#human death

[dreacky]

Yoo…. I TRIED to do Death’s humanisation…

Actually I liked that I have done-

ESPECIALLY FOR THIS ONE AHAHHAHSHAHSH

[yestoeverything]

A snap was all it took One command In one phrase  everything I knew Went away like the wind. Passing through memories of laughter and tears away with it. Everything about my life was destroyed by those who were stronger than me. Those who can fly through the stars without much effort.  destroying themselves inside and out. While we are the idiots in the middle  I never looked through the human perspectives on alien invasion movies and always thought they were dumb as rocks not to see the aliens coming a million miles away. Still, now I understand.  I lived through that  and survived  sometimes I wonder if I deserved it. The only reason I survived is because others took the fall for me  it was all chance. My life was by chance. I thought we could kill them then maybe it would make up for the families they took Take their laughter back We did the second but never the first While they laughed and hunted us for sport We hunted them because we were scared of being the sport again. they chuckled at stories that will never be told again Then they ran when we began to attack We are hypocrites but at least we knew that. they tried to kidnap the whole world so they made one phrase one command then In one snap, everything was gone.

[melikochan]

Horizon Big Bang: First Blood

Title: First Blood Rating: M (bordering on T) Artist: @kimbus-the-whimbus Summary: Hunting bandits with Nil is nothing like fighting for her life at the Proving. As Aloy creeps through the tall grass, death in her sights, she hesitates. The prospect of murdering someone in cold blood throws her back to her childhood with Rost…and her first human kill.

@horizonbigbang

[alterboyx]

What is going on??

I saw the shocking headline of this article, but upon reading it, I'm pretty confused?

This is about a funeral home that does environmentally-friendly return to nature burials, meaning no embalming and decomposing in open, natural conditions. This is a completely safe and respectable practice that has had to fight hard to be allowed, since the US funeral business is deeply misguided at best. My gut reaction is "well shit, now it's going to bring even more unnecessary restrictions and negativity to the practice." But of course, if a funeral home of any kind is desecrating corpses, it's an issue that needs to be addressed.

Okay, that sounds bad, but...it sounds like they just weren't stored embalmed or frozen? Is this just the area the funeral home uses to let the bodies begin to decay? Or are they actively desecrating corpses?

I'm not sure what the rash is supposed to mean. One of the people at the scene got a rash and someone looked at it. Is this a biohazard situation? Is this dangerous? Or did someone just. Get a random rash?

And my favorite part,

Wait, YOU DON'T KNOW IF A CRIME HAS BEEN COMMITTED? They are saying how they'll have to do extensive DNA testing to identify all the bodies and it will take months. I don't know if that means the home didn't keep track of who was laid where, but after this big scary article, they don't even have a suggested crime that has been committed here? I'm not saying there couldn't be something nefarious going on, but right now it kinda sounds like the funeral home was doing their normal practice and people busted in to disrupt the graves?

I am not an expert in the laws around this by any means and cannot personally vouch for the funeral home but I'm confused as to what the actual problem is??? But don't worry, they are going ahead and declaring it a disaster and an emergency. wtf

[faytelumos]

A Good Girl's Eulogy

cw: real death; animal and human death mentions

---

On August 28th last year, some time around 5pm, my family's 18 year old chow/shepherd mix took her last breath.

When we first got her, she fit comfortably in my mom's hands. She was the runt, and mom had picked her out for that fact. The runt of the litter doesn't always get adopted, she said. While us kids and Dad were at home, fawning over our new baby, Mom went to get bowls, food, and toys. Us kids went to bed and Dad watched the puppy, the gears in his mechanic's brain working, and when Mom got back, he looked up to her, our new family member in his lap.

"We have two choices for her name. Diesel, or International."

Diesel was smart, and maybe all dog owners think theirs is unusually intelligent, but our girl was clever.

By the time Diesel was a "teenager" she knew we didn't like her out of the yard alone. She belonged in the back yard when there wasn't anyone around to watch over her, since the front yard was completely unfenced and open to the neighborhood. Every day, when Mom got up, she would let Diesel into the back yard to do her business, and ten or so minutes later, would call Diesel back into the house for breakfast. Every single day, this was the pattern. And one day, Mom strayed from that pattern to look out into the front yard.

And there was Diesel, casually patrolling the front yard, unattended.

Shocked, Mom had headed to the back yard, but by the time she got around the side of the house, Diesel, too, was in the back yard.

We learned that day that she had found a hole in the fence, and more than likely was taking daily constitutionals into the front yard, perhaps to check up on things or watch birds, before returning to the back yard to be collected for breakfast. If she ever had any more sneaky escapades or excursions, we never caught her.

We adopted other dogs, who became Diesel's companions and fellow family members in her adulthood. A stocky little thing that had been surrendered to us from another family (we gave him a Nicholas name after a US president) a tiny pup we had gotten from a local breeder (who we also gave an automotive name) and another tiny breed who we adopted from a home that couldn't care for him anymore (named after a color).

Diesel was always the biggest by far, tall and strong. She was dominant in personality and in charge, and she often led the others around the yard here and there to anything that was interesting or required attention.

She didn't need a leash if a human was with her. She started one-sided fights with President, chased rabbits and birds, always came when she was called, knew how to shake hands, and you could pat your chest to get her to jump up, put her paws on you, and gives kisses.

She deserved more love than we gave her.

Dad played fetch with her, took her for rides in the truck, and called her his good dog. He was outside working often, and they spent time together when she wasn't exploring or checking things out with the others. She'd sit with him inside in the evening, and he'd give her scritches.

Five years ago, he died suddenly. I lived out of state. The police officer on my mom's doorstep told her she didn't want to see the body.

A lot happened in that week. I asked myself more than once if Diesel knew he was gone. I came and visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Three years ago, Diesel got very sick.

Mom wasn't sure she'd make it through the weekend, and I dropped everything again to return. She was sixteen at the time. She had been a part of my family for sixteen years, and I stopped just short of telling my boss and coworkers that my sister was dying.

She was his dog, Mom wept over the phone.

When I got into the house, she was in a sorry state; skin and bone, her strength sapped as she lay on the living room floor. She hadn't eaten in two days, and she'd stopped drinking that morning. I couldn't have imagine it, not from the girl who had been a powerhouse and boss over her huge back yard not so long ago.

I gave her bland food to coax her to eat, and overnight she seemed to gain ten pounds. I took her to the vet, told them where she hurt and to be careful of her temper, and then took her home. The appointment that, three days ago, had been for her final breath, turned into a prescription for antibiotics. But at her age and in her state, chemotherapy and surgery wasn't an option. So we let that battle go.

I came, visited, and then went back to the life I had left paused.

Last year, another call.

She's really bad. I think this is it.

Tell her I'm coming. Tell her I'll be there tomorrow.

I silently hoped I could perform that miracle twice.

She was so thin. She wobbled on her back feet, toes getting caught as she walked. She coughed, raspy and rough. I picked her up, my once 60 pound firecracker, and she let me carry her upstairs so mom could give her a bath in the tub.

I laid with her for hours, two towels wrapped over her and curled up against her back so she didn't shiver as she dried.

The vet came to us. A new, affordable program for geriatric or terminally ill dogs. I made sure Mom would get her ashes back. Because we'd had her for eighteen years, and she was going to stay with us now forever.

The other dogs and all of us kids and mom held her and stroked her. The vet was so kind, and we all watched as our beloved girl let go of her pain.

I carried her, wrapped in my dad's favorite blanket, to the back of the vet's car. There were two other bundles in the back. Small, and tenderly covered.

I watched her go, and I stayed in the street after she'd turned the corner.

[sleepybite]

[great-and-small]

My grandfather and my godfather (a beloved neighbor and dear family friend) had a long standing bet- for one dollar- about who would die first. Both of them being slightly pessimistic (in the funny way), they both insisted that they themselves would be the first to die. Any time my grandfather had a health scare, he’d gleefully call up my godfather to boast that he’d be passing “any day now” and he was sure to win the bet. It was a big family joke and they were always amiably sparring and comparing notes about who was in worse shape, medically speaking.

When my grandfather was in hospice care dying of liver cancer, my godfather was quite ill also. It took him great effort to make the journey to see his dying friend. As he came into the room, supported by a family member, he shuffled to my grandpa’s bedside and silently handed him a dollar bill. He was ceding his loss of the bet, as they both knew who was going first. My grandpa had been in quite bad shape for a while and was no longer able to speak but let me tell you he snatched that dollar with unexpected strength and literally laughed aloud. He knew exactly what the gesture meant and he couldn’t help but find the humor within the grief. It was the last time any of us heard my grandpa laugh, as he passed shortly after.

When I talk about my appreciation for “dark humor” I’m not so much thinking about edgy jokes, but rather the human instinct to somehow, impossibly, both find and appreciate the absurdity that is so often folded into the profound grief of life and death. When I tell this story I think it kind of perturbs people sometimes, but it’s honestly one of my favorite memories about two men I really deeply admired. I could never hope for anything more than for my loved ones to remember me laughing until the very end, and taking joy in a little joke as one of my final acts.

[noknowshame]

why is religious Christmas imagery all so joyful and pleasant? where is the inherent horror of the birth of Christ? A mother is handed her newborn child, wailing and innocent. Her hands come away sticky. Red. Simply by giving her son life she has already killed him. He is doomed from the beginning. Her love will not save him from suffering. Because the thing cradled in her arms is not a baby, it is a sacrifice: born amongst the other bleating animals whose blood will one day be spilled in the name of what demands it. the night is silent with anticipation. Mary, did you know? That your womb was also a grave?

[bedrock-to-buildheight]

Death the farmer vs an orphan, a depressed alcoholic, and a rancher

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[hussyknee]

[hey-there-22]

I love how the TARDIS had a human form with eleven and she was like "my thief, my thief, I love my thief" BUT FAILED TO MENTION THE GOD OF DEATH HAD BEEN IN HER BACK FOR DECADES.

[lyss-butterscotch]

The art of violence

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Yandere!Dragon Hybrid that protects his pregnant mate with violence, ready to tear apart anyone that comes close to where they’re nesting.

He’s keeping you on his bulging cock to keep both of you warm as the snow rages on outside.

Soft purrs leave his throat, his claws running over your swollen belly as his scarlet eyes stare down at you with utter adoration. Cumming inside is the only option for him! You have to be claimed after all!

The decorations in the cave are a bit unsettling, but you get used to the human skulls and bones of unknown origin eventually.

Besides that, it’s quite beautiful, with jewels and gold glittering all around, he’s quite proud when you take notice of his hoard, and adores to ravish you when you’re wearing some of the treasure he’s collected!

Only the finest silk and softest blankets are used to build your nest, along with fabrics he’s cum all over! After all, his scent should soothe you, he’s your mate!

Defending you and keeping you safe are his top priorities. He’ll bring home his kills like a house cat bringing you a mouse, confused on why you cry and scream when he drops a mauled human in front of you.

He worked so hard to protect you, don’t you love him? Aren’t you proud? It hurts his feelings a little… but he once heard from a human that happy wife equals a happy life, so he spoils you to make up for it.

Pampering you comes at a close second on his list of priorities.

Your belly is so swollen with his child that eventually, walking becomes hard! He does everything for you. Hunting, cooking, bathing you, it’s all to show his love and utter devotion to you, his everything.

[gardengnosticator]

the dprk is one of the many countries in the west where you are actively and constantly pushed to be openly racist towards 24/7, 365

[redvelvetwishtree]