The Culture Channel

Behold, more Old West fic. Probably the last piece for a bit, since future instalments will have to be co-written via lj and email, not via having-pixyofthestyx-sit-next-to-me-at-the-computer-while-I-type.

( Gunslinger Six: The Sons of Ma Elder )

Wow. I haven't posted in over a month. Here, to prove that I haven't died, are nearly twenty pages of historical rps. Rife with selective innacurracy, as usual.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by… no, wait, scratch that. This story is partially based on actual historical figures and events, and partially based on our own hours of twisted fantasies produced by seeing Tombstone one too many times. No money is being made and no offense is intended.
Posted By: elspethdixon and pixyofthestyx
Ships: Doc/Kate, Bat/Mollie (past tense), Doc/Wyatt vibes (yea!), fledgling Morgan/Louisa. The list goes on and on.
Warnings: This instalment of Gunslinger contains profanity, drinking, violence, historical inaccuracy, lots of Bible quotes, and extensive mocking of Methodists (we blame Henry Fielding). It does not contain hot sex. Sorry.

( Gunslinger, chapter four: The First Stone, part I )

The first three chapters of Dodge City: The Soap Opera

Ah, I love cooking and eating real food. In protest of the dining hall's month-long policy of serving almost no decent food (everything's either entirely vegetarian, or so filled with things like broccoli, peas, and beans that I can't eat it), I made vegetable-free protest stew. For the first time in days, there's protein and iron in my bloodstream.

Also, pixyofthestyx and I have finished another chapter/episode of Gunslinger.

( Gunslinger, part Two: Once Upon a Time in the West )


Part One: Frontier Marshal.

The NC State cross-country invitational was a surprisin' amount of fun, considerin' how long we had to drive to get there. It rained the entire time, thanks to that scurvy dog Ivan, and the course was a league's worth of suckin' clay mud (we was plastered in it by the time we was finished racin', plastered indeed), but it was much flatter than any of the courses around Roanoke, which meant that my time was almost three minutes faster (it was still a mite slow, but better than it had been). And we blew all but one of the other division III schools out o' the water.

And then I came back to port at Hollins (thanks be to God, my roof didn’t leak while I was about bein' gone) and watched Tombstone with Rosa-banana.

( I swear, every time I watch Tombstone, it gets slashier. )