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The fourth part, aka the part where the Azn!anon tortures Hong. Hong, ilu.
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Light flooded the room, blinding its occupant. The Chinese boy had finally gotten to restless sleep for the first time in days, but it was soon ruined by a swift foot to the gut. He cried out almost silently in pain.
"Get up. Up now, boy."
So he got up quickly, despite the blossoming purple he knew to be appearing on his stomach. The Englishman looked furious, and the boy didn't know why. He never knew why.
"Get me a cigar."
He scrambled, looking for the box that housed Arthur's foul smelling cigars. The Englishman kept all of his unsavory possessions in his room, out of sight. He found it and presented it to Arthur.
"How am I to enjoy this without a match, bloody idiot?" Slap!Cheek smarting, he ran to fetch the match box. He struck a match, and held it to the end of Arthur ( ... )
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I'm terrible orz.
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...but you will not be terrible if you give us an update...
pweeeeeeeeeeease?
This was shaping up to be a REALLY GOOD fic. And I'm picky, so that's really a compliment coming from me.
how dare you bait me with such good writing and then abandon me? *sob...* come backkkkkkkkkkkk
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My GPA will have to wait. <3
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Usually I love Arthur.
~ AznAnon
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