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romanescu-atlas​:

“This….is what you do on your days off?” He shook his head. “You’re doing the same things you get paid to do…except not getting paid how is that at all fun or relaxing?” He snorted a little. “Apparently you’re making other peoples days off less enjoyable by doing all…that” he motioned with his hand. “Just open a window or something.”

“Indeed.” Bliss says with a huff. “On the contrary. It’s quite relaxing.” Resisting the sudden urge to roll her eyes, she snaps her surgical gloves off one by one, tucking them into her apron’s pouch. “Listen, it was a small error, is all... I spilled some formaldehyde in my office, and...” She trails off. “It doesn’t matter, okay. I took care of it.” She barks. “My windows have BEEN open. Do you think I’m an absolute dunce?” A beat. “I’ll burn some incense, okay? Now, this roadkill isn’t going to undead itself. Unless you have something more to interrogate me over.”

[ofpostmortem]

liviahq​:

honestly, livia was in deep shit, she had forgotten to put the fabric samples on victoria’s desk and after a frantic phone call from one of the other interns she was desperately trying to fix the situation. she was texting everyone she knew that might still be at the office as she paced the lobby. she should have been paying more attention, but she was one hundred and seventy percent focused on her phone screen. “someone, someone..” she pleaded with the device. she was ready to create a shrine and beg whatever higher beings were out there to help her out. or at least, it was a passing thought until she was knocked sideways. “oh my gosh, i am so sorry.” livvy burst out quickly, only sparing a quick glance at her cellular device which was now on the ground and deciding to leave it there. clearly this was a sign. she needed to come back to the world around her. however, that thought was fleeting at the other’s words and her world became dark when she clasped her hands over her eyes. “supper is one of my favourite meals. i would very much like to digest it and not see whatever gross thing it is you have that might put me off it. actually, i don’t think i would want to see anything that would put me off food at any point in the day – not just supper. you know? all the meals are good and equally important.”

As the other goes on and on, Bliss continues to gather crime scene photos, a huff of exasperation escaping her lips. She’s never been one for small talk. She’s always preferred to keep quiet company - preferably company that doesn’t breathe at all, let alone ramble like the woman standing before her now. “Yeah... GREAT.” She musters up quietly, organizing on her knees with nimble fingers. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Bliss’ upper lip curls as she shifts to stand, gently pushing the girl’s phone toward her with a heel clad foot as she hugs her files closely to her flat chest. “Coast is clear.” 

[ofpostmortem]

romanescu-atlas​:

“Well..at least you’re alive, that’s a step in the right direction.” He noted as he spotted the woman peeking through the crack in the door. “Yes ma’am fire department.” He nodded, pointing to the symbol on his shirt. “Oh…kay. Wow” He raised a brow as she stepped into sight in gloves, an apron and crooked glasses. “You know when you say that and then have smells coming from your place it’s sort of panic worthy or at least concerning” He pointed out. “Direct that look elsewhere I’m just doing my job.”

Clearing her throat a bit, Bliss, wipes the gooey, tar-like substance off onto her apron, smearing it with ease as she purses her lips briefly, looking right through Atlas - not so much at him. “Very much alive... and BUSY.” She croaks with that unchanging, unreadable expression. “Can’t a lady just enjoy her day off in peace?” She inquires, brow quirking for a moment before her features relax once more. Being told to direct her cold stare elsewhere, she continues glaring. “What look? This is my face.” 

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@hqg-starts​

Returning from the precinct and parking her car, Bliss promptly steps out, opening the door to the back seat to recover a stack of files to hold flush against her chest, kicking the door closed quite loudly with a thud. With her kitten heels clicking against the pavement as she rounds the building to make her way up the steps of the brownstone and into the apartment building, she makes her usual stop at the mailboxes, back turned to any oncoming neighbors - until she suddenly turns on her heels to make her way through the lobby, her tiny frame jolting into someone as she’d removed her glasses to readjust to her visage, blurring her vision. With her files falling onto the floor in a piled mess, graphic autopsy photography spilling out along with hand written notes she’d taken from new cases she’d been assigned, she scoffs, glaring up at the other with a cautionary hand held out.  “I WOULDN’T look at that, if you want to digest your supper.” The pathologist warns, kneeling down to begin gathering her materials with the rolling of her eyes. “Fuck. I’ve got it.”

[ofpostmortem]

At first, the tiny woman peeks out from a crack she’s made in the door with the chain still intact. “The fire department, you say?” Clearing her throat, she purses her lips and closes the door to unlock each mechanism. Emerging from her apartment with the scent of chemicals, namely formaldehyde, wafting out as she slips from the crack in her door, clad in messy surgical gloves and a latex apron along with her glasses that have gone crooked upon the bridge of her nose, Bliss appears all too incriminating. “I told everyone NOT to panic.” She says in monotone, as usual, glaring up at Atlas with a cold stare. 

Of all the strange calls he’d received while at work, he’d never had any of them lead him back to his own apartment building. Shaking his head as he knocked on the door. “Uh….hello? Anyone home?” He called as he tappeda few more times. “I’m from the fire department, we got a call about some concerning smells that seem to be coming from this apartment?” He added. “Is everyone okay in there?”

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[ofpostmortem]

phoenixflare​:

“Of course it has seatbelts; I don’t think cars are legally allowed not to have them anymore,” Phoenix pointed.  “And it has airbags too.  It’s not like I added those fire tubes to it or anything; I just fixed it up a little bit.”  He paused to take a step back.  Did it really look that bad?  “Maybe that’s due to your morbid job.”

“Hm. You said it yourself, the bucket of bolts was old.” She protests. giving him a once over.  “Classic cars like this very seldom have seatbelts... it’s why I’d prefer to drive my up to date Volvo, thank you very much.” A huff escapes her. “Now, unless you’d like to waste any more of my time, macho man...”

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phoenixflare​:

Nix watched her bemused, absently rubbing the heel of his palm across his face after she drew her hand back, pulling a slight face.  “This is not a death trap - gas guzzler, maybe, but that one is a little out of my wheelhouse.  Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s gonna blow up or anything!  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Listen... I don’t particularly care what it is.” She says bluntly, with that usual monotone voice of hers, and blank, unreadable expression. “If I get into this car, there are several factors I need to take into account. Does it even have seat belts?” Bliss grumbles, upper lip curling as her hues dart from the firebird, to Phoenix. “My sense of adventure? I’m afraid I don’t possess that. Precisely due to the fact that I’d much rather keep my life.”

[ofpostmortem]

Files tucked securely under her arm, Bliss gracefully comes down the steps outside of the building only to be called out to, catching her attention. She purses her lips at Phoenix, taking note of that scruffy look he’s got about him, and takes a few slow steps closer to him with a bit of a sigh, using her index to swipe grease from his cheek. Glancing down at the sticky substance as she rolls it between her nimble fingers, she quirks a brow, directing her eyes back up at him. “Busy, perhaps. A drive? In that DEATH TRAP you call a vehicle?” 

With the weather getting nicer, Nix was practically vibrating with excitement to get back to working on his car, finally swapping out the one he had been using all winter for the Firebird he had been fixing up for what felt like eons at this point.  The street was quiet enough, and despite the fact that he had grease speckled across his face, he was dying to take it out for a spin.

“Hey - you busy?”  He spotted one of the other Golden residence exiting the building, grin wide.  “You wanna come on a drive with me?” @hqg-starts​

[ofpostmortem]

was that 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐙 taking the stairs ? the 𝟑𝟔 year old 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐓 has lived in 𝐀𝐏𝐓 𝟖𝐃 for 𝟕 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒. i heard they’re pretty 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄, but some say they’ve been 𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐓𝐄. they’re pretty well known for 𝐓𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒, 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑, 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐒.

Dr. Bliss Constanza Ortiz is a forensic pathologist with the NYPD, performing autopsies and determining the cause of death in victims laid upon her metal table. She’s well respected in her field, but often looked upon as an odd egg for her strange behaviors such as a lack of facial expressions and emotion, her over use of sarcasm that leads people to question whether it’s actually sarcasm, and her strange, morbid hobbies such as taxidermy and the collection of cursed objects.

Bliss, despite her name, is anything but blissful. She’ll tell you to blame her hippie parents for the mishap that is her first name. Often, she’d much rather be referred to as Dr. Ortiz. 

While growing up with a loving mother and father, Bliss seemed to be a normal child, until the age of six, when her older sister went missing. She didn’t understand what happened, or what was going on. Her parents made sure to shelter her far more after the disappearance, and for years, the Ortiz family desperately searched for Rosaline, until seven years later, when an anonymous tip came through. With that, police were able to locate remains, and from then on, Bliss was obsessed with the idea of solving tragedies through morbidity.

Bliss lost most sense of humor throughout her unfortunate childhood, mostly enjoying books and her studies. In high school, she excelled, though she had quite the temper(though concealed by her cool exterior, and difficult to detect if serious or sarcastic). She managed to receive scholarships not only to her choice school but to her safety school as well, attending Stanford University for biology in undergrad, and receiving her doctorate at Harvard university years later in pathology. 

Being referenced to the NYPD for her outstanding work and impressive thesis, she began working her way up in the morgue a year after moving into the apartments. She’s thriving, but quite the insomniac.

If you see her in the halls, it’s best to assume she isn’t interested in chatter. 

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