Secrets are Made to be Spilled
Raivis side
.001
Raivis pulls on his winter boots with a sigh, looks to his overnight bag and realizes that he won't be needing it. Again. At this rate, he won't need it again until he graduates.
"Almost ready Rai?" Toris asks, popping into the breezeway. Raivis lets out another sigh and nods. Really, it's not that he doesn't love his cousin and like spending time with him, it's just He sort of misses those weekends he and Ivan spent alone.
Toris has never been particularly oblivious, so Raivis' dull mood does not go unnoticed. Neither does the reason for it.
"Um, Raivis Is there a reason
Secrets are Meant to be Spilled
Ivan side
.001
Ever since the incident with the vodka, Ivan has refused to have Raivis over his house alone. He does not trust himself alone anymore, knowing that just a few too many drinks will make him a monster. Often, he invites Toris over. They get along fine, and it's good to get to know Raivis' family, but as they spend time together Ivan is realizing with increasing clarity that Toris is dangerously trusting. That thought probably should have come to him sooner than it did.
"Mr. Braginski," Toris says quietly one afternoon, when Raivis has left the room to use the toilet, "I appreciate that you'
International Cooperation by Sesshomarus4never, literature
Literature
International Cooperation
International Cooperation
The four of themEngland, Prussia, Austria, and Russia, that isstare at the captive who sits between them. The bound Frenchman stares back. England sort of wants to kick him. They all sort of want to kick him, but England especially because he always wants to kick France and now he has a legitimate reason for wanting to.
"I say we strip him of all his new territories," England says, glaring down at the seated man wearily. France gives him a wolfish grin but his eyes aren't in it, they're smoldering with anger and the last vestiges of his ambitions.
"If you intend to strip me, you should start with my
A Morning Without an Italian by Sesshomarus4never, literature
Literature
A Morning Without an Italian
A Morning without an Italian (in the Kitchen)
Germany rose at six, as per usual. And, as was also typical of him, Germany was entirely prepared to rouse the Italian clinging to him as well. Except Italy was not clinging to himor at least, not with his typical stubbornness. This morning it was less a vice grip and more like an accidental overlap of extremities. The amount of uninhibited circulation was unusual and therefore bad; if his day started off-track, then surely it would remain that way until he went to sleep again. He considered speeding up the process and just going back to sleep but, no, then he'd wake up late and that w