#animal enclosure

[iliketoseeeverythinginneon]

Instagram: iliketoseeeverythinginneon

[the-great-dumpster-fire]

New tortoise parent here, I've had my Herman's tortoise, Sheldon since late January, I've been doing independent research on what types of enclosures are best for my little guy, currently it's pretty basic. I'm actually a bit sad about how bare bones it is, there's very little enrichment for him, but ever time I try to put any plants in his home he crushes them. Should I try to put larger more established plants in, so far what I've tried has been some pretty small. I've also been wanting to put some rocks in his enclosure as well but whenever I look up what types of rocks to put in the information is conflicting. I have a decent amount of smooth river stoned I've thoroughly cleaned, but I want to be sure they're safe before I put them in. I don't want to use fake plants because I'm worried he'd try to eat them. Anyone have advice, I just want to give my dude the best home I can. He means a lot to me.

[sleepy-bebby]

[whats-in-a-sentence]

In one of these a staple and chain with a quantity of gnawed bones showed where the animal had been confined.

"The Illustrated Sherlock Holmes Treasury" - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

[thestuffmybraincomesupwith]

August 30, 2023

Apparently I had 3 dreams this night, and managed to catch them all down between waking up.

Dream: Scenery was all in muted blue tones. Was running errands or delivering things around the city. Wanted to apply to be a librarian next to Lake Michigan but it didn't pay enough.

Scenery was in muted light green tones. Something about visiting my grandmother's and compete to keep plants alive. Scenery was in color washed/faded tones, like the way old old color movies are.

Then I was a pony/a pokemon turned human as an illegal science experiment, and I was being tested on by the scientists that did it. I was in an outdoor pen arena pretending to be oblivious to the fact that I was a human and running around on all fours and licking water out of a puddle/in ground pond. I pretended to poop like an animal but I was wearing clothes but they could tell that I actually hadn't pooped anyways. I sniffed along a set of different food troughs. All the spectators started leaving because it was "over".

I tried to escape with the help of a sympathetic spectator, the wife of some important rich guy. The head scientist caught us and forced me, the "dumb animal" back down, which i had to continue pretending to be and let it happen or i would blow my cover. She was reprimanded and he made her leave. Something was tipped over in the ocean from their arena seats over a banister, can't remember what but it was important to me. I know there was more, but I don't remember.

[barksbog]

Fresh Meat !!

i have limited preorders for theses magnetic meat beasts open

barks-bog.com/shop

[luvissues]

hmm thinking about simon x reader, except he’s finally found someone who might be a little fucked up too, just not in the way he’s used to

cw: smoking, drugs/medication ?? sort of

He’s used to the problems that soldiers like himself face; the world-weary men hardened by their work. He’s used to the permanent shadows etched deep under his Captain’s eyes and the way the Sergeants will reach for a holster on their thigh that isn’t there. He’s used to the ringing in his ears that comes by when he isn’t surrounded by the cacophony of war and the erratic jump of his heart when he goes about without a mask on. He’s accustomed to it now.

That’s not to say he isn’t welcoming to other things- he can laugh at a bar after a long mission, he can find comfort in the familiarity of a team. He’s put in the effort not to turn so completely numb to the world, but he’s not entirely normal, either. Always at an arms length from embracing a life outside of his work, a firm line in the sand.

Sometimes, he wonders. Wonders what it might be like the remove the distance, to welcome that life. He knows it’s possible. He sees the thick metal band around Price’s finger and the wrinkled corners of photos tucked away in Johnny’s pocket. He sees how eager Gaz is to pack up for home after a mission- too excited to be going back to an ‘empty’ house. It’s possible, maybe, but it’s a far and foreign concept.

There’s nothing about him that would draw in the kind of softness he craves. Nothing about the puckered silver lines that highlight his face or the patches of mangled flesh on his body that would appeal to a partner. He tries to tell himself that it’s just his body; the wounds that never fully healed. Tells himself that any person would be scared of a man with such a build, all hulking height and weight.

He knows it’s not just the body, at the end of the day, but he can tell himself otherwise. He’ll pretend the vacancy of his eyes or the way he gets put on edge by even the quiet ticking of a clock isn’t a part of it. He’ll pretend the way he wakes up at night, sweating and delirious and maybe too eager to fight enemies that aren’t there, isn’t a part of it.

That’s his problem. No matter where he is, no matter how safe or secure, he will always be one of the world-weary men.

His teammates had learned how to reel it in. They learned not to flinch at every unexpected touch of their lovers’ hand, learned how to keep their night terrors at bay. They learned how to soothe, how to comfort. They taught themselves it all, had built that life aside from their work. That’s the concept Simon couldn’t ever seem to perfect.

Simon doesn’t expect a sweet little bird to fall right into his lap. People know better than to pry open the jaws of a hungry animal, to offer themselves up- to loosen the shackles of a needy dog and let it get close. But maybe he doesn’t need a sweet little bird. Maybe he needs you.

He needs someone who’s a little roughed up, who’s not so fragile that he has to worry about breaking them for simply getting too close.

I’d like to think this person would’ve had bad luck, too. Someone who was never quite enough, even if they weren’t marred by war. Someone like Simon, who people knew not to get too friendly with. Another hungry mutt.

You two aren’t exactly the same. He sees the way you try to fill up space when you’re out smoking on the porch. Sees the muscles of your shoulders flex when you straighten your back, fix your posture. He sees how little you feel, and how you compensate for it physically.

He’s the opposite. Broad shoulders hunched in and back arched down. One foot crossed over the other, his head low. He knows he takes up too much space, and tries to cave in to make up for it. In that way, you compliment each other. Opposites, yes, but the space you fill is now equal.

Simon watches the skinny cigarette that dangles off your fingers, observes the flex of your knuckles when you bring it up for a drag. The motion is slow, languid, unlike the way his thick digits clench the cig in his own hand. He curls the muscles tight, willing them to shrink. The way you let your fingers twiddle and stretch freely is nothing like the way he attempts to conceal his own hands, rough and scarred and dirty. Still, maybe in that way, you compliment each other.

In the same manner, Simon will always observe the way you fish your pill box from your bag when it’s time to take your meds. Nothing about it is hurried. The way you tilt the metal open, the dosage falling into your palm. He watches you flutter around in search of something to wash it down with, as if you have all the time in the world.

You, in turn, ignore Simon when he takes his. Ignore how the bottles are stuffed at the bottom of his bag, how he closes his eyes when they slide into his mouth. You turn an eye to the way he swallows them dry, like if he takes them fast enough, he might forget they were even there.

The way you act is not the same, no. But you follow the same motions, have put the same distance between yourselves and a normal life. Maybe you could help each other finally close that gap?

It’s hard. Part of Simon is still afraid that you’re fragile, even with the space you’re not scared to take up. He’s scared that he’s accidentally caught a fleeting little bird, and he’s scared that one day, he will grow too much. He will crush it.

The man who tries to hide away from himself is dreading the day his grip loosens, and he again fills too much space. It will suffocate you. It will choke you out. Either the blood caked under his nails or the soot weighing heavy in his lungs or the flashes of gunfire he still sees when he lets his eyes slip closed for too long- something. He will fail, and even if he is accustomed to it, you could never be. That’s what will suffocate you, he thinks. All the things that have deterred everyone so far will eventually turn you away, too.

Simon’s problem is mistaking your dainty grace for weakness; but the pills you take, the heavy clouds of smoke- it’s no different from himself.

So what if there’s a bow tied around the knife you keep under your pillow? A knife is a knife. It’s a weapon as good as any. And with the gun he keeps on the bedside table, your room is perfectly secure.

Your cigarettes go next to each other on the counter and your pills go side by side in the medicine cabinet. Your knife rests safely under his head and his gun is nestled perfectly within your reach.

Maybe you can’t ever fix each other. Maybe the distance towards a normal life will never be closed. But, Simon never did think he’d end up with a little bird. Maybe it’s better if he has someone like you, another lousy hound, to take his hand.

[radicalredrasp]

I just want a continuity where they’re happy

IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK FOR?!? 🥺

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Lackadaisy Enrichment

[bakudekublogblog]

kacchan just touching izuku is sending me into a spiral idk how I’m gonna survive when they actually hold hands

[jadafitch]

Outdoor cats kill over 2 BILLION birds every year! Here's some illustrations I did for National Audubon Society of a few catios on the market. A great way to keep cats happy, and birds alive!

Audubon Article

[emp-t-man]

hoouugh. oh god. gabriel urbina just posted about his process on twitter and i can feel the hyperfixation coming back. i mean it never left but. oh god. i fucking love this show

[iheartwillwood]

Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure give me him now