#pet headstones for dogs

[memorialslab]

Engraved Photographic Granite Pet Memorial Stones with Photo for outdoor garden cremation headstone - Granite is durable and can handle the outdoors in any climate. Learn more Pet Headstones

[mudwerks]

A walk through the pet cemetery

[yeahiwasintheshit]

[hislittleraincloud]

Sorry to hear about your dog, babes :( 🫂

Mmn, thanks. Been 😭 on and off since he passed a week ago. They didn't have any openings for a private witnessed cremation until today.

Normally I would love cemeteries. Not today (I couldn't sleep at all last night), though I did get a crapload of photos of interesting pet headstones. People got a lot of money to burn for their babies.

[scotianostra]

Edinburgh Castle's dog cemetery.

Looking down to the wee graveyard last week.

Hidden within the grounds of Edinburgh Castle, a dedicated dog cemetery may be the landmark's strangest feature.

There are a huge number of fascinating historical stories hidden within the walls of Edinburgh Castle, but perhaps none so curious and touching as the tale behind the castle’s dog cemetery.

The small green space is thought to have originally been the site of a medieval tower, but since 1840 it has been the final resting place for regimental mascots or honoured dogs belonging to high-ranking soldiers.

The cemetery is referenced in this verse from the Scottish Bard, Robert Burns:

”Berkin dugs here lie at rest ”The yappin worst, obedient best ”Sodgers pets and mascots tae ”Still the guard the castle to this day.

One of only two like it in Scotland, the unique graveyard is home to more than 20 headstones.

Sadly, several of the inscriptions have worn away over the last century or so, probably thanks to Edinburgh’s signature chilly, wet and windy weather.

Of the engravings still visible, the oldest dates back to 1881 - a dedication to Jess, band pet of the Black Watch 42nd Royal Highlanders.

The newest headstone in the cemetery belongs to Winkle, the “dear and faithful friend of Lady Gow and the Governor”, who died in 1980.

Other faithful pups laid to rest here include Yum Yum, Tim and Dobbler, who travelled as far as China, Sri Lanka and South Africa with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders.

These days, visitors to the castle cannot enter the cemetery, but it can be viewed from above, like I did.

[froody]

I talked to the vet today and I’m finally ready to start making funerary arrangements for Tommy. I’m going to shill out the $200 to have her buried in a local pet cemetery. I walked around it and I loved it a lot. There was the grave of a dog who died in 1987 with fresh flowers on it. There’s something heartwarming about knowing there are other owners who continue to grieve and never ‘forget’ the way pet owners are expected to. It’ll be nice to have a place to go to to visit her. She has to have a headstone so I’m thinking of epitaphs. The burial and headstone will cost $230+ dollars but I think it’s worth it. I’m going to cost the pet funeral home sometime soon.

The other two options are cremation (also surprisingly expensive?) or burying her in the yard which I don’t like because I won’t live in this house forever.

[hareofhrair]

Edith Finch Timeline

So I'm still organizing my theories (honestly they're more like a list of unanswered questions than a coherent theory right now) but I think my timeline is pretty much complete now that I've had a chance to go back through the pet cemetery and add all those in.

I do some wild speculating about Odin here that has no canon basis, just spinning ideas.

Things to notice- Just how many deaths happen on or very near birthdays. Not always the birthday of the person who dies and not every time, but suspiciously often.

The pets almost seem to fill in the years when no one human died? Like everything in this game it's nothing definitive enough to base a solid theory on, but it is odd.

TIMELINE

1439 - Earliest possible beginning of the Finch Family Curse based on the Odin viewmaster reel, as this is 500 years prior to the invention of the first viewmaster.

1445 - If the Odin viewmaster is the Model E made in 1955 (which I think it is), this is the start of the curse instead. Not much is happening in Norway during this period, but Vlad the Impaler was at the top of his game this year?

~About 7 generations of Finches dying horribly happens here.~

1880 - Odin is born. At some point between now and his death he writes "The Mysteries of Death and the Thereafter" and "Joining the Great Majority" which both appear to be books about the afterlife.

1896 - Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration begins with the Belgian Antarctic Expedition and won't end till after WWI. Expeditions are marked by depression, starvation, insanity and scurvy. Many famous expeditions are made by Norwegian teams. Odin is 16.

1911 - A Norwegian expedition is first to reach the South Pole. The British Scott expedition chasing the same goal are lost. Odin is 31.

28 July 1914 - WWI begins, Odin is 34. Norway, "The Neutral Ally", remains neutral on the war but due to economic pressure from Britain commits its merchant marine fleet (one of the largest in the world) to Britain's service. Half the fleet is sunk and 2000 seamen are killed. If Odin was a sailor, he likely served. Alternatively, he may have been one of the wealthy merchants who profited greatly during the war. He clearly has a great deal of money to burn by 1937.

June 17 1915 - Sven is born.

April 8, 1917 - Edie is born.

1935 - At some point between now and Dec 1937, Edie and Sven marry and Sven takes Edith's last name.

1936 - Ingeborg and her newborn Johann Finch die in an unknown manner. Odin is 56, Edie is 19, Sven is 17.

Jan 7 1937 - Odin sets sail for Washington.

Dec 1937 - Arrival on Orcas Island, death of Odin at 57. Molly is born, on the boat? In the Old House? Sven and Edie build the cemetery, and then the house.

1938 - Churpy the budgie joins the family.

1939 - Invention of the viewmaster, earliest point the Odin story could have been recorded.

Sep 1939 - Sep 1945 - WWII. Sven was 24, and may have served or been drafted.

1940 - Burpy the house finch joins the family.

1941 - Churpy dies.

1947 - Christopher the goldfish joins the family.

Oct 31 1947 - Halloween Baby Barbara

Sometime between 1937 and 1947 - Molly's unnamed gerbil joins the family.

Dec 13 1947 - Molly dies of apparent poisoning after eating mistletoe berries, on or very near her 10th bday. She relates hallucinating having become several animals, most notably a cat. Christopher the fish dies shortly after. The fate of her unnamed gerbil is unrecorded, as none of the unattributed headstones are of the right age, but presumably it dies eventually.

1948 - Burpy dies at 8.

April 25 1950 - Sam and Calvin are born.

Aug 26 1952 - Walter is born.

1952 - Lurpy the Cockatiel joins the family.

1955 - Viewmaster Model E released- If this is the one used for Odin's story, that puts the beginning of the curse at 1455.

1956 - Lucy the dog joins the family.

1959 - Bailey the (???) joins the family.

Oct 31 1960 - Barbara dies, allegedly murdered, on her 16th bday. Her boyfriend Rick disappears the same night. The version of her death shared in the game is notably extremely unreliable and raises numerous questions. Rick is seen in a leg cast using crutches. Walter is 8, Sam and Calvin are 10 and notably absent from reported events.

Sept 23 1961 - Calvin dies at 11 falling from a cliff. He is seen wearing a weathered and heavily autographed leg cast. His model shows him with a black eye and several cuts.

1962 - Zoe the (???) joins the family.

1963 - Lurpy dies at 11. (Cockatiels have a life expectancy of 20-25 years)

Aug 26 1964 - Sven dies on Walter's 12th bday, while making a dragon shaped slide. He's 49.

1968 - Walter enters the bunker. He's 16. Durpy the Dove joins the family.

May 7 1968 - Dawn is born.

1969 - Lucy the dog dies.

June 20 1969 - Gus is born.

1970 - Zoe dies

1971 - Purply the Budgie joins the family.

1974 - Coco the (???) joins the family.

Jan 12 1976 - Gregory is born

Dec 7 1977 - Kay files for divorce after arguing with Sam about the curse.

Dec 19 1977 - Gregory drowns in the bath a month before his 2nd bday

1978 - Shadow the cat joins the family.

1979 - Purply dies at 8.

1980 - Rob the Bearded Dragon joins the family. Bob the Snake joins the family.

1981 - Durpy dies at 13.

1982 - Oliver the rabbit joins the family.

Nov 8 1982 - Gus dies, crushed by debris from a storm during Sam's wedding to an unnamed woman.

July 16 1983 - Sam dies, kicked off a cliff by a deer. Dawn is 15.

1984 - Bob dies at 4.

1985 - Daisy the (???) joins the family.

1986-87 Dawn goes to India, meets Sanjay.

1988 - Shadow the cat dies.

Dec 27 1988 - Lewis is born. Furpy joins the family. Tucker the (???) joins the family

1989 - Oliver the rabbit dies.

1991 - Rob dies at 10. Furpy dies.

1992 - Zurpy the Owl joins the family.

May 19 1992 - Milton is born.

1993 - Charlie the cat joins the family. Daisy dies.

1994 - Durpy Jr the Dove joins the family.

1995 - Zurpy dies at 3. Schatzi the (???) joins the family.

Feb 14 1999 - Valentine's Baby Edith. Lowest tide in a thousand years allegedly allows Edie to access the Old House. At some point between now and Nov 2010, three unnamed gerbils join the family, and then die.

Feb 22 2002 - Sanjay dies in an earthquake, eight days after Edith's 3rd bday, Dawn and children return to Finch House. Dawn writes "To Teach and To Learn" at some point in the next few years. At some point between now and 2010, Dawn probably finds a stray cat and names it Molly.

Oct 23 2003 - Milton disappears.

Late 2003 to Early 2004 - Dawn searches for Milton, eventually gives up and seals the rooms for unknown reasons.

March 31 2005 - Walter leaves the bunker and dies, allegedly hit by a train. There are several strange inconsistencies surrounding the circumstances of his death.

2006 - Durpy Jr dies at 12.

2009 - Schatzi dies

Nov 21 2010 - Lewis dies of apparent suicide one month before his 22nd bday.

Nov 28 2010 - A week after Lewis's death, Dawn informs Edie they are leaving the house. After Edie attempts to give Edith a book containing a story about their family which Dawn violently rips away, Dawn flees the house with Edith immediately, leaving Edie and all her belongings behind.

(Molly the cat is not mentioned in regards to the move, so she may have died by this point, but she is not listed in the graveyard, so it's possible she was simply left behind. There is a taxidermy calico in Sam's room, but Sam was dead before Molly could reasonably have joined the family, so this is unlikely to be her. A cat is seen outside human Molly's room in 2016, which may prove she's still alive- but she'd be around 14 years old. An unlikely age for a cat abandoned outdoors for 7 years.)

Nov 29 2010 - Edie is found dead by nursing care workers, and may have killed herself by combining alcohol with her medication, intentionally or otherwise. She's 93, the only member of her family to live longer than her father, who died at 57.

Dec 5 2010 - The date on Edie's tombstone, a week after when she supposedly died.

May (around the 12-18th?) 2016 - Edith becomes pregnant.

Oct 12 2016 - Dawn dies of a chronic illness at 48. Edith is 16 and about 6 months pregnant.

Oct 13 - 19 2016 - Edith returns to the Finch House at 22 weeks pregnant.

Jan 18 2017 - Edith dies in childbirth a month before her 18th bday. Christopher is born (possibly named for Molly's goldfish?).

2027? - At some point in the future, a young Christopher returns to the house, which has changed since the last time it was seen. He is wearing a cast.

A note on unrecorded pets- There are additionally 5 (possibly 6?) unmarked pet graves in the cemetery. One of the blank stones presumably belongs to Rob the bearded dragon, who has a memorial in Edie's room but no gravestone. One is marked as a fish and another is a rabbit, with no names or dates. One is a knocked over and unreadable sign of the same kind used for the birds, indicating it may be an otherwise unrecorded bird. There is also a statue of a frog- the knocked over sign may instead refer to an unrecorded pet frog, or the frog statue might be a separate gravestone, or simply a decoration. This leaves one blank headstone with no indication of what might lie beneath it. Let's assume it's a mass grave for gerbils.

[rozcdust]

Bitten - Fighting dog aftermath

Pairing: Bonten x Reader, Pet shop trio x reader

Genre: Angst

Trigger warnings: Gore, death, description of rot, OOC, body horror, maggots, suicide, depression

Kazutora, Baji and Chifuyu held hope.

They truly did, after all, you said you’ll be coming back in a day, maybe two, tops, so when you didn’t come back home the first night, they didn’t worry too much.

You’ll come back home the day after that.

Kazutora cleaned your room, changing the sheets and wiping off any dust that may have lingered, taking great care to put the few belongings you’ve accumulated over the month back into their place.

Chifuyu took to cooking and baking, he knew how much you enjoyed the food he prepared every time, even if you were used to fancy restaurants and food prepared by a private chef, you always scarfed down whatever meal he prepared like a starved wolf, but all he could do is laugh when you sheepishly apologised for your lack of manners.

He tried to ignore your remark that your boss kept you on a strict and well monitored meal plan.

If he thought about it too much, he just might find the fucker himself and kill him with his bare hands.

And Baji took to decorating, he had a good eye and plenty of patience to busy himself with colleague paper and pretty ribbons, making a banner in your favourite colours, taking care that each letter was perfect, each line precise, each and every word carefully crafted, having checked the spelling with both Chifuyu and Kazutora twice.

‘Welcome home’

It’s been months, and your room is still as clean as ever, an extra plate on the table always set, the banner carefully stored in a pretty box in a cupboard for your arrival.

You never came back home.

But they held hope.

Until they no longer could.

Until it was the anniversary of Shinichiro’s death, and Kazutora went to pay his respects, even if he felt unworthy of doing so, his therapist encouraged it, as did Baji and Chifuyu, so he went, a pack of cigarettes and a beer in his hands as an offering.

He didn’t get very far.

The plot next to the Sano family grave has been empty ever since Kazutora can remember, a blank headstone standing tall and proud and empty.*

It holds a name now, the grave recently washed, fresh bluebells and orchid flowers neatly places in each of the vases to the side of the headstone.

In his absent minded curiosity, Kazutora glances over the name etched on the stone.

It feels like he’s been shot.

Kazutora, Baji and Chifuyu hope no more.

It took Mochi and Kakucho both holding Ran back to not kill Kokonoi on the spot.

“Ran, he didn’t kill her! Calm down, this won’t solve shit!” Kakucho tried to not sound as desperate as he felt, but as Ran tried his best to wrestle out of his grasp, he couldn’t help it.

“LIKE HELL HE DIDN’T KILL HER! IF HE WASN’T SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT, SHE WOULDN’T DO THIS! SHE’D NEVER DO THIS!” Ran’s voice was a crescendo, a mangled cacophony of rage and sobs as he tried to get Kakucho and Mochi to let him go, to release him so he could strangle Kokonoi with his bare fucking hands.

Kokonoi merely stood there, pressed to the wall, staring down at the floor, a blank look on his face.

Sanzu and Rindou were in much of the same state, processing, or at least trying to, not understanding a thing and yet seeing it all too well.

“SHE WAS A KID! FUCK’S SAKE, SHE WAS BARELY 22! AND YOU KILLED HER! YOU KILLED HER!”

You’re dead.

You killed yourself, and now you’re gone forever, and they could have done nothing to stop it.

If Rindou could cry, he would.

But he can’t.

He doesn’t understand why- He saw you yesterday. He held you and your flesh was still warm and soft and you were smiling, admitting you missed him.

And Mikey?

Mikey sat in his office, stripping out of the filthy clothes, wiping off your blood off his face and hands, but the screaming was loud enough for him to hear every word perfectly.

His face was blank.

He told them you killed yourself.

Of course they wouldn’t believe just his word, well, the Haitanis wouldn’t, not without proof, but a security camera was conveniently set up on the roof.

No audio.

In just the perfect angle.

It clearly showed you screaming at Mikey, you screamed and you yelled and cried and then you hugged him goodbye killed yourself in his arms, who could ever blame him?

It was a suicide, plain and simple.

Ran and Rindou could never blame him, no one could, after all, he was the biggest victim of your little spectacle, he was the one the most harmed, he was the most hurt.

You set him up, you took out your heart, carefully prepared it for eating and forced him to take a bite.

Innocent.

Innocent, like graffitied eyes on a wall during a robbery gone wrong.

He was innocent, with your blood staining his face, and no will ever know.

He’s innocent, it was a blameless crime.

He’s innocent.

The water ran pink.

Kokonoi sits on your shared bed, staring into space, eyes and face dry as a bone.

He sees shadows at the corner of his eyes, feels like his lungs are full of river water and moss and he feels as rotten as meat left outside during summer heat and maybe in some other life he was a fox mangled on the side of the road and you were a soft girl who picked him up and saved him.

Maybe in some other life, the two of you would be happy.

He doesn’t know what he is even, not without you by his side, after all, you were such an intertwined part of his life, you were there for such a long time and now you’re rotting like the fox, mangled on the side of the road.

Who were you?

What was he?

How did you come to love him? Why did you love him? Why did he love you? Why was he still breathing? Where did his heartbeat go-

He presses his fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse.

He’s dead as well.

Why did he have such an affinity for loving dead things?

The sheets smell like you, but he still sees your corpse in his mind’s eye, eyes glazed over and a small smile on your face covered in blood and grey matter.

Mikey sits nearby, swinging his legs on the rooftop and refuses to look at you.

Kokonoi can’t close his eyes because he knows he’ll see Ran and Rindou screaming, knocking Kakucho away from you, Rindou’s fists pounding on Kakucho as Ran sobs, clutching your body, begging you to forgive them, hours after you’ve gone cold and rigour mortis already set in.

He couldn’t even approach, he didn’t deserve to.

He turned on his heel and left while Mikey finally opened his damn mouth to tell Sanzu and Kakucho to get rid of you.

You made yourself soft for Koko, and now you’re dead, and you looked fine just the day before, not happy but forgiving, with such a soft smile on your face that he thought he might have died.

He doesn’t even have photos of you. Not even any videos to remember you by, he has nothing left of you at all.

You have left all of your belongings in this flat, and yet all he has left is grief.

He stands up from the bed, legs shaky, to let water run into the bathtub.

Ran and Rindou don’t talk.

Ran spends the days in his bed, sheets filthy and smelling of sweat but he doesn’t have the energy to get up, doesn’t have the energy to move nor shower nor change his sheets.

He sleeps, your lighter clutched in his fist much like a child having a nightmare holds their plush toy and Ran refuses to wake up and he refuses to move.

He failed you.

He should have forced you to flee Tokyo, should have forced you to stay right in his arms where you were just a few days ago and never let you go to Kokonoi, to Mikey, never let you out of his sights again.

You were his precious little thing, his friend and the apple of his eye, a love he only held for Rindou and you, you meant something Ran couldn’t describe.

You are now nothing but a bloodless god in your tomb, and Ran’s love has run dry.

Rindou is God knows where.

Ran can only pray he’s not following your footsteps.

He wishes he had the energy to go and check, but he feels like a slab of meat on a butcher’s hook and he can’t move and does he still have a heartbeat and is he still breathing and he can’t breathe he can’t breathe does he still have a heartbeat is he still alive-

Ran grips your lighter until it’s etched into the skin of his palm.

Rindou is kneeling before you, an offering of your favourite food and a cup of bubble tea standing in front of him.

He’s grieving, grieving and grieving constantly and he grieves what you could have been and what you was and-

He can almost hear the sound of funeral bells and there is a bird chirping and-

So many ands.

Rindou curls up next to your grave and wishes he could hold you like he once used to, when the two of you were on a mission and came back exhausted without the strength to drive or call a cab and just crashed on the couch inside Ran’s office, covered in grime and gore and the two of you curled up into each other like a pair of kittens.

He still has that photo somewhere.

He wishes humans weren’t so fragile and that you weren’t born into a slaughterhouse.

He glances at your tombstone and closes his eyes, wishing to remember your face and your scent and your laugh forever.

He hopes you’re happy as nature devours you, bringing you back to rot, back to dust.

The steady trickle of alcohol down his throat is as familiar as the lines of his scars, darkness creeping into his room, ringing in his ears practically deafening and he can still hear his own damn thoughts so he opens another bottle and throws the cap of a pill bottle somewhere to the side and he drinks.

Sanzu hopes he’ll die tonight, and so he drinks and he bleeds and he prays to go back to that day in Kokonoi’s office.

How long ago was it? A month? Maybe two? It feels like years have passed.

He’s sure he has already died as a woman approached, standing just in front of him.

“I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”

She smiles, shaking her head as her fingers softly rub the back of the body on the ground, passing through it, and Sanzu flinches.

It feels like knives and her fingers are cold and it’s as if she reached into his spine and is trying to rip it out.

His body.

“I think you overdosed.” She shrugged, as if it was the simplest explanation ever, pulling a stand of his hair out of the body’s face, “I’m not even really here, after all, I’m dead, Haruchiyo. Or maybe I am here, who could tell? It’s confusing.”

“I miss you.”

Her eyes flicker to his, an eyebrow raising in a familiar motion, her face sceptical.

It feels so familiar yet so foreign, as if her features are melting but coming back together when he blinks.

As if she is wrong.

He feels his brain sounding off alarms.

“Do you?”

He doesn’t even dare open his mouth.

“Come on, Haru, not time to cry yet. I only recently started rotting. I believe the maggots got to my eyes, but they’re not done quite yet.”

He flinches at the words, the tone, the melting smile on your face.

You look only a touch away.

He reaches for you, and his hands pass right through you.

He blinks.

You’re gone.

And you won’t come back this time

Taglist:

@sugusshi @yukihime-mikeys-girl @cielastrae @missarabellla @justiceforvillains @wakasa-wifey @kikis-writing-service @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sup-zfam @toobsessedsstuff @screwlogic101 @netzukochannn @lagrimasdeglitter-blog @angsty-microwave @dilf-city @aces-high

a/n: surprise? idk broskis uni’s killing me 😭

[peeetlovers]

Six Things You Need to Know When Your Dog Dies

The loss of a beloved dog is a deeply emotional and challenging experience. Knowing what steps to take and understanding the processes involved can help you navigate this difficult time with a bit more ease and clarity. Here are six crucial things you need to know when your dog dies, presented in detail to provide comprehensive guidance.

1. Immediate Steps to Take

Verify the Death

First, confirm that your dog has indeed passed away. Look for the absence of breathing and a heartbeat, and check for unresponsive pupils. If you are unsure, contact your veterinarian immediately for confirmation.

Handle the Body with Care

If your dog has died at home, handle the body with respect and care. Wear gloves and gently wrap your dog in a blanket or sheet. Place the body on a waterproof surface or in a cool area to delay decomposition until you decide on the next steps.

2. Notify Your Veterinarian

Seek Professional Guidance

Contact your veterinarian as soon as possible. They can confirm the death if needed and provide advice on handling the remains. Vets can also discuss options such as cremation, burial, or other memorial services.

Consider Medical Records

Your veterinarian can help you manage your dog’s medical records. This can be important if you decide to have an autopsy performed to understand the cause of death, which might be necessary for certain health or breeding considerations.

3. Understand Your Options for Handling the Remains

Home Burial

If you choose to bury your dog at home, check local laws and regulations to ensure it’s allowed. Select an appropriate location on your property, away from water sources and high-traffic areas. Dig a grave that is at least 3 to 4 feet deep to prevent other animals from disturbing it.

Cremation

Cremation is a common and respectful option. There are two types: communal cremation, where multiple pets are cremated together, and individual cremation, where your pet is cremated alone, and the ashes are returned to you. Discuss these options with your vet or a pet crematorium.

Pet Cemeteries

Pet cemeteries offer a professional and dignified place to bury your dog. They provide services such as burial plots, headstones, and maintenance. This option can give you a permanent place to visit and remember your pet.

4. Consider a Memorial

Create a Lasting Tribute

Creating a memorial can help you process your grief and honor your dog's memory. Options include planting a tree or garden in their favorite spot, making a donation to an animal charity in their name, or creating a scrapbook or photo album of cherished memories.

Personal Items

Keep some of your dog's personal items, such as their collar, tags, or a favorite toy, as keepsakes. These items can provide comfort and a tangible connection to your pet.

5. Understand the Grieving Process

Allow Yourself to Grieve

Grief is a natural response to loss, and it's important to allow yourself to feel and process your emotions. Everyone grieves differently, so take the time you need. Surround yourself with supportive friends and family who understand your loss.

Seek Support

Consider joining a pet loss support group or talking to a counselor who specializes in grief. Sharing your feelings with others who have experienced similar losses can be incredibly therapeutic and provide valuable support.

6. Plan for the Future

Reflect on Future Pet Ownership

After the loss of a dog, some people choose to get another pet, while others may need more time. Reflect on your feelings and consider when or if you are ready for a new companion. Each pet is unique, and adopting another should feel like the right decision for you.

Learn from the Experience

Consider what you learned from your time with your dog and how it can inform future pet ownership. Whether it's medical care, training, or lifestyle adjustments, use this knowledge to provide an even better environment for any future pets.

Losing a dog is an incredibly painful experience, but understanding these six key aspects can help you navigate through the process with more clarity and support. From handling the immediate steps and consulting with your veterinarian, to making decisions about memorials and understanding the grieving process, being informed can provide some solace during this challenging time. Remember to seek support and take the time you need to honor the memory of your beloved pet.

[confusedkittensposts]

Adventures of Meowley (part 2)

POV Castiel

Please refer to this post for notes

Part 1

“Here you go”, a cherry middle aged waitress placed his coffee cup on the table, taking his attention away from the band that was playing soft lively music across the street. 

“Thank you”, he smiled politely at her, a little amused by her curious gaze.  

Castiel watched the waitress walk back into the cafe, he had opted to sit at one of the tables outside. Mostly to enjoy the band.

He stirred his coffee, watching people take time to stop and listen to the music, some even dancing with their companions. 

This city was lively, with old fashioned buildings decorated with plants and colorful fabrics draped above the streets. The Seraph picked his cup, taking his attention back to artists as the song notes began to climb. 

He had made a habit of escaping to little corners of the world whenever he could. If only to remind himself  pain and despair were just a part of the world and not all there's to it. 

The performance ended on a high note and inCastiel joined the others clapping and cheering the group. He left the money for coffee and a tip, under his empty cup. 

He strolled the streets under the slanting rays of the setting sun. even visited an occult shop, and while the owner was undoubtedly human, she had managed to gain three hexed objects, hopefully her business will do better without them affecting it.

The seraph was watching a dog run circles between his owner’s feet as she bought flowers when he felt a supernatural presence, he let his grace warp around his, making himself invisible to humans around him. 

He looked around smiling when he spotted Charlotte coming near him. 

Charlotte was the youngest hound of Crowley’s pack and the first he had managed to befriend. To be fair,  his relation with the hounds depends on his relationship with Crowley, they are fiercely loyal to their king, and the demon is just as protective.

He placed his hands on her, scratching and petting behind her ears, the sides of her face, down to whatever part of her neck he could reach. 

“Hey Cas.”  “Hello.”

There was an undercurrent of anxiety around the hound but Castiel refrained from questioning her, knowing if they were in danger Charlotte would not have waited to tell him.

The hellhound leaned into his touch for a moment before pulling back, “Papa wants you to meet him at the graveyard.”

Castiel nodded.

The graveyard was located in an insignificant village of south america, It was spread across a large area of land, near the forest and dotted with old trees and moss covered headstones. Crowley used the place as a playground for  his hounds.

Charlotte took his leave, without any further information, saying she had another message to deliver. The seraph flew to the cemetery. 

Imogen, Ophelia, Friar stood in a loose semi circle near a bench not far from Castiel. They turned, feeling his presence, parting their circle.

On the bench, in front of the hounds, sitting gracefully, was a large black Cat. 

His head tilted to a side as he regarded the familiar demonic form of Crowley crammed in the little  furry vessel. The cat looked right back at him with warm amber coloured eyes. ‘Hello feathers’, the cat flicked his tail once, otherwise remaining completely still.

“Crowley?” Castiel walked closer to him, “why are you a cat?”

"Haven’t you heard? it’s the newest fashion”, he rolled his eyes, almost impressed by the amount of sarcasm Crowley filled in the few words. 

“What happened?”, the seraph asked, absently reaching to scratch behind Friar’s ears. 

The cat meowed loud and indignant, clearly unhappy with the question, “Had a little run in with my dear mother. She seems to think she has a sense of humor.”

A part of Castiel thought so too, but telling that to the demon was unlikely to end well. 

The seraph felt her presence a moment before Juliet ran into the graveyard, her powerful paws leaving deep imprints in the soft soil.

The hound was anxious and agitated much like Charlotte, it made him wonder how exactly the latest confrontation between Crowley and Rowena had gone down. 

“Castiel”, the hellhound nodded at him, before turning to the king of hell and relaying the news she had brought. 

The seraph listened to her report with half a mind; his hand twitched with the urge to know just how soft the Cat’s or well, Crowley's fur would feel. The thought was ridiculous And dangerous, if the waves of irritation he could feel rolling off the cat shaped demon was anything to go by. He idly wondered if getting scratched to death would be worth it.

“Feathers?” 

“Huh”, the seraph broke out of his thoughts, to see everyone looking at him. “Sorry,” he shook his head, “what?”

“My demons found the witch.” 

“And you need my help to have her reverse the spell.” 

“If it's not too much of a bother”

“Of course not.”

Castiel stood in a botanical garden slash nursery somewhere in Washington, Rowena was picking some herbs from.

“I hate flying”, Juliet grumbled beside him, shaking herself. “Can’t share your complain today, darling”

The Seraph smiled at the Cat nestled in his arms, Crowley hadn’t been happy when he scooped his small form up, but by now the demon had made himself comfortable.

Angels fly between planes, Demons teleport, but Hounds run between the planes, so he isn’t surprised Juliet isn’t thrilled to travel with him. But they needed to catch Rowena before she leaves the place.

The witch must have felt his presence, because she was waiting for them in a quiet corner of the emptying garden. “Hello, tweetie pie”, her red lips pulled into a grin. 

Both Juliet and Crowey growled, almost drowning Castiel’s quiet greeting. 

“Fergus!”, The witch quickly walked towards them, reaching for the demon. The Seraph took a few steps back, pulling away from her.

“Rowena”, Castiel’s voice rang through the plants, a hint of his true voice laced the words. The witch stopped where she was, her smile dropped into a smirk and her eyes turned sharp. Beside him, Juliet calmed down. 

“You are no fun, Angel. Maybe-

“Just remove the spell, will you?”, Crowley cut her off, much to Castiel's relief. 

“Why would I ever do that? that looks suits you” Rowena looked between the demon and the Seraph, “I will be happy to take him off your hands.”

“Just reverse the spell and you can walk out of here alive.” Castiel was in no mood to play games with the witch, a sentiment she unfortunately did not share

“I am sorry, Castiel, but I can't do that.”

The seraph sighed, he moved Crowley to sit on his shoulder, and stalked towards Rowena.

His eyes glowed with his grace, his hand closed around his blade, “Turn Crowley Back.”

“As I said, I can't. There is no counter spell, no way to reverse or remove it.” Rowena looked at Crowley, “the spell run its course and fade on its own”

“Liar”, The demon under the spell hissed, his little claws curled into Castiel's trenchcoat. 

“Did you truly think I would make it so easy for you? I am your mother, I know your annoying habit of having tricks up your sleeve.” Rowena turned to him then, taking half a step forward, “Can’t you tell if I am lying or not?”

“Hey”, they turned to watch a man approaching them, “We are closing, you should have been out 10 minutes ago.”

“Forgive us,” Rowena grabbed hold of his arm, tugging him along, “My friend here is rather enthusiastic about the plants, we lost the track of time.” 

Castiel followed the witch, asking Juliet to do the same.

“How long will it take for the spell to fade?” He asked her as they were making their way out of the building, Crowley made a noise of protest, but Castiel quickly pulled him down, holding the cat to his chest.

“A week or two”, the witch looked at the demon, “maybe three?”

“You know, I will kill you, if he asks me to.” “Hmm, I don’t think so.”

Rowena placed a little card in his pocket once they stood outside, “Call me, preferably or something that isn’t about your new little plaything.” She tried to pet Crowley again, but Castiel pulled him away.

“Why are you letting her go?”, Juliet asked, once the witch had disappeared. 

The King of Hell let out a sigh, it sounded strange coming from a cat, “As I said before, I will kill her myself.”

[brandstifter-sys]

Crypt Cuddles

@dukexietyweek 2024 Day 8 - Date Night + Pets

Word Count: 3065 (Ao3)

Rating: T

Characters: Remus, Virgil

Pairing: Dukexiety

Warnings: food mention, sex mention, macabre flirting, cartoon antics, spiders, dogs, death mention

Remus doesn't get to plan their dates often, so he wants everything to go right for Virgil. But even with such careful planning and equally macabre company, there's still room for a few hiccups

---

Remus was absolutely ecstatic. Virgil had finally given him free reign to set up a date for their monthly date night. Usually he could only pick the movie they watched or their dinner. Virgil was always hesitant, content with routine. It was fun, but Remus was itching to do something more. 

Everything had to be perfect! Not in a way that nothing would go wrong, but perfect in a way to impress his Carnage-patch kid even if something went awry. And with Remus’ side of the Imagination, that was more likely than not.

Was he nervous when Virgil finally knocked on his door? Of course! But that gave way to excitement when he flung the door wide open. 

Virgil was the one who was surprised. Remus was not nude, nor was he wearing his usual outfit, opting to wear his sash as a belt, and trading in the gaudy jacket for a black billowy shirt. Virgil began to worry that he wasn't dressed up enough in his usual jeans and hoodie. It was bad enough that Remus looked hot even when he was covered in mud and strange fluids. 

“Well if it isn't Death himself,” Remus cheered and leaned one arm against the doorway, “If you're here to take me, be gentle, I want to burn that face into my memory!” 

“You're running out of material,” Virgil scoffed fondly and tried to hide his blush behind his hair. You would think he'd be used to Remus' flirting, but no. 

“I'm not!” Remus giggled and grabbed his hand, “I just used a little too much brain power to set up our date!” 

Before Virgil could ask what that entailed, Remus whisked him through the organized chaos that was his room, and through the portal-door to the Imagination. 

Virgil was used to the rush that blew his hair back and tickled his skin, it was standard for entering the Imagination. He was expecting the gloomy cloudy skies and the spindly forest he usually saw on Remus' side. 

He was shocked to see that the sky was mostly clear with a few wispy clouds. They were in a clearing in the forest with no nightmarish creatures in sight. 

“Remus,” Virgil breathed, “Where are we?” 

“We're near the border of my duchy, Roman’s kingdom, and your part. It's neutral ground. I didn't want anything to get in our way,” Remus said with a shrug, “I want to be the only one to see your radiance illuminating the darkness, to feel it burning my skin to a crisp.” 

He kissed Virgil’s hand and smiled at him, though he was shaking. That was more than enough reason for Virgil to be concerned. 

“Are you trying to be Roman?” he scoffed teasingly. That got Remus to stop shaking and start shimmying. 

“I'm trying not to overdo it so soon!” Remus laughed and guided him through the trees, “I'm trying not to go Gomez, rip off your hoodie, and then worship your anxi-tities!” 

Virgil snorted and shook his head. Remus was still being Remus, but on a short leash. It was still unsettling, not knowing where Remus was taking him, even if he trusted Remus. 

“Holy shit!” 

Virgil gawked at the scene before him. There was a graveyard in the forest with elegant granite headstones and a marble fountain in the center. He couldn't stop staring at the fountain, not when it was a statue of the grim reaper with their arms spread and holding a scythe. There were purple and green fairy lights draped across it and in the branches of the few autumn trees in the yard.

And in the center of it all was a purple and black striped blanket with a lantern in the middle, and a picnic basket holding it down. 

“Do you like it?” Remus beamed. He was bouncing on his heels like an excited kid. Virgil was impressed and he really did like it. But there was always a catch. 

“What if there’s a zombie uprising?” Virgil hesitated. 

“Look at the gravestones, even if there's a zombie uprising, we're safe!” Remus chirped and dramatically motioned to the closest headstone. 

It read: “Here lies Roman's Hetero Fantasy #472” 

Virgil laughed and quickly covered his mouth. He was Roman’s friend, he should show some sympathy! But it was funny.

“Welcome to the Gravely Yard of Broken Dreams, my Margrave of Terror!” Remus giggled, “There are no bodies here so I can't accidentally reanimate them!” 

“You really went out of your way for me,” Virgil muttered shyly. He knew Remus would bend over backwards for him, or go full Uzumaki if he were feeling really bold. But it always surprised Virgil when he put so much thought and care into their relationship. 

“Of course I did! My shadow’s the only one who walks beside me—and you are my shadow, the darkness keeping watch over me, the void that I want to swallow me whole and cradle me!” Remus said, dropping into a purr. 

Virgil had to laugh at his ridiculous boyfriend before he kissed cheek. 

“You won't be leaving my arms ever, even if you want me to let go, honey.” 

“It's a good thing I don't want you to let go of me! I want to get trapped in your web, pierced by your claws, and enraptured by your sublime beauty!” Remus said as his entire body turned red. 

“You're the pretty one here,” Virgil pouted. So he didn't see himself as anything special when it came to looks. And Remus was pretty, from his sharp smile and big beautiful eyes, from his tan but freckled skin to his perfectly groomed mustache. 

“I know I'm pretty,” Remus laughed, “And I know you are absolutely spellbinding, gorgeous, unearthly. You are so much more than pretty!” 

Virgil kissed his cheek again and pulled him to his chest. A little more affection might make this dork shut up. 

“What did you pack for this picnic?” he asked while Remus imploded. Virgil smirked as Remus actually exploded like a cartoon character with a stick of dynamite in his mouth. 

When he returned to his usual state, albeit blushing, Remus guided Virgil to the blanket and sat them both down. 

“Scare Bear,” he hummed and dug through the basket, “I thought about it a lot. Sandwiches are so boring, so are wraps, and I didn't want to use too many forks.” 

He pulled out a tray of meats and cheeses, and crackers, setting it between them on the blanket. Then he pulled out a plate of bell peppers, celery, cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and hummus. 

Virgil was impressed but waiting for the catch. Was one of the meats from one of Remus' creatures? Was the hummus poisoned? Did he mic in dish soap somewhere?

“So I begged Jannicus to make something!” Remus beamed, “and all it cost was letting him dry clean my suit!” 

“That's why you're dressed up,” Virgil teased and grabbed a piece of cucumber. He dipped it in the hummus, watching Remus preen from the corner of his eye.  

“It's comfy, and if you like the look, I don't mind wearing it more often! Though I like wearing less around—” 

Virgil shoved the cucumber into his mouth before he could finish that sentence. Of course he liked the look, his biteable neck was in the open! 

“I like a little mystery, Cuddlefish,” Virgil hummed and went for another cucumber for himself. 

“I am an enigma!” Remus chuckled and pulled a bottle of wine and two glasses from the basket. 

“Red wine?” Virgil questioned. 

“Janus packed it. I think there's some juice in there if you don't want to drink,” Remus chirped. He really did think of everything. 

“One glass is fine. But I doubt it'll taste like you only sweeter,” Virgil hummed and relaxed, lounging on the blanket on his side, watching steam escape Remus' ears. 

Remus set the wine and glasses aside and grabbed Virgil's face. He was so pretty in the dim light, Remus couldn't help himself. 

Virgil grinned into the kiss, letting Remus' frantic lips explore his own. He would be fine skipping the meal if Remus wanted to make out and cuddle under the stars. 

“You are such an emo nightmare!” Remus teased and bumped their foreheads together, “The perfect match for my brand of nightmares!” 

“You're such a gorgeous nightmare,” Virgil said and ran his fingers through Remus' hair, “Old habits never seem to go away. You make me feel brand new.” 

“What old habits?” Remus gasped and melted under the touch. 

“Making you drop everything to kiss me,” Virgil hummed, “It’s the collision of your kiss that makes it so hard.” 

“Keep making song references and I'll be the hard one here!” Remus giggled and pulled away for just a moment. Virgil watched him pour two glasses of wine and set the bottle in the basket. 

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Virgil jeered and took his glass. He was looking up at Remus with the most relaxed smile and purple eyeshadow. One man could not be allowed to look so pretty and teasing. 

“Which one makes you want me more?” Remus jeered and wiggled his eyebrows. Virgil tried to bite back a laugh. 

“Which one guarantees you won't bite my fingers off?” Virgil asked and sat up. 

Remus pouted in thought. There was no guarantee that he wouldn't get the urge to bite. Then again, he didn't have an opportunity to bite. 

“I don't know, but why would I bite your fingers if they're not going anywhere near my—?” 

Virgil silenced him with some salami and cheese on a cracker, smirking like a little shit. Remus did the first thing his brain thought of and sucked on his finger before fully accepting the treat. 

“Now I know you're trying to be seductive,” Virgil huffed and shied away from him. Remus coaxed him back and giggled as he chewed and swallowed. 

“I have to keep up with you somehow!” Remus huffed, “Just seeing that aubergine hue under those peepers is driving me mad! You are my siren, and I am ready to crash and drown in you. If you wanted to, I would throw away everything just to decay with you.” 

“We're in the right place,” Virgil mused and licked his cheek, “But you're too lively.” Remus squeaked as his soul left his body—a cartoon angel ascended from his shoulders with hearts floating around his halo. 

Virgil reached out and grabbed the little ghost's tail and dragged it back down to its body. Remus giggled and leaned into him with the most lovestruck eyes. 

“You are such a dork,” Virgil jeered. 

“A toast to being a dork in love!” Remus beamed and held up his glass. 

“To being in love with a dork,” Virgil said. 

“Tchim-tchim!” “Prosit.” 

They clinked their glasses and each took a sip. And then Virgil stole a kiss from an unsuspecting duke. Remus was all too happy to reciprocate. 

“It tastes better with you,” Virgil teased. 

“You think so?” Remus giggled and pulled together a cracker with salami and cheese. Virgil could see what he was up to, and he didn't mind. 

When Remus brought the food to his lips, Virgil took it between his teeth, grazing Remus' fingertips. That got Remus to shiver. But he couldn't handle it when Virgil kissed his fingers and languidly kissed up to his knuckles. 

Remus couldn't take it! He shot into the air like a rocket and exploded above the trees like a green firework. Virgil was impressed that he didn't spill his wine, even as he floated down to the ground again. 

“You're going to stop my heart if you keep that up!” Remus giggled and laid down, using Virgil's lap as a pillow. 

“Do I get to keep it if it stops?” Virgil asked and ran his fingers through Remus' hair. 

“It's already yours,” Remus hummed and closed his eyes, “And so is the rest of my body.” 

Virgil set his wine aside and grabbed some celery and hummus. 

“If that body is mine, I'm not letting it go hungry,” he said and brought the celery to Remus' mouth. Of course Remus ate it. Everything was going better than expected.

The evening went by without a hitch. They talked and fed each other, sharing quick kisses that made Remus act like a Looney Toon. It was calm and relaxing. And nothing was going wrong. 

“Hey, Scare Bear,” Remus asked as they stared up at the stars, “Are you having a good time?” 

“Yeah,” Virgil said and pulled him to his chest, “You did good, Puppy.” He punctuated that statement with a kiss to Remus' forehead and giggled at how red the duke became. 

“What about you?” Virgil asked, “This is pretty tame for your tastes.” 

“I'm getting kisses and cuddles from my boyfriend, he hand fed me, he thinks I look hot, and he's enjoying himself. What part of that wouldn't be a good time, Carnage Patch Kid?” 

“You're right,” Virgil said, “I just wanted to make sure. You keep asking me about it, but it shouldn't be all about me.” 

“What if I want it to be all about you? I'm just a man driven mad by a sublime specter. You don't know what hell I would endure to see you smile. I want to pamper you, to be your sacrificial lamb. I want you to torment me for your own amusement, I want all the pain you want to inflict.” 

“You're a little masochist. I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy. And I'm happier when you're with me. It feels natural, right,” Remus said and kissed his jaw. This date was going smoothly and he was having fun with his Baby Undead. 

But something felt off. 

Virgil could feel the vibrations through the ground. Something big was thundering their way. But there was a chance it would pass them without seeing them. 

Remus could tell something was coming too. But he wasn't concerned. He knew that pattern. 

Still, he sat up and looked around. He had to bite back a laugh as a familiar tarantula crawled onto Virgil's arm. 

“You made a friend!” Remus giggled. Virgil glanced over and smirked. 

“How did you get out?” he asked and scooped the spider into his hand, “You were supposed to stay in my room, Thunderbolt.” 

The spider chirped and relaxed in his palm. 

“She's still really feline,” Remus giggled, “And one of the best mistakes I ever made.” 

“You wanted to make me a cat, this was your first gift to me ever. She's anything but a mistake.” 

“You're right!” Remus giggled. And then Virgil went rigid. That thing he could feel coming was close. 

Boof! Bork! Woof!

Remus beamed as a giant three-headed dog burst through the trees. Her tail was wagging so fast and all of her eyes were locked on Remus. 

“Winary!” he cheered. The dog immediately started whining and tackled him to the ground, each head nuzzling him and licking his face. Such a happy puppy! 

“Was this part of your plan?” Virgil asked and relaxed, laying down next to him. Thunderbolt scurried to his shoulder and curled up in his hoodie. 

“Nope!” Remus laughed as his puppo calmed down, “But out of all the surprises that could happen, this isn't so bad!” 

“Looks like we won't get to pull a Mary Wollstonecraft,” Virgil said and pulled Remus' head to his chest. 

“We can do that later!” Remus beamed, “I'd rather watch you watching the stars.” 

“That might be a problem,” Virgil said with a grunt. Winary decided that it was the perfect time to flop over both of their legs. 

“Why?” Remus pouted. He looked so dejected with big sad eyes and an adorable pout. 

“I'm not gonna watch the stars, not when you're here,” Virgil admitted shyly. Why wouldn't he want to admire his boyfriend? Remus was adorable and feral, sweet and silly, and he cleaned up so well. If Virgil were bolder he would kiss every freckle on those cheeks until Remus couldn't function. 

“You’re so sweet!” Remus giggled. 

“You're the sweet one here,” Virgil huffed fondly, “You set up this whole date and you thought of almost everything that could happen. You went out of your way to make it something I would enjoy.” 

“You're enjoying this?” Remus peeped hopefully. Virgil nodded and kissed his forehead. 

“Yeah, even if there's a hellhound crushing my legs.” 

“That means I get to carry you back!” Remus beamed, “And you'll get to see me looking like some sort of bodice-ripper male lead!” 

Virgil laughed and shook his head while Remus fantasized. He was not some damsel who couldn't get around without his legs. He had some sturdy spider limbs. But it was cute watching Remus daydream. 

“How about you just lay with me here and decay?” Virgil suggested. 

“Passing on in each other’s arms, letting this cursed flesh rot away until only our pristine skeletons are left, clinging to a passion that goes beyond living?” Remus asked and looked up at him with shining eyes. 

“Yeah, unless Winifred, Sarah, and Mary decide to eat our corpses. And Bolt too, but she doesn't eat nearly as much.” 

“Mm, keep talking about decaying with me,” Remus purred and fluttered his lashes. To add to his point, he traced circles on Virgil's chest. 

Virgil took his hand and kissed it, letting Remus melt on him. 

“How about you try to asphyxiate me instead? Steal my last breath while I devour your lips,” Virgil said with a smirk. Remus was never prepared for Virgil flirting with confidence. He could never get enough. 

Virgil cupped his chin and leaned down slowly, building up some tension. His thumb brushed Remus' lower lip before he struck. Remus refused to fight it, not when Virgil leading the kiss sent sparks through his vision. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Virgil mumbled against his lips, “If it's not too boring for you.” 

“Only if we keep our pets home. I want to pull a Mary Wollstonecraft with you!” Remus giggled and nuzzled into his chest. He was going to appreciate the anxi-titties no matter what. 

“Deal,” Virgil hummed and held him close. Winary rolled on her side with a huff while Bolt crept out of hiding to cuddle between Remus and Virgil. This wasn't perfect, but it was wonderful all the same.

[scotianostra]

Henry “Harry” McNish was born on September 11th 1866 in Port Glasgow.

Often referred to as Harry McNeish or by the nickname Chippy, McNeish was the carpenter on Ernest Shackleton’s Trans-Antarctic expedition of 1914–1917.

He was responsible for much of the work that ensured the crew’s survival after their ship, the Endurance was destroyed. McNish was the oldest in the crew, and only Scot on the expedition he was also the only one with a pet, a cat called Mrs Chippy even though it was a Tom Cat. Shackleton had Mrs. Chippy shot when many of the dogs were put down before the men took to the sea-ice after the Endurance was crushed and lost. He never forgave Shackleton for this act.

“Chippy” was raised in the United Free Church of Scotland, the “Wee Free” and being a religious man detested bad language.

Harry McNish eventually settled in New Zealand, where he passed away destitute in 1930, his grave remained unmarked for almost thirty years; the New Zealand Antarctic Society (NZAC) erected a headstone on 10th May 1959. In 2001, it was reported that the grave was untended and surrounded by weeds,but in 2004, it was tidied and a life size bronze sculpture of McNish’s beloved cat, Mrs Chippy, was placed on his grave by NZAC.

Me being a cat lover really appreciate the adding of the statue, and think it is probably the coolest grave I have ever “seen"

[sharpvst]

always an angel ,

never a 𝖌𝖔𝖉.

felix river catton.

𝔱𝖍𝔢 𝖌𝔬𝖉.

I.

" he was right. river is quite silly. but i suppose you don't pick your child's name imagining one day you'll think about what it will look like carved on a headstone. choose a font . . "

life after the death of a god.

saltburn spoilers. 🍷

trigger warnings ; mentions of death , slight sexual themes.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

oh felix . . beautiful , beautiful felix. not a day goes by that oilver doesn't think about him. his one true love — his one true lust. he misses him , somewhat. life after felix catton hasn't been the same. it seems like farleigh was right. he's clinging onto that one summer , jacking off to the former feeling.

he just can't help himself.

it's been years since saltburn , and oliver cannot get it out of his mind. that time — that place. the people. felix. oh . . oh felix.

he loved him , hated him , despised him , lusted for him , loved him , loved him , hated him. killed him.

what is he to do now ? sit and rot for years to come? that's what he's been doing. after saltburn everything changed — he thought it would be for the better but it's just for the worst. now he knows how poor dear pamela felt.

he clings onto the final moments with felix , the silence , the sound of felix's breath on his skin. i don't know what you are , but i do know that you make my fucking blood run cold.

farleigh was right. oliver may have just been one of felix's pets but felix was more than that to oliver. oliver was a bashful stray dog that felix adopted , fed , and shaped into the dog he is today. he's rabid , almost as if he's infested with rabies.

he goes feral for the past , always rutting onto his bed sheets like a dog in heat. oh how he wishes thing's could've ended better. in truth , felix didn't have to die. but at that point and time oliver thought it would be for the best. but something within him . . regrets it.

everyone moved on — but he stayed there.

farleigh moved on , back to america he trotted to collect his bearings and move on. he's relatively the same . . just alone. after saltburn he has become unable to get close to anyone. unable to make friends - make love , anything. he's a hallow shell of a man now. farleigh still visits the family grave every year.

meanwhile , oliver does not. oliver sulks alone in his bed most days. sobbing like a rotten child into his bedsheet pretending that felix is there coddling him. oliver cannot move on from that time and place. he thinks about it too much. he thinks about the beautiful venetia , and how it was such a shame how it ended with her. but those words , what she called him - everything. he remembers them all.

oliver has to remind himself most days to do everyday normal human things — he has to remind himself that he's still living in breathing while felix's corpse is well past decomposition. felix is a pile of bones whilst oliver is still breathing. it feels wrong.

oliver wasn't meant for this world , oliver wasn't really meant for anything. he should've just went back to the factory where they made olivers. maybe one day he'll come to terms with what happened that summer.

but as the summers pass on and on , he grows older and older . . things don't change. he's feelings don't change. he truly never grew up after saltburn. deep down he's still that nineteen year old oxford boy.

what is he to do now other than rot alongside his long lost love. he deserves it after all. oliver fucking quick isn't meant for anything but death.

[butch-muppet]

one of them finally died and i have been sobbing for a full 20 minutes. keep in mind this was a digital chicken that did not actually exist. and her death impacted me that much

cried earlier because my sims chickens are about to die. just in case you were wondering how ive been doing irl

[thenightlymirror]

When I was coming home from my first Trauma Survivors Support Group meeting, this was Leap Day, actually, I parked at the post office as usual and got out of my car only to be immediately greeted by a scruffy little dog. The dog waited for me to get out of the car and pet it. Her owner just stood there with the leash and waited too.

I asked the little dog, “Are you my CIA handler? Is this the drop spot?” Then she got the zoomies.

I have met this same little dog on two more occasions. Her name is Mia. The owner will tell me the dogs name, and listen to me banter with the dog back and forth, but never introduces herself.

Today, I got off late and saw Mia and her owner sitting on the corner bench. Winnetka is a place for dog walkers and New Trier students and quarter-zip fleeces and Tesla ports. It’s like a sitcom village. So people sit on benches. I walked up and asked Mia how her workday went.

“I’m looking for someone to inherit my dog,” the woman said.

“Mia can live on my little couch, and help me decorate my apartment,” I said. I’m a more than a little top heavy. If you’ve ever seen me, you know I’m basically built like a bowling ball on chop sticks. So petting a little dog for a long time is a funny posture to be in for a man my size, especially on the street.

“I’m a memorialist at a cemetery. I design headstones for families. Mostly I just push around paper.” I spoke about my job and the surprising stress for what you would assume was a quiet place, as an outsider.

Now you have to wonder, has she really been walking around the block every day, looking for someone to inherit her dog, and where am I in the running? #1? #5?

I accidentally gave a pretty good interview to be the new owner of a scruffy little dog. I would love that little dog so much. I’m a little scared, because if she dies, will it be by her own hand? And how will she bequeath to me this dog? Hand it off with a brief goodbye? Or post it up by her leash on the corner where it will just wait all day until I get off work and notice it there?

My Occam’s Razor guess is that she has some terminal illness. Patrick asked me if this was maybe a cry for help, and of course it was at least a little cry for help. And I just gave her a warm gloss.

“I don’t know how to respond well to cries for help. And I don’t know how to very well cry for help, I guess.”

(This is what Patrick wrote.)

I don’t either. I tend to let cries for help slide. Isn’t that what an angel would do? You do not disturb the dreamer. You keep things on an even keel. No one has to be embarrassed. No one has to regret making a short, stabbing remark. Agony is like the weather. It’s all weather.

Well. Borges’ Law. Nothing will happen now.

For the best.

[arece]

hii love!

could i request john x reader (platonic ofc) within the perfect storyline that you created?

ive always wondered what happened to aurelio when the reader thought he abandoned her while he was just trying to protect her. maybe they have met after john died and he apologized and maybe reader forgives him??? i just need to know he is not the bad guy 😭

thank youu

It'll All Work Out

♤ Summary: Reader gets closure she never knew she needed from Aurelio. The series

♤ a/n: You're right my dear anon, he was never the bad guy. Reader was just a baby who needed someone to blame at the time. This one's really short but it has a bittersweet tone that I love and I hope you enjoy it too!

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You ended up staying in Berlin for three months, learning all that you could from those in the Ruska Roma about John’s childhood. You decided that it was time to go back when you realized the first year death anniversary was fast approaching.

Though you could use the comfort of your new family, you’d never forgive yourself if you weren’t with him on the day. You wanted to do something special for him, some part of you hoping he sees your gift from wherever he is.

You took Dog’s leash off, letting her rub against his headstone as you reached for the packet in your pocket. You sprinkled the wildflower seeds around his and Helen’s graves, giving them something that would come back each year, never leaving them.

You were moving the knife he gifted you back into place when you heard steps behind you, quick to turn you held it threateningly before becoming shocked at the person you never expected to see in front of you.

“Aurelio?” You faltered before dropping the knife completely. The man gave an awkward, unsure smile, “look at you, not so little anymore.” You stood from the ground, calming Dog with a pet as she watched him anxiously.

“That’s what seven years does.” He winced at your blunt tone and you felt bad, not intending for him to feel guilty. By now you’ve grown to realize why he had sent you away. “Look I-”

“It’s okay, Aurelio. I don’t blame you, you saved my life by bringing him to me.” It seemed he’d been carrying the guilt for a while by the way he slightly got choked up. He cleared his throat, stepping beside you to look at his grave.

“Loving father, huh?” For once the tears that stung at your eyes weren’t from a place of pain, rather one of remembrance, something you thought you had surely lost three months prior. “He was the best one I could’ve ever asked for,” you turned towards him, “I was too lost before to thank you.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” The sarcastic snort you let out had him raising an eyebrow, “I was a mess.” You explained to him your journey with grief for the past year, struggling to move on and almost falling back into the underworld, your panic with forgetting, your arguments with Caine and Winston.

“Why do you have to find someone to blame?” It startled you slightly, how easily he revealed to you another direction your grief was driving you to. If it wasn’t yourself, it was Winston or Caine. Why did you need someone to put at fault?

“I don’t want to be angry at him.” Aurelio sighed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, still seeing you as that feisty fourteen year old who had a talent for stealing. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

For the first time you allowed yourself to seek comfort from somebody that wasn’t John, from the man who had also chosen to let you go to protect you, a recurring theme it seems. “You seem different. Like him.” The passive comment brought a smile to your face, reminding you how Katia told you he lived on through you. You were glad that someone saw it too.

“Do you have any regrets?” He asked. You thought back to all the pain, loneliness, confusion, grief. But you also thought back to when you were loved. That made it all worth it ten times over, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

You called Dog over to put her back on her leash, inviting Aurelio out for a memorial lunch for John. He agreed, stepping back to allow you room for your goodbyes. You leaned forward, softly kissing his grave, “I’m doing better now.”

With a parting touch you left feeling more fulfilled after gaining closure, healing a wound that had added to your suffering, one that now left a scar, a memory.

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