#Pet ashes

[luwonderlands]

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[fullmetalharmony]

A cosplay compilation ✨️ this isn't everything that I've done over the last two years, just a few highlights! I'm still very much at the beginning of my cosplay journey, but I have big plans for the next year!

Uh hi 👋 I didn't realize y'all would like this so much. Feel free to follow me on IG and Tiktok if you want regular cosplay updates! I'm @fullmetalharmony on both

[ashesurnsjewellery]

Pets hold a special place in our hearts, and as pet owners, we often consider them beloved family members. However, when a pet dies, the loss can be overwhelming, leaving pet owners feeling disconnected from reality, consumed by grief and loneliness. Pet memorial jewellery offers solace in their quest to hold onto something that keeps them closer to their departed companion. These exquisite jewellery pieces allow individuals to carry a token of their pet's ashes, providing comfort and serving as a lasting symbol of remembrance.

The Significance of Pet Memorial Jewellery: Crafted by skilled artisans, pet memorial jewellery is designed to safely and securely hold a small portion of a pet's ashes. These pieces have discreet chambers that elegantly conceal the ashes while offering customers a range of styles and patterns. Popular designs such as paw prints capture the essence of the beloved furry friend.

A Trusted Way to Feel Closer: As pets are considered integral members of our families, it is only natural to desire to keep them close even after they have passed away. Pet memorial jewellery bridges the physical and emotional realms, allowing pet owners to maintain a sense of connection with their departed pets. By wearing these unique pieces, they can bring forth the beautiful memories shared with their pets, offering comfort during the grieving process.

Preserving Precious Memories: Pet memorial jewellery is a poignant reminder of the joyful moments spent with our furry companions. Each time we glance at the piece, we are transported back to the love and happiness we experienced together.

[athena-ash-photography]

Upsi-daisey

The girls do turns in their sleep to get comfortable.

[ashdoeswhump]

Tws: dehumanisation, conditioning, abuse, intimate whumper, pet whump, basically just all the whumpy stuff that comes with pet whump and nonhuman whumpees

Animalistic and nonhuman whumpees hit just right.

Nonhuman whumpee with claws and fangs and wings and horns and fur. Does whumper tear these off? Use them to pin whumpee down? Slide a knife along them, not hard enough to pierce, but enough to draw blood, enough to hurt? Put them on display for their friends? Does caretaker know how to look after their nonhuman traits? Are they gentle, so gentle, with them? Do these things get in caretaker's way so they keep accidentally knocking it? Does caretaker preen whumpee's wings, polish their horns, trim their claws when they're too weak to do it themselves?

Werewolf whumpee who looks perfectly human most of the time, but who are constantly punished for the one night they don't. Does whumper keep them on a chain? Treat them like a dog? Make them sleep outside and eat out of a bowl without their hands? Keep them surrounded by silver at all times? How does caretaker deal with it? Do they find a way to keep whumpee calm during full moons? Are they forced to keep whumpee locked up every month for everyone's safety, whumpee's included? Do they give whumpee a blanket and a hug and some hot chocolate afterwards?

Avian whumpee who struggles with speech but can make other noises just fine. Do they squawk when whumper hurts them? Does whumper force them to sing? Feed them nothing but seeds and nuts? Keep them locked in a hanging cage? Keep them outside but chained down so they can't fly away? Does caretaker build them a nest out of blankets and pillows? Let them out whenever they want? Encourage them to fly, only for them to fall back to the ground and hurt themself because they haven't flown in so long? Bandage and heal their battered and broken wings?

What about whumpees who aren't nonhuman, but have had their humanity stripped away?

Guard dog whumpee forced to stay outside. Does whumper make them pace around the perimeter of their property all day and night without breaks? Punish them when they pause for even a second? Only let them sleep once or twice a week because when they're asleep, the place is undefended? Does caretaker have to train this out of them because the only way to remove this conditioning is more conditioning? Do they help whumpee rest? Are they so, so relieved when whumpee goes to sleep by themself for the first time?

Lapdog whumpee who's made to cuddle with whumper. Does whumper make them sleep in their bed? Have them curl up on their lap while watching TV or reading a book? Comfort them after or during punishment? Does caretaker have to learn what sorts of touch whumpee can and can't endure? Do they have to sedate whumpee anytime they need to carry them somewhere because they're too weak to walk by themself but starts shoving any time they're touched? Is it an upwards battle, getting whumpee to associate touch with genuine care? Or is whumpee so relieved to be out, or so conditioned, that they'd do anything caretaker asks without question or complaint? How long does it take caretaker to realise this isn't them healing, but the conditioning going on?

Living weapon whumpee who isn't allowed thoughts or morals, only obedience? Does whumper force them to kill people they know during training? Keep them muzzled and hooded to hide their identity? Punish them when their face shows what they're thinking or feeling? Is caretaker afraid or horrified or disgusted of them at first? Do they have to teach whumpee that they're a person and that they're their own person? Do they have to keep weapons away from them because whumpee will think caretaker wants them to kill someone?

What noises do they make? Do they hiss or snarl when they're scared? Let out a barking yelp or a squawk when they're hurt? Whimper or whine when they're nervous? Purr when they're happy? How much of this is taught and conditioned into them, and how much is natural? Are they afraid of making human noises, or do they wish more than anything that they could speak?

There's just so many possibilities with this trope, I love it.

[love-is-a-pearl]

good thing about journeys not giving me proper dawn focused episodes is that i can just make stuff like this and say its canon

[spyral-out-keep-going]

Ash got neutered yesterday. Picked him up & the vet tech told me it was funny how he was sitting - it was his chillaxing pose lol. He was just doing his thing

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

For vaggie that spear is her support animal/therapist

For charlie, it's a rival she'd like to throw in lava but can't cause, it's vaggies support 'animal'

silly headcanon plot twist- Charlie's jealously at the spear ISN'T silly or irrational at all, it's a subconscious manifestation of Charlie's desperation for her girlfriend to actually open up emotionally to HER instead of to a WEAPON, confide fears and problems in CHARLIE, and a very frustrated, very also-emotionally-constipated-in-her-own-way Charlie doesn't wanna pin that frustration on Vaggie directly so she deflects all her anger to the spear, which as an inanimate objects, can't get any hurt feelings over this or decide Charlie is too much and dump her

we've done it. we've cracked the silly headcanon and found the angst waiting underneath XD XD XD

or maybe the above is all just what the hazbin crew speculates together, in their weekly "there's no way those two idiots don't have shit going on in their relationship" chaggie hotel gossip meet-ups

[lumpywhump]

a whumpee with no name

subject

Thing

pet

my love

#(serial number)

weapon

ashtray

trash

whatever you want, but you need a scene where caretaker asks whumpee their name. Where whumpee has no reply. Whumpee knows what whumper used to call them, but they don't want caretaker to call them that. It's not their name. Just a title. But, then what should people call whumpee?

I'll leave the fluffy scene of caretaker helping whumpee figure out a name to your imagination.

[luwonderlands]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CskTBcxrJHS/?igshid=MTc4MmM1YmI2Ng==

[frostedpuffs]

inky LOOOOVEESS his lil flower water fountain. out of the three Hydration Stations i have, he only drinks out of the flower fountain. not even the other nice water fountain. as soon as i got the flower fountain it's the only one he drinks from!!! he is a special boy. A FLOWER BOY!

illustration of the DINK

[bonefall]

On the topic of Flight Rising (as a fellow FR enjoyer) I'm curious what flight(s) you've been in? If you dont want to share thats fair but it's interesting to hear peoples reasonings. I joined in the early days of sign up windows, didn't have internet and got put in Lightning by a friend who made the account for me. It has been years and years, don't even know that friend anymore and am still a die hard Spark.

I was actually a Light flight to begin with! Which is another thing that must be an Absolute Shocker, I'm sure. Girlboything who likes writing was in the flight well known for being full of weird writers.

My move was to the Wind flight because minty green is my favorite color. I do love the aesthetic of the wind, the kites, and the traveling, but I'm actually saving up gems to go to Earth next. I think I vibe the most with its lore, even though its scenery is a little uggo. I love how many cities are there, I love the idea of the crypts and the hidden treasures, preserving and documenting history.

I kinda wish you got a free flight change every like... 5 years. That's more than long enough to be fair I think. I've been playing since 2016 which is actually 8 years so... idk give me free flight change. let me out. im literally from the travel guys let me travel

[pigeonwhumps]

Cry for help

BBU masterlist

Taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump @augustofwhump

August of Whump day 2: IV | shock | cry for help

Melanie finds an abandoned pet on a street corner.

670 words

CWs: BBU, pet whump, abandonment, left to die, starvation, muzzle, collar, neglect, abuse, burn, blood, non-sexual nudity

Melanie scowls when she sees the large, battered crate at the end of the road. How are wheelchairs and buggies supposed to get past that?

She pauses to take a photo, and that's when she hears it.

A muffled thud is coming from the direction of the crate.

She frowns and tiptoes closer.

Thud.

A fist on wood.

Thud.

Melanie glances around. Nobody else in sight. She examines the crate more closely. It really is extremely battered. The sides are starting to cave in and she'll definitely get splinters if she touches it, but it's still structurally sound.

Just.

To a person as weak as those thumps imply.

Thud.

It's even quieter this time.

She touches the crate, flinching away automatically at the sharp scratch. Then she goes back in. The lid is fitted, and as she yanks it out the wood cracks.

Inside... inside, oh, god. She should've guessed from the size of the crate.

Their hair is matted and so thick with grime and dirt that she can't even begin to guess what colour it is. She'd think they were dead if it hadn't been for the weak knocking, if it wasn't for the head slowly raising to look at her, bony arm reaching out, hand outstretched. She fancies she can taste the desperation.

"Oh shit," Melanie breathes. Oh, shit. She reaches out and touches the pet's hand. They shudder but attempt to grip, thumb pressing lightly into the side of her hand.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, just in case just in case just in case, she reaches out with her free hand, hooks it under their shoulder, and pulls.

They whimper, a tiny sound that Melanie can only hear because she's pulled them right against her side. They both sink to the ground, Melanie's knees protesting at the all-too-familiar position, and the pet flops there, boneless, shivering, pressing their thumb in further in what's perhaps an attempt to hold on. The other arm is still curled protectively into their body.

"Sorry." She lifts their hair back from their face. "Can you show me your arm?"

Melanie's struck by the large, dark eyes that look up at her then, the pleading and desperation, the sheer agony in them. Permanent tear tracks are etched into the grime on their face, the same grime and blood and whatever else that doesn't bear thinking about that covers the rest of their body.

There's a muzzle, too. The worn leather and rusting metal are pressed into the pet's face, caked on with blood and dirt. Their collar is the same way.

She can't focus on that now though. There's nothing she can do, she can't remove them without at least a makeshift first aid kit on hand, and even if she could she can't risk the pet making such a noise that the police are called. And then she might be arrested for stealing a pet and then and then and then.

She can't let that happen.

She takes a deep breath. The pet uncurls their arm.

They would've had a barcode tattooed there once, but now... she shudders, hard. Their forearm is blistered and weeping, clearly untreated, uncovered, left to become infected in the dirt of that old, rotting crate.

Oh, shit.

She sets the pet (person, person, person) down, rising stiffly into a crouch. It's not really a conscious movement when she picks them up again, settling them in her arms. They turn into the warmth of her chest, still shivering.

One of the only good things to come out of those years, she supposes, is that she's now strong enough to carry people. Although... that wasn't those years, was it? It was all the ones that came after.

"It's okay. I'll try to help you, I promise."

She's not sure when she made the decision, but she's made up her mind. She's going to do for them what Tara did for her thirty years ago.

She's going to give this person a home.

[athena-ash-photography]

3 cats on my bed!

I'm so glad Goji is getting used to the kittens! It warms my heart! ❤️

[purple-pigeon-art]

Glad i got the rest of my pigeons over here. Heres Ashe soaking up some sun

[pastafossa]

Pet loss below the cut.

Cato was my cat. That's the long and short of it.

From the first night I had him when he curled up against my neck to fall asleep with me, to his final night when he curled up on my chest to try and comfort me, there is not a single day I've been home that I haven't had my kitten chow with me. He was my tiny shadow, always trotting along after me or singing at me from around the house with that long Siamese wail or bringing me scores of socks he hid god knows where (although once he brought me an entire umbrella instead, which he was understandably proud of). He was by my pillow every night cuddled up against my arm, and we fit together like two puzzle pieces, like that little crook in my arm was designed for him, for his exact shape and size. He was with me through my health issues, through high school and college, through moving states, through covid, through tears, through the loss of other pets. He was there as I really learned to write, and there is not a single chapter of TRT that was written without his presence for at least a section of it even if it meant I had to stop editing or writing for a bit and just stare at the words instead because he wanted to be held NOW. And he even managed to hold off the cancer just long enough to walk with me through mom's hospital stay and her return home. I was his person, and he was my soul cat, a piece of me.

I was so torn last night. He was clearly in pain, dehydrated, wobbly, confused and restless, and couldn't get to the litter box. It had been really clear this week the moment was coming, that the cancer was going to take him soon. I'd had this big plan, to have it all happen at home in peace. He hated the vet, hated the stress, but it happened so fast, and I just... knew he couldn't wait for the vet's office to open so she could come here. He'd chosen his time and it was now.

I held him at the emergency vet when they gave him the sedative. I managed to choke out that silly singing tone that always made him happy, as I called him every last nickname he knew: my Cato-wato kitten chow, my Cato kins, my little Mr. meow meow, my sweet happy baby kitty. I made sure all he could see with those big beautiful blue eyes of his was me, as I petted his soft little ears and scratched his neck just the way he liked. And he actually managed to purr for me. He purred as he slipped away and the lights went out, and it was the last sound I ever got to hear from him.

I already miss you so, so much, my sweet old kitty, my Cato kitten chow. I'm sorry it couldn't be at home. But thank you for purring for me. Thank you for spending your journey with me. Thank you for the love you gave me. Thank you for the big meows and the headbonks and perching on my shoulder to interrupt with a breaking news story of Meow Meow. Thank you for the stealing of hundreds of my socks over 16 years and the way you always wanted to sit on me regardless of convenience or your own comfort. Thank you for letting me scoop you up for head smoochies, guarding me from nightmares, and solemnly supervising over 150 chapters of TRT. My soul cat, my baby kitty, my lovebug. I will always love and miss you. And one day I'll see you again.