Withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Give Me One Good Reason.

withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Give me one good reason.
withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Give me one good reason.
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Azazel Hawthorn

Azazel Hawthorn

HEY, i think i just saw AZAZEL HAWTHORN walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY-ONE YEAR OLD is working as a BIOTECHNOLOGIST and lives in STARGAZER VILLAS. given they are ECCENTRIC but BRUTAL, it’s likely that they ARE NOT a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that THEY HAVE BEEN MISSING FOR A WHILE AND CAME BACK CHANGED, TO WHISPERS OF WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN THEY’RE LONG ABSENCE, ONE SUCH RUMOR GUARDED ABOVE ALL OTHER, AN ILLNESS THEY KEEP TO THEMSELF. and it keeps them looking over their shoulder. i bet you can find them tearing up the dance floor to SURVIVOR by 2WEI and you’ll know why they’re called THE TORMENTED SOUL.  ☾ .⭒˚ avan jogia. non-binary + he/they. bisexual + scorpio.

General Information

Full name: Azazel Vayu Hawthorn Reason or meaning of name: Azazel-Scapegoat Vayu-Air Hawthorn- Thorn Bush Nickname: Zaz/Zel/Hawthorn/(Insert none name-related nicknames here) Reason for nicknames: His names. Age: 31 How old does he/she appear: 25 Nationality: American. Religion: None. Place of birth: Jarbidge, Nevada The current living place: Las Vegas, Nevada Job title: Biotechnologist. Employing company: Income: That's no one's business but his. Socioeconomic status: That's no one's business but his. Is he or she married? No. Pets: Desert Lynx Cat (Caracal) -Female- Name: Moonshine, Permit: Acquired. Russian Tortoise -Male- Name: Jellybean. Green Iguana -Male- Name: Crackers. Irish wolfhound -Female- Name: Shadow. Mother tongue: American English. Birthday: November 22. Does he or she own a home? Yes. Clubs/Memberships: Math Club, Band (Thunderstorm Dreams: Back-Up Vocals/other), Robotics Club, History Club, Dance Club, Theater Club, Book Club, Chemistry Club, Occult Club, Dungeons and Dragons Club. Public perception of them: Introverted but welcome before his disappearance, unsettling and confused after he comes back. Plays a musical instrument?: Yes, his voice and oboe are on a near professional level. But practices in other instruments, with varying ability, mostly at the average skill. Plays a sport?: Yes, Golf/Tennis/Volleyball/Baseball/Skateboarding/Mixed Martial Arts/Soccer/Gymnastics. How he/she would spend a rainy day: Inside doing inside hobbies. Smokes: Yes. Drinks: Yes. Other drugs: Yes, which is a very recent development for him. What does the character like?

Museums Pop music Worms Parks Lakes Color: white Rock Cryptozoology Sheep Fantasy novels Singing Graphic novels Stamps Choreography Clay Photography Caves Monster movies Snakes Baths Insects Alcohol

What does the character dislike?

Mimes Open windows Baking Epic music Throwing knives Going outside Color: olive Planes Pool Clowns Poetry Statues Minimalism Listening to people talk

Background

Trigger Warnings For: Drug use, Fire, Alcoholism, Pregnancy, Death, Mental Illness, Violence, Serious Injury.

Like most stories begin, Azazel's started with his parents meeting. Sharada was visiting the States, all the way from India, when she met D'Arcy. It was one of the last stops on her journey through America, to hit spots in Nevada, noted for their 'beauty', one may say. As she had a hobby in photography, she had heard at one point of Jarbidge being one such sight of beauty. A few days into visiting the area, she met her future husband, and of course, they hit it off. They would start to date, with much difficulty, given her not being a Native to America. But, decided to marry, and soon Sharada had been living in Jarbidge with her new husband. Over time, having four children, and a fifth on the way in the years that followed. Life with her beloved husband was a simple one, but a cherished one for the couple. Who focused on their children and raised them partially in an off-grid lifestyle. Sharada would take on the task of homeschooling her children. while D'Arcy had focused on his job that often took him away from home for long periods of time.

For a little extra cash for the family, Sharada would work part-time as a photographer, and in doing so, their children rarely wanted for anything. They grew up living among nature and relying on themselves to find entertainment. But they were not raised entirely outside of society either. They often played outside with other children who lived in the county. When he could, D'Arcy would get time off to take his wife and children on trips to several places within the country and outside of it. Sharada would take these opportunities to make the trips not only fun, with her husband, but to also use many of them to teach her children. However, with their fifth child coming, these outside activities became less and less for Sharada as she prepared for her newest baby. It was nearing the last few months now before the newest addition to the family would be disrupting her sleep, and she couldn't be more excited.

While on a shopping trip near Las Vegas to get a few more odds and ends, her husband was working later that day and not being able to grab them on his commute back home, she put her four older children into her station wagon and off the family went. After picking up the odds and ends she needed, she noticed she had nearly run out of gas and made a small stop in the city at a gas station. On her way to the door, a younger man came bolting out of the gas station, hissing a 'watch it, lady' or some other such thing as he slammed the door into Sharada, sending her harshly to the ground. One of her children shouted after the man about him being rude, which he either didn't hear or ignored, as Sharada winced in sudden pain. The store clerk came running out, screaming at the man about having called the cops before noticing Sharada and asking if she was okay, before they both noticed her water had broken. Shocked, as she didn't think she had been hurt that badly, Sharada asked the man to call for an ambulance, frightened, of course. Then, as she waited for that, she called one of her husband's relatives to come get the children then her husband, informing him what had happened, and what was happening.

Within the next hours, things grew to be extremely traumatic for the family as their youngest would be born not breathing, and it took a concerning amount of time for the staff to get their baby to breathe. Sharada verbalizing this as she watched her baby be worked on only feet away. Before finally hearing Azazel cry, it was weak, but it was there, and it eased some of the stress. D'Arcy grabbed Sharada's hand, assuring her their child was going to be okay. She wasn't even allowed to hold him as he was rushed away to an incubator. She could see he was so much smaller than his older siblings, and that made her worry more. When she was finally able to see him, even rushing it. But agonized over the fact that she had to see him this way. Holding Azazel for the first time in her arms, however, made whatever anger and pain from how he came to be here disappear. But a pit had formed thinking that the circumstances of her youngest's birth were an omen of a future of bad luck, and suddenly she realized she was crying at the idea of it. Her tears dropping onto Azazel, she stared, hoping that this was just her mind overreacting.

After some time being monitored Azazel was finally allowed to come home, things were good from that point on. For a while. Azazel's first year after that had no issues. But about that time, while his mother was looking away and dealing with something for one of his older siblings, another of his siblings, younger than the other, placed marbles onto the tray of Azazel's high chair, resulting in his consuming some and choking on one. Sharada managed to pull the marble out, but he had to get the others he swallowed out, through other methods. The sibling who did this had all marbles banned from the house till they could be used properly as punishment, along with other discipline. Life returned to normal again. Azazel had been about four or five, just starting to form a very distinct personality for trouble. Whether by his own action or just circumstances and bad luck. He had a lot of accidents, trips, falls, scuffed knees, and small animal attacks from getting too close to the wild ones. But nothing serious until one day, climbing a tall tree with one of his older siblings. He wanted to prove he was the better climber. Only to, about 20 feet off the ground, have one of his feet slip off the side of a branch, sending him straight to the ground, hitting it hard enough to knock him unconscious and crack his skull open.

Every couple of years, something like that seemed to be happening to the youngest Hawthorn. Sharada noticed changes each one had done to her son, and felt useless watching, feeling as if there were something more at play. But again, she was overthinking things. As she had given up her religion and chose to live comfortably with her husband, both deciding to live without it, and let their children decide if they wanted to become religious on their own. But, still, old habits did die hard for her. She remembered tales, of Djinn, of other such spirits. Often she wondered if this bad luck Azazel had seemed to have around him was her fault, for rejecting her religion. Perhaps it was the same for husband, the spirits were conspiring to punish them, and they were targeting her child. The idea seemed too silly to her until one day. While driving home with a now seven-year-old Azazel, who had been sporting a broken arm after taking a harsh hit while playing a soccer game. Yet Azazel had just told her of it, 'I'm okay.' When he noticed her worried look at him. He was always okay. But she caught him, sometimes, not always. When he was not trying to brave the pain. Why, she could not help, such a sweet, strong child, would be cursed by any 'angry spirits' was beyond her. Again, it was silly, and she had to stop thinking it was anything to do with 'spirits' or the like.

Azazel was chatting up his parents on this car ride home from his latest check-up on his broken arm. He had been yapping about monsters and musing about drawing one of his own. Or, well, painting. He enjoyed that much more than drawing. Though he was not good at it yet, he wasn't too bad. Azazel paused long enough to ask his dad, as he usually did, about his indigenous ancestry, specifically asking about monsters. His father, who was only half-blood and partially Germanic, commented that the last time he told him stories of such things, Azazel was scared for a week, thinking one was in his closet. Which Azazel giggled, commenting back that he wasn't afraid anymore! But before the conversation could carry on, his father noticed a truck driver driving strangely behind them. Azazel looked through his window to see what was going on, only to see the truck suddenly turned into the back of their car, sending it sliding to one side before it caught, and flipped onto its side. Sliding across the road, metal scraping against asphalt was the last thing Azazel heard before everything went dark.

Though he was awake, he could only guess that it was a few minutes later, his mother holding him as she was running. Staring back at his father, his vision blurred for a moment before looking over toward the truck, now on its side, and the smell of some kind of gas filled the air. Then he heard several booms, and fire started exploding, like a chain reaction, suddenly surrounding them. As things got hot and too bright, Azazel closed his eyes, feeling something hit his mother before they were both tumbling into grass, and rolling down a bit down a small slope. Though she was a bit burnt by the fire, she was more concerned with Azazel. Who had taken some burns on his arms, legs, and face. She was repeatedly asking to tell him where it hurt, otherwise, he ignored her. Because he was honestly too shocked by the situation to respond. Mostly because he didn't see his father. When Sharada noticed this too, she stood and screamed out her husband's name. Azazel was able to breathe when D'Arcy emerged from the smoke just a few feet away. Finally, he snapped back from his episode. Standing up and running to the other, shouting at his mother so she would see him, too.

After a bit of a stint in the hospital to make sure his wounds weren't more serious, Azazel, his mother, and father returned home and resumed life. Azazel wore the new wounds proudly. Showing them off to his siblings for the most part, not wanting to focus on anything else, as he didn't want to think about it. One of his oldest siblings commented that 'burn scars' would be cool. Then commented that Azazel's didn't look like they would be noticeable. Before the two got in a playfight over it in a childish little argument. Which, as soon as Sharada had noticed this, shut it down, not wanting to have Azazel's injuries get worse. One of his siblings commented that Azazel was a walking bad luck totem, jokingly at this before running off to find something they could all do that wouldn't irritate Azazel's wounds. Pulling out a board game. The family spent some hours playing before going to bed. Once again, life returned to normal for the family.

After that, things were normal for a long time. The 'bad luck' seemed to have worn out, much to Sharada's delight. Perhaps she was just worrying too much, and overthinking it, she decided. As Azazel and his siblings grew up, he still got into little accidents, but nothing too life-threatening, thankfully. He seemed to settle more into who he would soon to be as an adult, she came to realize. As well, he showed to be quite intelligent, earning some amount of attention due to her persistence. As he seemed to show a budding interest in the sciences, she pushed him in that direction, letting him experiment and grow in that field as much as she possibly could.

In school, Azazel was often viewed as 'odd' for his quirky personality. But capitalized on many of the more 'jocky' and 'popular' types, offering to get them passing grades for some extra cash, so he didn't have to spend his time working some crummy part-time job through school, like his older siblings did. Entirely so he could focus on his own pursuits. It was during these teenage years that he honed his advisory skills. Especially when he was in line to take up an important role in a local gang he had gotten in with in these early years of his life, because of his skills, and rather than being an adversary, he made a better asset. Not only did he want his classmates to just use his answers, he wanted them to learn, and he wanted them to love learning. Or, well, he hoped they would do the work on their own, and still pay him for it. But whatever got him money, he wasn't too upset with what the outcome would usually be. But eventually he skipped a couple of grades, and within a few years, was attending university, one of the best in the country. Earning a doctorate and falling in love.

Eventually the two were made aware she was pregnant with their child. They both were excited over the idea of having a child. Azazel, who had been heavy into drinking and staying out late at night, do to unresolved trauma he was keeping to himself, told himself at this time that he was going to have to cut back on these habits. He even considered leaving the gang, but quickly dismissed this notion, finding it too valuable and enjoyable to leave. But he still found that starting a family would be in conflict with the dangers of being in a gang. Especially when he was in such an important position. However, he decided to not think about it, as it was distressing. Then kept putting it off, over and over again. Till it was time for the baby to be born. Just on time, his girlfriend woke him early one morning to tell him it was time and he grabbed her bag she had pre-prepared, helping her to the car. Driving her to the hospital. Everything looked to be going well. Azazel was with her when she brought their son into the world. But all too quickly, things went sour. While holding their son, he had seen how happy she was, before suddenly the color was leaving her face. The baby was taken away. He was healthy. But then, everything started to get hectic after that. He was rushed out of the room without saying much, except that his girlfriend was bleeding out.

Hours passed, his family was with him, his father or mother asking on his behalf what was happening during these times, when he didn't. It was during the night, when he was told that his girlfriend had died from blood loss. Angry, Azazel lashed out, demanding to know what could have happened. Only to be told 'It just happened' and 'We did everything we could'. His mother came to hold him, to stop him from getting more upset, and potentially hurting someone, which wasn't even on his mind at the moment. Despite his anger, he knew he had plenty of other things to take care of than spend any effort going to prison, for whatever he could have done, that night. Not an hour later, he was told he could visit his son. He wasted no time in doing so. Entering the room, he saw the baby, squirming a bit in his blanket he was wrapped in. Hesitating, he made his way over and reached over, cooing down at his son before gently brushing a finger along his red-stained face. It was just them, and it hurt so much to think of it like that. Just the two of them, now. Suddenly he remembered the conversation he and his girlfriend had on what to name the baby.

"What about Mapplethorpe?" "What? That names going to get him bullied. We can't name our baby Mapplethorpe." "Oh come on, AZ-a-zell, Mapplethorpe is totally a cute name!" "No! I'd rather name him James. At least it's boring."

He realized that he could hear her voice still, now. But soon enough, he wouldn't even remember it. Taking a seat next to the baby, he sighed, resigning to name their son Mapplethorpe, for her. Already regretting it, but knew he had to. At least his middle name would be James, he decided.

After being allowed to come home, Azazel brought Mapplethorpe home to Stargazer Villa, and the two spent the following six years without any major incident. A few pets and what felt like a lifetime later, Mapplethorpe and Azazel had carved quite a life for themselves. Azazel never left the gang, under his watchful eye when the two did come into contact. As things started to get more serious, Azazel would leave Mapplethorpe with his siblings, explaining he had to do stuff for his day job as a biotechnologist, and he figured the other would have been better off enjoying the company of his cousins. Though he had no clue how dangerous things had truly gotten till it was literally right on top of him. A day after dropping his son off on one such visit to one of his siblings, his memories just stop, and start not making much sense.

Then, suddenly, he is waking up. The dark star filled sky over him, the moon seeming fuller and bigger than it usually did on this day. Or maybe it was just in his head, honestly. He was lying somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, it seemed. He felt numb at first, as if his brain wasn't readily acknowledging…whatever happened. Taking in a deep breath, though, something snapped. Something inside of him was broken, or wrong, or- well, he couldn't really explain it, himself. But before he could stop himself, he was screaming like a banshee out there in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. Thrashing against the ground, tears building in his eyes, before spilling out. Twisting his body, arching his back, he screamed before grabbing his head as all these emotions had suddenly crushed down on him. He swore he could hear barking, howling in the area around him. Wolves, or coyotes, maybe. He didn't have the brainpower to decide which one was more concerning at that moment. As this compulsion washed over him. Then suddenly, after some minutes, it stopped. He was numb again, curled up into a ball, his arms wrapped around his head. Now shaved down to a buzzcut. He had to think, he had to control himself. He told himself. Though the lack of memories, yet all these devastating emotions that washed over him, made doing so hard for him.

He felt extremely weak, especially after that uncharacteristic fit he just had. He didn't really register them as his, as he could not remember in that moment, just why he was feeling them. Pushing himself up took several tries. He felt just too weak at first. When he would get up just enough, he would collapse again, needing to rest for a few minutes. It was cold out here, but that was the last thing he was worried about. But what wasn't he worried about at the moment? He felt confused and lost about a lot of things. A million questions flooded his mind. But he couldn't even begin to answer them in this place, this nowhere he woke up in. He had to get home. He made that his first goal. Attempting to stand again, he managed to do it this time, though it took a few steps, holding a hand to his gut, before stumbling and falling to his knees. Catching himself with his free hand, he prevented himself from collapsing to the ground entirely. Something was very wrong, that was the issue, and he didn't know if he could get over it, and survive out here. Lifting his head, he looked around, at first only seeing absolute darkness aside from the little light the moon and stars in the clear sky provided him. It was no use in the desert brush that surrounded him.

But he continued to try, regardless of his weakened state. Even when he started to feel downright sick and ready to give up, he persisted, making his way to the lights in the distance. That he knew was one indicator of humanity. All he needed to do was get there. Though in the hours it took to get himself there, he stumbled, crawled, and dragged himself there. He recognized he hadn't even been far from home. Slouching against a building, he assessed, exhausted, his situation. Maybe, he told himself, if he just slept, everything would be better after that. Azazel pushed himself forward, trying to remember the way home from where he was. His clothes were in tatters, and filthy. Which seemed to bring him some attention, well, the way he looked, period, seemed to garner some attention from people leaving businesses that were still open at this hour, like bars. Azazel hadn't even registered these people, just focusing on keeping himself upright. Eventually, as the sun was looking as if it might rise soon, he came onto his street. Walking up to his house, he saw some yellow tape. Reaching out, he angrily ripped it off his door and tossed it out behind him, it getting caught in the wind. Then it got caught on a corner. Reaching into his pocket he hoped to find his key, only to find nothing. Great. Reaching up, he toyed with a part of the house that soon came loose, a key dropping out onto the stoop. With agonizing difficulty, Azazel knelt down to grab the key and stuck it in the door

Once inside, he realized why tape was on the door, seeing a significant amount of blood, he guessed that people thought he was dead or something, with how much blood stains still dotted the house. But he didn't have time to think about that. He was just set on sleeping. Not even thinking how things remained as they were, nothing was out of place, the blood didn't reach passed the entrance. Though as he moved to climb into his bed, he noticed how everything seemed to have some layer of dust on it. He told himself, once he had a decent night's sleep, he could figure out everything else that was going on. His mind just needed to rest before it could connect all the indefinite pieces that kept popping up in his head, sparking more bursts of overwhelming emotions. Unfortunately, days later, no amount of sleep resolved much, if any of it. But what did come to mind, he knew he had to keep to himself, along with the strange illness that he came home with, an absolute secret, even though it exacerbated his mental health along with it. He had to get used to when he needed to make his exits in efforts to keep his secrets. Once he had a few days to himself to get used to this new state of life, he revealed himself to well, not be dead, and back from wherever it is he even went.

With the questions from several directions mostly being about where he was, what happened, and the like, he refused to answer them. Quickly making exits wherever possible to go do something else of seeming importance. When it came to Mapplethorpe, he told the sibling primarily taking care of him at the moment to keep his son for the time being. Not sure it was safe, and still not sure if he was dangerous, with his sudden state of mind, and the illness making it worse, it seems he thought it would be better. Though he did let his sibling visit him with his son occasionally since coming back. What bothers him most, however, since coming back was his welcome back to regular mafia activity, putting on a strong front, he laughed off questions about where he was, what he had been doing all that time, and all of that. Not really ever giving a definitive answer, but played off his absence well enough. Or at least he hoped, but the whispers, the rumors buzzing from the housekeeping at the head of the family's home really would become a problem, one he had to make sure didn't get too out of control, one way or another. Even if it meant spilling blood on the carpet.

Self-Para's

Notable events/milestones: TBD. Accomplishments: TBD. Memories: TBD. Criminal record: Failure to appear/loitering. Affiliations: Mafia, Consigliere of the VITELLI FAMILY. Skeletons in the closet: TBD.

Relationships

Grandparents: Unknown Parents: Sharada Hawthorn (Chaudhari)(Mother)(Alive), D'Arcy Hawthorn (Father)(Alive). Sisters or brothers: 4 Older siblings. Wife or husband: None Children: A son. Currently living with one of Azazel's siblings since he's been missing. Other important persons: The devil may care(X)/The close encounter(RIKA HOSHINO)/The cracked jewel (X)/The malingering sloth (KINERET VITELLI)/The bad omen (SALEM JUNG)/The tiger shark (X) Partner(s)/Significant other(s): Daniel Spanou, Jazmín Ostrowski, Robertina Felipe , Zdislava Gómez, Hèctor Franklin, Gray Szabolcsi, Atousa Schultheiss, Vladimira Karimi, Renza Paulsen, Ambrose Grabowska, The tiger shark (X). Lover(s): Viliam Sheenan, Petro Sugita, Tancrède Temitope, Jacinth Shiraishi, Flavius Vaughan, Rehema Ölvirsson, Zaki Jahodová. Parents/Guardians: Best friends: Víkingr Gill, Adélard Kurz, Azra Krastiņa, Varuna Caivano. Friends: Kelley Calabrese, Gláucio Pál, Ismaël Abdullah, Adewale Abeln, Lina Pain, Conn Abdullayeva, Yaara Quirk, Simon Kovac, Jamshed Urano, Isapo-Muxika Sheedy, Guwisti Dalton, Inga Lukáč, Manius Kocsis, Andre Šarić, Zoe Yonker, Édouard Tsvetanov, Anah Giménez, Fernão Pugliese, Beata Warren, Dálach Linden, Dipaka Van Houten, Helmut Abdullayev, Raju Banerjee, Oghenero Zheng, Zoriana Mac Ruaidhrí, Maja Jacobse. Rivals: Marusya Babić, Hilding Ionescu, Oona Alvey, Zedong Oberst, Sébastienne Sydykova, Lorena Mlynáriková, Vancho Suess, Lisha Rutgers. Enemies: Helvius Davis, Tomiko Gold, Johannes Mägi, Younes O'Connor, Röstäm Klementová, Katrina Jiang. Colleagues: Mentors/Teachers: Raül Musil, Tam Cummings, Lamech Reece, Bodil Mulligan, Dalibor Westbrook, Nadir Antall, Miriana Roman, Erik Watts, Ferdi Andrysiak, Selig Shaughnessy. Idols/Role models: Socrates, Cesare Beccaria, Plato, Lao Tzu, Hypatia, Jacques Derrida, Jacques Lacan, Voltaire, Max Scheler, John Stuart Mill, Babe Ruth, Denzel Washington, Neil Armstrong, Carl Sagan, Chris Rock, Theodore Roosevelt, Abraham Lincoln, Nostradamus, Angelina Jolie, Noah (Ark), Ernest Hemingway, Michael Jordan, Robin Williams, Pablo Picasso, Charles Darwin, Robert Downey Jr, Galileo Galilei, Albert Einstein, Aristotle, Amelia Earhart, Alexander the Great, Harry Houdini, Bruce Lee, C. S. Lewis, Nikola Tesla, Leonardo da Vinci, Unatural things: TBD.

Physical Characteristics

Addictions: Alcohol Bad Habits:

Seems to "zone out" when music is playing Taps fingers on surfaces Biting fingernails Overthinking Popping/snapping bubble gum in public Pacing Maintains intense eye contact Shows up unannounced

Color of Eyes: Deep Dark Brown. The color of Hair: Dark Brown. Type of hair: When not tamed with product or such, his hair can be curly. 3b type. It's pretty thick and usually appears styled/gelled/other, Or soft when left in a cleaned natural state. Hairstyle: Used to have hair long, very long, almost has never had his hair cut his entire life. Will fight tooth and nail if someone tries. More because he doesn't like to be touched, and such. So his hair has just grown to be incredibly long, and with that, he spends a lot of time working on keeping it out of his way, and the way of others. Examples. Upon his return from his assumed death, it is cut much shorter, initially a buzzcut when he came back, now a little longer. The color of Skin: Cold Golden Brown. That's now a lot paler. Fashion style: Prefers wearing elegant clothing, practical clothing, and respectable clothing. All with cool colors, winter colors, or light colors. Often wearing hats, scarves, gloves, belts, and some jewelry. Favorite outfits: Here. Accessories: A book, A pocket watch, A whistle, A bookmark, a Bottle of pills, a Chain, A Fork, A Harmonica, Pistol, A bottle of glue, an Umbrella, Silencer, a Skateboard, a Kitchen knife, Handheld game systems, a Laptop, Journal, all in his backpack interchangeably. Cleanliness/Grooming: He is often good at keeping up his hygienic habits but can be messy. Posture/Gait: Takes a knee when he kneels, Sleeps/rests in the fetal position, When he crouches he squats fully, Stands with arms akimbo, that is with hands on hips, elbows pointing outward. Coordination (or lack thereof): Most of the time he has excellent coordination. But not all of the time. Does the character drink regularly? Yes. Does the character have any disabilities/conditions? Yes

Asthma [mild persistent] ADHD [impulsive/hyperactive type] Sleepwalking Undiagnosed illness Paranoia Generally Low Tolerance for everything Dissociative Amnesia CPTSD Misophonia Anemia Narcolepsy

Does the character smoke? Yes. Good Habits:

Can literally fall asleep anywhere Strong convictions Thrives in hot weather, hates cold weather Prone to singing, whistling, or humming quietly Brutally honest in most conversations Likes to file their fingernails to sharp points because it makes them feel more dangerous Fantastic chef, but hates to cook Wears long sleeves with thumb holes to cover the lower part of the palm Loves to walk in the rain Restless/constantly needing to move/fidget [Dispersing energy]

Height: 5'10” Weight: 137 Body type: Lean/Toned. Fitness level: Intermediate Tattoos: Has five tattoos. Scars/Birthmarks: Has eight scars. Has eighteen birthmarks that look more like freckles, dotted across his body. Hobbies:

Woodworking Metalworking Learning Crafting Gardening/other Coloring Astronomy Antiquing Mathematics Experimenting Parkour Chess Painting Playing board/tabletop games

Is he/she wearing glasses? No. Is the character healthy or does he have any diseases? No. What’s the style of the character? (modern, outmoded): Practical and elegant.

Mental Characteristics

Education: Attended University. IQ: 180. Skills/talents: Hiding, Palm objects, Giving advice, Nature lore, Climbing, Personal productivity. Fears: Abandonment/Loss of identity. Optimist or pessimist?: Pessimist. Daredevil or cautious?: A bit of both, given a situation, more so a daredevil, however. Logical or emotional?: Logical. Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat?: Probably a disordered, yet methodical and clean mess. Prefers working or relaxing?: Relaxing. Confident or unsure of himself/herself?: Confident. Animal lover?: Yes. Self-perception: That he is an omen of bad luck or something like that.. Assumed external perception: Winning. Self-Confidence: Strong. Rational Or Emotional: Rational. Personality traits: Eccentric/Brutal/Ambitious/Dependable/Principled/Deceitful/Impersonal/Complex/Secretive/Charming/Tense/Compassionate/Precise/Well-read/Chummy/Honorable/Distractable/Surprising/Casual/Steely/Crafty/Aloof Personality type: INTJ. Enneagram: 8w7. Character archetype: Ruler. Zodiac: Scorpio. Moral Alignment: True Neutral most of the time, but will to jump alignments from Good to evil, given what the situations call for. Temperament: Phlegmatic. Animal Types: Owl Aura: Honeysuckle Chakra: Third Eye (Imbalanced) Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw. Patronus: Great Grey Owl, Bat or Buzzard. Ilvermorny House: Horned Serpent. Introvert/Extrovert: Introvert. Holland Code: ICA: Investigative, Conventional, Artistic. Morals/Virtues: Chastity, Patience. Sins/Vices: Sloth, Gluttony. Dark Triad: Machiavellian-ism. Elemental: Fire (Electricity) or Air. Avatar Element: Earth. Divergent: Erudite. Loves: Clutter, Horror movies, Trips, Toys, Running, Animals, Puzzles, Spicy food, Art, Fall, Organizing, Blue, Rugby, Meditation. Angered by/Pet peeves: Humming, Over apologizing, Telemarketers, Line cutters. Obsessed with: Zoomania, Methomania, Ergasiomania, Klopemania, Technomania, Bibliomania, Infomania. More Secrets: Makes up stories since he thinks he's boring. Shot someone. Regrets: His seemingly stubborn and odd behavior made other children avoid him when he was growing up. Feeling like he's missing out. Unknowingly helped a friend do something that hurt other people, finding out afterward. Not accepting being friends with someone who would have had a better impact on his life as he grew up. Wrote a best-selling novel, that was stolen and put under another person's name. Not liking some foods. One of his musician friends invited him to join their band, but he left the opportunity because of a trivial matter he had with himself. Preferred communication methods: Listening and visual communication. Style and pacing of speech: Casual style, pace is normal, understandable when not excited. He pauses a little more than regularly to think. Pitch: His pitch can be low-mid to mid-high. Laughter: Pigeon laughter. Smile: Warm smile. Use of gestures: Nodding, Shaka sign, Manipulator gestures, and Iconic gestures. Facial expressions: Ecstatic, Pitying, Impassive, Stolid, Sanguine, Vacant, Scornful, Glancing, Straight-faced, Chagrined, Cheeky, Hopeless, Bleak, Blinking, Wry, Wary, Bilious, Somber, Tight, Glaring, Darkly. Verbal expressions: Bloviation, Mutterings, Utterances, Whispering, Talking through.

Emotional Characteristics

How does the character cope with fury and rage? Probably go and work on one of his interests. Or he may just argue/fight the person who put him in this state of mind. … with unhappiness? Certainly, go away to focus on a project/interest till he feels better. … with rivalry? Ignore them. Or Antagonize them. … with new situations? They are fine. … with trouble? Handle it. What’s his or her meaning of life? Hasn't decided yet. What makes this character happy? Be able to do his hobbies or invest in his interests. Is the character often biased? Here and there. Probably. Depends on that topic. Does the character prefer to give or to take? He leans more toward giving. But he's not ashamed of just taking, either. Character Questions

Here


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Days like these, he supposed that life would be so much easier if he'd just disappeared, or, well, if strangers around him did. What was he even looking out for? Was anyone around him at the moment, or that would be for the rest of the day, even be worth this much hypervigilance on his behalf? Almost everyone seemed to be going about their day-to-day life, and he was just standing in place, smoking, and letting his imagination get the best of his mind at the moment.

It was completely silly. He was better than this. Was. He was better. But since the early morning hours he woke up out in basically no man's land, feeling as awful as he did then, and just as awful now, and more, when he had to keep up appearance and deal with the onslaught of questions, or trying to keep the facade going so that rumors could not dominate the narrative. What was the narrative, though? That everything was normal, still? What was supposed to be normal now? Azazel sneers a bit, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette, frustration coming then.

Closing his eyes, he adjusted his head, trying to steer the sudden assault of intrusive thoughts from getting the better of him. He was safe, he was home, nothing had changed. He was still him. Yet nothing seemed at all right. Everything still seemed so wrong. His nose started to feel ticklish after a second, a sneeze suddenly escaping him, breaking his composure with it. Bringing his free hand up, he covered his mouth and nose, sniffling slightly. It wasn't a cold, it wasn't allergies, he had none. But now he had to think, was this sneeze going to be another sign that something was wrong?!

Catching himself, he laughed under his breath. He was being irrational it was just a normal sneeze, nothing wrong with that. He brought his hand away. There was nothing wrong with walking, no one should be or would be out to get him, at least, not that he could remember at the moment. He started walking again, he still had things to attend to, despite his thoughts and feelings toward things around him.

It wasn't too hot out today, and he was thankful for that. Thankfully, even more so, he chose to wear an outfit that wasn't going to let him be bogged down with whatever little heat there still was. After a bit of walking, he adjusted his glasses again, continuing on his bath to who could tell outside of the moment, aside from him. Azazel still, however, had a thin layer of sweat forming over his body, which thankfully his clothes did not show due to their showy looseness and presentable, colorful appearance.

Coming up to a hobby store along the strip, he took another moment to glance around. A guy stood on the sidewalk, trying to get someone's attention. A woman was walking her dog. A child was being led along by their mother into another shop along the road. A woman with a Walkman strolled by, followed by a man making his way to his truck in the opposite direction. Azazel looked back, wondering why he just couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

Pulling the door open, he made his way inside, sighing as a blast of cold air hit him. He smiled weakly at the person standing at the register, who gave him a small greeting and asked what he was looking for, “The usual.” Azazel replied, moving to jot down his order on a forum at the register, “Wood. Sheets of metal.” Tucking a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a sheet from his work to order less easily accessible items, “This stuff here.” A moment or so later, he was finished with his requests and turned to look around for more items that would be on hand that he didn't need to order to go straight to his house.

Once he collected those items, taking nearly forty or so minutes in total to complete his shopping, he walked back out of the hobby store, putting his sunglasses back on as the sun continued to bring pain to his eyes just by being in the sunlight. It was, he had guessed, certainly due to his now never-ending state of exhaustion. Letting the bag hang at his side in his left hand, Azazel again continued on his journey.

Days Like These, He Supposed That Life Would Be So Much Easier If He'd Just Disappeared, Or, Well, If
The Will-o-the-wisp, Silent Venturer A Few Feet Dutifully Behind, And Sorely Lacking The Expertise Of
The Will-o-the-wisp, Silent Venturer A Few Feet Dutifully Behind, And Sorely Lacking The Expertise Of

The will-o-the-wisp, silent venturer a few feet dutifully behind, and sorely lacking the expertise of someone whose profession relied on stealth and grace, the eloquence of ballet's training shaped her up to be deadly enough. Making tracks with enough pace to keep up, her gangly legs forced to slow down as to not draw attention to herself, her eyes were trained on the broad figure traipsing along, a fine hairline of tension palpable in the body language, how the other toyed with their sunglasses and seemed to rouse at the barest hints of tension sparking in the air.

Her dark eyes snapped away as she drew closer and he swung around, trained ahead as if she were walking through the downtown of Las Vegas like anyone else would be on a sunny afternoon, the dry heat beating down with its harsh rays and onto her skin, soaking up the vitamins and the acrid disdain for the warmth. Sleepy Hollow was cold and rainy. Nothing like here, where there was little reprieve where the rain alone was reprieve from its inclemency, and few and far between.

The idle wonderment of where he would go next was there, itching the back of her brain — the mild fixation with the oddities that presented in the other's physical condition, as if the life force tethering him was being siphoned out by an enigma, could have seen her time better spent, and there were limits. Salem didn't want to know where he lived, or menial details — she wanted to know what was attached to him, whether it was a spirit's whim to manifest in the physical realm or a demonic vice — like a computer gathering information. What made him tick.

Slowing down, the medium pushed her hair against the wind's plight to billow it into her face, warmth staunch to her fingertips, astounded that sweat didn't come away and slick her fingers when she wiped her visage. Letting out a breath, she gathered her bearings and dug her hands into her pockets, removing a Walkman and a pair of earbuds, figuring it would add to the image that she was on a leisurely stroll and didn't want to be bothered.


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Having not been asleep for long, if much at all, the moment had passed him by with the voices nearby. Moving to sit up on the bench, Azazel leans back against it, sliding down more to get a little more comfortable. Yawning then, he brought a hand up before moving to stretch out a bit, raising his arms over his head and holding them as he stretched his spine a little. Then, dropping his arms back to his sides, he lifted his left hand to unhook his sunglasses from his shirt, which hung by one of the temples at the hinge. He places them on his face, covering his eyes, and turned his head toward Willow, then the child they were sitting next to, for a moment. Before looking again back to Willow, a grin formed over his lips, “Wasn't much of one, to be honest.” He replied, the grin gone in a second, before he looked away again.

At Willows' further comment, he nodded, not saying anything for a long moment before replying with a, “Yeah, but I'm not in those places, I'm here. Shopping, I guess.” Moving to grab the backpack he brought with him, he brought it closer to him, looking around the crowds of people that continued to flow through the afternoon from booth to booth. An uneasy feeling washing over him, his skin began to feel a little prickly, turning his head, he faced Willow once more, “Having a prosperous day shopping? Enjoying the spooky event?” He asked, again looking between the two who sat near him, before looking away again. He could have sworn someone was watching him. Somewhere.

Having Not Been Asleep For Long, If Much At All, The Moment Had Passed Him By With The Voices Nearby.
What More Could A Socialite Ask For? The Usual Glitz Of Las Vegas Was Replaced By Something Darker, Stranger,
What More Could A Socialite Ask For? The Usual Glitz Of Las Vegas Was Replaced By Something Darker, Stranger,

what more could a socialite ask for? the usual glitz of las vegas was replaced by something darker, stranger, and entirely more theatrical. the streets shimmered with a strange kind of magic, part carnival, part nightmare; costumed strangers mingling in the crowd, lines growing at the vendor booths as people were eager to get their hands on spooky sweets or odd little treasures. and while willow loved the noise and the novelty, nothing compared to meadow’s joy. sweet, wide-eyed meadow, practically vibrating with excitement as she looked upon the chaos with the kind of wonder only children possessed. her laughter bubbled up every time a monster waved at her, or someone dressed in a tacky vampire costume jumped out at someone else; let the ghouls and goblins roam — so long as meadow was enchanted, it was perfect. letting go of the little girl’s hand as she hopped up onto the bench to eat her spider candies, willow tucked a few loose strands of pink behind her ear, not concerned with the other who’d taken up the empty space beside them, until— “are they sleeping?” meadow asked. “hm. looks like it,” willow answered. oh! not anymore, it seemed. “don’t mind us, we’re just crashing your snoozefest a little,” she quirked a brow at the other, more curious than anything else. “there are better places to sleep, y’know.”


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Found On Reddit

found on reddit

and the artist's tumblr: @nullxface


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@soulsuckcr Location: Stargazer Villas Time: April 11, late afternoon.

Standing out in his backyard, spraying down a lush lawn with plenty of beautifully placed plants. As a biotechnologist with a keen interest in gardening, of course, he had a very well-taken care of and curated, beautifully maintained lawn. It was calming, honestly. Given everything else in his life entirely falling apart.

He looked between his neighbor's houses, not thinking Alice was a good one to go to. Moving the hose to one side, he imagined that he had probably offended her with his abrupt dismissal of her from his house. Sighing, he knew he had to make up for it at some point. But it was for the best, he told himself. Excusing his awkward behavior. Though he looked at the other homes in the neighborhood. Moving to one of his potted plants, he picked one up, examining it before muttering that he had too much of it and would give it away.

A little bit later, he was knocking on Seokmin's door loud enough that he had to guess that there was no way he wouldn't be heard. Still, even, he rang the doorbell, just in case. “Come on. Come ooon. Be home.” Azazel muttered to himself before lifting his hand up to start knocking again, one more time before he'd just give up for now and try again later. Maybe at midnight.

@soulsuckcr Location: Stargazer Villas Time: April 11, Late Afternoon.

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Two: Is there a problem?

Eight: Oh, nothing Shakespeare couldn’t turn into a really good play.


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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


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withoutmonsterswebecomethem - Give me one good reason.
Give me one good reason.

.  . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆◸The Tormented Soul ▓ AZAZEL ▓ Biotechnologist ▓ 31◿★。/|\ 。★

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