Family Ties [Part 69]
Aug. 6th, 2010 12:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellzabethTitle: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): Portugal, Afghanistan, Turkey, Greece, Ireland, England, Latvia and Wales.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Terrorist kitties and therefore sensitive issues. Please be sensible, guys.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Mosques held mixed feelings for Portugal. On the one hand, they were a part of his childhood, and they were very beautiful, with their intricate carvings and smooth walls and high archways, calligraphy decorating the walls in varying colours, each praising the one true god. On the other hand, he hadn't much liked his childhood.
He, Greece and Turkey shuffled out of their sandals, waiting around outside the prayer hall. Greece picked at a loose thread on a rolled up prayer mat, until Turkey smacked at his hand and growled something about disrespect. A half-whispered argument was only deterred from escalating by Afghanistan, who poked her head out from around the corner of the entrance to the women's section of the mosque and beckoned them forward. The other two were busy glaring at each other, so it was Portugal who ended up leaning down to talk to her.
"She's not in anywhere I can find her, but when I was on the balcony I saw the door to the minaret was half open." The imam walked past, and she pulled her hijab on tighter and averted her eyes respectfully. "It's too heavy for me to pull, though."
"I've got it, let me through." Turkey insisted, walking past them all and out to the minaret door, squinting up at the tall white tower as the sun reflected off it. The heavy wooden door did take quite a bit of heaving to get in to, the hinges getting a bit stiff with age. Afghanistan darted up the winding staircase inside, the others following behind her.
"And into the giant phallic symbol we go." commented Greece dryly. Turkey smacked him upside the head.
"Some respect, brat."
"How about you go burn in hell?"
Portugal pondered if throwing himself off the top of the tower would spare him this or just make it intensify as they argued over who made him do it. They weren't even at the top yet, though Afghanistan had climbed the stairs at a run and was long out of sight-
"Scat, scat! Sssss!!" they heard her yell, oddly angry. "Go away, I told you to go away!"
"The fuck?" Turkey muttered, before a realisation hit him. "Shit!" he nearly bowled Portugal over as he rushed up the rest of the stairs to the top. Exchanging glances, the other two ran after him.
The sun was bright when they reached the top, the round balcony surrounding the top of the tower. The tower had a PA system for the imam to call over now, but they dodged the wires and went to where the sound of hissing was coming from.
A scraggly cat, larger than average though looking extremely thin despite this, was hissing and spitting at Afghanistan, who was whipping at it with her hijab, spouting words that were very unlike her and hissing to try and make it go away.
"You're nothing but trouble, go on, scat!"
The cat yowled and scratched at her, hair standing up and looking feral and nasty. From the way it was frothing at the mouth, it was infected with something unpleasant. Cats like that, would bite and scratch at humans and leave real damage, infected cuts. It was odd for a timid girl like Afghanistan to go near it.
Turkey moved the smaller Nation behind him, and gave the cat a hard kick. It flew off the tower with a screeching yowl. Turkey stared at his foot, shaking it out.
"Great, and now I probably have fleas. Better appreciate that, Afghanistan." he said gruffly. Portugal blinked, confused by the whole fiasco.
"What was that all about?" he asked. Afghanistan was inspecting her tattered scarf with a sense of mourning.
"Taliban." she murmured, pouting slightly. Both European Nations' eyebrows raised in alarm.
"As in the Taliban?" Greece clarified, now looking over the edge of the tower. "Then that didn't kill it?"
"Wish it did. Probably not." Turkey inspected a scratch on his toe and swore. "Means that al-Qaida around somewhere. They're not as dangerous as they were, but they pop up now and again."
Afghanistan circled around the top of the tower, coming back round behind Portugal looking dejected. "Nothing, but there's a blood stain, which must have attracted the cat. She's been here, but she's not any more." she sounded like she might cry by the end of her sentence, and Portugal patted her on the back comfortingly.
Greece sighed and stared up at the sky, pausing when he saw something odd. "Hey. Look at that."
The others glanced up at where he pointed, and saw the corner of a piece of paper flapping about in the wind, sticking out of a crack in the plaster. Turkey, as the tallest, reached up and pulled it out, dusting off the dirt. He passed it to Afghanistan, who read from the Arabic there, eyes growing wider and wider.
"We want out, but Pakistan is not with us any more. Take it up with Russia, we'll have nothing more to do with it." she translated, voice so quiet it was nearly snatched away by the wind. "You can thank your India that we can't help save her. Good luck, Adeeva. Signed... Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Palestine, Syria and Jordan."
A silence settled amongst the four, Afghanistan's lip trembling as she crumpled the paper in her hands. With a little sob, she turned on her heel and left down the stairs. Turkey growled something unpleasant and went after her. This left Greece and Portugal standing on the tower, watching as the clouds covered the setting of the sun, turning the sky dark red.
"To Russia, then." Greece sighed, finally leaving down the stairs. Portugal watched a little black dot dart down the street on four legs, meeting with another, brownish dot and slinking into a back alley.
"To Russia."
----
England wasn't the type of person to miss his family's company immensely. Or at least, that's what he told himself when he spotted Ireland waving a map at some poor hapless soldier, arguing with him loudly as he tried to respond in broken English.
"Sister mine, do have mercy on the poor lad." he called over her noise. She paused, frowned instinctively, then glanced over at him.
"Well well, look what the gnomes dragged in." she snarked, and the solider saw his chance and escaped. "Don't suppose you've come to be of any help, have you?" Long strands of red hair were falling out of her ponytail, signs that she was stressing out. Hence the yelling.
"Actually I just liberated Scotland, so we just need to find the bastard and we can get out of this mess in tact." he replied in equal tones, reveling in the surprise on her face.
"You did?" She turned her head. "Raivis!"
The teenage blonde Nation practically fell out of his tent, scrambling over to see her. "Y-yes, Aine?"
"Did you know about Jim not being under Ivan's control?" Arthur felt sorry for the boy, being interrogated like that.
"Well, um, he's n-not been showing up on the m-mental network recently, but there's been i-i-interference for a while and-"
"Son of a bitch, why am I so behind?!" throwing her hands up, she brought them down to jab a finger in her brother's direction. "You! Update me and then I can incorporate your men into battle plans!"
England paused, took in his sister's appearance, and reached into his backpack, rummaging for a little until a clinking sound was heard. He pulled out a bottle of Magner's cider.
"I thought it'd be like this."
Ireland snatched the bottle from him and cradled it like a child. "Oh Artie, I knew you weren't a completely heartless bastard under it all. Just a mostly heartless bastard." Then she ripped the cap off with her teeth, and started chugging. Wales, having happened upon the scene just then, leaned over to England and whispered.
"Now what are you going to use to bribe her to let you go at the front of the battle?"
"I have six more bottles."
Notes:
- Mosques are separated into two areas for males and females, same way most synagogues are, though for the Muslim faith I suppose it's partially due to the position one takes for prayer... I can imaging it being a little distracting...
- The minaret is the really tall tower on the mosque. In the old days (and in some less developed countries) it's where the imam (like the vicar) called everyone to prayer from. Now-days some mosques use loudspeakers, particularly in built up areas where it'd be impossible to hear over traffic. The "phallic symbol" thing is a joke from my RS class.
- Taliban-cat is another idea shamelessly ganked from the Afghanis-tan comics. In the comics, whenever Afghanis-tan leaves her house to go shopping, she'll come back to find the cats have ruined all her furniture and gone around biting and scratching and savaging people.
- All hail Magner's cider. I fucking love that stuff.
Part 70
Characters (in this chapter): Portugal, Afghanistan, Turkey, Greece, Ireland, England, Latvia and Wales.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Terrorist kitties and therefore sensitive issues. Please be sensible, guys.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Mosques held mixed feelings for Portugal. On the one hand, they were a part of his childhood, and they were very beautiful, with their intricate carvings and smooth walls and high archways, calligraphy decorating the walls in varying colours, each praising the one true god. On the other hand, he hadn't much liked his childhood.
He, Greece and Turkey shuffled out of their sandals, waiting around outside the prayer hall. Greece picked at a loose thread on a rolled up prayer mat, until Turkey smacked at his hand and growled something about disrespect. A half-whispered argument was only deterred from escalating by Afghanistan, who poked her head out from around the corner of the entrance to the women's section of the mosque and beckoned them forward. The other two were busy glaring at each other, so it was Portugal who ended up leaning down to talk to her.
"She's not in anywhere I can find her, but when I was on the balcony I saw the door to the minaret was half open." The imam walked past, and she pulled her hijab on tighter and averted her eyes respectfully. "It's too heavy for me to pull, though."
"I've got it, let me through." Turkey insisted, walking past them all and out to the minaret door, squinting up at the tall white tower as the sun reflected off it. The heavy wooden door did take quite a bit of heaving to get in to, the hinges getting a bit stiff with age. Afghanistan darted up the winding staircase inside, the others following behind her.
"And into the giant phallic symbol we go." commented Greece dryly. Turkey smacked him upside the head.
"Some respect, brat."
"How about you go burn in hell?"
Portugal pondered if throwing himself off the top of the tower would spare him this or just make it intensify as they argued over who made him do it. They weren't even at the top yet, though Afghanistan had climbed the stairs at a run and was long out of sight-
"Scat, scat! Sssss!!" they heard her yell, oddly angry. "Go away, I told you to go away!"
"The fuck?" Turkey muttered, before a realisation hit him. "Shit!" he nearly bowled Portugal over as he rushed up the rest of the stairs to the top. Exchanging glances, the other two ran after him.
The sun was bright when they reached the top, the round balcony surrounding the top of the tower. The tower had a PA system for the imam to call over now, but they dodged the wires and went to where the sound of hissing was coming from.
A scraggly cat, larger than average though looking extremely thin despite this, was hissing and spitting at Afghanistan, who was whipping at it with her hijab, spouting words that were very unlike her and hissing to try and make it go away.
"You're nothing but trouble, go on, scat!"
The cat yowled and scratched at her, hair standing up and looking feral and nasty. From the way it was frothing at the mouth, it was infected with something unpleasant. Cats like that, would bite and scratch at humans and leave real damage, infected cuts. It was odd for a timid girl like Afghanistan to go near it.
Turkey moved the smaller Nation behind him, and gave the cat a hard kick. It flew off the tower with a screeching yowl. Turkey stared at his foot, shaking it out.
"Great, and now I probably have fleas. Better appreciate that, Afghanistan." he said gruffly. Portugal blinked, confused by the whole fiasco.
"What was that all about?" he asked. Afghanistan was inspecting her tattered scarf with a sense of mourning.
"Taliban." she murmured, pouting slightly. Both European Nations' eyebrows raised in alarm.
"As in the Taliban?" Greece clarified, now looking over the edge of the tower. "Then that didn't kill it?"
"Wish it did. Probably not." Turkey inspected a scratch on his toe and swore. "Means that al-Qaida around somewhere. They're not as dangerous as they were, but they pop up now and again."
Afghanistan circled around the top of the tower, coming back round behind Portugal looking dejected. "Nothing, but there's a blood stain, which must have attracted the cat. She's been here, but she's not any more." she sounded like she might cry by the end of her sentence, and Portugal patted her on the back comfortingly.
Greece sighed and stared up at the sky, pausing when he saw something odd. "Hey. Look at that."
The others glanced up at where he pointed, and saw the corner of a piece of paper flapping about in the wind, sticking out of a crack in the plaster. Turkey, as the tallest, reached up and pulled it out, dusting off the dirt. He passed it to Afghanistan, who read from the Arabic there, eyes growing wider and wider.
"We want out, but Pakistan is not with us any more. Take it up with Russia, we'll have nothing more to do with it." she translated, voice so quiet it was nearly snatched away by the wind. "You can thank your India that we can't help save her. Good luck, Adeeva. Signed... Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Palestine, Syria and Jordan."
A silence settled amongst the four, Afghanistan's lip trembling as she crumpled the paper in her hands. With a little sob, she turned on her heel and left down the stairs. Turkey growled something unpleasant and went after her. This left Greece and Portugal standing on the tower, watching as the clouds covered the setting of the sun, turning the sky dark red.
"To Russia, then." Greece sighed, finally leaving down the stairs. Portugal watched a little black dot dart down the street on four legs, meeting with another, brownish dot and slinking into a back alley.
"To Russia."
----
England wasn't the type of person to miss his family's company immensely. Or at least, that's what he told himself when he spotted Ireland waving a map at some poor hapless soldier, arguing with him loudly as he tried to respond in broken English.
"Sister mine, do have mercy on the poor lad." he called over her noise. She paused, frowned instinctively, then glanced over at him.
"Well well, look what the gnomes dragged in." she snarked, and the solider saw his chance and escaped. "Don't suppose you've come to be of any help, have you?" Long strands of red hair were falling out of her ponytail, signs that she was stressing out. Hence the yelling.
"Actually I just liberated Scotland, so we just need to find the bastard and we can get out of this mess in tact." he replied in equal tones, reveling in the surprise on her face.
"You did?" She turned her head. "Raivis!"
The teenage blonde Nation practically fell out of his tent, scrambling over to see her. "Y-yes, Aine?"
"Did you know about Jim not being under Ivan's control?" Arthur felt sorry for the boy, being interrogated like that.
"Well, um, he's n-not been showing up on the m-mental network recently, but there's been i-i-interference for a while and-"
"Son of a bitch, why am I so behind?!" throwing her hands up, she brought them down to jab a finger in her brother's direction. "You! Update me and then I can incorporate your men into battle plans!"
England paused, took in his sister's appearance, and reached into his backpack, rummaging for a little until a clinking sound was heard. He pulled out a bottle of Magner's cider.
"I thought it'd be like this."
Ireland snatched the bottle from him and cradled it like a child. "Oh Artie, I knew you weren't a completely heartless bastard under it all. Just a mostly heartless bastard." Then she ripped the cap off with her teeth, and started chugging. Wales, having happened upon the scene just then, leaned over to England and whispered.
"Now what are you going to use to bribe her to let you go at the front of the battle?"
"I have six more bottles."
Notes:
- Mosques are separated into two areas for males and females, same way most synagogues are, though for the Muslim faith I suppose it's partially due to the position one takes for prayer... I can imaging it being a little distracting...
- The minaret is the really tall tower on the mosque. In the old days (and in some less developed countries) it's where the imam (like the vicar) called everyone to prayer from. Now-days some mosques use loudspeakers, particularly in built up areas where it'd be impossible to hear over traffic. The "phallic symbol" thing is a joke from my RS class.
- Taliban-cat is another idea shamelessly ganked from the Afghanis-tan comics. In the comics, whenever Afghanis-tan leaves her house to go shopping, she'll come back to find the cats have ruined all her furniture and gone around biting and scratching and savaging people.
- All hail Magner's cider. I fucking love that stuff.
Part 70
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-06 05:16 am (UTC)Oh Port, you and your childhood. ;3; Beautiful as the architecture was it probably wasn't enough to make up for all the suffering and bad-touching huh? orz
I swear right after the kink-fic I'll need to draw Turkey, Greece, Afganistan and him, because their Middle-Eastern adventures are just amazing okay. A headache, but amazing. XD But oh god feral Taliban cat oh god. I am both horrified and beyond amused, especially considering it got booted off a tower ;sldfk orz. Turkey I leave this in your hands. /o/;;; I don't know why I find the four of them so epic...probably all the lulz I imagined happening on this journey. |D
Ireland is such a strong woman. Now I can't help but see poor little Raivis developing a sort of terrified crush on her, she's such a force of nature. XDDD Family tiems are just lovely, aren't they England? Though I'm not sure how I feel about all of them heading to the front orz. Either way there's potential for epic kick-assery or everything going up in smoke. \o\;;;
I keep reaching for a touchpad that isn't there s;ldfk these uni computers orz. And I should also apologize for disappearing the other night because my internet connection is shit and kink is too much for it to handre. B|no subject
Date: 2010-08-06 10:33 am (UTC)Poor Port's having all sorts of flashbacks on this trip, it's great. Not great for him, per se, but it's fun to write. XD
\o/ that would be awesome. This unlikely team are so lulzy that I've already drawn a couple of doodles myself. Middle Eastern Adventures sounds like a mini comic in and of itself. XD I was wondering about how Taliban Cat would be recieved, since even in the original Afghanis-tan comics it sparked uproar because 9/11 was portrayed by the cat savaging Ameriken. Apparently it wasn't good enough... though it was written not long after the event, only a few years, so maybe feelings were more sore.
Poor Raivis. Actually, poor Ireland, thinking about the fact Latvia has some yandere tendencies brought on by being around Russia too long. Though I'm sure she could handle it.
Lol it's cool I figured you were busy writing and by that point I was compiling all my fics into a masterlist which I still haven't finished my god why do I write this much.
Also can't wait for kink fic.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-07 01:43 am (UTC)He should take a few pictures. Though it must be great fun for Turkey, having both Port and Greece in permanent B| face mode. I-It's always fun to write him suffering orz.
/o/ An unlikely team of HEROES. Winning the war through lulz. Honestly when the war is over and Port goes to write his memoirs about them, by the time he gets to the Middle Eastern theater you would think he was writing comedy orz;;; I think feelings will always be somewhat sore on that topic fff but in all honesty I thought the play on words was pretty clever. Even though I was loling because that cat was wearing a hat and had a scary face aaaah.
Latvia makes a good sidekick at any rate. I'm sure Ireland's already dragged him off to all sorts of places.
You have so much dedication I don't even, how do you churn out fic like that it's impossible for me bawww ;3;
I had to pause and research lmao. But the kink fic is going awesomeeeee. <3
no subject
Date: 2010-08-07 05:27 am (UTC)They need a theme song. Middle Eastern politics seems like a comedy at times anyway, with feelings being hurt by all sorts of things. The people of the middle East are very passionate. ;; I think the cat was called Talibnyan in the comics, but since I made Afghanis-tan to Afghanistan I thought I'd change the cat's name too.
... why is the first thought: "TO THE PUB! 8D" "B-but I'm not legal!"
It really helps when you don't have a life orz besides more often than not what I write can be total crap, you write quality not quantity.
Google is god. I forget so many of my facts I can't even fffff. Also research for a porn fic? Only in Hetalia. XD