#marooned mule

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

Maroon

Nanami Kento x Reader

(Song: Maroon by Taylor Swift)

Warning: Smut; not for minors. (This is my first time posting a smut rated story).

He remembered that night so clearly, as if it was yesterday. Being at the bar, drinking with his friends for a quick vacation.

“Check her out!” Gojo exclaimed for the fifth time. Nanami turned to his direction.

He remembered your white, flowy dress that stopped mid-thigh. The maroon lipstick that fit perfect on your skin. You were laughing with a bunch of friends. You went to his direction of the bar. They walked past Gojo, Geto, and Haibara. You were next to him, ordering a drink. Your friends ordered sweet, mixed drinks.

“Moscow mule please!” you ordered excitedly.

“No bourbon?” one questioned.

“Dylan made this last weekend and I’m obsessed at the moment,” you said.

“Oh my gosh! Did he ask you out?” You nodded. “AND?!”

“I said no,” you said. Nanami smiled as he took a drink of his whiskey on the rocks.

“WHY?!”

“He’s just a good friend,” you said nonchalantly and thanked the bartender. “Please, he’s so immature. The man goes from girl to girl. I’m not that kind of girl. I know who I want.”

“He’s just so cute!” You laughed. Your laughter that sounds like music to his ears.

“I’ll agree to that,” you said and took a sip of your drink. “Cheers to graduating!”

“Cheers!!”

Your group stayed by him. You quickly finished your drink, and ordered another.

“Make that two,” Nanami said as he handed the bartender his card. You looked at him with a smile.

“Thank you,” you said. Nanami smiled a small smile back. The drinks arrived immediately and Nanami handed you your glass. He raised a glass up for you and you followed the movements.

“Cheers,” he said. You felt yourself blush.

“Cheers,” you said back and clinked glasses with him before the both of you took a sip of your drinks.

It was pouring rain. You spun around in a circle, taking in the cool feeling of the water mixed with the hot temperature of the summer.

“Kento, dance with me!” you exclaimed, fairly tipsy from your drinks. Nanami chuckled and held your hands. He brought you closer to him and the two of you slowed dance outside. You smiled, resting your head on his chest. His heart fluttered and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Come on,” he said. “We should dry up.” You nodded. “Follow me.” And you did. The two of you took a taxi. You couldn’t help but hold Nanami’s hand throughout the car ride. Nanami looked at you with a soft smile appearing on his face. And you couldn’t help but blush.

The taxi stopped at a hotel, you noticed. Nanami held your hand as you left the vehicle and he held your hand, leading you to the elevators, and then up to his suite.

“You’re not from here,” you said. You thanked Nanami when he handed you a towel. Nanami buttoned his shirt and undid his tie, remaining topless as he dried his body. You blushed hard.

“Tokyo, Japan,” he said. “I left a robe in the bathroom for you. You can shower if you’d like.”

“Kento, are you a spontaneous person?” you asked. Nanami chuckled at your sudden question.

“Not usually,” he said.

“You’re not from here nor am I from this city,” you said. “Shower with me. Let’s make our night unforgettable.” You walked up closer to Nanami as you spoke. Nanami was flustered and you smiled. Your hand rested on the back of his neck as you slightly pushed his head down so his lips met with yours.

There was immediate heat and passion in the kiss. It didn’t take long for the two of you to strip naked before showering together. Your back was up against the cold tiled walls, hands on his shoulders, and your leg hanging on his arm while he teased you. You whimpered at his tease, the tip of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit and poking at your entrance.

“How badly do you want me, doll?” he whispered seductively in your ear.

“So fucking bad,” you begged. “Fuck me, please Kento.” He locked his lips with yours as he inserted himself inside. Te two of you moaned loudly in the kiss.

“T-Tight,” Nanami muttered with pleasure. With his free arm, he held your hip securely as he thrusted in and out of you. At first it was slow and steady. But the pleasure of your warm and tight walls drove him crazy that he trusted you hard and fast.

“Right there,” you cried in ecstasy as he hit your sensitive spot. You held onto his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his skin.

“Cum for me, doll,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Kento!” Your toes curled and your nails scratched his back. The orgasm was close and Nanami is doing a good job to make sure you got it. He would groan in pleasure, feeling your walls hug tightly against his cock while thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes rolled back as you moaned relentlessly when you came all over his cock. Nanami kept thrusting you, riding out your high. He held you tightly as he kissed you.

Nanami turned the shower off. He pulled out a dry towel, helping you dry your body before he did himself. While he did, you dried your hair. But he suddenly carried you out, causing you to drop your towel in the shower as he whisked you off to the bed. He gently laid you down, kissing you passionately. His cock hardening as he teased your entrance again.

“My turn, doll,” he said as he inserted inside your wet pussy again.

Nanami put the newspaper down, deciding to go to the city and surveillance the area. The memory stayed fresh in his mind three months later. He remembered quickly buying you clothes the next morning. He took you out for breakfast and you took him to Central Park for his last day. And he was glad he could end his last night with you in bed.

Communication was scarce. You claimed that you still had to study and the time difference made it difficult to hold conversations. There was no plan to meet up again nor to further anything in this relationship, or whatever the two of you were.

Nanami stopped by at his favorite bakery. He was craving some bread after all. And he needs something to fill his stomach, in case a mission pops up. He thanked the cashier, tipping her a few extra cash that made her thank him happily. Nanami opened the door, taking a bite of the freshly baked bread he just purchased.

“Kento!”

His heart stopped and his body froze. He would never forget the voice. Your voice was angelic and it warmed him. He would feel so relaxed at the sound. But, he wondered if it was just his imagination.

“K-Kento?” And so, he turned around. He dropped the bread in the bag. There you were in the same white dress and maroon lipstick. Just like you wore three months ago. He said your name and you smiled brightly at him. You ran to him and hugged him tightly. Nanami slowly enveloped you in his arms and when he finally realized you were actually here, he held you tighter.

“Are you on vacation?” he asked. You shook your head, smile wider than ever.

“I just moved in,” you answered. “It was a process, especially with the job.”

“W-Why?” He was surprised. Surprised that you would move here. He remembered you talking about moving to New York City or at least close by. He watched you blush.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you said. “It was risky to move here, yet I did it.” Nanami couldn’t hold himself back as he kissed you passionately. Your lipstick smeared and appeared on his lips.

When he pulled away, you had to reconnect your lips with him again. The feeling of his lips faintly remained on yours within the three months. You craved for him everyday. And because the thought of him stuck to you, you took the impulsive decision to move.

Reluctantly, the two of you pulled away and you giggled, wiping the lipstick off his lips.

“Come on. It’s my turn now to show you my city,” he said as his thumb cleaned up the lipstick smear on your face. Immediately, you intertwined your fingers with his. You wrapped your arm around his arm, standing close to him. Nanami smiled, leading you back to the bakery because it is his favorite bakery in the city.

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 25

Kid x Fem Reader x Killer

Warnings: violence lite, kissing girls and liking it

Fuck Around...

The Victoria Punk pulled into port in the early afternoon. This island was clearly not affiliated with any kind of marine presence. It appeared disorganized and haphazard from your bird's eye view. There were a lot of buildings, most of them looked like shops rather than houses. Stopover islands often had tons of resources available to purchase, but permanent residents were few. That was doubly true of stopover islands without marines. The type of people that wanted to settle in one place didn't feel safe without them around, and business practices were shady at best, downright criminal at worst.

While you would have been nervous to step foot on an island like this in your past life, you had been on many such like this in your career as the Sea Snake. Places like this, with no laws, and disenfranchised folks, were ideal for promising better lives, and instead kidnapping people to sell. By way of this, they were also great places to ambush traffickers, and it wasn't difficult to recognize which were affiliated with corrupted marines. They had money and they tended to go after people that were younger and attractive. And if you happened to catch others in the cross-fire, oh well. You had tunnel vision and it was dead set on revenge.

The girls had already scrambled off while you had to hang back and wash dishes after breakfast. Kid and Killer left together not long ago. You debated on whether or not to bring Mini, although she had been crammed on this ship and would also make a great pack-mule, so you decided she could come. You had a list of stuff you wanted, but remembered Killer had taken your savings. It would be really embarrassing to ask for a little back. Though, you had wanted to try your hand at counterfeiting. 

While you were thinking about the logistics of shopping, a familiar face walked up beside you. "Want some company?" 

You greeted Heat with a smile. "Only if you don't mind going clothes shopping first. Do you have any paper I could borrow?" 

Heat gave you a curious glance. 

"So I can make Berry." You wiggled your fingers, devil fruit powers ready.

Heat snorted. "Look at the little marine now."

You shot Heat a glare. "Watch it or I won't share my fake money with you."

The two of you, plus Mini, headed off the ship as soon as you had converted enough regular paper into something indistinguishable from Berry. As you said, the first order of business was clothes shopping. Heat had good taste, so you were glad that he wanted to go with you. Heat picked out a few things for himself, leather things that matched his aesthetic. He had also picked some things for you, of a similar style. You couldn't remember ever owning anything leather. 

You held up some of the stuff he had picked. "Heat, this is too much."

"No, no it'll match your jacket. It'll look cool." 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Did your captain put you up to this?"

"No!" Heat crossed his heart. "But..." He was a little sheepish, "I do know what he likes." He gestured to the pile of things you had to try on. "I kinda figured you wanted to catch his eye."

"First of all, maybe. Second of all, I could catch anyone's eye that I wanted." You grabbed the pile and went into a dressing room. 

Heat rolled his eyes. "I have no doubts." He continued to browse for himself. "Show me when you have something on." 

There were some black leather shorts with straps on the legs. Pants were more your thing, though these shorts looked really good on you and you would need more clothes for hotter weather, granted leather was not the most comfortable fabric in heat. A few simple tops, some tank tops since you generally liked your arms exposed, some other varieties so you had options, including a deep red corseted top that you couldn't resist. There were pants that were more your vibe, baggy, many pockets, and hanging from the hips, with some decorative straps. And then there was what Heat had picked out: white leather low-rise pants that laced all the way up the legs on the sides paired with a top to match. You had to admit it would look cool with your jacket, and you did look eye-catching. Maybe Heat knew a thing or two. 

Heat gave you a thumbs up when you walked out. "See?"

"You were right." You considered yourself in the mirror. "Pick out some more things for me." 

After trying a few more things, you both settled on your final options. You had also left Heat to his own devices while you grabbed some more intimate things, simple things, not anything wild. There was nothing worse than being short on bras and panties. You hung your bags on Mini's tusks, much to her displeasure. They only got heavier as you and Heat made your way through the various shops. Heat wanted to get some mapping things for Wire and journaling things for himself. You decided to pick up a small sketchbook. There were some things you wanted to start working on and needed to draw plans for. Speaking of which, you needed to visit a few more places. 

"I'm gonna head back to the ship. Want me to bring the bags?" Heat asked.

You cocked your head at him. "That's kind of you to offer. That would be great."

He took them from Mini and she gave him a grateful lick on the cheek. "You gonna come out with us later?" He patted her on the head in return.

You were staring at his arms. Is it a crew requirement to have beefy arms? You knew those bags weren't light. "I'll think about it."  You winked at him. "Which bar?"

Heat shrugged. "All of them." You both laughed. "Don't go by yourself though," Heat added. "This is a rough place at night."  

Shooting him an incredulous look, "You're so cute, Heat." It was endearing, however unwarranted. You had literally skinned a guy's face a few days ago. 

He rolled his eyes again, but his cheeks were tinted. "I'll put your bags on your bunk."

"Thank you." You couldn't help adding, "Don't go looking through my panties now." 

Heat walked off and gave you the finger as you cackled.

Hopping on Mini's back, now that she was unencumbered with bags, you got on to your other errands: finding an armory and some place that sold scrap metal, because you would be damned if you asked Kid to borrow some. It was dusk when you got back to the Punk and Mini was loaded down with various pieces of metal. You had gotten a few other items as well. You didn't really want to put all of it by your bunk, not that there was room anyway, so you brought everything to the infirmary for storage until you could get to it. 

The last time you had cleaned up nicely was for Killer's party and that was with help. The boat was pretty vacant. Everyone was out for the most part except for some stragglers and some rookies who were assigned watch duty. You treated yourself to a quick shower, probably the only time you had gotten the women's showers to yourself. There wasn't time for your hair to dry so you left it alone. You mainly wanted to wash the day's grime from your skin so you didn't stink. Nothing worse than someone with B.O. grinding on you, not that you would be doing that. 

With maroon lips, a little bit of mascara, and the outfit that Heat had put together, you looked better than you had the last time. Maybe you thought that because it was more your style than a dress. The last touch was using your power to change the color of your heeled boots from black to white. No better way to ruin an outfit than to wear clashing shoes. One of the items you had acquired earlier in the day was a little switchblade, which you tucked into your shoe. Never knew when it could come in handy. You threw your holster and coat on, then decided your coat hid too much skin. Normally, you didn't care and you would want to advertise who you were, but you hadn't been to a bar in a long time and wanted to be a little unrestrained. 

When you had a big, beautiful beast like Minerva, whose best attribute was sense of smell, though she would argue it was her tusks if she could speak, it was easy to find the bar that the majority of the Kid Pirates were patronizing. No one had bothered you on the way there. Something about a huge animal mounted by a person with an aggressive demeanor really limited the amount of people in your way. Minerva unfortunately was too large to comfortably fit in the establishment so she was content to sit outside, occasionally snorting at people to spook them, for her own entertainment. 

The bar was noisy and dim, as expected, and packed with a grungy variety of pirates, thieves, bounty hunters, and other criminally minded folks. The white of your outfit and the fact you were coming in alone drew the attention of many gazes. Most people wore dark clothes, so you stood out. Not to mention, you were gifted with a body so perfect, you could lay someone down on hot coals to use them as a bridge to walk across and they would thank you. At least, that's what someone had told you once. For a moment, the bar had quieted to a low murmur, save for a boisterous laugh that you recognized as belonging to the Red Menace. Purposefully, you ignored that area and went straight to an open stool at the bar. 

Of course Kid noticed as you walked in. His eyes devoured your figure in that tight leather outfit. If you had asked him if he was waiting to see you walk in, he would deny it, but he was pleased that you did. He was not pleased, however, when you ignored him and went to the bar. And he was especially not pleased when you started giggling and flirting with some loser who bought you a drink. He didn't even have a bounty for fuck sake. Kid grumbled to himself and downed the rest of his beer, slamming the stein on the table and demanding another from the waitress. 

"What's wrong, pirate?" The pretty ginger shifted in his lap. 

"Shut up." Kid continued groping the petite little whore that had wound herself around him. It fed his ego that women, and some men, threw themselves at him. He liked that they decorated his side at whatever bar they decide to visit. But now, for some reason, he was just annoyed. The girl in his lap squeaked. He had been squeezing her a little too tightly. "Why don't ya fuck off?" He all but tossed the woman away from him, returning to his refilled mug trying to burn through that guy's head with his glare.

You could feel Kid's attention on you. You smirked knowing that meant you were probably bothering him in some way. The guy you were pretending to be interested in was telling you about all his adventures, obviously trying to impress you. You finished your drink, leaving the bar while he was still talking to you. His voice faltered and he turned around to mope over his glass. A hand grabbed at you while you were walking to a corner where they were playing darts. You took the hand by the wrist and held it like it was a dirty sock. 

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." This was one of your favorite games to play. A game where you let them think you were simply a pretty thing to look at, let them get themselves into trouble, and then you got to punish them for it. 

"Why not, sweet cheeks? You're dressed like you want some attention."

You dropped his hand, ignoring him, and started to walk away, when he grabbed you again. This time you turned his arm around behind his back and forced his head down on the table. Then you rested your knee on his back to free up your hand, taking his drink and finishing it off. "Least you could do is buy me a drink first." You let him go and continued on. He was lucky you didn't smash his glass over his head. 

Killer had watched the interaction. He, like Kid, had also noticed when you came in. For a while, when you hadn't shown up, he thought you may have left completely, but Heat had mentioned you had been with him all afternoon and planned on meeting up with them. Killer thought your hair was cute down instead of in its usual ponytail. And of course you were hot in leather, even so Killer thought you would probably look hot in just about anything. He saw when that man had grabbed you, noticing that his hand tightened around his glass. When the guy grabbed you a second time, he heard the mug in Kid's hand shatter, causing him to relax his own grip before he did the same. Prior to either of them getting up to handle it, they watched you push the guy down into the table. Killer swore Kid had a smug hint of a smile on his face. Honestly, Killer should have known you would put him his place yourself. 

Darts was a lot harder to play with one eye. If you had won, you would have gotten some money. If you lost, you owed your competition a kiss. Your competition happened to be the short, ginger girl that had been sitting with Kid earlier, though you hadn't noticed her at that time, and you had lost badly. The girl, whose name was Ruby, was cute, freckles spattered across her cheeks, and her ginger hair, short and wild about her face. She was like a pixie. 

"You talk a big game for someone so tiny," you quipped. You weren't used to being the taller one in a pair. Like many other things, it had been some time since you had kissed a girl, though the last time was probably also at a bar. She grabbed your hand and led you into a corner booth. "I think the deal was a kiss, not a date."

"Yeah, well, have one drink with me. That guy on the other side of the bar pissed me off and you seem like a fun time. I saw you smash that dude's face." She laughed and motioned for a waiter to bring you drinks. 

"Do you want me to smash your guy's face, too? Who was it?" You smirked. Maybe coming out tonight would be more fun than you thought. A waiter came over and put two glasses in front of you both, filled with a small amount of greenish liquid. "Absinthe?" You raised an eyebrow. So I'll be getting shitfaced tonight. You took a sip and scrunched your face at the strong taste. 

"Yeah it's kind of my drink of choice." Ruby pointed to the table that Kid was sitting at. "That red-head over there. But I don't think you want to fight him. It's Eustass Kid, of the Kid Pirates." 

You almost spit out your drink. "Is that so?" This girl had questionable taste, like yourself. "He pisses me off, too." You pondered something for a minute. "Do you want to really piss him off and get your kiss?" A sinister thought poisoned your mind. 

"See? I knew you would be fun."

You downed both drinks and grabbed her by the hand this time, leading her outside. Earlier, you saw that the booth that Kid was in happened to be by a window. You pulled Ruby to the side of the bar, not in front of the window, but next to it, close enough where you knew they could hear you, yet couldn't see you. You were both giggling as you pushed Ruby so her back was to the wall. She wrapped her arms around your neck and jumped up to wrap her legs around you, you supporting her with one hand, while the other played with her hair. "Maybe I have a thing for redheads," you wondered out loud. You didn't even know if Kid had noticed the two of you slip out. Even if he didn't, you still got to make out with one cute ginger tonight. The alcohol was starting to make the edges of your mind fuzzy. 

Kid couldn't rip his orange leer from your back. What were you doing, talking to that pint-sized whore from earlier? He barely even participated in the conversation with his own officers. His eyeballs almost fell out of his head when he watched you two go outside. There were only a handful of things people went outside to do. I am NOT jealous. Those two whores can fuck around outside all they want. So why couldn't he relax and enjoy his drink? He growled and turned to Killer to bitch, when they both heard giggling and felt a thump outside the wall. This was not a well-constructed establishment. That could be anyone. They went back to their conversation, though Kid slowly tapered off when he heard sounds that were definitely from your mouth.

The little ginger demon was not shy, slipping her tongue in your mouth and snaking her hands into your hair. You took turns leaving marks on each other's necks. "How do you know him?" She asked you. 

You pulled away from biting at her collarbone to answer, "Fucked. Tried to kill each other. Fucked again."

"So you're dating?" She bit the top of your breast, making you gasp.

That evolved into a laugh. "Not a chance in hell." 

"You like poking the bear then?" She tugged at the laces on your top. 

"Something like that," You grinned. At once, her hand stilled and she tensed. You stopped and looked at her face, which had paled.

She whispered to you, "Good because the bear is right behind you." She unraveled herself from you and put her feet back down on the ground, slipping out from under you and scurrying back into the bar.

You turned around to see Kid, as red as you thought he would be. "You scared my date away." 

"What do ya think yer doing?"

"I lost a bet." You put your hands out in defeat, as if you had no choice but to comply and this was not at all your idea. He wasn't yelling at you, which was strange. The rest of the Kid Pirates were behind him. You guessed that was why.

"We're going somewhere else." He grabbed you and pushed you in the direction of the others. "Don't get left behind." He stalked off to walk by Killer.

Heat found you in the back of the group, Mini trotting beside you. "She was cute. Do you have a thing for redheads?"

"You know I was wondering that myself." 

Heat stopped you for a second to retie your top and wipe some smeared lipstick from around your mouth. "Have you eaten today?"

"Not really." You lowered your voice so only Heat could hear, "Did I get him mad?" 

"I can tell. You're not gonna last the night if you don't eat. That was only the first bar." Heat fake-punched you in the arm. "Yeah, he made us leave early. Thanks a lot." 

"Sorry. I didn't think he would do that."

"What did you think he was gonna do?" Heat realized his mistake. "No, don't answer that." 

It was too late. You were already explaining an elaborate plot fitting for an X-rated film. Very loudly, in fact, since you were sort of drunk. The half of the crew that heard it was pink from head to toe, including Killer. All the girls were giggling and making gagging noises. Kid was grinning ear to ear, chest puffed out, a 180 degree turn from the moping, pouty captain that he had been minutes before. 

If that's what she wanted, all she had to do was ask. But now I think I'll make her beg. Kid's ego had been bruising this entire time, when it really should have been inflated. 

Next Chapter

[spacedoutman]

【𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤】

(𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭)

Description: They called themselves Kiss, deciding the moment they joined, they'd kiss everything goodbye in exchange for going out in a blaze of glory. But is it really worth it? Is anything really worth it?

(Heavily inspired off the Dillinger gang + Pretty boy Floyd.)

♥ X

Note: I wrote this at 1:42 a.m and finished it at 2:20 am. I am running on no sleep for the past few days. It's canon, Peter Criss wears a stetson and dresses like walking dollar bills. Ace has had about thirty death scares and looks like a farmer (Reference: Homer van Meter) , Paul has been arrested twice and Gene had an edgy phase a little too early.

(I have so much lore for this | Art is Gerda Wegener, Queen of Hearts)

Warnings: Violence

!𝐚𝐨𝟑

Cackling and gunshots made for a terrible chorus—oh, and screaming. There was a hell of a lot of that. Ace’s legs shook as he sent a fury of bullets into the crowd after the pure gold chandelier. His heart jumped like he’d been shocked. His shoulder threatened to fly out of socket as his Tommy gun kicked like a mule. The light was so bright it burnt.

He stumbled back into Paul, who gripped his colt, jerking it to any unfortunate soul in the crowd who dared to twitch. His eyes rested ungodly wide. He breathed shakily, Ace pulling him a bit as he fell.

“You gonna’ give us what we want?” Gene snapped to a low growl as he let the rough sack sink over his shoulder.

The bank teller’s eyes widened. More people dropped. He stumbled back, slamming against the larger-than-life safe. Crystals glimmered in the sunlight as they dropped off the chandelier like rain. Ace jumped to catch as many as he could. “Ace, you’re supposed to be watching!” Paul hissed, pushing Ace off. Ace wobbled back, giggling as Gene kicked open the golden gate, storming around the counter.

He pressed his fingers into the teller’s face, pulling him over hard. He made it look easy. He glared at him through a wicked gaze. The man’s chest caved with every shallow breath he took. Gene grinned as he watched the cold sweat pour down his face. “What’s your name?” Gene taunted slyly, caressing his cheek.

Paul gulped. Hard. Ace shoved him away. “Back off.” Ace groaned, more bored than anything. He combed a hand through his messy hair. The teller’s eyes darted to the rest of the staff, who cowered against the sparkling fence separating them from the rest of the lobby. Paul rushed in, his heels clicking and reflection racing across the blue marble tiles.

Gene could hear Paul’s heart thudding through his ribs. Paul leaned to the counter, snatching everything that even looked valuable. His head was about to burst.--oh. He also grabbed the shotgun. “You know what?” Gene reached in his pocket with his spare hand. “I like that. What’s the code?” The teller shook his head rapidly.

“It’s a time lock!” He shrunk as far down as Gene would let him.

Gene looked down from a lifted chin. A smirk spread on his lips. “Is it?” Amusement drenched his voice. “You’ the manager?”

Paul raced out, slamming the gate behind him. His hat threatened to fly off. “I like those pearls.” Ace said childishly, holding out his open hand. Large, gaudy pearls hung around a lady’s neck. She reached back with trembling hands, barely able to hold herself up as her legs turned to jello. The man beside her held himself. A tight scowl landed straight on his face. “—Oh, and I’ll take your rings.”

“Paul, is anyone outside?” Gene’s shouts echoed through the massive bank.

Paul hopped over the sprawled out bodyguard and the pool of red. He raced to the window, sliding the dramatic gilded-maroon curtains out of the way. A crowd started to gather and no one in it looked particularly happy. Paul jerked to face Gene, who leaned closer to the teller, flicking his tongue like a snake. Ace climbed onto a desk, swinging his legs to and fro like a kid.

“Peter, work your magic.” Paul huffed, barely able to even chase his breath even though the smell of fine perfume was appetizing.

Papers flew off along with a jar as Paul caught himself on another desk. Ink splashed. He held his machine gun tight, crouching behind it and gulping down his thudding heart. His ribs were too tight for it to go down. Ace’s laughter boomed louder than any explosion. Gene smirked, backing out with the teller. He took him by the hair and turned him around to face the vault. The teller gasped.

Peter Criss straightened his silk tie. His face was straighter. He wore a dull look as he slid his sleek black bag off his shoulders, kneeling in front of the safe. The teller gulped down vomit. “Come on out, girls.” Gene cooed, glancing at the all male staff, who could win a record for how fast they did what they were told.

Peter grabbed his bag and walked out, dusting his hands like he wasn’t robbing a bank. Ace curled up on the desk, chest burning from laughter. He forced out little sob-wheezes and clutched his bowler hat tight to his head. Paul dropped his gun, throwing his hands over his ears. Gene dropped the teller, doing the same and crouching away.

BANG!

Ace screamed and giggled as his heart picked up pace. The adrenaline pumping through their veins numbed them, just like the intense, grating ringing. Gene swept his bag off the floor, blowing a kiss to the teller, who hugged himself tight as possible. Gene backwards jogged, tipping his hat before spinning around and speeding in.

The safe door creaked before—CRASHHH!!! It fell like a boulder, denting the floor. Peter ran over with a couple bags.

“Watch them, Ace!” Paul cried, holding back panic as he rushed for it.

Gene held his jaw from dropping. He had never seen anything like it for the third time. Peter’s bags were already almost full. Paul stumbled and fell. It was like being a pirate and stumbling on millions of years of treasure. Cash was stacked to heaven—aka, the roof of the shiny, dark grey safe. Gene clutched his chest as his heart leapt over a beat so hard it hurt.

“Get packing!” Paul cried, his voice breaking a bit.

Gene knelt. Ace slung himself up. “Alright, the lot of you..” He purred all flirty, resting his finger on his lower lip. “Whose ready to play a game of.. drop or get shot?” The thirty or so people hit the ground. Ace cackled, lifting his gun from beside him like it was his baby. A man stood up. He opened his mouth. Ace narrowed his eyes. A tight, long smile crept across his lips.

“You don’t want to play?”

Ace made a circle around the end before running his finger down the barrel. He watched like he was thinking over something. He couldn’t be more wrong. He looked back at the man, his hands shaking as adrenaline pumped. The man’s eyes were shut tight and his face contorted in fear. His arms were glued to his sides. He could hardly stand.

Ace was bordering euphoric.

He aimed the thing. The man’s eyes shot open as he tried to choke up anything before—

-he toppled like a domino. Gunshots exploded. A blood-curdling scream burst from Ace as he joined him, his neck almost snapping as he somersaulted over the desk, crashing into the floor hard enough to shatter every bone in his body. Paul whipped around. Gene joined him. Paul glanced before turning right back to look.

“T-The.. the fuck?” Peter stammered.

He could barely be heard over shots which fired like whole ass explosions. Their ears all rang like hell. Peter clenched the bag, freezing for a split second then hitting the ground. Paul’s rasping breaths quickened. His chest clutched his lungs as his whole body curled in on itself. He shut his eyes as tight as possible, screaming in horror. Gene’s breath fled.

He sobered like a drunk man as his eyes tried to dart from each row of fire. The curtains fell like feathers. Zipping ripped through the air along with a sharp stench as bullets smashed into and bounced off the walls, gates and even a couple people. A vacant look landed on Gene’s face as dizziness hit him.

“.. F-Faster!” He faltered, grabbing Peter’s shoulder and shaking him quickly. “Oh god, what the hell are we gonna’ do?!”

Peter yanked himself up. “Peter, Peter.. no..” Paul whispered through his clenching throat, Gene shaking him harder. Peter fell in on himself. Memories raced through his head. Paul just knew Peter was going to get up. “It’s a death run!” Each word flew through one ear and out the other. Peter grabbed his gun tight, standing up and racing straight into the fire.

Gene fell back against the counter. Paul did too. Shouting blared. Ace’s scratchy, guttural wails echoed like they were in a cathedral. Sirens made for a nice instrumental. Shock and horror melted off his voice. Paul exploded into terrified sobs. Gene’s head fell. He shut his eyes tight as possible. Peter shouted taunts and curses in a furious storm, racing from window to window and firing.

Gene’s lids were dyed red. His heart not only dropped into his stomach but hit every bump and ridge on the way. His legs grew weak. His gun slid from his hand.

Heat layered in the already burning room. Sparks hissed like a yard of angry cats. A firework flew in.

Maybe being in it to die wasn’t so worth it now.

[alyssa-the-witch]

Myth Writings- Hestia Swears to Abstain

Hey guys! I know this isn't my normal posting habits, but I've been writing my own interpretations of Hestia's myths in devotion to her, adding more details to the already existing story. And I figured the people here would like to hear it too. So this is the first of probably many that I'll post here as they come. So I hope you enjoy. As always, these are my versions of the mythos, so agree to disagree, and don't start fights!

🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖------🔥☕🏡🐖

Hestia has always been focused on her duties. She tends to Olympus’s fires, maintains hospitality on earth, and keeps peace between her siblings, nieces, and nephews. She is very content with her life, and doesn’t want anything to disrupt her routine. 

One day, Poseidon came up to Hestia with a bouquet of small flowers that looked like flames on a stalk. He expressed his love for her, vowing to calm the seas and storms forever, reducing floods for the mortals if she were to marry him. However, she refused, saying that she simply didn’t want a husband. Simple as that. Poseidon chucked the flowers into the sea, the dent making small underwater vents that look like volcanoes.

Apollo, thinking he could do what Poseidon could not, tried his hand. He brought her the same flowers, but this time tied with a maroon ribbon. He also proclaimed his love, saying he’ll lessen the sun’s rays and stop droughts if she were to marry him. Once again, Hestia stood firm and refused, saying that she, once again, didn’t want a man. Apollo threw the flowers into the sun, causing a solar flare. 

Hestia quickly became fed up with the men’s nonsense. Next time all the gods joined together for discussion, instead of staying to the side and mediating, she spoke up for the first time.

“Both Poseidon and Apollo have come to me this week, claiming love for me. Have I not made it clear enough that the hearth is all I want to deal with? I don’t need a man chained to me to do what I do, and I refuse to ever accept the advances of a man.” Apollo, angered by this rejection of his passion, spoke next.

“You’re as stubborn as a mule, aren’t you?” He proclaimed, clearly angry. But Hestia didn’t show any anger, merely the disappointment of a mother.

“Then a mule I shall be. And they shall be mine.” She retorted. Then, she stood and walked up to Zeus, placing a hand on his forehead. “I swear on my brother’s head, for all of eternity, I will never even consider the touch of man or woman. I swear to remain dutiful, focused, and firm, as long as the Earth shall live. If I ever stray from these values, you have the right to smite me.” She proclaimed. “And also, I’d like the mules for my own.” Zeus, both shocked and impressed, simply shook his head. 

“And so it shall be…” He muttered. With a flick of his wrist, all donkeys and mules on Earth were under Hestia’s jurisdiction. And with that, no man dared touch Hestia again. Her self-reliance and independence are values that many younger gods and mortals look up to to this day.

[brighttears]

Dusk III

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: You and Joel start getting closer, and it scares Joel. He tries to stop before you get too close, but it only ends up drawing you farther into each other. 

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, violence, death of an animal

A/n: Okay this is one gets pretty juicy like halfway through ... is also def better than the last two. also, the song used in there is Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley

— 

“Ravens and wolves are both creatures that represent dusk, the mixture of light and dark”

—

“Come on, I wanna see what he’s got.” you lean towards Maria, hanging from the pole on her front porch. “Tommy talks him up every chance he gets.”

Maria snorts, “You got that right.” She shakes her head and starts for the stairs, “Alright fine, I’ll let him know.” 

“Wait, don’t tell him what it is. Just tell him to be at the stables at noon.”

Maria gives you a look and chuckles again. “Alright, fine, Miss.Mysterious. Just bring back a buck, please.”

“Psh, don’t worry about it babe,” you swing around to walk down with her, “you know me, straightest shooter on this goddamn commune, and now my partner’s a macho fucking cowboy.” 

— 

You’re there waiting for him, leaning against the wall dividing two stalls, legs crossed straight out and arms folded. Once Joel is in view coming down the hallway, you can’t help a grin and bite over your bottom lip. Before he can ask, you bounce off of the wall to stand and tell him, “We’re goin�� huntin’.”

— 

Outside of Jackson, there’s a comfortable silence as you lead Joel towards the river. “This morning someone on patrol said they saw a buck out here.” you inform him.

“Why didn’t they shoot it?”

“They did, they just fuckin’ missed. Alright. Our best bet is out here by the water.” You adjust the thick rope slung over your shoulder. “You ever hunt deer before?” 

“The fact that you have to ask that is kind of offensive.”

“Well then I think I think we have a good shot. HA. Pun.” Joel can’t help but smile, thinking of Ellie. “Well, you’ve never hunted with me, so I’m gonna introduce you to my very special method. It’s not hard, you just stand next to me, we aim together, shoot together. Double our chances, you know?” you glance back at him, “My old hunting buddy and I did it all the time and it really does help.”

“Well alright then.”

It doesn't take long for you to find a male Mule Deer drinking at the edge of the river. You put a hand up to stop Joel, walking behind you, nod your head towards it, then to your side. As you line up side by side, you whisper, barely audible, “Ready cowboy?” 

Two shots ring out and then your whooping. Joel laughs; it does feel pretty damn good to know he’s the one putting food on the table tonight. “Holy shit, he’s huge!” you cry as you make your way down to it, unhooking the rope from yourself which you’ll use to drag it back to Jackson. Joel follows you down to the water, trying not to feel old as he hides a grunt getting down to sit on his haunches. You’re brushing your fingers down the deer’s fluffy white snout. As you drag them along the course of his antlers, you say quietly, “So beautiful.”

Your words spark Joel, remembering the Cordycep, and he watches you look at this dead deer the same way you did the rotting corpse of what is responsible for the end of the world. You examining death with such tenderness, he wants to understand, but he can’t. You are such a contrast. Joel bets you look pretty when you cry, hot when you’re covered in blood, and have the scream of a siren.

“I love being able to see them up close like. Wouldn't ever be able to otherwise.” you tilt your head and hum, brushing your hand down over its neck, traveling down to its side to a dark maroon hole. “One shot, almost straight to the heart.” You turn your head to Joel with a smile, “See? One shot outta two. Doubled our chances.” You’re really rocking him and he can only respond with a half hearted chuckle, his eyes glued to your lips until you turn back to the deer. “Alright. Help me hook ‘im up.” 

It’s a big buck, but not so big that you’re incapable of dragging it back to Jackson, each pulling one end of the rope wrapped around its neck. You’re both huffing and puffing as you go, leaning forward into your steps, but Joel finds time between pants to ask you, “You met Ellie yet?”

“The girl? No, not yet.”

“Well, I think you’d like each other.” “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pant for another minute before he comes to his point, “You wanna come eat with us tonight?”

“At dinner?”

“Yeah I mean, I really think you and Ellie’d like each other,” suddenly embarrassed, “and I jus’ always see you sittin’ alone, so…” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, “that’d be nice.”

“Alright then.”

— 

That night, you make your way over shyly, standing with your plate in your hands, looking at Joel wordlessly until he invites you to sit. Ellie stares shamelessly. You glance up from your food, noticing it, but act unbothered. Ellie apparently approves of this reaction, then introducing herself, and starts to grill you. The stray cat method prevails.

“Why were you sitting alone before?”

“I guess people don’t like to eat with me.”

“Why not?”

“Hm, well I was kind of overprotective of my food when I first got here.”

“Yeah, you did look kinda creepy.”

“Ellie.” Joel gives her a look, eyebrows raised, and then to you, “I’m sorry, she’s—”

“Feisty.” you finish for him, smiling, and Ellie grins back, shifting to sit a little taller in her seat. 

“Yeah Joel, I’m feisty.” she tells him, who shakes his head at his plate with a restrained chuckle. “So how long have you been here?”

“Couple months longer than you have.”

Ellie nods, chewing, as soon as she swallows, she asks, “How did you get here? Where’d you come from?” Joel tenses at her nosiness but your response is prompt. 

“I wasn’t really trying to get here, I didn’t even know this place existed, actually.” your eyes are on the food you pick at as you speak, “Then a crew of these guys on horsebacks found me, and Maria—”

“Oh, we met those guys. They’re kinda assholes.” Joel hits Ellie’s knee with his under the table.

“Well I was unconscious so I didn’t have the pleasure, but Maria convinced them to bring me back with them. Before that though,” you pause for a small bite and keep your head down. “I was with a group for a long time. It was just me and my friend at first, that was since… yeah. A long time. Anyway, it grew, the number of people kinda ebbed and flowed, you know. There were only a few that lasted that whole time. One of them was looking for her sister so that’s what we were aiming for. We traveled a good distance together. But… it was a rough fucking winter here, and we… you know, shit happens. I was the only one that” you clear your throat and pause. “I’m the only one left. And I didn’t know what to do or where I was so I just kind of… kept walking. And then I couldn’t anymore and, yeah, passed out, they found me, Maria saved my ass, and here we are.”

The three of you eat quietly for an awkward minute before Ellie speaks. “I’m sorry, about your friends.”

“Thanks.” you shove a fork full of food into your mouth. 

There are a few more minutes of awkward silence until Ellie pipes back up and then starts relentlessly jabbering into your fresh ears. Joel tries to get her to restrain herself, mind her manners, but you converse fluidly with her. The way you interact with Ellie impresses him—it’s smooth, casual, and you don’t treat her like a child, but as an equal. Ellie is practically drooling over it.

—

Many nights, Joel and Tommy will stay behind after dinner to talk and have a drink at the empty bar. Maria will take Ellie home, but tonight, Ellie literally begs you to walk home with them, and you readily comply, giving Joel a wave and a smile over your shoulder on your way out. 

“Okay, Joel, you’re killin’ me here.”

Joel looks at his brother quizzically, spinning his glass of whisky on the rocks, condensation wetting the smooth, dark wood of the bar.

“You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Joel chuckles, not expecting the assumption. 

“Is this a friends with benefits kinda thing?”

“No,” Joel laughs. 

“What, she’s just your new best friend?”Joel takes a sip of his whiskey instead of answering. “Come on, you gotta give me something’. I promise I won’t say a word to Maria.”

“It’s nothin’ like that. I don’t know… but… shit, it’s somethin’, y’know?” he smiles at his brother, “I mean she’s great. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. She’s funny, Ellie already loves her. She’s great with her, I mean, she talks to her with respect, like an equal. She’s real good with a gun,” Joel throws some whisky back, the rock of ice clinking. “n’ it’s like she sees what I don’t. She knows more than me. She doesn’t make me feel stupid, just like I’m better when she’s there.” he shakes his head, “I feel like such a fuckin’ fool sayin’ this but, it just feels right when I'm with her. It’s like she’s this piece I didn’t know I was missin’.” he takes another sip, “You know, I ignored her for two weeks.” Joel nods to himself, “Longest fuckin’ two weeks of my life, I swear.” he bursts out a chuckle. “I don’t know what it is, Tommy, it’s crazy, but I just couldn’t stay away from her, I mean I couldn’t. There’s just somethin’ ‘bout her.” he pauses, watching the last of the amber at the bottom of his glass blend around the ice. “It fuckin’ scares me. How much I need her. Shit. I just don’t wanna hurt’er.” Joel adds quietly.

“Ah, Joel…” Tommy shakes his head lightly at his last words. “Don’t do that.”

Joel looks up at him, “Do what?”

“You just got through every reason that she’s a great girl, how much you like her, and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Whad’you mean shoot myself in the foot?”

“You get scared! Too scared!” he chuckles lightly, “Just go! Be with her!”

“But Tommy—” 

“I don’t wanna hear it. Don’t let her slip through your fingers, now. Hey, Ellie’ll never forgive you for that.” Tommy means it as a joke, but it pricks Joel. “Just be fuckin’ happy. Appreciate it. Findin’ love during the apocalypse is a beautiful thing.” he smiles brightly. 

“Sure, ok,” he gives him a fake glare and smirk, “it’s gettin’ late. I’m fuckin tired ‘n we’ve both got someone waitin’ up on us.”

That night, once again, Joel finds himself losing sleep over you. He chews on Tommy’s words. He hadn’t thought about it like that and he isn’t sure where you lie. You haven’t even touched, you are not his girlfriend, that doesn’t sound right even if it was like that, and you are friends, but it has to be more than that—friendship doesn’t smolder like this. While he walks around in the idea, opening different doors, one of them is to the thought of kissing you, and even though he’s alone, Joel blushes. He sits up on his bed, swears, and rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes. 

“…and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.” 

Another thing Joel had never thought about. Tommy said he got scared, and he’s right, why wouldn’t he be scared? When has loving someone ever worked out? He’s not shooting himself in the foot because it isn’t about him. He should be scared for you. If no one else knows to protect you from men like him, he’ll do it himself. He groans and swears again when he feels that pull, his heart trying to tear through the line tying it to his brain. It hurts to even think about having you gone now that he knows the way it feels when you’re here. What hurts more though is the thought of you dead. Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Fuck this, I’m tired, I’ll deal with it tomorrow. He thinks, pulling his boots off and getting under the covers.

— 

That next day, Joel is taking an afternoon nap, one of his absolute favorite activities, when Ellie’s feet bounding down the steps wakes him. He almost falls down the stairs, chasing after her and hollering her name, eyes still blurry with sleep. When his eyes focus, you’re at the bottom with Ellie grinning wildly next to you.

“Hi, Joel.” you wave.

“She’s gonna teach me how to ride a horse.”

“Ellie you already know how to ride a horse—”

“I know how to sit on a horse, not how to ride one.”

“I’ll have her home before dark, we’re just going to be at the stables.” You tell him, then look down at Ellie, only half seriously stern, “I thought she told you already.” 

“Soorryy. Okay come on let’s go.” Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you outside. 

“We’ll be safe I promise!” you call out over your shoulder before the door shuts behind you.

Joel sighs and presses the knuckle of his thumb into his forehead, “Christ.”

—

Joel waited up. Several times, he got up from the chair he waited in and grabbed his coat, but made it at most a few feet down the road before stopping himself. He needs to learn how to trust Ellie a little, let her have some freedom. He trusts you, too. It doesn’t eliminate his stress, though.

His foot taps on the floor, watching the sky fade into sunset through the front window. When he hears two steps from the front, rushes to the door, swinging it open before you and Ellie are even actually in front of it.

“Hey,” he says, breathlessly, quickly scanning Ellie to make sure she’s ok.

“Hi,” she says back, raising her eyebrows at him and smiling, “don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in a chair waiting for me all day.”

“No, I w—well I—how was it?”

“Sooooo fun!”

“She’s great at it.” Ellie beams at your side, soaking up your praise. “Alright well, goodnight then,” you start to turn but Joel interrupts you. 

“Uh—you w—wanna come in? Warm up just for a second? If you want.”

“Sure.”

Ellie gives Joel a mischievous grin, raising her eyebrows up and down at him as she passes through the doorway and calls out as she bounds up the creaky stairs, “I’ll just be in my room!” 

You take a few steps in and look around. “It’s really not much,” Joel says, watching you turn around to take in your surroundings. He had never tried to clean, or furnish anymore than Maria had made him, because he never considered that he’d have guests over. 

A smile spreads over your face when your eyes land on the guitar leaning against a corner of the front bay window. You point and look back at him, “Who plays?” 

“Uhh… I do. I’m tryna teach Ellie but I haven’t gotten her to sit down so that I can.” he chuckles sheepishly and rubs a nervous hand on the back of his neck.

“Okay you have to play me something.”

“Aaah, nnaah, I haven’t played in years, I’m outta practice. It’ll sound like shit.”

“Come one, it’s been forever since I’ve heard someone play. You gotta, Joel. Please!”

As soon as you say ‘please’ Joel goes for the guitar. “Alright, fine. I warned you, though.”

You beam, immediately going to plop on the couch facing the front windows. Joel picks up their guitar by its neck and sits in the wooden chair facing you from the other corner of the bay windows. The chair creaks under his weight and the strings softly squeak as he runs a hand up and down the neck. You move to the corner of the couch, tucking one leg underneath you and supporting the side of your head on your hand with an elbow on the arm of the couch. 

He stares at the strings under his fingers while he racks his brain for a song that he even remembers how to play, trying to focus on this instead of his nerves. It takes him a long time. When he does start, his strums are graceful and his voice, gentle and low. Goosebumps prickle your skin.  

I lost myself on a cool, damp night

I gave myself in that misty light

Was hypnotized by a strange delight

Under a lilac tree

The quiet vibrato he ends the first verse with dazes you. 

I made wine from the lilac tree

Put my heart in its recipe

Makes me see what I want to see

And be what I want to be

He keeps his tone low, quiet and all so gentle.

When I think more than I wanna think

I do things I never should do

I drink much more that I oughta drink

Because it brings me back you

Another drawn out vibrato literally makes you dizzy and everything else falls away. 

​​Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love

Listen to me, I cannot see clearly

Isn't that she coming to me? Nearly here

As he’s progressed through the song, his confidence is rising; he must be lost in it. You find yourself misty eyed.

Lilac wine is sweet and heady, where's my love?

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, where's my love?

Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?

Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?

You tighten your throat to keep tears down. You knew he’d be good—he’s too modest—but you weren’t expecting him to hit you with this. 

Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love

Feel unready for my love

After his last strum, it stays silent for a few long moments. You’re still trying to reel back tears. Your heartbeat is steady but you feel it bumping out of your chest and warmth blooms from it out to your shoulders. You slip your hand from supporting your temple to your cheek, holding your fingers over your mouth as a wild grin overwhelms it. 

Joel can’t take his eyes off the floor. Now that the music has fallen away, thoughts and fears buzz in his head, and all he wants is for you not to be laughing. His cheeks are red. When he finally gets himself to tentatively raise his head, he does only the least he can to see you.

Eyes glistening, you tell him softly, almost through your hand, “That was beautiful, Joel.” a wide smile plastered on your face. 

Looking up farther at you, his lungs release and his head calms, making him almost sleepy in relief, and warmth spreads through his entire body. He can’t help but smile and looks back to the floor. “Thank you.”

You hum and it’s quiet for a little longer. Joel is the one to break it, standing with a restrained groan and setting the guitar back in the corner. “It’s gettin’ late, lemme walk you home.” he says without looking at you, making his way towards the door with a stiff knee.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you want him to.

“Nah, it’s alright. Wouldn’t feel right havin’ you walk all alone in the dark. I could use some air anyway.” he says, back still to you as he slides on his coat.

The sound of packed snow under your feet is surrounded by a comfortable silence on the way to your house. It’s not a long walk in reality, but sort of is in Jackson, and by the time you’re there you can see clearly on Joel’s face how cold he is.

“Okay, your turn, come in for a sec. Just to warm up. You’re all rosy.”

“Oh I don’t wanna intrude—”

“I’m the only one that lives here and I’m inviting you in.” you smile lightly at him, opening the door. He happily follows. 

“Not much more than yours,” you tell him as he does just what you did at his house. “All my stuff’s upstairs.”

“You have stuff?”

You laugh, “I mean not really, I have a few things. I just—I don’t know, I still like having things.” 

Joel thinks of the photograph you’d slipped into your pocket on your first patrol together. “Can—can I see?” 

You hesitate, only for a moment and only because of your own nervousness, but it kills Joel. “Yeah, sure,” you lead him upstairs. It’s weird living alone in such a big house, but there aren’t any small houses in Jackson. It can get lonely sometimes, you still aren’t used to not being in a group of friends. 

Your bedroom is the first, right by the stairs, and the gold metal knob squeaks when you turn it. Walking in, Joel is confused, the room being just as barren as downstairs with only a few sad pieces of furniture. But then you click on a light, bringing his attention to his right, where your bed is as well a small, dark wood dresser, ending around chest height so that you have to bend a little to see yourself in the rectangular mirror that rests right up against the wall. Dirt and dust thinly films it and the border and corners blemished yellow with age. 

“Well, this is it.” you say, taking your coat off to hang over your bedpost. Joel is immediately drawn to the dresser where you’ve artfully set up everything you own that isn’t survival gear. Having Joel there makes you suddenly remember the photograph of the woman you’d found, and you slip your hand into your coat pocket to retrieve it. You sit on the edge of your bed, next to Joel at your dresser, and slide your finger along the side of it. The border has turned yellow and the rest of the colors have faded so that it’s just that milk yellow contrasting brown-black. The woman’s light, curly, mussy hair partly obstructs her face, but she gleams a toothy smile thrown over her shoulder. Her back to the back camera, it looks candid. On the upper edge of the thick bottom border, characteristic of a polaroid, scratches, only barely still marked by pen, of very small, close together letters say ‘i love you’ with a tiny heart next to them. You rub your thumb over it to feel the grooves. After flipping it back to front a couple times, studying the details, you take it to the dresser to slip into a vignetted corner of the mirror. 

Soft yellow light sheds over the few other miscellaneous items you’d acquired along your journey, one of which is a sizable pearl necklace. It spills out of the fittingly shell shaped, old and worn silver ashtray which you never properly cleaned. 

“What’s all this for?”

“I just like collecting stuff.” You answer as he ghosts a line over the surfaces of the objects on the dresser, “All sorts of treasures out there. I pick things up, keep them with me until I run out of room, and then I just leave them behind somewhere. It’s like there’s a trail behind me made of other people’s lives.” coming up next to Joel, you continue, “We made a game out of it, so when I found something we’d all make up stories about who left it behind.” you watch his face as he examines the pearls and bite your lip. The light shows off the rich brown of his eyes and there's a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. “This is my favorite.” you use both hands to pick up the heavy pearls, holding them up for Joel to see, “They’re real. Look. See how they’re not really white?” you take a pearl to twirl between your fingers, showing off its silvery pink and blue with the white, watching Joel’s focused eyes.

“Never seen a real one.”

“Here.” you stand behind him, turning him to face the mirror, and slip the necklace around his neck.

“What’re you—” he chuckles. 

You hum, “Look at you.” you look at him smiling in the mirror. “So fancy.” laughing, you come around from behind him and he turns to face you. You pick the pearls up to hold just off of his chest so you can twirl one and watch it in the light. “This is one of the first things I ever picked up, and the only one I’ve kept all this time.” the pearl glints, “I got it from a rich person’s house and the whole room was full of stuff like this, diamonds, jewels… I always like to imagine the woman who lived there wearing them all at once and standing out in the sun.”

You and Joel are in a bubble. Watching these pearls in the light never gets old, and Joel warms you without you even touching. You can hear his breaths and smell his natural scent. He looks even more fucking solid this close up. Joel is the epitome of safe. 

He watches your eyes focus on your heavy pearls around his neck, your face tranquil, and you subliminally relax him. It takes everything in him to not press every part of his body against you, wrap you up tight and keep you there, safe in his arms. 

Scared, Joel breaks the silence, almost at a whisper, “I should be gettin’ back. It’s late, Ellie’s probably waitin’ up.” 

Popped, you nod, taking your hands off the pearls, stepping back and clasping them behind your back, pursing your lips. Joel stays frozen, looking at you. “Here, I’ll get those off for you.”

“Oh, yeah.” he turns around for you to unhook the necklace and it clatters melodically as you lower it back into its shell. 

“Let me lead you out.” Neither of you look at each other until he’s on your front porch steps. Then, he turns to you, says goodnight, and is on his way home. 

You watch him walk off from the doorway until a cold breeze brings you back in. Inside, you close the door and press your back against it, close your eyes, curse, and bump the back of your head on it. You weren’t trying to do anything, but anxiety suddenly falls like acid rain over you that he might think that you were by inviting him in. The whole time, you were barely thinking, you were just… there with him. You blame unlearned social skills and bump your head against the door again. Fuck, you might have just scared him away. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes and head back upstairs. 

In your room, you stop at the dresser, running a finger along the bumps of the necklace. Leaning in a little, you look at yourself in the mirror. Then you make a face to yourself, click the light off, and jump into bed. Joel’s quiet vibratos crawl in to lull you to sleep.

— 

Joel almost walks past his own house, head swimming. Once he’s back inside, Ellie calls from her room, “Joel?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where’d you go? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I was just walkin’ her home.”

“Oh, okay.”

As he climbs the stairs, Joel tells Ellie’s closed door, “It’s late, you should be asleep.”

“Okay.” she replies. Light still emanates from the bottom crack of the door but Joel reminds himself that Ellie prefers to keep the light on while she sleeps. 

In his room, Joel blows a deep breath out as he slips off his coat and boots. All he seems to do in his bed is sleep and think about you. Added to his collection is the image of your soft eyes focused on shiny pearls you hold from his chest, and your face, poking out from the side of him, smiling at him in a mirror. 

Gentle, gentle, gentle, full of grace and love, and good with a gun. He feels blessed and cursed to have you, because you are you, but, he is him. Tonight only brought you closer and he wants only more, but the softness he witnessed made him want to run, because if you come any closer you’ll be walking into the sharp stake protruding from his heart.

Joel wants to cry as he comes to a decision. 

— 

You’re patrolling together the next day and Joel decides to take you back to the house you found on your first patrol. 

“C’mon.” His voice is gentle, nodding his head back towards the hill and already pulling his horse back. Despite his tone, the air around you is immediately dark and heavy. Joel looks completely calm. Your rapid heartbeat thrums in your ears. 

In the house, he steps into the living room on your right. The dark red carpet is filthy, the walls are thick wood panels, DIY 70’s style. The room is lit by clouded sunlight from three dirty front windows. A dirty old newspaper crinkles under your foot and Joel lightly kicks a pastel pink shard from the broken lamp. In front of him is a dark brown brick fireplace, sooty black logs spilling out over the ledge and onto the carpet. Joel’s hands are on his hips and his head is bowed as he leads you in. You breathe to calm your heart as you follow him in.

He takes a deep breath, facing the fireplace, and then turns to you. It takes him a moment to flick his eyes up to you, and when he does, he’s glaring. Your heart sinks and fear falls from a bucket over your head, running thick down your entire body. You’re not scared of him, but of whatever he’s about to say. You have no clue what to expect. 

He bites his lower lip, looking at you for a long moment before he speaks. “We can’t—we can’t do this.”

“…What?”

He breathes deeply out of his nose. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

You are physically taken aback, “Are you serious?” 

“Do I look serious?” he replies, voice grim, fiercely glaring. 

You almost roll your eyes. “Okay, I know what this is.” You snap, “You know, you can be so self centered.” 

“The fuck I am—I’m doin’ this for you,” his shout bites, “to protect you.” 

“Joel I am not going to play this fucking game with you.”

“What fuckin’ game?” 

You raise your tone to match his, “This game where you come and you’re with me, you tell me you want me here, and then you decide you’re bad for me, whatever the fuck that means, and then you leave and I don’t know if you’re gonna come back, and then you do and then you’ll leave again and then come back and you can’t keep doing that because then I can’t fucking trust you and that WILL. Ruin. Everything. I’m not fucking doing that.”

“I’m not comin’ back,” he yells, his face severe, “that’s the damn point. An’ it’s for your own good. The world that I live in ain’t no life for you.”

You scoff, “Where the fuck do you think I’ve been living?” You march right into his face, almost nose to nose, glaring straight back into him, “I’ve been through hell, Joel. You have no fucking clue. I am not fucking weak, Joel. Fuck you. Fuck you for that.”

Joel barely lets himself blink, challenged by your gaze, “You’re right, you’re not weak. Fragile is what you are.” he brings a hand up, palm out, and points at it, without breaking, “You see this? You see these hands? I’ve beaten people to death. I’m dangerous.” he hisses, “You should be afraid of me. You’d be stupid not to be. I could kill you.” 

You take his hand and wrap it around your throat. “Do it then.” your eyes stay locked, your breathing even. “Kill me. I know you can. It’d be so easy, Joel.” you whisper, angling your mouth to bare your teeth at him. Joel's breaths are heavy and his eyes widen, brow still hanging dourly. He rips himself away from you and takes a few steps back. “‘Dangerous’.” you continue, “Like that’s special. Here, let me show you something.” you stride back up to him and raise a hand to point at your other, shoving it in his face, “See that knuckle? How it’s curved and flat? That’s called a boxer’s fracture. Someone killed my friend so I beat him to death and it broke my fucking knuckle.” Then you press your thumb into the center of his collarbone, just enough for him to feel his airway constrict until he swats your hand away. “You ever learn that trick? Makes choking someone to death go a lot faster. I know my fucking way around this shit. Scared of you,” you scoff, “Who can’t kill me? You’re not special.” 

Joel lets a solid five silent, tense seconds pass and then he grabs for his gun, making your heart flutter, but then it hits the floor, followed by the thump of his knife. He reaches for your gun and yanks it out of its holster to drop, then around you, without breaking eye contact, to remove both the gun and knife stuffed between your back and belt, hitting the carpet with thuds. 

Suddenly, the idea of you that he had created—someone innocent, clean, pure, someone unlike him, opposite, a good for his bad, yin for his yang—falls away. 

“Hit me.” Joel tells you stonily. 

You smack him and his head jerks with it. 

After that, he kisses you hard, crashing your mouths together so it almost hurts. You reciprocate instantaneously. His hands inch up the sides of your neck, thumbs almost meeting together as they slide up your throat—showing that if he squeezed, just a little, his hands could completely enclose your neck—but he only brings them up to hold your jaw to kiss you. When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

Interrupting your fervent eye gaze is a bang at the glass window, which reminds you that all of your weapons are on the floor, but seeing the wing defining the mark on the dirty window, you both let out a breath of relief. You collect yourselves and follow it outside. Stepping over the weedy, dead flower beds, you find a still crow, blood seeping to puddle around it.

[thelightinthelabyrinth]

Glass House

I was raised in a glass house perched precariously on the edge of a hill. It was a beautiful nod to a home that glistened with newness and love to all who passed by, but inside, daggers ripped through the air, bouncing off the walls,  leaving cracks here and there. Little imperfections, no alarm bells ringing. Just tiny fractures leaving barely enough room for isolation and apathy to leak through in the same way that sunlight creeps between curtains slightly parted, illuminating not only the flawless family photos from ten Christmases ago but the dust settled onto them as well. Occasionally, the walls would release a great sigh as if they understood their own unsteadiness and I would exhale with them. Conversation moved passively into rage with little regard for the sharpness it possessed and even less for the fragility of the house itself. Rising to decibels far above what the residence was built to withstand, and although wavering and unsure of itself, it just wouldn’t collapse. 

Until it did, standing amongst the wreckage, barefoot, broken, not at all baffled. Glass shards and empty promises sprawled across the lot; I dared to try to piece it back together. Where do I even start? A puzzle with no edge is just endless frustration and a home with no heart is just a house. I fumble with pieces, blood trickling down my palms, thick and hot. An almost endless supply of adhesive. Before you know it, the house on the hill is standing once again. Not lovely, not new, but ours nonetheless. I stand alone, the house looming over me, maroon light dancing over tear-stained cheeks. If you build it, they will come. So where are you? I see flickers of family in the mirror—a crooked nose and a loneliness that runs so deep that it must be an heirloom. My fingers littered with little bruise-colored burns left behind by my attempts to build a guiding light to alert that I am here. I collapse onto worn knees, close tired eyes, and wait. Hours turn into midnights passing. Prayers sent out to a god I don’t believe in, asking for a home that isn’t mine. 

Nothing burns as bad as longing. The way it sticks to the back of your throat and extends down into the chest, swelling while scorching the insides of you until only a whisper of air can get through. How is such great suffering invisible behind glass? Watching naked branches dawn their spring coats just for the fibers to decay and leave the branches bare once more. Over and over and over again, this pattern persists. Waiting, watching, hoping to see you walk through the stained glass door with your womb ripped open wide enough for me to crawl back inside and never be heard from again. You’d run your fingers lovingly over me while sewing us back together. I long for a familiarity and security I’ve never had, and you’ve never shared. A bond broken before I could even open my mouth to say, “I love you.” I only heard those words in a fleeting whisper as you shoved a down pillow over my face. You left me without air for so long that when I finally came back around, I confused you for oxygen. 

I don’t want the realization to creep in. I want to sit with my hopes high in the house you tore down, the one I rebuilt all on my own, and imagine all the ways we come back together. Maybe you get a taste of cancer, and it brings you right to the razor-thin edge between being alive and not. I imagine you in the hospice bed, surrounded by flowers sent by people that don’t know you like I do, and you having all the time in the world to think about your life and mine. How our paths only crossed when you had something bubbling up inside of you that you didn’t understand. You’d remember how you tossed those burdens onto me like a pack mule bred to withstand the heaviest of all cargo. You’d call me to your death bed with eyes almost as tired as mine, spewing all the sorries that you hid in attic boxes ages ago, and I’d wash my hands and feet in the cleansing waters your geysers provided. I’d be reborn as you went gently into that good night. 

I want to paint you in the worst lighting imaginable. I want the world to see you at your worst. Remember when your eyes went dead, body cold, mind numb long before your heart gave up on beating? Because I do. I remember you leaving me broken and bloody on the bathroom floor with all my ache and angst on full display because it was too much for you. The parts of me you didn’t like were the parts of me I inherited like a curse from you, but the blame was all mine to bear. To look into the mirror and past the facade, searching for what lay beneath the surface, was never even a thought in your mind. I can’t help but feel the existential loneliness you bequeathed unto me was a burden we were meant to share and a fire for us to extinguish as a pair. We never exchanged those all-knowing half-hearted smiles. 

Maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe it wasn’t mine, either. Maybe your coldness and self-loathing were inherited from a generation I’ve never met, and it stifled any semblance of humaneness in you long before I came into your life. I imagine you as a little kid bursting into the house after school, beaming with excitement as you tell momma about the other little girl in your class who wears glasses just like you and loves to dance just like you, and momma swats you away like a gnat muttering something under her breath that you choose to ignore. I imagine you were born with a heart full of love and compassion until years of being beaten down made it shrink to a size there’s no coming back from. I imagine you would love me if you could. 

The foundation might’ve been poured by someone else, but you erected the walls and still chose to throw stones. Pane by pane, shard by shard, it all fell apart, and somehow I’m the only one dressed in sorrow at the funeral. Surrounded by a panoply of chartreuse, cyan, and canary yellow gowns, and disapproving looks shot my way. Donning my most macabre mourning attire and making my way to the front row, ready for worn knees to give way, sending me flailing into the dirt. Crouched at the feet of a godly man, looking up to ask him for forgiveness for my blasphemous attempts at resurrection. He lays a hand atop my head and tells me that exoneration is not his to give but mine to actualize.

[yagamisdiary]

OMGG i love giving outfit ideas ok here’s my ideas for a Lana Del Rey concert:

1). Simple top + mini skirt + heels

You can also add tights:

OR

maroon/cherry colored dress with mules (very small heels)

And and add whatever accesorios but I would highly recommend adding bows to your hair!! Or wearing a headband!!

I have sm more but idk hopefully you like these 💀

okay like HONESTLYY….. the first pic with cute red heart shaped glasses?? i see it in my head and it’s so cute esp i maybe find cute cherry earrings!!!! EHEHEHJSMA

[dobroyeutro]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: CHARLES BY CHARLES DAVID Maroon Este Quilted Microsuede Mule Flats.

[nahidasjewelry]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Nicole Maroon Leather Kitten Heels Mules Clogs size 7.5.

[poshsavage]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Sofft shoes, size 7.

[handwashonlyco]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: NWOB CROCS | Edie Suede Mules in Maroon 15489 Size 6.

[starrystar]

Transcription: 

39

Green and kind of mossy background

It would be a month before they could fit me in.

MD: It’s probably benign. Try not to worry about it.

SB: I’m not…you know what, no. I’m just gonna go ahead and worry about this one.

But at least insurance had approved everything and I was ready to start chemo.

SB: Meh, what’s another cancer on the pile more or less?

Since my hair was gonna fall out anyway, I got my stylist to give me a mohawk.

SB: Heh heh heh. I always wanted one of these and never had the nerve.

SB: Bitchin’

40

Red and black alcohol ink background

I was smug as hell about the mohawk

Textbox: I told my dad—70, career navy, never had hair that touched his collar—that I was getting one before it all fell out on its own. He fumbled his be supportive roll in the face of this, but my stepmom swooped in with the save.

Dad: But a mohawk…really?

Stepmom’s speech bubble over top of dad’s: Ooh! What color?

SB: Oh, just red and black. I don’t want to be ostentatious.

Textbox: This actually made it better. If you don’t freak out at least one parent, is it really punk? My stylist rose to the occasion, though we have to take off a couple inches before I could fit in the car. I still drove home hunched over the wheel like Quasimodo at a Dead Kennedys show.

Photo insert in the style of a Polaroid snapshot: a headshot of Ursula in nature, wearing a black leather jacket with studs on the shoulder. Her hair is a truly impressive mohawk that is bright red at the front and goes to maroon along the back. The mohawk is as tall as her whole face. Her expression is what you’d see when you look up “smug” in the dictionary.

Note: My stylist is a treasure and I told her I’d see her next year.

41

Purple and black background

I had a power port installed just under my collarbone

Speech bubble: Tell them you want USB-C!

SB: Oh, aren’t we clever…

Textbox: For some reason, the port really scared me. I think it was because my previous experience with internal hardware was with IUDs, which felt like a mule was kicking me in the cervix with spiked shoes. And everything online said there might be “some discomfort” for a few days, which is medical speak for “this is gonna hurt like a stone bitch.”

Also they were really paranoid about infection.

RN: If it gets red or swollen or hot, do not try to sleep it off. It will not get better.

42

Blue alcohol inks like dark water background

RN: This tube is running directly into your lower jugular. If it gets infected, that goes straight into the heart. Don’t pick at it.

SB: Yes’m.

Suddenly the tech’s story about bacteria strings whipping around like snakes seemed very personal.

Textbox: I confessed that I was afraid of the pain because of the IUD and the nurse told me that the state of reproductive pain care was barbaric and not to get her started. She promised the surgery wouldn’t hurt at all. She was telling the truth.

RN: Meet Mer. Fentanyl!

SB: Hello, Mr. Fen…hhhh…zzz

43

Yellow and orange spotty background

I came to with an inch-long incision on my chest and a vague memory of telling the nurses interesting animal facts.

RN: It was like National Geographic!

MR: Did she tell you about hyena genitals?

RN: She sure did!

There was indeed some discomfort then it just ached like hell

SB: I’m gonna find the guy who writes “some discomfort” and cause him some discomfort. With a baseball bat.

Note: The port is both A) a miracle of moder technology that is sparing my veins from untold horrors and B) more soreness and ache and trouble than anything else so far.

44

Bright, almost Pepto Bismol pink spotty background

Chemo class with the pharmacist went well

Rx: You’ll need to use a barrier method during intercourse for the first two days

Speech bubble overlapping previous: Tell me what will happen! Rash, radiation burn, death, what?!

Rx: Uh… We don’t know? There haven’t been any clinical studies.

SB: Ok, so if I write sex with a chemo patient into a book as an ingenious murder weapon—

Rx: Please don’t.

Something something “so outside the realm of possibility” something.

Note: This pharmacist was incredibly fabulous, in all senses of the word. We later bonded over a mutual love of Primus.

45

Full red watery background

And then it was time to face…the Red Devil

Insert ominous music here

Textbox: Actually, I sat in a recliner for about four hours, playing on my Switch and having to pee every twenty minutes. Finally they brought out two bigass syringes full of what looked like red Kool Aid, and injected them into the IV drip.

RN: Chew ice while we do this, it cuts down on mouth sores.

SB: Crunch crunch crunch

Ten minutes later

SB: Wow that urine sure is pink!

Textbox: Really, that was it. I was so pumped full of anti-nausea meds and steroids that I felt fine. This type of chemo didn’t even cause neuropathy so I didn’t need cold gloves or anything. I ate a Whopper on the way home.

Note: I have never been on steroids before and they are scarily amazing.

46

Light bluish gray watery background

I had so many nausea pills that I half-expected to be vomiting like a toddler on Space Mountain.

SB: Ok, I take this one twice a day on days 1, 2, and 3, this one once a day on days 2, 3 and 4, then as needed, this one as needed every six hours, this one as needed every eight hours…

Textbox: But I didn’t actually feel that bad. Don’t get me wrong—

I felt like ass on a stick for a few days

Textbox: But it was just like having the flu or something. I was tired and a little queasy and more vague than usual.

47

Purple and light yellow splotchy background, like early dawn

Textbox: It wasn’t like some special new level of sick. It wasn’t nearly as bad as food poisoning or that time I got swine flu.

I didn’t enjoy it but it wasn’t apocalyptic

SB: Eh, I’ve had worse.

Except for the constipation that was was apocalyptic

SB: Peristalsis, why as thou forsaken me?

Textbox: Pro Tip: If things are badly blocked up, taking laxatives only increases the pressure. It does not unblock things. But once they do unblock, you will have an experience.

Note: There is a moment in the dark hours of pre-dawn when you are alone in the bathroom with a nitrile glove, whatever lube you have on hand, and your God. This was not the fun version of that moment.

48

Yellow and orange spotty background like a vibrant sunrise

The second week I felt normal. My grandmother had chemo thirty years ago and it was horrific. It almost field weird that this wasn’t.

I took a lot of naps. My sense of taste went a little haywire. Cheesy powder flavor simply ceased to exist. Nacho Doritos tasted as if they were dipped in flour.

Cousin: Noo! We’re white people! Cheese is all we have!

SB: Right? Right?!

Note: At the time of this writing, I am 3/4ths of the way through the Red Devil (I start Taxol next) and aged white cheddar is the only cheese that I can taste. I have borne up well, but if that is taken from me, I may lose the will to go on.

The Saga Of Bob, Part 5: Chemo Time

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

In which our heroine finally gets an infusion of the finest toxic cocktails modern medicine can provide.

My stylist is a treasure and I told her I’d see her next year.

The port is both A) a miracle of modern technology that is sparing my veins from untold horrors and B) more soreness and ache and trouble than anything else so far.

This pharmacist was incredibly fabulous, in all senses of the word. We later bonded over a mutual love of Primus.

I have never been on steroids before and they are scarily amazing.

There is a moment in the dark hours of pre-dawn when you are alone in the bathroom with a nitrile glove, whatever lube you have on hand, and your God. This was not the fun version of that moment.

At the time of this writing, I am 3/4ths of the way through the Red Devil (I start Taxol next) and aged white cheddar is the only cheese that I can taste. I have borne up well, but if that is taken from me, I may lose the will to go on.

Thank you again to people who have transcribed the earlier Saga of Bob—you are heroes!

[tsailii]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Lucchese Charlie 1 Horse Exotic Python Leather Western Cowgirl Mules.

[thegallivantersart]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Frye Dark Red Leather Harness Slip On Mule Cowboy Boots.

[zariarts]

The other set of twins in my herd.

Vineyard

Race: Earth Pony/ Donkey hybrid (Mule)

Coat: Reddish pink

Mane and Tail: Orange

Eyes: Maroon

Age: About 12~

Personality: Peppy, cheerful, giddy, goofy

Inspiration: Sara Oracle ( American Dragon: Jake Long )

Currant

Race: Earth Pony/ Donkey hybrid (Mule)

Coat: Maroon

Mane and Tail: Black

Eyes: Sunset orange

Age: About 11~

Personality: Gritty, try hard, snippy, stubborn

Inspiration: Kara Oracle ( American Dragon: Jake Long )

These two sisters are polar opposites. Vineyard is an absolute ray of sunshine who tries her hardest to put smiles on her friend's faces. Her main way of doing that is through jokes, especially puns. They're actually funny about 2 times out of 10, but the herd does their best to laugh anyway. Vineyard has a habit of doting on her sister, much to Currant's chagrin, but it's all for her own good, she swears. Having such a stuffy mood all the time can't be healthy, and someone has to make sure her baby sister doesn't overwork herself.

Currant loves her sister dearly, but also can't stand her. They aren't far apart in age so why does she keep babying her? Currant can take care of herself! The maroon filly is tough, but bullheaded, always charging head first into danger even at the warnings of her elders. Currant wants to be able to prove herself strong and that she can handle anything. Let's just hope she doesn't get herself killed in the process.

These two are some of the least developed of the herd. At the time of their creation, they were made to mostly have more young members compared to the older cast. Once I get back into this idea, I'll try to find a way to make them actually fit in and have something to do.

[blistersneedlepoint]

The Muhlenberg M. I wanted the background to encompass the school colors, old and new with maroon, red, gray and white. This piece along with Marty the Mule will be on display at Muhlenberg College from August-December 2023.