DropBox

Oct. 12th, 2023 09:05 pm
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
Direct your questions regarding gameplay with Rachel Gatina to the comments of this post! This is not an in-character mailbox, it is for OOC plotting. Comments are screened.
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
CHARACTER NAME: Rachel Gatina
CHARACTER CANON: One Tree Hill

[OOC]
This is the permissions list for OOC (out of character) activity.
Answer the following questions with "yes" or "no", as well as additional information if desired.

Slowtagging: Yes
Canon-puncturing: Go for it
Offensive subjects (elaborate): No, but she's likely to bring a few up

[IC]
This is the permissions list for IC (in-character) activity.
Answer the following questions with "yes" or "no", as well as additional information if desired. With IC permissions, it's a good idea to elaborate on what other players can expect from your character if they choose to do any of the following:

Hugging this character: No, Shoving
Kissing this character: No, Shoving unless you're hot
Flirting with this character: Yes, Flirting back
Fighting with this character: Yes but she's not much good in a physical fight
Injuring this character (include limits and severity): Yes but nothing scarring to the face
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: No, not for now

General Warnings: Rachel's a junkie so she'll likely be scoring for a hit when she's not being babysat by Danny Williams. She's a little rude and unthinking so apologies in advance.

[GODMODDING]
For right now, Danny Williams has godmodding rights to Rachel's activities when/if she goes with him to Hawaii

Raylan AU

Jan. 11th, 2014 11:26 am
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
"Come on kid, up and at 'em, we're going to school."

They're late, as usual but whatever, Danny will get over it. She slings Jess up on her hip and grabs his bag, slipping sunglasses down to brace against the bright island sun and walks...directly onto a dirt road.

"No," she chokes, freezing as Jess starts to cry from the sudden shock. She whirls around, finding nothing but mountains and woods and where the fuck are they? She can't do this. She can't be by herself. Goddammit Danny. It was just her, she'd give up. She'd just curl up and die right here but Jess is crying and it's fucking winter and she's in shorts and what the hell are they going to do?

She walks for nearly an hour, having given up her summer scarf to Jess, now down to shorts and a tank and unable to feel her fucking face. The first thing she sees is a trailer. It looks bad but Jess is getting quiet and still and there's no other choice.

She knocks and nearly runs for it when a half naked, clearly drunk asshole answers, leering at her in a way that makes her skin crawl but for the fact that he offers a glimmer of hope. "What the hell do you mean, bitch? You're in Harlan." It takes twenty minutes of begging and letting him feel her up while Jess sleeps on the dirty couch before he'll call "that asshole Marshal, yeah I know him."

It might not even be her Raylan. He might not know who the hell she is but it's still Raylan. He'll get her out of here.

The phone rings as she presses herself against the corner of the trailer, eyes flickering between her sleeping kid and the man who keeps inching closer to her.
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
They won't let her into the club, the assholes. Sons of bitches say they're her friends, they love her and the second hard times fall look who's nowhere to be fucking found. Brooke fired her ass months ago and as of yesterday she is no longer employed as an exotic dancer at Foxxy Box because of her tendency to not be precisely on time and just like that she's shit out of luck, on her ass with nowhere to stay and only one, real option.

She can go out with a bang. Brooke's always been way too trusting and Rachel has it on good authority that she hasn't been to the Chelsea apartment in weeks. The blows her last five hundred on heroin, the good stuff and shows back up with an offer to party on her. She feels, briefly, bad as the apartment gets royally trashed within an hour but Brooke owes her and soon she's flying too high to care about anything.

Time slips and slides by in jerks and fits. One second there's a throbbing, sweaty mass of bodies and the next, she's alone on the couch with daylight starting to stream in from the windows. Jesus, she's sick. She needs another hit and as she kicks off her shoes and stumbles to the bedroom, she's already tying off and sliding the needle in. It hits her hard, harder than it should as she stumbles through the doorway, the purple bedspread starting to melt and ooze into something different. It's wrong. There's fucking dirt and it smells and as her eyes start to roll, she has just enough presence of mind to start and panic.

For Danny

Mar. 2nd, 2013 07:49 pm
sluttylyingliar: (sob)
 The only time that Raylan ever woke up before Rachel was when things were bad. Really bad. When Raylan wasn't sleeping and was jumpy and seeing things but as soon as Rachel wakes up and smooths a hand over the cold sheets she knows this feels different. 

Panic is held at bay long enough for her to throw clothes on, get Jess up to the Children's office and start searching. It's fucking useless, she knew it the second she woke up but she can't not even try. It's Raylan. It's her husband. 

By the time she's stumbled back to the house, shaking and exhausted, it's obvious. She was a fucking moron to ever think she could have this. A house and a family and a long life as someone's wife. Raylan's gone back to his lonely, miserable, backwoods existence and he'll never see his son again.

It's that thought that sends her to her knees in the dirt outside their porch. Jess won't remember his dad, Raylan won't remember either of them and Rachel's more alone than she's ever been. In the blink of an eye it's all gone.

She vaguely notes that the keening, sobbing noise is coming from her as she digs her fingers into her hair, wanting to destroy this place. She wants to burn it all to the ground for what it's taken from her.

For Raylan

Nov. 10th, 2012 08:09 am
sluttylyingliar: (looks down)
Rachel and Raylan's house could be described as a lot of things, but quiet hadn't really been one of them. Between the sex and the arguing and the baby and music and laughter they were always glad they didn't have any neighbors within 100 feet or so. But lately? Lately it was quiet like a tomb.

 Even Jess has been more subdued, as if he could pick up on the fact that his dad was avoiding them. Avoiding touching and avoiding looking them in the face. Granted, it had taken Rachel a while before she didn't flinch every time Raylan's hands got too close to her and she was pissed. She was beyond pissed with him. He felt like it was his fault and it kind of was, to a point. But this can't last. Their marriage is going to fall apart if one of them doesn't start fighting for it and she knows he's too guilt ridden and wary of scaring her to do it.

She puts Jess down for the night and heads to the porch where she knows he'll be. Spending most of his time out here guarding them before passing out on the couch. Her bare feet are almost silent as she pads around to stand in front of him. "Raylan, you need to look at me."
sluttylyingliar: (beat up)
 It's a calm day, considering. No monsters have crawled out of the fucking bushes and she actually feels okay sitting outside on the porch, like it's just another day. She should go see Danny, later. There's still this lingering feeling like he could break all apart and she wishes she could do anything to make it better. Make him magically okay.

She settles against her chair, eyes closed with her bare feet up on the table. She hears Raylan coming before she sees him, used to his gait after all these years. Things are still awkward between them, but she's trying to hope. Hope it'll be okay. 

"Hey babe," she murmurs, opening her eyes as he walks up. He just stares for a long moment, enough that she starts to fidget. Without warning he kicks the leg of the table. "Get your fucking feet off the furniture," he mutters before turning to walk inside. Her breath gets caught in her throat, whole body going cold as she sits in stunned silence. "Raylan!" she calls, pushing up and following him inside. "Raylan, what the fuck was that? Are you okay? What the hell was that?"

He whirls around, eyes flat and angry as he stalks up to her. "Don't back talk to me," he says before backhanding her across the face, hard enough to send her to her knees. She chokes out a cry as Jess starts to fuss, fingers digging into the hard floor as he moves to Jess's room. "Shut the fucking kid up, right now." 

"Stop!" she gasps, pushing up onto wobbly legs.  It's not...it's Raylan. Raylan hit her. Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. "Leave him alone." She lunges forward, grabbing at his arm as hard as she can. "Fucking stop right now." This time, he hits her with his fist closed, right across the cheek, splitting the thin skin around her eye open as she crashes to the ground. She moans, hand cradling her face as sticky blood runs between her fingers before crawling towards Jess's door. He turns back around, thank God, shoving her out of his way with his boot before slamming the front door open hard enough to pull it off its hinge and leaves her. On the floor, alone. She scrambles into Jess's room, backs against his crib and starts to shake, hands smearing blood on the light, wooden floor. He hit her. He hit her.

For Raylan

Sep. 17th, 2012 05:45 pm
sluttylyingliar: (crying)
 It's been hours. Jess was put down an age ago and Rachel's been on the porch ever since. It's Raylan. It's Raylan and he would never lay a hand on either of them, especially not after everything he's been through but nothing changes the fact that he is hallucinating and lying about it and defending himself against nothing with their baby in his arms. 

Jesus Christ. She buries her face in her hands, curled up tight in a chair, face streaked with drying tears. She feels like she's coming out of her skin. There is something big going on and now she's hurt her husband without being able to really fix it. Not when he's still lying to her.
sluttylyingliar: (distress)
 Rachel has bounded up and down the steps to their porch hundreds of times. Up and down the four steps quickly and without even thinking about it. Raylan built that porch sturdy and strong and while she's grateful for it, it's not really something she ever thinks about. She doesn't think twice about keeping Jess perched happily on one hip with his baby bag slung around the other shoulder. She's more than ready to get home, half a mind to cook Raylan something for dinner like an actual goddamn wife and reward his heartily with his husbandly rights. 

That's the very last thing she thinks before the top step gives way. Later on, she'll try to remember what happened but in that split second, she managed to get both arms around Jess, pulling him tight as first her shoulder and then face catches the side of the porch, landing her hard on her right side in the dirt. Jess immediately lets out a terrified shriek as Rachel lays gasping on the ground, too stunned to move or to check on Jess. Just gasps and doesn't. move. an inch.
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
The sheer amount of crow that Rachel is going to need to eat now that she's decided to get married is just ridiculous. And she's really letting Danny have this one, because he was really, really right. Plus, now it's turning into an actual wedding, not just signing the book. It's going to be small and NOT a big deal, but it's still a wedding. 

And now she needs a maid of honor. She makes her way up his porch and bangs on the door, half hoping she's interrupting something awesome.

"Danny!" she yells, Jess strapped to her chest. "Are you in there? Are you naked?"

For Raylan

Apr. 20th, 2012 12:16 pm
sluttylyingliar: (Jess baby)
So babies, it turns out, are boring.

Not to say that Rachel hasn't spent most of her time staring at the kid, with an equal mix of love and bewilderment but still. They sleep and then they want some boob and then they poop and that's mostly it.

Jess Davis Givens looks exactly what she'd imagine their kid would look like. Eyes already dark, hair an unmistakable dark red, and a mix of demanding and quiet. Breast feeding has been a nightmare but she's determined to make it work. There isn't really an abundance of formula in the Wild West and she wants him to have the best. It's the first time she's really, truly regretted her plastic surgeries.

She's sleeping almost as much as the kid, and she'll be glad when they can get home, or some approximation of home, anyway. She just wants to lie in a bed with the two of them and try and force herself to believe it's all hers.
sluttylyingliar: (Jess baby)
It's really, really not supposed to happen this way. Rachel has tried (sort of) to cut down the whining about this Wild Westcrap because it's about the happiest she's seen Raylan in pretty much ever but still. Birth? Without electricity? In the DESERT or whatever this is supposed to be? There are like, rattlesnakes around. And ghosts...maybe. And that clniic is not sterile and there aren't any modern drugs and these dresses are ridiculous and heavy and she can't breathe she's so pregnant.

Honestly, she should have known this would happen in the four seconds a day Raylan and Danny leave her by herself. Her back had been hurting all night but she had written it off to the lumpy mattress and somehow also forgot to mention the shooting pains that in restrospect were coming every ten minutes or so. She'd sent Raylan on with an assurance she was fine and all she needed was a soak in the bath (iron tub thing) and that she didn't need Danny to supervise. It's clear to her, now, that she should never be allowed to make the decisions every again because the second she stepped out of that tub, her water broke and it was very clear what was happening. And that is what happening very quickly.

She'd managed to scramble into one of those weird underdresses, not giving two shits how much the world was seeing and carefully made her way outside, her guts writhing and back not too painful to straigten. She squints against the bright, hot sun and pads barefoot out into the path.

"Help," she croaks out, arm firm around her belly like maybe she can catch the kid if he falls out right here in the dirt. "Shit, someone help!"

Another wave of pain sends her stumbling down to her knees, cursing loudly and creatively as she tries and fails not to panic. Two seconds in and she's already screwed this up.
sluttylyingliar: (jess baby)
Jess Davis Givens did not come into this world calmly or quietly. Well, that's to say his mother did not birth him calmly or quietly. From the get go, they were kind of fucked. Their new wild west house is miles from the clinic, along a hot, dusty path strewn with fucking rattlesnakes and all sorts of shit and the one time, the ONE TIME Raylan leaves her alone, boom. Labor.

Thank God for Danny who had quickly found her on her hands the knees not far up the road, contractions already coming hard and strong. And, you know, fucking old west. No real drugs, no sterile clinic, nothing. It was bad. It was really, really painful and there'd been something with her blood pressure and honestly, Rachel doesn't remember. She really doesn't. It's a haze of almost passing out on the way up there, a lot of panic until Raylan showed up, pain and more pain. And then, just like that, a baby's getting shoved into her arms and she's a mother. She barely had the strength to hold the kid but there he was. A crying, tiny little thing. Her son. Jesus.

Jess Givens is pretty predictable, already. A little solemn, unless he's hungry or pissed and then he's wild and loud and not a little terrifying. His eyes are already almost brown and there's a shock of dark red hair that Rachel seriously hopes doesn't get any more red.

The first time for everything was terrifying. Breastfeeding is a goddamn nightmare because of the implants. The doctors don't know if it'll work and it makes her a little sad. Diapers are horrible and frankly she still feels like she's gonna drop him half the time. He's dozing against her chest as she drifts a little, staring up at the wooden beams in the ceiling. Holy Shit. 
sluttylyingliar: (uncomfortable)
 "So..." Rachel breathes, looking around the empty room, fingers kneading her lower back. "Raylan says he'll make a crib. He pretty much isn't into decorating the place. He refuses to discuss what kind of things he'd have liked as a kid and my baby basically has nothing. Help me."

The room is small, bright and clean but completely goddamn empty other than a box full of baby clothes and diapers shoved into a corner.

She turns to watch Danny, grimacing a little at the thought that their kid doesn't even have furniture. Jesus, they are not natural at this. Not even a little. She doesn't even know what else a kid needs.  This kid is going to be here in less than two months and she's pretty sure if Danny wasn't around, well. They'd figure it out. But it wouldn't be pretty. 
sluttylyingliar: (wtf)
Rachel doesn't know what the hell that was all about. Steve kept trying to cut her hair off or something and Danny kept fucking trying to rub her head or some shit and it was like everyone was shitfaced or on something or God knows. She's at least grateful she was spared because knowing her she'd end up face first in a pile of coke and fuck the kid up on some permanent basis. 

But anyway. She feels like it's her best friend duty to go make fun of Danny relentlessly and warn him about the ramifications of fucking up her hair again. Right now, the hair's about the only thing that still looks good. 

She waddles her way over to Danny's place, vaguely thinking about what she's going to do if she goes into labor this far away from the compound before looking for a familiar mop of blonde hair.

That's when she realizes everything is very, very wrong. Because there's just a head. No hair. Just a fuzzy head. What. The. Fuck.

"What the hell did you do?" she cries, marching up with as much authority as she can muster in her condition.

For Steve

Feb. 7th, 2012 05:35 pm
sluttylyingliar: (distress)
She swears. She swears she wasn't snooping. She was minding her own damn business and watching fucking Housewives of Beverly Hills and then it was just there. She thought it was just a regular episode of the Steve and Danny EyeFuck Parade and had half thought about going to find Danny, to point to at least five instances that to her at least, proved those two were screwing back home. That was before it all went to shit. Before Danny's kid was kidnapped. Before she made herself sit through the whole damn mess because she had to know what happened. For Danny's sake. 

But now what? She can't just leave the thing lying around. But she has no idea if Danny should know. It would torture him. It would absolutely ruin him and he's happy and Grace turned out to be okay so it doesn't even seem worth it. If there's been any maturity gained in the past two years, however, it;s that she knows it's not really her decision to make.

So she runs off to find Steve, instead. It's probably disturbing that she knows their schedule this well but she speeds over to his office, reel stuffed into her bag. 

She quickly shuts the door behind her, and pushes sweaty hair off her face before Steve can even say hello.

"We need to talk," she bites out, letting out a shaky breath.

For Helen

Jan. 22nd, 2012 10:08 pm
sluttylyingliar: (Hrm)
Of the many, many things Rachel appreciates about the island shit going back to normal, is the reappearance of the club. Like, the actual club. It's her second home in this place and it's probably fucked up but frankly, so is Rachel. And as annoying as it is that she can't dance anymore, she still feels a part of everything behind the bar. Okay, she's not actually the best bartender as she's now spending like a third of the time sitting on a stool, but still. If you can't see her big belly, then all you really notice is her awesome pregnant boobs. And that's her gift to the patrons.

Anyway, she's stayed later than usual, sending Raylan home already with the promise not to be long. As much as she loves Danny, and generally can admit his advice is solid, this is something that she thinks Helen might understand a bit better. Or at least understand her position.

"Good night," she sighs, stretching her back out as the last of the customers filters out the door.

"Long night."

for Mark

Nov. 27th, 2011 04:21 pm
sluttylyingliar: (fucking cut you)
Rachel hates it when Raylan is right.

It's even worse because Raylan is almost always right. But in this case, he was really, really right. He'd suggested as gently as possible (as he very well knows the best way to get Rachel to do something is to tell her she can't) that she wait for him to get home before going out for food. His reasoning was sound. Her balance is for shit with her big belly, these stupid Victorian clothes are heavy and the shoes are weird and slippery. Plus, you know, ice. 

But, dammit, she doesn't want to stay in their weird, dark, cold house being pregnant and cold. She hates this Raylan hates this. They bitch and hate it together and what she needs is to find someone to bitch and hate with her. She twists her hair up onto the top of her head and puts the heavy, brocade coat over the high necked gown that she insists on wearing unbuttoned as far as it will go.

She only makes it about a half a mile before her feet go right out from under her, the weight of her belly pulling her forward. She manages to fling her hands out before her stomach hits the ground as as the wet slush soaks through her gloves and her dress, she remembers again how much she hates it when Raylan is right.

 Dammit.

For Danny

Nov. 22nd, 2011 05:28 pm
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
Rachel can't see her toes, anymore. Well, she can if she leans over but still. There's just gut. A big, hard gut. And in that big, hard gut, is a baby dude. It's just very, very strange. She would be loathe to admit, but the actual moment of finding out was a little magical and whatever but that's mostly because Raylan was there. And he seems so happy. He seems stoked. To have a son. That part seems real. It seems real that it's Raylan's son. Just not that it's Rachel's. Maybe not so much anymore because she doesn't want it, but that she still doesn't feel like she deserves it.

Whatever, now she's off to find Danny. She highly suspects he'll be disappointed it's not a girl, but maybe it's better that way. To have the baby not remind him anymore of his kid than necessary.

"So," she calls as she strolls up to his porch. "Do I have to start calling you Mr. McGarrett after this wedding?"

For Mark

Oct. 30th, 2011 04:57 pm
sluttylyingliar: (Default)
It's not so much that Rachel's actively avoiding the beach as she's just choosing to stay away from the water for now. Besides, she can see the water from her porch so it's not the same thing as avoidance. Not at all. And even if it were, come on. A giant toy tried to drown her. Her and her unborn fetus child. She's entitled.

She's not even supposed to be out here. Raylan had only left her with strict instructions to stay in bed and rest but that got boring after the first twenty minutes so she's toddled out to the lounger and is soaking in the sun. It's a little quieter than usual today, as she's not the only one with a few bumps and bruises after yesterday's bullshit. She gingerly fingers the line of stitches running above her brow and shifts to a position a little easier on her ribs. They'd been at the clinic for hours, but it seems like the kid's okay. As she runs a hand over her now visible bump, she finds herself finally, finally feeling something. Some kind of emotion about the whole thing. That she's relived it's okay. That she's not a complete fucking monster.




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