Tony Stark (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
industries) wrote2019-05-29 12:00 pm
industries) wrote2019-05-29 12:00 pm
video recording: day 31
[Video fritzes in. A voice coughs as a bed comes into view. At first, it seems to be sitting alone outside, surrounded by snow and trees... until the camera adjusts and light glints across the clear bubble encasing the bedroom.
Tony steps into view. He sits on the bed and waves.]
Hey, Pep.
[He leans back. Scratches the back of his head.]
Day 31 -- sorry, haven't recorded one of these in a hot minute. Then again...
[He spreads his arms.]
Ta-daaa. No longer drifting through space. Or convinced I'm about to die. Which -- you know. Took away the urgency for the whole leaving-you-a-message-thing, but...
[He trails off, then looks back to the camera.]
So that's the good news. Bad news is I'm stuck in some kind of pocket dimension, and -- Pep, let me tell you, it is a whackadoo pocket dimension. Like... you remember that parody porno we watched for fun, where more well-endowed versions of me and my coworkers have a giant orgy to save New York? Yeah. It's kind of like that. Minus the... cheap sets and terrible acting. And the name "Assvengers."
[His deadpan expression persists for a few seconds until his mouth twists. He shuts his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face.]
God, I... you have no idea how much I miss you. Every day. Every second. It's like... now that I can breathe, I can't stop thinking about you. About if you're okay. You... [He sucks in a breath.] You have to be alive, Pep. Please be alive. I... I don't know what I'll do if you're not alive.
[His face remains hidden from camera for a little longer, covered by the heel of his hand. Finally, he pulls it down.]
But hey -- yeah. Getting back to recording these. I started now, because... guess what today is?
[Pause.]
May 29th. That's right -- I'm 49, womp-womp -- but! I'm actually not, since Whackadoo City's calendar doesn't match up with mine, and besides, I'm pretty sure their weird language mind-meld is translating some alien calendar to Gregorian... somehow.
[Another pause.]
Did I mention there's a weird alien language mind-meld? I actually had to practice to say all of this in English. But I am! Aren't you proud of me? Saying basic sentences like a five-year-old, that's... that's where we're at. That's the current level of expectation.
[He shakes his head a little, like he's trying to stay awake.]
Okay, I've... I can hear you telling me to shut up already. I just -- happy birthday to me, I guess. And... happy whatever-it-is-you're doing. I hope it's nothing too awful.
[His brow creases. He reaches out to touch the side of the camera.]
I love you. I love you so much. I hope you can feel it.
[He bites his lip and glances just above the camera.
His hand moves. The recording ends.]
Tony steps into view. He sits on the bed and waves.]
Hey, Pep.
[He leans back. Scratches the back of his head.]
Day 31 -- sorry, haven't recorded one of these in a hot minute. Then again...
[He spreads his arms.]
Ta-daaa. No longer drifting through space. Or convinced I'm about to die. Which -- you know. Took away the urgency for the whole leaving-you-a-message-thing, but...
[He trails off, then looks back to the camera.]
So that's the good news. Bad news is I'm stuck in some kind of pocket dimension, and -- Pep, let me tell you, it is a whackadoo pocket dimension. Like... you remember that parody porno we watched for fun, where more well-endowed versions of me and my coworkers have a giant orgy to save New York? Yeah. It's kind of like that. Minus the... cheap sets and terrible acting. And the name "Assvengers."
[His deadpan expression persists for a few seconds until his mouth twists. He shuts his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face.]
God, I... you have no idea how much I miss you. Every day. Every second. It's like... now that I can breathe, I can't stop thinking about you. About if you're okay. You... [He sucks in a breath.] You have to be alive, Pep. Please be alive. I... I don't know what I'll do if you're not alive.
[His face remains hidden from camera for a little longer, covered by the heel of his hand. Finally, he pulls it down.]
But hey -- yeah. Getting back to recording these. I started now, because... guess what today is?
[Pause.]
May 29th. That's right -- I'm 49, womp-womp -- but! I'm actually not, since Whackadoo City's calendar doesn't match up with mine, and besides, I'm pretty sure their weird language mind-meld is translating some alien calendar to Gregorian... somehow.
[Another pause.]
Did I mention there's a weird alien language mind-meld? I actually had to practice to say all of this in English. But I am! Aren't you proud of me? Saying basic sentences like a five-year-old, that's... that's where we're at. That's the current level of expectation.
[He shakes his head a little, like he's trying to stay awake.]
Okay, I've... I can hear you telling me to shut up already. I just -- happy birthday to me, I guess. And... happy whatever-it-is-you're doing. I hope it's nothing too awful.
[His brow creases. He reaches out to touch the side of the camera.]
I love you. I love you so much. I hope you can feel it.
[He bites his lip and glances just above the camera.
His hand moves. The recording ends.]