Comments | beyondtherift: And now you find yourself in '82. The disco hot spots hold no charm for you.

painhumbles in beyondtherift

And now you find yourself in '82. The disco hot spots hold no charm for you.

Jan 01, 2010 03:33

Chicago has a thing by now about chiming midnight and doom cometh.

Thankfully, Chicago chimes midnight, rings in 2010, and nothing really spectacular happens, so no one really has much to concern themselves with and can go on partying like it's not 2009 anymore. It's not really until the wee hours of the morning, the Hour of the Wolf, if you will, ( Read more... )

peter petrelli, cara quinn, cy, captain jack harkness, plot: trickster week, dean winchester, rachel conway, topher brink, toshiko sato, mat wallace, tay barnam, owen harper, kittentits, winny carpenter, karrin murphy, suou pavlichenko, glen barrett, the trickster, npc, daniel faraday

Comments 235

oncekittentits January 1 2010, 09:38:33 UTC

Kittentits does not understand why she is nowhere.

She especially doesn't understand why she is nowhere, with a moose.

Kittentits stares at the moose in this blank dimension, and the moose stares back into her soul.

Apparently, some fences are not made to be crossed.

gradeaclasshole January 1 2010, 09:42:38 UTC

Hat Guy walks into the diner with a golf club, whistling merrily. Today is a fantastic day, even if too many people are far, far too drunk to properly be dealt with. He has a golf club, and that in and of itself is nice.

Golf clubs are very nice things to have. Multi-purpose. And much like duct tape, they fix just about everything.

Now, what isn't nice is the fact that on New Years, 24-hour diners that are open tend to be packed. So don't mind him as he sits across from you, Trickster. He really doesn't care what you think, but he's not waiting for a table.

Also don't mind him as he puts the forementioned golf club on the table.

painhumbles January 1 2010, 09:53:52 UTC

There may be a stack of pancakes as big as his head (and his head is impressive) blocking the view from across the table, but the Trickster is aware that he is no longer comfortably alone in his Epic Demigod Sulk. Geez, a guy can't wind up in a dimension he didn't make up and eat his weight in fried batter in peace anymore?

He moves the plate aside and kind of stares at... Okay, if that guy's real name is Hat Guy then he had the worst parents ever and the Trickster can almost forgive the DANGER, DANGER WILL ROBINSON LEVELS of ASSHOLE he's getting off the guy.

"Can I help you with something?" He asks in the sarcastic tone that suggests an addendum to that sentence would be something along the lines of offering to put his foot in his ass to get him to move. Sharing is for less moody Tricksters. Call Loki. He'd probably get a kick out of this shit. This little Trickster already has one existential crisis on his hands- he doesn't need to add DIMENSIONAL DISPLACEMENT TO IT. And if he finds out this was Michael's doing, he's going to hurt ( ... )

gradeaclasshole January 1 2010, 10:11:51 UTC

There is absolutely no such thing as peace in Chicago, and well, Hat Guy likes to lend a hand to that. The faster you get used to that, the more livable Chicago tends to be.

"That depends," Hat Guy says vaguely, seeming to procure a plate from nowhere. Apparently sharing the Trickster's table wasn't enough. He's going to need to steal some of his pancakes as well. Oh look, an extra place setting. "Are you a designated driver tonight?"

He's spent most of his evening hitting designated drivers over the head with his designated driver on the table. Or getting them incredibly drunk. It just depended on how smashable their heads looked.

painhumbles January 1 2010, 20:54:50 UTC

That is a good way to get stabbed with a fork, Hat Guy... Or dropped into a wormhole or... Okay, the Trickster can't even think of where to begin on just desserts for this guy and that would imply he's at full power, which he's not. Hence the hatred of the world.

He's about to make good on the fork stabbing, but... That's actually a good joke and he kinda has to sit back and appreciate it. "Designated driver," he repeats, snickering. "That's clever."

You have, for the moment, earned the right to share the Trickster's pancakes. FEEL HONORED, HAT GUY.

Thread 16

Please sir, may I have another? oncekittentits January 1 2010, 09:50:57 UTC

Kittentits spent five hours staring at a moose and having it stare back. And then she was back in the park and well, she'll try the fence again later. There has to be something awesome on the other side of it, right? Or else why would there be a fence in the first place?

However, now there is a moose staring forlornly near the edge of a cliff.

This is the third time Kittentits has fallen off the cliff.

guardsintheory January 1 2010, 10:29:43 UTC

Here's a face that the Trickster should be familiar with, and a demeanour that he probably isn't - at least, not with that face attached. Mattie is feeling a bit better since having returned to the Gauche, and giving Buffy cookies, and since it's a new year, he's decided that since he knows Nate wouldn't want him moping around, he's going to... try not to. So he's in the diner, having a late breakfast.

Chocolate chip pancakes and chocolate milk. Childish? Maybe. But also yummy, though Mat's only really picking at it absently.

He misses his brother.

painhumbles January 1 2010, 20:47:41 UTC

It looks like Sam Winchester, it has epic soul-crushing angst like Sam Winchester, but it's not Sam Winchester, and if this some twisted, horrible This is Your Life sort of scenario twisted into something weirder than even he could come up with, someone upstairs is getting a book in their ass. Probably Zachariah. He needs a boot in his ass.

'Sup, Mattie. Meet the Trickster. One minute that seat across from you is empty and the next, it's boasting a very perturbed demigod/displaced archangel.

"First of all, can I just say I'm really sorry you have to share that freakishly large, uh... visage with Sam Winchester. No. Really. I am." That's totally his, I'm deeply sympathetic to your cause face and not his I'm deeply curious about the Sam Winchester clone who looks like someone steamrolled his puppy face.

...They're easy faces to mix up.

guardsintheory January 2 2010, 16:30:40 UTC

Mat is startled by the person appearing in the seat across from him, and not only jumps, but yelps, and accidentally sends his plate of pancakes flying.

Thank god he doesn't use syrup on those.

"Who... who are... what?" he stammers.

painhumbles January 2 2010, 20:39:42 UTC

Hel-lo. And if he wasn't absolutely sure and certain that this wasn't some Sam Winchester clone, he is damn sure of it now. Clearly, rain of pancakes does not perturb easily amused Trickster gods and he may be smirking a little now.

...What? That kind of reaction is hilarious.

He holds up his hands defensively, although when he speaks, he sounds like he's just shy of starting to cackle, "Wow. I mean... Wow. Did I fall into Opposite Land when I wasn't looking? I don't know what I was expectin', but... Wow."

That doesn't answer the question, but answering questions when asked are things for other deities. Although, really, it seems almost unfair to spend too long messing with Sam's doppelganger. He's just so... Twitchy. And wholly not an asshole.

Still.

Thread 19

archangelet January 1 2010, 11:46:49 UTC

Tay wakes up with a start after a weird dream that she can't remember. All she remembers is the cry of "Three miles up, three miles down!", which makes absolutely no sense without context, and she sort of thinks that there probably wasn't much context to begin with, it being a dream.

"My subconscious is really weird," she declares to the ceiling. "That dream made no sense."

Then she frowns a bit. "That was weird," she mutters. "Why the hell am I talking to myself? I must be going nuts." She shakes her head and stretches, padding to the bedroom to take a shower.

Heh heh heh...