would you believe us if we said that wasn't really MAGGIE LINDEMANN? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's SIERRA WINSLOW, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 1 WEEK. you can find them working over at MCNASTY’S PUB as a/an BARTENDER. they're 25, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're IMPULSIVE, STUBBORN & RETICENT but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more ATTENTIVE, RESILIENT & PLAYFUL. if we had to pick one song to describe SHE/HER, it would be I CAN’T HANDLE CHANGE BY ROAR. see ya 'round, SISI .ᐟ.ᐟ
full name: sierra winslow, but you can call her sisi. / birthplace: queens, new york. gender &pronouns: cis-woman, she/her. / age: twenty-five. / birthday: (get back to me on this LMAO) / sexual orientation: bisexual. / relationship status: single. / favorite accesory: her pack of newports that always stick out of her pocket.
sierra never knew anything but foster care system. if someone asked about her parents, she’d only shrug, her face blank and almost emotionless as it was a common reoccurence in her life. the little she did know came from overheard conversations through cracked office doors and whispers from exhausted social workers who thought she wasn’t listening. she had been left outside a fire station on a freezing november night, bundled in a thin blanket that smelled of cigarette smoke and rainwater. someone found her only minutes later, crying hard enough that thety heard her. after that, life simply moved on around her, as if abandonment was just another form to file away. by the time she was old enough to understand the word unwanted,it was a term that was so deeply rooted inside of her brain.
she was labeled difficult almost immediately. as a baby, she cried endlessly and resisted comfort no matter who held her. foster families came and went in a revolving door of little patience and disappointed sighs. every few years meant another house, another set of rules, another bedroom that never quite became hers -- and as sierra got older, the anger inside her turned into recklessness. she snuck out constantly, chasing loud music, parties, cheap liquor, nicotine, and whatever else numbed pain. teachers called her troubled, foster parents called her disrespectful and social workers called her high-risk. none of them understood that the chaos and the high were the only things that ever made her feel in control. if she was already unwanted, she figured she might as well live like it.
the second she turned eighteen, sierra left the system behind without looking back and moved to new york city with barely more than a duffel bag and determination. she rented a tiny apartment that resembled a shoebox, but there was a roof over her head and that was all that mattered. to survive, she pieced together whatever jobs she could find—walking dogs through crowded sidewalks, riding her bike for uber until dawn, stocking shelves overnight for cash under the table. most weeks, she barely scraped by. there were nights dinner meant a bag of chips and cheap beer because it was easier to silence hunger with intoxication than face it in any other way. still, she kept people at arm’s length. she knew everyone in passing — neighbors, coworkers, bartenders, strangers at parties, but no one truly knew her. sierra preferred it that way. solitude felt safer than the risk of someone leaving once they saw the uglly parts of her life. the pinnacle of mommy and daddy issues, as one would say.
at twenty-one, she landed a job barbacking at a rundown dive bar buried deep in the city, the kind of place that would anyone not familiar with the area shake in their boots. she learned quickly, memorizing drinks, reading customers, picking up the rhythm of the bar until she eventually earned a spot behind it. for a while, she thought maybe she’d found something stable. but new york had a way of draining people dry of their pockets, and after several more years of barely surviving, the city finally caught up with her. then came pinehaven—a tiny town she’d never heard of until mcnasty’s pub emailed her offering work. the flight was cheap, the apartment even cheaper, but compared to new york, the town was painfully quiet. sierra took the offer because she didn’t have many other options. as the bus rolled into pinehaven, she stared out the window with the same guarded expression she always wore. maybe the town would change something. maybe it wouldn’t. judging by the way her life had gone so far, she wasn’t betting on much.
would you believe us if we said that wasn't really MAGGIE LINDEMANN? well, it isn't .ᐟ.ᐟ that's SIERRA WINSLOW, a proud resident of pinehaven for the last 1 WEEK. you can find them working over at MCNASTY’S PUB as a/an BARTENDER. they're 25, but they hardly look that old! it must be the washington weather that keeps them looking so young .ᐟ.ᐟ word around the town is that they're IMPULSIVE, STUBBORN & RETICENT but we think that's silly. we feel like they're much more ATTENTIVE, RESILIENT & PLAYFUL. if we had to pick one song to describe SHE/HER, it would be I CAN’T HANDLE CHANGE BY ROAR. see ya 'round, SISI .ᐟ.ᐟ
full name: sierra winslow, but you can call her sisi. / birthplace: queens, new york. gender &pronouns: cis-woman, she/her. / age: twenty-five. / birthday: (get back to me on this LMAO) / sexual orientation: bisexual. / relationship status: single. / favorite accesory: her pack of newports that always stick out of her pocket.
sierra never knew anything but foster care system. if someone asked about her parents, she’d only shrug, her face blank and almost emotionless as it was a common reoccurence in her life. the little she did know came from overheard conversations through cracked office doors and whispers from exhausted social workers who thought she wasn’t listening. she had been left outside a fire station on a freezing november night, bundled in a thin blanket that smelled of cigarette smoke and rainwater. someone found her only minutes later, crying hard enough that thety heard her. after that, life simply moved on around her, as if abandonment was just another form to file away. by the time she was old enough to understand the word unwanted,it was a term that was so deeply rooted inside of her brain.
she was labeled difficult almost immediately. as a baby, she cried endlessly and resisted comfort no matter who held her. foster families came and went in a revolving door of little patience and disappointed sighs. every few years meant another house, another set of rules, another bedroom that never quite became hers -- and as sierra got older, the anger inside her turned into recklessness. she snuck out constantly, chasing loud music, parties, cheap liquor, nicotine, and whatever else numbed pain. teachers called her troubled, foster parents called her disrespectful and social workers called her high-risk. none of them understood that the chaos and the high were the only things that ever made her feel in control. if she was already unwanted, she figured she might as well live like it.
the second she turned eighteen, sierra left the system behind without looking back and moved to new york city with barely more than a duffel bag and determination. she rented a tiny apartment that resembled a shoebox, but there was a roof over her head and that was all that mattered. to survive, she pieced together whatever jobs she could find—walking dogs through crowded sidewalks, riding her bike for uber until dawn, stocking shelves overnight for cash under the table. most weeks, she barely scraped by. there were nights dinner meant a bag of chips and cheap beer because it was easier to silence hunger with intoxication than face it in any other way. still, she kept people at arm’s length. she knew everyone in passing — neighbors, coworkers, bartenders, strangers at parties, but no one truly knew her. sierra preferred it that way. solitude felt safer than the risk of someone leaving once they saw the uglly parts of her life. the pinnacle of mommy and daddy issues, as one would say.
at twenty-one, she landed a job barbacking at a rundown dive bar buried deep in the city, the kind of place that would anyone not familiar with the area shake in their boots. she learned quickly, memorizing drinks, reading customers, picking up the rhythm of the bar until she eventually earned a spot behind it. for a while, she thought maybe she’d found something stable. but new york had a way of draining people dry of their pockets, and after several more years of barely surviving, the city finally caught up with her. then came pinehaven—a tiny town she’d never heard of until mcnasty’s pub emailed her offering work. the flight was cheap, the apartment even cheaper, but compared to new york, the town was painfully quiet. sierra took the offer because she didn’t have many other options. as the bus rolled into pinehaven, she stared out the window with the same guarded expression she always wore. maybe the town would change something. maybe it wouldn’t. judging by the way her life had gone so far, she wasn’t betting on much.
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