#and like even amaya is muddled in all this

[stuck-in-jelly]

Having lots of thoughts about Corvus and the fact that this is the first time we’ve seen him on a promotional poster AND that he has been regaining lost screen-time from season 4 and 5

Corvus has the least stake in the game as far as interpersonal relationships goes he is pretty separated from most of everyone.

Soren’s dad tortured and imprisoned Rayla’s dad and kidnapped Zym, Rayla’s dad killed Ezran’s and Callum’s dad, Zym’s dad killed Aanya’s, Ezran’s, and Callum’s moms in a 3 for one meal, Callum’s and Ezran’s dad lead the mission where Aanya’s mothers were killed, Ezran’s and Callum’s dad killed Zym’s dad, Callum is dating the daughter of his father’s murderer, and it just keeps getting more complicated from there.

But Corvus?

We dont even really know anything about him. He grew up in the woods on the borderlands, he was in the military at a young age and was even considered a veteran at 20 years old, he’s smart, strong, quick on his feet, he’s a bit awkward socially at times, he’s worked espionage, and he’s a really good baker.

But we know next nothing of his personal life, we dont even know if he has parents or any family to speak of aside from Amaya and Gren who have known him the longest. Its implied he met Soren and Claudia in passing in the past but thats as close as it gets.

Corvus is so widely detached from the chaos of everything going on with all the other characters whose past and connections are all so complicated

And now we get a poster where Corvus is quite literally breaking through the title, his weapon pushes past everything as he stares steadily ahead with a clear mind

Corvus is the key to helping break the cycle

[magnifiico]

@howthesleeplesswander || are we ready to die? i think we're ready to die 8'D

He had no concept of time down here. Only that enough time had passed for his mind to clear, reality to assert itself, and King Magnifico to find—

Well, a dungeon cell was no more befitting a king than the mirror just as abhorrently containing him. So, what was he? After all he had done for Rosas, the sacrifices he’d made, the protection he’d offered them for years beyond count, they would treat their king like some common criminal? His queen would dare to turn her back on…

His queen. Amaya. Amaya.

Magnifico had run his muddled mind through the events of that day on a near tireless loop: picking at bits and pieces of his memory, recollecting flashes here, a foggy and distorted mess there. And despite all that he had gathered—a puzzle he’d had plenty of time to build—he’d yet to trace back to what had offended her so. What had antagonized her, driven her to stand against him as if he were the villain betraying the very kingdom he had built?

I built this. We built this.

And he’d promised from the beginning he’d do anything and everything it took to protect it. No questions asked. No holds barred. Magnifico used that book because he had to. The people hadn’t given him a choice; if he had let them—

No. No, no no. We said we’d never let that happen again.

But nevertheless, here he was. Dethroned. Defamed. He’d almost convinced himself his queen planned on letting him rot eternally, but when he heard the creak of a door on that fateful day—could’ve been morning, afternoon… or perhaps his darling had decided to pay an evening visit when all had quieted down—Magnifico hadn’t needed to see her to know. Her footsteps were a recognizable rhythm, soft and elegant, down the steps. Somehow, the echo seemed to penetrate his magical prison just as well, and in some way, each beat trembled down to his core.

When she stood outside the bars, however, peered in at that loathsome little mirror on the wall, he was ready to face her. That is, he’d convinced the faint flutter in his chest that he was.

“You’ve placed a magical mirror in which I am already very securely contained—trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to determine that’s the case—within a literal prison cell,” he observed blandly, head cocking while a bitter smile tugged on his lips. “Is that not just a touch excessive, my dear?”

[sir-adamus]

I’m constantly thinking about how my interest in Dragon Prince just died.

I liked season 1 fine, some pacing issues but every show has growing pains. Plus with nine episodes you gotta move a little quick in places.

Season 2, again, was fine. Some good moments. But my problems start getting obvious. Bad Dad is… not that well written. It feels like they’re trying to make him sympathetic while he’s treating his kids like shit and being a power hungry douche, and “no, the dragons were the real bad guys.” And… no? The writing for him is so muddled. And then my other biggest issue is the romance that came out of frickin nowhere. Like suddenly after a week Rayla ready to tell Callum she loves him like… what? And yeah they’re kids but still.

And then… season three. Oh season three. Undoubtedly the best part is what they do with Soren. I love this himbo. He’s the one thing I think is paced really well. Well, him and Claudia. But that’s about where it ends. I’m still so baffled why Aunt Amaya saved the Fire Elf when she’s been shown to have that same extreme prejudice. And while cute, their relationship is even more speedran than our main one which is impressive. Speaking of, I just can’t with Callum and Rayla. I can’t. And a lot of it comes down to the awful pacing. Again, limited episodes but I’ve seen other shows do a whole lot with just nine episodes. *cough* Arcane *cough*

And that’s not even getting into all the behind the scenes horror that just killed any enthusiasm I had left for the show. I know the people who worked on it didn’t want us to stop watching, they just wanted the world to know, but… I was already just barely hanging onto the show by a thread.

yeah honestly it's the pacing that killed it for me too (as well as, like you said, the behind the scenes stuff being extremely fucking horrible). the first two seasons go at a fairly even pace and then suddenly in the final episode throws in Rayla making an attempted love confession out of nowhere which then proceeds to dominate the entirety of the third season despite that the show's timeline means these two have only known each other for less than a month

it's the complete lack of buildup before acting like it was there all along - Arcane didn't have that issue despite the romantic aspects only being present for just over half the season's run-time because a) Vi and Cait's attraction to each other is made clear from the start and b) while they become close during the few days that back half of the show takes place over, they aren't making love confessions and kissing each other yet. mutual attraction and emotional connection has been established from the get-go and things build in a romantic direction from there. unlike with Ray/llum where it comes out of nowhere at the back-end of the second season after these teenagers have known each other for a month and then they're just in a serious relationship

like what

by comparison it doesn't feel half as rushed (though still rushed and definitely trying to play it with plausible deniability) with Amaya and Janai despite them having hardly any screentime because they didn't get that far, we just get established mutual attraction (if you can understand sign language because they didn't subtitle or have someone translate Amaya telling the boys that Janai thinks she's cute but won't admit it yet - can't think why!)

honestly the problem with the whole show is Ehasz trying to coast off his AtLA cred (which considering he wasn't invited back for Korra feels very much like how shit like Epic Movie were advertised as 'from the writers of Scary Movie' and it's the two writers who weren't invited back for any of the sequels) and so it's doing everything AtLA did but in a far more compressed timeframe and that really hurts the pacing

they spend two seasons building up the brewing war only to have it happen and resolve it in less than five episodes. i already did my rant about Ray/llum. Callum has basically no narrative struggle in season 3 because he's the magic Avatar and any magic he sees he can do (even super special magic that even most natural born magic users can't do), and the one conflict he has with Rayla, where she's intent to sacrifice herself to redeem her family for seemingly abandoning the Dragon Queen, he resolves by breaking a magic pendant she had given him to remember her (which itself was a gift to her so she could remember her adoptive dads, and was a symbol of their relationship) so he could use it as fuel for a spell (that, once again, he had only seen once, no magic struggle, boring as all fuck) behind her back, without consulting her, so he can win the argument and tell her she's wrong

all the interesting characters get sidelined in favour of turning Callum into a boring, overpowered time sink that Rayla suddenly perpetually revolves around. Soren is the one shining light in the season with him breaking out of the golden child/scapegoat conflict his shithole father has him and Claudia trapped in, while Claudia is just being fasttracked into being Azula but again (and i have a sneaking suspicion that there's no way she's going to be handled with any genuine nuance or care once that jump happens - Claudia was a great character in the first two seasons with a unique perspective on things and deserves way better from a writing standpoint. and a better writer who doesn't lie to fans in DMs about her romantic prospects just to encourage more engagement with the show because i know the person he did that too and holy fuck what a manipulative scumsuck he is)

it's frustrating because there was interesting stuff going on, cool ideas, fun characters - and it just got completely fucked over by Ehasz being a tool and a hack writer rushing half the story, rushed romances and whatever else into the third season because that was all the animators were contracted for (while also being a terrible shithead behind the scenes and lying to fans, about a number of things but in this specific case, trying to drum up engagement for the show so they could get a second and third season despite that those were already in the works) because he desperately wants this to be his Avatar but again and Better

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || 9

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. through a few strange twists of fate, you’ve ended up living with the very boy who’d broken your heart. but, perhaps it’s not as bad as you thought it’d be. he is the perfect gentleman, after all.

warnings: f!reader, angst, swearing, a touch of spice? 

wc: 1.5k

m.list |  ch. 8 ↞ ch. 9 ↠ ch. 10

There was a knock on your door.

“What?” You yelled. Maybe you were being dramatic. But you certainly felt like you had the right to be.

“Can I talk to you?”

You bit your cheek. You didn’t have the emotional fortitude to look him in the eyes. But…

“Fine,” you sighed. “But you have to stay out there.”

“Okay.” He didn’t hesitate.

You sat up, sitting cross-legged on your mattress. “What do you want?”

There was an uneasy silence – the kind that made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

“You said I broke your heart.” You barely heard him. His voice was so low, so uncertain.

You didn’t know how to read his tone. Surprise? Regret? Confusion?

No. Fuck his feelings. He hadn’t given a damn about yours.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

“I—”

“What did you think would happen when you kissed me and then told me to pretend it never happened?” Your voice was barely below a yell.

They were words fuelled by rage. Maybe you’d regret them in the morning. But in that moment, you didn’t give a shit.

“You knew I had feelings for you and you just—you just—” Your breath caught in your throat, choking you. You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Hajime,” you hissed, the words dripping with vitriol.

You hadn’t thought it through. It was just what you felt; raw, honest, angry. It was a revelation to yourself just as much as it might be to him.

“I know.”

There was no frustration in his words. Just pure, simple acceptance.

“I was stupid.” His voice was almost illegible through the door. You knew that tone. It was the one he adopted whenever he was being sincere – something he struggled with outside of the odd frustrated outburst. “I… I should’ve talked to you about it instead of just making a decision for you.”

“Exactly.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, drawing your knees up to your chest.

Everything was so muddled. You’d been wanting to hear those words – you deserved those words.

You’d never known how to ask for them. If it hadn’t been for the weird tension tonight, you might never have heard them.

But were they worth it?

“I shouldn’t have behaved like that,” he said. “That was a mistake.”

“Good,” you sniffed.

In all honesty, you’d expected him to bite back after your outburst. He’s fiery, a tempest that’s easily stoked. But his words were so calm, so full of awareness.  

He’d been thinking about this for a while, hadn’t he?

The realisation gave you less satisfaction than you’d hoped.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said. He meant it. “If this… arrangement makes you uncomfortable, I’m happy to find somewhere else to live. And I’ll deal with finding you a new roommate.”

Your blood ran cold. What was he talking about?

How was that his solution to this problem?

“I… I’m angry with you,” you admitted. “But… but I don’t want to stop living with you.”

The weight of the contradiction burned through your skull. Honestly, you’d been angry with him for a while. The resentment had never really dissipated. Not as much as you’d believed it had.

But it was like he’d been trying to make up for everything since the beginning. Or, maybe he’s just a good guy. That in itself seemed like an apology.

God, why’d he have to go and be so likeable?

“Look, Hajime, I…” What did you even want to say? What could you say? “I… I… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” he said softly. “Take your time.”

You sighed, stretching your legs out and flopping back on your mattress.

It felt like you were supposed to say something.

But there was too much to say. And yet, there was too little.

“If you want to talk, let me know,” Iwaizumi said after a long moment.

The sound of footsteps faded away, leaving you with an uncomfortable silence.

He was gone.

You bit your cheek, clenching your fists at your sides.

How could everything go to shit so quickly?

All he’d done was act a bit bratty. Well, ‘bratty’ was an understatement. He’d been acting like a little shit.  

But had it really warranted your outburst?

If you asked Amaya, she’d say ‘yes, absolutely!’ She’d probably tell you that you’d gone soft on him. Maybe she was right.

But it felt like there was more nuance to it. Or, maybe you just wished that was the case.

He’d apologised.

He’d said he regretted treating you the way he had back then.  

But he hadn’t said he regretted kissing you.

Albeit, maybe that wasn’t on his mind. But it felt like an important omission. He hadn’t said “I shouldn’t have done it,” or “I regret it.” The act itself wasn’t the problem.

It could be wishful thinking. You wanted him to not regret kissing you. Especially when the two of you were getting so close. Especially when you could feel your resolve to not fall into the same trap as two and a half years ago crumbling away.

And he’d been jealous. Of Kohei.

Jealous.

Did that mean…

You sat up, swinging your legs off the bed and planting your feet on the ground.

Your heart was thrumming in your chest, an insatiable, excited rhythm that you felt all through your body. It was like your brain was pulsing, a whirlwind of thoughts rushing through.

Were you sweating? Everything was so confusing, so real and yet so unbelievable, a cacophony of confusion and—

Your feet moved before you could register it.

There you were, standing in front of his room. What did you want to say? What did you want to do?

Your mind was blank. You were running on pure instinct and nothing else.

A knock on his door.

“Hey, Hajime?” You called.

“Hm?” His response didn’t give much away.

“Can I come in?”

A very long silence.

“Sure.”

Your hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment, nervous. For what, you weren’t sure.

You took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

He’s laid out on his bed in the lamplight, the warm glow cast flatteringly across his face.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with a myriad of jumbled thoughts that you were too tired to decipher.

“I… want to try something,” you swallowed, clenching your fists.

Iwaizumi frowned, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Deep breaths, you thought.

It was a stupid idea. A reckless one. But it’d buried itself deep, seeping into your bones.

You walked over to him slowly, each step its own ordeal. You stopped in front of him, an arm’s length away.

“You can say no,” you murmured.

Confusion rippled across Iwaizumi’s face as his eyebrows drew together.

His expression reflected exactly how you felt. But it was too late to back out now; that would only confuse things even more.

You cupped his face with trembling hands.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he gazed up at you, the confusion crumbling away to reveal something else. Something vulnerable.

He didn’t move away. You lingered for what felt like an eternity, but he didn’t pull back, didn’t tell you to stop.

He didn’t say no.

You swallowed roughly, your heart beating so hard you felt like it might burst through your chest.

This was stupid. Unbelievably stupid.

But you leant forward.

His eyes fluttered shut.

And you kissed him.

It was gentle, even reserved. But it was a kiss.

Warm, soft, gentle. Those were the only words to describe it. Iwaizumi leant into it, sending a jolt through your body. It was more a question than a kiss; a challenge, even. Nothing else mattered. Just this moment. This gesture.

You drew back slowly, finally ending the kiss. Iwaizumi leant forward with you for a moment, as if he didn’t want it to end.

He was staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his cheeks flushed red. You bent down to his ear, letting your lips brush against the shell.

“Do you want to pretend that never happened?” You whispered, the heat emanating from him almost overwhelming.

A moment of excruciating silence.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you forward onto his lap. You buckled against him, grabbing his shoulders in an effort to stabilize yourself.

You blinked at him, your bravado dissipating as you realised just how close you were.

He was staring again, his eyes glinting with something close to hunger.

Was he waiting for permission? Rejection?

He plunged forward, capturing your lips in a rough, eager kiss. You gasped, digging your fingers into his shoulders. That was different.

“Fuck no,” he growled against your lips, his hands sliding from your hips to your back.

You sighed, leaning into him.

This was what you’d wanted all along. Being friends with him was fine. Nice, even.

But there was no way you and Iwaizumi could be ‘just friends’.

You wanted all of him.

And he was eager to give it to you.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: if i change my mind and delete this... you didn’t see anything

[acertaincritic]

I’ve written about it in comments and such, but never made a proper post, so... The fight where Aaravos channeled magic through Viren. 

Despite all the fireworks, in the end Aaravos lets Viren get caught. And yes, I’m saying that he let that happened on purpose - even with arrows pointed right at Viren, I don’t believe that Aaravos didn’t know a spell that would deal with the threat... Bah. he could’ve used the violet lightning again, the set up was very much the same as when Viren was surrounded by guards with spears. So unless there’s some cost we don’t know about - like Viren’s body being able to handle such a powerful spell only once in a while - Aaravos let Viren be arrested, despite initially prompting him to try to fight his way out. Why?

So looking at the whole sequence, a few things are different now vs if Viren surrendered outright.

1. Viren killed a bunch of guards.

So unless the narrative completely forgets about that ‘bunch of no-names’, this should put Viren even more at odds with Opeli and others than he already was. Whereas previously he was ‘only’ guilty of usurping authority, now he has lives of Katolis citizens - soldiers, no less - on his head. This may be a way of isolating Viren, making him more dependent on Aaravos, or perhaps of stripping the kingdom of his advice when they would need it (or at least they should need it, given how he’s the only person in power there with any brains at all).

2. The door to Viren’s secret dungeon was opened.

This leads to two things. First, Gren was freed, though it’s likely just a by-product of whatever Aaravos’s true goal really was. The only thing that Gren might change is tell the others about Amaya’s orders, but... C’mon. Could Amaya seriously never tell anyone beside Viren how the search for princes is supposed to be conducted?... That really would make Viren the only adult with any sensible IQ around, and I kinda don’t think the creators would show Amaya in such a bad light? Alternatively, Gren could also go back to the Breach to report to the general of what had happened, but now that Viren is apprehended already, it seems kinda pointless.

Second thing, Aaravos’s mirror might be discovered. This seems huge at first, but given how long it took Viren to see anything in it, I’m not sure we should get so excited about it. Unless the mirror is already activated so anyone can look into it, but even then, how many people, especially ones who think Dark Magic is (for some reason) evil and never cast any spells, would go through Aaravos’ ritual? I find it highly doubtful that anyone would. The single candidate is Claudia, but... I kinda don’t think the writers would muddle this thing so much, ya know? Having one person with a worm inside their ear is enough, two would be a crowd.

3. Pip (Harrow) got away.

I’m going to assume for now that Harrow’s spirit is in the bird (and honestly, I feel it’s obvious enough that he is). I’ll be honest - this is what I’m betting Aaravos’s main goal was. Many people got excited that now Ezran is going to have his father’s advice and support, and I mean, it could be that, but...

But what if it’s the opposite?

The bird flew out of the castle, perhaps hoping to find Ezran and others. Given what Harrow knows, he likely headed for the Winter Lodge first. The chances of him meeting his son on the way are slim. Right now Ezran is headed back to the castle; once he arrived, he’d certainly go to see his father’s favorite pet, given his way with animals - but now Pip isn’t there. So perhaps Aaravos’s purpose was to deprive Ezran of his father’s advice (though I personally doubt it’d be a very good advice, but well, this is a fairy tale). So our startouch bishie might actually be helping Viren, for whatever shady reason, and only went about it in a roundabout way knowing that Viren would never consciously release the bird - and even if he did, perhaps Harrow would grow suspicious and stick close to the castle.

So these are three main reasons I see as Aaravos’ potential goals in that sequence, and they aren’t mutually exclusive. Perhaps all three played a role - we’ll wait, we’ll see. It’s also worth noting that 2 and 3 happened because of the last spell Aaravos cast, so right before he suddenly decided it’s better to surrender.

At any rate, this is just a theory. Please, share you thoughts on the subject :)

[amymation101]

Animation Reviews: The Dragon Prince

Hello again lovelies. T’is once again I. Don’t know why I’m pumping these out so fast except that I find them to be really relaxing for me. Which is probably why they are so terrible and if you can read my ramblings with anything resembling enjoyment you are a better person than I am. Anyway...the next show that I want to talk about is The Dragon Prince, a show that has really blown up in popularity and deservedly so. Once again I’m going to try to avoid spoilers as much as possible because I feel everybody should see these shows and judge them for themselves. Anyhoo, here we goooooo!

Characters: This is a major strength of this show right away, especially for me. It’s pretty much common knowledge at this point but the creator of The Dragon Prince was one of the head writers for Avatar the Last Airbender and boy does it show. Just to be clear, I mean that in the best possible way. The Dragon Prince has a huge cast that it juggles very well. To try to keep this section under control I will just be focusing on what could be considered the main characters but know that all the characters in this show, from the mains to the sides to the background, all give the impression of being well rounded and fully realized. So with that out of the way, onto this mess of a section. The main trio Callum, Ezran, and Rayla work off of each other beautifully and balance each other out. But what is most fun to watch is how they both do, and don’t, fit into stereotypical roles. Ezran (the crown prince of one of the Human Kingdoms) is the heart of the group and also, one could argue, the wisdom. Despite his young age he is adept at reading people’s characters and makes his judgements on that rather than the biases of the world in which they live. His decision to trust people and his compassion drives the story forward and it is his actions that get the ball rolling. Watching his interactions with his older brother Callum will also give you a case of the feels. Once again, sibling relationship done right. Rayla, the muscle, uses her combat (read: awesome elf assassin) prowess to get the group out of many a tight spot. But that’s not all Rayla is. Her sense of humor is sarcastic and witty and she is the source of both the most heartbreaking and side-splitting moments in the show. I don’t think I can oversell what a complex character she is and how much she will steal your heart. As for Callum, oh sweetie. I suppose if you had to label him, he would be the brains of the group, but as with all these characters, he is so much more than that. Awkward and unsure of himself, he is a character who doesn’t know what he has to offer, while unwittingly possessing powerful potential. I just…*wipes tears from my eyes*... love characters like this. He is also a bit of a goof and his back and forth with Rayla drives both the humor and their character development. All of the characters in The Dragon Prince are like this though. Although you can technically slot them into character tropes, they are really much more than their assigned role. They are complex is what I’m getting at. The other main characters to note are Soren, Claudia, Viren, and King Harrow. Soren and Claudia are a brother and sister duo who are truly a joy to watch. Their popularity is enormous thanks to their complex relationship with each other, the wildly different relationship they each have with their father Viren, and the fact that they are giant walking memes. Soren is probably the closest thing the show has to the stereotypical “all muscle but no brains” character type. But as I keep saying over and over again, there is more to him than that. He has his moments of sweetness, protectiveness, and an incredibly relatable moment of stress-eating that made me absolutely fall in love with him. Claudia is a mage in training, frighteningly powerful but goofy and more than a bit spacy. Together they are a dream team of hilarity and, for all you fanfic writers out there, tons of unexplored potential angst. Ugh. I could go on about them all day but I suppose I should try to get to a few more characters before I head to story town as this section is already becoming more of a train wreck than I could have ever imagined. Viren is the character everyone loves to hate, but once again as with all these characters, I feel that there is more to him than meets the eye. That’s all I’ll say about him at the moment as I don’t want to get into spoilers. King Harrow is a fantastic father to Ezran and Callum, with his relationship with the latter producing some most excellent feels. I’m going to group the last characters together even though they each deserve their own spot simply because The Dragon Prince has a huge cast (as stated previously) that are all, say it with me now, really complex. Aunt Amaya and Gren are two notable standouts of the side cast, as is Runaan, the stoic but lovable leader of the Moon Elves. But this section is taking up way more space than I was originally anticipating so let me just leave you with this: all the characters in The Dragon Prince are fun and ~complex~ with plenty to talk about with each of them and enough of them for everyone to find a favorite (or a dozen favorites in my case).

Story: The world of The Dragon Prince is very high fantasy, what with all the elves and dragons and magical creatures running amok. That said, it does do a few new things with this very familiar setting. First of all, the conflict driving the plot and world of Xadia and the Human Kingdoms is surprisingly nuanced for a kid’s show. Not too surprising when you remember that it’s from the same writers as ATLA, but even in that show there were very clear “good guys” and “bad guys”, especially in the beginning. In TDP (I’m getting tired of typing The Dragon Prince over and over again) however, who the “good guy” is and the “bad guy” is muddled. The humans do a bad thing and the elves and dragons do bad things in return. No one is really the unambiguous good guy or bad guy which leads to both sides feeling justified in doing terrible things to each other. It’s messy and all too real. Which is why it is so important that our main trio (two humans and an elf) are the ones who try to right a wrong together, in order to demonstrate that peace and cooperation can be attained and that war is not always a foregone conclusion. It’s not smooth or easy and there is still much to reckon with on both sides, but there is hope for the future. So, with that little preamble out of the way, what is the story of TDP? It is essentially a retrieval mission to get the titular dragon prince back to his mother after he was thought to have been assassinated but was instead kidnapped by the humans. This doesn’t seem like much of a plot, but this allows for the world of TDP to come to life in the form of the places and people met along this journey. I don’t want to get into spoilers so I won’t say much more about the plot for the time being. Just know that sometimes simplicity can lead to the most ~complex~ storylines and character development. Now, it is time to move onto what could be considered the elephant in the room when talking about TDP.

Animation and Character Design: Sooo….the character designs in TDP are actually quite lovely. Everyone has a distinctive design and color palette. The colors in particular have special meaning to the characters and are a good showcase of both their personalities and where their loyalties lie (look at Callum for an example of this, his mixture of reds and blues is quite thematic about how he feels out of place in this world as well as giving a little nod to the politics of the Human Kingdoms as well). The backgrounds also deserve a quick shout-out. They are beautifully detailed and a real treat to the eye. As for the animation, well, it appears to be rather hit or miss with people. I admit that I did not care for the animation until about halfway through my first time watching (yes, I am a huge nerd and have seen the show three times and counting) because by that point I was so engrossed in the story and characters that the animation hiccups no longer mattered to me. On my second watch, I didn’t have any problems with the animation at all, most likely because I was used to it at that point. And really... it’s not that bad. Sure, it could be smoother in some places, but it is overall serviceable and even glorious in some places. The action scenes are particularly well served by the animation. And this is coming from someone who has expressed her displeasure with 3D or 2.5D animation that tries to look like 2D in the past. Plus, if it bothers you too much, but you liked everything else, the creators have gone out and said that they are going to work hard on making the animation smoother next season. So yeah. I guess that about covers it. I feel like I only barely touched the surface with this show. Especially with the characters and all their **~~complexity~~**. I highly recommend this show if you are a fan of ATLA, enjoy fantasy, enjoy adventure shows, enjoy fun character writing, and enjoy world-building. The Dragon Prince pairs nicely with some popcorn and soda or other such snacks and is available on Netflix.

[shortsfor7deul]

Collecting the Boys 1/?

They parked their car down the street. Remy figured a little stroll in the park would be nice before heading to the studio. The flight over was long and the nap upon touchdown had been longer. Amaya didn’t mind; the night was cool, a great stretch for her sore and stiff body. Besides, she’d missed the simple neighborhood of South Korea. Basking in Seoul’s cool nighttime is always welcome.

Climbing out of the car with a package in hand, they made their way towards the park. A quiet stroll, taking in the peace and quiet through deep inhales. Remy falls a few steps behind, a habit that no longer alarms Amaya. Her partner prefers to watch over her from a distance – taking in the glowing view of her – before returning in step with her not long after. That’s just how Remy’s love works and Amaya adored it. When she felt his hands reaching hers, Amaya turned to look up to her partner. Suddenly, Remy brought their hands up, pointed in a direction and chuckled.

“I see our man. He’s right by the tree with the string.”

“He must have gone for a walk too,” a smirk played on the couple’s faces. Movement was swift as Remy and Amaya crept up towards some shrubs. In a perfect display of teamwork, they jumped out with a loud “Boo!”, catching Jaebeom off-guard and successfully scaring the lights out of him.

“How’d you know I was in the park, hyung?” Jaebeom asked as he joined Remy and Amaya on the floor. Jaebeom handed them each a cup of warm honey milk from the package Amaya had brought. From very early on, Jaebeom learnt that there’s no trying to convince Remy-hyung to sit on the sofa or chair, much less Remy’s partner, Amaya-noona. Jaebeom had always thought himself a simpleton, but this hyung and noona are even more simplistic than he is. Remy calls it “minimal”; Amaya calls it “low-maintenance”.

“We didn’t. Figured it would be nice to just have a short detour before coming in to your studio.,” Remy shrugged, sipping his cup.

“Ah, okay. When did you reach South Korea? Why didn’t you text me?” Jaebeom playfully nudged Remy. The older boy reached out and ruffled the youngster’s feathers.

“It’s not like you would fetch us either. You would have still been sleeping this morning!” Laughter filled the small basement studio as the chatter continued. Amaya was busy sipping her tea. Listening. Observing. Reading. When the boys turned to look at her mid-conversation, she reckoned her assessment was completed. A chuckle escaped her.

“Ah, have you finished reading me, noona?” Jaebeom teased, dodging Amaya’s jabs to his chest.

“Hey, sorry. Occupational hazard, but, you know me. Just looking out for you,” gaze dropping to Jaebeom’s comforting hand patting her knees before shifting in place to settle the cup of honey milk on the floor.

“Mhm. So, what’s up, noona? Your last message was about a week ago, asking about our appointment. It’s not something we can forget, y’know?” A twinkle of mischief in Jaebeom’s eyes before darkness flashed in a split second, darkening his face. His voice dropped. “Did something happen?” Remy was quick to chip in, explaining that it was just something Amaya did out of habit. There is a need for her to switch things up from time to time in order for her readings to remain fresh and accurate. Since they have known each other for a while now — a little longer for some — Amaya’s senses have grown accustomed to the energies of the boys. It is best to keep her senses and energy from getting too comfortable that can cause her reading to become complacent. If everyone were to converge at the same space for the first time in a while, it will muddle her mind.

“Besides,” Amaya finally chimed, “you’re still fresh from the concert. I wanna read all that energy you’re holding before it dissipates. It is the first concert for you after all, Beom-ah.” A soft smile breaks on Jaebeom’s face as he looks down in embarrassment. Amaya-noona’s words triggered the memories that now play in Jaebeom’s mind like a repeated broadcast.

GOT7’s second world tour ended just two night ago; it is Jaebeom’s first since his back issues that rendered him unfit to join his brothers on the first tour. All that emotion and adrenaline still hasn’t sunk in yet for Jaebeom. He’s taking his time to register all that’s happened. The one thing he felt throughout the entire tour, and it still send shivers down his spine, was how proud and immensely happy he was. The feeling of his heart expanding as he stood on stage… Seeing all those crowd in all those different venues… The reality that he’s living his dreams… Most of all, it was seeing his brothers by his side, together with him, on stages all over the world, all seven dreams becoming their one, shared reality.

It’s a sensation that Jaebeom, despite being the incredible lyricist and storyteller that he is, fails to put into words. These nights, in his slumber, he sees the stage and the venues. He sees his brothers and he still cannot believe he was given this honour of witnessing the growth of every single one of them. So much time has passed, yet no time passed at all. The boys have grown so much, yet, they are still the same. Jaebeom wakes every morning to find tears streaming down his face.

It was unfortunate that he couldn’t be with his brothers for the first tour. The doubts and fears that fed Jaebeom’s insecurities as a failed leader caused a downward spiral that had him in a vice-like grip. But it was also fortunate, because the boys returned to him and bore newfound respect and love for their leader. Jaebeom felt all the coldness and the fears slowly melting away. The depth of gratitude and love he has for his members has no bounds. It chokes him up, even in sleep. And now, that emotion is overflowing within him.

Warmth on his arm brought Jaebeom back from inside his head. Looking up, he locked eyes with Amaya-noona. Taking a deep breath, Jaebeom asked, “What did you see, noona?”

[dunmerofskyrim]

10

The second watch was Simra’s. It began in the hours before dawn. Black the sky overhead, and spat full of cold white stars. A rare and colourless kind of night with Masser’s red ragged crescent as its only contradiction.

Simra sat beneath it all, not risking a light. To his back was the yurt, cant-shaped and filled with soft-sleeping breath. He leaned with his back to its outer wall, facing the doused ashes of their evening cookfire. Without its embers the night was cold. Simra drew the fleecelined goatskin of his mantle around himself and waited.

Wasn’t that what every kind of guard-duty was? Waiting for something to happen and hoping that it wouldn’t. He was protecting them. Watching the horizon. But not if there was nothing out there to protect them from. Then it was only wasted time. At least if he had a light then he could’ve spent the time reading — writing maybe. Doing nothing had always frustrated him.

“Tsscht…” He hissed from between clenched teeth and rose to his feet.

The shadowy voice of the whispering stream. The click and jangle of metal and coral and glass as Simra moved, and the beads and links and charms he wore moved with him. He circled the yurt first, tramping down grass that their lingering here had already laid flat. Staring a ring around their encampment, he look over all four horizons and found them all empty. Only the liquid pinpricked height of the sky, and below it the solid blackness where the stars disappeared and the land began.

Somewhere – east, it must be – a pale brown glow was cresting the edge of things. It would be twilight soon, then full-dawn; sunrise and a day of walking with only a half-night’s half-sleep to keep him lively.

“Fuck that…” he muttered. “Not that there’s any way’ve getting out of it. There’s the rub, right? Inevitability. Fuck that…”

If Noor had saved her strength enough to hide them, as she had these last few nights, they would’ve all slept. Poor sleep, in Simra’s case. Resting all but rough in the crowded yurt; entrapped in a tangle of breathing and bodies and surrounded by the threat of touch — he slept little enough that way. No way to change that without drinking his eyes heavy and his head blank. But he’d had worse, hadn’t he? Gone with slimmer chances of sleep for longer by far than this.

The dust-coloured dawn turned bronze. In skeins and shards of halos, dim traces of blue rose round it: the edges of the Mage’s cloak, and between them the stars that made up the Atronach. Overhead, the star-cloud cloak of the Warrior bled in through the darkness, a red rearguard for the fleeing night sky. What did that mean? An omen – a Warrior’s Dawn – or nothing at all?

Kishewyr would have known. Or at least pretended he’d known, depending on how deep he was in his cups by then. Simra remembered the rambling auguries; the breathless excitement over things the night sky did above Lake Amaya — above both of their backtilted faces. How many nights had he sat, a quieter kind of drunk than Kishewyr, listening to the old stargazer comb through the heavens while they sat in his muddled little herb-garden below, on the outskirts of a village with no name? Often enough for Kishewyr to leave his mark. In the years that hung between then and now, Simra had never been able to look at the stars and see them simply. Of all the marks that village had left on him, it was good to remember some were pleasant.

Twilight came. Red the sky above, but grey the world below. Mist crawled on the face of the stream. Cold dew weighed down the long grass.

Simra walked to the water. Every sound was eerie, enormous beyond what it ought to have been. The click of the streambank’s stones as he crossed them. Their crush as he knelt to fill his cupped hands, and splash cold streamwater over his face, numbing the muscles but jolting his nerves awake.

He knuckled at his closed eyes, rubbing the heaviness from them. When he opened them again, the horizon had changed. A warrior’s dawn.

First he saw the banner. A long streak of white, twisting in the wind like smoke, but tied round the shaft of a spear. Four tall shapes huddled below it: riders at a stand in  the tall grass. They were still a ways upstream, still on the far side of the water. But that was false hope, false mercy. They were mounted predators, chasing prey that went on foot.

Already Simra’s left hand had jerked down to his boot, scrambling for the touch of metal. His wet fingers closed round something cold. A crooked length of tin and iron. A wand. Instinct and growing fear clamoured inside him, but he forced himself to draw the wand out slow, incidental — keep it held low and hidden from them, on his left side.

“Calm!” he hissed, praying to his tensing muscles and racing mind. “Calm…” His body wanted to bolt. Get the yurt between him and them. Instead he crouched still as stone. Sidelong, not turning his head, he watched them without looking. He tried to think.

They were unmoving for now. Only the occasional jostle of their mounts beneath them, echoing an unease their riders wouldn’t show — or didn’t feel. Hard to tell weapons at this distance, but you didn’t need to be able to see a strung bow to be shot by one.

“Shit…” Simra swore and broke into a low dash. “No no no no no…”

He hadn’t meant to. But staying still, on open ground, to be quilled full of arrows? The fear had welled up. A surge of panic. It carried him into the cover of the yurt. He dropped behind it, hidden now, but blind.

“Fuck!” He brought up the heel of his palm, striking against his forehead. “Stupid stupid stupid..! Up! Both of you! Get up!” He slapped against the yurt’s flank, like striking a horse on the haunch to set it running.

Run. Was that what he had planned? Run from raiders, mounted and through flatlands, grasslands, the steppe of the Northern Deshaan? There were stupider things one might do, but not many. So if not that, then what?

The yurt’s door furled open.

“Don’t!” Simra hissed. “Don’t both come out! We know their numbers but they don’t know ours. That’s — We can —…”

Tammunei stared out from inside. Tired eyed, they wore worry almost like a sadness. A mouth with fallen corners; red eyes gone to glass.

“Four of them,” Simra hurried to explain, backtracking. “Riders. Over the water but in bowshot but I don’t know if they have bows or how many have bows but why wouldn’t they if they’re Vereansu and why wouldn’t they be Vereansu out here?”

“Are they flying a banner?” Noor’s voice came from within, calm as the face of a lake left alone by wind and rain.

“Long. White. Black stitches maybe, hard to tell.”

“You’re sure about the stitches?”

Simra’s face screwed tight, scowling as he tried to think. “Yes — No! — I don’t know!” He took a deep breath. Let it go. “I’m not sure. Think it was just white.”

“Clanless, then. Shamed survivors, outcasts from their kinbands. Marked for death, or else for glory. Or both.”

Simra kissed his teeth. “Familiar…” he muttered. There was enough of that about in Skyrim without it finding him here, years and worlds away. “Nothing to lose then, and all to gain? Fuck… They’ll fight hard.”

“Then why fight them at all?” said Tammunei.

“‘Cos we sure as fucking sunrise can’t run!” Simra broke into patois. “You and me? Snow’s chance in a stream of piss. Noor? No fucking chance at all.”

“Why are they not already on us?”

“I don’t know! Because they don’t know how fucked we are? They’re fucking watching. Waiting til we show our hand. Do we fight or flee?”

“Run,” said Noor, “and it becomes a hunt. A chase. They’ll like that.”

“Will they?” Simra closed his eyes. Chewed his lip. A thought came. “Listen…” he began.

There was something Soraya had told him once. When he was younger, and she was young, and he still thought she knew everything. Shine bright, she’d said, and show out strong. Meekness does the meek no favours, and sheepishness benefits only the wolves. Adders backed with diamonds, she said, and wasps in yellow and black — all that colour and bluster sends a message:

‘I’m not prey. Fuck with me at your peril.’

Times were, Simra had listened to her on that. Be what you are, but seem to be more. Fiercer, furious, not worth the trouble.

Times were, he told himself that was at least half the reason he liked what he liked, wore what he did. Lacquered beads and arm-rings of brass. Rings of silver in the gristle of his left ear and a ring of gold pierced through the lobe. Bangles, silk, ribbons; eyes edged with kohl whenever he blighted well felt like it…

But if it was half the reason, that meant it was only half-true. And there were times he knew it was better to seem less than what you were. Use weakness to hide your strength.

Tammunei ran first.

In the mouth of the yurt, Simra had watched them mix a dark smudge of gum in one palm, wetting it to a paste and then, with a use-knife, making a small cut in their arm. Face cold, they rubbed the paste in, green-black blending with the small red upwelling of blood. So they wouldn’t slow Simra down, they’d said.

And now they bolted, gathersack over a shoulder, scattering out and across the plain.

A moment later, Simra fled too. Back turned on the yurt they’d left behind. Back turned on the stream and the riders and the white banner. Swordbelt jolting and slapping against his side as he sprinted for all he was worth after Tammunei.

The warwail sounded out behind them. The sound the Vereansu make to cast out their fear and send it singing off into the hearts of their enemies. Simra had hoped for that. Had been waiting for it, counting on it, knowing it meant commitment. But even so, it came over him like a chill, almost making him stumble.

It began as a clean howling, then it rolled and articulated. An ululation. That was the bounce of their saddles sounding in their voices; the sudden run of their mounts as they gave chase.

Simra had run too far to hear them cross the water. But they must have crossed. Must have. He had to believe that. Couldn’t look back.

Ahead, Tammunei fleeted through the grass, cutting swathes deeper into the plain. The back of their robe, like beating wings. In front, the first yolk-yellow spills of sunrise.

Simra ran, and waited for the signal without knowing what it would be. That was all she’d said. That there’d be one. A signal.

When the screaming started, he knew. Not a sound bound up with how a voice ought to work. No throat or tongue or lungs in this. Just breathless shrilling rage.

Simra scrambled to a halt. Almost stumbled into a crouch to break his pace, knees bent, boots skidding for purchase on the dew-wet ground. By then he was turned, staring back the way he’d run from. The wand slipped out from his sleeve and he came up, wild eyes wide and searching.

A rider almost on him, twenty paces and gaining. A broad-cheeked face, deep-scarred in a tally of lines and nestled in a leatherscaled hood of armour. Red plume of ragged cloth streaming out behind. Shaggy brown pony and wind-licked mane. The sound of hooves and the fear that came with them.

From the saddle, the rider canted their bow to shoot straight for Simra. Arrow nocked, they drew the string, bent the limbs…

Simra walked towards them. Step, and step, and step, slowed by force of will, even and exacting. The wand came up. Pointed. Simra’s fingers found the runes and joined them.

The rider’s eyes went hollow, then filled with realisation.

They both shot at once. Whispering arrow and the bolt from the wand, like a silence twisting and reordering itself.

Simra let himself flinch. Moved with it, into a low-bending duck as he loosed the bolt, shooting half-blind. The air parted overhead. No pain. Just dew and dirt on the hand he’d used to steady his drop, and no telling if it was his dodge or the rider’s lost nerve that had saved him.

Instinct stopped him coming up again. Instead he scrambled to one side, hissing as a thunder of hooves and weight passed him by. A charge that had almost crushed him. Now he was on his side. Knees and a bracing hand. Feet tearing furrows in the turf.

The pony was past him, dancing a tight circle, rearing as the rider tried to turn it, reining it in and around. They had a sword drawn now. No help inbound, not for either of them.

Simra aimed. He had time now. Screaming in his ears and a sound like the breeze being torn in two. Clouds opening, the grass fluttering hungry. Ignore it, he told himself. He had time.

The second bolt of writhing force caught the rider in the ribs and tore them from their saddle. Simra didn’t stop to check the kill as the grass swallowed them, and their horse turned off at a gallop. Instead he looked towards the stream again.

By the yurt, one of the Vereansu hung in mid-air. Stiff, limbs wrenched outward, as if stretched on a rack that couldn’t be seen. They were silent, but the air itself was screaming, shimmering with motion, and sound that made Simra’s stomach turn. Noor stood near the yurt where she had hid, and waited, to catch the raiders in the rear. Now she watched as one of the limbs went strange, limp, out at a sickening angle. As the hanging rider gurgled, trying to scream, before their neck twisted, and they slumped to the ground.

There was one more. They had fallen, Simra saw, but stood now, up from the long grass and threw aside a broken bow. They drew a long blade. A trailing gleaming curve in the air as they beat a loping run towards Noor.

Simra was running too now. Drawing his sword without thinking.

The warwail again, but this time from only one throat, and stopping abrupt. It choked out, then fell silent.

For an instant, Simra saw the shadows of the sunrise, and the dark between each blade of grass, shift and flow upward, over the last raider like a wave — a pouncing animal. Calling birds, a screeching wind, and all the sounds of hunger. And the Vereansu’s back split open, bones wrenching free from flesh. They fell, hidden beneath the pasture. It was a mercy not to see.

Tammunei stood nearby, where they hadn’t before. They were clutching a small something in both hands, and spattered red from the ends of their hair to the trembling tips of their fingers.