#Sylvanas would give it her all

[rangergeneralsylvanas]

(New Career Choice): Summer Camp Counselor

"A challenge? I accept!" Sylvanas says determinedly. She had no idea what that was but it sounded challenging.

#rangergeneralsylvanas #lady-proudmoore #career choice #Sylvanas would give it her all #i know its banshee Sylvanas in the gif but theres not much ranger general gifs

[shadowglens]

and also while i’m here! i’m also having many natine thoughts as well because not only did khadgar show up within the first five minutes of dragonflight, but so did lor’themar

#txt #ch: natine sunstalker #like ok i know no one knows the expansive dramatic natine x lor'themar lore i have in my head #but essentially they were together for years but separated when natine refused to break her loyalty to sylvanas back in bfa #and after sylvanas went all Evil Lady natine fled the horde in shame - for having essentially betrayed her people #and also found out she was pregnant with lor'themar's child during this time which was! a lot! #and so natine essentially fled to the broken isles where she was still revered as a highlord and had a whole temple of loyal priestesses #and she had faylin and hid the fact that lor'themar had a daughter from him for Years which was honestly kind of terrible of her #the fact that she was in the broken isles and spent some time slipping into dalaran meant her and khadgar kept in close contact #so him being the one to bring news about the threat in dragonflight gives me the Perfect opportunity to drag natine back into things #she travels with khadgar to ogrimmar after he convinces her that they need her help #fayin would be like 5 ish so she's probably not with natine #which is in hindsight a good thing because natine comes face to face with lor'themar for the first time in years #and he still loves her so much but also hates her for turning her back on their people and him #they were married! they were happy! she was the regent lady of silvermoon! #and even with the years and trauma and hatred they both just stand there staring at each other for a moment #before khadgar awkwardly interjects and natine snaps herself out of it and turns her back on lor'themar (again) #idk if he even knows that faylin exists at this point #rommath for sure knows she does but i like to think he and natine met a few times and he promised to keep her secret #for faylin's safety as much as natine's sanity #khadgar of course knows but he manages to keep his mouth shut about it #i haven't thought about them in so long but the drama and pain of it all is just so so so good #natine x lor'themar #for posterity even though they're essentially divorced at this point ahjsfgadhsf #oh also i'm just ignoring the lor'themar and thalyssra content sorry #pregnancy tw #idk its very briefly mentioned

[regentlord]

He clapped the young leader on his arm, then stepped back, indicating that Baine should proceed to his people’s traditional place on the left of the warchief’s throne. At least Garrosh had made no effort to demote the tauren. Baine noted that Lor’themar was now on the right side of Garrosh, and next to the blood elves’ sea of gold and red was the green skin of the goblins. Sylvanas and her Forsaken were directly opposite the orc, and Vol’jin and his trolls sat next to Baine.

and

“Out of all the leaders, save Gallywix—who is supportive merely because he sees coins to be made—you are the only one who doesn’t question your warchief. Not even when Sylvanas tries to play upon your sympathy. I respect that, elf. Know that your loyalty to me is duly noted.” “The Horde embraced and supported my people when no one else would,” Lor’themar replied. “I will not forget that. And so, my loyalty, and that of my people, is to the Horde.” Unease stirred in Garrosh as he noticed a slight emphasis on Lor’themar’s last word. “I am the Horde’s warchief, Lor’themar. And as such, I am the Horde.” “You are its warchief,” Lor’themar said, agreeing readily. “Is that all you wish of me? My people are anxious to return home and prepare for the war that is to come.” “Of course,” Garrosh said. “You may go.” Lor’themar had said nothing inflammatory, but the unease did not dissipate as Garrosh regarded the sea of red and gold move toward the gates of Orgrimmar. “That one is worth watching,” he said to Malkorok.

just made me think that at the same time garrosh despised the blood elves as much as he despised everyone who isn't an orc (and even some of them) he really wanted them to be his loyal underlings except lor'themar hates his guts and was just careful not to show it ♥️

#it's the fact he doesn't offer sylvanas aid in her plea to protect the sin'dorei and don't act suspicious #but at the same time #the one bit where they talk and garrosh speaks of his loyalty #and he says his loyalty and that of his people is to the horde #and garrosh is all 'i am the warchief. i am the horde.' #and lor'themar just replies 'you are the warchief' ???? #king behavior #» out of character �� ⌜number one elf apologist.⌟ #like... taking the place of honor from the trolls and giving it to the belfs #wanting to talk directly to lor to acknowledge his 'loyalty' while saying no one else was that loyal #if he was a cheap bitch lor'themar may have taken the scraps but he is not #and he's not dumb most of all and he knew sooner or later garrosh would come for his people too #it's the fact garrosh was so easily played tbh #until he was not and fucked over the belfs but oh well #i just think that's interesting #lor'themar vc: as if i'd be on the side that has garrosh and gallywix. lol. lmao even.

[trans-zhongli]

i think ppl forget that the story in WoW from a new player's POV is probably just fine. like, it tells a cohesive story and makes sense with the current way the characters are written. you are of course allowed to criticize and dislike the direction they have taken the characters as you knew them, but you should also take a sec to examine it As It Stands, not as it was. they retcon stuff sometimes for a reason, to make it a better story today, at least how they want to tell it. i think that jaina's story in BFA was really good. i think that sylvanas' arc was pretty terrible, but makes sense when you look at it in context of how the game tells it today.

totally reasonable to dislike what they've changed and dislike the direction they are taking the characters. but i also think that, when you are working with over 20 years of lore, retcons are GOING to happen, because maybe you realize you want to take the character in a different direction, maybe a new writer has a diff perspective on the character, maybe you just need to tell a certain narrative. there are a lot of storylines that people dislike because they remember it being different, but actually stand well on their own. the story has changed, it's fine, just read it again

#yeah i do actually enjoy a lot of aspects of WoW's current story even if it's not super good overall #i think that the more in-depth they take a character the less people they can make happy #because solidifying and examining a character is going to challenge fanon perceptions #having vague characters allows people to project onto them #also i think the 'they make every woman crazy evil' is like kind of opposite like... whenever blizzard gives female characters any depth #let's them deal with trauma or be angry or evil #that female character is deemed evil and crazy BY THE COMMUNITY #i don't think that sylvanas or jaina or tyrande were treated like crazy evil bitches...... i think that the exploration of their trauma- #-made people see them that way. people don't want to see the female characters get mad or have a villain/redemption arc #because if they aren't kind and good then they have been 'turned crazy' #i think that tyrande and jaina had really really good arcs and weren't treated by the narrative as crazy or evil at ALL #people projected that onto them!! they say Woman Mad and then got mad that Woman Hysterical!! you read into that!! #tyrande was right and she should say it! jaina dealt with her trauma BADLY and that is INTERESTING AND ADDS DEPTH #if illidan was female people would say he was turned into a feast bitch by bliss

[mikaila-orchard]

Anduin still gets more respect and dignity than Sylvanas ever did and I'm still mad about it.

Aight, the new WoW trailer stirred up some old animosity that I have to get out lest it fester.

The problem I've had with Anduin for the past few years is something that isn't even strictly his fault, and is just symptomatic of how shitty the writing staff is. In theory, Anduin is an interesting bit of flavor for the Alliance. Someone who was raised in a very turbulent time in the Alliance's history, gone through some shit when he was too early to handle it and is plagued with self doubt because of it. All of this complimented by Velen's vision of Anduin's future going down two very different roads.

Alas, the problem is in execution. Because what we are left with in practice is a character who goes through comparatively less than other legacy characters (Thrall being raised as a slave, Jaina losing her home and loved ones regularly and Sylvanas with fucking everything) but who, by the time Shadowlands rolls around, insists that he is the one suffering the most and everyone else needs to get over themselves. And that wouldn't be so bad (hell, in Shadows Rising, it's kinda treated as a genuine character flaw) but that's not the case because WoW treats Anduin like the moral barometer of the franchise for many years now.

There are multiple examples of this throughout, but the biggest culprit is all across BFA and Shadowlands, where Anduin is made to understand the hardships that Sylvanas and the Forsaken have suffered, most of it by the Alliance's hands, and just shuts it down with "Everyone suffers, stop hiding behind your trauma and rise above it," and because BFA is framing him as the hero and Sylvanas as the villain he gets away with it. In the fucking Sylvanas book, he has the gall to say Sylvanas had a better life than him because she knew her mother and calls her selfish for committing suicide. And of course the book frames Anduin as being in the right about all of this because they decided Sylvanas holding him captive was the time they would even allow to let her reach out to someone and hope they understand her. The deck was always stacked against Sylvanas and in Anduin's favor in terms of audience sympathy.

But then, what happens in Shadowlands? He gets dominated by Zovaal, stabs the Archon (doesn't even kill her), maybe kills a bunch of unnamed npcs off screen, and fights his friends. Not a single tally to add to his body count while he was a puppet. And when he is freed from Zovaal's control, he doesn't lose his support system, he doesn't lose the respect of his loved ones or his people, and he's not put under pressure to just be okay again.

AND YET!

He still goes on this self imposed exile of his, and has been on it for over half a decade at this point, because he is just too haunted by everything he's 'seen and done'. Things that we as the audience don't really see. So in practice, the justification for all this on screen angst is so painfully weak. And yes, there's no wrong way to respond to trauma and there never will be, and Anduin's trauma responses are far from unrealistic.

But compared to Sylvanas, Anduin is giving a great deal more respect and dignity by the narrative for, comparatively, much less. Sylvanas was enslaved and forced to murder her countrymen (onscreen too, we MADE HER DO THAT in warcraft 3) and when she was finally freed, she had no support system besides her rangers and Nathanos, she was feared by her former homeland who only accepted her help out of desperation and was hated and distrusted by enemies and allies alike way before she might have done anything to deserve it. The game even leans into the idea that the Sylvanas who suffered all this trauma isn't the real Sylvanas and we just needed to restore her soul to have the pure pious ranger general back (barf). And she still has to toil away in superhell because the writers were too chickenshit to fully backpedal on the deliberate character assassination the sexual predator on staff forced upon her.

"Oh, but M'Kay! That's the writers fault, not Anduin's! You can't blame him for all that."

Maybe not but a lot of the issue here comes from the fact that so long as the people who enabled this inequity of care remains on staff (IE fucking GOLDEN) this won't stop. So what choice do I have but to loathe the byproduct of this fuckery when it's being shoved in my face like this? What other way could I possibly interpret this disparity other than as misogyny?

#wow #world of warcraft #sylvanas windrunner #anduin wrynn critical #though honestly its mostly christie golden critical #and yes I will probably remain salty about this until the day I die

[redisaid]

Strangers - Part 1 of ??

A very special shoutout to @jujoobedoodling for their amazing art, and for sharing this neat little idea with me when I asked if there's any sort of fics they'd like to see.

So, fellas, is it gay to make Sylvaina fall in love over prison letters, in a nutshell? I dunno. Let's find out.

5146 Words

Read it on Ao3!

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

Jaina wants to assure her she didn't come to stare at her like she's some sabercat in a cage—teeth dulled on the bars, roar hoarse and failing. Only she realizes now that this is exactly why she's come. A wave of shame threatens to crash over her, but she dismisses it. She came to deliver Veressa’s letter, and to banish the notion that Sylvanas Windrunner truly was a stranger to her.

Staring at Sylvanas, waiting for her to rattle the bars of her would be cage, would do neither of those things for her.

“Certainly not you,” Sylvanas continues, drawling out the last word with her high, nasally elven accent, still chiming in a banshee double-tone.

They stand now in the Maw, where Jaina had been asked by her friend to draw an interdimensional portal to deliver a letter to her sister as only she and a handful of other mages on Azeroth could. Jaina had been reluctant to agree. She had refused at first, of course.

But here she was, all the same.

You, with that drawl and sneer and the arrow still aimed between her eyes, was about all that Jaina deserved from this woman. After all, Vereesa was right—at best, they were strangers.

“What is it you’ve come for? To deliver more demands from Tyrande? To report to her? To make sure I am completing my penance? Or did you come to gloat?”

The accusations pile up. Jaina lets them. She scans the tangle of strange and unnatural rocks jutting from the charcoal earth of this literal hell. It doesn’t take her long to realize she’s stumbled upon Sylvanas’ camp. Her home here in the Maw, simple, but well lived-in. The undead have no need for food or sleep and suffer minimally from lack of shelter, and while Jaina knows this, she still observes a makeshift bedroll, the embers of a dying fire, clustered close to a lean-to made mostly of chunks of dull grey metal, once the armor of some great beast or terrible construct long since vanished after its master’s defeat.

It has been a year on Azeroth. Jaina knows time stretches in the Shadowlands, but not by a factor of how much. She wonders how long it has been since Sylvanas has seen another person. Two years? A decade? A century?

The woman herself is little better than her camp. Her armor sits beside the fire, mostly shrugged off in rest, and while it looks well-kept, it is still worn. The dark leathers she wears beneath it, and now exclusively, are much the same. At first glance, they do not look so different as when she lay in Oribos after her own defeat, as Uther bade them to wait for her to wake and explain her actions. However, Jaina’s keen eyes find the rips and the tears, the mending that has been executed with scraps of grey cloth and grey metal and grey leather fashioned from the skin of a grey, doubly dead beast. Everything here is grey. Hell is devoid of color, but Sylvanas’ eyes burn into her, bright and blue, demanding an answer.

So she gives it, “None of those are my reason. Your sister, my friend…Vereesa asked me to come.”

Truly, Vereesa’s choices were limited. Only those who had walked the Maw, of their volition or Sylvanas’, could safely find it again. Only fewer of the great mages of Azeroth were capable of entering it without going through Oribos, or asking permission from the entities that ruled there. Jaina, Khadgar, and a few heroic Mawwalkers perhaps were the only ones who could have delivered this letter. And while Jaina had been reluctant, she was not about to offer Khadgar the excuse to use this place as another of his many distractions if Vereesa were to ask him instead.

At least, that was another one of her reasons for accepting.

Only now does the arrow lower, and the bow with it. At the mention of her sister’s name, Sylvanas gives up her fight.

“How can I trust her not to tear me apart, if we’re to be alone there?” Jaina had asked the youngest Windrunner sister, back in her office in Boralus, days ago.

“I suppose you can’t,” had been Vereesa’s answer. “You don’t know her.”

Jaina holds out the letter. It is folded neatly and sealed and she has done her best to resist the temptation to read it or even scry upon it with magic. Such is her trust for Vereesa. Her sister, not so much.

Perhaps this will be the end of it, then. She’ll deliver her letter. She’ll make arrangements for a response. She’ll leave. Sylvanas will go back to gathering souls, living even though she does not live, in this ramshackle camp—this prison of her own making. Jaina will have done something good and satisfied her curiosity. The sabercat will wither in her cage, having gained only further shame from her observation.

Jaina isn’t sure why she expects anything more than that, but she does.

“She wrote you a letter,” she explains. “I’m not able to bring her here like this for her to deliver it herself. Perhaps something can be arranged for her to visit by other means, if you’re interested.”

Sylvanas hesitates. Jaina watches her think.

She watches her closely, waiting for the muscles in her broad shoulders to twitch and aid in pointing her bow upward again. She finds more rends in her leathers, more attempts at mending. She watches, and finds a woman determined, though for what she isn’t certain.

Sylvanas Windrunner as she is now is a stranger to her. Once, her eyes burned red with rage and hatred and it was easy enough to say that Jaina had known her as an enemy. She and her Forsaken whispered, “Death to the living,” though they were of the same people Jaina had once led in Theramore—survivors of Lordaeron, as it were. Scarred in different ways by the same man.

Yet as before, even when Uther, dead and scarred by the same hand, bid Jaina to see reason and work with Sylvanas to defeat the Jailer, she cannot help but to fall into old habits. Magic pulses at her fingertips, waiting. She is ready for Sylvanas to attack her. She is ready to know her as an enemy once again.

This woman burned Teldrassil. She’d resurrected Derek to use against her. She’d blighted her own city in a rage rather than give it to the Alliance, to Jaina specifically, who had turned that battle in their favor.

Jaina is certain that this is still what she is—a burner and blighter, a screaming banshee that knows only hatred—and she’s ready for her.

She is not ready for Sylvanas to put down her bow and the arrow knocked within it, and begin to walk over to meet her.

She’s not ready for the soft muttering that follows, and the wry chuckle that comes with it, “I doubt Tyrande would allow me such a luxury as a visit from my sister.”

This is no banshee, no formless enemy. No, Sylvanas is an elf, still undead and still much unchanged from the last time Jaina saw her, but now walking toward her with purpose. She moves like Alleria, proud and powerful. She smirks a little, the same way as Vereesa does when she thinks no one is looking. Her hair, though dull and ashen in death, is a shade between Alleria’s honey gold and Vereesa’s cool silver.

“You’re so certain she’s changed?” Jaina had asked Vereesa before she’d left. “You were only allowed to speak with her for a few minutes.”

“I know my sister, Jaina,” Vereesa had replied, head tilted upward, smiling. “I know that I have her back, or I will, should she ever be allowed to return home.”

Where is home, Jaina wonders, holding out the letter, to a woman who died for her country, and razed the one she built out of the ashes of a nation everyone else abandoned?

If and when she completes her penance, who will want Sylvanas Windrunner, burner of trees, blighter of cities? Manipulated or not, she did these things. No amount of souls ferried to better places can change that. And while Vereesa claims much, she cannot move the inevitable mountains that will stand in her way if she chooses to defend her sister, to make a home for her in Azeroth again one day.

The dip of Sylvanas’ head upon her graceful neck seems to say to Jaina that she knows this. The way she holds up her hands, bare and long-fingered without any gloves or gauntlets to cover them, tells Jaina she knows what she is to her—an enemy still. A problem unwanted, surely.

But still, Jaina had agreed to come here. She is determined to make sure that the reason for it all was not as simple as gawking at a toothless beast, though Sylvanas doesn’t seem as though she will bite.

She takes the letter from her. She looks to her. She waits.

“I can’t speak for Tyrande, or any authority Oribos and its contingent might have on the matter,” Jaina tells her. “But I can deliver a reply, if you want.”

Now this close to her, Jaina can tell Sylvanas is taller than her sisters. More broad-shouldered like Alleria than slight as Vereesa is, bordering between both of them with the elder’s wildness and Vereesa’s well-manicured elven beauty. She is neither and both, but seems to have maintained some semblance of grooming, despite having no one to look nice for. Her hair is combed and neat. She is clean, with only the barest hint of the grey dust and ash that swirls in the air of this place clinging to her skin.

That grey, at least, is warm in nature, and Sylvanas’ is cold, more toward purple. Their meeting is an interesting contrast of hues.

“Very well,” she answers, one long finger tracing the seal on the letter as she eyes it. “I would offer you tea while you wait, but I have no such thing.”

While she waits. Jaina hadn’t assumed she’d be allowed to, asked to, or really anything but run off with sneers and insults at best, arrows at worst.

She supposes that if she hadn’t seen another person in a year, she too would want them to stay a while, no matter who they were. But has it been longer? The state of Sylvanas’ clothes says yes.

Jaina endeavors to break any falling of awkward silence to seek the answer, “It has been a year or so, on Azeroth, since I returned from the Shadowlands. Has it been the same for you?”

She stiffens, recalling who it was who brought her here the first time, though she saw little of Sylvanas then. Only the Mawsworn that were meant to hold her captive, and keep her from escaping Torghast, though she managed to do so several times. Jaina knows now that her purpose in doing so was just to keep her out of the way—to keep her from interfering with what was to be done with Anduin.

Anduin, another reason for her to come here. Yet she did not find him. The Maw is but one of many possible places the boy could have gone, though he’s hardly a boy anymore. Jaina knows what he did and was made to do weighs heavily on him. She’d thought that maybe he too would seek penance, and wouldn’t care if it was his own to seek, yet there is no sign of him here. This camp is meant only for one.

“There is no day or night here for me to know,” Sylvanas tells her as she slides a sharp-looking fingernail beneath the wax seal and opens the letter. “One could keep track by counting the hours, I suppose, but trust me, it is a dull pastime. It has been a long time. A very long time.”

A long time, Jaina thinks, to wear the same clothes and see no one but lost souls.

A spectral fluttering of wings catches her eye and reminds her that Sylvanas does have one other companion besides the souls she ferries. Dori’thur’s wide eyes catch Jaina’s as she looks up into the canopy formed by this tangle of rock, ironically almost nest-like. The owl spirit makes no motion to acknowledge her, so carefully does she watch her charge instead. Doomed or honored to be her warden, Jaina can’t decide. The owl, it seems, does not care either way. She just watches.

Sylvanas follows her gaze, and a little smile creaks its way into lips that seem to forget how to bend that way. “Don’t mind the owl. It loves to stare.”

“She. Dori’thur,” Jaina corrects.

Sylvanas’ blue eyes are wide for a moment, drinking in the information in a way that shows it is clearly new to her. No one bothered to tell her the name of her warden, really?

“I didn’t know,” Sylvanas confesses. “And here I’ve just been calling you owl this whole time,” she calls up at the spire of twisted stone that Dori’thur perches on.

The spirit cocks her head just slightly at Sylvanas, the first and only acknowledgement she gives.

Jaina stands for a moment, maybe two. She looks around at the humble camp, the spectral owl, the once fearsome undead elf in her ragged leathers, reading her letter with blue eyes that look strange on her.

Sylvanas looks up once Jaina’s gaze comes to rest on her. Her long brows furrow briefly, simmering in the awkwardness, the wrongness of this.

They have never met, despite all the things they both share and do not share, in a way that allowed them the luxury of quiet conversation. And despite the nagging curiosity that dragged her here, the continued insistence by Vereesa that she did not know her, or least as anything but an enemy, Jaina does not know what to say to her.

So instead, she offers, “I can go, and return after a time to allow you your privacy.”

Sylvanas nearly drops the letter. She takes a step toward her. She catches herself and does not take a second. She reaches out a bare and empty hand to Jaina, then drops it to her side immediately upon realizing what she’s done.

“No. No,” she says, trying to make the words come out not as a plea, but anything else. “A while for you is longer for me. I would—I would rather be as prompt as possible, you understand. I have my penance to work on, still more souls to guide. I don’t have time to wait around for you to return here.”

It is a poor excuse, and they both know it. They know it in the silence between the ask Sylvanas isn’t actually asking and the reply Jaina struggles to give. They know it in the way Sylvanas reaches for her, a woman she does not know in any other way but an enemy, and apparent friend to her younger sister and her owl warden, because she and her letter and her excuses for delivering it are the only reason she’s had any contact with something remotely like herself in a long, long time.

Jaina is living and breathing and human and annoyed, but curious. She is not undead and newly made whole of soul again, though she supposes that’s not so new anymore. She knows, though, that she cannot possibly understand what it is Sylvanas is thinking as she reaches for her. But still, she reaches.

Jaina does not leave. “I will wait then.”

Where she will wait is the question, really, and she sees Sylvanas ask it of herself too as she looks back toward her camp. Still, she gestures for Jaina to follow her.

It is a strange time she lives in, Jaina thinks, as she does.

And this is how she ends up seated on a stool of chipped rock, across the dying fire from where Sylvanas sits on her bed roll, reading her letter.

Sylvanas is undead and does not need a bed or a stool or a fire. Her owl warden is a spirit of nature and needs no comforts as well. Yet Sylvanas has made them, and taken the time to make them. She reads and sits cross-legged like a child. Jaina’s eyes pick at her leathers still, finding more wear and tear as she reads, counting the patches and stitches. It irks her. For some reason, of all the things, the state of her clothes bothers Jaina the most.

She’s never seen Sylvanas in anything other than fine armor, meant to intimidate as much as it was to impress. And while she still has fine armor, stacked neatly by the fire in her rest, Jaina can see that too is worn.

“Do you want new things?” Jaina eventually asks. She can’t stand the silence any longer, though from the rustling of the second of four pages, she knows Sylvanas isn’t done reading.

Sylvanas looks up. Her blue eyes dart from Jaina to her armor and herself. To the contrast of warm grey dust and cool grey skin. The mended rips and tears of her leathers match the similar state of her skin. Scars abound as little pale points and lines, streaking across her like stars in the night sky. Just barely visible at the tip of her sternum, beneath the dark leather, a gnarled and twisting point belies the deep scar where Frostmourne rent her and stole her soul, for the first time.

Sylvanas seems disturbed by the question, or perhaps by her own appearance. Maybe both. “I have done the best I could to maintain what I was given.”

“I didn’t mean to criticize,” Jaina tells her immediately, because this is the line she must draw and draw right away, regardless of how many cities this woman may have burned, or under whose influence she burned them. “It’s just—well, with Vereesa’s help, I’m sure, we could get you new things.”

“She has not mentioned this in her letter thus far,” Sylvanas says, holding up the paper as if it were the armor she so desperately seems to want to hide within now.

“She has not seen you,” Jaina tells her.

And I do not know you, she tells herself.

Jaina does not know her, but she knows the scars that form the map of the stars that make up her skin. She knows which is Frostmourne, which is the line under her eye from Saurfang’s ax at the Mak’gora. She knows there’s another from an ice lance she’s thrown, yes there, near her left elbow where there was a gap in her old skull armor.

She can feel that Sylvanas wants to shrink under her gaze, to disappear. But she does not. She sits up a little, chest out, daring Jaina to say something else.

“Then I’ll draft a list in my reply, and trust that you’ll explain the reasoning behind it,” Sylvanas offers in challenge.

“I will.”

Dori’thur, thankfully, chooses this time to swoop down and alight herself onto the top of Sylvanas’ lean-to, rather than leave them to simmer in silence again.

The owl looks between them, then at the paper in Sylvanas’ hands. Sylvanas, having gone back to reading, simply says, “Not for you, owl.”

“Dori’thur,” Jaina reminds.

“Not for you, Dori’thur. What an odd name,” Sylvanas notes, but says nothing else.

“Does she leave you to report to Tyrande?” Jaina wonders, watching both the owl and her charge now.

“That would require her to stop watching me, so no. I do not know how or if Tyrande knows what she sees. Frankly, it matters little to me. I have said that I will do what was asked of me. I do not need a babysitter to ensure that I do,” Sylvanas tells her.

Though Jaina catches something in the middle of her words. A brief dashing of blue eyes. Another little smirk, elven and wry and lopsided in such a way that’s distinctly Windrunner. She wonders who was the first to hold it. Alleria? Their mother or father? Or a Windrunner before them? An elf so ancient Jaina struggles with the numbers.

All she knows is that Sylvanas seems to enjoy the company of her warden, in a way. And that her little secret smile is something Jaina never thought she’d see on that face.

Objectively, dead and haunted and guilty as she is, she’s beautiful still. All the Windrunners are, after all.

Sylvanas is looking up at her again, expecting Jaina to challenge that notion. She’s probably expecting her to question this camp, this fire, these small comforts. The time she takes to mend her ragged clothes. The rest she dares to seek from time to time, though there are no days or nights here in the Maw to track it by.

Jaina clears her throat. “How goes it then, your work?” she asks, and nearly immediately regrets it for how silly that sounds.

How goes it, rounding up the souls you doomed to an eternity of torture? How goes it, making up for decisions that were not entirely yours, but still part and parcel wishes of your own? How goes it, living in the prison of your own failures, alone save for an owl that does nothing but stare at you?

There is a justice in this, yes. Jaina wants to sink into that and never leave. It is easier to feel like this is justice in action she’s seeing. The tedium and wear of it all are things Sylvanas deserves to endure. She deserves worse, depending on who is asking.

But the woman in front of her looks tired. She is as worn as her clothing, body as stiff and rigid as her defensive words.

Jaina will not deny her the comfort a fire and a rest might bring, now and then, though she doesn’t understand why Sylvanas seeks them. Either way, demanding she go without is a cruelty beyond necessity.

“It goes,” Sylvanas answers. “There are still many more for me to find. Torghast alone will take countless more visits to empty. The Beast Warrens are a maze I’ve still yet to properly map and account for, among other such haunts in this hellish place.”

She does not say more. She reads. Jaina watches. Dori’thur too. Sylvanas sneaks a glance at her every now and then, blue eyes flitting fast over the edge of the parchment, then back below it.

Jaina waits, as she said she would.

Sylvanas Windrunner is a stranger to her, but invited her to what home she had here all the same.

“I miss her,” Vereesa had told her, before she left. “I thought the sister I knew was gone, but I know now that she’s still herself, or is now, at least. I had mourned her, Jaina. I had mourned her for years, but now I can say that I miss her. She’s not gone, she’s just not here. And I don’t know when she’ll be back. You can’t blame me for trying.”

Jaina didn’t blame her.

Flipping to page three of Vereesa’s loopy handwriting, Sylvanas says, “I must look a sight to you, for you to say something about the state of my gear.”

Jaina corrects herself. She does not know Sylvanas, but she knew one thing about her, well, about who she once was. She was notoriously vain, and though Vereesa claimed this was exaggerated, she was known to repeatedly tell a story about how Sylvanas had screamed at her once for getting mud on her dress right as she was headed out the door for a Ranger ball, like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

And Jaina has just come here to her prison, the first other person she’s seen in gods know how long, handed her a letter, and told she looked a mess.

“It just seems to have been some time, that’s all,” Jaina assures her.

Sylvanas huffs a laugh she hides behind parchment, just like the odd blue of her eyes. Jaina struggles to replace it with the red of her memories.

“If there’s anything else you want, such that I could carry with me through a portal, then ask it,” Jaina offers, perhaps out of guilt.

Perhaps out of curiosity again, for what this woman might ask for. What comforts she might crave.

Sylvanas eyes her at this statement. It seems this is the first time she really takes Jaina in, perhaps to assess her intentions, or perhaps to assess how much she can carry. Jaina isn’t sure. But she knows she now feels like that sabercat in the cage. She wonders if Sylvanas still thinks she has her teeth.

She thinks, perhaps, that she doesn’t want the judgment of a virtually immortal and beautiful elf. Undead though she is, scarred and worn, she thinks Sylvanas might have plenty of criticisms to offer over her messy braid, the prudish nature and drab colors of her Kul Tiran garb, or the crows feat that have begun to claw in earnest at the dull blue of Jaina’s eyes, which only glow when she shows her real teeth.

Instead of worrying about that, Jaina wonders what she might ask for, if she were to spend potential centuries in hell doing penance. Something to pass the time. Playing cards, perhaps? Though Solitaire would get old quickly, and Dori’thur doesn’t look like she’d be much competition at Hearthstone. An instrument to play? Surely those nimble fingers of Sylvanas’ would be clever on a lute or lyre or something elven and haughty and old. Jaina had never learned to play anything with proficiency in all of her thirty-eight years of life, but might come out of such a situation fairly talented at the fiddle or flute. Her brothers would be impressed, surely.

But what would Sylvanas do, to pass the time, in her idle moments? Would she fletch arrows for game that didn’t exist, and flesh she didn’t need to eat, enemies already defeated? Would she sharpen the shortsword Jaina could see resting in its scabbard beside the fire on a whetstone until it was honed and wicked, only to have nothing to plunge it into?

Would Jaina ever be able to consider anything but war-like interests for her, even as she saw Sylvanas considering her from her bedroll, shoulders bare, hair loose, clearly not ready for any sort of battle?

“Paper,” she answers. “Ink and a few quills too, if you’d be so generous.”

Paper was not anywhere close to the answer Jaina thought she’d give.

Sylvanas holds the letter up again as her armor, her shield, her weapon. “Vereesa has asked me to reply, for us to continue to correspond. I wish to write her back.”

“Right, that’s easy enough,” Jaina agrees.

“What was that hesitation? Afraid I’ll draw up plans for world domination upon my eventual return? I’m not interested, truly. Believe me, Proudmoore, it’s not worth it,” Sylvanas assures her.

There is mischief in those secret smiles. A spark in glowing blue eyes that dares Jaina to challenge it, but in the way a child challenges her friend to a foot race. A craving for competition, maybe, in any form, or companionship on the barest of levels.

“Jaina,” she corrects her. “If I am to continue to deliver said letters, as it were, you might as well call me Jaina. And I didn’t think you had your sights set so lofty, but thanks for clarifying.”

Sylvanas nods to this. “So many names have I earned today. Though I’ll still call Dori’thur ‘owl’. Osa is the Thalassian word. It has more punch, right, osa?”

Dori’thur cocks her head just slightly at the term, then slowly blinks her large eyes.

“Very astute, thank you for adding so much to the conversation, as always,” Sylvanas sighs.

Jaina supposes that she too, would talk to a silent owl, if she were left alone for so long. She would probably go insane long before her clothes began to wear out, if it were her.

“Either way, I’ll continue to deliver your letters,” Jaina assures her. “I hadn’t realized this was a more than once sort of favor I’m doing, but I suppose I should have.”

“I’d say Vereesa is lucky to befriend such a powerful mage and be able to make such inane requests of her, but she always did like mages,” Sylvanas notes, going back to reading and flipping to the final page of Vereesa’s letter.

This time, though, the smile stays on her face too long to be a secret. Long enough for Jaina to watch her get lost in a memory, maybe two, and still come out smiling.

Smiling at her sister, a fondness beyond ages and time and dimensions and death—and the reason, perhaps, why Vereesa felt compelled to write to her, and send her friend to check on her.

“Tea,” Sylvanas mutters, eyes still glued to the parchment.

“Padron?”

“Bring tea when you come back,” Sylvanas tells her.

“What kind do you like?” Jaina asks, uncertain. She didn’t think undead drank.

Even if they did, she wouldn’t know the answer. Vereesa likes chamomile, sometimes. She doesn’t really drink tea. Alleria, well, Jaina has never seen Alleria drink anything but alcohol and would be afraid to ask if had any other preferences for more sober sorts of beverages.

“Whatever kind you like. It’s not for me,” Sylvanas says.

“Are you telling me that you’d like me to bring tea for myself when I come back?” Jaina asks, needing desperately for something about this request to be clear to her.

Sylvanas laughs her little laugh. It sounds like it’s been sanded down, worn like the caged sabercat’s teeth, like tattered leathers.

“I suppose I am. I don’t want to be a bad host, but I’m afraid all I have to offer here are rocks and broken war machines and wandering souls. None of these are fit to drink, or to give to company.”

Company. Jaina hadn’t expected to be company to her. She hadn’t expected the hidden smiles and weary laughs and how Sylvanas had tried to cover the desperation in the way she reached out after her. She hadn’t expected to find her nestled in a little camp, forging a mockery of a life that had long been stolen from her and the comforts of living she no longer needed, but clearly still craved.

Jaina isn’t sure. She doesn’t know anymore. She didn’t, even as she first cast the portal spell this morning that would take her to the Maw. She was curious. She still is.

But company, she supposes, is a thing she can try to be.

#sylvaina #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #fanfic #count me surprised to be this intrigued by a post-shadowlands premise but ok here we go

[makanidotdot]

Ohhh ok thanks haha. Yeah, I think I would have to disagree too...I guess it's mayyybe possible to have Sylvanas burn the tree *on purpose* and not ruin her character, but it would still have to be WAY different from what all went down in bfa. I still remember being super excited to watch Warbringers, then it comes out, I like watch it at work.. and I just can't focus for the rest of the day, I'm just

lmao.

Well the undead killing part would've been an accident. They were just making a super healing salve as far as they knew. But as there's not a ton of undead druids, they don't know this until they've already created some amount. They just eventually discover this property, and yeah, even if the druids themselves were totally super nice and good and were like 'omg! this is dangerous', the rest of the night elves would be like UPUPUP....hold on now, lol. It IS quite good for everyone BUT undead, and they dunno the future... it would be an excellent thing for an Arthas 2.0, or ya know.. if the Horde ever got super out of line. I think that'd be some proper nelf edginess, which still wouldn't justify Sylvanas's taking of the tree. It just gives her a reason, as opposed to Literal-Who Night Elf Said I Can't Kill Hope, Yolo, Also Jailer Made Me Do It.

#not art #warcraft #sylvanas #massafera #jedimasterazeroth

[eighthdoctor]

How was Sylvanas able to be a sadist Dom if she never pursued her partners? Were her proclivities such an open secret that she was only approached by women who knew what they were getting into?

...I'm not sure you know what a dominant is, anon.

Let's do a thought exercise. It's pre-Second War--maybe even pre-the Dark Portal, and you're a noble quel'dorei lady.

Here's what you know about Ranger-Captain Sylvanas Windrunner: She comes to Silvermoon only under orders. She stays exactly long enough for the two weeks of military conferences around Winter Veil and then leaves for the borders again. And because Winter Veil means balls, and balls mean high society, and high society means gossips--she picks a date the first night of the season, and that lady is the most desirable lady for the next year, because she caught the eye of Sylvanas Windrunner.

It's never anything longer. Sylvanas isn't out for a partner or a love match. You get those two weeks and that's it, she'll be polite to you next year but never pair with you again. But she knows how to make a woman feel good, and she has a discerning eye. A thousand hopeful matchmakers have nothing on Sylvanas for improving your prospects.

So the first ball, you're trying to catch her eye--she doesn't go for trends or current fashion, she doesn't seem to go for the rebels either, but she does want those who are flaunting it, advertising their availability. Your dress is low-cut, you're conspicuously alone, you sit out the first paired dance, and then--

She's already unbuttoned the top of her uniform jacket, saber at her side, bowing over one hand as she says, "May I have this dance?"

Of course she may. It's the last question she'll ask you too, if rumors are to be believed, that she'll make you ask for it, make you beg--she says yes, of course, she knows what she's doing, picking someone for a dance, but she likes the chase of it.

She's a lovely dancer, but that's not really what you're here for.

When it's late, gone two in the morning, and it's fashionable to leave, she looks at you, jacket completely open showing that the shirt beneath is also unbuttoned, a V down to her belt, ears slanted, eyes gleaming.

And you say, mouth thick, "Would you like to continue this, Ranger-Captain?"

Of course she would, she's already got you in her arms and a dragonhawk waiting, a short hop to her quarters--not military standard, not for a Windrunner no, a full set of apartments in the city, and she's pulling you inside, unfastening her belt, and she says--"Strip."

It's not a surprise that she directs you, that her voice dips low and fervent to tell you how to stand, what to do. It's part of who she is, the Ranger-Captain, now up for Ranger-Lord, 'her mother's daughter' they say in ways they never said about Alleria, and of course she gives the orders. Of course it's you on your knees, trying to find the words to ask permission to touch, to lick.

She says no, to make you whine, and then yes.

And that's the start of it, two weeks, mornings are your own, but afternoons she expects you, wants you to match your dress to hers, a display piece, currently owned by Sylvanas Windrunner it may as well say, you never leave her side all evening, hers, hers, a feather in her cap, her latest conquest and what does it matter when afterwards--late again, how she does the morning meetings you have no idea--she pulls you into a hallway and pushes your skirts up, makes you gasp and cry, choking back noises from her fingers, what does anything else matter--

She's possessive and jealous, leaves marks on your neck, laughs at your prior conquests, won't answer questions about hers, and it's worth it, worth every moment because those nights, because you find your voice once and ask for the Farstrider--bedding any of them is notable, they so often stick to themselves, let alone the woman named as their next Ranger-Lord--ask for more, ask to be challenged, cocky and sure, you like the games other lovers play, can't she treat you like she treats her comrades--

Sylvanas laughs, teeth to your ear, and asks if you're sure, if you're strong enough, that deep purr, because if you disobey her, she'll mete out appropriate consequences.

And what can you say to that, when one hand is between your legs and the other in your hair, when you're in her bed for the fourth time in as many nights, when she's already staked her claim over you and you're hopelessly addicted, already dreading the end of this, dreading next year when she'll take someone else--what can you say but yes?

#asks for ts #Anonymous #you are all so very welcome i'm going to bed now #the power to manipulate belief #(tangentially) #sylvanas windrunner #PRIMARILY

[eschergirls]

It's been 2 weeks so it's time to announce the winners of the November caption contest featuring Avengelyne... captured...?

Each winner will get to choose a prize if they wish (but you don't have to, you can just participate for fun, I just wanted to give a prize because I enjoy the caption contests and entries).

Like last time, I've decided to organize the entries by the way they were submitted, just to make it easier.

Here are the caption entries, I got so many this time and they were all so good it was hard for me to choose winners:

From Mastodon:

Claire: "she looks like she is kind of surprised there was a lady on the other end of that chain" Dollcomics: “Sweep the floors, clean the bathroom, polish the chains AND a $500 cleaning fee? Ugh, AirBNBs are the worst” Socketwench: "Look, I really think you need an MRI, a physical therapist, or a chiropractor." "Just pull, okay? My back hasn't cracked in a f-ing week."

From Disqus and Email:

Imry: "It's company policy that all captured heroes need to be sexily chained up. It's ineffective, time-consuming, expensive, and the the minions hate it more than the heroes... but nobody can complain because they aren't part of a union and don't have collective bargaining powers. Do you want your work uniform to give you a permanent wedgie? No? Then join a union!" Karmazyna: "How many times do I have to tell you: whatever you find in the Home Depot's clearance section is NOT clothing material!" Leak: "Give me a moment, and we'll have you elongated to Liefeld Standard(TM) in no time..." Mel: "Would you stop tugging? The lock isn't on yet! You're so impatient; I'm never doing a kinky photoshoot with you again." P J Evans: "A private party? You didn't say it was a private party!"  

From Tumblr:

@angrybidoof: "When you book a chiropractor off Craigslist" @anna-neko: "and I will keep pulling, until your dumb face finally makes an expression" @atomicmosaic: "she seems miffed: "that all you got? I'm like a centimeter off the floor"" @captainacerbic: "are you positive that this method will make me taller and thinner? If so, don't stop even if I cry" "Got it gurl" @captainlordauditor: "With no access to a BDSM dungeon, the castle's armory proved an acceptable substitute for an impromptu demonstration in the purpose of the time travelers' costumes. " @cenobitic-anchorite: "When I told you we were out of toilet paper, this was NOT the solution I had in mind!" @cirquedereve: "Guess I'm really locked in to this relationship." @differenttriumphdragon: "What do you MEAN your shackles already broke!? How are we supposed to fix it when you used all the electrical tape on your costume!?" @foreversoaring: "According to her, the hottest way to decorate a bdsm dungeon was to give it a ‘museum weapons collection’ theme." @haveievermentioned: "Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me this was your first time in a BDSM dungeon?" @inukagome15: "You've been a bad girl. Time for some avenging." @megpie71: "Look, I hate it as much as you do, but it's the only way we have to straighten out a rubber spine." @of-another-broken-heart: "Are you SURE this isn't a porn shoot?" "We need the rent money, so does it really matter?" @siklo: "-Harder! Do you want a tip or not!?" "-I don't know anymore. I think I might quit..." @sylvanas-girlkisser: "Me and my girlfriend had thought of very different things when planning our "dungeon date" but we made it work. #the katana was maybe a bit much though" @thevikingfish-nimhrodell: "This is what you get for using up all the duct tape in the house for your costume!! I don't care that it's waterproof!" @vabolo: "You know, I'm starting to think this isn't what that Sia song meant" @whitetyger123: "Stop! Why are you doing this to me?" "I don't know really. Having a wedgie as bad as mine makes people do all sorts of crazy things." @winterrssoldier: "Unconventional chiropractor helps women with scoliosis" @woodsworth: "Gurl let me get a least that posture straight for you" @youlookterrible: "this is this is showgirls innit that's elizabeth berkeley and that's the gersh" @zombiemollusk: "yeah, sorry, i forgot the safeword and this costume is waaaay too itchy." "BUT DID YOU HAVE TO BREAK THE SHACKLES??"  

Because I got so many good submissions, I'm going to pick 2 honorable mentions again and then the 3 winners!

So Honorable Mentions go to: Imry and @thevikingfish-nimhrodell!

If you're an honorable mention and want a prize and somebody in the top 3 passes it, up then I'll contact you. :)

And here are the winners:

3rd place goes to Dollcomics

2nd place goes to @angrybidoof

And finally the winner is... @cirquedereve!

If you won and would like a prize, please message me with which prize you would like.  If you came in 2nd, message me with 2 choices in order of preference, and if you came in 3rd, message me with 3 choices, etc...  I'll give you your top choice that hadn't been taken by the other winners.

The codes I have available are for: Overgrowth, Syberia, Riot: Civil Unrest, Castle Crashers, Hotel Giant 2, Not The Robots, Steel Storm: Burning Retribution, Rage in Peace, Uncertain: The Last Quiet Day, Uncertain: Light At The End, Shattered - Tale of the Forgotten King,  Morbid: The Seven Acolytes, The Swindle, Zengeon, Wayward Souls, and Nigate Tale.

Please stay tuned for another caption contest coming in December, it's going to be a special holiday themed one!

#avengelyne #caption contest #caption contest winners

[lily-orchard]

There's something about the way you write women that I like but I can't put my finger on. Like, they're not all generic "girlboss" characters and that's nice

I think what you're looking for is that womanhood is diverse.

One problem female characters have had for decades is that many writers have their ideal version of womanhood and present that as the only viable option. You can see this in JK Rowling's work where every female character has their heroic qualities defined primarily by motherhood and those who either aren't mothers or aren't enthused about motherhood are villains by proxy.

On the opposite end you have shit like early Nostalgia Chick, which harshly criticized any female character that had a personality more nuanced than "Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss." Which is just as harmful because it's tacitly saying "This is the right way to be a woman."

It's the same logic by which many feminists often associate the tools of oppression with the oppression itself. I think this is most obvious with the hijab. Laws in middle eastern countries that mandate women wear them are oppressive, but laws in western countries banning them outright are equally oppressive because you're still trying to legislate what women are allowed to wear.

This is further compounded by the fact that many Strong Female Characters Trademark are often the ONLY female characters in their respective stories. Ideally you should have more than one, who all have different perspectives.

This is how we write. Aliana is extremely ambitious and has plans to leave her mark on the galaxy, but she's also deeply maternal and desires children of her own. And the matrilineal nature of her family gives an understandable throughline as to why. She had a good relationship with her mother, and it made her want to be one herself.

By contrast, Rey is neither ambitious nor all that enthusiastic about motherhood. She loves her kids of course, but she's never drawn the same fulfilling joy that Aliana does from it. But the story doesn't demonize her for it. We've never suggested that Rey's apathy and lack of drive to make her mark on the galaxy was something she needs to overcome. There's no real urgency to rebuild the Jedi, she'll do it when she's good and ready and not a moment before.

Horde Champion does something similar. Sylvanas is ambitious and career driven, but Anevay would eagerly hang up her warblade and become a homemaker the second she was given the option. And both perspectives are treated as equally valid.

I've talked about it in the past with regards to tropes, but it's just as present here. Bad writers view the world in a hierarchy. There can't simply be multiple perspectives on womanhood that are equally valid. They have to be ranked. If one is good, the other must be bad. In the same way bad writers and fandom look for the single best combination of tropes to make the best story possible because they think tropes can be ranked, they do the same thing with the way characters present themselves.

There really is no solution other than to stop ranking people. Career oriented women don't need to chill, and domestically oriented women don't need to be rescued.

[look-how-they-massacred-them]

Preliminary Poll

Sylvanas Windrunner

Submission reason:

WHERE TO BEGIN.... she's an incredibly traumatized woman who's devoted to protecting her people (the Forsaken) who are reviled by the entire world, as well as geting revenge on Arthas, the man who turned them into undead. But then from Cataclysm onwards she's retconned to have never cared at all for the Forsaken and be entirely selfish and given a convoluted villain arc and is generally treated in an incredibly misogynistic way, both in-universe and by Blizzard's creative team. Once she finally got a redemption arc it felt very unearned because of how poorly written her descent into villainy was. tl;dr she could've been a Vriska if the writers even remotely cared about her

Once a benevolent anti-hero, now a villain who is easily defeated despite their ability. At first her change to villainy wasn't bad, it was actually really cool; But then it just got petty and pathetic, and it makes me want to STRANGLE Blizzard (I already wanted to strangle them prior, and again now... I just REALLY hate Blizzard; I don't play WOW anymore because of all the bullcrud putting up with that company-)... THEN, the writers had the audacity to pull a last minute "SIKE!" and make her redeemed or some crud. Bro, I just want Sylvanas back PLEASE!? They made the villainy undermine all the cool things she's ever done, and then they make the redemption thing undermine everything cool she's ever done as the villain character. I actually still liked her even when she was the questionable villain warchief! Shadowlands has ruined her, AND that game expansion has cause me so much pain and agony (who in Blizzard thought it would be a good idea to make me play for more than 3 hours straight just on one run of the stupid tower dungeon thing... See it's been so long I forgot the name of it-)... Why does Blizzard out of all companies have to own this franchise?!?! They make me so ANGRY! Not only are they abusive towards fans and workers, but their content lacks literally everything (with the exception of their new expansion Dragonlands; Which was really nice...); So anyways, I wish I could fight the writers-. Last but not least, since there is no salvaging "that mess", they ended up sentencing Sylvanas for an eternity of fighting the horrors in hell (LITERALLY)! Now the chances of EVER seeing her character EVER AGAIN is slim as all heck because "nope, she felt bad, so now she's gonna go and do cool shenanigans in the Maw (hell essentially) so no one else has to, cause she's nice now!"... Like bro, HECK NO, who's gonna lead my favorite race of the Horde now? The circus?... Those final words were factual as well, the undead are now ruled by their theoretical local arch-nemeses; Bro these zombie people do not need to suffer any more than they have to in canon GOD DANGIT BLIZZARD! I'm just going to say now, if your people have been tortured by a specific group for as long as they have basically existed, what makes you think it would be a good idea to then put one of their leaders in charge... I don't care if she's dead, or a zombie, she's a relic of the civilization that has been trying to kill you, and is STILL trying to kill you! That and I hate how stupidly unaware the new undead leader is; She literally can't empathize with the undead (Sylvanas could! WHICH IS WHY BLIZZARD SHOULD'VE NEVER DONE ANY OF THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE!). I was hoping for some cool zombie solidarity, and all I got was the largest slap in the face canon could give to it's zombie fanboy. Now every time I play my edgy little undead warlock in game, the nightmares kick-in and the sorrows unleash... I don't think me or my Warcraft account will ever recover from the tomfoolery...

there is a LOT of specifics like you can read her wiki page if you want - it's long - but she has an insanely cool origin story (shes an elf that defended her home against an undead scourge, was killed in action, brought back as a banshee to serve the lich king, and then eventually broke free and rallied all the other dead people who were raised and their minds enslaved by the scourge, and she led the faction of freed undead people, which are one of the playable races) and was a very cool figurehead for a while but the misogynistic writing of Blizzard Entertainment kind of made her into a "crazy hysterical woman" who did really evil things for seemingly no reason that don't make sense based on her previous characterization. she was deliberately made to do a really evil act (elf genocide, basically) on like, a whim? which was really out of character for her as a cold, calculating, intelligent leader and made a LOT of seething gamers really mad. i think they said they used her specifically to make people debate about lore which is like, really shitty bc the story didn't make sense and it just gave a lot of misogynistic gamers an opportunity to hate on a female character. i saw a lot of hate for her (usually laced with misogyny, calling her a bitch and stuff) and a lot of people defending her but ultimately she was just written terribly and her character was absolutely ravaged. it kind of makes me sad but im not really surprised given blizzards track record. i think shes "good" again now? they finally concluded her story arc after i stopped playing the game, but the damage was already done, a lot of people just hate her now bc her shitty actions heavily impacted the story (and made for a shitty story) and she was also featured prominently and people just got tired of her.

Propaganda:

A Vid in support of "benevolent" Sylvanas : https://youtu.be/9ld4tCS8Gng A cool cinematic? : https://youtu.be/TVp7yLfnmrE A silly edit I made... (made a looooong time ago) : https://youtu.be/_5pEZH_pEtA Kakio is cool, I trust his words : https://youtu.be/svZt-opethU IDK, Sylvanas is cool; I had a crush on her in middle school, and I still do-...

i saw the promo post and this character INSTANTLY shot to mind even though i havent touched wow or any blizzard game in nearly two years also shes hot.

#look how they massacred them poll #look how they massacred my girl #wow #world of warcraft #sylvanas windrunner #wow sylvanas #world of warcraft sylvanas

[offense-is-the-best-defence]

The Ranger General had spent an entire week in Kul Tiras on a diplomatic mission to strengthen ties with the island nation & Jaina Proudmoore, daughter of the Lord Admiral, had been tasked with giving her a tour of the city.

Every day after Sylvanas was done with meeting with the Lord Admiral & other prominent citizens of the city, Jaina would collect her & show her a specific part of the city. First had been Proudmoore Keep followed by the docks & the Tradewinds market, each day Jaina showed the elf a different part of the city, she even took her to meet the tidesages which Sylvanas later learned was a rare privilege.

The day before Sylvanas was due to leave, Jaina picked her up as she usually did but instead of some landmark she found herself in a tavern.

‘I couldn’t let you leave without a drink, General.’ said Jaina. ‘What’ll you have?’

‘Not the ale.’ said Sylvanas firmly, the awful drink had been served during the meeting & she had felt a powerful urge to shoot whoever had invented the swill. ‘Do you have wine?’

‘Of course.’

A bottle of Kul Tiran red was produced which Sylvanas sipped cautiously.

‘Not bad.’ she said. ‘Not great, but it’s better than your ale.’

‘How gracious of you.’ said Jaina pointedly.

Sylvanas paused, realising she had offended her host. She drained her glass, poured another & downed that too.

‘What else do you have?’

Jaina grinned.

Various bottles & mugs appeared during their visit & Sylvanas sampled them all. To Jaina’s surprise, she took a liking to the black rum & the pair emptied several bottles.

‘Kul Tiran rum is very, very good.’ grinned the elf, her ears drooping. ‘Will you visit Silvermoon? I would love to show you the city.’

‘Of course.’ beamed Jaina, she took in the elf’s glassy eyes & drooping ears & realised Sylvanas was drunk. The fact that an elf could be inebriated by human alcohol surprised her. ‘Maybe we should go back to the Keep.’

‘But the bottle isn’t finished.’

Despite her misgivings, Jaina poured them both another glass of the rum. Sylvanas drank hers with relish & paused as the potent brew hit her. The elf’s eyes closed & her head hit the table with a thud.

‘Oh Tides!’ she swore. Jaina tossed the tavernkeeper some coins & lifted the general’s head. ‘Sylvanas?’

The elf was out cold. Jaina sighed & hoisted Sylvanas on her shoulder.

‘I am so not sober enough for this.’

Inspired by @slackergami

#sylvania #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #world of warcraft #sometimes i write shit

[opinated-user]

Oh yeah, Lily, you're not a white person. You're so native american.

......

You're so native american that you're not even claimed by the Nation, you're so native american you chose not to contact your Aunt who was actually claimed by the Nation and who could have helped you connect to that culture, you're so native american that you didn't even know what two spirit was until someone explained it to you, you're so native american that you burn sage, a practice many native people have spoke out against. you're so native american that your Avatar's skin is significantly darker than your actual skin tone in real life and is wearing a fucking. feather. on her ear, just to show how "Native" she is (and dont give me that Sylvanas Windrunner inspiration crap, we all know what you were doing) Youre so native american that the supposed native american "trinket" your grandfather left behind was just an unauthentic cheap pendant you could buy off of ebay that was designed by a coloniser. You're so native american that out of all of your siblings, you're the one who got the "native gene" because of "thick straight black hair," but oh wait! Apparently, Courtney is native too! She's just got internalised racism! You're just so. fucking. indigenous. that you think that if you were to die or go missing, you would be labelled as just another case of a Native Woman getting injustice, even though you yourself admited that you don't really face racism since you look white,to the point that you literally had to make yourself yellow by applying concealer in the worst possible way just so you look all nice and "exotic" for your predominantly white audience in that picture, but surely there is no way you're white Lily! You love minorities! Especially Black women who have definitely felt comfortable interacting with you, and you've never been at all fetishy with black female characters.

No but in all seriousness, if Lily wanted people to think she's secure in her "identity as a native woman", she wouldn't need to darken her avatars skin tone despite being much lighter in real life, she wouldn't need to play up how "native" she is, and if she really was native, then the "supposed dear pendant that her grandfather left behind for her as his last gift" WOULDN'T BE ON HER CHEST WHILE SHES LITERALLY STRIPPING SHIRTLESS ON STREAM

LIKE IF YOURE GONNA BROWNFACE AT LEAST VERIFY WHAT IS AND ISNT AUTHENTIC TO THAT CULTURE 😭

the thing is, to LO being "native/indigenous/Cherokee" is entirely about looking like a sexualized brown woman and having a shiny new shield from which she can scream about how everyone else is racist (for disagreeing with her). it has nothing to do with culture, community, tradition or actually nothing of what makes actual Native people proud in their heritage. it's entirely self serving and superficial. the worst thing may be that none of that is LO's original idea. those are just the regurgitated racist garbage that her mom was already spewing and LO just uncritically took it at face value, as a 31 grown woman. the only thing that LO might have added was stripping with a supposed "family heirloom".

#lily orchard

[blue-eyed-banshee]

Branching off of @tornsurvivors HC about Jaina being a LIVING MANABOMB after theramore, Syl honestly could give two fucks if she gets caught in a blast of her wife's energy outburst; think of it like if you stuff a bottle of vodka in the freezer or any liquid, then take it out after... a year or a few months and then try to OPEN THE DAMN THING (though not sure why anyone would...) long story short; it would explode.

That is how @tornsurvivors and I veiw Jaina getting into if she doesn't release that magic.

Going back to Syl, she's already dead.... and she can go incorporeal so if she got caught in that blast of energy, she couldn't be affected.

HOWEVER! Hypothetically, let's say Jaina's magic prohibits that from being possible when there is so much accumulated chaos magic all in one place, er..... body; that it would cause her to get thrown back. However, the way I see it; depending on how powerful it is; it can temporarily knock Sylvanas' banshee out of her body.

So if that were to happen, we would get a crumpled body of Sylvanas AND mommy banshee who can not communicate due to having no vocal chords in her banshee form.

However, due to the necklace Syl proposed to Jaina with, it would make communicate in that situation easier.

Also, Jaina would probably have to hoist Sylvanas' body over her shoulder and sit it in a chair before Syl can go back into her body.

In other words, do I love banshee form Sylvanas? Yes. Would Jaina be freaking out the first time this happens? Oh, absolutely!

She never saw this happen directly, I mean, she did see Sylvanas as a banshee next to Arthas at the Scourge invasion, but that was it!

#goth mun speaks #sylvanas windrunner #sylvaina #sylvanas x jaina #sylvanas musings » i deserved a clean death #this goth has been in pain for two days and didnt sleep all night...

[aphmaurewrite]

Aphmau Shalashaska [Rewrite Overview]

Ms. Extremely long last name that I have never and will never be able to fucking spell ever. Once again, no reference/redesign for her at the moment, and I’ll likely make separate posts that just links to these for those at this point because I genuinely just wanna post my ideas and stuff :)

By the way, feel free to ask whatever about the rewrite!! I LOVE answering questions and wanna interact and stuff!! My ask box (should) be open to any and all questions!! (If it’s not someone let me know I am still Very Stupid when it comes to Tumblr :”D)

Also also: if there any tags or content warnings you think I should put on any of these posts please let me know!! :>

-She/Her [Cis]

-24 [October 24th]

-Mexican

-Human

-Straight

Aphmau was born and raised in Phoenix Drop, with both of her parents being pretty young when they had her. Sylvana Shalashaska, her mother, married Zack Scarletta, her father, straight out of high school, however this marriage barely lasted two years, with Zack cheating on Sylvana with another woman when Aphmau was still a toddler. Zack gave up all parental rights, settling instead for child support and alimony payments. After Zack abandoned the family, Sylvana became extremely overprotective of Aphmau to the point where her behavior was incredibly overbearing and controlling. Sylvana raised Aphmau alone until she was in the seventh grade, when she would marry Eric Fire-Fist, giving Aphmau a stepfather and two stepsiblings: Katelyn and Kasey Fire-Fist. Aphmau never cared for Eric’s attempt to play a father figure in her life, keeping her distance as she didn’t want to deal with yet another man entering and then leaving her life. She did however bond with Katelyn and Kasey, Katelyn especially.

During her first two years in high school, Aphmau would do extremely well, having plenty of friends and doing well academically; however, as time went on, her mother’s controlling behavior got worse and worse, getting to the point where Aphmau was basically forbidden from leaving the house if Katelyn wasn’t with her, as her mother feared Aphmau “getting involved” with boys her age. This toxic, controlling mentality led to Aphmau’s social life falling apart and built up a lot of resentment between the two. 

During the summer between her graduating high school and entering her freshman year of college, Aphmau picked up a waitressing job at a local diner to help pay for incoming college expenses. She continued to live at home with her mom and step-dad as it was a lot cheaper than paying for an apartment or a dorm until she met Aaron through work. The two hit it off well, with Aphmau making sure Aaron was paid his fair in tips while Aaron would drive Aphmau home when Katelyn wasn’t able to. The two’s friendly relationship was going steady, and while Sylvana was still prickly about everything, things were fine. That was, until Sylvana found out about Aaron - she and Aphmau would get into a MAJOR fight, basically driving Aphmau out of the house during the summer between her junior and senior year. 

Aphmau moved in with Aaron following the fight, going low contact with her mother for a few months while she finished up her senior year of college. After graduating, Aphmau would get back into frequent contact with her mom, and the two seemed to being getting along decently well for the time being. That was, until, while living with Aaron, the two became an official couple, which Sylvana hated. There was an obvious tension about the situation, but Aphmau ignored it, and it wasn’t addressed until Aaron proposed, wherein yet again, a MASSIVE fight would happen between Aphmau and her mom. That, with the addition of Aaron’s sister getting back into contact with, postponed any wedding plans while the couple deals with the migraines that are their families.

#Aphmau #aphmau rewrite #aphmau mystreet #aphmau shalashaska #mystreet

[tess-grey-maned]

i’m here to drink alone.

  “So am I.”

  Sylvanas blinks. There are a few normal responses that she gets to that statement- oh c’mon darling, just a quick chat? Or alright then, don’t need to drink together for you to give me your number. Or even fine. Fuck you- and that was not among them. “Uh. Cool. Good,” she says, somewhat off-kilter, and chugs the last two mouthfuls of her wine. The woman’s eyebrows rise. “Excuse me, uh, Valtrois? Can I have another of those, please?”

  “You sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I thought you were here to drink alone,” Sylvanas rebuts, and the middle child in her springs to life at the prospect of someone’s attention, positive or negative. “Why would you care if I make a drunken fool of myself?”

  “I wouldn’t,” the woman says, and turns back to her drink. Sylvanas deflates.

  Her wine appears in front of her. “Thank you,” she mumbles, and lifts it to her lips for a hefty swig-

  “You are actually going to give yourself alcohol poisoning!”

  Lowering her drink, Sylvanas squints at the woman. “That almost sounded concerned.”

  “That’s because it was,” the woman snaps, and shoves herself up from her stool only to plop angrily onto the one beside Sylvanas.

  “Oh, I see. You think I can’t handle myself?”

  “I think that group of horny men in the corner there haven’t been able to keep their eyes off you since your second glass.”

  Sylvanas shrugs. “I could have all six of them on the floor, if I wanted. Bet the big guy at the back there would cry. I could find out if you want?”

  “I don’t want.”

  But Sylvanas, drawn in by the attention, presses on. “Having an older sister, you learn all sorts of amazing limb-twisting techniques. Having a younger sister called for top tier poking and prodding. Younger brother? Let’s just say, I can immobilise just about anyone by sitting on them-”

  “The big guy at the back is military trained.”

  “So am I.”

  “He’s also my ex.”

  Oh. “I see what this is about now,” Sylvanas says, and reaches for her wine again only to have it plucked from her fingers. “Look, I’m very happy for you to pretend to pick me up to stick it to your ex. I know I’m a catch.” She lifts her shirt just enough to expose her abs; the woman’s eyes dart down, and Sylvanas, basking in the open admiration, drops it with a smirk and reaches for her drink again only for her hand to be caught and held. “We can get a bit friendly- as you’re already doing- leave together, walk a while, and go on our merry ways.”

  “I don’t-”

  “Fine, you don’t want to do that. You want to nag at me until I toodle on home like a good girl and tuck into bed. Then why don’t you leave me the fuck alone,” Sylvanas spits, and knocks the woman’s hand away. “Like I told you, I can handle myself.”

  “Would you shut the fuck up for five seconds and listen to me?” The woman slams a credit card down on the bar. “To cover both of us, please, Valtrois. Right. Yes, I do want you away from Misogynists United in the corner there. I’m sure you can look after yourself, but I’d rather you didn’t have to get any closer to them than you already have. And I do want you to go. With me. To the eatery down the road from here, where the music isn’t so loud and we can hear each other properly.”

  Sylvanas stares at her for a moment. The woman raises her eyebrows expectantly.

  “Well,” she says, and picks her bag up. “What would my minn’da say, leaving a bar with a stranger whose name I don’t even know.”

  “Jaina. You?”

  “Sylvanas. Shall we?”

  Jaina takes her credit card from Valtrois with a smile and a thank-you, drops a generous tip into the jar alongside Sylvanas’, and heads for the door without so much as a glance back at her ex in the corner.

#cheers for the prompt! #sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #and now i return to work