#{discontinued threads}

[phantomrose96]

So I know this isn't anything that like actually needs an apology but it'll make me feel a bit better to say it. Oof whoops this ABoT chapter is super late. Timing kinda sucks since I wanted to have some updates out while s3 was airing but

Been kinda mega busy and stressed since October with the whole condo buying thing which rolled right into immediate day 0 plumbing and boiler issues I had to get fixed and general moving hassle and financial commitment stress and I kinda just fried myself hard. Plus then acclimating to a new place without my familiar street or familiar grocery store or familiar room or any of that. Like there's no "just go home and take your mind off it" to this cuz home is the "it". So I'm just kinda enduring until I can calm the hell down.

And anyway I definitely have progress on ch47, like 7000-ish words of it, but it's the kind of like "there is writing there" and hasn't exactly hit the "there is substance there" that I want ABoT chapters to be. Like this in particular is a chapter I want to be good, not just be done. So it's taking time to get my brain somewhere that can do that.

#anyway #i mean just in case anyone was like wondering if its discontinued to anything #its still going i just can't make it Good quite yet #(plus i need to get furniture cuz as it stands the place is really quite empty and bare except for like my room and the kitchen) #(also the bank had my address wrong so they havent been able to send me any of the mortgage information which was technically due already) #(ive been in contact with them but it's a whole thing) #(plus im still not quite finished with all the utility switching. i still need to get water in my name) #(and the boiler issue fucked up my gas bill so now ive got a crazy high gas bill i just need to... pay) #(i have actually started seeing a therapist but thats a whole other Thing now figuring out insurance and deductables and using my HSA #account and just... it's a lot) #(oh also my homeowner's insurance policy number doesn't actually work for getting me into the online portal. and the geico guy said he was #looking into it but I havent heard anything in a while) #(its a lot im just gonna melt for a while i guess) #(plus all the upfront stress has made it really hard to associate the new place as 'home' instead of 'place of great many plumbing evils') #(i sat on like 4 million couches this week and the only one i really really like probably doesn't quite fit in my living room) #(the downstairs neighbors tv is too loud and i need to talk to her about it in a way which isn't 'hey im holding on by a thread and this #one small inconvenience is the thing which is making me turn into ash') #(oh thats right i have to go pay my january HOA dues...) #(oh also I need to file for the owner-occupied tax exemption thing now that its 2023) #anyway......... ill be normal eventually. im just not normal right now. #chrissy speaks

[jorvikzelda]

it feels so bad to betray a dear friend (look up new laptops on the laptop you're trying to replace) :(

#i hate my laptop #its got 2 cores. 2 cores guys. ive got 2 cores 4 threads on my laptop that i bought new for 500 dollars in 2020. #how did i even manage to do that honestly... #also 128gb storage. you heard me right friends. you heard me fucking right. #they discontinued the model by the way. for obvious reasons #z talks #not horse game

[cottageivy]

i stg the internet just makes up words at this point

#mia rambles #i saw discourse about straight women in gay bars and was dumb and opened the thread #long story short. a FELLOW BI PERSON said that bi people shouldn’t bring a ‘heteronorm relationship’ into queer spaces #WHAT #HUH??? #go sort your internalized biphobia out elsewhere cause what does that even MEAN #anyways. we need more queer spaces for queer non men <3 #i will not repeat most of the discourse bc it’s just repeated misogyny and men not realizing how a woman could possibly be gay #but that one i was like??? from my own??? #i need twitter to stop forcing me out of my following feed please #i only have twitter still bc of like 2 social media aus lmao #as soon as they either discontinue them or finish them i will suffer

[journey-to-the-attic]

ok i LOVE your idea of the devildom being a dark world in the store… it feels so wonderfully goofy… so ive been trying to think of what items the characters might be and here are some ideas ive come up with:

lucifer: fountain pen

mammon: loose change thats stuffed all the way in the back of the cash register

levi: an off brand gaming console (like one of the ones that only have 1 or 2 games on them thats 20$ in the kids section at walmart)

satan: ok im having trouble for him so im going with the safest idea of him being a cat toy or a book

asmo: i was thinking a beauty product maybe??

beel: …food crumbs?

belphie: a pillow that sans probably sleeps on in the store

luke: perhaps a baking utensil? like a whisk or something?? cake mix?? bowl????? maybe a chihuahua plush?????

simeon: one of those old timey feather pens

solomon: a random magic trick kit

also another question- would ik eat moss with kris and susie

-🐳

ooo i like it! for the ones you're not sure about, some suggestions - luke could be a cookie cutter shaped like a dog, asmo's one of those sparkly pink plastic princess combs, satan's a cat-shaped bookmark (specifically an angry cat though), and beel's an empty instant noodles pot that sans repurposed into a tip jar

in terms of their dark world, they've still technically got the rad, but they're the only students there (it came from an exercise book someone left in the shop). the overworld enemies would be little ds, lucifer, simeon and solomon are the main mini-bosses, and then diavolo's the final boss (there's king and queen, and he'd be prince! kinda fitting)

also yes ik would definitely eat moss with kris and susie

#answering asks #anon asks #🐳 anon #if the s4 trio were to be here raphael would be a spool of thread #om mephistopheles would be a fancy handkerchief #thirteen would be a halloween-themed glowstick #jtta aus #deltarune #if this dark world had a secret boss in the vein of jevil and spamtom.... it'd be either sonno or jtta mephisto #sonno would be like a fancier discontinued version of diavolo's crown keychain #mephisto would be an old watch #hmmm i'm getting some vague ideas for a storyline here but gotta ruminate on it a little longer

[unproduciblesmackdown]

the sense of having any lore about the ancient [ten to thirteen years ago] of marble hornets times like granpa granpa tell us a greentext story....the only hitch is not having stories and instead having "i guess you had to be there" tales from the fringes, unless instead of a hitch you frame this as a bit

#like what's crucial info from then? who knows. smthing neat abt mh is its iterative resurgences apparently lol. got a wavelength #from the start it was always [queer fans queer fans trans fans trans fans] etc to be sure #by ''thee start'' i mean i showed up a couple of months? weeks? before s2 started. i think amnesia: the dark descent was partly to thank to #i mean of course it is in all things no matter the topic. and i feel manesia the dark manscent in this chili's tonight #one of the more [umm] first true spikes in New Ppl was when that game with the pages got streamed a lot #not a lot to work with there re: [you are already at mh hq] but brought ppl in like umm yea it's a little youtube movie here.... #Back In Those Days...when youtube had a Reply feature for videos which i would have forgotten was anything if not for tta really.... #the saga of [we didn't have any crisp behind the scenes pics of tim's mask for a while so deciding what its design seemed to be was tricky] #or [lucky that alex's striped hoody had both the inner seam highlights & the patch on the waistband] re: identifying it.... #the hoody was already Out Of Production lol the base masks were from michael's crafts which i hear has recently discontinued them; pensive #paper mache cosplays here we go.... #anyways nothing makes a good story. one time i sprinted to beat everyone on unfiction to solve a scrambled dvd cover #i managed to post it first (here on tumblr) And Then on unfiction; where it was also first lol. this was ignored #(one reply did a nominal shoutout like ''[other user] and others'' lmao) #i blog to this day....where's unfiction (rhetorical) #they were great for crowdsourcing codes but the Analysis(tm) left many things to be desired (i mean on tumblr too sometimes of Course) #unfiction would be like ''why is this entry delayed [thinking emoji]'' & truly the answer like ''they explained the behind the scenes reaso #in this linked facebook post here (the funy saga of joseph losing the distinctive out of print hoodie before its Part Two appearance)'' #and the unfiction thread would continue apace like ''hmm guess we'll never know'' yeah apparently not #unsurprisingly my best Retro Tales From Behind The Scenes would be like; that fun mh viewing party commentary bit live event.... #that there was overlap w/my first coming out transly times & probably had my Best Experience w/that from the mh creators lol #that thesis simply Is the tale. the bit abides

[valleyxtine]

My Mr. Neighbor plush is going well,,,, but i may have to go to an old man’s house for some discontinued yarn

#the dude was cool! just in the middle of nowhere #but he has so much discontinued yarn #I NEED IT #im trying to combine some old purple yarn of mine in places nobody can see and use embroidery thread to make it look like his seams

[thefcxandthehcund]

Continued from:

Tod’s mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. “Ooh! Those are cool ideas!”

He sat on the swing beside the lion cub and started to pump his legs, as well. “I think I’m gonna be a dinosaur! Like, one with big ol’ teeth an’ fake blood! I don’t think I can put fake blood on for school, though.”

@nemekii

#nemekii #threads #rp threads #zootopia verse #oooh i like it! :) #i hope it’s ok that i continued this? #if not i can discontinue it too

[werehog-sonicheritageposts]

are you okay after what happened with shadow

[It seems that after confronting Shadow in his unleashed form... Sonic lost himself in the hivemind of dark gaia energy in his body... Shadow had to force Sonic down with his mind control abilities, since then... Sonic's been profoundly asleep... recovering mentally from everything... ... ... ... but then he opens his eyes, he's been asleep so long he's mostly missed Christmas, and he's already fully grown a winter pelt]

#form:nite #//mod had been really busy and rhe threads had to be discontinued... this is like the in world update//

[ender-sheep]

so apparently i’m like. scary good at finding old 2000s products if there’s any random childhood shit y’all remember that you can’t identify i can help lol

#latest one is a body spray i got in 2007 and ripped the label off of #it smells so good and i wanted to see if i could find it and get a new one lol #literally just based off of the scent and a vague memory of the label design i was able to find it #turns out it was an american girl/bath and body works collab that was discontinued in 2008 😭 so i can’t get it #and the one reddit thread i found of people talking about trying to find a similar one said they couldn’t find anything #istg it smells so good but i don’t wanna wear 15 year old spray 😭

[nudityandnerdery]

[Image Description: A series of sixteen tweets by John Rogers @jonrog1 that say:

1) A moment at the Teamsters/UPS rally this morning clarified our current struggle with the studio CEO's (among other bosses). Teamsters got a lot of wins, but one of the main sticking points is the pay for the 65% of local UPS workers who are part-time …

2) If you read the SAG-AFTRA demands, a truly STUNNING amount of their points involve protecting background actors, and trying to improve conditions for the 87% of their union who makes less than $26,000 a year.

3) As WGA members know, this is not a strike for the showrunners. We're trying to fix the fact the the current younger generation of writers can't even afford housing and their pathway to advancement has been cut off.

4) Like … folks, I'm fine. There are maybe two proposals in there that affect me. I'm walking in 90% weather and losing over 50% of my income for the year because I want the younger writers to get what I got at this stage of their careers.

5) Our unions and the CEO's and various negotiators have a fundamental cognitive disconnect. Because CEO's types only succeed by FUCKING THEIR PEERS.

6) Zaslav, Iger , those types of execs, etc have never gone without so a fellow exec or a junior exec could thrive. A fellow exec failing is the moment to use your own leverage to advance past them, if not destroy them.

7) Part of it is the money but part of this, I think, is a genuine inability to grasp even the concepts of any labor action. Because it is always other-directed.

8) So many people treat capitalism as part of nature red in tooth and claw, but it's not. It's a human construct. There are different rules you can play by -- but not if you want to win.

9) The greatest gift capitalism ever granted was the ability to validate selfish behavior as a virtue because that's "just what's necessary, I don't make the rules!" (Look ma, it's reification!)

10) This is where I usually point out that Adam Smith wrote that you have to overpay workers to keep your labor force up, and you need to take into account the psychic damage of capitalism to the workers, and that admiring the rich is the greatest source of moral corruption …

11) But I'll stave off that diversion to just land with … this is a discontinuity of attitudes which I think was once breached by the fact that management USED to come from people who loved building their company or their trade, even if they eventually did management shit.

12) Now, even that thin thread of SYMPATHY (Adam Smith joke, get it? People?) is gone. The CEO's are working off a different scorecard, practically and morally. We're not just playing by wildly divergent rules, our lives and careers are DEFINED by those wildly divergent rules.

13) To them, we are IN FACT being "unreasonable", as our behavior does not make sense in their moral framework. They don't think they're being evil, they think they're playing by the actual rules, and we're nuts.

14) There's not great conclusion to this, other than to note that the bit about making writers homeless was described as "cruel but necessary" because they genuinely don't understand the meaning of cruel, because they are always on the other side of the power dynamic.

15) And if they're ever NOT on the top of the power dynamic, they're not suffering, they're dead. They are un-people in their own eyes.

16) These men are not irrational, but they are deranged. This isn't about money, it's about identity. And in a fight about identity … they will set billions on fire.

Because they can always get more money. But they'll never shed the stink of losing to their lessers."

end of image description]

#strike #sag aftra #wga strike #ups strike #john rogers #sag strike

[amarriageoftrueminds]

Saw your tags saying Hannibal fanfiction is the best, I'm new to the fandom, do you have any recs? Love your blog btw!

Thank you Nonny and OOP you're in luck!

I just came across a cracking thread on Twitter t'other day where a bunch of us fannibals were recommending the fandom 'must reads!'

So here the list is so far:

Consenting to Dream (emungere) THE fic.

A Remedy for Love (emungere)

Blackbird (emungere)

Separately to a Wood (emungere)

Taken For Rubies (emungere)

Two Solitudes (emungere) S4

Faded Fantasy (phenobarbital)

Hyacinth House (bluesyturtle)

He Who Pours Out Vengeance (underground) S2 before S2

A Great and Gruesome Height (mokuyoubi) S4

The First Condition of Immortality is Death (onehandedbooks) S4

As Soft, as Wide as Air (blackknightsatellite) S4

The Shape of Me Will Always Be You (missdisoriental)

Shark Tank (xzombiexkittenx)

Bloodline (xzombiexkittenx)

Pi's Lullaby (t_pock)

Wolf And I (t_pock)

We Killed a Dragon Last Night (inameitlater) S4

A Cliff and the Wine Dark Sea (saintsavage) S4

One Way Out Of Many (hellotailor, nakamasmile)

Bright Hair About The Bone (missdisoriental)

Chimera of the Chapel (bleakmidwinter) S4

Eve of Dreams (Le Réveillon des Rêves) (inter_spem_et_metum) S4

Heart and Mouth (disenchanted)

Symbasis (tei)

Lagbrotna (cognomen)

Vorspiel (kareliasweet) S4

Omega Point (cognomen & whiskeyandspite)

Haarlem (spqr)

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well (devotitonal_doldrums)

Falls the Shadow (littlesystem) my personal most-read fic!

The Fault in My Code (liaS0)

The Unquiet Grave (liaS0)

Flesh and Bone (pragmatichominid)

The Fisherman and the Beast From the Sea (pragmatichominid)

Attachment (pragmatichominid)

The Hole Is Still There (croik)

The Long Weekend (devereauxs_disease)

Each According to Its Kind (chaparral_crown)

Their Beaks Not Yet Turned Red (chaparral_crown)

The Lamb and His Monster (pterodactyl352)

Oddbodies (toffeecape)

This Dangerous Game (missdisoriental)

Page Six (thisbeautifuldrowning)

Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL (dbmars)

Falling Away with You (shotgun_sinner)

Two Slow Dancers, Last One’s Out (antiheroblake) MCD

Nowhere to Ascend but Down (yourminecraftboyfriend)

Overcoming (purefoysgirl)

Paragon (bloodywa2411)

Silence in Heaven (theglintoftherail)

The Mark of His Name (theglintoftherail)

The Mongoose and the Mouse (hiding now)

Between Here and There (deadratz)

Omiai (iesika)

Remember (that you are) to die (13empress) unfinished sadly

What the Water Gave Me (iesika) discontinued but so vivid it's worth reading anyway

And I would recommend looking at this twitter feed, which does nothing but recommend hannigram fics.

Bon appetit. 😈

#remember folks: REBLOG 🔁 / DON'T JUST LIKE 🤍 #hannigram #murder husbands #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #fic rec #hannigram fic rec #hannibal nbc #I was right btw they are the best #the best hannibal fics will give you unfortunately high standards for your other fandoms 😕

[aernx]

𓂋˚˖ IT’S A WRAP ! ૪ ࣪˖ 이희승﹙🐋﹚

SYN𝟬PSiS ꊥꊥ wrapping is easy when it comes to dumplings. but when it comes to your feelings…not so much. after getting separated from your childhood nemesis, lee heeseung, you think your life will go smooth like butter (js like what BTS sang). but fate has other plans when he was forced to help around in your family’s dumpling restaurant.

or in which 𓍯 heeseung only realizes how strong your influence is in his life after your recent departure for an exchange student program in japan. now that you’re back, he can’t bring himself wanting to let you go.

PART 2/2 OF THE LOVE LASTING DREAM SERIES

PAiRiNG ˖͢   non idol! lee heeseung x non idol! fem reader

GENRE   ⃕˖ childhood enemies to lvrs, smau w written parts, romance, crack, slice of life, hs au

⚠️ curse words, angst, denial!!!, constant pining lol

FEATURiNG   ⃕˖ enhypen, txt, chaewon (lesserafim)

status. discontinued 𖡋 oneshot ver

╰╮25 / 06 / 23 — tba

TAGLiST ˖͢   open ! send ask or comment to be added in ><

꒰ 🧾 ꒱ ÆRiN’S NOTES ! this is all a work of fiction & none of it is real! this smau is only for fun or laughs ykyk. this is also a spin-off of my niki smau here! u don’t hav to read it but js know rikiyn will make some cameos! (the yn here n there is different ofc)🥛 means there will be written parts !

⌗ PR𝟬FiLES ◜ ONE ◞ ◜ TWO ◞ ◜ THREE ◞

ıllı SiDE A

𝟢𝟢1. i don’t miss her

𝟢𝟢2. one thread hug

𝟢𝟢3. dream on, lee 🥛

𝟢𝟢4. climbing expert

𝟢𝟢5. mama lee supremacy

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT

MORE — TBA !! ( titles may change )

© aernx / do not steal, copy, translate — hope you enjoy my works! and let me know if you have any suggestions ! my inbox is always open if u wanna talk !

nets ! @enhanet @hyfenet

#ꜜ 🥟 ꒰ it’s a wrap ! ꒱ #enhypen x reader #enhypen smau #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #lee heesung x reader #enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enha x reader #enha smau #heeseung smau

[vanaglori-ah]

ao3 is run by zionists.

if you haven't heard, best check out this thread (the user also has a tumblr explaining everything too). it also went under my radar that apparently, the people at ao3 are sinophobic. so fuck them, honestly.

i've never donated to ao3. don't donate to ao3, one.

two, i will no longer be adding any fics on ao3. all of the ones up will stay (unless i should delete them. lmk asap). this also means i'll probably discontinue whatever series i was working on in them. it's honestly about time i abandon those projects because life has gotten a lot more serious.

three, i may move my fics to somewhere else. i will update to let you guys know.

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

#free palestine #decolonization #fanfiction #ao3 #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

[chaoticbindery]

Embers by Vathara @wuxiaphoenix

Special thanks to @sayornispress for letting me use their typeset to complete these binds for the 4th annual @renegadepublishing exchange! Thanks to the mods and my giftee for their patience while I struggled lol 🙈

I hope my giftee loves them as much as I loved making them. I'm glad they arrive at their forever home.

This is what the gift economy of Fandom is meant to be!

I kinda didn't understand what over 700,000 words meant when I first decided to bind this monster of a fic. But I was excited to learn to round books and do these 2 bookcloth cover designs. I also came in possession of a very large and diverse variety of heat reactive foils... so here we are lol. I think each book from printing to completion took me 20ish hours?

Below the line, you will find more information regarding these binds

Embers book 1

This puppy was so complicated for me to complete that I made it twice. The first one was so horribly made that I refused to show it to anyone.

Made using Colibri Golden bookclothfor the cover with green foil. The back was done using Duo Herb Garden with gold foil, which was a yellowish undertone. The endpapers are Thai Banana Green from ASW. I used warm white 28lbs paper from chirch paper to print, linen thread, and remie bands, and I made the endbands using Herb Garden and 4mm twig core.

It's about 700 pages and 1 1/4 thick

Embers book 2

I kinda loved this one the most. This was the second book made, so it has a lot of the flaws the first version of book 1 had, but I was happy enough with what I accomplished with it and the construction of the book was solid.

Made using Colibri Pearl bookcloth with silver, black, and metalic blue foil for the front, the back was done using Duo Polar from Australia with silver foil. the endpapers are Thai Banan Blue from ASW. I used the same warm white 28lb paper from church paper, linen thread, and rembie bands, and the endbands were done using polar bookcloth and 4mm twig core.

700 pages, 1 1/4 thickness. I'm very proud that the dimensions of all the books are the same 💙

Embers book 3

This one is my all-time favorite, and I blame it on the sky bison on the cover. I can't help it. They are my favorite creatures on the whole show!

The cover was made using vintage Colibri Copper (some company had rolls of these colors from years ago, and they had been discontinued in, I believe in 2010) using gold foil. The back is Duo Sunshine, and I used metalic orange foil. The end papers are Thai Mango Mustard from ASW. I used white warm 28lb paper, linen thread, rembie bands, and 4mm twig with sunshine cloth for the endbands.

It's a bit under 700 pages, but still 1 1/4 thick.

And finally...

Embers book 4

When I completed this one, I almost cried 🤣. I loved working on these binds, but I was so happy to finally be done.

I used vintage Colibri Uran with metalic red foil for the front and Duo Evening Red with black foil for the back. The endpapers were done using Thai Banana True Red from ASW. I used the same warm white 28lb paper, linen thread, and rembie bands, and the endbands were made using Evening Red with 4mm twig core.

About 650 pages yet still 1 1/4 thickness.

Funfact: These 4 books weigh 12 lbs together 🤣🙈

If you would like to learn how to bookbind consider joining Renegade!!!

#embers #embers by vathara #vathara #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #atla zuko #zuko #atla iroh #uncle iroh #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fanbinding #handmade #bookbinding #renegadepub #duo bookcloth #duo #colibri #foil

[hcuyk]

[ 18+ ] . . . . . . . . will the inferno rekindle?

[ OUR INFERNO ] WORD COUNT : THREAD

OUR INFERNO elaborates the complexities within a relationship—the spark, the blaze, the pain. your love with hyunjae is a never ending fire; it's something so strong, so beautiful and powerful, that it suffocates you both into believing that your relationship would last, only for it to go down in flames.

C—URRENT WOR—D . C—OUNT : 22k

please consider supporting by joining my taglist(s)!!

—-—-— i want us to experience this journey together <3

OUR INFERNO —T—AGLIST <- | -> PERM—T—AGLIST

lovely beta readers : @simpforsunwoo @stealanity @drunkdrazed @winterchimez — they own my heart

THERE WILL BE A HAECHAN VERSION AS WELL

< 4/16 > scene five (final rewrite) : 3219 : finished

< 4/16 > scene five (third draft) : 2481 : finished

< 4/15 > scene five (second draft) : 408 : discontinued

< 4/14 > scene five (first draft) : 2091 : unfinished

< 4/14 > chapter one : 19272 : posted!

< 4/12 > scene four (final rewrite) : 10261 : finished

< 4/11 > scene four (final rewrite) : 3219 : unfinished

< 4/10 > scene four (final rewrite) : 1492 : finished

< 4/9 > scene four (second rewrite) : 7485 : finished

< 4/9 > scene four (second rewrite) : 1745 : unfinished

< 4/8 > scene four (first rewrite) : 855 : discontinued

< 4/8 > scene three (final rewrite) : 3070 : finished

< 4/8 > scene three (final rewrite) : 2859 : unfinished

< 4/7 > scene four (first draft) : 1549 : finished

< 4/7 > scene three (final rewrite) : 2114 : finished

< 3/24 > scene three (first draft) : 1372 : finished

< 3/24 > scene two (final rewrite) : 2134 : finished

< 3/24 > scene two (second draft) : 1568 : finished

< 3/23 > scene two (first rewrite) : 2334 : finished

< 3/23 > scene two (first draft) : 1379 : finished

< 3/22 > scene one (revisions) : 3535 : finished

< 3/22 > scene one (final rewrite) : 3482 : finished

< 3/22 > scene one (first rewrite) : 2727 : finished

< 3/22 > scene one (first draft) : 1290 : finished

#the boyz hyunjae #tbz angst #tbz fluff #tbz smut #tbz scenarios #tbz timestamps #tbz oneshots #tbz x reader #tbz drabbles #tbz reactions #tbz fanfiction #lee sangyeon #jacob bae #kim younghoon #lee hyunjae #lee juyeon #kevin moon #choi chanhee #ji changmin #kim sunwoo #eric sohn #haechan nct dream #the boyz

[sednonamoris]

thunderstruck

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: A storm brews over your journey with John to meet an old friend and make a profit on the Braithwaite horses. What will happen when lightning strikes?

Warnings: Jealousy, emotional constipation, past relationships, strong language, love confessions, handjobs, penetrative sex, spit as lube (smut easily avoided if you want to skip over it)

Word count: 4,418

A/N: whew!! twenty-three chapters later these two finally got together - i hope you all have enjoyed the ride, and look forward to the rest as much as i do!! let me know what you think <3

Series masterlist • AO3

—

Thunderhead Gulch is an average plains town situated, as the name might suggest, over a gulch where a violent stream rumbles through otherwise quiet countryside. The rockiness of the area lends itself to pastureland and little else; herds of cattle roam and graze, and farmers with rough hands and kind eyes tend their flocks. The town’s storefronts are simple but well-kept, very much like the people who run them. It’s a place for good, honest people looking for good, honest work. 

And it’s exactly where a perfect criminal lives.

Half a week’s worth of travel brought you here, all the while John asking questions you’ve done your best to avoid answering. An old friend from Tumbleweed, is all you’ve told him about the forger you’re meeting. Just a quick reunion and a job done right and we’re out of there. There’s no one else you’d trust to do this job right, but it’s been a long time. You can’t entirely blame John for the skeptical scowl on his face. 

The curio shop you hitch your horses in front of is nestled into Thunderhead’s downtown like it’s been there forever, fit to burst with every secondhand oddity imaginable. Broken clocks and one-eyed dolls and discontinued dime novel serials line the front windows. Inside, a narrow and winding footpath from front to back is all that remains to customers. Every other square inch has been claimed by stacks upon stacks upon stacks of the curiosities this shop is named for.

You and John squeeze your way through the door to the cheerful tinkle of bells. Behind the counter lies a precarious stack of antique bear traps. There’s not a shopkeep in sight. 

“Hello?” John calls out.

“In the back!” a muffled voice replies.

You smile in recognition. John’s expression is entirely mystified, but he takes the look on your face as his go-ahead to forge a path through, weaving around cracked China displays and rusted revolvers and moth-eaten wedding gowns.

Past all that, between stacks of other men’s trash and lost treasures, sits Lottie Reed.

Surprise colors her sharp, angular face the moment she looks up from the faded throw pillow she’s mending, and though time has wrought its changes you still recognize the wild spirit you met once upon a childhood ago in the depths of her seafoam eyes. 

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a Ghost?” she asks. Her face is still surprised, still cautious, but a smile threatens the severity of her shock. 

“I’m afraid your shop is terribly haunted, Miss,” you grin.

Just like that her needle and thread are thrown aside as she rushes in for a hug. Her wiry frame curls around you in a vice grip, stood on her tip-toes and clinging like if she holds tight enough you won’t be able to fade away like lost memory. You laugh and hug back warmly. It’s been too long. 

John coughs uncomfortably after a moment.

“Oh, I clean forgot my manners,” you say, extricating yourself from Lottie’s embrace and taking a step back. “Lottie Reed, this is John Marston.” John gives a lukewarm smile. “John Marston, this is my old friend Lottie Reed. We grew up together.” Lottie extends her hand to shake.

“Good to meet you,” John says past his stiff shoulders and wary stare. “Ghost never mentioned much of you before.”

“We lost touch for a spell once I married and moved up here,” Lottie says. John raises his brows. You clear your throat. “Back in the day I earned a cut off stolen horseflesh for forging papers, but Melvin didn’t like me being a part of that life.”

As you recall, he didn’t like you being a part of Lottie’s life. The two of you lived fast and free before he came into the picture, a perfect suitor picked by her parents. Settled, property-owning, and respectable, Melvin was everything Lottie’s family ever imagined for their lettered daughter. You, a cast off orphan with nothing to your name but a government arrest warrant, were not.

“Wherever is Mr. Reed?” 

“Dead. The fever got him two years ago.” Lottie smiles wistfully. “I wrote, but I don’t imagine you ever got the letter.”

“I’m… real sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing because he’s dead or for a letter you never read. Maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t try to get in touch until now. You never liked Melvin much, but you and Lottie... Well. It’s all in the past now, where things get twisted and lost and can’t ever change.

“Any chance you’re still in the paper fixin’ business?” John asks. Tension looses from your shoulders at the change in topic. “Ghost and I got a couple horses that need buyers, and from what I understand they’d go for a prettier penny with your help.” 

Lottie stands up straighter, businesslike, when she says yes.

“Melvin left me everything, but as you can see,” she gestures to the worthless paraphernalia surrounding you, “it isn’t much. Why don’t you stay by the house tonight while I fix up those papers? It’s been a sight too empty for too long. I’d like the company.”

“We’ll be there,” you promise, clasping her hand before stepping away.

It’s been too long since you’ve slept in a proper bed with a roof over your head, and longer still since you’ve caught up with an old friend. John’s mouth tightens when you say it, maybe because you agreed without asking, but you can’t imagine why a hot meal and some company would bother him. It never has before.

—

Dinner proves an awkward affair.

By the time you and John broke camp and herded your stolen horses to the property, twilight had already painted the house and neighboring barn in dreamy purples and golds. John bitched the whole time you put the horses up, set off by something he refused to tell you about. Then when Lottie met you at the front door in a pretty green dress with her dark curls pulled up it only got worse. She ushered you both into her humbly lit dining room, where a wonderful meal awaited. He glared through the whole affair, despite the warmth of the fire and the kindness piled on every plate. You asked for seconds. He asked to be excused. 

Now he’s off sulking somewhere while you show Lottie the horses down at the barn. So long as he doesn’t scare any buyers away you just have to trust that this mood of his will pass with time. 

Old Father Time nickers you back to the present, begging for a treat that Lottie offers up gladly. She giggles at the tickle of his whiskers when he takes it from her outstretched palm. His dark coat gleams even in the nighttime. Autocrat paws and tosses his dappled head. Cerberus whickers for his own share of attention, earning an affectionate scratch behind the ear. As you introduce each stallion and his accomplishments Lottie hums thoughtfully, mentions a few adjustments she’d like to make on their papers accordingly. It’s nice to work with a professional. You’d almost forgotten what the luxury of forged papers felt like, so long spent with unlettered outlaws and people otherwise uninterested in the horse business. 

“They’re fine animals,” Lottie says, then gestures to Old Boy and Moonshine. “What about these two?”

“I found Old Boy there skinny and abandoned. Perfect timing that John needed a new horse. He put the weight back on him and has him trained up nice.” 

“And the roan?”

“A friend died and left this beast behind,” you say with an affectionate pat to Moonshine’s silver-blue neck over the stall door. He rolls an ornery eye at you, but doesn’t offer a bite like he might have just a few months ago. “He’s mean, but he’s mine.”

Lottie laughs. “Like your cowboy, then.”

“He ain’t—we’re not—” you fumble, “I don’t—”

“The outlaw doth protest too much, methinks,” she cuts you off gently, with that smile full of home and heartbreak. The quote scratches at almost-lost memory in the back of your mind. Summers spent sneaking into a family home through the second story bedroom window. A warm hand in yours. Her familiar voice reciting Shakespeare while you pretended to understand the lines you parroted back. 

“The outlaw protests just enough,” you frown. “He ain’t mine, though I will apologize on his behalf for the way he acted at dinner. John’s plenty mean, but not like that. Not usually, anyway.”

“He’s jealous,” she says like it’s obvious. “I can hardly blame him.”

“If he wants you, I ain’t standin’ in the way, Miss High-and-Mighty,” you laugh, caught off guard by the sudden turn in conversation. It’s a high-up, nervous sound.

“Miss Nothing-to-him,” she corrects. “Can’t you see? That man only has eyes for you.” 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear and you’re not quite sure what to say. Emotions flash through you like lightning and brush fire, electric scorches of surprise and denial and self-deprecation. Longing. Hope.

“You think?” is all you manage to muster.

Lottie’s eyes are far too sympathetic. “I know.”

“And you don’t… mind?” Your shoulders cringe even as you ask it. Some things are just worth checking. 

She sighs, turns to face you fully, and takes your hands in hers. “I loved after you for a long time. The idea of you, really. A dashing outlaw and a horseback rescue from the life I didn’t want.” She offers a wry smile as she continues, “I only heard that you took Daddy’s money and ran long after the wedding was over.” You start to apologize, but she cuts you off before it ever leaves your mouth. “It’s done, now. I don’t think either of us would go back and change it if we could. I’m happy here, now, and you have your cowboy. Your John. It’s time you let yourself be happy, too.” 

“Funny enough, you’re not the first person who’s said that to me.” You drop your chin and try to stop the burn of tears that threatens your composure as you squeeze her bookish hands with your calloused ones. “Thank you, Lottie.”

She squeezes back and smiles. “You’re welcome.”

When she says your name, you feel a little less like a ghost. 

—

On the walk back up to the house you spy movement in an upstairs window. Just a blur by candlelight. 

You wonder how much John saw from up there. If jealousy burns his eyes and the back of his throat the way it used to for you, watching him and Abigail together. It lights a spark of something low in your belly, hope or want or vindication. A grim, simmering promise of things to come.

—

The next morning greets you sunshine-bright and singing. The grasses sway gently with the breeze. The birds flit from leafy tree limbs outstretched in the sky’s great blue embrace. Lottie insists on giving you not only the agreed-upon papers, but breakfast for the road as well. The fistfull of cash you fetch from your saddlebag is more than she asked for, but when she protests you push her hands back gently. After everything, it’s fitting payment.

“Ride safe, now,” she tells you, shielding the sun from her greenglass eyes to look up at your mounted form. “It’s nice now, but a storm’s brewing. Can you smell it on the breeze?”

You can. Sunshine undercut with petrichor and the buzzing, electric promise of lightning. “We will. Thank you again, Lottie. For everything.” Live well.

“The same to you, old friend,” she smiles your way, then turns to John. “Keep an eye on this one, will you?”

“Always do.” His voice is curt, and his eyes are sharp and unkind when he says it.

Mean, you think as you sneak a look at his striking profile. But mine.

You wave one last goodbye before riding off, stolen horses in tow, false paperwork tucked into your breast pocket. The pair of you make for the horizon line and don’t look back.

—

John is quiet in the coming days. Uncharacteristically so. You catch him staring at you when he thinks you don’t see; eyeing the length of your neck as you drink from your canteen, memorizing the planes of your face lit by campfire, burning a hole in your back as you ride ahead. All the ways you’ve watched him since you were young and scared and barely knew what to call the ache in your chest and the scorch of your want. That anguish which even now you refuse to name; you know what it is. 

Maybe Lottie was right.

Maybe John knows it too.

—

As you ride toward the next town, and the next one, and the next, the sky darkens from shades of blue to grey to not-quite-black. The storm hasn’t hit yet, but rain heralds its coming on the wind. In the hoofbeats of the horses you hear thunder.

—

A man in tweed with a curled mustache buys Cerberus behind a saloon in Split River. John orders you both a round of drinks to celebrate. His fingers brush against yours when you toast your glasses together. It tastes of wildfire. Stings the whole way down.

You’re forced to leave when he almost takes a man’s head off for asking you to share a dance shortly after. The jaunty fiddle tune haunts your steps into the lamplit streets as you beat your hasty retreat, John’s shoulder clasped tight beneath your burnt whiskey fingertips.

—

In Steelhead, a farmer with a nose for a pedigree takes Autocrat off your hands. That night he puts the pair of you up with his other farmhands to get you out of the nighttime chill. It’s a kindness you hadn’t counted on, but it feels cruel the moment you see a man, broad and strong with eyes the same shade as yours, agree to light John’s cigarette. Across the room they lean in close. Closer. The butts of their cigarettes glow shrouded in smoke as they share the intimacy of nicotine breath, but the whole time John’s eyes are on yours. A punishment. A dare. 

In a bedroll as far from everyone else as the room allows, you don’t sleep a wink.

The following morning breaks grey and ominous. You can’t leave the place far enough behind. 

—

Rushing Spring houses Old Father Time’s new owner, a fashionable young woman whose father can refuse her nothing. He barely looks the horse over before offering more than your asking price, and you shake his hand without giving him a moment to think twice. 

“Better get going if we want to beat this weather,” John says as they walk away with their new purchase. His eyes are squinted up at the sky, storm grey and swirling. It’s the most he’s offered to speak since Lottie’s.

“You’re right,” you agree. But as you glance up at the churning clouds above you, you’re not so sure that you will.

—

The rain catches you the next afternoon in open country, not a settlement in sight. It starts as a drizzle, errant drops that speckle the leather of your saddle and pepper Moonshine’s coat, but soon crescendos into an all-out pour. It comes so thick and fast that you can hardly see John and Old Boy just a horselength in front of you. John turns to shout something over the downpour, but the wind snatches his words. It’s too dark to read his lips.

When he turns his horse away you follow blind.

There’s a rockface somewhere off to the left, you know. You’ve seen irregular shelves and outcroppings from a distance. Maybe John spied something like that before the rain came? Maybe he’s just trusting that he’ll find shelter before an errant lightning strike hits anything nearby. Whatever the case is, his luck holds. You endure only a few more minutes of being utterly soaked before the dark, yawning mouth of a cave opens up before you.

The horses shake their dripping coats the moment you step inside. Their unshod hoofbeats echo with the rainfall. Lightning flashes, lighting your surroundings for a heartbeat and a half. It’s enough to see that the cave doesn’t run dangerously deep; you need not fear it housing some slumbering bear or wildcat’s den, but it’s enough to keep the rain from soaking you entirely. So long as it doesn’t flood, you guess.

Without so much as a word you and John fall into a routine that’s been established since you were kids. You untack and hobble the horses, toweling them dry as best you can. Moonshine tenses beneath your hands at the distant rumble of thunder rolling ever closer. John starts a fire and gets to warming food. Canned beans, it looks like. Better than nothing. You set the tent tarp on the ground to keep the bedrolls dry. The extra blankets you have packed away aren’t quite wet. It’s a sadder, damper camp than you normally pull together, but in the wake of this weather you’d be hard-pressed to do better.

You huddle close to the small fire with your plate of food. John sits opposite you and says nothing. Just watches. You watch back. The way his sharp features accentuate with shadow. The way his damp skin is drenched in firelight. His hair is plastered to his cheek, and your fingers twitch with longing to smooth it back and kiss the raindrops from his lips. When the next lightning strike flashes, you see unmasked want reflected back in his eyes.

“John…” you start, but can’t find the right words. How do you give voice to thoughts you’ve smothered for years now? How would you even begin? 

“I need a drink after all that,” he says, pulling his flask from his belt and taking a swig. “How ‘bout you?”

Your mouth is terribly dry. “Sure.” 

The offer doesn’t surprise you, but the way he hands it over, slow and deliberate, your fingers brushing together, does. Instead of retreating back to his side of the fire he remains with his hungry eyes and sharp mouth. You can’t quite bring yourself to look away as you drink. It burns like whiskey, but it tastes like him.

“Somethin’ else out there,” he says, inclining his head toward the mouth of the cave. Lightning flashes, and a clap of thunder - the closest one yet - punctuates his statement. “Reminds me of all them years ago, picking you up out of the mud. You remember that?”

“How could I forget? Saved my life.” Marked it forever. Changed it. For better or for worse.

“Every time it storms I think about that day,” he confesses. His hand reaches up for your face, cupping your cheek. You swear your heart stops. His brows knit together. “I don’t know that I would’ve saved anyone else.”

“I’m not sure I would’ve let anyone else do the saving.”

The rough pad of his thumb strokes the side of your neck. You swallow past a dry mouth and watch his eyes trace the line of your throat. Firelight flickers across his features. He leans in closer.  

“It was always gonna be you and me, wasn’t it?” His breath fans your lips; whiskey and want. 

Lightning arcs across the sky outside, lighting his face in that same eerie glow it did the day you met. He’s so beautiful. You’re so tired of pretending.

Before the thunder has a chance to crash, you answer him with a kiss. 

It’s everything.

Electric.

You feel the boom of thunder in your chest when it comes, feel his hands wandering there and know it’s where they’ve always belonged. When he bites your lip and pushes you onto your back, your body accommodates him without thinking. He settles into the space between your legs and pulls back just long enough to admire, a wolfish gleam in his eye. What a sight you must be, spread out and chest heaving, eyes blown wide with years’ worth of want, face half-lit by the fire. 

“Fuck,” he says, breathless, and then kisses you again. “Should’a done that sooner.”

But you’re here now, and it’s everything you could ever want or imagine. Better, somehow. You know John better than you know yourself and still his passion surprises you as he presses chapped-lip kisses further and further down your neck. You gasp when he bites down and feel him smirk against your rainsoaked skin. He’s paid back in kind with a sharp tug at the root of his hair, your hand tangled in those long, dark strands. A groan sounds from deep in his chest and he pulls away long enough for you to see the grey of his eyes go black.

“Tell me you want this,” he says. 

“I want it.” You squirm, rolling your hips against his just to see desire glaze across his face. “I want you.”

“Shit, Ghost,” he says. “You always had me. I’m yours. It’s all yours.”

Whether he means his body or his heart or his soul you don’t rightly know. Right now you hardly care. All you know is that his hands are all over you at once, pulling layer after layer of soaked clothing away until you’re almost completely bare beneath him. Your nipples pebble against the sudden exposure to evening storm air, and his hungry eyes watch your every move, every breath beneath him. He’s a sight himself; half hard already, those soaked-through breeches plastered to his skin leaving little to the imagination. His hair is all a mess and his scars stand out against scarlet and his eyes are dark and bright. You help him tear his clothes away and grin when his broad, lean chest gleams in the flickering light of the campfire. You run your fingers against the dark hair there and feel him shudder beneath your touch. Heat rushes to your core when he removes his pants, leaving his cock exposed and flush against his stomach. You move to lick a stripe down your hand when he grabs your wrist.

“Don’t,” he says, face flushed. Eyes bright. “I like when it hurts, a little.”

He licks his lips. You grin and take him in your hand. His breath catches and his hips stutter as you set a slow, steady, punishing rhythm. 

“Goddamn,” he curses. “Just like that.”

You’re dizzy with power and want. Seeing the effect you have on him, his chest heaving, his eyes rolled toward the heavens, makes that simmering warmth in your belly start to boil over. You smooth a calloused fingerpad over his tip just to watch him shudder. Precup smears. His eyes squeeze shut, and all too soon he’s pushing your hands away.

You tilt your head in question and he grins, half-shy. “I ain’t gonna last if you keep that up.”

“That’s the point, dumbass.”

He shakes his head, bends to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Want to feel you, first.”

Heat floods your body from your chest to your fingertips at the confession.

Hard to argue with that.

He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat watching you wriggle out of your pants, moaning outright when you take his hand and put his fingers in your mouth. His eyes glaze over and he thrusts them to the back of your throat just once to see what happens. You hum around them. His eyes go even darker.

Hesitantly, maybe even a little reverently, he starts to work you open. The further he goes and the more you relax into it, the rougher and more confident he becomes. One finger becomes two, becomes three. Still you want more.

“Yeah?” he says as you moan, half cocky and half like he can’t believe he’s the lucky son of a bitch making you see stars. You hate that it wrecks you the way that it does.

“Yeah,” you breathe, tilting your head up to press a kiss to his jaw.

He takes your face in his hands and kisses you back properly, thoroughly, before lining up to your entrance and thrusting in all at once. It’s that special kind of too-much ecstasy, your vision going dark and your voice keening at the sensation.

“Shit, you feel good,” he whines.

“Please, John,” you say, though you’re not sure what you’re begging for other than more. 

Lightning screams through the storming sky outside and his pale skin glows in white-hot light. He takes you apart to the sound of fading thunder and falling rain. You shift to meet the thrust of those narrow hips halfway, and rake your fingers down his back with each burst of pleasure. If there’s such a thing as completion, it must be this. The way your bodies fit together, the way you know every thought that flashes behind the wolfish want in his eyes. Each unspoken, understood I love you. He taught you to do it long before he recognized the feeling returned, and when you finally reach the peak of your pleasure you sigh it into his skin.

I love you, John Marston.

“Fuck, Ghost,” he pants. “Fuck. I love you too.” 

His thrusts get sloppy, chasing his own high, and when he pulls out and spends himself across your stomach his voice cracks saying your name. It’s never sounded sweeter.

After a few settling breaths John leans down and presses a firm kiss to your forehead. You miss his warmth for only moments when he rolls away to find a rag to clean you up. The two of you fall asleep in one another’s arms. Outside, the rain slows and fades away to a drizzle, then nothing.

—

You wake the next morning to wiry arms wrapped around you and John’s face pressed into your stomach. He snores softly, and you allow yourself a quiet moment to admire his sleeping form. It’s impossible to stop the fond smile that steals across your face. Carefully, carefully, you extricate yourself from his embrace.

When you step outside, morning birdsong greets you. The grass beneath your feet is as dewy as the pinks and yellows and robin’s egg blues that paint the sky above. It’s the kind of sunrise that only comes after a storm.

You lean against the rockface and light a cigarette, watching the smoke dissipate on the fresh morning breeze. It isn’t long before John joins you. Wordlessly you pass him your cigarette, and wordlessly he takes a drag. He breathes smoke into the air and smiles.

Together you watch the sun rise.

#john marston x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #fran writes #ghost story #ch. 23