— i've gone to hell and back again.

got trust issues, not hard to tell, everyone knows i hate myself. will my fucking heart beat again? can you feel the warmth leave my hands? can you see my eyes roll back in my head? just pretend you love me until my world ends.

[cfstvlla]

HER GAZE WAS LOCKED ON THE CAKE in front of her, trying to change its sad-looking appearance into something more appealing with little hope that her attempts would result in much luck, or even anything somewhat resembling what the cake bought just for their family to share at the wedding looked like a full year ago. Stella hadn’t believed it would look exactly the same when pulling it out from under frozen soy nuggets and blocks of homemade soup that had been prepared in advance were any of the girls to come down with a sick day, but she had possibly thought on it with more rose-colored glasses than what she was looking at now. Her eyes glanced over at him when he walked through the door, quickly returning to her less than impressive project that sat disappointingly on the counter in front of her, biting her bottom lip a bit. “Our cake may be in trouble,” she announced, a glob of freezer burnt icing that must’ve been too close to the vent when items shifted around in their refrigerator dropping entirely off the side of the cake unceremoniously and only further proving her point. At the mention of his attire, her gaze was fully pulled from the desert, standing at her full height to give it its full moment of appreciation, especially that of which it earned in being involved in what would first get a real laugh out of her when she was at one of her lowest moments in the past. “How’d y’know when I planning out our cake eating that it included that shirt?” She joked, though the smile that was on her face dropped with what he pointed out about the cake, a wince taking its place when she was forced to look at it again. A quirk of an eyebrow and curious expression later, though, and she was finally noticing the box in his hands, the grin taking form questionable of what he had up his sleeve. 

All it took was the bakery’s name on the box, and it hadn’t mattered exactly what baked good was within its confines as the sentiment was all the same when it came to warming her heart. “What’s that?” She asked, excitement evident in her voice, though one could argue it had been present ever since she awoke that morning and giddily took his shoulders in her hands to announce with bravado that it was their first ever wedding anniversary before planting an impassioned kiss on his lips. “Don’t think I could love you more, but gettin’ to love being married to you mighta made that possible,” she answered, an air of confidence regarding that one that was previously unknown to her life, as she always fell to the pessimistic side by default. Until it came to the two of them and the light of positivity he introduced regarding all they could accomplish, whether he was aware of it or not. Another kiss on his cheek was deposited, unable to even vocalize her thoughts on their love without tagging another physical display along with it. “Happy anniversary. You really picked up bein’ the best husband quick, but I didn’t have any doubts,” she complimented with jest, hand coming to curve around the side of his exposed waist, always drawn to any skin of his she could get her hands on. The other was already inching towards the popping the cardboard top on the box in his hands, interested in knowing what goodies were hidden inside when he spoke again, the hand immediately abandoning its mission to instead cup the side of his face, unable to deny just how adorable she found the request. “You can have as much sugar you want today.” As if there was ever a day she would deny him of such on any day of the year, their consent physicality undeniable to anyone who was near for more than fifteen minutes. “In fact….I think I’ve now have the go ahead to give you as much sugar as I want in every way I want, finally.” Fingers sliding down his jaw and landing at his chin, they gave it a worthy pedestal to sit upon when she kissed him with appreciation, though a full year’s worth couldn’t fit in one single act of it. Luckily, she planned on giving him plenty throughout the night to possibly reach closer to that amount, even if she wasn’t sure any amount of affection could truly prove just how lucky she felt in being bound to him for life and how the first year proved that true with confidence. 

“You gonna show me what you got, now? Or you need another kiss before I earned its reveal?” Her jokes would continue flowing effortlessly, just as they did on their wedding day, as she was simply overjoyed by the date that they came naturally as she spoke. There was a tiny pang regarding her daughters being farther than she was used to, but she had been looking forward to a night spent with just the two of them that wasn’t interrupted by feedings and diaper changes for some time. “You gonna hate me if I say yes? ‘Cause it only feels right curling up on the floor with it.” Excitedly, she moved to grab two forks from the silverware drawer, faithfully returning back to him and lifting from her heels from the tiled floor. “You still gotta try just one bite from our OG cake, for tradition. Then we can try the what you have.” One fork dug into the previously frozen dessert, taking an adventurous bite herself before she stuck the fork in a much smaller bite, holding the fork up to feed it to him herself. “It’s….it’s not horrible.” But it wasn’t good, either. 

[nxnbinarydracvla]

Ever were they the auspicious pair, inarguably turning a new leaf since their reacclimating of a romantic dalliance, and then a subsequent marital bed — or perhaps, it was all to thank for a perspective change that came as necessity once they weren't cuffed to their addictions anymore. Nevertheless, there was gaiety that was indescribable to another human being that wasn't his lawfully wedded wife, as she had been submerged in her idle joys about it for the better part of two weeks now. Once the month had overturned following their anniversary, there was practically no other topic that existed in the entire world. Thus, it honestly shouldn't have incurred too immense of a surprise to find her staring pensively at the cake boxed up from their wedding day, the aluminum foil preventing a thin layer of frost from forming, and unappealing at first glance nonetheless, thanks to the saturnine glistening of moisture as it sagged further onto the counter. "I think we're a lil' past trouble and kinda along flatline," Cyrek said as he crossed the kitchen, "It's not gonna kill us to eat it, innit?" Perhaps it was too little, too late for that query, as in retrospect, the biker was erring on certainty that food poisoning wouldn't be ample enough to deliver a swift and decisive end to a pair of vampires as it were a substantial stomachache. Laying one hand on his hip and eyeing it suspiciously as she fussed over its dilapidated state, he couldn't help nor smother down a pinch of amusement that tickled the back of his throat when a dollop of icing took a landslide off the side of the cake. Her attentions effortlessly redirected by lamentations when she gawked over his attire, he playfully rolled his eyes at her, smacking her on the rear and shrugging slightly, retorting, "Just a hunch. Or you've been kinda talkin' about it in your sleep. Y'know, runnin' over the whole daydream in your head, so it kinda filled me in on what you were after." Their eyes dropped to the cake at the same time. "...I'm sure the cake's sad lookin' state wasn't how you dreamed. I'm sorry, hon."

Naturally, sweets were the remedy to everything where Stella was involved, these days. "What, this? How d'you know I didn't just pick up a bakery box and hide somethin' else in it that's your gift? I'd be a bad husband if I gave away all the cards up my sleeve a year into the marriage." Mirth was rich in his voice, shuffling the cardboard in his hands and running his thumbs across the packaging, a smile slowly growing across his features. Trust, the second full sentence that she formed from her mouth was easily the corniest line he had ever heard favored to him, and he cocked a brow as if he were looking for a facetious remark to issue in response. Before he could, Stella had beaten him to the punch with another anniversary wish, and another puff of hot gas that was gratified with cachinnation not half as melodic as the full-fledged musical demos that were currently put aside in the recording room, following a leave of absence from their drummer. "Best husband, huh? I dunno, I think I've got room for improvement. Not ready to settle for that one just yet," he answered her, pressing his lips against her forehead fleetingly. As he had always been of the philosophy that once the efforts faded, so too did the romance, the vocalist couldn't confidently attest that he was prepared to let his guard down where his own actions were concerned — instead, striving to accomplish bringing a smile unto her face and more gave him a friendly push to continue pursuing her and challenge himself with impressing her as if every date or anniversary was the first all over again. ( In true irony, the anniversary was their first, as a wedded coupling. ) "Should we do somethin' like this every year? Get together 'round a cake. You and me..." Trailing off as if they were of schooling age and he couldn't finish a sentence worthy of asking her on another date, teeth peeked from between his lips as a grin took hold. "Y'know I want as many anniversaries and special days with you as I can get my hands on." Lingering in place when her hand grasped at his waist, he tilted his head to the side, tickled by her enthusiasm that they were, for once, well and truly alone without a gaggle of children running circles around their ankles. "Uh huh. I'm hearin' a lot of talkin' and I'm not gettin' enough kissin' right now," he implored, impatiently setting the box down so that his hands might vie for her own hips, bringing her in as close as he could without squashing them together.

"Sounds kinda dirty, what are you tryin' to suggest right now?" the punk simpered, hands idling with the box and dawdling a second longer before he flipped the lid open and revealed the confection to her. The cake was dolled up with two cats made out of frosting and the writing happy one year with a red candle seated above the lettering that was assuredly not from his own hand. Halfway to putting the cake back down on the counter as a stepping stone before they meandered from one location to the next, she had already dug into their former wedding cake when he turned back to her, letting out a gasp of mock offense. "Heyyy, we're supposed to feed each other, just like our weddin', that's cheatin'. Now you're gonna 'ave to take another bite of our nasty ass cake so we can do it right." Both hands cocked on the curvature of his hips, he narrowed his eyes at her, pursing his lips when she hovered the fork in front of his face and finally, stubbornly, he opened his mouth and accepted the bite of dessert. It went down like a wet paper towel, and he coughed when it stuck in the base of his esophagus on the exit pipe, holding a hand over his mouth. "That tastes like what Juke's vomit looks like in the mornin'."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

with: @ofdesertroses ; dakota where: the warehouse when: present day 1997

Cyrek was not as devotedly of a frequent flyer as the warehouse as he had once been, haunting the shadows and peeking around corners and under rope at the fights taking place, and shouldering bets with any Cats on the premises. However, Dakota Hartley was on the underscore the evening and last that they had seen each other, a prickle of intrigue had rooted itself — a fighter would an easy and beneficial addition to the bikers and had seen dwindling numbers with the loss of their ex-chaplain. They had decidedly few prospects, and another wouldn't hurt. To his dismay, the fight taking place ended swiftly and derisively, with Dakota losing and sporting a shiner that was bound to cover half of his face before daybreak. The vampire waited near the back door for the fighter to hang his head and cut through the people. A winsome smirk played to the corners of his mouth when Dakota appeared, almost catlike in nature.

"You really that bad in every fight?" Trust the first thing out of his mouth to come off antagonistic, but he wasn't renowned for holding his tongue, and he held out the carton of cigarettes he'd dawdled with. "Smoke out back?"

[run-in--the-shadows]

While she understood why Cy was so irritated, she didn't have time to worry about that right now. She'd gladly deal with Stella bitching at her for waking her and the kids up if it meant that somehow, some way, Heejin could still be saved, though honestly, she felt it in her bones that it was too late. She was praying to whoever the fuck was up there that she was wrong. Stepping back and gently pushing his hand away, her voice softer now, she said "Look, I'm sorry but it's important and it couldn't wait." As the two put some distance between them and the trailer, she was trying to find a way to deliver this information as succinctly as she could. She knew that Cy was unsure about all the 'woo woo' shit she dealt with on a regular basis but she knew all too well that her dreams (and her premonitions of death) were to be taken very seriously. She'd realized it too late to save Hyacinth but she'd be damned if she was going to let them happen again.

Whether he believed her or not, she wasn't going to waste her time trying to convince him. They had trust in one another and she knew that if she urged him to take her vision seriously, he'd try his best to. When he asked how, she took a moment to find the words to explain what she'd seen in her dream. Shaking her head, she said "I don't know for sure. A gunshot, maybe. But... In my dream, she had a brick in her mouth." It was a grisly image and one that she wouldn't soon forget. Where? She let out a sigh, knowing her answer wouldn't be helpful. "I don't know. She was under a tree. But if I were to guess, I'd say on the outskirts of town, maybe even farther out into the desert. It's remote."

She let out a sigh of exasperation, the anxiety building in her stomach. While she wasn't usually one to be anxious, she knew time was of the essence. "Look, I know it's not entirely helpful but the timeline isn't always clear with this sort of thing. She could still be alive right now. But if she is, she doesn't have much longer. We have to try to find her."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

There was an urgency that pulsated around them like a thread of energy through the universe itself. An intensity that Aurelia carried like no other biker that Cyrek had ever met, so assured in themselves and equanimous at once. Most bikers possessed a foul temperament that had a hairtrigger to be set off like a match to wheatgrass. "Is there anythin' we can even do about it?" he asked when they were further away from the trailer, incertitude milling into his raspy voice — Stella wouldn't be keen on any plan that erred on the risqué side, especially so close to laboring their girl into the world. Vampires weren't an end-all-be-all, even if the psychic medium was arguably more vulnerable to the concept of mortality.

A brick in her mouth. "What?" he parroted their disbelief, but after a beat, he gripped on their arm and stopped them in their tracks. "You don't think that means...?" The unspoken hypothesis dangled over their heads, a free-for-all for them to digest. Cyrek was reluctant to say it aloud, should anyone be on the stoop of their trailer and privy to eavesdropping in the dead of night. "Maybe we're not safe in the city no more. Vegas has been gettin' real dicey with the Night Stalker. Doesn't look good for the rest of us." The scoreboard had been compounding against them for years. Sure, they were vampires who were bloodthirsty and did not pick and choose their victims to a careful criterion of whether the world itself would be better without them ( and that was a slippery slope, as it stood. ) But the reputation that it reflected on the whole only pushed the envelope of what horrors Dracula inspired in the dark ages.

"I wouldn't know where the fuck to start lookin'. The desert is huge, if you 'aven't noticed," he said with an exasperation carding through his own voice, stopping in his tracks and spreading his hands in front of him to gesticulate to their surroundings. "Even if I light a fire under everyone's arse to look for her... I dunno. What do you think?" Aurelia was the road captain, after all — he had to expect her to hold everyone together when the king and queenpin were otherwise occupied with their handful of a little family. Now, more than ever.

[girljpg]

they call me the flower enjoyer

[nxnbinarydracvla]

[maykitz]

our fates are entwined whether you like it or not you stupid bastard

[nxnbinarydracvla]

with: @cfstvlla where: the fawn trailer when: june 10th, 1997

"Let them eat cake!" Cyrek manifested out of the blue in the kitchen, the screen door shut as quietly as a dormouse, popping an ankle and cocking his head in that same image of gentle innocence that didn't rightly resemble his moral standing; it was a close cousin of the efforts made by their two felines when they aspired to weasel themselves out of trouble. "I was gonna wear that crop top that said WHORE but I kinda thought whore husband kinda gives the wrong impression for us as husband and wife for the first anniversary. You get Hello Kitty instead, 'cause this heat's a bitch and I couldn't find nothin' else in my closet that's not in the hamper and won't kill me to wear today." As if anyone else in the entire city gave a flying fuck, let alone cognizant thought to it — except maybe the baker when he picked up the customized, relatively small round cake from Bake Me Happy. Heavy boots thumped through the kitchen rhythmically, mismatched eyes curiously peeping over her shoulder to take a gander at how their personal wedding cake had held up. "It looks kinda... lopsided, don't you think? Can I try the frostin'? Oh. Surprise."

Taking a step back to properly address the box in his hands, the punk smiled, mismatched eyes sparking alight already — the unmarked box looked like a gift, but he couldn't think of anything more fitting to the occasion than pulling together a backup in the case that the frozen coconut cake ended up falling flat against her expectations, especially with the suspiciously wilting appearance of the cake underneath the cut icing. "Happy anniversary, again. To our weddin' this time. How's our first year of bein' married been treatin' you?" While it could be contested that they had their fair share of ups and downs, none of it was what he would definitively term as a hard time. Let alone one that was too arduous for the pairing to circle around. "S' you and me for the evenin' now. I dropped the girls off on my way to get this and your mum never looked so happy to see them." He was partially jesting — her mother had certainly been clued into the reminders, if only for Stella's consistent blathering on about it throughout the week ( which was never once bothersome, as it sent tingles shooting through his fingertips to witness her so enthused about something, especially when it included the both of them. )

"Can I get some sugar before you open it, or...?" One thing was for certain: he didn't plan on taking a bite before they had shared a kiss on the monumental mark of three hundred and sixty-five days that Stella Matthews had become Stella Fawn. "Then we can dig in, promise. Should we sit 'round on the livin' room floor like we did when we were plannin' all the major-minor details while we're at it and attack it with forks?"

[b4rredteeth]

Gemma simply grinned when she spotted Cyrek - or perhaps when she was spotted herself. Her look of approval at the next person that went flying was one only seen temporarily in her one eye. Then it was gone, and so was the grin. There was only a small twitch at the edge of her mouth suggesting she was not here to see who would win.

"Rooting for someone?" She tapped a hand to her heart. "You have mistaken me for someone who wants to see people succeed. I want to see as many people fly off it as the night allows. The quicker the better, the further the better." She leaned her head on her hand and studied the guy with the green hair. "I hope he lands so hard he breaks something," she said with cheer. "Are you planning on attempting the bull?" Please say yes.

[nxnbinarydracvla]

"Rootin' for? No. Dyin' to see my brother get kicks in the 'nads by a hog? Fuck yeah." Anyone who had a brother knew that that was, in a nutshell, what it was like to have a brother — the imminent laugh of witnessing the paranormal investigator take one to the southern dome was as funny now as it would've been when he was a teenager, and in some facets, he wasn't going to mature, or planning on it anytime soon. "Guess that means we're in the same boat." I hope he lands so hard he breaks something. "He once threw himself off the swings when they were real high in junior high and broke his arm, I don't doubt it."

Are you planning on attempting the bull? The kingpin shook his head shortly. "I don't really got any interest in goin' inside the lounge and seein' what there is to offer." Although the Glitter Gulch was now decidedly Cactus Cat haunting grounds, there wasn't enough incentives in the world or any modicum of adrenaline rush that he thought would attract him to it. Turning back toward the corral, he clasped his hands together, knuckles cracking under the pressure exerted by rough palms and the zirconium rings. "Are you?"

[somethignnclever]

location: dollhouse burlesque time: event 1997 being broad on purpose for: open! @boneyardstarters It wasn't the attention she enjoyed, it was the rush. Similar to hopping up on the stage at Glitter, or looking down the dip of a roller coaster, singing in front of a crowd presented a unique euphoria that she happily indulged in. One round, she covered You Oughta Know after being obsessed with Alanis Morissette for the last month, and now she belted out a rock version of Helter Skelter with her own blues voice, putting a twist on the vocals.

She's beaming by the time she bounces off the make shift stage, giggling and letting her friends know she'd be back after getting a drink, stopping at the karaoke sign up list again to see if there were any other songs that stood out. Eyes dart to the side, her body shuffling over a bit so the person next to her could read teh book.

"Please, if you know what you wanna sing go ahead, I'm not sure I'm gonna go again." She smiles, handing the pen over to her new counterpart. Were they here for karaoke? Who knows, she can't hear much, but she does know one of the bands is going to go on soon, and the host would probably be wrapping up. But if they wanted to be brave beforehand, she wasn't going to stop anyone.

[nxnbinarydracvla]

The karaoke was welcome reprieve from the constant humdrum of country music that accompanied the rodeo days, which was decidedly not his thing, nor had it ever been; honestly, he didn't think it would be, had he hailed from the States to begin with. Sophia's performance was a welcome change, and the two songs he managed to drag Stella onto the dance floor for. Whilst she was accosted to accompany her friends for a moment, he had stood off to the side, mismatched eyes darting across the list in the open book to scour for anyone else he knew — especially family members worth annoying. Nothing stuck out to him, and it looked like there would be a country act coming on for the late evening. Of fucking course.

"Huh? Oh, I dunno. I mean, I do this shit every weekend, but my shit's not really what anyone lookin' for a rodeo is after. Sex Pistols and The Damned might get me run out of this place with torches and pitchforks." Humor steeped into his raspy voice, dropping the pen on top of the open pages, as he complimented genuinely, "Your shit was great, you won 'em over without singin' a Loretta Lynn. I'm kinda fuckin' impressed." At the lounge, putting on any kind of music was something one could reasonably get away with during their sets, as long as they knew how to work it and make money at it. ( Alternative wasn't really the look the normal clientele came in for when he was working there, either, so he had to work twice as hard to build up regulars, it felt like. )

"Ever think about doin' it as some kinda regular night out?" Alluding to her golden pipes, of course — not everyone who harbored the secret gift of music wanted to share it with the world. He sure as fuck didn't, and that was why he'd stayed just as content with shuffling from one local venue to another, or making short stops around places and heading back. Dive bars around the States and Canada were usually the biggest reach of the nitty-gritty punk rock band. "Lovin' the hat, by the way."

[ofdesertroses]

closed starter: dakota & cyrek ( @nxnbinarydracvla ) location: glitter gulch lounge when: may 31st, 1997

no one would see him escaping the building with a pile of sweets that was probably too much for him to handle, right? right? well there wasn't anyone really paying attention to stop him, so he takes off from the sweets table and heads to a lone table near the back. he had worked up an appetite after doing mud wrestling. he wasn't at the warehouse, so he can't take out his rage and energy on other fighters like he normally does. being in the mud wrestling was the next best thing and he actually won quite a few times. but now he was exhausted and needed energy if he was going to go again. he did sneak outside for a few minutes and managed to take a few puffs of his maryjane. and dakota was well on his way of being higher than he has ever been.

"hey cyrek. cyrek, right? you wanna go eat a bunch of sweets with me and get high?" he asks the first person he walks by, who happens to be wearing assless chaps. all he can do is chuckle at the sight. he does immediately recognize cy from seeing him around town and with the cactus cats. maybe he shouldn't approach him, but dakota didn't care. he needed someone to get drunk and high with. no matter what side you're on, getting high is always a past time that puts the strongest rivalries on hold. then again, he doesn't really have a rivalry with cy. or at least he doesn't think they do. no one knows his secret and who he's really here with. as far as everyone should be concerned, he's a simple fighter at the warehouse looking to make good money. "come on man, say yes. i promise this is some good shit. we can grub on all the sweets in my hands too." he smiles cy, motioning with his hand towards the table. "what do you say, hmm?"

[nxnbinarydracvla]

Cyrek had zero interest in doing anything except booking it from Glitter Gulch the moment he had the chance, and that meant waiting outside for his wife instead of venturing into the lion's den. The small hand towel swiped from the Cupid's Arrow wasn't doing a whole lot to mop up the water when he'd been dropped from the dunk tank a few times over, though he was doing his damnedest to dry the split-dyed hair that had been successfully tousled from spikes into curls again — a rudimentary touch that he figured Stella could appreciate for their anniversary, regardless of preferring against his natural hair when it was cut short. Fingers bunching in the damp locks as he walked by to round the corner and take a peek at the festivities outside the lounge, he stopped short in his tracks when someone called out the kingpin's name, tilting his head over his shoulder.

It was one of the fighters from the warehouse, that much he recognized. As the pairing frequented the hotspot for violence, it was natural that the shuffling of mob territories were leaning them into consideration for acquiring it for the Cactus Cats. It was right up their alley of business, and if they could recruit a few fighters out of it to be on their side, it sounded advantageous, even if they opted against driving steel-bodied horses. "Yeah... What's it to you?" Mismatched eyes narrowed, listening to his proposal and a brow lifting. The spliff he'd smoked ( while Stella partook in secondhand more than smoking it herself ) had loosened up his appetite, but it didn't lean him further into the side of the food chain he was decidedly less interested in than the queenpin. "I'm not really a sweets kinda guy," he said, then paused before snarking, "This is some good shit sounds a lil' bit like you're tryin' to sell me drugs, y'know."

He took a step closer anyway, and sat down in the shady part of the bench across the table from Dakota. Having a matching burn on his arse didn't sound like a splendid way to end an anniversary. "You're on the underscore billin' at the Warehouse a lot, aren't you?"

[nxnbinarydracvla]

[prettysads]

ellie + cyrek : june 1, mid - afternoon @ glitter gulch lounge @nxnbinarydracvla

it felt like it'd been eons since ellie had seen his older brother. which was a shame, considering this was the most well-adjusted ellie had ever been in his entire life. no longer were the days of unending suffering and addiction; now, he was almost a normal person, or at least normal-adjacent. he wasn't a liability, or rather, not as much of one. the burden of his presence lifted and he could be welcomed with open arms to family events again. in comparison to the first half of the decade, he was fucking thriving. and it helped, seeing cyrek again for the first time in about a month. "i swear, if i hadn't done that dunk tank and weren't prone to seizures, i'd win that shit," he said in reference to the mechanical bull. regardless of his short stature and spindly, easily fractured limbs, ellie believed he could conquer anything if he was persistent enough. such hubris is what carried him so far through life. "so, how've you been?" he asked in between rounds on the bull. "how're stella and the kids? i've been meaning to stop by, but i don't know if she's nesting or whatever shit pregnant women do. i wouldn't wanna fuck up anything," a chuckle emanated from his lips, cerulean eyes drifting sideways so he could observe his brother's demeanor. "feels like it's been forever since we've talked, and we live in the same fucking neighborhood. but i guess that's what happens when life gets busy. i never thought it'd be that way for me before. i also thought i'd never hold down a normal job, but, here we are..."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

Stepping foot inside the Glitter Gulch Lounge provoked the constant urge to set himself ablaze if it meant he could deter the relic of acrid memories. Try as he might, the vividness of it didn't lessen by the years. He had largely wandered in in search of his aforementioned wife, tall enough to look over the heads of most of the people inside the establishment and do a quick sweep for her, eventually finding her weaving through people, evidently still in search of lemon bars — all things lemon were apparently in popular demand. Satisfied, he looked back to his brother, chiding, "I can't believe you got in the dunk tank after me." The drippage had begun to dry off now from Cyrek's own body, although the sweltering room temperature of the sheer amount of people who had decided that a fake bull was the most fascinating aspect of the event was revitalizing the sweat beading on his honeyed skin, and he massaged a hand against his chest absently. "I'm not plannin' on stickin' inside this buildin' any longer than it takes Stell to swipe me some lemon bars, I'm not stoned enough to wanna stay in here." But his stomach growled at the thought of the dessert. Not half as sweet as his wife's own toothache for the stuff, yet one he could agree to splitting without much fuss. "Don't worry, she popped out the kids. Oh, shit," he belatedly dawned that he hadn't told his brother, a hand clapping against his visage, wondering who else he'd harebrained right out of the loop, "...Yeah, sorry, there's twins. You should stop by. Sorry, I really don't remember the last time I slept more than three hours a pop." Fingernails scathing across his temple, he frowned. "It's kinda makin' me feel a lil' haywire up in the brain but y'know." He'd survived periods of mental splintering at the frayed ends of his borderline personality before, and he would again. "El, you're welcome to come 'round, as long as you don't mind helpin' us change a diaper or somethin'," he clapped a hand against his brother's shoulder, "Can you get me the fuck out of here, though? You can dress this fuckin' place up like the inside of a rodeo ring and it's still a fuckin' lounge. And I really need to piss. I think I chugged way too much lemonade."

[edward-weiss]

LOCATION: The Doll House Burlesque Club. WITH: Cyrek Fawn @nxnbinarydracvla

The universe is testing him. When isn’t the universe testing him is arguably the better question at this point, but Cyrek, even at the best of times, is not someone Edward has the patience to deal with. This entire evening already feels like being trapped on some nightmarish carousel he can’t get off; every time the horrors seem like they might finally end, the carousel lurches forward again, throwing another fever dream into the mix.

He offers Cyrek his most withering, stay-the-fuck-away-from-me stare, as though it might actually work. As though it has ever once served as an effective deterrent before. As though he shouldn’t just surrender to whatever fresh nonsense is now heading his way. He should probably (definitely) make more of an effort to be civil, should be trying to find a way for their existences to benefit each other, but he's oddly offended by audacity in other people for someone who practices it so enthusiastically himself. His entire empire is built on audacity, technically - the belief that he could simply arrive in Vegas and win the game. When he's the one causing problems, he'd call it innovative; when it's the Cactus Cats, he'd call it indecorous, but he's too fond of his hypocrisies to bother scrutinising them.

"What the fuck do you want, Cyrek?" Charming as ever. His gaze drifts over Cyrek's outfit before immediately regretting it; he literally has to close his fucking eyes for a moment and sigh audibly, praying to a God he doesn't even believe in for patience he knows he'll never possess. First Sophia. Now this.

"And what the hell are you wearing?"

[nxnbinarydracvla]

The Cactus Cat kingpin had retired his throne of skulls and crossbones for the evening, but the leather hadn't gone anywhere except further south — and he was officially leaving the imprint of his arse like an autograph to the seat of every cushioned chair in the Dollhouse from the sweat accumulated thanks to bodies crammed into a space that could only hold so many. He couldn't think of another time that the burlesque had been packed to the nines, and he attended semi-regularly to pay his sister a visit. Since being stuck indefinitely in the line for the lemonades and the club had run out of employees to send scurrying around, he had zoned out with a resting bitch face that didn't quite compete with his wife's. The thousand yard stare was broken by the sound of Edward Weiss's voice addressing him by name, and he grinned devilishly without missing a beat, as if he had intended to approach the entire time, making it up as he went. Actually, it was auspicious opportunity to poke fun at the don for losing another daughter out of his grasp, even if that was objectively unwise with the plan that he and the queenpin had been discussing since she caught wind of the fallout from Romi herself.

He walked with purpose, coltish legs making a path through dancing bodies with the prowl of the hunter that he had been forged by fire into, a glint of mischief ever in his chocolate eye and the angelic denial that he was thinking of anything uncouth in the paired green. "What happened to 'ello mate, how are things?" The Mancunian accent loosened free with ease, perhaps furthered by someone who had an inkling of the grounds he had haunted too young to be hyperindependent — if only he knew how close the worlds collided, in a real fucked up way. Youths that demanded to put survival above all else and damn the rest. This time, he was all teeth, sharp edges that were ill-confined to the pungency of Edward's embitterment; he wasn't any empath, by any means, but the vampiric state he'd been so redefined with certainly permeated the air with certain emotions that rolled off like the stench of roadkill. So delicious, one could almost taste it.

"I just thought I'd swing over and say you must be right chuffed that another Vitelli's six feet under, huh?" Pink tongue darting across his lips, mopping up the salty beads of his own sweat, the split-dyed punk rolled his eyes, sarcastically answering, "It's vintage, you can't appreciate good leather that's not fallen apart when it ages?" To make a point, he did a slow one-hundred-eighty degrees, and completed another after showing off the lack of ass — he might as well flaunt it, even if he erred on the side of having nothing to show off whatsoever. "You want a pair? I got another on the bike."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

[no-one-likes--a-mad-woman]

When Cyrek had called to ask if they could borrow a car seat because they'd lost theirs, she'd happily dug it out of the storage in her garage, put Rhea in the car, and driven off to the hospital with anxious excitement. Before they'd walked into the room, she'd reminded her four-year-old that she was to not touch the baby and to keep her voice down, since the baby might be sleeping. The little girl was so ecstatic about having another cousin that she eagerly agreed to the stipulations. When they walked into the room, Alice held out the car seat, a big grin on her face, and nodded when her brother motioned for her to be quiet. He looked so damn happy and it made her smile even wider in return. I was so flustered when we found out... For a moment, her dark brows furrowed--that was, until he stepped aside and she saw not one but two little precious newborns laying in the basinet. Her jaw dropped in shock and sheer joy. 'Shut the fuck up! she mouthed, her smile practically taking up her whole face by now.

Had to take the piss with you on it. Or at least someone else's gotta take the piss since we already had to find out the surprise when it was on its way out. Playfully rolling her eyes, she quietly chuckled "You are such a shit." Of course, she meant it with love--she wasn't surprised that he'd tried to pull one over on her. To be fair, it was pretty easy to do. Reaching over to place a hand on his arm, she said "Congratulations!" Peering over the basinet, she suddenly felt tears prickling at her eyes but she didn't hold them back. "Oh my god, Cy, they're so beautiful...." Knowing that her own daughter was curious, she turned around to pick her up and place her on her hip--god, Rhea was getting too big for this, considering she would soon be five. "Remember, just looking, no touching." Looking back over at her brother as her daughter ooed and aahed over the twins, she asked "What are their names?"

[nxnbinarydracvla]

There was something heartfelt about Rhea getting a first gander at the twins before his own trio of older daughters could. They had decided they didn't want to disturb them when school was the next day; it wouldn't bode well to have a bunch of cranky kids and parents after the exhaustive labor. Stella's mother could handle them until they were discharged and ready to go home, and to be honest, the punk was dead on his feet, and he had to guess that the momentum that was keeping him going was the sheer delight that the precious bundles were now awaiting everyone else to meet them. The fermenting dread that went hand in hand with anticipation was virtually inconsequential to that feeling of overwhelming happiness that was so ill-contained, his heart threatened to burst right out of his chest altogether. "Hey, I didn't hide it from you lot, I didn't know until she was comin' down the chute. Neither did Stella." What a fucking shellshock that was, in the moment. Thankfully, his wife was long since asleep.

Smiling wearily when she laid a hand on his arm, he placed one hand over hers and ran his thumb across it appreciatively. "You can pick one of 'em up if you want. Or both, if you feel like doin' the balancin' act. Bloody interestin' to watch Stella try and wrangle hot cakes in the dead of night, by the way," he simpered, poking gentle fun at her failed attempts to juggle the Denny's breakfast and two newborns at once, then he lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug, "A and B, right now. No names until the namin' ceremony. I mean, that'll mostly be for their Hebrew names, but we figured we wouldn't name our kid until after she was born, y'know..." He refrained from saying miscarriage around Rhea, as much as he avoided watering down concepts for his own children. Frankly, he didn't have the mental capacity to try to explain it in layman's terms. Or at all. The cadence of his voice was a hushed whisper, preserving the quietude of the room for the slumbering occupant... or three, in this case. "Guess we got double the workload for that one, too. Carseat's not gonna be completely useless, that's for damn sure."

Coming up beside her, he glanced at her sideways, and fell silent for a beat. "How'd you feel? When you had Rhea in the delivery room. I dunno, I never really... saw it before now. I, um... I was glad I could be there for her."

[cfstvlla]

STARING AT HIM STRETCHED OUT UPON THE BLANKET atop the sand, the look of pure bliss and peace that painted his features was one Stella didn’t think she could tire of ever seeing nor could she get enough of appreciating. There wasn’t enough time in the world for her to memorize every key detail of the current moment, wanting to clutch onto it forever to return back to whenever she pleased. There had been plenty of moments in their times together and prior where it felt as if the universe had a vendetta out for the sole person she held above everyone else, and tears she had dried or harm she couldn’t protect him from was a heavy weight she was witness to him having to carry about, and even though she knew her love wasn’t a fix-all for any of it, the fact that her desire to be able to supply him with as much happiness as was humanly (vampirically) possible for someone who had once lacked any whatsoever in her own life made her own heart feel lighter with every smile that graced his face in the shade of the Grecian sun. If she thought there was no better feeling she could know than that of their wedding day when so many years had been spent wishing they could tie herself to him in every way possible, but especially like that, than she was mistaken as being alone with just the two of them to celebrate that marriage through relaxation and the casual flirty jokes that had been abundance in their relationship since the very beginning (and arguably prior) had every one of her nerves alight with with it. She thought she could’ve spent their entire month just sitting in awe of watching Cyrek enjoy himself and still would have thought of it as the perfect honeymoon even if they accomplished nothing else. Her expression softened when his more heartfelt response was made to her teasing, the sentiment having her cooing in a tone laced in adoration reserved solely for the kingpin’s ears and no one else’s, “‘Slong as you stick by my side, I don’t think it can go far.” Corny as it was, the sentiment carried nothing but truth, no reason to be spoken just to woo when they were already on their honeymoon—and had already spent the first few days of it locked in nothing but a battle of seduction. “How could that make you wicked? Think it just makes you a right romantic.” Her eyes fell to take notice of the hearts made with the tip of his finger, simpering, “Just ‘nother thing on the list of what I love ‘bout you.” 

The color blooming on his cheeks beat every sunset they had watched from the window of the hotel room when the sun descended over the structures of Athens each evening since they had landed, and Stella had to right her previous thought as this was truly the sight she wanted to cement into her memory, if she couldn’t catalogue every single one to return to endlessly. If only the old trusty Polaroid camera that was carried on every trip across the states hadn’t been left behind in the hotel room as to save it from the sand was in her hands now, so she could capture the beauty on film. Just from having him close when he leaned in, forehead against hers and gorgeous smile impossibly close, she was practically folding in on herself and melting before him, the action having nothing to do with the warm air or sun unblocked without a cloud in the sky. “Still not funny to joke ‘bout yet,” she chastised without any gravitas as the grin was still plastered on her face, a sight only he could bring forth to the size it was. “Think I’ve just followed you right up there. Or did you follow me ‘cause I’ve been there since we said I do. It’s real nice to see you so happy, though. You tell me, yours gonna stick ‘round, too? ‘Cause it’s not fair if it’s only me still this in love a year from now.” It was hard to pull herself away from him and flip over, but she was rewarded with the feeling of his digits massaging over her skin, not an unfamiliar sensation but pleasant nonetheless and enough to earn a sigh from between her lips when her head laid upon her hands against the blanket. “You sayin’ you’re gettin’ tired of it already? ‘Cause that’s gonna make the baby making’ thing really hard,” she teased back effortlessly, as they had ample time over the years to learn how to bounce back and forth off one another in a seamless fashion, humor aligning ever since it was one of the core aspects that had brought them together as immature teenagers in the first place. 

Cyrek never failed to fluff her feathers when it came to parenthood, the only reason she was as comfortable to dip her toes back into the idea of trying again after their previous tragedy, as well as with the current excitement that she had for it. “I don’t wanna hurt their little ears with that, so I think we should give ‘em a second to get used to livin' life before draggin’ ‘em all the way out here.” Her foot kicked up, nudging him in the side, before she sat back up. “I like your confidence, though. In both of us.” There was plenty of times where they both had their own differing reasons to question whether they were getting it right in the current roles of mom and dad, but his own belief in both of them only nourished and grew hers, too. She never would have seen herself in such a position before he made it not only possible but also so appealing. Hands reaching for him immediately as soon as she was back up, rarely found off of him when they were in close proximity, running over his shoulders before clasping behind his neck, keeping him from going far, not that he was making any attempt when their lips were caught up against one another’s. She had ran through plenty of pictures in travel books of the clear water of the beaches before they had arrived, and yet in that moment, she would have been pleased to just continue to make out upon the shore, the exact same thought being the explanation for why it had taken them so many days before exploring the country that was foreign to her. “I love you, too,” came without a pause nor hesitation, a following peck quick against him before he stuck his tongue out, teeth nipping the air in front of it just for show. “I can think of one other good use for your mouth to go on that list.” And that wasn’t aiding in the endeavor towards a pregnancy, not that it hadn’t frequented the honeymoon suite regardless. “I guess I do, but I think most people think you do more of keeping me in line,” she joked, though it was practically a coin flip in who needed it more when they were behind the bar together. Her body stretched and arched, clear enjoyment of every touch upon skin that would doubtlessly be sporting a light burn by the end of the week no matter how much sunscreen was applied, unfamiliar with being in the sun. “Oh, the only person? Now that’s a compliment. Should make it real easy for me to make you then, right?” 

Her hands had been running back against his shoulders, down his chest only for one to make a pitstop in tracing a heart in her own handwriting that had been inked permanently into his skin, taking her time in appreciating every inch of him as his skin under her palms would never be able to get old, no matter however they aged themselves (if they did, as there was plenty of those types of questions about their current condition still up in the air). “After everything that makes the top five?” A genuine laugh exited her mouth at the unserious dramatics of such a claim, head falling back for a moment before she righted herself, straightening at the suggestion of getting in the water. “That’s why I dragged you out here, isn’t it? I wanna see that hair of yours when it gets all beachy. Bet it’ll be even more fun to run my fingers through.” Not that anything could usually stop them, except for the prospect of him about to walk out the door where she would have to sit on her hands to behave and allow him to go to work without messing up the notorious spikes. “Hey, what happened to keepin’ you in line? That includes followin’ my rules.” Still, when her requests were met in Portuguese, she wasn’t sure she had ever smiled larger as even a month later, the excitement of having the title hadn’t worn off a bit from when she was wearing her bridal gown. “I can’t wait for the rest of forever as long as that’s right.” Before her hands could continue on their vow to keep him in line, and possibly get them removed from the beach before either one of them even touched the ocean, he was popping up to his feet and out of reach, not giving her a moment to follow suit before she was falling back and her leg dragged upwards so he could haul her into the water himself. “Hey!” She admonished, though it didn’t hold much weight when sandwiched between laughter, shaking her foot enough to wiggle free from his grasp, even if her back was now coated in a layer of sand sticking to sunscreen. Getting to her feet, the sand couldn’t burn the bottom of them for long when she was running past him to get in the salty water first, turning back towards him once she was up to her knees. “You gonna catch up or are ya that afraid I’ll dunk you? ‘Cause I will, but I’m a nice ‘nough wife to give you this warning.” Fingertips fell to coast across the surface of the water, unable to help but appreciate it when it had only been in the last decade of her life that she had even seen a beach for the first time, none just as blue as this she had to note with a hint of amazement. "It's no fun 'til you're out here with me."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

The hypothetical query about the future that she posed might have lingered on out for a jurisdiction from an imaginary synod, had he been any other guy. From the slim experience he had in his own department of amore, after their high school heartache and the miserable intermission that followed, guys were so apt for their feelings to be fleeting and transmutable, at best. As someone with an amygdala jumpstarted on steroids, he had been long resigned to the credence that he was the person who loved more, if not too much — as it turned out, it was because anyone else he tried to fit the puzzle pieces together with or envision a future wasn't the skunk-haired woman stretched out on the beach towel underneath him, appreciating muscles malleated under the cadence of his fingers working to mollify any ilk of dissonance from her on the happiest vacation that the pair of them had ever embarked. "I love you today more than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow," he said, by way of answering whether his devotion to her heart and his would ever falter, a lighthearted conversation embellished with the assertion that there wasn't a chance of lessening as the days turned into years. What a discomfiting thought that there could be any minimization of the love shared between them. Their commonalities and rooted understanding of one another burgeoned on incomprehensibility of the life that had been before her, bearing exception of the horror cuts that had defined his anamorphous self-image, as the bond they shared spanned far beyond the allegiance of the same motorcycle club. "I don't think there's a single thing in the whole damn universe that could get me to second guess marryin' you and makin' you my wife. Even with you workin' me like a horse for the baby thing." As if he didn't blatantly adore her putting the leadership skills of hers to use outside of her status as queenpin. Naturally, the flow of their conversation fanned out to the little family that would be waiting there for them when they were due to return home — not necessarily ready to do so, as he was already engrossed with reconnecting with the first home he'd ever known and the surroundings that were bleak and gloomy in his childhood, inspired through a new lens of the rose-colored glasses worn to coincide with the wedding bells that were ringing still in their ears — and he had to hesitate and wonder if there was a future where he saw himself bringing them back here. Not with permanence — something would always be tainted about his birthplace, and returning would surely sow despair that he wished fervidly to leave behind, but to know. "Do you wanna come back ehre wit hthe kids someday?"

I like your confidence. In both of us. Instinctively, a smile courted Cyrek's lips, and flirted with the sunlight, if a hair smaller than the forthright adulation reserved for the occasion. Almost shy. Knees brought up to his chest as he glanced back at the ocean, he was recoiled from rumination when her arms hugged around his neck and she embraced him closer, hungering for no more width of space to be had between the newlyweds. A chaste press of his mouth against hers was rewarded, silent appreciation that she could effortlessly take notice when the dregs of overanalyzing his thoughts were pooling in between the gaps of their ignorant bliss, responsibilities temporarily forgotten to hang in the liminal space that was Las Vegas. In a place as tranquil and attuned to nature as the white sands of the Grecian shores, Sin City served a fever dream more than a place to call home — or perhaps, it was because home was an analogous noun anymore, so long as she was beside him. "Where else should we take them someday?" he asked, and then, "Where else should I take you?" Wanderlust was practically his birthright, a code in his genetic line he thought of as defective until the fantastical longing for an escape from the monotony of the city of bright lights was supported by her and the motley of ideas that she utilized to accrue enough money to finance the key to a Pandora's box that he had presumed to be lost forever. Stella unlocked the door to his happiness without ever blinking twice, or reconsidering her choice for twining their lives together. Canting his head back when her teeth snapped close to his tongue, he let out a breathy chuckle. "Oh, yeah? I think I deserve to hear you spell it out for me. Y'know, since it's our honeymoon and all." A loll of his head against his shoulder regarded her with a challenging once-over, wriggling free of her embrace enough to get to his feet and put his plan into motion, the devious twinkle in his eyes tuned immaculately to the execution of her jest.

"Rule followin' is for losers!" The spectacle of her collapsing in on herself, hands stripped from his bare chest to flop down onto the beach towel when he closed his weathered hands around her ankles matched to the triumph in his voice. To his dismay, he didn't venture too far on his conquest, as she was quickly shaking him free of the clutch around her ankle, and sprinting off down the shoreline herself straight toward the water. The spray of ocean water as he took off after her mussed up spiked locks, framing his face in the disorganized nautiluses of octopus limbs, the stride of his long legs ensuring it didn't take long for him to catch up to her. "Not if I dunk you first!" Two spindly arms outstretched and thin digits took hold of her biceps, launching the entirety of his frame at her with enough propensity that sent them both hurtling into the salt water. The intensity of the sunlight was nullified underneath the water that darkened it with the eclipse of water in motion, discomfit by the jostling of the pair of troublemakers. The remnants of humanity, the inherent thought to breathe and force oxygen through his lungs, propelled his head to the surface soon after, gasping above the water and taking naught but a second of recovery time before he hurled the choppy waves right back at her the second that she had bobbed back up herself. Splashing her more than once, a devious grin plastered to his face and a deep ache in his cheeks insinuating thereafter, he teased, "Havin' fun now that I'm out here with you? Maybe a lil' too much fun? I could dunk you under the water again, if you want me to." Arms pulsing in stasis and letting himself float in the water, he swam back an inch or two to brace for the potential vengeance for his retaliation against her remarks, eyes sparkling. "Wanna make it interestin'?" The punk paused where he was adrift in the water, mismatched eyes darting away from her to study the sand yawning out toward the docks in the distance. "First one to swim over there gets to pick where we go to dinner tonight," Cyrek suggested to his wife, a pointer finger angling toward the docks, "Loser's gotta do somethin' the other person wants later. Within reason, but I'm sure you can use your imagination for that." Training his gaze back on her, he winked charismatically, paddling closer to her. "Say when."

[nxnbinarydracvla]

with: @deatthtouched ; adonis where: cupid's arrow when: anytime during the event

"Aw, I was kinda thinkin' you'd dress up the part a lil' more and play it up to score." The punk quirked his mouth in a crooked smile, suggesting that he was jesting around with the fellow musician as he sauntered right up to him, taking stock of the cowboy hat with little other embellishments to suggest that Adonis was on theme for the eve. "Not gonna take the stage at the Dollhouse and croon out a country love song, neither? Disappointin'. I would tip to see that." Hell, he'd probably tip extra, seeing as he had gone out for a belated celebration to his anniversary, after all.

Cocking his head to the side, he figured now was as good of an opportunity as any to pick his brain about the brand-new rivals of pop punk that had been conspiring all over the city — Cosmix was currently the Vain Rogues' newest challenge to pick up their tempo, and he admired Adonis's talent plenty from the jam sessions they'd gotten together for. "What d'you think of that new act? I've seen a couple of the ladies 'round the rodeo tonight, haven't had a chance to introduce myself any. They were real good when I caught them at the Dead Man's Fingers the other weekend."

For now, the Weisses and the Vitellis seemed distracted enough with their own mess that, aside from Stella trying to get her foothold on the playing field so they could fly under the radar on both sides with the Cactus Cats, they were free to have at a distraction for a bit. It had been a while since Cyrek was able to concretely focus on his one true passion in life, and that was music. "So," his hands rested astride his own hips, the leather chaps he was wearing starting to glue themselves to his skin thanks to the temperature of bodies crowding bodies in every damn building, "I've got a couple festivals on lockdown this summer. I was wonderin' if you wanna team up for a track. See if we can't rock the Cosmix out of the hot seat for a lil' bit."