My name is Christina, I'm 19 years old, a fan of history, culture, photography, literature, and the Internet. I dabble in various communities across the web-- Hetalia, Attack on Titan, and Disney-- and this is the place where I bring them all together. Welcome, and enjoy.


Peter had always been very protective of his little sister. 
Well, she wasn’t technically his little sister; they were twins, born on the same misty evening, just as the stars were beginning to peek out from the velvety curtain above. But, even still, Peter had always claimed to be the first born. He wanted to be first in everything; first crawling, first talking, first reading ect. And once he accomplished his grand, childhood goals, Peter would immediately turn around and insist on helping Petra learn them too. He wouldn’t allow their older brothers teach her. No, they were clumsy and rough and often times rather scary. Petra was his little twin sister and he would be the one to help her accomplish her firsts.
Such was the case one autumn day, when the little twins were picking flowers for their pregnant mother. Petra was dressed in an airy, yellow sundress and Peter wore a shirt that matched. But the young boy did not wear a carefree smile like his sister; he seemed discrsumpled over some innocent, Sunday school gossip he heard that very morning. The older boys had all been in a tizzy over the blossoming daisy that was Petra Ral. Peter had just walked away and blew it off, of course. But when he told his sister, she only giggled and blushed. She didn’t seem annoyed or disgusted or even slightly upset over how much the boys Oo’d and Aw’d over her pretty dress and her pretty eyes and her pretty little button nose. That’s what had upset Peter. Any day now, one of those dirt-covered Sunday school boys could waltz up and steal away his little sister. The thought had cooked inside his mind since, and now, as she merrily picked her flowers, he was boiling over.
“Petra?” the little boy spoke up. She turned to look at him with an adorably quizzical expression on her face. It reminded him of the first time he taught her to catch a bird. 

‘What is the use of this?’ she had said, watching her brother hold onto a young canary.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?” he asked her in a quiet voice.

‘Because if you don’t, the bird will leave you.’

Petra shook her head, sending reddish blonde curls twirling in the wind. Her cheeks were rosy with embarrassment. —
‘But that bird doesn’t belong to you, Peter. It’s wild, it’s free.’

Peter, with his awkwardly shaggy hair and dirty mess of freckles, felt very inferior to the pretty and perfect Petra Ral. He could see why the Sunday school boys whispered about her, and it made him sort of nervous. But Peter knew what he had to do; before those wolf-howling, pre-strapping young lads got a hold of her. 

‘I know it isn’t mine… But I want to hold it. Just for a second.’

So Peter took a deep breath and walked up to his little twin sister, taking both of her hands into his own. Again, she looked at him curiously, but never protested. Not once. Even as he stopped biting his bottom lip and started looking at her’s.

‘Because who knows…’ he said as he held the tiny yellow bird.

Nervously, he leaned forward and pressed his chapped, boyish, thin lips to her soft, lovely, bud-like ones. They both gasped. 

He gently patted the tiny bird’s head ‘You may be the first person to show it love.’

It lasted only a second, but the tingling sensation remained for a good while. Peter waited, completely frozen, as Petra began to giggle. He was only awoken from his shocked state by a kind, loving kiss to his cheek. 

‘And that, little sis, is something truly special,’ he smiled.

Petra skipped down the flowered pathway, her yellow sundress waving in the cool autumn breeze. She beckoned him to come, but Peter didn’t run after her. He had to let the little bird fly away.

Reblogged from igiri-su  129,512 notes

Date someone who is interested in you. I don’t mean someone who thinks you’re cute or funny. I mean someone who wants to know every insignificant detail about you. Someone who wants to read every word you write. Someone who wants hear every note of your favourite song, and watch every scene of your favourite movie. Someone wants to find every scar upon your body, and learn where each one came from. Someone who wants to know your favourite brand of toothpaste, and which quotes resonate deep inside your bones when you hear them. There is a difference between attraction and interest. Find the person who wants to learn every aspect of who you are, and hold onto them. By (via h-auptgewinn)