Blink 182 - Wishing Hell

found on reddit

and the artist's tumblr: @nullxface

I saw somebody. Maybe it was your fairy godfather.

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.”

Location: Stargazer Villas Date: April 10, Afternoon Cap: ♾️ @boneyardstarters

Lying on his living room floor, it was cool against the hardwood flooring that made up the surface of his home. Snoozing away the afternoon, a layer of sweat glossed his sickly golden brown skin. A small bit of drool had formed around his mouth on the floor while he had been asleep, probably having been like that for several hours now. He seemed, at that moment, to have found some peace. But after a few seconds, his head suddenly jerked up, letting out a gasp as he woke suddenly. Blinking, he turned his head to look around the darkened room before dropping his head again onto the floor, rolling his forehead into it before groaning, and moving his arms. His left arm had fallen asleep because he had been lying on it for some time now. Pushing himself up into a sitting position he yawned before moving his right hand up, viewing the watch he had on he sighed, “Shit-”

Realizing how late in the day it was, he dropped his head into his right hand, grumbling under his breath about something. Rubbing his right eye, Azazel shakily moved to push himself up from the floor, using his couch to help himself before hearing a knock at his door. Quickly, he had to put his facade back on. Shaking his body out, trying to at least appear as if he wasn't just sleeping, he took a deep breath and inhaled deeply before spending a great amount of his energy to quickly move to the door, opening it and using it for some support, he stared at the person standing on his porch, “Do you realize what time it is?” Leaning out then from his doorway, he looked across the neighborhood, “You better have Thin Mints, or a very good reason to interrupt my personal time.” Azazel continued, harshly, as he moved to pull himself back inside.

As he finally caught sight of who it was that was at his door, he blinked away what remained of his sleep. His neighbor, Alice, he didn't imagine to be much to fret over. Until recently, glancing to one side, a few errant thoughts sprang to mind as to why she would be knocking at his door. Momentarily, his overthinking going to the worst, his heartbeat speeding up, he tapped a finger to his door knob, trying to put all his concern in that one part of him, appearing relaxed from Alice's point of view, “Oh. Right.” Azazel answered before looking back into his house, trying to remember if he had anything like that in his house. But of course he did, sugar seemed to be a standard in households, “No. You're not. I was-” He pauses, what was he doing? Napping in the middle of the day? It sounded like he was some kind of bum if he gave that answer, “Just getting ready for work, actually.”

He paused again to yawn again and pulled back from the door, waving her in, “Come in, or just stand there, I'll see what I got.” He then answered as he made his way to the kitchen, “Mind the mess, I'm waiting for the cleaning service to get here.” Azazel warned of the dark stains at the entrance to the house, before he disappeared into the kitchen, the sound of a couple of cabinets opening for a moment. Then he came back out, holding a pack of sugar, “Not even opened.” Though he couldn't say how long it had been in his cabinets, either. Whatever got her away from his house quickest, before anyone could see her, seemed to him to be the best way to go about this. Given the circumstances about the other.

Alice felt quite silly but in the midst of baking the cupcakes that she'd promised to make for Rhea's daycare (why had she agreed to do that again?), she realized that she didn't have any sugar. And now here she was, at her neighbor's door, literally asking to borrow sugar. She thought that was just an old saying but sure enough, here she was. Alice didn't really know Azazel too well but she figured that he seemed nice enough. Perhaps it was just the journalist in her but when he opened the door, it was pretty obvious that he had just woken up--and his question only further confirmed that. Do you realize what time it is? "Uh... Yeah, it's 2PM... Sorry to bother you, Azazel, but I was wondering if you had any sugar I could borrow? Or rather, have, I guess, since I can't really give it back? But if I'm interrupting something, I'll just go ask someone else," she said, wanting to get out of his hair. He clearly wasn't in the mood for visitors, which was fair enough.

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.