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lm25courier · 7 months

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Sameday Courier London: Delivering Efficiency at Your Doorstep

Introduction

In today's fast-paced world, the need for swift and reliable courier services has never been greater. Whether you're a business in need of urgent document delivery or an individual requiring a last-minute parcel sent across London, the demand for same-day courier services is undeniable. That's where Sameday Courier London steps in, providing a seamless solution to your urgent delivery needs.

Understanding Sameday Courier Services

Sameday courier services are tailored to meet the urgent delivery needs of businesses and individuals. Unlike traditional courier services, which may take days to deliver packages, same-day couriers guarantee prompt delivery within hours of booking.

Benefits of Sameday Courier Services

Prompt Delivery: With same-day courier services, you can rest assured that your package will reach its destination swiftly.

Convenience: Say goodbye to long waiting times and tedious tracking processes. Sameday Courier London offers a hassle-free experience, allowing you to focus on your priorities.

Reliability: Whether it's an important document or a fragile item, you can trust Sameday Courier London to handle your package with care and deliver it intact.

How Sameday Courier London Works

Upon booking a delivery, Sameday Courier London dispatches a dedicated courier to collect your package promptly. Utilizing advanced route optimization algorithms, the courier navigates through London's bustling streets to ensure the fastest possible delivery.

Coverage Area and Delivery Network

Sameday Courier London boasts an extensive coverage area, encompassing all corners of London and its surrounding areas. Whether you're in the heart of the city or the outskirts, rest assured that our couriers can reach you promptly.

Pricing and Affordability

Despite offering premium same-day delivery services, Sameday Courier London remains committed to affordability. Our transparent pricing structure ensures that you get value for your money without compromising on quality.

Technology Integration for Tracking and Updates

With real-time tracking capabilities, you can monitor the progress of your delivery every step of the way. Receive instant updates on your package's whereabouts, giving you peace of mind throughout the journey.

Customer Support and Satisfaction

At Sameday Courier London, customer satisfaction is our top priority. Our dedicated support team is available round-the-clock to address any queries or concerns you may have, ensuring a seamless delivery experience.

Environmental Responsibility

In addition to providing efficient delivery services, Sameday Courier London is committed to minimizing its environmental impact. Through the adoption of eco-friendly practices and sustainable logistics solutions, we strive to contribute positively to the environment.

Ensuring the Safety and Security of Shipments

Your package's safety is paramount to us. From secure handling during transit to rigorous quality checks upon delivery, Sameday Courier London goes the extra mile to safeguard your shipments.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

Q: Is Sameday Courier London available 24/7?

A: Yes, Sameday A: Courier London operates round-the-clock to cater to your urgent delivery needs.

Q: How soon can I expect my package to be delivered?

A: Depending on the pickup and delivery locations, Sameday Courier London strives to deliver your package within hours of booking.

Q: Are there any restrictions on the type of items that can be delivered?

A: While Sameday Courier London accepts a wide range of shipments, certain hazardous or prohibited items may be restricted. Please refer to our guidelines or contact customer support for clarification.

Q: What if my package is damaged during transit?

A: In the rare event of damage during transit, Sameday Courier London offers comprehensive insurance coverage to compensate for any losses incurred.

Q: Can I track my package in real time?

A: Yes, Sameday Courier London provides real-time tracking capabilities, allowing you to monitor your package's journey from pickup to delivery.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Sameday Courier London offers a reliable and efficient solution to your urgent delivery needs. With prompt service, transparent pricing, and a commitment to customer satisfaction, we are your trusted partner in navigating London's bustling logistics landscape.

#Sameday courier London #Safe courier service #Same day delivery service

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ukdropletuk · 1 year

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How To Choose Good Same Day Laundry Services In Balham, London?

The process of selecting good same day laundry services in Balham, London, ensures that your garments receive the care and attention they deserve. With the fast-paced nature of modern life, it's not uncommon to find ourselves short on time when tackling our laundry. Whether you have a busy work schedule or want to lighten your load, a same-day laundry service can be a lifesaver. But how do you choose the right one? Balham offers a variety of options when it comes to laundry services, so it's essential to make an informed decision.

Ways To Choose Good Same Day Laundry Services In Balham, London

In the bustling neighborhood of Balham, London, finding a reliable same day laundry service can be a game-changer for individuals with busy schedules. With numerous options available, it's important to know how to choose a service that meets your laundry needs and delivers excellent results.

1. Research And Compare Service Providers

Begin your search by researching and compiling a list of same day laundry services in Balham, London. Check their websites or online platforms to gather information about the services they offer, their pricing structure, and any additional benefits they provide. Take note of the services that align with your specific laundry requirements.

2. Consider Reliability and Reputation

A crucial factor to consider is the reliability and reputation of the laundry delivery service in Balham, London. Seek out service providers that have a strong history of fulfilling their commitments. Check online reviews and testimonials, or seek recommendations from friends, family, or local community groups. Positive feedback and a strong reputation are indicators of a reliable service provider.

3. Assess Quality Of Service

When it comes to your clothes, quality is paramount. Look for a laundry service that prioritizes quality in its processes. Find out if they have trained professionals who handle different fabrics and garments with care. A good quality indicator is if the service provider offers services like stain removal, garment repairs, or alterations.

4. Evaluate Turnaround Time

Since you're seeking a same day laundry service, turnaround time is of utmost importance. Inquire about their same-day service policies, such as cut-off times for dropping off and picking up your laundry. Ensure that the service provider can accommodate your schedule and deliver on their same-day promise without compromising the quality of the results.

5. Customer Service And Communication

Pay attention to the level of customer service and communication the laundry service provides. A responsive and friendly customer service team can address any concerns or questions you may have. Having transparent and unobstructed communication channels guarantees that your expectations are met and that any potential concerns can be addressed swiftly and effectively. Besides, individuals who live in other areas like St. Johns can prefer dry cleaners that pickup and delivery in St. John’s, London.

Book Dry Cleaning Service Today!

Are you looking for same day laundry services in Balham, London? By taking the time to research and compare different providers, you can find a laundry service that meets your needs and provides exceptional care for your garments. Droplet Dry Cleaning Garment Care is an excellent dry cleaning company in your city. It offers affordable services tailored to your needs. Get dry cleaning services today and save your precious time.

#same day laundry services balham london #dry cleaners that pickup and delivery st. john s london #laundry delivery service balham london

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vanguardwest · 2 years

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Best Same Day Courier Service In London

If you're looking for a top logistic solutions provider in London, you've come to the right place! We are a leading provider of logistics solutions in the UK, and we're proud to be able to offer our clients the very best in service and value. We understand the importance of getting your goods delivered on time and in perfect condition, and we go above and beyond to make sure that happens. We have a wide range of services available, from same-day delivery to long-term storage, so whatever your needs, we can help. Get in touch today to find out more about what we can do for you.

Visit at https://vanguardwest.com/ or Call Us- 44 07950476339

#logisticsolutions #logistics service provider #parcel delivery #same day courier in london #courier service london #same day courier service in london #logistics #packers #movers #moversandpackers #relocation

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scotianostra · 3 months

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July 5th 1847 saw the final run of the Edinburgh to London mail coach.

By the mid 19th century coaches had become outdated throughout most of the country with improved rail links, the Newcastle Berwick Railway opened throughout on the 1st July 1847 which caused the demise of the coach service. The last coach carrying the London mail arrived in Glasgow on 14th February 1848. The extension of the Caledonian Railway from Beattock to Glasgow came into operation the following day.

Horses have been used to carry messages from the very early days, when post boys would deliver messages by horse. In the 18th Century horse-drawn mail coaches were introduced, which cut mail delivery times by more than half.

The coaches also carried fee paying passengers, at first four inside, later more were allowed on board but had to sit up with the driver outside, the passengers sitting inside the mail coaches had to pay considerably more than those exposed to the elements on the outside.

The average speed of the coaches was usually 7-8 mph in summer and about 5 mph in winter, but with improvements to the quality of the roads, it had risen to 10 mph by Victorian times.

The coaches were privately operated and the coachmen earned much more in tips than in wages. They were fined if caught carrying goods on their own account. The only Post Office employee aboard the mail coach was the guard. He was heavily armed, carrying two pistols and a blunderbuss. He wore an official uniform of a black hat with a gold band and a scarlet coat with blue lapels and gold braid. He also had a timepiece, regulated in London to keep pace with the differences in local time, and recorded the coach’s arrival and departure times at each stage of the journey. The guard sounded a horn to warn other road users to keep out of the way and to signal to toll-keepers to let the coach through. As the coach travelled through towns or villages where it was not due to stop, the guard would throw out the bags of letters to the Letter Receiver or Postmaster. At the same time, the guard would snatch from him the outgoing bags of mail.

Mail Coaches continued in the north of Scotland until modernised rail connections were introduced, the last one was in Kingussie and ran until the beginning of World War One The horses didn't enjoy a happy retirement though, they were requisitioned by the Army and sent to the continent during the first world war, 8 million horses were killed during the conflict.

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #london #mail

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workersolidarity · 5 months

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[ 📹 The moment a Palestinian man in Gaza is found and rescued from under the rubble of his civilian home following the bombardment of the Zionist occupation army using American-made munitions. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

ENDLESS BOMBINGS MARK THE 205TH DAY OF ISRAELI OCCUPATION'S GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP

On the 205th day of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 6 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 66 Palestinians, mostly women and children, while another 138 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

As the Israeli occupation army continues its genocide of Palestinians, major cities across the world saw a massive increase in protests over the last week.

Protest movements in solidarity with Palestinians under siege, blockade and bombardment in the Gaza Strip have spread to Western capitals and Major cities such as Copenhagen, Berlin, London, Helsingborg, Vienna, and Tunis, where protesters demanded an end to the genocide and the delivery of humanitarian aid to Palestinians, while in the United States, student protesters have wreaked havoc for administrators on campuses across the country, demanding their divestment from Israeli interests.

Participants waved Palestinian flags, occupied campus administrative buildings, and condemned the atrocities committed by the Zionist occupation army.

Meanwhile, reading the tea leaves on the future actions of the Israeli entity has become difficult due to contradictory remarks by different ministers in the government.

Defense Minister Yoav Gallant continues to vow that the IOF will "eliminate Hamas," and will continue the war for "as long as it takes."

“In Gaza, we are obligated to eliminate Hamas and also to return the hostages, we are working on these two tasks and I am determined to accomplish both things. It will take as long as it takes, but we must do this task,” Gallant is quoted as saying in the Zionist media.

While at the same time, War Cabinet Minister without a Portfolio, Benny Gantz, said that if the government doesn't sign a hostage exchange deal negotiated with Hamas for the return of the Israeli hostages held in Gaza, if it is backed by the entity's security services, than the government would "have no right to continue to exist."

“The return of our hostages, abandoned by the October 7 government, is urgent,” Gantz wrote on his Telegram channel, later quoted in the occupation media.

"If a responsible outline is reached for the return of the hostages with the backing of the entire security establishment — which does not involve ending the war — and the ministers who led the government on October 7 prevent it, the government will have no right to continue to exist and lead the campaign."

It should be noted that both the biggest hardliners and the more "moderate" ministers want to see the war continue, with neither willing to sign deals in which the war would come to an end.

In other news, the Israeli entity's government is also making efforts to thwart warrants expected to be issued by the International Criminal Court (ICC).

According to the Zionist media, the Israeli occupation's National Security Council, with the assistance of the Foreign Ministry, is leading the campaign to thwart any ICC warrants issued for the arrest of Zionist Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

The Israeli occupation expects any warrants to reflect allegations that the occupation "deliberately starved Palestinians in Gaza," according to an anonymous Foreign Ministry source speaking with the Times of Israel.

Over the weekend, Israeli analyst Ben Caspit wrote on the Hebrew media site "Walla" that Netanyahu is "under unusual stress" over the prospected arrest warrant for himself and other Zionist ministers by a UN tribunal at The Hague.

According to Caspit, Netanyahu leads a "nonstop push over the telephone" to undermine any prospective warrants, focusing mainly on the Biden administration in the United States.

A Haaretz analyst named Amos Harel similarly wrote that the Israeli occupation continues to work under the assumption that the ICC's headline prosecutor, Karim Khan, is likely to issue arrest warrants this week targeting Prime Minister Netanyahu, along with Defense Minister Yoav Gallant and IOF Chief of Staff, Herzi Halevi.

Meanwhile, the Zionist army continued bombing and shelling civilian areas of Gaza, targeting the cities of Rafah and Khan Yunis in Gaza's south, as well as Gaza City in the north and various areas of central Gaza.

In central Gaza, Zionist occupation warplanes bombed agricultural lands in Abu Hujair, to the north of the Bureij Refugee Camp, while at the same time, occupation jets hammered areas northeast of the Nuseirat Refugee Camp with repeated airstrikes.

Israeli air forces additionally bombarded the town of Al-Zawaida, also in the central Gaza Strip.

Similarly, Zionist artillery forces shelled neighborhoods to the east of Rafah City, in the southern Gaza Strip, as well as the outskirts of the town of Khuza'a, east of Khan Yunis.

In Gaza's south, occupation fighter jets were seen bombing the Brazil neighborhood of Rafah City, targeting a residential home, while Zionist artillery detatchments shelled the city of Beit Lahiya, in Gaza's north.

The Israeli occupation army also dropped an American-made bomb on a gathering of civilians in the New Camp area, west of the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, murdering at least one civilian, while several others were wounded in the strike.

IOF artillery forces also shelled neighborhoods to the east of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, in the north of the enclave, while at the same time, IOF warplanes bombed a residential home belonging to the Balha family on Al-Jalaa Street, adjacent to the Al-Zaharna building in Gaza City.

Previously on Saturday evening, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential building in the al-Nasr neighborhood, northeast of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, massacreing 7 Palestinians and wounding dozens of others.

Occupation air forces also bombarded a house east of the Al-Bureij Refugee Camp, in central Gaza, killing a civilian and wounding a number of others, while yet another airstrike targeted a residential home in the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, killing two more civilians.

As a result of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the death toll among the local population has risen further still, exceeding 34'454 Palestinians killed, including over 14'690 children and 9'680 women, while another 77'575 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

April 28th, 2024

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

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hothothotch · 2 years

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𝟬𝟬. 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁...

... EVEN THOUGH NEITHER AARON NOR YOU KNEW HOW TO POINT OUT WHY.

For you, the day had gone by as usual — as the owner of a small but famous bakery shop in Boston, you were used to how life worked for most of your customers, and it had been long since their lives become a predictor of how your life (or at least your day) would work.

You knew that Mrs. Padma would show up at 10am with her daughter and son, and ask for their usual Miranda Cake — one of the basics, a chocolate cake with colorful sprinkles; the matriarch would talk quickly about her day, and how being a businesswoman in a country like the United States was hard, but rewarding (Mrs. Padma and her children had left India after her husband's passing, and with time and a lot of fight, she had conquered her place as one of the most successful women in Boston, if not Massachusetts. She was an inspiration, indeed). The kids were harder to predict: sometimes they'd be mad at each other, so they'd barely talk; sometimes they were overly excited about something and would talk their asses off as you divided your attention between their tales and another client that popped up looking for some sort of new cake flavor, only to set up for Red Velvet or something simpler (that would usually be Mr. Smith, the 93 years-old man with Alzheimer that insisted he had eaten a lemon cake the day before, even if this flavor never existed).

The Padma's had the habit of staying for a whole hour before Mrs. Padma decided it was time to take the kids to school (even if they were already too late, and you had the impression that the only reason they were still accepted there was because of their mother income).

They would have just left when Diana and Matthew arrived, around 11am. The couple, only a few years older than you, had the habit of asking you to "surprise them" with their order, and you'd do your best, even if you knew (and they did, too) that they had already tried every flavor on your bakery shop — except, of course, for the cakes that had strawberries on its recipe, since Diana was terribly allergic to it (which had forced you to adapt a lot of your recipes, so she wouldn't have to lose any especially good flavor). That morning they had gone for Marisa and Peter — vanilla and a cheesecake, respectively.

Diana and Matthew were both teachers at the same University, and they had been invited to give lectures in different schools in Boston to students that were close to their High School Graduation — as far as you knew, they'd stay for only three months, and you were already dreading the day they'd return to their home in London. The couple was the amazing kind of couple that had time to come, but never to go away; and even if they didn't spend hours proving different cake flavors, their mere presence around there seemed to make the day 100% better.

When the clock hit 12pm, the phone rang. You implemented a delivery service months ago when your research pointed out that it could improve your income — this didn't mean, in any capacity, that you didn't know who was calling. Again, your client's routine had become your routine.

"Always on time, George".

George Foyet was one of the original clients at your bakery, and the most unpredictable; he was already a client when your shop became famous, and when you decided to invest in the delivery system, he immediately stepped up and offered himself as "bait". You knew he had done it solely because George was an agoraphobic — or so you thought, considering he mostly refused to go out when he could stop it.

You could relate, to some extent. While both of you had gone through the same painful experience, you knew the way you and your family dealt with it was way different from the way George and other families did. You were lucky, even though it took you a while to notice, to believe it — to notice that being aware of that fact didn't mean you had to silence your pain; it just made you feel empathy towards other people's pain.

George was one of them.

"You're not surprised" he replied, voice as low as ever, and you could almost picture his frightened look as he wrapped his phone's cable around his fingers, his body close against one of the white walls of his house and his body as far as possible from the outside view. George was anxious, as usual, "You know I always call around this time".

You smiled sweetly, grabbing the notepad inside your apron and quickly scribbling the word George in it, before passing it to Ginny, one of your waitresses, "Sometimes I wish you could surprise me" you joked, "But I'll prepare your usual—".

"No, not today" George cut her off quickly, and the woman frowned — first because the man rarely interrupted her, and second because there wasn't a single time he had refused his standard piece of cake. You were ready to voice your thoughts when he cleared his throat, "I..." you could hear George gulping, and immediately your body tensed. There was something wrong, "I feel like something bad is about to happen".

The cadence of George's voice had lowered, and you could almost picture him squeezing his body against his wall as if he wanted to be swallowed by it.

"What do you mean?" you asked curiously, biting your bottom lip. You had learned ages ago that believing in George's paranoid mind wasn't the best thing to do, but sometimes you just couldn't help your curiosity, "George?".

It took him a while to do anything — to breathe, to speak, to even make a sound that could tell you he was still on the other side of the call. For a moment, it looked like George had simply left without plugging the phone back.

"I don't know" he replied bitterly, his voice now somber, not afraid. George spoke with certainty, pretty much like your grandmother when she said that God had given her a revelation; truth be told, you had never heard him speak like that, like he knew what he was saying, with no sign of stuttering. It made a shiver run down your spine, and you marveled at the possibility of just hanging up on him and pretending this call had never happened; and when your mind sent the command to do as you wanted and your body simply refused to do, you knew exactly where your mind had taken you — ten years ago, your bedroom. The worst day of you life, "But there's something coming".

And even after he hung up on you, when the sound of the phone announcing the call had ended started, you weren't able to take his words off your mind. An advice, a warning — something is coming.

(***)

"YOU BETTER BE READY, BUDDY!" Aaron stated, grabbing his son's Ninja Turtles' backpack in one hand as he moved quickly towards the front door, his voice perfectly calm, even though he dreaded the moment he answered the phone in the last hours of his day off. And while he wanted to curse every deity whose name he could remember (and he knew a lot), Aaron knew that it was only a matter of time before he got ultimately bored and found a stack of work he could bury his nose in, "Your mom's already downstairs".

Jack bursted inside the living room with a toothy smile on his face, his sparkly brown eyes — his father's eyes — focused on Aaron as he pointed at his two undone shoelaces, "I can't tie them, daddy" the little boy pouted, his head tilting to the side in defeat, "Mommy showed me, but I can't!".

Aaron smiled softly at his son, leaving the backpack close to the door as he kneeled in front of the three-year-old, looking straight into his eyes, "I'm gonna do one with you, and then you're gonna do the other, ok?".

The little boy nodded quickly, a few blonde strands of hair falling in his eyes, but he didn't seem to care as he sat quickly in front of Aaron with his knees bent so his small arms could reach the shoelaces, "'Kay".

"'Kay" Aaron repeated, placing his big hands on top of Jack's much smaller ones, "Do you remember what comes first?".

Jack scrunched his nose before shaking his head, his face adorable even when grimacing.

The truth was, Haley was an amazing woman and mother: she was the one who was always there, the one to grant Jack goodnight kisses and to hug him whenever he had a nightmare; Haley was also the reason why Aaron started taking more days off, this being one of her requirements on the divorce — he had to take at least two weekdays off per month to spend time with Jack, otherwise he'd only be allowed his weekend with his son once every two weeks. And while Aaron knew Haley wouldn't privy him from seeing his son whenever he wanted (an agreement they had made when they decided to peacefully co-parent), the last thing he wanted was a courthouse fight over his workaholic habits.

But, as perfect of a mother Haley was, there was one thing in which Aaron had always been best: teaching. As a nerd himself, and as someone that never had a lot of time with Jack, he enjoyed teaching Jack even the smallest things, and it had been like that from moment one; with time, Haley stopped trying to teach Jack new things, and Aaron knew she did so because she noticed he cherished those small, intimate moments with their son.

Was she able to teach Jack things properly? Most of them, yes. Would she? Probably not — she would, instead, send Aaron a message saying Jack would have this problem, and he was the one meant to solve it.

"The first step is the not" Aaron started, holding each lace with Jack and crisscrossing it in a X before tucking one lace through the hole and pulling the laces to tighten. He looked at Jack through his thick eyelashes, the smallest of the smiles on his face when he saw the little boy with his tongue between his lips, one eye closed as he took in what they were doing, "Bunny ear...".

"This one I remember!" Jack exclaimed happily, creating one bunny ear with the lace, allowing his dad to pinch it closed on his fingers, "Then..." he looked up at Aaron in search of approval, "Wrap?".

"Yes, buddy!" Aaron cheered, helping Jack to wrap the lace around the bunny ear, "Now, every bunny has two ears, so..." they pushed the loose lace through the hole under it, creating the second bunny ear, "What now?".

"Whiskers!" Jack yelled, finishing the lace just when someone knocked on the door, "Mommy!".

Aaron's eyes widened slightly, one of his hands going to Jack's arm as he stared disapprovingly at his son, one brow raised; his look wasn't quite like his Unit Chief glare — he'd never direct it to Jack, one rule he had created when he first reprimanded Jack and the little boy flinched at the mere sight of his father's glance. Aaron was aware (thanks to his team's feedback) that he looked cold and unfriendly when showing that look, but no one had flinched at his sight (not even Prentiss, when he wanted her to fear him); the idea that his son feared him was too much for him to bear, so he stopped.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Aaron asked seriously, looking at Jack's untied left shoe, "I'll answer the door, you finish it".

"'Kay, daddy!" the little boy whispered, grabbing the laces in both his hands, "Knot...".

Aaron stood up quickly, grabbing the backpack he had left on the ground at the same time he unlocked the door, opening it up to reveal Haley's image, "Hi" he said sheepishly, something that had happened from the moment they met and that he was fairly sure would happen for the rest of their lives, even if his heart didn't beat as fast as it used to when he thought or saw her, "Jack's tying his shoes".

"Hello" Haley replied politely, way more confident than Aaron, "You had to teach him?" she asked, offering one hand so he could place the backpack there, which he quickly did as he nodded, "Good to know I've done a lame job. You don't know how hard it is to not teach a child how to tie their shoe".

"Sorry to put you in that position," Aaron said honestly, looking at Jack from over his shoulder, the little boy finishing his work with the shoe, "Both of them, having to come and grab him this late and being lame at tying shoes".

"One of them we can fix with a co-parents' dinner. Jack's been asking for it" Haley gave him a pointed look, fidgeting with the backpack's strap. It was hard for both of them to do things like that — go out as a family when they weren't married anymore; still, they promised they would do so for Jack, so it was the least they could do: swallow their pride and pain, and be what their son needed, "The other one... it's your mandatory day off, Aaron".

"I know" he nodded, lowering his voice, "I know, and I didn't want to go... I really didn't" Aaron said more confidently when Haley sighed, too used to hearing those words, "But it's been ten years since I saw Shaunessy, and he said it's urgent... he's dying, I think".

"He could've written a letter, Aaron!" Haley spat back. Knowing his ex-wife, Aaron knew she wasn't trying to be insensitive about the subject nor judging him for choosing his job instead of spending the night with Jack, she was just being her practical self, thinking about what was best for Jack, and what they had accorded, "Why he waited ten years to call? If it was really urgent—".

"Mommy!".

Haley stopped immediately, putting a smile on her face as she kneeled outside Aaron's apartment with arms open — she never went in, the same way Aaron would never come inside their house when going to get Jack. If the boy had noticed that he never commented, but Aaron had the feeling that Jack was happy enough that his parents were talking, something he knew from his friends' experience that didn't happen in a lot of families.

"Hey, love" Haley received Jack in her arms happily, standing up with him in his arms as the little boy wrapped his legs around her middle, "Did you have fun with daddy?".

Jack nodded, taking his head off Haley's shoulder to look at Aaron, "Daddy promised he's gonna bring me a gift from his trip, because I couldn't stay the night!".

"And we're gonna schedule another day, so we can have ice cream and go to bed late" Aaron promised, moving to kiss Jack's forehead, "Daddy only has to make sure his friend is ok, and nothing wrong's gonna happen".

Haley's eyes darted immediately to Aaron as she straightened Jack's position in her arms, "You think there's something wrong?" she asked curiously, biting her bottom lip, "That something's gonna happen?".

Yes, Aaron wanted to reply. He had been trying to act against this gut feeling since he woke up that morning, the terrible sensation that told him his peaceful moment with Jack would be cut short, and he'd have to face a danger he'd never before; and while Aaron Hotchner was as skeptic as someone could be, he couldn't deny that Shaunessy's sudden call could be a warning.

Besides, Aaron was worried. He knew Tom Shaunessy was facing a disease because it had been the gossip of Boston PD for months prior to his retirement, and he had received a memo when the new Detective took his place, but Aaron hadn't talked to him back then, so he could only imagine. The real thing (or as real as it could be over the phone) was way worst than he had imagined — Shaunessy was weak, his voice low, unable to say more than two words without a coughing fit.

Aaron told Haley he thought Shaunessy was dying. The truth was that he was sure. And if whatever he had to tell her was this serious, it was best to find out before it was too late.

Maybe his gut feeling would run off after his visit. He hoped.

"Don't be silly, mom!" Jack replied quickly, "Daddy is a superhero! Nothing wrong's gonna happen!".

Haley gave Aaron an anxious look but quickly removed it from her face as she turned back to Jack, "You're right, buddy" she nodded, "Your dad's gonna do great. We better go, Jess's waiting at the car".

"Auntie Jess!" Jack squealed happily, wiggling on Haley's arms, "Bye, daddy!".

Aaron didn't have time to reply before Jack moved to the end of the corridor, repeatedly pressing the down button, "Bye, buddy", he laughed, shaking his head with a soft smile on his face. When he turned to face Haley, though, her expression was neutral in a way he had never seen on her face before, "What?".

"Aaron" Haley's voice had a tinge of alert and danger, and while Aaron was never a huge fan of his gut feeling, Haley had always been one to believe in hers, "Be careful".

He didn't reply, not verbally. Instead, Aaron nodded slowly, observing with careful attention as Haley and Jack entered the elevator, rubbing his fingers nervously as a bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach.

Something didn't feel right.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner imagine

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knaccblog · 1 year

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Ready Now

"Aziraphale has told Crowley he loves him, many times by now and showed him that he loves him many more times as well. But there are still years and years of rules and habits learned through their long association that are complete rubbish now, harmful even. It's going to take awhile to sort them all out." aka Crowley and Aziraphale are both messes but they love each other so they're going to work it out. Also available on A03

One action packed road trip and one world saved (again) later, Aziraphale and Crowley are finally back in London but things are very different than before. For one, Heaven and Hell are officially and forever off their backs. No more being technically traitors or ex-employees or anything, just a miraculous and permanent severing of their individual allegiances (without any real change to their state of being) and a promised immunity from any further meddling. It was a bit dizzying to think about, to be honest, so often Aziraphale would not, instead choosing to focus on the most exceptional, truly unbelievably wonderful thing that had happened along the way which was that Crowley had accepted his feelings (once Aziraphale had finally found his courage and told him) and returned them eagerly with words and kisses of his own. There may even have been a slight drizzle happening throughout the whole confession that was neatly blocked by a nearby apple tree, though to be honest, the details of everything besides how it felt to hold Crowley in his arms were a bit fuzzy.

They'd been home for about three days so far (and by home, Aziraphale means holed up in his bookshop) and they'd gotten up to all manner of things that Aziraphale had barely ever even hoped to try together. He'd even, after a bit of convincing, attempted sleeping, which he'd found enjoyable enough, at least on a short term basis and as long as Crowley was curled tightly around him. This morning had started much the same way as any other had since their return; lots of kissing, breakfast, more kissing, talking about some inane subject for hours on end, kissing and so on. Aziraphale had been assuming that the terribly similar morning would roll on, transforming into a terribly similar afternoon when, to his surprise, a knock had come on the bookshop door while Crowley was in the back finding more wine. Aziraphale had nearly sent whoever it was away when he'd just heard, barely audible through the heavy wood and glass, the declaration that they were, in fact, from the International Express Delivery Service and had a package for a Mr. Fell that required a signature if at all possible.

Aziraphale had sprung up, hurrying to catch the delivery person before they slipped away with a book that he'd ordered nearly two years ago now that had somehow, between the pandemic and a surprising chain of postal mix-ups, miraculously gotten waylaid just long enough to arrive at the bookshop very close to his own permanent return to it. Funny old world and all that. To be honest, until that very moment, Aziraphale had basically forgotten all about it but the instant he opened the package, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The cover, a beautiful, polished crimson leather and it's contents, pages and pages of detailed facts about snakes paired with equally detailed gouache paintings of them were collectively even more stunning than they had seemed in the auction catalog all those years ago. He'd opened the book reverentially to the beginning and, without looking up, drifted his way carefully through the familiar obstacles of his bookshop and over to his couch. This was going to take some seeing to, he was certain.

****

Aziraphale looks up some time later from a particularly stunning illustration of a Red Bellied Black Snake to see Crowley pacing around the bookshop aimlessly. He tilts his head. "Is there something going on? Perhaps something you need to do, my dear?"

Crowley's gaze snaps up to meet Aziraphale's as he stops pacing. "Right, I'll just- get out of your hair then?" Crowley puts his sunglasses on and starts to head towards the door.

Aziraphale feels a sudden rush of panic. Something seems off. "Crowley, wait!"

Crowley stops dead in his tracks and turns back to him. "What?"

"I-" He waves a hand in little circles. "I don't understand what's happening. Do you have something else you need to do or not?"

Crowley grimaces. "Technically... no."

Aziraphle sighs. "Then why are you leaving?"

"Well," Crowley shrugs, "you're busy-"

"Ahhhhh of course!" Aziraphale nods and smiles. Now he understands everything. How long had it been since he'd even looked up from his book? An half an hour, maybe an hour even. He hadn't meant to get so absorbed really. Crowley must be going mad. He wonders why he hadn't just wandered off all on his own really. Perhaps he hadn't wanted to leave without saying anything but he also hadn't wanted to interrupt Aziraphale? Crowley always had been terribly considerate of him. "Well," he smiles, "Just make sure to take the keys when you go then?"

Crowley's mouth flattens. "Right," he nods stiffly, his tone brittle. "Wouldn't want to be in the way." He heads for the door faster this time.

Before he even quite knows what he's doing, Aziraphale's snaped and the door becomes temporarily uncooperative. Crowley gives the handle a little tug and then sighs.

Aziraphale's stomach sinks. He's a fool. It's suddenly quite clear that he'd been nearly completely wrong with his previous theory. Luckily for him, he's starting to see the shape of it now. There must be a second conversation happening, one he can't perceive, that's making Crowley very upset. He sighs and squeezes his eyes closed. "Crowley, I don't know what I said but please just talk to me. I can tell you're quite upset."

Crowley jiggles the door knob one more time and then turns around. Even in the sunglasses, he won't meet Aziraphale's eyes. "It's just, I've been here what, three days? And you started reading and I figured, ya know, that was my sign to go. I mean, you're bound to get sick of me sometime. I'm just trying to, mmm, keep ahead of it. Stay out of your way."

Aziraphale's chest aches at that and he frowns. "Crowley, I love you-"

"Right," Crowley snaps, "and we wouldn't want you to change your mind about that now, would we?"

Aziraphale feels like he's been punched in the stomach. He closes his book completely and sets it on the arm of the couch. "Alright, that's enough of that. Come over here right this instant." His face is stone and his tone brokers no argument.

Crowley squirms as if fighting himself and then goes limp. "Fine, since you haven't given me much of a choice." He saunters over, his feet dragging a little. "Here?" he says, standing in front of Aziraphale, his tone a bit mocking though which of them he's making fun of isn't clear. (Probably himself)

Aziraphale shakes his head and pats the couch next to him. "Here please."

Crowley visibly rolls his eyes, even in the sunglasses, and then plops down, a wild sprawl of limbs, "And wh-"

Aziraphale reaches across and grabs Crowley by the far shoulder, pulling him rather effortlessly down so that his head is now resting in Aziraphale's lap. Crowley's jaw falls slack and his cheeks darken just slightly.

Aziraphale immediately tangles a hand in Crowley's hair and lets out a contented sigh. Ever since they'd gotten together and he'd started getting to touch Crowley whenever he wants, doing this had always made his heart skip a beat. Somehow it's even more lovely than he'd always thought it would be. He hopes that someday he'll get to feel it at all of the wonderful lengths he'd missed out on touching over the years. "I love doing this." Aziraphale beams down at Crowley as he continues to run his fingers through his hair. "Do you like it as well?"

Crowley stumbles for a moment before finally getting out, "Mmmmm yeah. Course I do." He smiles a little shyly and looks away. "I- I don't know what this has to do with anything?"

Aziraphale sighs and meets Crowley's eyes as best he can with the sunglasses. "I need you to understand something: I don't really ever want you to go away. Like of course we'll do separate errands sometimes or you'll get bored and go for a drive or I'll go to a book sale and you won't want to come. Or perhaps you and Muriel and the girls will go to some loud concert and I'll stay home. And that's normal and fine. I'll even be happy you're having a good time without me. But I am never going to be gladdened by just your absence, you understand? I'm always happiest when you're here with me."

Crowley swallows. "You can't mean that-"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

"Well, no but-"

"I have spent enough time playing coy and pushing you away and I'm sick of it. But also," Aziraphale frowns, "you have to talk to me. I am, unfortunately, not a mind reader."

"Honestly, that's for the best," Crowley says, under his breath. "Don't know what I'd do if you'd been reading my mind all these years and just never told me. Discorporate out of sheer embarrassment probably."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes just slightly.

"Right, sorry, what do you want to know again? It's just the," he gestures at his own head, "fingers are a bit… distracting and all."

"I can stop-" Aziraphale teases, ceasing his gentle touches for just a moment.

"Don't you dare!" Crowley's hand flies up as if to grab Aziraphale's wrist.

"Fine," he smiles and resumes his caresses. "I wanted you to clarify why you were so upset. Did I do something?"

"Nnnn nah," Crowley shrugs. "I mean I already said it, didn't I? You were reading and I didn't want to be in the way."

"And that's it? Nothing else?"

"I mean," Crowley grits his teeth, and then frowns. He looks like he wants to run away again. "In the past," he says, voice small, "you really were asking me to go? When you'd do that."

Aziraphale frowns. Of course he's right. Aziraphale is aware that he'd often pushed Crowley away over the years. That's why he'd tried to be crystal clear on how he feels about Crowley being around now. He just really hadn't thought about how confusing this new state of their relationship could possibly be feeling from Crowley's side. Aziraphale has told him he loves him, many times by now, and showed him that he loves him many more times as well. But there are still years and years of rules and habits learned through their long association that are complete rubbish now, harmful even. It's going to take awhile to sort them all out.

Aziraphale nods. "Right, I see. That is why I started by saying what I did. But perhaps… what if I promise to tell you directly if there ever does come a time when I do need you to go for some reason? No more you needing to read between the lines?"

Crowley quirks an eyebrow, his voice hesitant. "You think you can do that?"

"I can very well try," he sits up a little straighter.

"Alright, so from now on, I just what? Have an open invitation to the bookshop and you just want me milling around whenever I want to be, yeah?"

"That is the idea, yes."

"Well alright then," Crowley looks stunned. "I'll… do that then." They sit there in quiet bliss for a moment before Crowley adds, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth but uhhhh, why exactly are we sitting like this?"

Aziraphale startles. "Oh yes! Sorry about that. My idea, if you'd be amenable, is that we could sit like this while I read. I thought it sounded… nice." Aziraphale smiles shyly.

Crowley opens and closes his mouth a few times before he says, "Mmmm yeah, that could work."

"Oh good," Aziraphale beams down at Crowley.

The corners of Crowley's mouth turn up just slightly.

"You don't think you'll find it too boring?"

Crowley takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into his jacket pocket. His small smile gets a bit larger. "I think it'll take me a while to get sick of this, Angel." He grabs Aziraphale's hand and kisses it gently before setting it back in his hair and closing his eyes. "Now, don't let me keep you from the wonderful world of ophiology. I think there may be one that's a rather good likeness of me somewhere around the halfway mark if memory serves."

Aziraphale smiles and chuckles slightly. Then, sighing contentedly, he figures out how to reopen his book, now one handed, and settles in for a nice long read, certain that there is no better way to spend a Thursday afternoon in the entire world.

#Good Omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #aziracrow #aziraphale #good omens crowley #good omens fanfiction #ineffable spouses #My GO Thoughts and Feels #my fanfic #GOS2 Spoilers #maybe I'm not sure really #this is set after a theoretical season 3 because it's the space I thought would be the most enjoyable to write in #there will be at least one more chapter for this but there could be more if I can believe in myself or something #Crowley has CPTSD and so do I #yeah this probably belongs in there

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speedycourie · 1 year

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zealouscanonindeer · 1 year

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10. Armored armoire

A girl?" I asked the urchin who had come from the decorators', "Are you quite sure about that?"

"Well," replied the lad, "Either it were a girl wiv 'er 'air all chopped orf, or it were a boy in need of a trim. Dint 'ear 'er talk, so cain't say for sure."

"And were you able to get the name of the deliveryman in question?"

"Nosir, Mr 'Olmes. But he's the biggest bloke I ever seen."

"Thank you. Go back to your posts and await further instructions." They scattered like leaves. "What is this world coming to," I murmured, "When one cannot tell boys from girls on sight." I caught the amused look Miss Cartwright shot me. "I'm sure you know what I mean, Miss Cartwright."

"Of course," she said lightly, and dropped the subject. "The decorators' and the delivery service seem to be the two likeliest candidates for the stolen property to be stored until the thieves get rid of it. There's no telling how much we're looking for, though... unless of course you know of any fences."

"I've met poisoners, blackmailers, and petty thieves during my career," I replied, "but I happen to know that the London underworld is too vast for two people to check by themselves, especially if we do not know what it is we seek."

"You have a point there. So where to first: the decorators or the deliverymen?"

"Just offhand, I should think the delivery service would be a more logical choice, since a place such as they would use as their base would be filled with crates and packages of all sizes and shapes."

"But no one item for any length of time, I should think. Suppose the florist had a order for several bouquets, to be delivered to a certain address on a certain day."

"Well, of course perishables such as flowers would be delivered the same day, but there would also be parcels sent through the post and such - which would still need to be delivered within a reasonable timeframe."

"So, we just walk in the front door and ask to see whatever has been sitting there for a while?"

I smiled dryly. "A pair of street rats like ourselves? We'd be taken for petty scavengers."

*****

An hour later found us inside the storage area of the delivery service, surrounded by other people's gifts, other people's belongings, and with any luck, a stash of other people's jewelry. Though the room was only about fifty feet square, the stacks of boxes and piles of parcels - some of them very bulky - made it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction.

I had had to pick the lock to the back door, of course, after an attempt to gain entry to this same room via the front door failed as miserably as I had anticipated (indeed, I would likely not have tried it at all had Miss Cartwright not insisted) and we were ejected bodily. Miss Cartwright landed badly, scraping the heels of her hands on the pavement; the gesture she offered the closed front door, though very American, fit her current role as a mute street urchin, so I had no reason to chastise her for the unladylike quality of it, though I did wonder silently where she had learned such a thing as I helped her to her feet.

It was impossible to determine the most likely starting-place in our search - which by necessity would have to be made quietly and cautiously, to avoid alerting employees in adjacent rooms - so we each picked a row and worked our way through the chaos. It was a tedious process, and I estimate we must have checked a hundred bundles apiece before our respective searches converged upon a wardrobe, constructed of mahogany, elegantly carved, and beautifully finished, standing sentinel against the wall opposite the rear door, with a few parcels piled up against it on either side. Miss Cartwright ran a hand along the top edge of the wardrobe.

"This has been here for a while," she murmured, looking at her dusty fingertips, "Now who would just abandon a beautiful piece of furniture like that?"

"Who indeed?" I asked, matching her ironic tone and opening the wardrobe doors. The neglected hinge of the left-hand door screamed horribly in protest.

It was empty - but we had no time to be disappointed, as it was at that moment that we heard voices and footfalls approaching, no doubt alerted by the noisy hinge. There was only one place to hide. I piled myself and Miss Cartwright into the wardrobe as quietly as I could - which necessitated clamping my hand over Miss Cartwright's mouth lest she try to scream in surprise - and shut the doors. Just then the door to the storeroom opened to admit - judging by the footfalls - three men, one of them heavier than the other two and another walking with a slight limp.

I strained my ears to hear any conversation between the three men that might help in our search for the stolen jewelry, but all I was able to hear was Miss Cartwright's breathing, which was slightly shaky with fear or surprise. I held my own breath, hoping that those outside would not hear us in our hiding-place, only relaxing even marginally once I heard the footfalls heading towards the door. Miss Cartwright reminded me of her presence by biting my hand, compelling me to jerk it away from her mouth. It was impossible to read her expression in the pitch-blackness within the wardrobe, but her next remark indicated that at least she was taking the whole situation with good humour.

"Well," she said sardonically in the barest whisper from somewhere adjacent to my left shoulder, "This is cosy, isn't it?" 'Cosy' was not the word I would have used. I had chosen the wardrobe in a split-second decision, basing my choice upon the knowledge that an average wardrobe is three feet deep, to accommodate the shoulders of the garments hung within. It seemed I had overestimated the depth of this particular specimen by about a foot, causing the two of us to be wedged together face- to-face, closer than we really had any right to be outside the boundaries of Holy Matrimony, with little room to breathe, and certainly no space left over for comfort or even politeness. Moreover, the inside catch of the door was digging into the small of my back, and there was no courteous way to relieve the resulting discomfort.

"It was the best I could do on such short notice, Miss Cartwright," I replied stiffly.

She chuckled softly in the darkness. "I think, considering the situation, that you have earned the privilege of calling me by my Christian name."

The wardrobe abruptly felt very stuffy. "Very well... Emily."

"May I call you Sherlock?"

"You may not," I said, a bit sharply I fear; I had my comfort zones, after all.

"Very well," she acquiesced, sounding a shade disappointed. This was no concern of mine, of course; my role here was to find out the culprit in the robbery, not succumb to her whims.

I heard the floor creak outside a bare heartbeat before the wardrobe door was flung open from without, causing the two of us to tumble out in an awkward tangle of limbs, with Emily sprawled atop me. I looked up and found that we had landed at the feet of a large man. It took only a matter of moments to recall the description Watson had given of his pickpocket. That, paired with the Irregulars' report, led me to the only logical conclusion - that we were in serious danger.

The man grabbed Emily roughly by the arm and dragged her to her feet. I felt a surge of outrage at this treatment of her, which was not at all tempered by the possibility that her assailant probably didn't even know that it was a woman he was manhandling. I got to my feet even as Emily was kicking him in the shin. He threw her aside like a rag doll, and I seized my opportunity to retaliate.

I was fairly blistering with righteous anger now, and I expect I must have seemed like a madman, attacking someone who outweighed me by a factor of three. We exchanged blows, my sharp pugilism versus his less cultured brawling.

I am no action hero, however, like such as one might find in the pulps or some of the more insipid novels nowadays, and I fear I came away the worse for the encounter. Although I am certain I left my mark on him, he also left his share of bruises on me, and in the end he grabbed me by my coat and threw me back against the rear wall of the wardrobe, where I must have struck my head. The last thing I recall with any clarity is a vision of Emily jumping on the man's shoulders and scratching at his face.

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prioritycourierservicesuk · 6 months

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lm25courier · 7 months

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