Typist: *TRENDWHORE!1*

... *blinks* A what --

SPAM META. NOW. Or, um... die, or something. I don't know. But spam him. I'm bored.

...

Well, all right.

Puppets and typists both welcome. Have at iiiit.

*looks as though he hasn't slept in weeks -- hasn't, of course, but now he looks it ( Read more... )

( Private. Except for Famine. Famine can see it. Because Famine is special. )

*is alive, but this time it makes sense!*

*let's set it in the kitchen because the kitchen is where all Fam/Meta is born*

*sits on the counter, swinging his legs and working his way slowly through a jumbo-sized package of chocolate glazed donuts, with a mug of tea sitting next to him*

*is, conveniently, alive for the time being, 'cause hey, it's AnOTPEnd*

*sits crosslegged on the floor with his chin in his hand and frowns at the floor, as if trying to decide whether or not he ought to do something* ...All right, fine.

*pauses and looks up* Hastur...? Are you around?

*ladies and gentlemen, I give you: Meta is dumb.

oh, and also? he's dead*...so, anyone who cares to walk into the mansion's main room will find a bloodsoaked angel with his face blown essentially to smithereens, surrounded by a pool of -- you guessed it! -- blood ( Read more... )

*rather wrapped in bandages, or at least his torso is* *hasn't yet bothered to piece together the bits of ragged fabric that were, at one point, his shirt*

*...sighs* I suppose I ought to know better than to talk to a demon, especially Mephistopheles, that way.

*pause* ...I am right, though.

*is emo, hi -- actually, has been curled up in the corner having a nervous breakdown for the past hour or so, so... yeah*

*deep breath. tries not to look like he's been crying. fails.*

...I don't like knowing that if I needed him, he wouldn't be there.

*that's all, folks*

*clears throat*

The next time Beelzebub kills anyone or causes any sort of mayhem, I would really prefer not to hear about it in very much detail.

Thank you. *polite smile*

( Picture behind cut. Cute picture. )