/ actually returning and responding today ☺️
did you eat anything today ?
@bloodlett * [ glazed over gaze snaps from the arguing figures on the screen before the two to the woman sitting just a foot away from her, a few seconds of vicious yelling on stifled volume & the loud hum of the air conditioning filling her silence while she slowly blinked clarity back into deadened features. she just let aurora in for coffee about twenty minutes ago, & maybe they were there as friends, sitting in one another’s company and just.. being. still, their transgressions and responsibilities lingered in the air, & whether or not they acknowledged them at one point or another something would give. it was giving right now. ] .. huh? oh, i um. i— [ had she eaten today? ] probably. not.
/ will be active again tonight i pinky swear
/ i love vivy she’s so babygirl
it’s broken , that’s all . stop making that face .
@absinthius * you’re.. [ eyes narrow, & through a deep inhale and exhale she makes her peace. somewhat ] ugh. god, whatever.
i missed you at dinner.
viv, if i would i could. i don't think / leveling the playing field / would be smart. for me or my children.
@maneats * idealism is like.. hope in your circumstances. it doesn’t work. i don’t know too much about your people or.. them, but what i do know is enough to discern that your options are slim and death isn’t the best one. there’s got to be something you can do to level the playing field. anything.
i’ve got forty five minutes , a couch , and a good reason . what do you say ?
@bloodpsychology * you are the person i would take. that’s the point, that’s why i’m asking.
also posting her head-canons because i CAN [ 1. ] she has a pretty decent amount of tattoos all over her body, most of which are mid-sized to small. the majority came from the four year period of when she was eighteen to twenty-two. she’d often use the pain and procedure itself as a coping mechanism & to compensate for the lack of control she had over many aspects of her life. if nothing else, could control what little drawings she put on her body and when. while she doesn’t regret the majority, she finds it difficult to look at herself nude for longer than a few seconds as many of the tattoos are associated with people who are either deceased or have harmed her in some way. [ 2. ] when she was younger (i.e early twenties) she made a habit of befriending morally questionable individuals, a lot of whom had committed crimes she was, at the time, responsible for condemning. sometimes these criminals were aware of her occupation, other times they weren’t, & in both circumstances she was able to coax out many details of their atrocities, in doing so gaining passage to their minds, thoughts, & what made them tick. one thing about these relationships she secretly enjoyed was having leverage or power over them despite their friendship. she liked having the ability to say, “you’re at my mercy, & i can turn you in at any time i’d like.” though she never had and never would, if she had and there was any attempt at putting her to blame, at using her compliance to decrease her credibility, her response would be that she was threatened or beaten, & who would really believe a criminal over her?
[ 5. ] ⁃she has a small scar on her abdomen as a result of a stab wound that occurred while questioning and sentencing the infamous serial killer the silencer, the father of her child. she had to conduct this pseudo-interrogation the day after she found out she was pregnant. with the man having been her close friend and psychology professor of several years, things were already mentally and emotionally distressing for her as is. security for the room was pathetic, minimal. he managed to wriggle his way out of his cuffs, strangle one of the two men in there with them, & impale the other in the throat with her pen. he cornered her, gave her some long monologue , & then stuck that same pen in her side, twisted it around until she crumbled to the floor. she prayed for a miscarriage that never came, & so now she’ll forever carry two physical reminders from him; her beloved son, & an ugly, circular scar.
[ 4. ] ⁃wears very big, large-framed glasses when visiting crime scenes and actively conducting investigations. this is so she can clearly see smaller details as she’s near-sighted and has an astigmatism. in virtually all other circumstances, she will neglect the glasses. she’s not fond of contacts, & she’s not a big fan of how the glasses can alter a persons overall perception of her if they’re meeting her for the first time.
 as far as homicide cases go, her attention and fixation tends to go towards the killer over the victim. it has never really been justice for the victims & preventing further harm, but rather catching the person behind the crime and gaining satisfaction from their apprehension. while this is something she’d attempted to get a hold on in her earlier years of work as a result of guilt and a much stronger, even somewhat self-righteous moral compass, regarding this and a multitude of things she’s started to care much less. this ‘killer obsession’ is predominantly a result of how she got her introduction to her work in the first place. when she realized as a young child that her father was a dangerous man far beyond the scope of psychological war-fare and a little violence after a few too many beers, she was set on putting a stop to it. her intentions were to enact her revenge upon him in the name of her mother, & to also stop him from becoming a danger to those around him. her methods of achieving this were to beat him at his own game so to speak to split his skull down the middle, pry it open wide, & dig around until she found what she needed. this is the formula she follows in almost all of her cases, the template that is the foundation of her fixations.
buried. (cw: idk reference to murder) 3 o’clock in the morning. vivian had officially spent twenty-two hours in the office for the first time eight years. her old habits come back to her like an ache in a formerly broken bone when it rains all day. dull, but persistent, plaguing her every moment and ensuring they weren’t ignored. she’d spent the past hour with her head in her hands, a crime scene photo beneath her which she stared at for the longest, waiting for her eyes to unfocus until the picture became blobs of muted colors and deep reds, then blinking to reset. her mind was no longer consumed by the case, but rather the murder itself. a scene she conjured that re-played in her mind over and over, the gun in her own hand, the blood beneath her boots (steel toe, mens size eleven indicated by the prints left in the bedroom). each intrusive thought that followed felt like a promise yet to be fulfilled. she didn’t know when her empathy began extending more towards the killer over the victim. assumed maybe that in her age she’d started shrinking back to her roots, stunting her growth away from him. maybe it happened the first time she buried someone, or instead the first time that someone wasn’t herself. when the dirt that stained her skin was mixed with blood she could see, feel, smell. when for once she wasn’t suffocated, buried alive, but rather the one holding the shovel. she wouldn’t leave the office for another two hours.