no-one-asks--any-questions-here

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

🧪 for dusty

🧪 RP RELATIONSHIP MEME — MAD SCIENTIST EDITION

🧬 Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || upbeat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

🧠 First Impression of Them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them ||I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

🕸️ Level of Friendship:

none || stranger || wary ally || temporary associate || co-conspirator || reluctant friend || I tolerate them || casual friend || true friend || emotional support || best friend || ride-or-die || I’d kill for them || I have killed for them

🩸 Would You Save Them in a Life or Death Scenario?:

no || not unless I’m paid || probably not || if I could benefit from it || maybe || yes, without hesitation || I’d trade myself for them || I’d revive them in a cursed ritual || I’d rewrite time for them

🫀 Romantic / Intimate Potential:

none || no interest || hate-fueled tension || I fantasize about them || drunk kiss once || friends with benefits || one-sided crush || mutual pining || messy situationship || power couple in the making || I’m obsessed || we’re doomed but I want it anyway || I’m afraid of what I’d do for them || already together || it’s complicated || too dangerous to love || yes, but it will destroy us

💋 What Is the Chemistry Like?:

nonexistent || platonic only || subtle and slow-burn || unspoken but obvious || volatile and intense || toxic but magnetic || they complete each other || obsessive || calm and safe || taboo but irresistible || dysfunctional || gentle and healing || tragic but real

🥀 Romantic Past:

no history || never met before this || one kiss and years of silence || ex-lovers || friends-to-lovers || enemies-to-lovers || something almost happened || on-again, off-again || they broke my heart || I broke theirs || tragic ending || rekindling old feelings || never stopped loving them

🩹 Emotional Damage:

none || unspoken tension || betrayal || abandonment || broken trust || guilt || grief || shared trauma || jealousy || fear of hurting them || fear of being vulnerable || I blame them || they blame me || we hurt each other || it’s still healing || we’re trying again

🕯️ Would You Betray Them?

already have || definitely || if I had to || only if they betrayed me first || depends on what’s at stake || never || I’d betray others for them || I’d die before I betrayed them

🧪 How Morally Aligned Are You With Them?

polar opposites || uneasy alliance || occasional agreement || it’s like looking in a mirror || I admire their goals, not their methods || we’re built the same, just on different paths || we could be a powerful force together || I want to change them || I want to understand them || I think we were meant to find each other

🧷 Comfort Level With Them:

zero || anxious || defensive || on edge || unsure || depends on the day || they make me feel safe || they see through me || I can be myself with them || I can’t tell if I’m safe or trapped || I crave their presence even when I shouldn’t

@sourhercine

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

How many blankets do you sleep with? How big is your bed? How soft/firm is it? Can you sleep anywhere or under certain conditions?

"It depends on the season--in the winter months, we put a heavier duvet on our bed but even then, it doesn't really get that cold in Vegas anyways. Dusty and I have a wonderful king-sized bed and I'd say it's decently firm. Sometimes the bed feels a little too big but every once in a while, Leo will have a nightmare and come sleep in our bed so it actually works out quite well. And yes, I feel like if I have to, I can sleep pretty much anywhere--I've done it before. That being said, the older I get, the more particular I become so I generally prefer to sleep in our bed."

@sourhercine

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Do you have any siblings? Family? What's your relationship with them?

"No, as far as I know, I don't have any siblings. I mean, I certainly wouldn't be surprised if there was one or two of them out there somewhere but as far as I know, I'm an only child. I of course have my wonderful family here in the U.S. but growing up, it was just me, my mama, and my papa. My papa died when I was young and I was very close with my mother until she also passed away in 1973."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

What brings you nostalgia? Why?

"The smell of piroshkies, pelmeni, and hot, black tea. It reminds me of my favorite meal that my mama used to make back home when I was a kid."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

When he mentioned Reina possibly not noticing the signs, either, she gave a small shrug and looked down for a brief moment before meeting her son's eyes once again. "I don't know," she said honestly, not really sure what else to think. "I do know that Rainbow wants to see the best in Lyonet--and in everyone else as well." The witch had always had a talent for seeing the bright side of every situation, even when things were looking pretty fucking grim. And Khadroma loved that about her daughter. At the same time, though, Cy had a point--sometimes, people only see what they want to see. And no one wanted to see Ellie relapse. By now, the mother was very familiar with this lingering feeling of helplessness but she tried not to hyper-fixate on it too much. After all, all she could really do was be there for her daughter when she needed her. No amount of begging or pleading was going to make much of a difference. She knew that.

Khadroma knew that Ellie loved Marceline more than anything. There was no doubt about that. But that didn't mean that she was susceptible to the urge to start using again and the last thing she wanted was for Marcy to get caught in the crossfire. No one wanted to risk that little girl being taken away and put into the system--it was better to be proactive and gain custody before that happened. After all, no one wanted Marceline to endure the same cruel fate that Ellie and all of her foster siblings had.

His adamancy about taking Marceline in honestly took her by surprise a bit and she didn't hide it, letting her brow furrow just a bit. She wasn't offended, of course--she just didn't necessarily understand why he was so convinced that he and he alone had to take on this possible responsibility. After all, Roma and Dusty had the room and the means. Cyrek already had enough on his plate, did he not? The way he'd responded, it sounded as if it wasn't up for discussion--and she wasn't looking to change his mind, just gain understanding. "May I ask why?" she said, her voice calm and soft. She wasn't trying to challenge him but she wanted to hear the reasoning behind his insistence.

I'm disappointed if she is. I feel like an asshole for that. I mean, I don't have any right, do I? I did half this shit myself. She thought about his question for a moment, really considering what he was asking, appreciative that he was seeking her advice. Cy certainly had his fair share of mistakes and Khadroma could remember watching him amidst the throes of addiction. She remembered how difficult it had been to try to even stomach the reality that her child was in so much pain, yet there was nothing she could do to help, especially considering that she had no experience with addiction. While she had endless empathy, she lacked a true understanding of what that was actually like. Finally, she said "I can imagine that you have a lot of clarity once you're on the other side of things. You understand what she's going through and how difficult it is but you also understand that she's putting more than just herself in danger. She's responsible for Marceline and if she's unable to parent at this time, something has to change so she can get the help that she needs."

"Reina doesn't notice everythin'." When the water had been pouring up over their ears in the pit of their addiction, it may have been impossible to hide for Cyrek and Stella — addicts eventually lost touch with reality, fumbled into the hare-brained belief that they managed to cover every track and bury it. And perhaps, that was possible, for a high-functioning addict; he didn't think Lyonet was the type, though. She was too emotionally-driven, and frankly, had about half the brains that her punk brother sitting on the couch did, which was saying little. Frankly speaking, he'd been so caught up in trying to get the record store ready for its intended opening in August and the wedding planning, and chewing on that cord of anger that lingered around like a vengeful spirit against his sister, it was beyond plausible that he'd managed to overlook it, too. "What's that they say about motherly instincts?" He guessed the whole dragged through the mud by the prosecution had knocked them right into mid-twenties Stella's brain, but Lyonet hadn't had that moment for her yet — which was ironic, almost, given he'd watched her hold Reina's mistakes and troubles with her own parenting over her sister's head. The Adlers weren't unknown to hypocrisy. ( More to the point, someone in active addiction was looking for a scapegoat that was waiting to be culled, too. )

"Course I'm worried about Marcy, too," he admitted, growing a bit antsy where he sat and shifting to lean forward on his elbows, propping his chin in open palms, staring pensively at the ashed-out joint in the tray, a frown weighing on his features. The soothing effect of the indica circumvented the anger that would've been rampant to course through him otherwise, but it didn't quiet the unbidden sorrow that was tithed to thinking of any child in his family exposed to conditions that he remotely had been. "Has she asked you t' babysit her a lot lately?" Cyrek thought to ask, covering all his bases, brows narrowing and shaking his head. God only knew what had been running through his own head when he came crawling to his foster mother for her aid when he had a toddler in his hands and a debt he couldn't pay up on; he was terrified the daughter he'd met for the first time would be next, but he'd probably been thinking of how soon he could find another fix after, until he'd pressed his ear up against the wall and heard everything Howard Adler had to spew about him.

"No, it should be us."

A contemplative silence was unnecessary for him to provide her with an answer; deep down, he was acutely exposed to the awareness that, with the shoe on the opposite foot now, there was no way unless the underworld stitched itself over that his fiancée would intend to allow for a possibility that Ellie saw their rights stripped bare for a jury of their peers, and lost their child to a stranger, like Reina, or like Stella had for an evanescent period that Cyrek was equally unfit to look after Joelle. If they had to take it to the privacy of civil court to prove that his own sister wasn't capable of parenting, they'd show her clemency; maybe a mandated rehabilitation, instead of an outright felony and her reputation tarnished forever. "I'm disappointed if she is," he dropped his voice, as if someone were going to overhear his confession, his head shaking slightly and clearing his throat, "I feel like an asshole for that. I mean, I don't have any right, do I? I did half this shit myself."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

🧪

🧪 RP RELATIONSHIP MEME — MAD SCIENTIST EDITION

🧬 Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || upbeat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

🧠 First Impression of Them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

🕸️ Level of Friendship:

none || stranger || wary ally || temporary associate || co-conspirator || reluctant friend || I tolerate them || casual friend || true friend || emotional support || best friend || ride-or-die || I’d kill for them || I have killed for them

🩸 Would You Save Them in a Life or Death Scenario?:

no || not unless I’m paid || probably not || if I could benefit from it || maybe || yes, without hesitation || I’d trade myself for them || I’d revive them in a cursed ritual || I’d rewrite time for them

🫀 Romantic / Intimate Potential:

none || no interest || hate-fueled tension || I fantasize about them || drunk kiss once || friends with benefits || one-sided crush || mutual pining || messy situationship || power couple in the making || I’m obsessed || we’re doomed but I want it anyway || I’m afraid of what I’d do for them || already together || it’s complicated || too dangerous to love || yes, but it will destroy us

💋 What Is the Chemistry Like?:

nonexistent || platonic only || subtle and slow-burn || unspoken but obvious || volatile and intense || toxic but magnetic || they complete each other || obsessive || calm and safe || taboo but irresistible || dysfunctional || gentle and healing || tragic but real

🥀 Romantic Past:

no history || never met before this || one kiss and years of silence || ex-lovers || friends-to-lovers || enemies-to-lovers || something almost happened || on-again, off-again || they broke my heart || I broke theirs || tragic ending || rekindling old feelings || never stopped loving them

🩹 Emotional Damage:

none || unspoken tension || betrayal || abandonment || broken trust || guilt || grief || shared trauma || jealousy || fear of hurting them || fear of being vulnerable || I blame them || they blame me || we hurt each other || it’s still healing || we’re trying again

🕯️ Would You Betray Them?

already have || definitely || if I had to || only if they betrayed me first || depends on what’s at stake || never || I’d betray others for them || I’d die before I betrayed them

🧪 How Morally Aligned Are You With Them?

polar opposites || uneasy alliance || occasional agreement || it’s like looking in a mirror || I admire their goals, not their methods || we’re built the same, just on different paths || we could be a powerful force together || I want to change them || I want to understand them || I think we were meant to find each other

🧷 Comfort Level With Them:

zero || anxious || defensive || on edge || unsure || depends on the day || they make me feel safe || they see through me || I can be myself with them || I can’t tell if I’m safe or trapped || I crave their presence even when I shouldn’t

@cfstvlla

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Almost constantly, there were two different parts of Khadroma's personality that threatened to take over and the ex-agent had to remind herself to try to find a middle ground almost on a regular basis. The first part of her was the one that had been trained to remain calm at all costs and to never even hint at a negative emotion, lest the entire operation, and perhaps even her life, be compromised. That was something that she'd had to spend a lot of time unlearning, especially considering how important it was that her children did in fact witness her feeling, expressing, and working through her emotions in a safe way. And yet, the other side of her was the overbearing Russian mother who, under different circumstance, might scream and cry and fret over her child and ask her if she was eating enough, if she was getting enough sleep, all the while reminding her to cover up her dark circles--basically how Roma's own mother had raised her. But that was no good, either, because flying off the handle with worry didn't actually help anyone, especially not her children. So she had to straddle the line between remaining calm, yet caring, always happy to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on, yet not taking it personally if her children chose not to do so. Having to scrape off the layers that she'd built up due to her life experiences to get to a healthier, more vulnerable place had been difficult as hell. But it was worth it for her kids. And she had to remember that, especially when she got the urge to retreat back into old habits, like shutting down when it felt like things were getting too difficult. Because she was no longer a twenty-two year old girl, just trying to survive.

When Lyonet looked to Marceline for validation, Roma kept her poker face on, trying to not let the slight frustration seep through. After all, what else was Marcy going to say? Of course she was going to agree with her mother because she was little and didn't know any better. And as far as Khadroma was concerned, Marceline's agreement that everything was in fact 'all good' didn't really mean anything to her. However, she nodded and gave a tight smile, honestly impressed with the way that Ellie had held back snapping at her--she saw the look on her face but she also saw the restraint. "Good," she said, her voice soft. She could tell that her daughter felt tense in her presence, which she hated, but she wasn't about to fault her for it. Lyonet felt however she felt and all Roma could do was try to be open and inviting. The last thing she wanted to do was push her daughter away.

If anything, she was actually quite shocked that her daughter had agreed to come to dinner at all so she was going to take that as a win. Smiling, she made a mental note to pull out her mother's old piroshky recipe when she got home. It's not all that terrible. Not like it was before, but that's when I was being a total bitch. Giving a more genuine smile this time, she gave a small shake of her head and said "Well, I wouldn't call you a bitch but either way, I'm glad to hear that things are getting better." She really did mean that. When Lyonet mentioned her twin, this time, Roma did allow her eyebrows to raise a bit with surprise. Of course, she'd always known that her daughter had had a twin--they'd spent quite a few years together before they'd been inevitably separated. However, Roma hadn't ever actually met her daughter's twin so she was quite thrilled to hear that they'd been reunited. "Oh my god, that's amazing. I would love to meet them," she smiled. They've gone through a lot too since we've been apart. I'm sure you can imagine, considering how much things sucked for me before you guys. Khadroma nodded with understanding--she could only imagine what all of her children had gone through before she'd met them. It seemed as if the system was rough and overrun no matter where you might be. "I'm so happy that you two found each other," she said with a smile.

maybe she wasn't mother of the year. she could admit at the very least she wasn't always on top of her game - she was never purposefully uncaring, only ever distracted. she'd been that way since she was a child, since before she even knew what it was to focus. what made it worse was the drugs, even more so when she endured withdrawals, and now? she was self-destructing. she was well aware of what khadroma - and anyone else paying attention - thought whenever mars was discovered on the street. she was using again. but that wasn't the truth. it was the diametric opposite, and proving their suspicions untrue would only open the doorway into a conversation concerning her medicine regimen. which she'd been routinely neglecting after boarding at reina and marisol's apartment. fuck, if she couldn't have coke, she didn't want to be sedated. she wanted to feel things, she wanted blood and sweat and vomit, she wanted a cheap thrill. was that such a fucking crime? she was avoiding pills, which should've been her family's dream come true. i just worry about her being alone out there, that's all. lyonet swallowed the vitriolic words her thought spiral conjured in the back of her throat, forcing a smile despite the burning pain of withholding a scalding retort. "right, yeah. i should've gotten her sooner, i just - let her slip by me. but it's all good, right? are we good, mars?" sounded more like she was convincing herself rather than khadroma, who she was beginning to give up on impressing. still, from where mars was dipping a brush inside a bucket of matte black paint, the golden-haired little girl cheesed at lyonet and gave them a thumbs up.

she could still feel her shoulders lock in place as khadroma spoke, feeling like she was caught in a web. but if anyone could spider their way out of trouble somehow, it'd be lyonet. "piroshkies, that'd be great," she agreed, blinking out the blurriness in her vision. shit. she'd been standing for too long. casually, she lifted her elbow onto a half-finished countertop and attempted to catch her breath as a pulse of vertigo emanated from her temples. still somewhat tuned in on their conversation, she offered a so-so hand gesture. "it's not all that terrible. not like it was before, but that's when i was being a total bitch," see? she could take accountability. she was evolving, not regressing. once her brain readjusted to being irreparably fucked, things would be as they once were. seeing the hopeful glint in her mother's eye was enough to reassure her that perhaps things were healing on their own: ellie, olive branch. olive branch, meet ellie. "six o'clock is cool. we'll be there." she confirmed with a smile that enveloped her round cheeks; maybe it was overcompensating, but hey, whatever it took, right? "my twin, ab - uh, evaine. evie. i figured it's about time you guys meet them. they've actually been helping me a lot with everything. they've gone through a lot too since we've been apart. i'm sure you can imagine, considering how much things sucked for me before you guys."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

What your favorite color? Foods? Weathers/Seasons?

"My favorite color is definitely blue. Um... My favorite food? I think that's a tie between either Hot Cheetos, pickles, borscht, or caviar--please don't judge my pallet. I love it when it snows, that's my favorite kind of weather and I think winter is probably my favorite season, but spring is a close second."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

date: june 10

location: the neon museum

@boneyardstarters

With Cyrek and Stella having just finished their first dance as a married couple, Roma was now up, making the rounds, trying to ensure that everyone had everything that they needed with her youngest, Leo, in toe, his hand in hers. She remembered how overwhelming it felt to be the center of attention at a party that you were also the host of so she was trying to lighten the load by checking on guests so the bride and groom didn't have to. She was hoping to steal a few dances with her husband a little later in the evening but for now, she was more than content to walk around with her youngest son and just bask in the sheer joy of the day. Even though Roma wasn't a natural extrovert, between the training she'd received as a young woman and the customer service skills she practiced on a regular basis at the bar, she'd gotten pretty comfortable with making conversation with just about anyone. Smiling over at the nearest guest, she said "Wasn't their first dance just beautiful?" Turning to fully face them now, she said "You doing okay? Do you need anything?"

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

"What if he's written 'mine' on my upper-thigh only in my mind? One slip and falling back into the hedge maze, oh, what a way to die. I keep recalling things we never did, messy top-lip kiss, how I long for our trysts. Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?..."

@sourhercine

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Khadraoma was filled to the brim with joy, her usually calm face having a huge ass smile plastered to it all night. She was absolutely over the moon to see her son married and to 'officially' welcome Stella into the family, though everyone knew that the brunette had basically been a part of their large family for years now. Still, it was nice to finally call Stella her daughter. As she watched someone nearly trample over her dress, she looked at the long train and said "Stella, honey, does one of your bridesmaids know how to bustle your dress?" The bustle--a trick as old as time. Usually, wedding dresses had small, hardly noticeable buttons or hooks near the back so you could essentially fold up all the extra fabric so you weren't tripping all night. Now that she was able to get another good look at Stella, she couldn't help but smile. "You look so lovely, Stella," she beamed. When Stella mentioned playing the role of a good host, she shook her head, waved her off, and said "Well, I'd say 'welcome to the family' but you already know we love you like our own--it's just legal now." Over the years, Roma had gotten to know Stella pretty well. After all, she'd become her boss when Cyrek had practically begged his mother to give his girlfriend as a job, as she'd had trouble keeping any other job she'd gotten. Pretty soon after hiring, Roma had figured out that it was most likely her fiery temper that kept getting her fired--good thing that the Mean-Eyed Cat bar lived up to it's name. Stella was able to hold her own and the customers loved her for it. "If you want--and only if you want to--I can help you bustle your dress," she offered.

where : the neon museum when : june 10th, 1996 who : @boneyardstarters

"JOELLE, I KNOW THAT ISN'T YOUR THIRD COOKIE ALREADY," Stella's voice called over the music as lined eyes, curtesy of her friends who helped her get ready previous to the ceremony, zeroed in on the ten year old who was wearing a gleeful look with the cookie crumbles around her mouth. There was no true harshness of her tone, as not even dealing with three little girls on a sugar rush was able to drop the smile from her face, too overjoyed with the new ring on her finger to have a single negative feeling, which was a feat for the queenpin who had spent majority of her life feeling jaded and attacked by the universe. Fingers gripped onto the fabric of her dress, clutching a handful to keep herself from tripping over it as she turned around, unfamiliar not only with wearing such a formal dress but with any piece of clothing that was worth more than fifteen bucks at most. "Oh, shit, watch out," was her attempt to keep any accidental steps off the lacy train that she wasn't doing a very good job of keeping out of the way of foot traffic. "I'm not really great at this whole wedding dress thing. Good thing I only gotta do it once, right?" There was no lack of confidence that this would be her one and only wedding, a marriage that could only find an end in death (which would be their second). "I'd say thanks for coming, but I'm really not tryna play the bride good at hosting. Cy has the charm for that sorta thing over me."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

cytella wedding: the look - mother of the groom

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

This day had been quite joyous and nothing made the mother happier than to see her children be full of joy and laughter. It happened all too seldom and she wanted them to revel in it for as long as they possibly could. While she certainly wasn't a crier, this day had made her heart feel so full. When her son approached her, she couldn't help but smile. Always kinda knew I'd be the brother that got hitched before any of the rest of 'em. She chuckled at this, considering that it was unarguably true. While part of her was a little surprised regarding his words about Kurt, it was his wedding day--and to be quite honest, if Kurt was here, he'd most definitely be bursting out into laughter right about now. And god, how she wished he could be here to do so. Shaking her head as she laughed, she said "Well, it's about time you swept that one up off her feet." She beamed as she gestured to Stella, a vision in white, who was currently busy conversing with one of their guests. "I've been waiting for you two to tie the knot for a while now," she laughed. She'd always loved Stella, even when she'd been a god damn mess. She'd be lying if she said there wasn't a time where she'd been worried that Stella might not get her shit together and the effect that that might have on her son--but just as she'd suspected, Stella was strong as hell and the two of them committed to their recovery and to each other.

Thanks for comin', mum. His words were so genuine and not followed up a joke or snark--a rarity for the young man. "Of course, love. I wouldn't have missed it for the world," she smiled up at him--even though she was tall herself, her son still towered over her. Thinking back on all the shit they'd gone through to get to this moment, it did almost bring a tear to her eye--but she held it together, unsure of what he'd do if she actually started crying. When he mentioned he and Stella 'giving their gifts at the altar,' she beamed, feeling the pride in having a son that was so unafraid to love his person. "Hey, marriage is the gift the keeps on giving--and in many different ways," she chuckled. It's not like she was an expert. She was on her second marriage, after all. But this second time around, she'd married the right person. She was glad to know that Cyrek had married his right person from the jump.

When he asked for a hug, her jaw almost dropped--and it wasn't because she'd ever doubted her son's love for his family. On the contrary, Cyrek was fiercely loyal to his family, there could be no doubt about that. But rarely was he ever overly-affectionate, as it usually made him uncomfortable. So when he asked for a hug, she couldn't help but smile. "Of course, baby," she said, wrapping her arms around her son. As they hugged, she said "I'm so proud of you. I'm so proud of the person that you've become and I'm so proud to be your mother. I love you so, so much." She held the embrace for a moment, trying to savor all the love and joy that their family got to share on this day. She knew that shit had been hard before and shit would most likely be hard in the future--but for right now, everything felt so right in the world. Finally, she gently released her grasp as she chuckled at his words. Know you weren't too happy about some of the stuff we were doin' when we were kids, but...she was the one. "You certainly gave me some of my premature grey hairs, that's for sure," she joked. 'But I think it was all worth it to get here. Congratulations, Cyrek. I'm so happy for you both."

@no-one-asks--any-questions-here on june 10th, 1996, at the reception

"Always kinda knew I'd be the brother that got hitched before any of the rest of 'em." Cyrek approached his mother with an arsenal full of trademark snark and hands on his hips, no exceptions for the special occasion to be made, cocking a brow in Damiar's direction. "Considerin' that one brought a mouse for his date that smells like his socks and Kurt couldn't grab his balls long 'nough to propose." Removing his thick-rimmed sunglasses and nearly squinting his eyes shut against the beating Vegas sun, he grinned at his mother — a rarity in their time spent together, most of which was spent dancing awkwardly around their transgressions and tribulations over the years. The guilt he reserved with her name on it was the hardest bucket for him to empty out, for whatever reason, but there wasn't a damn thing that could outshine his happiness for the evening, whatsoever. "Thanks for comin', mum." The reliquiae of his squandered youth felt like it could be... almost tenderly repaired with the occasion; he was so on top of the world, he didn't think he'd come down anytime soon. It was a different kind of pinnacle, compared to the morsels of happiness he'd be otherwise offered in his day-to-day life. A natural high so boundless to be described that he'd be riding on it for a while. And the comedown would be no crash landing, not with he and Stella. "She told me she's got some kind of present for me, too. Thought we already gave each other gifts at the altar," he admitted, as he'd already been playing with the ring that now sat around his neck in moments of tranquility when he was on his own standing off to the side — which was, thankfully, not many as the guests were vying for his attentions more than his own concerts, as was his new bride. "Can I, uh... Can I get a hug? Your favorite shithead's gone and brought a new Fawn back to the family." Letting out a chuckle, his hands gripping onto a glass of sparkling juice searched for somewhere to put it down. "Know you weren't too happy about some of the stuff we were doin' when we were kids, but," the pregnancy scare then notwithstanding, the grin turning sheepish, "She was the one."

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Even as she was standing here in her son's kitchen talking about her very real and valid concerns, part of her felt like a traitor and a horrible mother. She didn't want to believe that Lyonet was using again but she also didn't want to be blind to what might be happening right before her eyes. She hadn't wanted to believe that Cy had been using back in the day and she hadn't wanted to believe that her daughter was choosing to waste away just a few short years ago. Shit, she hadn't wanted to believe that her eldest son had killed himself. But ignoring the problem didn't make it go away. And she couldn't stand to lose another child. Not again. So it was her responsibility to address the problem instead. She could be wrong and if she was, she would apologize profusely without the expectation of forgiveness. But she couldn't just pretend like these things weren't happening. "Again, I'm going off on a hunch--I could be completely wrong. But... I would like to talk to Reina, ask her what she's noticed, if anything. Maybe there's nothing to notice." She hoped that were the case. But deep, deep down in her gut, she knew that it wasn't.

How come she gets to fuck with my future by bein' selfish? But I'm the selfish prick. She wasn't going to correct her son for voicing his frustrations. They were fair. Part of her wanted to remind him that addiction made you selfish but he knew that--and he knew it far better and more personally than she did. So instead, she said "You're not selfish. And I don't think she's being malicious, I just don't think she's thinking things through. But if she is using again... I'm worried about Marceline." Her eyes met her son's and she knew that he knew she was right. Sorry. Pisses me off, though. I'm a parent, too. She gave him an understanding nod and said "I know, no need to apologize. I mean, I saw her and I went into panic mode almost instantly. I think it's a parental instinct--which is why I think that hers might be skewed right now. And I tried not to harp on her, I don't want to pile it on or make her feel worse but I don't know what the hell she's thinking."

When he asked how long Marceline had been outside on her own, she shook her head and said "I honestly have no idea. But she was talking to a stranger when I spotted her--that's why I swooped in so quickly. I had to keep myself from telling them to fuck off, I was so flustered." Being flustered was an unusual feeling for her but she'd sure felt it when she saw her granddaughter on that stoop. When he brought up the prospect of custody, she grimly shook her head and said "Unfortunately, no, I don't think it's a leap. But Dustin and I could also take her in--I mean, I don't want you to feel like it's all on you, Cyrek. It's not. We can discuss those details later, but... Unfortunately, yes. If she's using again, Marceline can't stay with her. It's not safe."

There was always that bad feeling in his gut.

When you'd been a servant to substance for a decade or more, it was difficult to deny that it beckoned and called out when the days were solemn and dark, and it gave the unfortunate hyperawareness of who was using and who wasn't — only fools knee-deep in it themselves thought they were fooling anyone. His ignorance was purely the want of disbelieving it to be true.

Cyrek wanted a better life for any of his siblings. There was a part of his soul that crushed and floundered in the mud whenever he learned that he was wrong. He couldn't guarantee it, nor shelter them from it, and watching two of his three foster sisters decay into the smithereens that he had once been claimed by, with one still content to live at the bottom whilst the other struggled to drag themselves out, was a hollowness that he had pondered over whether they'd shared the emotion when he was at his rock bottom. Not only did he want for them to ameliorate their futures in a way that his older brother couldn't, and in the manner of which Cyrek was suffering consequence from, they were still his sisters. The thought had occurred to him that he wasn't sure how he'd wade through it if he lost one of them to the same struggles he'd endured.

And then, there was the unpleasant thought that he had to separate himself if it were true. Putting distance between them for the sake of his sobriety was no longer an afterthought — it was very much at the forefront, especially with the wedding marching closer and closer every day. There was a clear clench in his jaw when she told him about how Marceline had been alone, something he knew that Stella would be miserable about for more reasons than liability to their new business — she'd been that person once, and she'd rightfully earned the rage to others for their own negligence. The only reason he wasn't flying off the handle right now was that his mother had caught him at a good time, and the blinding anger was subdued, though stress tingled at his nerve endings and he found himself pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "I wasn't there that day, I dunno — I should ask Stella. Didn't really think she'd stick to it, her and Reina aren't exactly like this," he muttered, crossing the fingers of his free hand and gesturing vaguely, "And if someone 'ad just carried her kid off the street, we'd all pay the fuckin' price. Our business would be done before day one. How come she gets to fuck with my future by bein' selfish? But I'm the selfish prick."

The punk's shoulders rolled, and he glanced in Khadroma's direction, mustering a bedraggled, "Sorry. Pisses me off, though. I'm a parent, too." He and Stella wouldn't dream of leaving their kids by themselves. There was too much at stake. Technically, they'd already lost one baby. Turning his gaze to the coffee table, he tapped ash away from the joint, shaking his head. "How long do you think Marcy was out there by herself for? If El's usin' again..." He let out a breath, smoke trailing after it, cursing to himself in his native tongue and biting his cheek. "I'm gonna have to talk to Stella about gettin' custody. You think that's too much of a leap?"

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Even as Lyonet told her to make herself at home, she could feel that her daughter didn't want her there--but she tried to ignore that feeling the best she could. After all, it's not like she was hurling accusations at her daughter. Yelling and accusations got their family nowhere--the disaster of Hanukkah dinner proved that quite well. "Thank you," she said with a soft smile, stepping further into the space. It still had a long way to go but she was excited for Cy and Stella that begun their venture of opening a business. She listened as her daughter stumbled through her explanation as to why Marceline was outside alone to begin with--and while she didn't really buy it, she chuckled along with the joke, debating on whether she was going to push the topic or not. Maybe a soft approach might work. "Well, I'm sure that Marceline is doing a fantastic job at helping you," she started, giving her granddaughter a bright smile. Quieting her voice just a tad, she said "I just worry about her being alone out there, that's all." She wasn't trying to tell her daughter how to parent her own kid. That was the last thing she wanted--after all, as a mother herself, she knew firsthand how annoying and insulting that could be. That being said, was it wrong to suggest that Mars should be supervised? She wasn't sure but she truly wasn't trying to start a fight.

She was actually surprised when Lyonet inquired about the menu--that wasn't an outright no! Maybe she was making some progress? She frowned when her daughter mentioned someone telling Mars about slaughterhouses. Couldn't shield kids from everything, not even what they did to cows and pigs. "We can do no meat! Maybe potato piroshkies perhaps?" she said, just really throwing out the first vegetarian food that came to mind. To be honest, she hadn't really planned that far--she hadn't thought Lyonet would even entertain the idea. She couldn't help but smile, either, when Ellie mentioned Reina--from the sound of it, it sounded like they were getting along? Still, it didn't surprise her when Elie referred to her living situation as 'imprisonment' and Khadroma wanted to do her best to be honest, yet gentle. "Well, I know it's not ideal but it sounds like things are working out well there with you three. I mean, aside from the inconvenience, do you feel like it's been...helpful?" She felt a bit off-balance with the question but she really did want to hear her daughter's thoughts--she didn't want to just assume that things were good or bad. Like so many things, it was usually somewhere in the middle. So, what time Sunday? An expert at hiding surprise, she didn't miss a beat and said "Does six o'clock work for you?" When Lyonet mentioned bringing a guest, she didn't hide her intrigue. "Yes, of course! Who are you thinking of bringing?"

it wasn't that lyonet resented khadroma - quite the opposite, really. she always acknowledged the kindness and grace she was given by her mother, even when she was a hardheaded teenager with a scalding temper and unmitigated impulses. especially then. but it was a strange thing, allowing someone to mother you when you'd gone so long in life parenting yourself ( albeit, in lyonet's case, kind of badly ). not only was she deprived of a steady mother figure until she was a teenager, she was also cruelly declined a father, as well. she was on her own - and she never did stop believing that. she felt the community and family she had always desired in the adlers, however, when she had mars, something switched. she was finally what she'd dreamed of all those years. she had to make it count. she had to focus on herself and the little family she'd created first, and yes, sometimes that meant excluding others from the tightly knit circle she and her daughter formed. "well, then, make yourself right at home," lyonet offered a stilted chuckle as she squeezed mars' shoulders while they walked along, grounding herself in the young girl's calming, steadying presence. "oh, no, we aren't too busy. you actually caught us at a slower time - that's, uh, that's why mars was out there. gotta give her a state-mandated break at some point." the joke fell off her tongue and inspired a giggle out of her daughter, which inflated lyonet's confidence more. "... dinner? i mean, sure. yeah. i'd never say no to free food. what, uh, what's on the menu? i gotta warn you, though, mars is on a complete no-meat kick as of late. some kid told her about how slaughterhouses work and it's been a," she paused, then mouthed 'shitshow', "reina's been the one coaching her through it. thankfully she already cooks for all of us and we've been involuntary vegetarians since - y'know. my imprisonment," she said. in a surprising turn of events, she hadn't talked down upon her sister for the first time in months. slowly, she was accepting the help offered, though it had bruised her ego in the process. "so, what time sunday? and do you think i could bring a guest?"

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

Most of her life, Khadroma had been a force to be reckoned with, an iron fist that not dare let up. Even when she'd been playing the role of housewife in her first marriage, she'd never once relaxed, always trying to balance the roles of being a wife and mother. It wasn't until she'd met Dustin that she'd learned how to soften her sharp edges a bit and not feel like she had to keep looking over her shoulder every ten minutes. He loved her unconditionally and she did the same for him in return. It was funny, how simple a touch or a 'Hey you,' could bring a smile to her face. He made her stupidly happy and she wouldn't have it any other way.

When he suggested they leave the gambling for Cy, she couldn't quite argue. Though she had an excellent poker face, her skills didn't quite match up. Much more pleased with the idea of dancing with her husband, she let him take her hand, chuckled, and said "That sounds like a much better idea." She certainly made for a better dancer than a poker player, that was for sure. She followed him as he lead her to the dance floor, never letting go of his hand. Especially on a night like this, she was grateful to have her partner by her side, just in case shit turned sidewise. Hopefully not but you never really knew with these people. Roma had interacted with enough 'high-class' rich people to know that there was always an angle that people were working, whether you saw it or not. But at least while they were at this event, they could keep an eye on their adult children in case anything went haywire. Taking to the dance floor with Dusty, her arms around his neck, she smiled up at him. "You know, I think we should go out dancing more often."

Dustin had always been a lover, not a fighter — if it weren't apparent from his lack of voracity in tracking down the cold, unsolved case of his parents, then it ought to be when his eyes twinkled at the sight of his darling spouse, almost glossing away the nystagmus. Their wed may no longer be new as it was five years ago, but love and loss and divorce had instilled within him appreciation that he hadn't precisely thought himself absent of in his first marriage. Of course, he'd gone down that road two dozen times by now, where he went wrong, and whether he wasn't a good enough partner to Sera. Not one strong enough to hold their head above water. But life was about second chances, and had it not happened, then his heart wouldn't be as full of adulation as it was now, with his heart in Khadroma's hands. "Hey, you," he straightened up as if he had been caught slacking; honestly, he hadn't dressed up nice for the occasion, in his usual alternative get-up. With how often he had to wear suit-and-tie for presentations ( or, minus the suit jacket, ) he was not keen of spending any other day in it. "Ahh, I think we should leave that to your son," he said, a hint of mischief curling his tone, taking the flute from her hand and extra cautious in handing it over to one of the server, opting to take her hand in his instead. "I was thinking we'd head over there where there's a few people dancing and it's not so crowded. This is supposed to be some kind of celebration of life, and I can't think of a better way to spend it than dancing with my beautiful spouse." A cheeky grin concluded his sentence, fingers intertwining with hers, tenuous as his grip was as he didn't want to take her down with if he had an atonic seizure and tipped over momentarily. "Game for that?"

[no-one-asks--any-questions-here]

"now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con. i've had some tricks up my sleeve. takes one to know one: you're a cowboy like me and i'm never gonna' love again..."

@sourhercine