#stories about doc holliday

[curlysgirl0202]

DOC HOLLIDAY AND RINGO'S RIVALRY STORY EXERPT!!!! From the Short Story, Holliday and Ringo: Song of Rivals.

Doc Holliday Angers Johnny Ringo in this scene.

Ringo looks up and slowly nods. He stands, his unreadable poker face staring at the exit. He follows the others out and then sees you walking out of the back wing of the theater. He swallows hard and adjusts his hat, clearing his throat. Curly Bill sees you and then looks at Ringo. Curly chuckles. "Good luck, Juanito, round two!"

Ringo shows a small smile and walks towards you.

You stop walking while Ringo moves closer to you. He can feel his face grow red and flushed by his own shyness. He walks as confidently as he can. He's delighted when you smile at him and you appear more beautiful than he recalls. He tips his hat to you.

"Good evening, YN," Ringo says. He takes his hat off and holds it in his hands, trying not to rock back and forth on his feet, showing his fear.

"It's Johnny, right?" You ask, the smile never leaving your face.

Ringo feels a sense of relief that you offer your consideration even though you only met him once at the hotel restaurant.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds. It's tough for him to say much else because of his nervousness; not just because he doesn't want to endure the humilation Doc would rain over him, but also because each time he sees you, he becomes more smitten with you.

"Well, it's nice to see you, Johnny," you beam.

Ringo to his own surprise smiles back at you, keeping your large liquid eyes in his memory.

"It's real nice to see you. I enjoyed your performance. It was as lovely as you," Ringo remarks, suddenly feeling that hot and flushed feeling. He recalls experiencing similar emotions when the girls at church would turn around to get a glimpse of the mysterious boy called Johnny Ringo.

"A lovely lady like yourself should have an escort," Johnny clears his throat. "I would like to ensure your safety this evening. You may have noticed, it gets wild here, especially at night."

You smile up at Johnny, who you can't help but like; he held himself like an aristrocratic cowboy. He suddenly snaps back from his shyness. "Unless you already have one." Ringo looks at his boots, still holding his hat.

"No, I don't," you convey softly. You shake your head and then glace back at the gentleman gunfighter.

"It would be an honor to ensure your safety." Johnny puts his hat back on and waits for your response. He feels a slow ember of confidence begin to burn in his heart. He knows he's not as sophisticated as Doc Holliday, but Ringo has a charm that is as interesting as it is mysterious.

"Thank you, Mr. Ringo," you finally answer.

"Johnny." He tells you.

You nod and take his arm. Johnny Ringo walks with pride down the street with you, moving towards the shops that line the town. A few jewelry stores, a music shop that sells various instruments, a stationary, small art museum, photography studio and other small boutiques that offer the latest styles and custom dress making and a tailor. Several barber shops also line the street and other clothing stores.

Johnny desperately tries to think of something to say. "It's a lovely evening for a walk through town," he says in a soft voice.

"It is," you answer, not sure what to make of this mysterious gunfighter.

"Let me know where you're headed. I'll make sure you get there safely," Ringo tells you, looking straight ahead.

"Well, you begin. "I'm going to the hotel to rest."

Johnny nods his head and escorts you to the Grand Hotel. He takes his hat off and waits for you to disappear up the stairs and into the lobby. When you're out of sight, he puts his hat on and turns to leave. He stops quickly when he sees Doc Holliday moving towards him, a death grin on his face while blowing smoke from his cigarette.

"Why, Johnny Ringo. I see you made an acquaintance." Doc stops walking and looks Ringo up and down. Ringo is in no mood to fight Holliday and his mind is still spinning from walking with you. The sweet aroma of your perfume is enough to weaken him.

"What's it to you, Holliday?" Ringo inquires, staring the death doctor with as much confidence as he coud muster considering his impaired judgement.

Doc holds his cigarette between his fingers while tapping the handle of his pistol. Johnny's eyes move about, eyeing with wonder how steady Doc's hands were.

"You still thinking you're going to win her affections, don't you, Ringo?" Doc examines his opponent.

"Are you?" Johnny quickly responds.

Doc smiles, while he suddenly grows motionless, still holding his cigarette. Doc's ability to move quickly and gracefully and then turn to stone could distract the steadiest of minds. Including Ringo's.

"Oh, I guess nobody informed you. I had the chance to escort that lovely lady through town and we enjoyed a delightful moment together."

Ringo's eyes narrow in on his nemesis for a moment and confusion begins to surface on his face. He can feel his neck grow hot from his rage.

Doc's expression changes and he begins to grin with an almost child like countenance.

"It turns out, YN enjoys chocolate cake." Doc taps his ivory handled gun. He blows smoke from his mouth, his eyes never leaving Ringo's.

"She also loves cream and sugar in her coffee. I bet you didn't know that, Johnny." Doc winks at Ringo, who turns to leave.

"It was a wonderful moment we two shared together," Doc finishes, still standing motionless.

"And what did Kate think about that?" Johnny retorts.

Doc's smile fades for a moment and Ringo feels a sense of triumph. Women were so scarce in Tombstone, it was unlikely that any man would leave his woman. Being without a woman seemed worse. At the very least, you could sleep next to one and feel the comfort of her touch, knowing all the uncomfortable moments promised more intimate ones.

"Well, you know Kate, Ringo." Doc finally answers.

"Go to hell, Holliday!" Ringo responds, turning to leave.

"I'll let YN know you said hello!" Doc asserts.

Ringo's rage boils over and he pulls his pistol quickly and due to his spinning head, he misses Doc by a hair and then stumbles backwards, almost losing his balance. Doc chuckles with triumph, his composure never shaken. He winks at a frustrated Ringo.

"What the hell is going on here, Ringo?" Wyatt Earp demands, moving closer to the battling gunmen.

"Evidently, Mr. Ringo here cannot hold his liquor well." Doc shakes his head and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

Wyatt and Virgil take Ringo by his arms and force him towards the horse troph where they dunk his head in the dirty water. They pull him out, Johnny gasping for air and cursing the Earp brothers.

"Sons of bitches!" Ringo howls, causing Wyatt to drop Ringo into the water again.

"Cool off, Ringo!" Virgil shouts, slapping Johnny in the back of the head. The lawmen toss Johnny aside and he falls, knocking over two chairs after losing his balance. Ringo spits towards the Earps and Doc smiles, watching Ringo squirm.

"What's this about, Doc?" Virgil demands.

Johnny staggers to his feet and throws himself at Doc, who laughs and moves out of the way with his signature aristocratic gait. He holds back his urge to cough and circles around Johnny, who can barely stand, water dripping from his head.

"Would you have to ask Johnny Ringo. He came at me like a wildcat."

"That's enough, Doc," Wyatt shouts. "I already told you to stay away from Ringo! I don't want anymore trouble!"

Ringo, still soaking wet, stares Doc and the Earps down. He knew he made a fool of himself and hoped you didn't witness any of it and hates the idea of you finding out or worse - Doc Holliday telling you about how Ringo was so drunk and out of control that the law had to cool him off by shoving his head into a horse troph.

"Sleep it off, Ringo!" Virgil demands, showing a look of disgust at Holliday, who seems unaffected by the Earps attitude. Doc takes a whiskey flask from his front pocket. He reveals a death grin to the men there and takes a long swig. He clears his throat, stifles a cough and tips his hat to Ringo, who can barely stand.

"Just give up, Mr. Ringo," Doc warns, backing away. "What will YN think when she learns about this?"

Ringo stands upright and moves to throw a punch at Doc, who quickly moves out of the way, mocking Ringo's clumsiness.

"I said that's enough!" Wyatt shouts as he and Virgil take Ringo to a holding cell located behind the courthouse.

"What the hell am I being arrested for?" Ringo demands.

"Fighting!" Virgil growls back. "Let's go, cowboy. Maybe your friends will bail you out!"

Ringo struggles against the law men, but they overpower him and drag him to the jail. Ringo grabs the prison bars, looks to the ground and curses them.

"You damn self righteous sons of bitches!" Ringo bellows

"You're losing over mind over YN!" Wyatt grumbles, fumbling with the keys. "You and Doc both better give up this conquest of yours. YN isn't going to be with either one of you. It was foolish of you both to enter into this deranged bet."

Ringo sits on the cot and holds his head in his hands. The image of your face enters his mind and he closes his eyes and delights in a whimsical fantasy where you come to his rescue. His ears become flooded with your voice.

"You'll stay in here and cool down, Ringo. I'm sure Curly Bill will be here to make bail as soon as he hears about this. And you tell that idiot we don't want anymore trouble with you cowboys!"

Ringo smiles menancingly at the Earps.

"You're the boss, Earp!" Ringo groans.

"And don't forget it, you reckless son of a bitch!" Wyatt snaps.

Ringo stands and faces Wyatt. Ringo's menacing stare causes Wyatt to back away a few inches. Ringo's eyes showed a fearlessness that bordered on rage.

I should let him rot!

Wyatt thinks.

"Do you understand, Ringo?!" Wyatt growls.

"It's easy to understand men like you, Earp," Johnny grunts.

"I really hate your attitude, Ringo."

Wyatt turns to leave.

"I already told Doc. You two are going to end this ridiculous bet of yours! The both of you are acting like petulant boys."

"Maybe Doc should be in here with me. He's not innocent in this," Ringo snaps. "You wouldn't have to worry about losing money because of his cheating." Ringo backs away from the bars, his face twisting into a sinister smile. "I heard about that fellow in Dodge. Doc cut that poor bastard from his dick to his neck!" Ringo turns and sits on the bed.

"See you for your bail hearing tomorrow morning!" Wyatt shouts before leaving.

Ringo holds his head in his hands.

I wish I never saw her! Ringo screams in his mind.

[heavenlymorals]

I feel like a lot of people forget that the Van Dir Linde gang was actually famous in their universe- Dutch Van Dir Linde was as famous as the real life Butch Cassidy. The gang had as much infamy as the Wild Bunch or the Dalton gang. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Bill Williamson, Javier Esculla, Lenny Summers, Charles Smith, Sean McGuire and more were probably as famous as the real life Doc Holliday, Jesse James, Black Bart, Rufus Buck, Ike Clanton, the Sundance Kid, Wild Bill Hickock, and more.

Sadie Adler would've been just as famous. She was a gunslinger like the real life Calamity Jane and Anne Oakley and she was an outlaw at one point like Laura Bullion, Pearl Hart, Belle Star, The Cassidy Sisters, and more.

The other women of the camp would've probably been less popular but still very intriguing figures to people in the future.

In the newspapers, we see that there are songs about Dutch's boys and books too. Trelawny mentions them being on dime novels. In the future, the pieced together story of the Van Dir Linde gang might've gotten adapted into a movie, similar to "Butch Cassidy and the Sun Dance Kid" or "The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford". They could've gotten biopics, documentaries, and more.

Historians and fans of the wild West era would dig up records, find pictures, and maybe even track down people who were apart of the gang, accomplices to the gang, or victims of the gang. They would try to piece together stories to figure out the mystery of what actually happened to the gang.

People would argue over things that happened in the gang and have their evidence to back it up. Letters written by gang members would become so valuable. If they ever someone come across Arthur's journal, it would probably be considered one of the most valuable pieces of documentation to ever exist for that time period.

The guns of the gang would probably be kept in museums if found. Albert Mason's portrait of Arthur Morgan would be found in history books, same as other pictures.

Dutch would probably be a very controversial figure in history- some would hail him as a failed hero and others would condemn his violence no matter the reason- they wouldn't know what the people in the gang knew- especially in the end. Same with the rest of the gang members.

They'd probably all get romanticized. Hosea and Dutch's friendship, the raising of the boys, Dutch and Annabelle and his fued with Colm, Mary and Arthur, John and his family, Javier being a revolutionary- no one would know the full story.

And then there is Jack- he may live to see the 1960s and 70s and 80s. He may have grandchildren who'd pull him into a theater to watch a retelling of the gang that he was a part of at one point. He'd be amused. He'd think that the actor playing his father was too clean looking, too pretty. He'd think that the movie Arthur was too skinny. He'd think that the man playing Dutch had a funny voice as he tried to mimic the accent. He'd laugh and make notes in his head of the historical accuracy. He'd feel sorrowful at the deaths of the characters- he knew them at some point. And no one at the theater would know that the old man with the rowdy bright eyed boys who brought him there was Jack Marston, the last of the Van Dir Linde gang.

Jack might talk about it to the public. He might do interviews. He might even write a book about his father, the infamous John Marston. Those would be priceless. Even Beecher's Hope might be kept around and visited as a historical site for history goers.

And honestly? It is such a bittersweet thing.

[filmtv2022]

To The Bitter End:

The Meeting of a Lifetime (Extra Scene)

Series Masterlist (It is 18+ as a whole... even though this part isn't)

Synopsis: This scene occurs right before Doc and Y/N share a quiet moment on the porch after meeting for the first time. Doc, Wyatt, and Y/N share drink and laughter together, and for the first time in a long time, John and Y/N feel alive.

Warnings: Language + drinking + smoking + spoilers? (It connects right into the rest of the story, but I think anyone could probably read this and be okay)

A/N: Well, it's been nearly two years since I posted To The Bitter End, and I haven't stopped thinking about it. I went back and read it again, and I have to say, I'm so unbelievably proud of that story. With that being said, recently a few ideas for extra scenes popped into my head for this story, and I thought... why not write them for others to enjoy (hopefully). As always, I apologize for any errors! Also, I'll put the stupid page break in once Tumblr gets it shit together! :)

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Passing the bottle of whiskey across the table to Wyatt you could feel the impending lull in conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol loosening your tongue or perhaps it was the mesmerizing smirk that played across your guest’s face, but you just couldn’t help yourself, “So, John, you said you’re a doctor. Of what exactly?” 

Wyatt tucked in his drink, falling silent as his focus darted between you and John. Not yet worried, but also unwilling to relax. He’d seen you take a conversation a step to far one too many times to be comfortable. 

“Dentistry,” John sipped at his drink, hearing your murmured hum of incredulity he continued on, “I sense skepticism. Care to enlighten me as to why?” 

“How perceptive,” Clearing your throat, you tossed back the rest of your whiskey, “It's just that you don’t strike me as a man who’s willing to settle down. Which I assume would be necessary to have a thriving practice. I truly have a hard time picturing you like that… a white coat covering your fine suit and tie, no gun in your holster, and only patient after patient to occupy your mind. It doesn’t add up. You’re an intellectual, I’ll give ya that. A businessman, sure. But one to call any place home longer than absolutely necessary… never. You, John Holliday, are a wanderer. I can see it in your eyes."

Doc remained quiet as you reached for the bottle, and poured yourself another. There was something in his gaze as it remained fixed to yours. A dark haze belied his base nature, but for John, it was the distinct feeling of you peeling back the layers of his cultured facade as easily as breathing that terrified and intrigued him the most. Trapped in your aura, he finished his own drink, letting the glass thud on the thick wooden table before inhaling deeply from his cigar, “And you darlin’… are as dangerous as they come.” 

“Perhaps,” you chewed the inside of your lip, tugging your features into a sly smile, “And yet, what does man, such as yourself, have to fear of little ol’ me?” 

“Everything,” John’s tone was serious and steady, and yet nothing in his response could hide the way you drew him in. 

You clung to his every move, tracking the minute changes in his countenance. The pull of his lips, the bob of his throat… the hitch of his lungs. It felt as though there were no secrets between you at this moment, and it thrilled you.

“Smart answer, Mr. Holliday,” the uncomfortable grit of Wyatt’s cough broke the trance, “Now where were we? Ah, that's right we were discussing my brother's propensity to find himself embroiled in less than lawful activities from which he cannot extricate himself without help despite being a legendary lawman. That's precisely what we were talking about, care to elaborate Wyatt?”

“You're a downright menace, you know that?” Wyatt's huffed chuckle assured you that no offense had actually been taken.

“Yes, I’m well aware. And who do we have to blame for that?” you brought your glass up and took a deep swig of the amber liquid, “Because truthfully, I’m not sure what you expect of me after bein’ cooped up in this hell hole of a tinder box all day while you go off galavanting as some goddamn hero of the wild west. But again, I am glad you aren’t dead. I don’t know what the hell I’d do without ya. Quite honestly, I’m afraid I’d be joining you six feet under when Virg and Morgan got a hold of me ‘cause somehow I’d be blamed for your death.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N you can't say shit like that.”

“I can… and I will,” smirking at Wyatt you couldn’t help, but swell with pride at the sound of John’s laughter. Joining in the levity, your tone was light and airy as you spoke, “Now if you don’t mind. I’m going to get some air.” 

Despite opening the open windows, the room had grown stuffy with heat from the fire & smoke from the men’s cigars.

Needing a small break for fresh air you excused yourself to the front porch. Wyatt took advantage of the moment to go seek out yet another bottle of whiskey as you all had worked your way through the first. 

The air had cooled substantially from this afternoon and sent goosebumps running over your skin. But you didn’t care, the clean, crisp scent of the air was exactly what you needed to clear your head. There on the porch, staring out into the vast nothingness ahead of you, the palpable tension you felt in your body began to dim. Losing a loved one was something that scared you through and through, and realizing how close you’d come to that today put your nerves on high. The creak of the door opening had you turning your head back to see who had joined you. You were pleasantly surprised to see John making his way towards you. Laying your palms on the wooden railing in front of you, you closed your eyes & and let your head fall back a little as you inhaled deeply. The scent of the night air mixed with another, one that over time you’d realize was distinctly John. It was a perfect mix of whiskey, smoke & sweat. It filled your lungs sweetly bringing with it a feeling of peace. 

You could feel him stop behind you, only a few inches separated the two of you. The pair of you stood there for a moment in silence. Your eyes were still closed allowing your body to relax. John on the other hand was fixated on you. His eyes mapped your face, trying to commit every beautiful feature to memory. His gaze landed finally on your lips, and the longer John stared the more difficult it became for him to refrain from leaning down to kiss you. A small gust of wind blew over the porch causing you to shiver slightly. Without thinking John removed his jacket & placed it over your shoulders before rubbing his hands along your upper arms in an attempt to warm you. Sighing with contentment, you leaned your body back until you met his frame. The skirt of your light yellow dress blew in the wind wrapping itself around John.

Opening your eyes you turned your head to look up at John.

“Thank you. Thank you for keeping him safe.”

“Anything for you darlin’ ” 

It was here on this night that the invisible string that would tie you two together had started to form.

[valleydean]

Val Kilmer putting a video analysis of Doc Holliday in Tombstone on his insta story today 🥰🥰 he and I are really constantly shaking hands about how much that man altered our brain chemistry

[romanceyourdemons]

gunfight at the ok corral (1957) is a film about the unsurpassed relationship between two men, which means it is worth keeping an eye on the way it portrays women. there are several women in the film—kate fisher, laura denbow, and virgil earp’s wife—all of them “belonging” to one of the male main characters. the women are nominally independent, with kate fisher being a woman of loose morals who enters romantic relationships with men for financial support, laura denbow being threateningly (to the men) independent and a “real lady,” and virgil’s wife being a dutiful housewife; however, on the level of the narrative, all three are functionally identical. they all only exist to cling to their men and urge them to refrain from violence, and to be pushed reluctantly aside as the men leave to take part in the violence so encouraged and rewarded by the story. in high noon (1952), the female lead also serves as a force pulling the male lead away from the violence he feels honor-bound to engage in; in that case, however, the character is given depth elaborating on why she feels so strongly against violence, and the entire community is also opposed to the male lead’s violent actions. in this film, opposition to violence even when “warranted” by honor is presented as a gendered trait. the american civil war exists in the background of this film, not as the genesis of a deep dichotomy of identity defining the dynamics of the old west, as in the historical tombstone where the cowherds were former confederate and the townspeople were former union, but rather as a faceless experience of violence that bound together all the men of a generation, and prevented women from understanding the meanings of honor and slaughter like men do. (it does bear noting that the film has one acknowledgement of the cultural and ideological dimension of the civil war, by embodying in the sympathetic figure of doc holliday the stereotype of the disgraced but still noble southern gentleman making his way in the west.) in the context of the film, created a decade after the end of wwii, the paradigm of war as a generation-unifying and gender-dividing fact likely was a familiar and compelling one to its audience. this violence-related gender divide in westerns would not be challenged until the spaghetti and other revisionist westerns of the late 1960s, such as once upon a time in the west (1968). for the period before that, as exemplified in gunfight at the ok corral (1957), female characters were by and large relegated to the figures of helpless and uncomprehending pacifists, regardless of how their character is nominally shaped

[makriiii]

A kinship, of sorts. (Frank Heck × freader)

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: As a member of the O’Driscoll's, the handy work for Colm led you places far and wide, which thereby led to meeting folks on a spectrum far and wide. As it was now, you found yourself having to choose between the life you wanted with the man you desired or escaping the life that chose you.

Authors note: This was initially a oneshot idea, which spiraled :') it's also so hard to find pictures of this man

Warnings: 18+, cursing, guns, nothing too bad yet..

Tags: Slight slow burn, found family, eventual smutt.

♡

(You can skip this if you'd like.)

This is something I've been thinking about writing for a while after I saw an old painting that gave me the idea.

I also decided I'd incorporate that plot into this Frank Heck fanfic I wanted to write, since I've never seen anyone write a fanfic about him (cries)

For those who don't know, he's a deleted character, but you'll see him on the collectable gunslinger cards in game. I think he's sexy hot and cool so therefore I will write down my fantasies about him🤑

Anywho, because he is a deleted character, and 1911 Jack only gives a short story about him, I believe he is open for a lot of interpretation.

So, I wanted to base heavily him off of Doc Holliday, of whom I also believe to be a certified sexy master, plus he respects women so I'm like aguhhh 😫 however Doc Holliday has an intellect and wit on a level I could only hope to match, but I will do my best :)

This is also something you could take to be part of y/n's backstory in caught. If you'd like it to be cannon or not cannon to the caught story, that's up to you since I didn't write anything about it in caught. I like to keep y/n's character open as much as possible, so you guys never feel alienated from any backstory elements of my own choosing.

But enough from me, read my story 😈

♡

"For the last time," grunted your fellow O'Driscoll, his tone serious compared to the two that chuckled lightly beside him as you rode up. "Get out of here kid, we got no business with you."

You raised a brow as you got off your horse to see what the commotion was about with your gang members and this... random kid.

He nearly buckled at the knees, his hands together in prayer. "But why can't I?" He begs, hoping his words would strike a chord. "I know how to shoot and steal! I can help you guys."

The boy, average in height and a bit unkempt, looked to be about fourteen or fifteen as he pleaded at the feet of Cormac. A gruff and often stern Irish man, not the one you'd go asking for things of this nature.

"You want to join us?" You question with a disbelieiving smirk. "What on God's green earth for?"

"Finally!" His sputtering siezed as he whipped around to meet your face, the one who let him speak his mind. Though you could tell he instantly questioned you due to your gender. "You ride with them?"

If the iron at your sides didn't make it obvious, you weren't sure what else would. "Sometimes I wish I didn't." You tried making it sound displeasurable, as he seemed to be one of the young men who liked the ideal of being an outlaw.

"Oh, please miss!" Now his badgering was directed solely towards you, but not before Cormac ruffled his hair harshly and pushed him aside.

He and your other two buddies scoffed in disbelief at the kids incessant pleading and started heading off, ushering you with them. "Colm wants this done today, don't waste your time on him."

You nodded, giving the kid one last glance before following them off the veranda.

Before you knew it, you felt your shirt being tugged at from behind, a desperate attempt and a ballsy show of determination.

You were quick to turn around and glare at the boys unduly behavior. "Now is that the best way to ask something of someone?" You question harshly, fixing your shirt.

Your buddies hadn't noticed your absence behind them, as they kept on in their direction, leaving you and this boy to conversate without interruption.

"You're the only one who seems to listen, so please hear me out, would ya?" His gaze turned soft and mushy, like you had just stolen and sucked down his candy. Tears were in the forecast if you weren't mistaken and here you were, feeling somewhat bad for him.

Glancing back once more, you finally engaged him fully. "Whats your name, boy?"

"Nathaniel. Nathaniel Clarke, ma'am." His voice shaky but hopeful.

"And where are your parents, Nathaniel?" That question seemed to shake him up more, though he didn't let it show for long. You could tell he wanted to be tough.

"Dead, Miss." His hazel eyes fixed on the ground as he dug his heel into the warped wood below him. "Doctor said he couldn't do nothin' for 'em."

"And this is the life you think they would've wanted you to turn to?"

Once again, no eye contact as he hesitated.

"I reckon not."

You huffed out a great deal of your guilt that was slowly building with each question. "Then take my advice and find yourself honest work. This ain't some rough and tumble fun, it's your life. Go find some cattle ranching work, somethin' or rather."

Breaking his eye contact with the ground, he finally met your eye. Searching for any semblance that you might change your mind. But now it seemed you'd finally broken and tamed the boy.

"I-" he mutters, perhaps now rethinking his decision. You gave him a bit of patience before checking behind you again, the rest of the boys nearly out of sight behind a building.

"Listen, kid, you wait here and think about it. If you're here when I get back, I'll consider it." You caved. Unwillingly, but you caved nonetheless. You saw in him yourself, and that did you in.

He shot up like a rocket and nodded, more than elated with that prospect.

"Okay!" He pumps his fist with victory and immediately situates himself on a bench no more than a few feet away. "I promise I'll be here when you're done."

The fire in his eyes and the excitement nearly made you smile, it was contagious, yet you knew what taking a path like yours would entail.

You turned and picked up your pace to catch up with the rest of the men, the walk giving you time to reflect.

As happy as he was, you could not share the sentiment for long. You debated wether you should come back at all. You didn't want this for a boy like him, his whole life still open as a plain. Not narrowed or dimmed to a single path of stone.

All you could do was hope he would find himself something better to do. Yet, the thought remained, if he didn't - would he find a different, possibly worse person to beg, one that would accept?

You felt responsible for a kid you had just now met, worried for his well being.

---

The town lay quiet and dim, only noises from the saloon sounded throughout the place. Fog had picked up and it was no doubt late.

You, Cormac, Conor and Willis were all far from home - or atleast the area that you were better familiar with. You were in Blackwater, the up and coming city where leads were plentiful.

"Whats the time, Cormac?" You asked, fighting off a yawn as you trudged through the slightly damp dirt below.

"Quarter to one." He responds, his voice heavy with exhaustion. The lot of you had just gotten done with an array of things. Gambling, negotiating and sorting some... 'pal's' of yours out. "We oughta get back soon to Valentine."

"Lest we want Colm to have our balls for it." Willis starts giggling while gesturing to his lower parts, which riles up Conor.

You couldn't believe the four of you were the ones Colm entrusted his most important work to. Perhaps Cormac and you, but Conor and Willis were just the two you babysat together.

Both of them had their humor, some of which you found funny, but not on this particular night. Cormac neither, though a bit harsh, he was calmer like yourself, leading to a better partnership between the two of you.

"No one unpaid would willingly take a look at those, but perhaps you'd both quiet down without them." You chime mockingly, rubbing your tired eyes. Not often did you stay up so late due to the trade off of getting up early.

Cormac stayed quiet, but you could tell he enjoyed your retort.

"We'd pay you to nab our balls! Itd be much more enjoyable than Colm doing it." Blurts Conor, getting quite the rise out of Willis. Their accents making them sound ever so silly.

Your horse was further away from where they had tied theirs, thankfully, leaving you guys to split not long after Conor and Willis's joking.

Cormac shoved Conor and Willis away toward their horses for you and nodded your way as you separated.

"I won't be coming back tonight to camp, I have business elsewhere, Cormac."

"That's fine. But Colm'll want you back in Valentine in due time." He replies, arranging himself to get up on his horse. "I'll tell him."

"Aw, don't tell us you're leaving again, y/n!" Willis pouts, whether he was serious or not you'd never tell. "She's goin' off to cheat on us again."

"With that Mr. High and Mighty?" Conor fires, annoyed in your choice of men.

"Who else you think? Dunderhead."

Conor slaps his friends shoulder, glaring. "Colm's gonna get fed up with your eloping soon, y/n."

"What can't two fine lads such as ourselves offer that he can?"

"Precisely. " Conor agrees, "two for one deal."

You sighed, they were cleaning your ears right off with all their badgering. "You both have a face only a mother could love."

"Ahh," Conor hissed out, "let me show you what a real man can do."

"Yeah and what about you taking a look at our-" Slapped upside the head by Cormac, he finally relented, a muffled snicker coming from him and Willis.

"Good riddans, you bothersome bastards." You couldn't help but laugh after all their talk, only to get shut down by Cormac.

You thanked him and made your way back to your horse. As you put away your earnings, aloof and in a rather good mood despite the fatigue, you heard soft snores.

You listened for a second, confused on whether you were hearing things or if someone was laid out sleeping close by. A drunkard probably.

When you peeked around your horse through the dark, on the bench, the realization slapped you in the face.

There was that Clarke boy. Asleep but stationed right where he promised he'd be.

Observing him for a short while, you thought on it again. The option of just leaving still available.

He slept peacefully. His hat over his face and his pistol hidden by his grasp on it.

It crushed you - the decision that was to be made. He had waited all day for you to come back. His determination from earlier evident, no lack of it at all.

Hesitating, you finally walked back up the steps and sat beside him.

It was quiet out, peaceful, despite the ambiance of the saloon.

You thought of what to say, of what his life would be like with the gang, with the O’Driscolls. You may ride with them but you didn't think them good. But that's why you rode with them, you weren't neither.

With a light shake on his shoulder, he jolted up, which took you by slight surprise as well.

He fixed his hat quickly and shakes himself out of his drowsy state. "You see? I waited!"

"So is evident." You couldn't help but smile at his excitement, but still the guilt ate at you. "I'll let you ride with me for a bit, but then, we are finding you a proper place of employment."

"You mean it, really?" He questions, his face serious but excited.

"I do." You got up, returning to your horse, the Clarke boy scrambling up behind you. "But only for a bit, you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am!" He stands to a salute instantly, demonstrating his understanding.

You unraveled your horses reins, rubbing her face lovingly before she kindly snorted all over you. Thanking her sarcastically, you looked over to the boy who still stood with proper posture.

Giving him a look, he questioned you back, unsure of what you were getting at.

"Your horse, boy, where's that at?"

He considered you for a moment, standing perfectly still before looking beside you and pointing at one of the critters tied up by the saloon.

Now you both stood there staring at eachother. Him, an innocent, mindless stare, and you, one that saw right passed it.

"So, you don't have one yet."

"Is there really any harm in taking from the bastards here?" He reasons, taking a stroll over there to examine his choices. "I'll take one who's ill-taken care of. It'll be like a good deed, no?"

"I aint got much of a problem with it, I suppose. Just don't get caught."

After you mounted, he had chosen his steed. A deep bay, not much bigger than your average quarter horse. A stallion, as it looked to be, was ribby and a bit weak looking. Under fed at best.

"You sure?" You affirmed, examining the horse and the Clarke boy.

"I'm sure. I like this one." He jumps on quickly, scanning behind him making sure the owner wasn't happening out of the bar.

"Right." You nod, kicking your horse into action, following the road out of Blackwater. "We got a long way to go."

You had heard rumors of another gang around these parts as of recent. Van Der Linde's gang. You knew of them, but hadn't run into them as of yet, and planned on keeping it that way. Especially now that you had this boy to keep alive.

Colm had always wanted you off anything that could potentially involve them. You were valuable with what you could perform and Colm wanted you to have no dealings with them.

"Where you takin' us?" The Clarke boy questions, no undertone of worry in his voice at the fact that he was leaving with a stranger. An outlaw at that.

"South." You relay after checking your small, brass compass. "Seein' a buddy of mine."

His new horse seemed to be having a bit of fit, perhaps due to the fact it was unsure of who was now on his back. The young boy seemingly more than capable to handle the tantrum.

His hands remained loose on the reins, patting the stallions neck, soothing him best he could.

Atleast the he had a handle on horses, you weren't sure about what else he had for skills, but you were sure to find out in time.

"Who's the buddy?" He questions, he wasn't afriad of asking too many questions.

You gave him a thoughtful look before deciding wether to tell him or not, though seeing as he would be meeting him soon enough, you let it be known. "Frank Heck."

"Frank Heck!" He repeats in a loud burst, completely focused in on you now. "You know the Frank Heck? The gunslinger?"

It was this particular reaction that had you afore contemplating. "I suppose so."

"How'd- how? You actually know him? The gunslinger Frank Heck!"

You sighed out deeply, leaving your reins loose to run your hands through your hair. You definitely were to have a case of hat head, bad at that.

"I mean!" He's positively gobsmacked. "I read stories about him, he's famous!"

"Why, yes he is. He's somethin'."

"I get to meet him? Really?"

"You do. Don't worry." You were tired, and unable to understand how he had so much energy at such a late time in the night.

You just needed to find a place that was safe enough for the both of you till morning.

-----

It didn't take long for you to realize that, your drowsy state from last night had your judgment lacking. Heavily.

You didn't have nearly enough supplies to get you to New Austin with the Clarke boy in tow.

It was enough to get you by - barely, but you'd both be sun baked human jerkies before getting all the way to Armadillo.

The sun just barely greeted the land around as you sat with the company of the crackling fire you had just revived.

Your horses snorted every so often, grazing on what little half dead grass there was around the edges of the plains. Your horse and Clarke's new ride got along well, which made things a bit better.

That boy was still sleeping soundly, on what looks to be rather uncomfortable. A saddle and dirt, but he made do. His mouth wide open, drooling on his saddle.

So far, you didn't mind the company, albeit the company did have quite a lot to say.

Mousing away from Colm and the rest of your gang was something you liked to indulge in as often as possible. Colm didn't like it so much at first, but eventually came to allow it once you did for him decent work.

Now on your mind was Frank. What has he been up to during the time you'd been away from eachother?

When you'd met him, you saw him as nothing more than the typical law hating gunslinger who dressed well enough to be gawked over. One who gambled with more than just money.

And now he offered you a way to spend your time that wasn't either traversing alone or traversing with O'Driscoll's.

While some of the men, like Cormac, were decent enough company, you didn't actively prefer their company.

Frank interested you and you, him.

When you had left, you mentioned you had business to attend to in Armadillo. He found himself relating, mentioning that he'd wait for you there.

You weren't entirely sure what would compell him to stay in a town like that, with the lives there being amongst the lowest you could come across.

Criminals of all kinds crawled about the place like fire ants to a hive, their presence easily detected by the pandemonium they caused. The Del Lobos also made their appearance quite often, the stars of the show. The scarlet fever outbreak helped none either.

"Aghh." Groaned the sleepy Clarke boy from behind you, effectively spooking you out of your thoughts.

He started coughing and spitting quite suddenly, for whatever reason for, was beyond you.

"Damn bug in my mouth!" Wiping his tongue off throughly.

"Put that in there for breakfast" You teased, pushing yourself up from the ground. "Figured you were hungry by the way your mouth was hangin' open."

"Did you really?" He gasps, staring down at the grasshopper who'd trespassed, crippled on the ground, twitching.

"I told you. Gang life isn't what you expected."

"You feed eachother grasshoppers whilst asleep?"

Teasing the boy was certainly something fun to do.

"It's how we care for eachother when food is sparse."

He watched you closely, trying to glean any deception on your face. "You're fibbin', I aint never read that in any of my books."

"Well, your first mistake is trusting those silly books. You usher him up with a gesture, to which he promptly obeys. "Your second is trusting a stranger."

"So you were fibbin'!"

"I might actually next time."

"I needn't that, Miss, dont worry." He was quick to relieve you of any such duties. "Hey, wait.."

You gave him a glance of acknowledgement, then continued packing your horse.

"What is your name anyway? You never did tell me." His curious nature reminded both yourself and him, that you'd never given him your name.

"Y/n L/n. You ain't oughta keep callin' me Miss, though." You answered, mounting your horse, now just waiting for Clarke.

"Payin' respect where respects due, Miss y/n." Nathaniel explained, "you were kind to me and took me in."

He watched the floor as he spoke, a long on him you couldn't quite place.

"Get on your horse, Clarke. I'm gonna tell you a story."

His was quick for his horse once you told him that. By the recollection of his books, stories were something that interested him.

"I'm all ears!" He chirps, his stallion quick to be by your horses side.

You click your horse forward to resume the direction you'd been traveling the night previous. "When I was younger, I wasn't so dissimilar to you. A bit older perhaps when I met someone who took me in."

He listened in intently, almost leaning out of his saddle for the rest that was to come.

"He was kind, at times, he gave me what I needed, clothed me, fed me... I'm here now because of it. But as it were, the man he seemed to be, was only ever temporary." Your speech drawed out at times as you recounted the earlier days of being with Colm O'Driscoll.

"I can't say he changed - that's who he always was. When I realized, I had already done myself in." You left the details bleak, the story flesh gapped, you didn't find yourself enjoying the retelling. "He did various things to me I wasn't fond of, but I did whats needed, and now I get off lightly at times. Like now."

"You can't just leave?" Nathaniel whispers, his voice at a lowest record volume.

"I try. Only ever temporary." You did your utmost to drive the point home that gang life was truly not something to be actively searching out for. "I do what I do for that gang, I have no choice, and I ain't want you nailed to the same chain."

He seemed to have a bit more understanding now, fiddling with his stallions hair as he pondered the words of warning.

You gave him his time to contemplate, shaking off the rest of the memories and regret that left your conscience heavy.

"Then what else is there for me to do? To live for?"

It hit you like a stream train. You quite honestly had nothing to say for a minute.

"My ma was a waitress, my pa, a retired Sheriff. They did their best with what we had but.." he hesitates, peering off into the cactus covered horizon. "It didn't last. So I had to figure something else out. Just, I don't know what now."

"You think bein' an outlaw is the only way?" You were light with any judgement.

"I think it'd give me something to do. I can get money, go west. That's where everyone keeps talkin' bout anyway."

The west. The golden west. That was the land of opportunity. A better path for the boy, no doubt, but the way he desired to aquire it, wasn't right.

"Keep yourself straight, kid. It wouldn't give you anything worth while to do."

---

Nathaniel was perfectly described as near ghastly, the time under the sun certainly showing it's toll on him now.

Just in the distance was the dim lights of Armadillo. It was comforting, in the sense that there was to be some sort of food and water. But the company on the other hand...

His eyes were shut, leaning back in his saddle, blind trust in both you and your horse. You gave him a pat on the shoulder, alerting him to the sight ahead.

"We're 'bout near our destination. You are aware of Armadillos reputation, right?"

"I read about it in the newspapers. It sounds exciting." Nathaniel announced proudly, as if this place was a party.

"Exciting?" You fret, unsure of just what exactly these books he'd been reading had been telling him. "Just stay close to me, and don't speak to anyone. I mean it."

"Whatever you say, Miss y/n. I swear to you."

Upon your arrival in town, the place wasn't nearly as quiet as Blackwater. Some occasional yelling, people of many various bearings spread about the desolate town.

You eyed Nathaniel, making sure he stayed close. Constantly scanning for anything that'd bring either of you harm, but also for a Frank.

"I'm so hungry.." He grumbles, rubbing his stomach as you dismounted and tied your horses.

"Me too, my boy, me too." You agree, your spurs jingling as you stepped up the stairs. "This place has food, but dont get too roused."

"You'll get me something?" He swiftly stomped up the stairs behind you and into the saloon to keep close.

"Well, seeing as you didn't like breakfast."

He snorts out a little snicker, taking a seat at the bar next to you. You could tell he was uncomfortable, his initial impression of the place hadn't come 'round like he wished.

The people of Armadillo gave you lot stares. The two of you sticking out particularly sorely.

You let him pick out what he wanted from the very sparse choices the bartender offered, ordering after him yourself a drink.

"Whats that stuff taste like anyway?" Nathaniel wondered aloud, his face getting much too close to your glass than it should be.

You flicked his hat up, having him scramble to keep it from flying off. "Like something you shouldn't be drinking-"

Two men interrupted your banter, Nathaniel's staunch attention now directed towards them.

"Hey, little lady." The man, rugged as a bear, leaning against the counter, stared a burning hole through you.

"She got a little boy here." Scoffs evily his partner, sure to add the observation.

"You aint from here, are you, amiga?" His voice heavy with a Spanish accent. You knew exactly what occupation he held by the gun belts adorning his chest.

You stayed quiet, observing him intently. You didn't want any trouble, especially not with Nathaniel in tow. He was thankfully keeping your rule in mind.

Their chuckles were sinister and breathy as they surveyed you and Nathaniel. They weren't out to make friends, hopefully not to kill either, but to intimidate.

The first Del Lobo raised his hand to touch your green scarf. Rubbing it between his fingers as he inspected it.

You'd forgotten to take the damn thing off, preoccupied with watching over Nathaniel.

His eyes met with yours as he stood over you menacingly, raising your chin up with his dirt smudged finger.

"Hey!" Nathaniel barks out his opposition, coming to a stand, his hand now resting on his revolver. "Don't you be touchin' her."

You sat him right back down, the two men reveling with the reaction they could get out of him.

"Keep your boy in check, eh? 'Fore he gets himself hurt." Hummed the first man, a sickly satisfied look in his dark eye. "You're an O’Driscoll, we dealt with ya before."

"Sure you understand we aint like visitors." Crowed the next, shorter and skinnier, yet just about as threatening.

"Why, surely that's not who I believe it to be." Came yet another voice, one soothing, a familiar silvery voice.

His hands laid themselves on your shoulders, a scent you could pick out anywhere quickly filling your nose. "My darlin', y/n!"

There was Frank. A sweet talker at times.

Nathaniel's eyes lit up as he saw the, well, in book terms, a legendary gunslinger, acting particularly comfy with you and nonetheless aloof as described in the texts. His whole body siezed with the whole situation, overwhelmed and not sure what he was to do with himself.

"Hello Frank," you greeted warmly, side eyeing the two men who seemed slighted by the abrupt arrival of this man. "I was beginning to wonder if we'd ever see you." You turn to embrace the man you thought of ever so fondly since you'd met him.

"Oh, I'd never mean to keep you waiting." he promptly apologized, "Now, what is it we arrange for you mannerly individuals?"

[ohtobemare]

**serious post read at your own discretion**

disclaimer–religious triggers, personal opinions

I'm not usually one for celebrity documentaries.

But, a mutual recommended Val Kilmer's documentary, since he's one of my favorite actors and has been since I was a kid and watched Batman Forever, so I decided to give it a go.

It amazes me that the cream of the crop (read: Michael Jackson, Elvis, Whitney Houston, etc.) always seem to rise out of some of the most tragic childhood and life experiences. Michael Jackson came out of domestic abuse and body dysmorphia. Elvis, the loss of his twin and poverty. Whitney, drugs and alcohol.

For Val– the loss of a brother, his parents' divorce, emotional abuse, and later a divorce himself resulting in separation of his children. He's arguably one of Hollywood's most prolific, real method actors, someone who embodies each and every character with heart and soul. He believes in real storytelling, not the modern knock-off we see in shallow blockbusters today.

He's one of the good ones. From Doc Holliday to Batman to the infamous Iceman, I'd argue that nobody is quite as talented as Val. A fact I've overlooked for a good few years now.

All throughout his career Hollywood and "the business" has labeled him difficult and eccentric because of his dedication to storytelling and authenticity, of keeping true to the theme. Because every movie has a theme, a message it communicates, since film is a medium of communication. He documents an experience in Australia, where a film was completely gutted for the sake of a production schedule, which left him baffled and broken.

And his journey with tracheostomy and throat cancer and the inability to speak. Wow. He really bares his soul and the reality of what fame being stripped away is really like. I cried quite a bit over this documentary, because even robbed of the one thing you absolutely need as an actor –your voice–Val is still 100% committed to the field. To the experience of storytelling. He adapted and threw himself into art, a studio, and documentation of his experiences and what it means to be a storyteller. He's passionate and raw, not swept up in fame.

Hollywood cost him everything. He even says he lost himself for awhile, that Hollywood is like stepping into hell. He's right. Fame will take until there's nothing you can give, and Val is one of the few to transcend actually caring.

Who knows how much of this is *actually* true, since Hollywood is infamous for smoke and mirrors and deception (if you know anything about the dark underworld of the industry) but I'll take it at face value.

Regardless of the question of honest truth, this was a refreshing look into acting. While I think it still ignores, or chooses to hide, the ugly and spiritual side of what it takes to make it in Hollywood, I can't think of a better or more raw approach to explaining the journey of fame and the art of visual storytelling. I always knew Kilmer was good–and there's a reason why. Art is in his soul, just as music was in Michael and Elvis'.

Hollywood took Val Kilmer and ran with him, and left him high and dry and hollow at the end. But, he's choosing to rise out of those ashes. I can commend him for that.

Yet another testament to how we don't know the full story of our peers' lives until we come up close and personal to it. God can make anything out of any backstory–a prostitute to anoint Him for burial, a hotheaded fisherman to become the rock of which He built His church, a shepherd to be the greatest king of Israel.

Despite Val not serving the same God or understanding the same Jesus Christ that I do, his life is a picture of just exactly what the world can offer you. Nothing. There is freedom in forsaking the standards of society and pursuing what God has destined for you, unabashedly. I can only pray Val Kilmer, and the host of others like him, can come to knowledge of who he is in Christ, and experience the passionate love of Christ's salvation.

10/10 documentary, and I hardly EVER give full marks. Worth your watch.

See Yas, From a former film reviewer

[keldjinfae]

I was tagged by the lovely @greyhavenisback, and I cannot for the life of me remember if I've already responded to this post or not, so...

In no particular order, my Top 10 Movies:

Inception - it has Marion Cotillard, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Tom Hardy, and Ken Watanabe. That would be enough if it didn't also have one of the most goosebump-inducing soundtracks of all... Time. It also set sail one of my all-time favorite ships with the creation of Arthur and Eames.

The Dark Knight - while this list won't be entirely comprised of Nolan movies, I can't not put this one on this list, considering how many times I saw it in theaters. Both Heath Ledger and Aaron Eckhart were mesmerizing as the Joker and Two-Face, and again, that soundtrack is fire (I'm sorry).

Saw (the entire series) - I went to see all of these so many damn times in theaters that it's a good thing I got to see them for free. Every weekend, provided something new hadn't been released, my friend and I went to see whichever Saw movie was still showing. And again, isn't it iconic?

Tombstone - yes, obviously there's Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday, but there's also Kurt Russell, Sam Elliott, Bill Paxton, Powers Boothe, Michael Biehn, Stephen Lang, Billy Zane, Thomas Hayden Church, and nobody's leaving it up to one man to carry the movie. It's also one that I used to watch with my father at least once a year, usually around the anniversary of his separation from my mother, and we'd pass a bottle of bourbon back and forth and rant about how insane it is that Kilmer wasn't even nominated for an Oscar.

John Wick (the entire series) - it's a thing of beauty to me that what should just be a bunch of "shoot 'em up" movies have such an insane amount of worldbuilding to them (and if anyone bothering to read this post knows anything about my writing, it's how much I build a world before I start writing the story in the first place). The action is gorgeous, the actors themselves are gorgeous, the development and usage of things as simple as slang is gorgeous, the soundtrack is gorgeous. You can also never go wrong with Ian McShane.

The Warriors - this was legit one of our family movie night features while my sister and I were growing up. Yes, there were animated movies and whatnot, but our parents were very lax about rating restrictions. We still regularly quote "CAN YOU DIG IT?!" and "Warriooooooooors! Come out to plaaaaaaaay!" Also, James Remar as Ajax was 🔥.

Interview with the Vampire - Tom Cruise may be an... interesting individual in real life, but the effort he put into portraying Lestat was sheer perfection. I used to watch this one all the time with my dad and my sister, and again, killer soundtrack.

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World - a movie that decided to bring together every single comedian of the time that they possibly could, as well as come up with relevant things for them to do. Sounds impossible "on paper," and yet this movie exists. I've been watching it since I was a child and I still laugh through the whole thing. Buddy Hackett is also basically my father in this movie, which makes Mickey Rooney both myself and my sister. "NO ONE'S FLYING THE PLANE!"

21 Jump Street and 22 Jump Street - I laughed so hard watching the first one that my vision literally whited out at one point. Everyone is fantastic in both movies, but 21JS is also the first time I got to see Channing Tatum's understated sense of humor.

Kill Bill (both volumes) - I could have just filled up most of these slots with Tarantino movies, honestly, because I do love just about all of them (and my dad had a particular fondness for Django Unchained), but my sister and I rewatch I and II at least once a year. They make up one masterpiece, and I may be in the minority but I hope III is never actually a serious prospect.

No pressure whatsoever tags: @dear-massacre @nerdherderette @vmures @renmackree @ephemeronidwrites

[adventure-showdown]

What is your favourite Doctor Who story?

ROUND 3 MASTERPOST

synopses and propaganda under the cut

The War Games

Synopsis

The Doctor, Jamie and Zoe arrive on an unnamed planet. At first believing themselves to be in the midst of World War I, they realise it is one of many War Zones overseen by the War Lords, who have kidnapped large numbers of human soldiers in order to create an army to conquer the galaxy. Infiltrating the control base, the Doctor discovers that the War Chief is also a member of his own race. The creeping realisation sets in that the Doctor cannot solve this problem alone, and that his days of wandering may be at an end...

Propaganda no propaganda submitted

The Gunfighters

Synopsis

When the First Doctor, Steven and Dodo arrive in the town of Tombstone in 1881, the Doctor's only aim is to find a dentist. Adamant that they should only stay a night in Tombstone, the Doctor finds their stay prolonged when he inadvertently becomes involved with a group of gunmen out to kill Doc Holliday.

Propaganda

I know the song is bad, but is it really? When I watched this for the first time it was slightly annoying, occasionally very funny (like when we linger on Charlie's body for what must have been a full minute while the lyrics of the song talked about how he just died, an iconic moment in doctor who for me). But then a few months ago I watched it with a bunch of other people and it was so fun, specifically because of the song. Its great, the Gunfighters is extremely underrated and I love it dearly, its one of my favourite first doctor stories, and the last chance saloon is a regular ear worm of mine (anonymous)

[irradiatedbearchewtoy]

this is written with the intention of being accessible to people who have only watched post-2005 doctor who but who knows how that will go

i want to talk about a really cool controversial-but-not-in-the-way-where-people-are-arguing-about-if-bigotry-is-acceptable-way classic doctor who serial. if you sit until the end, you get to see a selection of alien designs from other 60s serials

if you're familiar with this story, happy humming! if you're not, hopefully you will know exactly what i mean by that very soon.

if you haven't seen classic who—or at least 60s who—before, this may not be the best serial to convince you of how exciting it is, but i'm running on no sleep, a newly released episode, caffeine, and audhd so i'm at least going to try. my apologies for the stream on consciousness; i have tried to make myself somewhat coherent...

the serial in question is the 1966 pure historical 4-parter 'the gunfighters'. pure historical here meaning set in the past with no science fiction elements.

these were standard in the first few years of the show but stopped after 'the highlanders' in late '66/early '67. there was one after that—'black orchid', in '82—but the time period was less relevant and it wasn't to do with any notable historical events or figures.

the first doctor, steven, and dodo land in tombstone, arizona because the doctor has a toothache after eating a sweet in the previous serial, 'the celestial toymaker'—a serial a lot more revival-only fans are now somewhat aware of since the toymaker's appearance in the 60th anniversary special 'the giggle'—and wants to see a dentist. steven and dodo put on awful american accents the whole time. they get caught up with doc holliday (who ends up pulling the doctor's tooth) and wyatt earp, among others.

a song called 'the ballad of the last chance saloon' plays over (almost?) every transition shot. i love it, but not everyone does; people have very strong opinions about that song. if you don't like it, this serial is a lot to swallow, as it plays over 30 times in less than 2 hours. steven is forced to sing this song at gunpoint while dodo plays the piano. i wanted to just insert a still of that but i think some of you who wont watch the serial or search out clips need to see it.

speaking of the gunpoint thing, there's a good chunk of violence in this one. people get shot with actual non-laser guns and someone almost gets hanged, noose around the neck and all. this isn't abnormal for 60s who. before colour came into the picture, the doctor used to whack people around all the time. a personal favourite of mine is in 'the highlanders' when the second doctor beats up a lawyer, gags him, and locks him in a closet. even in the very first serial, 'an unearthly child', a guy is stoned to death on-screen.

'the ballad of the last chance saloon' has been released officially, most widely when it was released on streaming platforms in 2013 as part of a 50th anniversary album. that version was pulled from streaming a while ago, leaving a very sad gap in many of my playlists. even before removal, that version was cut down from the full 10:34 to 3:51!! which is probably a good thing, because that track can be a powerful weapon against the right target. here is the full version, for your listening pleasure.

on top of it just being a fun story that sticks in people's minds because of the music, there are some cool notable production/show lore moments linked to the serial. yes, you can find these all on tardis wiki, shh

doc holliday's actor, anthony jacobs, brought his 10-year-old son to set, as a treat for his birthday (the birthday detail is mentioned in this ABC radio interview from 2022). that son was named matthew jacobs and went on to write the 1996 tv film starring paul mcgann as the eighth doctor.

it was the only (on-screen) story to take place fully in the united states of america until... the tv film!

it marked the last serial for every episode to have its own name. after this, episodes are simply numbered. there are some exceptions later on in the show, but this was the end of the standard practice.

it hosts the only episode title in classic, 'a holiday for the Doctor', to refer to the character of the Doctor as such instead of Doctor Who

was this a big pile of nothing? maybe? but here are your 60s alien photos, as promised. all photos are from the tragical history tour collection! x x

finally, this is an open invitation to reblog adding as much as you wish about the gunfighters or any other classic/wilderness stories that you want to talk about. my only request is that you make it an unhinged as possible. ik that's tall talk considered this post and episode aren't notably unhinged but just go with it, okay?

i kind of want to do a bunch of these just rambling about classic stories to try and get people to actually watch it but i'm not committing to that so. we'll see.

[mswyrr]

Why must Lucy and Cooper be Joel and Ellie and not, for example, Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp? (I'm thinking of them in the 1993 neo western classic "Tombstone" but their overall mythology as well). The decent cowboy with grit who inspires the fierce loyalty of a lovable rogue (who is only a rogue because of personal tragedy). Lucy has a little growing to do, but she can pull off steely decency that motivates the loyalty of a rogue already she just needs practice and to expand her experience of the Wasteland. If you don't arbitrarily limit her to female roles there's tons of options.

They're letting her draw on all kinds of stories as a protagonist like the John McClane references. Her story is so far about trying to be like a Wyatt earp - both gritty and decent. Golden rule, motherfucker. Why, in all of Westerns, are people saying she's a little girl?

A little girl who isn't (in season 1/game one of tlou) even the protagonist. Lucy MacLean is the lead protagonist? She's not a child sidekick to Cooper like Ellie is to Joel?? Even if Cooper tries to shove her into a daughter role to make sense of things, there's zero evidence in canon that she wants a father figure.

Ellie campaigned hard to be Joel's daughter because that's what she wanted. She'd never had a parent and she desperately wanted one. A father isn't what Lucy wants. She told herself she was leaving the vault to find her dad and she does love her family --and now she does want answers re: all that -- but she wanted to get tf out of there too imo. She's curious and wants more from life. She's still figuring herself out, but wherever she comes to, it won't be to wanting a simple return to the metaphorical "womb" of the vault she left and/or be a parent's child again - it's to grow up. Forge her own path, make her own mistakes. Figure out who she is. She already has a father; Ellie never did. She's an adult; Ellie is a child. She's the lead protagonist of an ensemble where the male characters are, respectively, her echo (Max) with a similar arc and her shadow (Cooper); Ellie was a sidekick to a protagonist in game 1/season 1.

It's amusing to me to think of Cooper trying to be like a dad to her -- but precisely because that isn't what Lucy wants and it would be hilarious if he tried in his super awkward, broken way to express admiration and respect like that. But for fandom to just automatically slot her into the role of sunshine sidekick child when she has her own story and it isn't that is weird to me. I don't see any justification for it narratively.

Do I think they're going to get together in canon? No, I think they're supposed to have the intense "good guy"/rogue dynamics with subtextual eroticism that are common between men in Westerns (like, say, Boyd and Raylan from Justified - Boyd being one of Walton Goggins' most celebrated roles; could they have chosen him because they wanted that kind of vibe for Lucy's lead?) only Lucy is a female lead (shrug) and like in those Westerns the canon love interests are already set BUT it will be fun to watch their "....how are two people so intimate and not fucking???" stuff go down and non-canon shipping will be fun -- and the canon relationships are well written (a show with two well written canon romances! one tragic and the other hopeful - delightful tbqh) so it can be enjoyable on multiple levels.

[girl4music]

Well… This should be interesting for all the Earpers.

But it has to be fucking Netflix doesn’t it?

I knew that ‘Wynonna Earp’ was based off a comic book which was heavily based off of a true American Western story about lawman Wyatt Earp and his dealings at the O.K. Corral alongside Doc Holliday. I just never knew what the full story of that was. So I’d be interested in watching this show if it wasn’t Netflix.

[fereldensheroes]

PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER !

alias / name : Lewind birthday : Oct. 28th zodiac sign : Scorpio height : 5'9 hobbies : writing, singing, gaming, hiking favourite colour : forest greens favourite book : I don't know that I have a favorite last film / show : Teen Wolf! recent reads : Dragon Teeth by Michael Crichton. A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes by Suzanne Collins. Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. inspiration : Shakespeare, Celtic myth, Slavic myth, Appalachian myth, various games, Teen Wolf, etc etc. story behind url : Well... this was supposed to be a Dragon Age blog... fun fact about me : I'm related to Doc Holliday and I will be your huckleberry.

tagged by: @altrxisme tagging: @wolf-eyes-wolf-soul, @wildskissed, @lordliing, @oathfcrged, @oathwilled, @infernaliscor, @spiderwarden, @shiilelagh

[filmtv2022]

To the Bitter End: Chapter 15 (FINAL CHAPTER)

18+ Minors Do Not Proceed

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Pairing: Doc Holliday x Earp!Reader

Chapter Notes: Doc & Y/N finally reunite, and together they embark on the next leg of their journey together. 

Story Summary: The youngest Earp sibling joins her older brothers in Tombstone with the hope that the new climate will ease her consumption/tuberculosis symptoms and reconnect her family.  But as she settles into this new life, will she find something worth living for? Someone who can tame the loneliness?

Warnings: Illness and death (It's really sad y'all... just know you've been warned)

A/N: The Italics sections are from Doc/Wyatt’s perspectives. The timeline shifts a bit here so we are sort of looking back at things that have happened in the recent past. 

-------------------------

In the distance, Wyatt could see a horse riding hard and fast toward the Hooker cottage. There was something dragging behind the horse in the grass, but from this distance, it was impossible to tell what it was. The man on the horse turned to cut the rope behind him loose before settling on top of a nearby hill. Wyatt and the others rushed out to see what was left by the mysterious rider. 

As they approached the smell of decaying flesh rolled into their noses. The sight of a man’s mutilated body in the dirt before them caused several of the men to dry-heave.  

“They got McMasters!”

The mysterious rider circled back around to deliver a message to Wyatt. 

“Ringo wanted to make sure he got your attention, Marshall! He wants a straight-up fight, just you and him. To settle this thing once and for all. Oak Grove at the mouth of Silver Spring Canyon, 7:00!”

“You tell him I’ll be there! I’ll be there!”

…

Wyatt stood at the window of Doc’s room, staring out at the soon setting sun as he spoke.

“I spent my whole life not knowin’ what I wanted outta life, just chasin’ my tail. Now for the first time, I know exactly what I want. And who. And that’s the damnable misery of it.” 

Walking to the end of the bed Wyatt continued to pour his thoughts out to Doc who was laying with his hand folded neatly on his chest, taking in the sight of his friend. 

“What makes a man like Ringo, Doc? What makes him do the things he does? 

“A man like Ringo… got a great empty hole right through the middle of him. He can never kill enough or steal enough… or inflict enough pain to ever fill it. “

“What does he need?”

“Revenge” 

“For what?”

“Bein’ born.” 

Finally, Wyatt turned back to Doc, staring him hard in the face as he processed what his friend had just said. Making his way to the bed, Wyatt sat on the edge next to John.

“It all happened so fast with Curly Bill. I didn’t really have time to think about it. But I’ve had plenty of time to think about this… I can’t beat him, can I?” 

“No” 

Nodding his head Wyatt turned to stand from the bed.

“Wait… I’m goin’ with ya” Doc tried to stand, but a violent set of coughs threw him back into bed. His breath wheezed as he spoke, “Oh, god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Wyatt.”

“It’s all right”. 

“What’s it like to wear one of those?” Doc gestured with his hand to the Marshall badge attached to Wyatt’s lapel. Without hesitation, Wyatt unpinned it from himself and tucked it into John’s palm. Moving away from the bed Wyatt made his way out of the cottage and to his horse, it was now or never. Wyatt knew he was likely riding to his own demise, but he tried hard to push those thoughts from his mind so as to not let them cloud his judgement. 

….

Back in the room, Doc waited until the sound of hoofbeats had faded into the distance before sitting up and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. Methodically, John readied himself. First, he slipped on his trousers, buttoning the front, and adjusting them on his hips. Next, he grabbed a dry shirt, pulling it on and tucking it into his pants. His holster and guns were the next pieces to be added to his body. Each pistol was given a once over before being slotted into its rightful place. Doc grabbed for his boots next, pulling each one on with care. A long dark coat and hat were donned to help disguise his features should he run into anyone along the way. And last, but not least, John pinned the Marshall’s badge to his shirt. If he was going to fight one last time, at least this one would be legal. 

Just as Doc’s hand pulled at the door handle, a vision of you played through his mind causing him to think twice about his actions. He knew that doing this could tear him away from you forever, bringing you unspeakable pain in the process. But he knew if he didn’t, he’d still be bringing you pain by not protecting Wyatt. If he didn’t go he was ensuring your brother’s death. And while he knew part of you’d hate him for risking his own life, he was willing to accept that, he couldn’t bear the thought of you losing another sibling. 

…

Through the trees, Doc could see Ringo leaning against a large oak tree. Slowly, he made his way through the shadow towards the man. It was clear by the way Ringo spoke that he didn’t realize who was approaching. 

“Well! I didn’t think ya had it in you.” Pushing himself from the tree, he sauntered in John’s direction.

“I’m your huckleberry- ” The words froze Ringo in place. “Why Johnny Ringo, you look like somebody just walked over your grave.”

“Fight’s not with you, Holliday.” 

“I beg to differ, sir. We started a game we never got to finish-” a quick cough cleared Doc’s throat before he continued, “Play for blood, remember?”  John pulled a drag from his cigarette as waited for Ringo’s response.

“I was just foolin’ about.” 

“I wasn’t. And this time, it’s legal ” A nasty smirk painted John’s face as he watched Ringo fight to push his fear down as the man’s eye caught sight of the Marshall pin on Doc’s chest. 

“All right, lunger. Let’s do it.” 

The two men began to circle one another, each searching for signs that the other was making a move. 

“Say when.”

Ringo’s hand slowly slid up his side, hovering over his pistol. But before the cowboy could even contemplate grabbing the weapon, Doc had unholstered his gun, firing a quick shot at Ringo. The bullet hit true, piercing the man’s skull. John twirled the weapon before placing it back on his hip. Ringo stumbled forward, wet sounds erupted from his throat as he reached for Doc.

“Come on. Come on!” Curling his fingers, John gestured for Ringo to keep coming at him.

“Oh, Johnny, come on!”

Ringo’s grunts and coughs continued as he struggled against his fatal wound. His gun, now in his hand, fired directly into the ground.

“You’re no daisy. You’re no daisy at all!”

At last, Johnny Ringo crashed to the ground, falling on his back at the base of the oak tree he’d leaned upon earlier. 

“Poor soul. You were just too high-strung.” Doc removed the badge and placed it on Ringo’s chest. The sound of rushed footsteps approaching from behind had John reaching for his pistol. 

Wyatt came into view with his own weapon drawn. Standing Doc explained what had happened, “I’m afraid the strain was more than he could bear.” 

Wyatt gave Doc a shocked look, surprised not only to see Ringo dead but to see his friend upright and out of bed.

“Oh, I wasn’t quite as sick as I made out” 

Wyatt bent down as he spoke, “Good God.” He pulled the badge from the dead man’s chest, holding it for Doc to see.

“My hypocrisy only goes so far.”

“All right. Let’s finish it.”

“Indeed, sir. The last charge of Wyatt Earp and his immortals.” 

------------------------------

You weren’t sure how or when you’d made it back to your bed, but the feeling of cotton rubbing against your skin told you where you were even before your eyes opened. Allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim morning light of the room, you scanned the space taking in the sounds of people moving about in the house as you did so. This morning your body felt marginally stronger than it had in days, and you decided to take advantage of the newfound energy. Sitting up slowly you held onto the bedpost to help you hoist yourself from the mattress. Your housecoat hung on the coat rack next to the bed, grabbing it you pulled the soft fabric around your body as you shuffled in small steps towards the door. 

The smell of freshly made eggs wafted in your direction as you cracked the door open. The sound of it moving in its hinges caused everyone’s head to turn towards you. At the table sat Virgil, Allie, Louisa, Mattie, and the nurse. Victoria. You flashed them a small smile as you continued your slow amble to the table. Seeing your legs were still shaky, Virgil stood to help guide you to the empty seat at the table.

Sitting down, you took a minute to observe the people around you. Your family members all shared the same dark circles under their eyes, clearly, they hadn’t managed to get a good night of sleep. You felt guilty for a moment as the realization hit that you were likely part of the reason for their sleepless nights. 

Coming up behind you Virgil sat a small plate of food in front of you along with a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Thanks, Virg.” You reached for the silverware finding it a bit of a struggle to hold the utensil still as you stabbed at a bite of egg. The food burned on the way down your throat, not because of heat, but because the tender flesh of your esophagus was raw from your near-constant coughing. The coffee smelled wonderful, but you thought better of picking it up. The last thing you wanted was to add burns to your list of ailments.

The six of you ate quietly for several minutes before you felt the flash of pain thrum through your chest. The pain was quickly followed by the all too familiar squeeze of lung spams. The force of the spams crumpled you in your seat, small droplets of blood dripped onto the plate of food in front of you. Virgil moved like lightning to your side, he reached out to help you stand as the fit continued to rack your body. He would have given anything to pick you up and move you back to the bed, but his damned arm kept him from doing so. The pair of you stumbled back into the bedroom, your body all but falling into the mattress when you were close enough. Finally, after what felt like hours, your body began to relax again. Your lungs settling enough to let you get in a few deeper breaths. Staring at the ceiling you could hear Virgil shift a chair so that he could sit next to the bed without having to move you. 

“Y/N, we need to talk” Virgil’s voice was somber and resigned, you knew what was coming next, and yet it didn’t stop the emotions.

“I know, it's time-” you paused to collect yourself slightly before resuming, “It’s just… are you sure we can’t wait for them a little bit longer?”

Virgil’s lack of response was answer enough.

“Just promise me this Virg. Promise me you’ll bring him to me as soon as you can? And… if… promise me you’ll put us to rest together.”

“Of course, I promise you Y/N, I’ll make sure the world will always know how much you loved…love each other.”

Screwing your eyes shut, tears began to pour as you listened to Virgil leave to talk with Victoria. You could hear Allie, Louisa, and Mattie packing up your belongings. No conversation passed between them, but everyone once in a while one of them would press a gentle kiss to your temple. 

As each one finished their task within the room they came to your bed, and whispered what would likely be their final goodbyes to you. You watched unsurprised as Mattie high-tailed it out of the room after she finished packing your jewelry away. Allie was the first to speak to you, her soft voice cracked with emotion as she spoke, “Y/N, I am so blessed to call you my sister. I’ll love you forever my sweet girl.” You could barely speak, the muscles of your throat tense with emotion. Allie clearly wasn’t ready to leave yet as she sank into the seat Virgil had used earlier. 

“Virgil is so blessed to have you, Allie.Thanks for loving him. A girl couldn’t ask for a better sister.” 

Louisa’s small frame pressed into the empty space next to you on the other side of the bed. Her gentle fingers brushed your hair out of your face as she looked deeply into your eyes. She had begun to shake her head ‘no’ as she struggled to find the right words.

“I don’t know what to say Y/N. Having you in my life has been the most wonderful thing. I thank God every day for the time I got to spend with you and Morgan.”

“He loved you so much, Louisa. And god, we were the lucky ones, to get to have you in our lives.”

The three of you sat in silence as you cried. It wasn’t until you heard the door creak again that you realized Mattie had come back into the room. 

“Ladies, would it be possible for me to have a minute alone with Y/N?” Louisa and Allie both looked to you to see if this was okay, you nodded your head in affirmation. 

Once the others were out of the room, Mattie sat down in the chair next to the bed. She didn’t speak, instead, she sat staring at her hands. It was clear she was struggling with something. 

“It’s okay, Mattie. You don’t have to-”

“No, it’s not okay Y/N. I’ve been thinkin’ about this a lot since we left Tombstone, and I need to apologize.” 

Not wanting to run her off you waited with great patience as she tumbled the words she wanted to say through her mind one more time.

“Y/N, I’ve been terrible to you since we met. And honestly, I have no good reason for my actions. Your illness terrifies me, but that’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you. I think it was easier to blame you for the problems between me and Wyatt than it was to accept the fact that he and I were never destined for a long and happy life together. And to see you with Doc, it only made me resent you more. The love you two have, that’s the kind of love every person hopes to find, and it burned me to know that I didn’t have it. Y/N, I am so deeply sorry. Seeing you face down this illness with such strength and grace has shown me just how weak I really am, and god, I wish I could find a way to make myself into half the woman you are, but I’ll never be that. I’ll always just be the addict who found herself a man that could never truly love her back. Your brother is a wonderful person, and I know I’ve hurt him too with the drugs and the way I’ve treated you. If I could take it all back, I would, in heartbeat, but I can’t. So, for what it’s worth coming from me, I’m truly sorry Y/N. You never deserved the cards you’ve been dealt in life, and I am sorry for throwing more obstacles in your way. I understand if you can’t find it in your heart to forgive, but I couldn’t let you leave here without at least hearing these words.” 

You were stunned, to say the least. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined hearing those words from Mattie. Part of you instinctually wanted to push her aside, as you’d never before been able to believe a word that came out of her mouth. But this was different, and you could sense it in the way she spoke. These words were truthful, perhaps the most honest thing Mattie had ever spoken. 

“I forgive you, Mattie.” The simple words brought heaving sobs from the blonde woman sitting beside you. Her hands reached out to clutch yours as she let herself give into the remorse coursing through her. 

It was only Virgil’s arrival at your door that ended the embrace. Mattie stood at the sound of your brother coming into the room.

“It’s time Y/N girl.” 

“Alright. I’m ready.” 

The two of you made your way to the carriage that sat out front. Your bags had already been neatly packed inside. As the driver snapped the reins you smiled and waved at the women standing on the porch. They waved back, you could read the sadness in their bodies. Their shoulders slumped as they watched you ride away. You wished they could come with you, but a sanitorium was no place for them to see. Virgil sat beside you holding your hand as you continued to let the tears fall from your eyes. 

-------------------------

The trip into Glenwood beat your body to hell, every bump in the road sent shockwaves of pain through your bones. And the intake process only furthered your exhaustion. By the time you were wheeled to bed your body was ready to give out. A pair of doctors helped lift you into bed, and pulled the covers over you before they walked away. 

“Y/N, I’m not going anywhere yet, but the doctors want to talk with me in their office. Is that okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay Virg. I’m not going anywhere yet either.” You huffed a small laugh at your own joke. Virgil shook his head at you as he pulled the privacy curtain shut around your bed. 

----------------------------

You weren’t sure how much time had gone by, but a sudden influx of voices moving past your bed caught your attention, dragging you from your sleeping state. 

Turning on your side you saw that another bed had been moved flush with yours. The head and footboards attached firmly together so as to prevent the mattress from slipping apart. But more importantly, laying next to you in his beautiful maroon robe was John. His eyes were closed, but you could hear the whistle of his breathing. Mustering every ounce of energy you had, you slid yourself closer to your husband. Someone had placed a blanket over the top of both of you, allowing you to share the same space fully without any obstacles. Once you were flush with his side you allowed your legs to tangle with his, and your arm to stretch across his chest. The feeling of his warm body next to yours was comforting in a way that could never be fully explained. And there you stayed for the remainder of the night. Occasionally, you would wake to the sound of a nurse coming to check on you both, but that was perfectly okay with you. You had John back in your arms, and for the time being, everything was right with the world.

-------------------

The feeling of John running his hand along your arm woke you the next morning as dim sunlight streamed through the windows. Tipping his head down, Doc pressed his lips to your crown, inhaling the scent of you. Threading your fingers with his, you brought his hand to your lips, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle. 

“Goodmorning, Mr. Holliday.”

“Goodmorning, Mrs. Holliday.” 

“You made it back”

“Just like I promised, darlin’ ” 

The two of you shared a deep unspoken need to be near one another, and even though little space existed between yourselves, you sought to close the remaining distance. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, relishing every needy sound that poured from your bodies, as you turned to capture his lips with yours. You tried to keep your wits about you, being that only a curtain separated you from the rest of the room. It had only been a handful of weeks, but the time away had felt like centuries. No amount of time in each other’s embrace was ever going to be enough, but you were grateful for every second you were given. Too soon for your liking, a nurse came to check on you both during their morning rounds. 

Being an intelligent woman, the nurse cleared her throat loudly before pulling back the curtain, and entering your space, giving you each time to situate yourself with a touch more modesty. Though modesty was relative, John’s hand still rested on your breast as the nurse greeted you both. 

“Morning all, I was just stopping by to check in and deliver some food for you both. Oh, also, Wyatt says he will be stopping by later to pay you both a visit.”

Setting the tray of food down on the cart next to the bed, the woman began the slow process of helping both you and Doc into a sitting position before wheeling the cart next to the bed and swinging the arm out over you so that the food was within reach. 

“I’ll be back later for the trays, enjoy.”

Now that you were seated your eyes fell on John’s profile. It was simultaneously disquieting and comforting to see his illness painted so clearly across his beautiful features. Tucking your heels to the back of your thighs, you twisted to allow your side to press into Doc. His arm came to rest along the back of your shoulders holding you tight to his body yet again. With his opposite hand, he picked up the spoon in front of him, dipping it into the oatmeal on the tray, his hand shaking as he brought the utensil to his mouth. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed the food.

With just a single bite consumed, John placed the spoon back down on the tray, a small clink accompanied the movement. His hand, now free, reached for yours, your head coming to rest on his shoulder. The tender moment was cut short by a searing bout of coughing that tore through your body. John tried desperately to hold you still as you rode it out, the action sapping him of his own small reserve of energy. 

Panting, you let your body slump against John, as the sounds of fellow dying people murmured through the room. 

“What do you think they would’ve been like…our children?” Your voice was timid and tired.

Blowing a small huff of air out of his nose, Doc took a moment before responding, “They would have been the most wonderful little hellions to grace the earth… and I can tell you one thing for certain, our daughter would’ve been the most tenacious and beautiful soul. With a true propensity for speaking her mind.” 

“She'd of had you wrapped around her little finger.” 

“Just like her mother in every way.”

The two of you shared a small laugh at the thought of Doc waiting on your daughter hand-and-foot. 

“And our son?” It was John who asked the question this time.

“Hmm, he would’ve been so deeply kind, courageous, and loyal, like his father.-” You took a look at John’s face as he contemplated what you’d said, conflict touched his features mixing the emotions together. You continued on, this time bringing a touch of humor to the table, “But I fear your lack of self-preservation would have rubbed off on both our children.” 

Laughter came a bit stronger this time as John quipped back, “Now admit it darlin’, you didn’t disagree with hellion as a fitting term for our children.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. I did sell my soul to the devil after all.” Leaning up you kissed him lightly before settling back into his side, his fingers spinning the ring on your hand. The conversation fell quiet for several minutes, both of you lost in deep thought. 

John broke the barrier again with his confession, “Before you, I never could have imagined having a family of my own, and now, it burns me that I’ll never get to experience it with you. I’ll never get to see you round with my child. That I’ll never get to hold our babies in my arms… that might be the cruelest thing of it all.”

“You would have been the most wonderful father John.”

“Y/N, our children would have been blessed beyond measure to have you as their mother.”

Leaning down Doc brushed your lips together, your noses bumping gently before he pressed himself to you. The kiss deepened as his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring the taste of you. His hands found their way into your hair, gripping the soft strands tightly as he struggled to keep his breathing steady. No matter his desire, John’s body finally lost the battle to stay connected to you. His lungs gave a great heave, sending a new layer of sweat to the surface. With a groan Doc fell back against his pillows, trying to shield you from his agony, but you wouldn’t let him. Instead, you held him tight, drawing comforting shapes on his shoulders as he rode the wave. As his body calmed, you helped him slide down onto the bed, tucking yourself into his side. 

Time moved slowly in the ward, the sound of the hospital echoed through the space, creating a dreadful symphony of death and grieving, which you tried vigorously to ignore. Your focus was trained on Doc as he slept, your own body exhausted to the point where sleep was not an option unless brought about by a fainting spell. You weren’t sure exactly what brought the idea to mind, but for the first time in a long time, you truly prayed, begging God to hear you, to cast pity on you and John despite your life choices. You may have been shouting into a void, but the idea of someone higher than yourself listening brought a semblance of peace to you for the time being. 

The sky was growing dim when John woke again. A different nurse came by to deliver dinner, and help the pair of you adjust your seating. The nurse had only been gone a few minutes when a hand yanked the curtain back with a bit too much vigor. 

“How ya feeling Y/N? Doc?” Wyatt’s bright voice was a tad too cheerful for the space.

The chair Wyatt had moved to the bedside screeched loudly on the floor as he adjusted its position, speaking again once he was settled.

“So, Doc, how ‘bout a game of poker?”

“You sure about that Wyatt? I mean takin’ money from a dying man… that sounds like a questionable endeavor at best.” You couldn’t help, but laugh at the look your brother gave you, it was one of incredulity and happiness.

“You wound me Y/N. I may be shaking hands with the reaper, but I’ll be damned if I deny Wyatt the opportunity to have his pockets emptied by me one more time. Deal me in Earp!” 

“Now that’s more like it!  Oh, and it wouldn’t be a game without something to drink!” Wyatt secretively pulled a bottle of Old Overholt Rye from his coat, a trio of cups appearing from the other.

“A game indeed. Wyatt, you are a brilliant man.” John’s southern drawl was thick as he admired his friend’s eagerness.

All you could do was shake your head and accept the cup of whiskey from your brother. Wyatt and Doc fell into an easy rapport as the cards were dealt. You loved seeing the two of them like this, light and carefree. It wasn’t often that the two of them had the chance to just enjoy each other’s company. Rationally, you knew that even this visit wasn’t simple, but it felt unencumbered, and you’d take the false sense of safety for however long it lasted. 

--------------- 

The next several days passed in the same manner. You and John wrapped in each other’s arms, allowing yourselves to indulge in your physical desires in every way your ailing bodies would allow. The quiet moments in between spent sharing your thoughts about a future together that would never be. Wyatt always joined you in the evenings after dinner to play poker with John. Even in this state Doc was obviously the better player. Virgil visited you as well, never staying for very long, but making sure you knew how much he loved you before he left. Having your family’s support should have been nothing but positive. However, in truth, it pained you to have them near as you continued down a steady decline. Each time they showed up it ripped the wound in your heart open fresh, and the agony was simply too much. You knew it was probably wrong, but you didn’t want them to see you die, you couldn’t add that to the list of traumatic memories. The only person who you felt safe hurting at this juncture was John because it was mutually assured destruction, one could not go on without the other. 

……..

“John?” Your feeble voice blew over his chest as your cheek was pressed into the crook of his shoulder.

“Yes darlin’ ”

“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see my brothers come in here day after day, and watch their faces sink as I fade away. I just can’t do it anymore.” Your nose prickled with the feeling of holding back tears. 

“What can I do Y/N?” 

“Will you talk to Wyatt for me?”

“Of course darlin’ ” He knew what you were asking without your needing to express it fully. Even as his time here grew shorter, John Henry Holliday would do anything to ease your pain. 

------------------

One night after a particularly rough day, Doc asked Wyatt to stay for a minute so they could talk. John believed you had fallen asleep on his chest, but in reality, you were simply just too exhausted to hold your eyes open, your ears were still attuned to the conversation around you. 

“Wyatt, you are my best friend, and I am forever grateful for that.  But, I’m asking this favor of you, please say your goodbyes and don’t come back.” 

The look on Wyatt’s face was crushing. Doc knew what he was asking was going to feel impossible for Wyatt, but he had promised you he’d do what he could. 

“I know what I’m asking feels wrong, like it’s going against everything in you, but I need you to listen to me. Seeing you, seeing Virgil, it causes her pain. She loves you both dearly, but the grief in your eyes is too much for her.”

“But Doc, I can’t just walk away… not now.”

“I know you think you can’t, but you can.”

“Doc, that’s-”

“Just think about it Wyatt, okay?”

“Alright Doc, I will.” 

You could feel John’s body move as Wyatt patted his friend’s shoulder before stooping down to place a kiss on your head.

….

The date on the calendar next to the bed read November 8, 1877. The nurses had been using the pad to keep track of your meals, consuming food had become nearly impossible for both you and John. The previous night had been torturous, your body convulsing as your muscles contracted involuntarily. Your lungs felt full as if you were drowning on dry land. Sweat poured from your skin, soaking everything you touched. The world around you slipped in and out of focus, your only anchor point being the familiar sensation of John by your side. John was no better off. He too was tumbling into the abyss as pain clouded his mind. The fluid in his lungs was enough to make his breathing a wet gurglet. His coughs were unlike anything you’d heard before, the sound genuinely terrifying. His damp skin white hot with fever. The pressure of your body clinging to his was his only reminder of reality. Speaking was a struggle, so you both relied on gentle touches to communicate with one another. John lightly traced the back of your hand as it rested on his chest, while you rubbed a figure eight on the chest of his chest. 

You weren’t sure what time it was, but the zing of metal on metal clanked in your ears as someone pulled back the curtain. Both you and John opened your eyes, working to focus on the person standing next to your bed. It was a priest, dressed in his church attire, a Bible clutched in his hand as he looked down at your both.

His voice was shockingly kind as he spoke, “Mr. and Mrs. Holliday, I’m Father Feeney. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind me reading a bit to you as you rest.”

It was Doc that spoke up, his voice cracking with first use, “You’re already here, so go on then.” Both of you closed your eyes, choosing to conserve the energy. 

Father Feeney opened his Bible, the thin pages swooshing as the turned them. His voice possessed a soothing tone as he spoke. The man stayed for a while, mostly reading, but occasionally asking questions. There was no judgment in his face as he listened to the pair of you speak. After some time, Father Feeney turned to leave, but not before praying for God to guide your spirits to Him. The gesture felt both ominous and comforting. 

In the distance you could hear heavy footsteps on the floor approaching your bed, they paused for a few seconds before resuming. The sound of a chair being pulled to the side of the bed told you that it was Wyatt who had come to visit. Doc’s eyes opened to look over at his friend.

“Hello, Wyatt. Father Feeney and I were just… investigating the mysteries of the Church of Rome. It appears my hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

“You’re no hypocrite, Doc. You just like to sound like one. Brought you something.” Wyatt tucked a small paperback book under your hand which rested on John’s chest, his larger palm covering your own. 

“Well, let’s see, where are we today? I’m $17 down to ya. Two bits a hand. Stud?” Wyatt dug out a paper he’d been keeping track of his debt on as he spoke. You could feel John’s body tense as he listened to his friend.

“You keep comin’ back here. I told you not to and I meant it.”

“You’re the only person I can afford to lose to anymore. How we feeling today Doc? Y/N?” Your eyes had opened during the last bit of the exchange easing Wyatt’s fears just a touch. 

“We’re dying. How are you?” Your voice strained with effort as you spoke, each word raspy as your lungs fought against the ache.

“Pretty much the same.”

“So now we add self-pity to our list of frailties.” Doc’s quip harsher than he intended.

“All right, Doc. All right, how many cards you want?”

A small pause hung in the air before John spoke again.

“I don’t want to play anymore.”

“How many?”

“Damn you. You’re the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I’ve ever known in my entire life.”

“I call.” Wyatt grabbed the cards he’d placed in Doc’s hands, checking to see the outcome. 

“You win.” 

“Yet with all, you and Y/N are the only human beings in my entire life who ever gave me hope.”

Wyatt’s head dropped lower to his chest, his eyes trained on the floor. 

“I knew from the moment I met your sister that she was the one, the only thing I’d ever truly want”

“That’s good Doc.” The words felt too intimate for Wyatt, but he didn’t have the heart to stop his friend.

“And when you asked me to join you that night at the Bird Cage, I had no idea how much life would change in the matter of a few hours. She’s all I’ve ever wanted Wyatt, thank you for helping bring her back to me.” 

Wyatt didn’t have the words, he just nodded his head and reached for your hand.

“John stole the words from my mouth. Thank you Wyatt for bringing him back to me. And thank you for loving me, I know it wasn’t easy. I love you, Wyatt.”

“I love you too Y/N.”

“What do you want Wyatt?” Your question threw your brother off guard.

“Just to live a normal life.”

“There’s no normal life Wyatt. There’s just life. Now get on with it.”

“Don’t know how.”

“Sure you do. Say good bye. Go grab that spirited actress and make her your own. Take that beauty and run, don’t look back.”

“Live every second right up to the hilt. Live Wyatt.” John’s voice joined yours as he added his own parting advice.

“Live for us, Wyatt.” Your eyes brimmed with wetness as you noticed the rim of tears forming in Wyatt’s eyes. John could feel your heartbeat slowing as, your grip on his body grew weak, your breathing already haphazard. John knew it was time for Wyatt to leave. 

“Wyatt, if you ever were my friend, if you ever had even the slightest feelin’ for me, leave now… leave now. Please?”

Tears rolled down John’s face as he pleaded with his friend. He felt his own body falter as he watched Wyatt stand from his chair to wrap you in a final embrace. Wyatt’s gentle hands rested on your body as his lips found a home on your temple. He’d never be ready to let you go, but he knew Doc was right, it was time.

“Thanks for always bein’ there Doc. An' thanks for keeping her safe, helping her find happiness again.”  

John nodded somberly to Wyatt as he moved away from the bed, and stumbled away in a haze of grief. 

Your breathing was irregular, and slow, long gaps of time lapsed between inhales. John’s own body was just behind yours. With what little strength John still possessed he pressed himself closer to you, his cheek resting on the top of your head. That’s when he remembered the book in your hand. Lifting your fingers with great care John took the gift from you, letting your palm rest flat on his chest. 

Doc took a good look at the book Wyatt had given him, as he read the title his heart filled with contentment and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. The book cover read, “My Friend Doc Holliday by Wyatt Earp.” 

John placed the book down next to him with reverence before holding your hand in his. Taking in the empty room around him, Doc’s eyes settled on his bare feet poking out from the edge of the blanket. The sight of himself without boots brought a silent chuckle to him. He’d envisioned his own death many times, but even he never truly believed that it would come to take him in this way… in bed, with the great love of his life held in his arms, finally at peace with the world. John felt your chest stop moving, your hand falling limp in his. With the one thing holding him here gone, Doc let himself self slip away. His parting words to you, spoken with his final breath.

“To the bitter end my darlin’, just like we promised. ” 

The End 

------------------------------------------

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Final Author's Note:

An enormous thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read this story. I cannot express how much your likes, comments, and reblogs have meant to me. I have felt so much love and support from you all, and it truly warms my heart. I didn't know what I was getting into when I posted this story, but I can't wait to write more. I am incredibly proud of myself for taking the plunge and sharing my first story. Thanks for sticking around & I hope you continue to check back in as more stories go up in the future.

[dotsayers]

unfortunately on account of how much i love man out of time narratives i DO need a 100k story about doc holliday learning about like. dvds.

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: Characters in Disasters

There’s more than one way for your characters to be heroes. One of my favorite SF series is P.M. Griffin’s Star Commandos. In every book the heroes have to face not only space pirates, arms dealers, or murderers, but also some form of natural disaster. Volcanoes, floods, scuttling hordes - it’s never as simple as find bad guys, shoot bad guys.

It’s also not as action-glamorous, so consider carefully if this fits the kinds of characters you’re writing and the story you want to tell. Not everyone is cut out to handle a disaster and come out in one piece, physically or mentally. Doc Holliday, for all his years of gunfighting, was laid low by a resurgence of his tuberculosis after he pulled people from a burning building. The smoke inhalation was just too much.

But what if you do want to send your characters into a disaster, prepared or not?

One of the first things to consider, possibly even before you decide what kind of disaster to hit them with, is how much warning do they have?

None at all is, of course, perfectly valid. Sometimes you’ve been isekai’d. Sometimes you’ve crashed on an unknown planet. Sometimes you’re just traveling through the wrong airport or highway tunnel, and you have no idea about the local hazards. In which case you’ve got to go with what’s in your pockets, and whatever you can get from the local environment. You’ll have to be creative.

If characters do have warning... it’ll depend on what they know, or think they know, about this kind of disaster. First aid kits and potable water are almost always useful. However, if what you see is the ocean rapidly receding... drop the water and bolt for high ground. Tsunamis waste no time.

A few specific disasters, and some suggestions.

Earthquakes: Suck. You generally have little to no warning. If you’re sane enough to be in a reinforced building, or lucky enough to be outside and not driving over a bridge span, you may be fine. For everyone not that lucky, it’s a race against time. You have to find them, dig them out, and at the same time handle maneuvering through fire-prone wreckage with interesting hazards like broken water and gas lines. Sanitation becomes a problem fast, as it does in many disasters, and aftershocks add to the hazards.

Volcanoes: May suck less than earthquakes, if you pay attention to the warning signs. (Some of which are earthquakes.) If it’s a nice, tame, lava-erupting volcano, evacuate people and handle the cleanup later. If it’s a stratovolcano prone to pyroclastic flows a la Mount St. Helens... run. Just run. If anyone’s lucky enough to survive closer in you can find them later.

Hurricanes: Your danger level and amount of warning depends a lot on your tech level. If you have days of warning, there’s time to either clear the danger zone or prep for extended inconvenience. Things you’ll want include cooking fuel, water purifiers, ice, mosquito repellent....

Bombing: The worst aspects of an earthquake combined with fire and human malice. Along with regular cleanup and search for survivors, you’re going to need medics and EOD experts. Just in case.

Fires: Depend a lot on what’s burning and where. Being in a forest on fire is potentially deadly. Being in a building on fire is usually much worse. Don’t get burned, don’t breathe smoke; remember that burn victims dehydrate fast, and are prone to infections.

Floods: Infections from dirty water and getting enough clean drinking water are major problems. Travel will be hampered by water, debris, or both.

Famine: This is a bad one. Find out if the problem is not enough food, or if for some reason food’s not getting to people. Malnutrition also leads to infections and worse.

Can your characters handle disasters? Or will they need to be rescued themselves?