#about raylan

FULL NAME.  raylan givens NICKNAME.  ...quickdraw, wyatt earp, etc. GENDER. trans man HEIGHT.  6′ AGE.  forty three SPOKEN LANGUAGES.  english

physical characteristics

HAIR COLOR.  brown, salt and pepper EYE COLOR.  hazel SKIN TONE.  tanned BODY TYPE.  slim hips and broad shoulders VOICE.  a kentucky accent that he won’t ever shake DOMINANT HAND. right POSTURE.  loves to lean but genuinely poised most of the time, usually stands at his full height resting his weight heavier on one leg SCARS. a bullet wound scar just under his ribs and one in his hair near the parting, very old surgery scars TATTOOS.  none BIRTHMARKS. beauty mark under his left eye MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).  the whole package baby/is his hat a feature

childhood

PLACE OF BIRTH.  harlan county, kentucky HOMETOWN. harlan county, kentucky SIBLINGS.  none

adult life

OCCUPATION.  deputy u.s. marshal CURRENT RESIDENCE.  lexington, kentucky CLOSE FRIENDS.  tim, rachel, art, winona, constable bob sweeney, (reluctantly) boyd crowder, juliet burke, jade... RELATIONSHIP STATUS.  seriously dating tim FINANCIAL STATUS.  often loses his money/gives it away but has some savings set aside, work covers a lot of his travel DRIVER’S LICENSE.  cars only, can ride a motorbike CRIMINAL RECORD.  should not be as clean as it is, lots of minor infractions from his younger days and days in the mining union VICES. mostly come down to risk taking

sex and romance

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. biromantic bisexual LIBIDO.  has a tendency to think with it  TURN ONS.   someone he can spar with intellectually as well as get down with physically, may make him feel stupid TURN OFFS.  general douchebaggery, bigotry, trying to change him or get him to settle LOVE LANGUAGE.  all of them? RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.  he hasn’t got a very good history with relationships in terms of sticking around but he’s trying to get better at that, he has cheated before and can be a bit emotionally stunted. he does stupid things for love.

miscellaneous

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.  quite literally: you’ll never leave harlan alive  HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.  firing range/gun care, ice cream parlour, drinking, reading LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. more left than right but nearly equal  PHOBIAS. public speaking, small dark spaces, becoming like his father SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.   high VULNERABILITIES.  his family history, his mother, his temper

Bold the ones that apply to your muse. REPOST, don’t reblog.

tagged by: @cllgood 💕 tagging: @cliffheath @thymocosm @wefight @kiyote @mimicic

headcanon time come on grab your friends

The fugitive fell to the ground, shot, and Raylan holstered his gun. 

It was close range, lower than central mass. The man can’t help himself, screaming and thrashing, clutching his belly, bleeding out fast.

‘Shit, didn’t your mama teach you how to bleed?’

All the man offered in reply to Raylan’s observation was more pained moaning.

‘My mama taught me. I was a real late bloomer, in a lot of ways, and I don’t know if it got to me early or not, being roundabout the end of middle school. I think they made us wear white shorts for gym class, in coal country, just to keep our families buying soap, and you know what else, my luck, it was after Labor Day. Got myself in trouble for wearing a shirt tied around my waist. Wasn’t the strictest school as such, but there was some propriety to be followed. Funny, ‘cause it was my Science teacher who sent me to the principal when I downright refused to do as I was asked. Called my mother. I sit in blood all day, ‘cause she’s at work. She picks me up, looks over at pasty little me and says, ‘wipe your tears, you’re still livin’.’

The fugitive gets his voice back, ‘--the fuck are you talking about?’

headcanon time come on grab your friends

He wipes his nose too late, there’s already a drop of bright blood blooming on the yellow gingham tablecloth, right next to his plate of scrambled eggs. He’s very lucky not to have lost a back tooth, one feels like it could be loose. 

‘Lean your head back,’ Aunt Helen’s voice, Raylan sees her upside down when he does as she says. She runs her hand over the side of his face that isn’t bruised and hands him a floral kerchief that he knows was her grandma’s. Sitting down at his elbow, she looks stern and he can tell it’s put on. ‘You know, if you want to beat those boys at their own game, Raylan, you’ve gotta play it how they do.’ 

He doesn’t know what she means right away, he thought he was playing their game when he got into the scuffle, when he didn’t let them say what they wanted to, he gave as good as he got. 

‘You said it started because some fella’s little filly was giving you the eyes at the game? They didn’t think that was the proper thing.’ 

He nods.

‘And she came to help you, picked you out of the dirt when they’d scattered?’

Another nod, pressing the handkerchief closer to his face.

‘Well, how’re you gonna thank that girl, Raylan, for treating you decent?’

He’d never considered anything like that, hardly had time to speak to her, honestly hoping that he’d get to school on Monday and everyone involved would have decided to forget the whole thing. Aunt Helen looks at him like there’s one hope left for him and only she can access it, reaching over to squeeze his free hand.