#purely due to logistics mind you

[obstinaterixatrix]

okay so there's like interviews and promo stuff out now for sweeney todd 2023 and the actress for lovette was like "she needs sweeney todd because she's in a man's world" and I don't agree with her interpretation at all. mrs lovette does not need sweeney todd. she's not operating in A Man's World. mrs lovette wants sweeney todd because she's obsessed with him and also she's a freak.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[tightjeansjavi]

A/N: Brought to you deliciously by @tightjeansjavi @loquaciousferret @peterhollandkait @chaotic-mystery

Summary: ever wonder how it feels for your favorite Pedro Pascal character to go down on you? Well, look no further because the girlies got you covered! Oh, and these men definitely know how to eat it good.

Warnings: this is literally just smut. If you are under 18 do not interact. This is content NOT intended to be consumed by minors. If you interact and I find for you to be underaged, I will be blocking you, no questions asked.

Din Djarin

↳ @loquaciousferret

Din doesn’t get the opportunity to eat you out as much as he would like, purely due to the logistics involved with ensuring it is perfectly dark and to have the time and space to apply a blindfold to you. You honestly don’t mind that it isn’t often, and it seems to frustrates him more than it does you. He is a selfless and generous person and wishes he could take this into the bedroom too.

All this considered, it does mean he really takes his time whenever he does get the opportunity. He will be patient and spend what seems like hours pulling multiple orgasms from you, never stopping until the point where you are the one begging for him to stop and just fuck you.

“Please- Din, please. I need you.”

“You have me, mesh’la. I’m right here.”

You whined, his facial hair tickled at your inner thighs as he spoke gently, his voice sending vibrations through your core.

When he did eventually fuck you after eating you out, the pleasure was intensified for you both. With you blindfolded, he could kiss and worship all of your body, and take in your subtle facial expressions without his visor obscuring his view.

“So beautiful, cyar’ika. I could stay here with you like this forever.” And he truly wishes he could.

Javier Peña

↳ @tightjeansjavi

Javi Peña eats your pussy wherever, and whenever he wants. You could be at the office, legs spread over his desk, his hands deliciously holding your thighs apart as he devours your sweet cunt. Thank god it’s only you two working late hours because your moans are free falling around the room, bouncing off the walls. You can hear him groaning in content at your sweet taste along his tongue. Even as his jaw goes slack, he continues to lap at you, wanting to get every last drop.

Or you’re in your apartment, blissfully whipping up some brownies or cookies to bring into the office, humming whatever tune is playing on the radio. You’re wearing one of Javi’s shirts, and a thin pair of panties. Your hips sway just enough for Javi to notice. You feel his presence looming behind you before he’s sinking down his knees. Your breath is caught in your throat when you feel his hands sneak up the apex of your thighs, prying them apart. “Javi, what are you—” you stumble over your words, gripping the counter tightly when he flattens his tongue against your clothed pussy, tasting you through the thin fabric. “Don’t mind me, cariño. Keep on whisking.”

You feel him hook his thumb along the side of your panties, revealing your slick cunt to him and then he’s completely devouring you, your knees nearly buckle as his nose bumps into your clit. His tongue is absolutely working you into ruin. “Javi, this really isn’t the time—fuck, baby.”

He’d let out a low chuckle against your core, sending warm vibrations up your spine. “There’s never a time more perfect to eat your sweet pussy cariño.” He tsks.

Pre!Outbreak Joel

↳ @chaotic-mystery

Pre!outbreak Joel would eat your pussy whenever and wherever he wanted your aching cunt in his mouth. It didn’t matter if you were in public, that’s why his truck has back seats. All he’d have to do is give you that look and you knew what was coming. Your minimal clothing choices in the Texas heat would make him start looking for secluded places to pull over. His hand would be at the very top of your thigh and he’d squeeze ever so gently causing your breath to hitch. It was the slight risk of getting caught by someone as he’s going to town on his girl, making her squirm and cry out.

He’d push your legs back so your thighs are slightly pinned against your stomach so he can see your dripping wet pussy in all its glory. As soon as your panties hit the floor of the truck, he’d give you a groan as he gets closer to you and admire how wet you already are for him. “Look at this beautiful fuckin’ pussy baby doll. Who got you like this, hm? Tell me sweet girl.” Just as you’re about to answer, he’d flatten his tongue against your clit and start devouring you. He liked seeing how much he can make you work for it while he’s rotting your brain, taking your breath away with his devilish mouth. “Cmon baby, tell me” he’d moan against you trying to aid a response between your moans.

Your fingers would comb through his hair and tug every time he sucked on your clit and shook his head from side to side, scoring a raspy whimper from you. His hand clutching your pillowy breasts and pinching your nipples, causing you to feel a fiery pit in your stomach.

“Joel please I’m gonna cum- don’t stop, just like that, just like that” your sentence growing to barely a whisper as you were right at the edge of releasing. Joel’s tongue would start flicking against your sensitive bud and that was all it took, your legs wrapped around his head as you rode his face, screaming his name. It didn’t stop there, of course. As you’d ride your high and buck your hips against his wet face, his mouth would still be attached to your clit. You’d start turning side to side, trying to back up but he’d wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you as close as he could, moaning into your juices that made your pussy glisten in the sun spilling through the window.

“Where are you goin, darlin'? I’m not full yet” he’d mutter and go right back to licking up your juices, running his tongue along the slick folds and around your clit. You’d push his head away and cry out, begging for a break but he’d grab your wrists, your legs tightening around his head even more. “One more baby cmon one more fuckin time just for me, pretty baby” your body shaking and breathes becoming faster until they sounded like gasps. The shriek of pleasure you let out as your eyes roll to the back of your head, a tear slipping from your eye as your body falls into complete euphoria. Your legs would fall from his shoulders, body still trembling slightly as he’d hover above you and admire his work that was written all over your face.

Post!Outbreak Joel

↳ @tightjeansjavi

Post!Outbreak Joel eats your pussy like it’s solely based around his own survival. How else is he supposed to feel alive, and human without his mouth devouring your cunt? There is no sweeter sound to his ears than mewls he elicits from your pretty little lips from his sinful mouth devouring you. You almost just got bit by a clicker? Cool, drop your pants girlie, because Joel is going to make you forget all about that near death experience in no time!

He prefers to have you on all fours, ass up with your back arched at almost an uncomfortable angle. Your bare pussy, glistening and pulsing through his heated, greedy gaze. You would only briefly feel his hot breath fanning your core. Joel doesn’t like wasting any time, but he loves to hear you beg him just a little. He’s a bit of a biter, and you’d feel his teeth graze the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, causing you to lurch forward on your knees. He’d growl under his breath, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pull you right back to his face. “You stay right where you are darlin’ you hear me?” His mouth would be on you before you’d even get a chance to respond. He loved knocking the air from your lungs. It would take him no time to have you chasing your impending orgasm. His lips would be harshly wrapped around your clit, sucking intensely on your bundle of nerves. His teeth would graze you, and you’d be seeing stars.

His coarse, wiry beard would be scratching deliciously at your sensitive skin. The only time he would pause his sinful actions would be to spit on your already soaked cunt, he’d drag his tongue through his own salvia mixed with your juices before he would be lapping at you again. As soon as you would start to feel that the sensation was too much, your thighs would be quivering as you’d beg him to show you some mercy. “Joel—please I-I—it’s too much. Baby, I can’t—please..” you whined.

“Yes you can, pretty girl. I ain’t fuckin’ done with you yet.” He harshly whispered against your cunt. His beard and chin would already be coated in your arousal but this was never enough for him.

He’d flip you over onto your back, without warning, and grab your ankles in his calloused palms. He’d yank you down so you were beneath him, before he’d be devouring you once more. Your fingers would be desperately fisting his hair, riding into his face, feeling him everywhere. You’d scream his name, loud enough for the entire QZ to hear just how good this man treated you, and your pussy. Even after you would be fully spent, he’d keep his head buried between your thighs, his tongue would slowly be lapping up your release, before he’d press a chaste kiss to your clit. “Always such a good girl for me darlin’ could eat you for every fuckin’ meal.”

Frankie Fransico Morales

↳ @peterhollandkait

Frankie “pussy eating king” Morales

• Frankie starts slow, teasing you with his mouth and fingers on other parts of your body.

• Everyone thinks Frankie is an ass man, but he really truly loves your tits, never getting enough of them.

• He leaves marks and bruises all over them, sucking on your nipples with any chance he can get.

• When he finally moves down to your core, still teasing you, he breathes against your cunt, pressing kisses to your inner thighs.

• He does this until you’re begging him, whining for his touch, which is when he finally gives in.

• Frankie eats you like a man starved, lapping up your juices fervently. He has an arm holding open your thighs, the other pressing two fingers into your entrance, pumping them in and out.

• Every once in a while, he pulls away to whisper words of encouragement against your skin.

• “You like that baby?”

• “You’re doing so good for me gorgeous, taking my mouth so well”

• When his mouth is back on your folds, you’re mewling for him.

• He doesn’t give you a break between your first and second orgasm, sucking on your clit, making the most obscene noises as your pleasure wracks through you again and again.

• When you’re coming down from your second climax, he lays his head on your inner thigh, giving you a pussy drunk smile.

• He’s obsessed with you, never even thinking to touch himself at any point.

• This is all for you, no matter how hard his cock might be

• He puts his mouth back on you, fucking your third orgasm out of you with his tongue.

• He makes you see stars, your head going blank and body feeling weightless. He knows exactly how to manipulate your body to coax the most powerful orgasms from you.

• He learns your cues easily, knowing that your thighs shake before you squirt all over his face, covering him in your juices

• The way you tug on his hair tightly and arch your back before you come, screaming his name

• The echo of your voice on the walls gives him purpose, not hesitating to dive further into you to get what he wants

• Afterwards he puts every effort into making sure you’re comfortable

• He cleans you up with a warm washcloth, tucking you carefully under the covers before he joins you on the other side.

• He doesn’t care about his own pleasure, his only thoughts are to care for you.

Dieter Bravo

↳ @tightjeansjavi

Dieter Fucking Bravo eats your pussy like he’s the president of the pussy eating fan club. He is always absolutely greedy, ravenous to have his face buried against your sweet cunt. He’d have you for breakfast, lunch, dinner, appetizer, and of course dessert. On the occasions that you’d be spending the weekend with him, (literally every weekend) Dieter’s one, and simple request, is that you’d wear no panties around him. So you’d find yourself in his penthouse, wearing one of his expensive tailored shirts, and no panties. You could be doing the most mundane tasks, such as; doing your laundry. You’d be leaned over the open dryer, glistening pussy on full display for him. Next thing you know, his hands are around your hips and hoisting you up onto the dryer, spreading your legs wide open. He’d have a few greedy licks, before he would turn the dryer on, sending sweet vibrations up your core before his mouth and tongue would be fully devouring you. He’d use his pointer and middle finger to spread your slick folds open so you were on full display. He’d fuck your pussy with his tongue dragging it in and out of you before he’d focus all of his attention on your clit. The obscene slurping sounds he would make would drive you wild, and turn your brain to mush. He’d moan into you, shaking his head back and forth as he laps at you. “Mhmmm. Sweetest fucking pussy baby. All mine. Can eat you for fucking days, my sweet sweet girl. Now I’m gonna need you to cum all over my face like the dirty little girl I know you are.” Between the vibrations of the dryer, and Dieter's tongue showing you no mercy, you do just as he says. Screaming out his name while your hips buck up into his face. Even after you're spent, he continues to lap at you before he’s coaxing as many orgasms out of you as you're willing to give him.

He likes eating your pussy when it’s the most inconvenient possible time ever. Usually when you’re on your laptop, typing away. You’re on a writer's block for the next chapter of your 200k smut fic about Poe Dameron. He’s about to go down on the reader, but you’re lacking inspiration. Just as you're clicking the next key, you feel Dieter’s lips pressing to your ankle, he’s on his stomach and you peek over the top of your screen to see his smug face looking up at you. “How’s that chapter coming along baby?” He speaks against your skin, kissing his way up your calf and thigh. “I’m at writer's block. I can’t fucking find the inspiration for this scene. He’s supposed to go down on the reader and—” you give him a warning look as he inches his face closer to your pussy. He shuts the screen to your laptop and places it on the coffee table. You roll your eyes as he’s already hiking your hip up with your foot firmly planted against the side of the couch. “Mmm. This is that trigger happy X-Wing Pilot, right?” You can feel his hot breath fanning your core as he licks his lips. “Yeah, and I really don’t need you—” your mouth falls open when he attaches his lips to your clit, sucking harshly. “Mmm well I can be your inspiration baby. You just pretend I’m that Poe Dameron fellow.” He hums against you, and you can feel his stupid smirk against your pussy. His tongue is lapping you up, swirling and sucking on your clit like you’re his last meal. He switches from fast licks, to slow filthy ones that have you yanking his hair and demanding more. This smug bastard is spelling his fucking name against your soaked pussy because he is absolutely marking what is his. Dieter Bravo is a whore for eating your pussy, and he isn’t ashamed to admit it.

Jack Whiskey Daniels

↳ @loquaciousferret

Agent Whiskey doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. He prefers something heavy, smokey, fiery. But when it comes to you… Well, that’s different see, because you are the sweet thing he needs a taste of at the end of every long, hard day.

He’ll return home from work, (having been doing god knows what all day), and he’ll find you perched somewhere in the house, sometimes the sofa, sometimes the bed, sometimes on a barstool at the kitchen island. He would seek you out like a missile locked on a target.

He would kiss you first, licking your strawberry lip balm from your lips. When he made his way down, slowly, sucking gently at your neck, he tasted coconut. When he sank to his knees before you, and nestled his head between your thighs, the taste was still sweet as could be, something indescribable and incomparable, something uniquely you. You giggled as he dived in, trying to indulge further, but the wide brim of his hat obstructed his access to you.

He smirked, quickly removing it and reaching up to place it on your head.

“You take care of that, sugar, and let me take care of you.”

He would eat your pussy until you were having to push him away, legs shaking, overstimulated from having come apart on his tongue numerous times. He would barely give you a reprieve until he wanted to start again, pleading with you softly, “Come on sweet girl, I know you got one more for me.”

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

tuesday, zhang hao— string ensemble

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here. ⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.8k ⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down) ⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated. ⋆˙⟡ tuesday summary: happy tuesday, you know what that means: two straight hours of wind ensemble. and it's made even more enjoyable by first chair, zhang hao, chewing you out for every mistake you make. he's been quiet today though. it's making your skin crawl. can you manage to get out unscathed?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. dub-con. bullying. stuck up, tattletale hao. this is a doozy. you'll be glad we took it easy monday. smut in gn and fem versions are substantially different due to logistics/circumstance. also i clearly know nothing about playing the violin so just 🤓☝️ pipe down over there, k? ily. actually would love to hear real violinists thoughts on this so hmu. ⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★☆☆ (3.5)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: foreign object and finger insertion (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), dub-con: hao doesn't have consent before sexually touching reader but reader is turned on by it, cum play, bullying.

DO NOT PUT ROSIN UP YOUR HOO HA YA DINGUS!! purely for entertainment purposes, this fic exists in a world where there aren't consequences for that okay? DON'T. I REPEAT DON'T. DO THIS IRL. okay thank you, love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black music chair, smoothing your skirt so that it doesn’t ride up while you play. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince. 

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides her lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition. 

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happened during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon. 

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly. 

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet. 

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... i think you could use some rosin.”

“what do you—” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and a sudden draft hits your heat as your panties are shoved to the side beneath your skirt. the air leaves your lungs as long, thin fingers dip through your folds and squeeze something cold and smooth inside of you.

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “i think that might help your tone.”

“y-you... did you...” you stammer as you gawk at the boy in front of you. your cheeks are beet red at the violation of your sex. you’re in such shock that all you can whisper is, “you can’t put that in... there.”

“an instrument should be well cared for,” he challenges, sinking to his knees and running his hands up and down your bare thighs. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved a foreign object up you without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he backs you against the wall of storage units exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. you step out of them without a word. he lifts your right leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt closer to his face as he holds your hips steady.

he licks a stripe starting just above your opening to your clit as if he wants to taste every inch of you. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his fingers grip into your hips. “definitely needs more rosin.”

he dives back in, lapping at your cunt— tongue flicking your bundle of nerves as your arousal builds. you must’ve fallen into an alternate dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips but all of your worries aren’t eased just yet.

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, starting to feel a bit dizzy. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects in between sloppy traces of his tongue. “the average internal temperature of a vagina is 37.5 degrees.”

“but—”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao ridicules, biting gently at your clit. you throw your head back at the sensation as he increases the pressure of his tongue against you. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

“hao,” you beg, his slander just adding to the pleasure you’re feeling as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. he parts your entrance with his fingers, the cake of rosin slipping out into his palm with a crude, wet smack. you both stare at the golden brown block, still perfectly intact but now dripping in your arousal. he drags it down the inside of your thighs, mesmerized by the trail of glistening honey it leaves on your skin. “mm, coated perfectly now.”

he drops the rosin on the floor next to you, replacing the empty space in your pussy with his ring and middle fingers. you gasp at the stretch, clenching involuntarily around him.

“i think you’re ready to play,” hao decides, curling his fingers up inside of you against your front wall and pressing on your clit with his thumb. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

you do as he says, moaning as the pads of his fingers press into your sweet spot again. with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy. 

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to your cunt, sucking at your sensitive bud with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of his finger-fucking. it’s all too much for you to handle, your walls spasming around him uncontrollably.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

you can barely hold yourself up, clinging to the shelves on either side of you as hao works you through your high. your breathing returning to normal, he looks up at you as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy— lips pink and glistening with your juices. 

he removes your right leg from around his shoulder, eyes locked with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees. 

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: hand/oral (reader receiving), throat fucking with fingers (reader receiving), dubcon: hao does not have consent before inserting fingers into reader's mouth, reader is turned on by this, cum play, bullying.

IF YOU WANT TO COVER YOUR ROSIN IN CUM, YOU CAN I'M NOT THE BOSS OF YOU but from everything i've read in research for this fic, it will ruin it so maybe don't. up to you tho, babe. love you.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you take a deep breath, bouncing nervously on the balls of your feet at the south campus entrance. you’d barely gotten any sleep last night after your encounter with jiwoong, too busy tossing and turning as you pictured the dirty looks you’d be getting all over campus the next day. but as you walk across the main courtyard to the music building this afternoon, you’re surprised and elated to hear no frantic whispers in response to your presence.

had jiwoong really kept what happened yesterday a secret? you find it hard to believe he’d want to protect your reputation and mental well-being. still, the proof was in the pudding and, so far, the pudding seemed entirely unaware of who you are. just how you like it.

on tuesday afternoons, you had string ensemble in place of advanced drama. although it was a relief to have jiwoong out of sight and out of mind, there was another force at play to deal with.

as you enter the orchestra room, you spot that force immediately— already seated and delicately coating the hairs of his bow with the lifetime supply of premium rosin he’d won for first place violinist at the chinese international music competition three years ago. you know this fact because he never lets you forget it.

with your violin case in your hand, you make your way to your seat: second chair, of course. first chair is eternally occupied by your conductor’s most favorite student.

you sit down in your black chair, propping your sheet music booklet up onto your music stand. opening your violin case, you carefully pull out your instrument and begin quietly tuning it as the rest of the string ensemble files in. you place your bow to the strings, playing a note to assess the sound. the note comes out airy and weak and it makes you inherently wince. 

“fucking fix that right now,” a familiar voice to your left suddenly demands. “i won’t ask again.”

your left eyebrow peaks in confusion as you mumble, “you didn’t ask a first time.”

he doesn’t even look at you. and though you already intended to fix the problem without his prompting, you place your violin back in its case and start to fish around in the velvet compartments for some rosin. when you come up empty, you start to panic.

“good afternoon, everyone,” professor ahn greets, tapping her conductor’s baton on the frame of her metal music stand. “we have a lot to get to today, so let’s just jump right in.”

shit. you really need rosin.

but there’s no way you can raise your hand and disrupt professor ahn’s flow. she already thinks you’re a second-rate violinist that “hides your lack of talent behind incessant practice”. this was a direct quote you’d received on your evaluation sheet last semester. besides, all professor ahn would probably say was that you should’ve made sure your bow was up to par before you even got to campus.

you couldn’t argue with that. it was the truth. but your little incident with jiwoong had preoccupied you and suddenly every perfectionist task you routinely performed seemed... obsolete. how could you let him get to you like this?

and why did it still feel so good?

professor ahn taps her baton again, signaling for everyone to turn to the first page of your spring concert repertoire. you swallow nervously, opening your sheet music booklet to tippett’s fantasia concertante on a theme of corelli. it’s an extremely difficult piece that an outstanding violinist struggles to play on a good day. and you would be playing it with your bow in a noticeably poor condition.

you stumble through the piece as quietly as possible, cringing when the sound your instrument produces is less than satisfactory. though your ensemble is still learning the song, others’ mistakes aren’t enough to hide the strange performance coming from the second-chair violinist.

“zhang hao-sshi,” professor ahn suddenly calls. the boy to your left looks up at her in attention, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. “who is responsible for that unsatisfactory sound?”

you were foolish to think you could escape what inevitably always happens during string ensemble: the second of your five jerk-off bullies ratting you out in front of the whole orchestra.

there was a reason professor ahn held such distaste for you and your craft and that reason was zhang hao. each and every rehearsal, your professor would ask the first chair to list any mistakes he’d heard from your section and he apparently only ever noticed yours. you’d sit there, cheeks heating up with embarrassment as hao described every error you made in great detail that day— professor ahn taking note and deducting points from your rehearsal grade as she saw fit.

hao had seemingly made it his mission to single handedly make you quit violin in a sea of unbearable shame.

so you’re shocked when all hao replies is, “i apologize, professor ahn. i was too engrossed in playing to notice where the error was coming from.”

what the fuck? why would he lie? it couldn’t be to help you. hao would throw you to the wolves without a second thought if it meant remaining superior to you.

but his gaze returns to his sheet music, pencil floating across the paper as he quietly adds annotations. you’re honestly freaked out. had he hit his head? had the difficulty of the piece actually thrown him that much?

rehearsal ends shortly thereafter and you stay in your chair, silently tending to your violin next to hao. you’re both usually the last to leave, but hao always makes it a point to stay just a few seconds longer than you. just to prove something.

after your instrument is safely back in its case, you stand up and make your way over to the instrument storage closet. you find your cubby, pulling out your key and unlocking your unit so you can leave your violin there for the remainder of your classes this afternoon. 

as you place your violin case gently inside and lock your cubby, the unexpected sound of footsteps behind you makes you freeze in place. slowly, you turn around to find hao standing in the doorway of the storage closet.

weird. hao would never undermine his unparalleled musicianship by keeping his violin in a public storage unit. he sets his case down next to him, crossing his arms and leaning on the left side of the door frame.

“i’m waiting,” is all he says, brow raised expectantly. 

you look to your left and right, trying to discern what it is hao could be waiting for. you can’t find anything of note. “um... for what?”

“what do you mean, for what?” hao spits, eyes narrowing angrily. “i didn’t tell professor ahn about any of the mistakes you made today. and i don’t know if you noticed, but you made a fuck ton.”

and the shoe drops, you think.

“did you not even notice my act of kindness?” he asks indignantly. “don’t you think i at least deserve a thank you?”

“oh,” you reply, tilting your head in surprise. you swallow the urge to tell him that kindness in demand of a thank you is not exactly kindness and instead, just nod. “yeah. thank you. i guess.”

it must be some weird, new power play over you. it’s probably best to make a swift exit and not give him the attention he wants, so you turn on your heel and start to walk toward the door to leave. but as you approach the exit, hao reaches across the door frame— your chest colliding directly with his forearm as he blocks you in.

“c-... can i get through? i have to be in calc iii in fifteen minutes,” you ask with a frown.

hao’s arm stays glued to the other side of the door as he continues to stare at you. “i want a better thank you.”

“you—... why?” you question, brow furrowing in confusion. “i already said thank you. and i didn’t even ask you to lie for me in the first place.”

hao blinks at you. “so you’re not grateful?”

“honestly, you’re kind of making me uncomfortable,” you reply, ducking under his arm and walking back out into the orchestra room. “so if my lack of gratitude means you’re going to go back to humiliating me in front of the entire string ensemble every day... i guess i’ll just have to continue living with it.”

you make it halfway out of the rehearsal room when you hear a faint: “wait.”

you turn around to find a slightly panicked hao still standing in the doorframe of the storage closet. 

“you need rosin, right? you ran out?” he asks, as if he couldn’t tell exactly what your problem had been from hearing you play today. “i’ll give you some of mine.”

clearly you’ve just hallucinated. you’re so stressed from yesterday’s events that you’ve started hearing things. or maybe you’re still asleep in your bed at home. or maybe you’re dead. because there’s no way hao would ever give you his beloved rosin.

“let me just get it out of my case,” he says, bending down to the ground and opening up his very expensive violin case. you walk over to him slowly, partly because you don’t believe him and partly because you’re starting to worry something is terribly wrong with him.

“hao, are... are you feeling okay?” you ask, stepping back into the storage closet and watching as he pulls out a fresh cake of premium rosin. it’s a box-shape with rounded edges and no plastic holder, the golden-brown hardened sap shining beautifully even in the dim light of the storage closet.

he stands back up, holding the rosin between his fingers delicately. “never better.”

“you’re—... you’re gonna give me your cimc prize rosin?” you ask, incredibly confused. “why would you do that?”

“because you need it. don’t you?” he answers with a shrug.

“but... but—.” you protest, head spinning a million miles a minute trying to make sense of hao’s bizarre and uncharacteristic display of benevolence. “what’s the catch?”

with no discernible inflection, hao repeats, “the catch.”

“i don’t see why you’d give this to me without a price,” you elaborate skeptically. “you don’t like me. you’re actively mean to me actually. it doesn’t make sense that you’d give me something you value without asking for anything in return. i mean, you couldn’t even randomly choose to cover for me during rehearsal without demanding a thank you after.”

hao considers this for a moment and then nods. “well, what if i ask for the same thing then? in exchange for this rosin, i want a thank you.”

“i can’t even begin to figure out what’s gotten into you today,” you respond with a reluctant sigh, “but fine. i guess i can agree to your terms.”

“we have a deal,” hao affirms with a stupid, perfect smirk. he closes the gap between you, holding out the rosin in his palm. when you try to take it from him, he retracts his hand. “i’ll take the thank you first actually.”

“sure,” you agree with a sigh, rolling your eyes. “thank you.”

he tilts his head to the side, prompting, “what was that?”

“thank you, hao. i really appreciate you giving me your rosin,” you feed flatly, hoping you’ve finally appeased him.

“an improvement,” he says before shaking his head again. “but i’m still not loving the tone coming out of you... maybe your bow needs some rosin.”

“you already know it does! what are you even talking—,” you start to ask, but it’s already too late. without any time to spare, the door is shut behind you and two long, thin fingers are pushed inside of your mouth. 

“there you go,” hao smiles, incredibly satisfied with the stunt he’s just pulled. “a thorough coat to get that perfect sound.”

he cups your jaw with his free hand as he shoves his fingers further into your mouth. you gag slightly as he approaches the back of your throat, your cheeks turning beet red at the violation of your body. 

“an instrument should be well cared for,” hao says as he removes his fingers from your lips, unbuttoning your jeans as he guides you to sit down in a black music chair. “gonna make you sound so pretty.”

there’s a flutter in your core that you desperately want to silence. you could not be turned on by this. one of the men you hate most in this world just shoved his fingers down your throat without asking. so why is the hungry look in his eyes as he sinks down between your legs exciting you?

hao hooks his fingers around the waistband of your jeans, tugging at them until you finally lift your hips up wordlessly. he discards your underwear next, chuckling sardonically at your continued state of silence.

his lubricated fingers ghost over you, leaving a trail of your own saliva up and down your sex. the sensation makes you gasp and then immediately cover your mouth in shame. were you really enjoying this?

“hm, still an airy sound,” hao observes, eyes locked on your center as his free hand grips your thigh— fingers digging into the soft flesh. “definitely needs more rosin.”

hao pulls your hips closer to him, taking you into his mouth— swirling and sucking at your heat with his tongue. you must’ve fallen into another dimension. fainted. been in a terrible bus accident on your way to campus. but why you’d dream of hao’s head between your thighs in a storage closet is beyond your comprehension.

the more he works you with his mouth, the more hums and sighs escape your lips.

“hao,” you beg, pleasure building as your right hand tangles up in his hair— tugging from the root. “feels so good. so, so good.”

“fuck, that’s beautiful baby,” hao pants, right hand detaching from your hip. “maybe you can even learn something from how i’m playing you. everyone would appreciate that, huh?”

the patronizing insult makes you throb, another whimper falling out of you. he watches you intently, mouth open slightly as he drinks in the sight of you writhing in pleasure. “c’mon, baby. let me hear you.”

with every rhythmic stroke, your sounds grow less inhibited and hao grows more entranced. he’s making the face he usually makes while playing his violin— focused, impassioned, and devastatingly sexy. 

was hao enjoying playing you as much as he enjoyed playing his other instrument?

“gon—... gonna make me cum,” you whine after another minute, the look in hao’s eyes turning feral. he immediately returns his mouth to you, sucking at your most sensitive part with a renewed vigor.

as hao brings you closer to the brink of orgasm, your moans only grow louder and sweeter like a crescendo. the harmonic sounds coming out of you are intensified by an increase in the pace of hand. it’s all too much for you to handle, your core beginning to spasm.

“oh my god, hao—,” you cry, your climax crashing over you like the perfect wave. “c-cumming... i—...”

hao pulls out the cake of rosin from his back pocket as he works you through your high, bringing it between your legs and covering it in your release. your breathing slowly returning to normal,he runs the sticky rosin down each of your inner thighs. 

“it’s... it’s gonna melt,” you say softly, both hypnotized and concerned. “the r-ros—.”

“rosin starts to crumble from heat at 50 degrees celsius,” hao interjects as he coats the rosin in more of your fluids. “your body temperature is 37 degrees.”

“but—.”

“don’t act like you don’t know how numbers work. aren’t you in calc iii?” hao baits, licking up the last remnants of your orgasm for himself. “are you just a fraud in every subject you take?”

his eyes lock with yours as he stands up and brushes the dust off his knees. 

“th-thank... you,” is what comes out of you as you stare up at him, dumbfounded. “thank you.”

“yeah, sure,” hao replies dismissively. after making such a big deal about a thank you, it figures he’d pretend he never cared in the first place. “clean off that rosin and use it next week or i’ll tell professor ahn you stole it from me.”

“oh. okay,” you quietly agree, unable to control the awkward energy that’s now tying your tongue. “um. thanks... again.”

he just shrugs, walking over to the door and picking up his violin case. unlocking the door and pushing it open, he takes a few steps out the door before suddenly stopping in his tracks. he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “i almost forgot to ask...”

you gulp at the sight of the upturned corner of his lip in a smug grin.

“... was it better than jiwoong hyung?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

[mixelation]

I have a question about the time travel Minato fic they you wrote!!!

So, I remember in Naruto that he had an ANBU guard as a kid. Do they exist in this universe? If they do, why didn’t they immediately jump the guy who’s pretending to be the 4th hokage?

Maybe they don’t actually guard him 24/7 or something?

Adding to this, was there any kind of chakra flare when Minato flashed into this universe? I’d inagine that it would take a lot of chakra to power a jutsu that would send you to other dimensions.

If there WAS a chakra flare, are there people who are tracking down Minato right now?

Oh, I meant to include a note about this and then forgot.

I am ignoring several popular fic tropes for this genre of fic. First, there is no canonical evidence that Naruto was ever persecuted in any way besides being shunned/ignored and that one time Mizuki tricked him. No one's ever hunt him down or beat him.* Second, I am using the anime or manga portrayal of his living situation (haven't decided which yet), which to me looks like an older building that's otherwise largely free of disrepair/neglect. He's not living in squalor. Third and most relevant to your question, he doesn't have a 24/7 ANBU guard. The ANBU guard thing is purely fanon, and while I don't mind it in fics and might use it in a different fic, I personally don't think it jives very well with what canon actually shows us, and I don't feel like including it as a logistical hurdle for this fic.

IIRC, the main village security is a perimeter thing. Like, they sensed Pein coming in because of some sort of perimeter, but Itachi was able to bypass it because "he knew how." Given the clusterfuck of the chunin exams, during which they knew Orochimaru was lurking and just couldn't find him, I don't think there's any canon evidence they'd be able to pick up on foreign jutsu usage that wasn't like.... loud/obvious. So Minato is accidentally in stealth mode right now. (I did intentionally make a point to describe the park as empty and poorly lit-- no one is around close enough to recognize him.)

*I did want an explanation for why Naruto is living alone at such a young age, because him living alone IS implied in the anime, but the logistics of how a small child could do that has no canon explanation. So I decided he was removed from an orphanage (which we know canon DOES have a concept of) due to abuse, and he had various caretakers visiting him until he was deemed responsible enough to care for himself. I still didn't want to lean into "comically physically abusive" so I picked some punishments that I thought a ninja village might consider fine/normal except when issued excessively.

[ingravinoveritas]

How will you feel if Georgia and Anna turn up in GO2? Or any other assorted family members?

(Grouping all of the GO 2 Anons together since there are quite a few, and in order of take hotness level from Mild to Medium to Habanero Spicy...)

So, to recap the seeming order of events up until now (though I'm sure everyone is probably well aware): Three weeks ago, Neil made this post featuring a behind the scenes photo from GO season 2. Almost immediately, Twitter detectives set to work trying to ascertain the identities of the three people in the photo, and it very quickly came to light that both Peter Davison and Ty Tennant have roles in GO 2 listed on their respective CVs on their shared agent's website:

Shortly after that, the news appeared to be confirmed on the Radio Times website, and was subsequently picked up by a number of other media outlets. Most of these seem to be repeating what was reported by Radio Times, and while (from what I have seen, at least) there has been no official confirmation from either Amazon or Neil, the roles being on Peter and Ty's CVs seem to have convinced most of the fandom that they are in the second season.

I think there are several things we have to consider when talking about all of this. The first season of GO came out in 2019, and since then, the world has, well...I suppose "gone completely tits up" is one way of putting it, but the world has changed dramatically, and the circumstances around filming and production of television have also changed. Thus, when GO season 2 was filmed in Scotland from October of 2021 to March of 2022, the set was extremely locked down tight due to Covid safety protocols.

In all likelihood, it probably would've been very difficult to get actors for smaller roles or as extras, so from a purely logistical/practical standpoint, that is what could have led to the casting of Peter and Ty. There is also no way to know who the characters of Alastair and Ennon are, so for all we know, these could be very brief appearances where the characters are in one scene and then never appear again.

With that in mind, let's turn to the subject of nepotism, which I have seen mentioned quite frequently since the alleged casting was announced. I think what people may not be seeing is that there has been a marked difference in the reaction to Peter/Ty's casting from the hardcore GO fans vs. the wider public on Twitter. With the GO fans, there seems to be this attitude of tiptoeing around the word nepotism and everyone needing to be super happy/thrilled at the prospect of Peter and Ty (and possibly Georgia, but more on that ion a minute) being in GO 2, or otherwise you're a "bad" GO/David fan.

The wider public, however, has no such compunction about saying the word, often repeatedly, and with additional color commentary. What I wish the fans on Twitter understood is that this is something to be genuinely concerned about, because when the second season comes out, it won't be enough for just the hardcore fans to watch it. The show needs to bring in new viewers, and if people are as turned off by perceived nepotism as they seem to be, they won't tune in. Without those viewers, season 2 may not perform well, and if that is the case, Amazon could easily say "Well, GO season 2 didn't perform, so we're not going to greenlight a third season."

That is why it matters. Because even if casting Peter/Ty was done out of necessity/practicality, it ultimately comes down to people's perceptions, and overwhelmingly those perceptions are of nepotism and/or stunt casting.

For me personally, I certainly was and am not thrilled at the idea of Peter and Ty being in GO 2 (let alone Georgia and Anna, which...I might need a stronger drink before I write out my thoughts on that). But this does not in any way have anything to do with me disliking Peter or Ty, and in fact goes back to what I've always been most concerned with, and that's the integrity of the show.

Thinking back to 2020, I'm reminded of the heart-achingly beautiful audio clip that was released just a few months into lockdown, in honor of the 30th anniversary of GO's publication. Neil didn't write a new scene for Shadwell and Madame Tracy or Newt and Anathema...he wrote a scene for Aziraphale and Crowley. It was Michael and David whose performances resonated so strongly with all of us and with him, and he specifically chose to bring them back as Aziraphale and Crowley to mark that occasion.

When Staged came along shortly thereafter, it was created to build on that chemistry and relationship between Michael and David. Staged was meant to remind us of Good Omens, not the other way around. So I do feel that, when it comes to Peter and Ty (and Georgia/AL) being in GO season 2, it would be a distraction to have them there, rather than an enhancement. Not even because of the acting--as Peter is a seasoned actor and Ty/Georgia are decent enough (though AL is the exception, as she categorically cannot act, which we have seen)--but because of the principle.

The reason so many of us have greatly anticipated the second season is the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. So for me, casting any of these folks in the show (but particularly Georgia and AL) draws attention away from the Husbands, almost as if to say the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley is somehow less/not as worth our attention as their "real" relationships. It also goes back to what I mentioned above about stunt casting, and again, if the viewers the show very much relies on see it that way and are turned off by that/perceived nepotism, it may cause the show itself to suffer overall.

So those are my thoughts on the potential casting of Peter Davison/Ty Tennant and Georgia/AL being in GO 2. I suspect we won't really know the truth about who is or isn't in the show until it's released, but to the Anons who felt they are alone in having feelings of hesitation over these casting decisions: You are very much not the only one who feels as you do, and I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to write in and share your feelings with me. We'll just have to wait and see what happens...

[messenger-of-stupidity]

Origin of Tomorrow

Taking a break from angst to get some fluff.

CW: GN Listener characters, I actually looked at the timeline to get some of the facts right but not all of them,

Redacted Masterlist

Sweetheart pressed their badge to the scanner, a soft click signifying the unlocking. They pulled it open, letting it fall closed behind them as they rubbed their eyes. They had spent the night over at their mate's residence, but they didn't get much sleep if you caught their drift. It would have been helpful to remember that they had to come in to work early, but hindsight cured all confusions.

They walked over to their desk, mind still locked in a haze of exhaustion. The office wasn't empty - it never was - but it was certainly quiet. So Sweetheart was either going to be able to have peace or fall asleep because of too much peace. They plopped down in their chair and rubbed their eyes again.

"Oh thank god you're here." A familiar voice said. The aura of the telepath instantly locked in Sweetheart's brain and they lifted their head to look at the other. Cutie was nice enough, but they didn't work the same cases so it was difficult to classify the telepath as direct friends. Sweetheart was more of a field worker while Cutie handled the aftermath due to the specifications.

"Not by choice." Sweetheart replied dryly as Cutie hopped up to sit on the edge of their desk. Their gaze dropped to the other's hands that were being twisted in their lap. The stealth arched a brow and looked back at Cutie. "What's up?"

"So you remember me talking about that cute guy I heard on a run a bit ago?" Cutie asked, eyes staring directly into Sweetheart's. The other was never shy about eye contact. Sweetheart nodded.

Cutie had mentioned a guy that they had heard while on a run. While listening in on unempowered people's minds held its own issue, it hadn't been something Sweetheart wanted to poke into. Cutie had developed somewhat of a crush but hadn't chased it. Something that was about to change if they had to guess.

"I saw him on my run this morning." Cutie said, leaning closer to Sweetheart. They stayed quiet, waiting for the telepath to continue. "And he thought I was cute, so I started talking to him. And asked for his number. And now we're gonna go out sometime. His name is Geordi." Sweetheart watched silently as Cutie let out a happy sigh.

They didn't have anything against empowered dating unempowered. Far from. Hell, they adored spending time with Angel and Asher's mate. But there was still something slightly offsetting about Cutie being in a relationship with an unempowered while listening to his thoughts without his knowledge.

"You're going to have to make him an informed unempowered if it gets serious." They said softly and Cutie blinked.

"I know that. But I want to make sure we're going to steady before we do that. It hasn't even been the first date, Stealth. Don't worry." The telepath giggled and adjusted the lanyard around their neck. "How are things with your werewolf beau?" Sweetheart couldn't stop the smile that jumped to their lips, causing a squeal from their coworker. "Oh my god. You really love him, don't cha?"

"Yeah." Sweetheart replies softly. They can't help but feel soft when talking about Milo. He's fun to tease and mess with, but at the end of the day, they really love him. They were planning to move in with him finally. It wasn't for lack of wanting to or being invited that made them wait so long, but purely logistics. Moving was difficult when you lived in a Department provided apartment.

"How long you been together?" Cutie asked, clearly searching for more information. The telepath was consistently hungry for information.

"Three years." Sweetheart answered and Cutie let out a whistle that had the Stealth swatting at them.

"You two are couple goals, seriously."

Sweetheart hoped that Cutie reached the point where they believed they reached that goal. Even with the obstacles in the way.

[tfp-lover]

What do you think soundwave's various relationships with the other decepticons are like? I love seeing how different people interpret their interactions! (I run that new soundwave rp/ask blog and found your blog through that- I love finding other tfp blogs because I find it's hard to find people still active in the transformers community at times lol ^^ No pressure to answer if you aren't as active here anymore tho!)

Sorry I wasn’t able to respond in forever! I took a break from my blog for a bit due to personal reasons.

I think Soundwave is hesitant to form bonds with most of his coworkers, so he doesn’t have many personal interactions with most of them. However, he does keep tabs on them (since he is the eyes and ears of the decepticons) so he does know about their interests and hobbies. Therefore, I’ll write my headcanons as him rating his coworkers from 0-10!

DREADWING: 8/10

Soundwave likes how devoted he is to the deception cause! There’s a lot of treachery nowadays so it’s a breath of fresh air!

However, Him and Dreadwing don’t have similar hobbies. Soundwave isn’t a big fan of demolition and he doesn’t know if Dreadwing is into technology and computers. Soundwave would be willing to learn how Dreadwing builds his bombs, though!

He thought Megatron killing Dreadwing was a stupid decision. He killed one of the few competent mechs around for an unjust reason:(

STARSCREAM: 4/10

Not the biggest fan

While he does respect him and thinks he’s an amazing battle strategist, his constant treachery doesn’t sit well with him

He also think he’s a coward, which drops his rating more

KNOCKOUT: 9/10

Slightly biased because of one of my prior posts, but I think Soundwave would actually like Knockout!

Knockout balances out Soundwave’s almost pure logistical and cold nature, which is good when debating future plans. Knockout is also one of the few mechs to understand his body language and puts Soundwave’s opinion into mind when offering ideas:)

He gets a point off though for being friends with Starscream

That’s all I’m going to do for now, but if anyone more of Soundwave rating his peers, I’d be happy to oblige!

[vesseldocumentationservice]

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[xtrablak674]

If I Had One Regret

It would probably be wishing I had worked more. Let's not get it twisted, I am not one of those people who just loves working for workings sake. I thoroughly enjoy my in-between times, my free-time, my me-time. But there has been one through-line in my later adult life. It has become harder for me to find employment.

Let's be clear, my capabilities, aptitude and general readiness have never diminished. I am highly skilled, technologically proficient, an effective communicator and very organized, things that throughout my career employers have loved and benefited from greatly. I have also become more myself as I have matured, not that I was ever anyone's cog, but the further I have come, the more I have deepened who I am, and no one can truly ever be the boss of me, because I know what I am here to do.

And what is the problem with me? Not a damned thing, in my opinion. But the intersectionalities of my identities have only blossomed, refined and matured. I have passed from gay, to same-gender-loving to queer. I have been a boy, a man and now a person. I have been a sissy, a tranny and now non-binary. I have been a tar-baby, a spook and now beautiful. I have been sexually abused, abuser and now celibate. I have had extensive family, and lost and lost some more and now have an intimate chosen-family.

Through all of these trials and transitions I have done the best to never let my light be dimmed, I have adjusted certain aspects of my behavior for my safety, but I have never shied away from always living my truth. Part of this truth is I can wear whatever I want to and execute all the parameters of my job description. I can move through spaces without ever apologizing for my Blackness. I will be friendly, but not make myself more palatable for whyte folks. I can carry and lead a meeting, never having to explain who I go to bed with or as.

It would be false of me to not acknowledge that I have had amazing opportunities through out my life and also had financial support that is unheard of in many families, that has given me more choice and options about the kind of work that I choose to do and the kind of compensation I will accept. Due to my bearings, cultural background and excellent diction I have always assumed to be college-educated something I have never dissuaded anyone from believing nor have I ever exhibited a less than well-polished veneer.

I want to work not just because I can, but because I feel I have something to offer. I miss my mind being challenged daily and having responsibilities that varied on a everyday basis. I miss the teamwork of process mapping and smoothing out the terrain to assist my organization in working smarter and smoother not harder. I miss the satisfaction of having accomplished something that no one else thought could be done and delivering brilliantly. And it would be a whole-ass lie to not admit I miss the money. The comforts of my low six-figure salaries supported me in the way I had grown accustomed to, and it would be pure folly to say I wouldn't want to return to that level of stability.

Most importantly I want to work because this society says folks who were raised like me, have a complexion like mine, whose hair falls and grows the way mine does, whose gender fluctuates based on the day the temperature and what I chose to wear, whose creativity, gender-expression and Black pride can't be inhibited by a arbitrary dress-codes, whose defiance to bureaucratical logistical nonsense will not be assuaged.

I am I and I will do my work not by some European ethic or influence, not by some heterosexist values or persistence, not by some binary of gender and my role here-within, nor by assuaging your white guilt and privilege and molding myself to make you more comfortable with my Blackness. None of these things effect the work that I can output nor should they be necessary to me contributing brilliantly to society like anyone else can.

[Photos by Brown Estate]

[innovationcalls]

R&D tax relief is changing

If you claim R&D tax relief under either of RDEC or SME schemes, the changes summarised below may be worth your attention.  

The Good: 

R&D expenditure categories are set to extend: 

Great news for players utilising datasets and cloud computing in their R&D activities, as the cost of these pricey resources now qualifies for tax relief. 

Furthermore, Health and Social Care Levies will qualify in R&D staff costs.  

Lastly, R&D in pure mathematics will now qualify for relief.  

The bad? 

While not necessarily bad news for all, one of the most fundamental changes is that tax relief is now limited to work undertaken in the UK. There are some specific exemptions to this rule, whereby work outside the UK is necessary for environmental, social, regulatory, or legal requirements. If the work done outside the UK is for a justifiable and unavoidable purpose, it should still be eligible for tax relief. Examples of eligible works for potential exemption include clinical trials, technology developed for extreme environments and deep ocean research. Non-eligible exemptions come in the form of economic or logistical reasons such as cost constraints or workforce availability.  

The unavoidable:  

New methods are being implemented to combat abuse of the R&D schemes meaning: 

New due diligence and filing processes are now required through a digital system 

All claims must be made digitally (except for those that are exempt) 

Endorsement of a named senior officer of the company will be required 

But, perhaps most importantly… companies will be required to inform HMRC of their intention of filing a claim within six months from the end of the period to which the claim relates, unless a company has claimed in one of the preceding three accounting periods. Meaning a new claimant will only have a 6-month timeframe to inform of the claim (as opposed to the current 2 year window).  

Overall, the changes shouldn’t impact your tax relief harshly. The extension to eligible expenditure will be especially advantageous, given the vast utilisation of data sets and cloud computing in today’s innovation activities.  

However, whilst planning your R&D projects, it is essential to bear the aforementioned changes in mind. Especially given the tightening of rules regarding activities conducted outside of the UK and the need to stay on top of your claims within a stricter timeframe.   

The changes will take effect from the 1st of April, 2023. Inventya’s input can assist you in adapting to these changes, whilst helping you to optimise your claim of this valuable resource. Get in touch to find out how we can support you further. 

[aadhunikayurveda]

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[queenofthursday6599-blog]

Sometimes I’ll think too deeply about the logistics of the world building of shows or books or something and just completely bewilder myself.

Like how in the world of Beastars there’s definitly certain species where the females are put on birth control as soon as they hit puberty.

Not for like- sex drive reasons, but because parthenogenesis is just a thing that happens to some species. For a small number it’s their entire means of reproduction.

Like imagine having to be a creature of human equivalent intelligence, while also having to live in a world where you neighbors spontaneously eating you alive was a serious risk.

Along with the added random chance bonus of your body spontaneously deciding to impregnate itself because your senses couldn’t detect any males of your species in your area, so it thinks you’re alone on a deserted island you need to populate.

You know what species has parthenogenesis as a means of reproduction? Komodo Dragons.

Which makes me very curious as to what exactly Gosha covered when he gave Leano “The Talk”. Like did they just stick to Gray Wolf stuff because she clearly passed as pure Gray Wolf at the time, or did Gosha feel the need to tell Leano some more Komodo Dragon parts of the talk. Because warning your teenage daughter that she might someday spontaneously impregnate herself with no warning, is probably something you should give them an heads up about.

Anyways this came to my mind after I remembered that Komodo Dragon parthenogenesis is a thing, and that it’s actually scientifically sound to have an AU where Legoshi is Leano’s parthenogenesis baby. Especially due to the fact that Komodo Dragon parthenogenesis offspring are all males due to how Komodo Dragon chromosomal sex works.

So do with that what you wish.

[the-hopefulpenguin]

I’ve seen the take a few times that Iroh is weak/foolish for abandoning the Siege of Ba Sing Se due to the death of Lu Ten. This is understandable, and canon does a pretty poor job defending him. But with a bit of intellectual charity, one can pretty easily make the case for the retreat being good military sense:

1) His army is at the end of their supply lines, probably in a salient punched down that central river – we know that Omashu, and probably General Fong’s forces from their positions on the map, sit to his rear. This is a precarious position to be in, and you can well imagine that his logistical situation is somewhat parlous; trying to supply a major force across a continent is tricky with early modern technology and administration. 

2) He took the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se – and it’s implied, at a high cost. But just the Outer Wall. So now he has to advance on a narrow front across possibly hundred+ miles of farmland to reach the actual city of Ba Sing Se, then assault three more walls all while fighting in a congested urban environment to win. And winning would hardly deal with the supply issues detailed above! 

3) They’d already been there for nearly two years, which is pretty long as sieges go, never mind the time in the campaign to advance to the city; his soldiers are likely be exhausted. Besides – and this last is pure speculation – there are probably other Earth Kingdom armies in the field. Gaoling, for example, was never taken. How long could the Fire Nation afford to commit men and materiel to pointless attrition in Ba Sing Se?

In sum, he did lose his son, yes, and that certainly played a role in his decision-making process. However, it seems plausible that his army was overstretched, battling disease and parlous supply lines, badly attrited, represented a concentration of combat power needed elsewhere – and, crucially faced little clear chance of success. In such a situation, withdrawal is prescient and laudable.

[raxistaicho]

No, Edelgard did NOT use her citizens as human shields.

This is something Edelgard’s detractors love to bring up as a point against her: taking as gospel Claude’s supposition that Edelgard is using the people of Enbarr as shields against the invading Alliance forces.

This makes two assumptions, the first being that Claude is capable of reading Edelgard’s mind and knowing her intent. We can safely discard this out of hand.

The second assumption is that Edelgard is capable of evacuating an entire city in the span of a month and keep them safe in doing so.

Nowhere to run

Enbarr is the largest city in Fodlan and is located at the end of a peninsula. The only way OUT of the city that doesn’t cross the Morgaine Ravine heads in the exact direction of the encroaching army. While it’s likely that Enbarr is a port city, what is the likelihood that the Empire had a sufficient number of ships ready to use to safely evacuate all of Enbarr’s citizens along with enough supplies to last them until they can reach port elsewhere? Just the logistics behind such a move in such a short span of time would be an utter nightmare. Keeping the people orderly and preventing a panic would be a massive undertaking in and of itself.

Additionally, Enbarr is a fortress city built during a time of a continent-spanning war. Quite simply, there’s nowhere to send the people that would keep them safe on such short notice. Dangerous as it is, they’re safest kept within the city walls.

So why have the line at all? It’s quite simply a handwave to explain the lack of any signs of people civilians or evacuation in Enbarr. Recall that Silver Snow was the first-written route, and in that story, Byleth and Seteth commit the major war crime of false surrender to sneak their army into range to assault the city. In that story, the Empire would have been lucky to have a week’s warning that the city was due to come under attack.\

Dimitri the protector?

Tied into this, Dimitri does not take the Kingdom army out to Tailtean in Crimson Flower out of a self-sacrificing desire to protect the people of Fhirdiad. It was a purely pragmatic decision and nothing more, he says himself that Fhirdiad cannot withstand a siege; his only hope of victory was to chance an all-out battle on the plains of Tailtean.

Indeed, you need only listen to the man’s own words to confirm his intent at Tailtean: punishment, not protection.

[bonecorn]

I love your anatomy/references posts & I love skulls and skeletons & I would love to know how you convince people to give you their animal heads to clean. Also any bone cleaning tips for suburban areas?? When I was living on a farm it was easy to leave stuff out and let the bugs take care of it but my parents said hard no to dead things bleaching on the porch

Oh this is very easy!

Find a friend or acquaintance with land and leave your stuff there. Bug cleaning and tub maceration don't need a lot of hands-on attendance so you can check in however often you like.

There's also "hot water maceration" where you simmer (dont boil!) fresh heads in hot water and remove the cooked meat by hand. Make sure you scramble the brains first and then cook away inside or with a camping stove on the porch. And "bleaching" which is done with hydrogen peroxide can be done inside since the skulls are already clean by then anyway.

I don't actually convince people to give me their pets. For livestock, I ask because most people aren't emotionally attached to their livestock.

For pets, I wait to be offered the remains. More on that under the cut.

TLDR: Know the pet owner, wait to be offered bodies rather than asking. Make sure they are always in control. Ask for livestock no problem. Don't let scavengers eat euthanized meat.

holy crap lol

I don't ask for pet bodies. The trick is to be very open and excited about what you do so that people who know you know about bones and know that you are respectful of animal remains. Then, when a beloved pet dies, they might think about you.

Open up the conversation on death before it's relevant

You can also plant the seed ahead of time during a conversation about bones while the pet in question is alive and healthy. "Sometimes I do pets if their owner is ok with it, though most want to bury. Have you ever thought about that for Baxter?" It's in SUPER poor taste to do this while an animal is dying, when you'll need to be way more tactful.

Know your friend well enough to guess their feelings on it

It SUPER depends on the person and how they view bodies and death. My ex's dog passed away and he was always queasy about corpses. I comforted him and cried with him while his beloved 15 year old dog declined and passed. I didn't ask or even mention it because I knew him enough to know that he would say no, and that asking would be painful and upsetting for him to think about. Same with my dear friend and her 20 year old cat. She had a beautiful pet graveyard with headstones and everything. You just know not to ask some people because traditionally laying bodies to rest is important to them.

Other pet owners are chill about it, ESPECIALLY if they come from a livestock background. Livestock people are used to sending their animals to be recycled into glue and wax when they die, because it's generally not feasible to bury or cremate a horse. If someone does plan to take that on, you know they are absolutely dedicated to traditional burial and won't give you anything.

Make it their choice to offer, rather than it being your request

Anyway. If you know the person, and you know they might be ok with giving up their pet's body due to how they view bodies and death, then you work on making them think about you. First, you comfort and do everything you can to help the person through their grief. If you weren't already planning on doing that, then you have no business asking for their pet. Do not comfort someone in order to get something out of them. That's disgusting. Just straight up ask them for their pet and know that they will view you as tactless and rude, but its better than manipulating them.

What I do is not manipulation, it's reminding people what you do and then letting them make their own decisions. When your friend is feeling a little better and is not crying, you can ask about logistics. I ask "What do you plan to do for burial/with the body?" and that usually makes them think about me and what I do with bodies. If they already have a meaningful spot picked out to bury or scatter/keep ashes, then that means the body is important to them and I shouldn't ask further.

At this point, they should realize what you could use the body for and think about how they feel about that. This is when my sister (who has a livestock background) offered her dog to me. We talked about how she thought of bodies, and she thought that the soul is the only thing that matters and once her dog passes there's nothing important left. I did not say anything to convince her, these were all her own thoughts.

It's very VERY important to respect and love the pet owner because they're extremely vulnerable and emotionally raw. That's why I don't straight up ask, because when you're losing a pet, you don't want to feel like someone is trying to gain something from you.

If your friend says they don't know or haven't decided what to do for the body, you can gently say "Let me know if you want me to help bury it, to take it with me, or to just be there for you." This is a close-ended statement and not a question. A question means that your friend has to come up with an answer right there and then, while an offer is actionable. This puts the power and autonomy in your friend's hands, so that when they make a decision it comes fully from their wants and needs and is not about you and what you want.

Be there for them even if you get nothing out of it

If they don't offer at this point, they're not going to. Now hold up your end of the bargain and continue to comfort and help through the grieving process. Again, if you aren't already invested in this person enough to want to soothe and comfort and be there for the human person in the equation, then you have no business asking for their pet. When a pet dies, your first concern should be to the person. If it's not, then you aren't close enough to ask for goodies.

Helping someone grieve is not payment for their pet's body. If you realize they aren't going to give you something in return for your comfort and so you abandon them, you're a terrible person using their grief to manipulate them for your own gain. Comfort is not payment. Closeness in grief is a metric by which you measure "Do I have any business to ask?"

The pet owner runs the show, not you

Throughout this process, stress that the owner can change their mind at any time. You don't want the owner to think "I hate this but I can't back out now because I promised..." Even when they animal is all wrapped up an in your vehicle and ready to go, quietly tell the owner that they can still choose what happens and if they have second thoughts, that's ok and you won't be mad.

My sister let me be there for putting her dog down and it was all about her and her love for her dog. She carried him out and laid him in my trunk and we stood in the rain and talked and hugged. She then told me she was happy that he could bring happiness to someone in life and now still in death, but that she didn't want to know anything. I agreed not to tell her or post anything about processing her dog, so for her it would be like burial. The same thing happened with my other friend's horse. She spent some time with him and then as soon as he passed she drove away and let me do what I wanted. She didn't want to hear Any of it. Again, I didn't ask or even offer, she came up with the idea of giving me the body all on her own even before I knew he was dying.

Horse people are much closer to pet owners than livestock owners, but they are used to sending their friend's bodies off to a different kind of processing (at Tallow factories, livestock remains are ground up, cut apart, cooked, and spun around to extract various substances that become soap, glue, candles, etc) so they know not to think about what happens after death. It still depends on how well you know the owner and know how they think about death, but if you offer to handle logistics like dealing with the tallow guy, they can actually save money by letting you have it.

You're actually doing livestock a favor

Livestock people are generally chill and have a much more utility/asset view of their animals. If the animal doesn't even have a name they probably don't care what happens when it's dead. In fact, most farmers will jump at the chance to give you their animal for free because calling the tallow company to haul it away costs them money. This is also why in areas with lots of livestock, you sometimes find bodies dumped in ditches or left on the side of the road, because the farmer didn't want to pay to get rid of it so they made it everyone else's problem. Even pet animals like dogs and cats are more Utility than pure companions on a farm, so you might have a better chance of getting remains from a farmer than a neighbor.

One more thing about pets and livestock.

When I find a dead deer, I flay it open and let the vultures eat it. For domestic animals, they are often put to sleep via chemical/drug.

THIS IS POISONOUS TO SCAVENGERS.

DO NOT LET SCAVENGERS EAT EUTHANIZED ANIMALS

Seriously. If you like nature, you need to protect it. Deflesh it yourself, throw all the meat/blood/offal away or bury it 6 feet down. Idk what it does to the environment so I always freeze it and then throw it away on garbage day.

Rot bacteria and beetle larvae dermestids don't mind. In fact, dermestid droppings and pupa shells can be analyzed for toxins by forensic scientists to determine cause of death. Neat! Just make sure that if you process outdoors, the remains are EXTREMELY SECURE and cannot be opened by vultures, coyotes, or wild pigs.

Remember the living, human person

I know I look very clinical by picking apart human emotions, but I respond, feel, love, and grieve just like everyone else. I didn't plan how to get any of the animals in the above stories, I just acted on instinct and these are the ones where that paid off well.

Most of the time if I go "huh. I feel that may not go over well" I can then take that feeling apart and figure out why. So hopefully explaining how my feelings work it can help you listen to your most useful and most compassionate ones.

The living person is always more important than a dead pet. Sometimes you can get the dead pet without distressing your friend, sometimes you shouldn't even try.

Respecting the dead

A final note on working with pets vs wild animals. This is someone's family member, so don't play puppet with it like you might with a skunk skin. Don't take pictures of any part of the process until they are rendered to bones. Pictures of dead pet species are even more distressing to the general public than wild animals, and sick freaks might take your photos and send them to people for kicks or attention. Better to just not have photos than for that to happen.

What processing a pet feels like

Working on a pet is always going to be different for you, the vulture, than a wild animal. Everything you see is touched by human hands. My sister's dog was... beautiful. You don't really realize how moved you're going to be by seeing the perfect amount of healthy fat covering, or beautiful muscles that speak of exercise and attention. She rescued this starving pup and turned him into the healthiest animal I have ever seen. She's a vet assistant and the care and love she put into this dog had me sitting there crying while I held his paws; with their perfectly maintained clipped and sanded nails. I'd only met the dog once for a few minutes when he was alive, but his body was a canvas and every inch was painted with layers and layers of love. It made me so, so sad that his neurological issues couldn't be helped because his body was proof of someone who would stop at nothing to cure what could be cured, and that the last months of his life were happier than he ever imagined.

On the flip side, pets whose bodies show signs of neglect and abuse are going to hit you harder than any deer could. The dog I found discarded in a garbage bag on the side of the road had rotten teeth and nails so long they curled over themselves into hoops. An overgrown and suffering deer is just the sign of nature taking its course. An overgrown and suffering dog is the sign of human cruelty, of shirked responsibility.

Most pets you get will between these two dogs. No owner is perfect. Most old dogs have lost teeth to rot, sick cats too weak to scratch properly may have overgrown nails.

Death as beauty

A pet's body usually a beautiful story full of ups and downs; of owners doing things wrong and then doing things right. A vulture or an artist can read a body like rings on a tree and feel the heart beat in their chest that tells them how strong and full of love this life had been. You need to be ready for this part. Every detail is a message from your fellow human and even though we are all animals and we decompose into the same dirt, we're meant to connect to each other here and now.

Keep your emotions open when working with remains.

Listen to what they have to teach you.