hella slower, yes, but still). IMHO.
More?
>though surprisingly your cyrillic reading was a bit better than latin
whoah, kek weird
if you are willing to post more than do it yes, I have time, thanks
A dialogue.
-- Nakazhi zhestokhih, -- tverdo skazal on, -- chtobi nepovadno bilo sil'nim proyavlyat' zhestokost' k slabim.
-- Chelovek roshdaetsya slabim. Silnim on stanoviysya, kogda vokrug nikogo silnee ego. Kogda budut nakazani zhestokie iz silnikh, ikh mesto zaimur silnie iz slabikh. Tozhe zhestokie. Tak pridetsya karat' vsekh, a ya ne hochu etogo.
-- Tebe vidnee, vsemogushi. Sdelai togda prosto tak, chtobi ludi poluchili vse i ne otbirali drug u druga to, chto ti im dal.
Sissy British boys...
For the first time - breddy gud spelling especially sounds like "zh", "sh" and similar which is the most hard for foreigner.
Here's another btw:
vocaroo.com
>My lofty position wasn't always accompanied by the fear of office, and there was a time I could walk the streets or raise a glass in the tavern without concern for molestation. Faithful as the tide, one precocious village waif made it her hobby to shadow my every errand. It was charming then, troublesome later.
>In financial desperation, I struck a bargain with the ancient things that surfaced in search of sacrifice when the moon was right. Their price was the delivery of an obscure idol and one other item of more troubling portent. The pact struck, my newfound accomplices slipped silently beneath the brackish water. A fearful stirring at the edge of the torchlight betrayed a familiar witness, and gifted me with malign inspiration.
>Under the blood moon, I lured my wide-eyed prey to the pier’s edge. Before she could properly appreciate her position, I clamped on a manacle, chaining her to the leering idol. A small push was sufficient to send both into the icy waters. And when at length the tide receded, jewels of the most magnificent grandeur lay scattered upon the shore.