Latest Posts by withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Page 2

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.

He couldn't guess when exactly he even fell asleep, to be honest. Maybe that was just part of what was going on with him these days, he had been having a lot of those moments. Azazel lay with his head pressed against the wheel of the car he had rented for the drive-in. Just some minutes before, he was watching the wide screen, a little annoyed at where his car was concerning it, but he supposed he was just going to have to live with it. Though the longer he sat that, the more he realized, he actually, fucking hated going to drive-ins. Too tired to do anything about it at that moment, he felt himself starting to lull into sleep as things started picking up on the screen.

The next thing he knew, he was dreaming of something far better than what was going on on the screen. Or maybe it was worse, either way, as he drifted farther off to sleep, his breathing picked up, minutes later, a layer of sweat started to form. Twitching here and there, he was having quite an episode, whatever he was dreaming. That was until something suddenly interrupted, perhaps, in his mind, a new horror, at that. Jerking up suddenly, he gasped, his hands pushed against the horn, sounding it off in the drive-in. Panting, he turned to look at Bandit as she was talking. Narrowing his eyes on the her he frowned, “Dammit, Bandit… “ Catching is breath, Azazel rolled down the window a bit, “Pink…dream boat…” Looking confused for a moment, he turned his head, glancing around them before gesturing to the passenger seat.

“Are you planning to crawl over my lap?! Why are you on this side of the car?” He asked in a whispered tone. Then looked toward the screen, yawning at the next question. He rolled his shoulders and shook his head, “I think it's a commercial at the moment, the first murder happened already.” Looking at Bandit as she seemed to bribe him with popcorn, he raised his eyebrows at that, then laughed a bit before mumbling, “Well, unless you're planning to crawl over my lap, you need to go around to the otherside- also, they didn't have candy?”

@withoutmonsterswebecomethem at the weekend of horrors, april 21st after 8PM

Bang, bang, bang, it was a thunderous incantation of her knuckles and a closed fist smacking against the driver's side door of the first familiar face that she had found, waiting for the snoozing driver to stir like a bear from hibernation, and when their eyes caught sight of movement inside, they bent themselves at a damn near ninety-degree angle to get their face as close to the window as they could without squishing their whole-ass cheek up against it and smiled widely, giving another knock for good measure. "Hey! Sleepin' beauty. Ya got room for one more in there? I ran out'a pocket change to spend on one'a these nice rentals and my pink dreamboat's in the shop." No, she wasn't talking about a man, or a woman, or anyone, for that matter — who was going to have the audacity to tie down Bandit Vaddhana, queen of sequins and glitter? — merely her beloved car who owned the two halves of her heart. It was with great disappointment that she found herself a bit crushed by the warbling of the screen and the distorted voices, a picture-in-picture she hadn't paid for appearing, and she pouted her lips. "Did I miss the flick already? Or is this some kind'a commercial break?" she ventured, her eyes wandering in the direction of the silver screen, and making a face. A little rude to interrupt a showgirl's only chance at horror comedy, but if they went back after the fact, she forgave them. "Anyway! I got popcorn with half ya name on it if you'll share the ride."

what will azazel do... if they're coughing up blood out of the blue?

“Probably stop eating the shards of glass or poison I've suddenly been 'assassinated' with, I guess? I thought that waffle was bitter and too crunchy. I knew I should have just cooked for myself, but it's so agonizing. Worth it.”

How big is Azazel's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?

I would say it's a fairly decent-sized wardrobe. Azazel is into several fashion styles and adjacent styles, usually the more expensive styles. He is sentimental enough to keep older clothing that he's probably worn often and taken a great liking to. But makes enough money that he can also afford to buy new and/or expensive additions to his wardrobe if he wants to. I'd imagine that Azazel is one of those students who took Home Ec, and so learned to sew from that, and had developed a fairly excellent ability for it, though rarely has to use it these days. Though, I could say he doesn't just have to resign his sewing skill to just clothing…

TWIN PEAKS | 1.06

being a GM is really fun because sometimes you can make your players go through some really traumatic Evangelion bullshit, but other times you can force them to go bowling for no reason

Every single time

Hence my circle so small

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

i DARE you to call me a freak. that's my preferred prefix, loser. i am a freakish little beast, with horrid claws and spiraling teeth. i am also. cooler than you

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?

Smoking, Azazel pulled his cigarette from his mouth, glancing out toward the drive-in as something started to happen, he scrunched his nose, “Well, things could be worse… I guess.” He muttered with a stream of smoke drifting out from between his lips, with little enthusiasm in his voice. After a moment, he blew out the rest of the smoke trapped in his lungs, turning away. Then dropped the cigarette, flicking it toward the ground, staring down at it as he stomped on it. Just at relatively the same moment, someone bumped into him, making him stumble a bit. The next moment, gaining his balance once more, he turned to face who it was as they spoke.

Staring at their hair a moment, then looked to her face, “I'm fine--” Though, he stopped himself from saying more as she spoke on, “Well, if you're any good at Frogger, the streets might be one of the safer places.” He suggests. Before waving out his left arm, staring after her from behind his sunglasses. Then turned his head, looking over at the masked men, and their dogs. No extreme reaction on his face or in his actions to what was going on at the drive-in, because he really couldn't be bothered to care much about it, it had nothing to do with him, “You first?” He offered, not really sounding like he was in any rush to get out of there. Perhaps he was just being too confident.

( weekend of horrors, april 21st, shortly after 8:00 pm ) @boneyardstarters

Cassandra couldn't have devised a better excuse to wander the strip freely if she tried, beyond thrilled for the evening crowds to get lost in during her clandestine evenings out that weekend. But even despite the comfort she found in the surging throngs of people spilling out of fluorescent establishments, she still donned her usual disguise, the blonde wig firmly in place, lest she run into any of her family's associates during the festivities. The last thing she needed was any of her father's lackies reporting back on her whereabouts and movements, which would no doubt prompt a barrage of questions she would rather not answer. So you can wander around Vegas at all hours, but you can't be bothered to leave your apartment during the day? Instead, she opted for anonymity, anything to find some answers. But it seemed that she had underestimated the reach of the Weiss family. Her eyes catching on the commotion brewing over at the drive-in across the street, of vaguely familiar figures clad in dark clothes and masks (accompanied by dogs that would surely pick up her scent), Cassie swiftly turned on her heel towards the opposite direction. But not before she collided with an unsuspecting person on the sidewalk. "Shit, are you okay?" she blurted, shooting a paranoid glance over her shoulder towards the masked guards, hoping to get out of the area as soon as possible. "We should probably get out of the street, yeah?" Anything to keep from being recognized.

Of course, not everyone was fully aware he had returned. It wasn't like he was trying to broadcast it, either. It was already a problem enough to explain to those he absolutely had to, about his absence, and then return. Without actually having to tell them what it was about. The current goings-on were a graceful distraction from all of that, however. People were more interested in their fun than in asking why he was away so long, what he was doing, and why people thought he might be dead. Clearly, he wasn't dead, but maybe he contemplated it at this point. Sweat coated as he stepped into the bar, looking somewhat sickly but quite presentable. All he had to do was tell himself he was fine, and the mental fortitude he was forcing on himself did the rest of the work. Moving to take a seat as he saw a familiar head in front of him, he grinned at the exclamation. Then, reaching over, he playfully pinched Faye's cheek, gently, before pulling his hand away from her face.

Then flagged down the bartender currently working, thankful it wasn't Cyrek. He supposed the other might be out having fun, or something he didn't want to think about at the moment. Maybe if he were lucky, the other might be face down in a ditch, and out of his hair. Okay, perhaps that was undeserved. He didn't wish anything too awful to happen to his…acquaintance. But, lately, his former irritation with the other seemed to reignite itself, with the other's previous actions perhaps being a little more unresolved for him than he previously thought. Azazel turned to properly face Faye, then said, “Did you miss me?” He asked as his drink, the usual he ordered, was placed in front of him, “Finally, some good liquor.” He muttered, gulping down the whole shot. Toying with the glass, he winces a bit, then continues, “Surprised you didn't see me before now, what have you been doing?”

event: weekend of horrors

location & date: the mean eyed-cat bar, april 21st, 1996 @ 9pm

closed starter: @withoutmonsterswebecomethem

a rather large throng of individuals occupied the mean-eyed cat bar this particular evening, but as expected, in blatant honesty. after all, it was the weekend of horrors, indicating the turnout consisted of a variety of characters and personalities, far and wide in between. some were dressed clad in cartoon themed attire, a group of young men donning each of the teenage mutant ninja turtles while some sported a flared out collar and a mimicked dribble of blood trailing from the corner of their lips. bringing the corner of her shot glass up to down the contents of vodka, faye couldn't help but to smoothly chuckle to herself upon the keen observance. oh, the irony. lips twist up to form a soured expression after the thick liquid cascaded down her throat, a brief shake of her head triggering corkscrew coils to fly about as though the action itself would aid in minimizing the alcohol's strength. but that wasn't the point at all, she was here for a purpose and that was to become under the influence. luckily for faye, her heightened sensitivities would allow that to take place quite easily. slamming the glassware down onto the mahogany surface, her thoughts come to a pause once she notices a familiar form settling down beside her, bambi like eyes widening by just the smallest fraction before she exclaimed, "pinch me!" talk about seeing a ghost.

gothic horror rlly is just. aw fuck look at what youve done. the house has inherited your inter-generational trauma and in response has transformed itself into a metaphorical device to track the decay of the family. we're never gonna pay off that mortgage now

found on reddit

and the artist's tumblr: @nullxface

springs preserve > las vegas, nevada

Knocking his head lightly from side to side, he had agreed. Though anything was usually comfy for him, as he could fall asleep like a baby on solid concrete, or a spiked bed, perhaps, even? Azazel was never one to have a hard time getting to sleep, most of the time. He was a very good sleeper. Not so much lately, with what was rattling around in his head, “Well, it is your couch.” He noted, in amusement, “You can sleep on it if you want.”

Rubbing his left hand against his neck, he let Andrea go on, with a few nods of his head as he stayed quiet. Though he was not much of a coffee drinker, he had drunk it from time to time. Most people were a lot more social when they drank coffee. Or, at the very least, liked to drink coffee socially. Just like, most bars were full of people who only drank socially. He had to guess. “I am a sleepy person, so a good night's rest is an important part of my day.” Though he had no intention of letting her, let alone anyone else, know what was going on with him. It was a torment, but Azazel could imagine worse if he allowed himself to be unburdened by that torment.

Or maybe that was just his imagination. Glancing around, scanning over the crowds, he swallowed thickly, not sure who might be watching, with a crowd like this. Anyone, anywhere, here, could be. He had to play this off naturally, taking in a breath, he turned his head back toward Andrea, “Oh! Really? I passed by there, the store itself, the other day. Looks like it's having trouble getting off the ground.” But of course, the owners weren't, in his opinion, the most reliable. So he was surprised it hadn't burned to the ground or been condemned yet. But the 'child labor' was a nice touch. He knew it wasn't actually what was going on, but he was being a bit of a pessimist, “Nothing, sadly. Which I usually do. I guess there's been a bit of a slump?”

It was always nice to see a familiar face, especially when it is a friend of hers. She began to think of extending her break to hang out with him, she needed it after how long the day had been for the blonde. "I mean it is a pretty comfy couch, I have fallen asleep on it quite a few times myself." She chuckled. He looked like he needed the nap that she had disturbed, but she wasn't going to pry unless he wanted to talk about it.

"There is never a bad time for coffee, unless when you are trying to get a good nights rest." She took hold of his hand and helped him to his feet before letting him fix up his bag pack. "It's been pretty tiring if I'm being honest with you. I haven't been to many booths been working at the record store booth most of the day. Needed to take a break from it all. What about you? Find anything good?"

In Memoriam- Globus

Eram quod es, eris quod sum Memoria in aeterna Pulvis et umbra sumus, redivivus

I was what you are, you will be what I am In everlasting remembrance We are dust and shadow, come back to life

Azazel held his gaze on the other, unbroken, for a time, before he blinked, almost too slowly. Then turned his head and muttered, “The fuck does it look like I just did, hm?” The other usually wore on his patience, but not enough before now to have him reacting anymore aggressively. But notably, at this moment, he was. Of course, at this moment, he had a lot more lore than he had some of the previous times they had run into one another. Azazel moved to rest his head in his left hand, bringing his left elbow to rest on the counter. He still knew not to press more than necessary, lest he end up breaking the mask more than it was able to bend in these conditions. Forcing a smile as Cyrek went on, he shook his head a bit, “Oh. Come now. I'm a reasonable person, even if I'm not your favorite at times. I can be very-ah, companionably.”

He glanced around the bar, sighing at it being one of the few he liked to go to, even if it belonged to the wrong team. Though he had never concerned himself with that, as long as his team was on top of the pile of skulls, in the end. Turning his gaze back onto Cyrek as he went on, he nodded his head a bit, “You think I would?” He laughed, biting on his bottom lip, not sure the other could be trusted to read others. Though he was in no mood to dissuade the others' wrong assumptions, if The Art of War taught him anything, like the most basic and sensible advice in the world, it was to just ignore such attempts at slights by the supposed enemy. Cyrek wasn't seen as a threat to Azazel, however, more like a tick that just needed to be burned off every once in a while to go spin his head in a different direction.

Grinning, Azazel wondered how many of those silly drinks ever really got sold, probably a reasonable amount for them to be on a menu, instead of some secret order a dumb college kid created while high off his ass during a bender for some pledge to a sorority or fraternity. Azazel was an adult, however, long since passed mixing his drinks to create some bullshit, he just wanted to roll his blunts, smoke off the nerves in his living room while watching Care Bears, in the sanctity of his own home. A few shots deep, surrounded by other things. Though he didn't choose to do that, on this night. He was here, instead. Listening to this acquaintance of his trying his best to stand next to him on that pile of skulls, Azazel narrowed his eyes a bit. At least, that's what he assumed, or was it the workings of his paranoia trying to make a threat? He sucked on his teeth a bit, “Powder my nose?” He scrunched his nose a bit, not sure what to make of that comment.

“Aww, Cyrek, do you think I'm pretty? Only the most vain of people powder their noses, though.” He grabbed the drink then, downing it like a champ and huffing out a breath to one side, “It's alright. But it could be stronger.” Tipping the class upside down, he pushed it gently from him, “I bet I could breathe fire, in some circumstances, but, like I said, I'd need something, like--… Gasoline? What do you think?” Though gasoline didn't taste all that pleasant, not, that he had ever tried to breathe fire before, of course not. He had absolutely tried before.

"Alright, then don't order it," the bartender threw up his hands in mock surrender at that, the folly of showperson's charisma ebbing out of his pores, replacing any sense of congeniality with a wrinkle of his brow and a thin-lipped grimace. Half the time, it seemed like it was the agenda of people who walked through the door to make his job significantly more strenuous than it had to be — though, in the case of anyone involved with the Vitellis, he kind of leaned into the inclination that that was their quid pro quo for strife he'd eventually reaped what he sow. "No harm, no foul to me. You'll probably stiff me on the tip anyway." Which begged the question why Azazel would bother entering a biker bar that was arguably outside of the comfort of the family bounds, and there was plenty of alcohol they could get for free at one of the casinos, surely. Now that he wasn't under the guise of playing nice, he let out a snort, reaching for a clean glass to serve him. He didn't feel like getting shit on the job at Azazel's expense, if nothing else. "Think you'd crack for the feds a lot faster than I would. Sure that you got some secrets you'd squeal over."

The laminated sheet clattered noisily back to its resting place under the bar, to be turned down by another dozen patrons before he finally could hightail it home for the evening, or a couple blocks over where the lights on the Strip were crystalline enough to illuminate the shadowed building of the future home of Skratch Records. Thank you. "Oh, surprised you remembered manners." Cyrek certainly let it slip his mind if people gave him reason to. Pouring out the drink, he narrowed his eyes to catlike slits, he slid it over to him, chewing on his inner cheek and itching to reach for the pack of gum in his back pocket and unroll a strip. "Uh-huh," he grunted out, unimpressed with the pass, "Good luck breathin' fire with this, mate. You might be goin' through a lot of drinks if that's what you're after. Might find it easier if you powder your nose in the bathroom instead."

SHADOW OF THE TOMB RAIDER (2018)

The only “crypto“ I care about is cryptozoology

♡ follow for more soft john dies aesthetic ♡

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.

Waiting patiently for the other to show up, he knew it might take a moment or so, given which neighbor this was. He supposed he had a lot more in common with them, now, than he did before. Though in spite of that, he wasn't turning into more agoraphobic behavior, he had to keep up appearances, in the face of constant hounding on where he had been for so long in his absence. Azazel breathed, bringing a hand up to brush against the potted plant, trying to keep that same energy even now.

Seeing a movement at the blinds, he tilted his head a bit. Then looked to the door the moment the other came to and opened it, “Hey-” He glanced away, looking across the neighborhood, sure others were again watching him. Watching them. Closing his eyes a moment, he laughed a bit before opening his eyes and staring over at Alice's place, “Yeah. Everything's…well, great? I guess? Considering everything.” Adjusting the potted plant, he turned more toward Seokmin, giving the other his full attention, “Just been out watering my yard-and noticed I had too much-uhm, stuff. So I'm taking it over to a friend's. But wanted to stop by, check in-” Glancing toward the stack of papers, and having remembered the overgrowth of the yard, he figured the other was alive, but that it was good to check, just in case, “What about you, get out lately?”

existing somewhere between collapse and endurance, seokmin moved through life like someone walking a fraying tightrope: careful, numb, always bracing for the inevitable fall. survival, after all, was still survival — even if it had long since ceased to resemble anything like living. the lawn had grown wild, grass in need of a cut; a few sun-bleached newspapers forgotten about on the porch, their headlines irrelevant now — not that they’d ever been read in the first place. and yet, there was something almost charming about the chaos. a scattering of stubborn plants clung to life, climbing trellises and curling along the siding; to some, it might have even looked like a quaint, overgrown cottage, tucked into its own little jungle. it was a nice place to return to after a long day ( or night ) at work. luckily, there was no need to leave the shelter of his humble abode tonight. his security jacket hung untouched by the door, a silent confirmation that, for the next twenty-four hours, he could exist separately from the outside world — just the way he preferred it. which made the knock at the door all the stranger. who could possibly need him now? whatever it was, it seemed urgent enough — the noise grating. reluctance settled in his chest. seokmin moved soundlessly across the room, pausing by one of the windows to peek out of one the blinds, lifted just enough to see without being seen. always cautious. always on edge. it was only his neighbour. still wary, but less so upon seeing a friendly face on the other side, he unlocked the door and opened it. “hi, azazel,” he greeted, clearing his throat. “what, um… is everything okay?”

Idk what love is but amy seeing a blurry low resolution picture of what’s going on behind the fence and recognizing dave instantly because she knows his body language this well must be it.

Recognizing the familiar voice, he grinned, keeping his eyes closed another moment or so before turning his head into his hand. Andrea wasn't someone he'd been planning to run into today. Not that he was going out of his way to run into anyone, or anything, as of late. Since what was going on with him lately was making him a bit more distant, even if unconsciously so, most of the time. As Andrea went on, he continued to press his face into his hand, remaining lying down, “Your couch is a hell of a lot more comfortable than this bench.” He shifted and pushed himself up so that he was sitting and rubbed his hand to his face, then brushed it over his head, not really fixing his hair, since it was a bit too short still.

“Coffee doesn't sound half bad right now.” Reaching out his hand to his friend, he took up their offer before moving to stand and grabbing his backpack with his other hand. Pulling the straps over his shoulders, he adjusts it and knocks his head, “How's your day been going? Finding anything in these booths?” Azazel asked as he stretched a bit, holding his arms out in front of him, cracking his fingers as he held them together.

Andrea had been helping out at the Skratch Records booth, usually taking care of the records but every now and again found themselves chatting to people that came by the booth. She decided to take a break, she needed it, also she wanted to have a look at some of the other booths. However while on her way to one of the booths, she noticed a familiar face fast asleep on one of the benches. "Hey there sleepy head." The blonde let a chuckle escape from her lips watching as he woke up with a startle. "I think you said that when you fell asleep on my couch. Wanna grab some coffee, I could use some and you look like you might need some too." She smiled holding out one of her hands to him.