— i've gone to hell and back again. @nxnbinarydracvla - Tumblr Blog

𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘, 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖊 𝖎 𝖈𝖗𝖞 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖊. pinterest ♡ stats ♡ visage ♡ musings ♡ cyrek and stella

trigger warnings: abuse, neglect, addiction, suicide / self harm, death / murder, kidnapping

#boneyardintro #banner creds to notoriousaesthetics

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."

#c: ellie #starstckrs #the prodigal son returns...

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."

#c: edward #edwardweiss #he's soooo annoying sry edward LMAO

#never thought i'd be so mean. never thought i'd be alone at nineteen ( face )#body image cw

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."

#c: alice #noonelikesamadwoman #miscarriage tw #hospital tw

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."

#c: stella #cfstvlla

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."

#c: adonis #deatthtouched

with: @ofdesertroses ; constantine where: the cupid's arrow when: anytime during the event

Was it a little awkward to run into one of the doctors that reset displaced bones and unfortunate injuries of a particular nature that he frequented the emergency room bay for? Yeah, for anyone else whose name wasn't Cyrek Fawn, and had quite literally swallowed every milligram of integrity he had in his early twenties. Nothing really fazed him anymore, although there was something off about the doctor that he couldn't put his finger on — not everyone in Sin City was what they appeared, after all. As much as it gave him the heebie jeebies to think on it for too long, he was also too stoned after being the solo half to smoke an entire spliff by himself, and struggling to carry all the snacks in his arms, while sopping wet from the few dunks he'd taken at the helm of the tank.

The denim jacket that he'd buttoned up to match with the assless chaps was discarded to his wife's inventory, and he was lucky it was warm outside and inside the Cupid's Arrow, now unfortunately matching Wolfgang's state of undress without a shirt. "Oh, sorry, I think I got the last kettle corn..." It took him a little too long to realize it thanks to the doctor standing behind him, and he smiled without teeth, minding the unnerving roiling of his stomach whenever the doctor was nearby. Most people claimed not to be able to pick out vampires, person to person, so that couldn't be it, right? "You wanna split? S' kind of a big bag. I'll just ask 'em for an extra and pour half in. I was gonna crush some of it with one of those movies at the drive-in after I get out of dodge. This place is really gettin' packed to the nines now, innit?"

#c: constantine #ofdesertroses #let me know if i should change anything!

cfstvlla

“WHAT’S THE FUN IN HAVING ‘EM OUT if I don’t get to give ‘em a squeeze every time the thought crosses my mind?” Her logic wasn’t exactly sound, and yet she was standing ten toes down behind it, intent on showing her full appreciation for the look he was sporting that night to the point where no one around them could have a sliver of a doubt that he was the sole thought on her mind ever since they had walked through the burlesque’s doors (and arguably, before that, as she was getting distracted in putting together her own themed look by wanting to take in his before they even made it out of their own bedroom). “You take anything more off and I’m really gonna have to be fighting off every person in here from drooling over you,” she joked, the faux annoyance he presented in response to having her hands on him not dimming the joyousness that played on her features the moment she was spoiled back with his full attention, especially when he turned back towards her and she flourished under the gaze of his mismatched eyes. The grin was still present on her face when his lips adorned her cheek, a following one on the upturned tiers themselves, humming with mock consideration in response to his question. “I dunno, really did think I lost you there for a hot minute. I think one more kiss is necessary to make sure you’re really in the all clear.” There wasn’t an ilk of seriousness behind any of her words; if Cyrek truly did want time to catch up with friends or explore the cowboy-themed event by himself, she would have relented (if so with a bit of a pout), but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to continue on with their never-ending banter that seemingly started much longer ago than the nine years they were celebrating that night. “Desserts?” That was the one word that could possibly pull her focus from the other type of sweet she was hellbent on keeping her hands on, except when he had since turned towards her and her hand was instead preoccupied with wounding her fingers around his and playing with the gem on his engagement ring as she did so. “Why’re they parading ‘em ‘round here if they won’t even let you have any? We can go there next, but it depends on whether you got your fill of dancin’ yet. I don’t wanna get all the way there and find out you still wanted to keep going.” It was a natural back and forth that they two would find themselves in when planning their next move, checking repeatedly to know it was what the other truly preferred.

Shuffling a bit as the line moved ahead, even though it wouldn’t have been the first time she was so enraptured with him that the rest of the public place they were standing in couldn’t garner a hint of her focus, Stella had no interest in any space being introduced between them now that she had latched onto his side after the brief intermission to their night together. Like a flower leaning towards the sunlight that gave it life, once his hand was on her face she was angling towards him, appreciating the stardust reflecting in brown and green under the flashy lights of the burlesque club. “Not fair, you can’t judge me for being a bad dancer before when no one was even interested in ever dancing with me, least not since you at junior prom. I just needed a little practice after all those years of never doing it.” And there wasn’t anyone she was more interested in getting all of that practice in with than the kingpin. One could pose the argument that she held no interest in moving with any groove for her early twenties when he wasn’t there to take her hand in time with the music. “I’m fine doin’ anything ‘slong as it includes getting to be right up against you,” she cheesed, smile large enough to prove she knew just how sappy her words sounded, and yet there was no dishonesty to be found in them whatsoever. “Think we should definitely grab these lemonades before deciding on anything else, ‘cause all this leather is just making me even hotter, plus these fuckin’ jugs that feel like they practically weigh ten pounds each. I’m hopin’ we make it home 'fore I gotta deal with them, though, ‘cause I really don’t feel like finding a place to use the pump here or at Cupid’s. Or spend any of our date night doin' that instead of appreciating how I got the best-looking date at this whole thing.” The grin that had previously been on her face returned, this time with a naughtier streak than it carried before. “You get my heart pounding just as much as you did nine years ago,” she admitted, as if he needed to hear it when just about every one of her actions made it loud and clear just how much she adored him, possibly even more so than when they were younger, were it possible. “Not gonna stop ya if you really wanna go testing it out, though.” Leaning into him as her free hand grabbed a lemonade in a plastic cup from the bar’s top, her other one had wasted no time anchoring herself against him, fingers dancing up his arm that sat around her waist. “If you still got some dance left in you, then don’t let me stop you from getting it all out. Just telling ya now that I want a taste of those desserts before the night is over….and also those ones over at Cupid’s, too.”

nxnbinarydracvla

"I think you described a stress ball just now," he effortlessly pointed out without missing a beat, as if there was one thing that the pair of them excelled at, it was playful banter. Nine years into re-entering a romantic relationship as adults, and the two of them were incapable of faltering and losing the paramount aspects of their friendship. When push came to shove, Cyrek would have vouched it was a reason behind their longevity — neither of them took themselves too seriously, and although their relationship was a point of mature concern for them, they didn't permit the harrowing storm clouds to terrorize them as ceaseless as before. "Would you fight everyone else in the room if I started somethin' by strippin' down?" The query was almost rhetorical if his former occupation was taken into consideration, but he was no longer moonlighting as an exotic dancer; there was more freedom of choice that came with baring himself down if he felt like it. And in the name of the occasion, he had so chosen to take the piss out of the theme and the most impractical outfit, if partially for his wife's entertainment — and beguiled, she seemed to be, to him as opposed to any of the rudimentary knock-off southern activities. "Another one? That's kinda a steep price to pay when we're gonna be knockin' boots the rest of the night —" Metaphors continued to fall on deaf ears and misuse by the taller counterpart of the Fawn coupling alone. "...But I guess I can pay up," he conceded, after twirling a lot of blonde in his hair that had come loose from the layering of spikes, and he leaned in, their lips smacking together audibly and settling comfortably in an embrace as devout as if she expected someone to march up then and there and make a fair ploy at trying to wrangle him out of her grasp. Once she had a refreshment in hand, his parched mouth was chasing after it, a hair too lackadaisical to care for relinquishing his hands from her and scooping it up himself. One hand belonging in the inlet of her own, and the other confiscating a handful of the queenpin's own salt and pepper shakers, and he let out a snort instinctively. It took another half a second for it to fully sink in and hand over the reigns of genuine rumination. Mismatched hues wavered to and fro of the dance floor and her visage, a sliver of him ridiculously enamored with the excuse to stare at her features when the smoky eye of her makeup he'd applied to fit to the theme was highlighted flawlessly under the lights, and how it complemented her smile and brought out the deep red of her lipstick. Her hazel hues bore right into him, and a hand entangled in her messy waves, suggesting, "Why don't we step out for a minute and share some of those rollin' papers you got, then I'll decide?"

Stepping out of the line, her hand didn't get a chance to stray from his for long, as he sought the digits dancing chastely along his skin and erecting goosebumps along the length of his arm. Catching them in the finger trap of the gaps between his own, he tugged her toward the door, giving her a replenished view of his backside while he shouldered his way through a throng of people. Nudging it open with his shoulder, the glare of the sun in its last hoorah devoured the horizon and between it, the vacillating clog of buildings that went on for miles in Las Vegas. "Are you sayin' you wanted to dance with anyone else, and they just didn't ask you, or are you givin' me that excuse to argue 'bout it? I think we would've crushed senior prom if we made it that far. I would've taken that one way more seriously and made you work your arse off. Feels like it would've been my callin' in the prime of my figure skatin'," he continued to bicker with her for no apparent reason, nothing but a tinge of humor coating his raspy voice, and twisted his arm to spin her around poetically to face him, instead of walking a few feet behind him. Then, and only then, did their hands separate, and he snatched the plastic cup of lemonade away, tilting his head back and chugging about half of it, handing it back to her and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The smile was irresistible behind the valleys of his knuckles before she moved in closer, zeroing in on her chosen fixation of the evening, teasing, "Yeah, you better lay on the sweetness thick tonight." As if to affirm he was jesting through and through, a light flick of his fingers ghosted around the bridge of her nose. It didn't take long for her remark about the evolving state of her body to attract his attention, heterochromatic hues obnoxiously dropping lower, and back up to her visage. "...You want company if you do?" A full set of teeth, sharp canines and all, twinkled back at her, and a palm lightly patted her where her vest was salaciously on display herself. "You're doin' a damn good job, by the way. I dunno how you do it, really. Always said I couldn't think of anyone else I'd want a go again at parentin' with." That had never changed, and it was worth echoing on the special evening — or, the belated celebration of their evening. "Really didn't think I'd 'ave any more kids again before we got together and I already can't imagine what it'd be like if we didn't have those two girls." It went without saying that it was shared with the three older daughters, too, but there was a substantial loss they privately shared that exemplified the accomplishment.

A light dusting of roseate that he would dismiss as the red dirt that got into every crevice and pore accentuated his cheeks, disappearing below the line of his jaw and hiding underneath the black handkerchief tied loyally around his neck. Sliding his hands into the pockets of his chaps, he swayed on his feet, too bashful to come up with anything in response. There were times that Stella Fawn managed to successfully outdo him with quips that others might not consider charismatic, but the skunk-haired punk spoke directly to the heart that was in dire neglect of love, all the same. "I'm glad I can make you happy. S' all I ever wanted, really. 'Sides not bein' stuck here all the time, and... you listened to that." No one needed to spell it out for her that the pits of despair that they had separately dug themselves into were too gargantuan to climb out of on their own. Were it not for her keen eye and clear mind running through every debt and bill, there was no way his poor financial habits could have been turned around successfully to loosen the noose around his neck. After nine years, he remained dumbstruck and rigid in the thought that there wasn't anything he could do, no amount of love that he could spare and shower her with, that would encompass how grateful he was to her. "Mm... I'll think of somethin'," he conceded, cocking his head to one side and shutting one eye against the glaring rays of the sun that were boring into their sensitive eyes, and grinning crookedly. Withdrawing his hands, he tapped her on the hip, moving the pair of them toward the shade and away from the prying eyes of foot traffic, craving a moment where they were utterly alone. "Bem, bem, one more dance, only 'cause you clearly want one so bad, and you can lead next time... after that spliff I was promised."

#c: stella #cfstvlla

andreaxweber

Andrea loved when there was a bit of a quiet lull in the store, usually the blonde is rushing around that she sighs with relief when she can just sit down for a second. It also meant that she could get some other things done and the boxes of new releases had been singing her name the whole day. They grabbed the first two boxes and began to bring them over to the billiards table that was used more for boxes than actual billiards most of the time. Hearing the sound of Cyrek's voice beside them caught them off guard just a little bit. "Thanks, cause I forgot to bring the box cutter with me when I grabbed them." They admitted,watching as he cut the tape before both of them opened up the boxes. "Yeah I think so, I mean I am a bit nervous but I promise you that the store is going to be in good hands. Trust me, if something goes sideways you will be the first person I'll call, I will not let you or Stella down." Andrea placed a hand on their chest as a way of a promise.

"We're doing great! Finally got the last of the boxes emptied out and the cottage is so beautiful, like something out of a storybook." Her voice had softened as she spoke, taking things out of the box as she did. She loved Relia with all her heart and while she was a bit nervous to move in, she soon settled in and while she didn't live with Annaki anymore, the two of them always made time for some coffee during the week. "I had never lived with a partner before so I admit it was a pretty scary thought, but I'm glad I made the leap. I always give her a big hug, even if both our days have been crappy we just cuddle on the couch and rant about horrible customers or rude people." She explained. "How is Stella doing by the way?"

nxnbinarydracvla

Appreciative that Andrea was so forward and dedicated to their work was an understatement — the store itself was a passion project and it filled a void in him that they were able to hire someone who was their expert and now practically their manager who adored music about as much as they did. "We'll give you a bump in pay for it," he promised, "I don't think you'll let the store burn down without us, but I'm hopin' that the foot traffic looks a lot more... uh, lively, people should start comin' in on the buses and planes for touristry real soon." Sarcasm aside, he mollified, standing side by side with her and lifting out some of the contents while she took the other half of the box. "Nah, you'll do great. You can let the customers haggle for some of the newer stock, just don't go too low. I wouldn't entertain too many offers on the signed stuff we've got for sale," he explained to them, chuckling, "I think you know how to stand, uh, what's that thing Stella always says? Ten toes down when you gotta."

It brought a smile to his features, hearing how Aurelia's life had transformed for the better. As teenagers, it was unfathomable. They were miserable, reckless fuckwits in search of answers for why their formative years sucked so stupendously. There was a detachment to reflect back on it, as where they were now seemed not long ago and beyond the realm of his comprehension now. ( It didn't mean he was fixed, by any means, and neither was Aurelia — he was a fractious mess on his worst days, but he didn't consider flushing it all down the toilet anymore. ) "I kinda like the casual nights like that best, y'know?" he laughed at her description, shaking his head, "I dunno. Nothin' better after a long day than crawlin' into bed and we do our own things, watch our shows together, maybe order a pizza and 'ave a toke and go to sleep. Or we'll rent a shitty movie to watch in. S' kinda the lil' things that I appreciate more now, I guess." Breaking down the box when it was empty, he dropped it on the floor whilst they sifted through the inventory, silently able to organize them according to the shop's categories. "Uh... I think we've kinda reached the point she, y'know... is ready to pop the bun out of the oven, but the bun's not ready t' come out. I think she's frustrated that she cries a lot, but s' kinda what you sign up for, innit? Last night, she dropped the jar of pickles and I 'ad to run out to the store and get her another one. I don't really mind helpin' out, though. I think it'll be worth it when we got our baby in our arms."

#c: andrea #andreaxweber #pregnancy tw

a-ghost-with--a-beating-heart

It had been some time since the siblings had gotten an opportunity to spend time together and honestly, she would take what she could get because soon, Cyrek's life was going to get a lot busier with a newborn on board. They'd been talking more frequently about the things going on in town--after all, when she'd found that severed head in her locker, she knew that Cy was probably the only person she could talk to about it. And while she'd been trying to distract herself with wedding plans, with each new murder, she found herself becoming more and more paranoid. After all, it wasn't even a question of if there was someone out there anymore. It's not like some anonymous person had been leaving her creepy notes or calling just to breathe heavily on the other line. There had been a severed head in her locker. Someone had gone out of their way to murder someone and place their head in her locker, just for her. At best, it was a warning. At worst, it was a threat. So she'd called Cy over to talk, making sure that Mione was out at work.

Walking back into the living room with two cups of tea, her beautiful engagement ring on display on her left hand, she said "Oh, you can sit anywhere--the couch is fine." Her brother seemed a little awkward and out of place here. But perhaps that was fair, since he'd never really visited before. Honestly, she should invite him over more often, not just when it feels like the sky is falling. Then again, part of why she avoided inviting him over was because she knew that he was so busy. Between the kids and the Cactus Cats and work, he had his hands plenty full. Once she took a seat, she took a sip of her tea and let out a sigh. While she appreciated that he was trying to quell her worries, per usual, it wasn't really working. Anni's brain had a nasty habit of spinning things out of proportion, no matter how small--but that was the worst part about all of this. It didn't really feel small anymore. She nodded, yet she still gave him a look of uncertainty. "Are you sure?... I mean... I know the mob is a thing, I know they call out hits and stuff..." Or at least, she thought she knew?... Up until recently, she'd thought all that shit was just in the movies. "I'm just... I'm feeling nervous, Cy. I feel... I don't know. With each...death, each murder, I just... I'm afraid that there's someone out there that's just...waiting. Waiting for the right time to...get to me. And I know that that may sound stupid, but... I don't know what other message that head was supposed to send..."

nxnbinarydracvla

Traipsing over to the sofa at Anni's behest, he plopped himself down, stretching awkwardly when it afflicted him with a whole-body ache that he had been stewing on for the past few months. He'd assumed it was a relic of the chronic stomach issues that had torn him asunder for years, that perhaps the spasms were hewn to him now. Reading too deeply into the matter didn't seem wise, as he didn't want to pile on Stella's worries over something that was likely frivolous, nothing to be done about it. The tea was left untouched on his end of the table for the moment, propping an arm on the rest and he frowned. "What's this about?" he pressed the former dancer, needling for answers in the way that was their typical push-and-pull ever since their brother had passed, "I don't got any reason to think the mob wants to come after my family right now... I guess we're... kinda on okay terms." The Weiss family notwithstanding, but it sounded as if they had bigger problems to fucking deal with since the papers said that Romi had split. There had been a single phone call from the blonde now ex-heiress thus far, and they'd met up at the NA meeting, and topic exchange was notably closed-off. It wasn't exactly the kind of space to talk about that kind of thing. Plus, as open as his position in an MC was, he wasn't keen on making anyone in the meetings antsy of his presence.

Fingers threaded through his spiked locks, tugging and laboring over them, eyes narrowing when she persevered with what was on her mind. When it had first been brought into conversation, he didn't really know what to think — the lurking threat of slayers, on the other hand, made him second guess. Was it supposed to be a cryptic retelling of his own death, head rolling clean off his shoulders? Cyrek didn't dare to say that aloud, and just as well, Anni probably wouldn't believe him — if he were a normal person walking around, he surmised that he wouldn't hold credence to it, either. "You never got to read the note?" he asked, "What the fuck ever happened to that head, anyway?" Digging around for clues about what it said would have to come from his other sister's mouth. What a fucking way to place Astrid and Anni in the same room. "I dunno. I would kinda think it would be someone tryin' to get back at Astrid for what she did a few months ago, if anythin'. Are you sure that the... dead person wasn't... anyone you knew?"

#c: anni #aghostwithabeatingheart #body horror tw #death tw

eremitionisms

people-watching at the park was one of his comforts. when he had the time, he’d sit alone on the benches with a pencil in hand, sketching whatever caught his attention without really thinking about it too hard. today, though, it was just the park itself—no music, no walkman. mikey’s old one had been out of batteries for a while now, and he hadn’t gotten around to replacing them just yet.

cyrek’s voice comes through clearly. leon looks up immediately, recognition settling in a half-second later with a welcoming nod. a small, genuine smile follows. “yeah,” he greets. “please sit.”

his attention shifts toward the stroller then— oh. “are these—” his expression softens immediately. he’s always been fascinated by babies—their tiny existences. there wasn’t really a deeper explanation for it—just something about watching them experience the world for the first time. everything is still new, still unclaimed. he hopes it’s good for them. uncomplicated, bright, full of possibility—before they learn that the world can take those good, small pieces from you.

his posture leans in slightly, interest obvious even if his voice stays quiet. “they’re yours?” his gaze stays on the stroller a moment longer, warmth settling into his expression.

kids tended to respond to him easily—it usually surprised other people more than it surprised him. he gives a small shake of his head. “oh no, don’t worry,” voice certain—without hesitation. “you don’t have to bugger off.”

“they’re really small,” is said as eyes takes them in, with all their adorable glory. a faint smile widens into something that is contrary to the norm.

at cyrek’s comment, his expression shifts with mild recognition. “you mean batman, right?” a little brighter. “yeah… i guess it does feel a bit like that.” a pause. “kinda makes you hold out hope that there is someone like bruce wayne out there. even if we don’t see it.”

nxnbinarydracvla

Cyrek smiled back easily. Most people didn't take to the bikers in the city — understandably so, with the way that crime families wreaked havoc upon it and left the rest of its residents to lick their wounds in the corner somewhere.

Henderson was a little quieter, at least. When he was younger, he couldn't appreciate the tranquility that nested outside the city limits. While he still far preferred the hustle and bustle of city life, there was a quaint resolve that he wasn't able to reconcile with the ramparts he built around his soul beforehand.

Taking a seat next to him, he lazily put one arm to work, rocking it back and forth across the dirt, and his eyebrows formed an arc, nodding hastily. Craning the stroller in Leon's direction, he tipped up the sunshade a little. "Yeah. Kinda got ourselves a lil' surprise with the second one there. And they're early... Did you know twins are normally born earlier? I sure fuckin' didn't." A slight shrug of his shoulders followed, nodding toward them.

A smile warm and full wasn't like him, but ever present with his kids around. "I think..." A crooked finger pointed at the one on the left. "That's Esthir... and that one's Estrela."

After a beat, Cyrek relaxed into himself. "Not everyone likes bein' around a bunch of cranky kids," he simpered, and his eyes shifted away from Leon's face back to the snuggled up babies, nodding, "Yeah. They'll get big in no time. Do you wanna hold one?"

A finger prodded at the scar laced through his cheek, scratching absently. Snapping two fingers together then, he nodded, grinning. "Yes, that one. I'm not so good with the names of the telly shows."

Fingers animated themselves, until he resigned to the simplest act of toying with the rings on his fingers, twisting them around, and the smile dwindled ever so slightly. The latent reminders that he was the horror in the din was heavy. "Yeah. My sister, Alice, she's got that fire in her spirit to... solve crime and shit. I dunno if the answer is as simple as unmaskin' a guy like on Scooby Doo, do you?"

#c: leon #eremitionisms

nodded

I love how you always find a way to turn my drama into a comedy.

THE DRAMA 2026, Kristoffer Borgli

nxnbinarydracvla

@cfstvlla

#s: home's not home when you're not there & i'll never be ready but i don't care. wide awake all night thinking about you ( cyrek & stella )#long post cw #body image tw

cfstvlla

where : the dollhouse burlesque when : may 30th, 1997 who : @nxnbinarydracvla

WHEN CYREK HADN'T RETURNED AFTER MAKING claims of going to grab both of them lemonades that weren't spiked after somehow managing to convince her to participate in at least a few dances she had otherwise spent the night making fun of, as if there was anything she would deny him if he asked and gave her the look (or even without it), the queenpin had managed to grow impatient at the portion of their date night being spent, well, not exactly on a date. And she wasn't too keen on losing track of him for long, not for a second time and not when she'd rather be getting an eyeful of his attire for as much of the night as possible. Scouring the crowd for him hadn't taken too much effort on her own part, as there weren't many who were bold enough to bare their entire backside in a pair of chaps missing their seat, and even if there were, she wouldn't need the hint of his split-dyed hair nor the tattoos upon his back already committed equally to memory to know which pair of cheeks were the ones she was on the search for. There were few aspects to him that she didn't know like the back of her hand after having him roped into her life for almost two decades, attention fully captured by him with details taken into notice when they were simply teenagers who had no idea all of the good and bad that the universe had planned for them yet to come, which seemed like practically eons ago to think on, especially from where they stood now almost a year into marriage and with newborns of their own: two things that Stella had at one point in her life written off the books for herself indefinitely. Once her treasure hunt had been concluded and her arrival was announced with both hands cupping the gold that she'd been after with a grin on her face that was much too pleased to do so, she craned her head over his shoulder from behind. "Better not have left me in the dust so you can go lookin' for a better dance partner. Seein' you ditch me to dance with someone else might make me relate to all those sad songs 'bout cowboys having their heartbroken won't make me like country music," she joked, referencing her own complaints about this not being her type of live music, pressing a quick peck to his cheek...of his face. "You get lost finding those drinks, or are those chaps actually slowing ya down?"

nxnbinarydracvla

It wasn't exactly the anniversary celebrating nine years that they could have imagined, but they were juggling a pair of newborn twins now that took precedence over their little jar of travel funds temporarily. Guiding themselves through the hump of the first six months would be the worst part, and the best in others. Cyrek had tried to make the best of it with the local event going on in the heart of the city — and he'd been trying to drum up ideas in his head from the start of how he could capitalize on entertaining her to the fullest, though he didn't plan on leaving her side long throughout the evening while they were there, and definitely not once they left. They were bound to run into friends while they were there, but they had agreed to minimalize their time spent elsewhere and any talk of the kids for the night... until he got a little sidetracked hunting for a tray of chocolate chip cookies and fried Oreos that were off to the other venue, and still waiting in line for their lemonades by the time she showed up. The clammy hands of death were mercilessly cold, but his heart was warm in the palms of her hands. "Hey. Are you plannin' on doin' that all night when you come up behind me? It's so bloody hot in all these buildings with all these people, I almost wish I wore less clothes." Rolling his eyes at himself, he turned around to face the hands that had greeted him, brightening up the first glimpse he had of her features. Were it fundamentally plausible, hearts would have sprouted from his spiked hair and floated up to the ceiling, and that wasn't even scratching the surface of her outfit. Pulling her in close, he pressed a kiss to her cheek, then her lips. "Sorry for leavin' you hangin'. Does this make up for it? I'm actually still waitin' for the drinks. I saw these desserts, and I was gonna grab one 'cause I know what you like and... then... they kinda belong to Cupid's, so they told me to bugger off. Maybe we should skip there next. Unless you want another round of dancin' with me."

A grin leered through, all pointed teeth and bright eyes, searching her countenance for any hint of disagreement — it was a devoted habit, and one he didn't consciously think about anymore. Plus, this place was hardly their scene with the chosen theme of the night, but at least they could cop free food and beverages out of it and leave whenever they wanted to privatize the rest of their date night from prying eyes. No matter what they got up to, the punk had high hopes of ending the evening with his wife in the Waffle Cottage sharing a milkshake, and taking her home, embraced tightly in his arms. The bounds of their intimate life might have been limited for the moment, a delicate line not worth crossing if it factored in her health, but there had never been good reason to forego celebrating one of their special days, in his eyes. A hand cupped her cheek, stroking his thumb across her visage and planting another doting kiss to the tip of her nose. "Never. I don't think I can find another partner who can keep up with me the way you can now that I got you broken in like a horse," he teased, winking, "I wanna let you pick what's next, though. Me and these cheeks are yours for the moment. Next time it's my turn, I'll come up with somethin' that'll really get your heart racin' for me. Still need a reminder after nine years, you think, or..." Trailing off as if he were waiting for her to finish his sentence, he giggled, an arm firmly twined around her waist, keeping her all smushed up against him. "Your call, pumpkin."

#c: stella #cfstvlla

with: @b4rredteeth ; gemma where: outside the glitter gulch when: anytime during the event

Nothing, and he meant nothing, could persuade him to step foot inside the Glitter Gulch Lounge, including Stella's personal entertainment with the guts and glory of a mechanical bull. However, he had resigned himself to linger outside when the business owner was forced to tail in after one of her friends, and instead preoccupied himself with the contest sheets that Damiar had sloppily written his name down on. Trust one of his siblings to dive right into the heart of the stupidity of it all and make a complete ass of himself, and of course, the person with that little shame was his younger brother. Thus, he found himself standing stone-faced behind a pair of sunglasses and taking small bites out of a lemon bar that his wife had brought back out to him.

Out of his periphery, he noticed someone sidle up alongside him, and cast a glance out of habit. Cyrek recognized Gemma immediately, a sharp line of his brow arching as he turned his head away back to the makeshift corral. Most people seemingly wanted to be left well enough alone this weekend and forego the reminiscence of the lines that divided them in Sin City — given the past few months, he honestly couldn't blame a single one of them. "Got someone you're rootin' for to rope the best hog? I think the guy with the green hair's gonna wipe out."

#c: gemma #b4rredteeth

gxldenwxlf

for: @boneyardstarters where: the cupid's arrow when: may 30th, 1997

The rodeo always brought in a huge crowd to the Cupid's Arrow. Wolfgang was celebrating his third year of working at the bar, and regulars, friends, and co-workers had all turned out to celebrate. While usually a server, floating around the bar, the owners had him stationed behind bar tonight, dishing out the signature drink - the rodeo clown - as a guest tender. Wolf had dressed the part, more or less; he was wearing his brown boots, a pair of dark blue jeans, a matching cowboy hat, and - of course - a brown leather harness across his otherwise bare chest.

The bar was packed, the music was high and energetic, and a large, muscle-bound bartender named Spike was waving from his seat in the dunk tank. Wolf looked up as another patron approached him at the bar. "Why, hello there!" he said with a bright smile. "Happy rodeo days. Can I get you anything? If you get a 'rodeo clown,' you get to ring the bell. But I won't tell you what's in the drink or what happens when you ring the bell."

nxnbinarydracvla

"Stop tryin' to sell me on that mixed alcohol hell and hand me a bloody ginger ale, mate." An assortment of rings and bracelets noisily clunked against the counter when he blocked the path for anyone else crowding the server at the bar, and the corners of his lips tipped upward easily at the sight of one of his best friends. "You really look the part. Guess this place is droppin' the no shoes, no shirt, no service shit tonight." Else, he wouldn't be standing in the bar, either, considering his chaps were missing their seat entirely. "And they've got a sayin' for this shit? Happy rodeo days. Might as well go all-out and commit to the bit if we're gonna make a horse's arse out of ourselves. How's the talent in here? My wife's kinda bored."

Eyes wavered over to the dunk tank, tilting his head side to side, before looking back to his friend. "Actually... what if I wanna be the guy sittin' in the tank? Anythin' against that? Do I gotta pretend I applied for one night only to work here or somethin'? I think I could get this place some mean tips if you set me up there." Propping his elbows on the counter, he leaned in, studying the bell. "What's the deal with it? Anyone who orders your special drink gets to dunk me in?" Might as well let his hair down, metaphorically speaking, during the weekend where there would hopefully be reprieve from the talk of the dead godfather and all.

#c: wolfgang #gxldenwxlf

with: @no-one-likes--a-mad-woman where: summerlin medical center when: april 20th, 1997

The anticipation left him antsy, repeatedly stealing glances at the analog clock bolted into the wall, counting down the minutes that Alice estimated her arrival time. It wasn't precisely nervous energy — or if it was, it was the good kind — that made the passage seem so monotonous. Everything had moved so superfluously and quick during the delivery itself, and here he now sat, chipping at the paint on his fingernails until she walked through the threshold. Stella had since dozed off and the quietude of the room was a yawning maw, a little more conflated than the tender hours before when the sleepless night had finally ebbed into his pores and sunken its claws into the soft tissue of his brain matter. By the time Alice had walked through the door and found them, he had almost forgotten the jest that had been rehearsed in his head a dozen times before and after the phone call and he bounced to his feet, making a gesture with his hands to indicate a plea for her silence, and his hands reached out for the stroller, the apples of his cheeks straining with the force of his smile. "Thanks. I think we're gonna need the spare reinforcements we can get, 'cause I was so flustered when we found out..." He took a step to the side, permitting her view of the bassinet cradling the two new bundles in the room, and he winked at his twin sister to emphasize his facetiousness, a hand reaching for her shoulder to give it a slight push. "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."

#c: alice #noonelikesamadwoman #hospital tw #this is so late i am so sorry

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