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Derpmanly
potatobastard
SEND NOTE
"Who needs all this drama, anyway," Arthur muttered.

He had Alfred in his lap, the American's head nestled into his chest where Arthur could wrap his arms around him and bury his nose into his hair.  One hand made lazy circles at his back.

Alfred's answer was muffle(more)
One palm sweaty around the stems of orange roses and the other clenched at his side, Gilbert waits outside Lovino’s apartment.  He’s jabbed at the doorbell until the cat next door began yowling.  Now, he’s trying to peer the opposite way through the peep hole, so that his eye is distorted(more)
Gilbert has been sitting alone in the dark for three hours--but he thinks better without light stabbing at the space behind his eyes.  Now he can focus on the trill of notes summoned from space deep in his chest, something more powerful than expelled air and pursed lips and the(more)
Gilbert prefers beer and Lovino has too sophisticated a palette for such cheap wine, but the two lovers sit wrapped in a blanket near a dying fire as they clink their glasses together.  It's almost as cold inside as outside, where snow cakes the windows and ice chokes sidewalks--and a(more)
"You believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk by you again?"  Gilbert's grin fell nearly as abruptly as he did--stride hindered by very shiny Armani shoes that sent him stumbling forward into a park bench.
(more)
"Brilliant! Yes! Four serial suicides and now a note. Oh, it's Christmas."

John Watson snapped awake somewhere in a tangle of nightmares and memories, dark phantoms prying into his mind to find the deepest, most vulnerable parts of his consciousness and bring them to light.

He was(more)
What was once peaceful quiet in Lovino's kitchen was now a solid wall of empty.  He'd had Gilbert by his side so long that he'd come to expect--and god forbid, appreciate--the rasp of his voice in the quiescence of the morning, reading headlines from the paper and cackling as he(more)
In retrospect, perhaps Lovino should have known better.  The plan was to masquerade as Feliciano--a bit of hair dye, a slightly different part, and a vacant expression was all he needed--then get Ludwig to lower his guard within the comfort of his own home.  Sure maybe a bit of flirting (oh(more)
Notorious for hiding needles in his wings, Lovino Vargas could pick open any door in heaven, including that of his elders. But rifling through history books and ancient relics had grown old to the young angel, so much that the thrill of sneaking about could not overpower the disappointment(more)
I wonder if the people of Paris ever regretted not standing behind the boys at the barricade.
Someone once told Lovino that underneath his world was another one, only it was a dark place, where the weather changed from bright to tumultuous, hot to cold--where stormclouds cackled wicked taunts as they lashed out with sizzling tongue at the earth below, pelting it with ice and rain.(more)
Alfred doesn’t see in black or white or in a spectrum of grey.

He views the world in bright colours—thrown together like paints haphazardly slapped onto a canvas, dripping, blending, mixing, blurring.  Half mixed, half apparent, some patches such a conglomerate that the individual shades no longer d(more)
Of all places, Ludwig spent half the night at a rock concert, mosh pit and all, uncomfortable in the twisting and writhing of sweaty bodies, and unbearable heat throbbing with the pulse of deafening guitars.  Shuffling awkwardly amidst the chaos, back rigid.  Determined not to brush against boobs or oth(more)
Gilbert did not succumb to the passage of time, the slow seeping of the memory of once great nations from the memory of the world, til what was once alive is dust on the earth, dry words on decaying pages.  He couldn't have.  He'd never simply fade away.

But as(more)
Lovino was 98% sure that someone took a meter stick and shoved it so far up Ludwig's ass that it forced his back into rigidity.

Which might explain his unwillingness to bend the rules and the strict standards he set for himself.  Hair slicked back.  Everything in its proper place.  No(more)