#attrocitea

[eyesofanirishman]

@attrocitea (O)

[text: Arthur]: Yes, I am fine.

[text: Arthur]: What would give you the impression I am not fine?

[text: Arthur]: Better than ever really. But why?

[vigliacco]

@attrocitea

  A sneak attack. 

  Expected as it was, he still managed to only catch a hint of green before he was knocked unconscious. He couldn’t criticize his attacker or anything, not in the slightest; after all, he had managed to escape situations with a clean hit before too. 

  That didn’t make the iron taste in his mouth any weaker.

  With a grunt, Feliciano shifted. There was an attempt to sit himself up, though with his hands tied and the pain radiating from his ribs, he figured it was futile.

  When the door opened, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up, simply keeping his attention on Arthur’s boots. A small smile came onto his face as if to push his own fear back, a strategy that failed as soon as fear crept into his tone.

  “ … I feel like I’ve been in this situation before. What are you going to do with me this time? ”

[ofromance-blog]

attrocitea a réagi à votre billet : ⁇ ( from the text meme! )

[ text: Francis ] Well, were you ever? You tell me. [ text: Francis ] Don’t come home if you’re going to bring all this melodrama with you.

[text: Arthur] i dontt know

[text: Arthur] you never answered m e

[text: Arthur] i wanted to see you b tuf i guess i jus wont

[damnprussia]

@attrocitea

[ text: Gilbert ] Maybe there really is an end to everything, after all. Both the good & the bad.

[text] wtf r u smoking ?

[text] do u want a legit answer or not. ur not going anywhere old man

[konigsberggg]

@attrocitea | starter He sat at the bar counter, his left eye swollen, his scalp sweaty, his nose still red from where it had bled. Gilbert had won his fight again, and the first thing he did with his hard earned money from said fight was head to the nearest bar and get himself a drink. He deserved it, Gilbert thought to himself, as he sat revelling in the glory of his fight- it had been a good one. Suddenly, the door of the bar opened and a group of men walked in, some Gilbert recognized and some he didn't. They noticed him and made their way over, where immediately they began to praise him for his well fought fight, and many offered to buy Gilbert a drink. He grinned, showing off several missing teeth, and then spotted a younger looking one standing behind the men Gilbert knew, and then beckoned the man forward. "Who's your friend, hmm?" Gilbert asked the men, all gamblers who had bet on him.

[a-lion-roars]

❝ Reflections ❞

[Closed RP with @attrocitea!]

Instead of the shrill, yet familiar, ringing of his alarm, it was the cold that tugged England from sleep. A groan slipped passed his lips and he shuffled onto his side as awareness came back to him in long, gradual waves; the brush of his own clothing against his skin, the floor cutting into his cheek, the echo of dripping water bouncing off the walls...

Wait. His eyes snapped open and were met with surroundings completely unknown to him. A room of rough concrete and jagged, steel pipes, coated with mottled patches of rust. It was the farthest place from his cozy London flat that he could imagine. The Englishman struggled to sit up, panic jerking him into wakefulness, only for his back to meet a wall he must have slept beside all night. His gaze settled in front of him and he froze. The middle of the room dropped away into a trough filled with clear, shallow rainwater. His attentions, though, were drawn to the limp form of a body; legs resting within the edge of the water down below.

“Hello?” The words erupted from him almost thoughtlessly; conflicted between investigating further and taking a moment to doubt the existence of the situation entirely. When the man refused to answer him, England shoved such thoughts to the back of his mind and inched down the steep incline. The closer he crept down the concrete slope, the harder his heart pounded against his chest, and the more the features of the man’s face became clear. His hold fumbled and he slid; his feet meeting ice-cold water, but it wasn’t something he was concerned with. Not at the moment.

Was this some sort of nightmare? A hallucination? England edged his foot toward the body, and gave a forceful nudge to test such a theory. His eyes were glued to the man’s face, searching for a reaction, unable to look away as he did so, because the man’s face—still and peaceful in either death or in slumber—was his own.

[abovetheyoungrhine]

"We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying."

She folded her hands in her lap and cast her eyes down to the ground, unable to refute his claim. Hadn’t that been part of the reason, after the devastation of the Great War when she was greatly depleted, to leave her long standing relationship with Austria and form a new union with the eternally neutral Switzerland?

Safe within this union, she was able to watch the squabbling of the other nations from afar, without the fear of getting directly involved, and it allowed her to keep an emotional distance as well, not letting herself get too invested in their struggles.

“You must think me heartless,” she said instead, shyly meeting his gaze. “Or at least terribly naïve.”

[zhunihaoyun]

!!

YELP.COM

LOOKS

“He somehow ruins being pale and skinny. That is an extremely hard thing to ruin. Instead, he is pasty and like a stick. A bad stick. A stick that broke your window.”

PERSONALITY 

In a high, nasally voice: “’ello, I’m Arthur. I ruin things for other people because no one ever loved me. Nothing was good for me, so it shouldn’t be good for other people, either. That’s the way the world works. I would know because I am the center of it, which means I’m covered in boils and spew garbage out of my mouth.”

WHO ARE THEY?

“Get out of my house.”