#viv.

[pm] [user sends caoimhe $20. User then receives a confused text from Caoimhe as to why Viv is venmoing her $20. User goes back and sees who she dm'ed] You're not getting shit. Wrong number.

​[pm] Give me my money.

Whatever’s going to give the most schadenfreude. Or fanfic.

​Fic!! What kind?? Hurt/comfort? Smut? Just hurt? Or probably the opposite of fixitfic, hm? Ha

[pm] [User squints. 20 bucks is 20 bucks.] Bet, I'll do it. But I wanna get paid in advance for it to be worth it.

Oooooh, gotta say Mickey! He knows all the good references. I bet Maggie knows some good books too, from just her whimsy I encountered. This Viv ... I don't know her, but I'm super intrigued to know what a person that gives off this much pissed off energy reads. @dochartmann @vivlennox @stardustonthebay

“I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW TO THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR THIS.” Leila still had a week before she'd be cleared to return to work, which meant outsourcing her surgical rechecks. Viv was the natural choice to ask, given their history working together, although she hated adding to the other woman's workload. She’d brought a container full of cookies as an offering, baking about the only useful thing she'd managed from home. 

“There should only be three— nothing too serious. Two rechecks and a staple removal.” She thumbed through her notes, case summaries for each case along with any concerns she’d noted for the appointment. The staple patient, for one, had a strong aversion to needles and would require a topical anesthetic. “You won’t have to deal with this one–“ she gestured vaguely at her face. The bruise had mostly settled into a deep indigo, tracking from her right eye across the bridge of her nose. As bad as it looked, the intermittent throbbing from the concussion was worse. “—He’s been discharged and referred to his primary for follow-up.”

"Hey. I'm pretty fuckin' proud of you. You're like... really good at magic 'n shit. Plus you're pretty good at, y'know.

“The wound is poisoned.”

Scor’s eyes quickly tracked to see a sickeningly vibrant green tinge spreading across the flesh away from the oddly-shaped wound on the wix’s shoulder. Shoulder. Not ideal, a limb would have been far easier to slow down, instead it had a short, simple path directly to all their major organs. He twirled his wand nimbly and the soaked and ruined sleeve of their shirt neatly fell away. 

He turned to Viv, looking half-wild, blood matting the hair at his temple that had only semi-dried. 

“I need to do a blood siphoning spell.” Scor clenched his jaw and tapped his temple with his wand, an old looking pair of spectacles appeared over the bridge of his nose. The wix they had clustered against the back of a comically large and splendorous angel seemed to be losing consciousness, their pained cries dulled to feverish babbling. “You’re gonna have to help me Viv... Kneel on their legs, we have to pin them down.” He feared that in their half-aware state that if they used magical restraints they’d pull until they seriously injured themselves. “I know you’ve got my back. If you need to tap out and get better vantage to protect us, definitely do it, I just know that regardless of what pain relief I give them this isn’t going to be comfortable.”