trickierthanthou: (→but first things first)
DEAR SANTA:

I want a pony for Christmas.

I want my chip taken out. Wouldn't that be a nice gift? Then I could give eeeeeeeveryone else something even better!

Aside from that, I want a ton of chocolate bars, gummy bears, sour straws, and other assorted candy. And I mean a ton literally.

I want a new mattress for my bed and flannel sheets. The good kind! It's damn cold in this place. Speaking of cold, some new clothes with lots of jackets included.

A jacuzzi.

A lamborghini.

No wait, an Ariel Atom. Hells yeah!

My own private jet.

I want a pendant for Castiel.
[Insert drawing of this symbol here.] Pure silver works best.

A wooden stake for Dean. I'm sure he wishes it worked. ♥

Oh, and my dog! Damn thing is liable to bite someone's hand off without me around.

Think you can handle that, Santa? Come on. It ain't even that hard of a list.

-Loki
trickierthanthou: (→it isn't funny anymore)
Whoooo, boy. And ol’ Luci thought I was slumming it before I wound up in this place. Who the hell did the decorating in this wanna-be hellhole? No, wait, don’t tell me—it’s another post-apocalyptic world with way too few people still hanging around in it. Am I right, or am I right?

[A sigh.] I mean, seriously. One Apocalypse wasn't enough? Am I supposed to fix this one too? Come on, I can't be made to fix everything for them!

[The speaker then goes quiet for some odd amount of time. His voice is softer and less flamboyant when it returns.]

Oh.

So this is how it's gonna be, huh? All right. I’ll play human. I won’t like it, but I’ll give it a good ol’ try. Hey, if I’m lucky—I might even be able to manage to make it back Home, huh? [He laughs humorlessly to himself.]

I hope you’re happy, Dean.
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