#kentucky movers

[my3sonsmoving]

Boxes to New Beginnings: Mastering the Smooth Long-Distance Move

Moving to a new state is an exciting milestone, but it can also be a daunting task. According to a recent survey by the American Moving and Storage Association, approximately 35.5 million Americans relocate each year, with around 17% of those moves being long-distance or out-of-state. To ensure a smooth transition, careful planning and execution are crucial.

Crafting a Roadmap: The Importance of a Moving Timeline

One of the first steps in ensuring a successful long-distance move is crafting a comprehensive moving timeline. This roadmap serves as a guide, outlining crucial tasks and deadlines leading up to moving day. Start by determining your moving date and work backward, allocating time. A well-crafted moving timeline can make all the difference in ensuring a stress-free relocation. In fact, the American Trucking Associations reports that 70% of individuals who plan their move in advance experience a smoother transition compared to those who do not. By creating a detailed timeline that outlines every step, from decluttering and packing to hiring a reputable moving company and transferring utilities, you can avoid last-minute scrambles and ensure a seamless process.

Packing With Precision: The Room-by-Room Approach

Efficient packing is essential for a smooth long-distance move. Instead of tackling the entire house at once, begin with areas of the house that are used less frequently, such as the attic or basement, and gradually work your way towards more commonly used spaces. Invest in high-quality packing materials and label boxes clearly to streamline the unpacking process at your new home. Packing can quickly become overwhelming, especially for long-distance moves. Statistics from the National Association of Productivity and Organizing Professionals reveal that the average American home contains over 300,000 items. By adopting a room-by-room approach and methodically working through each space, you can streamline the packing process and minimize the risk of misplaced or damaged belongings.

 Navigating the Maze: Choosing the Right Moving Company

Selecting a reputable moving company is paramount when embarking on a long-distance move. Conduct thorough research, read reviews, and get quotes from multiple companies before deciding. Look for a moving and storage company that specializes in long-distance moves and offers services tailored to your specific needs. Ensure that the company is licensed and insured to safeguard your belongings during transit. Entrusting your belongings to a reliable moving company is crucial when relocating long distances. 

According to the American Moving and Storage Association, 60% of individuals who hire professional movers report a more positive moving experience compared to those who attempt to handle the move independently. Companies like My 3 Sons Moving, a residential moving company near you, specialize in out-of-state relocations and offer expert services such as packing, coordination, and storage solutions.

Saying Farewell: Transferring Utilities and Forwarding Mail

As moving day approaches, do not forget to tie up loose ends at your current residence. Arrange for the transfer of utilities to your new address and notify service providers of your impending move. Before bidding farewell to your current residence, it is essential to ensure a smooth transition by transferring utilities to your new address and arranging for mail forwarding. The United States Postal Service reports that over 36 million address changes are processed annually, highlighting the importance of this step in preventing lapses in essential services and ensuring important documents and correspondence reach your new home without delay.

Setting Up Your Haven: Creating Comfort in Your New Home

Once you have arrived at your new home, focus on creating a comfortable and welcoming environment. Unpack essentials first, such as bedding, toiletries, and kitchen essentials, to facilitate a smooth transition. Take the time to explore your new neighborhood and familiarize yourself with local amenities. Personalize your space to reflect your style and make it feel like home sweet home. Once you have arrived at your destination, the unpacking process begins. According to the National Association of Professional Organizers, it takes the average American household approximately six months to fully unpack and settle into a new home. By prioritizing essential rooms and gradually working through the remaining spaces, you can establish a sense of familiarity and functionality in your new surroundings.

Beyond the Checklist: De-Stressing Tips for Moving Day

Moving day can be stressful, but with the right mindset and preparation, it can also be a smooth and memorable experience. Start the day off right with a nutritious breakfast and stay hydrated throughout the day. While checklists and timelines are invaluable, self-care during this transition is equally important. Research by the American Psychological Association indicates that moving is among the top five most stressful life events. By enlisting the help of friends or family members, taking breaks when needed, and ensuring essential supplies are on hand, you can mitigate the stress and make the moving day more manageable.

By embracing a well-organized approach, partnering with reliable professionals like My 3 Sons Moving, and prioritizing your well-being, you can transform the daunting task of a long-distance move into a seamless journey toward new beginnings.  

[fandom-imagines-stories]

This is Just the Beginning

Raylan Givens x Reader

Words: 2907

Summary: The reader’s husband finds out she’s been investigating a series of disappearances without telling him after she comes home with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. 

Notes: I don’t really know where I was going with this one, but you know what, it was fun to write. I couldn't resist writing a good 'who hurt you' story with Raylan. I also might write more to this story, hence the cliffhanger, but I thought that starting off in the middle of the drama would be fun to experiment with. I love me a good in medias res. This man has taken full control of my brain, so be ready for possible other Timothy Olyphant appearances on this blog. 

Other Crime Drama imagines: HERE

-

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and jerked your arm. Biting your lip, your muffled cry of pain still filled the bedroom as you popped your shoulder back into place. Your vision blurred even more, adding to your already dizzy state. You stumbled your way to the bathroom where the mirror revealed more carnage. 

A large gash on your forehead explained the pounding in your head and a massive mark on your left cheek showed the beginnings of a nasty bruise. As for the rest of you, it felt like you’d been trampled by all of the horses in the Kentucky Derby. 

All to get you to stop looking. To scare you into submission. To forget about all of those girls. 

Instead, it just pissed you off. 

But that would have to wait. For now, you were just grateful your husband would be out of town until tomorrow. It at least gave you some time to figure out how to hide your injuries so he didn’t have a goddamn heart attack. The last thing you needed was to have to explain what you’d been doing that led to you getting jumped in the parking lot of your work. 

What Raylan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Hoping to distract yourself from all the throbbing and aches throughout your body, you pulled out your computer to get some work done, maybe figure out who it was that attacked you. There were moments, between the swings and the yelling, that you thought you got a good enough look at the bastard. Skinny, white, teeth that hadn’t seen a brush in years, and you were pretty sure he had a tattoo on his hand. You should know from how many times it smacked you around. 

You flexed your jaw, wincing. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered, pulling up your search engine and typing in the Chamberlain Family Movers website. The cover image depicted all of the members of their little clan of criminals. You narrowed your eyes and leaned over your screen to get a better look. 

The front door opened. 

You slammed your laptop shut. 

“Shit,” you said. “Shit shit shit shit shit.” You scrambled to your dresser for your concealer. “Raylan, honey, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he called back, sounding tired. “Got the job done early so they sent me home.”

“That right?” In your hurry, your hand swept the tube of makeup you needed and you watched in panic as it rolled behind the dresser. “Goddamnit.” 

“Guess that means we can break open that wine you wanted to, huh?” 

“Yeah, that sounds nice!” 

There had to be something. You had to find something. You tried reaching behind the dresser, but it just made the screaming pain in your shoulder shoot up again and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from making any sound. 

Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. 

You kept your back to the door and your arm behind the dresser. 

Raylan opened the door. 

“Whatcha doing?” He asked, clicking the door shut behind him. 

“Looking for my makeup,” you said, your bruised cheek pressed against the wooden surface. 

“In the dark?” He turned on the light. “Do you want some help?”

“No, no, I almost got it.” You stretched your fingers, accidentally bumping it further away. “Shit.” 

“Are you sure?” He chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining about the view here, sweetheart, but that cannot be comfortable.” 

“Almost…” You caught the tube of concealer between your middle finger and pointer. “There.” You stood up straight, careful to not be facing him. “Now I’m gonna go put it on. I want to look pretty if we’re having a date night.” You hurried to close the bathroom door, putting an inch and three-eighths between you and his gaze.

“Hold up,” he said before you could close it. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah.” You kept your face turned away. “I just want to put on some makeup.” 

You almost had it. Just a few more inches…

Raylan put a foot in the door. “Why won’t you look at me?” He put a hand on your cheek.

“Raylan, wait,” you said. 

He turned your head to face him and, immediately his face changed. His mouth fell open and his hand fell to his side, but it was his eyes that got you. Oh, his eyes. They filled with worry, but with that, there was a fire. A fire that burned all the way through you. 

“What happened?” 

You held up a hand, motioning for him to calm down before that flame in his eyes turned into a wildfire. 

“Raylan,” you said calmly, sweetly. 

“Don’t Raylan me,” he snapped back. “What the hell happened?” He didn’t let you finish. “Somebody mug you? What have I told you, Y/N, you don’t fight ‘em, you give-”

“I know you are not blaming me right now when I’m standing in front of you with a bruise the size of Tennessee on my face,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as best you could. “God, Raylan, you always have to say ‘I told you so.’” Despite the bite in your words, you couldn’t stop the crack in your voice. 

His eyes softened. He brought his hand back to your face, gently grazing your cheek. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”  

Raylan pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. But when his embrace hit your shoulder, you cried out against his chest. He pushed back in a panic, eyeing you for the injury. 

“It’s, dis-” you took a sharp breath. “Dislocated. I popped it back just before you got here.” 

“You relocated your own shoulder? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I figured if I went to a hospital, you’d find out about it, or hell, maybe someone would think you did it.” You blinked back tears, looking up at the ceiling. 

Raylan saw marks on your neck. Like someone had put a boot there. 

The fire in his eyes returned. 

“Come here.” He led you to the bed, careful not to hurt your shoulder again. “Now, sweetheart, I need you to tell me what happened.” 

You swallowed. “You’re not gonna like it.” 

“I don’t like coming home to you beat to hell either,” he said. “So you’d better just tell me and I can figure this out.”

“You won’t be doing anything.” 

He tilted his head in warning. “Y/N, honey, just tell me who roughed you up. I’m not going to run off and shoot ‘em if that’s what you're worried about.”

That was exactly what you were worried about. 

That, and dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in was the last thing you wanted. 

Lie. 

“A guy jumped me when I got to my car after work,” you said. If you kept things vague enough, maybe he wouldn't keep asking. Who were you kidding? You married a Marshal. So you added one more thing to throw him off the scent. “Took my purse.” 

Raylan’s eyes narrowed in confusion, darting between you and something behind you. 

“The mugger took your purse?” 

“Uhuh,” you lied. “And I did exactly what you told me to. I cooperated. I didn’t mouth off. And he still beat the shit out of me. Some people I guess.” 

Raylan leaned forward and pointed. “That purse?” 

You turned. Sure enough, that damn bag hung on the back of your chair. 

Shit. 

“N-no, my other purse.”

“You don’t have another purse, honey,” he sighed. “Unless you have another husband that bought you a different one.” Raylan moved so he was crouched in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Just tell me the truth, baby.” 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted it out. 

“I’ve been looking into some disappearances. I think it might trace back to a crime group outside of Lexington, but I wasn’t sure and I went down there to look around and someone must have seen me-”

Raylan held up a hand. 

“You started investigating organized crime and you didn’t think to tell me?” 

He spoke slowly and quietly. You would have preferred he yelled. 

“I was only looking into it because a friend of mine’s daughter was taken. I wasn’t sure it would lead back to anything big.”

His expression stayed the same. Eerily calm. “You started investigating organized crime and you didn’t think to tell me?” He repeated. 

“They’re taking girls, Raylan,” you exclaimed. “I had to do something.”

He stood up. 

You followed, moving to the chair to grab your purse. 

Raylan spoke from behind you. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going to sit here and be lectured by you,” you said. “I need to go check on Beth, anyway. If they found me, they might have found her too.” 

“If you are going anywhere, it’s to a goddamn hospital.” There was the yelling you were looking for. “Do you have any idea what kind of shit you are in?” 

“No, Raylan, I really hadn’t thought about the possibility that the Chamberlains might have a problem with me looking into their human trafficking!” You clamped your mouth shut. Shit. You shouldn’t have said that. 

“You went after the Chamberlains alone?” 

“I think we’ve established the alone part, honey. You’ve made it very clear.” 

“Goddamnit, Y/N, this isn’t a joke!” He whirled you around to face him. “I’ve dealt with these people before. And this,” he motioned to your multiple injuries. “This is just the beginning.” He took your face in his hands, thumb running over the mark on your cheek. “It’s just the beginning.” 

Looking into your husband’s dark, worried eyes, you almost broke. 

How hard would it be for them to find him? To make him bleed, to break him. And it would be your fault. 

You had to catch them first. 

“Alright, I won’t go to Beth’s tonight,” you sighed. “But I’m not going to a hospital either.” You stopped him before he could argue. “It’ll draw too much attention.”

“Sweetheart, your head is bleeding, you probably have a concussion, and you relocated your own goddamn shoulder,” he said. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you here to keep an eye on me then, hm?” You put on your sweetest smile and pressed your lips against his to keep him from fighting about it. 

When he pulled away, there was a small smile, albeit a reluctant one, on his face. “I’ll go get something to clean that then,” he said, pointing to the gash on your head.

“I’ll surrender to that.” 

He kissed your forehead as he went. 

You waited until you heard his footsteps on the stairs to reopen your computer, peering at the picture until your head hurt. 

There, in the very center, was the sonofabitch who attacked you. 

-

You would have crossed your arms in frustration if your shoulder still didn’t hurt so damn bad. If he was going to treat you like a kid, you were very tempted to start acting like one. 

He led you into the office, pointed at you, then pointed at the chair across from his. 

“You. Sit.” 

“Yes. Sir.” You pronounced with the same agitated tone he presented. Despite your defiant eye, you did as he said and sat down, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the glass of a photograph. An ugly bruise sure enough covered the lower left half of your face and the cut Raylan cleaned the night before. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “You think about anything and everything you can tell me about what you found out. And I mean all of it, Y/N.” The sternness and frustration in his voice hid something else that only someone who knew him like you did could see. 

He was scared shitless. 

Art was already out of his office, watching the encounter between the two of you curiously. 

“Raylan, I didn’t know it was bring-your-wife-to-work-day,” he snarked. When you turned your head, revealing your injuries, his teasing smirk fell. “Good Lord, what happened?”

“I gotta talk to you,” Raylan sighed. “Now.” 

Art nodded and led him into his office, closing the door behind them. 

“Hi, Mrs. Givens,” Rachel greeted with a small smile and a questioning gaze. 

“Oh, it’s just Y/N today,” you said. “My husband’s a touch mad at me, so I think it’s best to leave his name out of it.” You watched her eyes widen. “Oh God, no this wasn’t him.” You laughed humorlessly. “This is my own mess, as I’m sure he’d love to point out.” 

“Looks like quite the mess,” she noted, motioning to your cheek. 

“Yeah well, even Marshalls can’t stop the world from happening, right? Despite what Raylan would like me to believe.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Good luck convincing him of that. Sometimes I think he must believe he’s Superman with the shit he gets himself into.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

The two of you laughed. You tried to get a look into Art’s office, but the blinds were drawn shut. You didn’t like being talked about behind closed doors. It made you feel like a kid waiting for your parents outside of the principal's office. And you didn’t even work here. 

Your leg bounced with a mix of impatience and anxiety. You were so high-strung that you nearly jumped out of the chair when your phone rang, your knee hitting the edge of Raylan’s desk. Everyone in the office looked up at you. You pretended like nothing happened as a string of whispered curses left your mouth. When you looked at the number, you sighed. It was just Beth.

“Hey, I can’t really talk right now, but I might have found something.” 

“Do anything to alert the pretty little Marshal next to you and we’ll shoot Mrs. McCaughly,” a voice you didn’t recognize said. 

You froze. 

They continued. “Go outside. There’s a car waiting to pick you up. We just want to talk.” 

“Hold on, I think you’re breaking up. Let me see if I can get a better signal.” You kept your tone as level as possible. Luckily, everyone in the office had returned to their mountains of work, including Rachel. 

“We appreciate your corroboration, Mrs. Givens,” the voice said slyly. “We’d rather not have to bring your husband into this. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.” 

You turned your head.

Raylan was still in Art’s office. 

“We promise to return you to him in one piece,” the man cleared his throat, “so long as you cooperate, of course.” 

“Let me just step outside. I’ll hear you better there.”

You stood up and walked out without causing any alarm. 

“Jesus, Raylan, what the hell was she thinking?” Art sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Raylan’s leg bounced, fists clenching and unclenching around the arms of the chair. 

He could still see the blood in your hair, and hear your whimpers when you moved your injured shoulder. He wanted to find the sonofabitch who did it more than anything, but right now, he was more worried about what it could lead to. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

“I want to put her in protective custody,” Raylan said. 

Art shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Make it work like that.” Raylan stood up, pacing. “Did you see what they did to her, Art? They could have killed her. Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t. And I know her, she’s going to keep pursuing this and pushing and pushing until someone goes over the edge.”

“I guess you two are perfect for each other then,” Art muttered. 

Raylan closed his eyes. “I need help. I don’t know these people. I don’t know what they’ll do, but I know they’ve already gone after her once. Please, Art. I can’t…” He trailed off. 

The tone of his voice alone showed his supervisor just how afraid Raylan really was. Art hadn’t seen him this way before. The anger and frustration, sure. But never afraid. 

Art sighed. “I can’t do anything officially. We can’t confirm that this was anything more than a mugging.” He shot Raylan a look to keep him from arguing. “But why don’t you take a couple days off? Get Y/N and yourself away for a while. Let us look into it and see if we turn anything up.”

Raylan took a deep breath, nostrils flaring and that same fire in his eyes from the night before. He exhaled slowly and nodded. 

“Alright, fine, but if anything happens, I want to be the first to know.” 

“I’ll look into it,” Art said. “Now go take care of that pretty wife of yours.” 

He dismissed him with a wave of the hand. 

Raylan left the office feeling just as wired as he had when he walked in, but when he looked at his desk, his entire body went cold. 

“Rachel,” he started, “where’s my wife?”

The other Marshal looked up from her paperwork. “She had to take a phone call, why?”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“I think outside- hey, wait! What’s going on?”

Raylan was out the door in seconds. Waiting for the elevator would take too long so he sprinted down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. 

But it didn’t matter how fast he ran. By the time he reached the sidewalk, you were gone. 

[galactic-academia]

Through The Door

Rating: T (for language)

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

Tags: Language, angst, fluff, pining, age gap (10 years), making out, mention of violence, mention of alcohol consumption, mention of suicide (but in a cynical way, no one seriously thinks about taking their own life here)

Words : 4K

Summary: Once upon a time, Raylan Givens was the very center of your universe and you would like to think you were – at least – his favorite Moon. Then he left you behind. Now that you're face to face again, what's going to happen ?

Notes : Not canon compliant: no Winona here and Raylan left Kentucky later than in the show. This is dramatic, 4K of desperate pining 😅 I would like to say I don’t know what possessed me, but that would be a lie... 😶 Anyway, I’m not a native, please, forget my mistakes and I hope you’ll enjoy 🤗💖 Dividers are from  animatedglittergraphics-n-more 

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Timothy Olyphant Masterlist

You look down the garden alley leading to the road as the movers puts furnitures up and piles card boxes in every room. Lexington, Kentucky; out of all the lost, forgotten-to-God, shitty places the U.S. Marshals Service could have hidden you, they chose here. All of this because you chose to not keep your damn big mouth shut - no, Hell - because you couldn’t keep it shut, never could, never would. There wouldn’t ever be any point to, now, and what could be worse than this? Whatever the answer could be, a bullet in your own temple still could solve all your problems if the time ever came, anyway.

A deep voice, far from unfamiliar, calling for your Marshal-turned-babysitter for the day wrenches you from the contemplation of the dead wildflowers. Dear God, the bullet in the head might come sooner than expected, in the end.

«If ain’t Raylan Givens in the flesh, I’ll be damned!»

You know it’s him, you would recognise his stupid, handsome face anytime, anywhere. The incomprehension written all over his face, though? It almost makes you doubt. Sure, he’s far older than the last time you saw him, and he looks like a cowboy in a shitty tv show, but the all-seeing, deep, big brown eyes? The cocky smirk? That aloof, arrogant stance? Uhuh, you’re positive, that can’t be anyone else but him.

The surprise turned into suspiciousness doesn’t make him less attractive, but the words coming out of his mouth do make you want to slap him.

«Do I know you, Ma’am?»

Ah! He doesn’t recognise you! Alright, then.

«No».

You don’t plan on explaining yourself furthermore and, after a few moments of awkward silence - when he finally understands he will have to pry if he wants anymore informations, he asks, «But ya know me?»

«Yes». Then, you turn on your heels to go back in your rented-house. It’s been a long time but knowing you were right all along, all these years ago? That you were truly insignificant to him, to the point he can’t make you out a few years later? It stings.

When you were a kid, Raylan was your god. Without any big brother to protect you, it had seemed easy to the little sandbox scums to pick on you, until a fifteen - almost sixteen! - years old Raylan, passing by the elementary school on his bike on his way back from high school, had witnessed two little boys holding you while a third lift your skirt. Two of them went back home with soiled shorts and the third - who’s been stupid enough to try and push you to the ground after Raylan had promised them a hard time if they came near you ever again - with a black eye. That day, six-years-old-you had won a friend, a big brother and a protector all at once.

Not a day passed without Raylan stopping by the playground to check on you since then, until the day your turn came to go to high school, hand in hand with Raylan - or dangling off his arm - with him carrying both your bag and his more often than not. Boys of all ages - including the densest of them - came to understand that messing with you meant messing with Raylan Givens and therefore black eyes, broken arms, lost teeth and aching groins. Even tough he went to college while you stayed in high school, no bullying of any kind would stay unpunished. You did your best to return the favour: breaking windows, puncturing bike tires, stealing and then hiding school bags (for the homework to never be found again) and even, in one memorable occasion, pushing in Harlan’s lake all the little thugs you knew were bothering Raylan. And when his father beat the shit out of him, you would always manage to pass some treats off to him, sometimes with the help of Miss Helen.

There was no Raylan without you, and no you without Raylan. All the girls threw themselves at him, and they hadn’t anything to fear of you - unless your «adopted» big brother had something to complain about them, of course - until you reached something like fifteen. Until your first seventeen years old boyfriend freaking cheated on you and you ran crying into Raylan’s always-welcoming arms. Maybe nothing would have changed - he would have comforted you, let you bundled into one of his sweat by his bed while he beat the inanity of the culprit, then take you out for some ice cream or something like that - if, as the freshly twenty-five young man he was, he hadn’t been hangover as all hell, and maybe even a little drunk still, and did the only sensible thing he could think of at that very moment to make you shut up: grab the back of your head and plant a kiss square on your lips.

It was nothing, just a little peck. The kind you gave the great-aunt who had come from the other side of the country to see you on the day of your First Communion. A desperate, non-violent measure to quiet the noise you made and that kept him from thinking. But, on your side of the story, it has been a revelation.

«Are you fuckin’ serious?»

Raylan was dumbstruck already and Gutterson’s reaction just made it worse. He has been sent to Hell for no apparent reason, right? So why was he the bad guy here?

Turning to his fellow deputy, he chose to answer the question by another question: «What the fuck just happened?»

«You tell me!» Tim was truly offended, crossed arms, exasperated tone and all, «It took me two fucking hours to get her out of her office! Two true hours, not just saying! You point your nose here and bam! She locked herself in this godforsaken office once again! What did you do this time?!»

«Me?! I just... Hell! I just ‘pointed my nose here’ as you put it and I got yelled at on every side!» The Marshal was beginning to lose his temper; he could be blamed for a lot of things, but being dishonest wasn’t one of them. He truly had no idea about why the new U.S. Marshall Services’ protegee was mad at him, he was burning to learn the answer, though. «Who’s this gal, anyway?»

«For fuck sake, Givens!», Marshall Gutterson rolled his eyes before putting his hand to his forehead, even more tired than angry, «Did you even read the fucking record? Or just the memo requiring you here?»

Raylan did his best to look indignant but Tim spoke again before he had any chance to find a good defence, «Don’t bother, I know you didn’t or you would at least know the fucking name of our witness».

«Alright, I didn’t , ok? Art told me to get my goddamn ass here, I did as I was told», the ‘for once’ was only implied, but the force of this implication only helped Gutterson to resigned himself to his usual sassy-self and just sigh your name to his colleague.

The following absolute lack of any smartass remark on Raylan’s side immediately told the deputy something was wrong, and if it hadn’t, the fact that he looked like he had seen a ghost would have.

«You do know her, then?»

«Shit, yeah...»

«And you did something to her?»

«Mate...», Raylan still looked aghast and, somehow, a little amazed, «If she took a fucking gun and shot me right this instant, I would go to the trial and advocate that I fully deserved it.»

Eyes round and mouth a little open, Marshal Gutterson watched his colleague shook himself out of his trance - going from stunned to determined - and ran to the door you were hiding behind, regretting to not have bring any popcorn.

Once again, Raylan Givens could - and should - be blamed for a lot of things, but one never gets bored with him!

The truth - sad as it may be - is that you never loved anyone but Raylan. You tried before, with your shitty first boyfriend, and you tried... After. When you were sure you would never see him again. But it never worked. They weren’t him.

The abrupt understanding of the nature of your feelings towards the one you qualified as a big brother didn’t really change your relationship. Raylan did beat the shit out of the fucker who has attended to your honor and came back to shower you in attention as he always did, and if you had been clingier, or needier he didn’t say anything about it. But less than a month later, he had disappeared. Without an explanation, without a word, without saying goodbye. Miss Helen said he was alright, that he had to leave for his own good. You couldn’t disagree with that. But surely he would come back to take you with him, right? Or at least write, so you would know when he would come back. Or phone.

He couldn’t just have left and let you there like that.

Your turn came to leave Lexington three years later. Three years too late. You came back only when you couldn’t avoid it and hoping - each and every time - that you would run into him and... Throttle him? Throw yourself in his arms? But Raylan never came back and, one day, you stopped coming back altogether too.

You had boyfriends out of Lexington, sure. They weren’t all that bad, but still, never as brave, or as kind and certainly not as piggy headed as the asshole that left you behind. They didn’t know how to make you laugh like him, how to comfort you like only him could. How to make you feel safe. They couldn’t even break your heart as perfectly as Raylan did.

You heard quiet scratches on the door against which you had slumped followed by his voice, low and muted by the wood, but so soft it made your heart ache, «Lil?»

Ah. He remembers, now.

«Lil... I’m so sorry...»

Lil. No one has called you that fore more than fifteen years. He has ever been the only one to call you that, ‘little one’ or ‘lil’. It became a habit, a nickname. Something just between the two of you.

«I figured you would want to... talk? I have some explanations to give, yeah?»

You’re sure he looks even more awkward than he sounds; apologizing has never been Raylan’s forte. You weren’t often mad at him, but when you were, a few words, playful kisses all over your face or a battle of tickles would settle everything. Nothing was important enough to endanger what you had.

«Are we gonna have this conversation through the fuckin’ door? Out of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the grumpy one, remember? Lil’?»

You can resist. He can’t kiss or tickle you right now, only talk. You have survived without him for the last fifteen years, ignoring him won’t be a big deal.

«You gonna make me beg, don’t ya? Hell, you wouldn’t believe how many assholes would pay a pretty penny to hear me beg you to open this fucking door, you know? I don’t beg. I don’t. But for you, I will.»

Hell, you forgot how the fucker can sweet-talk anyone into anything. You don’t say «no», to Raylan Givens, it’s physically impossible - to you, at least. You want to smash your own head on the wall, but you’re smiling.

«Baby», oh no, not that, «Baby, please, open the door». His voice is nearer now, like he dropped to his knees on the other side of the door. And his voice’s gone a little rough, you would think him on the verge of tears, if you didn’t know better. «If you want to hurt me, I’ll let you, I deserve it. I will let you yell at me. You can insult me. Or even just ignore me, but I need you to open this door, please. Let me see you. Let me know you’re ok. Baby, please.»

You always loved when Raylan called you «baby». It was a rare treat meant to either placate you or emphasize a praise. You’re drowning in it, now. A loud, choked sob startles you into the present moment, you didn’t even notice you had started crying.

«Ok», his voice is so soft now, you’re surprised you still can hear it trough the wooden panel, «I’ve said everything I could while on this side of the door. Now I’m gonna wait for you to go outta there and then we can speak some more. I’m not goin’ anywhere, take your time.»

Hugging your chest, you lean your head against the door. You should be proud of yourself: for the first time in your life, you were able to resist to Raylan Givens. Thanks to a door that blocked out everything except his voice, but still a victory. Maybe you could taste a parcel of it if the gaping hole that took place in your chest fifteen years ago wasn’t aching like day one once again.

The truth - the real one, this time - is that you never loved anyone but Raylan, because you never stopped to love him. Ever.

You stayed a few hours holed up in your hiding place before nature started calling. By two in the morning, it wasn’t a call anymore but a summoning. That was what got you out of your office; had you locked yourself up in your en-suite bedroom, the problem would never have occurred.

You cracked the door open as silently as you could; you were sure Raylan was still somewhere in the house, as he told you he would, but maybe you could run to the bathroom without him noticing. And you will have to face him one way or another, you couldn’t stay hidden forever anyway. But a few extra hours to put yourself together before it wouldn’t be unwelcome. With this beginning of a plan, you were ready to give it a try, but certainly not prepared for what you saw once the door truly open.

Raylan hadn’t left, neither the house, nor the hallway for he was fast asleep on the floor, back and head resting against the wall right next to the door. In a way, you shouldn’t even be surprised, it’s not unlike Raylan to be dramatic like that. But the Hell if your heart doesn’t miss a beat and then try to escape through your throat. And now that you’re looking at him, you can’t stop. The bastard has always been handsome, with this carved jaw and those hair - God, those hair - and those deep, sparkling eyes thankfully shut for now, but jeez... With the beard? The salt and pepper? He’s not a boy anymore, he’s a man now, a true one. He’s never been more attractive. And asleep? Soft and vulnerable like this, with his stupid hat resting next to him? God help you, it’s a fucking miracle that you’re still set on bypassing him altogether.

You take a few tentative steps in the hallway, careful to not bump into him, to be as quiet as possible. But it’s a lost cause.

«Little one?» His voice is rough with sleep, hushed, like you will vanished if he speaks louder. The grip he has on your calf is slack, you could easily shake him off and run away. You don’t. «I should quit calling you that, you’re all grown up now. Look at you.»

If you turn around, it’s over. If you look him in the eyes, there won’t be any going back.

«Are you going to kick me while I’m down here? You can, you know; as I said, I won’t try and stop you. But before you beat me to pulp, you should let me apologize. Not sure I still will be able to when you’ll be done with me.» He’s so calm, yet so sure you’re going to trounce him. He knows he deserves it. He’s resigned. He’s wrong.

«’M not gonna hit you.»

«Would you look at that? She does have a tongue, after all!»

Maybe you will - hit him - maybe it’s the only way to make him understand, this fucker. Before you can realise, you’re on the floor, straddling his never-ending legs, a hand up ready to strike him square in the face and the other holding him by the collar of his shirt. He’s wincing, waiting for the blow to fall, not even trying to avoid it, like he promised. But you can’t.

Stomach plummeting, sick by your own weakness, you start crying, hiding your face in your palms. He abandoned you without a glance back, didn’t even recognize you, he’s making fun out of you after charming you out of your safe place, and you can’t even slap him. Maybe you deserved all of this, maybe you did this all to yourself.

As you’re spiralling down, you feel two strong arms enveloping you, shielding you from the world as they’ve done countless times before, and you can also feel your body - this traitor - immediately relax in their hold, like it never forgot you’ve never been safer than between them.

«Shit, baby... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... It wasn’t meant to be nasty, I wanted... It was stupid, I’m a damn fool, but I think I’m not telling you anything new here.»

The more he talks and the more you’re sobbing, hunched on his lap.

«Shh, don’t cry little one, I’m here, you’re safe, everything is alright, ok? I wanted to make you laugh and I brilliantly  failed, that’s all. I’m so glad you finally went out of there! C’mon...»

You almost can’t breath, mainly because Raylan is hugging you to his chest - tight - but also because you can’t stop relief to flood you. He’s there, and it’s enough to make you feel better, even if it doesn’t make any sense.

«Will you look at me? So I can see those beautiful eyes of yours? Mmh? Can you even breath in there? It doesn’t look like. Hey, sweetie, I need you to take your hands out of your face, don’t want you to stifle.»

You can feel his hands lightly resting on both your wrists, at first, before they become heavier and heavier and manage to gently free your face. You open your eyes and, through your tears, everything you can see is him.

«Here she is, my pretty baby! Hello there.»

His smile is blinding, lighting his features up like the sun would the world. This is why Raylan Givens ever had and ever will have you wrapped around his finger, because you would do anything to be on the receiving side of his smile. It’s his best asset, more persuasive than any weapon. It makes him look soft. It kills you. He’s back, he’s holding you, he’s cooing sweet nonsense in your ear interspersed by kisses all over your face. This is everything you had ever wanted, everything. You could die now and claim to have lived your dreams. Later, you will hate yourself for this, gone is the tough, independent woman you ever claimed to be. You’re trembling in his arms and, without thinking at all, you kiss him. It’s barely a press of lips, at first, a brush; a ghost of a kiss. You feel more than you hear Raylan’s surprised gasp before he initiates another kiss, a little firmer this time - a caress on your mouth, delicate like the wings of a butterfly, but it sets you on fire. You part your lips, letting out a silent whimper, and he comes back for more with a little, electrifying lick that finds your tongue and sends shocks trough your entire body. He groans, and everything speeds up from there. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he hold your waist and pushes you against him with one hand and hold the back of your head with another. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the all consuming, nasty kisses Raylan feeds you. Even when you’re forced to come up from air, he doesn’t let you go, his forehead pressed against yours.

«I am sorry,» he whispers, «I am sorry for letting you behind. I am sorry for making you sad. But I need you to know that, if I had a second chance, I would do it again.»

Your heart has stopped. You’re sure it has. You try to jerk away from Raylan, what you will do, you have no idea, but you can’t stay there, tangled with him on the floor, not when he’s ready to abandon you again. But his hold is strong and he’s not done with you.

«You need to understand...», his eyes are so gloomy and he sounds so distressed, you would think he’s the one who’s been left behind without a second glance, «I should have said something, I should have phoned, but, in the end, it was better for you, you... You deserve so much better than me.»

It snaps. Your sorrow, the endless despair you let yourself drown for so long, your fear, your distress, your regrets, the disappointed hopes, the anger directed at him - and at yourself - all these things you felt for the last fifteen years, they gather in ball in your sternum, just above your stomach, and turn into rage. You don’t slap him, no, but he’s still holding tight onto you, so instead of jerking away, you violently jerk towards him, the back of his head hits the wall.

«Aw!»

To his credit, he doesn’t try to push you away; but you’re too mad to pay attention to it.

«You cut the bullshit right there, Givens! You left this hell hole because your fucking father would have ended up killing you, you had to leave, you had no choice. But don’t tell me you left me behind for my own sake. Who are you to decide what I deserve or not? Who do you think you are to take that decision for me? If you didn’t want anything to do with my anymore, just say so. If you don’t want me right now, just say so. You’re many things, Raylan Givens, but you’ve never been a coward, so don’t start now!»

For a few heartbeats, the only thing to disturb the heavy, thick silence is your laborious breathing. Raylan is stunned, looking at you like a fish out of water. Then he’s on you, kissing the living daylights out of you.

«’M sorry, I’m sorry», he mumbles in-between kisses, «’M fucking moron, gonna make it up to you, do want you, fuck, I do, I’m so sorry...»

You’re still mad at him, you’re exhausted, your stomach is empty, you need to go to the loo now, your head is spinning and your knees are starting to ache by dint of supporting your weight off the floor, but you’re kissing Raylan back fervently. There will be time for more explanations - and probably more arguing - tomorrow. Right now, you don’t need anything more, not even to breath. Just Raylan.

The next morning, when the Marshal Gutterson comes to your house to take his shift over, he can’t hide his surprise at finding you on the couch, tucked under Raylan’s arm, asleep and smiling. When he left the evening before, his fellow deputy was begging through a door, after all...

«Ok,» he breaths, trying to be heard without waking you up, «how did you do that?»

«’M not gonna lie», Raylan answers with a grin, looking tired as all hell, but more at peace than ever, «I’m a lucky bastard and I don’t think I d-»

«If you say you don’t deserve it,» you mutter from your resting place in the crook of his neck, «I’ll change my mind and truly hit you, this time, Givens!»

THE END(?)

Thanks for reading ❤️

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #55: THE BREAKING STRAIN

February, 1990

"Let there be an ENDING!"

Yes, please, let there!

Actually, by skipping everything not Avengers, Acts of Vengeance has been fairly bearable.

But still. Let's get this over with.

Last times in Wanda's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month: Vision was kidnapped by every world government, disassembled, rebuilt wrong, and has decided to join the East Coast Avengers, while leaving Wanda in the West. Wanda was also kidnapped by a Texas college and pumped full of racism goo. And had her children kidnapped and eaten by a Satanist who then exploded because they were actually not babies but chunks of Mephisto. Then, her mentor Agatha Harkness erased Wanda's memories of ever having children. On top of all that, a Deviant kidnapped Wanda to try to force her to marry a snake god.

I'm not surprised she's gone catatonic from all that. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner.

In Acts of Vengeance: Doctor Doom's robots sank Avengers Island. The U-Foes burned down the Avengers West Coast Mansion. Freedom Force smashed up Avengers Park and then the Mandarin and Wizard show up to smash it up some more. And Magneto sends Wanda's house into orbit, with Wanda inside.

I swear. The Avengers just aren't allowed any nice things.

Also, they caught the Wizard when the Mandarin ditched him.

And now, house in orbit.

Magneto muses on how Wanda is so catatonic that even getting thrown into orbit didn't get a reaction from her.

Magneto: "Clearly the time has come for a more direct approach."

Call me suspicious but I don't think Magneto's idea of mental health care is going to be very good.

But this is Acts of Vengeance. Which Magneto has ditched in order to go see Wanda.

There's an ending to let there be happening.

Thor announces to the assembled Avengers that all the trouble they've been doing through is definitely the act of Loki.

He doesn't know how Loki organized this but he's definitely sure of that.

Wasp is confused because Cloak and Dagger told her that Doctor Doom was behind things, based on their own Acts of Vengeance tie-ins.

And the Avengers have the Wizard locked up in a holding cell, loudly insisting to anyone that will listen that he's the mastermind of everything.

Speaking of the Wizard, he decides he doesn't want to be in Avengers jail anymore.

And he just leaves.

He has a miniature teleportation device built under a false fingernail and he uses it to make a portal directly to Acts of Vengeance headquarters.

Where, to his annoyance, he finds that his fellow Prime Movers don't really give a shit he was in Avengers jail. Because they're too busy debating whether Doctor Doom was ever hanging out with them or whether he was always a Doombot.

The Wizard immediately starts shit by yelling at the Mandarin for abandoning him.

The Mandarin: "Do not blame me for your own shortcomings, Wizard. When the tide of battle turned against us, I withdrew. you should have done the same."

Owned.

The Wizard shoots back that he did withdraw, once he felt like it! So there! But he had to put up with an Avengers interrogation before he could teleport from his cell.

Which Definitely Loki is very annoyed to hear about.

Definitely Loki: "Ignorant mortal! Say thou hast not done this thing!!" Wizard: "?!? Unhand me, lackey! How dare you raise hand or voice to your better?!"

And Loki takes exception to that. And reveals that he's Loki. Duh.

Kingpin just peacing out while everyone is gawking kills me.

He's the third smartest villain involved. After Doom, who may not have ever been involved, and Magneto, who only got involved to handle some personal business.

Meanwhile, another weird timeline thingy.

President Lincoln is attending the theater, as Presidents Lincoln are wont to do, but when John Wilkes Booth tries to shoot him, as Johns Wilkes Booths are wont to do, it aggros the full force of Kentucky woodsman in Lincoln and he jumps up and slaps Booth's aim astray.

Amazing.

So amazing that Immortus (sitting in on the divergence as a general) wishes he could just leave this timeline alone.

But in order to accomplish his vague goal of becoming master of time again, he has to snuff out all alternate timelines. For some reason.

He returns to Limbo (the time one) and discovers to his annoyance that his Wanda-stalking scanner has lost Wanda due to a "massive disruption of the Earth's electromagnetic field."

My dude.

You can't spy on her in hell. You can't spy on her if there are magnets.

You're being made to look like a chump by people who don't even know you're involved.

Wonder Man returns to the Avengers West Coast Compound from the Mole Man thing last time to find one entire missing cottage which should have a Wanda.

He asks Agatha Harkness, what the shit, you had one job!

Agatha says that the house was thrown into orbit faster than she could cast a spell to do anything about it.

US Agent shows up and says that the cottage is about thirty miles up and ten miles off from where it launched.

Wonder Man yells at US Agent for not doing anything to stop a cottage from launching into space.

... C'mon, dude. He has the powers of Captain America plus the power of being a jerk nobody likes. How is he supposed to stop a house launch?

Anyway, he wasn't even at the compound when the cottage launched. He was at the Mole Man thing too.

He got back just in time to see the house blast-off and then checked the tracking system to find where it had gone.

Wonder Man just wants to fly off after Wanda. Even though his belt jets don't work in space.

US Agent suggests using one of the space-capable Quinjets instead.

Wonder Man: "Well, this is a first! You being the calming influence in a situation, Agent!" US Agent: "Belay the jabber, Wonder Man.

The two find the house just floating in space.

Houses don't just launch themselves, usually, so US Agent suspects some supervillain plot. And since Wonder Man is near indestructible, he gets to go poke around while US Agent watches the ship.

And for some reason, Wonder Man puts on a space helmet. Guy doesn't need to breath but constantly wears space helmets or lets people grow gills on him.

Maybe he just wants to feel like one of the cool people. Maybe that's where Vision got it from.

Anyway, when Wonder Man approaches the orbiting house, it explodes in his face.

Geez. The Avengers just can't keep a headquarters unexploded, unsunk, or unburned down in this event.

But not time to follow up on exploding space houses. There's Acts of Vengeancing to wrap up.

Loki has the villains too stupid to have peaced out (Wizard, Red Skull, the Mandarin) magically levitated so he has a captive audience to rant at.

Loki: "FOOLS! Stupid, mortal imbeciles! And all the greater fool is Loki, that ever I did trust the petty egos of mortals with the consummation of my plan! I didst think that by directing so-called super-villains into attacking champions unaccustomed with their powers I could rid this world of super heroes... And in the process once and for all destroy those who have so long vexed me by their very existence!"

Loki singles out Wizard to yell at. Because teleporting directly from the Avengers' holding cell to Acts of Vengeance HQ means that if Thor uses Mjolnir, he could track the energy trace and just show up!

Thor: "Say thee not 'if', beloved sibling... Say thee rather WHEN!"

You have such a good sense of timing, Thor.

Also, he brought Dr Pym, Hawkeye, Mockingbird, Captain America, Wasp, Iron Man, Vision, and Falcon with him to kick Loki's ass.

Loki responds to imminent booty thrashing by dismantling the Acts of Vengeance HQ to reveal it was located on the Isle of Silence this whole time!

The very place Loki was exiled when he tried to get Hulk and Thor to fight, which caused the Avengers to form.

So now Thor understands the why.

And despite being a place of exile, Loki has spent so much time here (a lot of it voluntary) that he has mastered the dimension.

He brings forth Silent Ones from below the ground to fight Captain America. He tangles Hawkeye and Mockingbird in roots. He buffets Falcon and Wasp with winds. He creates a plume of fire that engulfs Iron Man.

Cap tells Thor to go beat up Loki since he's the best one to do that. Not bogged down in some mischief currently and also very experienced at punching Loki in his Loki face.

Thor chases after Loki and Loki scampers away saying he'll only fight in a time and place of his choosing when he thinks he'll win! He creates a wall of ice between him and Thor.

Focused on the Avengers, Loki loses his hold on the Wizard, the Mandarin, and the Red Skull.

Red Skull argues this is their best chance to strike at the heroes, while they're distracted.

The Mandarin calls him a stupid dumbass. This whole thing has been Loki's scheme and Mandarin isn't going down for it. He's leaving Loki to his own failure (like he did the Wizard. Consistent.)

When Loki dismantled the meeting place, he left the walls lying on the ground. And the dimensional portals built into each door is still active so the three villains not smart enough to fuck off until now now fuck off.

Wasp and Cap notice the villains getting away but, eh, they're busy right now. They'll get them next time.

Thor just smashes through the wall of ice because it's ice.

Thor: "Show thyself to have at least some fragment of our father in thee! Some small spirit of the godhood! Of the nobility which is our birthright!" Loki: "Speak to me not of nobility, Thor! Thou dost speak of music to one born deaf! There is but one Lord Loki serves, and that is power!"

Funny to think that in recent years, Thor gets along much better with Loki than he does with Odin.

Loki creates a giant rock hand to crush Thor but Thor crushes the hand instead. And hits the ground so hard that it makes a fissure that Loki falls down.

Which Thor then seals up so he can't escape.

Pretty perfunctory conclusion to this ENORMOUS company wide event.

Cap is like geez did you just kill him but no, "gods do not perish thus" not even Loki.

Loki is just trapped under millions of tons of Earth. But alive.

Thor explains that Loki was Big Mad that his actions created the Avengers so he wanted to destroy them with this big villain team-up. But he only strengthened the resolve of the heroes.

Thor: "Let the evil minds of the world beware! Ever and always shall the Avengers prevail!"

Yeah, Old Man Logan's backstory set-up IS dumb, Thor.

Anyway. Everything is solved forever.

The West Coast situated Avengers return there.

Iron Man flies off in one direction, Hank and Jan in another direction in a Quinjet.

Janet and Hank re-explain the plot and how Loki was Big Mad at creating the Avengers.

... This is really a lot more explaining than is needed.

I do like how Jan puts it.

Wasp: "So... that's that! Another threat ended, and this time it all started because Loki got tired of the other villains poking fun at him at the annual bad guys' picnic!"

Hank lands the Quinjet in the hanger. He goes off to check on Tiny Tigra and Wasp goes to change.

Another day, another new Wasp outfit.

But after changing into the blue and white number, Jan goes to check on Wanda.

The cottage seems to be back in place but Wasp finds US Agent sprawled on the floor and warning her to get away while she can.

Wasp: "Get away? From what... ? Who... ? What's going on here? Where's Wanda? Where's Wonder Man?" US Agent: "Dead! Blown to bits out in space! Get away... Get away..." Wasp: "Wonder Man... killed?? But... by who??"

Scarlet Witch: "By me, Janet! I dealt with him as I shall deal with all the Avengers, now that my power has been finally unleashed!" Wasp: "W-Wanda...??" US Agent: "Tried to warn you... Now... Too late... too late for everyone!"

Ahh, knew we'd get here eventually.

If there's three things everyone knows about John Byrne's Avengers run, it's Vision being disassembled, Wanda's children turning out to be devil chunks, and Wanda having a heel turn.

So whatever happened in space between Catatonic Wanda and Magneto, Wanda is Evil now and also had an Evil Costume Change and Haircut.

Honestly, this isn't a bad look for her. Shame about the whole evil thing, she looks stylish af.

But next week I'm alternating over to Avengers. I'd consider doing the Evil Wanda plot before switching back over except there's a weird interruption in the middle of the arc where Byrne quits the book in a huff.

So best to stick to alternating. Besides, the Avengers got stuff going on too. Remember all that stuff with Real Nebula and that one old man who blew up his own house? Yeah, that stuff is popping off!

Follow at @essential-avengers for all the best vowels. You like A's? I got tons. Buy them in bulk because this is an Avengers blog. Like, reblog, comment, whatever.

[saintshemoved]

hi ! i know i’ve basically been MIA forever. i’ve been super sick and in the middle of a move. Our movers come at the end of this week and then we’ll be on the road to kentucky , so things have been super hectic. i hope to get active again when we get settled back in our new house ( which we don’t even have yet , we’re on a wait list and waiting for my son’s ADA paperwork to be processed ). i hope y’all have been doing well and taking care of yourselves ! i just wanted to pop in and say i miss y’all so very much and hope to be back soon. in the mean time , if anyone wants to write around discord , i am always down for writing there currently ! 

[ocombatenterondonia]

Homem que ficou desaparecido por 12 dias em montanha foi salvo por carro e diário; entenda

Reprodução Hern Scott foi encontrado na região de Bells Falls Scott Hern, de 46 anos, ficou 12 dias desparecido em uma região remota de cânions em Red River Gorge, em Kentucky, Estados Unidos, sem água e comida. O montanhista foi encontrado na floresta por conta do seu carro e um diário. O carro de Hern ficou parado há vários dias sem se mover. Foi então que no dia 13 de julho, os agentes,…

[ceibo-y-jacaranda]

Cuando (casi) me quedé encerrada en un shopping

Trabajaba en el Kentucky Fried Chicken del shopping Alto Palermo, en la ciudad de Buenos Aires. Era la que hacía las papas. Mi puesto se llamaba "Sándwich y acompañamientos".

Me reí como esculapia la vez que nos entregaron una ficha con nuestros nombres y puestos asignados, y encontré el mío junto a la palabra mayúscula SANDWICH. Tan simple, tan confuso. Pero paso a explicar la jerga empleadoradecomidarápida: Yo estaría a cargo de hacer los "sandwiches" (hamburguesas) y también de preparar los acompañamientos para dichas hamburguesas en combo. Este restaurant en particular se destacaba por tener más de un acompañamiento a una hamburguesa: además de las papafritas, estaban las opciones de ensalada, puré con gravy, y choclo. Sí, un cacho de choclo. Al pasar los años, al día de hoy creo que sólo dan papas y sacaron los otros acompañamientos. El mercado argentino no estaba preparado para las hamburguesas con choclo. Pero esto no es un paper sobre las posibilidades de producción de acompañamientos de hamburguesas en el mercado argentino, esto es una anécdota sobre cómo me quedé encerrada con el gerente. Así que continuaré.

La historia sobre cómo conseguí este trabajo, y las muchas vivencias alocadas en el mismo (como cuando cortaba choclos o el día que metí el dedo en la freidora) serán protagonistas de otra entrada de blog. Las menciono porque es inevitable que vengan a mi cabeza, queriendo ser reproducidas. Esperen! Tendrán su turno. Quise contar esta primero, porque en estado catatónico de depresión, me hizo sentir invisible. Como algo pasable, olvidable, algo en lo que nadie repara nunca. Sí, estoy muy mal escribiendo esto. Por más que el recuerdo de los choclos se inmiscuye para sacarme sonrisas pasajeras. Tengo un autoestima empobrecida, y cuándo me pongo a reforzar el por qué de esa autoestima, miles de recuerdos al mismo tiempo giran en mi mente, y cortocircuito me causan. El de la luz poniéndome las zapatillas, me desespera como ese mismo día. Pero he aquí el contexto:

Cierre de local. El shopping ya está cerrado hace dos horas. Sólo quedábamos limpiando los pobres empleados de cocina, explotados hasta el último segundo del día. No sé si quien lea esto conozca el tamaño del local al que me refiero, pero sino, les invito a visitarlo. El KFC de Alto Palermo fue una de las primeras sucursales de esa franquicia en el país. Y supongo que por ello, una de las más grandes que vi. Incluso la cocina era enorme. Y no lo digo para halagar esos lugares del averno, lo digo para representar lo extenuante y odiosa que era la tarea de limpiar los pisos. Porque, inocente aquel que crea que un puesto de trabajo en cocina se refiere sólo a cortar verduras y mover sartenes al fuego (De hecho, estuve en tres trabajos de cocina y nunca toqué una sartén). No, ser empleado de cocina no sólo es cocinar, es ser un sirviente. Es limpiar todo un local, solo con tu fuerza de voluntad, tu autoestima cagada a gritos y una mopa que nunca limpia bien. Una vez limpié una baranda de exteriores con un trapito húmedo. Había que limpiar cada barra de hierro, cada esquinita. Nada de polvo. La baranda estaba detrás de una escalera mecánica, nadie la veía jamás. Pero bueno, si el lugar no explota de gente algo encontrarán para mandarte a limpiar. Cómo odio el mundo gastronómico. Pero, también, este no es el paper contra la gastronomía que escribiré algún día (but not this day!). Proseguiré.

Era el cierre del local, pura limpieza a dos manos, meticulosa y vigilada por el gerente de turno. A esa altura de la jornada, solo queda un empleado por cada sector, para limpiar y dejar todo perfecto a la apertura del día siguiente. Apagar máquinas, tirar sobras y horas y horas de ✨limpieza extrema✨. Suelen poner música con el celular de algún compañero, generalmente reggaeton, y hay un ambiente algo más distendido del que hay con la clientela presente. Pero, no lo suficientemente distendido, porque el gerente rodea las aguas como un tiburón, con su aura de vigilante capitalista sobre sí, llevando consigo el horror. Uno cree que ya está, y pasa a recordarte que le pases un trapo al horno. Al horno recién apagado. Y que metas mano entre los metales cortantes, para sacar esa miguita escondida que nunca nadie vio. Y qué es esa manchita en la pared?? Buscá un trapito y desinfectante, y metele hasta que tu estación quede impecable. Es lo mínimo que podés hacer por tu compañero de apertura mañana! (Nota: a tu compañero le va a chupar un huevo. Incluso si puede busca él alguna miguita para notificarle al gerente y serrucharte el piso. Pero ey, eso va en otra entrada sobre vicisitudes sobre tener compañeros de mierda, en otra entrada!)

Ya siendo hartas horas de la madrugada, todos pudimos terminar con nuestros sectores y cerrarlos. Pim pam pum. Cada cual se va a cambiar y retirarse, aunque falta lo peor: el pobre esclavo que encima que limpió todo un sector de pe a pa, le toca como regalo hacer el piso !! Siii. Porque obvio que durante la limpieza de sectores todo el mundo va de un lado al otro, pasás para llevar cosas a 🔥la bacha🔥 (lugar terrorífico si los hay)... El piso es lo último que se hace. Y en este tipo de locales hipercapitalistas superexplotadores, no se las ingenian para repartir equitativamente las tareas. Acá todos harán todo. Y el piso era algo al azar, a ver qué le pintaba al gerente. Como boluda, fui a avisar que terminé mi sector y me iba, y ahí me dijo el hijo de re mil puta que me tocaba hacer el piso.

Se fueron todos mis compañeros juntos, y quedé yo mi gerente presunto cocainómano. Tengo un par de anécdotas con él, otro día las cuento. Cuestion que agarré la escoba, la pala y el lampazo (el león, la bruja y el ropero) mientras el presunto adicto de mi jefe iba a hacer cosas de jefe a la oficina (o aspirar cosas, qué sé yo).

Quedé sola frente al local vacío.

Primero la escoba, después el trapo. Por todo el piso. Me tomé el tiempo de barrer bien y despues pasé el trapo, que no era trapo sino lampazo, paso a paso por todos los sectores. Porque hay que pasarlo una vez, bien húmedo para aflojar manchas y cosas pegadas, y despues estrujarlo en el tacho y pasarlo para secar, volviendo a estrujarlo hasta que el piso quede seco. O así se hacía con los superiores vigilando y durante la jornada laboral. Cuando ya todos se van, y el piso tiene tiempo de secarse solo durante las horas que pasará cerrado el local, no había que hacerlo tan exhaustivamente. Pero yo, boluda, no pensé en eso. Sí tuve la intuición, la idea soberbia de la wachada, del "ya fue", del "no hay nadie, hacelo así nomás". Pero siempre batallé internamente con estas cuestiones de viveza criolla, porque siempre traté de actuar "bien". Al pedo, pero siempre me exigí hacer todo correcto. Lo cual estuvo mal, porque a veces hsta en lugares donde hay un "superior" cerca, si te dan la espalda medio~ te habilitan~, o hay un contrato tácito, a que hagas todo así nomás. Al menos durante los cierres. Todos se quieren ir lo más rápido posible. Y yo también quería, pero pensé que mi responsabilidad de limpieza de pisos era más importante que mi apuro. Yo era un Minion con una misión, no pensé como ser humano. Bueno, miento, sí pensaba en que me estaba costando mucho y la putamadreporqueyooo pero en ningún momento se me pasó decir "yafue, hasta acá". Solo hice todo el piso, como se me pidió, y tardé lo que tuve que tardar.

En ese momento, dejando utensilios de limpieza en un rincón, noto horririzada que el gerente no anda cerca. Por suerte mi horror dura unos segundos, porque el flaco aparece. Pero me mira extrañado, y pregunta "sigue aquí??". Le contesto que recién termino. "Pensé que ya se había ido". Me siento horrible (<<tan lenta soy 😭❓>>) y a su vez desconcertada (<<había que limpiar el piso, no era algo rápido 😬😶 o sí? Soy mala hasta para limpiar un piso?>>). Justo él se iba tmb (<<alguna vez alguien se quedó hasta cuando se va el gerente?? Debo ser la más lenta del mundo>>) asi que fui al vestuario con la peor de las ondas (<<el chabón se estaba yendo, de pedo lo encontré, me iba a dejar acá?? Paso TAN desapercibida?>>).

Aquí empieza lo peor. Contexto: Empleado de cocina es empleado con uniforme. Más los de comida rápida, con esos pantalones de tela horrible, cinturones, chombas feas feas. Uno se lleva ropa de civil para cambiarse, aparte de sus pertenencias. Y esas había que ir a buscarlas a los lockers del vestuario.

Los vestuarios del local KFC de Alto Palermo no quedan ni remotamente cerca del local en sí. O al menos mi recuerdo es que hay que meterse por un pasillo, y subir una escalera, que da a otro pasillo donde encontras el vestuario de chicas. Dato, el gerente si es que tenía que buscar algo iba al vestuario de chicos, no sé si él ya tenía sus cosas pero lo importante es que sea como sea no me vio más desde que di un paso al pasillo. Subí, apresurada por querer irme pero no a las corridas (pues precaución ante accidentes). Llegué al vestuario, y quise cambiarme. Hoy que lo pienso, grave error. Son casi las 3 am, salí así nomás a quién le importa?? Pero bueno, era rutina, no sé. Mínimo cambiarme el pantalón ese. Me saqué las zapatillas y el pantalón, cuando el vestuario de un golpe se quedó a oscuras. Agarré mis cosas y corrí al pasillo que tenía luz. <<El hijo de puta está apagando todo y yo sigo acá>>. Me senté en un escalón, a mínimo ponerme los pantalones y zapatillas devuelta, no podía correr en pelotas por el shopping. Sentada, apurada, con miedo a quedarme encerrada, me pongo las zapatillas y cuando trato de atarlas asi nomás, se apaga la luz de ese pasillo. El microsegundo viendo mis zapatillas iluminadas por un fragmento de luz de un pasillo lejano, pensando en que van a cerrar el shopping conmigo adentro, fue fatal. Y adrenalínico, pero más fatal que otra cosa. Pensé en gritar, pero como digo, lugar enorme, ni ahí me iba a escuchar. Ni siquiera sabía dónde estaba este forro, apagando una por una las luces sin chequear que yo me haya ido. Debería haber corrido apenas lo saludé para irme. Pero ni corriendo hubiese llegado a que no me apague las luces, qué le pasaba?? No todos íbamos a la velocidad merquera a la que él iba. En fin, puteando en voz alta (total, la adrenalina me llenaba de ira) me calcé como pude y salí a oscuras del local, con todo el shopping apagado, sin rastro de mi puto gerente. Las escaleras mecánicas estaban apagadas, corrí haciendo cardio tres pisos (datoo: El KFC está en el tercer piso, que en realidad es una escalerita eléctrica más, técnicamente cuarto piso. Ah y los vestuarios un piso MÁS arriba!).

Llegué a las puertas y para mi horror estaban CERRADAS. Se veía la calle afuera pero no tenía cómo salir. Fue un microinfierno, porque en menos de un segundo vi a mis compañeros afuera (me habían esperado 🥹🥹) y una chica, Julia, que era re capa, le hizo señas al guardia (yo ni había notado al guardia, que estaba ahí adentro del shopping) para que me abra. Le di gracias al guardia, gracias a mis compañeros y fuimos todos juntos a tomarnos el 152. Éramos todos de zona norte y nos habían contratado para un KFC nuevo en Unicenter (ya no es nuevo). Hasta la inauguración, íbamos a "entrenar" al Alto Palermo. El peor mes de mi vida. Igual los meses en Unicenter tampoco fueron distintos, pero bueno, era otro ambiente. Mucho más chico, entre empleados que ya nos conocíamos, y con unos lockers mucho más cercanos al local (arriba, apenas una escalerita). Nunca más volví a quedarme atrapada en un shopping.

Ah pero la sensación de correr a oscuras, de que todos se vayan y a nadie le importe ni note que yo sigo ahi... Fue feo. Aunque la contrapartida de que mis compas me esperasen es como la luz al final del túnel. Las soluciones siempre son colectivas. Sólo que en mi mente depresiva soy sólo una voz, sin escuchar a las demás. Y me encierro en mi pobre ser solitario, cuando en realidad no estoy sola. Pero no estarlo cuesta asimilarlo cuando en tu mente siempre lo estás.

Gracias Julia, gracias compañeros de la segunda tanda de empleados en entrenamiento para la inauguración del KFC de Unicenter. Julia era la más iconic, pero tmb estaban Dany de acompañamientos, Nico Sandwich (aunque se fue altoque porque sólo quería ahorrar para una cámara de fotos), y todos los demás que no recuerdo bien nombres pero sí caras, gestos e historias. Por ustedes fui Pau de papas, y tuve una etapa en mi vida bastante fructífera.

Pau de papas sería una de mis Eras, si tuviera un tour a lo Taylor Swift. Pau de papas tiene mucho que contar, pero hasta aquí llegó esta anécdota.

La empecé triste pero fui recordando el poder de la unión de los trabajadores (gracias Julia y demás por esperarme) y me consoló esa parte del recuerdo. Aunque cuando esté triste sólo me concentre en mi soledad y el sentirme invisible por un puto jefe que se fue sin mi. Que apaguen las luces cuando todavía no te fuiste no es algo lindo, menos para una teatrera (en todos los sentidos de esa expresión) como soy yo.

[ntgospel]

Collegiate Day of Prayer: movimento de oração reúne mais de 1.000 igrejas

Confira a novidade em https://ntgospel.com/noticias/fe/collegiate-day-of-prayer-movimento-de-oracao-reune-mais-de-1-000-igrejas

Collegiate Day of Prayer: movimento de oração reúne mais de 1.000 igrejas

Mais de 1.000 igrejas nos Estados Unidos se unirão em um movimento de oração pelo avivamento nos campi universitários durante o “Collegiate Day of Prayer” (CDOP), que começa em 29 de fevereiro. Com louvor, adoração, oração e diversos palestrantes renomados, o evento pretende unir o Corpo de Cristo em oração por avivamento e despertar espiritual entre os 20 milhões de estudantes em 4.200 campi universitários.

Até o momento, 2.647 campi foram adotados em oração por 1.689 igrejas, ministérios e indivíduos, enquanto outros 1.542 ainda aguardam adoção. O CDOP, que celebra seu 201º aniversário em 2024, visa unir gerações para orar pelos perdidos nas universidades e faculdades.

O movimento de oração tem uma base histórica, considerando que, ao longo da história americana, os campi universitários foram transformados por temporadas de despertar espiritual, impulsionadas por orações fervorosas e unidas.

Em 2023, o Dia Colegiado de Oração foi marcado por cultos de avivamento na Universidade de Asbury, em Kentucky, que se transformaram em um derramamento do Espírito Santo de 16 dias. O evento ganhou destaque nas mídias e impactou inúmeras vidas.

O CDOP destaca a importância da oração para desencadear mudanças, e a experiência em Asbury é um exemplo notável. O movimento de avivamento continua a se espalhar pelos EUA, com recentes episódios na Florida State University (FSU), onde centenas de pessoas se arrependeram e foram batizadas no campus.

Segundo o guiame, o movimento de avivamento entre os jovens universitários nos Estados Unidos permanece forte, e líderes religiosos, cristãos e funcionários do CDOP estão otimistas que o despertar espiritual continuará a se manifestar em 2024. A oração persistente visa ver a repetição de histórias como as vivenciadas em Asbury, onde o mover de Deus foi evidente e transformador.

[my3sonsmoving]

Streamline Your Move: Top House Moving and Storage Tips with My 3 Sons

Embarking on a house move can be overwhelming, but with proper planning, it can become a manageable task. Start by creating a detailed checklist outlining all the tasks you need to accomplish before the moving day. This includes sorting through your belongings, deciding what to keep, donate, or discard, and researching moving companies. Planning ahead will help streamline the process and reduce stress.

Decluttering and Organizing

Before packing your belongings, take the opportunity to declutter and organize your home. Go through each room and assess which items you want to take with you to your new home, donating or discarding any items you no longer need or use. Organize your belongings into categories to facilitate packing and unpacking, simplifying your move and allowing you to start fresh in your new home.

Choosing the Right Moving Company

Selecting a reputable moving company is essential for a smooth and hassle-free move. Consider factors such as experience, reliability, and customer reviews when choosing a moving company. My 3 Sons Moving and Storage Company stands out for its stellar reputation and commitment to customer satisfaction. With years of experience and a team of skilled professionals, they ensure your belongings are handled with care from start to finish.

Efficient Packing Techniques

Packing efficiently is key to a successful move. Start by gathering packing supplies such as boxes, bubble wrap, packing paper, and tape. Ensure to pack room by room, labeling each box with its contents and the room it belongs to. Use sturdy boxes for heavy items and delicate items, and fill empty spaces with packing material to prevent shifting during transit. My 3 Sons offers packing services to alleviate the stress of packing, ensuring your belongings arrive safely at your new home.

Utilizing Storage Solutions

Sometimes, you may need to store some of your belongings temporarily during a move. My 3 Sons offers secure storage solutions for both short-term and long-term needs. Whether you need to store furniture, seasonal items, or household goods, their climate-controlled storage facilities provide a safe and convenient option. With flexible storage options and competitive rates, you can trust My 3 Sons to keep your belongings safe until you’re ready to retrieve them.

In conclusion, moving can be a daunting task, but with the right planning, organization, and assistance from My 3 Sons Moving and Storage Company, you can simplify the process and enjoy a stress-free move to your new home. With our expertise and dedication to customer satisfaction, My 3 Sons ensures your transition to Kentucky is as smooth as a gentle breeze through the rolling hills.

[treeremovalpensacola]

iQ Power Tools offers users a chance to test latest innovations at Hardscape North America

If you're in the Pensacola area, then you have probably already experienced the need for having to remove a tree or stump or getting your tree's trimmed. The cost of tree removal varies depending on a few factors, such as: - The type of tree that needs to be removed - The size of the tree - The location of the tree - The condition of the tree Pensacola Tree Removal offers competitive pricing for our tree removal services. For a full list of services Tree removal services visit Click for Tree Removal Services in Pensacola for a fast, friendly and reliable quote that you can count on. This will help not only beautify your property but also is the safest way to do it. Visitors of the show will be able to view and test the collection of iQ’s Dry-Cut saws. (Photo: iQ Power Tools) iQ Power Tools, a manufacturer of premium power tools with integrated dust collection systems, will offer multiple user experiences at this year’s Hardscape North America, held in conjunction with Equip Exposition, on Oct. 18-20 at the Kentucky Exposition Center located in Louisville, Ky. Visitors to iQ Power Tool’s booth No. 22016 can test run with iQ Power Tools line of dry-cut saws including its most recent iQ1550, a 21-inch dry-cut masonry saw with integrated dust collection and the iQ252 10-inch bridge saw. Visitors to the company’s outdoor booth, No. 4220-D, will see the company’s entire collection of dry-cut masonry saws in action, including the larger iQ2000 systems and the iQ914, a 14-inch dry-cut power cutter with integrated dust control. At the show, iQ Power Tools will also present a panel discussion with some of the industry’s top influential movers and shakers. On Thursday attendees are invited to gain true industry insights and meet with Evan Newcombe, owner at Pride Hardscape Construction, Nick Caliva, 0wner at Earthworks Landscaping, Craig Sheller, owner of Sheller Outdoor Living, Peter Baloglou, director of education at Techo-Bloc and Gordon South, CEO of Wood Bully. “Making the Cut” hosts will broadcast live at IQ’s booth throughout the show and attendees can meet Kevin and Alyssa from “Making the Cut.” The iQ augmented reality experience offers attendees an opportunity to experience a real-world environment and visualize an actual 3D model of iQ products in their space. The company will also hold a giveaway featuring a chance to win iQ Power Tools products, including the grand prize of the iQ360XT 14-inch dust control table saw. The post iQ Power Tools offers users a chance to test latest innovations at Hardscape North America first appeared on Landscape Management.

[georgemcginn]

DOD Featured Photos

Let Me See A child reaches into a bus carrying Kentucky Army National Guardsmen preparing to deploy to the Midd… Photo Details > Plane Movers Sailors move an F/A-18E Super Hornet on the flight deck of the USS Ronald Reagan in the Philippine S… Photo Details > View All Photos ABOUT NEWS HELP CENTER PRESS PRODUCTS Unsubscribe | Contact Us

[tpatodd1]

Kentucky woman pays mover $5,000 over the estimate to get her goods to Florida

Uh, just maybe she should have stayed in Kentucky?

[peoplemoveblog]

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[neybellas]

AVIVAMENTO EM ASBURY Por Hernandes Dias Lopes “... vivifica-nos, e invocaremos o teu nome” (Sl 80.18b). A Universidade de Asbury, situada na pequena cidade de Wilmore, no estado de Kentucky, nos EUA. Em 08/02/2023, num dos cultos o pregador ministrou em Romanos 12.9-21, uma mensagem prática sobre o verdadeiro amor. Encerrado o momento devocional, os alunos voltaram para a sala de aula, porém, alguns continuaram na capela e começaram a orar ao Senhor. O Espírito de Deus trouxe sobre eles profundo quebrantamento. Houve choro de arrependimento e confissão de pecados. Percebendo a ausência desses alunos em sala de aula, constataram que eles continuavam na capela. Então, outros estudantes, professores, diretores e funcionários vieram para a capela e um mover de Deus aconteceu naquele lugar, a ponto dessa reunião de oração, intercalada de louvores a Deus, pregações e testemunhos durar duas semanas ininterruptas. O impacto da presença de Deus na capela, que comporta cerca de mil e quinhentas pessoas foi tamanho, que a cidade toda foi impactada. Pessoas de diversos outros Estados e de outros países começaram também a chegar. Filas quilométricas, sob o frio severo de temperaturas abaixo de zero, se formaram para entrar na capela. SIGA: @hernandesdiaslopes #palavrasdevida #palavradodia #jesus #Deus #bomanimo #cristão #servosdecristo #asburyrevival #avivamentoasbury #avivamento #salvação #palavradedeus #evangelico #crente #palavra #deusnocomando #cristão #senhor #escolhiesperar #orar #juntospeloreino #cruz #mensagemdacruz #resiliencia #pecado (em Iguaba Grande) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpBdZSaPrSW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kleeirwin]

With each clinic we bring under the Irwin Naturals Emergence umbrella, we establish our leadership in this approach to mental healthcare. As the first household name in this space, we are advancing towards our goal of becoming the market's first mover.