#Raylan is a SILVER FOX now

[godbarks]

NAMED AGUSTIN "PREACH" CASTILLO. KNOWN AS PREACH, DETECTIVE. ZODIAC SAGITTARIUS. DOB DECEMBER 21ST, FORTY1 YRS OLD. PLACE OF BIRTH LAFOURCHE, LOUSIANA. GENDER CIS MAN. PRONOUNS HE/HIM. ORIENTATION HETEROSEXUAL. OCCUPATION DETECTIVE. FACECLAIM SANTIAGO CABRERA.

INSPIRED BY PRESTON TEAGARDIN ( THE DEVIL ALL THE TIME ), JESSE CUSTER ( PREACHER ), RUSTIN COHLE ( TRUE DETECTIVE ), JOHN PRUITT ( MIDNIGHT MASS ), RAYLAN GIVENS ( JUSTIFIED )

HEIGHT SIX FOOT ONE. HAIR CASUALLY TOUSLED, SILVER FOX IN THE MAKING. EYES DARK BROWN, SIMMERING. SCENT SPICE FORWARD WITH NOTES OF CEDAR & MARLBORO RED. LANGUAGES CHILEAN SPANISH, ENGLISH, FRENCH. POSITIVE TRAITS CEREBRAL, INTUITIVE, DEVOUT. NEGATIVE TRAITS OBSESSIVE, DELUSORY, ELUSIVE.

ENTER, THE WHISKEY PROPHET.

biography.

you’ve always known how this ends.   there’s a child,   and there’s a wolf—one will always devour the other; one is dead,   and the other is the worst kind of alive.   you came crawling out of the bayou,   dredged from the muck,   born to nothing but sin.   a warrant was always hanging over your pa's head,   or a leasing notice nailed to the door of your mama's sagging shack,   the one she loved too much.   you were raised in a place where the grass never grew upright,   and neither did you.   always reaching,   always wanting,   just a little too close to that line between need and hunger.

you've been a maw since the cradle, devouring everything around you.   you took it all from your mother,   including the man she claimed was your father—though he was never more than a butcher with a god complex,   wielding the knife as his god.   he carved you into a twisted reflection of himself.   even as a child,   violence seeped from your bones.   unable to bring him down,   you turned your sharp edge on a world that hadn’t wronged you,   yet bore the brunt of your wrath.

the swamp taught you its cruel lessons.   it swallowed the forsaken and the damned,   and you made yourself part of its dark embrace—something wild and ravenous that sprawled across all it touched.   your younger brother was the first to witness the change,   seeing you slip away before you even knew it.   from there,   it all became a blur of sirens,   badges,   and a life built on half-truths and hollow confessions,   leaving you a ghostly patchwork of sin and shadow.

you were born again in the fire,   a cover-up that turned to something wild.   it was supposed to be simple—burn the evidence,   bury your ghosts—but those flames had a hunger of their own.   you struck the match knowing what you’d lose,   but when the blaze spread,   it didn’t stop with the past.   it took everything,   left you standing in the ash of all you'd tried to hide.

they called it an accident,   said it was faulty wiring or an drunken lapse of judgement.   but you knew.   the fire didn’t just burn—it stripped you down,   peeled back the skin until you were nothing but bone and sin,   raw as the day you were born.   they sent you to a new town,   told you to start over,   but you carried the flames inside you,   always burning,   always waiting.

now,   everything you touch feels like it could go up in smoke.   you’re not just running from your sins anymore—you’ve made a home in them.   that fire’s in your blood,   waiting for the next match to light.   waiting for you to burn again.

headcanons.

has been in town for just about a year now. hasn't been home since but his call logs are almost exclusively between greylocke and louisiana. tells most folks that he's from new orleans for the very slight thrill of averting the truth.

raised on the side of louisiana that never recovered from the great migration to the inner city; will never fully adjust to the big city lights & sounds because of it.

his current apartment is the first place that he's lived in independently ( that wasn't a shoddy motel or his backseat ) in a WHILE and is very much a reflection of such: he doesn't have curtains, has far too many bottles of guinness in the fridge, BUTTTT the living room is sensibly decorated.

drinks to remember instead of forgetting. the bottom of a bottle tends to bring him clarity. bro is hardly beating the alcoholic allegations.

only became a lawman back in nola for the kudos, esp familially. his dad was on the other side of the law so all the more reason to prove the fucker wrong.

the fire seriously injured his then-partner & subsequently preach was faced with temporary leave for psychological evaluation as well as an unexpected transfer that has since kept him in greylocke.

wants to be a good cop but is rlly the bad cop. 100% raylan givens coded; questionable ethics & slightly less questionable methods.

[brooklynislandgirl]

"She's a 10 but she taught me this meme. Also what a meme even is. She's also sweet as apple pie moonshine and won't shy away from kicking just as hard if you don't pay her mind."

Wait For It....||

"How rude," she says, trying to sound as offended as possible but the grin sort of gives her away. She turns to look at his coworker ~she's ashamed to say she doesn't know the Miami office quite like she did those in Harlan, but she's glad he's got a good enough friend willing to help bring in the last of the boxes now that the movers have left~ and shakes her head. "You can let him complain all he likes but the truth of the matter is, Deputy Marshal Givens here has already agreed to meet with my lawyer next month and start working on the pre-nup. No backing out of it after that, really." She sets the lamp and flashes the pretty antique ring he'd given her, the stone glittering against her finger. But it isn't Raylan's friend she's looking at, isn't his opinion she craves. If anything, Raylan can see he's the only person in the room as far as she's concerned. "And for what it's worth, he's a ten, also. But he had to be taught what a meme was. And how to download new apps, though he seems to be a little too into Stardew Valley." That is absolutely not true but she does enjoy teasing her Silver Fox even when she wouldn't dare call him that by name. "Don't let his gruffness fool you, he's brilliantly funny and he is the bravest and most loyal man I've ever known." That in itself is the highest form of compliment she can pay him, especially when he knows how dearly she loved her brother. And still does. Just not in quite the same way. "And he is the fastest draw I've ever seen, lightning reflexes. I say that so later, when you two grab a beer, you know to leave the ice cream alone." And that's how she throws him under the bus with a wink.

[goodlawman]

Nicknames meme: Original Justified AU Precarious how his chair leans back toward the sink. Exposing his length of his throat which is another temptation all of it's own. She lathers the shampoo in to his hair which is already getting a little longer than he normally wears it but it's such a good luck on him, her thumbs continuously brushing over the beautiful thatch of grey tarnishing the once oak brown strands of his hair. Makes her wonder if it had always been this shade or if he'd been blonder as a child. She's seen pictures of Frances, of Arlo, of Aunt Helen, but ones of him as a kid are rare and she half wonders if he's hidden them away somewhere. Either way it makes no difference, and neither does the nearly twenty year age gap between them.

Raylan is a powerfully handsome man. She slips between his knees then seems to think better about it. Very carefully she straddles his lap and makes herself comfortable, the tips of her toes providing just enough stability that they don't go toppling over. "Ko'u 'alopeke waikālā," she murmurs and maybe presses a little too closely to run her fingers through the back of his hair. 

My silver fox.  Perfectly suited to his wildcat.

-----

His hands rested gently on her thighs once she repositioned herself. If he went down now they were both going down regardless of if he was holding her close or not so he gave in to the need for touch, the unspoken comfort of intimacy they developed where words and reassurances weren't needed so much. Raylan's eyes stayed closed, soaking in the skillful massage of his scalp. Good lord she was driving him a different kind of crazy with the way she worked.

"Never had someone do this before," he murmured softly, barely intelligible in his relaxed state. Not that it was highly uncommon but it was nothing demanded and the point in a relationship where the trust was enough on both sides to do so, well, he didn't reach that often in his unfortunate dating history. Even now there is a comfortable equality in the way he's balanced on the back chair legs and she's settled on him. No sense that one of them might do or say the wrong thing and topple the whole situation like a tower of blocks. They were solid. They felt solid.

Raylan drew in a deep breath accompanied by the scent of florals that he came to think of as firmly Beth. Never been one for flowers but he rethought that these days on his drives home from Lexington for the weekend and pulled over to this little greenhouse or that to buy a new plant for the garden. The two of them rehabilitated his mother's garden and now had a choice pick of vegetables and herbs to go along with dinner.

The words she spoke didn't strike immediate familiarity with the ones he knew from the well thumbed dictionary he bought online, brow furrowing slightly as he tried to puzzle his way through. "I don't think I've come across those yet," he said after a beat. His hands ran down her thighs soothingly, careful not to wrinkle the soft fabric too much. "You smack talkin' my Go Fish skills again? 'cause we can go right now, soap in my hair and all." All affectionate teasing, knowing full well that wasn't what she said but unable to help himself nonetheless.

[samaraweaving]

SILVER! FOX! RAYLAN! GIVENS!

we're so used to giving and now we get to receive!!! gjfhgdsd