#tw animal death ment

[real-total-drama-takes]

can we get catnon humanely euthanized

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[lionsarewhite]

he caved and let her have it and shes besties with it now dw

[ask-psychicaction009]

In your opinion, what is the most flammable animal?

Anywaaayyyy I’m going to start doing more frequent mental health check ins at the motherlooobe probably unrelated. :-)

[grumpytrans]

hi girlies -

so i started using Tumblr less and less earlier this year, but when my best friend forever kitty cat of 16 yrs passed away, i lost all of my motivation for almost everything, including this app.

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - Dracula Daily - July 20

In which Seward completes his thought (it only took him *checks notes* TWELVE days to cook it up but it’s here)…

Again, Seward uses a lot of ableist language in this entry that I do not relish. There is also implied animal death (not “shown”, just said to have happened) and mention of drugging someone. To get around this, I won’t quote these parts and will only describe them as little as I can (under the cut). I’ll also post this with the appropriate tags. If I don’t see you in this one, I hope to see you in a bit of a lighter entry! Your mental health matters <3

“Visited Renfield very early, before the attendant went his rounds. Found him up and humming a tune. He was spreading out his sugar, which he had saved, in the window, and was manifestly beginning his fly-catching again; and beginning it cheerfully and with a good grace. I looked around for his birds, and not seeing them, asked him where they were. He replied, without turning round, that they had all flown away.”

I know we have a lot to get to, but at least I finally have an answer as to how he’s catching flies — sugar! That makes sense! (Yes, that is what I’m focusing on, no I’m not sorry about it — I’ve been asking Seward about methodology for WEEKS and he just got back to me with this /j) I do wonder where he gets the sugar to spread though…I suppose if Seward is supporting his “pet endeavors” to this end, he is probably allowing him to keep sugar for this purpose. I guess that makes sense. I’m also just imagining Renfield dancing around and humming while spreading sugar…a fun image, to be sure.

Here’s where it gets bad. Last warning, y’all!

What’s not fun is that we can’t see where the birds went. And Renfield isn’t forthcoming on where they went….the fact he won’t turn around while speaking to Seward is telling in and of itself.

So Seward looks further about the room and sees two signs that point to Renfield lying about the birds flying away: feathers scattered about the room, and a drop of blood on his pillow.

Not a good sign!!! Not a good sign at all!!!! I knew this was coming, but I do love that Stoker *evokes* the message of what happened, rather than outright saying it by showing the image of blood and feathers. The art of show don’t tell comes into play once more.

A bit later in the day at 11 a.m., an attendant affirms what Seward already knows: those birds did not just “fly away”. How do they know? Well, Renfield is now sick and is…throwing up feathers. Yeah, this isn’t good.

Twelve hours later, we get an update: that Renfield was given some medication to put him to sleep and Seward took his notebook to read.

Ok, so initially when I read this I was like, “he drugged him without his consent???? To take his notebook???? How DARE he????” And yes, we can definitely look at it in that light, but before doing so, I’d recommend reading this post with the note at the bottom by @rosetyler42 (and also has really good points by @animate-mush for the later points in this post, which I’ll also address). TL;DR, the point raised is that there’s a good chance Seward actually gave Renfield the medicine to help him go to sleep because of his illness. I agree that he likely has food poisoning after what he’s eaten and, as someone who’s had this, you do not feel very good! It would make sense that Seward — as a doctor — would give him medication to treat it, though in this case, the treatment would likely mean putting him to sleep for a time. With all of the nausea and pain he’s in, that actually has some sense to it.

Of course, in the meantime, Seward *will* take the opportunity to read Renfield’s journal. He may be treating his patient (and whether you believe he actually is treating him, or that he solely drugged him to get the notebook is your choice — I know he hasn’t being the most ethical person lately), but he’s not going to miss the chance to peek through the personal belongings while he can! That’s just how Seward is.

Note: this next part is where he uses the majority of his ableist language. I don’t mention it in my thoughts, but wanted to give a heads up for anyone who hasn’t read the entry yet and was wondering where this starts.

Seward finally completes his thought (and I can’t really skate around the implications, so apologies for this): Renfield is setting out to absorb as much life as he can, and he intends to do this by way of a mini food chain, with him as the top predator. Seward is quite interested in what would have been his later steps, and if anything scientifically important could be achieved by this.

Yes, this is where he brings up vivisection, but as the post I linked states, this is more of an example of what was considered to be a strange scientific method that turned out to be useful, rather than him wanting to perform this on Renfield. Don’t get me wrong, the fact that he brings up vivisection as his first thought is…strange, I won’t deny that. But I think it’s more his brain nerding out on science things, rather than wanting to do a vivisection. What he does what to do is get to the heart of what Renfield’s science could be capable of, if anything. However, and this is important to note, he won’t do that because he is not willing to go this far into unethical territory by continuing the experiment. Why? There’s not enough sufficient evidence to indicate positive results, as evidenced by this passage:

“If only there were a sufficient cause! I must not think too much of this, or I may be tempted; a good cause might turn the scale with me, for may not I too be of an exceptional brain, congenitally?”

(Lol, yes Seward you’re smart too <— edit: he actually means out of the norm/neurodivergent here, not smart) He also speculates on the value Renfield places on a human life — many or just one. I do think this is interesting to consider, as some of us humans do eat meat! I don’t like where Seward is going with this though!!!

I do like where he closes this train of thought with:

“He has closed the account most accurately, and to-day begun a new record. How many of us begin a new record with each day of our lives?”

That…that is very profound, Seward. You didn’t have to put that in your musings about Renfield, but you did. Something that I enjoy about Seward’s character is that he likes to get lost in philosophical musings and this is a good example of that.

“To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work!”

Oh, Seward! And here we reach the root of the problem, one he’s been avoiding talking about for a long time: Lucy. After all, this whole experiment-fiasco has been a distraction to keep himself from thinking of her. But what has that done for him, truly? He still ends up thinking about her, regardless. It breaks my heart a bit that he called her his new hope and that he had to begin anew after that 🥺 it’s never good to put hope as a person but…I understand what he means and it hurts!

Seward comparing God to a “Great Recorder” who will “sum up his account” is so interesting to me! It’s cool to get an insight as to his perspective on religion and how he thinks of it in a more “logical” way (and I do understand he could just be using a metaphor here, but I do think this is his logic and that’s fun to think about lol).

Finally, I love that while he still feels hopeless and bogged down by the fact that all he has to look forward to is his work, he emphasizes that he’s not angry at Lucy *or* Arthur. He wants them to be happy! It doesn’t mean he won’t still be sad, though :(

In the end, he wants a cause like Renfield has — a “strong” one he can turn to that will give him “happiness”. Will that give him real happiness though? Because Renfield sure doesn’t seem happy after his illness today. I’m just saying…

That’s all for this one! Will be putting out the others soon — sorry for the late entry on this one.

[detective-paranormal]

goodbye, until we meet again

[stagbeetleboy]

My geese died :/

One got some kind of illness and it spread to the other before we caught it. The chickens and guineas are fine though. They done seem to have gotten anything from the geese.

Dude this sucks I really like having a goose or two.

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Hunting Season

The following is a set of recovered journal entries found near the forest outside Whitepine, Ontario. The writer of said entries is yet to be found by authorities.

Notes: A little writing thing I was inspired to make, being a little. I guess teaser? For Whispers of Willows that isn't a part of the main storyline!

August 23rd, 1987

Today, the hunt begins. I have heard of an elk being spotted outside the woods right outside the city; one described as the biggest people near here have seen, with antlers that would be a fantastic centerpiece for any room. I plan to head out tonight and bypass the fence. Hopefully no one will see.

I have to get to that elk before anyone else takes it from me.

August 24th, 1987

I set up camp somewhere near the outskirts of the woods. I’m too tired to go hunting today. I will rest until the morning, and start looking as soon as I wake up.

August 25th, 1987

I’ve only seen a couple squirrels since I came here. It's near barren in terms of animal life, but it’s bountiful in fauna. I shot one of the squirrels for dinner. It didn’t taste great.

Staying near the outskirts isn’t getting me anywhere. Tomorrow I'll pack up and move further into the woods. Maybe then I'll get an idea of where the elk might be.

August 27th, 1987

The trees are taller than I remember them being; Pines stretching up into the sky, their tops barely visible from the forest floor. I nearly tripped on their roots multiple times as well. It feels as though they’re watching me. Judging me for being here. 

I found a doe today. It ran off before I could get to it. 

September 1st, 1987

No sign of the elk. I’ve been feeding off snacks I packed and a deer I managed to shoot yesterday. I hear its calls when I'm trying to sleep so I figured writing this would get my mind off of things. If I don’t find the elk tomorrow, I'll head in deeper. I’m starting to get impatient, but a good hunter knows to wait. I just have to wait.

September 2nd, 1987

The birds stopped singing today.

September 3rd, 1987

I found a good camping spot near a stream. It’s relaxing, hearing the water rushing by. I’m starting to wish I packed more blankets, as it's getting colder, near freezing at night. My campfire is helping, but it only does so much. At least it gives light. The shadows from the trees are making it difficult to navigate without a light.

September, 1987

I woke up this morning to see it's still dark. The sun isn’t shining through the trees, and the trees themselves feel as though they go up forever. I’m out of food. I need to go out to hunt today. 

September, 1987

I found a deer today. I was happy at first, thinking my prayers had been answered, but I noticed it had five legs. Its eyes looked at me like a human would. It made a horrible scream when I shot it.

I still ate it. It tasted rotten, but I was too hungry to care. I’m sorry, little one.

September, 1987

I heard elk calls. It's nearby, I know it. Its calls feel as though it's begging me to go deeper into the woods. Beckoning me. I will find it. 

My sleeping bag isn’t enough to keep me warm. The campfire is the only source of warmth here now. I hope God is looking upon me with fortune.

1987

I hear its calls every time I drift off to sleep. My creaking bones object but I must move forward. I’m so close to it. I’m nearly out of bullets. I only need one. 

The wind sings to me. Trees watch in disdain. The animals have fled. 

1987

I don’t believe God is hearing me.

1987

I haven’t seen the sun in a month. Has it been that long? I can’t count the days anymore. It could have been years since I started this hunt, but I can’t tell. It all feels the same. My equipment doesn’t work anymore. My watch’s hands haven’t moved.

I need to get it. It will be mine. I will display its corpse in my home. I will show everyone my achievement. 

1987

These woods will be my grave. The trees will feast on my corpse when I'm gone, and the insects will take whatever is left of me. I am no better than the soil on which I stand. 

1 9 87

I found it. My prize. It stood on the h ill. I t star ed at me from its perc h. I h eard it c all out in v ai n whe n it di ed. It s eye s w eeren’t tho se of Elk. t hey were my own eyes s taring back at me.

I hea r a voice th at isnt m y own. God is with me. 

I re turn to the ear th.

I rejoice.

[true-autistic-tales]

selfshippers who have lost someone special in their lives (a pet, friend, or family member,), your f/os will always be there to help you mourn in every way they possibly can.

if you need someone to talk to, they'll be there.

if you need someone to hug tightly, they'll be there.

if you need someone's shoulder to cry on, they'll be there.

they would never dare let you go through this alone. not in a million years or even more.

[bunnysmooch]

i know i already let bunblr know about Mochi when it happened, but I’m trying to pick out a picture for his little memorial we have set up and I can’t decide

no “show result” answer but feel free to leave a reply or send an ask if you like more than one (or want to nominate another pic from my blog??)

(i hadn’t said anything about his passing on tiktok before this, so it was also an announcement for over there)

[real-total-drama-takes]

https://www.tumblr.com/real-total-drama-takes/726385721087311872/omg-tti-fans-are-so-annoying-nobody-cares-about?source=share

I THOUGHT WE PUT YOU DOWN?!

.

[dove-tears]

isaac's pets

[i-3at-s0ap]

The tomcat disposables was the WRONG will wood song to listen to while treating a rat problem in my house

[cindersnows]

non-breath oblige by pinocchio-p

[superfluffychickens]

Chickens Are Worth Crying Over.

(Animal death TW; just mentions of it in the theoretical sense, everyone’s fine)

Absolutely true. With Athena’s passing, something finally became clear to me. Chickens don’t live that long, compared to a human life. So, even if I do everything right all the time (impossible), even if luck is on their side and they live to a ripe old age, I’ll still be there to see the end of their lives. Whether it’s from a predator, or from illness (hereditary or acquired), or just old age, I’ll have to be there to see it. It hits me so hard, with these new chicks, that I’ve been with them at their very first breath, and I’ll be there at their last. I obviously can’t prevent their deaths altogether, although I can and will try my best to keep them safe and healthy. Life is full of risks that you can’t necessarily prepare for or prevent, for chickens and for people too. So, I’ve just been trying to savor every moment with them, especially when they’re so young and impressionable. So that when their times comes, I can say we made the most of whatever time we had. So that when everything hurts and I don’t want to go on, I can look back on these memories and be grateful that they happened rather than being sad that the past is gone. In a way, living with these chickens has taught me so much about myself and what I want out of life - I’m not so different from them after all.

[eviler-slenderman]

What's with you and eating living things

First the chickens abd now Slerma's Egg

Simple. I Crave The Satisfaction Of Snuffing Out A Life