YUCK LANA YUCK (ranachan) wrote,

because some of you guys don't have me on facebook. YEAH.

Character(s) or Pairing(s):
1) Spitaly
2) Itacest
3) Russia/China
5) Poland/Lithuania
6) Americanada
7) GerIta
9) Germancest
10) Canapan

1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like.
2. Turn your music player on and turn it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a random drabble/ficlet for each one.
4. Do ten of these, then post them.

1. Tango Maureen - RENT

He cheated.

Romano was in a blind rage as he fled the house, he swore he saw red as he heard Feliciano's weak, mortified squeal after him. He slammed doors, things fell, broke, shattered after him and at he had to do his best not to punch anyone to look at him wrong on the bus to Spain's house. Spain's house, where he'd be safe. He knew it was hypocritical and stupid to feel this way, lord knew Feliciano knew about his stupid affair with Antonio, but for some reason seeing his brother--HIS brother--under that disgusting bulky fucking German had made him nearly puke.

He tried to control his breathing but it didn't work and by the time he was at his guardian's house he was blubbering and screaming out gibberish. Still not good enough for anyone, especially Feliciano, he'd remember saying later, not good enough for you or for Arthur or for Matthew and "FUCK ANTONIO, I want to kill him! I want to kill him!" He'd sobbed over and over in those stronger arms and felt so small and finally he was quiet.

"Dance with me."

Toni had stared like he was crazy but finally obliged after ten minutes of laughter. "So predictable," he'd cooed in a tone that only pissed Romano off more, but he was a master at turning all of his anger into passion. How else could he have fucked the brains out of Feliciano after Spain just pissed him off?

The dance was quick and fast and Spain had no choice but to fall into the woman's role. His feet narrowly missed smashing all the Spaniard's toes but he did it on purpose, sort of wanted to hear that sharp yelp flooding from the other's lips. He reveled in the worry those green eyes set upon him, it gave him a sick satisfaction to feel in control, and it made him dizzy from pleasure whenever he caught fullon the deep exotic smell that intoxicated the room as their sweat made their scents so obvious.

At some point the dance was taken to bed. At some point it was all just thrusting and groaning and angry sobs of 'more, more, more Toni' but it was all a dance to Romano.

Feliciano paled in comparison to every dance Antonio did. Let him stumble over his feet with that potato bastard.

Never again. Never again would he leave this.

2. Gimme Gimme - Thoroughly Modern Millie ( oh jeez are you really on a broadway roll playlist... and sorry to write another romano point of view but i can't write feli OTL )

It wasn't fair.

The young boy sat pouting at his brother and guardian as the Spaniard cooed and pet the little redhead, but no matter how hard he was pouting neither of the two looked at him. So he whined. Still no response. That was weird...usually the only time Spain actually DID pay attention to him was when he was acting 'cute' and pouting. But not this time. What the hell was wrong with these two bastards?

He puzzled and he puzzled. Even at home later when he and his northern brother were allowed to stay together in the same bed again he still puzzled. Everyone loved his adorable, pretty little redhead brother. Hell, even he admitted the kid was cuter and better at... everything, whatever. But, he was good at stuff too, right?

Lovino paused and curled up more under the covers, staring at the smaller boy. "...Feli," he mumbled unhappily, and his cute brother stirred at the voice and hurriedly woke up (mostly), tired eyes staring in confusion at his sibling.

"Veee, vee, Lovi?"

"Have you ever kissed anyone?"

He felt some sort of jealousy rise when the redhead grinned goofily and nodded a little with a small 'mhm.'

Lovi never kissed anyone. He continued his questions until he'd gathered that his brother had done a hell of a lot more than him, kissed, hugged, gone on dates, even though he won with girls they were all the girls that lusted over the bad types like he was. Feliciano got cute little girls that were princesses from other countries. They were both only 12 and his brother was... the toast of the town.

He realized that he was incredibly jealous. Not only of his brother, but everyone who got to kiss him. How come he didn't get to kiss everyone? How come no one loved... him?

"Did you ever love anyone?" He finally asked in a snappish tone, and his little brother smiled.

"...Ve, only you."


3. Lying is the Most Fun... - Panic! at the Disco.

China did love Japan. Don't get him wrong, Japan was beloved and adoring, perfectly gentle, and all of those beautiful little shy smiles made him smile too. It was a comfort to be with someone who understood you, someone who you could visit often with no trouble, and someone who so frequently apologized for every wrongdoing they might have subjected you to.

But Japan wasn't... perfect.

And Japan didn't stop those awful thoughts about Russia from coming back.

It's just that they had been together for so long, he told himself as he laid down for bed each night. He and I were together for a long time, and he was pleasant and lovely to me for the most part. The only reason that he grew antsy at the mere thought of him was purely because he had some sort of victim's remorse, and that's the only reason. He didn't love him. He didn't need him. It was perfectly normal to start getting hot in horrible places when you pictured a past lover's face. Their lips. Their beautiful eyes that were so damned exotic and different.

That's why! Because he was different. China was old, he needed that spiciness to his life, but that was over. He didn't miss the strong hands or sensual teeth leaving dark marks, or the stinging pain that nearly made him squeal in pleasure whenever his hair was yanked. No, all of the gentle sex he got was fine. Everything was fine.

It was just lust. Lust and old stupid feelings. But that was long gone and this would be a one time thing. Wait, hadn't he said that about the fifth time? And the twelfth? The thirty-ninth? This would be the last time he touched himself in all of those places he was too shy to show Japan. All of those places that Russia had found and stroked and squeezed until China went insane. Begged. No, he'd never need to beg again, no matter how much he loved the purrs it illicited from Russia.

He wasn't a bad person. This wasn't any different. He bet Japan did this too. He was just lonely, after all, his current lover was on a business trip and he had this huge bed to himself. This huge bed that he and Russia had fucked in again and again and a--

"A-ah..!! Ivan!"

A familiar stickiness clung to his fingers and thighs and with a wince he realized he needed a shower for the fifth time today.

...Just missed him, that was all.

4. Losing it - Nevershoutnever

They stood, staring at each other, smiling, grinning, crying. Prussia thought his heart might explode from happiness. Everything had ended. The war was over. They hugged, clinging, shaking and sobbing, and Prussia briefly wondered if his knees might give out or if England's would first.

Tight fingers grabbed ahold of his hair and yanked him down and he smiled into the firm kiss, feeling something in him soaring higher. It had been a journey that he almost didn't want to end, but he was sure it'd continue. It had to. Because every kiss left him feeling dizzy and shaken and like he could conquer the world fifteen more times.

Every time their teeth clacked or their lips brushed he'd grin wider, and England would flush a bit redder, and he'd marvel at how far they'd come from when they were stumbling over their feet to find a secluded place to make out. How someone would giggle during it or make some other embarrassing noise and they'd have to stop, feeling awkward and embarrassed, but it'd be to good to stop for long. It was still like that.

They sat clutching each other's hands on the train home, grinning and laughing and joking about the war now that it was long gone. Both excited to see the little brothers they'd left waiting, tell them all of the good news. Prussia was eager to see Austria and laugh in his chubby little face. England snickered about gloating to France as well.

They'd parted ways with an innocent kiss and a promise to write each other soon, and Prussia had been first to do it.

He never got a letter back.

Years past.

The first letter he got was the notice of America and England's wedding in the mail. Not even written formally by England, a copy that was massproduced and sent to every country. It was actually written for West. Prussia just loved to go through his mail.

He stared blankly and remembered their first kiss under a tree scrabbling for solid ground because both of their breaths had been knocked out by the power of it.

And then he'd burned the letter.

5. Love Game - Lady Gaga ( hi i'm a fic that has nothing to do with the actual song )

Toris hated clubs.

But he did love Poland and Poland knew just how to make him give in. It had to be one of the most annoying things the blond could do, pout those glossed lips and bat those eyelashes and Toris could only sigh and ask what he wanted.

"Let's go out clubbing! We can dance!" Poland's smile was so bright and his skirt was so tight he probably couldn't have said no even if he wasn't his boyfriend. But seeing as they were in fact in a relationship it wasn't like he could get out of it anyway.

The longer he was here, though, the more he regretted it and wanted to just fuse into a wall. The flashing lights made his head hurt and more men had flirted with him, on accident only half the time, than he could count. And even more had walked blatantly up to Poland and asked the blond for sex. When Toris was standing next to him. With Poland's hand planted on his ass.

Lithuania didn't understand clubbing at all.

He could have died when the blond had used a big pout and a cute purring tone to seduce him onto the dance floor. He didn't mind the swaying hips guiding themselves closer to his body, or the fact Poland insisted he keep his hands practically under his skirt, or that he could feel his boyfriend's breath on his neck.

But the way people were staring at them like they were a piece of delicious meat... that he did mind.

Feeling mortified, he wrapped his arms instinctively tighter around the blond, who pouted at the fact he wasn't reciprocating and gave a teasing grind. Lithuania was not sedated. In fact, some guy just winked at him and he wanted to disappear.

"Liet!" The voice was sudden and almost frantic and he felt bad as he looked down to a pouting Poland. "Dance with me."

He could only get out stutters.

"I'll dance with you!" The voice was nearly as bubbly as Poland's and belonged to some gorgeous, voluptuous girl with so many glowsticks she was probably getting radiation poisoning. Toris just closed his eyes tightly and waited for the reassuring warmth of his boyfriend to leave.

It didn't.

"No thanks, I like, totally have a cute partner already can't you see?!" The blond cooed and set a hand on Lithuania's face. One eye peeked open. "Sorry~!"

Toris was flabbergasted, to be honest. He watched the girl pout and beg and continually be put down and by the time she left, Poland rolled his eyes and looked up happily. "Jeez, girls these days, right?"

How else could he reward his lovely boyfriend but to give in and bump and grind the evening away? And he supposed it was worth it when, after they left at around 3 AM, his boyfriend batted those blond lashes at him and purred in a tone to die for:

"I love you, Liet~ You like totally deserve a blowjob when we get home~"

6. A Thousand Miles - Vanessa Carlton

Canada sighed and sipped at his tea, watching the rain fall on the window pane. He was usually alone, but it always seemed like he only got lonely when it was raining. His little polar bear friend curled up under his bed to sleep, and since he never really got visitors, it just seemed... so empty in his house.

He was just standing to go get more honey for his tea when a knock came on the door. For a few moments, he thought he might be hearing things, and after he considered this his mind ran through whether or not tree branches could reach his door. Both seemed probable, but he figured he'd go check anyway. If a branch fell in his doorway, it could be a problem.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed as he passed a mirror. He was still in just a long white shirt, proudly displaying his flag, with no pants, seeing as since he had the house to himself he found no reason to get dressed up. His glasses were tossed carelessly somewhere and his hair was slightly mussed. He really hoped it was just the wind... he might feel embarrassed if someone important had come to visit.

"Christ, Matt, hurry up, I'm freezing!" The voice made him jump, then blush. Rushing to the door, he hurriedly yanked it open, gasping at the sight of his drenched, shivering, and grinning brother.

"A...Alfred, I'm sorry!" He ushered the other boy in hurriedly and began to fuss over wrapping tons of blankets around his brother's trembling form. The other boy only laughed and hugged the smaller one closer.

"Aren't you happy?!"

Happy? Canada frowned. "What? No, of course not, you could've caught a cold! Were you going home? You should have taken a plane or something, good thing you stopped by, you could've caught pneumonia, I-I hope you--" A soft kiss, too soft, cut him off.

His brother mumbled cheerfully against his lips. "I came to visit you! I walked all the way here."

He gasped softly as the kiss fully broke. "...H...huh?" He stared, dumbfounded, at the other boy.

"Yeah! I'm gonna visit a few days if that's okay. I walked so I'd get sick and you'd have to take care of me."

Canada found himself rapidly reddening, surprised and confusion all over his features. "Why?"

Another soft kiss. "Because I love you, duh."

With all luck, Alfred caught the flu, and stayed for two weeks.

By the end of the stay, Canada had caught his brother's sickness.

7. Stars and the Moon - Songs for a New World

Germany had gone over the lines again and again. To the mirror, to his brother, to his pillow at night. But nothing could have prepared him for this exact moment, staring Italy in his adorable, round, grinning little face, at the restaraunt over the biggest plate of pasta that the other boy had (hopefully) seen in his life.

And then he blanked.

His mind raced as he thought and thought for the words but he just sort of... blurted out gibberish and when Italy got a blank stare on his face and started to 've' he felt like a moron and just grabbed the idiot by the face and kissed him hard.

And then it all came back.

He mumbled about everything against those lips. All of the promises he'd planned, everything he could give, knowing that the boy had had lovers before and he probably wasn't anything compared to them. But he said it anyway, whispered it and grunted it, talked for two minutes until the other boy was squirming in his seat from embarrassment and confusion, and gripping that face too hard, he said it.

"Heiraten Sie mich."

( oh no cliffhanger )

8. Hard Day's Night - The Beatles

England worked. A lot. In fact, in this fucked up relationship, he was the one who brought home money to buy fast food for his husband's tastes. He was the one who worked 9 to 5 and came home beat and pissed. And he always found Alfred home far before, whining about meetings and Obama like he had a reason to whine.

Alfred was a fucking git.

But being a perfect (tsundere) housewife he gave an 'eat shit' grin and slammed his door in America's face. And yet, for all the love of the ungrateful brat, he still woke up the next morning and dragged himself to work, secretly indulging on a McDonalds sweet tea now and then on the way.

So he was quite surprised one morning when he woke up and found one waiting for him on the table. He looked around the house but the only sign of Alfred was a note that he went to an early meeting. At the bottom he'd even said 'have a good day.' Huh.

Not thinking much of it, he climbed into the car and turned it on. Pulling down the mirror, he stared at a heart written in lipstick on the mirror and stared some more. All right then. He turned on the radio and found it on some sappy love channel.

"What the bloody hell..." He shook his head and drove to work, frowning deeply.

At work he found a vase with roses on his desk, ordered from some fancy floral designer. He found an e-card in his AIM mailbox. Neither were signed, but he had a hunch of who it was from. When he left for lunch he found still-hot fish and chips sitting on top of his car. He shrugged all of it off and just enjoyed his lunch quietly in the parking lot, staring around blankly. No sign of a certain huge blue truck, at least.

That night when he returned home a caller that sounded an awful lot like a flustered and annoyed Canada came on the radio station and requested a song for his 'friend.' It was yet another shitty American country song about loving someone in the back of the truck. He flipped out his phone to call the Canadian and found fifteen messages in his voicebox with fifteen other songs of the same nature sloppily recorded over the phone.

As he tiptoed into America's room that night after the other boy fell asleep, he found a Women's World magazine opened to a page detailing how to make your woman feel special.

England grinned. What a cute git.

9. Come What May - Moulin Rouge ( usually i save this song for pruk but my playlist disagrees )

During WWII Germany had a lot of breakdowns. He was ashamed by them and Hitler, obviously, was too. He'd be slapped if he ever even began to doubt himself in front of his leader. Slapped with the intent to sting, to hurt, to feel humiliated and downgraded and not to do it again.

If he ever broke down in front of Prussia, he'd be slapped as well.

But with his brother it was for doubting himself and that was it. "Don't doubt yourself. Doubt that asshole." He'd be hit and punched with every word that might hurt his own self esteem, and his brother would only hit hard enough for the spot to ache maybe two minutes. No bruises. Each bruise he saw, he'd scoff and mumble something about getting that stupid freak of a nazi back. "No one's allowed to hurt my brother but me."

Germany would wonder why. Often he asked. The answer was always the same. He'd ask why his brother even bothered, if he continued to do the same thing, and if Hitler kept hitting. He'd ask why he thought his punches were any less severe than what Hitler did. Prussia would always look him straight in the eye and he'd be humbled by that deep red.

"Because, I'll always be here for you, to keep you in shape, and he's going to die. Hopefully by me. I'm your brother, West. Come what may, you big lug, and no matter how much you hate it I'm here to stay."

10. LDN - Lily Allen

Japan liked holding Canada's hand.

No matter where they were, it always made him feel like he was at home under the shade of a tree on a sunny, beautiful day. Because that's where he and Canada liked to spend their time together. Lounging around, usually having picnics, or kissing, or just talking.

But anywhere with Canada was beautiful, because Canada was beautiful.

Japan felt humbled by the other boy's presence, like he was seeing something no one else saw. He didn't understand why people ignored the pretty blond. So he held on tight and cherished the other boy more than his own life, because Canada needed to be cherished. And Canada needed to stay with him.

Stay with him here, holding his hand tight, the gray of London melting away under their intertwined fingers.

omg don't even read that last one my brain died and idk what happened i'll make a better canapan one at some point.

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