#one multiverse is extremely complicated to contemplate

[sttmh]

We are from another multiverse. Yes, not universe, multiverse. And people in our universe love writing about you guys on the internet and it can get extremely wierd.

Oh and also we know exactly who the original is along with most people's backstorys :)

linking_error:[line2]:user_[anonymous]:permission from admin necessary

Error doesn't respond for a long few minutes.

"So you guys actually exist? I mean, I know you guys exist, cause you're here and love talking my skull off, but- You guys have your own universe? Uh, I mean-"

Error glances at the nonexistent ground, frowning deeply. He is quiet for a few more minutes before throwing his arms up in an X.

"Yeah, no. No thank you. I already have one multiverse to worry about. I don't want to add another to it."

<- Previous Next ->

[tyrannuspitch]

loki 2.02 thoughts

i hope ronald mcdonald gets eaten by tigers.

but genuinely it's boring and uncomfortable to keep gravitating to earth this way, especially with sylvie. she's jotun-asgardian and she could go anywhere in the entire universe. why is she in 1980s america. booo. if this show were good they would be going in the opposite direction to reveal the tva as a homogenising imperialist force and we would find out that like mobius was originally from 400s byzantium and b-15 was from vanaheim, or something.

not sure about the unethical police work lads. at this stage it feels kind of like "let's use villainy [abuse] for good uwu". but i will allow them the chance to develop and maybe move past that.

sylvie saying the tva is the problem. god i hope she's right. they just shouldn't have the tech they have! there is no reason for the ability to destroy a timeline to exist! what happened to burning it to the ground!!!

loki's moral dilemma seems to be. that he really can't accept pruning timelines. but he also can't accept multiversal war? he's lost the extremes of his ruthless streak. there's no calculation, everything just feels infinitely awful and there are no good options. (so he's not really contemplating genocide. he's just generally panicking.)

^but he's still ruthless enough to torture people. and there's no indication at all that he feels bad about it this time. when that was explicitly stated in s1. hm. on one hand. if the real loki tortured someone and felt bad about it, would we see that. on the other hand. this loki is the worst liar in the entire world.

^^likewise: the pro-multiverse tva faction have very suddenly and uncomplicatedly started seeing variants as people, but mobius has barely changed his methods at all..? so he wasn't okay with torture bc he thought variants weren't people. he's just. okay with torture.

the timeloom thing might just be time-wasting bullshit, but at this point i'm hoping the point will be: oh no, the tva will crumble without its literal foundations in genocide? okay, evacuate and let it crumble then. ragnarok two? (and see above: some of this tech should not exist!)

i'm glad we're talking about complicated feelings about original lives. now talk about loki's relationship to jotunheim or i'll blow this whole building up. (although at this stage idk if they're capable of doing it well or making me care. but whatever i don't have to accept that until episode six.)

idk i guess once again i'm just going to have to wait and see where they're going with most of this. /shrug

[twitchesandstitches]

Brotherhood

Slade Wilson had grown up... well, if you believed what Waller and her claims about their mysterious backers, that was classified. Beyond classified; all the information had vanished from servers, scrolls with genelogical information had mysteriously been lost and now resided in his apartments, and people who had known him growing up now remembered history differently.

The Task Force gave you a new life. There was no metaphor intended; whoever you were, whatever you had done... with your every deed in service to the multiverse, you built a new life, and your old one was cleared away.

Even his memories were faint, vague and grew less complicated by the day. He didn’t mind. His memories were bad ones. There had been love, lost and forgotten; that woman was better off, and now she was alive despite knowing him. He had children still, but his work made sure they would become heroes, not the villains he’d taught them to be. There had been a boy, in a greed hood, with a bow, and-

Some memories lingered, and painfully.

But, nonetheless, if Slade Wilson had to use a term to describe his youth, and his family, that word would be ‘lonely’. He had no brothers, no real friends. His career enforced that, and wetwork made it difficult to have any real companions.

It had been a successful life. Not a good one, and never a happy one.

He’d never known what it was like, to have a brother.

“Sup, sup, S-word?”

Slade glanced up from an interesting catalogue of practical philosophy from around the multiverse, next to a few volumes marked things like How To Make Your Life Better Now You’re Not a Jackass, or Bad Guy Is Just A Choice, and the old clasic, Dude Stop Being A Dick Already. “The hell do you want, Wade.”

The figure standing in front of him was every bit identical to him. Same height, same overall body shape; descendant of Maori, like Slade, a mutant like him, and the same taste in jokes if lacking in a brain-mouth filter. Slade doubted if there was even a difference in their muscle mass, despite their different lives.

But where Slade’s skin was dark, one eye gone and his hair white with mutation-related stresses, Wade was.... screwed up. His skin was a tangled, rambling mess of scar tissue, bubbled knots of tumerous swells, a man made of wounds. Some of it looked like burns, others like what you got if they made blenders out of demons. There was no hair; it couldn’t grow out of scars like that. And it all shifted, flowed and knit back together in a sickeningly hypnotic motion.

He broke himself apart, every minute, all the time.

Someone suffering that much, forever, shouldnt be able to smile like that, even if it probably was facetious.

“I’m reading, Wade. Piss off.”

Slade’s voice was even.

Wad frowned at him. Possibly. He might have had a gut cramp, too. “You having pity thoughts, Mister ‘I’m So Edgy I Get Two Asshole Code Names’?”

“Deathstroke the Terminator is not edgy.”

“Say that again, pay attention to the words, and try to keep a straight face.”

“No,” Slade said calmly, trying to read. “Seriously. Piss off.”

Wade snickered, and wandered off.

Slade watched him go.

Odd, this feeling. Someone he knew that he so easily just understood, knew when he was being serious, knew when his overblown threats weren’t really serious.

And it was odd for the man, cloned from his genetics and modifications in an attempt to make another Slade Wilson before the mutation went extremely bad and cancerous, to be so open with someone else. Not masking the bitter feelings and vulnerability with humor. Just... regular jokes. Nothing hidden at all.

They’d both come to the Task Force for their own reasons. Slade wanted to get the red out of his ledger. Wade believed, with all his heart and soul, that his very existence was a crime; just being alive was something he needed to atone for.

(”Only reason I was even made in the first place is ‘cause some assholes wanted a pet killer Slade of their own. And I’m just a fuck-up, I was BORN screwing up doing even that. Kind of foreshadowing, eh?”)

Slade’s little secret was that he would have been content dying, and atoning that way. But letting Wade go off alone, face a future that was all Slade’s fault... he could live doing a lot of things. Just not that.

Alone now, Slade contemplated that he had grown up without a brother. He’d never expected to have one.

But just as he had thought when he had named Wade a Wilson, he supposed he had one now.