Post by Abby Scuito on May 17, 2009 22:52:09 GMT -5
•AbigailMarieScuito•
•pullingthestrings•
*.name: Lilli
*.age: 19!
*.names of other characters on site:N/A
*.contact info: PM
*.time zone/location: Eastern come June 2, 2009
*.canon or original: Canon
•backtobasics•
*.name: Abigail Scuito
*.nicknames: Abby
*.age & birthday: October 31, 1983-27
*.grade: N/A
*.occupation: Forensic Scientist
*.money in the bank?: Middle Class.
*.face claim: Pauley Perrette
*.ethnicity: Caucasian
*.appearance: Abby is known for her gothic style of dress and her pigtailed dyed hair, with at least nine tattoos on her neck, arms, back, ankle and other places. Her style of clothing includes black dresses and t-shirts, mini-skirts, and goth jewelery. She often wears anklets and toe rings.
•spillyourguts•
*.likes: Caf-Pow, the team, science, bowling, death, black, Bert the hipppo, music, Tim's books
*.dislikes: Not being able to figure out something involving a case, losing evidence, something happening to someone on the team, nougat, sunlight
*.fears: Losing someone on the team, putting an innocent person away in jail
*.habits: Blaring music while working, wearing pigtails, being hyper
*.strengths: smart, lots of experience with the dark side of life, knows sign language
*.weakness: she tends to attract the wrong types of guys.
*.secret(s): she is Catholic
*.personality: Abby is a hearing child born to deaf parents and likes her music loud. Like Gibbs, Abby seems to thrive on caffeine; however, unlike Gibbs, who drinks a lot of coffee, she prefers her caffeine in the form of a "Caf-Pow," a coffee based beverage. However, it is shown that, Abby doesn't like the nutmeg flavor that had been added to her Caf-Pow for the Christmas Season.
When changing the artwork in her lab, she states that she has a "Chagall feeling", a reference to Marc Chagall, a Jewish Belo-Russian artist whose main works came from fantasy and dreams. Her favorite term for something out of ordinary is "hinky". Her favorite bands are Plastic Death and Brain Matter, a band started by her friends. It is also shown that she enjoys attending concerts, such as the Plastic Death concert which resulted in her having trouble hearing and having to ask DiNozzo to help her ID some audio evidence.
It has been hinted that she is a practicing Catholic because of her friendship with a couple of nuns she goes bowling with and on one episode where, when asked by Gibbs where she was, she had stated she had just gone to church.
•letsgetphysical•
*.sexuality: straight
*.turn ons: black clothing, piercings, tattoos, brains, bowling skills
*.turn offs: preps, people who diss science, pink
•inmyscrapbook•
*.mother: Julie Crystal Scuito
*.father: Mark Joseph Scuito
*.siblings: N/A
*.other relatives: Uncle Horris
*.pets: Not any
*.hometown: New Orleans, Louisianna
*.current residence: Washington DC
*.history: A native of New Orleans, Louisiana, Abby graduated with full honors from LSU with a triple major in sociology, criminology and psychology. She earned her master's degree from Georgia State University in criminology and forensic science.
Abby is well-versed in her field of study; she is rarely stumped by the puzzles which Gibbs' team present to her. Also, she does all the work on the evidence herself.
Both her parents are deaf so she knows sign language. Her and Gibbs tend to use it to talk to each other in secret. Gibbs is like a father to her.
•isthatall?•
*.member title: Goth Queen
*.did you read the rules?: admin edit
*.sample: Ash...I am sorry fr this..but this is from another site...you know my average post but this is my fave...
Connor arrived home and dressed fairly quickly. He didn't like to dress up like this, ever. He had a date a couple of hours ago, though. It had ended quite satisfactorily with exactly the right end result as he had planned. But the button down shirt he had put on wasn't something he liked to wear that often. But now that he had on one of his t-shirts and his black motorcycle jacket , he was more comfortable.
He switched his shoes from the nice pair of dress shoes he had on to his normal black tennis shoes that he had bought a few months back. He wasn't one to settle. Hell, he had a new girl every night of the week. He could be called a few select things, but it was all honest fun for him. He didn't plan on any of them getting pregnant either, he made sure of that every time the night got to that point.
He walked out the front door casually and locked the deadbolts. He didn't live in the best area, but it was good enough for him. It was merely a temporary fix until he had a little more money. He walked straight for the motorcycle he had parked close by on the street. This thing was his baby. The black paint with the midnight blue neons and shiny silver chrome was nice and shiny in the orange street lights overhead. This thing stayed clean and in perfect condition. His first vehicle ever. He took damn good care of it, almost better care than himself. But he had to stay clean cut for the ladies.
He started the bike. The pur of the engine was relaxing. It had always been one of those things that had always calmed him no matter how angry or upset he was. Maybe that was why he prefered the motorcycle to a car. Besides, unless you got an expensive convertible car, you couldn't feel the wind on your face. Although, most girls didn't like messing their hair up.
He sped off down the semi-busy street. The wind ruffled his hair and made it whip about his bare neck. It stung a little bit, but he didn't mind it at all. The pain let him know he was still alive. He shouldn't be alive either. He had too many near death experiences to still be breathing.
He sped off down the street not worrying about the street signs and stop lights. He should, and he should also have a helmet on, but he really didn't care about any of it. He wasn't worried about dying or car accidents. He had a built in self-defense mechanism. He wasn't worried at all.
He kept driving, weaving in and out of the traffic. Connor had no idea about where he was going to. He just needed to go somewhere, to get out of the house. It wasn't like he was always in there, but he spent as little time there as he could manage. He hated being cooped up inside. He had lived on the inside of a metal gate for eighteen years of his life. There was no way he would stay behind closed doors again, ever.
He slowed down a fraction and pulled into an empty parking lot right off the road. He shut the bike engine off and took out the key from the ignition. He walked towards the trees and onto a small paved path that led into the deep thicket of trees.
He stayed on this path and soon it opened up to a hill. He walked up the path that led to the top of the hill and sat down on the bench right off of the pavement. He had come a long way since he had been left on the church steps mere hours after he was born nineteen years before.
Connor reached down into his jacket pocket and pulled out a letter. The words were beginning to look faded from the number of times it had been opened and shut in the last year. He knew all the words on the piece of paper, but looking at his mother's elegant script had comforted him on his few lonely nights.
Dear Connor,
I didn't want to leave you like I did, but I didn't know what else to do. I was simply not ready for a child when you came along. You just came too soon for me. When you are older, you may find me if you want to, I would completely understand if you don't want to. I would be glad to take you in when the time comes, but I am just not ready to be a mother just yet. I love you my son, with all my heart. I look forward to meeting you and to see what you grow up to be. I hope the nuns raise you right. Religion could be a good thing.
Your mother
Connor reclosed the note in his hand and placed it back in his jacket pocket. It wasn't that he blamed his mother for any of it. Sure, she had left him at a church as a baby, all because of her irresponsibility, but he still loved her. She was his mother for crying out loud. He couldn't help but love her.
The nuns had raised him up right, but that hadn't changed what he had become in the end. He desperately wanted to find his birth parents, to learn about where he had come from. Being an orphan didn't suit him in life anymore. Today was his nineteenth birthday and he was going to find them soon. They were out there somewhere and he wouldn't give up until he knew who they were.
He let out a soft sigh. What if he had siblings out there that needed an older influence? What if his family needed him in some way? He needed to find them. He felt like there was something missing in his life. That feeling wouldn't go away, not until he knew who he was and where he came from. The first step to that was to find them.
He looked off into the group of trees in front of the bench that he sat on. The trees seemed dark and ominous at the moment. The only noise coming from the other side of the wall of dark green was the sound of the traffic on the streets and the faint sound of a siren far in the distance. The city was a busy place. The noise had actually become comforting to him. A security blanket of sorts.
He wished for company right now, but then again he didn't. He didn't spend much time alone growing up. He had been forced to share a room with at least twelve other boys. They had shared dorm areas with bunk beds. It was almost like an army barracks. Not that he would know what they looked like, only from movies did he really know what it should look like. No he wouldn't join the military. It just wasn't something he would do.
There was something about being in a dorm with several other kids. Him and his roommates had bonded, they had been a brotherhood. He had grown protective over all the younger kids. The girls were highly protected by Connor. Sure, he had been a huge flirt, but that was only within three years of his age. But he had watched them come and go, often. He was one of the few kids that had stayed there his whole life. There had only been five of them in all, and they all had grown up together.
Now that he was out of the orphanage run by the church, he had grown protective over all orphans , no matter the age or sex. He returned often to check on them and even spent time hanging out with the kids. He tried to keep their spirits up. They were like siblings to him and he like to make them feel loved. If he had the chance, he knew he would adopt one or two of them. He had an extra room at his place that he occupied. And it did get lonely there when he wasn't at work.
He had gotten a job rather quickly, and then another to add to his income, and to keep him busy. He had enough money to take care of himself and someone else now. He also had plenty of spare time as well. He had his schedule built just right since he had originally been hired. That and he had advanced in his jobs fairly quickly. It was easy when you had a pretty face like he did.
He wasn't vain. Well, maybe just a little. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. But he didn't always take advantage of people. He tried being courteous and charming first, and then if all else fails, he would flirt. It was a fail proof plan with him. He had perfected his ways over time.
So, maybe he was just a little full of himself on occasion. Just a little, anyhow. He was smart. So, it wasn't just beauty but brains as well. He was a good package, so it wasn't suprising on how much of a lady's man he had become. Ok, there was his vanity arising again. He needed to get his ego in check. It wasn't really a flattering quality in a guy.
He smiled as he held back a chuckle. He needed to find something to do. He didn't really feel like going out to party tonight. He did that way too much already. It was actually starting to get old.
He had to hold back another laugh. Since when did he hate parties? He thrived on them. It was there that he got most of his woman. He would go into a club and come out with at least fifteen numbers.
He wondered, was it his dancing, or his looks that got him noticed. He knew he could dance, but maybe it was the looks that attracted them to dance and then the dancing finished them off. It was an admiral theory, but it could be anything.
He stretched as his muscles began to get stiff. When that didn't work he stood up and arced his back backwards to pop it into place. The bench wasn't the most comfortable place to sit for long periods of time. He needed something to do. Someone to hang with. You shouldn't have to spend your birthday alone, ever.
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