#rambling about WoW

[katieskarlette]

Long time, no ramble

I read The Calling, the new short story about Anduin. It was heart wrenching, emotional and poignant...but I couldn't stop thinking about how much I disliked the plot that sent him on this trajectory.

No matter how well Anduin's PTSD and guilt are handled, I can't forget that they stem from the train wreck of Shadowlands. He should never have been put in this position in the first place.

Just as Anduin was literally yoinked into the sky by the Jailer's minions to start the expansion, he was also yoinked out of his plot arc. He was starting to come into his own as a king, moving beyond his father's shadow bit by bit, finding the balance between his own peace-loving tendencies and the grim necessity of some violence in a world such as Azeroth. There were hints that he was struggling with the balance of Light and Shadow, as well. All of that character development came to a screeching halt when he got kidnapped and turned into Zovaal's puppet.

What made pre-Shadowlands Anduin unique was his stubborn insistence on empathy in a world full of bloodthirsty warmongers. The siege of Undercity at the start of BFA was the perfect microcosm of that: he set down Shalamayne and used the Light to heal/rez his soldiers instead. He was finding ways to lead that were effective but which allowed him to be true to his ideals.

There was nothing wrong with the way Varian led his people (or at least nothing that I want to get into right now), but that doesn't mean his style is the right choice for Anduin. I've always had a soft spot for characters who are like, "Yeah, I know the world is a cruel place. I'm not naïve. But that's all the more reason to spread hope and kindness."

I would have been fine with a plot where Anduin struggles to find a happy medium between "We must strive for peace" and "We need to mercilessly obliterate our enemies to protect innocent lives," and errs too much on the side of violence. He could feel the same remorse and lack of trust in himself as he does in the current canon, feel unworthy of the Light, think back on how Varian atoned for some of his misdeeds, and grow as a person. It would mean more if he was actually making choices and working through the consequences.

As it stands, Anduin is beating himself up over something that isn't his fault, even a little bit. I sympathize with him up to a point, but by the end of the short story I was frustrated and even a little annoyed with his stubborn self-hatred. He's not stupid, and it's not like being controlled by evil forces is a new concept for an Azerothian. He comes across as obtuse when he insists that he's indelibly tainted by what happened to him, when he personally knows people who have been in similar situations and did not become pariahs.

(Yes, I know trauma responses aren't logical. Irrational guilt and survivor's guilt exist. But realism doesn't necessarily translate into a satisfying narrative. And yes, characters need to change and face challenges, but when those challenges were born from atrocious writing it leaves a bad taste in the audience's mouth.)

Is there dramatic irony in the kind, altruistic character not being able to extend the same grace to himself? Of course. But is Blizzard's storytelling capable of that level of nuance? Forgive me for being skeptical. I'm sure he will find himself again and heal through the coming expansions, but, again, I'm not optimistic that it will be handled well.

I'm probably judging the story too harshly because my patience for WoW's story ran out during Shadowlands and I'm still bitter. If they had to try to salvage a halfway decent character arc from the bullshit of that expansion, this is probably the best way to go about it.

The new short story was well-written and tugged at the heartstrings. It just didn't win me back. I didn't expect it to, though. Instead I continue to mourn a franchise that captivated me for many years before its trip to the realm of Death meant the demise of my devotion. :(

Disclaimer: I didn't hate everything about Shadowlands. Sire Denathrius can read off a list of my sins anytime. Aww yeah. The rest can be retconned to oblivion, though. ;)

[flame-shadow]

hey did you know??? that if you stop stretching and maintaining mobility in your body then it goes away?? things get tight and you can't move the way that you used to??? and when you decide to try getting a stretch routine going that the first week fucking sucks because you keep going 'damn i used to be able to do this no problem' and then you have to switch gears and be kind to yourself and just focus on getting better from here instead of berating yourself for dropping the good habits in the first place??? and your body never stops aging so you gotta keep taking care of it and sometimes you gotta take care of it extra in certain areas because of things that happened when you were younger and it's boring and sometimes hurts but it's so necessary???

i am yelling this at myself right now i am going through An Experience (trying to get into a routine of body maintenance again for my physical and mental health)

[tar-frogs]

no bc it's not too late. i found your heart, it's still beating. there's still time. come with me. life doesn't have to feel this way. it's not supposed to feel this way. the person you want to be, the person you're capable of becoming has been inside you this whole time. look inside, open up; you're not hollow or empty you are full of life and love and color and everything you thought you could be and so much more. and it's not too late. you can still find yourself. there's still time. you're not gone. your heart is still beating. but you're dying. you're dying slowly, and quickly. and time isn't right. and you're so much more than this. you were so much more than this. you ARE so much more than this. you can escape. we can escape. you don't have to be alone, none of us do. we can be free and ourselves, away from the shackles of where we once held ourselves, of where other people kept us. there's still time. but time is moving fast. and time is moving slow. time is moving constantly. everything is shifting, moving. nothing is stagnant. except for you. but you don't have to be. you are everything. you are nothing if you don't try to be. you are whole. and you are wonderful. and you could be everything you could've ever dreamt of. and there is still time

[sad-leon]

Finding Home part 9!!!

Leo is back at the lair and this time he's gonna stay put,,, for now :3

Masterpost

KoFi || Patreon

[calmlb]

hoshikawa has done such an incredible job of portraying Dazai from Chuuya’s perspective… back before he figured out that Dazai’s demon persona was just that… a persona. an act

before he learned to see through Dazai’s fronts

Dazai made people think he was uncaring & heartless, when this was his intention all along (he does this in Stormbringer & Dead Apple too)

Chuuya sees Dazai manipulating him…

but he doesn’t see that Mori is manipulating Dazai

“I do it all for the organization and the protection of this beloved city.” —Mori

[flowercrowngods]

Steve startles awake, disoriented and filled with a slight bout of panic — as always when he takes a nap that turns into five hours of deep sleep and catapults him right into the next dimension for a while there.

Heart racing, he blinks his dark bedroom into existence, and it takes him a while to realise where he is and what woke him up.

And then the landline phone on his nightstand rings again, and he exhales deeply before reaching for it with clumsy, sluggish movements.

“‘Ello?”

“Steve,” comes Eddie’s sing-song voice from the other end, washing over Steve in a soothing way that leaves him falling back into the pillows. He clutches the phone to his ear as he closes his eyes, the smile already forming at how happy Eddie sounds. He rarely sings Steve’s name like that. He should do it more often.

“Hi there.” His voice sounds like shit. Like he just took a — Jesus Christ, has it really been four hours? Well. He sounds exactly like someone who took a four-hour nap after a shit day at work would sound like.

There’s fumbling on the other end, but it stops suddenly. “Did I wake you? Shit man, I thought it was past nap time.”

“I don’t have nap time,” Steve grumbles, actually pouting at Eddie’s words and realising only a second too late how ridiculous he sounds.

“Sure, man, whatever you say. We all know you’re actually just a life-sized toddler.”

Steve sputters, sitting up against his headboard as he gradually wakes up. “Hey! Also, I don’t think you actually understand what life-sized means.”

“Yes, I do.”

Steve shakes his head at this ridiculous, ridiculous man. “What exactly do you think a non-life-sized toddler looks like, Eduardissimo?”

“Like Dustin.”

The answer is so quick and deadpan, Steve cannot contain the laugh that bursts out of him, waking him up quicker and gentler than anything else in the world could have, and he revels in the sound of Eddie joining him. He must look so smug right now, and so damn proud of himself. Steve wants to see him. Wants to kiss that smile right from his lips and replace it with something a lot more genuine.

“You’re an asshole,” he says instead, pulling his blanket further around him as he lifts his knees to sit more comfortably.

Eddie hums, still teasing somehow with just that noise, and Steve just can’t stop smiling. “You like me so much, Harrington.”

“Hmm,” he mirrors Eddie’s hum, but even he can hear the smile on his face. “Jury’s still out on that one, actually.”

“Any tendencies yet on the verdict?”

“Nope, they can’t decide.”

Eddie snorts at that, and Steve has no idea how that can sound so sweet. But it does. He buries his smile in his knees for a bit, the blanket hot around his burning cheeks. He’s hopeless.

“Well, let me know as soon as they do, yeah?”

“Will do,” he laughs, ruining all his attempts to sound solemn. “So what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Oh!” And suddenly it’s like a switch has been flipped and Eddie doesn’t sound teasing and smug anymore, but instead just fucking giddy! “I have a bed now!”

Steve smiles at it. At that voice, that tone, that infectious emotion. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” More fumbling on the other end, and Steve can only imagine that Eddie is rolling around in his newly acquired bed.

Who’s the life-sized toddler now, hm?

“No more sleeping on the floor for this Munson boy, nuh-uh, my good sir! We are in possession of a bed now. A wooden bed, no fancy headboard or anything, just…”

“Just a bed,” Steve says, feeling like he’s about to burst into a million little particles of fondness and affection and the never-ending need to kiss Eddie. To hold him. To touch him in any way he can. “That’s great, Edsie.”

“It is, Stevesie.”

“Man, I hate you so much,” Steve squints at the ceiling and laughs, actually kicking his feet, the minute breeze providing a little relief for the heat in his face.

And Eddie has no business to sound so smug when he says, “Yeah, you do.”

A pause then, and it feels loaded even through the phone. Steve clutches it closer to his face, hoping stupidly that Eddie can feel it.

“You should come hate me in my new bed.”

Steve’s breath hitches, and his brain shuts off for a hot second there. Before he can overthink this, he decides to just… play along. And listen to what his heart has been telling him for months now.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, breathless still, but his whole body tingles with just these two words. With the possibility they bring. The offer that they are. The question. The everything that’s stored in them.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and he sounds just as breathless. “I mean, if— If you want to?”

“I do.” Steve swallows. “Right, uh— Right now?”

“Whenever.” And it sounds more like an As soon as possible.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, scrambling out of bed as quickly as possible, pulling off his shirt with the phone still pressed to his ear, letting out an embarrassing noise as it gets tangled in a mess of cord and fabric. He scrambles to free it, almost dropping it in the process. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“To come look at my new bed?”

“Sure.”

On the other end, Eddie laughs again, but he still sounds just as breathless as Steve does. Just as excited. As fragile. Just as many fucking things.

“Alright,” Eddie murmurs, though Steve can still hear the smile. “I’ll see you then.”

And then he hangs up before either of them can get lost in their own heads about this sudden certainty of change. Steve is grateful for the steady noise of the dial tone reminding him that this is happening. But that nothing has to happen.

It’s a nice bed, he finds hours later, fingers combing through Eddie’s hair who’s cuddling him half asleep. It’s the best fucking bed he’s ever seen, if only because it led to this.

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @stobin-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 (lmk if you want on or off)

[severevoiddragon]

I haven't seen anyone talk about how Joel and Bdubs genuinely helped Pearl. Like, they knew what her task was. But they valued their alliance more than the reward they may have gotten for guessing correctly. And pearl was. So scared they'd guess seriously, like she was literally running away as Joel spoke his 'guess', and then turned around like 'oh'. She'd put so much into that alliance, but didn't expect them to reciprocate it. But they did. And I think that shocked her in a positive way.

[mixmangosmangoverse]

The discussion around the fandomization of the I/P conflict is so fucking relevant because why did I just see someone in a discord for a reaction channel that reacts to musicals and cartoons suggest them to react to the Columbia ""protests"" with a heart emoji as if it's another episode of their favorite show and SIX other people agreed with that

[idontcaboose]

Haunted Car Au Part 12

Previous. Masterpost

Danny wasn't completely sure what all of the sound files Duke uploaded into the radio storage. Granted, the fact that there was apparently a 10 Terabyte hard drive just for the radio seemed a bit much, although it was over half full before Duke gave him a metric butt load of sound bytes, so maybe Batman was onto something. Now it was about three-quarters full…. How many files were there?

Either way, whoever named these files are the MvP of this entire situation. Either they were just the name of the saying, or we're named something like ‘exasperated 4’ and they were On Point!

Unfortunately there weren't any defined names other than movie references. Why were there three different versions of the “Hey, Becky, look at her butt” Danny didn't know, but he might use them for reasons.

Duke had left him alone with a disgruntled “Good Luck” after Danny started playing the ‘mood’ files to see exactly what they were. He figured Duke would come back in a few hours to have a “conversation” about his predicament. Until then……

DID THEY SOUND BYTE BATMAN HIMSELF?!?!?!

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[myokk]

🥺

[diazisms]

i'm still on "i come from catholics. latin catholics." because explaining the fact that he was raised in the church is explanation enough for the guilt and the complicated feelings towards religion. the fact that he associates being latino with catholicism or maybe catholicism with being latino is what really gets to me. eddie ties this religion — this religion he feels so guilty for abandoning, that still follows him around him everywhere — with his culture. being mexican, being latino, is integral to eddie. abuela's tamales and telenovelas and machismo he refuses to pass down to his son. and, in his eyes, catholicism is twisted in with that. the kind of knot you can't undo. that goes so much deeper than just a complicate relationship with religion. it's not just religion, it's culture, too. his culture. it's the people he grew up with, it's his childhood friends he met at his catholic elementary school, it's the church in el paso where he got married before shannon started showing. eddie thought he was free from catholic guilt because he stopped going to church a long time ago and he was fine with that, but he'll never stop being latino. and that, to him, is inherently religious. god, the implications of that. the fact that, to eddie, being queer wouldn't just disappoint a god he doesn't believe in anymore. it'd separate him from his culture. because he's okay with going to hell but who is he without abuela's crossing? without his st christopher pendant? disappointing god isn't the problem. not having a place to belong is what's terrifying.

[katieskarlette]

Xal'atath cuts on me for being properly prepared for raids (a.k.a. using a flask.) Sure, lady incomprehensible void being. Whatever you say.

I wish I'd had my fire crown transmog instead of those glasses that look kind of wonky, but I should just be glad it generated a video for me despite my lack of an active subscription.

I had it make one for my rogue, Fahradion, too, but it was even less interesting. She praised how many Cataclysm raid bosses he killed. Well, yeah, he did the Fangs of the Father legendary quest and farmed mounts in Dragon Soul that never dropped--a few expansions after that was current content. So not nearly as impressive as it seemed. Then she pointed out that he had done the /facepalm emote a grand total of two times. Oooh, fascinating.

Am I playing TWW? I have no immediate plans to. Which is depressing because I've been there for every expansion release since Illidan told me I wasn't prepared. But I lost my WoW mojo in Shadowlands, and quit literally an hour after dinging level cap in Dragonflight. I didn't even finish the story quests in the last zone. Just dinged, finished the quest series I was in the middle of, and then never logged in again and let my sub expire.

I miss the way WoW used to make me feel. But I can't force myself to feel that way again, and if Dragonflight didn't rekindle that spark, nothing will.

I didn't participate in any of the iterations of the game (rewinds, seasons of mastery, whatever) that have been around lately to encourage people to replay old content for new rewards. Honestly I think that would make me feel worse about those days being gone.

I might play through TWW at some point. Or I might not. I've followed (most of) the lore developments because I do still have interest in where the story is going. Just not enough interest to deal with ever-changing game mechanics and a toxic player base, or enough confidence that the story won't be a trainwreck again.

I do try to keep this blog's queue fed with a post a day that fits the theme of Warcraft, dragons, or Warcraft dragons.

If anyone reading this is going to play TWW, I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Go set some critters on fire for me.

[nomoretumbler]

the morning after the storm (avm 30)

reference (found on pinterest):

[legobenkenobi]

the way Obi-Wan writes about Cody in his journal is so tender for a lot of reasons but one i’m thinking about a lot is how it’s probably one of the very, VERY few remaining pieces that preserves who Commander Cody ACTUALLY was, outside of the chip and being forced into Order 66.

Obi-Wan is memorializing Cody along with all the people who were important to him for Luke and anyone who comes after to see because he knows no one else will and also that no one else spent the war with Cody like he did and got to know him in that strange, intimate way of being on the front lines together.

he’s keeping Cody alive in those pages despite everything, despite not knowing the truth about the chips. ohhh im so ill

[crybaby-bkg]

“I thought I was supposed to be the old person in this relationship,” Toji’s voice rings out in the previously quiet atmosphere, makes your head whip up in surprise. your concentration is broken from your prior engagement, hands slowing as you can’t help the smile that grows on your face at his teasing.

“Crocheting is for any and all ages,” you snark back at him, taking in how he watches the way your hands still move rhythmically—yarn over, pull through two loops, yarn over, pull through the last two, chain four, repeat. “You weren’t talking shit when I made you that sweater for your birthday.”

“Yeah I did, cause it itched like all hell.” He teases, makes you stick your tongue out at him playfully. he wore that sweater everywhere, to the point you damn near had to rip it off of him to put it in the wash. (the only times he didn’t wear it was when he knew he’d get it dirty while doing his…business ventures, which you didn’t mind. you’d rather he go a day without wearing it than googling how to wash blood out of a crocheted sweater that took you weeks to make.)

by the time you snap back to reality, Toji has already crossed the room, standing in front of where you sit cross legged in the comfy recliner he brought just for when you crocheted. it takes you aback by how quickly he moved, so silently, face suddenly warm as you look up at him from under your lashes. his eyes are dark, shadowed by his fringe, his hands in his pockets, his head cocked to the side. he looks devious.

“What are you cooking up in that pretty little head of yours?” you ask him, finally pausing your hands as you rest them in your lap. but Toji doesn’t let you, no. instead, he holds them back up in front of your face as he sinks to his knees in front of you, his smile wide and evil, pulling your legs from under you as he settles them on his shoulders.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he croons to you, kissing the inner part of your knee, eyes still glued to your burning face. “Just keep doing your little old lady hobby while I busy myself.” without warning, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, grinning when he’s met with the bare beauty that is your pussy. you shudder at the air that breezes past you, try to focus on chaining when he squeezes at your thighs with warm, veiny hands.

“But I can’t focus on counting my stitches when your face is between my legs.” you pout to him, hoping it’ll sway him to eat you out and then let you continue your project. but he doesn’t put his mouth on you until you start again, rewards you with a single wet, smacking kiss where you need it most.

“Guess you’re gonna have to learn how to multitask, sweetheart.” Toji grins before he licks a long stripe from taint to clit, your hands hiccuping in their movements. you can feel his smile more than see it, and come to the realization that he’s an evil, evil man. (you have to recount your stitches more than once, and even after you’re fucked out from euphoria and bliss, you still think you’re missing a few.)

[shyshitter]

it’s been discussed before but hear me out. dean confesses before cas. death has already gone for his heart and cas saved him. there’s a chair between them and his hand shakes as he decides to bridge the gap. he stares at cas’s concerned yet resigned profile and realizes death is going to take his heart again. god took his bravery and death will take his love before dean can do anything about it. he’s made up his mind when cas starts talking to him but cas has already interrupted dean’s speech once and this time dean’s gripping his courage by his bloody fingernails. before he can stop himself, before he can chicken out, he interrupts cas. he apologizes profusely, for everything, for getting cas into this mess, for dragging cas down with him, for treating him like shit, for treating jack like shit. he thanks cas endlessly, for helping him, for staying as long as he has, for choosing him, for forgiving him, for saving him, for saving sam, for saving the world. he pauses, the words nearly choking up in his throat, but he sees cas open his mouth to interrupt and that can’t happen so he keeps going almost mindlessly. “I love you,” he says, eyes wide and both hands gripping cas’s shoulders as if he’s keeping cas from flying off. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time but I didn’t know what to do about it, I didn’t want you to feel bad for not reciprocating. I tried to forget about it or drown it with something else but I failed. Just like I failed now. And now we’re both gonna die. I’m sorry I’m dumping this on you now but I needed to say it, I needed it to be real and my choice, not god’s, not death’s not—” something black begins swirling in the corner of his eye and cas is crying. is he that upset by dean’s feelings? cas removes dean’s hands from his shoulders and switches them so it’s cas clinging to dean. “You weren’t supposed to say it,” cas says between sobs. dean frowns and glances behind him at the black ooze. he knows that ooze. He says cas’s name when he turns back around and cas is still crying but solidifies his face. he shoves dean to the side of the room before using his grace to open the door and grant access to death. the ooze is growing and spitting thick black tendrils around the room. cas’s eyes meet deans. they’re both crying now although dean still doesn’t know why. a black tendril grabs death and drags them through the ooze. cas starts saying something urgently that sounds like “Dean, I lo—” before he’s gone too, stolen by the ooze. dean stares at the spot where cas stood and begins to understand. cas is gone and he doesn’t know why exactly but he had something to do with it. once again, dean felt too much and destroyed the one he loved in the process. he should’ve let death take him instead.