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lorilu · 3 years

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I wrote something so I am sharing it because I can

They say life is hard, especially when you are immortal, but I used to have a more positive view of the curse I was born with. People would look at me in both fear and admiration when the truth was discovered and that’s why I started avoiding the subject. No, it’s not easy, but what else are you supposed to do when the entire world is both terrified and jealous of you?

It doesn’t matter, because in the end it will be the same. One can’t avoid the questions once everyone sees you look the same after years and years of knowing them, and no matter how much you make up, they are bound to know who you really are. And so you run away before time decides to play against you, you start a new life, forget the people you know, become a new person, only to repeat that cycle again later. It isn’t too exciting any more.

I remember like it was yesterday, even when it must have happened hundreds of years ago, this one time when the smallest chance of something happening happened.

I met someone like me, a woman so tied to death she couldn’t die, ironically. A goddess of the afterlife.

Do not ask me how I became aware of this knowledge, as that would compromise her and I do not wish to harm her in any way, not at least more than she already has been, but I will say it was not intentional for me to discover her secret.

In the end I asked her to be the one I spend my life with. What made me do it? I don’t know; maybe it was the hope of finding some peace after all those years of hiding, maybe the realisation that I was not alone in this, maybe even because she was the loveliest person I had ever met, possibly a combination of all of them, who knows, but I don’t think it really matters.

There is this feeling that grows in you, an empty and dark one, a sensation of void that drains you and makes everything look grey and worthless. It takes your determination to do things and it’s so deep that it never seems to end. You think everything is going to be like this forever, and I cannot blame myself for having lost hope on every single aspect of life after so many years of trying to get rid of it. It was not my fault there was nothing to live for.

But her. After the first time I talked to her I thought there was something special. The conclusion to why I thought so that I came up with was because she was beautiful, breathtaking, more than any other person I had ever seen in my entire life, and that was a lot of time.

I needed to know her. I needed to talk to her. I needed to be close to her. I needed to have her in my life. Something about her called me and I didn’t hesitate at all to follow it, and after every secret was revealed, she feared I would run away from her, that she would see in my eyes the same terror she saw in the eyes of the ones she had trusted enough to show her true self. She hated what she was, but there was no possible cure for what she was suffering from. Just like me.

And I am happy to announce that this time it was different for the both of us. She didn’t see hate or disgust, I didn’t back away or turn around to avoid eye contact, no. I looked at her as if she were the most precious creature in the world, which she was and is to the day of today. I could see her teary eyes, she was so scared, but if there was a time when I had to be true about myself, it was this one. I reached for her hand and took it between mine, and closing my eyes so she couldn’t see all the years of pain and misery slipping through my eyes, I narrated the story of my life. We both were shaking, either in fear or in relieve, and a strong bond was created that night. We spent hours and hours explaining some of our most interesting life stories, narrated the lives of people we used to know that died a long time ago, we shared how we had been living and what we were planning to do on the future. That was when I told her I needed her. I gave her the choice to join me, the choice of company, the choice of love.

And she took it.

I experienced true happiness for the first time in a long long time, I felt like the world was a new brighter place to live in. I could finally feel alive. All because of her. I will never be grateful enough for what she did to me. I will never be able to thank her enough for bringing me the piece I was lacking. There is nothing that can demonstrate how much I adore her and how little she has to do to make me realise life is worth living it.

With time we had a child, a beautiful boy. He was radiant. I had never felt so much love towards someone so little and fragile. I promised I would protect him with my life, I would never let anything bad happen to him. All that mattered was his happiness and well being, nothing else, and I know for a fact his mother was thinking the exact same thing.

No one had told us raising a child would be easy, and after thousands of years of life we both knew it would be a challenge, but we managed to do it. We were so proud. Our son was growing, and he was happy and healthy. He was artistic and his soul burnt with the determination of someone who knows what they are doing.

One day he asked us for a guitar and we decided it would be good for him to have something fun to do in his free time, he would have a lot of it having in mind who his parents were. What we didn’t know was the musical talent was in his veins. He almost instantly learnt how to play it and soon he started creating his own music. There was nothing compared to listening to him, it was hypnotising. When he would play for others they would not leave until he had finished, and if he wasn’t there they would cheerfully sing his songs by themselves. Everyone loved him for what he did, and he made sure he returned that same love with kindness and more songs.

If only there were something else special about him.

I think it became obvious way earlier than when we decided to acknowledge the truth, we were too happy that way, so happy we stayed in denial for years. We didn’t want to see it, it was too painful for us to handle. We needed him to be immortal.

But one day he would die.

He, of course, was not aware of that, he thought he was just like us! Just like we told him before we knew what was happening. But we were in shock. The sudden realisation that he was going to die, just like everyone we knew, hit us in the worst way possible. We fought, we cried, we even tried to keep ignoring it again, but it was too much to handle.

I’ll admit it, I did blame his mother for his mortality. The pain in her voice as she told me she thought I was different and the pain I felt when I saw her go away with the promise of never coming back is something I will never be able to forget. It still took me some time to come to my senses and see the depth of what I did after she left. Everyone around her died, not only because of her immortality, but because death followed her. I blamed her for her bad luck and ignored all the things she had suffered because of it. I decided it was alright to get angry because of the one thing she hated so much but couldn’t change, all because I couldn’t handle the hard truth reality is. I attacked her in the worst way possible and refused to take it back when I still had the chance to, only because something bad happened. I lost everything that day... and it was my fault.

All the brightness became dull again. I tried to stay positive around my son, but he was just like everyone else now, the one difference was I could see her in him, her and death. His mere sight was enough to drown me in my own feelings of guilt and sorrow. I had never wished I was dead as much as I did. But of course, I had a child to take care of, and death was not an option for me, and it would never be.

Years passed and I had no way to hide anything from him. He was clever, way too clever. And so when he finally asked about it, I told him why his mother left. I told him the reason why he found no light in my eyes when he looked at me any more. I talked about how he should go live his life instead of wasting it next to me, that he deserved to have a normal life like everyone does. I told him that even knowing he would not be in the world forever, that I am happy he doesn’t have the curse me and his mother had. I told him that I love him and that I only wish the best for him.

After that talk there was nothing else for him where we lived, and so he left with the promise of writing me letters to narrate the adventures he was planing to have. He had great aspirations, so I didn’t doubt for a second he would. And he did fulfil that promise.

After he left too I lived in solitude, avoiding as many people as I could. I moved to another place far away from everyone, not without telling my son where I was going first, so he could keep sending the letters. I decided if I had to be alone forever, that at least I would make sure I had no one to miss at all. It was hard, but nothing in my life had ever been easy, I thought I could live up to my expectations.

Then he sent me the letter telling me he was a father.

All the flashbacks from when we all were together flashed in front of my eyes and punched me in the guts with the same intensity of the pain I felt when I last talked to his mother. I had to find her.

It took me less time than I thought, although I am not saying it was easy to do it. She looked exactly the same way she did when I first met her, and so did I, but now things were way different. Hesitantly she accepted to listen to me, the years had made the bad feelings easier to handle, but never vanish. I updated her on my current situation, and so did her. I talked about our son and how he had been doing. She had to take a moment to calm herself when I showed her a picture of him and his child. She regretted so much having left like that, but there were too many things happening at once, and the feeling of betrayal kept her from coming back. She had also been through a lot of pain, and I couldn’t blame her for acting in the way she did. Immortal or not, a god or not, we were still human, and humans commit mistakes. At least that’s how we saw it.

It took us time to regain the trust we had in each other, but we were progressing each day that passed. I wrote to our son about his mother and he told me he wished to go back home to see her, but that he was way too busy starting a big new project no one had before. He refused to tell me what was it for some time despite my questions, but he finally attached a picture of him, his son, and other people I had heard about from other letters, posing in front of a black and yellow wall, all wearing the same outfit, all except his son and one of the other people in the photo, as context.

He had started a nation. His symphony he called it in the letters. His mother and I could never be more proud.

I had told her that she could always write something to him, that I thought it’d be fair if she wanted to communicate with her own son the same way I was, but she told me that as much as she loved him, talking to him directly would only cause her pain, that she didn’t think it was fair to go away for so long and only come back now that he was gone. She kept repeating that she would talk to him once he decided it was time for them to reunite, that until that, she’d let me be the one to write and read the letters, and I did not argue back because she was right.

Then the letters stopped.

I did not know what happened. The letters had never taken so long to come. Our son had been writing about all the conflict that had been happening on his nation, and despite all the reassuring words he wrote telling us he was doing fine, we could not help but worry about him. There had been wars, he could have been harmed. We decided to wait some more time in case there had been some issues with the letters or he had not had time to write anything, I even sent him some asking if everything was alright, but an answer never came back.

The first day of November I took all the things I needed and said goodbye to my loved one. “I will be back as soon as I can” I told her. She nodded and closed the door, fearing what I would find once I found our son’s nation.

Sixteen days of travelling was the time I took to get to him. Sixteen days of worry and stress. No matter how much I repeated to myself things would be better than I thought they would, I still had all kind of horrible scenarios in my head. And it just happened that reality was way more close to them than I would have ever wanted.

November 16th, the day when I reunited with my son.

November 16th, the day when all my worries were confirmed.

November 16th, the day when my son asked me to kill him.

November 16th, the day when I broke my promise to protect him.

...

They say life is hard, especially when you are immortal.

I have never agreed more.

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juju-on-that-yeet · 4 years

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Keep Up

Whumptober Day 23: What’s A Whumpee Gotta Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here? Prompt: Sleep Deprivation

Summary: After Chrome, Yandere, and Yancy's failed reconnaissance mission, Yandere finds himself captured by Enigma Data. Their goal? Condition Yandere into a tool just as they've done to Oliver, this time via sleep deprivation. Yandere can only stay awake for so long before he starts to break. (continued from “Leftover”)

Warnings: Torture, electrocution, hallucinations, blood

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober 2020 series)

Enjoy!

Yandere wakes in a strange cell, chained up by his wrists. His toes can only barely touch the floor, his shoulders already hurt from the awkward position. The room is sleek, metallic, windowless. There’s a camera in one corner, red light blinking. It takes Yandere a moment to remember what happened, why he’s here, but before long it all comes rushing in. He thrashes against the chains, ignoring his shoulders’ protests.

“Let me go, let me go!!” he screams, glaring into the camera, “Where are my friends!? What did you do to them??”

After a few minutes of this, a man in a lab coat walks into Yandere’s cell. He looks at him calmly, without emotion. Yandere spits in his direction.

“Where are my friends?” Yandere snarls.

“The human has been disposed of,” the man replies cooly, “The android is in another building being conditioned. You will be conditioned as well.”

“D…Disposed…” Yandere gasps. He remembers watching Oliver tear off Yancy’s arm and carry him away, letting him bleed. He doesn’t want to believe that Yancy’s dead, but how could he have possibly survived that?

And now Yandere and Chrome are stuck in the clutches of these people, the same people who made Oliver disappear without a trace.

“We have family,” Yandere growls, trying to push down the fear and grief, “They’ll find us, they’ll rescue us. And they’ll kill you if I don’t get to you first.”

“In a week’s time, we’ll have you thoroughly conditioned,” the man says, “Here are the rules: You are not to fall asleep. If you do fall asleep, there will be painful consequences. We will keep you awake past what your body can handle.”

“Why?” Yandere can’t help but ask.

“You will see,” the man answers, before turning to leave. “You will be given water. You won’t get food until we see behavior we want.”

“You won’t get food until we see behavior we want,” Yandere repeats mockingly under his breath. If the man hears it, he doesn’t react, only leaves the room.

Sleep deprivation, huh? Yandere can deal with that. He’s a night owl by nature. He can stay awake for a few days, and by then, Dark and Wilford will be here to bust him out.

He just has to wait.

~~~

It’s hard to keep track of time in the room.

There’s no natural light, only harsh fluorescent ceiling lights. There’s no sound filtering in from outside. Nothing but a blank wall to stare at. And the camera, with the little red blinking dot. Yandere makes faces at it sometimes, flips it off occasionally. He’s not about to make this easy on his captors. He’ll be a nuisance for as long as he can manage.

And that means keeping his fear and grief buried deep within himself. He’s not going to show weakness to these people, he’s not going to fall under their spell. Not even if the thought of Yancy succumbing to shock and blood loss makes him want to cry, not even if the thought of Chrome stuck in the same prison that broke Oliver makes him want to scream.

Absent the recurring waves of emotion, the room is boring. Yandere can handle boring.

~~~

More time passes.

At least a day, probably. Yandere can hardly keep his eyes open. His shoulders are practically numb, his feet hurt from trying to stand on his toes against the chains. It’s harder to push the negative emotions away, it’s taking the last of his remaining energy. He focuses on the blinking red light of the camera, tries to keep staying awake to see the thing blink on, off, on, off, on, off…

A piercing siren wails throughout the room. Yandere jolts out of the half-sleep state he was in, looking around. But the sound disappears as quickly as it happened. Yandere realizes that this is one of those “consequences,” something meant to keep him awake no matter what. Yandere scoffs. Well, he’s awake now. The sound was disruptive, but not terrible. His head hurts a little, but it’s ignorable. The grief is still keen, but he can keep pushing it down.

He will be rescued. He knows it.

He sticks his tongue out at the camera.

~~~

Many hours and many blaring sirens later, Yandere is starting to truly tire.

He still doesn’t know how long it’s been. At least a couple days, surely. He’s exhausted, but he’s not about to give in. At least, that’s what he thinks to himself, but his body makes the choices for him, sending him dozing again and again. But he’s never out for more than a moment before the siren is shooting him back awake.

After some time, he hears a new sound; mechanical gears shifting. The wall across from him moves, opens up into a TV screen. As Yandere looks on, the giant screen comes to life, showing what looks like a corporate film.

“Welcome to Enigma Data,” the video begins, narrating over a photo of what must be their main building, huge and techy but indistinct, not unlike any other IT building. “If you are watching this video, it means you have been chosen to become a part of our mission. What is our mission? We stand by the following principles…”

“This is stupid,” Yandere mutters.

But it’s something to focus on, something to keep him awake, and it sounds better than the siren. Yandere’s not going to let the video get to him. He may be tired, but he’s not stupid. He won’t get sucked in.

He watches, yawning.

~~~

Yandere looks forward to the times when the people – scientists? Technicians? Something else? – come to give him water. It’s something new, something aside from the siren and the looping video. The water is soothing, helps repress the hunger pangs that have started. Yandere wishes he could sleep. The siren blaring might be getting louder, or maybe his ears are damaged. He can’t tell.

He’s too tired to hide his emotions anymore. Sometimes he catches himself weeping, or screaming. He feels like it should upset him more that he’s revealing his weakness after trying so hard to contain it, but he’s too tired to care. He barely even realizes he’s doing it. It’s cathartic, but it only makes him even more tired. He wishes he knew how long it’s been.

He hopes someone is coming.

~~~

Yandere has the video memorized. He tries to mouth along, just to give himself something to do. He whimpers through it, remembering Chrome and Yancy, wishing for rescue. Eventually, he falls asleep, and the siren does not wake him. He sleeps for nearly a minute.

Then his world is alight with fire.

His back arches against his control as electricity surges through his body through his wrists, through the shackles of his chains. He screams as the white-hot pain washes over him, breaking off into a gasp once it’s over. It only lasts a few seconds, but it feels like forever. It leaves Yandere reeling, panting, shivering with agony and exhaustion. He looks back to the TV, but his vision is blurry. His eyes won’t focus.

He manages to stay awake for what must be a few hours before he has to be shocked again.

~~~

Yandere knows he’s losing it when the hallucinations start.

“Welcome to Enigma Data,” he says, parroting the video with a mocking cadence. “If you are watching this video, it means you have been chosen–”

A shadow flits across the room, inky and familiar. Yandere’s words cut off with a gasp.

“Yami?” he asks, looking frantically around the room.

He sees a burst of darkness out of the corner of his eye, as though Dark has teleported right into the room. But when Yandere turns his head, there’s nothing there.

He tries to focus on the video, but he sees more. A flash of a white lab coat, but not the kind the scientists are wearing. A flurry of pink bubbles sliding across his vision. The blinking red light of the camera morphs into a pair of glowing red eyes. Every time he gives in and tries to look directly at what he sees, it disappears, teasing him, tormenting him.

Even if it’s not real, it’s still something. Yandere wishes he could see the illusions more clearly.

~~~

Yandere should be careful what he wishes for.

Hours pass. He’s shocked repeatedly, falling asleep over and over despite himself. The scientists start talking to him when they bring him water, asking if he’s ready to join them. Yandere refuses. He still won’t give in.

Not even when the hallucinations become clearer, more detailed. Yandere tries to ignore them.

“Welcome to Enigma Data,” he mutters to himself.

Dark stands before him, rolls his neck. He reaches out to touch Yandere, but disappears the moment before his fingers reach Yandere’s cheek.

“If you are watching this video,” Yandere continues.

Wilford laughs from the corner of the room, winks, and poofs away in a burst of pink smoke.

“It means you have been chosen…”

Dr. Iplier stares, clipboard in hand. He vanishes as he turns around.

“To become a part of our mission…”

Chrome and Oliver stand together, eyes blazing bright, faces devoid of emotion.

“The f-four parts…wait, that’s not next…”

Yancy lies on the floor, eyes open and blank, one arm gone, surrounded in a pool of blood.

“W-Welcome to Enigma Data,” Yandere whimpers, starting over.

~~~

Yandere doesn’t know why he keeps resisting, keeps refusing the scientists. He only knows that he cannot sleep. Sleep means shocks. His wrists have been on and off bleeding for…for he doesn’t know how long. Maybe he’s been here his whole life. Maybe everything before it was a dream. The video continues to play. Yandere’s loved ones continue to appear before him. Yandere starts to talk to himself, starts to scream.

“Yami, Yami where are you? I miss you, don’t you know where I am?” Yandere shudders. “I hate it here. I hate these people. Kill them, senpai. Kill them, kill them…”

He’s shocked back awake. How much skin is even still on his wrists? It all feels burnt. His vision is too blurry to look.

“Wil, you too, you can find me, can’t you? Please come get me, come get me, onii-san, get me out…”

Another shock. Yandere starts to cry.

“Papa, wh-where are you? Save me, Papa, s-save me like you always do. Save me a-and sing to me again, sing me that song…I see f-fields of green, red roses…red…”

Shock. Yandere wails.

“Aka-kun, Yan-kun, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry! I should’ve tried harder, I sh-should’ve fought more, ran faster! H-Hold on, both of you hold on, let m-me see you again, you have to be okay! B-Be okay! Be okay, be okay…”

Shock.

“Help me! Help me! I w-wanna go home, t-take me home! Get me out, I h-hate these chains, they hurt, it h-hurts! Hold me, h-hold me, get me out, t-turn the screen off, turn it off! Please, p-please, please, please…”

Shock.

And so on.

~~~

Yandere wakes from another microsleep, another shock. Soon after, sirens start to blare. Not the singular siren used to wake him before, but one that continues, and continues. Yandere is too numb to feel much, but he is vaguely annoyed. He’s just woken up, why are they using the siren on him?

The lights go out for several moments, the sirens stop. The lights come back on, not as bright as before, and the screen stays off, giving Yandere his first moment of true silence in ages. His eyes are half-open, he can’t see enough to know that the red camera light has also gone off. So he sighs, shudders, and stays awake. He has no choice. He hardly remembers why not, why he hasn’t given up, what he would even have to do to give up. So he forces his eyes not to close all the way.

People enter his room. Only one of them looks like a scientist, the other two are strange. One shrouded in black, one smothered in pink. Yandere can’t see clearly enough to see their expressions, can’t think hard enough to register who’s entered his cell.

“Love,” murmurs, the figure in black, reaching out and cupping Yandere’s cheek. It reminds Yandere of a hallucination he had a while ago.

“Get him down!” cries the scientist, voice strained.

No one replies to him, but the pink man breaks one of Yandere’s wrist shackles, and a winding stream of blackness snaps the other. Yandere falls forward, and the scientist is there to catch him. The open air on Yandere’s wrists stings, but he’s surprised he can feel anything at all. The scientist lowers him to the ground, holding him gently.

“Baby, oh, baby,” he murmurs, sounding close to tears. He examines Yandere’s wrists, puts fingers to his neck for his pulse. “What have they done to you?”

“Is he awake?” asks someone. Yandere’s head is in the scientist’s lap, he’s the only person he can see. He can’t see him that well, though, his eyes won’t fully open. He still tries to stay awake.

“I think so,” the scientist says, “I don’t know…he looks exhausted. Were they trying to keep him up?”

Yandere can barely comprehend what’s being said around him, but he understands they’re talking about sleeping.

“Imasugu nemasu ka?” Yandere mumbles, voice rough from screaming and crying.

The scientist looks away from Yandere to the others.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

A pause.

“Something…about sleeping,” says someone, “That’s what “nemasu” means, I believe. I’ve heard him say it before we go to bed.”

The scientist looks back at Yandere. Yandere squints to focus on his expression, and sees a concerned, sad, yet kind and gentle face. The scientist brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of Yandere’s face.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “We’re here, we’ve got you.”

Yandere doesn’t have to be told twice.

~~~

Yandere wakes somewhere different, somewhere soft, under blankets. He can already tell he’s been asleep for much. much longer than a moment, yet he was never shocked for it. His wrists aren’t shackled, but wrapped in bandages, and there’s IVs in his arm. His mind is foggy, but he slowly remembers what happened before this. Though the memories are no clearer in his mind’s eye than they were to begin with, he starts to guess at what happened.

He opens his eyes to realize he’s back home, in a clinic bed – and he isn’t alone. Dark is beside him, lying atop the blankets, one arm protectively draped across Yandere, as though he wanted to stay close without making Yandere cold. His eyes are closed, but he’s still in his suit, and Yandere can tell just from looking at him that he’s not asleep.

“Yami,” Yandere whispers, voice raspy and throat sore, “You’re gonna hurt your back lying like that.”

Dark’s eyes open, and his expression melts at the sight of Yandere. He curls the arm draped over Yandere to cup the back of his head, bring him close enough to kiss his forehead.

“Don’t worry about me, my love,” Dark murmurs, “I’m here to look after you.”

Yandere’s heart flutters, but his gut twists, because he’s here, home and safe, but Chrome is still trapped, and Yancy’s dead.

“The others,” he gasps, “Yami, they’re–”

“I know, we know,” Dark soothes, “Yancy is here, his arm is healing. Chrome is still imprisoned, but the place where we found you had a lot of information. We know where Chrome and Oliver are, and we’ll get them back.” He kisses Yandere’s forehead again. “All you need to do right now is go back to sleep and get better.”

Yandere is so relieved he could cry, if he wasn’t still exhausted he certainly would. Instead, he snuggles closer to Dark. The natural cold he gives off doesn’t bother Yandere, and Yandere did so miss this contact, this closeness. He yawns against Dark’s chest, holds onto his shirt.

“Ai shiteru,” Yandere whispers, already about to fall asleep again. Dark bows his head, lips brushing the top of Yandere’s head.

“I love you too, sakura,” Dark whispers back, into Yandere’s hair.

Yandere slips away, and for once, after so long, he doesn’t have to fight it.

#whumptober2020 #no.23 #sleep deprivation #markiplier #fanfic #yandereplier #my writing #kristin says stuff #yeah i missed a day what of it??

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heyyyharry · 6 years

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In Another Life Series: Chapter 1 - The Painting

...in which Harry and Y/N come across a strange portrait in an art museum.

Series description: Y/N and Harry are soulmates and destined to meet in every lifetime, but no matter how many times they reincarnate and find each other again, they never seem to get it right.

AU: reincarnation, soulmate!harry, prince!harry, and assistant!y/n

Warning: There’s obviously no English monarch in history named Edward Rammour (chose the name Edward because duh Harry Edward Styles???) nor a famous painter named Piersilvio, I didn’t want to offend anyone with historical inaccuracies so I made everything up, my apologies. Oh, and Harry’s still famous in this.

~~~

They said in London you were never far from a museum, there were more than 170 of them, including some of the world’s finest which attracted a countless number of visitors every single day. While most people came to these places to witness historical events and people revive in exhibits, some other people, yes ‘some’, showed up, and brought history back to life.

“And this one, this one is my favorite!” a young man exclaimed to his friend as they stopped in front of a big painting of an English monarch in the 16th century.

Just like other royalties in portraits, the man stood tall and proud with his shoulders pulled back and a stern look on his face, still the softness in his eyes was what made him peculiarly human-like.

“Wow, Jason, this painting is so real…” the girl commented. The more she looked into this character’s eyes, the more she was hooked for an unknown reason. Either the artist of this masterpiece was truly gifted for making his painting look so alive, or there was just something not ordinary about this piece.

“This is the work of Piersilvio, a world famous Italian painter at the time, a gift for the King on his coronation day,” narrated Jason as he studied the look on his best friend’s face, feeling excited for how interested she was. Normally he didn’t get this reaction when he told it to the other girls. “Edward Rammour was a great King, he only married once in his entire life, but since the Queen could not give birth to an heir, he was the last monarch in the House of Rammour.”

“Sounds tragic.”

“They said he was cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Yes, Y/N, cursed. Some documents mentioned that Edward had never loved the Queen, before crowned King, he’d been in love with a peasant girl, who ended up executed. They said she was a witch and before she died, she’d put a curse on Prince Edward to forever live an unhappy life without her in it.”

Y/N looked at her friend with her mouth agape, then suddenly burst into laughter, making Jason so confused.

“You almost got me!” she cried out, in response to which he shook his head fast from side to side.

“No, it was true! Uhm, actually I’m not sure if it’s true, but they did say that online!”

Y/N playfully patted his cheek. “Never trust everything you read online, J.”

“Okay, but you gotta admit it sounds kind of cool,” Jason asserted, staring at the portrait in awe.

Y/N didn’t take her friend’s words seriously, however, she did have a strange feeling every time she made eye contact with the monarch in this painting, it creeped her out and she didn’t want to be there any longer. So she tugged on Jason’s sleeve and told him they should probably go, then both headed towards the next exhibits.

Not so long after the two had left, another group of four visitors also stopped at the same painting of Edward Rammour. They stood exactly where Y/N and Jason had as they admired the work.

“Edward Rammour sure looked hot when he was young.”

“Oh, please, Sarah, I look much better!”

Sarah rolled her eyes at her boyfriend and turned to the others to ask for their opinions. “Jeff, Harry, what do you think? Who looks better, Mitch or this guy here?”

“I’ll go with this guy, because Harry will definitely choose Mitch, right Haz?” Jeff asked, but when he heard only silence, he turned around and saw the youngest member in the group still texting on the phone.

“Jesus, put your phone away, mate!” Mitch grumbled.

Harry was still too occupied to even look up when he said, “Just a minute, I have to reply to Lillie.”

Mitch heaved out a sigh. Without warning, he yanked the phone away from Harry’s hands, causing the famous singer to gasp in shock. Harry’s quick attempt to get his phone back was prevented for Mitch was faster to already had it shoved into Sarah’s handbag, which he was holding.

“Text your girlfriend when you get home, mate! You’ve been on the phone ever since we got into the car!”

“Alright, alright, no more texting,” Harry gave Mitch his word, then crossed his arms and turned to the art work at last. “What were you guys saying about this painting again?”

“Sarah said this guy over here looked better than me!”

Harry breathed out a chuckle as he assured his older friend, “It’s only a painting, he probably didn’t look like this in real life. So I’d say you are more good-looking.”

“No way! These facial features seem pretty real to me!” Sarah argued, then leaned a bit closer to get a better look at the details on the piece of art. The moment she turned back and locked eyes with Harry, her smile vanished all at once.

“What?” Harry was so confused by Sarah’s reaction. She had to look back and forth a couple more times at the painting and then at him to make sure she made no mistake before drawing the conclusion.

“Harry, the eyes in this painting are identical to yours!"

Sarah’s discovery caught the attention of the whole group. Everyone stepped closer to observe the features on the masterpiece to compare with their friend’s. No one, apart from Harry himself, could disagree, for the eyes in the artwork were indeed Harry’s carbon copy.

“I don’t see it! You guys are just messing with me!” Harry breathed out a heavy laugh in response, still his friends insisted him on taking a second look because they were all sure there was not a single difference.

Mitch said something, then it was Sarah, then Jeff added something else in the conversation and all three of them burst into laughter. However, Harry could not make out a single word they said. All of their voices seemed to be muffled by his own thoughts for he was now too drawn to this unusual painting to pay attention to anything else.

Out of nowhere, a random person bumped hard into Harry, forcing him to snap back to reality in an instant! He didn’t even catch a glimpse of her face because the girl ran off as soon as she’d mumbled a quick apology to him.

“Y/N! Wait, I’m sorry!” A young man called out when the girl reached the exit of the room, apparently he was going after her.

The pair disappeared behind the door, leaving four people here confused, and a bit amused by what had just happened. It wouldn’t have been something too bizarre if they hadn’t been in an art museum, but dramatic couples could cause a scene any where so Harry didn’t think much of that. He turned back to his friends and suggested they should probably go now.

So the group happily moved on to the next painting. For an unknown reason still, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about the King’s portrait.

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thebibliomancer · 7 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #132: Kang War II

February, 1975

I mean, I guess you could loosely consider what we have here a war. Two groups of super powered individuals having fights in a labyrinth beneath a castle in a timeless Limbo.

I guess.

I do like covers where the characters express disbelief in their situations. But I think Iron Man is not quite accurate. You can totally defeat super-foes who have already died. In fact, it may be easier. They’ve already died once. You’ve loosened the pickle jar, so to speak.

Oh. And I guess either Iron Man, Thor or Mantis is going to die in this issue? Unless the cover is a lying liar who lies. And considering how many lying covers there have been recently, I’m calling your bluff, Avengers cover!

“You’re not gonna believe this -- but Kang the Conqueror has just declared total war on our awesome assemblers, for the second time in a mere four issues--!”

That narration sounds a bit facetious. Like “Really?? This again??”

Also. Hawkeye. Archery requires arrows.

So we start the comic proper with a reintroduction to Kang’s Legion of the Unliving (or Battalion from Beyond, if you’d rather). We have pirate Ghost Captain van Straaten (aka the Flying Dutchman), the monster Frankenstein (and don’t get on my case, narration box, about it being ‘misnamed Frankenstein’), the kung-fu master Midnight, the original robotic and thus not Human Torch, Wonder Man in his original and second worst outfit, and Baron Zemo (a man with no powers who used to like playing ‘the floor is lava’ with human beings).

Kang takes a brief moment to yell at his future self a bit more and then heads off to destroy the Avengers.

Just heads off into the labyrinth without a map hoping to randomly run into the Avengers. Good game plan there, Kang.

Now here’s a weird thing. Apparently the machines Kang used to raise his Legion from the dead gives him complete mastery over them but only because they were dead. Adam “Modern Prometheus” Frankenstein was made up of dead bodies but was not himself dead. Apparently he was just frozen in ice, like a Steve Rogers made up of sewn together body parts.

So as Frankenstein lags behind, Kang’s control over him lags too. Until Frankenstein is free to wander off into the labyrinth away from Kang’s group. Just wandering freely and aimlessly.

And we cut to Thor, currently smacking the walls with Mjolnir and swearing by his grim friend’s grouchy face. Not even Mjolnir is breaking these walls. And calling on Odin to send storm and lightning doesn’t accomplish anything either.

In a weird leap of logic, Thor assumes that maybe a prison designed to hold Thor won’t work on Donald M. Blake, Ph.D and guy that needs a cane to walk.

But nope. When he transforms back into Blake he’s still stuck in this labyrinth. Nice try, though.

Kang called it the Labyrinth of Limbo, leaving Blake to wonder how even a god can break out of a place which isn’t a place. And I don’t think the answer is ‘when its ajar.’

But then Blake hears Frankenstein shuffling up behind him. Instinctively he smacks Frankenstein upside the chin with his cane.

The monster had no wish to kill when he first came up to Donald Blake but being smacked has put the bloodlust into him. He grabs the doctor and starts strangling him.

Blake manages to rap his cane against the floor and transforms back into Thor. The asgardian god of thunder and flexing belts Frankenstein away from him and into a wall.

The monster is confused that one guy turned into a different guy. But then he’s angry that the different guy hit him. He swings a fist at Thor but Thor catches him by the wrist.

And then he does something different. He thinks this through. He recognizes that this monster is mighty but mute. And he suspects that its Frankenstein but puts that thought out of his mind for being MADNESS BEYOND COMPARE. And realizes that Adam Frankenstein is just as much a pawn as he is and a fellow wayfarer in this place.

So if nothing can be learned by questioning him, Thor will just follow him around to see where he goes.

And he lets Frankenstein go. And I guess his aggro cooled off because the monster turns around and walks away, followed by Thor.

Meanwhile, back in Saigon, the mysterious hooded figure from before (they were watching Mantis from a rooftop, remember?) is examining the place where the Avengers vanished from.

But they are soon accosted by some cops who are also investigating said disappearance and decide that a mysterious hooded figure sure is worthy of suspicion.

The mysterious hooded figure martial arts the cops and then runs away into an alleyway. Where he is confronted by... the Swordsman’s ghost??

Apparently the hooded figure called Swordsman’s ghost here. Because he’s seeking the missing Mantis. Which can’t be right. The ghost or whatever showed up before Mantis was Kangnapped II. Or did Swordsman’s ghost mean that hooded mystery called him here to this specific alleyway?

The mysteries sure are piling on.

Anyway, the Swordsman ghost reassures the myserious hooded figure that Mantis will return. It is preordained and junk. Celestial Madonna, et cetera.

This sure was a nice, enigmatic conversation.

Meanwhile, the Avengers continue wandering the labyrinth. We get an overhead view showing Iron Man and Hawkeye passing by each other unknowingly, separated by apparently indestructible walls.

I’m imagining the missed connections for that. “Me, an armored Avenger. You, a bowman with a chip on your shoulder.”

Meanwhile again, Kang and the Legion of the Unliving continue on their merry way. Zemo notes that Frankenstein has gone missing but Kang is unconcerned.

Kang (the Conqueror): “No matter. We will find him in no time... especially since this is a land where time does not exist.”

And then he expects his Legion to laugh at that and decides when they don’t its because the dead don’t have a sense of humor.

The Flying Dutchman captain chimes in “What humor is there -- for one doomed to sail the skies until the end of eternity?”

He must be fun at parties.

Kang tells Ghost to shut up, he has orders to give. He sends Midnight off to track down Mantis. And then the rest of the Legion + Kang - Frankenstein and Midnight run into Vision.

Or rather, Zemo spots him and goes ‘there’s this dude, wasn’t an Avenger when I was alive but he sure dresses like one.’ Which is funny because Vision dresses in green and yellows, which are normally villain colors.

Kang sends Wonder Man and Human Torch against Vision, as per the plan. And as per the plan, Vision is shocked to see the man his brain patterns came from and just stops short.

But not so shocked that he doesn’t react when Wonder Man winds up a haymaker. He just turns hard as diamond and possibly breaks Wonder Man’s knuckles and then becomes intangible as a ghost so Human Torch’s fireball attack just flies through him.

Vision asks what mad scheme Kang is up to and where his fellow Avengers are but Kang just tells Ghost and Zemo to jump in too.

With Ghost getting in a ‘zing’ against Zemo by asking him “Were all Nazis as subservient as you, Zemo, when they could not bully their way to power?”

Vision saves Zemo the embarrassment of answering that question by shooting him with Solar Beam.

But even though the beam stuns Zemo, he’s also absorbing the energy. And to continue the attack would weaken Vision. So. Bye.

And he just walks into a wall and disappears.

Kang: “You blundering dolts! I should have left you all where I found you -- suffering forever the tortures of the damned--”

Ghost: “You? What do you know, Kang, of the torments of hell? To you, time has ever been but a pleasant footpath, which you may tread in any direction you please. Be first a doomed helmsman for a century or two -- fated forever to haunt the seven fathomless seas -- then speak to me of the ‘tortures of the damned’!”

Ghost is just dishing out the zings today.

But having made that point, he walks into the wall after Vision. Despite all his rage, he is still but a Ghost in a cage.

Kang gathers up the rest of his diminishing Legion of the Unliving and goes looking for the rest of the Avengers.

Meanwhile, Mantis. She feels so alone, so very very alone. In this maze.

And then Midnight attacks.

And then Mantis just THLAP!s him across the face. Her faith in her friends may be her weakness but his overconfidence is definitely his.

And while Midnight reels from the blow, Mantis beats feet. Fighting Midnight was like fighting a dead man and she doesn’t really feel like doing any more of it.

Midnight yells after her that there’s no escaping him. He doesn’t tire, he doesn’t fall, Terminator-esque speech, et cetera.

Elsewhere in Limbo, Immortus and Rama-Tut have imprisonment tube conversation. Immortus angrily rails at being duped by Kang (which sure is confusing given stuff we learn later). And then he accuses Rama-Tut of doing nothing to thwart Kang’s insane lust for power.

Rama-Tut protests that he has fought in his own way for 5000 years. Or at the least, he slept for 5000 years so he could wrestle himself later. Also, that which is written is written and you can’t alter what will be. But nobody really knows what is written.

I mean, except Rama-Tut should. He sabotaged Kang’s efforts by remembering from when he was Kang. Are we perhaps wildly off the rails now?

Elsewhere, Iron Man and Hawkeye actually manage to encounter each other for real.

But they don’t have a lot of time to catch up (’Hey, watchoo been up to?’ ‘Wandering aimlessly for what seemed like hours’ ‘Get out! Me too!’) before Kang and his three remaining Legion of the Unlivings find them.

And Wonder Man just THWAM!s Iron Man right in the chest while Hawkeye arrows at a disappointed Zemo. He really had hoped that Captain America would be here for him to fight. Which again raises the question what Zemo is even doing here.

Anyway, the Legion of the Unliving apparently has a ‘i get knocked down, i get up again’ situation going on which I guess does justify Iron Man’s complaint on the cover. Iron Man keeps blasting Wonder Man but he just keeps getting back up again.

Iron Man decides that the two of them don’t stand a chance against these undeads and tells Hawkeye to run and find the rest of the Avengers. Iron Man will hold them off to give Hawkeye his chance.

Hawkeye doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to leave Iron Man to face them alone but more than that, his insecurity chimes in and he feels like he’s being treated as a "junior woodchuck again.” But he does as Iron Man requests.

But not long after Hawkeye takes off, Kang stuns Iron Man with a blast. And then Human Torch (the robot one) grabs Iron Man from behind.

And Iron Man’s armor can be recharged through heat but probably not if its such an atomic heat that it melts or fuses all the circuits in the armor. Which is what happens.

And with the armor damaged like that, Iron Man’s chestplate stops working. And without that... well, he needs that to live.

Iron Man is dead.

I guess... the cover wasn’t lying...

BUT HEY ELSEWHERE, MANTIS. And she just ran into the Ghost. And she’s sick of all these weirdos that keep popping up so she goes ‘hey i’ll fite you’ but to harm the Celestial Madonna is forbidden. So Ghost runs into a wall in search of the Vision while Mantis again contemplates what this Celestial Madonna nonsense even means.

And Ghost isn’t long from finding Vision. Because as Vision casually walks along the passages of the labyrinth, he senses an eerie presence. And then the Ghost steps out of a wall and invites Vision to join him in death.

Vision: “But -- why? I do not know you...”

Ghost: “You know nothing -- not life, not death -- for, your very existence is an artificial mockery of both! That is why I hate you -- and why I must kill you!”

But reminding Vision that he’s a fakey fakerson nettles him something fierce. So he shoots his Solar Beam.

It is not very effective...

Just goes right through Joost van Straaten, alias Flying Dutchman, alias the Ghost. Because he’s a ghost.

So Vision tries the win button, jamming his hand in Ghost’s chest. But it does nothing.

Ghost: “I am already a damned soul -- and thus beyond your power to touch or harm.”

But the same is not true vice versa. And Ghost hoists Vision on his own petard.

He jams his hand into Vision’s chest and Vision feels pain for the first time. It’s described as a fiery explosion and I think Ghost actually explodes from this? Maybe he did the thing where he occupied the same space as other matter and exploded on purpose. A suicide attack from a ghost to incapacitate a robot.

Mantis hears Vision yelling and runs to find him lying so still on the labyrinth floor and fears that he is DYING.

And no voice, either from within or without, resounds to tell the heart-stricken Mantis that she is wrong. No voice at all. In the Labyrinth of Limbo, for a long lingering moment... all is silence.

Wow. The cover only promises one but it seems that we may have two dead Avengers. And when another Avenger just recently died a few issues back. Calm your insatiable murder lust, Steve Englehart!

And we leave the story there, for now. With Thor following Frankenstein, Iron Man dead, Mantis attending the dying Vision, and Hawkeye running to find the others. Things not looking good for the Avengers.

But this war will be concluded in Giant-Size Avengers #3. Which, uh, does not actually appear to be on Marvel Unlimited?? Really annoying when Marvel Unlimited just leaves gaps in stories like that. The issue is available on comixology so.

Guess I‘m getting it there.

#Avengers #Legion of the Unliving #Kang the Conqueror #Iron Man #the Vision #Mantis #Thor #Hawkeye #Ghost #Frankenstein #Midnight #Human Torch #the robot one #Wonder Man #Baron Zemo #Essential Avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #wandering around a maze aimlessly being attacked by dead people #Celestial Madonna Saga

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