#mentorship gone wrong

[kaybaeisgay]

no but really let’s talk about the dynamic between the older gen spideys vs young gen spideys for a moment, because it’s really got me fucked up.

miguel and all the older gen spideys seem so entirely accepting of all these “canon compliant” rules, because those rules absolutely validate the trauma that every one of them has gone through. the idea of “oh our pain had a reason, oh our heartbreak was for something after all” is a VERY powerful notion that—understandably—they welcome with open arms because they have already lived it.

but the younger gen spideys…. yes, most of them have bought into miguel’s logic for most of the movie, because of course you’re going to listen to the 1,000,000 adults all telling you the same thing when you’re fucking fifteen and desperate for any semblance of mentorship. and it sure does make a lot more sense when you yourself have also experienced a similar trauma to all the others.

but that’s exactly it, isn’t it? they’ve all experienced the same trauma—

that miles and pav have not.

so, no. actually, fuck your rules. and really, fuck your demands that i must suffer what you suffered just because you cannot accept me without it. and good on miles for saying it—good for all of the spideys who realized he was right—realized he was asking all the right questions instead of drawing all the wrong conclusions.

(yet. for all my anger i feel towards the older gen for pressuring him in that way….i also understand why they cling so desperately to these stupid “canon” rules. because, if miles can manage to resist it—if he or gwen or pav can escape what they never could—then suddenly, they have to ask the question of:

“what didn’t i do right?”

and

“was all that pain really for nothing?”

and accepting your life after having to ask those questions instantly becomes much more difficult.)

[starry-bi-sky]

"Stillborn? No, still born" Danyal au -- VLAD MASTERS THE BITCH HIMSELF

*Points at Vlad* THIS MFER GOT SOME TEEFS TO HIM. !! Okay okay, Vlad Masters in the stillborn au is different compared to most of my other aus in the fact that I am far more heavily leaning into his original ambitions of wanting a family and being desperately lonely. Because you know what wanting a family implies? Wanting to be a parent.

Fucked up father figure that could've been Vlad. Complicated love-hate relationship between the only two halfas in existence.

Danny hates Vlad, but he hates even more that he's genuinely considered his offers of mentorship. Vlad is the only halfa around, and they both have fire cores. Danny has these powers he doesn't understand, can barely comprehend some days, and can't control. But Vlad does. Vlad can. And Vlad wants to help him. He's the only other person who can get close whenever Danny runs too hot. Whenever his igneous hair cracks, splits, and spits back out into magma and his friends can't get close, Vlad can.

His hair is made of magma, which runs so hot that people need specialized suits in order to get near it. He physically cannot get close to the living as a ghost unless he's calm enough for his hair to cool into igneous rock. Which isn't as often as he would like. And sometimes he's too hot for other ghosts to get near unless they have fire cores -- which Vlad has.

There have been many times when Danny's having a meltdown (literally) and gone somewhere to be alone, to let his anger and hurt and loneliness overflow and spill out, that when he's come back to, Vlad's right there with him as an anchor. It's desperately frustrating, it's the only time they can get along. They don't say anything, Danny just turns and clings onto the only person he can touch as a ghost.

Its not fair. Vlad wants to kill his foster dad, and Danny can't let him do that. But he wants to be trained by the man, he wants his help and wants what he can offer. But Vlad can't step away from his revenge long enough to let him. It's just not fair. He thinks for a moment that maybe it could work, and then Vlad does something to remind him that no, it can't.

Vlad Masters sees too much of himself in Daniel Brown -- from the way he holds himself, to the defenses he puts up, his quiet anger that builds and builds and builds until it explodes. That simmers beneath his skin. All the way down to the fact that they have matching cores. This boy is cut from the same cloth as him, and by god does he want to help him. He's always wanted to be a father, and Daniel Brown is too much like him for him to ignore. He genuinely, truly cares about Danny and his wellbeing.

He wants to help him, child just let him help you. Let him kill your foster dad so he can adopt you himself and help with these powers that terrify and intrigue you -- he knows what that's like to have something that you can't control, to have a heat that you can't cool down from. "We're in the same boat you and I, let him help you please."

But his methods are all wrong, and Danny is too much like him -- stubbornness and all -- for him to agree when they oppose each other so greatly. But again, Danny is much like him -- which means that Vlad is equally stubborn, and in every single one of their fights he's parental. He's annoyingly parental. He drops his interest in Maddie to focus his efforts in trying to coax Danny onto his side. It's like trying to get a traumatized cat to trust you, and on some levels it works. It's like he makes some progress, and then moves too quickly and the cat immediately runs off and you have to start back from square one.

TL:DR; Vlad and Danny both want to find family in each other but they're too different to get along and ultimately they are doomed by the narrative to be at constant odds with one another unless one of them is changes, and it doesn't matter who.

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

Left Unsaid

Amelia Shepherd x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst (happy ending!), sex, fingering, explicit language, surgery times (duh), (let me know if I missed anything!) Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You used to be Dr. Shepherd's favorite resident, but something had happened in the last month that drove you further apart than ever. Will it get resolved (hint: yes, it does)?

“You, out!”

You stood, flabbergasted, in full scrub, suctioning blood out of someone’s brain-deep head wound. The OR had gone deathly silent, and if they could’ve seen your face under your surgical mask, they would have seen you blushing bright red.

All you’d done was ask a question. All you’d wanted to know was why Dr. Shepherd had gone after the brain bleed at the angle she did, because it wasn’t the angle you’d expected. You were a surgical resident. Asking questions is what you were supposed to do.

“Dr. Shepherd, I–”

“Uh-uh. You? Out of here. You’re distracting me, Y/L/N. And if you can’t focus on saving this man’s life, you don’t need to be in here.”

Frustrated and more than a little embarrassed, you handed off the suction tube to another resident and quickly burst through the doors and into the scrub room, washing your hands furiously. You felt like crying. You didn’t know what was going on these days.

During your intern year, you’d gotten really close with Dr. Shepherd. She’d sort of take you under her wing, said you had the right mind and hands for neuro. You worked well together, almost read each other’s thoughts sometimes, it seemed. But the last month or so, she’d all but banished you from her service.

You knew part of it had to be Webber’s new initiative for “well-rounded surgeons,” a new protocol where residents were cycled between attendings at random, with no favoritism or preference allowed. But even when you were assigned to neuro, Dr. Shepherd always put you on the other neurosurgeon’s service. She hardly talked to you at all.

You wondered if you’d done something wrong, something to completely ruin the mentorship–no, the friendship–you’d felt like you were forming with Dr. Shepherd. Not only did you miss her company, miss working with her, but you missed neuro.

You spent the rest of your day on neuro doing glorified scut alongside the interns. Humiliating. And when you finally went home, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and order Chinese food. But a text from your cohort group chat reminded you that tonight was the annual Surgeons for Surgeons benefit gala. And unless you wanted to be fired, you’d have to show up, bells on, ready to mix and mingle and convince Seattle’s rich and famous to donate to the program that connected Seattle-Grace with its partner hospital in Nairobi.

You stared at yourself in the mirror before leaving. Thanks to a very artful layer of makeup, you looked a little less exhausted than you really were. And you had to admit, you looked good in a suit.

By the time you and your friends arrived at the gala, things were in full swing. Wine, music, twinkling lights, the whole shebang. You were determined to have fun with your friends, despite whatever weird stuff was going on with Dr. Shepherd. You’d had a few glasses of wine, had danced with a few other residents, and had generally avoided Dr. Shepherd, even though once or twice you’d caught her watching you. Let her feel bad, you thought. She was out of line.

But when you were on your way back from the bathroom, a hand shot out of a hallway and gently grabbed your arm.

“Jesus, Dr. Shepherd,” you complained, straightening your suit as she crossed her arms and looked at you, leaning against the hallway wall.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You just…” She threw up her hands. “You’ve been avoiding me all night. I didn’t know how else to talk to you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’ve been avoiding you!?” You scoffed. “Dr. Shepherd, you haven’t talked to me in over a month. I went from being the de facto neuro resident to being bottom of the barrel in your OR. So forgive me if I’m not jumping at the opportunity to chat with you.”

Dr. Shepherd looked at the ground. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You sighed. “Look, I don’t care if we’re friends, okay? I– I would have liked it. I like you. But my career comes first. And whatever’s going on with us got in the way of that today. So whatever I did to upset you, I’m sorry. Okay? But I love neuro. And I’m good at it. You don’t have to talk to me ever, outside of work, but you cannot keep me from surgery.”

You started to walk away, but she stopped you.

“Y/N!” she called, grabbing your hand and holding it for just a moment too long. You were taken aback by her use of your first name. She always called you Dr. Y/L/N. “I don’t want that.”

“Okay…” You shrugged. “So put me back on your service.”

“No, I mean…” She exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to be friends with you.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You liked Dr. Shepherd. You really liked her. You thought she’d liked you. You thought that in another life… But it didn’t matter now.

“Message received,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“God, that’s not what I meant. I’m fucking this up.” She looked at you almost like she was in pain. As if there were words she just couldn’t get out. “What the hell,” she finally mumbled, then grabbed the sides of your face and kissed you.

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. But her lips felt so good against yours, her hands warm and soft against your skin. This was what Dr. Shepherd had wanted with you, why she’d been avoiding you. And, if you were honest with yourself, it was what you’d wanted to, you’d just been too scared to let yourself admit it.

You wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing her into the wall to deepen the kiss. She whined into your mouth, her tongue fighting for entrance, and you knew–by the arousal shooting down through your very core, the wetness pooling in your underwear–that this would not end here tonight. Amelia’s arms snaked underneath your blazer, searching for skin.

“Why do you have so many clothes on?” Amelia muttered breathlessly, painstakingly unbuttoning the collar of your dress shirt, then continuing on to the lower ones.

“Whoa!” You grabbed her wrists, pushing them away. “We’re in a public hallway, Dr. Shepherd.”

She huffed, pulling you by the arm into the closest room, which turned out to be some poor soul’s vacated office at this event venue. She slammed the door, taking her own turn to push you against a surface. It took your breath away.

“Don’t call me Dr. Shepherd when we’re about to have sex,” she said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“Fine, Amelia,” you retorted, and she smiled into a kiss. She liked a little sass in a woman.

With one hand, you rolled her nipple between your fingers. With the other, you moved slowly down her body, gently pulling up her dress to slip a hand into her underwear.

She gasped as you brushed lightly over her clit. “Fuck,” she breathed, throwing her head back. You smiled, happy to have a little power. Amelia might have all the power in the OR, but you had all the power here. You could tell by the way her hips rolled toward you, by the way she leaned heavily on the desk at her back–she wanted you bad.

She breathed heavily, squeezing your arms as she pushed her hips into you, desperate for the friction, the pressure. You grinned wickedly and removed your hand, licking her arousal off your fingers.

“Y/N!” she protested, glaring at you.

“Hmm.” You pretended to be thinking deeply, circling the rest of her vulva so that you were close, so close, to where she needed you, but not quite there. “You know what? I bet this feels a lot like being knee deep in a surgery and then being pulled for no reason at all.”

“I said I was sorry! Please, Y/N.” You had her squirming and writhing and you were getting drunk off her desperation.

You pushed two of your fingers into her warmth, already so wet, so ready for you, and she moaned. “I mean, I guess, if you insist.” You smirked at her, loving to see her lose control. She was always so in control at work. It was honestly something you admired about her. But right now? All you wanted was to see her coming apart.

There was a part of you that wanted to tell all the residents, to tell everyone that you were fucking Dr. Amelia Shepherd. But there was another part of you–deeper, softer, more you–that wanted to keep her all to yourself. Because some part of you knew that it wasn’t just sex, no matter how much easier it’d be if it was.

Amelia’s breathing grew ragged, her walls pulsing around you and you knew she was close. You circled her clit with your thumb, and she thrust her hips up into your touch, chest heaving, legs shaking. And when she finally, finally hit her peak, you scooped your arm around her back to hold her up, keeping your rhythm steady until she came down, resting her head on your shoulder, a thin sheen of sweat on her face.

“Fuck!” she breathed, lifting her head to grin at you and tuck your hair behind your hair. “Your hands.”

“That’s why I’m such a good surgeon.” You winked at her.

“That’s why you’re good at a number of things, apparently.” Amelia pulled her underwear up, straightening her dress.

“Well,” she shrugged. “Should we go back in?”

You scoffed. “I’m certainly not.”

“Why?!”

“Are you kidding me!? There’s a fucking lake in my underwear right now. I gotta go home.”

Amelia smirked, pulling you down by your collar for another kiss. You couldn’t take much more of this. You needed her. Or a vibrator. Or a dildo. Or something.

“You want help?” she asked, playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You blushed. The tables had turned all of a sudden, and she was the one with the power now. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Yeah, that’d be… that’d be good.”

She laced her hand in yours, squeezing it. “Take me home, Dr. Y/L/N.”

“What if someone sees us!?” you hissed, looking both ways out the office door.

“We’ll slip out the back.”

“Sneaky.” You nodded. “I like this side of you.”

Glancing furtively around, she leaned forward and sunk her teeth into your neck, taking you by surprise. You gasped.

She pressed her lips against your ear. “I’ve got a lot of sides you haven’t seen yet.”

God, you couldn’t wait to see them.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Question: Why doesn't Peter use his watch to go get Gwen?

We see Miguel basically dismiss Peter, leaving Peter to his own devices. The scene cuts to Miles for a while - and look at the next time we see Peter:

He uses a portal to get home.

Okaayyy...... So, your watch is working?

Cause I know you ain't get in the Go-Home Machine. So... Your watch is working??

That's how he got home, no? Typing his universe into his watch and going home.

I mean.. surely.. couldn't he just.. go see Gwen? Like how he could've gone and saw Miles?

Surely, he - one of the only people who knows Miles address - should be looking for Miles. Or Gwen, who was just assaulted in front of him.

We have no indication there's anything wrong with Peter's watch, nor that it's disabled.

As far as we know how watch is fine. There's nothing to imply it isn't.

But he uses his functioning watch to go home - and then he does nothing.

And look, MJ even asks:

And Peter tries to play it off??? And also 'ANOTHER FIGHT'. He's done this before.

Why didn't he tell MJ the fight he took MayDay to was AGAINST MILES?

Not only has he 1) brought MayDay in fights MULTIPLE times but he's 2) refused to acknowledge his involvement in what just happened.

He claims Miles saved his marriage and influenced him having a child - but he sees Miles get hunted - most likely goes home with technology that could help Miles, and then fails to even show concern or at least let MJ know what was happening.

Peter has no reason to lie or downplay the situation to MJ. He just wants to for some very odd reason.

Because he doesn't want to look like a bad mentor. Seriously, that's all he cares about.

Seriously, Peter B isn't a good guy.

He made no attempt to help Gwen, he's pretty fine with endangering MayDay, he basically avoids the question when MJ asks - AND his watch seems to be completely fine.

Why didn't he just... Go to Gwen's universe. From what we know Lyla isn't watching ALL the time, because Lyla didn't know how close Gwen got to Miles until Gwen admitted it to Jess.

So we can assume that if that watch can just go places when it's not specifically locked -

Because Hobie randomly turns turn in Mumbattan wearing a Miguel-issued watch, not his own. So that implies that when they travel, Lyla isn't directly monitoring them at every moment/authorizing every jump.

Why not go and see Gwen? Why not try to find Miles? Or at the very very very least -

Why not just tell MJ?

I feel like him lying to MJ - a person with no stake in this race - indicates that for Peter, this whole mentorship is about ego and proving he's competent enough to be a mentor or a dad - rather than actually DOING the things that requires, like keeping MayDay safe or going after Gwen.

It seems every time I think about it I have more of a reason to question Peter B.

So you can take your watch and go home, but you won't use it to go find Gwen AND you lie to MJ about taking your daughter to a fight AGAIN and fail to mention that fight was against a CHILD you personally know.

That's not very heroic sir.

But no. He's just worried about whether or not he's 'good at this mentor thing' - his words, not mine.

And y'all want me to clap for him. No sir. No no no.

All my Hobies hate Peter B (not a typo).

[bobbithewriter]

Miller's Secret

Chapter 1: Cafe Kisses

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word Count: 5058 Series summary: [NO OUTBREAK] You don’t know how or why but you find yourself drawn to an older man. His broad shoulders, strong arms, and pepper gray hair drive you wild. But there’s one problem: he’s your professor. Unsure of how to get over this crush you decide to apply for a mentorship… under him. It could all go horribly wrong, or it could be just the thing you both need.  Series warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, this is so smutty I’m not even sorry. Very veryyy brief mentions of Y/N (if any). Age gap- reader is in her 20’s while Joel is in his late 40’s/ early 50’s, it’s not specified. Student/Teacher relationship but it’s not what you think. Inappropriate relationships, yearning, tension, sexual tension, sarah doesn’t exist here (sorry girl), secret relationship, cursing. Chapter summary: After crafting the perfect schedule for your last year of college, you find out that one of your classes in your first semester got dropped. Forced to find a replacement, you settle for Intro to Philosophy with Professor Miller. You’re in for a big surprise. Chapter warnings: 18+, Smut, fem!reader, professor!joel miller, sexually explicit thoughts, cursing, age gap, inappropriate thoughts/dreams, oral (f receiving), sexual tension, secret relationship.

A/N: This is the first chapter to what I hope will be an interesting series. It goes without saying that this is all FICTION. enjoy:))

-

The heat is stifling outside, the sunning blazes down, scorching the Earth beneath it. It’s nearing the end of summer and you just can’t believe it’s gone by as fast as it has. Although you’ve spent most of it working, like today, there have been a few moments of relaxation sprinkled in, but not nearly enough for your liking. 

Making your way into your two bedroom apartment, you toss your keys on the coffee table near the door. You kick off your shoes and rush to turn the A.C. on hoping to be rescued from the heat. The apartment is silent, your roommate, Jade, is most likely at work giving you time to decompress from the very tiring shift you’ve just had.

You enter your room and are welcomed by your cat Lulu whose orange fur shines thanks to the sunlight passing through your window. Clothes litter the floor, books and magazines lay scattered on your nightstand and desk, your room is a proper mess, but it’s your mess. You make your way to the rickety wooden desk that sits against the wall closest to your window, pulling the near see-through curtains together in hopes of keeping some of the sun out. 

You open your laptop and look up your school’s student sign in, hoping to review the courses you’ll be taking this semester. Although you’ve grown to love school and love the structure it provides you with, you feel an immense relief knowing that it’s your last year in college. The parties and events are fun but you finally feel ready for more, you’re hoping for something more worthwhile. Lucky for you, your last two semesters are light ones since you’re not taking nearly as many classes as usual- you shudder thinking back to your freshman year when you thought taking seven was a good idea. Last spring, when registering for classes, you crafted the perfect schedule: four classes fall semester, three classes spring semester- easy. 

You scroll down to the bottom of your schedule only to find that one of your classes, an elective, has been dropped. Confused, you grab the notebook from the shelf above your desk and flip through the pages until you find the schedule you outlined back in April. Sure enough you see that your photography class has been dropped due to them not finding a professor for the course. You check your student email and find that you were sent a message back in July notifying you of the change. Frustrated at yourself for forgetting to read your emails, you return to the school’s registration page. Unfortunately, with classes starting next week, you know that the chances of you actually getting a class you’d find interesting are slim to none. You scroll and scroll until you’re able to find a class that fits with the rest of your schedule: philosophy. Great, you think, two hours a week dedicated to listening to some old guy drone on and on about ethics and morals and what the meaning of life is. 

The cursor hovers over the register button. Do you really want to do this? You have two options: you could always take photography next semester with the professor you like, or, you can suck it up and get this elective over with and earn another three credits but be forced to listen to a bunch of existential nonsense. You, for whatever reason, pick the latter. You rationalize with yourself that it’s only one class and it’s just one step closer to graduating. You decide to mull over the syllabus jotting down a list of school supplies you might need for the upcoming school year when you get a notification from your email. 

Professor J. Miller

Fall A- Tuesdays and Thursdays 10:30-12:30- Office hours: TR 1:00-3:00 or by appointment 

Welcome to Intro to Philosophy! Like the title suggests this course will be the most basic introduction to philosophy and its integration into our society. No textbook is required for this class but I do expect you all to come to every class prepared to discuss the handouts I give you. Participation is a requirement for this class and I look forward to hearing all of your thoughts and opinions. Looking forward to meeting you all next week!

Best, JM

Although you won’t have to spend even more money on textbooks for the class, the prospect of having to show up every other day for weeks on end just to earn a participation credit is enough for you to groan aloud. 

-

The week goes by quickly, between work, getting ready for the upcoming semester, and hanging out with Jade, you’ve barely had any time to yourself. Lucky for you, you don’t have any classes on Monday giving you time for some much needed self care. You complete your yearly before-school-starts-self-care-routine, trimming your hair, painting your nails, shaving your legs, plucking your eyebrows- the works. 

You spend the day lounging about your room, playing your favorite albums on your record player to fill the silence. You try on different outfits feeling totally relaxed for the first time in weeks. As if on cue you get a notification from your phone. Opening your email you find a message from Professor Miller with a full copy of the syllabus and a short article to read. 

Good afternoon everyone! Below I have linked a copy of the syllabus and an article for you all to read before class tomorrow. I hope to spend less time going over the syllabus, only answering questions you might have, and more time talking about the contents of the paper. Please come prepared!

Best, JM

Great, homework before you even start the class. You move to your bed where lulu is sprawled out and begin reading the article. You read paragraph after paragraph discussing value theory and metaphysics, taking notes as you do with the hopes of actually understanding what you’re reading. You finish and decide that you’ll review the notes tomorrow before class. Surely it won’t be that bad.

-

You wake up later than you intended and realize you don’t have nearly as much time to get ready as you wanted. You get ready quickly knowing you’ll have to stop by your school’s cafe since you didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast. The drive is a short one and eventually you’re pulling into the student parking lot.

Grabbing your backpack and keys you enter the cafe, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils. Looking at your watch you realize you have 20 minutes till class starts and relax a bit. You order your usual, a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a chocolate croissant, and wait for your name to be called. Behind you you hear the bell on the door jingle signaling that another customer has entered the already very busy cafe. 

As you wait you can’t help but look around at the cafe’s patrons, some are clearly students while others are harder to discern, maybe professors, maybe alumni, you’re unsure? Your university is located at the center of the city so many alumni linger around, finding jobs after graduating but still gathering at some of the college’s most popular cafes and restaurants. You’re broken out of your thoughts by the barista calling out names and orders. 

“Large six shot quad espresso with extra ice for Joel”, shouts the barista.

Your eyes first land on the very large cup filled to the brim with espresso and then to the person picking it up from the counter. Your eyes trail up from his hands, to his arms, and finally to his face, ogling him unintentionally, and you’re met with a sly grin from the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry for starring”, you laugh, “I’ve just never seen someone order that many shots of espresso in a single cup.”

“What can I say, I like my coffee strong”, he laughs. “I’m Joel”, he says, extending his hand out for you to shake.

The man before you is tall, six foot if you’d have to guess, with broad shoulders and large arms. He’s sporting a light blue button down and navy blue trousers that make his already tan skin seem impossibly warmer and brighter. His dark brown hair is peppered with grays as is his beard- though you wouldn’t really describe it as a beard, more like scruff. His hands are large and pretty much engulf your own as you extend your hand to shake his. His shake is firm and you find the handshake lingering longer than you both probably anticipated. 

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you”, you reply. From the looks of it he’s anywhere between his late 40’s or early 50’s, but you’re not really sure. His brown eyes hold your gaze momentarily and you notice that he too is sizing you up. You snap out of it when you hear your name called.

“Small vanilla latte with two shots of espresso for Y/N”, the barista shouts again. 

“Ah I can see why my six shots would scare you”, Joel jokes, keeping his body facing you as you reach for your breakfast. 

“Yeah well caffeine tends to make me jittery and I’ve got class in a bit so I’m trying to keep the coffee to a minimum”, you respond. “Anyways, I better get going”, you say, “It was nice meeting you, Joel.”

Before he has a chance to respond you find yourself walking to the door but not before turning back around and giving him a small smile. As you make the short walk to your first class you find yourself thinking of him. It’s been a while since you’ve been with a guy and maybe that’s why you find yourself still thinking about this stranger but a part of you also knows it has more to do with his good looks. You’ve never really found yourself attracted to older men like that, partly because you live in a college town where most of the guys you interact with are no older than twenty five and partly because you’ve just never met an attractive older man in person.

You think back to his face, a blend of strong, masculine features but with a much softer side as well. The slight curve of his nose and edge of his jaw seemed almost drawn with charcoal, and you can’t help but think back to the warmth in his eyes.

God it’s been too long since you’ve been with a guy, now you’re replaying a five minute interaction with a total stranger. Great. You take your phone out to text Jade.

Y: Dude I just saw the cutest fucking guy, too bad he was like 50:/ It’s actually concerning how touch starved I am bc im literally daydreaming about this guy and we said like five words to each other LMAO J: OUUUU DILF DILF DILF Girl go for it, who cares if he's old, hot is hot Did you get the sexy strangers number?? Y: NO our interaction lasted maybe two minutes  J: Too bad:(  It’s okay bc I hereby declare that we are officially going out this weekend and you’re gonna get laiddddd Y: okay this conversation is over J: this. weekend.

You smile despite yourself and fasten your pace hoping to leave any thoughts of Joel in your wake. You take the stairs up to the second floor and enter the room. Although it’s not quite as big as a lecture hall, there are a decent amount of students already there waiting for class to start. You take a seat in the middle of the third row, your usual spot since it’s close enough to seem engaged when you want but also far enough away so you’re not in the direct line of crossfire when it comes time to participate. 

You’re too distracted getting settled to notice him walk in but when you look up you see Joel… in your class… walking to the podium? You’re struck with the sudden realization that he’s your professor. Your professor is Joel. Oh my God. The sexy stranger, as Jade put it, is literally your teacher.

It seems that he notices at the same time as you do and he gives you a warm smile. Okay, there’s no need to freak out. He clearly doesn’t care so why should you and really there’s nothing to even care about right. It’s fine, he was clearly making normal conversation and you just happened to be the sex-deprived stranger he gave his attention to. There is absolutely no reason to overthink this. So what your teacher is cute, it won’t make a difference, you’re here to get your credit and go.

He makes his way around his desk and podium and begins, “Good morning class, I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding the room. It’s good to see you’re all here so let’s get started shall we. If you have any questions about the syllabus now is the time to ask, I want to get started on dissecting the article I had you all read.”

His voice is clear- confident- and you can’t help but to hold onto every word he says. He looks around the room, waiting a beat to see if anyone raises their hand and moves on. 

“Okay great, now I want you guys to first raise your hands and tell me your thoughts on the paper itself, did you like it, did you dislike it? Feel free to get as specific as you want.”

Around you, your classmates raise their hands and participate, voicing their opinions on the paper. Some thought the paper was interesting, others didn’t, but there seems to be a universal agreement that the paper was difficult to really understand, a fact your professor seems to catch onto.

“So it seems as though the room is pretty split between whether the paper was good or not. That’s fine! Philosophers have disagreements all the time. But how many of you really understand what Value Theory is, hm? Can someone explain what it is to the best of their abilities, it’s okay to be wrong, that’s why I’m here”, he says. 

You raise your hand, “Value theory is, at its core, worried about justifying our value judgments and the actions that follow. It basically tries to answer hard questions like what it means to pick between the ‘lesser of two evils’ or what it means to be a ‘good’ person.”

“That’s exactly right”, he says, holding your gaze for a moment and giving you a small smile. 

You return his smile with pride, happy to have gotten the answer right. You’ve always excelled academically and although you would never admit it to anyone else, you crave the validation you get from your professors and peers. 

The rest of class continues on like normal with Professor Miller explaining the differences between Value Theory and Metaphysics and how they might help us answer some difficult questions. 

Class continues as normal and just as he’s about to dismiss everyone he gives a few housekeeping reminders: two papers to read before next class, office hours are Thursdays after class, and mentoring?

“Like the syllabus says, I do mentor a small group of students each semester who want to get a more in depth understanding of philosophy. Unfortunately I cannot mentor every single one of you so if you want to be one of the lucky students please submit a one-page proposal of sorts by the end of class Thursday. If you have any questions feel free to email me. You’re dismissed”, he says.

Packing your things you’re left with this new idea to ponder. It might be good to have Professor Miller as a mentor so you can get another letter of recommendation, but you’re not even sure you even enjoy philosophy like that. You have a couple days to decide anyways, who knows what you’ll end up doing. 

-

The rest of your day drags on slowly and by the time you finally get home you can’t help but sink onto your carpet floor and just lay there. Lulu hops off the bed and curls up next to your side. You let out a groan thinking about just how much homework you have to do and it’s only your first day. Two papers to read, a proposal to write- you decided you’d take a shot at it, there’s no guarantee you’ll even get picked so who cares- a four page research paper due, and an online quiz. You mentally thank yourself for only having picked three classes this semester. 

After eating dinner and showering you decide to start on your proposal. You rack your brain trying to come up with at least three different reasons you want this mentorship. One: you need another letter of recommendation- you plan on applying to graduate school or law school and both require amazing letters of rec- and one from your philosophy professor would look good. Two: you find philosophy interesting (sometimes) and maybe one on one sessions with your professor will strengthen that interest. And three: it doesn’t hurt that your would-be-mentor is easy on the eyes. Okay that third reason isn’t really a reason it’s more of a plus but it’s still valid. 

It takes you longer to submit your proposal than it does to actually finish it. You deliberate the options: you could submit it and work closely with Professor Miller, if you get picked that is, or you could never submit it and never have to worry about being in close proximity to that man. Fuck it, you think, and click submit. You hope you don’t end up regretting that. 

-

Thursday comes and goes pretty uneventfully with the exception of Mr. Miller telling your class that he would release the names of the students picked for the mentorship by the end of the weekend. You, surprisingly, aren’t at all nervous. You know that if you get picked it will look great on your resume but if you don’t it won’t really make much of a difference. 

Unsurprisingly you spend the rest of your day studying and going to work, it seems as though your days consist only of those two things now. When you get home you find Jade sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. You decide to join her seeing as you both have seen so little of each other because of all the craziness that the start of the semester consists of. 

You guys quickly stop working on any actual homework and start talking about random stuff, friends, boys, work, and school. Eventually the conversation shifts to your professor.

Jade gives you a smirk, nudging your arm, “So how cute is he really? Do you have a picture of him or something, I’ll be the real judge.”

You open your laptop again, scrolling down your course page until you find his picture. Zooming in, you turn your computer towards Jade.

“Sweet baby Jesus, that is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Oh my GOD! Is it too late to register for this class?” she laughs. “If you don’t make a move I will.”

You laugh, snatching your computer back from her. “You know I can’t do anything, he’s my professor. It would be totally unethical”, you say.

“It would be totally fucking hot”, says Jade. “Come on it’s not like you’ll get expelled or anything, it says nothing in the Student Code of Conduct about it so you’re fine.”

“Have you ever even read the Student Code of Conduct?” you retort. 

“Well no, but I’m sure it doesn’t say anything about that”, Jade laughs.

You both stay there talking for another hour or so, taking turns telling each other about how your days have gone. Eventually Jade decides that Saturday night is “the night” as she puts it. 

“We are so getting you laid, you need it more than anyone I know, no offense”, she says.

You give her a glare but ultimately give in. You haven’t gone out since that one night last semester that ended with you holding Jade’s hair as she hurled the contents of her stomach into the toilet. You’ve never been much of a partier, much less someone who enjoyed one night stands but if you’re honest with yourself, it’s been a barren few months and you haven’t had much company with anyone except Bertha, your vibrator. Maybe it was finally time to give into the college craze and sleep with a random person, no emotions, no strings attached, just sex. 

The thought stays in your head throughout the rest of your day. As you’re getting ready for bed you open your laptop and can’t help but look at the picture of Mr. Miller there. He really is sexy, you think, as you’re reminded of his broad shoulders and strong arms. You fall asleep with the thought of him in your mind.

-

You’re sitting in his office, nestling yourself further into the wicker chair. You close your eyes taking in the smells of his office, rich mahogany, oak, and leather. You feel him behind you, his presence close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Your heart seems to stop, anticipating his next move. His hands trail up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. He lowers his head down to your shoulder and you feel his breath against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down to the base of your spine.

“Do you know how wrong it would be for us to do anything? Hm?” he whispers. 

His voice reverberates through your entire body, straight to your core. You feel the familiar flutter in your lower abdomen and the way your heart seems to start beating again but this time impossibly fast.

His lips press a kiss to your shoulder and you instinctively move your head to the side, hoping he takes it as a sign that you want more. His fingers trail up your arms again but this time to your neck, pressing the pad of his thumb down onto the skin he just kissed.

“Your heart’s beating a little fast there sweetheart, you alright?”

You nod, silently praying your body doesn’t betray you again. 

“Hm. Are you lying to me now? You know”, he says kissing your neck again, “good girls don’t lie. Are you a good girl?” he asks.

You think you nod again but your mind is so out of it you’re not sure if you actually do or not. His scruff lightly scratches against your smooth skin as his left hand wraps itself around the base of your left shoulder and his lips make their way up and down your right, your breath hitching as he does. 

Against your ear, he again whispers, “Tell me the truth, baby. Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to take you right here?”

Your mind is reeling from his touch, his lips, his words, you’re struck silent for once.

“You know baby, if you’re honest I might just give you what you want. C'mon darlin’ be a good girl and tell me how much you want it.”

You open your mouth and pray that your voice sounds stronger than you feel right now. “I want you to touch me. Please touch me”, you whine. 

“Where do you want me to touch darlin’? Your breasts? Want me to play with your nipples? Or your cunt? I bet it’s already so wet for me”, he whispers against your skin. 

“Both”, you cry out, spreading your legs apart praying he gives you what you most crave.

He lifts you up from the chair and spins you around, pressing you firmly to his front. He moves one hand to your hair and pulls it gently, angling your face to his. His eyes have gone from brown to nearly black and it sends another shiver down your body. His lips crash into yours in a kiss so earth shattering you feel yourself turn to mush, leaning against the desk for some support. With one hand in your hair and the other on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his front, you finally get to feel the hard dent in his pants. You moan into his mouth and regain some sense. You kiss him with a newfound intensity, pawing at this chest hoping to feel some of the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

He smirks against your mouth, chuckling at your urgency. “You’re so damn cute when you’re desperate, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want”, he says before his hands begin exploring your body even more. You feel the hand that was on the base of your back move down your ass and give it a hard squeeze, that familiar flutter in your abdomen returning. His lips once again move to your throat and down your chest; you feel your face getting hot and your breaths getting more rapid because of the lack of oxygen. He begins unbuttoning your satin blouse, replacing where the buttons were with kisses. 

He moves you so your back now rests flat against his desk and you feel him kiss lower and lower down your body. He kisses his way down to your naval and begins unbuttoning your jeans, pulling the zipper down slowly, taunting you. 

Just when you think he’s going to give you what he wants, his lips start going back up, following a similar path as before. He kisses your breasts over the mesh balconette bra you’re wearing, your nipples hardening as he does. You’re moaning wildly at this point, never having been this turned on before. His hands move to your back, unclipping your bra and tossing it to the side. He begins attacking your chest with a fervent need, softly biting your nipples, forcing a moan from deep within your chest. Your hands make their way to his hair and you tug at the base of his curls needing an anchor as you feel yourself slowly begin to lose it. You’re desperately trying to find some friction between your legs and you start grinding your still covered cunt against the dent in his pants. 

“Look at you, such a sweet thing grinding against me. Cmon baby, tell me again how much you want it”, he says as his lips make their way down your body again.

“Please” you beg, “I want it so bad, please just fuck me.” Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and you’re almost certain you look fucked out of your mind even though nothing’s even happened yet. 

“Oh I’m not going to fuck you here, honey, though I bet you’d fucking love it”, he says.

Your chest deflates a little from disappointment and you can’t help the low whine that comes out of your throat.

“I will, however, give that pussy the attention it deserves”, he says again, this time pulling your pants down past your hips and off your legs. 

Your heart begins racing as he kisses his way down your stomach, stopping right at the edge of your panties. He looks up at you and sees pure desire written all over your face. He kisses your center over the fabric of your panties, making you jolt from the sudden contact. Moving to kiss along the inside of your thighs, his scruff scratches harshly now against your skin. His fingers wrap themselves along the sides of your panties and he slowly peels them off of you. 

You look down at his kneeling figure, fully clothed with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a stark contrast to your entirely naked form spread out for him on his desk. 

“So fuckin beautiful”, he says against the skin of your thighs, peppering kisses there at random. Just as you're about to beg for the fourth time, he wraps your legs over his shoulders and dips his head between your thighs. He licks a long strip up to your clit where he starts sucking relentlessly. Your fingers find themselves digging into his hair, holding on as you grind yourself further into his mouth. He licks your cunt until you’re writhing in pleasure, holding onto the desk and his hair for dear life. You feel that familiar knot in your stomach begin to form and you chase it. You’re a moaning mess when he starts to tongue fuck your pussy, so close you could scream. His nose continuously bumps against the hood of your clit and you think you see stars.

“Fuck I’m close”, you moan, your back arching against the cool wooden desk.

One of his hands comes up to tug on your hardened nipples while the other finds refuge between your thighs. You feel him smirk against your skin and you realize why when he dips a finger into your spasming hole. His large finger works itself in and out of you, pushing you closer to your release. 

“You like that baby?” he asks. “Cmon I want you to come for me. Can you do that sweetheart?” 

Not waiting for your response he adds another finger, fucking you in tandem with his mouth. With every stroke you feel yourself getting closer, your juices gushing down your inner thighs, producing a sound so obscene it’s bordering pornographic. It’s only when he curves his finger, hitting your g-spot that you feel yourself lose it. 

“Oh my God-”, you cry out, “Fuck I’m cumming.”

Your legs shake beside his head but he doesn’t stop fucking you through your high. Your mind is blank and your thighs are sticky from your release and you think you might have just gone to heaven and back.

-

You wake with a gasp in your bed. You’re drenched in sweat and you feel your shirt sticking to the skin on your back. The boyshorts you’re wearing feel wet and sticky from your release. You sit up trying to momentarily catch your breath and you stare in the mirror directly across from your bed. The skin on your chest is red and blotching and your sheets are rumpled.

God, did you really just have a wet dream about your professor? Maybe applying for this mentorship was a mistake.

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 9 Lend an Ear

The Emperor of Garlemald was meant to be the most powerful man in the world.

It was instead poor comedy, of the kind his grandfather used to watch with such glee—the more subversive and borderline treasonous, the better.

Now Varis understood why.

His very much alive—for some meaning of the word—grandfather swanned around the palace now, stepping out of the shadows to taunt and lecture Varis. He never thought he would prefer the days when the old man ignored him, trying to deny his existence because he was no more than a memory of his dead father.

Another eldritch manipulator wore the body of Varis’s son. The monster’s death was no real loss, and Varis acknowledged the role he had played in Zenos’s development—but that boy had been wrong from the start. Perhaps due to the tainted influence of their bloodline.

And where did that leave Varis?

A pawn who had been made aware of his nature by ancient beings who used his name, his throne, his people, in their games.

There had to be something he could do. He was the Emperor. He had fought tooth and nail, wresting the crown from his uncle and cousin in order to continue the path to glory and greatness, to conquer those realms that had eluded his grandfather’s grasp and bring the light of civilization to the savages who had defied them.

He had wanted to prove himself better, prove that Solus had been wrong about Varis. But Solus zos Galvus had been a mirage, and Emet-Selch’s plans for Garlemald were far more insidious.

Every servant was a potential spy. Every soldier and guard as well. The walls had ears and eyes, and a hundred masters to report to. These had been facts of life for as long as Varis could remember, but now the webs were not obstacles to be navigated, weapons to command.

They were cocoons, and he the fly caught in the spider’s web. The more he struggled, the tighter the binding.

Gaius was gone; he had been Solus’s loyal hound, but the man’s honor and dedication to the role of Emperor itself, the mentorship he had granted Varis years ago, might have made him an ally, had his own ambition not been tangled in Ascian schemes and lost to the Eorzean Champion’s hand.

Regula...that loss still stung. He had fought beside the Black Wolf’s killer, sacrificing himself in favor of an Echo-bearer and his soldiers. Damn the honorable fool. Varis had been aware of Regula’s carefully-concealed sentimentality, his morals and honor, his drive to prove himself as much as Varis—it was a reason they had become true friends as young men, despite the disparity of their births.

He walked across grand courtyards, along ostentatious promenades, to the severe edifice of the family mausoleum. The people whispered of their Emperor’s respectful devotion due to the frequency of the visits.

It was where he went to get away from his shadowy puppet masters.

He ignored the grand central chamber, the crypt where his grandparents’ bodies were entombed. It was difficult to dismiss the idle thread of thought about the real Solus Galvus. Had he been dead when Emet-Selch occupied his form? Had he been alive but buried beneath the Ascian’s persona?

(Would he have loved Varis as a grandfather should?)

He shoved the speculation aside as always, continuing along the chambers shaped like the omnipresent chain links to where his parents and wife lay. He barely remembered his father, but his mother had always stood with him, even arguing with his grandfather on Varis’s behalf, and aiding him in his bid for the throne until the day she died.

She had found and arranged his marriage to Carosa. The demands of royalty, and their son’s...behavior had strained the relationship, but they had persevered, and her loss was one of the few times in his adulthood that he had allowed himself tears. His mother’s death had been another.

He stood in the chill of the mausoleum and imagined their faces, warmer than the stone likenesses, ever willing to listen and then aid in planning a course of action. So many of the servants within the palace and among the high houses had been their spies, and he had lost those networks on losing them.

Gaius. Regula. Mother. Carosa. The few he could have relied upon, could have trusted. All gone.

He said nothing of his troubles and frustration. The dead could not hear, while even these walls might, and he still had to maintain the charade of implacable Emperor. But allowing his roiling thoughts to run rampant here, in sight of their memorials, was soothing in a way he could not justify. It simply was.

He turned to begin his slow return to the palace. He stopped. Someone else had entered the mausoleum, intruded upon his solitude. Varis strode into the central chamber. If it was one of the Ascians daring to infringe upon this space—well, he could inconvenience them with a bullet again.

He stopped short as the lightly armored figure turned to regard him. Brunette instead of blond, but the features were similar enough to his own, and as strained as ever. “Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Radiance,” Nerva said, bowing low. “I was hoping to find you here.”

“What do you want?”

His cousin straightened. “To serve my Emperor, for the glory of Garlemald, as ever.”

Varis snorted derisively. If only Nerva had an inkling of how hollow that “glory” was.

“I know,” Nerva said, hands raised in supplication, misunderstanding Varis’s reaction. “My father fought you for the crown. But you won, and he lies dying for his trouble. We can, and should, put that behind us, for the good of our people.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“A fair question. Mayhap you shouldn’t, given Father’s scheming. But,” Nerva let out a breath, and with a slight shift, the demeanor of the Senator was gone. “Cousin, there are strange rumors about. And some lick of fondness from our childhoods remains enough that I am...concerned.”

Varis glowered.

Nerva shook his head, smiling thinly. “Of course, you can take care of yourself, and always have but...The things being said about your son. Some rather ridiculous ones about Grandfather’s shade haunting the palace. All while provinces secede unhindered and many of our troops stand stalled on Eorzea’s benighted doorstep. Varis—”

“None of it is your concern.” He walked forward again, tromping past Nerva. Who grabbed his arm.

Soldier’s instinct had him grip the offending limb, twist, spin, and Nerva grunted as he hit the wall, pinned by Varis. “You arrogant arse,” Nerva gasped. “I’m offering my aid—”

“It is none of your concern,” Varis growled. “The throne is mine, its troubles are mine.” He then looked Nerva in the eye. “You should leave,” he said, softly. “Take your father, your household, your loyal arms, and go.”

Nerva stared at him, then narrowed his own eyes. “You know I cannot do that. No more than you could. We are of House Galvus, and have our duty.”

If only Nerva knew what that truly meant. For a wild moment, Varis entertained the idea of telling him the truth, of confiding in his cousin, and urging him again to leave. Or keeping him as an ally.

Neither outcome was likely, and the second...Once, it might have been reasonable. But not since the civil war.

Varis shoved away from Nerva, turned, and walked out. As much as he wanted an ear to hear his troubles, to offer advice and aid, he couldn’t trust his cousin—nor did Varis want him entangled in the Ascian schemes. Nerva and Titus had managed to escape the worst by failing to win the throne. This was the closest he could come to protecting what remained of their family.

The confidantes Varis wished for were long gone. This was his burden, and the price of his victory.

[celebrimborium]

some musings about character dynamics going forward (and s2 introspective)

This is a long post because I have a lot of thoughts about this.

For the record: I did like S2 a lot. But I want to specifically talk about character relationships and dynamics which is one department where it was lacking in comparison to S1 imo (with the notable exception of Sauron/Celebrimbor). I find it interesting that S2 has been praised by some demographics and corners of the internet that hated on S1 and I do worry about what that might mean for the direction of the show but I'd rather focus on the storytelling. So let's go into that a little bit.

Season 1 vs. Season 2

The writers were clearly cooking something in S1 with all the different interactions: Elrond/Durin, Elrond/Galadriel, Galadriel/Sauron, Nori/Gandalf, Nori/Poppy, Míriel/Galadriel, Arondir/Bronwyn (RIP), Elendil/Isildur etc. It's what I loved most about the show. So many colours of friendship, mentorship, adversity, bonding. S2 gave us that with Sauron/Celebrimbor in a very twisted version and, to a lesser extent, Míriel/Elendil with chaste romantic implications. The rest was more surface level or under-written (including Valandil's exit and his quasi-parental relationship with Elendil or Kemen and his relationship with Pharazôn and so many other dynamics that needed time to breathe, although what we got there was good, don't get me wrong; and Durin III/Durin IV were the parental exception here, continuing their strong fraught father-son dynamic, the best scene of which is still the one in S1 where he strips him off his rank imo but the S2 finale coming in a close second). But back to the main point, I found this most egregious with Elrond and Galadriel where I liked the resolution and the basic tenets of the conflict but don't think they nailed the tone of their exchanges except perhaps in the boat workshop and then in Robert's brilliant silent acting in the finale.

Elrond and Durin? Leaned heavily on the groundwork from S1 because they got one measly little scene and that despite canon (= the totality of Tolkien's written works) actually providing the writers with a very clear narrative template in this case, with the Dwarves securing Elrond's retreat from battle, something that I expected to be one of the defining emotional and epic moments of the show after S1. Instead it barely received any attention. I don't mind the twist of not arriving in time but having Durin not come at all very much felt like sacrificing character for the sake of subverting expectations.

Sometimes you do have to cash in on the groundwork you have laid and they did the opposite with essentially all of the non-familial relationships that had a lot of strong foundation-building in S1, only to find them borderline abandoned in S2. Payne & McKay had a line in their House of R podcast interview which gives me pause, where they said that they prefer switching up character pairings and it sounded more like a creative writing exercise than something strictly speaking dictated by the organic flow of things, although I like them so I will assume they meant the latter. By all means, do switch up character pairings – I for one can't wait for Galadriel and Gandalf to meet up! – but don't do it just for the sake of it. Don't fix what ain't broken and in the process, break the things that do work.

The Sauron/Celebrimbor scenes were excellently written and acted and even they felt truncated and in fact would surely have been even more impactful if we had seen more of Halbrand/Celebrimbor becoming buddies in S1. As it was, it felt more like an office romance with a psycho co-worker gone wrong than a betrayal of a genuine friend and it speaks to the strength of the actors that it still worked; but due to the distribution of storylines and narrative attention, it did feel (in this case and in other cases) like the writers did not tap into some of the deeper wells that they easily could have (if just given slightly more time or making different choices about the breadth of the storytelling). There are no shortcuts with character interactions, you have to keep building them and you have to focus on these connections and how they shape the actions of the characters.

Characters like Gil-galad who's been very much on the backburner for two (!) seasons now can't just be elevated to protagonist status out of nowhere in S3. I mean, I very much hope it happens, and different characters should get the spotlight at different times, but S1 managed its ensemble well and you had multiple meaningful, deep relationships (from scratch) and I don't understand how S2 failed to capitalize on that. It were mainly the new connections that popped. Sauron/Celebrimbor, Elrond/Círdan... but why not tap into the S1 relationships? We got good continuation with Durin/Durin, Durin/Disa and Míriel/Elendil, so close (quasi-)familial relationships basically where characters stayed close together geographically. That obviously makes sense. But travel isn't a real impediment on the show, to the point where some people complain about the logistics of it (which I personally don't care much about but distances shouldn't be arbitrary, of course, and ideally inform character interactions; so I enjoyed the Dwarves figuring into the Eregion storyline more strongly due to the proximity). And in any case, Elrond and Durin IV did meet, albeit just once, briefly.

If Elrond and Durin had gotten an actual heart-to-heart, like an actual conversation, perhaps even with a cameo from his children or Disa, instead of just a quick "hi and bye", that would have gone such a long way to reframing their experiences during S2 and would have worked as a mirror of their initial S1 setup – meeting again after having missed important events in each others' lives, bringing each other other up to speed, leaning on a friend to gather strength. (I would like to imagine they had that conversation and that it did play a role in Elrond accepting having to use Nenya in the finale – the moment felt earned but I have seen people question Elrond's trajectory and I can't blame them, when so much of it was only explicit at the start of the season. I understand that there was a certain urgency to the situation but you can also have an urgent conversation between them, e.g. as Elrond is already preparing to leave again, having made his request. So many things you could do. Although, to be fair, I don't want to overemphasize this point as it is fairly negligible in the grand scheme of how these arcs were set up for these characters this season.)

Galadriel and Adar meeting again was... okay but somehow also failed to capture what it would actually mean for them to go from animosity to reluctant allies. Galadriel had such a strong aversion to him in their barn scene but then when they meet again, all the tension... is muted? (I did like the very brief kinship over their experiences with Sauron, as well as the scene she had with Celebrimbor where they were allowed to feel a kinship over being victims of his manipulations – excellent scene, but just one scene and with not much to build on in terms of an established Celebrimbor/Galadriel friendship.)

Sauron and Adar not even having a single personal conversation/confrontation before Adar's demise was such a waste as well...? It's all perfectly set up but then... they go for the mirror image instead of an actual confrontation like the one that was teased/promised in episode 6 of S1? (And the promise renewed with the flashback at the start of S2.) The irony of Adar being killed by his own 'children' is not lost on me but surely there was more to it than that. The dynamic between Adar and Sauron, so brilliantly explored in the S2 premiere in the scene where Halbrand is held captive, deserved more realization on the part of Adar (in the moment of his death). This also, in fact, applies to Adar's realization that Halbrand is Sauron. Surely should have been an actual thing on-screen and not off-screen? How do you not seize on such a moment? Even if he suspected earlier, he must have had some moment of final realization and confirmation? If it really was only during his conversation with Galadriel, then what was it that tipped him off? It rather seemed like he already knew. Maybe he knew since ep 6 of S1. But it was crazy that they left his perspective on that unexplored.

The same goes for Mirdania being killed unceremoniously which served its narrative purpose but again prioritized a shock or twist moment (literally, twist of the hand) over centering the perspectives of the characters. It was all set up perfectly for a reveal, horror dawning on her as she realizes what she has done and whom she has served and... we just never got it. Not even from the guards who switch their allegiance back to Celebrimbor without us even getting so much as a reaction shot as they witness the scene between him and Galadriel that may have been enough to sway them. The issue isn't that this happens – the question is whether the show wants us to live with these characters in those moments and inhabit their mental landscapes or not; the more the show allows this, the more immersive it becomes, which, for a fantasy show, is the primary objective (think of the S1 scene where Galadriel enters the ship in Númenor and Isildur and the others stand in awe – there are ways to sketch these surrounding characters of a central interaction without taking too much time... and seeing more of a close-up look at the realization of these guards and their renewed loyalty would surely have heightened the impact of their subsequent murder, as well as, perhaps, clarified the spell they are under and why it allows Sauron to manipulate them more so than those who have not (yet) given themselves to his power.)

Gandalf and Tom Bombadil could have been the beginning of a beautiful friendship but instead the writers very much got it in their head that this had to be Luke on Dagobar training with Yoda (Payne & McKay explicitly state this in several interviews) and then when they realized in the edit that that wasn't working, they cut back on it. Which is fine, but it makes me question where they start developing these dynamics from, having certain situations or moments in their head and wanting to get to those instead of letting the characters themselves drive the story.

S1 was more of a slow burn but they did such a good job setting all these character dynamics up and right when it feels like things should start coalescing in S2, I felt like they were chipping away at their own building blocks instead.

Having said all of that (and I'm sure there's more to say but I'm not one to typically write meta), here's my thoughts on some dynamics that I would like to see explored or established further or that I just have thoughts on in any case:

Galadriel/Sauron

Let's start with the obvious one. I know some people are sick of it, while for others Haladriel is essentially the whole appeal of the show. For me it's neither – I mostly like how it's handled in the show and mostly dislike the discourse surrounding it (especially from the haters but also from the AI-crazed shippers; I know there are sane people on either side of the fence). Their fans got crumbs in S2 to the point that it felt cruel so I have no idea who the show wants to cater to post-S1 (marketing being its own, often misleading thing). It'd be crazy to me if they drop this dynamic altogether though.

Their conflict was personal from the start with the way it was tied to Finrod's death and Galadriel's quest to avenge her brother, but it's now personal for entirely different reasons. Namely her shame and his obsession, the flipside to her initial pride and his indifference (to the fate of any particular person, illustrated by letting the nice old man drown).

Both are rooted in the strange companionship they experienced: He was in her heart and she is on his mind. She would like to forget (how close he got) and he cannot (forget how close he got to a power heightened in the presence of her).

Surely there's still something there to mine. Whether it's them crossing paths as she goes further East to recuperate in what will become Lothlórien and him going on a roadshow to recruit Men for his Nine rings or whatever. Frankly, I want her to go to Lindórinand and start her journey of becoming more powerful in her magic. Sorcerer versus 'witch'? Yes please. Let it be all-out psychological war between them but let it be something.

Galadriel/Gandalf

I know that it seems like they've set up Gandalf for a conflict with the Dark Wizard (whoever he is; they are certainly still trying to be coy for some reason, saying stuff like "I don't see how he could be Saruman" – well, you're the writer, you tell me! lol). I would personally be very much in favor of him crossing paths with Galadriel. I think this is needed at some point and I'd rather they get to it earlier than later. Reason being: His purpose is to defeat Sauron. Her quest has been to defeat Sauron. He has the destiny, she has the drive. They can take baby magic steps together.

I did like the Stranger storyline in S1 but one thing that S2 failed to do, in my opinion, is actually giving Gandalf a strong feeling of who he is and what he is supposed to do, which is ironic given that this was supposedly his season of self-discovery (or at least him choosing his name at the end would imply as much). But really, what has he discovered? The mystics mentioned the name Sauron to him and then Tom Bombadil just laid it all out but do we have any sense of Gandalf actually knowing anything about Sauron beyond him being a vague evil force and feeling some type of way about it beyond his own general good nature?

If not through meeting Galadriel, Gandalf will have to face the consequences of Sauron's actions in some other way and the conflict will have to become more personal. Whether and how Tom Bombadil or the Dark Wizard figure into that is another question but I rather think Gandalf needs to become a person in his own right and not just a chess figure to be moved across a board.

Círdan/Gil-galad

Give them one meaningful interaction. Please, I beg of you. That's all.

Elrond/Míriel

Now, call me crazy but hear me out. I know S3 is probably about establishing Rivendell for Elrond and perhaps being drawn into the Dwarven succession drama. But I'm all for breaking up the isolation of storylines and I really rather want Elrond to make it to Númenor at some point. It's difficult to see how that would work once Sauron is captured and taken there (presumably at the end of S3), so part of me wants him to journey there as the herald of Gil-galad to try and open diplomatic channels and negotiate about the presence of Númenor in Middle-earth (see colonizing efforts by Kemen) as well as an alliance to defeat Sauron. This could then lead into Númenorean forces setting off to Middle-earth instead of a letter calling for help. I know this is rather out there but I want S3 to contain a flashback to Elrond and Elros and I want Elrond to meet Míriel and for her to be encouraged in her faith in the old ways because nothing good is coming for my girl and I want her to have that small comfort. (An Elrond/Elros flashback could also be a S4 opener, if that's the fall of Númenor season, but I rather think such an opener should focus on the people of Númenor while anything with Elros should be more about Elrond imo. There's nothing saying such a flashback couldn't open a S3 episode of Elrond going to Númenor. Doesn't have to be the season opener. For a S3 opener, maybe do a flashback with Gil-galad to the First Age. Or with Morgoth. Either or, for S3 or S5, however it relates best to the themes of those seasons.)

Elendil/Gil-galad

I think this might be something for S4, rather, since Elendil will presumably spend some time in S3 reconnecting with Anárion and perhaps, eventually, Isildur, though if the fall of Númenor is only at the end of S4, then that will only leave S5 to have any relationship between them, since obviously Elendil has to stay until the fall (not ready for the Míriel/Elendil tragedy... especially with his first wife having drowned...). Actually, maybe in the first half of S3 he can reconnect with Anárion and then in the second half through Elrond's arrival (that I'm willing into existence) and secret communications with Míriel learn about what's going down in Middle-earth and become a pen pal of Gil-galad or something. Or maybe they can zoom via palantíri. I have no idea but this is one of those relationships that the show really has to try and build up properly and not just toss in for the last season.

Sauron/Kemen

Time to start recruiting underlings and unlike many, I don't think you have to be cool to qualify for becoming a Ring-wraith. The more pathetic, the better. I wonder if Sauron will pose as the King of the Southlands again and how he will worm his way into the colonies if not through brute force, which he could, having access to Adar's orc armies now. It'll be interesting if he turns his persuasion on the son first and then in S4 on the father. He could also go East to duke it out with the Dark Wizard for a while but maybe that would be for the first half of the season. Whichever way I think about it, I feel like next season really needs to have more episodes and be one of two halves since there's so much for everyone to do, places to go, characters to meet.

Míriel/Eärien

Kinda burying the lede but my biggest disappointment with S2 was the relative lack of female characters and meaningful relationships for those we still retained. That was in part due to Bronwyn's departure but Nori and Poppy also had much less screentime and focus and characters like Míriel were much more tied to male characters unlike in S1. I do like Míriel/Elendil, just saying. They are now parted anyway and I hope we can see Eärien take on an interesting dynamic with Míriel, since she is not without empathy but torn between her allegiances. I foresee a bad end for her but I want her to go out fighting, maybe becoming a spy for the Faithful or in any case redeemed before the end. Unlike Kemen, who will surely not be redeemed and possibly even abandoned by his father to his fate, whatever that might be.

Celeborn

If he shows up, I want him to be a sweetheart. The ultimate wife guy. I have nothing against him or his inclusion, I just struggle to see how we'd have enough time to dedicate to his introduction to make it meaningful enough. And I don't think Galadriel needs a husband to be complete. That would be a bad look. On the other hand, if they handle it well, I wouldn't mind it, because I liked the way she talked about him in S1. But it's all a question of how it's framed narratively. Certainly, if anything, him showing up in her life should not "domesticate" her as some misogynists are hoping but rather empower her to become an even more assured independent figure.

Last Thoughts

I love Durin and Disa and the Dwarven storyline was one of the strongest in S1 and again in S2 (although I felt some redundancy there, but episode 5 handled it excellently, as did episode 8 with the beautiful payoff in the Balrog scene). However, the more I think about it, the more I feel like the Dwarves as well as the Harfoots need to take a backseat in S3. Unfortunately, the Dwarven storyline was the only one explicitly set up with mention of Durin's brother – okay, fine, introduce him if you have to but please do not do that to the detriment of the characters we already have and kind of desperately need to see interacting and growing if this show is to have emotional depth (and it showed in S1 and S2 that it can have that depth). Like, we have to go deeper, not broader. Stop expanding the cast, aside from minor characters who help populate the world and colour in some social white space. I like that we got Círdan this season and his interactions with Elrond were meaningful but since he's not part of the core constellation of the conflicts set up in S1, these types of additions run the risk of being novelty creations, meant to hype or appease lorebros in particular, without necessarily helping to advance the overall emotional arc. Now, it did work with Círdan, not least of all because Ben Daniels did excellent work, and Círdan has a role to play in the War of the Last Alliance, but I am a little apprehensive about the calls to add Celeborn, as mentioned, and Glorfindel. I do want to see the latter but leave it to S4 or S5. Concentrate on (1) Númenor, (2) Sauron's rise in Middle-earth and the opposition to his rise (by Galadriel, Gil-galad, Elrond), (3) Gandalf's mission intersecting with point 2.

That's it. That should be S3. The War of the Elves and Sauron. That's what should be reflected in the character dynamics. I hope we don't get ghost!Celebrimbor haunting Sauron, as I've seen suggested, much as I loved Charles Edwards' performance. An allusion is fine but let's keep it focussed on the living characters and how the events may yet shape their world. If anything, the overwhelmingly positive reaction to Sauron/Celebrimbor should show the showrunners that people are clamoring for juicy character drama and interactions, not necessarily action and battles. Put two compelling characters in a room and let them do their work, you don't need an expensive vfx extravaganza like the barrow-wights scene, you need to serve character and then, like in the Balrog scene, awesome effects can enhance that, but the emotional interest needs to be there and that's the first and arguably most important part. (Although, please, by all means, do continue with the awesome visuals!)

The plot should be exciting, of course, and I think this helped sharpen S2 towards the end with a sense of urgency and momentum that many enjoyed (myself included), but this only works so long as it is grounded in an emotional reality we can recognize amid heightened fantastical settings. I love this world and I love so many of the creative decisions Payne & McKay and the team have taken and I'm sure some restrictions (like the episode number) are somewhat out of their hands but I hope they can refine and remember the vision they had when they started S1 without it fraying at the ends or buckling under the pressure of former haters who don't even make up the majority of the audience nor were ever mature enough to articulate their hate for the storytelling choices in S1 beyond basic sexism/racism and a fundamental misunderstanding of themes that were dear to Tolkien. Adaptations always invite comparison and discussion but at the end of the day, The Rings of Power is a television series and while it does not have to – and in fact should not – bow to every trend and trope constituting what is seen as respectable "gritty" prestige TV, it should, in my opinion, strive to be dark, twisted, wholesome, whatever it wants to be.

Give me unexpected interactions, give me friendship, give me knights and queens and powers and magic, give me loyalty and deceit, light and dark, monsters and men, slow burn and pay off, arcs spanning seasons.

In short: Give me fantasy and give it to me raw. But give it to me like a novel that unfolds page by page, not something chopped up to make room for xyz demand from a focus group. I'm in it for the characters and what is true to them. I hope that center holds. The door for S3 is wide open in many directions for many of the characters, so I think it'll really be the season that makes (or breaks) the show. Even at its worst, I would probably still enjoy whatever they cook up, but part of me really wants to see them reach those higher dramatic heights (of character drama) that are right there for the taking.

Anyone agree or disagree? I ask, as if anyone has made it this far lol Well, thanks if you did, I guess I needed to get some things off my chest. Here's to hoping.

[reconstructionlegacy]

Ngani Zho Coerced Custody Of Theron

[Zho] had told the Jedi Council and the leaders of the Republic military that he had sent Satele on a vital mission— something he could not speak of for fear of endangering her life. Given Master Zho’s impeccable reputation, none had questioned him. Now, however, the mission was over. It was time for her to return; the Republic had fought too long without their champion. The Sith Empire’s relentless advance had gone too far. She could no longer ignore the Republic’s need. [...] “You promised you would take him,” Satele said softly, gazing down into the child’s wide, wondering eyes. “I will,” Ngani assured her. “If that’s still what you want.” “What I want has nothing to do with it,” she muttered as she reluctantly handed the child back to her Master. [...] As he took the child from her arms, the moment of greatest joy she would ever know ended.

— Star Wars: The Old Republic: Annihilation

BACKGROUND

Ngani Zho trained, according to Lost Suns (admittedly according to Zho the manipulator), Satele Shan, Syo Bakarn, Jaric Kaedan, and Bela Kiwiiks. Obviously, that is not possible for full Padawans, and Satele was under Kao Cen Darach's mentorship in the first trailer (and then he died), so my theory here is that Zho stepped in to "foster" mentor at least some of these promising young Jedi (and gain influence with them).

WHAT HAPPENED

Zho was somehow trusted by the Council (maybe because he partially trained a third of them). Satele became pregnant, went to Zho for advice, and rather than saying "let's talk to the Council, the normal Jedi support structure, which trusts me," he said "I will cover this up. For you." Like a favour.

He said to the Council that she was on a mission, which put a time limit on the 'plan' ("Always with the plan, aren't you?" Zho asks Theron in Lost Suns). By lying to the Council on her behalf, he made it impossible to go to them for support, or at the least heavily implied to Satele that her pregnancy was somehow wrong or shameful.

By isolating Satele from everyone but himself, and putting a time limit on her seclusion, he arranged for her to have no real choice but to give him custody of Theron. (The scion of a powerful bloodline... and possibly even blackmail material against the future Grand Master.)

Then, having secured the custody of Theron, he proceeded to isolate him as he had isolated Satele, and thoroughly abuse him. This is detailed in Lost Suns, and I will not detail it here; suffice to say it began at the earliest when Theron was five, and Theron's life was endangered by Zho, who abandoned Theron upon realizing he was not Force-sensitive.

(SOME OF) THE AFTERMATH

Years later, when Theron is an SIS officer, under convoluted plot circumstances (that is: the plot of Lost Suns), he reencounters Zho. Zho takes another young person, Teff'ith, under his wing, which Theron is unhappy about. (Teff'ith asks Theron, who has used the term 'childhood trauma' about Zho by this point, and will later elaborate with horrific detail that I, once more, decline to repeat, "Scared of him?". Theron says 'no' - you know, like a liar. Anyway -)

(My theory is that Zho was Star Cabal, Revanite, or both, and wanted complete control of the training of the Blood Of Revan... but fuck knows why he did any of this. Your guess is as good as mine.)

I do think, in the text, Zho's treatment of Theron is framed as abhorrent, especially given the cited and open trauma and abuse. There is also a line in Annihilation about him glaring at Satele in a way that reminds me of Theron's textual panic attack when Satele mentions Zho to him elsewhere in the book. Given this, I think it is an entirely reasonable conclusion, even ignoring the fact that he is baby-stealing Jedi georg, the only Jedi known to have actually stolen a baby, that he mistreated Satele, too.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

At any rate - Ngani Zho coerced Satele into giving him custody of Theron. Theron does not know this, and assumes Satele chose freely to gave him up.

We can't know what her decision would have been, because she didn't truly get to make one. She may have chosen to give Theron up. She may not have. But as it was, as it happened, she did not have a genuine choice.

TL;DR: Tie-in material makes it quite clear that Ngani Zho, the "Master Zho" in one of Theron's combat lines, coerced Satele into giving the infant Theron into his custody. This was terrible for everyone involved, except Zho.

[andorshitdaily]

Is it too late to talk about Sedwig Tarkin - I mean Partagaz? Because I really want to talk about Partagaz.

He's more frightening a villain than Dedra, honestly. Because he's so poetic - so compelling. I think (and please correct me on this if I'm wrong) Tony Gilroy said somewhere that Anton Lesser makes every line sound like a sonnet, and it's true. He truly commands the room in those ISB meetings! He’s got the quick wit and sharp eye of that one professor at university that everybody wants to be the favourite of - he rewards lively debate and out-of-the-box thinking, can't stand laxity and ignorance, and pushes his students - I mean supervisors - not only to get results but out of genuine care for them. He's almost fatherly to Dedra when he has moments alone with her. You can tell he takes the mentorship of his favourites very seriously.

Oh yeah and he's also a die-hard fascist. There's no “could he be turned” with Partagaz. From the second we hear his speech about the ISB “treating sickness” we know exactly what side of the board he stands on. And that's terrifying! I think people like to kid themselves that things like intellect and compassion will somehow inoculate someone against fascism, but it simply isn't true. Partagaz is such a brilliant demonstration of that.

Plus Anton Lesser's performance is incredible (of course). He's just so SUBTLE - you could have gone full on moustache twirling villain with Partagaz and nobody would blame you but instead he's layers upon layers of evil. 10/10 cannot wait to see him again in Season 2

Never too late to talk about Sedwig. Great points!

[sebadztian]

I rarely get myself invovlved in fandom/shipping discourse, but please allow me to put in my two cents in this whole "A guide for new Kuro fans" drama by sharing my own personal experience.

When I first watched Kuro, I wasn't into Sebaciel. I didn't see them as father-son, but I didn't see their appeal as a unit either, if you know what I mean. I was just watching this new anime without shipping anyone with anyone else (no, not even Cielizzy).

The only reason why I watched Kuro was because of the plot (yes, really). I like the idea of Ciel being the Watchdog and how he behaves like a detective, solving these cases (Azzurro, Jack the Ripper, and even the demon hound anime arc).

I managed to stay 'neutral' for the entire season 1 & 2, believe it or not (totally has nothing to do with how I'd watched them all within 3 days. It was during COVID lockdown, ok? I had nothing else to do!).

Of course, as a fanfic avid reader, I'd gone to AO3 to check out some fanfics and to my surprise, there were a ton of Sebaciel fanfics out there (I wasn't into anime at all and I wasn't aware that Kuro, let alone Sebaciel actually exist).

Since I wasn't into it, I didn't read any of those fics. I looked for the neutral ones because I just wanted to read about how Ciel solved various cases. Unfortunately for me, not many of those existed.

I started looking for more Kuro anime and found the BoC, BoM, and BotA online. Tbh, I was very, very confused. S2 was confusing enough and now this? Naturally, the next thing I did was to do some research about what's going on and that was when I found out that most of the anime aren't canon.

Then I started reading the manga.

In the beginning, I still had the same mindset, that I was just here for the plot. I can't remember exactly what has changed my mind, but then I gave those Sebaciel fics a try and that was when I started shipping them, because I was curious about why people ship them.

I started slow, but as I read those amazing stories and equally engaging manga, I started to see the appeal of Sebaciel and before I knew it, I become a shipper.

I'll say this, there's no way not to ship them if you read the manga. The entire series is built upon their relatinship and the development of their characters, both individually and together as a unit.

You can see this 'unit' as romantic, erotic, mentorship, even business partnership, or other. It really is up to you because your upbringing, your environment, your own characters, etc, might make you look at something in a certain ways.

But please remember that they're just FICTIONAL characters and they remain as such. As invested as you are in the story or the plot, this is just that, a story. Reading it doesn't make you a/an *insert insulting terms for Sebaciel shippers*.

So, in conclusion, for the new Kuro watchers/enjoyers, there is only one rule to watch Kuro: There's no right or wrong way/reason to watch Kuro, but kindly please do not harrass others whose opinions don't align with yours. Everyone has their own life story and it's not within anyone's rights to judge others for what they ship/don't ship. Please respect that and don't be an ass about it.

That's it. Other than that, read, watch, and enjoy the series (or any other series) in whatever way you want.

[cosmichorrorlesbians]

what's your dnd campaign about?

smiles so sweetly. you have hit my obsession button squarely on the head. come closer I am a very normal dungeon master.

Beyond the Pale is a DnD 5e (yes I know) campaign set in a world that for the last thirty years has been slowly freezing to death, its one still-functioning city, and the tiny morticianry practice of the Morrigan (PhD) (played by the inimitable @thedapperraven), a bird-masked mortician with dark magical powers, the remains of a cult looking disapprovingly over her shoulder, and a lot of unresolved trauma. oh, and it's also home to her platonic life partner Scratch Silvertongue (played by the incomparable @mossycrumpet), a quick-talking bastard schemer of a thief, who crashed through her window with some nasty wounds one day following a heist (gone wrong) (gone very, very wrong) (gone eldritch) and never really left. when the duo are unexpectedly hired to investigate the brutal murder of a plutocrat coal baron, they quickly discover a network of religious conspiracy, capitalist cover-up and eldritch terror whose roots threaten to stretch back into aspects of their pasts they'd rather not see dragged back into the light.

it's gaslamp-fantasy apocalyptic horror murder mystery that would make a Victorian historian scream and tonally incoherent as DnD always is. Scratch and Mori bicker with detectives, screw over billionaires, fight their reanimated mentor's corpse, psychologically torture a mean-girl cleric, start gang wars, have homoerotic duels with hot mob bosses (quite literally. she was on fire) and witness two old women have one of the most cataclysmic divorces known to man. and-- both being characters utterly allergic to emotional vulnerability-- they both have to grapple with the way their pasts have fucked them over, how that has changed them, how uneasily loving someone coexists with keeping secrets, and what it means to care about someone else more than you care about yourself.

in my eyes? it's about free will versus fate, trauma, love, mentorship, dealing with the mistakes of the people who came before you, tragedy, codependent duos, the end of the world and what we do to get through it, and lots and lots of body horror. but mostly it's about how much I love my irl best friends.

misc art for the vibes <3

[bonefall]

what are your favorite relationships in BB? doesn’t have to be romantic, could be friends, family, mentor-apprentice, etc.

I have a big soft spot for the mentorships. They're so neglected in canon that I really get to decide whatever I want it to be, and when I shuffle apprentices I'm always trying to do matchups that are particularly interesting.

But there's also romantic and familial bonds that do it for me. Scattershot;

Honeysnake and Briarlight They've grown on me super quickly. Honeyfern's Honor Title for surviving the adder bite, the drama she gets in when her sister starts dating her ex, becoming the mentor of the kitten she saved, their final interaction before the Great Battle. I think it's a powerful thing.

Brokenstar and Runningnose sir this is my emotional support evil ambiguously gay couple. "Soooo Brokenstar what's your situation with Runningnose?" "planning the demise of windclan" "yes but are you an item" "perhaps, long ago, but now i have come to learn i am a force of great revenge" "do you kiss" "i bite"

Fallenleaf and Cinderheart Something about Cinderheart trying to have a life without her, and finding the color drained from it. Fallenleaf spending another lifetime enacting horrible tyranny, but unable to communicate the horror of her reign. Someone who is loyal and devoted to you, when you feel like you don't deserve it. A fresh god and her first priestess.

HareHeatherBreeze Ex-villain going through a housewife arc and his ambitious husband and wife

Pinestar and Speckletail, Mudfur and Leopardstar, Tallstar and Flytail, Cloudtail/Ferncloud and Ashfur This dynamic is cool ranch doritoes to me, I can't stop. "Little person I was trusted with raising, kitten I loved, where have you gone? How could I have helped you? I did my best and it was still the wrong thing!" It's versatile, too. Pine perfectly mentored Speckle, but his mind is changing on that being a good thing. Mudfur realizes he should have left Leopard and Carp with their mother in that kittypet home. Tallstar created his greatest rival for deputyship. Cloud and Fern wonder if there was a sign they ignored. Love it love it love it

Dustpelt and his kids Dad who makes you hold the flashlight as he looks under the car energy.

Hawkfrost and Ivypool "I was recruited by a demon who was meant to be my mentor, but slowly I'm realizing that I'm growing older and he looks younger and younger. He's practically a child and he's being used by his father just as much as me by mine. Oh god, we're fools being lead around by fools"

Frostfur and Everyone Be it her and her mentor Bluestar, or how she can connect with Dustpelt when he makes mistakes, or how she comforts her daughter when she's attacked by dogs, I just really appreciate her.

Cinderpelt and Littlecloud BESTIES in two different Clans, their friendship is just so much fun. "Why is Littlecloud here" "He's checking my leech setup" "Why is Cinderpelt here" "She's checking my leech setup :)"

Swansong and Mistystar They didn't take all of her siblings from her, because they refused to acknowledge he's her brother. That was a mistake; she's got the most loyal sibling a person could ever ask for, he'll fight and die by her side if she gives the word. A good brother helps you hide the body <3

[mega-pixie-dream-girl]

Making Space - Part II

1990

❣ I am still very new at writing these! I know I am long-winded... I could probably edit even more and make small moment high-intensity fics, but this is sort of my style ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and I have decided to make this story more of a chap book. Note: I leave some details in brackets when I don't want to associate a real name/place/thing, fill it in madlibs style ❣

Pairing: Dave Mustaine x f!reader

Summary: Y/n is a musician--well, sort of. She is getting back into it when she meets Dave who has a practice space she can use. She wasn't looking for a muse... just a spark to ignite her creative passions. But falling for another musician is like playing with fire–falling for the frontman of Megadeth, that's like playing with an a-bomb.

𝓦𝓐𝓡𝓝𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢: power dynamic/mentorship, size, fluff, smut, angst

read Part I here

.・。♪.・゜✧・.♬・☆・゜・。. • ✧ ♪ . ° .• °:.♬ *₊ ° . ✧.・。♪.・゜✧

I drank more that weekend than I had drank in a month–which wasn’t hard since I didn’t really drink much. I had gone back to the Diamond Saloon Saturday and Sunday, hoping I might run into Dave. No such luck. Monday–my first day with my rehearsal hours in Dave’s practice room–came and went, the little folded up envelope of cash I brought to pay him feeling heavier in my pocket knowing I still had not seen him again since that night he disappeared to talk to some record exec right before we almost got drinks together. Ugh. Was I torturing myself? Perhaps setting myself up to be the character in an old sci-fi mystery show where every time I was close to getting to know him, something cataclysmic would get in the way? 

But Tuesday would be 1 week since we met at Diamond Saloon–surely he would be there again–but… he had another show tonight so maybe not. I could go see him play… but maybe he was already over it, over me.

The night was mine and I wore my favorite mini dress. There was no way I was going to be caught dead chasing a guy who had left me outside a venue like a half-empty bottle put down and forgotten. I went to the bar down the block from where he was playing to preserve my dignity. 

Sitting at the bar I felt like I was still in transit, like I hadn’t arrived, the emptiness of something missing I tried to quell, perhaps the bar will pick up in half an hour, or maybe it’s the wrong night–but deep down I knew I was waiting for someone who wasn’t there. My heart sank as I walked past heads that turned, none his, even though I knew he wouldn’t be here if he was playing down the block. It was like the night was slipping out of my grasp.

I sought the liveliness of the night I had dreamt up, relying on a change of scenery to fill in where my own lack of chatter failed. Changing bars, once, twice, I found myself at the diner, chicken soup at 2am. I had a habit of turning every page of the book-like menu even when I knew what I wanted and the waitress knew too. The noodles and salty broth felt like a hug, my own little place as other patrons laughed with friends.

"...Well, if Junior here hadn’t helped that old lady with her bags, she wouldn’t have stolen his wallet, and if she hadn’t stolen his wallet, we would have been able to replace the drum kit. I guess we just won’t be playing there for a while…"

It was fate.

I heard their footsteps get louder.

"Alright. Alright. Just fuck karma, right? It’s totally my fault Nick was drunk, missed his most important entrance, and broke the kick…" Junior responded annoyed.

They kept walking, except for one. Dave paused.

"Hey." His tone was suddenly softer. The rest of the band scooted into a booth.

"Oh, hey."

"Um… The other night–I–"

"It’s fine. Whatever."

"No–um… Sorry…" He said, looking down. "Can I make it up to you? I’m not [Jazz Guitarist], but maybe I could give you a lesson? We could go back to the studio–we could go now–" He said, lips parted, "if you want…"

"I was actually planning on heading out–"

"I can drive you back after?"

I paused. I wanted so badly to be aloof, to not betray my pride, but his red lips were frozen slightly apart as if waiting for me, for the smoke of my coquettish veil to lift. Imagining feeling them on mine I felt my own lips tingle, if only he would pull me close to him now. His eyes narrowed slightly as if he could already read the subtext of my heart between the lines of my mind. The night was mine again. I nodded in agreement. He held out his hand to steady me as I left the booth I was in.

"How was the show?" I asked as we walked toward the rehearsal space.

"Terrible."

"Why? What happened?"

"Everything."

"It couldn’t have been that bad."

"Just… everything was just… off."

I wanted to cup his cheek and tell him not to worry.

"You just need to clone yourself and master each instrument."

He smiled at my joke. "Sure… 4 drunk assholes instead of 1 drunk asshole and 3 drunk dumb asses… Totally would solve it." He mused back.

When we got up to the rehearsal room it felt different–the string lights glowed in the dim room with only another lamp on in the corner alight. Dave made an effort to kick aside more of the beer cans that had accumulated, brushing away the soot of an ashtray too small to contain its usage. To my surprise, he pushed aside the stool too. Shuffling through the shelf of gear and oddities, he pulled out a woven blanket and some pillows and placed them on the ground picnic style. He set up 2 guitars, placing them down on either side of the blanket.

"Do you want a beer?"

"Sure."

Hand me a cold can of beer from the faux wood-grain mini fridge that closed with a clap.

We sat down on the blanket, facing each other, each taking a guitar into our laps. His magnetic eyes were soft but firm and like his hair, they lit up almost golden in the dim, warm light. It felt as if he was looking at me with x-ray vision and I felt my heat wet in the silence as his eyes calmly raked over my body. My heart felt almost at peace, finally having his undivided attention. I felt twisted up inside, wanting to learn from him but also wanting to move in closer to his toned body and take the guitar out of his arms so they would be free to embrace me.

"Can we work on [song name]?" I asked.

"Sure." He nodded.

He showed me some of the riffs, then played the chords so I could practice over them in time, keeping his eyes on me, as if his hands were someone else’s or his mind completely split from them to let his sultry, piercing gaze stay on me as he played. I kept looking down at the fretboard to make sure my fingers were in the right places. 

Losing track of time, the only eon that mattered was the length of this song, the repetition as we felt out each riff along the fretboard, each breath subtly punctuating the articulation of the notes, his slowly curling smile making our steady rhythm feel faster as it mixed with my heartbeat. 

We didn’t need to talk to know what was next–I plugged into his movements, copying his own and when I played it right he went faster, then he moved to the next one, then we connected them. Maybe it was his talent as a guitarist–how intimately he knew the instrument–but I felt like he was learning me instead, becoming in tune with my movements as he coached my fingers, pushing me harder just enough to get me to the edge of losing it before I reached the satisfying peak of playing each riff correctly over and over.

When we came to the end of the song, Dave sipped his beer. "You play pretty well." He complimented.

"Thanks, you're a good teacher."

"I’m actually impressed. You’re good." He set his guitar down and looked at me, leaning slightly against a crate behind him. "How old are you?"

"24."

"You’re young." He smiled, tilting his head a bit. "Are you a vocalist, or just play guitar?" 

"Both." I answered, nonchalantly.

"Looks like we have something in common then." He smirked, before picking up his guitar again. "I’d like to hear ya. Can you play your favorite song?"

I think for a moment, I felt a pang of nerves and excitement–I'm actually a great vocalist, I just really want to be better at guitar. This is my chance to actually impress him. "Um…" I nodded and started playing and singing. I started with my favorite bossa nova song, playing the chords and starting to sing, my voice like cool rain cutting through the warm hum of amps and the growing tension between us. He jumped in accompanying me on guitar, jamming along, his chin leaning slightly closer as he listened intently. Then I gave a bit of a curveball, switching into a rock song. He followed, my vocals now switching from mellow bossa nova jazz to soulful rock.

I couldn’t help but glow as his eyes gave away his subtle amazement, not once looking away. His fingers moved with ease, picking up the chords by ear and filling in with little riffs. 

"Damn, you have a hell of a voice, sweetheart."

I grinned, enjoying my moment to show off, but his attention was almost too much.

Smiling, he chuckled a bit, his guitar still in his lap. "Why the bashfulness,? You’re amazing."

"Thanks... I-I guess I haven't sung in front of someone I know in a while."

He gazed at me so warmly, his smile radiating from his eyes most of all. "Oh yeah? Who was the last person you sang to?"

I paused. I didn’t really want to think about it–about my ex. "Just someone I knew…" 

A glint of curiosity sparked in his eyes. "Your voice is beautiful. I’m surprised you’re not in some well-known girl band or something. Also… you are very confident… but nervous at the same time… Do I make you nervous, sweetheart?"

I felt like I could sing in front of him forever. "I–no–it's just–"

He smirked as I stumbled over my words, giving little else away on his face.

"I think you're really talented." I say, avoiding admitting my crush on him.

He didn’t buy it. 

"Your turn. Will you sing something for me?" I tried to pivot the conversation. 

He seemed a little surprised at first. "Yeah, of course. Any requests?"

"Your favorite song."

I already knew he sings well, but his normally rough-around-the-edges voice was smoother than usual, sultry, taking over the whole room. His hands moved over the chords, every note articulated perfectly yet so relaxed. It was a passionate song, clearly a love song–a softer song from a harder band–but something about the way he looked at me, combined with the lyrics, made it feel like it was meant for me.

"Not what I would have guessed" I muse.

He chuckled. "No? What did you expect me to sing? Something more heavy metal?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. But you are really good at this too."

"I have range, too, you know." 

For a brief moment, his gaze flickered down to my lips before returning to my gaze. His eyes searched mine, almost as if he was looking at me with hunger, as if he was restraining himself, gulping as if to swallow his desires, keeping his demeanor composed. I felt like I was winning a week-long game of tug-of-war.

"It’s getting late." I say, desperate for his next move as his gaze seemed like it could hold me for eternity.

"Yeah… it is." He said his jaw shifting a bit.

Reaching out he brushed a stray hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear, just grazing my skin. "Are you sure you wanna go home?"

I knew that I could ask him to teach me more, but the temperature in the room had risen with the electrifying current between us.

He continued to lightly stroke my hair tucked behind my ear.

"I think I need to get home." I finally said, still feeling a bit slighted from the other night. "Maybe I can see you again?"

He swallowed, a flicker of disappointment going through his eyes, simply nodding and withdrawing his hand from my face.

"Of course, Sweetheart." He said, forcing a smile, "Anytime you want."

As we left the studio we were greeted by the damp early morning air on the deserted street, quiet and still. It must have been nearly 4am–a light drizzle raining on our skin and wetting the streets so that even the cars a few blocks away sounded like velcro pulling apart as they drove. Dave walked alongside me, but the connection we had while playing felt like it was worlds away. I reached out and held his hand as we walked, interlacing my fingers with his. He immediately gave my hand a gentle squeeze in response, as if silently communicating that he was still there, still thinking about me, in spite of walking in a sort of quiet awkward silence a few blocks towards his car. 

The rain started to get a bit heavier. My breath did too, as he started to rub my hand gently with his thumb. Lightning flashed above us and with a clap of thunder it started to pour.

Dave swore under his breath and looked up, realizing there was no way to avoid the downpour. He stopped, gently pulling me closer to him until I was nearly pressed up against his body. Eyeing a shop awning, he moved quickly, pulling us under the awning to get out of the heavy rain and turning his body to shield me from the brunt of the storm as best he could. He was pretty soaked now, his long hair sticking to his face and shoulders, his arms on either side of my head, effectively pinning me in place. 

His back breaking the pummeling rain, his white t-shirt began to become more transparent clinging to his toned body, emphasizing the muscles beneath the thin, damp fabric as his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath. He glanced over his shoulder at the rain as it came down in sheets before his eyes returned, lingering on my wet face. I felt the heat rise within me, my heart pounding against my chest. I let my gaze fall to his perfect red lips, his muscular frame keeping me safe from the storm.

Every breath as his eyes enjoyed me between the wall and his chiseled form felt like a flash of lightning, illuminating the lust behind his dark gaze. He leaned in a little closer, "Sweetheart…" he whispered, closing the space between us so that our noses almost brushed, his voice was low, filled with a hint of huskiness, and a gentle fondness. "You look beautiful…" he murmured, much softer than the man I had first heard walk into the diner tonight.

Our bodies arching together, he closed the gap between us, his lips capturing mine bringing an overwhelming flush to my face as his hand began to gently trace up my arm, bringing his electric touch up the side of my heated cheeks, fingers tangling into my hair. He kissed me like he’d been yearning for the past 20 hours all at once, his body pressing against me like I might disappear if he didn’t hold onto the moment. He let out a small exhale as I hooked my fingers through his belt loops, pulling his body tighter against mine, his hips instinctually leaning into my touch and pinning me against the wall completely. His touch was firm yet so gentle all at once as he slid his hand down, brushing the side of my breast and coming to rest on my hip, leaving a trail of fire on my skin.

The kiss slowly became softer and gentler, his hand wandering from my hip down my leg. But slowly, his hand started to move to the underside of my dress, fingers tracing up the skin of my thigh with a feather-light touch.

My breath hitched in our kiss as he started to trace the edge of my lace panties before slipping his finger between the fabric and my heat.

"Sensitive." He chuckled, taking in the image of my pleading eyes. He took his time, slowly exploring the contours of my intimate parts. I couldn’t help but grind into his touch, arching my back as his muscular torso stayed firm against me. His gaze drank me in with a look of both affection and heated desire as he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in closer.

"Impatient, darling?" He teased, his brows raising a bit.

"Like I said, you’re talented." I replied breathily, knowing he saw through it the first time. He huffed out a soft laugh, his hand on my back rubbing in a gentle circle. He grinned, his eyes sparkling with a combination of amusement and affection.

The sound of rain began to soften and the small amount of pelting on the awning slowly came to a pitter-patter. It was as if the world had hushed to a near-silent still. He took a moment to look around.

"Looks like the storm's passing." He hummed. He hadn't moved any further away, his hand still on my back while the other continued to tease and explore. "Don't suppose you want to forget about that going home part, hmm?"

.・。♪.・゜✧・.♬・☆・゜・。. • ✧ ♪ . ° .• °:.♬ *₊ ° . ✧.・。♪.・゜✧

...to be continued... read Part I here

[mytragedyperson]

ok don't think he'll die, stay dead, whatever, but the angst that comes from Dazai dying or them believing Dazai is dead? so there's a big battle, somehow they stop the vampirism, maybe they all team up to get the sword out of Bram, whatever. Either way the vampirism is cured and, somehow, the Decay of Angels have been defeated. And then, just when they think it's over, just when they think they've won, Fyodor manages to send them a message that Dazai is dead. By this point Chuuya has been cured but Fyodor doesn't really unddrstand their bond and assumes he'll be fine you know, they hate each other anyway, right? Chuuya would probably be happy the person using him is dead. Instead, a part of Chuuya breaks. First of all, he can never use Corruption again. Second of all, one of the first people to actually see him as a human is dead, he killed him. Honestly, i imagine Chuuya would spiral a little after this, start to wonder if Dazai was wrong, if he truly was just a monster. He did kill his own partner, how could he not be a monster after that? Eventually, someone manages to drive home the whole this isn't your fault you were under someone's control thing, but by this point Chuuuya is so sick of losing and giving up control of his body. Also, i do think Arahabaki would be pissed as well, because someone who was, in his own way, caring for his vessel is now gone and now he can't come out because it's simply not safe for his vessel.

Sigma starts to feel like a failure, like he let him down. He already doesn't have much self-esteem or self-worth but this just makes it worse.

The ADA loses one of their members, possibly for the first time? like i don't think they've dealt with a member dying but i could be wrong and probably am. Kunikida loses his partner, Atsushi loses his mentor and father/older brother figure, Ranpo loses someone who understood him and his intelligence, and Kyouka loses the person who helped her join the ADA. He doesn't take as much of a mentorship role with her as he did Atsushi and Akutagawa, but he did encourage her to destroy the Moby Dick which got her in the ADA and made her believe her past didn't have to define whether she could be good and live in the light. Honestly i need more of that shit, them bonding over being in both worlds and Dazai basically being like hey if they accept me with all the crimes i committed they'll accept you too. On a similar note, Autagawa finding out Dazai is dead, his mentor, the person he looks up to the most, the one who took him in, gave him a home in the port mafia. I'm not saying he was necessarily a good mentor to Akutagawa, I also don't think he's the worst, did he really do anything that any other Mafia leader wouldn't do if you went against his orders? I wouldn't say so. but i do think he'd be heartbroken, just as much as Atsushi if not more so. Ango being the first to know he's dead even before Fyodor tells anyone. Also this isn't related, but i wonder if Dazai managed to send some sort of message to Ango before he was shot or whatever? maybe whatever crazy contingency plan he has? i feel like that would make sense

[glorf1ndel]

You Remind Me of My Brother (~900 words, gen)

For Day 1 of @tolkiengenweek, inspired by the prompt "mentorship." Peregrin Took, as seen through Boromir and Faramir's eyes. Or: the time Pippin kicked Boromir's ass.

Read on Ao3 or below!

In early January of the year 3019, on an outcrop deep in the wilds, Peregrin Took and Boromir spar on the long journey to Mordor. The rest of the Fellowship is eating breakfast, but Pippin is anxious to learn the art of swordsmanship. Besides, he’s already scarfed down three helpings of rabbit. When Boromir knocks the hobbit down for the third time in a row, Pippin almost regrets eating. (Almost.) He leaps to his feet and brushes himself off, ready to try again.

Boromir lands another blow, and Pippin falls to the ground.

“This is ridiculous. I could kick Boromir’s ass,” Pippin whispers to Merry – a bit too loudly, because Boromir himself bursts out laughing and says,

“With a little more practice.”

Pippin swerves around.

“Oh, you don’t think I can do it, can you?” He asks, then bats at Boromir’s leg with his wooden sword. “Take that!”

Boromir, to his credit, collapses, still chucking. Merry rolls his eyes, but he, too, is smiling. Pippin extends a hand to Boromir in triumph, helping him to his feet.

“You have a determined heart, Pippin of the Shire,” Boromir marvels. “In fact, you remind me of my brother.”

“Really?” Pippin beams. “What’s he like?”

“His name is Faramir. He is a good warrior, but what he is best known for among the soldiers of Gondor is his desire to better himself. As a child, he constantly sought our father’s approval. I think he still does,” Boromir says with a sigh. “Our father is… Not the most reassuring man. He appreciates strength, not effort, and he has always gone out of his way to make that clear to Faramir.”

Pippin purses his lips, brow furrowed in thought.

“But what is significant about my brother,” Boromir continues, “Is that he is always striving to do more, to be more. He longs to live up to our father’s expectations, but more than that, his goal is to look in the mirror and feel proud of himself. That’s what makes him a person of quality.”

At this, Pippin nods.

“I think I understand,” he says. “Your brother never gives up.”

“That’s right. It’s why I admire him so.”

“I hope I can meet him someday,” Pippin muses. “And when I do, I’ll tell him all about the time I beat you in a fight.”

“Will you?” Boromir grins. “Then you’d better keep practicing!”

As it turns out, their practices are cut short, and neither of them makes it to Mordor.

After Amon Hen, Pippin mourns Boromir. Continuing the Fellowship’s journey feels wrong when they’ve lost a fellow. Aragorn explains that such is the nature of grief, a hole in one’s life that expands and contracts but never goes away. Pippin has never felt an emotion as big as this before –

Until he gazes into the Palantír and sees the Eye, and he understands fear. Pippin tells the enemy nothing, save for a constant plea to get out of his head. (And a few choice curse words.) Still, the disappointment in Gandalf’s eyes is evident, so when the wizard insists that Pippin travel with him to Minas Tirith, what can the hobbit do but oblige? Besides, Pippin is curious about the capital of Gondor, and it’s not the same sort of curiosity that drove him to look into the Palantír.

Minas Tirith, Pippin thinks, was Boromir’s home.

When Pippin meets Faramir, he sees the truth of Boromir’s words: his brother is determined, and their father, the Steward of Gondor, doesn’t appreciate him. Gandalf doesn’t know what possesses Pippin to pledge his allegiance to Denethor, but Pippin sees the sad look in the man’s eyes, and Aragorn’s words resound inside his head: grief never goes away.

The war goes on. Pippin continues to train. He walks beside Faramir as Guard of the Citadel, and he befriends this man whose gaze is an echo of Boromir’s: softer, but fierce at its core.

Then the siege of the city begins, and Denethor goes mad. Pippin stands in the funeral chamber, unsettled. He knows what it’s like to feel an all-consuming feeling – but when he sees Denethor climb onto the pyre and the guards drag Faramir’s body into the chamber, he realizes that something is wrong. For Pippin can see the rise and fall of Faramir’s chest, weak though his breathing is. Would Denethor take himself and his only living son to the grave?

“No,” Pippin sobs, clawing at Denethor’s robes. “Don’t do this to yourself. He’s alive – he’s alive!”

Pippin is promptly kicked out of the chamber, but he doesn’t yield. Gandalf will know what to do,he thinks. Sure enough, with the wizard’s help, Pippin rescues Faramir. They are unable to do the same for Denethor, and the sight of him on fire, running toward his own destruction, burns itself into Pippin’s mind more deeply than the image of the Eye ever could.

Days pass. Pippin does not leave Faramir’s bedside until he wakes. The hobbit has been more loyal to Faramir than anyone else in the man’s life, save for Boromir. Yet Pippin still does not expect it when Faramir opens his eyes, smiles at the sight of him, and murmurs,

“You, Peregrin Took, remind me of my brother.”

Pippin laughs – he even cries, a little – and then he says,

“Well, then. Let me tell you about the time I kicked his ass.”

****

Thank you for reading. ♡ If you'd like, leave a comment or kudos on Ao3, or like and reblog this post!

[charms-cat]

Thoughts on TBOSAS Pt. 2

Disclaimer: I did skim certain scenes but I'm still mostly basing my theory on what I can remember (from both the book and the movie), so feel free to correct me if I got something wrong

So in Part 1 of my analysis, I wondered -

why did they make it so that the Academy kids didn’t know that they were going to be mentors? They already knew that they were going to be assigned a tribute. iirc Coryo was worried since he wanted a ‘good’ tribute and, when all the ‘good ones’ were gone, he hoped that Dean Highbottom forgot him instead of assigning him a tribute from District 12.

I was thinking about it again and honestly? I can only guess that this was another ploy to make Coryo seem more sympathetic than he actually is

My main evidence is the fact that they switched the mentorship with the Plinth Prize

1. The Mentorship

Book!Mentorship: Coryo tells us that the final project before graduation is a newly-implemented mentorship for the Hunger Games (the kids from the districts will be paired with the best/top students from the Academy); it'll be up to the mentors to make a spectacle of their assigned tribute, to make the Games more entertaining to watch; whoever has the tribute with the best performance will win a substantial amount of money, which Coryo planned on using to pay for his University tuition

from the start, Coryo knows what to expect. but, more importantly, it's made clear that he never views the tributes as anything more than a means to an end. iirc he was quite... factual(?) about what the Games entailed; he doesn't express any form of remorse towards the tributes' fate and condemns Sejanus for feeling any sort of kinship with the kids from the district.

Coryo was worried when his name wasn't called when Dean Highbottom was assigning mentors. as a Snow, he never thought that he'd be assigned a "runt" from District 12. he was embarrassed/worried/humiliated that he was assigned to the district whose tributes died earliest; and not even to the (potentially) strong boy, but to the weak girl. it was only after the buzz created by Lucy Gray's performance that Coryo felt any kind of positive feeling for her; a sense of "I may have gotten the weakest tribute, but I can still win the award" "she's the only tribute who everyone had an interest beyond 'oh, they look like they could win'".

in short, Coryo's unsympathetic nature (esp towards the tributes) is practically highlighted since the start. his tribute is not a person, they are his project.

Movie!Mentorship: comes as a surprise to everyone since they were expecting a scholarship award (the Plinth Prize); Coryo has no time to think of what this means and, so, there's no time to even hint towards his contempt of the districts. this way, the audience doesn't realise that Coryo thinks lesser of the tributes

(I hope I can word this properly)

changing this scene into a surprise mentorship instead of a pr-established one changes the initial impression of Coryo's character.

book!Coryo, we can assume, knew of the mentorship days/weeks/months beforehand. the fact that he never develops any sort of empathy for his tribute (not thinking of them beyond how they can help him make a good impression and help him win the prize money) is telling of his callous nature towards the tributes. we should have some sort of negative impression of him bcs "this is not just a project, these are kids' lives on the line"

but for movie!Coryo, this mentorship is not an anticipated chance for making a good impression bcs he never knew about it. instead, he comes off as just a studious kid, hoping for a scholarship. we get a more positive impression of Coryo bcs "hey, he didn't know this was going to happen, he just rolled with it".

movie!Coryo is not the person who, for an extended period of time, viewed his tribute as a mere stepping stone to further his education. he was the person who got snubbed of (potentially) getting a prize so that the Academy/Capitol/Dean Highbottom can suddenly shove one more hurdle onto him before he can get the scholarship.

imo "suddenly" introducing a hurdle at the last minute is definitely a sympathetic device. it invokes the feeling of "what? but he was already so close to winning the scholarship, why would they suddenly change it? that's unfair! they never informed him beforehand!" now, the audience is more inclined to feel injustice and/or sympathy on behalf of Coryo

2. Sudden second point that I just thought of: the change doesn't make sense

in the book, we know of the mentorship. so it makes sense that we start on the day of the reaping since that's the day that Coryo will know whose mentor he'll be

but why would we start on the day of the reaping in the movie?

it's strange enough to imply that they apparently award scholarships on the same day that they reap the tributes. but why would they do that in the first place? the Games have always been a "reminder to the districts" (and the price of rebellion) so why would the Academy try to overshadow the Games by having a joyous celebration right after it? esp since the Academy themselves want to remedy the low viewership of the Games. + there's no doubt the wealthy Capitol citizens would brag about their children's achievements through some form of extravagance

(I'm assuming the scholarship ceremony would take place after the reaping, since the broadcast began not long after Coryo arrived to the hall; otherwise that'd be another plot hole)

3. the Plinth Prize

brief background: the Academy has a system in which, if you get three "demerits" (by violating Academy rules/conduct), you'll be expelled. Coryo gets his first demerit for "endangering a student (referring to himself)" by landing in the zoo with the tributes

so now Coryo only has two chances to not fuck up if he doesn't want to get kicked out of the Academy before he can win the prize. Dean Highbottom sorta threatens/mocks Coryo for this. Coryo can't refute bcs he could get another demerit for "insubordination". Coryo also worries that he might not get the prize after all bcs the Dean hates him

but then Strabo and Sejanus introduce the Plinth Prize! Coryo has new hope bcs the Prize is a personally-funded scholarship so the Academy can't interfere in any way. regardless of whether the Academy doesn't award him the money, he'll at least get to attend the University. the only condition is that the Prize will be awarded to the one "whose tribute wins the Games". so Coryo has an extra incentive for getting Lucy Gray to win

the change in the movies isn't so egregious. it does make sense that Strabo Plinth would fund a scholarship for the Academy. except for two things:

the removal/diminishing of the demerits subplot and Dean Highbottom dangling the potential loss of the prize money over Coryo's head also removes an extra layer of disdain that Coryo has towards the Dean + the reason why Coryo is always careful about what he does and is v secretive when he does things like sneaking food out of the Academy cafeteria

the Prize was Sejanus's idea. give my boy his credit!

4. unrelated Lysistrata appreciation

I already talked about how the movie removed Lyssie's kindness and gave some examples. but let me talk a lil more about how she reacted when it became highly likely that Jessup would die. specifically, the fact that Lyssie cried

Lysistrata only knew Jessup for two weeks. just by nature of class differences, it's unlikely that they developed the level of kinship that Coryo and Lucy Gray did. but there's just an obvious fondness that developed, definitely for Lysistrata at least -

she tried her best to repress her emotions, but couldn't stop the tears from escaping

she pleaded/hoped that Lucy Gray wouldn't let Jessup die alone (Coryo had the fuckin audacity to want to complain that Lucy Gray didn't want to leave Jessup alone either; the only reason he didn't was bcs Lyssie was obviously upset)

Lysistrata asserted that the rabies were the fault of the Capitol's raccoons; she didn't let Lepidus (the interviewer) blame Jessup or his district and redirected the interview to speak about Jessup

she makes it a point to tell the Capitol that Jessup was a good person, a protector, that Jessup probably would've never won the Games bcs he'd die to protect Lucy Gray

when Lepidus (that bitch) calls Jessup a dog (!!!) - "a really good one" - Lysistrata shuts that down immediately: "Not like a dog. Like a human being."

she couldn't bear to stay afterwards and headed home immediately

AND THEY CHANGED ALL THAT. I don't think movie!Lysistrata even reacted to Jessup's death, at least not to an equal degree

she was the only good Capitol-born person (other than Tigris). too bad the movie couldn't let the Capitol have any nuance, except for Dean Highbottom's remorseful confession in the second-last scene