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iamthecomet · 3 hours
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Yeah exactly, blister packs so that if you wanna do something stupid you've gotta work for it! Either way, I'm in NZ. I don't have to buy my basic pain relief like ibuprofen or paracetamol, we can ask our doctors for a prescription and get a box for free (prescriptions are subsidised).
Every day I grow more concerned about healthcare in the US...
You have every reason to be concerned about Healthcare in the US. It's a mess. (The amount of times I've injured myself and probably needed stitches/mending and went "Nope. Just get a bandaid, it's not worth it." is uh...not zero).
But that's really interesting! I love learning stuff like this!
A doctor probably would give them to you here, too. But, they can be relatively inexpensive depending on what you get (certainly less expensive than a doctor visit) and are available at most stores (grocery stores, gas stations, pharmacies, corner stores...) so that makes buying them easier.
It feels so normal to pay for it too. It's just a thing you pick up when you go grocery shopping. Just another staple like bread or cheese.
The US really is run by drug companies (god they make so much money) but that's a conversation for another day.
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iamthecomet · 4 hours
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Swiss ghoul in 80s style clothes...
Swiss ghoul in short shorts and a cropped tank top...
Swiss ghoul with sweatbands, chunky socks, and aviators...
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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Imagine growing up in the Ministry, though.
(/very/ mild and brief murder ghouls reference but only in the context of Protective Ghouls looking after their humans)
Or, really, any of the Abbeys worldwide, bc after all there are lots of them.
Imagine being raised in a place where actual, genuine demons are running around. Just casually hanging out with your parents. Dating your parents, maybe. Having a ghoul as a step-parent.
You just grow up thinking it's perfectly normal to hang out with hellbeasts. The servants of Lucifer work at your school and your church and in the library and taught you to play basketball. A demon saved your life when you were a baby, not because your parents made a demonic bargain, but because you were premature and you had bad circulation and a fire ghoul was visiting his husband on a night shift at the infirmary a few days after you were born and he happened to pick you up bc you were fussy and you were actually freezing cold and he kept you warm with his internal hellfire while his husband panicked and prepped the incubator.
You don't think anything of wandering up to a pair of spitting, snarling demons who are clearly one wrong word away from spilling blood and saying "Uncle Swiss, Uncle Dew, will you give me a blessing for my history test" and they stop fighting at once to lavish attention and affection on you. Uncle Swiss bends down to press his forehead against yours as he prays, and snarls and snaps his teeth jokingly to make you giggle. You can hear how they click together, how dangerous those teeth are, and you know they're sharper than they look.
You wake up to Aunt Sunny on the couch at least once a month because she got too high again and your mother said she wasn't allowed to walk to the other side of the Abbey alone because everyone knows what happens when Aunt Sunny goes for a walk when she's high. Her glamour has slipped during the night and her claws are out and you can see her fangs when she snores. She wakes up while you're eating breakfast and the two of you play How Many Pieces Of Cereal Can You Throw Into Her Open Mouth.
You never worry about walking into a room full of literal creatures of the darkest pits because you've seen them all the morning after Midsummer complaining about their hangovers at breakfast. You've seen them cry at funerals and laugh at shitty jokes and dress up in terrible couples costumes for Hallows.
You know how safe you are. Because you've seen how stupid and goofy and "human" they are. And you've seen them tear apart anything that threatens Their Humans. You're more afraid of Sister Imperator than you are of the ghouls. Why would you be afraid?
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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the cumulus is in a rut and cirrus is in heat fic :)
contains: cunnilingus, fingering, ladies in love, the concepts of heats and ruts without it being overly there, a very brief mention of cirrus's breeding kink but it's only a mention, and wings :)
WOMEN!
==
Cumulus feels...heat, uncomfortable, a pressure building in her lower stomach—all encompassing.
Dutifully, she checks her calendar, the small hard cover planner she keeps with her, flipping through well worn pages until she finds the right date and well.
Well. She's at the beginning of it, her rut. Five days. The first two make her skin feel uncomfortably tight, like she's being stretched thin over her own bones. The third one is when she starts to really feel it. When she needs a partner to help her satiate the hunger.
The fourth and fifth day, well, she doesn't want to think about those right now, already feeling on a sort of hair trigger since she'd rolled out of bed this morning.
She goes on about her day, mostly, feeling a bit listless as she does—she catches a sympathetic look from Dew, allowing him close enough once to scent her, a low purr rumbling in his chest.
"It'll be okay, Cu," Dew murmurs, and he's never been terrible at comfort despite what he thinks, his arms settling loosely around her shoulders in a hug.
Cumulus allows herself to lean into it—they're not incompatible, but her body yearns for something that Dew can't give her right now. She's grateful though, for the comfort, his steady scent not spiking in any way, arousal or otherwise.
(She's only mildly afraid of what she could be capable of if she were to catch the scent of arousal so soon.)
"I was going to go down to the lake, it's a nice day out. Do you wanna come?" Dew murmurs into her hair.
Cumulus wants to shake her head, pull from his embrace and go lock herself in her room for a bit while the fire in her belly licks tantalizingly at her very being.
"It'll be good for you," Dew needles her gently, he's not pushing but he's not backing down in her silence. "You know how stinky the church gets when everyone starts waking up for the day. Do you really want to subject yourself to that?"
She doesn't, is the issue, and Dew knows this.
"Yeah, okay, at least let me pack a bag first so I have a few things." She finally settles on, briefly mourning the closeness of Dew when he finally pulls back.
"Sure thing," he says, smiling at her. "I'm going to go pack a lunch. I'm feeling like a nice relaxing day at the lake is in order. Probably won't be able to drag myself out of the water for lunch, later."
Cumulus nods and allows herself to calm down at the prospect of being only surrounded by nature and the one ghoul who's nearly perfect at keeping his scent in check.
They split ways, only long enough for Cumulus to pack a few things; a book and a towel, she throws a swimsuit in as a last minute thing, just in case she gets needled into swimming with Dew—she also changes into something lighter, a flowy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the material soft and comfortable against her skin.
When she exits her room a little bit later, Dew's waiting at the end of the hall, a brown basket sitting at his feet and a blanket folded over his arm; he's also dressed down, casual in swim trunks and a tank top—he's glamoured, much like she is, so his skin is pale and lightly freckled from his time in the sun.
"There you are," Dew says with a smile, soft and friendly as he scoops the basket up again, "Ready?"
She smiles in return and goes over to him, nudging her shoulder against his, "Ready."
Together, they head down to the lake, only running into a couple of siblings who offer waves to them before carrying on—Cumulus is glad for this, unsure if she could stand the small talk today, already so on edge from the heat running through her veins.
The lake is peaceful and quiet, there's a slight breeze though the sun shines high in the sky, warming the entire area—quietly, they set everything up, Dew spreading the blanket out on the pier, placing the basket on one of the corners and motions for Cumulus to make herself comfortable.
She does, her rut still burning below her skin, in her veins, a steady reminder that it's there and setting in, but she's able to lie back on the blanket, eyes fluttering closed as the sun bears down on her.
She doesn't see Dew, but she can smell when he removes his shirt, dropping it into a pile near her; not close enough for his scent to bother her, but close enough that it offers some sort of comfort to her—and then, there's a splash, a whoop of laughter as Dew comes up to the surface of the water.
She can smell his happiness, the warm and rich scent making her purr softly, she's not providing for him, she doesn't provide for another who goes into rut, but being part of his happiness, of his own way to relax on a day off makes her happy too.
Cumulus dozes on the pier, warm and happy in the sun as the sounds of Dew splashing around the lake fade into nothingness.
It's the first reprieve that she's had since waking this morning to the burning beneath her skin.
At some point, she wakes up—slowly, like all of her limbs are underwater. She stays horizontal and rolls over onto her side, Dew's sitting a distance away from her, bare chested and watching the clouds float through the sky. There's an unwrapped sandwich next to him and a bottle of water.
Her stomach growls and Dew glances over at her, a serene smile on his face, "Hey sleepy head," he says, and then he tilts his head towards the basket, "Food's in there. Should still be good. Cirrus packed you something special when I told her you were coming down here with me."
Something clenches in her belly at that, a low rumble of a purr in her chest as she slowly sits up, stretching her limbs out.
In the basket, there's something wrapped in a checkered napkin, and Cumulus can smell the remains of Cirrus's scent on it when she pulls it close—she doesn't think too hard about the date written in green sparkly pen in her calendar, the one that matches up with her own in matte blue ink.
It's just a sandwich, but it's a somewhat indulgent one with pepper spiced turkey, lettuce, tomato and green apple slices, a light spread of mayonnaise on one side of the bread and the barest hint of cream cheese on the other.
It's her favorite.
She tears into it with a ravenous hunger, the bread, meat, vegetable and fruit melting away under her teeth—it's easily the best thing she's ever eaten, fisting the napkin in one of her hands as if hoping the rest of Cirrus's scent would rub away into her skin.
"So, tomorrow, you think you'll be okay? I mean, I could make more time for you, obviously. Maybe go bird watching or whatever it is you air ghouls like to do," Dew says, humor in his tone as he teases her. "But, I do have a hot date with a water ghoul later, so if I'm needed it'll have to be early morning."
"Swiss likes bird watching and he's mostly an outlier," Cumulus says around a mouthful of food. "But no, I think this time may be different." She squeezes the napkin tighter in her hand, "I believe I'm being courted."
Dew gives her a funny look, "Aren't you and Cirrus already mated?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. "You do that whole mated pair thing already."
Cumulus snorts softly, "Come on, Dew. Don't tell me you've never tried to spice things up with someone you've been together with for a long time." She says, and then she smiles, soft and gentle, "It's a thing we do. Every couple hundred years. Sometimes I court her when she's about to go into heat. Sometimes she courts me when I'm going into a rut. Depends on what we're feeling."
"That's disgustingly domestic of you two. Though I think you ladies may be the outlier here." Dew says with a shrug. "Personally, my longest courting has been since I've been summoned. So, for only a few years. I don't think it's been long enough to do it again." He gets a sort of thoughtful look on his face, "Might take Aether by surprise if I started trying to court him again."
Cumulus finishes her sandwich and folds the napkin up carefully, tucking it into the collar of her shirt, "I forget that compared to us, some of you are babies," she says with a little laugh.
"Uh huh," Dew says with a roll of his eyes, before he fishes out another bottle of water from the basket and tosses it in her direction.
Cumulus bares her teeth at him as she catches it, "I'm just saying, it's nice sometimes, to fall back into old habits with someone you care about."
Dew has a thoughtful look on his face, he's not looking at Cumulus anymore, but towards the sky, "Huh," he says slowly. "You and Cirrus have been together for...a while, yeah?"
"Millennia." Cumulus says, as if she's talking about some small and insignificant number of years. "Swiss too, but he was. Well, he was later. A couple hundred years later." She smiles, a soft and private thing, "Cirrus and I have seen the rise and fall of many civilizations, both here and in the pits."
"Huh." Dew says again, "Maybe you are onto something, birdy."
Cumulus laughs then, light and happy, feeling warm and content as she settles back onto her back again. "Guess you better listen to me then, waterbug."
Dew scoffs at the name, but soon the conversation grows quiet and Cumulus's eyes flutter closed again, another round of tiredness pulling at her.
-
The next day she wakes up warmer than before, naked and pressed against Cirrus's back, nose right against where her scent is thickest.
A chirp, soft and content, Cirrus's hand coming back to comb through her unruly hair—the haze of heat overtaking as Cumulus leans into her touch.
She can smell the scent of heat just burning under Cirrus's skin, the need to provide calls deep from in her bones as she presses closer, rolling them until Cirrus is on her front and Cumulus can stretch out across her back, blanketing her—pressing her down against the bed as she does.
Cirrus purrs loudly, content to let Cumulus keep her there. She folds her arms and pillows her head on them, face turned to the side—her features lax and open, happy.
With an answering purr, Cumulus leans down and nuzzles into her jaw, feeling soft downy feathers against her own as she does—before her brain goes too much, she makes a note to have Cirrus sit up later, have her wings on display so she can properly groom them, the most basic act of love of their kind.
Cirrus angles her head, tipping it to the side, purring louder as she puckers her lips, urging Cumulus down with the pout of her lips—she's eager to comply, pressing their lips together sweetly in a chaste kiss.
For a while, they stay like this, trading kisses back and forth, Cirrus's purrs loud and content as she lounges under Cumulus—basking in the weight against her back, the press of bare skin against bare skin.
Warmth surrounds the two of them, scents thickened with pheromones; at some point, Cumulus urges Cirrus up into a sitting position, coaxes her to drop her glamour fully so her wings are out.
She starts at the base of one wing, careful as she coaxes the messy feathers into order until Cirrus is warm putty under her touch, sagging forward as her wings twitch with each pass of her fingers through the feathers.
It's quiet except for the low song that Cumulus is humming, something she'd written on her own, a gentle ode to her love for Cirrus—there's no words, but neither of them need words to convey feelings anymore.
As she finishes one wing, she moves onto the next, spends a considerable amount of time putting all the feathers into order, plucking out the ones that have become a nuisance, Cirrus's scent is warm and sweet, her eyes drooping and sleepy; a true sign of trust and intimacy.
Cumulus keeps an eye on Cirrus, knows when her heat hits that she goes mostly nonverbal, choosing to mostly speak through their bond if she needs to, prefers to give into her instincts—she keeps such a front up when around everyone else, a proper shoulder to lean on, someone who can be firm, a leader.
But here, when they're together, when the press of heat is under her skin, when she's in Cumulus's arms, she allows herself to give up control, trusts that Cumulus knows what she needs, what's best for her.
Knows how to take care of her.
At some point, Cirrus finds herself stretched out on her back, her wings spread out under her while Cumulus's own flare out behind her.
Cumulus has a knee between Cirrus's legs, draws her into a sweet kiss as she shifts closer, presses the heft of her thigh right against Cirrus's cunt.
Cirrus makes a noise into the kiss, claws at Cumulus's arms, at her sides, presses her fingers into soft skin as she grinds down against her, panting as the heat overtakes her, as her mind goes hazy and dumb with it.
It's such a treat, to have her like this, desperate and needy, wet and sticky, messy and Cumulus deepens the kiss, reaches down between her legs and presses her fingertips against the stiff point of her clit—the sudden pressure making Cirrus shudder, a wounded noise tearing its way through her chest as she comes.
Always so easy the first time, Cumulus thinks with some delight, happy that she's able to provide this for her mate. It makes the low burn of her own rut flare up, she doesn't need anything just yet though, content to take Cirrus apart over and over again.
When Cirrus's legs stop shaking, Cumulus pulls her fingers away, brings them up to her lips and takes a moment to taste, humming happily as the thick scent of her mate coats her tongue, worms its way into her senses, her very being.
"Cu," Cirrus mumbles out loud, half delirious, one hand shoved against her shoulder, trying to urge her downwards, "Your mouth, please," she manages to get out.
Cumulus shushes her, kisses her again and they share the taste of Cirrus's slick for a moment, Cirrus's hand getting more insistent and pushy as she tries to redirect Cumulus once more—so she goes, easily, pulls away from the kiss and slinks down the bed, settles on her chest between Cirrus's legs, mouthing kisses along her inner thighs.
There's a litany of praises, of pleases in Cumulus's mind, all coming from her bond with Cirrus as she moves higher and higher until she's able to mouth over her cunt, drag the tip of her tongue along the seam of her lips, a little bit of a tease as she uses two fingers to spread them just enough to drag the flat of her tongue over Cirrus's clit.
Cirrus's hand drops to her hair, not tugging or pulling though, just resting there, keeping her close even as Cumulus continues to tease her with slow little kitten licks, gentle touches even though Cirrus feels like she's burning up from the inside.
Only when a white falls from Cirrus's mouth, sad and despondent, does Cumulus give in, firming up her tongue, each pass along her clit now slow and sensual as she works two fingers into her slowly, curling them upwards—it's just enough to fill Cirrus up, just enough to sate her need but not enough to get her off just yet.
It's perfect, in a maddening way as Cirrus's fingers pet along Cumulus's scalp and she hooks a leg over Cumulus's shoulder, using her heel to pull her closer until Cumulus's face is right against her, her hand squished between them even as she continues to undulate her fingers inside her.
She's begging, she realizes, unsure if out loud or through the bond, the fire in her veins calling for more and Cumulus provides, she happily provides as she presses another finger into her, stretching them and curling them, pressing upwards as she sucks at her clit.
The force and suddenness of this orgasm catches the both of them off guard, Cirrus gushing around Cumulus's fingers, wetting her chin and throat easily, her wrist, her entire hand.
Cirrus makes an urgent noise, tugs, tugs, tugs until Cumulus comes up, knees over her and Cirrus hooks a leg around her waist now, pulls their lower bodies together as she offers up her mouth in a filthy kiss, licking the taste of herself from Cumulus's tongue.
They make out for a bit, Cirrus making happy noises into each kiss, her hand tight in Cumulus's hair to keep her their as their hips rock together minutely—Cirrus can feel the tell-tale signs that Cumulus is affected by all of this, by her own rut, by Cirrus's heat.
It doesn't happen often, only when their cycles line up like this, but Cirrus can feel it, the way Cumulus's clit is hard, peeking out from between her folds, engorged and hot, it nudges between her folds, against her clit with each grind upwards, she's making noises into each kiss, soft little uh uh uhs that have Cumulus purring happily, too content to part ways.
They don't really need to breathe anyway.
She doesn't push even if she wants to, wants to beg Cumulus to fuck her, to fill her, to breed her, make her belong to Cumulus once again after all these years together—she has to stop the train of thought, before it spills over into the bond, but it must anyway because Cumulus laughs softly, musically, pulls away from the kiss and whispers soon against her slack mouth, grinding down against her like she's already trying to make room inside her.
It's wet and slick between them, Cirrus can smell the thick scent of Cumulus's arousal now mixed with her own, she wants to bury her face between Cumulus's legs where the scent is the thickest, take her into her mouth until she's ready to fuck—she whines out loud, grips tight at Cumulus's hips as she comes again, the insistent nudging of Cumulus's clit against hers too much to handle.
She clenches around nothing and briefly mourns, but Cumulus is once again a beautiful, wonderful mate because she reaches between them and stuffs three fingers into Cirrus again, quickly brings her off once more so Cirrus has something to clench around.
It's bliss. True and utter bliss.
"Lovely, lovely," Cumulus murmurs, kissing along her hairline as she comes down again, shuddering as she leaves her fingers inside, curling them just enough so it feels like she's able to hold them. Like they're going to plug her up and keep her full until the heat subsides.
Cirrus purrs happily, loud and content as she allows Cumulus to smother her in kisses, little pecks along her skin as her heat subsides for now, now that she's come and she's full.
Cumulus presses one last kiss to her mouth, pulls back and smiles down at her, "Good?" she asks, she keeps her arm as still as she can, there's an ache in her wrist, in her elbow but she settles down against Cirrus again, pressing her into the bed, "Good, mate?"
"Good," Cirrus mumbles back, turning her head to nuzzle Cumulus's cheek. "Sleepy now."
"Of course, love," Cumulus murmurs, feeling her own rut start to sink its claws into her, but she pushes it down, ignores it for now, "Rest now."
Later on, she'll have Cirrus present for her, she'll grind against her, fill her up until the two of them are locked together as one while Cirrus goes pliant and soft underneath her.
For now, she presses one last kiss to Cirrus's lips, soft and sweet and full of love and drifts off into a light sleep.
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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Not the same anon but in the UK ibuprofen comes in blister packs of (usually) 16 pills and you’re not allowed to buy more than two packs at once
Ah, ok! This makes sense. So in the US we have those packs too, but usually they're for ibuprofen (and the like) mixed with something else. Like, ibuprofen plus a decongestant, or a sleep aid, or whatever. And some of those (not all) are regulated and you have to show an ID to buy them and there's a limit on how many you can buy in a time period (not just at the same time, but like within a couple months or something). But plain old pain killers are just in big ass bottles on the shelf here, unregulated. I think my bottle of Advil is the medium sized one and it's 160 pills.
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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Wait, y'all's ibuprofen comes in BOTTLES???????
....I...yes????!? How does your ibuprofen come!?!?!?
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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AAAH !
I know we’re all Hail Satan here but do you like those little malted “robins eggs” Easter candies or whatever the fuck they’re called? You know, the malted chocolate thingies covered with that hard candy in a pastel spotted egg pattern? Delicious!
PS- I HEART swedish fish and PB cups
PSS- Black jellybeans are the only ones I like! (And they turn your tongue green)
Also- Jesus is a zombie. Why isn’t anyone alarmed at that? Like, wth?
Blasphemously yours,
Gremlin
GREMLIN GET OUT OF MY HEAD. I went to book group at the library tonight and there was a basket of easter candy on the table so I grabbed two packages (one for me one for partner) of the robins eggs. They're both already gone, devoured. I want more. I fucking love them. Best Easter candy (second only to Reese's eggs, duh). My dad is a huge fan of licorice, and growing up I HATED it, but as I've gotten older I get less and less offended by it all the time. It's in my genetics. I'm destined to like it. I'm not quite there yet, but I know it's going to happen. I want to try the salty licorice so bad even though I know I won't like it. I just have to know. I think about Zombie Jesus a lot around easter. Honestly, the whole easter story would be so much cooler if they just embraced the whole zombie thing and ran with it.
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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JOKES ON U IDK WHAT DISPARAGING MEANS.
What is ur fave candy tho
Fuckin' Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (and also Butterfingers) for chocolate. Literally any sour gummy (sour patch kids are superior but I am not picky and will eat any candy that is coated in that sour shit) and Swedish Fish for fruit candies.
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iamthecomet · 5 hours
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I bet u eat black jelly beans. U weirdooooooooooo
;)
Love u
HEY.
I DO NOT.
YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW. STOP DISPARAGING ME ON THE INTERNET. honestly black jelly beans aren't that bad they're not my favorite or anything but I won't spit them out... I MEAN UHH.....
Love you too ♥♥
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iamthecomet · 6 hours
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Lining the boys up blindfolded and on their knees, hands tied behind their backs with their cocks out so Aurora can pick who she wants as her first.
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iamthecomet · 6 hours
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IM STILL HERE!!!! I NEVER FUCKING LEFT!!!!! I LIVE IN THESE PHOTOS!!!!!!!!!
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and the fact that THE GHOST ACC POSTED IT ON THEIR STORY....
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iamthecomet · 6 hours
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reblog if you’re gay, shy or a fucking idiot
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iamthecomet · 8 hours
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A wise man once told me, “the best twinks are served force-femmed”. I still think about that wisdom even today.
Finally a prophet whose teachings we can all follow
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iamthecomet · 15 hours
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*opens tumblr*
*rummages around like I’m in the fridge*
*closes tumblr*
…*opens tumblr*
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iamthecomet · 15 hours
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If you didn’t know, right now 12P/Pons-Brooks, AKA. the Devil Comet is currently visible in the night sky. Depending on where you are, with the naked eye, but a telescope would help. It will be visible until April 2. It’ll disappear but then be visible again on April 8 during the total solar eclipse. So here take my rare pair, they’re both stargazing.
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iamthecomet · 16 hours
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I think Mountain likes to make Epsom salt concoctions for all of his packmates, and especially ones with chronic pain.
He likes to mix and test and create on a good day, splicing flowers and plants together and seeing what effects he can create. He just loves botany and what he can get his element to give him, so it makes sense that making bath salts would be so fun for him.
Working out formulas for everyone's specific needs is so enjoyable too; be it migraines, anxiety, aches and pains, relaxation. He just thrives in the throws of *creation* and also problem solving. The fact that it will end up helping his packmates is a huge bonus too. The sparkling eyes and bright smiles he gets from them when he pulls the perfectly packaged salts from behind his back--with self made paper bags and labels to boot, Mountain doesn't do handmade gifts by halves--makes the long hours it takes to get the recipe just right for their needs worth it.
He always asks for a report back on how this batch works, and if there's anything he can do to improve it. The other Ghouls don't tell him, but he gets so cute like this, genuinely eager to provide but also improve. Really the mixes are all perfect already, but the wide forest green eyes and not-so-subtly wagging tail behind the giant is enough for them to tell a little fib and come up with something arbitrary, but will make Mountain double his efforts.
He loves his pack, he loves his element, and he dives straight back to work so that the next batch is all ready to just as soon as this one runs out.
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