#streamingwords

America-Russia:  I used to not appreciate this pairing even half as much as I do now.  It took exposure to an excellently characterized Russia (see: http://rusamee.tumblr.com/) before I really got into these two and their dynamics.  I enjoy them in a loving relationship where they can be dorky and sweet together, since they are both so passionate about the likes they have in common (Space!  SPAAAAAACE!).  There’s also the fact that they’re both so powerful, so driven, so in the eye of the world that everyone is poised to jump on them if they make the wrong move.  It’s like they’re kindred spirits in a sense, each other’s yin and yang, capable of offering each other a challenge or knocking the other down a peg when needed.  Ivan’s the older nation that never got to enjoy his childhood, so every adventure with Alfred is like rediscovering what it means to be young all over again.Admittedly, I also enjoy their hateful relationship, too.  Like all those Cold War fics out there where they’ve got the tension between them of mutually assured destruction.  (I’m bent like that.)  It isn’t a healthy relationship in the slightest — more like an unhealthy obsession.  America sees himself as the Hero with Ivan as the Villain, and Ivan plays the part because he enjoys the fact that someone is so fixated on him (because Ivan craves that attention, so he’ll play whatever role he needs to if it keeps those eyes looking his way, and even if they’re full of hate that’s at least /something/ that is all his, no one else’s).  And when they /do/ give into the attraction between them it’s not sweet, or gentle:  It’s two Titans clashing, electric violence, where at the end they’ll pretend it doesn’t mean anything because that is against the /rules/.——-South Italy:  Alfred loves a challenge.  The fact that Romano is difficult is part of what spurs him on.  He can’t be sure if the Italian is unhappy or not.  Alfred cannot grasp the concept of people hiding emotions under the surface.  He’s too honest with his own.  So to see Lovino being grumpy so often leads him to believe that the other man is just /really/ unhappy all the time.Thanks to his Hero complex, he sees it as his duty to try to cheer Romano up.  Like, if he can get one smile out of him then that’s practically a Christmas present!  He doesn’t even acknowledge the fact that Lovino is /one million/ years older than him.  Lovino is associated with Alfred’s love for mafia movies, Italian food, and the ‘gangster’ archtype.  His Hollywood brain can picture them standing on a glamorous cliffside near a winding road, kissing Lovino until he stops complaining with the backdrop of a brilliant sunset — interrupted by an epic gun battle with mysterious men in a van that goes driving by.He probably gets hit a lot.  It’s doubtful that he minds it much.———England:    Yeah.  I know.  There is such a stigma surrounding these two as a pairing (I am passionate about my alternative pairings for England more but this is about America!).  For me, though, it isn’t like I could expect these two to settle into any kind of sweet romance.  I suppose it’s more that I love the /complication/ of their relationship, which in its way is just as tangled as Russia x America.  Now, this is a ship that I really loved upon first entering the fandom of Hetalia; my gateway drug to becoming a wanton multi-shipper.  Since then I have become extremely particular on these two as a ship, after having witnessed far too many poor characterizations.  That and people are so vehemently set against this pairing that I feel uncomfortable even discussing my preference for it.  Still, there are reasons I love it and always will.  Getting into the details of this ship would become a novel for me, and frankly most of it would be from England’s perspective, so I will just leave it at this.Germany-Italy:  This one is pretty obvious.  They have a solidly bonded relationship.  This pairing for me is almost /too/ obvious, and sadly I think I ship it just because it’s there.  (Sorry!)——-South Italy:  I enjoy this pairing.  Though it is really only in AUs and with certain characterizations that I can see it working (See:  http://onyourkneessoldier.tumblr.com/).  Once getting through Lovino’s guard, however, I think there is a definite benefit in how this relationship works.Ludwig is physically strong, yet he’ll always default to polite responses, or few words.  Lovino will speak up when he smells any kind of bullshit.  Ludwig is fearless in many respects and would stand proud against any hostile force.  Lovino doesn’t have that same intimidation factor aside from just yelling louder.  Their strengths and weaknesses act as a good counterbalance for the other.  If they were combined together as a couple, then they’d make one hell of a power couple.I think they would both be good influences in helping get each other out of their shells.  Ludwig is sensitive about how he is perceived by the rest of the world so he can be self-conscious, and I think Lovino would really help him lose much of that with a general “Who gives a shit about their opinions?” mentality.  And Ludwig would be able to sincerely convince Lovino that he is important, that he matters, and that there are people that value him more for just what he shares with a nicer, kinder brother.  Basically, he’d treat Lovino as a person instead of an angry porcupine.——-England:  I can’t help myself with this pairing.  However, I usually only see this working out with someone to bridge the gap (France or Prussia), because just like with Lovino it would take effort to get past Arthur’s guard.I think they would have a relationship that is full of mutual respect.  They would be sensitive to the needs and preferences of each other.  Both of them like order, both of them prefer the quiet.  It’d be a romance suited to quiet evenings curled up near a fireplace while they work on crosswords, or reading, or finishing the last of their work for the day.  They’d both be workaholics, supporting each other to be more successful, without constant interruptions questioning their work ethic.  Out in public they would be professional in their relationship, neither of them big on PDAs, and I think this would definitely be another example of them helping to strengthen their partner’s weaknesses.In private, though, it’s another matter entirely.  Because they are both kinky bastards.  So there’s bound to be lots of risque behavior, definitely some Master/slave play, and for my personal preference I definitely see Arthur as being the one to dominate in their relationship behind closed doors.  Ludwig would defer to his experience.  Of course, everything they do would be done with the utmost discretion because Prussia would probably flip out if he knew half of what England was getting his baby brother to do for him.————-Canada:  I could go on about this ship as well.  However, that’s another novel waiting to happen stemming from their history.  People tend to forget that at one point in time Germany was /scared as fuck/ when it came to Canada.  And Matthew loves that fact.Lithuania-Russia:  This pairing gets a bad reputation, mostly because people usually can’t grasp the possibility of Ivan being something other than a psychotic rage truck of non-consent.  No characterization should ever be that one-dimensional.I think there is genuine love here.  Yes, when he was under Soviet rule, their relationship was more one of Master/slave.  Ivan was in control of many nations then, and Toris was one of them.  Did Toris suffer endless amounts of torture, forced intimacy and other abuse from Ivan?  Possibly.  Ivan had wanted Lithuania as his own ever since they met as children.  However, I think that window of abuse would have been a very short, limited window of time.  And I believe that Ivan deeply regrets his actions against Toris during that period of their history.Clearly, Ivan loves Toris.  He gets distraught when Lithuania gets taken away from him.  And Toris, for all his enjoyment of the lax atmosphere of living with America for a time, is a loyal man at heart.  Ivan is motivated out of loneliness, which makes him desperate, and sometimes in that desperation the Russian doesn’t always make the best decisions.  The fact that Ivan loved him for so long is important to him, so Toris can’t just pretend that it doesn’t matter to him.  There is far more love between them than there is fear, though I think Lithuania is always going to harbor those anxious feelings when it comes to Ivan.———-Poland:  This one is pretty easy.  They have been leaning on each other for such a long time that there are strong bonds.  They’re definitely stronger together than they are apart.  It’s nice to have someone he can stand with on (fairly) equal terms even if he is capable of standing on his own.  Once again, this is another relationship where Toris is lead by another.  Feliks is the one that drives the relationship.When they apart it was obvious to see how much Toris still cared for and worried about Poland.  It brought him considerable anxiety to think that Feliks wasn’t looking out for himself as much as he should.  His instincts were pretty spot-on in that respect.  Toris is very gentle with him and has been ever since Feliks was forced to suffer so much.  He’s also considerably proud that despite all the hardships that he was put through, Feliks has managed to stay true to himself.

America knows more words for 'hate' than he does for 'love'. So sitting across the table from Russia, he stares at that smiling face and decides that what he feels must be hate.  That's what everyone tells him it should be.  In a war of opposing ideologies, there's no room for anything else.  America couldn't remember the exact moment that he'd signed on for another war -- those transpirings were as muddy as the Mississippi, and there was no turning back. They play their parts well for the onlookers.  Russia pours himself a fresh glass of vodka to prove that he couldn't care less about what America's officials have to demand.  America counters by unloading enough Big Macs on the table to feed the entire room, wrappers crinkling as he uncovers each one to noisily scarf down.  His lack of manners bothers Russia's people; their disgusted looks hit him as severely as snowflakes, ignored.  He catches Russia's eyes across the table with his cheeks bulging full and raises a challenging eyebrow while shoving the last bit of a bun into bursting lips with a finger. Russia insults him for his lack of manners.  America insults him for his lack of interest.  Russia insinuates that his eating habits will cause heaviness.  America insinuates that his nose blocks sunlight from getting to his land.  This continues until the moment where Russia's hand reaches for his pipe just as America's hand reaches for his gun, blocking a swing of that pipe with the edged of his firearm and there is yet another stand-off at the negotiating table.  Both superpowers back down when their officials intervene in a scramble to keep the peace. Neither side gets what they want.  The conflict will carry on.  News reports tomorrow will inform their people that the two countries remain in a state of tension without any sign of resolution.  The threat of their mutually assured destruction continues to loom over the globe.  With the meeting adjourned everyone goes their separate ways with suspicious glances and frustrated murmurs. Back at his hotel, America enters his room to find that Russia has beat him here.  He firmly turns the lock on the door so there will be no interruptions.  His face is immediately apologetic.  "Went too far with the nose thing, huh?" "It was unfair.  You are either ridiculous or cruel."  Russia responds, arms crossed in his sour mood where he is seated on the American's bed.  "Your hand is okay?" America looks down to it as he crosses the room.  He belatedly remembers feeling the smash of Russia's pipe against his knuckles and inspects the swollen state they're in.  "I think it'll survive.  My own fault for blocking from the wrong angle." Taking hold of that injured hand in both of his, Russia lifts it to his lips, to brush his own apologies in tender strokes on swollen skin.  "Ah.  I had thought I'd seen you flinch.  You might have said so." "Too much trouble."  America says with a shake of his head.  He shakes his hand free of the other nation's grip to cup Russia's face with it.  This lets him direct the Russian into a kiss, long and lingering and lacking any ounce of hate.  His face is contemplative when he breaks it.  "Speaking of trouble, I still owe you for when you nearly broke my back against that alley wall in Moscow.  That means it's my turn tonight to see if I can break your resolve, Russia." Even with an injured hand he doesn't let Russia get the upper hand against him tonight.  Just presses the man down into the mattress until he can get them stripped down.  If anyone saw the way they made love they might have mistaken it for hate.  Clashing bodies, warring mouths, neither willing to acknowledge superiority from the other.  America isn't experienced with being gentle; Russia doesn't seek to correct him.  It's always this way for them.  The satisfying thrill of conquering a rival for a night. After the passion passes they sleep in each other's arms.  In the morning, they'll part ways, enemies in view of the public.  No letters will be exchanged.  Only documents full of veiled threats.  Those are the rules of this game they've got going.  A play of pretend that might one day become a reality.  America knows that Russia will work to counter his every move, just enough that their game won't advance too far to the next level. There's a comfort in rivalry.  Their thoughts will always be focused on one another.  They will not work so hard for anyone else.  They'll give their all to remind the other nation that there's no chance of them ever backing down.  As far as long distance relationships go, it's one hell of a courtship. They exchange words of hate because that is what they know best.  They don't exchange words of love.  They don't need to.

For whatever reason, Gilbert woke in the morning and decided it was a great day for checking automobiles.  He announced this over a mug of coffee, across the table to where his lover was drinking tea.  Arthur's blank stare over the rim of his teacup indicated that he did not favor this idea in the slightest and -- with the subtle downward curl of his lips -- also lacked any interest in assisting the Prussian in that endeavor.  Whatever mighty need had sprung up in Gilbert to spend his time playing in motor oil and car-related fluids did not resonate with the Englishman.  He wished Gilbert good luck before excusing himself to his office. That didn't mean that Gilbert was left entirely unsupervised.  Arthur was prone to worry enough that he peeked his head into the garage now and then to check that the albino hadn't managed to lose limbs, fingers, or suffered any related injuries.  When he was sure that he had nothing else to do that would provide him a worthy excuse, Arthur finally came ambling out into the garage with a tray carrying two glasses of fresh lemonade.  (Well, mainly just water with lemon chunks in it.) (Okay.  They were just whole lemons shoved in water but the fact is he tried.) By this time, the hood was up on both of their automobiles.  None of it made any sense to Arthur.  He was a creature of nature; of air and earth and mystical, things that often twinkled for reasons unknown.  Gilbert was all steel and technology; a master of those modern concepts that boggled the Englishman's mind.  ("Did you know I can send pictures to my computer from my mobile phone?"  "Wow.  Congratulations, Art.  Figure that one out on your own?") Arthur moved near where Gilbert's slim body was bent, hovering curiously.  The Prussian's hands were working with ease.  Gilbert had worn one of his old T-shirts, the plain black worn from too many washings and a size too large.  His hands and forearms were marked up with grease, though his fingers didn't stumble as he operated the tool in his grip.  He turned his head to flash a toothy grin.  "Come to help me out?" "I'd just muck it up."  Arthur murmured with the confidence of a man who often mucked up simple tasks.  He couldn't help that his mind tended to wander when doing mundane tasks outside of cleaning, gardening or projects that were more in line with his interests.  "You seem to be getting along just fine on your own.  What exactly is it you're doing?" The Prussian shrugged.  "Just a tune-up.  I haven't checked over my baby recently.  And by the looks of things beneath the hood of your car, it hasn't seen a service shop in awhile.  Rather than spending the money getting someone else to search through it, I figured I'd do it on my own." Arthur nodded, his own body curling forward beneath the propped hood to peek in upon the motor.  "Is this something you have a knack for?  You Germans and your engineering finesse?" "Yes and no.  Mostly I picked up the car stuff from my Soviet days.  You can't imagine how often everyone's shit was breaking down then.  Learning how to fix motors seemed useful knowledge to have and I picked it up pretty quick."  Gilbert answered.  The fact that he spoke so casually of that time -- regularly an avoided subject -- proved just how invested the Prussian was in his current project. Arthur let it slip, instead just grunting acknowledgment.  He found even less interest in the car's motor when Gilbert stretched further inside, leaving the Englishman with a glimpse of skin beneath the hem of his shirt.  Green eyes grew fixated on that strip of white peeking out, framed by denim jeans and black.  Was it natural to describe someone's skin as 'tasty' without it sounding too creepy?  He licked his lips anyway. Somehow, this was all Gilbert's fault.  There he was, looking so tantalizing bent over a car, twisting a wrench(?) on a little doo-hickey(probably not the technical term), showing off that sinful skin like an advertisement for Arthur's libido to take a holiday all over it. Gilbert fortunately had no objections when his lover was suddenly inspired to sandwich him to the grill of the car with his body.  He might have laughed at how quickly Arthur's mind had lapsed on the issue of getting covered in car grease, if not for the teeth that were biting at his throat from behind with enough force that the Prussian decided being quiet would probably save him from a horrible back ache later. (Arthur commented afterwards that Gilbert was free to tune-up the cars whenever he pleased, so long as he warned him in advance to avoid ruining a shirt in the future.)

Lovino feels like his skin is one big itch needing scratched.  He’s been restless the last few days.  Feliciano has teased him for it since the moment that he first uttered a complaint.  “Ve, it’s only because your soulmate is close.  They probably feel as excited as you, Lovino!”Anyone that would make him feel like this, in his opinion, is a total bastard.  He doesn’t want to experience the discomfort.  Having to deal with the symptoms of it are such a hassle.  His heart keeps racing, his palms sweat, he can’t concentrate on anything without his feelings getting out of hand.  Lovino feels like how the advertisements for chick flicks are shown.  If a couple of birds showed up chirping in his ear then that would just make his fucking life complete.Waiting around in the house doesn’t help him any.  As much as the idea of going out in public looking like a lovesick fool makes him cringe, there’s absolutely nothing here to distract him except for Feliciano’s knowing smiles and occasional giggles.  Fratricide is still illegal, in so far as Lovino knows.  For the sake of his brother’s life and his freedom from incarceration, the Italian finally yanks on his jacket to go stomping out for some fresh air.The nighttime feels charged.  There’s electricity in the air, he thinks, for how his skin is tingling with it.  His heart is pounding so heavily that he thinks he might break a rib.  Lovino glowers up at the moon overhead, full in the sky.  When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s the worst possible fucking comparison ever.He finds himself walking on the fringes of the park.  There are lots of lovers here.  Lovino can tell by their body language.  Especially the young couple that currently have their tongues locked together.  How the hell were they breathing?  He looked away from them in disgust, giving them what privacy their public spectacle would allow.  “Tch.  Get a room, you whores.  Nobody wants to see that shit.”"It is pretty rude of them to be doing that out here.  They must be newly Found."  A voice beside him states quietly.Lovino is startled by it.  He whirls on the speaker.  “What the hell?!  Don’t sneak up on people!”"I’ve been walking beside you for a few blocks now."  Kind eyes are matched by a kind smile on the stranger’s face.  There isn’t anything overly remarkable about the guy except for the fact that Lovino has broken out into a sweat.He rubs his palms nervously against the fabric of his pants.  Shit.  Shit shit.  If he’d have known this was going to happen then he would have dressed better.  Made sure his hair was styled.  Brought along a breath mint.  Anything to make a better first impression.  Lovino wanted to run away yelling for a do-over.A hand is extended out to him.  “My name’s Matthew.  Matthew Williams.  I came all the way here from Canada to find you.  Sorry to have kept you waiting this long.”Lovino looks at that hand.  He may not be as touchy-feely as his brother but that doesn’t stop him from rejecting such a formal offer, stepping in close to take the taller man in an embrace instead.  Lovino’s hands press Matthew as tight as he can without hurting him.  His body trembles, all of that energy finally too much to keep it together.  “You should be sorry.  It feels like you took forever.”"I’m sorry again."  Matthew’s hands are gentle as they enfold the Italian.  He gathers Lovino against his chest to feel the confirmation of their hearts racing in perfect synch.  No other heart in this world will echo this same rhythm.  Not when their hearts are beating just for two.  "At least now there’s going to be a lifetime together for me to make it up to you."