#cw: euthanization mention

[jeronimo-verne]

The moment the image of catgirl Jesus pops into my head I see that one post about puppygirl Jesus about to be euthanized by Judas. What sort of sign is this

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I have finally figured out the camera lens and the setting I need to catch clear photos of wolverines! Ugh, I just love them and their incredibly dense fur so much.

These two are Rainier and Ahma at Northwest Trek. They're full siblings, but were born in different litters, in 2009 and 2007 respectively. The easiest way to tell them apart is by their eyes - or, really, their lack thereof. They've both got some congenital eye issues that have resulted in the surgical removal of one/both eyes as they've aged into elderhood. Ahma is now eyeless, and Rainier still has one eye left (although a keeper did mention it may be getting close to that time, again).

As you'll see, though, they still get around spectacularly. When it comes to finding snacks, they do it by smell. I rented a lens specifically to take photos of this special enrichment day: an elk carcass feed. They got an elk spine and pelvis, both sourced from a safely-euthanized member of the herd at the same facility.

Photos containing the carcasses will be below the cut. The carcass chunks are not bloody or gory - they look kind of like something you'd find on a grocery store shelves - so I'd really suggest checking the photos out. Wolverines are super strong, super tough little guys and it was so cool to see these two really get into tearing apart huge hunks of meat.

Beyond here lies MEAT.

[steddieas-shegoes]

stripes

for @corrodedcoffinfest popup event ‘where the wild things are’

rated t | 954 words | cw: brief mention of euthanizing an animal but it doesn’t happen | tags: established steddie, famous corroded coffin, crack treated seriously, Steve is in charge of them but you can decide how

There’s an “alpaca farm” near my home, which is definitely harboring illegal exotic animals and inspired this simply because I remember the day my mom came home and told me they got a zebra 😂

🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓🦓

Steve does a double take as he walks up the steps of the porch. He thought he saw…

Oh. Yep. He did see that.

He walks inside and goes to directly to the kitchen, where everyone is sitting at the table acting entirely too normal.

“Did you guys know there’s a zebra outside?” He asks, setting his keys on the counter. He looks through the window to make sure there’s no other zoo animals in the backyard. “And if so, who owns it?”

“That’s Stripes!” Gareth says, before returning back to his conversation with Jeff.

“And Stripes belongs to…”

“Us.” Eddie stands and leans over the counter to kiss Steve on the lips. “Can we have pizza tonight?”

Steve is used to crazy. He’s used to weird shit happening. He’s used to having to clean up messes these guys get themselves into on a near-daily basis.

But there’s a zebra in their front yard and no one is explaining how or why. He might lose it.

“No one’s getting anything to eat until you explain the zebra.”

Everyone goes silent. Steve raises his brows as he throws his jacket over the back of the closest chair, which happens to be Frankie’s.

“They were gonna euthanize him,” Gareth says.

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Who?”

“The circus. Apparently he’s too old to do any tricks and they can’t afford to just have animals around. This was their last stop for this leg of their tour and they had him caged up for the vet. We rescued him,” Eddie explains. “We’ll take good care of him.”

“How do you even take care of a zebra?” Steve asks and then holds up his hands before anyone can answer. “Let me try again. How do you plan to take care of a zebra? We leave for a tour in three weeks.”

“He can come with us!” Gareth is smiling and Steve thinks it must be nice to think the way Gareth does. He’s not dumb, he’s just impulsive and easygoing. He doesn’t think of problems ahead of time.

“You guys can’t bring a zebra on your heavy metal festival tour.” Steve sighs. “Why don’t we call the zoo in Indy and see if they’ll take a rescue?”

“No!” They all say. Even Frankie turns and shakes his head.

“Why not? He’d be safe there, they know how to take care of him. He’d have zebra friends.”

“But he likes to travel,” Eddie pouts.

“Jeff, you can’t actually believe this is a good idea. You have sense,” Steve turns away from the pout Eddie always tries when he wants to get his way. “C’mon man.”

Jeff looks sheepishly down at the table.

“No! You guys bribed Jeff?” Steve groans and walks away, out the front door, and down the porch.

Half of the front yard is fenced in, and it looks like Stripes is happy as can be eating the grass and hay that the guys must’ve put out for him. He walks to the fence and sighs. Stripes looks up and meanders over to him, still chewing on a mouthful of his food.

Steve reaches out and pets at his head. He’s used to horses, grew up around them for a while when his dad owned a stake in a derby horse. He loved them, but they still scared him a bit. They’re beautiful, and stoic, and incredibly strong.

He’s seen a grown man’s teeth get kicked right out of his body from one.

Stripes nudges his hand when he stops, lost in his thoughts. He laughs and keeps moving it back and forth.

“He’s a big softie,” Jeff says behind him.

“They sent you to convince me, huh?” Steve turns and sees the others huddling at the window inside. He shakes his head fondly. They’re all idiots. “No need. Stripes convinced me.”

Jeff throws a thumbs up at the window and they can hear them all cheer and walk away.

“You sure it’s okay? I can talk to them if not.”

Steve doesn’t answer at first.

Logistically, it’s gonna be a nightmare. He just had a meeting this morning with security and transportation about moving all their shit and them safely. There’s only ten stops, but they’re spread out enough that they need a solid plan in place so there’s no errors or risks. A zebra would be a risk.

Financially, it’s also not ideal. Adding in another truck to bring him around, his food, someone to care for him while they’re busy. It all adds up. They have a decent budget now that they’ve got more support from a big label, but they won’t be thrilled with paying for a zebra to tour with them.

“We’ll figure it out,” he settles on.

Stripes finally has enough and walks away. Steve brushes his hand against his pants and sighs.

“I’m gonna go shower. You guys have a meeting with security tomorrow morning. Pizza and then everyone heads home.”

“Yes, mom,” Jeff jokes, but nudges his arm with his elbow. “Is Eddie in trouble?”

“Eddie’s not in trouble,” Steve says. “But he ls gonna get a serious talking to.”

Jeff raises a brow. “I’m sure he is.”

Steve slaps his arm and rolls his eyes. “Go order pizza. And call a vet to ask what zebras need for food every day. We’ll have to leave with enough to get through the tour.”

“Aye aye!”

Jeff rushes inside and Steve watches Stripes walk along the fence. He looks content, but he’s gonna move him to the backyard so he has more room to run around. Or he’ll make Eddie do it.

Actually, yeah.

“Eddie!” Steve yells as he walks back in the house. “Come take care of your zebra!”

[glitteraffe-art]

This is a pretty simple explanation of the topic, and does not cover every detail, but hopefully it is a nice overview!

Slide text in text form, and reference and image source URLs under the cut:

Title Card: Cloning Mercenaries 101: How Real-Life Cloning Works

CW: Mentions of animal death (in a research context)

Slide 1: Foreword

If you're into TF2, chances are you've come across fanworks depicting the "clone theory" to explain why there's more than one of each mercenary.

Clone theories generally fall into the categories of either respawn/teleportation cloning, or biological cloning. Today, we'll focus on real-life biological cloning.

"But TF2 is a Looney-Tunes comedy! Why bother with the science of a fairly common, but minimally supported headcanon?"

It's always worth understanding how the real-life version of something really works!

Slide 2: What is Cloning?

"Cloning" broadly refers to the process of producing individuals who are genetically identical to another individual. It can include single- and multi-cellular organisms.

Cloning includes both natural cloning (like plant cuttings, asexual reproduction) and artificial cloning (like cloning DNA fragments, cells, and organisms).

"Reproductive cloning", is the cloning of a multicellular organism to create a new genetically identical individual.

Engie speech bubble: Natural cloning is more common than you may think: for example, plants grown from cuttings are clones of their "parent"!

Slide 3: Reproductive Cloning

There are 2 methods of reproductive cloning for mammals:

Embryo Splitting

- Used to create identical twins from 1 egg and 1 sperm cell after in-vitro fertilization (IVF)

- Not really for cloning an existing adult so we won't focus on it.

Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer (SCNT)

- Used to create a number of clones of an individual organism from 1 body cell (somatic cell) from the organism and 1 donor egg cell

Engie speech bubble: We’ll be focusing on SCNT here!

Slide 4: Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer (Diagram)

1. Nucleus removed from body (somatic) cell of individual to be cloned (by pipette)

2. Nucleus removed from donor egg cell

3. Somatic nucleus placed into empty donor egg cell

4. Resulting egg stimulated and begins to divide

5. Resulting embryo transferred to uterus of a surrogate mother to develop.

Slide 5: Somatic Cell Nuclear Transfer

The resulting clone embryo is not 100% identical to that of the individual to be cloned.

- The body (somatic) cell's nucleus may have contained mutations

- The mitochondria (powerhouse of the cell) of the resulting clone embryo will be the donor egg's mitochondria

That's right! If the donor egg is NOT from the individual or their matenal line (mitochondria are passed down maternally) the resulting clone embryo will NOT be 100% identical.

Engie speech bubble: With different mitochondria, a clone may have differences in body parts with high energy demand, like muscles, heart, eyes, or brain.

Slide 6: Dolly the Sheep

Some methods using the principles of SCNT were used as early as the 1950s (based on earlier work in the 1920s) to clone amphibians.

The first successful mammalian clone using SCNT was Dolly, a cloned sheep born in 1996 in Scotland, and announced to the public in 1997.

Dolly eventually developed severe arthritis and a progressive lung disease and was

euthanized at age 6 despite sheep's average lifespan being 11-12 years.

Engie speech bubble: Dolly was named after Dolly Parton!

Slide 7: Some Downsides

Inefficiency & Failure Rate:

SCNT has a high failure rate - many clones die during gestation, and newborn clones may die of abnormalities. For example, for Dolly, 277 fertilized eggs -> 29 embryos -> 3 lambs born -> only Dolly survived.

Advanced Aging(?):

Due to Dolly's age-related diseases it was speculated her DNA was already genetically "old". Later studies of further clones found no evidence of having age-related diseases, but the idea of "advanced" or "accelerated" aging of clones made its way into pop culture.

Engie speech bubble: More recent cloning using SCNT have reported higher success rates, but still have many failures.

Slide 8: What Does this Mean in TF2?

A resulting baby born from SCNT will, in fact, be a baby. The baby will NOT have the memories, experiences, muscle mass, or, well... anything past genetics, of the individual they were cloned from.

In terms of TF2, a lot of time and money would need to be spent raising, feeding, and teaching the resulting baby for the next 18 or so years to get anywhere close to a useful mercenary. Not very efficient...

Engie speech bubble: In short, you'd need to look beyond realistic cloning

and take some sci-fi shortcuts to get already-adult clones as often portrayed in fandom.

REFERENCE URLs

(Removed the hyper links since Tumblr likes to hide posts with hyperlinks)

Image of Dolly is from here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/february/22/newsid_4245000/4245877.stm

I mainly referenced these while writing (Yes, Wikipedia unreliable, I know, but this slideshow is a for-funsies TF2-themed general explanation and not an academic essay):

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK223960/

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dolly_(sheep)

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somatic_cell_nuclear_transfer

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloning

I also looked at these when trying to determine if the Wikipedia information was reliable:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK223969/

https://bio.libretexts.org/Bookshelves/Introductory_and_General_Biology/General_Biology_(Boundless)/17%3A_Biotechnology_and_Genomics/17.01%3A_Biotechnology/17.1D%3A_Reproductive_Cloning

https://www.britannica.com/science/cloning/Reproductive-cloning

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3790123/

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 1

Rowan is an activist with the Pet Liberation Front. He has spent the better part of a decade assisting the cause as a multimedia specialist, but never spends much time with the victims he is so intent on saving. After going undercover as a buyer to capture systemic abuse on camera, he finds a broken boy that steals his heart. Before Rowan knows it, he has a rescue pet at home. Both Rowan and his new houseguest must take steps to heal and adjust to their new normal.

Masterlist

// Chapter 2

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, mention of noncon, noncon touch, sexual and nonsexual nudity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

“ID, please.”

Rowan handed over his driver’s license with a smile to the woman behind the counter. Marie, her name tag said, with a smaller typeface beneath that read she/her/hers. A faded cartoon sun sticker was wrapped halfway around the edge of the badge, almost completely covering the familiar WRU logo.

“Mr. Bailey,” she said with a soft smile in return, “welcome to today’s Opportunity Sale. Is this your first time attending one of WRU’s most special events?”

“No, I’ve been before.” 

It was hard to keep his voice level, especially at first. He’d been to dozens of these events around the country, and each was proving to be harder on his spirit than the last. The weight of the phone in his shirt pocket, already recording, weighed him down as much as his words.

Opportunity Sale. He loathed the euphemism. It was a liquidation, a fire sale, a last chance for the souls the institution had broken beyond repair. These so-called pets up for sale today were what WRU considered damaged goods, defective products. These are pets who don’t live up to WRU standards of excellence, they’d say, so we’re offering them at a discount, each sold as-is.

The “defects” varied. Some were marred by years of physical abuse, no longer able to perform the tasks they were trained for as their bodies failed. Others had simply lost their minds, slipped into catatonia, a permanent dissociation that rendered them a husk of the person they’d once been. Sometimes, albeit rarely, there were victims that WRU couldn’t fully break and bend to their whims, pets who were marked by attitude and defiance that no typical buyer would tolerate. Some were simply old, the incessant labor and abuse having weakened their bodies, unable to fulfill their purpose with the grace and ease that was expected.

They called it an opportunity, but It was nothing more than a last-ditch effort to recoup the costs that went into each “product.” Fully breaking a person’s mind took considerable time and money, and a broken pet sold for pennies on the dollar was still better for WRU’s books than a total loss. 

Those pets that weren’t sold before the close of business would be unceremoniously euthanized before the next sunrise. 

“If you’re familiar, then I’ll spare you the usual spiel about how this works,” Marie continued as she ran his ID through the desktop scanner. If she noticed the edge to his voice, she didn’t show it. “But I’ll give you a few reminders, just to refresh your memory. WRU salespersons will be stationed throughout the sales floor, wearing yellow shirts and WRU name tags just like mine. They’re available to answer any questions about merchandise or to help close any sales. We also ask that you refrain from live video or photographs for the privacy of our staff.”

“Got it.” Rowan felt the lie sticky on his tongue. The staff present today would be afforded no privacy, not if he could help it. Their atrocities, their complicity in this system, would soon be aired to the growing world of people who cared. Even this interaction at this front desk would be on tape, ready to share with the world in a matter of days. 

“Wonderful,” Marie said as she handed his ID back with a pamphlet tucked beneath it. “You can find the map of our sales floor in this brochure. Domestic will be in the front right through the double doors, Platonic towards the center, Romantics and all other classifications behind the black curtain on the left. I will say that we’re particularly low on Platonic inventory for this event, so if that’s what you’re after, I’d recommend coming back for next month’s Opportunity Sale. If you’re looking for anything specific, a WRU salesperson would be happy to assist.”

Rowan retrieved his ID and the map out of her hands, and he silently hoped she wouldn’t notice his fingers shaking. 

“Got it, thanks for your help.”

A final smile was all he afforded her before turning to the heavy double doors beyond the entryway. 

As he stepped closer to the threshold of purgatory, a familiar memory rose from the back of his mind. It always did at these places, the familiar sensation overwhelming him as his subconscious dragged him back nearly fifteen years.

---

“Hey, prof, are we there yet?”

Benny’s familiar voice cut sharp through the otherwise low murmur of conversation on the bus. 

“Benny, please,” Professor Engelhardt groaned, exasperation obvious in both her face and her voice. “I would appreciate it if all of our volunteers could act their age. You’ll know when we get there, I promise. In the meantime, try and exercise even a modicum of patience”

Rowan felt Grey squeeze his knee, and when he looked over the other young man gave him a toothy smile.

“For once, the loud-mouth has a point,” Grey said as he stifled a giggle.

“I have to agree,” Rowan agreed as he swallowed a laugh of his own. “It feels like we’ve been staring at nothing but cornfields for the last two hours. Where could we possibly be going this far out of the city?”

“Professor Engelhardt did say it was essential to our training as PLF volunteers, and I know that it’s a requirement for anyone who wants to do investigative work for the PLF. But as far as I know, there’s no WRU facilities out west of the city like this.”

“You’d be correct.”

Rowan looked up as his ears burned in embarrassment, the tired professor looking down at both him and Grey from the aisle. She continued, seemingly unaware of the blush that also tinged Grey’s cheeks. 

“This is a required journey for all volunteers who are looking to take the next step in their PLF activism. We’d rather you each know now whether this kind of environment will be too much for a sensitive stomach. And you’re also correct on a second count, Greyson. We’re not going to any WRU facility, at least not yet. You each have a considerable amount of training ahead of you before you go quite so far.”

By now, Professor Engelhardt’s voice had grabbed the attention of the other volunteers squeezed into the rattling and repurposed school bus. Faces of all ages, from the hopeful university students to the equally tired retirees, were rapt as their chaperone continued. Rowan’s stomach felt like it was doing somersaults as she spoke.

“We’re going to a cattle slaughterhouse. It’s time that you all experience for yourselves what it’s like when blood soaks the floor and all you can hear is screaming and heavy machinery. You need to see what happens when a collection of personal choices and systems meant to harm come together to determine whether something lives, or whether it dies. These aren’t humans, and they can’t speak to you to share their stories, but you’ll have plenty of time to see those horrors with your own eyes as you continue as volunteers. For now, let’s get you accustomed to keeping a straight face amidst the suffering and bloodshed. Given some of your aspirations, that shouldn't be much to ask.”

This time, Grey grabbed Rowan’s hand. Rowan gripped it back until his knuckles turned white.

--- 

That same smell followed Rowan now, the acrid stench he first experienced in the slaughterhouse on that humid August day. It was a lingering copper heavy in the air, a whisper of blood among festering wounds and fluids. WRU certainly tried to cover their tracks, make this place seem welcoming and inviting to the public, hide the litany of abuse that propped the system up. But to Rowan, and to anyone who knew better, there was no hiding the stench of ammonia and waste that clung to skin as much as sweat. These were sins that neither Pine Sol nor bleach could cover.

Rowan pushed through the double doors and entered the sales floor. It was showtime. 

The repurposed warehouse was milling with bodies. There were throngs of buyers meandering between yellow-clad WRU salespeople and black-clad Handlers, some chatting cheerfully while they contemplated buying a living being, others already busying their hands with prodding the “merchandise.” 

Opportunistic buyers hoping to get a pet at a discount came in a few standard flavors. There would be the middle-class families, unable to afford a brand-new pet, but still hoping to score a Domestic that was good enough to help around the house. There were the desperate perverts who were looking to try out a Romantic, see if flesh was better than silicone to get their kicks. And then there were the truly depraved, those hoping that they can find a legal way to torture - and likely murder - a living being without the threat incarceration hanging over their heads.

Rowan was posing as a long-curious buyer who might finally cave and get a Romantic all for himself. He wanted to be charismatic and sure of himself, but prove to be a bit more hesitant when it came to the “merchandise” itself. He was dressed smart, like he had money, but erred towards frugality. This would drum up the sales people, get them to incriminate WRU and its horrors under the guise of a sales pitch, the very thing that would generate sound bytes perfect for the pro liberation materials. 

He started with the Domestics, he always did. They were typically positioned at the entryway, intentionally so, as both the most in-demand and publicly palatable part of the system. Most families and prospective buyers wouldn’t wander past this point of the warehouse, not needing to look any further. 

A few of the victims were kept in cages, others on long leashes for handlers to parade around. It all depended on the state they were in, how well they’d be able to sell themselves as much as the salespeople did. 

“You look like a busy man,” a woman clad in WRU-issued yellow said with a smile in Rowan’s direction. “What do you say about never having to cook for yourself again? What about coming home to clean laundry every day without needing to think about it?” 

“That does sound tempting,” Rowan answered as he slowed to a halt. 

He looked at the man attached to the saleswoman’s lead, a tall and gangly thing, hunched shoulders with a distant look in his eyes. The defect was readily apparent: he was standing and leaning on a pair of forearm crutches, rather than the expected kneeling, because he was missing most of his left leg.

“This is one of our best deals of the day,” she continued her pitch with practiced ease, “I can guarantee you that. A flawless all-around Domestic, with great command responsiveness and attentiveness. It’s perfect for a busy working man or a family with a few kids. We’ve got it marked down today due to an obvious defect with its legs, which means it moves much slower than we’d expect from one of our model Domestics. Likewise, it can’t assume many of the expected kneeling positions, and struggles to move from position to position otherwise. This pet requires a patient owner, but the reward for that patience is a model that otherwise works as expected.”

This man would likely live another day. Rowan couldn’t see many other physical signs of damage beyond the amputation, and so long as this one ended up with someone who kept up with his medical equipment and any other treatments, he’d likely have many more years of service ahead of him. Maybe he’d even live long enough to see the whole damn system dismantled.

Still, it was Rowan’s job today to get incriminating sound bytes and video, so he pressed back. 

“I don’t like how tall it is,” he said, staring at the man who’d tower over him if he wasn’t slouched over his crutches. “I’d hate someone to think it has any kind of authority or power over me. It would be embarrassing in front of guests.”

“Rest assured, this model is fully obedient and appropriately subservient. After nearly a decade of service, there have been zero complaints of defiance or insubordination. Its last owners simply couldn’t bear the aesthetics of a Domestic like this. They’ve left glowing reviews of its service, and had it receive additional training in hand washing and minor repairs of delicate clothes. Really, this is a steal, and it’s more than discounted for the cost of a leg.”

“I understand,” Rowan said. “Still, I’m not a very tall man, and this one is just too much for me to handle. Your pitch is good, though, I’m sure you’ll have someone take it off your hands.”

“Of course, we want to make sure that each customer gets a pet that’s best suited for their needs, even if it is at an Opportunity Sale like this. If you’re interested in a shorter Domestic designation, we’ve got one over there with my colleague Dominic.” She pointed to the far end of the Domestic zone, to a tall man in yellow with a pet in a cage beside him. Rowan swallowed disgust once more.

“I’ll go check it out, thanks.”

And he did. He walked slowly, moving deliberately from side to side so his camera captured everything. This included the sight of a Platonic falling to their knees as an electric collar went off around their neck. The would-be purchaser gave a lecherous smile and ran her hand through the panting pet’s hair once the crackle of electricity faded. There would be no fairy tale ending for that unfortunate soul. 

“I saw my colleague Debbie point you over here,” the WRU employee said as Rowan came within earshot of the cage tied to the warehouse floor. “Do you mind if I give you the sales pitch while you look the merchandise over?”

“Well, the fact you’ve got this one in a crate while the others are out and about isn’t promising,” Rowan tried to lament as he gazed through the bars of the cage.  

“Ah, but that’s part of the story.” Already the salesman was working to weave a tale, and it was one Rowan would listen to with well-practiced feigned interest. The man gestured at the crate with an expression of false sorrow before he continued. 

“This one isn’t in a crate because it’s a danger to you. No, it’s a danger to itself, and only then because it’s so stricken by grief. You see, this pet is from our very first Domestic-Care line of products, the latest from WRU in home-care solutions. Its extended training made it perfect for older buyers looking to have a Domestic with a bit of extra training in handling low-complexity medical equipment like wheelchairs, walkers, shower chairs, stair lifts, and more. It was paired with a loving owner, carried out its tasks dutifully, and went years with a perfect record. All check-ins from WRU were met with glowing reviews. 

“Given the opportunity, it follows routines to a degree of meticulousness few of our pets have a predisposition for. Genuinely, this pet has always been one-of-a-kind. However, its owner passed away from circumstances entirely beyond this pet’s control. It went out of its mind with grief, and no matter how many new homes we’ve placed it in, and no matter the attempts we’ve made to re-train it, it escapes and runs right back to its old master’s home.” 

Even now, Rowan could see the pet searching for the door, their eyes following the flow of people in and out of the sales room. The human feelings were there. They always had been, and Rowan could all but feel the grief himself. That panicked searching for a way out, that desire to run into the arms to the person that this human felt they belonged to. A desperation for a door to an old life, a familiar voice, an expected touch. Grief as manifest through complete brainwashed devotion. 

Rowan knew better by now than to let his emotions seep through onto his face.  

“So, it’s a runaway risk. A certain runaway, in fact.” 

“I wouldn’t say anything with certainty,” the employee said with a nerve-tinged laugh. “In fact, the reason this particular model is on the floor today is with the hopes it connects with someone as deeply as it connected with its first owner. There’s no guarantee of that, we know, but it’s worth the shot. We’re hoping the right person will come along today and help them find peace. In the meantime, we’d recommend a home outfitted with windows that lock, and doors that are equipped with biometric verification that the pet can’t bypass.” 

The only peace this pet would find would be its death later this evening. No one in their right mind would take a runaway, not a casual purchaser, and not even a liberation group. The risk of a successful escape was just far too great.

The pet wouldn’t meet Rowan’s eyes even now, as it returned hunting, searching for the familiar face it was expecting. A face that would never come. There was no solace in knowing that soon, for the faithful at least, pet and owner would be reunited. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not equipped to handle a runaway,” Rowan said as he looked up from the crate with a sigh. “Honestly, I feel like these Domestics have just sidetracked me. I was here to look at the Romantics, really.” 

“Then you’ll want to head right behind that curtain over there,” the man said with a gesture to the tall velvet curtains that cordoned off nearly a third of the warehouse. “There are plenty of additional WRU employees there to help you find a model that’s suitable to your needs.” 

With a nod, Rowan turned to walk towards the curtains. He lingered for a moment, just long enough to stick his fingers through the bars of the cage at his side, a chance to let the pet seek out comfort if they wanted. No touch came, and Rowan walked away with a familiar pang in his heart. He knew by now that he was never going to save them all, not yet, but it didn’t ease the pain. 

Another flash of his ID was all it took to get him through the foreboding curtains. WRU absolutely didn’t want families and reporters seeing this side of the system, after all. The Romantics division might have been the second best-selling of all the WRU models, but it was also the most secretive. There was good reason for that. 

As soon as Rowan passed the threshold he was hit with the thick aroma of sex and fear. There was a more sinister atmosphere in the rooms that existed behind the curtain, air heavy with that adrenaline-twinged sweat of broken pets who were fighting for their lives, some being used live for demonstrations on the sales floor. Even after all this time, Rowan’s stomach wasn’t quite accustomed to it. 

He kept his chest forward and shoulders out. That was the best way for his camera to capture the sights and the sounds, because after all, that was the reason he was here. He wasn’t here to save these victims, as much as he wished that was the case. He was here in the hopes that their suffering would give those that came after them a fighting chance, that airing these atrocities to the world would bring the system to its knees one day.

The first sight that drew his attention was a man cinched to a table, an unusual arrangement for even the most “defective” Romantics. There were already two potential buyers there, hands on the naked pet, touching his body and fondling his genitals. The pet was unflinching, his chest rising and falling steadily, lips giving out soft sighs and moans in a practiced rhythm. 

“I didn’t expect this one to be so popular,” the WRU employee said with feigned exclamation as Rowan meandered over. “But young man, you certainly have good taste. This model is one many once would have believed was unsalable, but here, at the Opportunity Sale, it’s being given a second chance. Not only that, but it’s proving to be the center of attention.” 

‘What’s wrong with it?” Rowan asked bluntly, still surveying the scene. Something had to be wrong, and even his own seasoned eyes hadn’t figured it out yet. The pet’s gaze was unfocused, its body still, just as a Romantic was trained to be unless given the command to engage. 

“Another tragedy, I’m afraid.” The salesperson didn’t sound saddened at all. “There was an incident during its training that left it paralyzed from the mid-back down. This means that, as a Romantic, its functions are limited. It can’t sustain an erection anymore, and it can’t engage in certain types of play. However, it's still just as tight as our standard buyers would expect, and its mouth is an absolute dream. You’d be responsible for the additional care costs of a paralyzed pet, but for someone with limited sexual needs of their own, this model will more than fulfill.” 

At least once each Opportunity Sale, Rowan swore to himself that this was finally the time he was going to be sick on the job. He’d see something so horrific that there was no answer except to choke up bile and spit there on the sales floor. He’d likely out himself as a PLF agent in that same breath - after all, who else would be so concerned about the well being of pets? - but it almost didn’t matter. These horrors were too much to witness, much less bear as the victim was bearing them now. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. At least that sales pitch would make a great sound byte for the pet liberation materials. 

“Uh, yeah, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’d definitely want one that’s younger and, uh, more mobile.”

“Understandable,” the salesperson said with a nod. “There are plenty of other options here today that might suit your fancy. Feel free to keep browsing, and as always, you’re welcome to ask a WRU employee for any assistance or further direction.”

“Thanks.”

And Rowan did keep browsing. He browsed carefully, angling his chest to capture all of the angles he could, kneeling down to “inspect” pets that were sprawled naked on the floor. The path he took around the Romantics section was methodical. The disabled pets, the catatonic pets, the ones with abuse written on their skin, Rowan tried to capture them all. When he could he gave their hands what he hoped was a squeeze of comfort - possibly the last they’d receive in their too-short lives. 

He was nearly to the back corner, at which point he’d loop around to the front and make a graceful exit, when he saw another Romantic in a crate.

Unlike all the others, this one made Rowan stop in his tracks.

The man in the crate was young, possibly ten or so years younger than Rowan himself. He had a thick hair of black curls and he was looking through the bars of the crate with searching, hopeful eyes. It was almost like he was waiting for something, someone, to notice him. Most of the pets here were defeated, on their last chance at redemption, already chewed up and spit out. Their spirits had been dampened. Somehow, some way, this one was still fighting. 

It was like a thread in his chest pulled Rowan up to the crate. His feet were moving without him commanding them, unlike anything he’d experienced at a sale like this before. He was caught up in something special, something different, about this victim. 

“You have a good eye,” the saleswoman said with a warm smile. “This is possibly one of the best deals we have on the floor today, so long as you’re willing to be a little patient.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Rowan asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy kneeling almost eagerly behind the bars. 

“Let me start off by saying that this pet is in great physical condition. Not only is it one of the youngest we have here today, it has passed almost all of our physical examinations with flying colors. Its strength, speed, and tactile abilities are within or exceeding our typical parameters. Not only that, but this particular pet has something that is typically reserved for only our most exclusive customers: it has dual training, and is classified as both a Romantic and a Domestic.” 

“That’s not something you typically see at an Opportunity Sale, I suppose,” Rowan pretended to muse. He already knew that what she had said was the truth. Dual-classification pets took many more months of training than single-classification, and it often showed in both the abuses and expenses associated with keeping one. A Dual-classification pet could easily cost as much as a down payment on a house. 

“Exactly why this is such a great opportunity,” the saleswoman beamed. “As a Domestic, it even has specialty training in French cuisine. You’ll be eating like royalty every night if you so please. As a Romantic, its skills and abilities are considered quite standard, with experience in training for light bondage.” 

“So, why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong with it?” 

A sigh. Dramatic, almost despairing. It was an act of practiced sympathy that soured Rowan’s stomach even further. 

“Unfortunately, this one seems incredibly selective with the orders it follows, if it follows them at all. No amount of effort from our most experienced WRU handlers have been able to adequately refurbish it. As I said, its behaviors and capabilities are within or exceeding WRU standards, and it certainly seems eager to please its keepers, but I can make no promises on its compliance with specific commands.”

The boy looked up at Rowan for just a moment before turning his gaze back down. From that brief glance, Rowan wouldn’t have put him a day over twenty-five. But God, he just looked so lost. He didn’t seem lost in the way that many others at the sale today did, that catatonic, too-far-gone glaze over their eyes, the will to live entirely sapped out of them. Instead, it looked like this boy was hunting for something, someone who would notice him, give him attention in return.

Rowan couldn’t help himself. He saw it as a sign that this victim wanted to live, wanted to make it off this floor alive, wanted to connect with any human being that came by and could give him a chance. It was a spark, and against his better judgment, Rowan hoped that he could one day stoke it into a fire. 

“How much?” 

The words left his mouth before he was able to swallow them down. His heart began to race almost instantly: this wasn’t the plan, it was never the plan. He was supposed to get in, take some footage, and get out. He wasn’t trained for anything else. He wasn’t prepared to engage in rescue activities, especially not like this. 

Yet Rowan had never known anything with a certainty such as this: he could not leave here without saving this boy. 

“Wow, you’re won over already?” The saleswoman’s voice was light, but she was already pulling out a clipboard with a stack of paperwork on it. “I haven’t even given you all of its physical details yet. You can’t see quite how tall it is in the crate, can you? Here, let me get you its height, weight, vaccine record, some of its other statistics-” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Rowan managed, almost breathless from the sudden influx of stress. “I want this one. How much?” 

“Because it’s lacking in one of the most essential features of a WRU product, the ability to listen to owner commands, it’s offered at a significant discount. This one is seven thousand and five hundred dollars before tax, and the seven percent state and local sales tax will be applied at checkout. We also have optional add-ons, like the pet care package that insures all well-being visits, vaccines, and dental care at any WRU-sponsored pet clinics, as well as training class vouchers to impart additional skills.” 

Rowan had already retrieved his wallet from his pocket, fingers trembling as he pulled out his ID and method of payment. That was a lot of money, yes, but who was he to put a price on a life? His car could hang on another few years, probably. Maybe. It was just money, he’d be fine. 

“I’ll take the base package. I don’t need anything else.” 

The rest of the sales floor became distant, dull, and Rowan took the pen into his hand as the saleswoman shoved a pile of paperwork in his direction. Tomorrow morning, she said, this boy would be delivered to his front door. Initial on this line, sign here, what’s today’s date? It was a blur and Rowan was hardly aware of what his own hands were doing. 

He couldn’t hear her over the thundering of blood in his ears, and the rush of adrenaline made it hard to steady the pen in his hand. He penned his signature on the final line and the saleswoman congratulated him with words he could hardly make out. It didn’t feel real, like he was walking through a dream. 

Rowan was going to be a pet owner. 

---

The din of conversation in the massive room almost overcame the incessant ringing in the pet’s ears. Not much was capable of drowning it out these days, not since it had become so loud. It never stopped, anymore. 

It couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged all around it, those busy groups of people moving back and forth, their legs passing its crate by without stopping. It had a hard time hearing words, no matter how hard it tried, and whether it was somewhere busy like this or otherwise. It wanted to be good, it wanted to listen, it wanted to make its master and its handlers pleased. But the pet couldn’t do that anymore, and deep in its gut, it knew that’s why it was here today. It was here with all the other pets that were broken, that were missing things, that cried when they were brought into the room this morning. Those pets were bad, and the handlers had no trouble saying as much.

The pet wanted to believe it wasn’t like those broken pets. That it would go back to Master, or have a new master, and be able to please them like a good pet should. But for that to happen it had to be on its best behavior. Handler Green had said so, that the pet would be thrown out if it didn’t try its very best to listen and be good. Handler Green had shouted this over and over, as though the pet was being disobedient just by existing, rather than unable to hear him. It didn’t want to be disobedient, and it wished that the handlers didn’t have to repeat themselves so much. It wished it could hear right, like the other pets were able to.

A pair of legs stopped beside the crate, toes pointed towards the yellow-shirt woman that wasn’t a handler, but the pet was told to behave for nonetheless. The pet looked up, eager to see who might be interested, perhaps someone who wanted it. The man’s eyes met the pet’s, and it quickly averted its gaze back towards the ground, cheeks burning. It was a novice mistake to make eye contact with a person like that. If it didn’t get itself under control, remember its training and very best manners, the pet knew that it was destined to fail. 

Maybe it was a broken pet after all. It certainly had the bruises and scarring from seemingly endless corrections by handlers, anyway. 

Those legs finally walked away and a blanket was thrown over the top of the pet’s crate. It yelped in spite of itself as the darkness descended. Did this mean that it had failed? Was that single glance enough to seal its fate, destined it to never have another Master to serve, no second chance to prove itself? Was this the end - alone, in the dark, unable to hear anything but the shrill ringing that had become its only companion? 

I want to be good, it thought to itself, tears splashing down from its watering eyes to its knees. Its fists balled up, hands shaking from the sadness and the longing. I just want to be good.

---

Taglist (please ask if you would like to be added or removed, I know it's been a while :))

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

[corrodedcoffinfest]

Where the Wild Things Are Masterlist

Thanks to those of you who got wild over here at @corrodedcoffinfest! Everyone who participates in any way help make these events what they are.

This event had 6 total entries from 5 unique participants: 5 Fics, 1 Pieces of Art & 0 Other Works were submitted.

I've updated the big spreadsheet with these newest entries, bringing our current total from all events to 392!

And don't forget to check out our ao3 collection!

Submissions: Fic

i want you to love me like my parrot does, honey by @thisapplepielife | Word Count: 3000 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: Language, Fade to Black Sex | Tags: Modern AU, Flirty Flirting, Mutual Attraction, Getting Together, Animal Shelter Worker Steve Harrington, Exotic Animal Foster Eddie Munson, Annoyed Roommate Gareth Jones

Baby Maria by @mugloversonly | Word Count: 1314 | Rating: G | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader | CW: None | Tags: A Virginia Possum is found

Not In His Nature by @thisapplepielife | Word Count: 3000 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | CW: Language, Recovering From Injuries | POV: Eddie | Relationship(s): Steddie, Eddie & Corroded Coffin, Steve & Dustin | Tags: Bigfoot Eddie, Steve "I've Got Latent Monsterfucker Tendencies" Harrington, Mix and Match and Made Up Lore, Hawkins is Fucking Weird, We All Know That, Canon Divergence, Set Between S3 & S4

Untitled by @keaganz | Word Count: 2410 | Rating: T | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Harringrove, end game Metalsandwich | CW: some swearing | Tags: Upside-Down, S4, Canon divergence, Billy and Robin are platonic soulmates, unreliable narrator because author has a migraine, Demo!Dog Chomp, Steve in the Upside-Down, fade to black implied sex, Eddie has a bisexuality crisis at the worst time, stancy mentioned

stripes by @steddieas-shegoes | Word Count: 954 | Rating: T | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | CW: brief mention of euthanizing an animal but it doesn’t happen | Tags: established steddie, famous corroded coffin, crack treated seriously, Steve is in charge of them but you can decide how

Submissions: Art

Freak with a ferret & Jeff with a tarantula // Gareth with a snake & Eddie with a raccoon by @alicetallula | Medium: Art | Details: Done using ink pens, colored pencils, gel pens, graphite pencils, alcohol marker, acrylic paint pens and Photoshop for the background, t-shirts graphics, the hairs on the tarantula and the Freak's freckles, the scales on the gold python and Gareth's freckles

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: violent ableism and fantasy racism, anti-indigenous racism mention, dehumanization, abuse culture, implied SA/CSA which did not happen but sure would have looked like it to outside parties.]

-

every single time i see someone talk about how the ancients (more specifically the amaurotines, because they always mean the amaurotines) weren't that bad--sure, their society had a few little problems, but overall they were responsible and compassionate and knew what they were doing, and had a good thing going that shouldn't have been interfered with even internally--i think about them turning the violent death of a grieving coworker's disabled daughter, the events of which they mock him for, into a funny story to share around the water cooler.

i think about how someone in a high position of authority, who was in charge of the legal aspect of her existence--of deciding whether she should be euthanized or not, in fact!--ignored blatant red flags for her being sexually abused when he was fully in a position to help. obviously, as fucked as what was happening with meteion was that was not the case. and hermes, i love you. but holy shit is 'haha yeah i made a little girl servant i have complete power over, and didn't register or approve her existence with the government like i'm supposed to. which also would have involved people looking her over. because she's my pet project :)' a REALLY bad look. people should have been investigating him, and the person whose primary job it was to investigate him went 'oh okay, you're an authority figure and i know you so i'll take your word for it :)'

i think about how that authority figure barely remembered she died or even existed, and thought the idea that she could be murdered or should be grieved at all was an odd little thought her quirky dad was self-harming by making such a big deal out of. i think about the fact that these people preen about their ~vigorous intellectual debates~ and ~constructive free exchange of ideas about society,~ and yet after untold thousands of years this idea is such an utterly unthinkable fringe position that supposedly no one has ever heard of it.

(no shade on hythlodaeus enjoyers but holy shit i do NOT like this man, and this is one of the biggest reasons why. jesus fucking christ.)

like i'm sorry but no amount of pretty parks and sharing and being polite and paying lip service to responsible creation, and speaking nicely to children (sometimes) and meaning well (sometimes), and just generally not being a bunch of malicious mustache-twirling cartoon villains, changes the fact that amaurot was a society of cruel evil selfish bastards who had the power to treat the world like their personal toybox and get away with it. and who are also strongly implied to have been colonizers long before the final days, no less. and it horrifies me how it sails over so many people's heads that the entire point of the Nicey Nice Everyone Shares and Gets Along and is Happy is that it's absolutely fucking terrifying how effective they clearly were at stifling any meaningful accountability, opposition, or reform.

(don't get me started on the take i keep seeing everywhere that the amaurotines are analogous to real-life indigenous genocide victims, oh my god do NOT get me started, jesus wept)

like. this isn't just annoyance over incorrect or kind of insensitive takes. the vast majority of the time when i see people try to defend the ancients, they say with their whole chests a mountain of absolutely horrible things--implied or mask off--about real life issues, and seeing things like this reduced down to 'having a few little problems, but really what society doesn't' is just. upsetting. it is really upsetting and i wish it was not such a constant, and that i could find more people actually talking about the nature of amaurot's fuckery without at best getting immediately derailed into SO YOU'RE SAYING THEY SHOULD ALL BE DRAGGED OUT AND SHOT IN THE STREET, IS THAT IT

all this is to say: setting aside any wider-scale events, it boggles my fucking mind that just for that passage alone the fandom as a whole wouldn't cheer hermes on if he started setting people in his vicinity on fire lmao

[moneygramhaasf1team]

Y'all hc time

CW: mention of needles and death

Okay we know of the cutters torch but what it there's a humane way to kill an non faceless engine?

Right so we are aware that a lot of the deaths for engines albeit faceless or not is via the cutters torch but to non faceless engine's that method is inhumane and it leaves the engine's in agonizing pain as its slow. However what if there was another way to kill non faceless engine's. This is where my hc comes in.

There is a special vaccine that has been specially developed and designed to kill/euthanize non faceless engine's. How it works is that it is injected into the non faceless engine and it slowly takes affect by slowing down the engine's mind until it is no longer moving. The vaccine is carried in a little glass vile and is given to the engine via a needle. It is only given out by the non faceless engine's crew.

The vaccine is also permitted to be given to faceless engine's however it's has been modified to slowly cause the engine's parts to seize up, it is quick and painless for us it takes 6 hours to take affect but to the engine who it is dosed to its instantaneous.

The doses are between 20 to 50 ml (UK units) depending on how strong the dose needs to be for the engine.

[cqcophobiq]

cw mention of animal abuse;;

thoughts. I think Hobie used to be afraid of dogs. maybe as a child prior to being bit by the spider

police have historically and continue to use dogs in their work and I believe that the oppressive police force in his world would absolutely use them. I wouldn’t be surprised if they (taking influence from comics here) pump v.e.n.o.m. Into the dogs to make them more powerful and to better utilize them against the people as a form of violence and intimidation tactics. a much younger Hobie doing his best to survive and fight might’ve been at the wrong end of their aggression quite a few times and thus developed a fear/discomfort for them, venom pumped or not

at some point tho he realizes that they are also victims of the system and I can see him breaking into a lab and freeing some potential test subjects. I could see him adopting a failed, due to be euthanized subject himself.

[phoebe-delia]

On the Run

CW: mention of euthanizing an animal (DRARRY DO NOT HARM ANY ANIMALS IN FACT THEY ARE THE GOOD GUYS HERE DO NOT WORRY). For @drarrymicrofic prompt: "just keep driving."

"POTTER!"

Harry startled and banged his head on the roof of his car before turning to see a frantic Draco Malfoy sprinting down the sidewalk.

The shock hardly registered before Malfoy was hurtling himself into the passenger's seat. Harry climbed in frantically, meeting Malfoy's wild eyes with an incredulous look of his own.

"Malfoy what the fuck are you—" it was then that Harry noticed a large, wiggling mass under Malfoy's coat. "Wait. What is that?"

Malfoy grunted as he kept whatever it was under his coat. "None of your business. Now, step on it, would you? Get us out of here."

"Hold on—I'm not a fucking taxi. What on earth are you doing?"

"I'll explain later, just—"

"No! You don't get to just climb into my car uninvited and insist I drive you somewhere without telling me why!"

Malfoy sighed, opening the flaps of his coat to reveal—

"Oh my god—" Harry closed his eyes. "Where did you get that?"

"From this horrid place. How dare they call themselves a shelter. They were going to—" Draco placed his hands over the puppy's ears. "They were going to put him down," he whispered.

Harry's stomach dropped. "That's terrible. But then how—"

"Look, I'll answer the rest of your interrogation later, but for now can we get the fuck out of here before they realize Reginald is gone?"

Harry snorted. "They named it Reginald?"

Malfoy frowned. "I did. It's dignified and—no. I've not got time to argue with you over this. Either step on it or tell me now so I can figure out another way from this Muggle neighborhood without also breaking the Statute."

Harry sighed. "Fine." He started the car, put it in drive, and took off down the road.

He noticed Malfoy visibly relax next to him. "Thank you, Potter."

"No problem. Just—where are we going?"

Malfoy bit his lip. "Just keep driving," he said. "I'll figure it out."

[evita-shelby]

Tie your heart to mine

Chapter 6

Cw: mentions of recreational drug use, mentions of euthanasia

Gif by @damatheirin

She has been here plenty of times and yet she is twice as nervous as she was when she came here for supper the first time.

There is a wariness Douglas hides as Tom calls her his girl.

Tom held her hand, kissed like he meant it and called her his bird.

Bird, she’d come to know meant girlfriend.

“How was your first day at your office?” Lois asked as she helped her with dinner, something Lois had found strange at first but then they fell into the old routine they had before they learned the truth.

She may be richer than God, but she is still Diane.

Something Douglas did not quite believe.

He is just watching out for his kids, she supposed.

He used to like her fine before it all happened, but then again Diane had been lying about herself.

“S’good, I think. No one rioted, it didn’t collapse in a day and by the end of the month, I suppose it will be up to Shelby standards and be ready to change gears at any second now. My mom says it won’t be long before the Nazis take Poland and France.” She says forgetting Harry is in Poland.

It’s nearly July now, her mom gave it till August or September 1st before the second world war officially began.

“Did she see it in the cards, like you do?” Lois asks, hoping she could pretend it wasn’t true.

But her words do catch the men’s attention, especially Douglas who knows Tom may be called to serve.

“Yes, but confirmation came from friends she has in certain places. Germany and Russia are gearing up for grand scale invasions because they know those two countries are not prepared for one let alone the two of them.” Diane answered, seeing Tom in a naval uniform as she set his plate in front of him.

The sight is enough to shock her but hides it because she can’t bear the thought of never seeing him again or him returning a shell of his former self.

“Your Harry will be evacuated, but he’s a translator and those leave when the Embassy stops needing them.” Diane is incapable of being comforting in a way that is not acceptable to anyone who is not a Shelby.

Shelbys like kind words, but also the cold truth.

Rip off the band-aid.

“When I met your dad, he said, ‘Well, at least you get to leave, but you will be fucked in the head like the rest of us for life, I am afraid’.” Douglas said trying to distract Lois who did not take her words as comfort.

Who would anyways.

“When I was ten, he euthanized my filly after it got a disease in its hoofs, he said ‘sweetheart, sometimes death is a kindness’.” She says not helping her case. “I am afraid your Tom has saddled himself with a girl from a family full of freaks.”

“If you ask me, I don’t think he gives a shit about it.” Tom brought himself into the conversation.

“Language, Tom.” Lois chastised playfully, regaining some of her previous cheer by pushing the bad news to the back of her mind.

“As if you didn’t hear her say worse when we all got arrested.” Tom reminds her with that same old grin of his.

Spirits, she is so in love with this boy.

“She’s gonna marry him.” Eva tells her husband after he joined her in her very relaxing bath.

Made more relaxing by that joint of homegrown marijuana she just shared with him.

Better get him too calm to do anything when she has to give him news he doesn’t like.

And right now, Tommy’s only thinking about he’s needed this since their girl went to Manchester with the Lees.

“Yeah, he says he loves her and wouldn’t stop being with her for all the money in the world.” He admits, something Eva only half knew.

She knew about the threat he made because she had to calm him down before he wrecked his entire office.

“And he won’t, they will make a handsome couple, he in his sailor uniform, her in my old dress.” She said seeing them walk out of the courthouse looking so happy and knowing any happiness they have will be what warms them on the lonely nights to come.

“His dad is a pacifist, doubt he’d let the boy j enlist, let alone in the navy.” Tommy snorts before returning the ever-shrinking makeshift cigarette back to her.

“Not going to have a choice, it’s the Navy for prison.” Eva says with a bad feeling.

So much potential and the boy just threw it away.

Everyone told him he was heading nowhere so often Tom Bennett believes it.

A shame he will not realize his own potential until he sees the ugliness of war.

“I just wanted better for our little witch.” He said with a resigned sigh.

“So says any father who wants the best for their child, Tommy.” His wife said softly.

“Do you think our Diane hates me?” he asked hoping for a nice lie.

Except they don’t do sweet sounding lies in this family.

“Got a job today.” He admits it was as if it were some big secret. “Mechanic, a shop with some of mates from school that’s by the pub.”

Just know this, even if you managed to get your head out of your arse, you wouldn’t be worthy of my daughter.

Tom could hear the fucking words every fucking time he was with her.

It gnawed at him.

Yeah, it is one fucking thing to know you are nothing but a bloody nuisance, but it’s another for a fucking stranger to tell you will never be good enough for a girl with free will of her own.

He knows it, alright, but Tom could bet his sorry arse that Thomas fucking Shelby wasn’t good enough for his wife either.

Just like granddad looked at dad the same and just like Tom and his dad know Lois is too good for Harry Chase.

“I’m happy for you, when do you start?” she asks hiding whatever got her give that frightened gasp this evening.

Gets visions or feelings about the future. Not always a bad thing, but if it had been a good thing, she would told them.

If it had been a good thing, Diane wouldn’t be holding on to him like he might die tonight.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll walk you to your factory every morning on my way to work and that.” he answers tracing patterns on the arm draped across his chest.

“I’d like that, might even slip away from my office to see you, Tom.” She gives a quiet chuckle, moving even closer to him.

What in hell had she seen that her like that?

[stevietelevision]

Cw: pet death, image of body, minor mention of pet abuse

As mentioned in my last post, it has become tradition for me to photograph my domestic rats post-mortem in a tasteful way to honor my original rescue rat, Venus.

As of January 20th, 2023, I’d had to make the terrible decision to euthanize two of my girls, Saturn and Jupiter, on the 31st of that same month.

Their respective masses (undiagnosed malignant or benign) had grown to a point of either discomfort or risk of rupture, and it was time to let go and say goodbye.

While I’m grateful they were able to be together in their stress at the vet, I was also heartbroken to see them go, as was my sibling @shsl-blunderer, who favored Saturn for her kisses and sweet personality.

Despite this intense grief, we did our damndest to ensure their fun/possible comfort on their last day.

When they were laid to rest, I continued the tradition of their post mortem photoshoot surrounded with flowers.

I hope you find them as beautiful as I found them during their lifetimes.

[saddlepatchkid]

CW // animal death

So, I’ve said it before, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but I don’t think euthanasia or death is the worst thing to happen to an animal (long-suffering deaths and improperly done euthanasias aside). Im not saying it’s good, and it’s certainly sad, but it’s not bad either-it’s neutral.

I personally find it really uncomfortable how many people in the captivity debate want captivity to persist for unreleasable animals when euthanasia is an accessible and compassionate option. I’m not saying that cetacean rescue and rehab centres shouldn’t exist, but given that euthanasia is commonly employed in every other type of wildlife rescue, I find it… strange that it’s not commonly accepted for cetaceans (among people who debate captivity at least, and both sides too).

Winter’s death reminded me how prevalent this weird subtle anti-euthanasia mindset is among ceta people. And I want to be clear, that Winter’s death is tragic and heartbreaking and that I’m not trying to use her death as a soapbox; as I said, this is something I’ve mentioned before. However I’ve seen several people get huffy about whether or not it was cruel to keep Winter alive, so I think it’s important to bring this point up.

I also want to say that, as an anti-cap, CMA is probably the only facility I respect (despite its flaws), and I do not believe that I or anyone not directly working with Winter could determine what is better for her welfare. I think Winter probably lived a decent life. *I also don’t want people to think that support doesn’t euthanizing animals disabled enough to have a poor quality welfare can in any way be equated to disabled humans, don’t even fucking go there, disabled humans deserve to live and not have abled people call for their deaths thank you*

While I trust that CMA prioritized Winter’s welfare, I also have to admit that I’ve seen ARAs try to save similarly disabled animals and been (rightfully) called out for poor animal welfare (by procaps)-for example, horses and elephants with amputated legs that are given prosthetics. This is cruel, and in these cases the animals should have been euthanized and the resources spent on them distributed to other animals in need. While Winter was not a heavy quadruped, she no doubt developed problems like scoliosis that may have even contributed to her fatal GI problems. For these reasons I also questioned Winter’s situation, but she seemed to do well otherwise, so I wasn’t significantly concerned. It felt like one of those situations that toed the line and either decision can be justified-like an old dog with worsening arthritis, where you can tell the animal is happy but also in pain and you aren’t sure what’s the right decision, cause you don’t want to euthanize a happy healthy animal, but you don’t want an animal to suffer either. I also can’t deny that CMA definitely got publicity and money from Winter, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but to pretend like that isn’t potentially a factor in choosing to keep her alive despite health issues is disingenuous.

I don’t think CMA should have euthanized her instead of rescue, or euthanized her when she developed scoliosis, i don’t have an opinion on her situation at all cause it’s not my position to make those kinds of decisions.

But I also think that euthanasia would not have been the wrong decision. And it does concern me that ceta folks balk so much at the idea that euthanasia is also a kind, potentially even kinder, option for animals like Winter. A good death is always better than a shitty life.

[akuma-homura]

Pet death cw, morbid/gross cw, blood mention, rambling

I know that grief doesn’t go away that quickly, I know the feelings don’t fade away so quickly-- but a day after her death, I really do wish they would. I don’t want to feel sad and tear up and all that. I don’t want to feel sad if I happen to think of Yuki again. I want to be happy that she was even here. I want to think of her happily, even if she’s gone.

I want to fully register that she’s gone, that I won’t see her again, that I won’t hear her knocking on my door in the morning anymore, see her dogging for our food anymore, see her sleep on the couch on her back....

That I won’t be able to pet her anymore... Pat her belly... Throw her squeaky toys and watch her happily chase after them....

We gave her a good life, we did what we could, and-- I don’t know, I don’t know if getting her to a vet earlier would of saved her life, or if they would of wanted to euthanize her because it turned out to be something inevitably fatal and we would of just had to spend who knows how much just to have her die, I don’t know--

It really does hurt, knowing she isn’t here. Knowing she’s gone. It just-- even if she did seem a bit sick, it didn’t-- she deteriorated so quickly and suddenly yesterday, dying--

I’m trying not to feel regrets, like I so often do when someone passes. I did what I could. I made sure she had a comfortable place to sleep in my room, where she wanted to be her last month, for some reason. But when I hear she collapsed in front of my room, I just---

If I had my door open? If I carried her to my room--

But no. She was with my mom, my mom was holding her just earlier before I went to my room. And-- even if my door was open, she wouldn’t of made it inside. She collapsed just before actually reaching my door. And if she was in my room, instead of with mom for that bit--

There’s nothing I could of done. It just... hurts a lot, knowing she was trying to get to my room, before she just... collapsed and died. She still had a slight heartbeat when I checked after hearing my parents sobbing-- I just... hope she knew I was there in those final, final moments. Petting her as I could 

I just. It really felt so sudden. So so sudden. Zacheriah was old, and obviously going to pass soon when he did. Takuya too. Lightning a little too.

Yuki felt... so quick and sudden, just within the past month. She got a little sick-- that’s all it seemed. And she seemed like she was perking up not too long ago too. So there was a little bit of hope--

But then those hopes were dashed. She deteriorated within the day yesterday. And then she died. And blood-- you know how when things die, they apparently. Soil themselves? I don’t know. My mom was holding her body, with a few paper towels on her butt, so she wouldn’t get any poop on her, and just--

...blood. so much blood on that paper towel. 

She didn’t have bloody stools before. But that. It was like it was just blood. Straight up just blood.

I just-- I don’t understand. I wish I at least knew what exactly killed her, in the end. A virus? Bacterial infection? Poisoned(eating something she shouldn’t of)? ...Cancer, with all the bumps she had...?

I wish I knew. I just wish I knew. Some sort of closure on that front. But-- we’ll never know, not really.

She was 12. That’s a long time for a dog, I always hear, but it feels so short when Zacheriah, Takuya, and Lightning were much older. Takuya was-- 14, at the time, I think? Lightning, who was a cat, was 17~18.

We got her in 2009, I remember that. I remember when she was small and in my room with her little box, and I freaked out a little because she kept twitching in her sleep making noises, but it was just her dreaming.

Which she had a frequency of doing, even near the end. I think one of my recent twitch streams caught her doing small lil barks in her sleep.

...

I’m glad I have some good pictures of her, at least. From 2018~2020. One from this year, before she got visibly sick. A couple from 2018 are perfect-- her on her back, they way she would love to lay down-- and the other with her legs on my(?) leg, looking very cute. Also, one with Rose’s butt, Binki, and her, outside. 

...

I’ll miss her. I’ll really miss her. I really miss her. I just want to pet her again, scritch her neck, pat her belly like a belly drum-- 

ha....

[petcareawareness]

I'm not sure if you would be able to answer this, but my country doesnt really have a lot of dog shelters; I saw a video from the dodo and I always feel sceptical abt their claims, where they said that a pregnant dog was set to be euthanized (presumably bc she was pregnant bc they didnt mention any particular health issues) Is that a thing that happens, or is it the dodo being dramatic as per usual?

CW: Talk of euthanasia 

The Dodo is based in the US and mostly “reports” on stories within the US, and I work at a shelter within the US, so I’m mostly talking about the US here.

There are still shelters that do have to euthanize for space in the US. I would imagine that a dog who is pregnant would either have a shorter stray hold (the period in which a shelter holds an animal for the owner to find it) or would be more likely to be euthanized for space earlier due to the higher amount of care the dog (and her eventual puppies) would need and due to the longer length of stay she would need to give birth and then raise and wean puppies. The shelter environment is also highly stressful and stress both pre and post birth can effect the puppies behavior in a negative way. If I worked at a shelter that had to euthanize for space, I would be inclined to euthanize a behaviorally normal pregnant dog over a behaviorally normal non pregnant dog due to average length of stay, cost of care, chances of complications during birth which might have you lose the mother dog and puppies anyway, amount of dogs increasing when the dog gives birth, and higher chances of her producing behaviorally abnormal animals from stress in the shelter.

I actually took a look at the story on the Dodo’s page. It looks like the dog was pulled from a shelter in California and I recognize the kennel card shown of the dog in the video as one of the Los Angeles County shelters. All of them are open admission and many do have to euthanize for space. The dog also appears quite late term in the footage, so possibility for a spay-abort is slim.

The language used in the video is quite sensational, which is the usual for The Dodo. The woman says, “She was on the kill list. They were gonna euthanize her when she was pregnant!” It would not surprise me if the shelter was going to euthanize her because they ran out of space, the dog was pregnant and therefore has a lower adoptability, and decided to euthanize. But it also would not surprise me if The Dodo was sensationalizing and adding “details” to garner more views.

The unfortunate reality of working at a shelter that has to euthanize for space is often that you have to choose to euthanize dogs who have higher costs of care and lengths of stay in favor of dogs who have lower costs of care and average lengths of stay. But the tone of the video sheds a bad light on these shelters who are simply doing the best with the resources that they have and completely ignores the fact that shelter workers are people who deeply care about animals too and likely don’t want to have to euthanize a pregnant animal, but their hand is forced.

-Mod Frost

[fallingstormphoenix]

StarWitch Facts

cw: sex mention

An average Adult Starwitches height is 3.5 feet, and weigh 60-75 lbs

Normal lifespan is 40-50 years as most are euthanized for health issues or because their owners are too old to keep them anymore. They’re considered to be in their prime from 15-30 years old.

Starwitches are very susceptible to fevers and normal human diseases like colds or the flu can be fatal to them.

A show Starwitch’s horns must be no more that 1 shade lighter than their hair to be qualified for show.

Sexual assault against a Starwitch will cause their powers to weaken. Consensual sex with a Starwitch can cause them to permanently bond their magic with their partner.

Female witches of all variations have curled horns and males have straight short horns. Trans witches can slowly manipulate their horns to grow the desired direction via devices that force the horn to become curled or straight.

Starwitches get power from the stars and night sky, things like meteor showers and comets give them a boost. A total eclipse means they’re unable to recharge until the sky is clear again.