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Description

Official RidgeRunner Stables/Pemberley Park storyline.

Featuring:
Fang with a fresh haircut -sobbing-
and a surprise guest PS Bita a Jaxlinn 020

Follows a couple days after:

There's a tldr safe summary of the story below~

Trigger warnings ahead in either story featured: Ya know, not too many this time. Just the usual swearing, talk of drugs, uh, general angst and sads/mads, nothing too over the top considering the characters.

Trying. That’s all they wanted Fang to do. Try and do something with himself. The first thing he was offered was a job so at least he could earn some cash to start himself with when he decided to take off in pursuit of whatever it was that drove him. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to them, Fang had fallen into that rut of demotivation where nothing sounded good anymore. Music? Why? What else was there to him? Fang lost his identity and had no desire to find it. The worst kind of rut. So it was time to try something else like the doctor ordered.
Meet Fang Blade. Durant insisted he had to have a last name to earn a paycheck at Pemberley Park. The dumbest name Fang had ever seen on a piece of paper ever. It brought a certain kind of cringey pain that just made him laugh at himself. What a loser. But he was his own loser, freshly groomed - Fang insisted they just buzz off all his hair but the hairdresser pleaded to at least keep some of the style. That’s right, Fang was “trying” to be a better loser. A loser taking a job that was so fitting for him: taking out trash. With every bag of filth he picked up, he saw a piece of himself in there. A sack of unwanted garbage that should be taken away and forgotten.
The worst part of it all, honestly, was being around the dumb horses. He was not touching them. Not ever. Luckily, most of the job centralized around the park facilities away from the giant assholes. Horses were the worst. Fang couldn’t see the appeal. All the shit and uppity dress code - yuck. People with egos the size of the mansion down the road. Horses and the people that owned them were much alike: full of shit. (dras would like to point out that fang and i have very conflicting views here…)
Fang gave a grey horse on the fence line one night a one-fingered salute, letting the horse know how much Fang “adored” his presence. For just a second, Fang thought he recognized the chunk missing out of the horse’s left ear. But nah, that horse had been grey…er. This one was way whiter. Fang hefted the garbage sack over his shoulder and kept walking back to the cart to finish up. He heard the dumb horse thundering around in the small field but didn’t look back to entertain the creature. Stupid thing.
"Seriously, I'm going to stop turning you out if you're going to run around like a moron every time."
Fang stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wow, look at you. Think you're hot shit, huh? C'mon, I have shit to do."
Hahaha haha, no. Fang readjusted the sack and just ever so slightly tucked his chin to look over his shoulder. Just a quick glance. He saw the white horse start to walk towards the person. He followed the line to the guy with the halter hanging on his arm, looking rather unimpressed. A signature kind of unimpressed. Fang slowly tipped his chin back, making damn sure he wasn't seen. Holy. Shit. No.
Chris sighed, buckling the halter behind Jax's ears, “You don’t have to be such a dumbass every time I need to catch you…” He looked up, seeing one of the night staff walking down the path away from the park. He glanced back to the cart they usually used just sitting there with Santos waiting around…. Weird. Probably what Jax was all worked up over.

There’s no fence around the entire property, Fang told himself as he dropped the sack of trash and crossed the cold river on the back of the property. He just kept walking, stuffing his hands into the hoodie pocket. There was a giant tight fence around the whole front half that kept people out. There wouldn’t be one on the back too. Right? And he didn’t stop until he crashed into the large fence, just as immaculate as the front. This place. Was hell. A prison in hell.
Fang fell back on his butt, hands never left his pocket. He just stared at the ground. This was a whole new feeling. Only one other time in his life, he had seen so much outside and felt totally trapped. Fang slowly plopped over onto his side at a total loss for thought. How was he supposed to even comprehend of all places his ass ended up was at the very place Chris had fucked off to after dumping his ass for being a piece of shit?
The static in his mind didn't last long. Starting at a whisper, came the bad memories then followed by the louder inner critic. Then like a wrestling match announcer, here came the flood of every negative emotion in one corner against the pathetic opposition seeking any kind of solace. He lay there, letting the thoughts pick at him like vultures on a carcass. Just what the hell was he doing here?

Durant got the call that it had been about an hour and Fang was a no-show on the job. Up and left Santos and never made it back to the cart. Unbeknownst to Fang, Durant had his location pinged on a tracker of sorts. Why the hell was he on the back of the property just sitting totally still? Instead of the truck he got one of the four wheelers that was normally used for cross country maintenance work. He had to go the long way around but it was what it was. The lump on the ground was spotted some time later. Durant stopped next to it. He knew Fang must have heard him coming. He still hadn't moved. If he was so keen on escaping...why hadn't he ran when he heard him? “You were not supposed to overdo yourself this early...with your exercise routine I mean...and I don't remember going across waterways was on the schedule either.”
"This is hell," Fang whispered. He was absolutely sure of it now. People expressing levels of empathy and care, an overseer that knew everything he did, a doctor up his ass about bullshit routines, in a goddamn horse park, the face of his ex lover to remind him every second of all his shortcomings, and there was no escape.
Fang smiled with a kind of hopeless loss behind it like there was nothing left for him to do. Even though there was no way this was real hell, at least for a second he thought how ironic that just meant at some point he had finally managed to die. Well, shit. Surely, he'd last longer than this.
He sighed, turning over and pushing himself up and onto his feet. He trudged over to the four wheeler and sat sideways behind Durant. "Can we just…chill for a sec before you put me back in my cage?" He noticed Durant brought along his yummy little picker-uppers; beautifully rolled and ready to smoke. He gestured for one unapologetically. "I am in over my head," he admitted. He needed that wonderful special smoke to fill his bloodstream with its wonderful bliss. Times like this, he didn't know why it was called getting high when it felt like it was the only thing grounding him.
Fang cut right to it. "I know you've figured out who I am and probably where I come from. If you know I've been to jail, then you already know my real name." Fang figured out that much a while ago but didn't want to draw attention to it. "I am not that person and I won't ever be ever again. That motherfucker was never wanted and I fucking hate everything about him."
He tugged the hood down more over his eyes. He took a long drag on that smoke until he felt the burn in his lungs. Just one involuntary cough and he was fine again. He passed the joint back over to Durant, feeling like sharing more. They both didn't have to suffer. “Fuck this park." Fang hung his head, crumbling over himself. Old wounds that don't heal. He refused to have any sort of connection to that time in his life.
“I'm not out to punish you,” Durant assured him, taking the smoke. “Just offering something to do, something you could put up with doing even if it's not exactly the dream task, but with the benefit of earning some cash.” A deep exhale. “Of course I know about the one you were before you were Fang. Every little shitty fucked up bit.” At least, most of it he thought to himself. Not the details. Not what happened to his uncle or who had shot him or who had died when he was young. What tugged at his heartstrings more was that ‘not wanted’ part.
“The past is the past, kid,” Durant went on to say, passing the joint back to Fang, “for better or for worse. Only reason to look into someone else's past, like the way I do it, is to try to help someone not to be in or avoid the same situation again, the really bad ones at least, to the best of my abilities.” Durant cleared his throat, “There are plenty of people who I've helped that have given me the finger and I never heard from them again, at least not in living form. But it was their choice, the action they chose to take. I can't deny anyone to make their own choices in life. Death is often just a consequence of a choice made. Either by yourself - or someone else.”
It was better Durant did the talking, anyhow. Fang just wanted to enjoy the smoke and stare into space. He didn't know how people could actually pass a day without some kind of substance abuse be it alcohol, nicotine, marijuana, painkillers, opioids, or whatever. He could hardly remember the days before it all went downhill for him. The mention of his previous life only brought up the worst of memories. It made his mouth feel ashy and dry as he inhaled a little harder.
“I was gonna come back,” Fang shrugged after another drag on the smoke. “But… There's some past that's not gonna stay in the past. And I dunno…" This is where Fang had blown a circuit. Now, much calmer with the assistance of the blunt, he felt his thoughts slow down long enough to organize them.
"One of those picky ass horse fucks staying here knows me a little too damn well. Remember when I said I knew another Christopher? Real fuckin' bitch. Bitchopher Burton," He gestured back in the direction of the cottages. "He's my ex. Dumped my fucking ass like yesterday's trash. But I bet you knew that already," Fang mocked. The break up never made viral news but everything before that was sensational. All Chris's manipulative work to piss off his dad. Chris Burton, the golden boy, dating an edgy punk rocker. Were they getting up to no good? Was he a bad influence? And then he faded out of Chris's life. Now it was just where he chose to ride next. Like Fang was a chapter that never happened.
"He finds out I'm here and he's going to think I'm fucking stalking him. I don't do that shit. But I already have one restraining order on my ass; I'm really not looking to add to the list," he stated bluntly. Now, that case has been filed as a private closed order. Only Fang and the girl’s name that filed it are public.
He shook his head, "I dunno if it's worth staying here if he's going to be a cunt. He fucking hates my ass. Fuck," he growled. "You wanna talk about trying? That's all I ever fucking did for him. Hey, you want another side project, try cracking his case. I'm easy. I'm depressed with mommy/daddy issues and I kinda like hard drugs here and there. That asshole is a maze of self loathing."
He hadn't meant for it to turn into a roast of Christopher Burton but once he started, the rest just shoved its way out of his mouth. It was a fair warning to Durant that if Fang was going to hang around longer, there was some bad blood between them. "Fuck, he pisses me off," Fang barked before flopping backwards to lay on his back on the back of the four-wheeler.
That wasn't exactly it. True, he was mad. But Fang was the one that got left in the depths of confusion. What he truly felt and what he wondered if it was the same Durant felt was putting in all the effort and really wanting to try, just to never get the chance to. Chris left before he could. That was the middle finger to Fang as the ones before Fang gave to Durant. He rubbed his eyes, feeling deflated. "Part of me is all on your side, dude. Yea spirit, hoorah. The other part of me knows I should get the fuck away from here before shit goes nuclear. I know me. I'm going to be a problem and I don't mean like boohoo, woe is me, problem. I mean like I will kick his ass if he starts shit." Even that last part was a debate going back and forth in his head. He wouldn't actually do that…right? Maybe? Nooo. But…ugh.
Durant nodded to Fang's statement of already knowing. It would be ridiculous suddenly pretending that he had no clue. He nodded “Yeah... I met him... category rich brat… He has a schedule just like the rest of them here. Learn it and avoid it. If he is the one that starts shit, you got me...it won't matter who the fuck he is. But know that I won't let you fuck up shit on purpose either. For all I know, he isn't super keen on blending too much with the workers here. If we are lucky he won't have a clue unless you choose to approach him. Now. You smell like a wet dog, let’s get changed, shall we?”
Fang scoffed a laugh and sat back up, keeping the joint for himself. “Yea, yea, fuck off.” As much as Fang hated that he had to be the one to dance around Chris, the timing just wasn't right. He did recall, as they were driving away…Chris had called him. A call he never did know what he wanted as he threw his phone into the river. Fang could tell that joint was messing with his brain. He had always thought of Chris as a kind of siren. Alluring just to drown his ass. Even trying to avoid his call, here he fucking was by some otherworldly force of nature. Explain that.

(2478 wordcount)

tldr SUMMARY;
--Fang got a hair cut
--lol he picked out "Fang Blade" as his "official" name because it's really cringey and bad and he loves it :'')
--Fang also got a part time job at Pemberley Park: a trash man~
--Fang doesn't know what else he wants to do with his life right now
--Fang saw a terrible thing on a trash round
--Chris
--Fang now knows Chris is there too
--Fang wants to remove his brain and step on it; he doesn't want to be there; he knows chris will be a bitch if he finds out fang is there
--Durant assures him just to avoid him, it'll be fiiiine
--Fang kind of wants to just die instead :"")

Previous: At Least Try Something || Next: TBA

A moment of silence for the loss of Fang's hair..... RIP.

Oh yea, and have I mentioned Fang really doesn't like horses?? x'')

Moving this plot along at pace~ I had some more I thought to slip in before this BUT LET'S GET THIS ROLLING. THIS IS WHAT WE'RE WAITING ON HERE. SHOVE THE BOYS TOGETHER. WATCH THE CLAWS FLY.
To no shock if you know where my characters reside, they both landed at the same place >: D And Fang finds Chris first and gets the fuck outta there. Just nope, not today, moving along, fuck this, can't handle this sober, i will maul him.

Chris just ??? what just happened??

Anywho, I wanted to do that cool street light illuminating the darkness thing - I will call this attempt a 6/10 xD The idea is there lmao It look so much better in black and white lmao whatev~ moving onto the next project~ : 3

Fang/Jax/Chris/Art © Drasayer
Durant/RP Words © decors
No specific refs for grumpo and innocent bystander pony~

Procreate/Photoshop CS6

Description

Official RidgeRunner Stables/Pemberley Park storyline.

Featuring:
Fang with a fresh haircut -sobbing-
and a surprise guest PS Bita a Jaxlinn 020

Follows a couple days after:

There's a tldr safe summary of the story below~

Trigger warnings ahead in either story featured: Ya know, not too many this time. Just the usual swearing, talk of drugs, uh, general angst and sads/mads, nothing too over the top considering the characters.

Trying. That’s all they wanted Fang to do. Try and do something with himself. The first thing he was offered was a job so at least he could earn some cash to start himself with when he decided to take off in pursuit of whatever it was that drove him. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to them, Fang had fallen into that rut of demotivation where nothing sounded good anymore. Music? Why? What else was there to him? Fang lost his identity and had no desire to find it. The worst kind of rut. So it was time to try something else like the doctor ordered.
Meet Fang Blade. Durant insisted he had to have a last name to earn a paycheck at Pemberley Park. The dumbest name Fang had ever seen on a piece of paper ever. It brought a certain kind of cringey pain that just made him laugh at himself. What a loser. But he was his own loser, freshly groomed - Fang insisted they just buzz off all his hair but the hairdresser pleaded to at least keep some of the style. That’s right, Fang was “trying” to be a better loser. A loser taking a job that was so fitting for him: taking out trash. With every bag of filth he picked up, he saw a piece of himself in there. A sack of unwanted garbage that should be taken away and forgotten.
The worst part of it all, honestly, was being around the dumb horses. He was not touching them. Not ever. Luckily, most of the job centralized around the park facilities away from the giant assholes. Horses were the worst. Fang couldn’t see the appeal. All the shit and uppity dress code - yuck. People with egos the size of the mansion down the road. Horses and the people that owned them were much alike: full of shit. (dras would like to point out that fang and i have very conflicting views here…)
Fang gave a grey horse on the fence line one night a one-fingered salute, letting the horse know how much Fang “adored” his presence. For just a second, Fang thought he recognized the chunk missing out of the horse’s left ear. But nah, that horse had been grey…er. This one was way whiter. Fang hefted the garbage sack over his shoulder and kept walking back to the cart to finish up. He heard the dumb horse thundering around in the small field but didn’t look back to entertain the creature. Stupid thing.
"Seriously, I'm going to stop turning you out if you're going to run around like a moron every time."
Fang stopped dead in his tracks.
"Wow, look at you. Think you're hot shit, huh? C'mon, I have shit to do."
Hahaha haha, no. Fang readjusted the sack and just ever so slightly tucked his chin to look over his shoulder. Just a quick glance. He saw the white horse start to walk towards the person. He followed the line to the guy with the halter hanging on his arm, looking rather unimpressed. A signature kind of unimpressed. Fang slowly tipped his chin back, making damn sure he wasn't seen. Holy. Shit. No.
Chris sighed, buckling the halter behind Jax's ears, “You don’t have to be such a dumbass every time I need to catch you…” He looked up, seeing one of the night staff walking down the path away from the park. He glanced back to the cart they usually used just sitting there with Santos waiting around…. Weird. Probably what Jax was all worked up over.

There’s no fence around the entire property, Fang told himself as he dropped the sack of trash and crossed the cold river on the back of the property. He just kept walking, stuffing his hands into the hoodie pocket. There was a giant tight fence around the whole front half that kept people out. There wouldn’t be one on the back too. Right? And he didn’t stop until he crashed into the large fence, just as immaculate as the front. This place. Was hell. A prison in hell.
Fang fell back on his butt, hands never left his pocket. He just stared at the ground. This was a whole new feeling. Only one other time in his life, he had seen so much outside and felt totally trapped. Fang slowly plopped over onto his side at a total loss for thought. How was he supposed to even comprehend of all places his ass ended up was at the very place Chris had fucked off to after dumping his ass for being a piece of shit?
The static in his mind didn't last long. Starting at a whisper, came the bad memories then followed by the louder inner critic. Then like a wrestling match announcer, here came the flood of every negative emotion in one corner against the pathetic opposition seeking any kind of solace. He lay there, letting the thoughts pick at him like vultures on a carcass. Just what the hell was he doing here?

Durant got the call that it had been about an hour and Fang was a no-show on the job. Up and left Santos and never made it back to the cart. Unbeknownst to Fang, Durant had his location pinged on a tracker of sorts. Why the hell was he on the back of the property just sitting totally still? Instead of the truck he got one of the four wheelers that was normally used for cross country maintenance work. He had to go the long way around but it was what it was. The lump on the ground was spotted some time later. Durant stopped next to it. He knew Fang must have heard him coming. He still hadn't moved. If he was so keen on escaping...why hadn't he ran when he heard him? “You were not supposed to overdo yourself this early...with your exercise routine I mean...and I don't remember going across waterways was on the schedule either.”
"This is hell," Fang whispered. He was absolutely sure of it now. People expressing levels of empathy and care, an overseer that knew everything he did, a doctor up his ass about bullshit routines, in a goddamn horse park, the face of his ex lover to remind him every second of all his shortcomings, and there was no escape.
Fang smiled with a kind of hopeless loss behind it like there was nothing left for him to do. Even though there was no way this was real hell, at least for a second he thought how ironic that just meant at some point he had finally managed to die. Well, shit. Surely, he'd last longer than this.
He sighed, turning over and pushing himself up and onto his feet. He trudged over to the four wheeler and sat sideways behind Durant. "Can we just…chill for a sec before you put me back in my cage?" He noticed Durant brought along his yummy little picker-uppers; beautifully rolled and ready to smoke. He gestured for one unapologetically. "I am in over my head," he admitted. He needed that wonderful special smoke to fill his bloodstream with its wonderful bliss. Times like this, he didn't know why it was called getting high when it felt like it was the only thing grounding him.
Fang cut right to it. "I know you've figured out who I am and probably where I come from. If you know I've been to jail, then you already know my real name." Fang figured out that much a while ago but didn't want to draw attention to it. "I am not that person and I won't ever be ever again. That motherfucker was never wanted and I fucking hate everything about him."
He tugged the hood down more over his eyes. He took a long drag on that smoke until he felt the burn in his lungs. Just one involuntary cough and he was fine again. He passed the joint back over to Durant, feeling like sharing more. They both didn't have to suffer. “Fuck this park." Fang hung his head, crumbling over himself. Old wounds that don't heal. He refused to have any sort of connection to that time in his life.
“I'm not out to punish you,” Durant assured him, taking the smoke. “Just offering something to do, something you could put up with doing even if it's not exactly the dream task, but with the benefit of earning some cash.” A deep exhale. “Of course I know about the one you were before you were Fang. Every little shitty fucked up bit.” At least, most of it he thought to himself. Not the details. Not what happened to his uncle or who had shot him or who had died when he was young. What tugged at his heartstrings more was that ‘not wanted’ part.
“The past is the past, kid,” Durant went on to say, passing the joint back to Fang, “for better or for worse. Only reason to look into someone else's past, like the way I do it, is to try to help someone not to be in or avoid the same situation again, the really bad ones at least, to the best of my abilities.” Durant cleared his throat, “There are plenty of people who I've helped that have given me the finger and I never heard from them again, at least not in living form. But it was their choice, the action they chose to take. I can't deny anyone to make their own choices in life. Death is often just a consequence of a choice made. Either by yourself - or someone else.”
It was better Durant did the talking, anyhow. Fang just wanted to enjoy the smoke and stare into space. He didn't know how people could actually pass a day without some kind of substance abuse be it alcohol, nicotine, marijuana, painkillers, opioids, or whatever. He could hardly remember the days before it all went downhill for him. The mention of his previous life only brought up the worst of memories. It made his mouth feel ashy and dry as he inhaled a little harder.
“I was gonna come back,” Fang shrugged after another drag on the smoke. “But… There's some past that's not gonna stay in the past. And I dunno…" This is where Fang had blown a circuit. Now, much calmer with the assistance of the blunt, he felt his thoughts slow down long enough to organize them.
"One of those picky ass horse fucks staying here knows me a little too damn well. Remember when I said I knew another Christopher? Real fuckin' bitch. Bitchopher Burton," He gestured back in the direction of the cottages. "He's my ex. Dumped my fucking ass like yesterday's trash. But I bet you knew that already," Fang mocked. The break up never made viral news but everything before that was sensational. All Chris's manipulative work to piss off his dad. Chris Burton, the golden boy, dating an edgy punk rocker. Were they getting up to no good? Was he a bad influence? And then he faded out of Chris's life. Now it was just where he chose to ride next. Like Fang was a chapter that never happened.
"He finds out I'm here and he's going to think I'm fucking stalking him. I don't do that shit. But I already have one restraining order on my ass; I'm really not looking to add to the list," he stated bluntly. Now, that case has been filed as a private closed order. Only Fang and the girl’s name that filed it are public.
He shook his head, "I dunno if it's worth staying here if he's going to be a cunt. He fucking hates my ass. Fuck," he growled. "You wanna talk about trying? That's all I ever fucking did for him. Hey, you want another side project, try cracking his case. I'm easy. I'm depressed with mommy/daddy issues and I kinda like hard drugs here and there. That asshole is a maze of self loathing."
He hadn't meant for it to turn into a roast of Christopher Burton but once he started, the rest just shoved its way out of his mouth. It was a fair warning to Durant that if Fang was going to hang around longer, there was some bad blood between them. "Fuck, he pisses me off," Fang barked before flopping backwards to lay on his back on the back of the four-wheeler.
That wasn't exactly it. True, he was mad. But Fang was the one that got left in the depths of confusion. What he truly felt and what he wondered if it was the same Durant felt was putting in all the effort and really wanting to try, just to never get the chance to. Chris left before he could. That was the middle finger to Fang as the ones before Fang gave to Durant. He rubbed his eyes, feeling deflated. "Part of me is all on your side, dude. Yea spirit, hoorah. The other part of me knows I should get the fuck away from here before shit goes nuclear. I know me. I'm going to be a problem and I don't mean like boohoo, woe is me, problem. I mean like I will kick his ass if he starts shit." Even that last part was a debate going back and forth in his head. He wouldn't actually do that…right? Maybe? Nooo. But…ugh.
Durant nodded to Fang's statement of already knowing. It would be ridiculous suddenly pretending that he had no clue. He nodded “Yeah... I met him... category rich brat… He has a schedule just like the rest of them here. Learn it and avoid it. If he is the one that starts shit, you got me...it won't matter who the fuck he is. But know that I won't let you fuck up shit on purpose either. For all I know, he isn't super keen on blending too much with the workers here. If we are lucky he won't have a clue unless you choose to approach him. Now. You smell like a wet dog, let’s get changed, shall we?”
Fang scoffed a laugh and sat back up, keeping the joint for himself. “Yea, yea, fuck off.” As much as Fang hated that he had to be the one to dance around Chris, the timing just wasn't right. He did recall, as they were driving away…Chris had called him. A call he never did know what he wanted as he threw his phone into the river. Fang could tell that joint was messing with his brain. He had always thought of Chris as a kind of siren. Alluring just to drown his ass. Even trying to avoid his call, here he fucking was by some otherworldly force of nature. Explain that.

(2478 wordcount)

tldr SUMMARY;
--Fang got a hair cut
--lol he picked out "Fang Blade" as his "official" name because it's really cringey and bad and he loves it :'')
--Fang also got a part time job at Pemberley Park: a trash man~
--Fang doesn't know what else he wants to do with his life right now
--Fang saw a terrible thing on a trash round
--Chris
--Fang now knows Chris is there too
--Fang wants to remove his brain and step on it; he doesn't want to be there; he knows chris will be a bitch if he finds out fang is there
--Durant assures him just to avoid him, it'll be fiiiine
--Fang kind of wants to just die instead :"")

Previous: At Least Try Something || Next: TBA

A moment of silence for the loss of Fang's hair..... RIP.

Oh yea, and have I mentioned Fang really doesn't like horses?? x'')

Moving this plot along at pace~ I had some more I thought to slip in before this BUT LET'S GET THIS ROLLING. THIS IS WHAT WE'RE WAITING ON HERE. SHOVE THE BOYS TOGETHER. WATCH THE CLAWS FLY.
To no shock if you know where my characters reside, they both landed at the same place >: D And Fang finds Chris first and gets the fuck outta there. Just nope, not today, moving along, fuck this, can't handle this sober, i will maul him.

Chris just ??? what just happened??

Anywho, I wanted to do that cool street light illuminating the darkness thing - I will call this attempt a 6/10 xD The idea is there lmao It look so much better in black and white lmao whatev~ moving onto the next project~ : 3

Fang/Jax/Chris/Art © Drasayer
Durant/RP Words © decors
No specific refs for grumpo and innocent bystander pony~

Procreate/Photoshop CS6