#moonshadow mounts

[raayllum]

Timeline season things thanks to the new pictures

So we know early on in the season, presumably, Ezran and Corvus arrive in Katolis and have reunited with Callum (who has likely flown from the Moon Nexus to Katolis to check on his home/brother) and are riding Aegis and Embertail, Janai and Amaya's hotcat mounts. They will likely also reunite with Soren and Opeli here.

We also know at one point that Ez, Rayla, Runaan, Aanya, and presumably most everyone else ends up at the Banther Lodge thanks to these images.

We also know that Rayla (and Runaan) are going to go to the Silvergrove, where Rayla meets with some kind of Keeper for some kind of Moonshadow trial. I'd place this around 7x03 or 7x04 latest.

With the latest image in mind, we can construct some other details.

I thought at first glance that this picture was depicting the journey to back Katolis, given that Ezran and Aanya are there on said hotcats and Corvus is there. However, Soren is also there (riding with Corvus) which means that it can't be on the way from Lux Aurea to Katolis (at least not the premiere trip), so it must come after.

Whatever they're flying to is either something they're worried about, or something that looks worrisome from the sky. Callum is also not in shot, but he could just be flying with his wings > needing a mount. An alternative is that he went with Rayla and Runaan to the Silvergrove, and perhaps Ezran and co. are travelling there to reunite with them, or even checking up on Zubeia.

Things that could worry them from the Sky:

Visibly destroyed or corrupted places, such as the Moon Nexus, Silvergrove (broken barrier?), or even the Midnight Desert (though I don't think there'd be that many clouds if that was the case). This could even be the place with mushrooms where Zubeia is resting, since Soren and Corvus know the way + Aaravos could have incentive to interrupt her healing, but Zym isn't in shot with them either, so... maybe? I think the Silvergrove could make a lot of sense and be time effective, so we'll just have to see.

[the-karma-cafe]

Thursdays | Arthur Morgan

(also posted on ao3 under same username)

in which the boys are curious where arthur runs off to every thursday night (ITS FOR SEX)

song is Moonshadow by Cat Stevens ! spoiler they be fucking :/ i be making them fuck for real (oh no aaaa no arthur dont have sex with me no aaa that would be terrible i would hate that)

Javier’s eyes track Arthur as he slinks away from the campfire, tuning out Sean’s boisterous storytelling. He knows the gunslinger is readying his horse to leave. He also knows he’ll be gone for a couple of hours, returning around one or two in the morning to slump into his bed after everyone has gone to sleep.

How does Javier know?

Surprisingly, Arthur is a creature of strict routine, and he does this song and dance every Thursday night—without fail. 

Javier furrows his brow, unable to quash his curiosity this time. What on Earth could he be going off to do so regularly? He never came back with meat, so he wasn’t hunting. He couldn’t be off robbing, because when he got back, he didn’t drop anything off at the contribution box. Oh, Javier, maybe he was planning to do so later on? Ah, ah, ah! What do we know about Arthur? Ever the routine-man, he donates to the camp box the second he enters camp, no matter what he just got back from. It’s always the first thing he does. Can’t be shoppin’, ‘cause it’s too late for that. Can’t be killin’, ‘cause he comes back clean. 

A cuff round his shoulder roused him from his thoughts. “Javier! Didja hear me?” Sean said, drink emboldening his speech (not that the Irishman needed much encouragement). 

Javier ignored him, glancing over his shoulder. Sure enough, Arthur was on his horse, trotting away from camp, everyone else none-the-wiser.

“Hullloooo??” Sean needled, pushing his side into Javier��s. 

Javier looked over to Lenny and Charles sitting across the campfire from them, and felt a spark of inspiration ignite within him. He leaned forward, beckoning them closer with his hand. They looked confused, but crossed the clearing anyway, kneeling in front of his and Sean’s log. 

“What is it?” Lenny prompted, his voice hushed. He could always trust Lenny to be discreet.

“Yeah!” Sean added, much louder. ...He could’ve guessed. 

He lowered his voice, smirking conspiratorially. “Where’d Arthur go?”

Sean and Lenny frowned, caught off-guard by the question, but Charles inclined his head in understanding. “I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

“Noticed what??” Sean whined, leaning in closer to Charles. “Don’t be keepin’ secrets, now!”

Charles rolled his eyes, waving his hand to shush Sean. He nodded his head to Javier. “Arthur’s been leaving every Thursday night.”

Sean scrunched his nose. “So what? Art’ur leaves all the time!” Lenny nodded along.

Javier shook his head. “But Thursdays are different. He leaves around 10PM, comes back around 1AM. Why the same amount of time?”

Sean was quiet for a moment (if one could believe it), before jumping up from the log, his beer bottle sloshing in his hand. “Let’s go find out!!” he whispered loudly, grinning from ear to ear.

Javier couldn’t help but mirror his expression. He was hoping he wasn’t the only one this curious about it. He felt a thrum of excitement run through him. He pushed up from the log, Lenny readying to follow him.

“Guys,” Charles interrupted, stopping their walk to the horses. “Arthur’s entitled to his privacy. We should let him have this—whatever it is.” 

He should’ve expected this from ever-noble Charles. Sean began to argue, but Javier cut him off, knowing he wouldn’t win against Charles. “It’s probably nothing.” he retorted, trying not to feel guilty under the other man’s pointed stare. He turned away, making for the horses anyway. “I’m going. You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t miss this fer the world!” Sean laughed, immediately tagging along. Javier fought the triumphant grin pulling at his lips. He heard Lenny awkwardly shuffle behind them, some whispered apology to Charles.

He mounted his horse, waiting impatiently for Sean to struggle onto his own. His eyes searched the growth around the camp, hoping to find an indication of where Arthur ran off to. He could track, but Charles was the expert. It would make things much easier to have him with them…

The man in question’s voice came behind him. “I’m only tagging along to make sure you don’t ruin whatever Arthur has going on.” He turned to see Charles mounting Taima, disapproval marring his proud features. 

Javier grinned in spite of it. “Excellent! Vámonos!” he cheered, leading the search brigade with Charles by his side, the other man’s trained eye focused on the ground. Lenny followed behind them with Sean drunkenly pulling up the rear. Charles looked as though he wanted to stop him from coming, but seemed to decide against it, knowing the stubborn man wouldn’t listen to a word he said.

Charles followed Arthur’s trail down the left path from camp, past the trees, past the tracks, until they arrived in Valentine. Javier felt giddy. 

Charles stopped them in front of the saloon, hopping off his horse to hitch her, the rest of them quickly following suit.

“The saloon?” Sean whispered, creeping up the steps to peer through the building’s windows. Lenny followed behind him, and the two poked their noses over the ledge of the window, trying to sneak a glance within. Charles walked over to join them, and would have looked less suspicious if not for the two idiots in front of him crouched like children. 

Javier approached the window opposite them, casually leaning to the side of it to look in. Not that his subtlety helped him, as again, he was across from three grown men cartoonishly trying to peek inside as well. 

He spied a couple of men that looked like Arthur before finally seeing actual Arthur at the bar. He wasn’t hunched over it, like some of the other patrons were, and instead was looking around at the other people in the saloon, as if searching for someone. What could that be about? He wondered.

Before he could think on it further, Sean strolled into the saloon, Lenny in tow. Charles shared a knowing glance with him before following them in. 

Sean beelined for Arthur, and soon they all surrounded him, clapping him on the back.

“You’d go to the saloon without inviting yer favorite drinking buddy?” Sean accused, roughly pushing at the man’s shoulder. 

“My favorite drinking buddy, huh?” Arthur echoed, his voice not reflecting what Javier knew to be embarrassment on his face. Arthur slumped over the bar, tugging the front of his hat further over his face. 

Sean gasped. “Drinkin’ with me’s a treat! Ye should be so lucky!”

Javier nudged him from his other side. “We were wondering where you headed off to all the time. Had we known it was just the saloon we would not have bothered!” he laughed, waving the bartender over. He would buy him a drink to apologize.

“You too, Charles?” Arthur asked, sounding betrayed. 

Charles sighed, apologizing. “I was trying to get them to leave you alone, Arthur.” Javier couldn’t help but think the man didn’t put up too much of a fight. 

“Well,” Arthur cleared his throat. “‘F that’s all, you can all head on back to camp, I’ll be back soon.”

Sean scoffed. “Why d’you want to be rid of us so-”

A guitar strum floated over from the back of the saloon, and he trailed off. Arthur buried his head in his arms, the tips of his ears red. Javier cocked a brow, looking over.

“Miss me, y’all?” a pretty woman at the back of the room called out, guitar in hand. A couple of cheers and whoops came from the crowd, the saloon filled with noise.

The boys grinned knowingly. 

“Not. A goddamn. Word.” Arthur groaned, his voice muffled by his arms. 

Sean barked a laugh, clapping the man on the back. “Ohoho, ye rascal, we shoulda known ye’d try ta keep this beauty ta yerself!” He wolf-whistled towards the performer.

Javier grinned toothily, leaning in to tease Arthur. “You could have told us you were only leaving to see about a girl, Arthur.”

Arthur pushed up from his slump, nursing his whiskey miserably. “Like you would’ve let me hear the end of it.” He grumbled. Javier pushed his extra drink over to the man, giggling like a teenager. Arthur the Stoic, red-faced and shy about a singer. He never thought he’d see the day!

The woman, having finished her introductions while they teased Arthur, began to sing. Javier watched Arthur turn himself slightly to watch her.

Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Arthur couldn’t help the dreamy smile that twisted his mouth, watching her. She looked so content, fully in her element up there on Valentine’s tiny lifted stage. The piano man to her right had abandoned his duties to drink at the nearest table.

And if I ever lose my hands

Lose my plow, lose my land

Oh, if I ever lose my hands

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to work no more

Her southern accent colored the lyrics, guiding the notes up and down as she pleased. The patrons knew this song, and sang along with her every now and then, but none followed the exact way she sang it, allowing him to easily follow her voice amidst the noise.

And if I ever lose my eyes

If my colors all run dry

Yes, if I ever lose my eyes

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to cry no more

Sean stumbled into the fray, caught in some dance with a couple of other patrons, breaking his trance. Arthur dragged a hand over his face, hoping he didn’t look as foolish as he felt. 

Yes, I’m bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Most nights, he would allow himself to indulge in the fantasy. Convince himself she was singin’ for him, that when they locked eyes across the saloon, she had the same look in hers as he did. 

And if I ever lose my legs

I won't moan, and I won't beg

Oh, if I ever lose my legs

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to walk no more

He downed his drink and reached for Javier’s—anything to give him an excuse for the way he was lookin’ at her. Having them with him just dragged him back to reality: he was just another face in the crowd to her, and even if he did catch her eye, she would just think him old and sour-faced, and leave it at that. 

And if I ever lose my mouth

All my teeth, north and south

Yes, if I ever lose my mouth

Oh iiiii-iiiif, I won't have to talk no more

He took another deep drink, feeling that familiar haze begin to set in on the edge of his vision. 

Did it take long to find me?

I asked the faithful light

Oh, did it take long to find me?

And are you gonna stay the night?

This would be the last time he let himself come here on a Thursday night. He was just torturin’ himself, thinkin’ of things that would never be. Head in the clouds, like Micah would say. Christ, he was glad they didn’t think to bring him along.

I'm bein' followed by a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Leapin' and hoppin' on a moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

The drink crept into his heart. If this was his last night here, with her, he might as well fool himself one last time, the drink said. What’s the harm? One last time can’t hurt. It wheedled, and he knew he’d be miserable come morning.

Moonshadow, moonshadow

Moonshadow, moonshadow

He leaned to his right, seeking Javier’s weight to nudge him for another drink (least he could do for ruinin’ his fun), but felt only air. He frowned, glancing around for the others. Sean had dragged Lenny into his drunken dance, Javier was speaking with some well-endowed woman in the corner (who seemed very pleased to have his attention), and Charles… his frown deepened, squinting at the blurry crowd. He couldn’t see Charles. Knowing the women of Valentine, he was likely cornered somewhere, politely refusing their services (although for a man like Charles, perhaps it was free).

Arthur grunted, turning back to his empty glass. Figures that his friends would quickly find company at a place he frequented, and he was left miserable and alone. He plucked his hat off his head, raking his other hand through his hair. He was sure he looked a mess—no wonder he was by himself. 

“Hey, cowboy.” a voice came from his right, startling him from his wallowing. He turned, and felt his heart jump to see his singer leaning against the bar next to him. 

Her eyes were bright, her face flushed. She seemed out of breath from her performance, but pleased, satisfied with how she had done. 

He gaped like a fish. Say somethin’, goddammit!  

She smiled, shifting her eyes to his glass. She pointed at it lazily. “Be a doll and get me what you’re havin’?”

He nodded dumbly, gesturing wordlessly at the bartender. Seconds later, a replica of his drink sat in front of her. She thanked him and brought the glass to her lips. He knew he looked ridiculous, eyes trained on the way her lips parted, the amber liquid gliding into her mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

She set the glass back down, giving him a teasing smile. “You mute?”

He shook his head—then inwardly smacked himself for yet another wordless response. “No.” Christ, you can do better than that.

She giggled, and he thought he might die. “What a scintillating conversationalist you are, Mister…” she trailed off, tilting her head. 

“Morgan.” he provided. His mind caught up to the conversation fast enough to ask for her name in turn (he deserved a pat on the back for being so quick-witted). She gave it, and he almost sighed aloud. She had a name she introduced herself with to the crowds, but he suspected it was a stage name, and he had been correct. Her real name was a privilege to finally learn. 

He repeated it back to her, experimentally rolling it on his tongue. She grinned. “Sounds nice when you say it, Mr. Morgan.” 

“Arthur,” he corrected. “‘S just Arthur. For you.” He coughed, turning to order another drink, just to have something, anything , to distract him from the weight of her gaze on him. “I mean, if you want. Morgan’s fine too.”

“Arthur,” she purred. He felt faint. “I like that more.” His next drink arrived and he immediately buried his face in it, unable to meet her eyes. Christ, he was like a teenager. He inwardly scolded himself.

She carried on, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “I see you here a lot, Arthur.” she gestured over her shoulder to the crowd. “First time I seen you bring friends, though.”

So she had seen him in the crowd all those times? He squashed the thought before it ruined him. He laughed, shaking his head. “Bastards invited themselves.” He chanced a glance at her, her attention on the crowd instead of him. He eyed her drink, already half-empty in her hand, before looking up, up, to the curve of her chest, the proud slope of her neck, the strands of hair falling loose from her updo, her lips, her nose, her eyes… he forced himself to look at the crowd instead. “Don’t you have some adorin’ fans to go talk to?”

She turned her head to look at him, but he kept his eyes focused ahead. “I thought I was already doin’ that.” she sidled closer to him, nudging her shoulder against his arm. Warmth radiated off of her. “Unless you’re not one of my adoring fans.”

Arthur felt heat creep up his neck and he shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she echoed, amusement coloring her voice. “I don’t think you’ve missed a single one of my performances, Arthur Morgan.” he felt a shiver run up his spine. “If anyone’s a fan, it’s you.”

He pulled the lip of his hat down over his eyes. “Maybe.” Guilty as charged.

She laughed, and rounded to his front. She flicked up the front of his hat, and his eyes met hers. He stilled, entranced. There seemed to be a glow about her, some hazy halo enveloping her body. How much had he had?  

“You won’t admit it?” What had they been talking about again? He tried not to focus on their difference in height, how easy it would be to scoop her up, his hands so large on her hips… 

“Well?” He flexed his hands, trying to reign himself in. Her face was expectant: eyebrows raised, pretty lips pursed. 

He shook his head. Couldn’t this woman see he couldn’t think straight? 

Apparently that counted as an answer and she scoffed, playfully rolling her eyes. “You embarrassed?”

Yes. Why did she think he was, again? He sighed. “I’m sorry, miss,” he tried her name again, wanting to say it over and over. “I believe I am too drunk for this conversation.”

She grinned in understanding. “Why don’t we talk someplace quieter, make things easier on your poor head, hm?” 

Someplace quieter? His mind echoed, while his body nodded dumbly, stumbling behind her. She took his hand in her own, leading him up the stairs. His eyes were trained intently on their hands, her hand small, warm, in his, her fingertips roughened from guitar strings. 

What was she doin’, touchin’ a man like him? He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, as much as he knew he should. It felt nice, to indulge. The hazy shroud around his vision encroached further inwards, tunneling his view.  

“Here,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear. She pushed open a door, leading him inside and shutting it behind them. It was suddenly much quieter. He breathed a sigh of relief, some tension leaving his set shoulders.

“Nicer up here, isn’t it?” she prompted, releasing his hand. He ached at the loss. He dragged his gaze up to watch her dance over to the… bed. He gulped, valiantly fighting off the thoughts that sprang up at the sight of her. 

“Mhm.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly where she had left him, staring dumbly at her. What the hell was she thinkin’, bringin’ a man like him up here, alone with her? She could get herself hurt, or worse. He frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I shouldn’ be up here with you.” He shook his head, forcing himself to look at the ground. “Ain’t right. You shouldn’ trust me.” his words slurred, but he hoped she was taking him seriously despite it. 

“Why not?”

He groaned. God, her voice. He buried his head in his hands. “I ain’t. A nice man, miss,” he spoke her name again, and god, hoped she couldn’t hear how he loved to say it.

He felt her hand on his arm. When had she gotten up? She was so warm. He lowered his hands, chancing a look into her eyes, hoping he was strong enough to resist their pull. 

Christ, of course he couldn’t. She looked up at him through her lashes, stepping closer, their bodies almost touching. He breathed in, unable to bring himself to look away this time. She smelled like the alcohol everything smelled like in the saloon, but a sweet undertone ran beneath it. He was reminded of the saccharine scent of canned peaches. 

Her hand smoothed down his arm to his hand, lacing their fingers together. Her other reached up, up, and palmed his cheek, her touch gentle like she was approaching some wild horse. He leaned into it before he could stop himself, his stubble scratching against her skin. 

“How ‘bout,” she started, her voice soft and quiet, “I decide that for myself?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he felt himself forgetting what she was even responding to. His free hand began to move of its own accord, bumping into her thigh, smoothing up to her hip. He looked down. Just like he had imagined… 

She moved, and his gaze shifted to her face, slowly nearing his. His breath hitched. This was some sweet dream. He would awaken in his tent, frustrated and wanting, would take himself in his hand and relieve himself to the sight of her like this in his mind’s eye. He would wait until next Thursday and slink back to the bar, eager for more. Her lips touched his and he sighed into her mouth, whiskey on his breath. He would stay asleep forever, if he could, lips pushing against hers, nipping at her soft skin, tonguing past it. 

She parted from him, gently, as if to not scare him off. He breathed heavily, eyes lidded, vision tunneled onto her mouth. She started to speak, but he cut her off, pushing hungrily into her, cupping his hand around the back of her neck. He had waited so long, so long. He would take it, even if it wasn’t real. 

She gasped into his mouth and he almost moaned at the sensation. God, what a privilege to finally have her all to himself. To have her in front of him, touching him, kissing him, instead of with her crowd, Arthur by himself at the other end.

Her knees buckled, falling back onto the bed. He huffed, breaking from her. He thrust his hands beneath her thighs, hearing her squeak in surprise. “Easy, girl.” he muttered under his breath, picking her up and tossing her into the pillows at the head of the bed, following soon after. 

He climbed onto the bed above her, and stilled, looking down at her. Her hair had spilled out of its updo, hair piece having been discarded… at some point, perhaps before they had even entered the room? His memory felt hazy. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parted, chest heaving. His eyes softened. “Yer beautiful, miss,” he whispered her name. 

Her cheeks flushed prettily. “Thank you, Arthur.” she breathed. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes slipping down to his lips. 

He reached out, taking a piece of her hair between his fingers, twisting it around. It was soft. Of course it was. It was devastating how perfect she was. “I liked your song, earlier.” he mumbled, focused on her hair. 

“I… I’m glad.” she whispered, her hand winding up his arm, to his neck, to his head, to take off his hat. She placed it down somewhere, and her hand soon wound its way into his hair, her short nails scraping at the back of his head. His eyes slipped closed, humming at the sensation. “I was hoping you would be here, tonight.”

He blinked open his eyes just enough to see her face. “What?” he asked, his voice gruff. 

She averted her gaze, blush deepening. “Been lookin’ forward to seein’ you at my performances.”

He scoffed. Now he knew this was a dream. “Uh huh.” He leaned in, burying his nose in her neck. “You don’t gotta lie t’me.” He turned, placing open-mouthed kisses along any skin he could find. Her breath hitched in his ear. 

“I-I’m not.” she insisted. He hummed, laving across a section of skin before taking it between his teeth, sucking slightly. She held her breath for a second, forcing out her next words. “I been… been dreadin’ the day you stop showin’ up,” she breathed out, “and I’d have missed my chance.” 

He parted from her, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. They were lidded, but earnest. He felt his heart flutter in his chest. “I counted at least ten other men better-lookin’ and closer in age t’you. Yer tellin’ me not one o’ them caught yer eye?” 

“‘S that really so hard to believe?” she palmed his cheek again, stroking it with her thumb. 

“Yes.” he laughed dryly, but leaned into her hand all the same. 

She brought up her other hand, cupping his face. “Look how sweet you are, baby.” she cooed, bringing his face closer to nuzzle her nose against his. “What a cutie-pie!” she teased.

His eyes softened, tracing the features of her face. He wished he could pause time, sketch her in his journal. He’d just have to memorize how she looked, and try his best to replicate it later. Once he woke up, of course. From this dream.

She connected their lips and he groaned, not expecting the sudden contact again. Her hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck and scratch at his shoulders. It felt like she was sucking him in, how truly he could not pull away. 

He rubbed his hand up her thigh, pushing up her long skirt. Her skin was smooth under his rough hand, moving up to grab at the soft flesh of her ass, squeezing and pulling her up towards him. She arched slightly, and he grabbed his other hand behind her waist to pull her closer, closer still. 

Her breasts brushed against his chest, her nipples stiffening through the thin fabric. He nudged her head to the side with his nose, moving to kiss down her neck. She sighed in his ear, her hands busying themselves with his arms and shoulders. Drink made him sloppy in his movements, his tongue wetting her neck and chest as he made his way down to her breasts. He didn’t bother to tug the fabric down, instead mouthing over her nipple through the fabric, flattening and swirling his tongue into the mound. 

She whimpered, her hand moving up to tug at the hair on the back of his head, her other moving down to tug her shirt down under her tits. He parted from her while she did so, unable to help the smirk twisting his mouth at her desperation. 

“You like that, doll?” he muttered, taking in the sight of her bare breasts, her shirt bunched up underneath them. 

She stuttered out a response, arching up towards his mouth. Seeing her like this sent a surge of confidence through him. She was his. No one else downstairs got to see her like this. Just him. Only him. He brushed his lips against her nipple, watching her try to push into his mouth. 

He smiled against her, and she whined, tugging his hair. “Don’t tease me, Arthur.” she breathed. Fuck. He took it into his mouth, his hand encircling the other, twisting and toying with it. He would give her anything she wanted if it meant she would say his name like that again. 

He dragged his mouth down, not missing the soft moan she gave at the loss, cool air ghosting over her wet nipple. He kissed down her stomach, moving his hands down underneath her thighs, pushing them up, up. 

He bunched her skirt around her, and pulled back. His eyebrows jumped up his forehead in surprise. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. He looked up at her. 

Her face was reddened with embarrassment, her hands covering her cheeks. 

“Care to explain this?” he teased, running his hands down her thighs, closer, closer. 

She bit her lip. “I…” she looked away. 

He tilted his head, indicating he was waiting. 

“I… did say I was hopin’ to see you tonight, didn’t I?” she laughed breathily. 

His chest rumbled in approval, looking down at her exposed cunt, already wet without him touching it. “All this…” he drawled, glancing up at her, “for me?” 

She nodded, hiding slightly behind her hands. 

“Too kind to me, sweetheart,” he lowered himself, breathing her in. He kissed her thigh, feeling her twitch. “You shouldn’t have…” his breath ghosted between her legs, and she shuddered, anticipation building. He placed a few more open-mouthed kisses inside her thighs, feeling her arch into him, growing desperate. He took pity. 

Gripping her soft thighs in his hands, he licked one long stripe up her slit, gathering her wetness onto his tongue. She gasped, tightening her legs. He forced them open, holding them up. “Be good, princess, or I won’t be good to you.” he admonished, kissing her thigh. 

She shuddered. “Shit, yes, sorry yes, please, I’ll be good, please,” she breathed, trying to wiggle closer to his mouth. 

“Good girl,” he praised, flattening his tongue against her clit, lapping at it softly. She cursed, her hands fisting the bedding. He laved up her slit, once, twice, three times, before closing his lips around her bud, lightly sucking it in and swirling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck, Arthur,” she gasped, and he groaned against her, working his tongue inside of her, circling the entrance before pushing in, lapping up at her walls. He smoothed his hand up her thigh, reaching her clit with the rough pad of his thumb. He pressed gentle circles into it, his tongue spreading into her. She hissed, bucking into his ministrations. 

He pulled away, sliding his thumb down from her clit to her entrance, gently working his way inside. 

“Arthur…” she whined. 

“Yeah?” He teased, mimicking her tone, pushing his thick thumb further inside of her. 

She moaned, pushing herself onto him. “Arthur, please, I need more,” she breathed, meeting his gaze. “I need you .” 

He felt himself throb against his already-strained pants. He cursed under his breath, moving to unbuckle his pants. In his tunnel vision, he didn’t see her move from her position on the bed. 

Her hand came to rest over where his struggled with the buckle. “Let me, baby.” she cooed, moving his hands away. He blinked, letting her move him, watching her smaller hands undo his belt, working his pants down, taking him… oh. She took him out, palming his length. Shit, it looked bigger in her hand. Or maybe he hadn’t been this worked up in awhile. She ghosted her hand up and down, barely fluttering her thumb over the tip. His breath hitched, trying not to buck up into her hand, and failing, miserably. 

She grinned, looking up at him through her lashes. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “Hey, girl.” he breathed shakily, her hand jerking up suddenly. 

She giggled. “Hey, yourself, handsome.” 

He flushed, suddenly embarrassed to be on the other end. He looked away, only for a moment, before feeling a warm wetness engulf him. He gasped, whipping back to look down at her, half of his length having disappeared into her mouth. “Shit, darlin’,” he cursed, his accent dragging at the words. He bucked up into her lips, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. 

She hummed, the sound sending vibrations into him. “God, sweetheart, you’re bein’ so fuckin’ good to me right now,” he hissed, his hand reaching underneath to cup her jaw, squeezing it and guiding himself further in. 

She opened her mouth wider to take him. “Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, feeling her tongue slide up, her hand taking what her mouth couldn’t. 

She pulled off of him, kissing his tip, pumping her hand over the slick she had left. His breath shuddered. She smiled up at him. “You want more?” 

“God, yes.” he pushed her back onto the bed, muscling her onto her stomach, ass in the air. She squeaked in surprise, and he palmed her ass, squeezing it open to get a better look. God, she was practically dripping for him. He bit his lip, groaning. He rubbed himself up her slit, gathering the wetness there, rubbing it onto himself. “All this for me, darlin’?” he whispered, squeezing her hip. 

She wiggled herself back, trying to take him in. “Fuck, Arthur, it is, please, just fuck me already,” she whined, his tip sliding just past where she wanted him. 

“If the lady insists,” he teased, aligning himself with her, before softly, gently, pushing into her. 

She turned her face into the mattress, moaning, grabbing at the covers. “ Jesus, Arthur.” she groaned, her words muffled. 

He pressed in further. Halfway. “Can’t hear you, doll.” It was taking everything in him to go so slowly. 

She turned her head to the side, pushing back to take more of him in. He hissed, his hands twitching on her ass, squeezing her. 

He let out a breath, finally fully seated. He didn’t want to hurt her, he couldn’t. He gyrated against her, desperate for some kind of friction. A whine built in his throat. “Can-” 

Before he could ask, she forcefully pushed back into him, and he cursed, abandoning all hesitation and fucking into her. She cried out his name, arching against him. She was so tight and hot around him, her ass bouncing back against him with every thrust. It was all he could do to keep himself standing, his vision focused solely on where their bodies met. 

“Ar-thur,” she gasped, her breath shuddering, “God, God, you’re so big Arthur, Jesus Christ,” she moaned, her words starting to devolve into sounds with no meaning. 

He kept himself rooted deep within her, barely pulling out before slamming back in again, and again, and again. Her hands grasped for purchase anywhere, everywhere, on the bed, moaning noises that almost sounded like his name, pushing back into him with every thrust. 

Shit. Shit. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure he could last much longer. 

“Miss,” he breathed her name. “I, shit, I-” he grabbed her thighs, his fingers bruising in their pressure, forcing her back into him. 

She whined at the pressure, growing limper. 

“Fuck! Fuck,” he yanked himself from her, grabbing at himself and finishing on her back. 

She had collapsed into the bed, giving a small satisfied moan. He breathed heavily, immediately grabbing a towel from the closet and cleaning her off. “S-Sorry, Miss.” he caught his breath, “Should’ve grabbed the towel before doin’ that on you.” He discarded the towel, placing a small kiss on her back, then immediately wondering if that was too much.

“What?” she said, muffled a bit by the covers. She turned, pushing herself up to sit and look at him. She frowned, reaching out and cupping his cheek. “You’ve got nothin’ to apologize for, cowboy.” Her frown twisted to a smile, “I oughta be thankin’ you for such a nice time.” she teased, pinching his cheek.

He suddenly grew bashful, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’ know about all that, but I definitely am thankin’ you.” Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, her lips slightly swollen… he had so many things to remember for his journal. “Best dream I’ve had in awhile,” he mumbled, moving to get under the covers. 

She joined him. “Dream?” she laughed, “You still drunk enough to think you’re dreamin’?”

He shrugged, opening his arms. She shifted into them, laying her head on his chest. “Could be stone cold sober and still think this was a dream.” He pecked her head. “I’ll miss you in the mornin’, girl.” 

She snorted, but snuggled into him anyway.

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Arthur groaned, the light only hitting his closed eyes, but giving him a headache all the same. His back didn’t hold the ache it usually did, though, laying on this terrible cot. It was the small victories, he guessed.

He thought back to his dream last night, and sighed wistfully. What he would give to have that right now, his cock painfully hard this morning. He forced himself to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. 

A hand reached across his stomach, ghosting against his length. He jumped, looking over to his side. “Well, good morning to you, too.” she yawned, lightly playing with him, a teasing look in her eye. 

He blinked. He squinted.

He rubbed his eyes again.

“Holy shit.”

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

Bonus

The woman placed the guitar against the wall, happily engaged in conversation with some of the patrons closest to her stage. “Excuse me,” Charles butted in, stealing her attention from them. 

She turned to him, confused, but polite. “Yes, sir?”

He smiled kindly. “I’m sorry, Miss, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on the favor, don’t it?” she laughed.

He nodded in understanding, and pointed to Arthur, hunched over the bar. “Do you see that miserable man over there?” She looked, and stiffened in recognition. “He has been coming to this saloon every Thursday night, just for you.” he turned to her. 

A blush painted her cheeks. “You’re kiddin’.” she laced her fingers together nervously. “He’s never said anything to me.”

Charles shook his head. “My friend—he is shy with women.” he leaned in conspiratorially, “Especially women he likes.” The woman’s blush deepened, her gaze darting over to Arthur. He straightened up. “All I ask is that you talk to him. I’m afraid my friends and I have ruined his Thursday, and I’m sure that would cheer him up.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dancing. He could tell why Arthur was so taken with her. “He sounds sweet,” she spoke softly. “I would love to.” 

He thanked her, watching her make true on her word and walk over to Arthur. Charles noted his reddened ears and fumbling fingers and smiled. Hopefully, this would make up for it.

[lunanightriderofthecove]

As promised my s7 predictions and assumptions based on the leaked soundtrack titles.

Spoilers under the cut 🥰

1. Ruin and Rebirth

I'm not sure what rebirth is referring to but ruins must be about Katolis, right?

2: Time to Grieve

Again, definitely about Katolis.

3: Arrest Him

Ezran quote. And this is him having Runaan arrested 🙈

4: The Puzzle House

We know that Claudia mentions the Puzzle House in 7x01. And from the placement of this title in the overall list I'd say we actually go there in 7x02?

5. Forgive Me

Could this be Callum or Rayla apologising before breaking Runaan out of prison? 😳

6. Escaping the Lodge, Again

This definitely is the immediate follow-up of "Forgive me"

7. The Great Amnesty

I had to look up the meaning of amnesty because I didn't know what it was and now I'm like "Wow. Is Ezran gonna pardon Runaan?" 👀 While I was sure he would eventually (if only for Rayla's sake) I didn't think it would happen so soon in the season 🤔

8. The Mage Wars

Another flashback I assume 😍

9. Reunion

Please be referring to Ruthari Reunion 😍

10. No More Half Truths

I guess someone is gonna be brutally honest? No idea who though ...

11. Ritual of the New Moon

The beginning of Rayla getting unghosted I assume

12. Rayla Reborn / Unfinished Business

Definitely her getting unghosted!

13. Moon Cubs

Did a Moonshadow mount have babies? Please tell me it was the shadow paw 🥺

14. Driven by Love

This definitely sounds ominous. My first guess about who this is referring to is Callum, my second Claudia and my third would be the moonfam, I guess

15. Why Are You Doing This?

This is giving me Soren and Claudia conversation ... or going from the next track's title Lissa and Claudia? 🥺

16. Lissa

Please tell me we're gonna see Lissa outside of flashbacks and illustrations! 🥰

17. Umbra Dolor

This title translates to shadow pain and I assume it's a spell connected to the inversion mentioned in the next track

18. Inversion

So this is where they open the portal, huh?

19. Rise Again

Why is this titled exactly the same as that one story from Reflections? 😳 This is scaring me.

20. Fall of a Titan

This title is scaring me. Who is the titan that's gonna fall and how and why does it happen?

21. Callum’s Plan

First off: we really had to wait 7 seasons to finally have Callum in a track title, huh? 🙈 Second: this is nonetheless super scary and makes me worry about what he's gonna do ...

22. Compromise

Considering the titles above and below ... yeah 👀

23. Written In His Eyes

Two words: dark magic. At least that's what I'm assuming here ...

24. Boiled Grotto

This has to be that scene from the trailer where Claudia kind of sprouts dragon scales and that mage fight, right?

25. Hungry Shadows

The spirits of the dead perhaps? 🤔

26. Extinguished

This could basically refer to anything. A light, a life 😳

27. Let There Be Dark

Why is this basically the opposite of the biblical "Let there be light"?

28. The Orphan Queen / An Old Friend

Orphan Queen flashback? 🤞🏻

29. Eternal Night

Definitely not scary at all 😳

30. For Xadia

Please let this be a battle cry and not a painful callback to Rayla's "My Heart for Xadia" from 1x01 🤞🏻

31. Battle of the Sunforge

I really hope this does include cleansing it 🥰

32. The Novablade

Is Ezran gonna find and use it as that poster suggests? I hope so 🥰

33. Best Laid Plans

34. When a Star Dies

Either Aaravos is gonna succeed in killing a member of the Cosmic Order or he himself is gonna die here ...

35. Dragonsong

36. Brothers, Brothers, Brothers

Please be Callum and Ezran reconciling after their fallout earlier in the season 🥰

37. Breaking New Ground

38. I Miss Her / Forgiveness

Several possibilities as to who "her" is referring to. But it's most likely either Claudia missing Lissa, Soren missing Lissa or Soren missing Claudia. Depending on where the scene is headed this could be a parallel to the "Lissa" track.

Another thought was also Sarai, but with what I think where the season is headed this isn't really probable.

39. This Changes Everything

1x02 callback anyone? Or was it actually 1x03 when Rayla says "this changes everything" after they find the egg? For real though, this is someone learning about an important historical detail, right?

40. Starlit Serenade

I'm joining all the other clowns who're convinced that this is a Rayllum proposal 🥰

41. Leola’s Last Wish

What a beautiful last title. I'd love for this to be a father/daughter reunion 🥰

[asomics]

Winterday Wishlist

Heya! I just got back into the game and theres all these pretty mounts out now that i need yesterday. I cannot afford any of them but I can draw goblins so if you like my work and want your toon chune-ified or interacting with any of my cast o' wackos maybe you'd be down to spot me one of these!

In terms of 'slots' I'm just going off every item on my wishlist:

Dreadnought Raptor - 1,600 Gems

Plush Tiger Warclaw - 1,600 Gems

Synergetics Cyberhound - 1,280 Gems

Moonshadow Bat Griffon - 1,280 Gems

Regal Moth Skyscale - 1,280 Gems

[beautifulterriblequeen]

TDP rewatch: autistic Soren?

I spent a lot of time going along with everyone else saying that Soren was a big dumbass. And for that, I would now like to apologize. I don’t think Soren’s dumb. I think he’s autistic. 

As an autistic person, I feel bad for not spotting this earlier. But, like Soren, I do have a tendency to believe what I’m told, especially when everyone is saying the same thing. And this may not be canon, ever, but that’s okay. I see Soren in a new light now, and I know that light. (Gods, S3 is really gonna wreck me now)

He doesn’t get sarcasm. He takes Rayla’s “obviously” sarcastic comment at face value. He’s also not good with metaphor, taking a long time to grasp “butter them up.” Once he’s figured out what he should do--lie about the king--he does a very bad job of it because the emotions he needs to embrace to sell the lie aren’t familiar to him.

He’s very good with rules. A father who needed a son who was rooted in the narrative of strength could easily have trained an autistic child to bind himself within those rules form a young age. It’ll be very hard for Soren to question rules that he consciously chose to follow himself.

He doesn’t understand the shifting of loyalties. First he’s a loyal Crownguard, and then he’s supposed to detain Callum because his dad asked him to? Soren’s genuinely confused.

He still chooses to protect Callum when the assassins attack, even shoving him to safety from Runaan’s arrow, because those old rules of loyalty to the royal family haven’t been shifted.

He’s also slow to react to the arrow striking him. He takes precious reaction time to study it closely. He’s probably never seen a Moonshadow assassin’s arrow before. It telescopes in three places. It’s green. It probably smells faintly of poison. Soren’s possibly also never been shot before. All these physical details are hitting him at once, all with equal force, and it takes him a moment to sort through them, process them, and remember that the arrow means the assassins have arrived.

He spends time and effort trying to speak others’ languages, but he doesn’t always get it right. He knows Claudia’s nose trick but he can’t perfectly replicate it. He misinterprets Rayla’s angry intent as personal interest. He really tries to connect with his dad by offering his “see-saw” comment (which is actually right on the money as far as the show’s themes are concerned). 

He’s oddly focused on the difference between a prince and a “step-prince.” Not in a mean way, though. He thinks it means he’s paying attention to small details, which people often like. Not particularly in this case, though.

He really does just want to fit in. He does whatever Viren says because he wants to be accepted, not just as Viren’s son but as a not-weird, not-useless person.

Claudia’s the one who makes the jokes. He happily lets her lead on the mission to Mount Kaelik and has no ego attached to being in charge of her.

He’s really awkward with his brotherly feels when he calls her “weep-ridden” and offers to help by punching Callum. Autistics can struggle with language, especially in unfamiliar emotional territory and under stress.

He hyperfocuses on being a Crownguard, though, which is why he’s so good at it, and why he’s in charge. He does nothing but train. He loves being a Crownguard. He knows that role inside and out. He knows when to order men into position, and he knows when to shut up and hand the king his sword.

He insists that sweeping the leg is not a thing, though, because it’s outside his training. None of the Crownguard instructors taught him that, and so it is outside the rules. 

When he votes that Corvus is a traitor and gets Claudia to vote with him, he’s reinforcing the rules that he learned. The black-and-white shield on his armor isn’t just an indicator that he’s straddling the line between good and evil and will one day have to make a choice. It’s showing the way Soren sees the world: everything is either inside the rules, or outside them. Soren doesn’t see gray areas. But he might learn to very soon.

He’s cheerily cold-blooded about lopping Runaan’s head off and trying to kill Rayla because empathy is a strange animal for autistic folks. Sometimes it’s really high, and sometimes it’s nonexistent, even within the same person. Between a low empathy for elves and his Crownguard training, Soren legitimately doesn’t see any problem with killing them, even at the age of 18.

He knows the rules on how to deal with dragons: you fight them. And he gets a whole town torched. He was entirely unprepared. But his ego wasn’t in this fight. He freed Corvus because he understands that a Crownguard’s job is to protect Katolis, and that includes the townsfolk. And he admitted his mistake to Claudia because filters are hard under stress, and the truth just pops out like that.

When he’s paralyzed, Soren has no ego attached to remaining a Crownguard, either. His hyperfocus has broken. He was growing increasingly stressed by his dad’s secret mission. And he immediately seeks a new hyperfocus: poetry. He gives it a shot, and he’s terrible at it. He hasn’t actually internalized any poetry rules yet. He’d become a good poet pretty quickly, if he had the chance. But Claudia came to heal him instead.

As S2 ends and the siblings head home together, Soren has no plan anymore. He has no rules for what’s gonna happen, and he can’t anticipate Viren’s reaction but he expects it’ll be bad. He asks Claudia for help in understanding what his parameters should be, because that’s a long trip home, and that’s a lot of time spent worrying over scenarios that he has to consider because he can’t narrow it down--every possibility is a legitimate possibility to him.

[unfinished tdp meta]

[kradogsrats]

@its-leethee: #wondering how much of an outlier among elves lujanne's attitude toward ava was

YEAH that's an interesting question, I actually forgot about Ava because my mind just kind of glosses over her very 90s "all she needs is to be given a chance to prove there's no difference at all between her and someone not disabled!" narrative lmao

and then I wrote literally 1200 words of absolute rambling nonsense

Like, the illusion on Ava precludes her from getting any kind of accommodations for her very real disability—not even Ellis knows that she is still compensating for her missing leg in everything she does. It's also a little baffling that the answer here was "everyone needs a Very Special Lesson about prejudice" given that the original objection to allowing Ellis to keep Ava was that they can't afford to feed her, and (when Ellis argues to at least take care of her until she can be returned to the wild) that she would not survive among her former pack. I don't know enough about wild wolf behavior to know if that's true or not, but it also doesn't really matter, because the end result is apparently as soon as everyone sees Ava with four legs, it's... totally okay for Ellis to keep her forever?

(Honestly, my bet on what happened there is that the entire town just kind of quietly agreed that you should probably treat someone who receives inexplicable miraculous healing up on the local cursed mountain really well, or at least not euthanize them, and so everyone pitched in to support Ellis's family taking in Ava.)

So like... with Ava, she's essentially only disabled when people can see that she's disabled, like the opposite of an invisible disability. Obviously this would appeal to Lujanne, being particularly attuned to the aspect of the Moon primal that is associated with perceptions vs. reality. Would things have worked out as well if Ava had needed accommodations? It's not really clear, and probably would depend on exactly what she needed—there is admittedly a solid chance that people would treat the need for a basic amount of help differently from someone perceived as able-bodied vs. someone visibly disabled. (Usually that is in a negative direction, where the perceived able-bodied person is assumed to not "need" the accommodation, but it could also happen the other way in this case, with people having more patience in training and caring for a puppy who they are assured will grow up into an able and useful working animal.)

ANYWAY, given the sharp divide between Lujanne's experience of the Moon primal and the much more black-and-white way Rayla, Runaan, and others of the Silvergrove appear to experience it, PLUS the fact that even setting aside Ghosting, the punishment for surviving a failed assassination mission is literally loss of a limb? I'm not known for being very charitable toward Moonshadow culture, but in this case I don't think it's out of line to say that a lot of the Silvergrove would probably not be super keen on a three-legged shadowpaw or whatever. At best, you might get a "those of us who are able and strong are duty-bound to protect those who are not" level of cultural condescension... no one would be picking it out as their mount.

But to veer wildly off of the main topic here: like I said, I literally forgot about Ava as a disabled character since she functionally isn't, compared to, say, Amaya. Amaya is incredibly competent, but she is also undeniably accommodated by her peers and culture: those close to her are varying degrees of fluent in the sign language she uses, with many of them at minimum able to fully understand her without interpretation, and then she also has a dedicated interpreter for those who are not. She also has been blessed by the narrative with lip-reading superpowers to make things easier for everyone creating and consuming this show from within a culture that is at best indifferent and frequently actively hostile toward deaf people. Could they have worldbuilt a setting where Amaya's accommodations were baked into the entire culture of Katolis, such that everyone communicates with her entirely in sign language? Sure, but I can also see why they didn't, given that dominant media culture in the west definitely isn't ready to accept that.

But my point is that, unlike Ava's disability, Amaya is a character whose deafness is acknowledged and accommodated by both her culture and the narrative (on at least some level). It doesn't happen super often, but there are situations where Amaya being deaf makes a difference in her approach to or the outcome of a situation. One great example that they put in is the captured soldier at the Breach being able to communicate to Amaya that they're in danger by signing, which is a case where her deafness and the ways she is accommodated by those around her is a huge positive that saves lives! Then there's also the opening of s4, where because of her own lingering biases and inability to communicate in the moment, she attacks a bunch of innocent noncombatants and could have seriously injured or killed them while believing she was fighting for her life.

Interestingly, the narrative treatment of Rayla's increasingly injured hand is similar—and to be fair, Rayla's injured hand is, in fact, a disability... just one that winds up being temporary. We see a lot of circumstances where Rayla is mildly or even severely impaired by pain, weakness, or inability to use her slowly dying hand. Some, like dropping the egg through the ice, have plot-derailing consequences! Part of why there's so much emphasis on it is that it's functioning as a ticking clock for s1, but it's also narratively meant to be a challenge that reveals Rayla's character to the audience, rather than a narrative-independent character trait like Amaya's deafness. One of the things that's revealed about Rayla at the beginning of s2, as she is elatedly demonstrating all the stuff she can do with two functional hands, is the value she places on her own physical abilities. Similar to Soren, she has been raised and trained in a way where her body and its capabilities are her main asset, and if she loses some or all of those capabilities, it's a potentially existential-level Problem(tm). That says a little bit about Rayla and a little bit about Moonshadow culture, IMO.

(FWIW, my estimation is that Rayla would be more impaired by losing a hand than Soren would, given her acrobatic and two-weapon fighting style. Even in a positive and nurturing environment, she'd struggle a lot with self-worth in having to re-learn new skills and limitations, along with clumsiness or total inability in performing moves that she once trained into instinct. Soren, meanwhile, would strap a shield on the handless arm and be good to go.)

SO YEAH IDK Ava is kind of an outlier in how the setting/narrative is trying to treat disability, which is understandable since she's really not even a second- or third-string character, she's basically a plot device. Lujanne is also pretty unique in terms of Moonshadow elves that we've seen, so who knows. I mean, they can't ALL be like Rayla and Runaan, right? Right?

(Or, as something I just thought of: Lujanne is the protector of the Moon Nexus, and she's confronted with the situation of a kid and a puppy who are so desperate as to have walked through all her bean-freaking illusions. To reinforce the mountains spooky reputation and preserve the safety of the Nexus, she could a) kill them so the story is that they went up the mountain and were never seen again, or b) establish another tale of weird shit happening while also resolving the issue that sent Ellis away from her home and up the mountain. A bit risky seeing as we are immediately given a direct example of people who are desperate enough for miraculous healing to similarly fight through the illusions in the main characters, but it also means she doesn't have to straight-up murder a sad kid and her puppy.)

thinking again about how Janai not only doesn’t know sign language but is unfamiliar with the entire concept and has to find a linguistics scholar to translate for Amaya—not a dedicated interpreter, which you’d expect the center of Sunfire elf governance to have if they provided any kind of services for deaf citizens—along with Sol Regem’s blindness and apparent subsequent sidelining from both the draconic and Sunfire power structures, and the overall chilling picture that paints of attitudes toward disability in Sunfire and possibly other elf cultures in this Denny’s tonight

[thevanitychariot]

The Chariot: Issue XV

The Struggle for Latino Representation

By: Fabiola Quinteiro Original Publication Date: 24 January 2024

In the evolving landscape of the entertainment industry, the Ross Awards represents and reflects a decade of diversity and progress, awarding its first Black and Middle Eastern winners for its primary acting categories last month. However, a glaring disparity emerged when it came to Latino representation.

Out of the 199 nominees across all four acting categories, only three have been Latinos, constituting a mere 1.5% of total nominees. Unsurprisingly, none of these nominees emerged as winners, portraying a disheartening 0% success rate.

When Emerson Wright became president of Hollywood Studios in 2020, Tonya Mendoza engaged in discussions with him to address the issue of Latino invisibility. Regrettably, these conversations were unfruitful over the course of four years. Director Carmela Velazquez also joined the discourse, warning of potential protests if measures weren’t taken to redirect resources towards Latino filmmakers. This, she emphasized, was a pivotal moment in Emerson’s career and the industry’s trajectory.

Emerson’s inaugural release as president, Zero, Zero, Zero (2020), faced criticism from the Latino community within the entertainment industry. They deemed the film performative, focusing on sensitive issues such as drug use and cartels, with little regard for the multifaceted experiences of the Latino population. Tonya Mendoza argued that shaping Latino stories solely around cartel experience was destructive and called for lasting actions to secure the community’s presence within the entertainment industry.

Last year, Cygna Entertainment became an independent studio dedicated solely to Black filmmaking. This move raised questions about the absence of a similar platform for Latinos. Carmela Velazquez voiced concerns about the industry’s tendency to create separate studios for Black and Asian narratives, leaving Latinos overlooked. She argued against creating more studios based on financial gains, urging the industry to focus on genuine representation.

In response to the mounting discontent, a protest unfolded outside Hollywood Studios lasting one day, prompting a tentative deal that promised the creation of a dedicated team focused on sharing Latino stories and significantly increasing visibility within the industry and the Ross Awards over the next three years.

This collaborative effort is spearheaded by newcomer director Erin Navarro, working alongside Carmela Velazquez and Tonya Mendoza.

Second Avatar: The Last Airbender Adaptation Champions Indigenous Voices By: Anika Sunisa Original Publication Date: 25 February 2024

Four years since Hollywood Studios released a rendition of the beloved animated series Avatar: The Last Airbender, a new adaptation is on the horizon promising not only to capture the essence of the original animation, but also to break new ground in the realm of diversity and representation.

The 2020 adaptation, a joint collaboration between Emerson Wright and Davis Wylde, was not received well with Indigenous viewers when an all-Asian cast portrayed characters from the Water Tribe, who in the original animation were of Indigenous and Native American descents. As a step towards the right direction, this upcoming adaptation casted actors who more accurately represent the characters’ native heritages, with Hialeah Moonshadow and Wohali Tahmahkera portraying the main characters Katara and Sokka with Beam Paramatthakorn joining the cast,taking the role of Avatar Aang.

This casting decision marks an historic moment in the entertainment industry, as it becomes the first movie to feature actors of Indigenous and Native American descents in lead roles. This is a positive shift towards more inclusive storytelling, acknowledging and celebrating the rich diversity of cultures that often go unnoticed in mainstream media.

MC-Wylde's president, Beijing Lee, sheds light on the motivation behind this groundbreaking casting. He emphasizes the lack of a significant platform for Indigenous and Native American actors to share their stories and amplify their voices within the industry. The hope is that this new adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender will serve as a catalyst, opening doors for underrepresented communities and paving the way for more inclusive storytelling.

Hialeah Moonshadow, who plays Katara, expresses her excitement about the opportunity to contribute to this transformative moment in the entertainment industry. Hialeh, along with fellow cast members Aiyana Littlecreek and Joweese Cetanwakuwa (Princess Yue and Hahn, respectively), have been actively collaborating with Beijing Lee to extend this platform beyond the film series. Their goal is to provide a larger stage for Indigenous and Native Americans, ensuring their voices are heard and their stories are consistently shared.

Beijing Lee has been engaging in ongoing conversations with Hollywood Studios's Emerson Wright to address the broader issue of representation. The focus extends not only to the Indigenous and Native American community but also to the neglect of Latino actors. This commitment to diversity is part of a broader industry movement that is calling for increased visibility and equal opportunities for actors from all backgrounds.

The recent protests advocating for more Latino visibility in the industry have yielded positive results. Hollywood Studios responded with the release of Society of Snow, directed by Erin Navarro, Hollywood's second Latino director. This movie follows in the footsteps of Don't Cry For Me Argentina (2019), La Capitana (2021) and Encanto (2023) as the fourth film in the industry with a Latino-majority cast.

As the entertainment industry takes these significant steps towards a more inclusive future, the Avatar: The Last Airbender remake stands as a beacon of change, emphasizing the importance of representation and diverse storytelling.

Unveiling Biased Reporting in The Chariot

Opinion Piece By: Kenya Shamekh Original Publican Date: 7 March 2024

In the realm of entertainment, where diversity and representation are the pillars of progress, it is disheartening to witness a continuous narrative that unfairly dismisses the efforts of a true visionary. Beijing Lee, the president of MC-Wylde, has faced relentless criticism since the beginning of his presidency in 2021. The Chariot, the media outlet responsible for shaping public opinion, has played a significant role in perpetuating this bias.

From the onset, Beijing Lee's election was deemed divisive by the previous Chariot president, Aramis Giordano. Despite securing enough votes to become Davis Wylde's successor, Beijing’s win was framed as a source of division within the company, setting the tone for the extensive biased coverage that would follow.

The Chariot's continuous portrayal of Beijing Lee in a negative light became prominent with the release of Johnson v. Harland, a film addressing racism under Lawrence Harland's presidency. The backlash received was disproportionately emphasized, overshadowing the movie's message and impact. It was clear that The Chariot selectively chooses incidents to criticize, contributing to the unfair narrative surrounding Beijing.

Cygna Entertainment, a subsidiary of MC-Wylde created in 2018 to focus on Black storytelling, became a battleground for biased reporting. When Beijing championed the independence of Cygna Entertainment, allowing Black directors and artists full control, The Chariot falsely reported it as Beijing planning to dissolve the subsidiary while exaggerating an active coalition within the entertainment industry fighting against this dissolution (Cygna Entertainment Separates from Parent Company, MC-Wylde Studios, January 2023). In addition to the bias, the article presented the transition as a joint collaboration between Emerson Wright and Beijing Lee, placing Emerson in a more positive light than the MC-Wylde president.

Despite these accomplishments, The Chariot's acknowledgment of Beijing Lee's efforts was minimal. It wasn't until 2022 that Beijing was awarded the Chariot's People of the Year for uplifting Asian voices and telling their stories. However, the recognition was limited to this aspect of his work, conveniently diminishing his contributions to Cygna Entertainment as only “dedicating his time and resources”.

Since the independence of Cygna Entertainment, Beijing has pioneered the creation of Browning Records, a new entertainment studio focused on reshaping the music landscape. MC-Wylde employed the highest number of workers and managed the most artists within the music industry, yet The Chariot presented this establishment as a continued collaboration between the two presidents, Emerson Wright and Beijing Lee, with the article only including Emerson’s opinions and words of encouragement to the new studio.

The biggest dismissal of Beijing’s efforts is when The Chariot published Embracing the Renaissance of Diversity: The Silver Age in Entertainment (November 2023) to announce the name of the current generation of entertainment renaissance, second only to the Golden Age of 2009. The Chariot heavily lauded Emerson’s works in establishing a strong platform for diverse artists and storytelling and listed all his groundbreaking and trail blazing productions.

The article mentioned Cygna Entertainment becoming an independent studio to uplift Black voices and the creation of Browning Records for a growing platform for music yet Beijing’s contributions were not mentioned. This article also failed to include the growing frustration of Latino voices that have been historically ignored by Hollywood Studios, to a point where Latino artists and directors walked out to protest in front of the studios, claiming that all their meetings and talks with Emerson Wright the past four years have not come into fruition.

Meanwhile, Beijing Lee is the first and the only president who has created and provided a platform for Native and Indigenous Americans and has consistently advocated for Asian representations, releasing movies with South Asian, Southeast Asian, and Middle Eastern artists in all primary roles.

All of Beijing’s efforts are completely dismissed whenever Emerson is constantly praised for being the sole reason for the establishment of the Silver Age.

The bias towards Emerson Wright is more prominent when A Woman in Arabia was heavily criticized for representing White feminism, centering only the experiences and struggles of White women in an otherwise diverse story. In this case, Vanessa Harding played Gertrude Bell, a British woman who assisted in establishing the borders of modern-day Iraq and Jordan.

In this article, presidential-candidate Darius Booker does not mention that Emerson still has final say on every movie Hollywood releases. He is completely absolved from his contributions on pushing forward the idea of White feminism and the article only focuses on Vanessa’s mistakes, and hers only.

This opinion piece was written as a direct result of three years of overt bias against a visionary – someone who has stood his ground and continued excelling despite the constant criticism against him.

As we navigate through the Silver Age and Hollywood Studios undergoing a year-long election to find the successor to Emerson Wright, it is crucial to shed light on bias and discrimination presented in the entertainment industry. Beijing Lee’s contributions should not be overshadowed by selective reporting, and it is our responsibility to demand fair and unbiased representation in the media.

[sunstone-nerding]

After the soulfang bites the moonstrider...

The displayed subtitles have Rayla saying: “We’ve got to get back inside, before---”

But I heard: “We’ve got to get back inside, before her---”

Before her what, I wonder? Before the last bit of her soul bleeds out? I seem to remember that the husks are hostile.

It's interesting, anyway. More indirect support for Bird!Harrow, I suppose. Though I would think that Moonshadow elves could see color (or the lack thereof) in low light...

[ask-runaan-anything]

Hi Runaan, any funny Ethari stories?

Well, I didn’t think it was very funny, but Ethari was rather amused.

We were grooming our mounts just the other day, and I was working on Lachir’s tail. I always tell her how pretty she is when I groom her, because she likes to feel pretty. Ethari told Tethu, “You’re pretty too, boy. Yes you are.”

So I told Lachir, “Yes, but you’re prettier, sweetheart. You’re the prettiest mount in all the Forest, and I love you, my good girl.” And she preened and snorted at Tethu.

Ethari just chuckled and kept brushing Tethu’s fur. “You may be right, love,” he said calmly. “But ‘pretty’ won’t save her from us in a fight.”

Tethu huffed in agreement and gave Ethari a supportive lick on the cheek. And then he eyed Lachir speculatively, like he was legitimately about to pounce on her!

The undignified and protective noise I made as I clutched at her tail! And then she yipped at me for messing up her tailfeathers! Ethari was in stitches. Or rather, he was about to be.

But then Tethu let out a single low growl, just as I started to think about taking a single step toward Ethari to tickle him half to death for his words. And I reconsidered, very wisely, after calculating my body weight versus Tethu’s, and the fact that he has claws and fangs, and he loves Ethari more than he loves me.

Ethari laughed for a solid five minutes over how quickly I noped out and dropped the issue, but he did help me straighten Lachir’s rumpled feathers, too. Because although he is a terrible tease, he is my sweet husband, too. A most Moonshadow combination in the most handsome of elves, at whose feet I am entirely helpless.

my moonstrider is objectively prettier though change my mind

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

... Huh.

Y'know that's been a major sticking point for people and it wasn't until now that I realized:

It was never about the Dark Magic.

Elves are not vegetarians. Which means they understand what it is to slaughter animals for their fur, hide, bone and meat.

Elves have domesticated animals. Which means they understand what it is to raise a flock or herd for their produce. To tame beasts of burden for your own ends. And the Earthblood elves at least are none too gentle when breaking the "lesser" dragon breeds as mounts.

When Sol Regem grew enraged at Aaravos he ate the elven host. Showing that dragons are not above eating other conscious beings.

The Dragon Queen and Moonshadow elves made the Order of the Bloodmoon. Showing that they are not ideologically opposed to using the life of other beings to fuel their own magic.

Dark Magic could've drawn it's source from literally anything and the elves and dragons would've condemned humanity for their "unnatural" practices. For their primitive, inferior ways. For daring to be more than "lesser creatures".

It's 2024 and there's still people talking about how "the Aztecs practiced human sacrifice 😌🥺🤷" as though that justifies anything the Spaniards did. As though the Conquistadores wouldn't have used any other excuse to commit genocide and establish the encomienda system. As though they aren't ideologically closer to the people who burned witches at the stake than any living Nahua is to the ritual sacrifices of their ancestors.

Because the imperialists had a "god given right" to conquer the land that would become Mexico.

Like the elves and dragons had a Startouch ordained superiority over humankind.

I think western media has relied on non-human races as shorthand for oppressed groups so much that audiences have been primed to look for that instead of actual imperialist ideology.

One of the criticisms I've repeated about the Dragon Prince is how the writers take the Aesthetics of fantasy imperialism/indigenous people and just switch them without bothering to change anything about their ideology or historical context.

Kenna on TikTok was right when she said that a franchise where the oppressor and oppressed were all the same species makes a better racism allegory.

The fact that the Four Nations were all human added to the themes of imperialism and genocide in ATLA. While on the opposite side of the coin, the Xadians all being different species undermines it.

You can say Fire Nation people were a bunch of imperialists without going into bioessentialism. You CAN'T say humans are a bunch of warmongering monsters without sounding like an eco fascist.

The Sunfire elves textually being the most fantasy racist group is fine because they're elves, therefore oppressed, and the white writers made them superficially based on African-French speakers.

Meanwhile Katolis is "obviously" a Fantasy European Imperialist nation and therefore the oppressor. Never mind that it's had a black, now mixed, ruling family for a thousand years. Or that it's citizens aren't just white.

I remember seeing a post comparing the taboo against Black Magic to Xtian fundamentalism. At first I thought that was a bit much but no. Season six revealed that TDP has a canonical Hierarchy of Beings so that guy was absolutely right.

In Xtian fundamentalism doing something good the "wrong" way is the same as doing something bad.

Save a kingdom from starving? Well you had to kill a rock monster so obviously the right thing to do was let hundreds of thousands of people starve to death. (I've had weirdos go onto my posts and literally say this.)

Break the chains preventing you from saving the people you love? Well it hurt you so the right thing to do was let your friends and loved ones drown I guess.

Your son is dying? Better protect some old man's sense of moral purity than save a child.

All of these actions are not considered bad because they had a negative effect. They're considered bad because they go against the dominant power's desired order.

They're inherently bad because "humans" are inherently bad. Because human ways are not as pure as a direct connection to an Arcanum.

Note: this^ is imperialist ideology.

The idea that a group of people fighting for their survival justifies ethnic cleansing and mass murder is imperialist ideology.

The idea that the scary, blasphemous practices of a people you don't understand makes them dangerous, and therefore justifies you "defending yourself", is imperialist ideology.

The Liberal focus on "cycles of violence" and "both sides are at fault". Instead of on reparations for the people they killed and the homes they destroyed is imperialist ideology.

But Katolis has a pseudo-medieval aesthetic and the elves do not.

I was so angry at the scene where Sol Regem burns Katolis because THIS is the poor helpless dragons the humans "colonized"!? This living air bomber is the "victim" of the big, bad humans? One Archdragon can destroy an entire city single handedly and you expect me to believe the elves and dragons ethnic cleansing of humanity was REASONABLE!?

No. We are past any doubt or rationalization. What Sol Regem did to Katolis was just a small glimpse of what the elves and dragons did during the Human Exile. Just a small glimpse into how imperialist powers treat those that they cannot exploit.

And then demonize them for daring to oppose/question/subvert the imperialist's god(s) given superiority.

[ask-ethari-anything]

I can imagine. I live in a concrete building and I wouldn't want it on fire, much less if I lived in a wooden structure. You who lives in a tree...Oh gosh, one day without fire retardant runes... What a horrid thought. Anyways, what's your favourite thing to do that has nothing to do with your profession?

Ride with Runaan through the forest. We each travel for work sometimes, but it’s so relaxing to have nowhere in particular to go. Some days, we just let our mounts choose a direction, and while they lead the way, we’ll just chat about anything, everything, and nothing at all. It might seem helplessly domestic, but I love talking with my husband. He’s so deeply thoughtful that I know he’ll never dismiss something I say, and he’s always got thoughts to share.

We always come home with his hair full of flowers or grass heads or adoraburrs, too--entirely my fault, how can I not decorate him--and then I get to comb it out and braid it again.

[raayllum]

RAYLLUM S5 MEME:  [2/6] scenes — 5x02, "Old Wounds"

Thanks for humouring me, Rayla. I hope staying in that inn wasn't too cutesy-quaint for your rugged Moonshadow tastes. Actually... that was amazing! Soap has no right to come in such adorable little shapes. And I can't believe you were right about breakfast! And the best part of all: the mint on the pillow. How have I gone to sleep all these years without just one lovely little moment that's sweet, yet cool and refreshing? Well, I'm glad you liked it. It's a great start to a great day and we're almost to the border. The sun is shining, and this time, my mount actually likes me.

[faragonreblogs]

Got a petral mount from doing one single fate right before the end of the year!! I am happie~

[sunstone-nerding]

Holy crap that is soooo cute and well-drawn!

commission for @dragonnguard from yesterdays stream

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Thinking about mounts

Okay, okay, logically though: Ethari has a mount too. He must leave the Silvergrove. Some of his travel may be with Runaan, for political or defensive purposes. But he is the Master Craftsman of the Silvergrove. Surely he also travels for himself! 

Nyx seems to have an Ethari Special in her hands - her staff has Moonshadow colors and the Moon rune right on it, and it looks like it articulates, which is possibly how it brought down Ethari’s arrow. What else could bring down one of his creations, except another one of his creations?

Soooo, who else in Xadia has cool Moonshadow tech made by Ethari? I always wondered why the Book One novelization referred to him as “the elf Ethari”. It seemed stilted and maybe a cheap way to avoid saying he was Runaan’s husband until much later in the book, when Runaan’s getting coined and thinks of him. (Seems a weird way for Rayla to think of one of the elves who raised her, too.) But but but. If Ethari has some kind of international reputation as a ridiculously badass craftsman specializing in trick tech? Yeah. Then he’s like Cher, and everyone knows who he is. holy cats holy cats I’ve wanted him to be like Leonardo da Vinci since before we met him properly omgomgomg please

How amusing to think that all of Xadia knows Ethari, and maybe none of them really know Runaan, because he prefers to hang back in Ethari’s shadow.

These small talk scenarios that Runaan tries to avoid... are they at shindigs for Ethari? Awww that’s adorable.

Because, back to mounts: Runaan does travel, but he didn’t take his moonstrider on his mission. The assassins apparently ran on foot the whole way. Sooooo... what does he ride his mount for?

The only time we’ve seen Moonshadows mounted, aside from Rayla riding to the Storm Spire in a hurry to return Zym, is when the Sunfires and Moonshadows were booting the humans to the west.

We’ve got a lady in the back, riding a moonstrider. She’s got Runaan’s belt and long braided hair going on, and cheek slash markings that other assassins have worn.

And we’ve got a dude over on the side, riding a shadowpaw. His belt matches Lujanne’s, but he’s sporting a bow, and a shirt and an armored leather vest like Runaan’s. Multiclass assassin/mage? Battle mage? Ethari can do archery, too, even if it’s not his favorite.

Basically, I’m wondering if these two mounted elves are the Moonshadow power couple/battle spouses of their day. The stabby one gets the moonstrider and the magic one gets the shadowpaw. And they mount up because they have a lot of work to do in a short amount of time, and it’s necessary to zip around Xadia in a hurry, but they still gotta look stylish while they do it.

So I guess this post turned out to be support for more than one headcanon: Ethari’s a mage, and Ethari’s Leonardo da Vinci.

Ethari having contacts all across Xadia, though. That would be amazing. If he leaves the Silvergrove in S4, who will he visit? Who does he know? Or will he pull a Rayla (which is really a Runaan) and try to do things by himself? Ethari, honey, you know better than that, please, get you some friends. Let Ethari Have Friends 2021.

extra headcanon: Maybe the husbands’ mounts were saddled and ready to go when Rayla reached the Silvergrove because Runaan and Ethari were planning to ride to the Storm Spire to report to Zubeia personally once Runaan’s murder mission was complete. Considering what the Dragon Queen demanded of Runaan, he might need a few days’ travel alone with Ethari to decompress.

Hmm. Considering that Runaan is a melty marshmallow on the inside... what if he always rides in stately fashion to report to the Dragon Throne after missions, and takes Ethari with him, and usually that meant he also got to visit with Lain and Tiadrin for a while as well as decompressing alone with his husband on nice quiet rides across Xadia, which just so happened to ride past the Midnight Desert where Nyx was doing her community service for whatever she probably stole once, with her Runaan-colored eye and her Ethari-made staff... uhhhhh 

Runaan doing things for several reasons at once? That checks out.

[ashevillephotography]

Shadow checking out the fallen leaves on a trail at Mount Pisgah near Asheville, North Carolina.