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deadboyfriendd · 1 month ago

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I Hope This Letter Finds You Well.

Summary: It is already so hot that it burns. The sheriff had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn't decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heatstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this.

A culmination of letters shared between family and new friends turns into a stand-off at the tarmac of Tucson, Arizona.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Sheriff/Wyatt Earp!Steve Harrington x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, Sherrif!Steve (he has a mustache), guns and gun violence, death of minor original characters, death of a spouse, period-appropriate death, drug use, angst, fluff, save a horse, ride a cowboy, feminine rage embodied (I couldn't give her a gun this time because, if I did, everyone would be dead), eventual discussion of The Civil War and the politics that came from it.

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Author's Note: This is it. Bisbee is here and it feels like I'm breathing life back into my cowboys through my sheriff. This is so, so special to me and @dr-aculaaa, and I cannot wait to tell you all their stories.

Find the series masterlist here!

“When the lambs is lost in the mountain, he said. They is cry. Sometime come the mother. Sometime the wolf.” Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian

Nellie,

I believe that the face of death is a woman, and that she is beautiful.

I believe that she may have loved my betrothed, at least as long as there was breath in his lungs and a thrum in his chest. I believe that William looked into her dark eyes and followed her into that unknown place, and I know, there, he might finally find something to still his mind.

I believe that she kissed him good and hard, Nellie, in a way that I could not have done– that she danced her spindly dance clear across the desert, through the plains of the midlands, and splashed in the bayou of Louisiana until she found him.

I believe that death is a friend to our family, that her sinewy arms loom over our men in an embrace that we can not provide, and I believe that she is warm. Much warmer than you or I have been created to be. I believe she walks alongside us, whispers into the ear of our husbands, and laughs as they dance their troublesome dances.

I believe she is kind, much kinder than us, for why else would our men leave the safety of us for her? I cannot fathom it, Nellie.

I no longer believe that death is cold and harsh, for I know that no man could be as cruel as she.

We were always cut from the same cloth, in life, and now in death.

Signed, your cousin.

He could have said that he never wanted any trouble, and he could have said he didn’t go around picking fights, yet both seemed to find him with speed and vigor. He sought them out, begged for the metallic heat to seep from behind his teeth and drip down his lips like ambrosia. The boy could not read nor write, yet also harbored a taste for mindless violence– his gangly teenage frame a harbinger of death.

The monsoon was fast approaching, dark clouds filling the sky in an apocalyptic haze, though the Lord knew this land needed it. The rain came down in heavy sheets, droplets weighing deep against the flesh and warm in strides. The powder dust beneath it stirred and settled in waves, and he prayed for no wind, for the wall of dust that would overtake them in the future just might suffocate him. He cried out in thirst, having mistaken this anguish for freedom. All he could do was turn his mouth towards the sky and hope it would wash away the rawness in his throat.

This heaviness did not go away with time nor age. The boy-now-man sifted through the powder silt of the remnants of his life the same way he sifted through these crises as a child, though with more sure steps and a heavier hand for subtlety. He no longer craved ambrose violence gilded in the candied sheen of shed blood, though it did not stop searching for him.

He was out with lanterns, in search of himself.

There used to be nothing here but a broad expanse of mirage, the heat rising from the sand and warping the distance into a false lake like a sick joke. He remembered the settlement. The miners came first, then the saloons, and dance halls. The cattle drovers and thieves would follow suit to reap their fortunes, but the plume of the mines came first.

Still there is hope, an old miner had said to him, for I know of two Bibles in town.

Though men of God and men of war both have strange affinities, it would seem.

War, much like God, was here long before man. It crouched its ugly pose and waited for his arrival. The ultimate trade awaits the ultimate practitioner.

Today, the oak planks, rotted from years in the sun, groan in the same anguish beneath his boots and he ignores it as much as the God he prayed to ignored his own cries. The bright orange of globe mallow presses its way between the planks, soft resilience even in this heat. When he reaches down to touch it, it crumbles between hardened finger pads.

This township felt like a tunnel, a vignette blurring the Gaussian edges of its structures that settled like graves. His boots sunk a lowly sulk through the banks of the roads where wagon wheels had pushed them from their packing. He still felt the nothingness here, vast openness in which he awaited a tomahawk crowning, sinking into the same sand on his knees, candy-coated in that gilded red gloss.

Through the nothingness there was a stirring, his eyes fixated on the microburst brewing along the mountain's edge in the distance.

Thunder fades to wheels along tracks.

You’d watched the land turn from green to brown and back again. You’d watch the sun wick the water from the soil and feel it warm your skin. There’s a certain disdain that fills your chest like liquid when you picture Nellie on this trail. There was no train west to take. There was no railway.

Did Nellie still look like her mother? Had her mouth begun to crease with a perpetual smile? Was her hair still long and did she still let it fall in ringlets down her back? Surely, she had not sounded the same in her letters, though, this sullen stranger had still signed the letters with the same swooping motions.

As the trees became sparse and turned into gangly, reaching boojums, you realized just how far from home you had been. You had never left the great state of Louisiana but, had run those riverbeds and marshes ragged with bare feet, had run heels hard against the hollow tomb of that old paddle boat. Could you be as wild as the West? Would it love you in the same way the marshes had? Wrap you in its mossy embrace and let you sink beneath stagnant water in wait?

But for what?

The sharecropping had been a logical by-product of everything your father had fought for in the war, rock salt and nails and hand over first for years under the lead of General Benjamin F. Butler, though no one could foresee the way the plantation had hemorrhaged money after he took on nearly ten hired men, or the way the land had would have dwindled to nothing had you not taken that ghastly, ugly burden against your back, one heavy enough to spur you west. One heavy enough that even the sting of the sunburn did nothing to quell the ache that you still felt in your chest against it.

You watched the life drain from this land, music and the lush green of the coming summer turning to sweltering, daguerreotype daydreams. You pressed your palm against the glass and sighed.

It was already warm enough to burn.

When you pressed your face against the glass, you could feel the rumble of the hardened earth beneath the sodden tracks. The dried parchment of letters scraped against themselves where they pooled in the makeshift reservoir of your dresses ruched into your lap– just high enough so that your ankles could feel any movement within the waning stagnation of air in the train car.

You tore the one on top open with your thumb– the last one to remain unopened. Its straight edge was too sharp and angled perfectly as you pulled at it, the edge of your thumb already pooling cherry beads of blood where it rippled.

“Shit.” you cursed.

Gilded eyes peered towards you, slicing through the silence of this welling heat like ice. Had it been dark, they would have glowed. Ladies in Parisian hats tailing the woeful gazes of their well-tailored merchant husbands turning towards the spectacle that was you. Young. Unmarried. Unaccompanied and profane in your lack of grace aboard the train to the lawless lands. Maybe, by God’s hand, you had been cut from the same cloth as this lawless place– the rumble of the tracks a song to the listlessness that stirred in your chest like silt in distant waters.

You dismissed the judgment, the venom of it all sliding off of you like that same water against a duck’s back, turning your attention back towards the product of your own disdain: Nellie’s letter, signed, sealed, and delivered to your last known location.

Cousin,

Your father has sent word about your arrival in Tucson, and I will meet you at the train depot in due time. I do hope that, in time, the heat of this land may dry your tears in the same way it has mine.

I fear that you may not recognize me upon your arrival to Tucson, my face has grown harder and my body less soft. You will become this way, too. I am tough. I am afraid this place has weathered me like old leather.

I have asked the sheriff to accompany me to the train depot in Tucson, and he has happily obliged. I didn’t think you would mind much, either.

The sheriff is a nice man, as I am sure you have come to find, however, this land has hardened him in the same way it has hardened Edward and I. In the same way, it took Wilhelm as payment for some grander, more horrendous scheme. I do not ask you to excuse his shortcomings– or mine– but I do ask that you try to understand us.

Though it is better now than it has ever been, this place is still not like Louisiana. This land is lawless. This land is tough. This land does not make promises or send prayers. It exists as it is, rough and unbinding– blistering for all it is worth.

We are the law, here.

If we lose our morality, we lose everything.

I will see you soon. I love you.

Nellie.

It was an unspoken truth that there was something broken much deeper within them that they had shared some form of solidarity within. Somehow, in some way, Nellie and Steve had shared something they never wanted you to see, but, even now, something was different about her in more recent letters that you couldn’t quite differentiate.

Perhaps it was the way she told you she loved you. She hadn’t written those three words since writing of Wilhelm’s death. Maybe she said it then in search of the love she had lost, had looked for shreds of it to mend herself back together. Maybe Edward had done that for her, and maybe now she had some left to give. You hoped that much for her.

Edward was an entity unknown to you– a phantom in his own respects. He reaped his own form of morosity in the way he loved Nellie. He did so in a way that was devouring, in a way that encompassed her in every respect. You had been well past the persuasion of beautiful faces, for a face much like his was the face that launched a thousand ships. Another puppet wielded by The Devil, he was. That holy shape becomes a devil, best.

It was an unholy thing, to resurrect the dead. And, you supposed, Edward had done just that. Nellie’s letters came to an abrupt halt after the announcement of the Death of Wilhelm. Your family, the only remaining kinship to her lineage, had not received a letter from her in over a year.

You’d thought of all of the ways she could have died, but the most plausible cause was a broken heart. Even now, as rolling hills turned to planes and back again, as you watched the horrors that this land reaped, you could not see any of them taking your cousin. No, she was a force to be reckoned with. Not even this land could break her will. No, if she were to die here, now, it would have been by her hand.

And then, by some unforsaken force beyond even your father’s control, Nellie breathed once more. Her letters were flowery, her writing curling into crashing waves of stories told. You watched as this solemn stranger breathed life back into Nellie, something as cruel and unusual as beauty in this place unseen and unheard of for years, beauty unseen to Nellie since Wilhem was killed.

You knew of only unholy things that fed upon the dead– that breathed an ugly, hot breath back into their lungs and pulled them from the sodden earth in which they lay. Edward was not entirely truthful, that much you could tell.

You supposed you and Edward had shared that sentiment, in some way.

The Whispering Sands was still not the ritzy bar. That was still located in the lobby of The Grand Hotel, just footsteps from where The Sheriff stood now, planks still singing their groaning songs of protest beneath his legs, still stiff with sleep or nerves or years of failed prayer.

His footfall fell heavy against the hollow floors, the weight of him reverberating against the early hum of the bar. The dealer was still as straight as a Christmastime wreath, though, now, he knew that this one could at least shoot in the right direction. You no longer needed to carry when you walked through, your spare now confined to below the counter out of sheer caution and the guiding hands of ghosts alone. The doors didn’t hang crooked anymore, the dealer making fast work of fixing all of the things Nellie had pushed to the back burner in relentless disembowelment of her own self-preservation that she so readily gave to him in the form of softened twine and spoken promises tightened around ring fingers.

The Sheriff would not be so easy. His self-preservation ran deeper than that.

Nellie knew it, knew that his roots were wrapped around something vital within him, something deeper than hers– something from a time before her, before this town, and before the West was wild.

The echo of him reverberated off of the walls of the bar, bounced off of the piano, and rattled the windows. It demanded her attention long before the brass bell of the front door rang and the heavy oak clattered against the frame.

8:50. Like clockwork.

In the times before, just after Wilhelm, he would stop in and buy a cigar, though, to this day, she had never seen him smoke. She never inquired it, and he never inquired her.

There was a solidarity in their grief, and it never quite, even now that she felt happy more times than not. She had a sneaking suspicion he was there for something other than a cigar every morning, but she pulled one from the humidor and took his money anyway. There had been a time where she insisted it was on the house. It wasn’t worth the fight, now.

He looked different today. Still sullen is his strange, tortured way, but there was almost something beautiful about it, about the way he ruminated in this state of torture. Even in the way his stagnation had turned into just that with time, something seemed to still sit there in wait, leaden in the pit of his chest.

He looked like the face of a handbill like this, enveloped in all black. Square-toed boots with black trousers that made him look ganglier than he was, made him loom over Nellie more than he already did. His black frock coat dusted his calves at a three-quarter length, and a black bolo tie covered as much of the stark white high-collar as possible. On the hat rack by the door sat his usual wide-brimmed Stetson, and, from just behind the plain silver of his belt buckle, the Colt Burtline Special shone in the light.

He looked fit for a funeral.

He walked like he beckoned the apocalypse in clouds of rolling thunder behind him. When his heels pressed into the softened sand, the earth quaked beneath it. The weight of him made the stagecoach groan on its hinges– leaden and heavy with the weight of something bigger than settled silt within his chest, kicked up like the sand behind horse hooves and stagecoach wheels.

Parchment sat like lead in his lap, curdling there and souring something that had sat too long. Cracking fingers curled around your words like poison, sweetened with sasparilla whiskey, golden ambergris letters seeping into him and warming his throat like bile and molten gold. He opened the first one with a nimbleness unlike one he had ever known, and read it once more:

25 April, 1894

To the Sheriff that this letter finds,

I am afraid your letter has found me in a state of disrepair. I have never been one for niceties and I am afraid I do not have it in me to start now.

My betrothed had never known peace in life, and I am afraid that he may not ever know it in death, wherever that plane Hell may be.

Maybe it is I that has died, and maybe it is I that walks across this Hell. Maybe it is my own doing that brought me to this. Maybe I am the creature of my own undoing. I am not a nice girl, Steve. Not the nice girl you think I might be.

We were raised like leather, stretched and scraped to be tough in the way that our mothers were, unbending and unbreaking as they had been. They were not forgiving, nor were they kind. Nellie was once that way, too. Though, I fear that your desert sun has softened her. That it changed something deeper within her in a way that she may be someone I no longer recognize.

I plan to arrive in Tucson by train on the first of October. Maybe this sun will soften me in the same way it has softened my cousin. Maybe I don’t want it to.

Though I hope for my tomorrow to be kind, I have an inkling that it never will be, for this life had never had a kindness to offer.

I’ll be the one in white.

I will see you then, Sheriff.

He pictures the way you will step off the train, white linens spilling over the threshold of it by some sickened grace of the hand of an unkind God. He both relished in it and could not bear the thought. He thought of linens hiked over knees and rucked up under the fabric of itself, a depiction of the implosion of his world.

He had already lived this, soft hair against soft legs and white linens shed in a dustbowl around shared space and soft, breathlessness passed between lips. He had felt this kind of softness before– had known this tender touch of a woman outside of the mother he never had.

It was the first time he had ever been touched gently.

Even Nellie’s hand seemed gruff as it gripped his shoulders in a grounding movement, his eyes slowing with the movement of reading and dissipating into blankness an indicator that he had gone somewhere that even she would never be allowed to see. It was a look she had known all too well.

“I’m afraid she might not like me much.” He whispered, low enough for Eddie to not be able to hear– or, at least, low enough so he could pretend not to. She knew what he meant by this, another feeling chased after her own reanimated heart.

Nevertheless, she avoided the philosophical nature of it all, answering him with the only thought she had: “I’m afraid she might not like anyone much, Steve.” She starts, and the questioning gaze he gives her urges her to continue.

“It wasn’t easy for her, either, Steve.” She starts with another sigh, now more like the weight was being pressed out of her lungs from the weight that she felt, “Most of the time, it was out right hard.”

“We’ve all had it hard, Nellie. Nothing about this life has been particularly easy.” Steve says back. He didn’t mean it to be as harsh as it was. She knew that, though it didn’t stop that initial sting of his dismissiveness.

“William wasn’t a nice man, no matter how much she loved him.” She tells him, louder this time and too fast. Eddie couldn’t help the the way his eyes are drawn to her from where they are fixed to the periscope of landscape before them, “Forgive her if she isn’t welcoming.”

To the Lady that may find this letter, I hope it finds her well

Tucson still radiates heat at this time of year, the mirage at the end of town makes the expanse of land between here and the mountains feel both endless and right in front of you at the same time. It warps like the heat is melting space and time itself. Nevertheless, the first blooms of orange mallow have begun to open in a patch where the stagecoach stopped.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he was inclined to plock them from the ground and brush the dirt from their roots.

It seems the desert knew you would board the train in New Orleans and set west for us, and wanted to welcome you with its kindest hello. The desert is not kind, but she would make an exception for someone like you, I would suppose.

The wheels screech along the wrought iron of the track as they slow to a halt– and he swears, just for a single, fleeting moment, his heart stops with them. There is a stream of people that step down. Ladies with large hats and square-shouldered men in frock coats not unlike his. He wonders if you will know your face before Nellie does– wonders if he knows who you are just from the curls of your letters.

And then, you were there.

You were unremarkable in every way possible, though, at a closer glance, you had chosen to forego a bustle and corset. Instead, the pliant lines of your body undefined against a white buttoned shirt and a long dark skirt. A plain, flat-brimmed stetson sat against the crown of your head, just enough to obscure your face from his view.

Your cousin is very kind. I like to think that you are kind like her, though, I also hope that you are tough in the same way that she is.

He steps forward, his hands sticky with sweat or the sap of the stems of the orange mallow crushed beneath a pressing grip, he isn’t sure. As he steps on to the tarmac, he remembers his manners– remembers that he isn’t an animal and you are not inherently dangerous, and pulls off his hat, pressing it to his chest as he holds an arm out stiffly towards you without any further introduction.

You see the star against his chest, pressed silver pinned there like a placard on the spectacle of the man before you, and know that this is him– that this is the entity whom has spilled his heart to you over parchment and ink and blood, “Well, now, those are awfully pretty, sheriff.” You say to him, looking down at the crushed orange matter in his hands. They have already begun to wilt.

“I have an affinity for pretty things.”

He flirts shamelessly with you, and something deep within you stirrs. It is not the schoolgirl crush you harbored with William. It isn’t even akin to love, but something worse and something ugly. His letters and flowery words and then his backtracking and condolences meddle into one ugly mass of insult. No, this thing that rose in you was not love, nor was it even a cousin. It was hate. Blinding, furious hate.

“And I have an affinity for men who can make up their minds.” You nod towards him, reaching towards the tarmac for the cracking handle of your green steamer trunk, especially now that the gangly, lean man you presume is Edward reaches for it.

There is a moment in time where everyone freezes. Both Nellie and her husband, as well as the sheriff before you. They are walking a thin line, one akin to the silver thread between life and death. The tension is palpable, and Nellie shatters the thing you cling to for resolve like glass:

“Now you’re being outright childish–”

She sucks in a breath when you snap, the wild dogs that live within your chest writhing and pulling against chains as you release whatever hurt and pain you held in your heart towards her. Everything you had wanted to say, everything you wanted to scream back at her once she had resurrected. You weilded them now as weapons against her.

“You sure are one to talk about childish, Nellie. You ran in the other direction when things got hard, and then you up and died on us.”

“I’m not dead. I was never dead.”

“Well, I have a hard time believing that.”

The Sheriff and the tall man take a step back behind Nellie, shrink away from your thunderous roar as if you might actually bite. The leather of your handle and the steamer dropping from your hand with had resonant patriarchal basso against the tarmac. Time has frozen in place, but people continue to swirl around you in a flurry of haste and posthaste annoyance. Silver tears well against the pink line of her eyes, and you are acutely aware that yours are a mirror image.

Steve had faced many things. He had killed men with his bare hands, he had been covered in so much blood that he couldn’t decipher theirs from his own. He had known starvation, heartstroke, and tragedy. Though, he had never known this– his wife was only ever tender.

He can see the rage drip from your mouth like hot, molten tar, can see the tears well in your eyes like casted silver against the mold of your face– the way a single one cools and leaves a residual streak against the ashen skin of your cheek. You want to love Nellie, in the same way she wanted to love Edward, and in the way he loved his wife. He can see it, that burning want so bad that it becomes hatred. That kind of love whose flame burns blue.

He knows Nellie loves you, too, but also knows how dangerous it is to speak it aloud– lest that vile maiden Death may hear it.

Your eyes stare holes into him, burn against his abdomen from where you fix them. He had heard of women becoming alight with lust born from rage before, but had not though of you to be insane enough to eye him in a familiar way right here on the tarmac. That blue flame affixed to him and warming him from the inside, as well.

“That’s an awfully ugly belt buckle, sheriff.” You speak, finally, breaking the silence and restoring some semblance of order to this congregation.

This place is not forgiving, nor is it kind. I hope that your heart is not faint, and I hope that this place is kinder to you than it has been to us.

With warmest regards,

Steven Harrington

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #sheriff!steve harrington #cowboy!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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s-awturn · 2 months ago

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Sometimes it's hard to have a fertile mind because I'm watching Wyatt Earp and The Cowboy War and all I can think about is what I can write based on that...

By the way, the guy who plays Morgan Earp is so cute, my goodness.

#wyatt earp #morgan earp #What else can I write since I already have a lot to write about?#sawturn's rants

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myhauntedsalem · 7 months ago

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1858 Garnett House Hotel

Garnett, Kansas

Garnett House was built in 1858 by D.W. Houston and was opened as a hotel by Hiram Tefft in the fall of that year. The building sits at the corner of Fourth Avenue and Walnut in the town of Garnett, Kansas. The building was the first hotel in town and had several additions built onto the building. It was said that Mrs. Houston refused to move into the original building due to it’s swaying in the breeze. The hotel became known as The Garnett House and also the Lighthouse Hotel due to it’s bright lantern on the top floor which could be seen for miles at that time. It is the only surviving antebellum structure in the town of Garnett, Kansas.

As a hotel, the building has been a witness and a participant to many events in it’s near 160-year history, including a participant in the Underground Railroad. During the time known as Bleeding Kansa. It is said that the famous Abolitionist John Brown hid escaped slaves in the attic of the home. This is said to have happened around 1859 just prior to the American Civil War.

During the 1870s, the town of Garnett became a crossroads of cowboys, settlers headed West and citizens. It literally became the scene out of the Old West with saloons, brothels, and gunfights in the streets. It was during this time that the hotel hosted some of it’s most famous guests.

The guest list includes famous lawmen Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, and Wild Bill Hickock. It also includes famous scout Buffalo Bill Cody who was traveling with Hickock at the time. Belle Starr the famous female cowboy shooter was also a guest of the hotel. The famous outlaw Jesse James was also rumored to have stayed here under one of his many aliases.

After this time, the hotel eventually became a private residence once larger and more modern hotels began to appear in the town of Garnett. In the early 1950s, the building became the Doctor’s Office of Dr. Robert Stevens and his wife Dr. Julius-Stevens. They treated patients in the old hotel up until the 21st Century.

Every mystical place has its tales. There is a story of a woman poisoning her husband with rabbit poison, and how she was imprisoned in the Garnett house before being rescued.

Screams in the night have been heard on EVP recordings have been pulled from digital recordings at the Garnett House. One of the most disturbing elements of these screams is that they appear to come from a child.

The Garnett hotel has been investigated many times. The current owners are very interested in preserving the precious history that this old inn holds beneath its walls.

#1858 Garnett House Hotel #haunted hotels #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #paranormal phenomena #supernatural #ghosts #spirits #hauntings

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valleydean · 3 months ago

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credit where credit's due to the way these two actors delivered these lines though. they came on set that day and said "we are ABSOLUTELY telling a love story"

#i love docatt crumbs #docatt #wyatt earp and the cowboy war

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friendly-books · 5 months ago

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Dresden files Brief cases and Monster live blog

A fistful of warlock

The American West was not the most miserable land I have ever traveled but it came near it.” pg. 16 Excuse me what nonsense are you talking about Luccio? The Midwest is great.

I like the nacken

“The warlock would hide in the rough part town-his kind could rarely find sanctuary among stolid, sober townsfolk” pg. 18 His kind? Kind? He’s still a person.

Cool spectacles

“The current Captain of the Wardens, a man named McCoy, a man with great deal more powerful and experience than me, had brought down three.” pg. 24 Eb mention

“Not only that, but such an action would brake one of the Council’s unspoken laws: Wizards were expected to minimize the use of their abilities in the presence of magic-ignorant mortals.” pg. 25 Harry breaking spoken and unspoken laws

“My name is Wyatt Earp” said the deputy “And I think I’m the law” pg. 29 I like Wyatt

“Thule Society” pg. 30 Isn’t that the thing Thomas and Ivy is apart of?

“He will be fairly tried, and then, I expect, beheaded for his crimes.”

Earp examined the fingers nails of his right hand. “A real fair trial?” pg. 34 Yep real fair :|

“Well Bill’s partner” pg. 38 GAY COWBOYS!

“You’re willing to challenge an entire town to a fight? For the sake of your friend’s salon?” pg. 41 Is…is Luccio type people who stand up for the right thing? Like Harry and Earp. No one wonder she and Morgan didn’t get together

“It was then that the drum began beating, a slow, steady cadence in the darkness.” pg. 42 Oh no necromancers

“Rage, pure and undiluted, rage that this man, this creature, would spurn his responsibility to humanity and distort the power that created the universe itself into something so obscene, so foul.” pg. 51 Whoa there Luccio let’s not call people ‘creatures’ that’s how dehumanizing begins at that’s bad

“Kemmler” pg. 55 Oh no him that’s not his last time around

B is for Bigfoot

“Volkswagen beetle” pg. 60 Blue Beetle!

“I’m not a moron, usually.” pg. 60 Ha

“The whole PI gig is mostly about patience.” pg. 60 It’s fun seeing Harry being a pi after several books of him not being one

“My jaw dropped open. I mean it literally dropped open.” pg. 62 Ha

Bigfoot!

I like Dr. Helena Pounder

“But how did I hookup with a BigFoot?” pg. 67 I mean we were all wondering so…

“People can overreact to things when their kids get involved.” pg. 71 Yep you’ll find out soon enough Harry

“I winced. I knew where this was going. I’d seen it before, when it had been me with the book and the lunch tray.” pg. 73 Poor Harry poor Irwin

I like Irwin

I don’t like Couch Pete

“He is a Whitestone,” he said “They sharpen their instincts upon him. He is good for them.” pg. 84 He’s a child

I like Harry’s speech to Irwin

Go Irwin!

AAAA Wizardly

“They all look so darn young.” The close second was “Myers God I’m I getting older” pg. 106 Poor Harry

“The war had simply made the penalty for not learning quite a bit steeper.” pg. 107 Poor kids

I like Harry teaching the young wardens

“Oh God” she said “I think I like you”

“Give it time” pg. 117 Ha

“I’ve never met anyone who was breathing who I thought was too far gone to help.” pg. 122 Aw Harry

Boogeyman

“Only kids can sense them” pg. 123 Oh interesting

I’m glad the family got better

I was a teenager Bigfoot

“I’m in the ninety ninth percentile for height, but this guy was tall.” pg. 144 Yep

“You have an unsophisticated sense of humor.” pg. 145 Yes he does

River Shoulders!

“He was a good-looking man” pg. 151 Bi Harry 39

I can’t believe Irwin’s already a teenager

“I can’t think of anything sexier first impression than a man quoting Yakko and Wakko Warner” pg. 154 Ha

“Optio” pg. 159 New spell

“It was beautiful magic, which was rare for me.” pg. 159 Aw

“My record for going without sleep was just under six days” pg. 168 Harry you need sleep

“Wah” I said, Bruce Lee style” pg. 172 Ha

“You used black magic. To grow hair.” pg. 178 Seriously :|

“And I had no intention of turning anyone over to the tender mercies of the Wardens if I could possibly avoid.” pg. 179 Yep

Curses

“I mean I didn’t take my feet down off my desk or anything. But I payed attention.” pg. 184 Ha

“Mr. Dovovan” I said “no one does discretion like me.” pg. 189 Ha

More lore yay!

“Weregoats” pg. 202 Ha

I like Jill

“Gwynn ap Nudd” pg. 211 Where have I heard that name before

“ruggedly handsome” pg. 211 Bi Harry 40

Since when did Harry get so many titles?

“I’d like to see them to beat out the Yankees.”

“Who wouldn’t? Bloody Yankees” pg. 213 Ha and yes beat the Yankees

I like Geynn

Yes baseball is very serious business

“I have this weird thing where I take professional ethics seriously.” pg. 219 Yep

“They’re going to fight through it eventually.” pg. 222 Yep and they did in 2016

“Gwynn ap Nupp’s handsome face broke into a smile” pg. 223 Bi Harry 41

Even Hand

EVEN HAND TIME BABY!!!

I’m so excited for this short story

“A successful murder is like a successful restaurant: Ninety percent of it is about location, location, location” pg. 226 Ha and I probably shouldn’t have laughed at that

“They knelt over a large faded stain the concrete floor, left on the floor by the hypocritical White Council of Wizardly during their last execution.” pg. 226 Is Marcone making a point by having this executive here? How does Marcone know about the execution? And yes the White Council is hypocritical. We now have three canonical warehouses in all of Chicago. They just cycle through them.

“The man was young and good looking.” pg. 226 Is…is Marcone Bi? Gay? Bi Marcone 1

Oh Marcone is doing the execution himself

Why Boston? That’s so far away

Mr. Morell is the mob boss of Chicago

“I run the whores” pg. 227 Marcone that’s rude to say. It’s either sex worker or seamstress

Marcone your putting the one alive guy in a shipping container with his dead colleagues.

“He twitched his chin in the slight motion that he used for a nod when he disproved of my actions but intended to obey be anyway.” pg.227 Marcone knows Hendricks well

“Location, location, location” pg. 228 Ha nice call back

“Obviously, I am not Harry Dresden” pg. 228 First Harry Dresden mention

“My name is something I rarely trouble to remember, but for most of my adult life, I have been called John Marcone.” pg. 228 John Marcone isn’t his actual name!?

“I’m not even possessed of the mystic abilities of a mortal wizard.” pg. 228 Not yet

Yes they broke Marcone rules about kids

“He was hunched over a laptop too small for him, plugging away at his thesis” pg. 230 Hendricks has a thesis?! Cool

“The problem was young and attractive.” pg. 230 Bi Marcone 2

Justine!

“You are a sometime associate of Harry Dresden” I said “Given his proclivities about those he considers to be under his aegis, it is sensible to identify as many of them as possible.” pg. 232 Of course Marcone keeps track of Harry and his friends. And Marcone you do the same with your employees.

I like that Marcone renovates old buildings instead of tearing them down.

Oh the Formor

“Précis please,” pg. 234 Of course Marcone know French

Hendricks knows how to use a sword!?

“I don’t grant favors” You don’t? What about helping save the thralls in White Knight? Or giving Harry info in Changes?

“He blasted the door into a cloud of flying splinters with what I presumed with magic.” pg. 235 Ha

“For God’s sake

At least the vampires would call for an appointment.” pg. 235 Ha

“After a few visits from Dresden and his ilk I’ve invested in cheap, light doors at dramatic (as opposed to tactical) entry points.” pg. 235 Ha and glad to see Harry left an impression. Has Harry noticed the flimsy doors?

“Sir. Please” pg. 236 If Harry was the one asking and saying please Marcone would cave and agree

“Is it so much to ask for civility?” pg. 236 Ha and you should be used to this with Harry

Ohhh copper circle nice

“you are property. You have no rights in the current situation” pg. 241 Marcone Justine isn’t property she’s a person

“I am not a humanitarian. When I offer charity it is for tax purposes.” pg. 241 Lying to yourself Marcone. Again what about the Raith deeps? What about the info he gave Harry in Changes? No wait this takes place before Changes. What about Amanda? What about saving Harry when Gard said he was to die?

“Hendricks looked at me sharply. He didn’t say anything he didn’t have to. I already knew the tone of whatever he would say. Are there no prisons? perhaps. Or, no man was an island, entire of itself. It tolls for thee. On and on.” pg. 243 Thank you Hendricks for being Marcone’s jimmy cricket/concussion

Yes she is a child

“It is, with the possible exception of Dresden’s home, the most secure location in the city.” pg. 245 Oh interesting that Marcone considers his safe house the second most secure place. He clearly respects Harry given his assessment of his abilities. How does Marcone know that Harry has the best? Could Gard not make the room the best?

“Honestly” pg. 246 Ha he’s so sarcastic

“They make the anti technology effect Dresden puts off looks like mild sunspot activity” pg. 248 Harry mention again that’s the fifth time and Harry isn’t even here

“I first handed in my patriotically delusional youth” pg. 250 Marcone was in the military?!

Oh no Hendricks :(

Ouch Marcone broke his arm

“Given a choice between that egocentric drivel and a broken arm, I prefer the latter.” pg. 253 Ha

Interesting armor that Gard has

“Be a dear and burn down the building” I said

She appeared by my desk looking bruised, exhausted, and functional. She lifted both eyebrows. “Was that a joke?

“Apparently,” I said “Doubtless the result of triumph and adrenaline.”

“My word” she said. She looked startled” pg. 261 Marcone’s funny and why is Gard surprised? Harry and Marcone banter all the time

“Make it look like an accident.” pg. 261 So insurance fraud. What would Harry be under acts of God?

“quarter of a million dollars” pg. 261 Marcone just has that kind of money?

“He seemed fine by the time he left, growling at Gard as she fussed over him.” pg. 262 Aw

“To say nothing of the fact that the bullets themselves are rare.” pg. 262 Interesting

“Dear child,” I said “I am a criminal. One very good way to cover up a crime is to commit an another, more obvious one.” pg. 263 Marcone is so smart

“You might consider speaking to Father Forthill at St. Mary of the Angles. The Church appears to have some sort of program to place those endangered by the supernatural into hiding.” pg. 264 Interesting

“I debated putting a bullet in her head but decided against it.” pg. 265 Marcone no and besides didn’t you just talk about Harry and those under his protection

“If she should speak of today’s events to Dresden…” pg. 265 Sixth Harry mention. Did Justine tell Harry? I do wish Harry and Justine interacted more

“They were there to kill Harry Dresden.” pg. 265 Seventh Harry mention Bit dramatic much. I don’t know if all that would kill Harry. The bombs in his office didn’t do it. The sprinkler system might work. Not sure about Gard and the magic bullets. Besides it’s so dramatic. If you want to kill Harry just do what Kincaid did. Sniper rifle but this time aim for the head. This whole plan involves Harry attacking Marcone on his home turf and using magic instead of a gun.

“I would test myself against Dresden in earnest on day” pg. 265 Eighth Harry mention. Besides if they wanted to kill each other they could have done ages ago. Harry doesn’t even threaten Marcone that badly like he did with Marva. Eight mentions of Harry Dresden in one story.

“Location location location” pg. 266 Ha

Bigfoot on campus

“It’s coffee flavored coffee,”

“No mocha?”

“Fuck mocha”

“Thank god” I said. “Black” pg. 267 Ha

“Am I under arrest?”

“That’s what we’re going to talk about” pg. 268 Ha

“you could explain why I found you in the middle of an orgy.”

“Well” I said “if you’re going to be in an orgy the middle is the best spot isn’t it?” pg. 268 Ha

“Maybe you could explain why there was a car on the fourth floor of the dorm”

“Classic college prank” I said

“Usually when that happens, it hasn’t made big holes in the exterior wall.”

“Someone was avoiding cliche?” pg. 269 Ha

“What about all the blood?”

“There were no injuries, were there?”

“No”

“Then who cares? Some film student watched Carrie too many times.” pg. 269 Ha

“Six separate calls in the past three hours with a Bigfoot sighting on campus. Bigfoot. What do you know about that?

“Well kids these days with their internets and their video games and their iPods. Who knows what they thought they saw.” pg. 269 Ha

“They almost never get violated, and when they do, it’s a big deal.” pg. 273 Yeah like starting a war

“In the Midwest, if you show up to a college town on a weekend, you risk running into a football game. In my experience, that resulted in universal problems with traffic, availability hotel rooms, and drunken football hooligans.

Or wait: Soccer is the one with hooligans. Drunken American football fans are just…drunks I guess.” pg. 277 Ha

“There was nothing in particular that should have caused my hormones to rage.” pg. 281 White court vampire calling it now

“They were becoming increasingly flecked with motes of molten silver” pg. 284 I knew it!

Wait I don’t think she knows oh no

“I couldn’t answer him for a second, the air felt so close. The last time I’d felt this much latent waiting power, I’d been standing next to my mentor Ebenezar McCoy, when he was gathering his strength for a spell.” pg. 292 Eb mention

“And this organization called the Paranet” pg. 293 Paranet! This is what I’m talking about information sharing yes

“People don’t want to know the truth. That makes it simple to hide. Wow, ten minutes? Really? I guess I’m not an Internetty person.”

“Internetty” Irwin said, seriously “I guess you aren’t” pg. 294 Ha

“So how come Kid Bigfoot wasn’t dead?” pg. 302 Interesting maybe because he’s got do much life energy Irwin didn’t die?

“The girl was in love with Irwin” pg. 302 I wonder how Connie can touch Irwin without getting burn?

“My son has joined himself to a parasite.”

“I felt a flash of milf outrage” pg. 302 RiverShoulders she’s a person

“I’ll give you till midnight to leave the state. After that you’re gone. One way or another”

“Hang on, I’m terrified let me catch my breath.”

“I react poorly to those who threaten my family’s well being, Dresden.”

“Yeah. You’re a regular Ozzie Nelson. John Walton. Ben Cartwright.

“Excuse me?”

“Mr. Drummond? Charlie…in charge? No?”

“What are you blabbing about?”

“Hells bells, man. Don’t any of you White Court bozos ever watch television? I’m giving you pop-reference golf here. Gold.” pg. 309 Ha

Wild Bill!

“Also, my pants had shrunk by several sizes.” pg. 323 What? Why?

Go Riversholders! He threw a car!

“Don’t be a moron Harry,” I said “You came for the kid. He’s safe. That’s all you were obligated to do. Let it g- Oh who am I kidding. There’s a girl.” pg. 334 Ha

“Wait. A…what? Am I going to sparkle or something?”

“God, no” said Irwin and I together” pg. 340

Bombshell

“I miss my boss” pg. 345 Poor Molly :(

“Harry wouldn’t have felt that. Harry would have saved the day. He would have smashed the Formor goons around like bowling pins, picking the kid up like some kind of serial-movie hero, and taken him to safety.” pg. 346 Hero worship

Justine!

“When you’re in magic, people always assume you do must be connected to it. Harry always thought it was funny. To him, magic was just one more set of tools that the mind could use to solve problems.” pg. 350 Interesting

“I hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings but that kind of thing really wasn’t necessary.” pg. 354 Interesting to see how Molly used Harry’s spell and changed it

“The math wasn’t hard. I had two angles measured against the magnetic north.” pg. 355 Interesting how much math is involved in magic

“That bitch deserved to be run over by a car.” pg. 377 Poor Molly :(

“This isn’t going to work.” Justine murmured

“It’s going to work.” I told her keeping my tone confident. We’ll breeze right in. The Rack will be with us.”

Justine glanced at me with an arched brow “The Rack?”

“The Rack is more than just boobs, Justine” I told her soberly. “It’s an energy field created by all living boobs. It surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together.”

Andi started giggling. “You’re insane.”

“But functionally so,” I said, and adjusted myself to round out a little better. “Just let go of conscious self and act on instinct.

Justine stared blankly at me for a second. Then her face lightened and she let out a little laugh. “The Rack will be with us?”

I couldn’t stop myself from cracking a smile “Always.” pg. 381 Ha

“I spotted Gentleman Jonnie Marcone, the head of Chicago’s outfit, in attendance, with his gorilla, Hendricks, and his personal attack witch, Gard, floating around near him.” pg. 385 Marcone! Again with that spelling. Why is Molly calling Hendricks a gorilla and Gard a attack witch?

“Too easy,” I whispered “This was too easy.” pg. 397 Yep something’s up

“Mortal upstart. Calling himself a baron. He will pay for what he did to my brother.” pg. 403 Marcone! This is the brother of the Formor from Even Hand

“Miss Gard freaked out about two minutes ago and all but carried out Marcone out of here. Security is mobilizing.” pg. 407 Why am I picturing Gard bride carrying or fireman carrying Marcone?

“Dammit,” I growled “What would Harry do?” pg. 409 WWHD Harry would make it up as he goes so you’re doing great at that part Molly

“Harry had once told me that when you had one problem, you had a problem. But when you had several problems, you might have several solutions.” pg. 409 Interesting

“Hey God” I whispered. “I know I haven’t been around much lately, but if you could do me a solid here, it would be really awesome for a lot of people. Please let me be right.” pg. 419 Ha

“Harry. Alive.” pg. 431 Yay!

Cold Case

“My own clothing, I knew disappointed her gravely, but I was used to doing that to mother-figures.” pg. 435 Ouch poor Molly :(

Carlos!

“Harry Dresden has had a horrible influence on far too many people, and has much to answer for.” pg. 449 Ha

“I’d had recurring nightmares about it, in fact.” pg. 450 Didn’t Harry also have nightmares about the wardens?

Elaine!

“Psychic interrogation” pg. 460 Oh no

“Warden do a lot of good.” He said quietly “It isn’t always pretty, what we do, but it needs to be done.” pg. 464 Wardens kill children Carlos

“He dealt with them on a continuous basis, after all, and in his studied opinion, if you had one problem, you had a problem. But if you had multiple problems, you might also have an opportunity. pg. 468 Call back to bombshell!

“God, I love hero work.” Carlos said as we stepped back out into the storm. “No murky gray area, no anguished questions, no conflicting mortality. Bad guys took some kids, and we’re gonna get’em out.” pg. 476 That does sound nice and I like how this shows the reader how young Carlos is

“Maybe if someone had offered a hand to the monsters, they wouldn’t have become monsters in the first place.” pg. 477 Yes!

“I was carrying pliers with me, so that I could take vampire teeth as trophies.” pg. 477 Carlos that’s not a good thing. That’s spoils of war or serial killer trophies and that’s bad.

“Mom taught me, She was scoutmaster for my brothers.” pg. 480 Cool

“Outsiders” pg. 481 Oh no

So Outsiders plus fisherman equals Call of Cthulhu

“Harry was a big believer in kicking in the teeth of whoever you planned to fight.” pg. 485 Ha and yes good tactics

“kicked the big double door off their hinges as if they’d been made of balsa and Scotch tape.

At which point I learned the real reason Harry keeps doing that.

It. Is. Awesome.” pg. 486 Ha

“And then I was sitting on the floor of the shower, shuddering, hot water pouring down around me.” pg. 499 What

“I looked down at the water. The drain stopper was down, and it was seven or eight inches deep.

And pink.” pg. 500 What happened?

Poor Carlos :(

Ok so Molly can’t have sex and the mantel will attack anyone who tries to have sex with her.

“You want me to take their children.” pg. 504 Oh no :(

Jury Duty

“Summons,” I said glowering. “It’s a freaking command. They want to see a real summoning is, I could show them.” pg. 513 Ha and I can’t believe the government got Harry a summons. He died then came back from the dead and was homeless for a bit. There’s no way bureaucracy was this fast. There has to be scheming involved. String pulling from someone. Maybe Lara or Marcone?

“More had been set aside by the new owner of my old address, formerly Mrs. Spunkelcheif’s boardinghouse, and now the Better Future Society. I hadn’t been able to stomach asking the new owner for my mail, but Butters had gotten it for me.” pg. 513 Wait does this mean that Marcone kept Harry’s mail? How long did Marcone keep Harry’s mail? Even when Harry was dead? Was Marcone hoping Harry would come get them? What was the conversation between Butters and Marcone like?

“The government isn’t the mob, Harry.”

“Aren’t they?” I asked “Pay them money every year to protect you, and God help you don’t.” pg. 514 Ha

“Then a guy in a black muumuu showed up and reconnected the plot of My cousin Vinney.

Okay, it was a robe and the guy was the judge, and he gave us a brief outline of the format of the trial system, but it’s not nearly as entertaining to say it that way.” pg. 516 Ha

“The new kid was in his late twenties” pg. 517 Who let this kid be the prosecutor? He can’t be that out of law school.

“So where was his public defender?” pg. 518 He’s got the right to a public defender so where are they? Something’s up I’m suspicious

“Everyone stood up. After a second, so did I.

I guess you could say I’m not really a joiner.” pg. 518 Ha

“He held up a glossy professional headshot of a handsome man in his thirties and showed it to us.” pg. 520 Bi Harry 42

“drag a female child, Latino, around the age of ten, into the alley.” pg. 526 Oh

“Something did not add up here.” pg. 528 Yep

So let’s review the facts

Harry who’s died and come back from the died for less than a month only a gets a jury summons despite bureaucracy being slow.

The prosecutor is a new kid and not the DA.

The defense doesn’t have an attorney.

The victim was a stock broker.

The defendant is a tough guy who’s definitely been in fights before.

There is supposedly a child that the man kidnapped.

The defendant is more beat up than seems appropriate.

In conclusion I think that the fear eating Raiths are the victim was a stockbroker and not a ghoul got the girl and the defendant killed a White Court vampire. Then either Marcone or Lara stacked the jury to have Harry involved. They made it so the prosecution was a new guy and the defense doesn’t have a lawyer.

“Nobody was going to go bat for him.

Unless I did it.” pg. 529 Yep

“I started with Johnny Cash version of “Hurt” which was pretty simple. I sang along with it. I’m not good, but I can hit the notes and keep the rhythm going” pg. 533 This is nice and I miss Harry’s guitar and I wish he’d played more

“The door was locked.

It was also made of glass.

I smiled.” pg. 537 Ha

“Tania Raith” I knew a Raith was involved

“She wielded enormous influence in Chicago, maybe as much as the head of Chicago outfit, Gentleman Johnnie Marcone, gangster lord of the mean streets.” pg. 539 Marcone mention!

“Because you know what happened the last time some vampires abducted a little girl and I decided to take her back. pg. 539 Yep scary threat

“I believe Baron Marcone has recognized claim on this city. Or am I mistaken?” pg. 540 It’s their city

“Luther was one of Marcone’s soldiers.” pg. 540 Oh

“He pulled some strings to get me on the jury.” pg. 541 I knew strings were pulled

“Dammit Marcone had put me where there’d be a guy getting fast- tracked to an unjust sentence and known damn well how I’d react. He could have asked me for help, but I’d have told him to take a flying…leap. And he’d have known that. So he set it up without me knowing.” pg. 542 Marcone knows him so well

“What does Marcone mean to you? You don’t owe him anything. Why not sit down, have a drink, help me celebrate.” pg. 543 Tania asking the real questions

Riley doesn’t get paid enough

Tania really does need a babysitter.

“Goddamn supernatural assholes” pg. 550 Does she know? Does the Judge know?

Day one

“There were a great many letters in that, and not much that I understood” pg. 558 Ha

Lamar!

“The skull is very dangerous object.” He said “It doesn’t…understand love. It doesn’t understand faith.” pg. 568 Bob!

Fear monster

Harry!

“Polka will never die” pg. 587 Yes!

“You stand up and kick it in the fucking teeth” he said and there was a quiet certain power in his voice that had nothing to do with magic. “You’ve forgotten the most important thing a Knight needs to remember, Butters.”

“What’s that?” I breathed

“Knights of the Cross aren’t afraid of monsters” he said. “Monster are afraid of you. Act like it. Commit to it, hard. And have faith.” pg. 590 Such a good speech.

“But I had faith in my friends

One friend in particular.” pg. 590 My heart :)

“ Ehyeh ašer ehyeh” pg. 594 A quick google search shows that this means I Am Who I Am

Zoo Day

“The man who mostly shaped me was a sadistic monster, and by the time my grandfather came along, Ebenezar wasn’t parenting so much as enticing psychological damage control.” pg. 599 Aw poor Harry :(

“I really really wanted to get this right.” pg. 599 Aw

Of course Maggie likes Star Wars

“She was the most beautiful child I’d ever seen, but everyone thinks that about their kid.

Maybe everyone is right.” pg. 601 Yes! and my heart :)

“What if I do it wrong?” pg. 601 My heart

“What if…I don’t know. What if I set something on fire?”

“Maybe we’ll roast some marshmallows” pg. 602 Don’t worry Maggie if anyone is going to set something on fire it’ll be Harry. And this marshmallow comment reminds be of the one in Changes

Oh a warlock

“I stared at the kid for a while.

I had been that kid for a while.” pg. 608 Poor Harry poor kid

“Then I did something I don’t do very often: I turned my back and walked away.” pg. 608 What

“She picked up a French fry and dipped it in a large mound of mustard. Not ketchup.

What?” pg. 610 What

“If someone needs your help, you help them.” Maggie said simply “Even when it’s really hard. Miss Molly told me that about you.” pg. 612 Yep

“If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I’d have been just one more warlock slain while resisting arrest.” pg. 613 Interesting

I like all the dad Harry content I’m getting to see

Ohhh we’re getting two perspectives.

Maggie!

“My dad was a pretty scary-looking guy if you didn’t know him.” pg. 621 Aw and it’s always interesting to see other characters perspective of Harry

“Sort of like how grown ups can’t see the creeps” pg. 624

“If I didn’t have to worry about turning into a complete spaz” pg. 625 Aw poor Maggie :(

“Must be because Dad was here, and he really, really liked dad.” pg. 624 Aw

“What if he thought I was, you know? Broken. What if he didn’t want a daughter who was all funny in the head?” pg. 629 Aw poor Maggie I just want to give Maggie a hug

“And then my dad’s head shot up like Mouse when he smells lighter fluid at the Carpenters house, and his eyes flicked around him like big, hungry bear looking for something to tear into.” pg. 629 Ha

“He should have had his coat. It would have been all swirly, like Batman. Jeans and an old Battlestar Galactica T-shirt just didn’t make the same impression.” pg. 633 I’m glad Maggie likes the coat.

“I interrupted it by throwing salt into its black, empty eyes.” pg. 634 Go Maggie!

“Because what if Miss Molly had told me the kid-safe version of the truth about my dad? What if he wasn’t as good as she said he was? What if he didn’t want to take care of a daughter who had issues? Who was really hard to be around.” pg. 639 Aw poor Maggie

“Hey you, Space Face” pg. 640 Ha

“Good boy, Mouse” pg. 642 Yes good boy!

Mouse looks really cool

Oh interesting that Maggie knows Spanish

Poor Maggie

Three perspectives!

Mouse yes you’re a good dog!

“My Friend was worried he could not be a good father to a little girl, which is ridiculous-but if he wasn’t worried about it, he wouldn’t be the person he is” pg. 652 Aw

“Is my Friend awesome or what?” pg. 659 Yes he is

“My Shadow, it would seem” pg. 661 Interesting

“Brother” pg. 670 Interesting

“Needs must be done?” I asked. “Who talks like that? Honestly.” pg. 673 Ha

“An acquired habit. I can’t imagine where I learned it” pg. 673 Ha

“You are like the others, after all. His slave. I don’t deal with trivial matters. I care nothing for your broken wizard.” pg. 674 No Mouse and Harry are friends and what do you mean broken wizard?

“I assume you’ve never seen The Dark Knight.” pg. 674 Ha and of course Mouse has seen it :)

“I was raised by a wizard. When it comes to fighting, I tend to cheat whenever possible.” pg. 675 Ha

“I told you, everyone says I am a Good Boy and that means treats. But perhaps I would make more time to exercise when this was settled.” pg. 676 Ha

“There was nothing more I could do to help him. I would have to trust to fortune and the Almighty and Queen Mab and Odin and whatever other friendly Powers that might be watching that My Friend would, please, please, please be all right.” pg. 681 Ha

“But what he meant was Good Dog.” pg. 686 Yes!

Dresden files live blog

Monster

“Plus, I’m never sure when she’ll try to kill me again.

It’s complicated” I’m sorry what

Marcone!

“No Valkerye girl Friday?” Ha

Oh someone broke Marcone’s rule they’re gonna die

“There’s another person I could go to.

But even if he believed me and agreed to the job, he would complicate it unbearably. We’d be at war with Canada within the week. Somehow.” Ha and I assume they’re talking about Harry

“There was angels standing guard around another house not unlike this one not three blocks away.” Michael’s house!

“Oh. Yes. People.”

“I keep forgetting them” Viti what do you mean you ‘keep forgetting them’?

“Viti had been a survivor of a training program whose members had, as the culmination of their training, been assigned to murder one another” Is Viti a red widow?

Poor kids :(

“Viti turned the gun on the kids, who flinched.” VITI NO

“Hey, you know how a nine-hundred-pound Bengal tiger gets into a locked room?

Any damned way it wants.” Ha

“The next day, Marcone, with his big dumb Einherjaren bodyguard.” Who is this bodyguard? Where’s Hendricks? Where’s Gard?

“But grapefruit juice?” Grapefruit? Really? Who willingly drinks grapefruit juice?

“Monster LLC calling for Harry Dresden,” she said “Please tell that there are children who need his help.” Of course they call Harry. This is right up his alley!

Final thoughts

I liked these stories especially Even Hand and Zoo Days. I loved all the Marcone mentions and his story. I liked the fights and thought the stories were funny. I liked the different perspectives. I want to give Maggie and Harry hugs. I loved all the Dad Harry content I got in Zoo Days. There were so many Bi Harry moments in these. We’re up to 42 moments. Molly’s stories were sad :( Cool that beings exist that only kids can see. Not a fan of some of the things Luccio and Carlos say. I loved Butters first mission. I liked the monster story. I love what Marcone says about Harry. I love that Gary calls Harry. Overall I liked it.

Even Hand

My favorite story. I love the look into Marcone. I do wonder how John Marcone not being John’s Name will play out. Could this name be used against him or used in oaths? Does ‘John Marcone’ hold more weight than his given name now? Who knows his given name? Why did he change it? This does bring interesting ideas with his alliance with Mab and Vadderung. Him being a marine is interesting. Did Marcone serve a full time in the marine? Did he get honorably discharged? Dishonored? What was his rank? I liked how sarcastic Marcone is. He really is a good foil to Harry. I like the 2 Bi Marcone moments. I love that Harry has left such an impression on Marcone with the flimsy doors and the elaborate death trap. I like how Marcone saved both Justine and the kid. I love the Hendricks and Gard moment.

Onto Peace Talk

#the dresden files #harry dresden #john marcone #wizardbaron #harry dresden is bi #brief cases #monster

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bensdesignerhut · 2 years ago

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Western wear is a category of men's and women's clothing which derives its unique style from the clothes worn in the 19th century Wild West. It ranges from accurate historical reproductions of American frontier clothing, to the stylized garments popularized by Western film and television or singing cowboys such as Gene Autry and Roy Rogers in the 1940s and 1950s. It continues to be a fashion choice in the West and Southwestern United States, as well as people associated with country music or Western lifestyles, for example the various Western or Regional Mexican music styles. Western wear typically incorporates one or more of the following, Western shirts with pearl snap fasteners and vaquero design accents, blue jeans, cowboy hat, a leather belt, and cowboy boots.

Hat

Lawman Bat Masterson wearing a bowler hat. In the early days of the Old West, it was the bowler hat rather than the slouch hat, centercrease (derived from the army regulation Hardee hat), or sombrero that was the most popular among cowboys as it was less likely to blow out off in the wind.The hats worn by Mexican rancheros and vaqueros inspired the modern day cowboy hats.By the 1870s, however, the Stetson had become the most popular cowboy hat due to its use by the Union Cavalry as an alternative to the regulation blue kepi.

Stampede strings were installed to prevent the hat from being blown off when riding at speed. These long strings were usually made from leather or horsehair. Typically, the string was run half-way around the crown of a cowboy hat, and then through a hole on each side with its ends knotted and then secured under the chin or around the back of the head keeping the hat in place in windy conditions or when riding a horse.

The tall white ten gallon hats traditionally worn by movie cowboys were of little use for the historical gunslinger as they made him an easy target, hence the preference of lawmen like Wild Bill Hickok, Wyatt Earp and Bat Masterson for low-crowned black hats.

Originally part of the traditional Plains Indian clothing, coonskin caps were frequently worn by mountain men like Davy Crockett for their warmth and durability. These were revived in the 1950s following the release of a popular Disney movie starring Fess Parker.

Shirt

1950s style Western shirt with snap fastenings of the type popularized by singing cowboys A Western shirt is a traditional item of Western wear characterized by a stylized yoke on the front and on the back. It is generally constructed of chambray, denim or tartan fabric with long sleeves, and in modern form is sometimes seen with snap pockets, patches made from bandana fabric, and fringe. The "Wild West" era was during the late Victorian era, hence the direct similarity of fashion.

A Western dress shirt is often elaborately decorated with piping, embroidered roses and a contrasting yoke. In the 1950s these were frequently worn by movie cowboys like Roy Rogers or Clayton Moore's Lone Ranger. Derived from the elaborate Mexican vaquero costumes like the guayabera, these were worn at rodeos so the cowboy could be easily identifiable. Buffalo Bill was known to wear them with a buckskin fringe jacket during his Wild West shows and they were fashionable for teenagers in the 1970s and late 2000s.

Another common type of Western shirt is the shield-front shirt worn by many US Cavalry troopers during the American Civil War but originally derived from a red shirt issued to prewar firefighters. The cavalry shirt was made of blue wool with yellow piping and brass buttons and was invented by the flamboyant George Armstrong Custer. In recent times this shield-front shirt was popularised by John Wayne in Fort Apache and was also worn by rockabilly musicians like the Stray Cats.

In 1946, Papa Jack Wilde put snap buttons on the front, and pocket flaps on the Western shirt, and established Rockmount Ranch Wear.

Coat When a jacket is required there is a wide choice available for both linedancers and historical re-enactors. Cowboy coats originated from charro suits and were passed down to the vaqueros who later introduced it to the american cowboys. These include frock coats, ponchos popularised by Clint Eastwood's Spaghetti Westerns, short Mexican jackets with silver embroidery, fringe jackets popular among outlaw country, southern rock and 1980s heavy metal bands, and duster coats derived from originals worn in the Wild West. More modern interpretations include leather waistcoats inspired by the biker subculture and jackets with a design imitating the piebald color of a cow. Women may wear bolero jackets derived from the Civil War era zouave uniforms, shawls, denim jackets in a color matching their skirt or dress, or a fringe jacket like Annie Oakley.

For more formal occasions inhabitants of the West might opt for a suit with "smile" pockets, piping and a yoke similar to that on the Western shirts. This can take the form of an Ike jacket, leisure suit or three-button sportcoat. Country and Western singer Johnny Cash was known to wear an all-black Western suit, in contrast to the elaborate Nudie suits worn by stars like Elvis Presley and Porter Wagoner.The most elaborate western wear is the custom work created by rodeo tailors such as Nudie Cohn and Manuel, which is characterized by elaborate embroidery and rhinestone decoration. This type of western wear, popularized by country music performers, is the origin of the phrase rhinestone cowboy.

Trousers

Cowboy wearing leather chaps at a rodeo

A Texas tuxedo comprising a denim jacket, boots and jeans. In the early days of the Wild West trousers were made out of wool. In summer canvas was sometimes used. This changed during the Gold Rush of the 1840s when denim overalls became popular among miners for their cheapness and breathability. Levi Strauss improved the design by adding copper rivets and by the 1870s this design was adopted by ranchers and cowboys. The original Levi's jeans were soon followed by other makers including Wrangler jeans and Lee Cooper. These were frequently accessorised with kippy belts featuring metal conchos and large belt buckles.

Leather chaps were often worn to protect the cowboy's legs from cactus spines and prevent the fabric from wearing out.Two common types include the skintight shotgun chaps and wide batwing chaps. The latter were sometimes made from hides retaining their hair (known as "woolies") rather than tanned leather. They appeared on the Great Plains somewhere around 1887.

Women wore knee-length prairie skirts,red or blue gingham dresses or suede fringed skirts derived from Native American dress. Saloon girls wore short red dresses with corsets, garter belts and stockings.After World War II, many women, returning to the home after working in the fields or factories while the men were overseas, began to wear jeans like the men.

Neckwear

Working cowboy wearing a bandana or "wild rag," 1880s During the Victorian era, gentlemen would wear silk cravats or neckties to add color to their otherwise sober black or grey attire. These continued to be worn by respectable Westerners until the early 20th century. Following the Civil War it became common practice among working class veterans to loosely tie a bandana around their necks to absorb sweat and keep the dust out of their faces. This practise originated in the Mexican War era regular army when troops threw away the hated leather stocks (a type of collar issued to soldiers) and replaced them with cheap paisley kerchiefs.

Another well-known Western accessory, the bolo tie, was a pioneer invention reputedly made from an expensive hatband. This was a favorite for gamblers and was quickly adopted by Mexican charros, together with the slim "Kentucky" style bowtie commonly seen on stereotypical Southern gentlemen like Colonel Sandersor Boss Hogg. In modern times it serves as formal wear in many western states, notably Montana, New Mexico

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