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fangirleaconmigo · 1 year

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Finished S5 of Justified and Raylan’s behavior with Boyd is just so unnecessarily dramatic. Like he’s a one man high school production of whatever the shit he’s got going on.

I mean. Whenever Raylan needs intel on the criminal element, he *could* just ASK Boyd for it. We all know that. He knows it. I know it. You know it.

He could literally fuckin walk into that godforsaken bar/site of more executions than I can count, and he could say:

Hey Boyd. There’s a kid in trouble. OR he could say Boyd, I’m in trouble. OR Boyd, I need your assistance.

And GUESS WHAT BOYD WOULD DO

He would flash his pearly whites. He would do his narrow hipped vest wearing gay little swagger. He would sit down next to him and something like

well, Raylan Givens, I do declare, like the philosophers say, it is my pleasure to assist the golden son of Harlan blahdeeblahblah. He would serve him some whiskey and scoot in close and he would help!! Because they dug coal together!!

Boyd is a criminal far beyond anything Raylan has ever contemplated. However, Boyd’s hometown, his community, and his former partner in coal extraction, MATTER to him. We all know that. Raylan knows that. All these people Raylan wants intel on are outsiders and as far as Boyd is concerned, fuck outsiders.

There’s a hierarchy of loyalty and Raylan, lawman though he is, is Harlan. Raylan is HIS. So his loyalty will be there first, fuck the US Marshall service this is Raylan Givens.

We. All. Know. This.

But can Raylan just be a normal goddamned person and ask for information?

Noooooooooo no of course Raylan Givens has to swagger in with his little hat cocked, his gun out, his dick loaded, and start threatening Boyd, punching his bar staff, giving him ultimatums and threats to “force” Boyd to give him intel he woulda given him if simply asked.

Why does he do that?

Because Raylan is HYPER AWARE of the fact that he treads that line between outlaw and lawman but he NEEDS that distinction between him and Boyd. He NEEDS it or he (in his mind) becomes his daddy or he becomes Boyd.

So he has to put on this big production every time. He has to go through these motions of harassing Boyd for no reason.

Because GOD FORBID he admit they have a bond. GOD FORBID he admit they could be friends in another life. Hell he could *be* Boyd in another life. GOD FORBID he admit that his obsession with Boyd outstrips every passion he has experienced in his romantic relationships. GOD FORBID he notice that he is prioritizing his obsession with Boyd over his own child.

He cannot cope with any of that! If he acts like a normal person with Boyd, it all comes tumbling down.

So he just goes through the motions and acts out his little high school production of a John Wayne movie every damn time. It’s this whole rigamarole he drags his colleagues along to witness and I’m embarrassed for him!

Raylan! Get your shit together! Get in therapy! (No, don’t. This is way more entertaining.)

#justified #raylan givens #boyd crowder #they dug coal together

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freshydip · 9 months

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i have a lot of thoughts i'm going to sift through about the new season of justified as a whole that i'll be posting about with my standard irregularity soon, but after finishing it just now, there is one predominant thought i continue to wander back to.

why on earth would you try to force a continuation of two characters after an ending like this?

their last meeting had both of them with tears in their eyes. these are not men we've seen easily shed tears up to now. these emotions are saved for them, saved for one another.

there is no reunion between these two that can convey the same emotional satisfaction of this scene, and to make an attempt is a fool's errand at best, a cheap cash grab at most. what do you want them to do? do you want them to end each other's lives? do you want one to kill the other? do you want them to meet on a beach in mexico while a climactic orchestra swells and they share meaningful looks under a bright sky? none of that will be comparable. it could be fun to watch, sure. in a good writing team's hands. but nothing will be as satisfactory as seeing these two men, separated by a glass wall, so close to one another and yet impossibly divided, never to be on the same side. they are doomed to either side of that wall. always have been. always will be. they both know this. but there's a reason it's glass; they will always see each other. always know where they stand, always be able to see each other, despite it all.

that's the whole point, now, isn't it? raylan and ava are the only ones who got to leave. boyd is not so lucky. he will never be so lucky. the entire series showed us as much.

so what, exactly, do you think can be gained from them meeting again?

ultimately my hope is they don't. if they really want to pick boyd's story up as they have raylan's, it would be far more interesting to see his attempt to flee kentucky for good, and see it fail, without raylan's intervention, a reflection of the inherently doomed nature of his desires. it would be far more interesting to see raylan try, like really try to lead a normal life, and not have the comfort of a fugitive chase to fall back on, the familiarity of catching bad guys shielding him from the far more difficult job of being a good dad.

and yet. even if those things would be far more interesting. even if they were done well. they still wouldn't be nearly as gratifying as

"we dug coal together"

"that's right"

#justified fx #justified #raylan givens #boyd crowder #justified spoilers #i care very much about my hillbilly shakespeare and i have very many opinions but as always #if you liked it i am happy you did! my indictments are not meant to reflect negatively upon your proclivities #i just didn't get what i wanted out of this season. that's all

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dyinglikeastar · 1 year

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Finally finished up season 5 of Justified (when I watched when it was airing I only made it to 4) and my feelings, they are hurted :( My sweet baby boy Jimmy. :( My sweet Boyd who just wants to lay low and buy a Dairy Queen. :( And then there's Raylan. Who seems to be vying for world's biggest asshole award. He's lucky he's pretty and that Boyd likes him because otherwise the last couple of seasons - especially this one - would've put him at the top of my deeply unlikeable characters list.

#boyd was right #being an asshole and shooting people are his favorite activities #and he excels at both #idk i love them #but sometimes i think Boyd deserves better asdgjkhdhj #justifiedfx #we dug coal together #raylan givens #boyd crowder #jimmy tolan #justified season 5 spoilers

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hosseinis · 6 months

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boyd/raylan 19 :) :)

send me an ask with a ship/fandom + a number from 1 through 100 and i will write a small ficlet (100 words or more) based on the song at that ranking

#19: Poor Thing from Sweeney Todd cw warnings for alcohol use, vomiting, and heavily implied non-consensual drugging

There ain’t a lot of parties around Harlan, or at least as far as Raylan’s concerned.

Parties are for the college kids who drink too much rum and cokes around town, who snort cocaine off their parents’ credit cards and drink whole bottles of vodka to get into their fraternities so they can wear letter jackets and act like they’re better than everyone else. Harlan boys are better than everyone else, in different ways than they’d have you believe. They throw parties with moonshine and weed and shotguns.

Raylan doesn’t care for it all that much, though he goes when he gets an invite. He’s college age, even if he isn’t actually in college, and it isn’t like he’s against the idea. It’s that going down into the hole when you’re hungover is a bad time, and Raylan’s not keen on having a mine come down on his head because he was too busy trying to remember how much he drank the night before. Arlo don’t seem to care either way whether Raylan comes home drunk, depends on his mood most days, but Aunt Helen’s definitely tanned his hide once or twice for being irresponsible.

He can handle his liquor, though, and when a few of the other boys from around town invite him over for a bonfire—which means something else entirely in their part of the country than most others—he figures aw, what the hell. It’s been a while since. He can have some fun, pace himself, and maybe even get laid if he’s really of the mind to do so.

It’s two drinks in, though, that he realizes something might be wrong. He can handle his liquor. He’s a Harlan boy, and a Givens on top of that, but the two beers and the shots of moonshine seem to be taking a quicker toll than they’re supposed to. His stomach is doing all sorts of somersaults when they ain’t supposed to for at least another hour. He looks at his near empty bottle and takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Everything alright, Givens?” It’s one of the boys that he’d gone to high school with. There’s a gleam in his eye that Raylan doesn’t like. He’s got good sense, and good instincts, and there’s something predatory in his expression. He looks like Raylan’s sudden intoxication isn’t a surprise to him in the slightest.

Raylan squints back down at his bottle, eyebrows coming together. Had it tasted off?

Ah, fuck.

“M’fine,” Raylan says, though it comes out almost as one word. He tries to move away, but stumbles over his own feet somehow. Raylan’s not a stumbling kind of person, he likes to keep a tight hold of his faculties as often as he can. Things are dangerous in Harlan, and Raylan doesn’t have a gun on him. He’s actually not sure he’d be able to shoot it, anyway.

“Whoa, Givens,” the other boy says easily, moving forward to grab him by the wrist. His hand is too big and too warm, and Raylan wrenches it away with a frown. “It’s alright, boy, relax. Just tryin’ to help. You look like you’ve had too much to drink. You want us to help you inside?”

“No,” Raylan says immediately, moving back again. A fucked up little dance. He moves back, the others move forward. “No, I don’t.”

That last little step ends up being too much for him. His knee buckles, head swooping hard with such a sudden wave of dizziness that he’s worried he may actually pass out. He makes a little grunting noise that he’s not sure is loud enough to scare off his pursuers, but at the last second someone snatches him hard around the waist, hoisting him back up onto his feet.

Raylan panics, throwing an arm out feebly to try and push the new person away, but they take his wrist as easily as if they were going to shake his hand and wrap it over their own shoulders instead.

“Easy now, Raylan.”

Oh.

He squints, the world still pulsing and squishing together.

“Boyd…?” Raylan slurs, staring up at him, but Boyd’s not returning the gaze. Instead he’s looking straight ahead, an easy smile on his face. His cheeks are a rosy red color, but his eyes are clear and his voice is steady and even. Boyd’s pretty good at holding his alcohol, but then that must come with being a Crowder.

That’s a bit mean, actually, Raylan thinks for some reason.

Upon closer inspection, though, he can see the way the skin has tightened around Boyd’s eyes, the way he flashes that beautiful smile at whoever he’s looking at like he’s actually baring his teeth. Back off, it says. I’m warning you. It’s a tiger circling its cage, knowing the keeper’s not paying proper attention. It’s a hawk sitting on a branch, waiting for the mouse to leave its den because it thinks everything’s safe.

“No one invited you to this conversation, Crowder,” one of the other boys says.

His tone is low and dangerous. As if that could somehow scare Boyd away. What a thought. Boyd ain’t scared of nothing, last Raylan checked. Except maybe his Daddy. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

“Well,” Boyd says, his tone casual, “I reckon where the welfare of Raylan Givens is concerned, I am most unfortunately inclined to insert myself into the conversation regardless.”

Raylan’s stomach turns out of nowhere, and he very well thinks he may throw up if Boyd doesn’t get him somewhere to do so in the next few minutes. The world is spinning, a carousel of nausea and heaviness, and he mumbles Boyd’s name as loud as he’s able without burping up bile. He feels sick. Too sick. There really must’ve been something in his drink.

“We were just talking,” the boy says, and Raylan clutches at Boyd’s flannel, bending over as the weight of his nausea almost becomes too much to stand. “Ain’t gotta worry about it. We’ll take care of him if he needs.”

“Actually, I plan on returning Raylan to his house myself, where he’ll undoubtedly be sleeping off this eventful night,” Boyd says sweetly, hoisting Raylan more securely against his side like it’s nothing at all to do so. “But your good will is much appreciated, friend.”

Raylan can hear the undertone as clear as day. One of Boyd’s talents is acting a good Southern boy and using good Southern boy manners, while also making it entirely clear that he’s issuing a threat. And when Boyd issues a threat, he’ll make good on it if it’s not heeded.

Not waiting for an answer, Boyd huffs and settles Raylan once more against his side before starting to move him away. Boyd’s lean but he’s got plenty of muscle to spare for a nineteen year old, and he has to all but drag Raylan towards his truck. Raylan can’t really see or hear much of anything at the moment, but he has enough sense to smack the back of Boyd’s head a few times to warn him.

Without a word, Boyd drags him around the truck and carefully bends him over until Raylan’s head’s between his knees. At the soft, gentle rubbing between his shoulder blades, Raylan finally pukes. It tastes awful, beer and moonshine and the sooty aftertaste of standing too close to a fire. He throws one hand out against the truck to steady himself and manages to ride out a second wave of vomit. It makes an awful splashing noise against the dirt, and he’s almost afraid some of it got onto Boyd’s boots.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and burps. It nearly brings up more puke. “Dunno what happened.”

“I do,” Boyd says calmly, and takes Raylan’s hand to tug him towards the passenger side. “But we will be talking about it when you’re not standing on the precipice of vomiting the entire week’s worth of meals.”

“Why you always gotta talk so weird,” Raylan groans.

Boyd just chuckles quietly and helps him into the truck. Raylan doesn’t remember much of the ride, and he’s half convinced that he’s going to wake up in the Crowder house. That’s a nightmare in and of itself, and he’s not looking forward to it, but when Boyd slows the truck to a stop and puts it in park, Raylan can see the white siding of his own house instead.

“Aw, hell,” he whispers, his forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Arlo’s gonna kick my ass.”

“He ain’t here,” Boyd says, and gets out of the car. “Johnny said he was at the bar again.”

Well, that’s a relief, at least. He manages to drag himself off the door long enough for Boyd to get him back out of the truck without him toppling into the dirt driveway, but his legs don’t want to work. It takes him a minute to get himself steady, and once he’s not in danger of passing out, he nods.

Boyd just wraps an arm around his waist again, and Raylan’s too exhausted and sick to protest. It’s kind of nice, really, to have the added support.

Aunt Helen answers the door, and Raylan doesn’t have to be sober to know the look on her face could melt iron. She must be piss mad, because he can feel it coming off her. No doubt she can smell the smoke and alcohol. He didn’t tell her where he was going, but it must be clear enough. He’s so fucked.

“Sorry to impose, ma’am,” Boyd says politely, and his fingers tighten against Raylan’s side. Don’t say anything, the grip warns. “But Raylan and I were sampling some of my cousin Johnny’s wares— at his insistence—and I think he gave Raylan a bit more than he could tolerate. May I take him to bed?”

There’s a pause while Aunt Helen must be taking that in, and then there’s a soft sound as she moves aside.

“Thanks for getting him home in one piece, Boyd,” she says stiffly, and Raylan feels himself get hitched up again. He’s gonna hear it in the morning, no doubt.

Boyd somehow manages to coax Raylan up the stairs, which is a feat given that Raylan’s still not entirely sure his brain ain’t leaking out of his ears. But once he gets himself onto his bed, he realizes what a good idea it was. He could fall asleep right now, with the gentle pressure of Boyd tugging his boots off and working him under his Mama’s quilt.

“Boyd,” Raylan finally says, eyes fluttering and voice slow and stupid. “Thank you. Didn’t have to do all that.”

There’s a long pause, and then Raylan feels lips against his forehead. There’s a warm hand on the top of Raylan’s head, so soothing that he leans into it like a cat.

“Yes I did,” Boyd says quietly. “Now go to sleep, Raylan.”

He must’ve already been asleep, though, because that couldn’t have possibly been anything but a dream.

#this stumped me for a hot minute before i decided to go for the drunk and preyed upon angle #thankfully i didn't quite stick to the script. :)#justified #ginny does that writing thing #raylan/boyd #we dug coal together #ginny's spotify wrapped '23 #baby's first justified fic! hope i succeeded at it

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