cinderfuckinrella: (Top & Viv)
2008-10-30 01:34 pm

OOC - A dedication ♥

This is a very sincere thank you to a very close friend of mine and fellow writer. The mun of [livejournal.com profile] lick_of_flame aka Top Dollar from The Crow, has been writing with me and my character [livejournal.com profile] viv_ward Vivian Ward from Pretty Woman for a very long time now. Our muses have been on the most incredibly twisted, violent, romantic, corrupt journey in those four years, and their tale is still going strong.

Other muses have worn out their usefulness, fallen by the wayside, or have been abandoned when their stories were complete. But Top and Viv just seem to go from to strength to strength, always a new twist to the tale, always something new to explore.

I wanted to take the time out to celebrate our relationship, and express my immense gratitude for such an outstanding, scintillating and gripping story. You're amazing Lee. I've loved every minute of it, and I still to this day 'squee' whenever I see 'lick_of_flame - LJ Comment' in bold font in my inbox.


Thankyou Wolfie.

All my love

Cinderfuckinrella.


X-posted to my mun journal [livejournal.com profile] janiejane
cinderfuckinrella: (whore - profile)
2008-10-26 10:36 pm

OOC - Official records info that would be available on Viv

Full name is Vivian Grace Ward, now Vivian Grace Dollarty, born 1st March 1986 (this isn't canon - but it makes her 'canon' age when I first started playing her. ie. 19 in 2005 - making her 20 when she got married and 22 now)

Prior to her involvement with Top, she has several minor offences against her, from the age of 15 to 19 (2001 - 2005), all in Los Angeles. She was arrested a couple of times for shoplifting, but they were really minor, she was caught stealing 'dental floss' from a drug store LOL (gotta keep those teeth looking good) and on another occasion a 'pre-packed' sandwich. And there are a couple of occasions where she was picked up for solicitation on Hollywood Boulevard and spent the night in the cells, personal use amounts of heroin found on her person.

On 12 June 2005, Vivian Ward was admitted to New York City Hospital after being shot in the spine, causing temporary paralysis from the waist down. Despite police involvement and attempted investigation, no information on the incident was revealed by Vivian or 'Eric Brooks' (aka Blade) who was listed as next of kin and had been the person who brought her to the hospital. On admission, Vivian's injuries were numerous; severe bruising and damage to the throat and larynx were evident, with rope burns to the throat and neck area, incision with a 'scalpel' type blade made to the groin area, dislocated elbow, recent heroin use apparent, and of course the gunshot wound to her lower spine. Evidence of previous physical abuse were also found, scarring to the chest and back, x-rays revealed several ribs had been fractured and healed within the past 6 - 12 months.

She married Tyson Jules Dollarty on 1st January 2007 in New York. The wedding had attracted police involvement in that several 'nail and glass bombs' were detonated during the ceremony, destroying half the Hotel and Mansion, Glen Cove Mansion, Long Island. Fatalities were numerous, total of 15 fatalities and a further 30 casualties. The perpetrator Eric Draven, a former tenant of Top Dollar was found dead at the scene, despite having died two years previously on 'Devil's Night' in Detroit and again on 'Devil's Night' in October 2006. Case was closed and passed on to 'Mulder and Scully?' XD
cinderfuckinrella: (crying)
2008-10-18 07:12 pm

#58.4 A Beginning and an End

The dull ache in her lower back was unceasing in its torture now. No matter which way she sat, or leaned, or lay, or placed her hands on it; nothing relieved its constant attack on her. Vivian had never been so terrified in all her life, the baby was coming and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Alone now, since Frost'd had her moved from the shared cell, here in this concrete prison, her baby would be born. And after that...

She tried to focus on the now, to somehow get through this hell first. The periodic sharp invasions of contraction pain were the easiest times, oddly. Then she could focus on nothing but them, so entirely consuming in their cruelty, they gave little window of opportunity for darker thoughts and fears to break through the pain. Although they pressed at her temples, a slow thud of the threat of how this would end, making the pain unbearable. She was suffering this pain for a child she'd never have the chance to love. For a child who would never know love. A child that would be born into a life of... It didn't bear thinking about.

"Oh god, Wolfie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please..." She cried desperately, willing him to somehow hear her and take her away.

As the pain started its gradual crescendo once more, she leaned against the cold grey stone, pressing her forehead to its cool surface in an attempt to take away the heat of panic. Her head hung low, staring at the floor beneath, hands clenched so tight that her nails drew blood from her palms as she rode the pain with a stiff jaw. She felt nothing, so intent in her will for this not to be happening now, even as a single drop of blood rolled down her wrist.

And then it happened. At first she thought she'd wet herself in fear, but the streams of warm fluid continued to trickle down her legs, soaking her underwear and pooling beneath on the cell floor. She thrust a hand down there urgently, as if by placing her hand over the source it would make it stop. But the liquid kept coming, unstoppable, dripping from between trembling fingers, splashing on the ground beneath in an unyielding pitter-patter of a doomed destiny.

"NO!" Vivian pleaded as she watched the pool beneath her spread.

"STOP! Not now, just wait. You can wait. Someone's coming for us, I know they will, just wait! Please!" Her voice was hysterical in its desperation, her own fingers clamping harder against herself to end this. Stall it. Anything.

Muse: Vivian Ward
Fandom: Pretty Woman
Word Count: 465

Notes: Continued as roleplay here at [livejournal.com profile] tenebrae_nostro
Backdated event.
cinderfuckinrella: (now what)
2008-10-04 05:03 pm

#56.6 What if...

I can't handle this anymore. It's driving me crazy. "Elevator music." I need to know, but...

...what if he's bad news, but what if he was wonderful? What if I got in with the wrong guys, but what if I found the right man?

"Ummm three." What kinda guy does a hooker like me meet, but what if he was one in a million? And those kinda guys, they don't marry you, they don't fork out a small fortune on a ring, but what if I got lucky? They just screw you and pay you, but what if he didn't? He's not gonna be what I want him to be, but what if he is?

"Yes marriages. Wait... You're kidding! 'Bridge over troubled waters' again." It was him, he gave me these scars. It's bound to be, guys like that, girls like me, it's what happens, but what if he didn't?

"Come ooooon, running out of quarters here." What kinda guy wouldn't have bothered to come and find me, but what if he tried? What if it was him that put me there, what if he did it to me, but what if he didn't even know?

"Yes, New York." What if that was him, that... that thing, that monster, but what if it wasn't, what if he'd have killed it?

"Finally. Vivian Ward." He's not going to love you Viv, you're dreaming, but what if he does? There's no happy ending to be found here.

"No, I don't know. I had an accident, lost my memory." Drop it, don't chase it, don't set yourself up. I don't need this, those memories, these dreams, they're never going to stop. I'm so scared, but what if he can take them away?

What if...
he loves me.

"No, no I.D."

What if I fucking can't find out anyway, because I don't exist anymore.

"Thanks for nothing pal. Now I'm four bucks down."



Muse: Vivian Ward
Fandom: Pretty Woman
Word Count: 310
cinderfuckinrella: (she sleeps)
2008-09-19 09:09 pm

#54.4 Ficlet

When dreams come true: We've all had dreams that we would swear were real, this is your muse's dream. Tell us about it. Will they remember it when they wake? If so, show us it's affect on them.


At first, Vivian didn't wake to her cries. Choosing to bury her head beneath the crisp white cotton of the pillow, airy light feathers crunched in their luxurious egyptian casing as they moulded to the nape of her neck. Shrill impatient cries rapidly escalated into relentless distress though, and the comforting caress of dreams no longer offered sanctuary from her daughter's insistent calling.

Unexpectedly cool floorboards chilled her naked foot as she forced herself from her goose-down refuge, the retraction of her foot bringing her one step closer to unwelcome consciousness. Wearily she pulled on the white robe, tying a lazy knot at her waist and slid into the nearby slippers. In the half light of approaching dawn the room was swathed in deep blue shadow, only its edges and peaks tinged with hints of pink where the promise of a glorious day slowly cut through the darkness.

Vivian turned to place a hand on his shoulder and kiss the sleeping man beside her )

Muse: Vivian Ward
Fandom: Pretty Woman
Word Count: 751
cinderfuckinrella: (cinderella)
2008-09-15 10:26 pm

#54.7 Mun Prompt "Cinderfuckinrella"

How important is love to your muse? Are they the type of person who uses and abuses only to cast others away like toys when they are tired of them? Are they looking for their soulmate in life, or have they already found them? It's your turn to talk about love.

Firstly, one of the reasons that I've chosen this particular prompt, is because anyone reading Vivian's prompts is understandably not going to know what the hell is going on with her. I have been roleplaying Vivian for nearly four years, and for that period have kept her on a real time linear journey, regardless of community changes. As you can imagine, four years of pan fandom roleplay is a long time and she has inevitably come a long way from canon. Her initial canon incidentally was from the beginning of the movie Pretty Woman (there was no Richard Gere millionaire to sweep her off her feet in Vivian's storyline) and as such she was a nineteen year old hooker working Hollywood Boulevard with her best friend and roomie Kit de Luca. Given, that she is new to 'writers muses', this is the perfect opportunity to provide some backstory, both pre-canon improvisations and post-canon events.

Vivian, from the very beginning was a romantic, albeit a cynical one... )

Muse: Vivian Ward
Fandom: Pretty Woman
Word Count: 1652
cinderfuckinrella: (flirty smile)
2008-09-15 10:15 pm

Secret Note Meme

Pass a Secret Note Meme

((Even better, Vivian has no memory of the last four years right now, so bring on the plot puncturing confusion. XD))
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
2008-09-11 09:38 pm

#53.6 Ruins

A fairytale in ruins.

It should have been a fairytale. Countless childhood dreams had long since been discarded, but not this. This she had clung to through everything, her one remaining innocence. If it were to happen, there would be swans, champagne and decadence. Of this, she was certain, for she had promised herself.

A silk train would glide effortlessly behind her, a rainbow mosaic of ever shifting reflections dancing in its wake as the sun filtered through magnificent stained glass. Towering floral arrangements would flood the room with their opulence and scent. This would be her moment. That magical moment where not a soul in the room would fix their gaze anywhere but on her.

And once, just once, no matter how fleeting, it would be they who wished for her life.

Yet here she stood, at his agitated insistence, amidst a morbid flurry of chaotic activity wearing torn silk and clutching a battered spray of crimson rose and stained bent lilies.

The rainbow had been shattered by vengeance. Tiny splinters and cruel shards of glass glistened on the empty seats, toppled floral arrangements sparkled on the floor with their murderous confetti. Pillars had fallen, crushed limbs lay trapped. The violins had ceased, and in their place a cacophony of pain and barked orders as salvage commenced. Death and destruction surrounded them.

"I do." She whispered somberly, then blood stained lips kissed her. A kiss so passionate, so en-flamed, so roused that she could not match it and barely felt it.
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
2008-07-25 12:02 am
Entry tags:

July Character Development @ Tenebrae

Haunted

((This fic is in response to Top's fic here. Just a quick mun note; I have heavily plagiarised from Top's post. This is deliberate, to amplify the same scene and emphasise the entirely different perspective of that idyllic scene. Hopefully that echo of those same moments is abundantly clear with the plagiarism.

Massive props and kudos to Topmun for providing such a wonderfully evocative moment, and opening up a plethora of opportunity to portray my muse's opposing pessimism, yet still share the same dream. Comments are not just welcome, but craved ;) <3 ))


If you think there's no such thing as ghosts, think again. There are ghosts, specters, haunts if you will. I believe in - no, I know. Ghosts don't have to wear bedsheets or clink chains, they don't have to hide in dark hallways and leap out at the unsuspecting.

I am haunted. I am a haunt. And you would never know it to look at me. I lie in my white bassinet gurgling and kicking out my legs against the cool breeze from the billowing white voile hung at the window. My room is the most idyllic shade of muted pastel green, not pink as my father wished or blue as my mother desired. I am perfect, yet I am not to be. And this room of mine, this perfect room of hope will never be used. She knows this, she lives in terror of this. She waited a lifetime to find love like me.

She sits there, in that pristine white rocking chair, rocking silently on the floor that's shined so well that her reflection could be seen should she look down, just once. She never does. Silently she sinks back into the macabre, spiritless she stares into the distant mountains, but sees nothing of their majestic beauty, for all she can see is a futile dream tainted by blood. I am stained and bleeding, crimson pools seeping into and masking the yellow and blue threads that are the tiny flowers on my sheets. My gentle cooing has migrated to breathless rasps. She wishes she could take another pill right now, swig from the bottle, see this how he sees it, see this how she did just a short while ago when she was rubbing paint on his cheek. But the shine of her synthetic euphoria is fading fast and a deathly pallor consumes me and her.

Gone are the plastic erroneous hopes that something as simple and as fragile as his hair could protect me, I am dead and mutilated and yet she can still cover for me and her sanity with a smile. A smile as apparently natural as the breeze that makes my curtains dance. But it was him, Frost, that brought that breeze, an ominous reminder of my fate that sent chills down her spine and brought the sickening taste of copper to her mouth.

She turns to softly kiss his hand, lamenting that things were not different. In this moment, in a crooked mockery of their history, his was the innocence, his was the optimism and hers was the twisted morbidity of realism. For all his attempts to break her, she couldn't break him in return. She had found the heart inside of him through me, and she couldn't take it from him.
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
2008-06-22 04:13 pm

Simpsonize Me!



Vivian as a Simpson! I was bored...LOL

http://simpsonizeme.com
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
2008-06-02 12:02 am
Entry tags:

Home Sweet Home

Vivian banged on the door of her apartment, a new flake of paintwork floating to the floor as her knuckles rapped on the familiar aging layers of gloss. "Yo Kit, s'me!" she called through, trying to see the wrong way through the spy hole. "Get your lazy ass outta bed and lemme in."

The mould on the door jam had got worse, and at some point someone seemed to have taken out their frustrations with a fist or a foot on the crumbling plaster beside it. C'mon Kit, answer the door already. I need you to be here.

Vivian knocked again, there was more volume to the cheap plyboard's reaction this time, yet somehow less hope, somewhere in the back of Vivian's mind she knew Kit was long gone, no matter how much she wanted it to be untrue and nothing to have changed. The knocks were slow, knuckles white as her balled fist dragged and lingered after each resounding thump. "Please be here baby." Her voice quietened as she spoke, pleading with the unyielding door that she'd passed through so easily so many times before, and only a few weeks ago, least that was how it felt.

"You ain't gonna get no answer there sweetcheeks." The voice from the stairs at the end of the landing coughed out. It was the voice that instantly had Vivian wishing she could slip out of the window and down the iron fire escape, but she didn't owe him any rent this time. Yet still, the habitual instinct of flight was oddly comforting.

"Kit still lives here right?" She questioned the balding overweight man as he neared. The pot belly was bigger, the clump of hair behind each ear had shrunk, but the greying white of his vest was no different, even down to the pasta sauce stains.

"Well fuck me, look who it is. I'm guessin' you aren't here to settle up that bitch's back rent if you reckon she's still here. She upped and left about eighteen months ago, left all her shit here too. How's about you work it off for her princess?" The chubby hand trailed over her shoulder, a yellowing nicotine stained thumb just catching her nipple as the corner of his lip curled up in sleazy suggestion.

"Yeah right Carlos. In your dreams." Vivian pushed his intrusive arm away with practiced ease. The distance between herself and the repulsive man already widening as she backed away. When the fiery redhead had put more than an arm's length between them, she turned on her heels, flipped him off over her shoulder and disappeared down the stairs hastily without another backwards glance. She'd head for The Blue Banana club instead, maybe someone there would know where to find Kit.

If she could find Kit, everything would be fine again. Everything would be normal. Whatever the hell it was that happened to her these last few months, years? Being back with Kit would fix it all. It was all she remembered, and Vivian clung to the memory of her long since murdered friend like she were the only piece of floating driftwood left of an entire shipwreck.
cinderfuckinrella: (Default)
2008-05-30 12:04 am
Entry tags:

Discharged

"Vivian. I'm sure of it. Vivian Ward. I even know my freakin' address. What? You think I pulled a valid name and address outta my ass?" Vivian's arms flailed and gestured in her usual exaggerated flamboyance in her exasperation.

She was nice enough, the psychiatrist perched at the end of her bed. Even sympathetic, but in that infuriatingly condescending way, like she was dealing with a complete nutjob. "We've had our admin department check your details... 'Vivian'. There was never anyone by that name at that address. Are you sure that's your name and address?"

"YES." Vivian rubbed at her temples irritated. "Kit de Luca, she lives there with me. I ain't makin' this shit up ya know. Ya know, if I was gonna feed you some bullshit, I'd have at least said I lived in some expensive uptown condo wouldncha think? Not some hole of a room that barely passes health and safety regs."

Despite her continued protestations, the response from her psychiatrist was unwavering, it was as if she'd never existed. She knew that was her name though, two hundred percent she knew. Vivian Ward. Why did she not believe her, why was there no trace of her?

"Fine, so maybe I lost a few months of my memory. Hell, I musta been on somethin' pretty hardcore to go marry some John just 'cause the freakin' condom split. But, ya know!" Vivian was sick to death of this infuriating game now as she threw her palms sky high in supplication, "Looks like I did. More fool me."

"Pretty narrow escape I guess." Except she knew that wasn't entirely true, the 'John' part maybe, who knew? Vivian's memory may have regressed to a few years ago, but that one recent moment, that moment where her newborn daughter was taken from her, lingered like the echoes of a nightmare you can't shake til you turn on the light.

"Look." Vivian's voice softened, pleaded almost. "I just want out now, I can't stay here forever. Except for the little difference of opinion of who I am, I reckon I'm all fixed up and ready to go live again. An' if you ain't gonna let me go, then I'll just walk."

A few hours later, Vivian signed the self discharge papers that had been prepared for her, papers that unbeknownst to her would be destroyed as soon as they reached the hands of one Charles Bowman, Chief Operations Director of the hospital. The same Charles Bowman who, along with her Psychiatrist, had received a tidy sum from the Frost Corporation for their silence.
cinderfuckinrella: (lost in thought)
2008-05-29 11:58 pm

The lights are on, but nobody's home

She had never held her. Never touched the helpless sticky crimson bundle that was her child.
Despite the horror, excruciating pain and knowledge of her daughter's inevitable fate, Vivian had cried in relief as she'd heard her baby's shrill cry when she took her first breath. Impotently she had begged in desperation as blood stained incisors had viciously ripped through the cord and then Vivian's world had turned to black.

The haemorrhaging woman in the rubble should have been dead from the usually fatal bloodloss, not merely catatonic. By some miracle, or twisted vindictive act of God, she was alive and breathing, protected by the steel girders and door of her cell that had fallen, cocooning her safely within. The ruptured placenta still inside her had been infected by an unknown virus and they were still drawing a blank as to the antibodies in her remaining blood cells that had miraculously kept her alive.

"I told you already," Vivian drowsily returned the doctor's questions flatly. Fleetingly she met his piercing gaze to drill home the point in a vein attempt to stop the endless daily barrage of questions.

"I don't remember."

It was a question she was tired of answering, along with all the fucking others that she really couldn't answer. What were they going to do if they knew? Bring her back? Her daughter was dead. As dead and broken as she was.

She was nothing more than a shell of the young woman she had once been, exhausted pained shadows for eyes would spend hours vacantly staring at the air before her, reliving over and over those tortuous tragic moments where her daughter had been taken from her. But she gave nothing, shared nothing of the trauma, emptiness and terror.

She obediently took the offered plastic cup of pills, and one by one Vivian grotesquely bared her tongue to prove she'd taken them. He'd leave in a moment, frustrated at the lack of response and satisfied with her medication intake, there was little more he could do. Then the nurse would come and fuck about with the saline drip and check her bloods. And all the while, the medical enigma that was the post traumatic shock patient in bed six who believed her only given name was Cinderella, would only ache for the daughter she had been denied, staring into the abyss vacuously.
cinderfuckinrella: (cinderella)
2008-03-12 08:52 pm

Pregnancy Plot

((Plot summary for Vivian's pregnancy, because it happened in several different locations and I wanted a chronologically ordered list of events for easy reference. Plus! Gap filling for off screen stuff. Oh and this has coincided perfectly with realistic dates, if she was 6 weeks gone when the pregnancy was confirmed - she's due on the 15th March))

Vivian and Top discover she is pregnant, JOY! A baby Top Dollar, how sweet! Deacon Frost also makes his presence known inside Vivian's head for the first time since he turned her and she was cured, thank you Derek! There was more to it than Vivian ever knew. And Top too, for suffering the humility of going to him and force feeding reluctant VampViv! from his own arm.

Frost in her head! Where are the damned sleeping pills? This thread, marked the beginning of a downward spiral for Vivian. First it was just a sleeping pill, then a few more. As the pregnancy progressed, Frost's telepathic link with her through the ever darkening glyph and her blood became more and more pronounced, more frequent. Slowly sending her mad, not knowing if it was real or if she really had gone insane, all the while never telling her husband about it, for fear he would have her committed. Keeping up appearances with an increasing amount of booze and sleeping pills.

"It's a Baby, Not a Vampire" Close call at the hospital, Vivian narrowly escapes the need for blood tests, and Frost's bitch girlfriend makes an appearance, confirming that Frost really does want the baby.

"I say who, I say when, I say how." Vivian takes matters into her own hands, this ends now. Whether she or Frost dies, it doesn't matter, but she wants it over. Things take a turn for the worse however, and Vivian runs into Blade instead. The man that she had a relationship with, the man who got her involved with Frost in the first place. And the best bit? He doesn't remember her, the explosion back in New York fucked with his head.

Vivian leaves Blade, and rushes off to meet her husband as he's expecting her, but not before she gets herself completely and utterly blitzed. Vodka and diazepam are chugged back like there's no tomorrow. She's reached her breaking point, Blade's appearance finally tipping the scales from weighted to touching the counter top. This doesn't go down too well with Top, surprise, surprise. He bundles her off in the car while he finishes up some business, ready to deal with her later.

Except later never comes...
cinderfuckinrella: (looking down thoughtful)
2008-01-28 11:58 am

I say who, I say when, I say how.

Insanity had become reality. His voice, Frost's voice inside her head was no longer the twisted nightmare of a delusional woman who had been broken. Pepper had confirmed that at the hospital. The laughter in Pepper's taunts, when she referred to the baby as Deacon's so mockingly, was the voice that echoed and stung inside her mind right now. The bile rose from her stomach violently at the thought of what lay ahead and the baby pushed its legs up hard into her ribcage, as if it too were convulsing with anger and desperate emotion as she stretched to escape its painful pushes.

The thin veneer of normality that she wore for her husband was cracking and peeling like week old nail enamel. The pills no longer able to retain that polished exterior that he demanded of her. Vivian had held on to this for too long as it was, but now it was a real threat. More than merely the fear that she had finally lost any grasp on reality, more than her own machinations of terror. Deacon Frost was laying claim to the baby inside her and when Top found out, she knew he'd blame her. Blade had taken so much him from all that time ago, and now even from beyond the grave, his actions would take his baby. Top forgave her many things, but the life of his child couldn't possibly be one of them, of this she was sure. Vivian was no longer on the brink, no pill, no drink, no drug could quell this anymore. This hadn't pushed her over the edge she had fought to balance on for so long, the edge had crumbled away beneath her feet like arid sandstone.

Reaching over to the glove compartment, quivering fingers curled around the Smith and Wesson handgun, the ten rounds of silver bullets already loaded, and tucked it into her purse hastily. She had no plan, no forethought even, and least of all any semblance of rational or realistic aim as she slammed the car door shut and clicked the fob to lock and alarm it.

'After Dark' was two blocks away from where she'd parked and the heavily pregnant woman strode towards it forcefully, despite the extra fifteen pounds she was carrying in her final month. Only one thought lingered in her mind. This was over, and it would be over on her schedule, not Deacon Frost's. Regardless of how it ended, it was over, and she would be the instigator, not him, not her husband, not anyone.

"I say who, I say when, I say how. Nothing's changed. I make the decisions. I say who, I say when, I say how. I say who, I say when, I say how." Over and over she chanted hers and Kit's mantra, inducing an almost trance like state as she made her way down the dark street, oblivious to the world around her.

((Posted and continued at Tenebrae Nostro. ))
cinderfuckinrella: (cinderella)
2007-10-21 12:23 am
Entry tags:

OOC: Icons and Layout update

Woohoo! New layout for Viv! And I will add at this juncture that I'm damned proud of it, even if there are a still a few tweaky things pending responses at the s2flexisquares comm from theme layer geniuses.

I haven't had chance to mess about in Photoshop and be knee deep in code for yonks, so I had a complete geekfest today with it!

So yay! No more reason for posting than to say 'Go me! Ain't it purdy!' XD


Oooh edit, there is actually another reason. I come bearing two new Top icons for Viv's husband aswell! Annoying thing about that movie is that it's so damned dark for nearly the entire duration and therefore impossible to get loads of delicious screenshots that translate well to iconage, even with contrast, saturation, brightness and levels fiddled with to high hell.

I won't mention that the pic of Julia was swiped from a picture of her kissing a horse! Shhhh...don't tell Top.



PS: I think my new ooc icon is my best yet *g*
cinderfuckinrella: (bored)
2007-07-29 06:38 pm
Entry tags:

RP for [livejournal.com profile] nobleprotist

Just sitting and waiting wasn't easy. Vivian was distracted, and every thirty seconds or so she was checking over her shoulder to see who was watching or to see if her supplier had arrived. The PINpoint coordinates she'd given him were in a quiet corner of the Nexus. Not on her home turf, not anywhere that Top would have anyone watching. A pathway that led to the disused and abandoned Transgressions Hotel. Noone went there anymore, there wasn't any passing traffic, and the only reason anyone would be here would be to get to the Hotel, it didn't lead anywhere else.

It was only 4.45pm, fifteen minutes til the arranged time still. Every check of her watch was disappointing, time seemed to be ticking by so slowly as she impatiently drummed her fingers on the wooden arm of the bench, before lighting the third cigarette since she'd arrived less than ten minutes ago.
cinderfuckinrella: (vulnerable)
2007-07-17 09:22 am

Pregnancy complications beyond the norm...

((Huge thanks to Topmun for writing this with me via e-mail, I've slipped in Deacon Frost's post at the end, and I think it came at a pretty damned good spot, well read it and you'll see *grin*. Oops!))


Another heave as Vivian stared into the porcelain bowl, one hand gripping at the auburn curls at her crown. Acid tasting bile rose to the back of her throat, as her stomach painfully contracted once more, desperate to rid of itself of its contents when there was nothing left to be rid of.

She sunk back onto the floor, lying prostrate, one hand resting on the aching swell of her stomach. She'd spent every morning for a week now, lying on the ebony gloss of these marble tiles or desperately retching into the toilet til the muscles in her abdomen could contract no more.

"What the hell's wrong with me?" she whined at the reflection as she pulled herself up to sitting, clinging onto her knees and rocking in an attempt to comfort her exhausted stomach muscles. If the answer was one which was not eluding her, then Vivian was holding her suspicions firmly at bay, refusing to even consider it.

"Got a problem, Cinderella?" Damn the man, silent as he was. And although his tone was casual, his eyes were not. Raking over her, and over the room, he then bent down and wiped her hair back from her eyes. A kind gesture from Top Dollar? Put it on the calendar.

"Talk to me Cinderella. Come on." With another glance around, he fixed everything in the bathroom in his memory. No bottles, no wine glasses, no needles, no nothing. So what the hell was wrong with his wife?

Read more... )