voicelog | metaheroes

Mister Stark. My name is David Alleyne. I was directed to reach out to you by Jean Grey.

hey you got a sec?

good GODS, you make it difficult to find your number
when you feel like emerging from whatever pit you are buried in you can thank me for informing you there are two osborns in central city
one is a norman
the other is a harry, from my partner's earth

what are you doing
besides hounding me on the network
DEANNA

you have worked with children, teenagers, yes?

thank odin's beard you are the only one who will not talk to me, i cannot talk to anyone anymore except this phone which is set to diction because fUCK TYPING
you won't reply so this is fffine, allow me to ramble and then delete this from your computerised mindscape

i am so well known across so many universes, saying nothing else i can offer my name and everyone has some idea of who i am
i am Loki
i am seen and spoken of and told so many things about myself
sometimes they become absorbed into my past, the stories become true and i remember them like they happened, because then they did
gods have no history, only stories
STORIES STORIES STORIES

i am tired of being told which story to be
it happened once, in a story-that-was-but-is-no-more
i met my future self and he had razed midgard to the ground where he sat on a throne of bones as tall as a mountain, he did it because everyone called him nothing but Liar
Liar, Trickster, no good could ever come from him for long, they said, and they laughed
so he stabbed Thor as he fell in line with it all

he set me on fire
i think i ought to like fire, i have a rune named for me and i am said to be a spirit of fire, sometimes
in some tales
they do not say i am ice

he set me on fire

i tore off his face and he was my twin beneath, he sobbed in my arms with the guilt of it, then i put him in a gemstone to give him peace and i knew to always beware of how stories could affect me
i became the god of stories, to protect myself
stories are just lies, after all

the boy has been telling people for a while now that i murdered him, that i was a questionable character who stole his skin and paraded around
and i did
but i also didn't
i was
i think i was turning bad for a while, before he acquired the demon and i settled the issue with him

you ought to know, i would want to be stopped if i ever became like the old man again
you have my permission, and my blessing
but do not cut off my head for that will not kill me
i hate being beheaded

i think he hated the avengers so, so much because it was another family to which thor belonged which he could never touch
i too yearn to be one
perhaps i only inherited that from him, too
i do not know who i am if i am not Loki

sometimes i wonder what my name would have been

ALTHOUGH i AM totally drunk and YOU are the second coolest avenger
i hope i die from alcohol poisoning and never awaken to know you have read thisssssldkjfl

a little birdie told me you're back in business

or maybe it was you.
i forget.
anyway hows capitalism?

[ The problem with attending a meta expo is you're on show whether or not you've set up shop. He attends because he must: there are three Lokis running their own booths - one of them is his legal responsibility, another is from his world, and the last has over the course of a few months become something at least adjacent to a friend. All have recently been involved to varying degrees in an existential meltdown and all are wont to be menaces (somehow the one he trusts to be the least chaotic in this context is the one who once tried to stab him) and it would be remiss of him to stay at home.

Which is exactly what he wishes he'd done as he's forced to move himself in the space of a second out of the main hall and into the connecting space where fewer people mill about and little food outlets serve a variety of dishes, just so he can avoid the onset of another barrage of questions from a small group of attendees whose eyes had lit up when they'd noticed him.

He appears abruptly and without any warning, empty air one second and Stephen Strange the next. Out of the frying pan and directly into the path of Tony Stark, who he notices a second too late.

Sure. Why not this too. It's too late to pretend he hasn't seen him, so instead he stares straight at him - defiant against his own resignation - and leaves the onus of next steps to Stark. He still has a few seconds to change course if he really wants to. To talk or not to talk, that is the question. ]

Edited (upsettingly edits tony to stark) 2022-04-17 22:06 (UTC)

[ A box of gooey spring-themed doughnuts magically swivels into existence on Tony's desk with a spritz of green magic, a little doodle of a smiling face wearing horns attached with sellotape. ]

hello loser 3:)
are you coming to the bifrost bridge game tomorrow?

[ It's the night of Loki's theatre opening. A fancy gala party. Most of their kind, the ones who crash-landed into this world through the Confluence, will likely be there, but Peter Parker? Well.

Peter Parker is still at his desk at Wellness, a number of colourful sketches of varying shapes, sizes, and forms of ... toys sprawled out over the surface. He still can't believe he's doing this. He still can't believe this is his life. ]

You sure you don't want to drop in for a second? I can finish up here, or ... close it, or whatever it is you do when you're the last one at a sex toy company.

[ He ... definitely could have phrased that better.

Whatever, as long as he works here, there's always gonna be some kind of weird double entendre.

He stretches in his seat, hears the satisfying pop of his joints before he gets to his feet and crosses over to Tony's office. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, he eyes his 'boss' past the opened doors. (This, too, is something he can't believe; despite his better judgment, despite their complicated history and whatever else he feels about the guy, he's working with Tony Stark again.) ]

You must have some kind of tux hidden in here somewhere.

[River squints at the screen, frowning faintly when she doesn't recognize the man on the other end.]

Hello? To whom am I speaking?

psst tony

hey tony

(if this isn't tony and I have the wrong number I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE)

what would you have to call yourself if you started doing 5k marathons for charity?

I-RUN MAN :D

(this is Doreen btw, idk if you know me, alternate universes and timeline shenanigans are a big thing here!)

(insert meme voice ) where've you been, bitch? where've you bloody been???

hey, i need you to ask thor why he's angry at me
specifically
with a timeframe
before you say NO hear me out, in return for services rendered i can give you:

a) temporary gratitude
b) money
c) miscellaneous

[ Well. He may have artfully ghosted him after not knowing how the respond to an earnest, straightforward and relatively uncomplicated offer of help, but at least something's come up to give him a reason to immediately take him up on it. ]

Will you be working on the machines? I have an idea and it's going to need an architect.

i take back ever saying i wished to wear armour like your suit
can you send me grapes?
or a bacon roll

Do you have time?

Hey, are you dead? Don't feel the need to reply if so, haha.

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