#how am i supposed to get work done like this

[ramblingoak]

The Perfect Moment

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 14 - Doing Each Others' Makeup

Mist x Aurora (using a bonus prompt today and kind of playing with it a bit)

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. It's sort of like a Satanic version of a Hallmark town. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Mist owns an antique store called The Reliquary and Aurora owns Little Sunshine Tattoos ~

Warnings: mentions of a tattoo needle otherwise just very sappy, sfw, 670 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

“You need to hold still unless you want me to mess up.”

“I am holding still.”  Mist ignored Aurora’s look, taking a deep breath and trying to relax again.  It wasn’t that the needle hurt, it just felt…weird.  The buzzing sound was almost worse but Aurora had put some music on that was helping her tune it out.  “How does it look?”

“Hideous.”

Alright she deserved that.  She resolved to stay quiet and let Aurora work.  The ghoulette had been fretting over the design of the tattoo for weeks now.  Sometimes even going over to Mountain’s to get Rain’s opinion.  Mist had seen dozens of different variations of it, each one more beautiful than the next.  She had started to feel bad about asking Aurora since it was obvious her girlfriend was stressing over the whole thing but to Mist there was no one else she’d rather have design it.

And obviously no one else she’d rather have tattoo it.

“Thank you.”  Mist glanced over when the buzzing stopped, her eyes immediately meeting those of Aurora’s.  “I’m glad you’re doing it.”

“Baby, I’m honored you asked me.”  Aurora grabbed a rag and wiped away some excess ink.  “And the design you wanted it’s…well…”

“It’s what?  I thought you liked the idea.”

“I do!  Mist, I love it.  It's…well it’s us.”  The ghoulette sniffled a bit and Mist felt her own eyes watering slightly.  “I love you so much.”

She knew she wasn’t supposed to move but nothing was going to stop her from kissing Aurora at that moment.  The ghoulette’s lips were soft like always, a hint of coffee still clinging to them from earlier.  It was chaste at first but like usual it didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, for their mouths to open and their tongues to tangle together.  Mist pulled away after a moment and cupped Aurora’s cheek, swiping at the few tears that had escaped with her fingers.

“You’re such a sap.”  She yelped when Aurora playfully nipped at her thumb.  “But I love you too.”

“I’m never going to get tired of you saying that.”

“Me calling you a sap or saying I love you?”

“Hmm, probably both.”  Mist grinned as she settled back in the chair, placing her arm back where it had been resting before.  “I’m almost done.  Just going to add some color to the water.”

“Take your time.”  

When Aurora started the tattoo gun up again Mist looked down at her lap, focusing on the silver ring the ghoulette had given her not too long ago.  There was a single pink stone on the band, the same shade of pink as Aurora’s eyes.  She still couldn’t believe it, her and Aurora were now engaged.  They had gone and picked out a matching ring for Aurora too, but her stone was the same shade of blue as Mist’s eyes.

It was a moment she was never going to forget.  They had trekked out into the woods a bit, heading towards the pond that was close to Mountain’s farmhouse.  The whole town was awake and watching the skies, waiting for the aurora borealis to appear.  It was an occurrence so rare that a big event had been made of it.  People were camped out in their yards or in the various parks around town.

But Aurora had wanted to be away from everyone, claiming that she just wanted to have a nice private picnic together.  It didn’t really matter to Mist, there wasn’t much Aurora could ask her to do that she’d say no to.  Besides, a picnic next to the water with the aurora borealis above their heads?  It was the perfect moment, a moment Mist would never forget for as long as she lived.

And it was a moment she had decided to memorialize with a tattoo.  One that combined her favorite spot in town with her favorite moment of her life.  One created by her favorite person too.  Satanas, they were both sappy and gross.     

Mist wouldn’t have it any other way.

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More snippets from this verse are on my masterlist under "Ongoing Series"!

Other Mushy May days: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15

[markantonys]

a few more bridgerton thoughts! i've always been only a casual enjoyer who watches just for a few hours of fun and doesn't get super invested, but even so, i'm still feeling pretty underwhelmed by this season so far. i watched it in one sitting and enjoyed it while it was happening but just immediately forgot about it as soon as i was done. maybe all the memorable moments are going to be in the second half of the season, but for these first four episodes, i feel like it was all just kinda bland and forgettable (granted, of all the romance tropes in the world, m/f childhood-friends-to-lovers is just about the #1 most boring one to me, so this never would've been my favorite season regardless)

i adore romance and romcoms, always have, and am pretty happy to watch The Classic Marriage Plot play out a thousand times, yet i feel like bridgerton is maybe becoming TOO formulaic and repetitive. although, to be fair, i WAS giggling and kicking my feet during all the Classic Romance Scenes, but the problem was maybe just that there weren't enough of them, which brings me to my second point of too many subplots. too much padding and filler and not enough Classic Romance, which is what i'm here for.

8 hours is way more time than is needed to tell 1 love story, so to fill up the time they invent 17 random subplots that are ultimately pointless and have little relevance outside of the current season. i would way rather a season be only 4 episodes but tightly focused on the main love story, or that a season be about two siblings and two main love stories at a time, than have all this extra time they need to fill up with random unimportant shit. why have we had 3 seasons' worth of storylines about benedict having one-off non-endgame girlfriends that don't have a lasting impact on his character development? what's the point? he's been treading water for so long that i'm not even going to care about him anymore by the time he finally comes into the spotlight, and same with eloise. god, the thought of eloise's season potentially not being until like 2027 is insane. it's past time to start picking up the pace and doing 2 siblings per season!

and the kicker is that all these subplots, which were only invented to fill up the time, end up filling too MUCH time and taking away from the main love story, which is left feeling underbaked. this sort of happened last season, but it's way worse this season. penelope is an excellent character, but her back is breaking from trying to carry the season because colin is kinda giving us nothing due to lack of narrative attention given to him as an individual. he's supposed to be the co-lead, yet i couldn't tell you a single personality trait of his besides "vaguely nice" because he's just had no development and exists more as a prop for penelope to love than as a fleshed-out character in his own right. there was that whole scene where violet was talking about how he's a people pleaser who focuses on making others happy at the expense of his own wants and happiness, and i was just sitting there going "he is?" because i didn't feel i'd ever gotten to know him enough as a person to see this trait in him.

i also think the "dropping a season in 2 halves" model is just about the worst possible release model. if you drop 1 episode a week, that's constant engagement and allows for longer time to digest and appreciate each individual episode. if you drop the whole season at once, it's all over too fast but on the flipside you can experience the entire story at once without risking forgetting things or losing interest while waiting for new episodes. but dropping in two halves a month apart is the worst of both models (over too quickly yet also makes you wait too long to finish the story).

i do like some of the subplots, though. cressida getting to be more than just a mean girl caricature has been a particular highlight, the mondrich family going suddenly from working class to noble is interesting to see, and as a mega-introvert myself (and a music lover!) whose ideal partner would be someone who's happy to sit in silence with me, francesca and john's whole vibe is THE definition of romance to me and has me absolutely swooning (and it's a nice change of pace from all the loud dramatic romances on this show). violet potentially finding new love is also very sweet and i'm rooting hard for her! meanwhile i am not a fan of the featherington subplot; after s1 portraying regency girls' lack of sex education as a serious issue, it feels.........odd for the show to now be playing that very same thing for laughs this season and it just kinda makes me uncomfortable.

but otherwise there isn't much i dislike about the season, it's just kinda "meh" to me so far. the second half might turn things around if it's more memorable!

[genshindsau]

The second you step into your room, you pause. Your hand tightens around the door handle as you take in the figure lounging comfortably on the couch, feet propped up and everything.

"Enjoying yourself?" You close the door behind you.

"I'm getting my well deserved rest." The figure quipped back, crossing their legs as they set down a glass of wine on the small table in front of the couch.

"And pray tell, what did you do that justifies sneaking into my room and drinking my wine?" You shrugged off your outer layer of clothes as you moved towards the couch, tossing them over the back of a chair.

"I freed up your time," Al-Haitham motioned towards the desk in your room with his free hand. It was much cleaner and there were three neat stacks of paper on your desk, each larger than the next.

"Saved you from having to read such drivel reports." He stood up, smoothing his clothes out as he walked to the desk - and closer to you. "Tell me, why is it the future empress's responsibility to read about such nonsense? Small town thievery? Marriage drama in neighboring lands? Don't they realize you have actual problems to worry about."

The side of your mouth quirks up. "Are you offering?"

Al-Haitham let out a soft hum, his head tilting to the side as if he was considering it. He wasn't. "Of course not. My brain would leak out of my ears."

You consider his words. He's not that far off.

"Such a shame." You muse. You lift up a few reports off one of the piles and skim through them. "For someone who says it was such a drag, you sure did a detailed job. I wouldn't even go this in-depth with my replies."

"Just because I don't enjoy it doesn't mean I am not give it everything."

He stepped around the desk so that he was now standing next to you. His head tilts to look over you and at the reports, his head nearly resting on your shoulder.

"Sounds exhausting. You do that for all your work?" You set the paper back onto the desk. 

A noncommittal sound leaves his mouth. "Well most of the time I enjoy my research."

You can feel his eyes flicker to look at you.

"I enjoy the work you let me do."

You let out a soft snort.

"Is that so?" You turn to face him. Your hip resting against the side of the desk.

"So are you going to tell me why you did all this? Or was it just because you were feeling kind."

Al-Haitham was the one to let out a snort this time.

"I can't just do a good deed?"

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing. He kept his eyes on your face as he suppress the quirk of his lips.

"Sure, you could. But you don't. You always have an alterior motive so what is it?"

Al-Haitham stared at you for a moment before his head turned to the side and his shoulders lifted in a shrugging motion.

"I cleared up some of your time and you question my intentions," he let out a small sigh before turning around and moving back to the sofa, propping his feet on the table. His eyes flickered to the empty spot next to him before looking back at you. "You're too suspicious."

You blink at him under the cloth wrapped around your eyes. Once. Twice. 

"It comes with the territory," You state blankly. You move away from your desk.

"Now aren't the others having some kind of celebration. If I remember correctly, you're suppose to be the guest of honor - it's your birthday isn't it?"

Al-Haitham let out an amused sound. "I stopped by: made my entrance. Thanked them. I didn't exactly want to spend my birthday surrounded by the others."

"No because apparently you'd rather be doing work that you don't have to." You shake your head softly. "Is that how you got out. By saying there was work I needed you to do?"

Al-Haitham stared straight ahead, his face angled away from you as you moved to rest on the couch. The cushion dipped as you sat down.

"It is, isn't it?"

"Well it's not like you wouldn't assign work to be done on someone's birthday. Besides, they didn't see anything off with what I said. In fact some of them looked exceedingly happy that there was no longer a celebration."

You let out a breath of air, your head falling back to rest on the back of the couch. "I wonder why that is."

You both know why: ever since joining the harem, Al-Haitham never cared to get close to the others. In fact, he barely paid them any attention aside from being cordial in public.

Al-Haitham just shrugged his shoulders, slumping back against your couch and turning his head to look at you. His hair falls over his eyes, brushing against his skin in a way you wish you're fingers were. The corner of his lips curled up, his eyes drooping as he stared at you, a glit in his eyes. He knows the effect he has on you.

"Besides, there's only one gift I would like for my birthday. One that no one else could give me," he murmured, his voice soft. "Though that's mainly because you wouldn't allow anyone too."

"Is that so?" You shift on the couch. Your fingers scratch at the skin underneath the cloth tied around your eyes. "Maybe I could be persuaded?"

Al-Haitham stared at you, numerous emotions flashing through his eyes before they hardened. He tucks his legs underneath his bottom on the cushion so that his body is faced towards you. One of his hands lifts to slide over your waist, gliding up until its positioned above your shoulder, gripping the cushion behind your head. His body raises with his movements until he's leaning over you.

"I don't want to persuade you. I want you to take me out of my clothes," he lifts one leg, moving it to rest on the outside of your other leg so he is settled on your lap, hovering over you. "And have your way with me." His hands grip the cushions behind your head as he ducks his head, his breath mixing with your own.

His nose brushes against your own and he is close enough that you hear his breath hitch as your hands brush over his clothed thighs before they settle around his hips. One hand skims up his body until it cups his neck and you feel the soft caress of his hair against your fingers.

You watch as his eyes dilate, the subtle relaxation in his shoulders as your grip tightens around the nape of his neck. His eyelids flutter and his lips part, his pink tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

Your own lips curl at the reaction. Most of your consorts and concubines are never this straight-forward; but Al-Haitham has never had that problem. He is more than happy to say what he wants and he doesn't shy away from the reactions of his body.

His hips roll on your lap, rubbing the growing arousal against your stomach.

Your hand tightens around the nape of his neck as you whisper out, "very well then." You tug him down, finally closing the small gap as your lips slide over his. A wanton moan leaving his lips and you eagerly swallow the sound.

[buddiesmutslut]

LISTEN. If we get a bisexual!Buck arc, I will ACTUALLY LITERALLY CRY, I’m already emotional just thinking about it, it will literally bring me so much joy

BUT

I don’t want it at the expense of an Eddie coming out arc…

Bc listen, I read a post talking abt how the writers probably won’t give both of them a really flushed out Queer Realization Arc bc it would be redundant, which like, okay sure, yes, I can see why you wouldn’t want to have two main, male characters going through the exact same thing, so sure, whatever, BUT -

I feel like, out of Buddie, Eddie is going to be the one that really struggles with coming to terms with his sexuality.

Eddie, who had to be The Man Of The House at 10 years old. Eddie, who grew up in the Deep South. Eddie, whose family is Catholic. Eddie, who already had a strained relationship with his judgmental parents. Eddie, who had a WIFE. Eddie, who says that what he had with Shannon was magic & compares every relationship he had to her. Eddie, who was in the military, which is infamous for DADT. Eddie, whose aunt constantly pushes him at random women because he needs to not be alone. Eddie, who canonically suffers from comp-het, saying that dating women feels like putting on a performance, not that he understands why. Eddie, who dated Ana & was planning on staying with her, even though he was unhappy, for his son.

I think Buck would be way chiller with realizing he’s queer - if he doesn’t already know, which is my fav head-cannon - & I feel like he wouldn’t struggle as much bc it’s Eddie, & Eddie is his best friend, and gender wouldn’t play as big a part for him as I think it would for Eddie.

I would love for them both to have an arc where they worked through their expectations when it comes to relationships & realize that they’re queer, but idk man, I feel like Eddie is going to be the one to really struggle & he deserves to really have that flushed out.

Idk, I’ve been thinking about this ever since I saw that post & nobody I know watches 9-1-1 😭

[send-me-a-puffalope]

why did my teachers think it was okay to give us like one single weekend to finish all of our midterm projects and study for our tests.

[cosmicrhetoric]

this morning has been so laughably crazy LOL

[chibishortdeath]

Some attempts at a design for Selena :3. The second image is inspired by the wedding in Haunted Castle, but I changed Simon’s outfit cause idk I just can’t picture him being comfortable in a suit.

The last two of these are way more headcanon-y lol. They’re under a cut mostly in case my headcanons and story ideas change d(^^ ). One of them was inspired by a Kikuo song I was listening to while drawing lol, the song “Let’s Go to Heaven”.

[mud-castle]

From personal experience, definitely try adhd treatment before or concurrently with anxiety treatment. Undiagnosed or untreated adhd is a very strong cause of anxiety, and depending on the quality of medical specialists in your area, some may refuse adhd treatment if there's an anxiety disorder on file because "anxiety could explain it!" Despite that being against current diagnostic and treatment guidelines. Brought to you by a denial of medical that actually work for me >:[

Noted.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[an-assortment-of-forks]

there are doctors there are hospitals there are specialists there is medicine there are systems in place so people do not have to suffer and be tortured under their own chronic pain daily and yet. they're all fucking inaccessible to the people who need it most!!! to what I would argue is most disabled people!! I'm so fucking done with the medical system.

[nettlestingsoup]

it turns out that i'm the only person on my entire team not an annual leave today, meaning the lab is quieter than i've ever seen it in almost eight months of working there. it's a tiny bit unsettling. i'm definitely daydreaming a bit while i attempt some data analysis.

[dogcollarpunk]

Being assigned two different group work assignments at the same time is such a sick and twisted choice-

[kimikitti]

Ok I am bad with social media. But can someone explain to me like what exactly you are supposed to do with mutuals? Like I follow them and then they follow me back. Are we... supposed to do anything after that? Do I DM them afterwards? I'm very confused.

[orbdotexe]

A new Lightbearer breathes his first panicked breaths, throwing the blanket off his resting place, and finds himself in a world that instead takes pity on him—Much to his displeasure. But he’s been having strange dreams, and everyone warns him away from some strange… person? As more time goes on, and the warnings compound—he’s less and less sure of that notion, or if they even exist.

The brainworms said "what about Crow pre-Vanguard?? he was never in Spider's 'employ' in TFE!" and so here's some Salty Crow and the start of him being determined to figure out who killed him!

Mind: the divide is a time skip, to when Crow is out of the Dreaming City-- and this is the armor I use for the YW, since I don't give much detail. Anyway, Crow's Rez, "Bury Me Shallow":

— — —

“Who was buried up there?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean- No offense. Just… he seemed important.”

“...You don’t know?” The Corsair eyes him, wary.

“Know what?”

She takes a moment to study his face, though it’s shadowed by his hood and the sharp light behind him. It feels like she’s trying to flip through torn out pages and looks like she cut her fingers open on the shreds— He resists drawing any further in on himself.

“...Nevermind.” She scans his disheveled outfit, “You’re a Guardian?”

“Not sure what it means, but that seems to be the consensus,” he replies, mentally bristling at the judgmental tone. How can someone tell by just the clothing? Why would he be buried in this if it was that bad?

…Oh. Right. He was buried in it.

Well, maybe buried wasn’t the right word—There was just a blanket thrown over him, laying on some stone slab. 

Not much of a burial. Could just be how the dead are treated, though.

“You haven’t spoken to any of your… lot, yet, either?” The corsair asks, some disdain in her words. He’s been hearing that tone a lot on the subject of Guardians, though not at him. If he’s one of them, shouldn’t she be disgusted by him, as well?

“Ah… no. I’ve seen some around, but haven’t gotten to speak to any. They seem awfully busy.” It’s not exactly a lie, but he hasn’t exactly tried to speak to them at all.

The thought of approaching one makes him nervous.

She snorts, “Busy is one way to put it.” There’s that resentment again.

He doesn’t think he will ever understand why. It seems the Guardians are trying to help, so why does almost everyone he talks to seem to hate them? Well, there have been a few Corsairs that seemed more thankful for the help, but… Most aren’t.

In the ensuing awkward silence, the Corsair seems to get a call in her helmet, turning away from him and murmuring into nothing. He can’t pick any of it up, though it sounds urgent, and she shoulders her rifle.

He can’t help but sigh quietly, knowing that meant no real conversations for another week or so.

She huffs after a few more moments, and sighs. “Well, I hate to cut this short, but the Crows’ feather falls that there’s enemy movement around.” She pauses, mouth pulling into a grimace, before continuing, “Your… abilities, might be… useful.”

“Oh.” She’s asking for his help, isn’t she? Even the Corsairs who didn’t mind Guardians hadn’t asked him to. He… hasn’t done this before—Helped from afar, sure, but not in the thick of it. 

She eyes him, with some mix of anxiousness and detesting having asked. “Well, I’m… happy to help.” He smiles, despite the nervous knot in his gut. “Just lead the way.”

He swears there’s a glint of familiarity in her eyes as he says it, and she relaxes some before clearing her throat. “Let’s get going, then.”

— — —

“Sooo… Don’t remember nothin’?” The shadowed figure asks from the thick branch it’s laying on, a deep and modulated voice carrying just loud enough to reach him.

He has to crane his neck to see the ominous red glow of what he assumes is its eyes. “Uhm… no. Didn’t think I was meant to.”

“Yer Ghost tell you nothing, either?” The figure adjusts some, legs now dangling. Seems he’s interesting enough for its full attention.

“Was he supposed to?”

“...Guess not.” It drops down, not a sound leaving them as they right themself, and their face comes into view. Grey metal plates and red dots for eyes greet him. ”Any idea who ya are? Where ya woke up?”

“Looked like…a cathedral, I think.” He takes a half-step back, savouring his personal space, “He must’ve been highly respected. Did you know him?” The apparently metal man—not that he hasn’t heard of Exos (because he has, if only some), but hearing of and seeing are two different things—eyes him for a moment. 

“Not personally, but knew of ‘im. An’way, strict Vanguard policy n all, can’t tell ya much.” The exo turns on his heel and starts walking, waving a hand for him to follow.

“...Riight.” He peers around the trees and rocky terrain before deciding to go along with it. “Actually, what’s with that? A few people have told me that already.” 

“S’posedly, knowing obscures judgment… or som’thin along those lines. Never bothered to listen ver’ much. Got better things to do than listen to some raving mad Warlock’s lecture.”

“And… I’m supposed to be a… a Hunter?”

“Look it to me. Cape, dirty look,”—Dirty? Now that’s rude—“Things like that. Got that stature, too, and the slouch.” 

“Ah. You’re…”—Brutal—“forthcoming.”

“You asked. An’way, got a name for yerself yet? Like to keep track of who I meet.”

A name. His Ghost talked about those; he had seemed excited to pick them.

“...No, not yet.”

“Could give ya some suggestions, if ya like. Though, you’d prob’ly like to do that wit yer Ghost, rather than a stranger.”

“Yeah… he’s been nagging me about it. Seems important to him.”

“Might wanna get on wit it, then! Unhappy Ghost makes a’ unhappy Guardian, y’know. In the meantime, got a preference? Any topics in partic’ you like? Might wanna fly with ‘ose.”

He thinks for a moment, and the black feather on the Hunter’s hood catches his eye. “Well… What’s yours? Might give me some ideas,” he shrugs.

“Rancher!” The other Hunter announces, wholly confident.

“Rancher,” he deadpans back, deciding that whatever he picked would have to be better than that.

“Yuep.” He opts not to question how the Exo popped the P without lips. “M’ Ghost, Iridant, wouldn’t let me jus’ keep Hunter.”

“You were going to name yourself Hunter?”

“Well, it was before I knew ‘bout the Vanguard an’ their classes thing! Iri took ‘er sweet time telling me, an’ I knew I liked huntin’, so…” 

The first statement gives him pause.

Are there… are there Guardians outside of the Vanguard? Well, are not all Ghosts with the Vanguard, at least? 

“Huh.”

So it’s not just him, then. Maybe Rancher’s Ghost kept him away from the Vanguard for awhile for the same reason his Ghost does… Whatever that reason is, anyway.

As the pair come up on an uphill, littered with stone piles and boulders, Rancher kicks some gravel rocks aside. “Soo, heh, how long ‘ave you been up ‘n about?” 

He eyes the patch of gravel for a moment, watching them resettle, “Not too long. Spent some months in the Dreaming City, but only been out here for a few weeks, I think.”

“Ahh, so yer a new Newlight, then! Yeah. Yeah! I imagine those Awoken’re a bit weird, ey?” A barking, modulated laugh brings his gaze back up, finding Rancher to be stood at the top of some larger boulder at the top of the hill now, “How’s that place, an’way? ‘aven’t had the chance to go quite yet.”

Weird was one way to put the Corsairs. So much disdain for Guardians, and yet they seemed fine with him—among other things. “Well, it’s… It’s pretty, when you aren’t under fire.” He could paint pictures of that sky, but… What were the pale things called? Scorn? “The uh… the ones with crossbows were trouble.”

Rancher laughs, again—now more entertained, rather than antagonistic, “Ooooh, big man too good for Taken? The ozone smell don’t bother you? Might jus’ be a’ Exo thing, that, but I ‘ear it makes some a bit nauseous.”

The memory of spinning around, mid combat, to be met with a Taken Knight towering over him moments before waking up—with a few Corsairs gathered around him—springs to the front of his mind. He opts to hum in agreement rather than debate it, climbing up on another slab across from the other Hunter.

The hill below drops-off into what looks to be a patched together base of sorts, old enough to have a dusting of moss and vines over it, but recently lived in and the vines cut back over computer panels and exits. 

He catches Rancher stretching (though, he doubts Exos have any need to do so) out the corner of his eye as the other Hunter sighs, “Ahhh, ‘ere’s my stop.”

“Your… stop?” Despite the lived-in look to the base, he can’t see any proof of the occupants anywhere nearby. Or was Rancher here to reclaim it? He had heard Hunters were largely meant to be scouts. Supposedly.

“Yuep!” The Exo pops the end, again. “Got an op to run out ‘ere. That base down there? ‘posed to hold some pests, an’ I’m on exterminator duty!”

And there goes the scout theory. If he went to the Vanguard, would he be put on these missions, too?

“Ooh,” Rancher stops and turns back, “‘fore I go—Careful if you see a Hunter in red an—ahh, no, that’s… That’s not specific at all. Hm.”

He’s heard this warning before. No one ever tells him why, or what that Hunter did, just to stay far away. Every. Time. Other than the vague warnings, he’s not even sure what he’s looking out for.

And it doesn’t help that “red and black Hunter” is a good seventy percent of Hunters he’s seen.

“Why? What did they do?” He tries to put force into his voice, but Rancher skips over the question.

“Just- ah. Complicated. I’ll send yer Ghost a picture, heh?” Rancher’s Ghost—a foil-textured, pink colored, and green eyed… mini Servitor?—appeared with a series of trills. “You’ll want to avoid–” The Ghost projected an image, “–that one.”

He could barely study the figure before there was a blast followed by the sound of Pikes somewhere nearby, to which both Rancher and his Ghost snapped to attention, projection fading. 

“Ah!” Rancher sounded excited as his Ghost dematerialized, “That’s my que! Pleasure t’ meet ya, blueberry, but I gotta run.”

“Wh- Blue–? Hold on, what does that—” but the other Hunter is already plowing through the woods on a still-materializing sparrow, giving him one last wave, “—mean…”

He sighs, but can’t help but stare, dumbfounded, after Rancher, yet—

One thing stuck in his mind; That single, holographic, orange eye. 

The same one in his dreams.

What happened to his past life?

[pepprs]

i literally need there to stop being situations circumstances events developments complications and happenstances. for the fucking love of god

[goldensunset]

i need to make a full outline for what i’d headcanon kh characters’ pokémon teams to look like at some point