Snakes Abound

Snakes Abound

Hello hello and welcome to this week’s six sentence story based on the word TONIC. This week I went with a bit of an odd take on tonic, specifically the use of it as a “tonic to cure all ills” that I know I picked up in a show I was watching, but I have no idea what. Anywho, I hope you like it, let me know in the comments what you thought! There had been snake oil salesman as long as there had…

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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.

I keep seeing people making fun of using growled, hissed, roared, snarled etc in writing and it’s like.

have you never heard someone speak with the gravel in their voice when they get angry? Because that’s what a growl is.

Have you never heard someone sharply whisper something through the thin space of their teeth? Or when your mother sharply told you to stop it in public as a kid when you were acting up/being too loud? Because that’s what a hiss is.

Have you never heard a man get so blackout angry that their voice BOOMS through the house? Because that’s what a roar is.

Have you never seen someone bare their teeth while talking to accentuate their frustration or anger while speaking with a vicious tone? Because that’s what snarling is.

It’s not meant to be a literal animal noise. For the love of god, not every description is literal. I get some people are genuinely confused, but also some of these people are genuinely unimaginative as fuck.

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

These,need to be everywhere! I have so much difficulty trying to explain to people, ya, this is like a 3 because I can handle it, but actually on this it's a 5 borderline 6....

My face is having uncontrollable spasms. Great. It hurts really, really, really bad.

I think part of why I have trouble explaining pain to the doctor is when they ask about the pain scale I always think “Well, if someone threw me down a flight of stairs right now or punched me a few times, it would definitely hurt a lot more” so I end up saying a low number. I was reading an article that said that “10” is the most commonly reported number and that is baffling to me. When I woke up from surgery with an 8" incision in my body and I could hardly even speak, I was in the most horrific pain of my life but I said “6” because I thought “Well, if you hit me in the stomach, it would be worse.”