#rachel: 001.

[berksozeri]

location: the dog park

status: closed for @rachelhargrove

"Have you ever seen a more unlikely pair of friends?" A gruff, quiet chuckle scraped at the top of Berk's throat to punctuate the rhetorical question, his eyes locked on Kev and Walter as they chased each other across the park.

Nobody could claim the agile, long legged retriever and tiny little dauschaund made a whole lot of sense; they were about as similar as night and day. 

Although, to be fair, he guessed the same could be said about them. 

The corner of his mouth twitched, a betrayal to his attempted-to-be-stifled smile. Then Berk reached into the paper sack between them and pulled out a bag of chips. Her grabbing coffee for morning meetups, him grabbing lunch if their schedules aligned after twelve— it'd become routine by now.

"So," he paused just long enough to toss a handful into his mouth, his stare volleying between the dogs and her profile, "how's the book coming along?"

[elijahfalvey]

📱 to → RACH

ELIJAH is typing ... ELIJAH is typing ... ELIJAH: i cant believe ELIJAH: U and toni? ELIJAH: i dont understand

ELIJAH is typing ... ELIJAH is typing ...

ELIJAH: sorry I missed u tonight

— @rachelxhan

[rorysanderson]

x. status -> closed for @rachelxhan x. location -> blue harbor university library

Rory feels sort of like an intruder, walking around this massive place. He’d’ve gone to the public one, mind you, but the librarian there had told him he’d have better luck finding what he’s looking for here. He won’t be able to check anything out — as he’s not a student — but he’ll at least get to take pictures with his phone, or something. He feels far too old and far too embarrassed to ask for anyone’s help in finding the carpentry textbook he’s looking for, but he realizes his mistake halfway down another aisle of reference books that have nothing to do with what he’s looking for. Sighing, he figures he has two options — go back to the front and ask one of the twenty-somethings for help, or find the nearest person and ask them, instead. Gathering all of his daughter’s courage, he picks the latter, and gently approaches the nearest woman to him. “Hi,” he greets softly, already feeling the heat on his face. “Sorry, I’m — do you know where I’d find books about carpentry ‘round here?” Well, he doesn’t know how he managed to do it, but he thinks he did sound like the lamest human being on planet earth there just now, didn’t he?

[tonibeltran]

x. status -> closed for @rachelxhan x. location -> dreamland market

Dreamland Market has, admittedly, changed quite a bit since the last time Antonio’s been here. It’d only just opened its doors back in his 20s, all clean walls and tidy aisles. He’d spent many a late night perusing the place for a pick-me-up after a long bout of studying — and, later, a long bout in the studio. Now, Antonio’s more impressed that the building hasn’t collapsed in on itself, what with the amount of cracks on the wall and the mysterious odor coming from the vents he can only assume is — well, a health hazard, if nothing else.

Still, Earthwave gives him a headache, with its serene playlist blasting through the speakers and the price markups that would have made his mother curse in her native tongue. It’s shiny and clearly well-kept, but it doesn’t hold whatever fucked up sense of nostalgia Toni’s buried in its essence like Dreamland Market does. Plus, he needs cow milk — not milk made out of all those other things they’re making milk out of now.

It’s when he’s pulling open the fridge door to acquire said milk that he realizes what’s playing on the speakers here — it’s one of the pop songs he’d penned for the latest and greatest pop artist on the charts, having studied her previous work to sand his own prose down to her voice. The lyrics hit his ears like an uninvited guest — and now you don’t call or miss me at all / I’ve finally patched up the holes in the wall / I guess it’s nothing, really — sung in a pleasantly high octave and accompanied by an almost insulting amount of synths. If he listens closely, he’d probably be able to hear the electric guitar he’d played for the demo somewhere in there. 

But he doesn’t listen closely. He’d rather not be listening to this at all, he thinks. He makes a face, pulling out a half-gallon of milk and dropping it into his cart. He turns to the woman beside him in the aisle and, with a half-smile, all southern charm and media training, he asks, “Hi, could you please point me toward the fruit aisle? I need to find a large watermelon to bury my head in.” He gestures up toward the ceiling, where the song continues to blast in its bubbly, upbeat tempo. “Alternatively, if you know whom I might bribe to switch the playlist in here, it might spare me a hair wash.”

[carmencarrillo]

𝙒𝙃𝙊: Rachel Hargrove @rachelhargrove 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀: Rachel's House in Summit Lake

Carmen was sure that if she had to unpack any more boxes, she would absolutely lose her mind. They'd moved into this house six months ago now, and there were still boxes that Carmen and Mei hadn't seem to go through. Sure, it was a sign they were spending more time with their family than they were unpacking boxes, but, none the less the boxes leftover where beginning to be a problem for Carmen's bank account as she found herself ordering things that she didn't need multiples of because she couldn't find them in the boxes in her home. Which was precisely why she'd been frustratingly staring at her phone waiting for her amazon package to arrive; at this point though it was an hour past delivery and had not yet arrived. As she sighed, she remembered just a few days ago when she'd gotten her neighbors mail on accident before grabbing it from the mail holder by the door and making her way across the street after letting her wife know she'd be right back. Shutting the door behind her, it took very few strides to make it to the front porch of the other and she knocked, waiting for the door to open. "Hey there, neighbor." she smiled, extending her hand. "We've gotten some of you mail by mistake and I just wanted to deliver it myself. Out of curiosity do you think the delivery people happened to drop off my delivery at your door instead of mine?"

[clementinebriar]

STATUS: closed for @rachelxhan LOCATION: haunted rave

Clem practically kicks the bathroom door open, glaring at any of the bitches in line for a stall that give her a dirty look for it. She’s not here to pee — she knows better than to break the seal this early in the night — she just needs to make sure the stupid slash across her neck hasn’t turned into mush yet. She’s been leaning over a lot. For snorting purposes.

Making her way to the sinks, she stops when she spots a familiar face, all done up and in pink. Grinning widely, she approaches Rachel, leaning against the counter space beside her. “Rachel Han,” she comments, tilting her head. “I almost didn’t recognize you, not ordering a vodka tonic.” She turns herself over to look in the mirror. Slash and gore still in place, it seems. So are her tits, thank god. She leans closer to the mirror, inspecting her makeup while she’s at it, fixing her hair, contemplating her existence — the usual shit you do in the bathroom. 

Finally, she glances back at Rachel with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Didn’t peg you for a rave kinda gal,” she points out. “Thought you’d be more inclined to, like, pass books or fuckin’ — media literacy pamphlets out to children on Halloween.” 

[mastermicd]

@d1rtgrubz liked for a starter (still accepting).

"it says money, dick, power." rachel held her wrist up to show off the drunken tattoo, since his eyes seemed to have been trying to decipher exactly what it said. "what? were you expecting some sort of profound bible verse? i've been drinking here alone for three hours, bible verses aren't really my thing."

[stardomiscalling]

Rachel decided to bring her love of the theatrics to the ball. She selected a nearly sheer low cut glittery black dress. The floor length dress is held up by two delicate spaghetti straps. For further dramatic effect she wore a long black overcoat which was removed upon arrival.

Her date is the handsome, @brodywcston.

[spellbcok]

a closed starter for rachel green ( @youllalwaysbemyporcelain )

blair rolled her eyes at the sight of people trying to ride the elephant in the museum's rotunda. "and that is why i prefer galas with an exclusive guest list."

[hcnayun]

— characters: hana & rachel — setting: ladies room at some public eatery — partner: @rachelhargrove

"Oh... my... god..." The words were spoken with dread and embarrassment after she'd finished washing her hands and looked up into the mirror. "I just sat through the last half hour with that finance dude with something in my teeth the whole freaking time." Things like this were reasons why she didn't generally eat during business types of meetings. With her friends it was fine, Hana was sure they'd say something and not let her look like a fool. But now his first impression of her would be that little seed stuck in her teeth enjoying their entire conversation. "I would like to spontaneously combust please and thanks."

[seolinah]

closed for @starlingisms // this plot ft. ye-jun + rachel

Ye-jun tapped away on his keyboard. It was easy enough to get carried away once he got started, but that meant he wasn't exactly keeping track of how long he'd been working even after saying it would only take a few minutes. As he paused to rub at his tired eyes, he finally noticed the time on his computer. Oh. Turning in his chair, he spotted Rachel sitting on the couch. He frowned apologetically as he caught her eye. "Sorry... I was just supposed to fix one thing and then I ended up taking care of another problem... Sorry." After being used to always being alone when in his own space, he was still adjusting to the fact that Rachel came over. Not that he didn't want her there, because he did, but this really was all new for him. "I, uh, will try not to have that happen again. Don't want you to be wasting your time by being here."

[dvsconocvdo]

closed starter for @moonglowmagic & @earthwindandraen

Noel couldn't think clearly, not even after talking with Nico. It only took a matter of minutes before anger overtook them again. Heart kept racing as they went over the last conversation before shit went wild and they got eggnog all over their fucking sweater. Who the fuck was that witch? A spy for Silas? Their blood was boiling. How dare they do that? How dare he? For a moment Noel is still, taking deep breaths as they feel their palpitations continued. You can't turn now, they thought. They were hanging by a thread, but that didn't stop them from taking a deep breath and searching Rachel Elle by scent alone. It was hard, they stood still for a little bit, and then began charging towards where they thought Rachel was. They bumped into someone on their quest and managed to mumble out a quick apology and a warning, "You should get out of here." Noel continued to walk not batting the pixie another look. When their eyes spotted the witch, muscles tensed. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" A pause. "Surely not rat Jas out." From the corner of their eye, they saw a bit of movement. To be expected as people continued to leave the Magnolia Inn, others in a bigger rush than others. But Noel wasn't really scared of what was happening, concerned, sure, but right now their mind was only preoccupied with the dark witch, with the rat in front of her.

[elijahfalvey]

— LOCATION: Mic Drop!

— CHARACTERS: Elijah & Rachel ( @rachelxhan ).

Suggesting to go to Mic Drop!, of all bars — when there were many, many others to choose from that didn’t routinely leave Elijah with a headache and a hangover — should have been seen as the cry for help it was. In his happiest, most rational state of mind, he’d never choose the karaoke bar for his ideal night out. At least, not anymore; not after last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, where he woke up the next morning feeling every millisecond of his age and the faint instrumental of Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) was still pounding at the base of his fucking skull. No, no, absolutely not — he knew, deep down, that he couldn’t put himself through that anymore. But alas, here he was, about two whiskey sour’s deep as he sat across from Rachel at the high-top table destined to repeat the past’s plentiful mistakes. In due time. A woman no younger than fifty stepped up to the stage next, just as the applause for the previous volunteer — a young gentlemen who introduced himself to the uninterested crowd as Bobby Disco — fizzled out. Elijah brought his nearly empty glass to his lips, wondering to himself just how she was meant to top an off-key rendition of Bruno Mars’ Locked Out of Heaven, when the opening counts of the very Whitney Houston song of his nightmares busted through the speakers. He groaned, his head immediately folding into his hands. “Raaaaachel,” he whined, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this? Please, for the love of God, rip my eardrums out — I can't do this.”

[wmu-cedes]

@stardomiscalling

Are you nyctophobia or claustrophobic? I would be happy to sit with you if you think that might help.

I'm gonna assume Nyctophobia is afraid of the dark - in which case, yes. So if you wanna sit with me boo, I'd appreciate the hell outta it.

[hooneycomb]

@yeagrist​​ — rachel & ian.

em uma perspectiva geral, rachel não tinha motivos para reclamar de seu emprego. era um milagre ter conseguido um cargo em uma empresa tão boa quanto aquela mesmo com poucos anos de formada; as suas entrevistas prévias costumavam exigir uma experiência que obviamente não conseguiria ter sem a contratação, e sabia que vários de seus ex-colegas dos anos da universidade estavam lutando para ter o seu espaço em um mercado de trabalho saturado. adorava o ambiente da revista e, até mesmo, gostava da maneira como o escritório era organizado. conseguira fazer uma amizade extremamente próxima no seu tempo de trabalho com outra das garotas que haviam sido contratadas mais recentemente, e sempre sorria com os cumprimentos da simpática secretária do local. tudo seria perfeito, em sua mente, se não fosse um problema: ian cameron. 

por outro lado, sabia que ele também não a suportava, então, de alguma maneira, tornava a situação de ambos um pouco mais simples: não precisava fingir que estava contente com a presença dele e, menos ainda, fingir que não estava certa de que era ele a cometer ações que ocasionavam dificuldades em sua vida de forma direta. aquele homem deveria tentar sabotá-la muito mais vezes do que percebia, estava certa; era como uma cópia cuspida pela impressora do dwight de the office, em termos do quão insuportável ian era de se conviver. imaginava que a maioria das pessoas no escritório já soubesse que a dupla de ex-colegas não possuía uma relação nem sequer próxima da amigável e, honestamente, rachel até se surpreendia por não terem sido chamados a atenção mais vezes por suas implicâncias. era quase como se não conseguissem passar um dia sem alguma! e nem precisaria procurar muito por algum tipo de exemplo, afinal, parecia sempre cair de paraquedas diante de si uma motivação para acumular ódio de ian. “pode ir parando aí,” o chamou, quando o avistou passando próximo da área da cozinha. “acha que eu não sei que foi você que pifou a cafeteira? tem uma cápsula de café entalada ali que ninguém consegue tirar, e você foi o último que eu vi usando.” o acusou, por mais que não tivesse completa certeza. mas era ian de quem falavam, credo. “nem tenta negar, essas suas olheiras de quem deixou pra fazer de última hora o que precisava tão berrando na sua cara. eu sei bem que você não iria durar esse tempo todo sem cafeína.” cruzou os braços. “e é bom que esteja já com o seu texto pronto pra enviar pro meu email, porque eu preciso dele pra terminar o meu e enviar pra natalie.”

[screenviolense]

　　' if anyone asks, i wasn't the one who gave you this. i don't have enough to share with everybody. ' smoking wasn't great for a cheerleader, especially not one who had the responsibilities she did as the base of the pyramid. still, it wasn't like she was the one they were all looking at. the cigarette dangled from her fingers as she held out, her lighter in the other.

@offier / underused muse starter call.