Justified - Tumblr Posts
Timothy Olyphant as Raylan Givens JUSTIFIED — SEASON TWO, EPISODE ONE "THE MOONSHINE WAR"
SANCTIFICATION
We have been predestinated for Sanctification ie Fore-ordained for conformity to the image or nature or likeness of Christ Jesus our Lord. Sanctification is the process by which God makes us holy and conformed to Christ’s image. This is purely the work of…
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Bro is such a yappadoodle dandy like shut the fuck up no one cares you killed your daddy and lost your slaves boo hoo. Flamingos are ASHAMED you stole their likeness. I hope you rot in jail for the rest of your life you rat bastard.
This showed up in my box mailbox today and made me very happy.
This TV Guide issue comes out 21 February.
Should've Been a Cowboy
Kicking off AilessWhumptober at Midnight! Here is a link to Day One, where I used the prompt Sick. There are 30 more of these to come, so I hope you enjoy!
Summary: Three of the worst bank robbers in the history of bank robbing walk into a bank, and it goes about as smoothly as you would expect. The good news is that it shouldn’t been too hard to rescue the hostages. The bad news is that the hostages might not all make it until help comes.
Link to the story on AO3 below:
The dates are in for Fandom Trumps Hate 2024!!! For those of you who don't know, this is an auction to support non-profits. You can participate by donating fanworks, fanlabor, or by bidding in the auction. I am hoping we get some more Justified participation this year!
Creator Sign-ups: February 5th-19th Browsing: February 29th-March 5th Bidding: March 5th-9th
If you need more info, head on over to their FAQ https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/FAQ
FTH 2024 Auction Calendar
We blinked, and it's 2024, and our EIGHTH year of running this auction. 2024 has all the same problems as last year but more — but we also have a lot to be hopeful about, and a lot of good projects worth supporting and fighting for.
You can look at this page (also linked in our header) for the list of this year's supported nonprofit organizations. We'll be posting more detailed profiles of each of them in the coming weeks. Below is the full calendar for this year's auction.
February 5th: creator signups open
February 19th: creator signups close
February 29th: browsing period begins
March 5th: bidding opens
March 9th: bidding closes
March 16th: proof of high bid donations due
March 21st: proof of 2nd chance donations due
Back in 2021, as we were pulling together the fifth FTH auction, we joked together behind the scenes about how great it felt that the name of our auction was no longer quite as on-the-nose as it had been in our first few years. But it's 2024, and in all likelihood 45 will be back on the ballot: just one of the many sobering and scary things we're facing down this year.
But for the past seven years, we've had the privilege of watching thousands of fans -- yes, literally thousands -- dedicate their time and money and energy to the twin projects of sending support to some amazing organizations while building and strengthening community ties within fandom. Now, more than ever, that kind of community-building is essential.
We hope you'll join us, and join one another, in sending much-needed financial support to these amazing organizations and in putting more joy and beauty out into the world in the form of fanworks. These are dark times, but when we join together we can make them a little brighter.
(What is Fandom Trumps Hate anyway? Read our FAQ.)
Broken, But Still Good
Been saving this one for the FTH 2024 posting. The dates are out! Fandom Trumps Hate 2024 creator sign-ups are February 5th-19th. Even if you don't sign-up, pop over to https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/ and reblog the auction calendar. Summary: Tim has a little too much to drink, and reveals more than he intended to about his mental state to Raylan Givens of all people. If only he could get Raylan to drop it... TW: PTSD, Drinking, for a complete list of content warning, check this out on AO3! I am AnneMcSommers over there, and the fic has the same title!
Tim had gotten drunk before, hell, he had drunk enough to kill a lesser man, and could still pass a field sobriety test because he had one hell of an alcohol tolerance. Well, he THOUGHT that he had one hell of a tolerance, but that was before he started drinking from a mason jar out in Harlan.
Tim had had homebrews before, who in a warzone hadn’t tried whatever shit they tried to pass off as alcohol, but could double as paint stripper?
Tim had not however considered that moonshine in a county that had been making it since prohibition would be a special kind of drunk, and he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone that he had gone far past his limit.
Raylan had all but poured him into the car, and Tim held it together all the way to his apartment even as the alcohol continued to hit him. He kinda wished that he was one of those people who puked, because at least then he could have thrown up before leaving the bar, so he wasn’t more drunk getting out of the car, than getting into it.
Tim had made it a whole two steps towards the door, before he completely lost his shit. A car backfiring always put Tim on edge, but on that night, it had taken him right back, and he was unarmed. Before he had known what was happening, Raylan had a hold of him.
“It’s alright, Tim, you’re alright, you are in Kentucky, and it was just a car Tim. I promise, it was just a car,” Raylan soothed, and Tim was too drunk to keep himself properly upright, but he was not too drunk to realise he had fucked up somehow.
“It’s okay,” Tim had slurred. “I’m good, I’m good,” he had tried to reassure Raylan, but the more he spoke, the more worried Raylan had seemed to look as he walked Tim to his door. “Really Raylan, I’m okay. I can still shoot straight, really. I could shoot straight if I had to.”
Raylan had just frowned, picking up Tim’s housekeys when he dropped them. “Really, I could,” Tim had promised as Raylan unlocked his door.
It felt like Tim had blinked, and they were in his room, Raylan putting a glass of water on the nightstand, helping Tim with his buttons.
“I could shoot straight,” Tim had insisted, and Raylan sighed.
“You told me Tim, it’s okay now, go to sleep.”
Tim had known, KNOWN, that Raylan didn’t believe him, and said it again louder. “I can still shoot straight Raylan.” Tim had stumbled forward, and Raylan caught him, even as he clung to the man’s shirt to keep himself upright. “I can still shoot straight, Raylan, you gotta believe me, I can handle it, I can still shoot.”
Raylan had looked really sad as he answered, “I believe you Tim, now why don’t we get you to bed, and we can talk more about shooting in the morning, okay.”
Tim didn’t remember going to bed, but he did remember how he had woken up the next morning with his head pounding in a way it hadn’t since high school, the sun far brighter than it should have been if he had woken up like usual.
When Time had seen it was 11 am, he’d have leapt out of bed if he hadn’t seen the note. Tim had squinted at in in the bright light coming through his windows but managed to make out that he had been called out of work sick, he was to drink the water, take the aspirin, and eat something.
Tim’s stomach had twisted, and if he had been able to throw up, he would, because FUCK. He had taken the aspirin, drank the water, and headed into the bathroom to drown himself in the shower, where he stayed until the water went cool.
Remembering the night before was brutal, and he had thought he would get a reprieve before he had to deal with the shitstorm he created, but opening the bathroom door to the smell of eggs cooking let him know he wasn’t so fucking lucky.
Raylan had made eggs, toast, bacon, and Tim had been glad it went down without coming back up. He had finally managed to get Raylan out of his apartment after the man made about half a dozen subtle and not so subtle references to the night before, and if he weren’t so mortified it may have been touching.
Tim had spent the better part of a week doing everything he could to avoid Raylan, who seemed bound and determined to discuss things. Art had not, to Tims knowledge at least, seem to have clocked what was going on exactly, but that if Raylan didn’t drop it eventually, then it was going to become a thing, and that was the last thing Tim needed, for Art to be worrying about him MORE than usual.
To Tim’s eternal relief, Raylan had eventually dropped it. Everything was fine for a few weeks, back to normal, or at least close to it, and then they went to pick up a suspect at the no tell motel. The guy was huge, and shoved Tim faster than Tim was able to pull his weapon. Tim took header down an entire flight of stairs, and even he had to admit he got off easy given that he had missed most the stairs and just kind of dropped from a floor up.
A mild concussion, and a broken arm, it wasn’t much but it was his shooting hand and Tim was going to be out of commission for two months while it healed. Tim was antsy before the doctor even finished. “How long before I can go back to work?”
“Full duty, you are looking at two and a half, three months depending on the physio,” the doctor reeled off like it was nothing.
“Three months, for a broken arm?” He had broken it like three or four times as a kid, and it had not been three months.
“Two months for the cast, and then time after that to regain the muscle strength and dexterity. Ten days off as a minimum to start for the concussion, then we can re-evaluate and see if desk duty would be an option. If you press too hard though, it could be longer.”
Tim was trying not to freak out. “When can I get out of here?”
“In an hour or so, if you have someone to take you home.”
Tim froze, and he had never been more relieved to hear Raylan Givens voice. “His ride is already here.”
Raylan helping him up top his place was a little too close to what happened a few weeks back, and as much as Tim wanted the man to leave, there really was no way to kick someone else out of your place who was trying to help you.
Tim was saved by Raylan’s phone ringing.
It was Art, Raylan was needed in Miami for an old case ASAP, something about a retrial, but Tim was fuzzier than he wanted to admit. Raylan had gone through the whole thing, but all Tim got from it was that Raylan was going gone for a week at least.
Raylan stilled at the door, and Tim knew that he was going to dread whatever came out of the man’s mouth next.
“Fuck.”
Tim didn’t want to ask but felt obliged. “What?”
“I just got this new house plant,” Raylan explained, turning towards Tim, and Tim knew what came next.
“If you’re gonna be back in a week, shouldn’t it be fine,” Tim asked. He didn’t know much about gardening, but he thought it was a weekly thing.
“Usually, yes, but it’s this stupid tropical thing, it doesn’t get watered, it gets, misted or whatever, every day. I didn’t want the damn thing, and now I am gonna kill it. Shit, is there any chance you could water it?” Raylan asked, and Tim wanted to say no.
He felt like shit, his head was swimming, and getting over to Raylan’s to mist a fucking plant was going to be nightmare. Tim made the mistake of looking at Raylan, who was pulling full puppy dog eyes. Tim opened his mouth to say no, and said, “Ya, sure. Just leave the instructions by the plant.”
Raylan gave him a wide grin, and Tim felt a little better than he had five minutes ago, as he took possession of Raylan’s spare key.
“Thank you, Tim, really, I appreciate it,” Raylan told him. Tim regretted saying yes before the door was even closed.
Some days it took two hours for Tim to get out a bed, but he did, because he wasn’t going to be the reason Raylan’s plant dies. So, he got up and made his way across town, on the bus at first, so that he could mist Raylan’s plant.
There was a spray bottle, and “spray 6-8 times” until moist” written on a napkin with marker, in Raylan’s handwriting. The plant was ugly as fuck, and Tim had not idea why the man wanted it to live, but he had told Raylan he would water the plant, and he was going to water the fucking plant, even if something that hideous shouldn’t be allowed to thrive.
Two days before Raylan got back into town, Tim slipped getting out of the shower, hit his arm, and ended up back in the hospital needing surgery, or so he was told when he woke up.
Raylan was the one who did the telling, because apparently Tim had been out of it for a few days. They were talking a few minutes before the reality of what happens hits Tim.
“Fuck, Raylan, I killed your plant,” Tim said, interrupting the man mid-sentence.
“It’s okay Tim, really,” Raylan replied, and it was too quick for it to be genuine.
Tim doesn’t think Raylan really got it. “No, it’s fucked up. I fucked up. Fuck, I can’t work, for who knows how long now. I can’t get out of a shower without hurting myself, and now, NOW, I can’t even keep a plant alive. What fucking good am I?”
“Tim, you’re good. I promise you, even if you can’t shoot, you’re worth something, you got me?” Raylan’s voice was rough with something, but Tim couldn’t get past his own mistakes.
“I still killed your plant,” he argued.
“It’s plastic,” Raylan replied, and Tim blamed the drugs for not quite getting it.
“What?”
“The plant, it’s plastic,” Raylan explained, and Tim wondered what they had him on.
“I don’t understand, why the hell would you get me to water a plastic plant?”
Raylan was kind of red, and as it spread to the man’s ears, Tim realised that Raylan was blushing. He had never seen Raylan blush before.
“You were so upset, that night. You know, about being able to do something, and I wanted to make sure when I left you, that you had something you could do, and watering my plant was the first thing I could think of, but I didn’t have one. So, I, uh, picked up one at that dollar general, but it was plastic.”
“You really think I’m that pathetic?” Tim asked, and he regretted it immediately. Fucking drugs.
“No, I don’t. I think you’re great Tim, not just cause you can shoot, or do the job, because you’re funny, and sometimes you’re the best part about being in Kentucky. I just wanted to do something to make you feel better.”
“Sounds like you’re sweet on me,” Tim joked, uncomfortable with the praise.
Raylan blushed again, but the sarcastic comment didn’t come.
“Raylan, are you sweet on me?” Tim asked, and he was half joking, half serious.
Raylan kept his eyes on his boots. “It doesn’t have to be a thing. Despite popular opinion, I can control myself. I’m sorry for lying to you, you know, about the plant. I’ll just, uh, make myself scarce.”
Tim considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake, but despite the drugs, he was still feeling enough to know that this was real, and this was happening. Raylan was leaving, fuck. Tim reached out to stop the man from leaving and pulled at his sore muscles. He stopped, letting out a pained gasp.
Raylan was back the bedside in an instant, leaning over Tim. “You alright, you need me to get a doctor?”
Tim reached up and cupped the back of Raylan’s head, pulling him down into a kiss. Raylan pulled away, looking unsure. “Tim?”
“Never occurred to me you’d feel the same way,” he admitted, feeling his own face go warm.
“Darlin,” Raylan started, “I think you underestimate just how pretty you are.”
Tim ignored the pain, pulling himself against Raylan with his good arm and drawing him into a searing kiss.
Tim’s arm was still broken, but all of a sudden, the whole thing didn’t seem so bad after all.
FANDOM TRUMPS HATE CREATOR SIGN-UPS ARE OPEN!!!
Hello Hello, Calling on the Justified Fandom to Sign-Up as Creators for Fandom Trumps Hate 2024!
In 2022 and 2023 there was only one offering each year in the Justified Fandom, let’s make 2024 the year Justified shines in FTH!
What is Fandom Trumps Hate?
FTH is an online fanworks auction, designed to raise money for progressive nonprofit organizations that help and support marginalized people.
What are this year’s Non-Profits?
Full List of Non-Profits HERE
Creator Sign-Ups are Open!
Starting today, until the 19th of February, sign-ups are open. Fill out the SIGN-UP FORM today!
Each Creator can make up to 3 auction offerings, and it can include ANY kind of fanwork, for example:
Written fanworks (fic, poetry, remixes, etc.)
Fanart, which includes but is not limited to digital art, scanned art, gifsets, manips, moodboards, etc.
Podfics
Fanvids (including fancams)
Fan labour, which includes but is not limited to betaing, brit/japan/america-picking, or offering specialist expertise
Have more questions?
See the FTH FAQ HERE
FANDOM TRUMSP HATE 2024 BIDDING IS OPEN!!!
There are 9 works to bid on in the Justified Fandom this year, and bidding is open now, until March 9th! I have linked the AO3 pages for all those offering in the fandom below! Anne McSommers is offering 3 works
grydo2life is offering 1 work
Grace_Hill aka E_Greer is offering 1 work
roaroftheninth is offering 1 work
Willow McKinley is offering 2 works
schweinsty is offering 1 work
If you are looking for a complete list of fandoms offering works, look here!
That Coal is Gonna Bury You
Summary: When Raylan heard the explosion, his first thought was that Boyd was dead. When he finds out what really happened, he needs to see things for himself to prove it. It takes a little more than seeing to believe it... Rating: Explicit Pairing: Boyd/Raylan Also on my AO3 AnneMcSommers https://archiveofourown.org/works/55845760
When Raylan heard the explosion, his first thought was of Boyd. Something had gone wrong with one of the blasts and Boyd was gone. It was something Raylan had thought he got over twenty years ago when he walked out of that mine alive and decided he was never going back, but here he was.
Then when Tom clarified it was a robbery, Raylan's second thought again was of Boyd, this one a little less generous, and he joined Tom to go check it out. Blowing shit up and making money, fuck, Boyd hadn't made it very long on the straight and narrow.
"They were fixing to rob it, and blew themselves up," Shelby was saying, and Raylan could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Fuck, Boyd was dead, Tom had said something about not having found his body, but that had clearly changed.
"Ya, Boyd Crowder, Kyle," Shelby was still talking but Raylan heard nothing because Boyd was dead. Fuck, Boyd was dead.
Boyd was a criminal. Boyd deserved what he got. Raylan tried desperately to rationalise it, to justify it, but the panic clawed at his throat, and he struggled to breathe. Boyd was dead.
"What do you think?" Tom asked, tapping on Raylan's arm, and Raylan shook his head, trying to clear it out and focus.
"Run that by me again," he asked, and Tom nodded.
"A few guys tried to rob the place, threatened Shelby. According to Shelby here, Crowder managed to stop them from killing him, and then the assholes blew themselves up. Crowder had to head home, some kind of emergency, but the timing it a bit suspicious, don't you think?" Tom asked again.
Raylan blinked, "Boyd had to go home AFTER the explosion, " he asked, because he had to make sure he wasn't just hearing what he wanted to hear.
"Yup straight after, mighty suspicious, right?"
Raylan nodded, and Tom kept talking, but Raylan heard nothing. Boyd had made it.
The image of Boyd, dead, wouldn't leave his mind though. "Tom, I gotta head out, I shoulda gone already."
Tom nodded, as if that made sense. "I'll call it in, let your office know that we'll send everything on up to them. Thanks for your help on the draw checks, really do appreciate it."
Raylan nodded, and it felt like he blinked, then he was pulling into Ava's driveway where Boyd's truck sat in the driveway. It was fine, Boyd was alive, he tried to tell himself, but he had to see it, had to see Boyd for himself.
Raylan knocked at the door, and when he got no answer, he pounded on it, prepared to break it down if he had to.
Ava opened the door, and her face went sour. "What do you want?"
"Where is he?" Raylan demanded. "Boyd!" Raylan pushed past Ava into the house.
"I didn't tell you, you were welcome here," Ava yelled, and Raylan whipped around.
"Where is he Ava," he demanded again, louder.
Ava's eyes widened, and she pulled her robe tight around her. Any other time Raylan would have apologized for scaring her, but he had to see Boyd.
"Ava," he started, and she pointed towards the stairs.
Raylan took them two at a time, and then he was whipping open the door to the second bedroom.
There was Boyd, alive, dressed in sweatpants and an undershirt, red and damp from a too hot shower, and alive.
"Boyd," Raylan said, and Boyd's eyebrows went together.
"Raylan, I am not sure what you heard, or what you may think happened,” Boyd started, and he was alive.
"Boyd," Raylan said again, and in two steps he had Boyd pinned against the wall under him, warm, alive.
"Raylan?" Boyd's voice was high, and Raylan didn't care what Boyd was thinking cause he was alive.
Raylan didn't think, couldn't think, he closed his eyes and Boyd was dead. Before he knew it, he was kissing Boyd, then pulling back.
Boyd was staring at him now, eyes wide, mouth open.
Raylan gasped for breath. "You were dead."
"What?"
"They said it was a robbery, you were there, and they blew themselves up, and you were dead. You died in the mine, and I," Raylan broke off, desperate, jamming his forehead into the crook of Boyd's neck. Boyd was here, alive.
"Oh Raylan." Boyd’s' arms were around him, squeezing him, and it wasn't enough.
"You were dead," Raylan said, looking up, and he could see Boyd was there, and yet.
"Com'ere," Boyd said, twisting out from under Raylan, pulling him along walking backwards. He watched as Boyd stopped and fell, pulling Raylan on top of him, then surged upwards crashing his lips into Raylan's. Between kisses Boyd whispered, "It's alright, I’m here. It's alright.”
Raylan pushed down against Boyd hard, and Boyd hissed under him. He pulled away, afraid he’d hurt the man, but Boyd grabbed at his back. "It's alright darlin, you do what you need. I'm here, okay, I'm alright, and I’m not dead."
It was like the word said out loud by Boyd's own lips set something off in Raylan because he was shoving back down onto Boyd, pinning him to the bed. He ground their hips together as he kissed away the noises Boyd was letting out, and Boyd didn't let him go, just held on for dear life.
Raylan knew that he'd have bruises tomorrow, and usually that would have pissed him off, but right now he wanted them, he wanted proof that Boy Crowder was alive. Raylan wanted bruises that would last for days, that he would feel each time he moved, that would let him know that Boyd was alive, because Boyd had left his mark.
Boyd started to buck under him, and Raylan knew the man was close, that this was going to end with both of them cumming in their pants, just like it had the last time. It should have been awkward, they should have been out of sync, it should have been bumped heads, and missed signals, but it was like the last twenty years hadn't happened and it had been only hours since they had last done this, desperate and needing to prove that they were alive.
Boyd bit at Raylan's clavicle, hitting just the right spot, and Raylan returned the favour at the base of Boyd's neck. The hands, the pressure, the friction, it was too much, and he could feel Boyd spasm under him, gasping, breathing, alive. That was all it took for Raylan to go over the edge himself, cumming harder than he had since he was that teenager, who was head over heels for one of the Crowder boys.
Raylan collapsed onto Boyd, knowing he weighed too much, that he was probably more suffocating the man than anything else, but he could hear Boyd's heartbeat under his ear, feel the rise and fall of the Boyd’s chest, alive. Raylan couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the warm embrace of Boyd's arms, because Boyd was alive.
He heard a gasp from the doorway, and Raylan remembered that they were not alone, the door was still open.
"Boyd," Ava sounded frantic.
"S'alright Ava, I'm taking care of him." Boyd slurred, and he could hear Ava sputtering.
"What, Boyd," she repeated, louder this time, and Raylan wished she would leave.
"He thought I’s dead," Boyd said, and Raylan finally summoned the energy to lift his head and turn it toward the open door.
He saw Ava's face go a little softer, the fear turning to confusion, and he wished he could explain, but he couldn't, not now.
"The explosion's on the radio, people are going to come looking for you soon. You," Ava paused, looking them both over. "You two should clean up."
Raylan frowned.
"You got a bag in your car?" Ava asked, sounding amused now, and Raylan nodded against Boyd's chest.
"Alright, I’ll go grab you some clothes, but fuck. You two need to clean up," Ava said, and he heard her walking away.
Ava was right, they should clean up, he couldn't get found like this, not in light of what had happened, but... "Five more minutes?" he asked.
"Ya darlin," Boyd said, and fingers started carding through his hair. Fuck, he loved when people played with his hair. "We can take five more minutes.'
Raylan let out a sigh and melted back into Boyd. Five more minutes would have to be enough, and maybe they wouldn't be the last, because Boyd was alive.
A Marshal’s Talents Part 1
Pairing: Tim Gutterson x Reader
Warnings: references to past abuse, cursing
Media: Justified
Word Count: 1294
Part 2
Part 1
The Marshals office was one often visited by many of Harlan county’s residents. Said visitors being criminals and or fugitives. But this visit wasn’t one of business or Justice. You walked out of the elevator, through the door to the Marshal’s office and scanned the main room for the familiar hat. You saw Raylan talking to an older man in the office across from you. The scolding he was getting perfectly clear through the glass walls. Not wanting to interrupt the more than likely justified tongue lashing, you look for the Givens desk marker. Seeing that it was around 5 o'clock not many were in the office to stop you from plopping yourself into Raylan’s chair, and those who were seemed too absorbed in their work to notice. Propping your feet on his desk you spent about 15 minutes playing temple run on your phone until you heard the door open and the previously muffled voices became crisp.
“ No Art, for the last time, I don’t seek out people to kill. It ain’t my fault they try to shoot me.”
You see the older man, presumably “Art”, follow Raylan out of the door.
“ But ya sure provoke em till they do pull on you. Lucky for me I have a lot more patience than the men you shoot or else the last thing I see will be the barrel of your gun like the rest of them. ” Art smirks.
Raylan turns to Art, “ Aw don’t feel too left out, you do make me put my guns on safety in the office for a reason.”
You watch the conversation with an amused glint in your eye. Raylan had not changed a bit in the few years since you actually saw him. The same smart ass sarcasm that got him beat by Arlo. He was a little thinner than you remember but that’s how age works you guessed. You were younger than him, being born when he was 10 gave you guys a good gap relationship wise, but it balanced how close you became in opposing your dear old daddy.
Raylan turned to walk to his desk as a man and a woman walked through the doors. He paused, eyes wide.
“ Bring your lover to work day, Raylan? Isn’t she a bit young.” The woman chirped as she passed behind him. The man simply quirked his eyebrow at you in curiosity and followed her into the room next to Art’s office.
Eyes still glued to you, Raylan yelled,
“She’s my baby sister!”
Raylan continued to look at you in utter disbelief.
“ Wow Raylan, is that the proper way to greet your sister after 6 years?” You drawled as you got up from the chair. He blinked, blinked again, and pulled you into a not very Raylan like hug.
The Givens weren’t ones for physical affection as it turns out, You know with all the hittin there wasn’t much time for huggin.
You hugged him briefly then pushed away.
“ It’s good to see you too, you alright?”
Raylan stared at you for a little longer with his hands on your shoulders.
“What are you doing here? And why...” He sounded like he wanted to say more, but the door to what you thought could be some sort of conference room opened and Art plus the man and woman approached the both of you.
You shook off Raylan’s hands and offered your own to Art, “ Art, I believe? I’m y/n Givens.”
Art took your hand and shook it once, “ It’s a pleasure to meet one of Raylan’s family members that looks to be a kind upstanding citizen. Although he never mentioned a sister.”. He released your hand and looked at Raylan expectantly.
Raylan looked at you then the three marshals,“ Well this is my baby sister, who I haven’t seen in a while… and who I didn’t know was in town I suppose.” Raylan waited for you to elaborate.
You glanced away from him as you explained, “ I’ve been in Virginia finishing up my Masters Degree, but I got a call from our Aunt sayin Raylan was back in town and thought I’d come back before he killed our daddy so I took a semester off."
“ Yeah we met Arlo”, the woman said. “ Oh by the way, I’m Raylan’s coworker, Rachel. And this hear”, she gestures at the blonde man standing next to her, “ is Tim.”
“ Both Marshals as well?” you asked, shaking Rachel’s outstretched hand.
“ Yes Ma’am”, Tim drawled, uncrossing his arms to shake your hand as well.
Tim, you noticed, had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time unlike Rachel and Art who had looked at you and Raylan throughout the conversation. He was much quieter than the other marshals.
You shook his hand, “ Nice to meet you, Tim!”
His mouth tilted into a smirk and he nodded his head in a greeting.
“ Sorry about the comment earlier.” Rachel sighed, “ I’m just not used to seeing Raylan with a woman that he isn’t sleeping with.”
You made a face at that, “ Yeah, I don’t blame you, he’s a bit of a whore.”
At that Raylan smacked you in the back of the head and you cringed. He never liked you commenting on his “love life” or whatever it was.
You turned to Raylan, “ That reminds me, I saw Winona when I walked in…” You trailed off waiting for Raylan to say anything.
Instead all he said was “ Yup”, turned and grabbed his keys of his desk.
“Well I was on my way to go visit Boyd on a new case I’m on,” he looked at you, “ you need a ride back?”
You nodded at Raylan and looked at his coworkers, “ It was a pleasure to meet you all, but I guess we are heading out.”
You followed your brother out the door as you waved to them. Art and Rachel waved back, and Tim nodded again.
…
You walked out to Raylan's town car with him and hopped in the passengers seat. He slammed the door and looked at you as he got in.
“ I don’t see you for 6 years, and you just show up at my JOB!?”
You gave him a deadpan stare, “ yes Raylan, thank you for recounting the past 20 minutes, your observation skills astound me.”
“Why are you here?” Raylan continued.
“I don’t understand why you are so upset, you're the one who didn't tell me that you were being transferred here of all places.”
Raylan looked a little defeated. “ I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back , just cause I was here.”
“ I don’t need you to protect me, and I didn’t actually come back because you were back. Aunt Helene called and said she needed some help with Arlo, something about his meds. She just happened to tell me you were here last night. Asked me if I had seen you yet. A bit of a surprise since I thought you were still in Miami.” Your tone of voice softened as you spoke, “ It really doesn't matter Raylan, I’m glad you're okay, and we can catch up since I’ll be in town a while. Now why don’t you take me to my hotel room.”
...
It turns out you and Raylan were staying in the same motel at the moment. The main reason you probably haven't seen each other in the week you had been here was your constant rides back and forth to Harlan at odd hours or whenever Helen called.
Raylan parked the car and you got out, “ welp, I guess I’ll see you soon Raylan.” You yawned and walked to your room on the other side of the building. He waved goodnight and drove off in the direction of Harlan and presumably Boyd.
…
To be continued
It's probably just my hyperfixation, but I am strangely attracted to old man Baby Billy Freeman from The Righteous Gemstones
🕊️ Music
Y'all this song started playing right after I posted the Sunday Highlight. Her voice is always so pretty 😭❤️ and this is such a good song!
Y'all should totally give it a listen! So many instruments and a choir! 👀
Here's a little segment:
The very same God That spins things in orbit Runs to the weary The worn and the weak And the same gentle hands That hold me when I'm broken They conquer death to bring me victory
Now I know my redeemer lives I know my redeemer lives Let all creation testify Let this life within me cry I know my redeemer
He lives to take away my shame And He lives forever I'll proclaim That the payment for my sin Was the precious life He gave But now He's alive and there's an empty grave
anyone wanna hyperanalyse this with me? because i could go on for ages on how absolutely heartbreaking this scene is every single time
in conclusion: yep, i am still so very much not over this and basically every other scene in tgm
Timothy Olyphant in Justified 1x06 “The Collection“
Timothy Olyphant as Marshal Raylan Givens
- FX's Justified: City Primevil - 1x02: "The Oklahoma Wildman"
ArE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!
I WENT NEXT DOOR TO THIRTY-ONE FLAVORS Timothy Olyphant as Raylan Givens Justified, Season One, Episode Four, "Long in the Tooth"