corneredbliss

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Vivian Hong | Regalia; The Crest

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The gunmetal grey BMW slid into a parking spot in the middle of The Crest's lot just as it's previous occupant vacated it. As was expected, the place was packed. Vivian watched some drunk kids stumble past through her rearview mirror as she put the car in park and jerked the handbrake up into position. She clicked her tongue idly out of resignation, tugging the keys from the ignition while simultaneously replacing her glasses on top of her head. Places like these were - predictably - never really her scene; much less so on a night when all she wanted was a heating pad and more chocolate-covered pretzels. Unluckily for her, there had developed some unspoken understanding amongst the group that it had become their spontaneous meeting place of choice. Though despite the sloppy bachelors and sticky surfaces, Vee had come to at least enjoy the abundance of people-watching opportunities it offered to her. Free training to keep polished on the job.

She locked her Beamer behind her as she strode towards the entrance, eyeing the string of bodies trickling from the doors, all waiting their turn to get inside. Without willing it, her mind's camera was taking snapshots of face after face, gesture after body language. Vivian had always had a degree of photographic memory; it had come in handy countless times. Her gaze registered the sight of Quinn's Camaro standing sentry in front of the building before finally settling on the two bouncers of the night, one of whom was whimpering and sporting a bloody nose.

She stepped onto the curb and briefly studied the scene with a bemused expression. The two men watched her with a mixture of indignation and confusion. The usual. "I always try to tell him he should watch his temper. Sorry, guys," she sighed out, though her attitude and somewhat monotonous tone didn't really emphasize remorse. Blaring music came pouring out as she pulled the door open for herself, though her soft alto voice was still perfectly understandable. "One of the girls should have some bandaids in her purse." And with that she submerged herself into the lively club, making a beeline towards the bar, where she knew Gyles would be waiting.

Sure enough, he was there, looking down at his phone. She made her way towards him, slipping through those who were dancing or flirting or generally intoxicated. Within moments she had taken her place beside him, leaning her forearms on the florescent blue. "New guy, huh?" she asked, keeping the shadow of a smirk in check as she ordered herself a lager beer. There was no need to bother with "Hi"s or "Hello"s with him. Probably why they got along so well. Vee nodded her head in greeting at the bartender who dropped her bottle off, gave them both a skeptical look, before returning to his other customers.

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I'm bustling around tonight and tomorrow because it's time to move back into dorms, and that stupid snow storm is gonna hit soon so there's also that to worry about. Anyway, I'll try and get even a teeny tiny something up tonight - fingers crossed.

And I'd love Vee to have an established relationship with Lex, @BreakingMe! I'm sure she hangs around her office to soak up knowledge for the job, so hopefully we can collab sometime in the future about that.

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I'm gonna go ahead and say it's something about your name, @Jig. It just makes everyone want to cuddle you and make really absurd but cute nicknames with it... It's a blessing and a curse.

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... Dude. That's cool haha. Wish I could do card tricks, but alas, I can't even shuffle cards properly. Eh.

|A National Anthem|

That was it. He did not get to talk to her like that. He did not have the right to reprimand her like a child. How was he the one upset right now when he was the one who decided to leave? Practically pushing her into the only lifestyle she knew because he didn't want to play with her anymore? How was that fair? She'd come to get back what she might have been able to have had he given her a goddamn chance, and he did not get to wave his pristine life and his right choices in her face.

Marlene didn't notice, but in the time he'd been lecturing her, she'd started crying. Not ugly sobbing - no. These were tears of anger. And just like that, the anger flared through her body, surging through her arm as it shot out towards the steering wheel. "Fuck you, Nate!" she screamed as her fingers grasped the leather and pulled it hard to the right, towards her.

The car swerved hard into the next lane, narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as it rushed past, practically brushing the Beamer's bumper. Whatever Nathan tried to do to correct the situation, it was too late. The car ran straight off the road and slid uncontrollably down the incline it was on, pushed around by the scattered tree trunks as if it were a mere pinball in a machine.

To Marcy, this was right. This was what had to happen. She had reached over and grabbed hold of the fabric of Nate's hoodie sleeve, clutching it as if it were his hand. Her heart rate was racing. Everything was a blur of green and brown, until it was all black.

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Ooohoooh, nice post, @Jiggy-Jam. (Yes, the nicknames will continue even here.)

Side Note-Deadpool movie is gonna be awesome. That is all.

@icmasticc

Went to see The Revenant today and saw the preview for it. Already saved the date on my phone. It's gonna be kick ass. And pro tip: Go see The Revenant. Acting was fantastic, and the cinematography was fucking gorgeous! Really really worth a visit to the movie theater, in my opinion.

Also, high fives for the DW sig/avi combo, @Wade Wilson.

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Post is done and up! If I need to change anything Icc, let me know!

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- "So there I am, topless, sitting on this bulldozer, like, in a construction site. So I'm sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties, and I'm like, "What the fuck? Again?"

"And then I look down and I see there's this dude down on the ground with his head by, like, the tire. And when I look closer, I see that the dude is wearing my shirt, barbeque sauce all over his face, and he's dead."

"...That's when I knew it was time to make a change. Thank you."

- "Almost the exact same thing happened to me, but it was tuna salad!"

A soft snort permeated the awkward silence that ensued the scene on the HD flat screen television. Its constantly changing, diffused light reflected off the polished surfaces in the living room section of a studio apartment - although in truth, there wasn't really much in the place. A person would have looked around at the studio and thought it was a model for a minimalist magazine. There was hardly any evidence that someone occupied the space, save for the modern-styled coffee table, on which lay a white towel, along with a pair of glasses and a fully assembled, recently meticulously cleaned Glock 17 Gen 4, with silencer. Everything else outside the realm of the living room was dark, save for the fluorescent glow offered by Regalia through the window just a few feet south of the neatly made bed.

The lady of the house was sitting on the couch, bare legs crossed beneath her though barely visible underneath the excess fabric of the extra large shirt she was currently lounging in. Fresh out of a shower, her lion's mane of inky hair was tied up in a damp, flaccid bun that was tipping over the side of her head. Her attention was fully directed at the TV, even as she lifted a few chocolate covered pretzels from the bowl-full sitting in her lap to her mouth. They fell in easily and she crunched on them as the cast delivered their lines to her, eliciting small grins or a quick roll of the eyes every now and then. She kept her slender hand over the bowl, hovering for convenience as well as cleanliness: crumbs were on her long list of pet-peeves.

After a particularly tense moment on screen, the woman dusted off her hands in the bowl and reached over to her side, where a capped bottle of Yoohoo milk was leaning against her hip bone. She swallowed a few short gulps, before screwing the cap back on, setting it down, and throwing another few pretzels into her mouth. She savored their salty-sweetness, unable to stop since she poured them out almost forty-five minutes ago.

And who was going to tell Vivian Hong what she could or couldn't do on her period?

She was just sucking on her teeth to try and get whatever the hell that was stuck in there out when there was a buzzing and a text tone beeping on the cushion to her right. The bright light of her smartphone shone upwards at her, and Vee glanced at its screen as she dusted her hands off once again. She wiped her fingers on the hem of her shirt for extra measure before she picked up the phone and swiped right to read the message.

The job is on. We have find the little shits who've been pushing that whiplash throughout the city. We've been ordered to fan out and gather information for the time being, but not to take any rash actions. My best bet would be going through the prostitutes, they mess with some of the most fucked up johns sometimes. I ain't telling you what to do, and you can find information you're own way, but I'm gonna hit up the rings. In any case, we'll meet back up in six hours and share anything we've found. We gotta put a lid on this shit quick.

Well, if anyone was going to tell her to stop, it was going to be Gyles.

Vivian set down the phone and picked up the TV remote instead, pausing the characters mid-sentence. She rose from the grey couch, taking the bowl of pretzels and the Yoohoo with her, and deposited them onto the kitchen counter. Then began the process of getting ready, which only took under twenty minutes. Vivian had put on denim jeans and a loose grey shirt, her custom-made black work boots, and had swiped eyeliner and mascara onto her face. Her hair was taken down from its bun to dry as she slipped into her leather moto jacket, which hid her shoulder holster underneath. The Glock was slipped into its place at her side while the thick-rimmed glasses were placed on top of her head.

She moved around her apartment systematically, having done this plenty of times before. Window locked, television off, cameras on, "alarm" in place. She swung around and gave the apartment a quick once over before making her way to the door, nabbing a few more pretzels from the bowl before exiting to the garage. The plan was to meet Gyles at the bar, maybe get a beer. Or a dessert, if she was lucky. The thought of a warm brownie smothered in ice cream made her crack a smile as she unlocked her old, manual Beamer and settled in, chewing down the last pretzel in her hand before adjusting her mirror and pulling out of the space.

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Hey, the more, the merrier! This is gonna be a party, to say the least. Should be fun to watch them interact IC hahaha.

I keep trying to get to my post, but then Orange Is The New Black keeps distracting me............ And also I took a nap but its ok, right? Right?

|A National Anthem|

“They Hay-Adams has a nice restaurant, I’ll send for room service.”

What Nathan was actually saying didn't register with her right away. Marcy simply nodded her head, too busy chasing around various food cravings in her head, trying to pin down which she would ask the President's private personal chef to whip up for her. Obviously she didn't know much about what actually goes on in the White House, and even worse, she'd had the past couple months to develop illusions of grandeur.

And then...

"Wait... What?"

But by then, he had already turned up the volume on his Address, effectively delaying her very frustrated response by drowning her out, as well as making her speechlessly upset that it actually worked. As his voice filled the tight car, dripping with essence of polished politician, Marlene glared at him, lips parted in disbelief. She stayed there for a good portion of the Address, not wanting to accept that he had grown the balls to actually leave her, drop her off in some hotel room like she was a kid at a daycare.

At the same time, there was a tiny voice in the back of her head, the one she rarely listened to, that murmured, Well, what did you expect? She had been gone from his life for nearly fifteen years, and then she decides to show up, demand to be taken in, and for what? Did she really think Nathaniel, President of the States, was actually going to allow her to stay with him? Drop everything and take care of her? She, the raging addict, the fuck-up? No. She would always be a blemish, and he had a reputation to keep.

Finally she snapped, lunging forward to turn the damned volume knob all the way down, so that they were thrown back into silence. Then he spoke up.

"Oh, wow. Congratu-fucking-lations, Nate. Really. I'm proud of you." Her tone was sarcastic as all hell. Feeling like that wasn't enough, yet, Marcy sat up and turned her whole body towards him, a funny modern version of David and Goliath. "You're shitting me right? I come all the way down here to pay you a visit and you're just gonna ditch me like this?"