ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I wake up.
That's it. One moment there is nothing, and then the next I'm awake. That's it.
There's a dull throbbing in my head. No, not dull. The longer I remain in existence the more prominent it becomes. I feel my eyes clenching shut against the ache.
My eyes. I don't want to, but I open them.
In an instant my senses are flooded with images. The pounding in my skull quickens, and I shut my eyes immediately against the pain. Ah. The darkness is nice and minimal, and for a few minutes I rest.
But then I'm curious. I take a cautious sniff to the air. Alcohol, I decide. The medical kind.
How do I know that?
Ever so slowly this time I pry my eyes open once more. They take a moment to focus (I have the feeling they haven't been open for a while) but when they do I find that I have a pretty clear view of the room I'm in. It's very...white. I appear to be lying down in a...a bed. Its called a bed. There are patches of black and grey, like on the TV in the corner (that stands for television, I remind myself) and this...some sort of machine that appears to be attached to me. But for the most part the room is a harsh bleached color.
It's a sort of hospital, I decide. A hospital.
For the first time I notice my sense of hearing, and I focus my attention on my ears. There's a soft beeping coming from the machine next to me. The roof is vibrating with what must be the air-conditioning. And from a door I hadn't noticed before, there is hushed whispering.
So there are other people in this world.
I lean forward and catch "…gotta just let me see him." The voice is loud and sort of obnoxious. For some reason it strikes a chord in my mind. There's something about the voice that's familiar…but at the same time it means nothing to me.
"I'm sorry, but you really shouldn't. This time is crucial for his recovery, and I don't want you…upsetting it. Besides, you've been in twice already today…"
This voice is fainter, more nervous sounding.
"He'll recover faster if I help him, I swear, I know him better than anyone." The louder voice. Are they talking about me? Does this stranger know me?
There is a slight a creak and the sound of air being misplaced and the door opens, revealing two men. The smaller one, a thin, petite man, is in scrubs, so I assume him to be a doctor or nurse or some person along those lines.
The other has his back to me. He's taller, and thicker, and his canary-colored hair sticks straight up from his forehead and is really defying gravity. He's the one who opened the door and now he's turning towards me, assuring the doctor "If anyone can make him better, I - " He turns towards me.
Our eyes meet.
Deep, shining cobalt that makes me feel like I've been electrified.
Yes, I've known those eyes. But how?
But before I can examine him any further, his entire face lights up in pure ecstasy and at the same time he looks like he's about to cry.
And he leaps at me.
"Lukas! Oh my God Lukas, I was so worried, you have no idea how worried I was, oh my God, you're okay now, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay. God Lukas, God, I missed you so much, I was so worried…" He says it all with his arms thrown around me, head practically buried in my shoulder and half sobbing at me.
I don't know who he is and right now his closeness is making me really agitated, so as best as I can from my position on the bed I shove him off of me.
I'm not quite strong enough, but he gets what I mean and pulls away. He looks surprised and a little hurt.
By now the doctor's registered the fact that I'm awake and is rushing towards me, looking flustered. "You're aggravating the situation, you really need to leave," he huffs to my blonde assailant, who's still sitting on my bed with a slightly dumbstruck expression. "You don't want him in here, do you?"
He's looking at me as he says it. I glance again at the man in my bed. There's something about him that I can't place…While I'd love to contemplate just what his connection is to me, he's irritating me. So I turned my head slowly once to the left, once to the right, the universal gesture of negation.
Now the blonde looks shocked, like I've just smacked him. Please just leave, I think.
We hold each other's gazes for a few more moments - his hurt and mine expressionless - and then he slowly stands and walks out. The door is shut with a bit more force than necessary.
"Now then," the doctor says, "do you feel okay, Lukas?"
Lukas.
Is that me? The name seems to hold something, but at the same time it's meaningless. I mull it over in my head until it just sounds like mush to me.
He takes my silence the wrong way. "Can you speak?"
I look at him for a few moments. Can I? "Yes," I finally decide, and I'm surprised at the sound of my voice. It's a bit scratchy from disuse, but it has a rounded softness to it. I like it.
"Do you know who that man was?"
By that man he must mean the blonde. Do I?
"No," I tell him, a little uncertainly. If I know the man, I'm not aware of it.
He pales visibly. "I see. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"
Myself? I reach into the depths of my brain, where that information should be, but all I find is a blank slate. That's unsettling. Who am I?
"I can't."
That's it. One moment there is nothing, and then the next I'm awake. That's it.
There's a dull throbbing in my head. No, not dull. The longer I remain in existence the more prominent it becomes. I feel my eyes clenching shut against the ache.
My eyes. I don't want to, but I open them.
In an instant my senses are flooded with images. The pounding in my skull quickens, and I shut my eyes immediately against the pain. Ah. The darkness is nice and minimal, and for a few minutes I rest.
But then I'm curious. I take a cautious sniff to the air. Alcohol, I decide. The medical kind.
How do I know that?
Ever so slowly this time I pry my eyes open once more. They take a moment to focus (I have the feeling they haven't been open for a while) but when they do I find that I have a pretty clear view of the room I'm in. It's very...white. I appear to be lying down in a...a bed. Its called a bed. There are patches of black and grey, like on the TV in the corner (that stands for television, I remind myself) and this...some sort of machine that appears to be attached to me. But for the most part the room is a harsh bleached color.
It's a sort of hospital, I decide. A hospital.
For the first time I notice my sense of hearing, and I focus my attention on my ears. There's a soft beeping coming from the machine next to me. The roof is vibrating with what must be the air-conditioning. And from a door I hadn't noticed before, there is hushed whispering.
So there are other people in this world.
I lean forward and catch "…gotta just let me see him." The voice is loud and sort of obnoxious. For some reason it strikes a chord in my mind. There's something about the voice that's familiar…but at the same time it means nothing to me.
"I'm sorry, but you really shouldn't. This time is crucial for his recovery, and I don't want you…upsetting it. Besides, you've been in twice already today…"
This voice is fainter, more nervous sounding.
"He'll recover faster if I help him, I swear, I know him better than anyone." The louder voice. Are they talking about me? Does this stranger know me?
There is a slight a creak and the sound of air being misplaced and the door opens, revealing two men. The smaller one, a thin, petite man, is in scrubs, so I assume him to be a doctor or nurse or some person along those lines.
The other has his back to me. He's taller, and thicker, and his canary-colored hair sticks straight up from his forehead and is really defying gravity. He's the one who opened the door and now he's turning towards me, assuring the doctor "If anyone can make him better, I - " He turns towards me.
Our eyes meet.
Deep, shining cobalt that makes me feel like I've been electrified.
Yes, I've known those eyes. But how?
But before I can examine him any further, his entire face lights up in pure ecstasy and at the same time he looks like he's about to cry.
And he leaps at me.
"Lukas! Oh my God Lukas, I was so worried, you have no idea how worried I was, oh my God, you're okay now, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay. God Lukas, God, I missed you so much, I was so worried…" He says it all with his arms thrown around me, head practically buried in my shoulder and half sobbing at me.
I don't know who he is and right now his closeness is making me really agitated, so as best as I can from my position on the bed I shove him off of me.
I'm not quite strong enough, but he gets what I mean and pulls away. He looks surprised and a little hurt.
By now the doctor's registered the fact that I'm awake and is rushing towards me, looking flustered. "You're aggravating the situation, you really need to leave," he huffs to my blonde assailant, who's still sitting on my bed with a slightly dumbstruck expression. "You don't want him in here, do you?"
He's looking at me as he says it. I glance again at the man in my bed. There's something about him that I can't place…While I'd love to contemplate just what his connection is to me, he's irritating me. So I turned my head slowly once to the left, once to the right, the universal gesture of negation.
Now the blonde looks shocked, like I've just smacked him. Please just leave, I think.
We hold each other's gazes for a few more moments - his hurt and mine expressionless - and then he slowly stands and walks out. The door is shut with a bit more force than necessary.
"Now then," the doctor says, "do you feel okay, Lukas?"
Lukas.
Is that me? The name seems to hold something, but at the same time it's meaningless. I mull it over in my head until it just sounds like mush to me.
He takes my silence the wrong way. "Can you speak?"
I look at him for a few moments. Can I? "Yes," I finally decide, and I'm surprised at the sound of my voice. It's a bit scratchy from disuse, but it has a rounded softness to it. I like it.
"Do you know who that man was?"
By that man he must mean the blonde. Do I?
"No," I tell him, a little uncertainly. If I know the man, I'm not aware of it.
He pales visibly. "I see. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"
Myself? I reach into the depths of my brain, where that information should be, but all I find is a blank slate. That's unsettling. Who am I?
"I can't."
Literature
Lonely: IcelandxReader
Lonely.
It's a word that Emil has known for all his life.
He lives it everyday.
Sure, he was part of the five fabulous Nordics. But he was the isolated islander, the extra. The one that was always left out. The other Nordics had each otherBerwald and Tino were always a pair, and even his brother, Lukas, routinely abandoned him for Matthias.
All he got was the talking puffin.
Therefore, it was in complete understanding that he wasn't looking forward to meeting ______________, a new Nordic micro-nation. After all, it was inevitable that she'd discard him like his fellow Nordics did.
"C'mon, Emil!!" came a voice from outside his fron
Literature
Hate: SuFin Oneshot
Berwald hates me.
Why else would he glower at me peevishly every time we make eye contact?
Why else would he only reply in grunts and unintelligible mumbles whenever I talk to him?
But sometimes, Berwald will show sporadic acts of kindness, and those capricious deeds will have me wishing with every fiber of my being that I could tell him, right then and there, that
I love him.
I recall the night we ran away from Matthias together, and how he had covered me with his blanket until he was sure that I was warm.
I flashback to the day where he had arbitrarily called me his 'wife,' even though I'm sure that he had only been joking. I had
Literature
Isolated: Snapped!Iceland Oneshot
In my house, there is a large, framed picture of the five of us.
Actually, there are many photos of us five. Six, if you want to count that half-sized little twit.
Even in photos, it's noticeable.
Maybe that's what instigated my decision. The pictures. I don't know. To borrow an overused phrase, I don't know anything anymore.
I think it was just too much. This feeling just built up and accumulated over time.
Take, for example, last week.
"Berwald. Tino. Hi," I had greeted, stepping into their house.
"Peter!! Don't- no, STOP!" yelped Tino, rushing past me to tend to his 'son.'
"Busy, huh, Berwald?" I remarked, but that
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
© 2012 - 2024 ninjabunny1
Comments47
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
*uncontrolable gross sobbing over my otp*