A Day To Remember - Better Off This Way

My eyes burned, tears clawing their way to the red brims. I didn't have time to pity myself. If I did, if I gave in to the pain and betrayal and fucking sadness, I didn't think I could pull myself back out. What is an angel without wings? What is a monster without teeth?

Blood So Brutal - Emily Blackwood

what will azazel do… if they discovered a dead body?

“Take a look over it. It could just be a drunk guy, you never know. Then I would make sure if I know them are or not. But ultimately, since I'm discovering the dead body, I'd just manipulate someone to report it to the police from a payphone and make it someone else's problem. Or just let someone else discover it. Either of those can easily disassociate and distance me from the entire thing. Because dead bodies are gross and I don't like them, which, I imagine, is the case for most people. But ultimately, it would be really cool not to be caught being around dead bodies and cops. You never know who could be watching, trying to pin some shit on you. But-maybe that's what's happening, it's a set up… I hate this planet.” Then he'd probably orchestrate some elaborate scheme that gets whoever set him up to discover that dead body, whether that's the truth or not, of the situation, killed, or, more likely, caught by police or something, themself.

found on reddit

and the artist's tumblr: @nullxface

what will azazel do… if they're being threatened?

Bringing his right hand up to pinch his nose, Azazel squeezed his eyes shut, hearing the threat, especially from someone who looked like they belonged in an amusement park entertaining children. For a split moment, an intrusive thought invaded his mind amongst the irritation that was consuming him. He imagined just pulling his gun on the other and firing point-blank into their head, especially given the idea that they thought he could be threatened. He'd been running with the Vitelli gang long enough now that he had heard plenty of threats, most of which did next to, if not a single thing for him. It was not that he was not scared, of course. It was simply who the threat was by, and most people he knew were not all that threatening to him. Once the invasive thought had left him, he put on a smile, offering brightness to mask how brutal he could be if any threat to him became real.

Azazel laughed, hollow, “Well, why don't we cut the chit-chat, and you get to doing that? Hm? Until then, I think there's still a place for you at the kids' table. Kay?” Turning away, he rolled his eyes and walked away, as if tempting them still to do what they threatened, instead of just being words that did nothing for him. He had a lot more things to worry about these days, than some petulant child trying to mouth off to him when one broad backhand and a few loose or knocked out teeth could send them scattering away to go whimper and whine in a corner, then cry 'wolf' because their mouth was writing checks it couldn't cash. Azazel couldn't care one bit about little dogs when there were plenty of bigger, more feral dogs to focus his efforts on. Those were less likely to talk a big game and act on their greater desires. Azazel knows to strike the shepherd, not the sheep. So he tries to lay his plans on those who act, rather than those who talk, when it is the advantage to do so.

Narrowing his eyes on the other as she excused her waking him up, Azazel clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth and then closed his eyes again, adjusting his head on his backpack as he did. Not going back to sleep, that was done with now. Though the sight of seeing someone adorned with cat ears, drawn on whiskers, and a bit of red on her lip was, in thought, amusing, he would tell himself. But as she went on, questioning about vampires, his eyes shot back open.

Sitting up then, he looked at her, then, “You've got red on you.” It was what he said at first before turning his head away, squinting out into the crowd. Lifting his left hand up, he unhooked the sunglasses hanging off his shirt and deftly moved to put them on as he put some time between his comment before answering the vampire question. Azazel pressed the middle finger of his right hand against the nose piece of the glasses, then leaned back in his seat, “I guess, maybe, for you. That it might be. I'm not so sure, for me. Maybe I'm being self-destructive.”

He grinned, then, turning his head back toward her, now ready to reply to what she said about blood suckers, generally vampires. Despite the fact that his skin crawled, he knew they weren't real. But there was something, something swarming inside him, denying this belief in him. Azazel then looked up and, as casually as he was sitting, he spoke, “Vampires aren't real. So unless a big fucking mosquito is making it's rounds in this crowd, or probably a vampire bat-” Pausing, he knocked is head to one side. Though vampire bats weren't technically known to actually suck blood, if he were remembering his studies correctly, “Most I gotta fear there is a bad case of rabies, though, not blood loss.”

WHILE THE ONGOING EVENT HAD CERTAINLY CAUGHT HER INTEREST as she couldn't recall the French countryside she grew up on ever holding one that seemed comparable to a mid-spring horror fest, Simone was partially annoyed that she was forced to wander through crowds that her uppity social standing usually had her avoiding as the places she frequented happened to be expensive just to stand in most of the time. Her clients were not the type to plan an entire trip to Vegas for an event that felt partially reminiscent of Halloween, thus, she had no real reason to peruse around except for her own curiosity as the foreign born had clearly never once celebrated the spooky holiday herself as a child. The simple cat ears on her head and whiskers drawn on to her face atop rosy blush was not melting under the Vegas sun thanks to expensive makeup it was etched on with, but the same sadly couldn't be said for the cookie of a fanged mouth, as the red icing that represented blood was threatening to melt off and onto her hands, much to the travel agent's dismay as she rushed to take a seat on a bench and pull some tissues out of her bag. "Ah, then I do not need to apologize for waking you if you were only resting. I would think it impossible to fall asleep with everything appearing so fantasmagorique. You are not fearful of those that suck blood?" A smile crossed her face, as if amused with her own question.

Diverting his gaze, of course, not wanting to give her much reason to try and assess what may or may not have been going on with him these days. Though the sunglasses, despite being inside, stayed on his face. He still had dark circles and wasn't feeling his best. At her smile, he listened to Faye as she replied to him. Nodding his head a little along with her words, and laughing lightly at her return pinching gesture. Waving his right hand playfully, he says, “No reason to. Really. Nothing to be concerned about.” Azazel wouldn't say that was the truth, of course. But he couldn't remember all too well what had happened, perhaps he was even, he imagined, suppressing it.

Watching her drink down her shot, he lifted his left hand up to his face, resting his head in it as he leaned onto the bar top. He just wanted this. A return to normal, though, how much it did for his current abundance of nervousness and paranoid-things, like thoughts, sounds, sights. Waving his right hand as the bartender came back, he got another shot. Then turned his head, adjusting it slightly, “What? Can't a guy just go no contact for a bit?” Pausing, his brows knit together briefly, before he put on a smile, “You could say it's been about the same for me. Busy. Like a little bee.” Clearing his throat then he reached his hand out as his drink was placed in front of him. Staring at it for some time, “Just got to get back into the usual motions, ugh. Vacations over.” 

Lifting the glass, he tilted his head back as he brought it to his lips, downing the shot. Then gently placed it back on the bar top and, turning his head to look around. After tonight, things were not seeming right. He swallowed, then asked, “Been a weird night, huh?” Just to keep the conversation more present, though he knocked his head a little, “Guess this whole fest is always a little weird, though, you know? I remember coming out as a teenager, it used to have some unusual things to buy. A lot of aliens. But then, what do you expect? It's Nevada.”

a far more genuine chortle of laughter tumbles its way from between plump lips as Faye registers Azazel's response, the prolonged absence of companionship threatening to sink its way back into a sense of familiarity for her. having wondered about the man's abrupt leave for so long - pondering over what if's and what happened's - it was quite difficult to not miss him to a certain extent. of course, the ample time to linger over an acquaintance's hidden whereabouts would be drastically dwindled down after being swept up into more tasks for The Cactus Cats, or assisting in rearranging the haunted museum. to put it more simply, Faye was a busy, busy woman with heaps of responsibilities on her plate -- an aspect she wasn't necessarily in opposition to considering it made her feel like she truly discovered a place she could call home. but lately though? she deemed herself to be grateful for the minute relief now that the Weekend of Horrors event was swinging in full effect throughout Vegas, Stella and Cyrek long before then having been swamped with obligations of getting their records shop officially up and running for business aside from other duties.

pearly whites on display, the petite woman retaliated, "paint me just a tad bit concerned." dainty hands playfully feigning coolness as she brought her index finger and thumb close together to mimic a pinch gesture, afterwards quickly beckoning to the bartender on shift for another shot to be filled with her preferred vodka. directing her attention back towards the dark haired individual, her gaze scanned over the being perched next to her. it wasn't every day you went from often greeting a neighbor to noticing and growing accustomed to their mysterious departure, and he didn't seem to especially exude the indication of wanting to delve into the subject, so she'd leave matters well enough alone. grasping the same glassware to consume the clear booze within it, Faye swiftly tossed the tiny cup back before bringing it back to the wooden surface with a resounding 'thud.' raising her hand up to swipe the excess liquid away from a corner of her mouth, she replied, "and here i thought i had a knack for falling off the face of the Earth. i've been peachy - keeping busy, per usual - better now that my drinking buddy is back in town, and you?" God knows she wasn't going to prod, but if he was willing to open up to her as previous drunken sessions demonstrated, then who was she to turn away from him?

Hearing the little voice, Azazel paused in his stride, turning his head, he looked down, cold brown eyes staring down intensely at the small child as she spoke up to him, wondering why she was out here at a place like this, alone. Instantly, that coldness melted as he was reminded of his own son, of similar age, he supposed, to this little girl. He glances away then, playfully, “Oh I just might!” Expressively, he brought a hand to his chin, his index, and thumb forming into a check mark-like form under it, “Well Marceline, as an artist myself, how could I say 'no' to such a polite request?” Bringing his free, left hand, to his hip, he moved his right hand from his face, only to stop playing the moment Lyonet came stumbling out.

His coldness returned as the girl's mother came out, “It was nothing. She wasn't bothering me.” He replied to the girl's mother, leaning his hip more into his left hand, slouching slightly as he huffed out a slightly amused breath as Lyonet called the little girl a custodian, “Oh.” Azazel mumbled. After Lyonet told him it was just a joke, he quirked an eyebrow, “Couldn't tell.” He remarked with the smallest trace of a sarcastic tone in his voice. Azazel turned his head away, staring elsewhere for the moment as the other went on, “Alright, then, what can you help me with while you're stuck in business limbo?” He asked before looking back to Lyonet once again, before pausing to think for a moment, “Not really much for community service, actually.”

But, letting out a breath, he realized he needed to distract himself, anyway. Staring at Lyonet, he knocked his head toward her, prompting her a bit with a, “What kind of stuff are you guys still needing help with?”

@boneyardstarters lyonet + ??? : april 10, skratch records @ mid-morning cap : ∞

mix-ups with mars' school schedule typically didn't result in this kind of catastrophe. alas, there lyonet was, harboring her seven year old on the front steps of her workplace, all because she had neglected to remember it was a fucking teacher work day. she had resumed her pesky habit of inhaling snow every weekend, and prior to that she was relatively adept at arranging comfortable boarding for her daughter. however, that was before she swore reina to secrecy upon her relapse being unveiled and very callously reminded the kitchen witch exactly how fortunate she was to be entrusted with mars' care: 'at least i still have custody of my kid' may or may not have been uttered; which, of course, was enough guilt that would stick with reina for the remainder of her natural life. digressing, it was far too late in the day for lyonet to unload mars unto her older sister, so, the little girl was now a temporary employee of skratch records. at least, the bare bones of it. while lyonet idled inside and hid from the major renovations, mars manned the front curb. it didn't occur to lyonet that her very outspoken child would attempt contact with a wandering stranger until she heard her daughter's squeaky little voice say: hi, i'm marceline! but everyone calls me mars, or marcie, or mar. we're not open yet. do you want to help paint? quickly, lyonet stumbled off the step stool she was on while clumsily painting and scrambled out front, converse skidding on the concrete. "alright, miss mars," she cleared her throat loudly as she plucked her daughter up off the ground. "sorry about that. she's just our custodian," she joked halfheartedly. "that was a joke. kind of. can we help ya with something? we're, uh, not quite off the ground yet, but... we've got fresh lemonade if you wanna help out."

Every single time

Hence my circle so small