Tarnished in the Water
anonymous
August 12 2009, 03:52:05 UTC
They shouldn't have been on that island in the first place. If they had just waited for the storm to pass, they would be right where they were supposed to be; resting comfortably and dining well while listening to wonderful music. (That is where he was supposed to be, at least.)
But, some of his companions had been in an unnecessary rush and, against his better judgement, Austria had given in and gone with them, straight into a hurricane.
Moronic. How completely moronic of all of them.
Instead of being right where he should be, Austria found himself on a beach, covered in sand, sweating beneathe the angry sun (had it always been so warm?) and trying to ignore the dull throbs of hunger in the pit of his stomach. The others were sure that help would arrive soon, but Austria had convinced himself that they would all starve to death before then. Nobody knew they were missing, after all. They had no means of reaching home, and miles of saltwater surrounded them.
He licked his dry lips as someone walked past, and stared at his feet (where had his shoes gone?) Germany's voice pulled him from his dreary thoughts.
"There's lots of things to eat here, Roderich. We won't starve."
It was the fifth time Germany had said such things to him, and the fifteenth time he'd heard it.
"Ludwiiiig, Roderiiiich! There's a tidepool over here, and it's full of food!"
Sixteenth.
Austria sighed, and shielded his eyes from the blinding rays as Italy bounded over, arms loaded down with squirming animals. He unconsciously edged away from the young nation.
"Isn't this one pretty?" Italy asked, shifting onto his toes. The other two assumed he was referring to a brightly-coloured creature dangling from his left arm. It was spewing water and leaving little trails of liquid blackness that gathered at Italy's elbow. Austria felt ill. "I found it near--oh!" Austria let out a cry as the creature detatched itself from Italy's arm and went flip-flopping along the shore and down into the surf.
Italy made a sound of disappointment as Germany took some of what he was carrying. Germany sighed, and murmured for Italy to go back to camp; he would catch up. Italy walked off, head hung, and Germany turned back to Austria, who was shivering.
"Will you do me a favour?"
"No," Austria said quickly, staring off in muted horror.
"Please? I'd catch it myself, but..."
"You want me to go after that thing?!"
"Feliciano was really happy about finding it! He's listened to you for years, and you won't even fetch him a cuttlefish?"
"We shouldn't even be here! I won't touch those things, I won't eat them, I won't go running after them into the ocean," Austria said stubbornly, and sat down some feet to the right of where he had previously been.
Germany sighed heavily, muttered something along the lines of 'fine,' and moved off in the direction Italy had gone. --- Austria peered out into the water again, and sighed. Germany was right. Italy was more important than the fancy clothes he wore.
Tarnished in the Water (2/?)
anonymous
August 12 2009, 04:51:58 UTC
Uwah, sleepy. How is it so far? There is a lack of tentacling in the first chapter, but not this'n. :3 --- The water was cold. Too cold to be the middle of summer on a tropical island, but he endured. Cringing as the sand shifted between his toes and, as he got further out, around his ankles, Austria endured. Endured for his young companion, because he had been unfair, because Italy should be happy even when the others aren't, because he's Italy, and that's just how it out to be.
He reached out, feeling blindly in the water, and wondered if the task he had been assigned wasn't impossible. He didn't know how long he had been out there, with the sandy waves gradually rising up his thighs, his hips, his waist. His skin was stinging; he knew he'd be burned. Should he just give up? The sun was finally beginning to sink behind the trees. He would have to head back soon, or else be forced to stay out there all alone until dawn, or find his way back in the dark.
He turned round, suddenly frightened, and began to wade toward the island. He was only a few meters out when something slimy dragged across his ankle.
Austria might never fess up to having made the high-pitched noise he emitted as another cold, slimy SOMETHING made its way up his calf. Panicking, he kicked out, and fell backwards. He gasped, choking on the water that rushed into his face as his head crashed beneathe the waves. He struggled to his feet, and felt ten degrees colder as he realized he was being pulled out, away from the only solid ground for miles around, by something he couldn't see, couldn't possibly fight off.
And then a tentacle raised up out of the water, droplets spraying onto his face. He instinctively reached for his glasses, tried to clean them on his soaked shirt, placed them back on his face with smudged lenses.
Screamed.
Tentacles. Slippery, frigid tentacles climbing up his legs, wrapping about his torso, trapping him, holding him. Curling about his throat, not tight enough to hurt. Slipping into the openings in his clothing, chilling him to the bone.
"Wha--"
Moaned against his will as those cold, filthy tentacles brushed the sensitive skin of his pelvis, traveled upward to drench his chest in slime, pulled him deeper into the waters that were a stark contrast to how cold he felt.
"S-stop," he said to the creature, as though it understood. "N-no, don't touch--"
His legs were spread by several more tentacles and he made to scream, but found one of those horrible, slimey appendages pressed, gag-like, into his mouth. It made his stomach churn, and he bit down, but the monster seemed as though it hadn't noticed, because the tentacle in his mouth just pushed into his throat.
His raw, unprepared throat.
He coughed and coughed, tossing his head in an attempt to free himself, but the tentacles holding him only tightened. He gasped when the cold--it was all so cold--began to press against his rear, and started choking again. No, no, he begged silently, muscles tensing in vain.
Tarnished in the Water (3/3)
anonymous
August 12 2009, 05:38:16 UTC
Austria's head lolled back, tears shining at the corners of his tighly-shut eyes, as the first tentacle slipped inside of him. It didn't really hurt, but it shouldn't have been there. He shouldn't have been there.
He tried to swallow. It was painful with the tentacle down his throat, but at least he could breathe.
Another tentacle joined the first, and the tears fell from his cheeks to the surging waters below. How far out was he? He tried to turn his head, get a look at the island, but it was nowhere in sight. His heart sped. Maybe it was just his eyes. Tears and seawater aren't very good for visibility.
One of the tentacles wrapping his legs moved towards his front, and before he knew what was happening, it was holding him--there, of all places--in a vicegrip. He whined as the one in his mouth slipped wetly from between his swollen lips to tease his nipples. It was wrong, it was so wrong; he hated the way his body responded to the disgusting touches. A third tentacle pushed in next to the first two, and he knew he was bleeding.
He bit his lip as the tentacles pressed about; didn't know what they were searching for; only knew it was cold and painful and improper and sinful and--
"Mein Gott," he breathed, trying to still his rocking hips as electricity tore through him. The tentacles sped up, pushing in and out of him, touching that spot again and again, pumping him erratically and making him sob with need. "Mein Gott, bitte ...!"
It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to feel that, not from some sea creature that people commonly ate. He wasn't supposed to want to feel it; wasn't supposed to need it; wasn't supposed to be on that Godforsaken island in the first place.
But he was, oh he was... --- He woke up in the dark, hair full of sand, covered in blood and come and the tentacled beast's slime. He stood on shaky legs, tried to make himself presentable, failed, and wandered back into the campsite, totally crestfallen. His first time wasn't supposed to be with whatever had made him writhe so. He was supposed to bring back a pretty squid for Italy. He was supposed to live a good life and marry into a good family.
Seems nothing was going his way. --- Mein Gott - My God Bitte - Please
Hope you enjoyed it, OP-san.
I...I feel terrible. Can you every forgive me, Austria-san? *cries self to sleep*
Re: Tarnished in the Water (3/3)
anonymous
August 13 2009, 02:00:47 UTC
That was definitely not Italy's squid. Brb, lol'ing forever...
Oh Austria you poor music-loving-aristocrat. xDDDDDDDDDDDD
But gawd, being tentacle-raped by that creature out in the open sea would have given him a chill! ;A;
Austria: I'm never stepping one foot into that ocean, ever again! If you must have that squid, Germany can get it for you. Italy: Ve~? *turns to Germany* Germany: *sighs* Oh alright. *wades out into the ocean of unknown territory* Tentacle-creature: *awaits in the waters for the unsuspecting prey*
orz Writer!anon, your fill is just so wholly awesome that this anon had to include that silly snippet in... *dies*
Re: Tarnished in the Water (3/3)
anonymous
August 16 2009, 03:41:18 UTC
Ah, thanks. Authornon is very glad you liked it, and I enjoyed that clever little snippet. x3 *resists urge to write sequel while thinking on ways to get Austria's forgiveness*
Re: Tarnished in the Water (3/3)
anonymous
August 23 2009, 14:32:47 UTC
I laughed and whimpered reading this. Mostly laughed. I'm such a bad Austria fan ;_;
I enjoyed this more than I should. Thank you, author-anon!
And also, did I detect a liiiiittle Austria->Italy there? I'm such a sucker for Austria's secret fondness of Italy (in my headcanon anyway); you really made my day there!
reCaptcha: 1,000,000 applaud Wh-what an audience...
But, some of his companions had been in an unnecessary rush and, against his better judgement, Austria had given in and gone with them, straight into a hurricane.
Moronic. How completely moronic of all of them.
Instead of being right where he should be, Austria found himself on a beach, covered in sand, sweating beneathe the angry sun (had it always been so warm?) and trying to ignore the dull throbs of hunger in the pit of his stomach. The others were sure that help would arrive soon, but Austria had convinced himself that they would all starve to death before then. Nobody knew they were missing, after all. They had no means of reaching home, and miles of saltwater surrounded them.
He licked his dry lips as someone walked past, and stared at his feet (where had his shoes gone?) Germany's voice pulled him from his dreary thoughts.
"There's lots of things to eat here, Roderich. We won't starve."
It was the fifth time Germany had said such things to him, and the fifteenth time he'd heard it.
"Ludwiiiig, Roderiiiich! There's a tidepool over here, and it's full of food!"
Sixteenth.
Austria sighed, and shielded his eyes from the blinding rays as Italy bounded over, arms loaded down with squirming animals. He unconsciously edged away from the young nation.
"Isn't this one pretty?" Italy asked, shifting onto his toes. The other two assumed he was referring to a brightly-coloured creature dangling from his left arm. It was spewing water and leaving little trails of liquid blackness that gathered at Italy's elbow. Austria felt ill. "I found it near--oh!" Austria let out a cry as the creature detatched itself from Italy's arm and went flip-flopping along the shore and down into the surf.
Italy made a sound of disappointment as Germany took some of what he was carrying. Germany sighed, and murmured for Italy to go back to camp; he would catch up. Italy walked off, head hung, and Germany turned back to Austria, who was shivering.
"Will you do me a favour?"
"No," Austria said quickly, staring off in muted horror.
"Please? I'd catch it myself, but..."
"You want me to go after that thing?!"
"Feliciano was really happy about finding it! He's listened to you for years, and you won't even fetch him a cuttlefish?"
"We shouldn't even be here! I won't touch those things, I won't eat them, I won't go running after them into the ocean," Austria said stubbornly, and sat down some feet to the right of where he had previously been.
Germany sighed heavily, muttered something along the lines of 'fine,' and moved off in the direction Italy had gone.
---
Austria peered out into the water again, and sighed. Germany was right. Italy was more important than the fancy clothes he wore.
They were already ruined, anyway.
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---
The water was cold. Too cold to be the middle of summer on a tropical island, but he endured. Cringing as the sand shifted between his toes and, as he got further out, around his ankles, Austria endured. Endured for his young companion, because he had been unfair, because Italy should be happy even when the others aren't, because he's Italy, and that's just how it out to be.
He reached out, feeling blindly in the water, and wondered if the task he had been assigned wasn't impossible. He didn't know how long he had been out there, with the sandy waves gradually rising up his thighs, his hips, his waist. His skin was stinging; he knew he'd be burned. Should he just give up? The sun was finally beginning to sink behind the trees. He would have to head back soon, or else be forced to stay out there all alone until dawn, or find his way back in the dark.
He turned round, suddenly frightened, and began to wade toward the island. He was only a few meters out when something slimy dragged across his ankle.
Austria might never fess up to having made the high-pitched noise he emitted as another cold, slimy SOMETHING made its way up his calf. Panicking, he kicked out, and fell backwards. He gasped, choking on the water that rushed into his face as his head crashed beneathe the waves. He struggled to his feet, and felt ten degrees colder as he realized he was being pulled out, away from the only solid ground for miles around, by something he couldn't see, couldn't possibly fight off.
And then a tentacle raised up out of the water, droplets spraying onto his face. He instinctively reached for his glasses, tried to clean them on his soaked shirt, placed them back on his face with smudged lenses.
Screamed.
Tentacles. Slippery, frigid tentacles climbing up his legs, wrapping about his torso, trapping him, holding him. Curling about his throat, not tight enough to hurt. Slipping into the openings in his clothing, chilling him to the bone.
"Wha--"
Moaned against his will as those cold, filthy tentacles brushed the sensitive skin of his pelvis, traveled upward to drench his chest in slime, pulled him deeper into the waters that were a stark contrast to how cold he felt.
"S-stop," he said to the creature, as though it understood. "N-no, don't touch--"
His legs were spread by several more tentacles and he made to scream, but found one of those horrible, slimey appendages pressed, gag-like, into his mouth. It made his stomach churn, and he bit down, but the monster seemed as though it hadn't noticed, because the tentacle in his mouth just pushed into his throat.
His raw, unprepared throat.
He coughed and coughed, tossing his head in an attempt to free himself, but the tentacles holding him only tightened. He gasped when the cold--it was all so cold--began to press against his rear, and started choking again. No, no, he begged silently, muscles tensing in vain.
That was definitely not Italy's squid.
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He tried to swallow. It was painful with the tentacle down his throat, but at least he could breathe.
Another tentacle joined the first, and the tears fell from his cheeks to the surging waters below. How far out was he? He tried to turn his head, get a look at the island, but it was nowhere in sight. His heart sped. Maybe it was just his eyes. Tears and seawater aren't very good for visibility.
One of the tentacles wrapping his legs moved towards his front, and before he knew what was happening, it was holding him--there, of all places--in a vicegrip. He whined as the one in his mouth slipped wetly from between his swollen lips to tease his nipples. It was wrong, it was so wrong; he hated the way his body responded to the disgusting touches. A third tentacle pushed in next to the first two, and he knew he was bleeding.
He bit his lip as the tentacles pressed about; didn't know what they were searching for; only knew it was cold and painful and improper and sinful and--
"Mein Gott," he breathed, trying to still his rocking hips as electricity tore through him. The tentacles sped up, pushing in and out of him, touching that spot again and again, pumping him erratically and making him sob with need. "Mein Gott, bitte ...!"
It wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to feel that, not from some sea creature that people commonly ate. He wasn't supposed to want to feel it; wasn't supposed to need it; wasn't supposed to be on that Godforsaken island in the first place.
But he was, oh he was...
---
He woke up in the dark, hair full of sand, covered in blood and come and the tentacled beast's slime. He stood on shaky legs, tried to make himself presentable, failed, and wandered back into the campsite, totally crestfallen. His first time wasn't supposed to be with whatever had made him writhe so. He was supposed to bring back a pretty squid for Italy. He was supposed to live a good life and marry into a good family.
Seems nothing was going his way.
---
Mein Gott - My God
Bitte - Please
Hope you enjoyed it, OP-san.
I...I feel terrible. Can you every forgive me, Austria-san? *cries self to sleep*
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Brb, lol'ing forever...
Oh Austria you poor music-loving-aristocrat. xDDDDDDDDDDDD
But gawd, being tentacle-raped by that creature out in the open sea would have given him a chill! ;A;
Austria: I'm never stepping one foot into that ocean, ever again! If you must have that squid, Germany can get it for you.
Italy: Ve~? *turns to Germany*
Germany: *sighs* Oh alright. *wades out into the ocean of unknown territory*
Tentacle-creature: *awaits in the waters for the unsuspecting prey*
orz Writer!anon, your fill is just so wholly awesome that this anon had to include that silly snippet in... *dies*
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*resists urge to write sequel while thinking on ways to get Austria's forgiveness*
Captcha: grah doesn't
(doesn't what? deter??)
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Thank you so much author!anon!! I LOVED it!
recaptcha: codgers losers. No comment.
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*bows deeply* I'm so glad!
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I enjoyed this more than I should. Thank you, author-anon!
And also, did I detect a liiiiittle Austria->Italy there? I'm such a sucker for Austria's secret fondness of Italy (in my headcanon anyway); you really made my day there!
reCaptcha: 1,000,000 applaud Wh-what an audience...
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And, eheh...You got that? x'D I couldn't resist. Austria obviously cares a lot for Italy, he's just too Austria-y to admit it openly.
*nods*
Thanks!
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