#Doc Holliday Imagines

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Daisy

summary: doc and his the trials of his love with his daisy

Tombstone burnt under the fire of the afternoon sun. Sweat beaded out of every pore, clothes clung tightly to aching chests, and buzzards circled in anticipation. Death was inevitably close in this heat.

Y/N had experienced the wet heat of the south her whole life but this heat was new. It passed through her chest without so much as a cough, hardly any plant could survive for her to be allergic to. If she escape the allergies of home, then she reckoned the heat of Tombstone was worth it.

Town appeared to be busy despite the heat. No one paused here to sit on porches, fanning themselves and sipping sweet tea. People ran about, some literally in a scurry to get away from the echoing gunshots that caused her to jump.

Traveling by herself, Y/N felt relatively safe. Her benefactor sent her along in the nicest car on the most modern line. The train wasn’t robbed and all her things arrived safely. Bandits seemed to be nothing more than a myth to frighten little boys and girls into staying home back east. People simply weren’t like that, or at least they weren’t until Tombstone.

Dashing young men with matching red sashes lingered like the hyenas she read about in the library. Cackling smiles and shrill whistles greeted her was she stepped off the train. Some dirty, some disgusting, and some downright devilishly handsome all circled around her as she collected her luggage.

Keeping her eyes down, she pushed up the sleeves of her blouse and readied herself to carry the chest to the hotel.

“Need some help miss?” A gravely young voice called, boots crunching rocks to dust under each step.

“No thank you.” Quick, quiet responses. Only to the point.

“I insist.” A brown hat was tipped her way. She squinted through the blinding sun to meet brown eyes and tough skin. “Johnny Ringo.”

“Mr. Ringo, I sincerely appreciate your offer, but I can carry my belongings to the hotel.”

As Ringo opened his mouth, a second figured approached. Dressed all in black, cigar dangling from his lips, badge shining in the sun. “I think the lady declined your services, Johnny.”

“You can stay out of this, Earp.”

“Let’s not turn this into something.” Earp, who seemed decidedly safer, grabbed the luggage himself. “Wyatt Earp..”

“Y/N Y/L/N”.

“Well Miss Y/L/N, let’s get you checked in.”

The hotel was much more extravagant than she had imagined. A booming town did not mean all the glamour of home, but this hotel rivaled some that she used to pass by.

“Rare thing a woman traveling alone to Tombstone.” Wyatt said, settling the luggage inside the hotel door. “What brings you here?”

“Dry air is supposed to help you breathe better. I can’t hardly breathe back home.”

With an understanding nod, Wyatt tipped his hat and left. He had a faro table to run.

Unpacking was an easy affair. Hardly any of her belongings were packed with her. Her benefactor saw to it that only thing things she would need would make it with her. Anything else was simply sentimental junk of a decidedly unpleasant childhood that could be sold and split between the two.

Opening the window, she sat down on the chaise lounge next to it and took a deep inhale. Yes, this would do.

Yelling broke out in the streets below. Daring a peek outside, she saw Mr. Earp intervening with more of the red sashed men. Another figure strode across the street, black hat sat just askew. His southern drawl rattled in an echo across the street as he joined Mr. Earp.

A warning shot from the new gentleman broke up the ordeal. Earp and company glanced toward the hotel, finding a blushing Y/N staring out the balcony. “Busy town, Miss Y/L/N.” Mr. Earp called.

She nodded, blush still burning her cheeks. “Seems so.”

The other man tipped his hat with a wink and followed Mr. Earp into the saloon. Yes, Tombstone seemed quite busy.

Darkness fell before Y/N ventured out again. The heat of the day, the bittersweet realization that this was her life now all boiled over into an afternoon’s rest. She redressed, thankful that she didn’t have the finer silk dresses that would make the men notice her. Being noticed, especially by a red sash, was not something she was looking for.

Plain yet pretty, she left the security of the hotel and headed down the dusty streets of Tombstone. Dinner would be nice, though she supposed she could get it back in her room if all else failed.

The red embers of cigarettes glowed in the dusk, illuminating the men who leaned on porches waiting for something exciting to happen. As she passed a lively building, The Oriental according to the sign, one such figured called out for her.

“Pardon me, I believe I have not had the pleasure in making your acquaintance.” A deep southern drawl rolled.

Y/N paused briefly, determined to keep walking though manners made her at least stop for the man. “Oh?”

Slow footsteps creaked along the wooden porch and down onto the dirt. A dramatic wave of his hand, removed his hat. The stranger bowed, finger tips reaching out to brush against her hand. “I apologize for so rudely staring at your earlier, but I fear I was too distracted by both your beauty and the rapscallion nature of those cowboys to properly introduce myself.”

“You were with Mr. Earp?”

“Wyatt?” Oh how stretched the vowels were from his tongue. “Why yes, Wyatt Earp is my best friend. Though I would rather not spend my evening discussing him when I could be discussing you. John Henry Holliday, miss.”

She returned her name quietly, cheeks a flutter with pink as he took her hand and brought it to her lips. The hairs of his mustache tickling her skin just slightly. “Pleased to meet you Mr. Holliday.”

“Would you care to join me for a drink?” A devilishly glint flickered in his green eyes.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never drank.”

A boisterous laugh rattled into a cough. Mr. Holliday wiped at his lips with a handkerchief and quickly tucked it away. “Well darlin’, you’ll find Tombstone is a wonderful place to start.”

Dinner and a nightcap became common place between Y/N and Mr. Holliday. With some effort, she even got to the point of calling him Doc, a sound that when first said made Doc’s eyes roll back with lust. Yes, Doc was sure of it, he was smitten.

She would often talk around the concept of home while they ate and drank. Doc had not forgotten what life was like for a women in the south, though his dear cousin had some wealth to her name. Y/N appeared to have enough, but the scars and freckles that dotted her skin told him her life was far less leisurely than his youth.

Other times she would discuss literature and the little library she had worked at. These conversations especially aroused him. He’d bring novels and read to her as they strolled back to the hotel. Her eyes would shine at him as if he had written the prose himself.

Y/N reminded him of slow kisses under Spanish moss covered trees, of peach juice dribbling out of rosy lips, or warm milky skin he could sink his teeth into. She was a grand home with open windows and billowing curtains, piano music playing and a library of books to read. Yes, Doc was sure of it, he was falling in love. What a horrible thing.

Doc would walk her back to The Grand after a stiff drink (his darlin’ preferred bourbon) and then return to The Oriental to gamble and drink the night away. He never dared enter the hotel, always kissing her hand goodbye on the steps. For if the clerk saw, he knew he would be done for.

While hope and love lingered in his chest, squeezing him tightly, he never fully let himself indulge in that pleasure. After all, he was just a lunger waiting to die. He’d soil the the very name of any respecting woman with his desires and for once he didn’t have it in him.

Y/N finished up her bourbon, eyelashes fluttering up at him. “Will you let me pay tonight?”

“So stubborn for such an angelic face.” Doc grinned while paying her bill. “But no, darlin’. I am but a gentleman.”

The air was easier at night, cool and crisp against their skin. She was wrapped around his arm, head resting against his bicep. “Doc?” He let out a hum. “Do you…” she wasn’t sure what question longed to be asked. Do you like it here? Do you want to come up to my room? Do you like me?

“Nevermind. It’s silly.”

“Silly? From my little daisy? Nonsense.” Doc spun her around in his arms, holding her. The bustle teasing him through the fabric of her dress. Green eyes commanded attention. Calloused fingertips held her soft chin in his hands.

“Do you believe in love?”

Without missing a beat, he smiled his crooked smile. “Why yes, Y/N, yes I surely do.” Tenderly, his lips brushed her forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed my dear.”

So it continued over several weeks. Touches becoming longer, necklines becoming lower. Guilt gnawed at his chest, thorny vines of shame bubbling out his throat. Pushing that away, Doc focused on hustling, gambling, drinking, and hating Johnny Ringo.

Wyatt puffed on a cigar, frowning as Doc engaged with Ringo. As Doc boasted that he was, “In his prime.” Wyatt reached for a gun under the table. Doc’s favored lover, Kate, stood at his side.

“Yes.” Johnny Ringo nodded, tipping his head toward Kate. “I’m sure your daylight darlin’ would love to know that.”

Doc lunged at Ringo causing a series of tumbling until Ringo was tossed out of the bar. “Fine you lunger, I’ll tell her!”

Fear set in. A cold fear chilled Doc’s bones like when he watched his mother die of the consumption. Death would be a relief in comparison to the heartache of losing his Y/N. Doc spent more of his evenings in her company and less in Kate’s. Once he was sure Ringo was nothing more than a belligerent drunk, (not wholly unlike himself) Doc resumed his usual activities.

Perhaps there was a thrill or he was a glutton for punishment. Doc was never sure. He would swear that he would spend the money he won on Y/N and when she asked what he did for a living hiding behind the badge of Wyatt Earp was a wonderful response.

Still, Y/N longed for more of her Doc. Thoughts and desires consumed her soul so much so the priest at confession was blushing. She wanted Doc in all the ways possible on this earth and beyond. She wanted to care for him, carry his name and his child, be his for whatever time he had left.

She dreamt of him, even on the day that a splitting headache and painful reminder she did not bare his fruit it. Y/N cancelled their usual dinner plans in exchange for a bath. Though the longer she soaked in the lavender (that he bought, the scent almost close to the lilac bushes from his youth), the pain rolled into longing. Deciding on the nicest dress he bought her, she dressed and pinned up her hair.

It was later than usual for their time together, but she couldn’t wait to see his eyes twinkle and his plump lips turn up into a smile. Rushing down the stairs, she made her way to The Oriental.

And, just like it had months ago, the darkness illuminated a man outside. Not her long and lean hero, but his devilish foil. The red sash around Ringo’s waist swayed in the breeze.

“Why Miss Y/L/N, The Oriental at night is no place for a woman of your nature. Perhaps it best I escort you home.”

“I’ll be quite alright, Mr. Ringo. Thank you.”

If Johnny wasn’t weathered by sun and by time, he would have felt remorse. Or perhaps loyalty to Doc. They were not that different and neither man deserved the sweet settling nature of Y/N. So yes, he decided, he was going to break Y/N’s heart.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you darlin’.”

The Oriental bounced with life. Music blared from the piano , whiskey sloshed on the floor, and cards fell on tables. It was very different from the space she was used to with Doc. But the thought of Doc and breathing in his scent was enough to draw her in.

Pausing at the bar for a drink, she surveyed the saloon. Wyatt sat proudly in the dealers spot, smoking. His eyes caught Y/N’s with a wince.

Y/N trailed her eyes in the direction of Wyatt’s. Her chest tightened like the attacks she used to get back home. Doc sparkled with sweat, beads of it drenching his shirt. An empty bottle sat on the table, the only buffer between him and the woman.

Y/N didn’t know the woman, hadn’t really seen her around. Still, not knowing who she was didn’t really lessen the pain of what she was. She was Doc’s. The woman patted the sweat off his forehead and stroked through his hair. And worst of all, only one of Doc’s hands was visible.

A burning rose through Y/N’s throat with the heartache. Her eyes blurred with tears. She desperately wanted to scream at him, to even whisper his name would do. But all she could do was let out a cough to mask the sob and leave.

“I’m walking you home, Miss Y/L/N.” Ringo held out his arm but Y/N pushed by it.

“Jesus woman, don’t you understand that lunger doesn’t care?!” Ringo shouted grabbing her elbow. “He sees her every night.”

He pulled her tight to his chest. Rough hands reached under her skirt grabbing the virgin flesh underneath. “He does?” It sounded pathetic falling from her lips.

“He beds her in that same boarding house you’re in.”

The wail that left het lips was enough for a crowd to rush out. Wyatt, heroic as ever ran out with Doc trailing behind. Johnny released Y/N from his hold but not before letting Doc see the tearful girl covered in Johnny’s hands.

“Nothing to see here,lunger.” Johnny cackled. “Just a broken heart.”

Johnny disappeared into the night as Doc approached. “Darlin’?”

She turned away from him marching back to the boarding house. “Y/N!”

Picking up her skirts she began to run. Tears stinging her skin, she flew up the stairs to her room. The wind blew in from her opened window; tombstone smelled of death.

Doc stood in the dusty streets. Wyatt offered an assuring squeeze to his shoulder. “I fear I may have defiled myself.”

“A young women scorned is not easily fixed.” Wyatt offered a tight smile.

Doc chased her into the hotel, just missing her slam the door. He knocked on her door, “Y/N? Darlin’ please let me in.”

He rattled the doorknob with urgency. “Please.”

The door swung open revealing a teared stained face. A book hit him, followed by another, and then a third and a dress. “Take your shit Mr. Holliday.” She seethed.

The sound of his name brought his first tear. “Now listen to me, you don’t call me that.” A scolding finger pointed in her face.

Smacking it away, she spat at him. “We have no acquaintance. I was a fool to think I could mean anything to you.”

“Stop that.” He begged fear spiraling through his veins. This was it. He had done it. Ruined something good with evil like his family told him he always would.

“I hate you.”

Doc grabbed her wrists and pulled her to his chest. His arms feeling just like the snare of Ringo. Perhaps all men where just as vile.

“Please, Y/N, say whatever you must just never that.” His lips forced their way onto her skin. Kissing her neck and her lips as she struggled again him. “Damn me, curse me, hell shoot me just never say that.”

Wriggling out of his grasp, chest heaving, Y/N broke down to the floor. “What else is there to say?”

Doc sat with her between his knees, clinging tightly. “I can only apologize for weakness.”

“Every night you bed her down the hall. You’re no gentleman. I am but an object to amuse you. You neither respect nor love me and it’s horrifying that I wanted to bare everything you could give me.”

Everything? Had she shared in his lustful fantasies? Did she fully return his affection? “I sincerely want everything with you, daisy.”

“No.”

Doc stayed until she fell asleep in a pitiful puddle in his arms. He carried her to bed, earning a wheeze from his lungs.

The cough was worse the next day. His handkerchief blood soaked by midday. It was no surprise to Wyatt when he rushed Doc back to his room, the doctor in tow.

As blood bubbles from his lips, he begged for Y/N. She did not come nor respond when Wyatt pounded on the door. The second day of Doc’s fever, Y/N quietly pleaded at Wyatt to go away.

It was on the third day that the door opened to Wyatt. Dressed plain, no longer donning the silky dresses Doc had bought her, Y/N emerged. Eyes sunken in and skin marked with tracks of tears, she headed to Doc.

“How is he?”

Wyatt offered a sad smile. “Sorry.”

“That’s not what I asked, Mr. Earp.”

A frown crossed his lips as his stomach lurched. “Please, Miss Y/N, don’t shut me out. You’re my friend.” Wyatt sighed. “He’s a dying man unless someone can settle him down. His fever comes and goes.”

There was a stillness in the room that made her stomach churn. Windows were open, letting in better air. The room was filled with the things she’d thrown at him. The dress crumbled up next to him in bed, the books scattered around with pages marked or weighted down.

Y/N watched the slow nature of his chest rise and fall with breathe. Ignoring the sudden numbness in her throat, crossed the room to his bedside. Removing the cloth from his forehead, she wrung it out and refilled in the water basin.

Tenderly, she washed his face, neck, and bare chest. She fluffed up the pillows and pulled the sweat stained sheets down. “Ask for more sheets when you leave. I’ll stay with him today.”

Wyatt merely nodded, waiting to smile until he was out of sight. Doc might just be a lucky bastard yet again.

She cleaned up the room and refilled water while Doc slept. Lunch was delivered just before A coughing fit roused him from a fitful sleep. “Drink.” She held a cool glass to his lips.

Doc merely nodded, revealing in the relief of water on this throat. He opened his mouth to speak but her finger tapped his lips. “No. Even if I wanted to hear what you had to say, you need to rest your throat.”

She sat the glass down. “I’m going to change the the top sheet if that’s alright.” Glazed eyes focused on her and he nodded.

As she peeled back the sheets she did her best not to stare at him. His lean body shimmering with sweat. Muscles rippled beneath curls of hair that trailed down his chest to something she had only dreamed about.

Tucking him into the new sheets, her chest hurt with the thought that someone else had seen him and touched him. Someone who wasn’t here while he lay dying. Pleasure would not be here to give.

A clammy hand grabbed her wrist and led her hand over his stomach. Whines left his throat.her cool hands were a relief and he needed that in more ways that just one.

“No.” Things were different. Just three days before she would have slipped into the delirium of his touch. But now, bile crawled up her throat.

She left his side momentarily to grab soup and a spoon. “It’s cooled enough so it shouldn’t hurt. You must eat and rest.”

Doc might have been delirious with fever, but he was hopeful. None of his escapades had ever valued his life the way she seemed too. His very soul lay between gentle hands that fed him. Flashbacks of himself at his mothers side broke through bought of fever and he was certain that this was love.

It was late that night when Doc awoke with a start. Pain no longer resonated with each breath. Sweat did not fall over him.

Pushing himself up against the headboard, he rolled his shoulders. Adjusting to the candle lit room, he knew he was not alone. Linen pants and a cotton tie front shirt were folded at the foot of the bed. He grabbed them, they didn’t smell of sweat or liquor, they were new. Water was running in his bathroom.

Leaning on his cane, thighs trembling with each step. Nudging the door open, he finds Y/N on her knees filling the claw foot tub. A minty smell tickles his nose and swirls into his chest. He breathes without much pain.

The cotton of her slip is all she wears under a corset. Lace flowers and ivory fabric that he had not yet gotten to see taunt him. “Why I do believe this is heaven.”

If Doc squinted, he was sure he saw a crinkle of a smile. “Let me help you in.”

“Why yes I’m sure of it now, this is heaven. I fear have been wrongly placed I am a sinner of the worst kind.” A hum of acknowledgment told him enough.

Gentle hands held his as she trembled into the bath. Easing himself in, his lungs cleared momentarily. “I can breathe.”

“Eucalyptus. Group of travelers were selling it when I went to buy your clothes. Said it helped.”

“My modern woman.” A blissful sigh let his lips at another deep inhale. “How long did the doctors give me?”

A sharp glare chilled the steaming bathroom. “You could live if you changed.” Y/N snapped. “But you choose to drink and smoke and bed whores every night. Perhaps I wasted my time on a dead man.”

He’s convinced his heart breaks again then. Watching green eyes trail with tears, his own reflecting the same. “Please do not think of me as time ill spent.”

“I will not think of you at all.”

“Daisy, that is even worse.” He reached for her hand once more, finding nothing. “Please?”

Fingers brushed his. “I’m leaving.”

For the first time since his raising from the dead, Doc coughed. Eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “I beg your pardon?” Doc imagined a lot of things with Y/N and none of those were leaving Tombstone (or at least not without their family and Wyatt).

“I have no prospects here. My benefactor provided plenty of funds. I’ve heard Denver has nice mountain air.”

“No prospects? What ever do you mean? My intentions were not clear to you?” Calloused fingers stroked her jaw.

“I’m as good as used.” She forced her bruised wrists to him. Pulling up her shift, he saw purple finger tips scattered on precious skin. “He touched me Doc, like you touched her. No one will marry me now.”

Like you touched her. Envy, rage, regret, and list churned in his stomach. A Pitiful series of “No’s” left his lips as he pulled her towards him by her skirt. He tried to stand but she eased him back in. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” It was small, barely a whisper. Water splashed over the tub and onto her giving peeks of sweet skin underneath.

“I do not deserve the luxury of you.” His finger trailed over her collar bone and up her neck. “I have not felt happiness like this since I was a foolish young man. Still foolish now.” Tracing the rose of her lips, he tapped her plump bottom lip forcing his finger just between. “I’m deviant Y/N, I’m a vile sinner who thinks unspeakable things about you daily and wanted to ruin it. Why live when you could not possibly want me to tarnish you?”

“What about your intentions you just spoke of?”

“Well my daisy I am selfish as well. I want To keep you as my wife. I just have these vices I wish to shield you from. I love you more than life. I would die to keep you happy.”

“Oh doc please don’t say such things!” She flung herself around his shoulders hugging him close.

Slowly, due to his healing and uncertainty of their relationship, he peeled her into the tub. Still clothed in now sheer cotton, Y/N dared a peek out from the crook of his neck. “Doc?” Breathy, she hardly recognized her own voice.

“May I have the pleasure of loving you?” He trailed finger along her clavicle. “Of keeping you as mine?”

“Yes.”

“Forever Mrs. Holliday?”

Daring a kiss to his lips, she hummed. “Forever.”

[effervescentdragon]

I just know Dean watched Tombstone and thought himself Wyatt Earp and I just know he had the biggest crush on Doc Holliday aka the guy that does everything in his power to protect Wyatt and then he got a guy, an angel, who did everything to protect him and I just know he imagined himself and Cas like that in Dodge City, Kansas. And then Cas said "I'm your huckleberry" and Dean lost it. There's nothing gayer than cowboys yall. Yeehaaw. 🤠

[deadboyfriendd]

Cochise V: Fin

Summary: A dinner party turns into forever.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone!AU, drug use, drug overdose (apparent suicide), death of minor character by hanging, period-appropriate death and violence, angst, fluff, smut

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 869

“You figure we should get married?” He’d asked, turning his head to look at you. 

A gilded light streams steady through heavy canvas drapery and spills on to the floor in an abundant, golden puddle. The heat of the sun is already beginning to warm the floor in which it shines. A wide smile beams up at you, from the daguerreotype daughter of southwest Arkansas. She sits, hand and hand, still in a dance alongside Wilhelm. Tight-lipped smile wrapping itself around a wireframe structure– just the way you had left him. 

Your thumb traces the indent of twine over your ring finger, where the gold of your wedding band once sat. It rolls over itself, now worn and soft over your skin. You know that, later today, a string from the same expanse would be passed over the same way by chips and cards in a game of Faro. You recount the memory of moments past;

“No. Do you?” You’d replied, truthfully. 

“You don’t think about it?” He asked again, turning over onto his side. 

You flipped over in synchrony, eyes meeting his, “We’ve both done this before.” 

We both know how it ends.

“But not with each other.” 

You wouldn’t meet his eye. Instead, you turned, willing back the tears that always came too late. Eddie had habituated the upstairs home in coexistence with the hollowness of Wilhelm’s presence. 

His boots sat in the same place by the front door, though, one sat toppled over in the remnant memory of a sloppy, chaste dance from the night before, chair at the table left out turned sideways from bearing the same sloppy weight moments after. 

You think back to that smile. The glimmer of it is drowned by the refraction of light off of the remnants of your wedding band– blinding. The silt of violence stirs within you at the thought of these things in their place, placating sadness and the same hollowness of a second dead husband– how the world was cruel in that nature, to rob you of this peace twice. 

You thought to distrust it, though, you would still marry Wilhelm again knowing the way it ended. 

There would be no white dress, no poppies in spring covering the vast expanse of the wildflower west. There would be no veil to cover a face gleaming with innocence. No, this land was too harsh for that. 

Your brain settles on a place far off in the dissonance. A table that resembled your own with four chairs. Christine is charming, you’d decided. She was funny in a way that was almost mean. She was hardened– but not as much as you. You imagined yourself as friends. 

Your brain etches in the details of Wilhelm’s face. Kind eyes that you would never forget, laugh lines that you filled in after the fact. You’d swore you’d never forget, though, as it seems, time had cast a vignette around him. He would clap Eddie on the shoulder, whisper things for men’s ears only to Eddie– in which Eddie would fill you in after dinner. Wilhelm would know this, as well. 

You think of bidding them farewell. Of a hug and a promise of more dinner plans to come. But for now, it was goodbye. They would retreat back to their home past where the sun set. You would stay alight in its blaze. 

“I’m not promising you forever.”

“Is this for better or for worse?”

“We’ve already lived through the worst. Just us. Don’t give me your covenants,” He’d bartered quietly. He hesitated to touch you, “Please, honey, just a promise.” 

“A promise?” You’d asked, finally, turning back over your shoulder to look at him. “I can make a promise.” 

He’d nodded, sifting through your sewing box until he settled upon it. A thin leather twine. No covenant. No superstition. 

The west would be won, but not by him. Not now. 

Eddie settles in that same place, though, it is after dinner. He waits beneath the softness of your sheets. They no longer smell foreign.

He watched the way your skin rippled at your lower back as your bare skin pressed against your vanity stool, and the way your skin stretched over your shoulder blades as you pulled your hair to the side, raking through it with the brush in front of you. Your lips fell into a supple pout in concentration, and your lashes kissed your cheeks as you looked down. He allowed himself to free-float into the stagnant desert air. 

“Hey, Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“What did Wilhelm say to you? After dinner?” 

He sat back at that table. You had been correct. Wilhelm was tall, much taller than him. He was intelligent and not as gruff. In the beginning, he’d wondered why you’d chosen to love him after someone like Wilhelm. Something in the orange told him that they would return home soon. Wilhelm knew this, too. 

His hand was a comfort, clasped against his shoulder, his voice a gilden song. 

“Tell her I said it’s okay.” He’d whispered to Eddie, and he was filled with a sense of knowing. 

His eyes met yours once more, the darkness of night prevailing casted a shadow over your features. 

“It’s okay, Nellie.” 

[dragon-kazansky]

His Little Dragon

Doc Holliday x OC

Dedicated to @callsignscupcake

[Masterlist]

[Previous Chapter] - [Next Chapter]

Doctor John Holliday hasn't seen his darling Little Dragon for many years. Once as thick as thieves, they were quite the pair, but that long since ended when he left. Now, with opportunity blooming in Tombstone, it would seem they have a second chance at the love they lost. However, a threat looms over the town, and if he wants his Dragon back, he has to win the heart of little Baylie too. Nothing is ever easy.

Word count: 2.1k

Chapter Thirty - Empty chairs at empty tables

♡♡♡

It's all far too quiet. Rachael lies on the bed facing the window. Doc left barely 30 minutes ago. Never before has she felt this level of loneliness.

Alana had seen to it she got in bed, but when she realised Rachael wasn't going to respond to her, she let her be. Rachael was somewhat grateful for the peace.

Her heart was aching. Aching for her family to come back safe. She trusted John Holliday more than anyone she knew. He would bring Baylie back safe and sound. She believed he would.

She needed him to.

Rachael hides her face into her pillow. She felt so alone. She should be out there with him getting their daughter back.

Rachael isn't sure how much time passes, but Alana knocks on the door at some point. She pushes the door open delicately, peeking into the room.

"I made some stew. It's not much... but I thought maybe you would like some."

Alana receives no response. She sighs softly.

"I can't imagine what you're feeling. My husband is out there with that girl, so I only know a portion of your pain, but I can't imagine posing a daughter too. There isn't much I can offer you, but my house is your house for as long as you're here. If you need anything, just ask. I have faith they'll return soon," she says. Alana watches Rachael for a moment longer before stepping back. Before she can close the door, she hears the bed creak slightly. Rachael rises.

"Stew sounds lovely."

Alana smiles and let's Rachael follow her out into the dining room. While she sees to the stew, Rachael sits down at the table. The table is big enough for 8 people, but it looks so empty.

They are the only two people in this house.

She was sitting here not too long ago with her heart pouring out and Doc at her side. Now he was gone too. Rachael closes her eyes and tries to forget about it for now, but she can't.

"Damn it," she mutters.

Alana puts a bowl of stew down in front of Rachael. She takes the seat beside her and stares at the table. There is nothing she can say to make things better.

Rachael takes a mouthful of the stew and nods her head.

"It's good."

Alana lifts her gaze to the other woman.

"You don't have to eat it."

Rachael takes another mouthful.

"I want to. Thank you."

Alana smiles and plays with her hands. Rachael eats everything in her bowl and then goes to wash up, but Alana is quick to take the bowl from her. She smiles as she goes to the kitchen to clean up herself.

Rachael sighs and looks around the house.

It's very homely. A couple photos of Alana and a handsome young man are on display. The house looks well looked after and even the ranch outside had a lot of love and care out into it.

Rachael stood there looking at this home wondering if in the near future she could have something like this. Land to look after, a house to call home, a place for Baylie to grow. A place to share with John.

She wanted all of it.

"The best way to wait is to keep busy. Do you want to help me out?" Alana asks.

Rachael looks at her and nods softly.

Both women go outside. Alana starts to tell Rachael all about the land and how they came to own it. She points out the stable and the barn. There's a pretty looking well on the grounds. A little farm is thriving off to the left of the house.

Rachael is blown away with what she sees. She could imagine Baylie running up to the stable to go see Whiskey. John working on the land. Having her own garden to grow flowers and vegetables.

It feels like a far away dream.

Alana was right though. Working on the ranch together helped ease her worries for a while. They cared for the horses left on the ranch, fed the animals, tended to the farm. Rachael helped move things across the grounds.

The two then went inside to eat together once again. The sun was setting and the day was drawing to a close.

Yet, Doc and Baylie still remained absent from the house.

Rachael and Alana took to sitting out on the desk outside. They were wrapped up in blankets as they watched the hill. It was dark, but they would still be able to see if anyone came over the hilltop.

Rachael hoped she would see someone.

"Your gentleman friend seemed very brave," Alana said.

Rachael smiles softly. "He is. I owe him so much."

"That's how I feel about my Jake. He's the best damn thing to ever happen to be. None of this would have been possible without him."

"You have what I want. But I can only have it if my family come back safely to me."

Alana reaches out and takes her hand.

"They will. Have faith."

Rachael closes her eyes and leans her against Alana's shoulder. She gives Alana's hand a squeeze. She needs something to hold onto. Something to keep her grounded.

The two sit in silence listening to the night.

Rachael is almost dozing off when the faint sound of horses has her lifting her head. She looks up to see several people coming over the hill. Rachael stands to try and work out if they were good or bad news.

"Rachael!"

That's Wyatt's voice.

Rachael discards the blanket from around her shoulders and rushes off the desk. Alana leans against the bannister of her deck to watch Rachael.

"Wyatt!"

Wyatt jumps off his horse and catches Rachael, stopping her from falling over as she collides with him. She's happy to see a familiar face and then looks up amongst the horses to look for her love.

"Doc?"

Two men shuffle past the horses with Doc in their hold. John's head is bowed forward, but he's awake. He's just in a lot of pain.

"John!"

Wyatt stops Rachael from rushing over to him. She struggles against his hold.

"John! Oh my God, John!"

"Rachael, look at me," Wyatt says. "He was shot, but he'll be okay."

Alana ushers the two men to bring Doc into her home. Rachael fights with Wyatt to go over to him, but Wyatt's hold on her is unrelenting.

"John!!" She yells again.

Her knees give out and she sinks to the ground with Wyatt.

"What happened?" She asks.

"Some kid. We were getting answers out of him. We were going to look into the information he gave us, but as soon as we got back onto our horses he shot Doc."

"Is he... is he going to be okay?"

Wyatt doesn't answer.

Rachael can feel her heart breaking all the more. She's not sure how much more she can take of this.

"John..."

Alana guides them into the spare bedroom she has given to you. She has the two men lay him gently on top of it and then has them leave. She fetches her things. She's no doctor, but she is confident she can help this man.

Doc is sweating fiercely. There's no exit wound so the bullet is still embedded in his shoulder. He watches Alana through a fuzzy gaze.

Pain. He can only feel pain.

"Rachael... where is my Rachael...?" He hisses out.

Alana doesn't answer him.

"Rachael..."

Wyatt takes Rachael into the house. He takes her to the sofa to sit down, but she tries to get up. He pushes her back down.

"I need to see him," she says.

"He needs seeing to. Let our host see to him," Wyatt tells her.

"John, oh John."

Wyatt sits with her. She clings to him. Doc was hurt and she couldn't be with him.

"Rachael!"

She hears him call for her.

"Wyatt-"

"Go."

Wyatt released his hold on her. He thinks it would better if she stayed here, but hearing Holliday call for her, well, he couldn't deprive Doc of that. Rachael thanks Wyatt and hurries into the bedroom.

Doc has been undressed from the waist up. Alana is trying to get him to lie still so she can dig out the bullet.

Rachael enters the bedroom and rushes to his side. Doc looks relieved when he sees her. He reaches out with his good arm and she takes his hand. Rachael sits on the bed with his hand in her lap.

"I'm here, John. I'm here."

She runs her free hand through his damp hair. She leans over him a little, looking at his face.

"Keep him still. I have to get the bullet out," Alana says.

Rachael doesn't say anything. She just keeps a tight hold of his hand and continues to run her fingers through his hair.

"I'm here," she whispers.

"I love you," he hisses out softly.

"I know. I love you too, darlin'." Rachael smiles softly at him.

Alana doesn't waste another second and searches for the bullet. Doc hisses out in pain and squeezes Rachael's hand tightly. Rachael leans down and presses her lips to his forehead.

"You're going to be okay."

Alana can only be so gentle, and she knows it's hurting him, but something tells her that with Rachael present, Doc is going to get through this just fine.

A couple hours later, Doc is stitched up and Alana leaves the room with the bullet she had dug out of his shoulder. He's exhausted. Rachael stays in the room with him.

Alana had closed the bedroom door behind her as she left.

Rachael lays on her side, Doc's good side, and watches him. He's still awake, but fighting to be. His body clearly wants to sleep for the night.

Rachael brushes his hair back slowly. The motion of it soothing him.

"Sleep, John," she whispers.

"Not yet," he mutters.

She watches his face. He's staring up at the ceiling.

"I didn't find Baylie."

"No, but we will."

John turns his head toward her, gazing at her with glossy eyes. He blinks softly.

"Marry me?"

Rachael lifts her head up from his pillow.

"What?"

"Marry me."

She stares at him, wide eyed. He's delusional, totally out of it. He's not thinking straight.

"John..."

"My inside pocket. Go into my inside pocket," he tells her.

Rachael glances at his coat which had been stripped from him hours ago. He stares at her. She leans over and takes the coat, heart hammering in her chest. She takes her time to find his inside pocket and slide her hand into it.

Her fingers meet with something small and cold. She bites the inside of her cheek gently as she pulls the item out and then drops it into her palm.

A ring.

The exact ring he had shown Baylie.

Rachael lifts her eyes from the ring and looks up at Doc. He's laying there, sweating and breathing gently. His eyes have softened.

"Marry me."

For the first time that day Rachael cries happy tears. She leans over and presses sher head against his chest. She laughs softly. Doc lifts his good arm and places his hand on the back of her head. The hand on his injured side seeks out the ring from her hand.

"Look at me, darlin'."

Rachael lifts her head and looks up at him. She can't hide her smile.

"Your hand, my darlin' little Dragon," he grins at her.

Rachael lifts her left hand to him. Doc takes the ring and puts it on her slowly. She watches it slide over her finger. Doc drops his hand onto his stomach when it's on. Rachael looks at her hand.

"Mrs Rachael Holliday. Now that sounds nice," he says, voice quiet.

Rachael looks up at him.

"Sleep," is all she says to him.

Holliday smiles and closes his eyes. He can't fight it any more, he needs to rest.

Rachael chuckles and wipes the tears from her eyes. She looks down at her hand again and laughs.

"You silly romantic fool," she mutters.

Rachael holds her hands close to her chest as she lays beside him again. If anyone could give her hope, it was John Holliday.

They'd be a real family.

All they needed was Baylie.

♡♡♡

@bayisdying - @callsignscupcake - @mrsjaderogers - @cycbaby - @gracespicybradshaw @altierirose - @askmarinaandothers - @themusingofagothicsoul - @gizmodear - @beaner-life-23 - @luckyladycreator2 - @scissorhandsgirl2000 - @mclintocksdaughter - @ice-doc-val -

[kaletastrophes]

Western babes! Thanks to Indiewire, we now have directly from Pedro Almodovar the westerns he personally had in mind while making Strange Way of Life.

Part 1 of this list, mostly movies I personally believed would influence the film, is pinned to my page and I can report I got 2 right! Pedro listed The Wild Bunch and Red River as influences! I will be honest I have only seen a few of the westerns Pedro mentioned so maybe we can watch these together.

While my original list focused more on anti-westerns, Almodovar seems to have focused much more on traditional westerns. John Wayne stars in 4 of the 9 he listed for example. I find that fascinating honestly.

(once again tagging the ultimate western babe @the-ginger-hedge-witch if she wants to add these to her western studies)

But without further ado heres Part 2 of westerns that inspired Strange Way of Life:

The movie is strewn with references to Westerns that Almodovar has treasured for years. 

The Wild Bunch 

In Strange Way of Life a flashback between the two men, in which they fire at wine barrels and shrug off some prostitutes for their own plans, stems from Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch.

Babes!! Im so absolutely tickled that I spotted this and now it's confirmed. I wont go into details about the film because I listed it in part 1 but it was confirmed by Almodovar in the Indiewire interview so I've included it again here.

Almodovar says he envisioned Ethan Hawke’s character as an extension of archetypes in two John Sturges movies:

Last Train from Gun Hill

A marshal (Kirk Douglas) tries to bring the son of an old friend (Anthony Quinn), an autocratic cattle baron, to justice for his role in the rape and murder of the marshal's Native American wife.

Gunfight at the O.K. Corral

Lawman Wyatt Earp (Burt Lancaster) and outlaw Doc Holliday (Kirk Douglas) form an unlikely alliance which culminates in their participation in the legendary Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.

I haven't seen either of these Sturges films but just reading the plot summaries above and the plot summary of Strange Way it's pretty clear how they would tie together.

John Ford loomed large for the spectacular vistas, and Almodovar says he thought a lot about:

The Searchers

In this revered Western, Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) returns home to Texas after the Civil War. When members of his brother's family are killed or abducted by Comanches, he vows to track down his surviving relatives and bring them home. 

Cheyenne Autumn

The Cheyenne, tired of broken U.S. government promises, head for their ancestral lands but a sympathetic cavalry officer is tasked to bring them back to their reservation.

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance

Questions arise when Senator Stoddard (James Stewart) attends the funeral of a local man named Tom Doniphon (John Wayne) in a small Western town. 

Wow. What an interesting list... I'm not sure I could have imagined the first two being included before reading the article honestly. The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance makes really perfect sense, two men hide the history they have together until it comes out years later just like they seem to do in Strange Way.

The Searchers I have seen and while it is regarded as one of the best films ever in American film history it's also regarded as one of the most racist films in American film history. The portrayal of Native American's is truly hard to stomach. Critic Roger Ebert went so far as to accuse director John Ford of trying to somehow "justify the Native American genocide." So I would warn perhaps be cautious when viewing. I will say Cheyenne Autumn is perhaps somewhat Ford's response to The Searchers, it's regarded as a pretty mediocre film but lauded in film history because the actors portraying the Cheyenne are actually Navajo and speak Navajo in the film. Because no one else on set spoke Navajo, during scenes when Navajo is spoken the actors made dirty jokes and openly mocked production.

Pascal wears a green jacket that serves as a callback to the one Jimmy Stewart wears in:

Bend of the River

When a town boss confiscates homesteader's supplies after gold is discovered nearby, a tough cowboy (Jimmy Stewart) risks his life to try and get it to them.

This is another fantastic western and whats interesting is that the film centers on constantly keeping you guessing on which character is going to turn out good and which character is going to turn out bad. I wonder if Almodovar will bring that same thing to Strange Way..

Also, "Julia Adams stars as the woman who made the mistake of loving two men!" No, thats never a mistake babe hahaha.

Finally, Almodovar give three more films that inspired costumes for Strange Way:

El Dorado

Cole Thornton (John Wayne), a gunfighter for hire, joins forces with an old friend, Sheriff J.P. Hara (Robert Mitchum). Together with an old Indian fighter and a gambler, they help a rancher and his family fight a rival rancher that is trying to steal their water.

Red River

Dunson (John Wayne) leads a cattle drive, the culmination of over 14 years of work, to its destination in Missouri. But his tyrannical behavior along the way causes a mutiny, led by his adopted son (Montgomery Clift).

Vera Cruz

During the Mexican Rebellion of 1866, an unsavory group of American adventurers are hired by the forces of Emporer Maximilian to escort a countess to Vera Cruz.

Well there you have it! Let me know your thoughts. I really find this list incredible curious and interesting.

[glacialisvenae]

------michiel huisman . cis male . he/his . wasn’t that eben anastase walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the lord of danruba out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they are notoriously apathetic, whilst also managing to be quite charming. the thirty-seven year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( life-force absorption ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of well-fitted leather armor, the gleam of polished silver and emeralds, and the scent of petrichor on a thick-foggy morning. great to see the revenant around, isn’t it ?

small stats

name: eben visser anastase. age: 37. status: lord of danruba, soldier in the vrajiit army. sexuality: grey-heteromantic heterosexual. species: human - vrajiit. power: life-force absorption. hair color: dark brown. eye color: hazel, favoring greys and greens. height: 6′0″. build: athletic - lean muscle. character comparison: edward fairfax rochester (jane eyre), jaime lannister (game of thrones), doc holliday (wynonna earp), boromir (lord of the rings), rick blaine (casablanca), don draper (mad men), perry cox (scrubs), tony soprano (the sopranos), kirk lazarus (tropic thunder), man in black (westworld). && daario naharis (game of thrones), han solo (star wars), thancred waters (final fantasy xiv), dante sparda (devil may cry), rogue (x-men).

biography

     war was always in his blood, and blessed was his birth. though not the only child in the anastase noble line born a vrajiit, eben was often reminded of his place in the world growing up. destined for great things. to him it simply meant that people would always want him for something - and a young child imagined that could be nothing but GOOD. a young child knows very little.

     the winds in danruba are harsh and unforgiving, the clime caring little for life settling there, trying to flourish. eben learned how to survive in the tundra, though it was never imagined he would ACTUALLY require that knowledge ( better to know and never need it, than need it and never know ). hunting was for sport and survival, the feats of each kill brought back and served for meals, the hides tanned into leathers, furs made for blankets on well-stuffed mattresses. it was certainly a cushy life for a little lordling. he was spoiled in the sense that he was always watched ---his company was always desired, his attention always demanded here or there. he didn’t quite understand why. merely that something great would be expected of him.

     shortly after his sixteenth birthday, and when his mind was still full of boyish hope and folly, eben was sent to the vrajiit academy. he excelled at combat, though toyful of his capabilities ( the power to take a life with just a touch seemed limitless ) and for five years he served his country faithfully in the military. he was certain he did his lord father and lady mother proud, and certainly his sharpened prowess was what leant him to being sent into battle rather than being posted in danruba - rather than being returned home under conscription. IN HIS MIND, THESE WERE THE BEST YEARS OF HIS LIFE.

     at 21 he was released from his duties to the military. four years he lingered in danruba, living his life as a lord with a semblance of that boyish charm ever-present on his face. with the castle always open to the citizens of his home he saw many faces, learned many stories, met many men and women as they came and went. he fell in love. a glorious and terrifying emotion, one as tumultuous as the sea ‘neath stormy clouds ---he felt the same rush from spending time with the blacksmith’s daughter. she was kind to him, treated him not like he was a prize, a blessed child ---but like he was human.

     those same emotions betrayed him, ultimately. she passed beneath him amidst their passionate tryst, his touch and kiss-starved lips passing a death knell over her, life draining from her in a quick instant. HE FELT BETRAYED BY HIS OWN HEART. surely an emotion such as love was meant to be gleeful, it had only brought him happiness before this moment ---surely it was love that killed her. ( introspection would have shared it was the surge of emotion itself, that for all of the battle-wise training eben had learned throughout his life he’d never quite honed how to cease the flow of his power when his feelings crested like a breaking wave ). but introspection was beyond him. grieving, eben withdrew into himself.

     the shift from somewhat jovial young lord to apathetic and detached was like the phase of the moon changing. while he wasn’t asocial he seemed less engaged, some form of self-inflicted punishment for suffering to care for another person on such a level. at 25 he re-enlisted in the vrajiit military, the decision to do something more than suffer the company of others final. if his touch was meant to kill, he’d see it to purpose. and so it has served him for those past 12 years, a loyal warrior to the crown through choice, pleased to keep his solitude.

personality

     where once eben could be described as talkative, energetic, and impish now only remains an echo of that former self. a man, as it were ---hardened both by battle and personal trauma and lead by self-inflicted punishment. he’s quiet and apathetic, more keen to sit back and observe a situation rather than be the first to participate in it - as if playing a long and drawn-out match of chess. though he is not asocial, and he doesn’t scorn the touch of a woman in the slightest ---he merely chooses not to find emotional attachment in any of his interpersonal relationships.

     HOWEVER HE CAN BE QUITE CHARMING WHEN HE NEEDS TO BE, flashing a handsome smile or using silver-tongued wit ---the skills of nobility. eben is less likely to lean on his birth standing and more akin to see a problem to a quick end. he is the product of his own experiences. tactical in thought but ruthless in execution, eben isn’t one to dance around a topic or point - he will bluntly state it.

     though it is incredibly obvious that the emotional scars of his experience still linger. perhaps it’s the circumstance of where he was raised ( the infinitely colder climate of danruba ), or his station as a military man that finds him always wearing leathers over his hands and never quite exposing the flesh where one might be drawn to touch. physical intimacy is met with only the desire to feel that particular pleasure and nothing else ---though it’s worth noting that to be safe HE NEVER TOUCHES HIS FAMILY WITH HIS BARE HANDS. lest something happen to them that similarly befell his once romance.

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Moss

request: yes

summary: Daisy Pt. 2. More trials (and a lot of fluff) between doc and daisy

Doc Holliday was a lot of things and stupid was not on that list. Something that often got him in a heap of trouble was his education. Quick witted remarks in a variety of languages would swirl around his brain, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. He was well versed in novels, theater, nocturnes, and even a dash of politics. His understanding of God and the universe was also impressive. 

So no, he certainly wasn’t stupid. Why then was his Daisy hiding things from him? Did she think his male nature made him inherently oblivious to the state of things? Clearly something was wrong. 

Smoke from a pipe- not a cigar nor cigarette but herbs his Y/N read about to ease his pain thank you very much- billowed around swirling with all of his doubts. Doc puffed away as he thought back on all of the recent nonsense. 

First was subtle. One fine evening, Doc’s family gathered in the Oriental. He felt himself glow with pride as the Earp’s and Y/N surrounded him each night. Sometimes he thought he was delirious with another fever as the sound of laughter and touches of affection enveloped him. 

That evening, however, as he waited patiently for Y/N return to his lap, a frown furrowed his handsome face. She balanced on his thighs, glass in hand. “Darlin’?” He tapped the glass with a hesitant finger. “You switch to gin?” 

Her laugh was enough to erase the frown. “No, huckleberry, I thought we could benefit from some water. I still don’t want you drinking, can’t live without you.”

“Oh hell, honey, you’re stuck with my nonsense for the rest of your life.” Her pretty eyelashes and bustle free legs were enough to make him forget. 

Then, all together, Y/N stopped their evening nightcap. Now, yes he needed to quit his drinking to excess, but a glass of bourbon with his baby every night surely was not a problem. Doc wondered if going to the Oriental every night reminded his bride of his affair, which seemed reasonable. Certainly not willing to be on the receiving end of her wrath anytime soon, he let that go. 

Next was more straight forward. Wyatt had received tickets for boxsets at the Birdcage. Y/N loved Faust so naturally Doc jumped at the chance for a family outing. His darling all but squealed with delight when Doc sauntered into suite, with a dress bag slung over his arm. 

“May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the depths of hell tonight, Mrs. Holliday?” Mustached lips tickled up her arm, over her collarbone, and down to her cleavage. 

“Oh absolutely, Mr. Holliday!” Taking the dress out of the brown wrapping, she gasped. “Oh, John!” It was her turn to sprinkle his gruff face with kisses. 

The maroon silk looked downright sinful on his bride (and she thought the exact same thing about his matching waist coat). The Hollidays were a sight to behold in Tombstone. With her on his arm, Doc felt all the southern gentry he was raised in. Nothing could make him feel unworthy of power or love. 

Settled in the dim theater, Y/N fanned herself, a rush of heat hitting her. A holler from the floor seats broke her trance and drew her eyes of the one she despised most. Johnny Ringo practically howled at her, tongue wagging like a rabid dog. 

“Pay no mind to Mr. Ringo.” A gentle hand grasped her chin and forced her attention back to Doc, where it belong he reasoned. “Only I may purchase your soul.” 

Y/N’s eyes fluttered and hummed in delight. “You already have, Doc.” That settled his swirling doubts. Yes, he liked to think he held her soul inside his own. His soul clutching to hers in order to survive. He owned her, not in an oppressive sense. Not like how his father view his mother, but in the way that she was his and his alone and he could proudly say the same. 

Yet, just shy of intermission his darling uttered a “oh fuck” under her breath. Doc chuckled, eyebrow quirked in amusement. Yet before he could comment on the lewd nature of his otherwise polite wife, she was grasping her skirts and rushing out of the box. 

Before he could even move, Allie Earp ran after his wife. Looking at the remaining Earps- excluding Wyatt who looked all too close to committing something dangerous- Doc glared. “Something I don’t know?” 

“Lady stuff?” Morgan suggested earning a grunt of support from Virgil. 

At intermission, Doc found his wife with Allie. Allie had the audacity to grin at Doc, blue eyes twinkling. “Doctor is in.” She giggled. 

And yes, normally Doc would have ate that up. Reveling in the limelight and delightful female attention. However, normally Doc was the unstable one and not his wife.  Still, he couldn’t help himself from saying a charming, “It seems my favorite patient is ill.” 

“I’m fine, Doc.” Y/N offered a grimace of a smile. Slowly standing, she took the fan from Allie. “Just got too hot all of a sudden.” 

Nodding, if only to avoid adding another public confrontation to the history of their relationship, Doc ordered a tonic water from the bar and escorted his wife back to their seats. Allie just chittering all the way. 

The final straw was down right offensive. Doc enjoyed few things more than waking up in the early hours of the morning when the sun was just beginning to think of rising and loving his wife. She was always so eager from a nights rest that she just folded into him. His lungs weren’t heavy from a full day allowing him to thrust and grunt for a glorious eternity. 

Yet, every morning that past week when he rolled over she was gone. He’d call out her name practically mewling with need only to be met with silence. Ignoring the hurt that struck his heart, he’d go back to bed. 

Finally, this morning was the last straw. He figured he’d stay awake, greet her entering their room. The longer he sat awake, pipe in hand, the wilder this thoughts went. Doc prided himself in a remarkably even temper but fear was ensnaring his rationality. 

A dose of opium sounded wonderful right about now. It would just calm his nerves, make it so he wouldn’t lash out. Last thing he wanted to do to his daisy was be mean. Lord knows he’s hurt her enough. He was sure he had a vial tucked away somewhere. 

By the time she entered their room, Doc was in tears. Red eyes narrowed into a glare at her. She gasped. “Doc, are you alright?” 

A rumbling cough worked its way out his lungs. “Daisy, I am rolling.” He hissed. Standing from his spot by the window, he grabbed his cane for balance. “Awful late night for you though.” 

“Are you high?” 

“I hardly see the need in answering that.” He snipped. “It’s quite obvious we both are up to things we shouldn’t be.” 

“Now, John, listen to me.”

“Is it to get back at me? Do you think my heart doesn’t hurt when you leave me?” 

“John, please just trust me.” her voice wobbled with tears. 

“I know I’ve not been the best husband to you-“

“You’ve been wonderful.” 

“Stop lying.” The opium only made his accent stronger. “Please just be honest with me, my soul can’t bare it any longer.” 

With a sad smile, Y/N crossed the floor to her husband. One hand tenderly held his cheek, wiping away at trailing tears. The other reached for his own, pressing a key into his palm. “Get dressed and follow me.” 

Confused, dazed, spellbound by his bride he dressed quickly. She held her arm out to him knowing his pride would much prefer her to stabilize him than his cane. “I’ve not been truthful and I am so very sorry for that Doc, but I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

They walked the dusty streets of Tombstone together. The early morning air left their lungs clear. Cactus clung to the early morning dew as the couple clung to each other. Near the edge of town, Y/N paused in front of a stately Greek Revival home. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” She asked nuzzling into his neck. 

“Yes, though it is difficult to find anything that compares to you darlin’.” 

With warm cheeks, Y/N giggled. “Try the key Doc.” 

“I beg your pardon?” Doc sputtered pulling away in shock. 

“Try the key.” 

A burst of speed had him rushing to the door. Rocking chairs lined the porch, tucked safely behind columns. The key slide in perfectly. Her name was all he could sigh, tears welling in his eyes again. 

Joining him, she nudged him forward. “I’ll give you the tour.” 

While still barren of furniture, the grand home had billowing curtains with long windows that ached of home. As Y/N rattled on about something to do with paint colors Doc waved a hand of dismissal not really caring how she wanted to paint. 

“How?” He managed to grunt,masking his emotion with a forced cough. 

“I was left an impressive about of money in a will.” A small smile tugged on her lips. “A great aunt everyone else hated. The only stipulation was to use it for my family.” 

A tug on his hand led up him the stately staircase. “I was thinking our bedroom could be here if-“ 

“I can handle them darlin’. Don’t you worry about me.” 

The next door was shut, Y/N’s eyes glittering with mischief. “This is your second surprise.” 

“Oh if this is one of those sinful European things-“Doc paused as the door opened revealing the only painted room in the house. 

gentle moss green walls greeted him. A canopy hung from the ceiling, the netting protecting a crib. “Daisy? Are you in a delicate way?” His green eyes flickered from her face to the perky bodice of her dress  to her tummy. 

A nod of her head confirmed. his heart nearly burst out his chest. A joyful laugh tickled out his throat. He didn’t give a damn what would be said about him now, his wife was carrying his baby. His. 

Nudging her nose against his, she leaned in to capture his lips pulling softly on the plump skin. Words weren’t needed as they removed each layer of clothing from each other. Fingers interlocked as they lay together on the soft mossy green rug below them. 

[grnolan]

A Non-Exhaustive List of Stuff to Watch During the Strike

Everybody has a backlog of things to watch, but for everyone who is like me and routinely looks at that backlog and goes "but none of those hundred things sound interesting right now", here are some recommendations.

If You Have…

NETFLIX

Avatar The Last Airbender: Animated/Fantasy; 3 seasons; A teenage chosen one reawakens 100 years into the war he’s meant to stop. If you somehow are on Tumblr and haven’t seen this show, give it a try now.

Cunk on Earth: Documentary; 1 season; A very serious documentary that very seriously tells the story of the history of human progress.

Glow Up (2019): Competition; 4 seasons; Aspiring makeup artists compete for opportunities in the industry.

Nailed It! (2018): Competition; 7 seasons; Nicole Byer and Jacques Torres laugh with people who are not bakers as they try to bake extremely complicated desserts in less time than professionals could do it.

Wynonna Earp (2016): Western Horror; 4 seasons; The cursed descendant of famous lawman Wyatt Earp hunts demons in a small Canadian town alongside her (canonically bisexual) little sister, a US Marshall, an immortal Doc Holliday, and a (canonically lesbian) local cop.

HULU

Domino Masters (2022): Competition; 1 season; A competition show where teams build Rube Goldberg devices primarily focusing on dominos.

Holey Moley (2019): Competition; 3 seasons; Increasingly ridiculous mini golf holes where the ball can go into a water hazard but the people go in much more frequently.

Lego Masters (2020): Competition; 3 seasons; Teams of two build complex Lego designs based on each week’s theme.

Primeval (2007): Sci-Fi; 5 seasons; British scientists and government officials discover fluctuating portals to various time periods, which release dinosaurs and other creatures into the modern day. You’ll watch the first season and go “idk why this is considered good” and then all the other seasons will happen.

DISNEY PLUS

DuckTales (2017): Animated/Adventure Comedy; 3 seasons; A reboot of the 80s show of the same name, but with better character development and better treatment of its female characters.

The Owl House (2020): Animated/Horror Comedy; 3 seasons; An Afro Latina human girl is on her way to summer camp to be taught “normalcy” when she goes through a portal and finds herself in the Demon Realm. She decides that it’s way better than camp and stays. Friendship, family, love, and PTSD ensue.

MAX

Baking Championships: The Baking Championships (Kids Baking Championship, Halloween Baking Championship, Holiday Baking Championship, Spring Baking Champion Championship) are all a nice heartwarming fun time.

The Great Pottery Throw Down (2015): Competition; 5 seasons; You know how chill and fun GBBO is? Imagine that but with pottery.

CRUNCHYROLL

RWBY (2013): Animated/Fantasy; 9 seasons; A group of girls join a school to train for hunting monsters and fighting crime with cool weapons that are usually some sort of melee weapon and also a gun. The animation gets better with every season.

NO STREAMING SERVICES

Board Game Club: An ongoing series on the No Rolls Barred YouTube page; a bunch of people get together and play board games. This probably sounds like it would be boring but it is absolutely fantastic.

Critical Role: YouTube; 2 completed campaigns, 1 ongoing; A group of voice actor friends get together to play Dungeons and Dragons. Increasingly well-produced over time.

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries: 100 episodes; An adaptation of Pride and Prejudice that takes place entirely over vlogs. Very funny, handles the confines of a vlog setting fairly well, and Ashley Clements (Lizzie) is fabulous.

Video Game YouTubers: Particularly Let’s Plays, speedruns, and challenges. I personally enjoy Pokemon challenges like by FlygonHG, and Super Mario Odyssey Hide and Seek by a bunch of different Mario streamers is great fun.

[elfie4306]

Supernatural S13E6 Happy Dean

This will be only be about Dean being happy.

I just like seeing Dean happy. I know I post a lot about the brothers being miserable, which I do love because I love their bond, and how they're always just keeping each other going whether it's only one that's a mess, or if they're both a mess and the only thing they can hold onto is each other. But I love when they're just happy and being themselves, getting to be normal brothers now and then. It's like when they watched wrestling together, it was the cutest thing and I need more.

Deciding to Go to Dodge City

When Jack tells them about the case in Dodge City, and he knows it's probably just a grave robbery, you can see in his face, that he recognizes that, but he wants to go. Obviously we know he wants to go, but I just want to point out the thought process seen in his face. "Oh, that's not a case. But... Dodge City. We're going." And just the little lines of him justifying going, and trying to sound logical, but then just admitting Dodge City is "kind of awesome." The "awesome" was so funny. He said it under his breath, not like he was embarrassed, but more like he was trying to come up with a better word and just said fuck it.

The Motel

The choice of motel, "splurging" on the best room there, bringing his hat in a fucking leather box thing. You can hear the excitement in his voice when he tells the group what this room is called. God, the laughter because he can't contain his excitement, the EYE CRINKLES. He just so happy you guys.

Not only does he know who everyone is on the walls, but he's info-dumping on all of them to the group. The way he gets their attention so he can basically show off that he knows everyone. He's naming all these people like he's about to begin a lecture on the great figures of the Wild West. "which, now now now, little fun fact here," I CAN'T. He's so thrilled. THE PURE GLEE on his face after sharing that little fun fact.

And the way he fucking shouts "Doc Holliday! HEY-OH" while Cas is looking at him like "how do I love this idiot?" Also, I didn't even notice at first, but when he goes off to unpack, he goes through saloon doors, and he swings them open so dramatically too.

I love the little moment they take to show Dean snoring, because he's so relaxed, and I feel like this moment shows that. It's so small but it's important to me.

When they're back at the motel talking about what they learned, Dean crosses his legs with his whole get up still on, so you see the hat, the bolo tie, those boots that are absurd, while he is looking over his shoulder into the distance, and swinging one leg over the other dramatically. Mans is getting into character.

Dean, once again info-dumping about Dave Mather with the biggest smile on his face. "I'm gonna get my boots on." I can't I can't, he's so happy, he's so cute.

Oh my god Dean's dumb little boots.

Confronting the Ghoul

Dean says "And you must like playing cowboy." He says that so judgingly as if he's not doing the exact same thing. As if you're not wearing dumb fucking boots right now. As if you weren't wearing a bolo tie and a cowboy hat an hour ago.

The ghoul talking about being Dave Mather, "It's my favorite suit." Dean's thinking, "makes sense it's a hot ass suit." Dean has a thing for cowboys, I'm 100% sure.

Headcannons

I'm just imagining Dean on the car ride sharing all of his knowledge about the Old West, about Tombstone.

Him being giddy as they pass through each state/town/landmark.

The way he probably automatically slipped into a southern accent while he was driving.

Sam smiling at how happy Dean is, relieved he has his brother back, but also mocking Dean for putting on country music and singing his heart out.

Jack being so fucking confused because a few days ago this man currently belting Johnny Cash wanted to kill him.

Cas looking relatively surprised/confused, but also absolutely DELIGHTED by this side of Dean.

[pagebypagereviews]

The Greatest Stories of the Old West Ever Told: Uncover True Tales and Legends of Epic Gunfights and Heroic Sheriffs From dusty streets to dueling gunslingers, "The Greatest Stories of the Old West Ever Told: True Tales and Legends of Famous Gunfighters, Outlaws and Sheriffs from the Wild West" transports you to an era where danger lurked behind every corner, and legends were born in the blink of an eye. This enthralling collection captures the raw, unfiltered essence of the Wild West, where lawmen like Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid became household names and outlaws carved their legacies through notorious escapades. Whether you're a history buff or just a fan of riveting tales, this compilation promises to electrify your imagination and transport you back in time. The significance of this book lies in its meticulous curation of both well-known and obscure stories, all elaborately detailed to provide an authentic glimpse into the Old West's rugged life. It doesn’t merely recount events; it solves the modern-day disconnect from historical events by putting you right in the middle of quick-draw gunfights, daring heists, and relentless pursuits. By delving into these true stories, the book offers invaluable context to the larger-than-life heroes and anti-heroes, resurrecting the almost mythical aura of the Wild West. It's not just a historical recount; it's an adventure through time, filling in the rich tapestry of American history that textbooks often gloss over. Plot: The stories in "The Greatest Stories of the Old West Ever Told" revolve around the dangerous and often lawless lives of gunfighters, outlaws, and sheriffs. Each tale plunges the reader into the heart of the Wild West, a time defined by fierce duels and relentless pursuit of justice—or vengeance. The book catalogs the tense showdowns at high noon, daring escapes from captivity, bank heists devised with meticulous detail, and the unwavering resolve of those tasked with upholding the law. These plots showcase not only the violence and chaos of the period but also moments of integrity, sacrifice, and redemption. Characters: The book is populated by a host of legendary characters, each with a reputation built on extraordinary feats and infamous deeds. Figures such as Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Billy the Kid, and Jesse James come alive through detailed narratives. These characters are often complex, embodying both heroic and villainous traits. The sheriffs and lawmen are depicted as tough, resilient, and moral, standing firm against the tide of lawlessness. In contrast, the outlaws are portrayed as cunning and daring, their lives marked by a constant struggle for survival and dominance. Writing Style: The narrative style of the book is an evocative blend of historical accuracy and engaging storytelling. Rich descriptions and dynamic dialogues immerse readers in the era, while a thorough attention to historical detail lends credibility and depth to the tales. The use of period-specific language and idioms helps bring authenticity to the dialogues, making the stories resonant and realistic. The writing balances action-packed sequences with introspective moments, giving a rounded view of the characters' experiences and motivations. Setting: The setting of the Old West is vividly portrayed through depictions of the vast, untamed landscapes, rugged frontier towns, and the isolation of the open prairies. The environmental hardships, including harsh weather conditions and difficult terrain, are a constant backdrop to the tales. The towns are painted with bustling saloons, dusty streets, and hastily erected wooden structures, encapsulating the rough-and-ready nature of frontier life. The stark contrasts between the burgeoning settlements and the wild, unforgiving wilderness highlight the challenges and adventures of life on the frontier. Unique Aspects: One of the unique aspects of this collection is its commitment to presenting a balanced view of the period, covering both the glorified and the grim realities of the Old West.

By blending true stories with legendary accounts, the book offers a nuanced perspective that goes beyond the typical romanticized portrayals. The inclusion of less famous but equally intriguing figures alongside the well-known ones adds depth and diversity to the narrative. Additionally, each story is grounded in historical context, emphasizing the socio-economic, cultural, and legal landscapes that shaped the actions and lives of these legendary figures. Pros of Old West Tales Nostalgia & Romanticism Old West tales evoke a strong sense of nostalgia and romanticism, bringing to life an era characterized by rugged individualism and adventure. This appeals to audiences by providing an escape into a simpler, albeit harsher, time where personal agency seemed to exert a greater degree of influence over one's fate. Such tales fuel the imagination, especially for those who long for a world of clear ethical dichotomies and high-stakes confrontations. Cultural Significance These stories are culturally significant, reflecting elements of American history and ideology such as Manifest Destiny, the frontier spirit, and rugged individualism. They offer rich insights into the culture and values of the time, making them educational as well as entertaining. This duality enhances user experience by providing layers of meaning to unpack, increasing both engagement and intellectual appeal. Character Depth The heroes, villains, and side characters in Old West tales often come with complex backstories and morally ambiguous motivations, adding a layer of depth and intrigue. By exploring these multifaceted personalities, audiences are treated to a richer narrative experience. This complexity attracts diverse demographics, from those seeking action and adventure to those interested in psychological and moral explorations. Cons of Old West Tales Historical Inaccuracy Old West tales often suffer from historical inaccuracies, portraying an oversimplified or romanticized version of events. This can mislead audiences about the true nature of frontier life and the people who lived during that era. Distorted representations can perpetuate myths, creating a skewed understanding that impacts how history is perceived and taught, diminishing the educational value these stories might offer. Glorification of Violence These tales often glorify gunfights, vigilantism, and lawlessness, presenting them as exciting rather than perilous or morally problematic. This can desensitize audiences to violence and create false narratives about justice and retribution. Such portrayals can be particularly troubling in contemporary contexts where issues of gun violence and law enforcement are hotly debated, negatively impacting societal attitudes. Lack of Diversity Many Old West stories disproportionately focus on white, male protagonists, ignoring the diverse experiences of Native Americans, African Americans, women, and other marginalized groups. This lack of representation limits the scope of these narratives and alienates potential audiences who do not see their histories or experiences reflected. This narrow focus can perpetuate stereotypes and exclude valuable perspectives that would enrich the genre. FAQ - Old West Tales, Gunfighters, Outlaws, Historical Legends, True Stories What is the Old West? The Old West, also known as the Wild West, refers to the period in American history during the late 19th century, roughly from the end of the Civil War in 1865 to the early 20th century. This era is characterized by westward expansion, lawlessness, and the rapid growth of frontier towns. Who were the most famous gunfighters of the Old West? Some of the most famous gunfighters include Wild Bill Hickok, Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, Jesse James, and Billy the Kid. These individuals became legendary for their gunfighting skills and involvement in various escapades and showdowns. Were all outlaws in the Old West criminals? Not all outlaws in the Old West were habitual criminals. While

many engaged in activities like bank robberies, cattle rustling, and train robberies, some were driven to lawlessness due to circumstances such as economic hardship, personal disputes, or seeking revenge. Are the stories of the Old West historically accurate? Many Old West tales are based on true events, but they have often been exaggerated or romanticized over time. Historical records, eyewitness accounts, and dime novels contributed to creating larger-than-life legends that may differ from the actual facts. What role did women play in the Old West? Women in the Old West were integral to frontier life, taking on a variety of roles such as homesteaders, ranchers, teachers, and saloon owners. Some women, like Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley, became legendary figures in their own right due to their skills and adventurous lives. Why were there so many outlaws in the Old West? The Old West was a time of rapid expansion and minimal law enforcement, creating opportunities for crime to flourish. Economic struggles, personal vendettas, and the lure of fortune also contributed to the high number of outlaws during this period. What are some well-known true stories from the Old West? Some well-known true stories include the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, the exploits of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the journeys of the Lewis and Clark Expedition, and the pioneering efforts of the Donner Party. Who were the lawmen tasked with bringing order to the Old West? Famous lawmen of the Old West include figures like Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Pat Garrett. These individuals took on roles such as sheriffs, marshals, and bounty hunters, often confronting dangerous criminals to uphold the law. How did the railroad impact the Old West? The advent of the transcontinental railroad significantly impacted the Old West by facilitating faster travel, expanding trade, bringing in settlers, and contributing to the decline of the traditional cowboy era. It also played a key role in the economic development of the western United States. Was the Old West as violent as portrayed in popular media? While violence was a notable aspect of the Old West, particularly during its most lawless periods, it was not as prevalent as often depicted in movies and books. Many communities were peaceful, and residents worked together to build thriving towns and settlements. As we draw to a close on our literary journey, it becomes undeniably clear that "The Greatest Stories of the Old West Ever Told: True Tales and Legends of Famous Gunfighters, Outlaws and Sheriffs from the Wild West" stands as a pivotal contribution to the rich tapestry of historical narratives. This compilation is much more than just a collection of stories; it is a cultural artifact that preserves the vivacious spirit and rugged essence of an era that shaped much of America's identity. Firstly, the book’s meticulous curation of true stories and legends offers a comprehensive view of the Old West, providing readers with a balanced portrait of its various characters—gunfighters, outlaws, sheriffs, and everyday pioneers. Through its well-researched accounts, it brings to light the audacity and heroism, as well as the tragic and gritty realities, faced by those who lived and died by the code of the frontier. Such engaging narratives are invaluable for historians, enthusiasts, and anyone keen on understanding the complexities of that tumultuous period. Additionally, the diverse array of tales ensures that there is something for every reader. Whether you are captivated by the legendary duels of notorious gunfighters, fascinated by the cunning escapades of infamous outlaws, or inspired by the steadfast determination of lawmen, the book provides an intricately woven tapestry of narratives that will not only entertain but also educate. Its vivid storytelling transports readers back in time, making one feel as if they are walking the dusty streets or witnessing a tense standoff under the scorching sun. The insights

offered are not merely confined to the past; they resonate with contemporary themes of justice, courage, and human perseverance. The legacies of these historical figures continue to influence modern storytelling and collective memory, providing a deeper societal context and enriching our appreciation of today's world. Moreover, the book’s authenticity and attention to detail make it a treasure trove for researchers and academics. Its inclusion of lesser-known tales alongside well-documented legends broadens the scope of understanding, ensuring a well-rounded exploration of the Old West's intricate landscape. This depth and breadth render it an essential resource for anyone serious about delving into America’s frontier history. In conclusion, "The Greatest Stories of the Old West Ever Told" is an indispensable choice for any bookshelf. It manages to capture the mythic allure and raw reality of the Wild West, offering valuable insights and engaging benefits to a wide array of readers. If you seek to comprehend the full panorama of historic frontier life, this book is a steadfast companion on that enlightening journey.

[annarellix]

Mysteries and cozy mysteries: some reviews

Tropical Issue by Dorothy Dunnett (A Dolly Mystery  #1)

Rita, a small, tough Scottish make-up artist is on Madeira trying to find out who killed Kim-Jim, an American make-up supremo. Also anchored off the island is Dolly, the yacht of Johnson Johnson with whom Rita teams up to get to the bottom of this foul deed. Rita’s fighting spirits are aroused despite her danger. She is not one for quitting, even when she learns she is caught up in an international drug-smuggling ring. But she also discovers that dealing with the maddeningly enigmatic Johnson Johnson is, by no stretch of the imagination, plain sailing.

My Review: I used to think of Dorothy Dunnet as a writer of historical fiction and this book was a surprise because it’s a humorous, compelling, and well plotted mystery. We would call it a cozy mystery now but it was a mystery tout court in 1983. As it was  the first mystery I read by this author I cannot compare it to other novel but I can say I thoroughly enjoyed it. Rita is a well plotted characters, a quirky and strong woman. The setting is wonderful, I’ve been in love with Madeira since forever, and loved the description I recommend it. Many thanks to Farrago for this arc, all opinions are mine.

Book page: https://farragobooks.com/book/tropical-issue/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/64277922-tropical-issue

Six Ostriches by Philipp Schott (Dr. Bannerman Vet Mystery #2)

It’s springtime in rural Manitoba, and the snow has finally left the exotic animal farm when an ostrich finds and swallows a shiny object. (Because this is what ostriches do.) Cue veterinarian and amateur sleuth Dr. Peter Bannerman, who surgically removes the object, which looks like an ancient Viking artifact. Soon after, people around are horrified by a series of animal mutilations. This sets Peter, and his talented sniffer dog, Pippin, on the hunt for answers. Peter begins to suspect a link between the Viking artifact, the mutilations, and a shadowy group of white supremacists on the internet. Before long Peter and Pippin are in over their heads, and the only way for them to get out alive will be to unmask the mastermind before they end up among their victims.

My Review: I always love Philipp Schott's books, both non fiction and mysteries featuring Peter Bannerman, an intriguing and well written amateur sleuth and vet. This story is darker than the first and there's some gore and graphic scene that I found a bit disturbing. That said it's another well plotted and enjoyable mystery and I hope there will be more mysteries in this series. Many thanks to ECW Press for this arc, all opinions are mine

https://ecwpress.com/products/six-ostriches-a-dr-bannerman-vet-mystery https://www.philippschott.com/ https://twitter.com/philippwschott https://www.instagram.com/philippschott/

Death on the Stella Mae By Jan Durham (Kipper Cottage Mystery #5)

Who can unlock the deepest secrets of the sea? Spring has finally sprung in the picturesque North Yorkshire town of Whitby, but high tides and easterly winds bring stormy weather. When trawlerman Daniel ‘Doc’ Holliday goes missing from his boat the Stella Mae, it looks like he was washed overboard. Widow Liz McLuckie soon has reason to believe otherwise. Someone wanted Daniel dead. But who? And how far will they go to hide what really happened that stormy night? Liz is determined to uncover the truth, with help from her motley collection of friends and Nelson the bull terrier – the ugliest (and bravest) dog in Yorkshire.

My Review: This is one of the best cozy mystery series I discovered in the last years: well plotted, light but featuring a cast of well plotted and clever characters. It always makes me wish I could travel to Whitby and I always enjoyed Nelson’s antics, he’s a sweet boy. This is another solid mystery that mixes well the different elements, keeps you reading and guessing. There’s plenty of surprising twists and a satisfying solution. Can’t wait to read the next story. Many thanks to Inkubator for this arc, all opinions are mine.

https://www.kippercottagemysteries.co.uk/ https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123128486-death-on-the-stella-mae

Ukulele of Death  by E. J. Copperman (A Fran and Ken Stein Mystery #1)

Meet Fran and Ken Stein - a private investigator duo who refuse to let a little thing like being not entirely human stop them from doing their jobs.

After losing their parents when they were just babies, private investigators Fran and Ken Stein now specialize in helping adoptees find their birth parents. So when a client asks them for help finding her father, with her only clue a rare ukulele, the case is a little weird, sure, but it's nothing they can't handle. But soon Fran and her brother are plunged into a world where nothing makes sense - and not just the fact that a very short (but very cute) NYPD detective keeps trying to take eternal singleton Fran out on dates. All Fran wants to do is find the ukulele and collect their fee, but it's hard to keep your focus when you're stumbling over corpses and receiving messages that suggest your (dead) parents are very much alive. Ukuleles aside, it's becoming clear that someone knows something they shouldn't - that Fran and Ken Stein weren't so much born, as built . My Review: E. J. Copperman’s mysteries are never banal or predictable. When you start reading you know that the characters will be well developed and the mystery solid. And the plot will feature something very original that will make you love the story. This is the weirdest of all and one of the funniest I read this year. There’s a lot of humour and it could be called a cozy speculative mystery or a sci-fi cozy mystery. The definition it’s up to you, I thoroughly enjoyed the story and there were some details that made me laugh loud. There’s always a more serious side about the origin of Fran and Ken even if it’s packed in humour. A solid mystery with some weird twists and a lot of surprises. I loved the solution and hope to read soon other stories featuring these characters. Highly recommended. Many thanks to Severn House for this arc, all opinions are mine.

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3297526.E_J_Copperman https://severnhouse.com/books/ukulele-of-death/

All That Glitters by Mike Martin (The Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series #13)

Sergeant Winston Windflower is moving on to a new chapter of his life, no longer an RCMP officer but now a Community Safety Officer in the small community of Grand Bank, Newfoundland. But when a body is found in the bed and breakfast he co-owns, diamonds are found in the body’s digestive system, and then Windflower’s friend Dr. Sanjay, who was given the diamonds for safe keeping, is kidnapped, it’s clear that crime has returned once more to Grand Bank. Windflower finds himself back in the thick of it, helping his newly promoted friend, RCMP Corporal Eddie Tizzard, track down a ruthless diamond smuggler who will stop at nothing — kidnapping, even murder — to pull off his dirty business.

My Review: . This is an excellent mystery series and I hope a lot of people will read it because it's compelling and well plotted. Sgt Windflower is an interesting character, clever and strong. I fell in love with the descriptions of Newfoundland and it's on my bucket list of places to visit. This is another well plotted mystery, on the cozy mystery side. The pace is even, the plot is tightly knitted and it kept me guessing. A highly recommended series. Many thanks to Mike Martin for this arc, all opinions are mine

https://sgtwindflowermysteries.com/ https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/136278862-all-that-glitters

Rehearsed to Death By Frank Anthony Polito (Domestic Partners in Crime #2)

Hart to Hart via HGTV, this fabulous new quozy (queer cozy) mystery series by award-winning author and playwright Frank Anthony Polito’s features a gay couple who solve crimes while renovating houses in suburban Detroit as part of their hit reality show Domestic Partners . Now, their foray into community theater proves a major risk thanks to some deadly improvisation . . .

Peter’s first play is having its world premiere at Pleasant Woods’s community theater. His handsome one and only, JP, has the lead. Rehearsals have begun. And New York City’s award-winning, hotshot helmer, Xander Sherwood Deva, is directing. Unfortunately the controlling, arrogant, poison-barbed, egomaniacal diva has everyone on edge. No wonder he finally pushes someone over it . . . Xander is found strangled to death in the same extra-long, imported cashmere scarf he’s been brandishing like a boa ever since he arrived. In the name of making art he’s burned a lot of bridges and made a lot of enemies but which one wanted to bring down the curtain on him? As they say in the the show must go on. But not before amateur sleuths Peter and JP become Domestic Partners in Crime and try to solve this deadly real-life drama ahead of opening night.

My Review: Peter and JP are becoming a favorite couple of amateur sleuth as I love their humour and their personality. They remind me some friend of mine and I like how this novels describe how a gay couple life is exactly like any other couple and how the LGBTQ+ community is just people regardless of the gender or sexual orientation. This means that this a good story and there’s a solid mystery. I didn’t like the victim even if he made me think of Oscar Wilde in the XXI century. There’s a lot of twists, there’s a dog, and there’s an entertaining and compelling plot that kept me guessing. There’s humour, a lot of witty dialogues, and a cast of fleshed out characters. I can’t wait to read the next story. Many thanks to Kensington Cozies for this ARC, all opinions are mine

https://www.kensingtonbooks.com/9781496735607/rehearsed-to-death/ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1272874.Frank_Anthony_Polito http://www.frankanthonypolito.com Twitter: fapolito

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

This joke really cinches for me that Fred and Doc Holliday are one and the same. I could very easily imagine Val delivering this line in that silly mustache.

Excellent work! Nice to see the Spartans just being buddies :)

Halo Reloaded: The Bear & The Rabbit

John and Freddie were still partially suited in their Spartan undersuits, looking like two oversized kids in high-tech footie-onesies, nursing drinks that were definitely not on the standard UNSC menu.

The chatter around them was a mix of gossip, gear talk, and the occasional loud outburst over a card game gone wrong. It was the kind of scene where a joke would not only be appreciated but would serve as a minor legend if delivered correctly. Fred, known for his impeccably terrible timing with jokes, sensed an opening as he saw John take a cautious sip of his drink."

John, ever hear the one about the bear and the rabbit doing their business in the woods?" Fred's tone was casual, almost offhand, his grin barely contained as he spoke.

John, who knew Fred's reputation all too well, eyed him suspiciously but couldn’t resist. "No, but something tells me I'm going to regret this. Go on then."

Fred leaned in, his voice conspiratorial. "So, picture this: there's this bear and this little rabbit, right? And they’re both taking a break in the woods... you know, nature’s call and all that."

John’s gaze flickered with amusement and slight dread. He took another tentative sip, bracing himself.

"They're squatting there, side by side, just as casual as you please," Fred continued, clearly enjoying the buildup. "And out of nowhere, the bear turns to the rabbit and goes, 'Hey buddy, you ever have trouble with poop sticking to your fur?'"

The image alone was enough to make John choke a bit on his drink, coughing as he tried to keep up with Fred's absurd narrative.

Fred’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he watched John struggle, placing his drink down now to gesture with his hands as if he were painting a mural of the scene. "Now, this rabbit, he’s a cool character, see? He shakes his head and says, 'Nope, never been a problem for me.'"

John, now fully engaged despite himself, smirked, wiping a hand across his mouth as he anticipated the punchline.

"And then," Fred paused, giving the joke the weight it didn’t deserve, "the bear, he gets this big old grin on his face, grabs the rabbit, and wipes his ass with him."

The reaction was instantaneous. Laughter erupted around them, partly at the joke, mostly at John’s expense, who by now was laughing so hard he had to set his drink aside. He was half-coughing, half-laughing, shaking his head at Fred’s audacity.

"You're awful, you know that, Fred? That's just... that's so wrong." John managed between bouts of laughter, his face red either from choking or the humor, possibly both.

Fred, triumphant, clapped John on the shoulder. "But you laughed, didn’t you? Admit it, you needed that."John, still recovering, nodded amidst his chuckles. "I did, I did. That’s a good one. But remind me to steer clear of any woodland critters if we ever go camping together. You're a danger to wildlife, Fred."

[doingthingsthewriteway]

upcoming works

I’ve got a part 2 for daisy x doc (very fluffy relationship stuff, might make you barf) 

and I’m working on a Madmartigan fic. 

I would love some ideas for Iceman so feel free to send in asks. 

Also, if you also share in my affinity for val, feel free to reach out. 

[dragon-kazansky]

Save a horse

Gender neutral reader

Doc Holliday x Reader

Holliday likes what he sees, and he will let it be known.

Dedicated to @callsignscupcake​

They of course wouldn’t actually say this back then, but how can I resist?​

♡♡♡

Tombstone was a unique place. Therefore, it brought along some unique characters. One such person was a favourite of yours.

John Holliday, or Doc to literally everyone.

Doc didn’t know you at all. You had never dared approach the man, but you have seen him around a lot. Gambling, drinking, walking and talking with the Earp brothers. He always seemed to be around somewhere.

The man in question was up ahead talking to Wyatt Earp. You were doing some chores in town when you spotted him. You couldn’t help but admire him. The pair seemed to be in deep conversation, so you could admire them without concern of them catching you.

Doc was a dying man with a strange sense of humour, but you liked that about him. He was kind to those who gave kindness and stood up to those who tried to start a fight. Doc was also quick on the draw. You had been lucky enough to even witness his gunslinging skills.

A voice called out to the pair from behind you. The two men turned to see who was there. You had a split second to move and make it look like you hadn’t been standing there staring. You kept your head down as you walk, hoping they hadn’t noticed at all.

A pair of eyes follow you as you walk across the street and then disappear out of sight.

You don’t see Doc for a couple days after that. You’ve been busy getting on with things. Keeping to yourself. Business as usual. 

It wasn’t until one evening, while making your way home, that things changed. You were lost in your own mind as you made the walk through town. A walk you knew like the back of your hand. You hadn’t even noticed him step out of the shadows until his arm was around you, and you were then facing the other way. Your snapped back to find yourself tangled up with Doc Holliday himself.

Hs hand was settled on your hip as his arm crossed over your stomach, blocking you from moving. He was flush against your side, or more so, you were flush against his. His crystal eyes shone with mischief as his lips quirked upward into a cheeky grin.

The fox had the rabbit.

“A fine evening for two fine people to meet, wouldn’t you agree?” He says, coughing a little at the end.

“Pardon?”

“Not yet. I feel your eyes on me, but our gazes never quite meet. Always fleeing the scene before we ever get a chance to speak.”

You look around you, but only find that everyone else is just passing by and getting on with their day. You’re not quite sure what’s happening and find yourself at a slight loss.

“I don’t understand,” you say.

He chuckles slightly and lowers his arm from you. You find yourself turning rather chilly without his touch upon you.

“I see you often, but you always disappear before I can even make a move. Are we destined to be in this town together but never meet? Does a dying man not get a chance with pleasant company? Perhaps my reputation chases you away.”

You frown.

“Not at all. You’re one of the best gunslingers in this town.”

He perks up at that. Plush lips quirked into a cheeky grin.

“Is that so?”

“You know so,” you say. “If you don’t mind, I was on my way home.”

Holliday does not move. Instead, he offers you his arm. You stare at it with confusion. He couldn’t possibly be offering to walk you home. Surely, he has a game to win, a drink to have, Earps to keep company.

“May I?” He asks, seeing you not make a move to accept.

Well, you do after that.

Doc feels rather smug as you take his arm and allow him the honour of your company. You both walk casually through town, with you guiding him the way. 

Not once does he take his eyes off of you. You can feel his steely gaze on you as you walk.

“What is it that captured your gaze, darling?”

You avoid meeting his eyes as you look ahead.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I don’t know? That I haven’t seen you? Always looking from afar, never stepping any closer. The beauty that’s forever out of reach. Never have I wanted something more,” he says, voice dropping low, lips drawing ever closer to your ear.

You swallow softly.

How can one man hold all the cards and show them to you before the game is over? Unless he’s bluffing, but what does he benefit from that? He doesn’t know you.

“Your pursuit signals are confusing me. Is this genuine?” You ask him.

“I have never been more honest in my life.”

“How could John Holliday possibly want to waste his time with me?” You ask.

“Waste? Not at all. People like you are rare in a town like this. I am lucky to even be given a moment of your time now.”

“You came up to me,” you remind him.

“Exactly. You were never going to come to me willingly. I had to take matters into my own hands and snare you into my trap.”

“Trap?”

“These arms, dear. A cage you may never wish to be freed from.”

He was smooth. Smoother than you thought possible. It was clear why people were either fond of him or despised him. He knew how to work the opinions of others.

You come to a stop, and he stops with you.

“This is me,” you say.

Doc turns to the house. It’s small and out of the way of the main city streets. Yes, it’s quite you, he thinks.

Reluctantly, he lets go of you. Yet, you don’t move from his side. You meet his eyes at last and he smiles.

“I feared you were repulsed at the sight of me.”

You’re shocked to hear that.

“How could anyone be repulsed at the sight of you? I’m sure handsome men like you get many gazes from others,” you say.

“Quite. Not all friendly.” 

You laugh softly. That seems to please him.

Holliday reaches for your hand and holds it within his. He keeps his eyes on yours as he stares at you. You have to turn away after a moment as his gaze becomes too much to hold.

“May our paths cross again.”

“Should you be so lucky,” you say, finding your boldness.

“Oh, I do not need luck.”

You find yourself smiling at him.

“Then I look forward to our next meeting, Doc.”

He grins.

“As do I, darling. As do I.”

He releases your hand from his and lets you move to your house. He stands there and watches you go. Before you are able to disappear into the house, he calls out to you.

“Perhaps next time you would like to ride with me, as opposed to away from me. Save the horse, ride the cowboy, dearest.”

He tips his hat before taking his leave.

You’re left staring at his back as he goes.

Something tells you you’re in for quite the adventure wherever he is concerned. It’s one adventure you find yourself eager to take part in. Doc Holliday was right. His arms are a cage you would willingly fly into.

Perhaps sooner than you think.

[blueeyeddarkknight]

Oh boy it's gonna be a disaster 😂 imagine Jim morrison, Doc Holliday, John Patterson, madmartigan and John Holmes in a room. Lots of alcohol and explosive emotions 🍷💣😂 but also add batman, Chris knight, Simon Templar, gay perry and iceman to the mix. 🧠 🧪💥✈️ Dangerous geniuses with various morals.🙀 I'd love to see that movie please!

If you put all or a handful of Val’s characters in a room and locked it. What conversations would be said in that room? Add in comments or tags. 💛🍪

[anotherimaginescollection]

‘I’m never going to get this!’ you said, exasperated as once again the knife bounced off the side of the target and clattered loudly to the floor. Doc made it look so easy, he spoke about it as if the whole thing was as simple as throwing a ball from hand to hand. And yet, when you tried to follow suit, you simply couldn’t fathom how he’d done it.

‘OK,’ he said softly, moving in front of you, hand reaching to stop you from grabbing another knife. ‘Start slow. Figure out the elbow movement.’

He demonstrated the motion that you needed, spoke you though how to rectify it at times, and even helped you with the movement itself before moving onto the wrist. Once he was done he finally handed you another knife.

‘Now try.’

You heaved a deep breath, ran the previous instructions through your head, and tried again. This time the knife sailed through the air and hit the target, burying itself close the edge but not falling out.

‘I did it!’ you exclaimed, pulling Doc in for a hug, who chuckled softly.

‘Yes you did, (Y/n), yes you did,’ he said, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know that he was smiling at you.

A/N: Gif credit goes to the respective owners; I just found them on Google (added the links here and here).