#my first walking without a walker. trying to fake my good health

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

either i picked literally the worst time to move apartments or i picked literally the worst time to have emergency open abdominal surgey

[rainy-day-gracie]

Old Friends 8

So I’ve decided to make the last two chapters of this series like a two part finale almost. 9 and 10 will be the last chapters of Old Friends :(

But I do have more in the works, so don’t cry! Just enjoy this fluffy chapter with Spencer and the team. :))

Spencer Reid x Reader

Chapter 8:

JJ grabbed me by the arm as soon as I walked into the bullpen. 

“Explain to me why Henry is telling me that, I quote, ‘Uncle Spencer is in love with the smart lady.’?”

I just stared at her with wide eyes. “Um, I don’t know, maybe you should ask Spencer.” I tried to get away without grinning, but she kept her grip on my arm, a sly smirk on her face. 

“When you guys babysat Henry he definitely picked up on your flirty little banter, and now he’s constantly talking about how Spencer is so in love with you.” JJ let go of my arm and gave me a knowing glance. 

I was trying to keep from laughing hysterically. “How old is Henry?”

“He’s three.” 

Calming myself down, I walked past her to my desk. “JJ, I’m just going to be honest…” I looked her in the eye, faking seriousness. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

She gave a groan of frustration as Prentiss and Garcia walked past. “What are we talking about?” Prentiss saddled up next to me. “Are we talking about how you and Reid are totally hooking up?”

Garcia gasped. “Yesterday I heard them talking about their favorite French movies… the language of love!”

I raised my hands in the air in mock surrender. “Oh, you caught me! We were talking to each other, whoa!”

All three of the women rolled their eyes, and I could tell they weren’t leaving until they actually got something juicy. 

I sighed. “Okay, I’ve spent the night at his place a few times. Nothing happened,” I added quickly after seeing their scandalized faces. “We just eat ice cream and I crash on his couch. After what happened a few months ago, sometimes it’s hard to be alone.”

They all looked suspicious, but eventually they dropped it. 

I didn’t tell them the total truth, but they didn’t need to know details. 

Yes, we’ve kissed a few times, so what?

After a few minutes of working at my desk, a fresh coffee appeared next to me, and Spencer quickly was walking away. I giggled softly, watching him wink at me from across the bullpen. 

I heard Morgan snort as he was walking up behind my desk. “What, Morgan?” 

“Something fishy is going on with you and pretty boy over there,” Morgan pointed over to where Spencer was sorting through different files. 

“Something fishy? We’re old friends, you know that.” 

Morgan smirked, clearly unconvinced. “Old friends, my ass.”

We all came to attention when we saw Garcia power walking across the catwalk in her heels. “Minions of the BAU, you have a case!”

__

The stunt that I pulled, ignoring Hotch, happened almost a month ago and he was still pissed. I could read it on his face, and it was almost comical to see this normally stone cold leader so heated. 

“I think Dad is still mad at me,” I whispered to Prentiss, and she laughed out loud, drawing the attention of everyone in the briefing room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Spencer with his little sweet puppy smile, the smile he wore when he was happy. 

“Ladies and gents, you are going to San Francisco where there have been three very strange murders, I direct your attention to the photos,” Garcia pointed to the screen. 

She wasn’t lying, the murders were extremely strange. One crime scene appeared to be in a tunnel with a male and female victim. The other crime scene was a medieval execution, a woman hanged using a classic noose. Suicide was ruled out given that her hands and feet were bound and her apartment showed signs of a struggle. All of the victims were in fancy medieval clothing, corsets and all.  

“The only thing connecting all of these kills is the elaborate costumes. Clearly our unsub has a flair for the dramatic. He wants these bodies to be found.” Spencer looked over at me as I cleared my throat. 

“There’s something familiar about these murders, I just can’t put my finger on it.” Looking at the photos, something was ringing in my head but I couldn’t figure out what it was. “Probably the work of a single unsub, the medieval wardrobes practically screams individuality.”

“What I’m worried about is the rate of kills. Two victims in three days is almost a nonexistent cooling off period.” Hotch stood up and scanned the room. “Wheels up in 20. Reid, come see me for a moment.”

Spencer shot me a glance and followed Hotch into his office. 

“That can’t be good.” I muttered to JJ, and she nodded inn agreement.  

__

“So he stabbed the female victim at the first crime scene, and poisoned the male. Those are two completely different MOs.” Everyone was still puzzled at the crime scenes on the plane. Morgan had almost an angry look on his face. “And he hangs the single female? It doesn’t make sense.”

I shook my head. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen this before.’

Prentiss raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think any of us have seen anything like this before.”

Spencer was sitting in the window seat next to me, surprisingly not saying anything. At the back of my mind I wanted to ask him about what Hotch called him in for. 

“I never thought I would get to kiss you again,” Spencer whispered gently. His arm around my shoulders on his couch felt so much like home I forgot that we were also coworkers. 

“Well, you did, so it’s okay,” I smiled up at him and turned back to the TV. In these few short weeks of being a couple again of sorts, my mental health has improved more than in the last six months. Someone would touch me and I wouldn’t flinch anymore, and the nightmares of that damn basement lessened. 

Everything was so easy with Spencer. There was still the same connection of kindred spirits we’ve had since college, and we would talk about the most random, nerdy subjects.

Damn, he made me happy. So, so happy. 

“Everything good?” I murmured to Spencer on the plane. 

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Spencer gave me a reassuring side smile as Hotch began giving assignments. 

“Prentiss, Morgan go to the latest dump site. Look through it in the killer’s eyes. YLN, Reid, go to the station and interview families. Rossi and I will go to the ME. JJ, take care of the press.”

I suddenly got it. Hotch was putting Spencer in to babysit me. That’s what they were talking about. I gave Spencer a look, and he glanced away awkwardly. 

__

“So the first two victims were Rosie Greenlin and Tom Janney, they were both in their early twenties, dating, college students.” I shook my head as I walked up to Spencer. “Parents don’t know anything except that Rosie and Tom were in love, clear as day.”

Spencer sighed as he scanned the crime scene photos. “Betty Wright came from a wealthy family, and her parents say she’s always been very outspoken but kind.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Rosie and Tom both came from wealthy families as well. Could he be targeting the rich?” 

Spencer shrugged, out of ideas for now.

“Hey, did Hotch pull you aside so he could tell you to babysit me?” One look on Spencer’s face told me yes. “He’s afraid I’ll go rogue again.”

Spencer looked guilty and spoke slowly. “He’s just making sure that you don’t…”

I raised my eyebrows when Spencer trailed off. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m not mad, I just wanted to know, that’s all.”

A police officer came into the room as I finished speaking. “There’s another one. Dylan Walker, stabbed then submerged in liquid. But here’s the weird part, he was submerged in a barrel of wine.”

Spencer pulled out his phone. “We need to get everyone here. We’re not going to catch this guy by splitting up.”

__

After everyone got back to the station, we ordered food and threw out ideas. 

“It’s probably this guy’s first time killing, could the varied MO just mean he’s seeing what he likes?” Morgan had the same puzzled expression from earlier, as did most of the team. “Betty Wright was found hanging from a tree on an isolated hill and the coroner said she’d only been there about an hour.”

Spencer shifted in his seat and moved his hands. “The dump sites seem to be crucial to his fantasy, but we just don’t know why.”

I hadn’t said anything since the team got back. “Oh my god,” I whispered, looking at the crime scene photos. “A malmsey butt… a public execution… two deaths in a tunnel…”

The team just stared at me. “What is it, YFN?” Spencer asked. 

I tapped him on the arm, completely astounded that I figured it out. “Remember when we went to see King Lear in college?”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Cordelia was executed by hanging.”

I nodded at him, standing up and looking at the team. “She was executed because she valued love over property, so her father killed her. Betty Wright was known to be very outspoken. Clarence in Richard III was stabbed then submerged in a malmsey butt, or a barrel of wine. Romeo and Juliet both died in an underground tomb, Romeo poisoned himself and Juliet stabbed herself. Rosie and Tom died in a sewage drain underground in the exact same ways.”

“He’s recreating the written deaths of Shakespeare,” JJ concluded. 

“The medieval clothing ties all of it together, the costumes he puts his victims in were common among royalty in Shakespeare’s time.” I looked to Hotch, who wore a microscopic smile on his face. Good job, he seemed to say. 

__

The unsub was Devin McCoy, a former Shakespeare director who lost his job two weeks ago for assaulting one of his actors. Hotch insisted that I stay at the station while they made the arrest, and I grudgingly obliged. Devin came with little resistance, saying that he was creating the art that his actors couldn’t. The whole thing looked like a bad movie when they dragged him into the station. 

Hotch pulled me aside as we were packing up. 

“YLN, I have to say that you did a fantastic job in this case. You saw something in the murders that no one else did, and we would’ve been here a lot longer without you.” I fought the urge to happy cry. Hotch has never complimented me like that. 

“Thank you Hotch. Does that mean Spencer doesn’t have to babysit me anymore?” I asked hopefully. “I have the green light again?”

Hotch gave me a rare smile. “Yes, you have the green light again.”

__

The plane ride was quiet. We took off at midnight, and with the five hour flight, we were all dreading the next day at work. 

I was sitting next to Spencer, who was reading Romeo and Juliet. “How can you read that after the case we just had?”

He looked up and shrugged. “Last time I read this play was in Spanish, so I figured I would read the original English instead.”

I gave him big doe eyes and made a pitched tone. “Oh, Spencer! Spencer! Wherefore art thou Spencer?”

He chuckled and turned away from me. Across the plane, I saw JJ and Prentiss laughing to themselves, most likely at our dorkiness. I smiled and winked at them. 

“I know JJ and Prentiss are watching, otherwise I would kiss you.” Spencer whispered to me, still looking down at his book. 

“Who cares about JJ and Prentiss?” 

His eyes shot up to mine, trying to see if I was joking or not. I gave a devilish smirk, and he laced his hand in my hair. 

Spencer kissed me sweetly, and we pulled away when we heard the applause of everyone on the plane.

“Finally!” Rossi exclaimed. “I’ve been pretending to sleep for 45 minutes!”

@itsarayofsunshine @thesailbells  @squirrellover1967  @softpeteparker @parkeroffline

[frisbee-camp]

Let Me Help

AO3 Link//Wattpad Link

Tj and Cyrus have been friends for a long time, but will that change after life comes crashing down and impulsive decisions catch up to them? (Angst, Ambi, love notes, slow burn, aged up so they're all in high school, god tier ships, mental health, and like a whole bunch more ladies! Let’s get this angst.)

Chapter 11 Reconciliation 

Whenever Cyrus got a little too depressed, his friends tended to micromanage his life. He loved them, he really did, but sometimes they were overwhelming. Cyrus had wanted to visit Tj during his suspension, but his friends had planned something for every day of the week. During school, they pulled him away whenever he saw TJ. They had even gone so far as to make sure he wasn't texting him, all he could do was lurk on his social media. Cyrus knew they only meant to protect him, but he could take care of himself. He didn't need a babysitter, and yet, he did whatever they said. Cyrus had worried about TJ, he worried so much it hurt. He knew TJ had lost his friend group, and now that the GHC had stopped talking to him, Cyrus worried that TJ had no one at all. Cyrus had thought about visiting his house, the swingset, the kid's gym, anywhere he knew TJ would be, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He could barely get himself out of bed every morning. Cyrus was frustrated with himself, he wanted to do so many things, but he just couldn't. It was as if all of his courage had been drained from him. He didn't know who he was anymore. But, Cyrus still hoped TJ would find him, wherever he was. He hoped to see his over-gelled hair in the hallways, his smile at The Spoon, his weird basketball hoodies in the cafeteria, but he didn't. He missed their late night face time calls, he missed receiving goodnight texts with random emojis, he missed having someone who understood him without words. Cyrus had begun to lost hope, until one day he saw his dumb stiff hair during a passing period. He knew TJ didn't see him, but his heart still lifted. That was when he wrote the note he had quickly given him last week. "Cy, do you like this one?" Andi said, they were at the Winter Market on 3rd, they showed Cyrus an ornament with a tiny snowman inside. Cyrus couldn't help but notice how suffocated the snowman looked. "Uh huh," Cyrus said as he twirled his phone in his hand. It was 5 already and he hadn't seen TJ yet. If Andi and Buffy were right, and Tj really did like him, then he would have been here by now right? Cyrus hoped TJ would show up soon because Jonah and Walker had started getting on his nerves. Walker kept buying Jonah scarves and Jonah kept showing those disgustingly cute dimples, it made Cyrus roll his eyes. Andi was busy talking with a merchant about the benefits of fair trade and Amber played with the ruffles on her sweater. Buffy and Marty were off drinking apple cider and trying on hats. Only Cyrus was left without someone to talk to, so he trailed behind Andi and Amber, either they knew about his gloom or chose to ignore it altogether. The friends wandered around the market, picking up nicknacks and taking pictures. Cyrus gave his best fake smile for their Snapchat stories, but it was obvious that being the seventh wheel did not help his self-esteem. Cyrus had found himself distracted by pocketwatches while his friends ordered more apple cider. He thought about buying one for himself, or TJ, or anyone really, but he just didn't have the energy to reach for his wallet. He sighed softly and wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, the wind was brutal this time of year. He tried warming his ears with his palms, but it just wasn't enough. He was freezing. After a little while in the kiosk, Cyrus noticed that he hadn't heard his friends voices in a while, he searched the crowd and saw them at a picknick table on the other side of the market, they gave him a tiny wave, he returned the favor. Cyrus kept wandering around the market alone and cold. He found himself in a kiosk selling cute earmuffs, he picked up ones that looked like the tail of a fluffy animal, he grinned and breathed in the icy air. He realized that it was the first time his friends had left him alone for more than five minutes, he breathed out. "Those are nice," the person next to him said. Cyrus looked up and up and saw TJ, slightly heaving with rosy cheeks. Cyrus thought he was having a heart attack. "They are aren't they?" Cyrus smiled slightly and felt TJ tenderly take the earmuffs from his hands. Tj walked to the cashier and bought them, he came back and gently placed them around Cyrus' ears. Cyrus blinked up at him. "You didn't have to do that," Cyrus blushed, his ears felt much warmer, and so did his heart. TJ shrugged and looked out of the kiosk towards the crowd. "Are your friends with you?" TJ asked, Cyrus noticed that TJ looked more nervous than usual, he kept scratching behind his ear. Cyrus put his hand on Tj's to stop him from scratching, "Don't worry about them, thanks for coming. I wanted to see how you were doing." Cyrus took his hand away, he realized that he had left it there for too long. Tj's nose pinked, "I'm fine," he said, "I'm sorry about, you know-" "Reverting back to your ruffian nature?" Cyrus joked, it was the first joke he'd told in a while. TJ smirked and rolled his eyes as he looked away.  "I guess," he said as he raised his eyebrows, "I tried calling you, I wanted to make sure I didn't mess you up or anything..." "I'm not fragile," some of the color had returned to Cyrus' face. "I know, but..." TJ said, thinking. He couldn't come up with a good excuse. "You messed up. So what?" Cyrus said, grinning a little. "So, you're not mad?" "I don't know TJ, I guess I'm just confused," Cyrus said. It was true, he didn't know what he wanted, he didn't know if he really liked TJ or just the idea of him. "Yea," Tj said, "Me too" They stood side by side like that for a while, trying on gloves and hats and scarfs and things. Cyrus had ignored his phone, he didn't want to know what his friends wanted from him. He was too busy laughing with TJ to notice time passing, Cyrus had never felt more like himself. He was at ease, but he was also afraid. He found himself feeling light and airy around him, he was sure he would have floated away if it weren't for TJ. But, he knew he wanted more, he had never wanted to hold a hand more than he did at that moment, but he didn't know if he had the heart to ask TJ for anything more than what they already had. So, he did the next best thing and held onto his arm, he didn't want to ruin things. The two of them had decided to walk around the Market, it had started to lightly snow but Cyrus didn't really care. TJ had bought him earmuffs. "We should get hot cocoa," TJ said confidently as they passed a stand. Cyrus smiled and nodded. Once they got their hot cocoa and found a table away from where he had last seen his friends, Cyrus felt more nervous than ever. He looked down and traced the lid of his cup, he quietly said, "Why do you keep hitting people?" TJ didn't answer for a long time. "I don't know," TJ finally whispered. Cyrus didn't respond, he knew TJ had more to say. TJ looked around the market and wiped some snowflakes off of the sleeves of his jacket, "I guess," he started and looked at Cyrus, "I guess I just, I don't know. Amber says I don't know how to express my emotions." Cyrus nodded. "Do you think you need someone to help you with that?" Cyrus asked, slightly squeezing the arm he'd been holding for more than an hour. He had his head on TJ's shoulder. Tj shrugged and said, "I should, but we only have enough money for Amber to go to therapy you know?" Cyrus nodded and sighed. "I wish I could help," Cyrus said. "Thank you," TJ said, "You know, being alone for almost a month made me realize how important you are to me. Cyrus smiled, "Me?!" "Yes, you." "That is so sappy TJ! Who knew you were such a softie," Cyrus had made TJ blush. "Whatever," Tj said as he smiled an rolled his eyes, "How's your dog?" "Don't change the subject T, we were talking about how soft you are." "Okay, so I'm soft? So what? I like fluffy blankets and picknicks and like kittens and stuff..." Tj looked away, obviously embarrassed. Cyrus swooned. "What other soft things do you like Mr. Bully?" Cyrus asked grinning. He felt giddy. Maybe he did like TJ. "I don't know," Tj held onto his hot cocoa, Cyrus put his chin on his shoulder grinning like a little kid. "Tell me one more and I'll leave you alone." Tj sighed and thought to himself. This gave Cyrus enough time to count all his freckles. 13 "I guess I like to make pillow forts and big romantic gestures like in the movies you know? When they announce their love from the rooftops. And I like love notes and goodnight texts..." TJ breathed out. "That is the cheesiest thing I have ever heard in my life," Cyrus smiled wide, "I love it." They looked at each other, Cyrus put his head on his shoulder again. "Who knew Tyler James was a romantic," Cyrus grinned. TJ laughed a little and nudged Cyrus a bit. Cyrus looked up at him, there were snowflakes in his eyelashes, "You don't have gel in your hair today" Cyrus said, furrowing his brows a bit. TJ smiled and said, "Yea, I ran out. Do you think it's worse like this?" "No, I think it's cute." Cyrus smiled and reached to comb his fingers through it, "It's sooo fluffy oh my godd" He giggled and realized that he had used his left hand, the one that wasn't holding his arm. They were so close Cyrus could smell the detergent on him. He saw TJ look down and away. His breath slowed down and he bit his lip. His heart raced. "I-" "CYRUS THERE YOU ARE," Buffy ran up to them panting, she looked at TJ and scowled, she angry whispered "What. Are. You. Doing. We've talked about this." Cyrus looked around and saw all of his friends frowning at him. He had had enough. "Okay! You know what you guys, I know you're trying to help, but come on! I can take care of myself, Okay? I don't need a babysitter, I just wanted to see him! That shouldn't be a crime." Cyrus noticed that he was standing now, everyone looked at him dumbfounded. It was the most he had said in a month. "Cyrus," Buffy stammered and looked around at their friends, "we-" "You what! TJ makes me feel like myself! Is that horrible?? Am I now a bad person?!" Cyrus was fuming. He didn't know where this courage was coming from, but he glanced at TJ for support. "Dude," everyone turned towards Jonah, who was speaking under at least five scarves and was still holding Walkers hand, "I'll talk to them" Cyrus was confused as he saw Jonah wrangle his friends into a circle. He sat back down next to TJ who immediately had his arm around him, "Hey," TJ said, "Are you alright? I can go if your friends don't like me, I don't want to, like, cause any stress and stuff." "No," Cyrus said, looking at his friends being lectured by Jonah, they were too far away to hear, "don't, I'm sick of them meddling in my life." TJ stayed by Cyrus' side. He saw Amber nodding along with Jonah and adding something to the conversation. When they came back, Cyrus had lost most of his energy, Tj dropped his arm from Cyrus' shoulder, and it had stopped snowing. "Okay," Andi finally said as they sat down at TJ and Cyrus' table, "We understand that you guys are," they looked at Amber, "very good friends, but we just want to make sure you're okay Cyrus." They took Cyrus' hand in their own, "We love you so much and we don't want anyone to hurt you." Cyrus nodded, "And after a very intense argument from Jonah, we now understand that things are complicated and such and after hearing from Amber, we were reminded that people can change, even if it looks like they can't" Andi flicked their eyes to TJ, "so-" "SOOo, we're taking away the TJ ban and he's invited to the Christmas party," Buffy added, slinking towards Marty. Cyrus was left dumbfounded, he didn't think that would work at all. "Really?" He asked. His friends nodded. "Dosh," Jonah said smiling.

[coyoteann]

Coyote Ann Profile 1, Ann.

This "Character Sheet" Was edited from Fyuvix's awesome one on DA, here's a link and disclaimer.

https://www.deviantart.com/thirdpotato/art/Character-Profile-Form-36823983

Adaptations from The Writer's Guide to Character Traits © Fyuvix. To fill out your own form, please see fyuvix.deviantart.com

Basic Statistics

Name: Annette Walker Nickname: Coyote Ann Age: 17 Sex: Female Blood type: O+ Nationality: American, Kansas Ethnicity: American, 'Southern' Race: White (Caucasian) Sexual Orientation: Unknown Birth date: 10-4-1997 Birth place: Iberia Medical Center, New Iberia, Louisiana Current residence: Transient. Occupation: Drifter. Title/Rank: None Hobbies/Pastimes: Sight-Seeing, Hunting, Motorbike Maintainance. Talents/Skills/Powers: Skilled at Tracking, Basic Auto Repair of Motorcycles, Fluent in ASL

History

Hometown: Andover, Kansas First Memory: Her Mother reading a book to her. Most important childhood event that still affects him/her: Mother and Father teaching her States and Capitols. Why/How? The Memory has given her a wanderlust. She's now subconsciously seeking out things to jog more memories. Other memories/events that still affects him/her and why/how: She remembers the old family dog, how she'd loved it and missed it after it died. She uses this memory to quell her emotions after losing her family. Past failures s/he would be embarrassed to have people know about and why: Teaching herself to drive a large truck. It was a slow process and she had many wrecks. She ultimately failed and hates that she never got a handle on it. Biggest role model: Her Father. Why? He was a major outdoorsman. Due to the various ailments of his eldest son he was unable to share his interests with him, instead, he took to showing everything he loved to Ann.

Physical Characteristics

Height: 5"2' (157.4 cm) Weight: 108.7lbs (49.3Kg) Posture: Defensive, Bold, Direct Build: She's thin, but her body has become toned from constant use. Athletic. Skin: Tanned, reddish splotches on her shoulders, cheeks, neck, and back. Darker freckles scattered across the face and lightly on arms. Hair: Reddish-Chestnut, slightly darker if she's outside more. The style is long, shaggy, sweaty (usually) and left loose. She wants to cut it shorter. Widow's peak? Yes, not very prominent, usually covered by her unruly bangs. Ears: Mild point, no lobe Eyes: Greenish-Grey Nose: Nose is flat, pointed upward slightly Mouth: She holds a smirk when resting her face, because of this her mouth looks like it pulls to the right slightly. Her lips are plain, thin. Face shape: Soft Round Diamond shape. Expressions: Her face is usually smirked. She relaxes into a smile even now. She picked it up from her dad. Describe their smile: Usually pulling to the right. A grin just exposes her teeth. Hands: Her hands are noted by long semithin fingers, and scars on her wrists and knuckles. Feet: Her shoe size is 6 (US) (4 UK) Tattoos/Scars? She has notable scars on her wrists, knuckles, right abdomen, and a thin one on her neck just above her collarbone. The Scar on her neck is definitely older and more faded than the others. Glasses/Contacts? No. She's slightly nearsighted but does not compensate. Left/Right handed? Right. Distinguishing features: She has a very noticeable glare. Who does s/he take after; mother or father? Mother/Paternal Grandmother. (She only has her father's smile) Style (Elegant, shabby, etc): Shabby-Travel Worn How does s/he dress or what do they typically wear? Jeans, depressed. Long sleeve cotton shirt with CAKE band logo, dirty and worn. Jacket, Leather. Other outfits one might find in their wardrobe: She carries a spare pair of Jeans and a long leather coat(duster style). Jewelry: none. Other accessories: none. Weapons: Pistol (temporary), Knife (in her bag), and Rifle (unacquired as of this draft) Health: Good considering. Frequently enters phases of malnourishment. Hygiene: She showers when able, usually goes several days without.

Are they generally balanced or clumsy? Usually balanced, but easily knocked off kilter. Mannerisms/Poses/Movement: Hums when working, Tends to lean on things, Walks in a direct manner. Describe their walk: She walks with purpose. Strong direct strides. Describe their fighting style: She prefers to shoot her prey but is capable in a fight. She knows some basic self-defense and is capable with a knife. Habits/OCDs/Obsessions: Pending at this time. Speech Patterns: She usually has a curt and direct voice. Unique phrases/words: None, Really. Do they curse, and if so, to what extent? Mildly Write a piece of dialogue that this character might say (can be between someone else): "I don't rightly care about what they're doing." "No I'm not gonna shoot them." "Okay, fine, I MIGHT shoot them. Now stop signing I can't think when you're talking." Voice: raspy (from dehidration) Mellow-High (Slightly Nasal, Husky but still light.) ((I imagine her sounding like Audrey Hepbern with a cold or allergy lol)) Describe their laugh: Deep and "Chuckly" usually, when she is caught off guard a light higher laugh will escape. Describe their sleep patterns (light/heavy sleeper, no sleep, sleeps too often, etc): Light sleeper, will put off sleep as long as possible. She has nightmares often. Describe their dwelling/house: none Describe their bedroom: none Describe their daily rituals: Moving.

Psychological/Personality Attributes and Attitudes

Intelligence Level: 9th Grade Public School Known Languages: English/Bad English Character's long-term goals/desires in life: Current Goal, Make it to New Iberia, Louisiana. Character's short-term goals/desires in life: Survival. Secret desires: She holds out hope that her family isn't actually dead. How self-confident is the character? Very, in a "fake it til you make it" way. She's confident out of necessity. How do they see him/herself? Alone, pitiful, and desperate. How do they believe s/he is perceived by others? She doesn't think of it often, when she does it's usually in a negative light. What is the character most proud of? Escaping Missouri. What does the character like least about themselves? her overall weakness to the situation she's in. How do they express themselves? Direct, watchful, no-nonsense. Is this character generally dominant or submissive? Dominant. Patience level: on a scale of 1-10 she's around an 8. Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? She's usually very logical, but she has limits where her emotions escape through. Most at ease when: Near water, Alone but not lonely. Ill at ease when: She knows there are people near, but doesn't know who or where they are. She doesn't handle suspense well. Describe their sense of humor: Dry, Scornful. If granted one wish, what would it be? "Bring back my family." Why? She ties all her misery to their disappearance/deaths. Character/Personality/Mental/Social Strengths: Great under pressure overall. Character/Personality/Mental/Social Flaws: Awful with negotiations. If they could be described with one of the seven virtues, which would it be? Diligence If they could be described with one of the seven sins, which would it be? Anger Biggest Vulnerability (non-physical): She's pretty weak attacks on children and animals when she's not directly targeted. Optimist or Pessimist: Pessimist due to circumstances, Optimist despite themselves. Introvert or extrovert: Introvert. Greatest Fear: Causing the death of others or dying alone without ever knowing what happened to her family. Other Fears/Insecurities/Phobias:  She's terrified of Goats. Biggest regret: Not telling her family how much she loved them. Other regrets: Joining with certain groups, shooting a kid when escaping capture. Biggest accomplishment: Surviving the first winter. Minor accomplishments: Traveling from Missouri to southern Arkansas (at this point) alone despite the dangers. Musical talents/instruments: none at all. Character's darkest/deepest secret: She shot a kid who was trying to kidnap her. She was defending herself but it still haunts her.

Likes/Dislikes

Likes: Chocolate, Classic Rock, and Dogs Dislikes: Goats, Snakes, 'moist' cookies.

Favorite

Color: Rose-Gold Clothing: Leather, she loves the 80's punk style. Place: Still Looking. Room in the house and why: Used to be the Front Sitting room, she'd watch movies with her mother there. Food/drinks: Soda (Pepsi) Music genre: Classic Rock, Alt Rock, Classic Country, Rockabilly, CAKE (band) Songs and Singers/Bands: Short Skirt Long Jacket- Cake Movies/TV Shows/Performances: Sabrina(Film) Actors/Performers: None Book(s): Where the Red Fern Grows Historical figure: Elizabeth Garret Anderson Subject in school: P.E. Animal: Dog

Least Favorite

Clothing: Shoes. Place: Missouri (Branson) Food: Cabbage Music genre: EDM, Hip-Hop Subject in school: English

Simple Pleasures: Putting feet in water after a long walk. Greater Pleasures: Finding an orchard that has continued to produce fruit. Where does this character like to hang out?  N/A Where is this character's dream place to live? Anywhere that's actually safe. What sorts of books are most likely to be found on their shelves? Manuals. Motto/Personal quote: "One Day at a Time." Mode of transportation: Feet, Motorcycle, Abbot's Van Most prized possession: Her Jacket. Why? It was her Brother's.

Emotional Characteristics

Describe character's sense of morals: Take what you can, but don't hurt anyone if able. Survival before Ethics. If they could sum up the meaning of life, what would they say?: To live. Describe character's etiquette: Poor. Undisciplined. Describe character's sense of self-control: Fairly good, she's able to keep her emotions in check most of the time. She's not impulsive. Spontaneous or structured? Structured but with very mild Flexibility. Instinctual or logical? Logic first. How does this character act in public? Quiet but Direct. How does this character act in privacy? Shy, kind, inviting. How does this character act around strangers vs. how they act around friends? She'll literally take out a stranger if she feels threatened. How does(did) this character act around family? She acted open, happy, energetic. How has this character most changed from youth? She's become cynical and less empathetic. How have they remained the same? She still has a deep core of hopefulness that she cannot shake. Has this character dealt with the loss of someone they knew? Yes If so, who? Mother, Father, Brother. How has it affected them? well, she...attempted suicide before joining a gang and defecting and running away to Arkansas...she's really not FELT it yet.

How does this character deal with or react to: Conflict/Danger: Head on, fight or fight. Rejection: "YEAH WELL I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO" -sniff- Fear: FIGHT OR FIGHT. Change: Adapt or Die. Loss: Adapt to Die. Sex/Flirting: FIGHT or FIGHT!! Pain: Tries to ignore it. Stress: Tries to ignore that too. Peer pressure: Probably wouldn't trust strangers...but a friend could lead her on fairly well. Guilt: Repress it. Being wrong: Admit it, if she can. Being criticized: Starts off hot, but she'll reflect after a while. Being insulted (superficially: name calling, etc): "YOU WANNA FIGHT OVER IT?" Offending others: "I didn't offend you, you offended yourself...also I'm sorry..." Praise: Skepticism Being loved: N/A Being hated: N/A Humiliation: Swallows and tries to focus on something else.

How does this character express?

Anger: With her fists. Sadness: Repression. Fear: Running. (with or without fists.) Happiness/Excitement: Giggling. Love (Consider the "Five Languages of Love"): From most to least, Acts, Touch, Time, Gifts, Words. Lust: She actively avoids it. Stress/anxiety: She will panic...sometimes. Dislike (of a person, thing, or idea): Avoid/reject it. Approval (of a person, thing, or idea): Tries to help them, discuss it, or fix it.

Other

What song best fits this character? American Girl - Tom Petty If you could compare this character to an existing character, who would s/he be and why?  I'd compare her to...All those Jodi foster Tom Boy Roles...like seriously..just give Iris (Taxi Driver) a gun and an Inidana Jones complex. If you could choose an actor for this character, who would it be? Uh...I dunno? If you could choose a voice actor for this character, who would it be? See Above. Who/what was your character inspired by? Story; Me and a friend Driving to see a movie, get behind a girl on a motercycle. "Wouldn't it be funnly if she had a cat in those saddle bags?" "Cat's done to hell make it a dog." "Wolf?" "too big, Coyote."  and ta daaaa.

[sini-sterility]

Y’all finally get my backstory now.

@weaponizedhorse I FINISHED FINALLY

Alright motherfuckers, you asked for it; you're gonna fucking get it. You've finally unlocked Sini's tragic backstory.

Let's begin with the childhood depression due to intense emotion abuse and manipulation, causing me to try to kill myself, not once, but twice before the age of ten. However, it seems that my body liked the idea, because within two months of turning ten, my legs began to go numb, and I would experience random pain. I told the nurse at school; she didn't believe me. Stir this mixture of reckless negligence and bitchy old-lady nurse until two years have passed, and I am now completely paralyzed in constant literal agony 24/7, to the extent of not being able to sleep, stand, sit, lounge; you name it.

I wasn't nauseus, but the pain was so horrible that I would fake getting sick every day in order to stay home and not face the ridicule the least liked person in my entire school (I am honestly not exagerrating. I got into my school's spelling bee, and was the last 6th grader standing. They called your name, you stood up, waved to the crowd, and they cheered. They got to me, and I shit you not, less than 1/5th of the 6th grade class, none of the other students, and three teachers clapped, and that was as good as I got. Maybe I was annoying or something, I don't know. I was a very, very quiet kid, so I actually don't know what their deal was; there were much uglier people there than me, too) would get from acting like they can't feel their limbs or stand up, or be constantly hunched over in pain.

So I'd stay home with my dad and watch old cowboy shows, trying to ignore the pain. I remember how we treated it was Icy-Hot and a fuck-ton of Ibuprofen.

Eventually, my bullshit quack of a doctor finally clued in that, no, I was not just suffering from a particularly bad UTI. She actually fucking told us that I had a UTI. Because UTI's are reknown for causing pain so bad you literally can't think straight.

So, one day, a week after my 12th birthday (which was the saddest shit you've ever heard of; my mom made my favorite cake and my favorite food (Flan Cake and Chicken Curry), my Godmother was there with a bunch of books, I had a few really cool presents; my sister Shirley even got me a hair straightener at Goodwill, because I'd finally learned that thick curly hair with the mind of it's own (that mind being one of a psychopath) didn't stand a chance against hot iron. They sang happy birthday to me, and I remember that after they finished, I just put my head down on the table in cried. It was the single saddest moment of my life, aside from April (which is another can of worms all together, and very few people know about it).

Anyway, a few days after my mom took me to the doctor, and at this point I had given up on trying to present any semblence of an ability to walk or feel anything at all, so I was in a wheelchair. The doctor saw how much pain I was in (fucking finally), and that I truly felt no sensation anywhere, and immediately sent me to a Neurologist in Indy.

We got there an hour later, and the Neurologist took one look and ordered an emergency MRI – that turned out to be a very traumatizing experience, as the even more amplified pain (metal + back issues of the highest caliber + loud noises + bright flashing lights = Literal torture. To this day I can't go in MRI machines without being knocked out (But I secretly love it because I get to play a little game I like to call 'Resist'. It's basically the game they have you do where you count up to or down from 100, only you ask the Anesthesiologist to push the anesthetic in as slowly as possible, and start counting. When you start to feel it kicking in, you count as fast as possible. My record is 128 bitches <3).

They were only able to get 15 minutes of an MRI with me, before the panic and pain were too much for me and I started convulsing. After that, they checked me into the hospital overnight while they went over the results.

You know that shit's bad when the next day the ICU Oncologist comes in at 7 am the next morning to tell your mom that you need emergency surgery right away, but don't tell you why.

It turned out that I had stage 4 (better known as terminal) Neuroblastoma. There were three main problematic tumors; one that was slung over my left shoulder and attached to the upper left lobe of my lung (bigass motherfucker holy shit it was enormous. They had to cut out a piece of my lung to get ride of (most) it.), one the size of a softball pressing on my brain, just above the temple (They drilled my skull open, and scooped it off my scalp like a blob of strawberry preserves, which is what it looks like anyway btw. They were nice enough to honor a request I made, and take a picture of the tumor. BUT THEY DIDN'T FUCKING SEND IT TO ME, THEY SENT IT TO MY DAD VIA TEXT, AND WE ENDED UP LOSING THE DAMN THING >:O), and then the worst one; the mac daddy of Neuroblastoma tumors.

It was a long, thick, malignant tumor that had infused itself with my spine, and was subsequently cutting off my spinal cord – thus causing all of the pain and the paralysis and numbness. It gave me a hella sweet scar though, shit looks like a zipper along my spine!

After they removed what they could of the spinal tumor (which still to this day causes me a great deal of pain. I'm on 10 mgs of Oxycodine up to 6 times a day, and more often than not I need 7 pills in one day.), they told my parents that I had maybe two months to live. That they were going to send me home with them with a car full of all the medical supplies they could spare us, and that I was going to be very dead, very soon.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked when the third month rolled around and I was still alive – and learning how to walk again. It's taken me 6 years to be able to walk up and down stairs, and depending on the treatment or how long they keep me in the hospital, I occasionally still need my walker. (Sparkly red thing with little stickers all over it. I think we gave it to my grandma, but I'm not sure?) They upped my prognosis to 6 months and then it would be all over, but by then Obamacare went into effect, and that got the ball rolling for CHIPS, and that little thing that so many Americans hate because they “don't want to pay for a stranger's abortions!” (actual reason I was given once. I know that there are real reasons, but I still am okay with paying a little bit extra each month so that another kid who's like I was six years ago today, might have a chance to beat the odds in an overwhelming way. Again, that's just me, and I'm probably over simplifying the matter.), is most likely the main reason I'm still alive.

See, because I was accepted into two (or maybe three, I'm not sure?) forms of health insurance because of the Obamacare plan, I was able to begin treatments within almost a month of diagnosis. After four months passed, they began to fit and train me to use a wheelchair at home, as it was an impossibility that I would ever walk again (or use fine motor control for that matter).

Two months after that, just six months after being told I was already dead; six months of hellish PT and OT; six months of taking chemo and painkillers and throwing up blood – and I fucking walked out of that God forsaken hospital with my walker and my family.

That was six years ago. My body is still healing, and I've had plenty of physical and psychological horrors since ( ie. Kathleen aka 'The ex that raped me last year', my mother becoming even more abusive towards me, to the point of egging me on in cutting myself, and losing most of my cats because they were outdoor and we weren't around enough for most of them to want to stay, for starters. Fortunately, the one that did stay was my kitty, Alice. She moved into my current house with my dad and I after my dad won sole custody of me during their divorce (those two NEVER should have gotten married, they hate each other so fucking much.), and she's been a driving force in my will to live and fight ever since. The week she went missing was the most miserable week of my life.) the beginning, but I've got something I never had as a child now; a will to live. A reason to live. It's honestly the reason I still believe in God, as twisted as that sounds. I had actually been begging God to just kill me and get it over with in the weeks leading up to my diagnosis, and though it seems like being told you have terminal (which, just incase some of you guys don't know this, does not actually mean that you're totally deadsies; it means that there are no approved treatments or treatments that are proven to be effective, so you have the two options of going home or staying in the hospital while they make you as comfortable as possible as you wait to die a slow, horrible death of cancer; or you subject yourself to potentially deadly, painful, and horrible experimental trials to try and find a cure for yourself and others like you. Guess which one I picked! Ahh, the stories I could tell you... I'd be willing to write another one of these if anyone is interested in my hospital horror stories.) cancer would be your answer in the affirmatory. But for some reason, that's not how I took it. I took it as a sign that I'm supposed to live, at least for as long as I'm needed to do something to make the world better. It sounds crazy; superstitious; egomaniacal to say this, but when I think about everything I've been through, the multiple attempts at killing myself yet living through each time, and the overwhelming feeling I got when I was told I was as good as dead, but I honestly feel like I'm supposed to do something big, even mildly so. I don't know what, but that thought drives me every day to quite literally be that change that I want to see in the world.

I haven't made a suicide attempt ever since diagnosis; I rarely try or succeed to hurt myself anymore, and when I get in that state, my first move is to call up my sister Lilly, or talk to @typical-atheist-scumbag, or even talk to my dad nowadays, rather than just go ahead and grab a razor blade. I'm entirely about absolution and forgiveness as long as a person is genuine, and I try to be as passive and understanding – yet not quite neutral – to other people's beliefs as I possible can be. I stretch myself thin trying to help other people, but I honestly feel all the better for it.

This lovely little “inspirational” (*eyes roll into the back of my head*) piece isn't even half of it, but it's the major stuff. I included that bit at the end to show that even though I've had a pretty bullshit lot in life, I absolutely refuse to let it kick me down.

You may laugh at how stupid and pretentious I sound now.

[frethorentden-blog]

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