#but if you still believe that and blame it on him as a character and STILL like my kwazini art. I just don’t like you!

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— i believe in a thing called love

SUMMARY : dean thinks you’re playing a game but he slowly realises you’re not. 

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), unprotected piv, oral (f. receiving), fingering, edging, praise kink?, horniness 

WORD COUNT : 4.2kA/N : title from a song by the darkness. this fills the square amnesia for my @jacklesversebingo card.  I’m sorry yall, I like cliffhangers 😔 (but there’s a part two coming, yay!)

You don’t remember ever waking up to a more warm and pleasant morning.

Usually, you woke up after sleeping however many hours you could have, and always felt like it wasn’t enough. Your eyes burned with sleepiness, your body felt heavy with fatigue, and your mind was clouded with the darkness of unconsciousness.

Not this morning.

You felt light and warm, like the vapour of your too-hot shower. Your bed was soft and your sheets smelled of sweet and flowery fabric softener. 

You opened your eyes to a room blanketed in complete darkness. There was not a window in sight for sunlight to slither into and your stomach sank slightly when you realised that you didn’t know where you were. Or how you got to where you were now.

Your nakedness beneath soft, thin sheets made you feel vulnerable. You pulled the sheets up your body and started to get out of bed, only for the sheets to catch on something. No, on someone. A man who groaned gravelly and slightly tugged the sheets away from you.

Your eyes widened, your blood went cold with fear, and your body became hot with adrenaline. You froze as you thought of what to do and looked around to see if you could make any shapes while the darkness smothered you. 

“Come back to bed, sweetheart,” he pleaded lazily, his voice thick with sleep making your skin prickle. He gave the blanket a lazy tug to encourage you, but you ignored him. You didn’t know him, the audacity. You simply released the blanket and blindly made your way around the room for clothes that you must have left somewhere. 

You heard him sigh tiredly, the blankets rustled when he shifted, and the room lit up with the quiet click of a lamp’s switch and you yelped when you saw him, equally naked, in the bed. He sat up in alarm and looked around, before just staring at you in confusion.

His hair was a mess and he looked tired… but hot. His arms were thick and strong. His shoulders were broad and a familiar tattoo rested above his heart, beneath his collarbone. He wasn’t ripped like someone who was obsessed with going to the gym and dieting. He was so damn fine. The thin blankets came lower down his hips when he sat up inquisitively. His stomach became taut and you could see the faint lines of his abs. At least you slept with someone hot and not some creep. Well… he could still be a creep.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He moved the blankets from his hips, subsequently flashing you his dick, when he began to get up and make his way to you.

“No, stop!” You shouted, covering your eyes before deciding to cover yourself instead. He instantly obeyed and froze on the spot, bewildered. “Cover your eyes,” you demanded exasperatedly.

“What? Why?” He asked, but he still covered his eyes with his hand. But who could blame you for quickly stealing a glance at his very pretty cock? “Did you start your period? You’re not due for another two weeks.” You blinked at him, astonished and disoriented.

“Uhhh, what? How do you even know that, dude?” You flushed with embarrassment.

“Dude?” He lowered his hand to give you an irritated look. The only reason you didn’t shout at him to look away was that he wasn’t staring at you like you were a piece of cake. “It’s way too early for jokes.” He shook his head at you and turned around to sift through the tall dresser behind him. Your eyes hesitantly dropped to his perky ass and you forced yourself to look away before he turned to you.

Forgive me. I am just human.

“Where’s my damned clothes?” You asked, leaning forward over the bed to drag the blanket towards yourself to cover up. He turned with a deadpan expression while he slipped his boxers up to his hips. But when you lifted your brows expectantly, he rolled his eyes at you and smiled sarcastically, flourishing his arms in front of the dresser.

He was kind enough to pull out a black shirt that looked like it was his, then pink women's underwear, and finally some colourfully striped socks. He handed them to you, but you backed away.

“No, I’m not wearing that,” you refused, looking disgustedly at the cotton underwear and the small socks. 

“It’s yours,” he told you flatly.

“What do you mean it’s mine?” 

He blinked at you boredly and dropped the clothes on the bed to cross his arms across his very sexy broad chest. “Alright. How long are you gonna keep this up?”

“I… uh, what?” 

He smiled slowly and climbed up on the bed to get closer to you. Once he did, he reached for your waist and tugged you forward. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest and you clutched the blanket closer to your breasts. Even standing on his knees in the bed, he was taller than you. 

“What game are you playin’ at, hmm?” He asked seductively, gently squeezing your side. Your lips parted slightly and your heart raced. 

You studied his face, captivated by his beauty. The crinkles at the corner of his verdant eyes called to you when he smiled down at you. You could see he was doing the same. His eyes followed a path along your face until they landed on your lips. You couldn’t help following the same path on his own with your eyes. After letting your eyes drift across the curve of his freckled nose, the line of his jaw, and the attractive stubble, your eyes fell to his pillowy lips.

His hand moved to your jaw. He looked playful and your heart sped up the longer he admired you. His calloused hand gently slid up your jawline to tangle his fingers in your hair until finally, he dipped down and kissed you. His lips felt soft against your slightly-chapped lips, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

His mouth moved lazily, yet expertly over yours. Your stomach fluttered and your breath hitched. As simple as it was, it felt amazing. His lips on yours sent waves of need and excitement through your body, electrifying your skin. 

He clouded your mind with his kiss and your mouth slowly fell open. He cupped the back of your head in his hand and tilted his head, slowly becoming more firm and needy. Your hand released the sheet from your body and your hands found their way into his soft brown hair. He hummed lowly in appreciation and splayed his free hand across the bare skin of your back.

He carefully removed his hand from your hair, then you felt his hands move to the back of your thighs. He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath against your swollen lips made you dizzy as he hoisted you up. You clung to him, dazed and aroused, and he carefully dropped you into the bed again.

His knees parted your legs. You could feel your arousal dripping down as you were exposed to the room’s cool air. He almost instantly pressed his hips to your wet core. You could feel the warmth of his hard cock against your pulsing clit. You moaned softly and he gave you a charming smile that heated your cheeks in response. 

He leaned down to kiss you again. This time, his tongue pushed past your lips. The warmth and wetness of his saliva moved against your tongue. He did it as if he’d done a thousand times to you—shamelessly, with craving. 

His lips moved passionately, firmly against yours. His tongue brushed over yours needily, lovingly. He tasted you with hunger and pulled away with heavy breaths, ignoring the string of spit connecting your lips to his. 

He leaned forward again, except this time—when you closed your eyes—you felt his lips brush against your cheeks. His warm breath tickled your neck and ear, so shivers trickled through your body. 

You squirmed beneath him and wiggled your hips longingly.

“I’m gonna make you come so hard on my tongue, baby,” he whispered. You cursed softly. Your cunt clenched with excitement at the thought of him doing to your pussy, what he’d done to your mouth. You almost didn’t feel him press wet kisses down your neck until he sucked gently at your pulse.

He moved down your body slowly. Used his teeth, tongue, and lips on your flesh to hold you in his spell. He did it so precisely, fanning the embers to create a fire of desire that overwhelmed your body with lust. 

His lips brushed against your nipple and your heart lurched. Heat pooled between your legs, followed by a warm wetness that you somehow knew would boost his ego. 

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he whispered against your breast before gently sinking his teeth around your nipple. His fingers pinched the other. How he expected you to respond was unclear as he teased your sensitive skin with his expert tongue and strummed at your flesh like a professional guitarist. 

“How did I end up here?” You replied quietly, carding your fingers through his short hair. He chuckled softly at your response, moved on from one breast to the other. His saliva on your abandoned nipple enhanced the coldness of the room, causing your skin to tingle. 

His laugh was a whole other thing. Hot and deep. Everything about him seemed to be that way. Hot and deep.

His hand sneaked down to your ribs, your stomach, and stayed there. Warm, heavy, huge, and calloused. One hell of a man. You bet he could choke you with one hand. 

You moaned softly at the thought and squeezed his sides with your thighs in attempts to alleviate your desire. It was futile, but you had a feeling that’s how he wanted you. He smirked against your breast, you could feel the stretch of a smile on his sinful lips, and he finally moved on.

“You’re so desperate today, aren’t ya?” Amusement seeped into his voice, but there was nothing amusing about the way his hand finally moved between your legs. He slid his middle finger through your folds, slowly teasing your clit with ghostly touches. “Always so wet, baby, fuck,” he moaned against your hipbone. 

“Please,” you whined, clutching his hair tighter. He sucked a lavender mark on your hips and slid his lips down to your pelvis.

“Yeah?” He teased with a smirk. You loosened your grip on his hair, just slightly. His green eyes sparkled up at you, but all you could really focus on was his finger turning to two fingers that quickly dipped into your entrance to gather your excessive slick. “Fuck.” Oh, God. No one should sound so hot saying that word, but your stomach seemed to flip excitedly when it sounded so pleased. “Look at that, sweetheart. You’re soaked, it’s gonna be so easy for me to fuck you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered, your toes curled with excitement. 

He parted your folds with his fingers and lowered himself to level his mouth with your dripping cunt. His warm breath on your wet heat made you squirm and your legs shamelessly opened wider for him. The Pied Piper of sex.  

His eyes fluttered shut when he kissed your clit. You don’t think anyone’s ever done that to you before. To be fair, you can’t remember much and you don’t know if it’s because of his intoxicating sensuality or because of something much more serious. Quite frankly, you didn’t care as he continued to kiss you down to your clenching entrance with hums of appreciation vibrating through your desperate core.

“Please,” you laughed breathily, weakly attempting to pull his face closer between your legs. He perked up even more at that, and flicked his tongue against your clit, perfectly striking a nerve like a chord that resonated through your entire body and made you quiver. 

He flattened his tongue from your aching pussy to your clit, slowly and loudly savouring the taste of your arousal on his tongue. He did it over and over before settling for lapping at your entrance where your arousal puddled. His moans were husky and praising.

You gently weaved your fingers through his hair and panted heavily. His nose nudged at your pulsing clit and his tongue pushed into your fluttering pussy. 

“Fuck, please,” you whimpered, tightening your grip on the hair at the top of his head. He hummed against your core and roughly licked his way up to your clit. Quick flicks of his tongue on your clit made you writhe with pleasure. Curses slipped from your lips and all you could think about was the sensation of how wet your pussy was with his spit and how close to coming you were again.

You felt one of his fingers slowly push inside your cunt. He worked you open carefully with one thick finger plunged deep inside you and simultaneously began to suck on your clit. Your body became tense; you were right on the edge of your orgasm, but he moved away from your aching cunt to quickly kiss his way up your flushed body, to reach your lips. 

“I wanna come,” you pleaded quietly, staring profoundly into his greedy eyes. 

He chuckled playfully at you and slowly pushed a second finger inside you. His breath fanned over your lips and you traced the slick of your pussy on his smug mouth with your eyes. He stroked your walls slowly, skilfully pressing the pads of his fingers into the sensitive depths of your cunt. You clamped down in desperation for him to press over and over into your g-spot, but he wasn’t merciful. He wanted you to feel the length of his fingers moving deeply inside you. 

“Say my name,” he murmured against your lips. You squeezed his hips with your knees as you squirmed restlessly. Again, he made you delirious with pleasure after a request so you could do anything but properly think. He angled his fingers into that delicious spot inside you, but the buildup of your climax was as torturously slow as the stroke of his fingers. 

“Your name?” You gasped mindlessly, closing your eyes to focus on feeling him being in all the right places. His lips brushed against yours, ignited your body like a spark to hot-wire a car. His thumb pressed gently into your clit and he slowly drew circles. 

“Dean,” he whispered bewitchingly against your lips. You felt his arm press into the pillow beside your head and he tenderly brushed your hair away from your neck. 

“Dean,” you moaned—begged, heart hammering in your chest at his tenderness. His response was instant, with his lips pressed against yours, numbing your mind once more, but a third finger slid into your pussy so you nearly toppled off the edge again. After a few thrusts that left you moaning wantonly against Dean’s mouth, his fingers disappeared from inside you. “God,” you cursed in irritation.

Soon, the entirety of his warmth was gone from your body. His bruising kiss left you breathless and thoughtless, but you managed to open your eyes to watch him lower his boxers with his thumb hooked at the stretchy waistband—leaving himself completely bare again. 

Dean bit his lip as he stroked his cock with his fingers coated in your slick. He seemed more than happy to have you watch. And you were more than happy with staring at the girth and length of him in his hand. His cock was pretty, beautiful even—if you could even imagine. Throbbing. Leaking precum at the tip so your mouth watered for a lewd long moment. You bit your lip and wondered what he tasted like—hopefully as good as he looked, how he’d fuck your mouth if you asked him to.

The sight of him like this made your arousal skyrocket. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asked breathlessly, slowly making his way closer between your legs. 

The thought of his cock stretching you out instantly drove you crazy. 

Once he was close enough, he leaned over you again with his arm beside your head again. He slid his hot cock through your folds and your breath caught in your throat. He moaned softly. You tore your eyes from where he coated you in his precum repeatedly. 

“I want you… inside me,” you replied bashfully, heat flared up to your ears and you squirmed involuntarily—desperate to be fucked as you ruined the sheets beneath you with your slick. But over and over he teased your clit with slippery circles of his tip that began to build your resolve. He wasn’t going to let you finish and you knew it. 

“Which part of me?” Of course he’d do that. 

You became frustrated quickly and remained quiet to think of your next move. Dean had taken you to a point where your confidence was merely pent up sexual frustration.

You sat up and climbed into his lap without a single thought. As shamelessly as he’d touched you, you gripped the base of his cock. His lips parted and his eyes widened in pleasant surprise when you took his chin between your fingers and kissed him hard. He gave you full control and released his dick so his hands could find your hips instead and pull you closer. 

He felt heavy in your hand, the throb and heat of him made your grip tighten in anticipation. He moaned against your mouth when you slowly stroked up his silky skin, slick with his precum. You thumbed at the slit, smeared his excitement around the head of his cock, and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Dean groaned softly and squeezed your hip. He slowly let himself lay on his back and pulled you down with your lips still locked in a breathy and covetous kiss. You twisted your hand upwards, faster, and emphasised the movement of your fingers beneath the head of his cock. He pulled away slightly with a gasp and found his place between your legs to run a teasing finger through your drenched folds. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard… wanna bury myself inside of you,” he murmured against your lips. 

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped instantly against his parted mouth, “yes.”

Dean kissed you hard and replaced your hand on his cock with his own again. He pulled away to catch his breath with you. Using his other hand, he brushed your hair out of the way and continued to pant for breath. He watched between your bodies, his throbbing cock in his hand, but you only watched him—curiously and longingly. He stroked himself slowly and he cursed under his breath when the tip finally breached the wet opening of your vagina.

Your breath hitched, but his name managed to slip out quietly. He hummed in satisfaction when you slowly lowered yourself on him. The delightful stretch of having him inside you weakened your knees and your pussy tightened around him. He thrusted upwards slowly, sliding his cock further into your wet heat, perfectly stroking your g-spot.

You pulled away a small distance and watched him become utterly enraptured. His freckled cheeks were tainted a deep red that spread up to the tips of his ears and down to his neck like a wildfire. He looked so fucking beautiful. His brows furrowed in concentration and his plush lips parted to release soft groans of pleasure that made your pussy throb around him greedily. 

His eyes fluttered open and he leaned up slightly to reach your lips. He managed to land a small peck before you started lifting yourself up and down on his cock. A broken moan from him made you smile devilishly. He fell back into the mattress and squeezed your hips roughly.

“Dammit, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he praised breathily. You hummed softly and wrapped your hands around his wrists to guide his hands up to your breasts before bouncing on his lap faster, building a more steadfast rhythm. 

“I love the way you feel, too,” you moaned softly, aroused at the sound of Dean’s cock entering your wet pussy and your skin hitting his when he was buried so deeply inside you the breath was nearly punched out of your lungs in surprise. 

“You’re so unbelievably beautiful,” he continued to worship quietly, pinching almost painfully at your nipples, then teasingly brushed the pads of his thumbs over them—maybe soothingly. You moaned and leaned back with your hands on his thighs the closer you got to your orgasm.

One of Dean’s hands moved away from your breast to slowly slide down the front of your body. You watched him stare up at you, adoring you with his touch and lauding you in between groans and gasps of ecstasy. He squeezed your thigh encouragingly and cursed at the way you clenched your cunt around his sensitive cock. 

You allowed yourself to close your eyes and let the pleasure of riding him saturate your mind and body. His hands moved along your body, praising without words when all he could do was groan and pant lewdly at your enthusiastic fucking. 

He kneaded your breasts, squeezed your flesh, scratched gently at your skin. You were teeming with bliss and you were embarrassingly wet, but everything about him made you pathetically horny and he appeared to absolutely love every second of it. 

Dean’s hand finally moved between your legs to find your clit and rub it continuously. His hips bucked upwards when you whined his name and clamped down on his cock as you orgasmed. Your body shook above him and he hummed low in his throat, partially amused, but mostly satisfied. 

His thumb rubbed furiously at your clit—dilating the duration of your orgasm, intensifying it—and only stopped when you couldn’t handle it anymore. Your whimper and the way you weakly draped your body over his with your forehead pressed into his warm shoulder, stopped him.

You couldn’t process much after that, but soon your face was pressed into his pillow and your pussy was getting filled again with his cock. His fingers bruised your hips and you gasped out moans as your second orgasm began to build. 

"Shit, you love it like this, don't you, sweetheart?" You were flustered by the soppy sound of your cunt every time he pounded into you from behind, but you were partially grateful that he was close to finishing. A perplexing, carnal part of you wanted him to keep ploughing into your pussy until you ached.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl,” Dean praised gruffly. You only whimpered brokenly in response as he fucked you through the squelch and wetness of your second orgasm. Your toes curled with the unbelievable sensation that seized your body when you felt his cum fill you with warmth. His release slipped between your thighs in a mixture with yours and you cried his name as your walls pulsed around his throbbing cock. 

Dean released you and your body sank completely into the soft mattress. He panted against your shoulder and murmured praises with his comforting hands sailing along your body. 

Your mind slowly returned to the real world and the beat of your heart slowed to its normal rhythm. You were exhausted and you wanted to clean yourself up, but Dean had other plans for you: staying in bed and cuddling.

You willed yourself into getting up out of his bed. You sat up—his arm loosely around your waist—and became aware of the lack of windows and the wooden stake that rested at the far end of the little platform—a shelf really—he had above his bed next to a little fan. 

“Um…” you trailed off, wiggling out of his arm to slide out of the messy bed. 

“You’re seriously not gonna stay in bed?” He questioned you as you looked around, attempting to ignore the rest of your mixed release dripping from between your legs. You felt his fingers move between yours, then a sharp tug pulled you back in bed. Your legs were shaky so you ended up right back where he wanted you to be—in his embrace. 

“Yeah,” you laughed awkwardly. You squirmed and wiggled until he finally released you, “I don’t know you and I need to… get back… somewhere, home.” He sat up on his side and stared at you blankly for a few seconds. No, he’s too beautiful. 

You looked away and decided to pull “your” clothes from where he’d thrown it to get something to cover your body now that your post-orgasmic brain was becoming logical and self-conscious. 

“Babe, drop it, we’ll play that game later,” he dismissed you with a cute snort. You groaned at him when he snagged his shirt from your hands. He slowly peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder and you were unable to fight him.

“Dean, I’m serious,” you tried weakly and gripped his hair to pull him away as gently as you could. You turned to look at him again and he backed off. “Look at me and tell me if I’m lying to you.” He rolled his eyes but held your gaze for a few moments as he contemplated you. 

You saw the amusement on his handsome face but you continued to frown. The amusement faded into perplexity and concern. 

“Ah, shit,” he muttered.

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[mourninglamby]

god it's so nice to see your takes on things genuinely

As flawed as it is, i think dsmp is still an incredibly interesting and unique narrative about abuse, how it affects different people, and how it's spread and normalised. It's not a satisfying or clean narrative by any means, but i still think that it approaches its themes in a way that's fundamentally different than any other form of media and it's still worth it to spend time analysing it.

i don't know if the fact that actual abusers worked on it has anything to do with it (i would hazard a guess and say yes, but i digress), but oftentimes it genuinely feels like a look into the internal machinations of abusers, and i think it can make people more aware of the warning signs. and good analysis is the #1 way to actually bring that lesson to the surface, since the story wasn't written with that moral in mind but just stumbled onto it.

so, thank you for giving this smpand its story the time of day, i think that it's genuinely something that's worth doing and it's nice to see someone put themselves out there like you do (since i know how a lot of fans are), have a lovely day!

Ugh this is all worded soooo perfectly. This story is truly the most unique look into abuse and it never even used to word …….forgive the long tangent I’m about to go on but it’s important!! I know there is a bigger conversation to be had, particularly about the meta and the way Tommy played ctommy/how he interacted with the adults on the server, which greatly influenced the delivery of the abuse plotline. Tom Simons played Ctommy epistemologically, so the characters’ knowledge, for the most part, extended only as far as his did. Which created a devastating story ! Especially concerning cwilbur!

I wanna actually talk abt how the word “abuse” was never used, despite it permeating thru the entire narrative. This was on purpose of course. Tommy The Guy was 16. His outlook on abuse and the nuances of it likely weren’t developed enough for him to ever really understand what was happening to his character until it was too late. And in that vein, Clayton Ray Huff and william gold also didn’t think harder about the harm they caused not just Tommy, but everyone else they hurt irl. And I’ll never forget Tommy’s cry for justice before that HORRIBLE ending, saying in his twitch chat that “cdream drove ctommy to suicide!” Or when he told his chat they were Also being manipulated by c!dream, after his first prison visit. It’s so complicated and so difficult to talk about, but it’s absolutely necessary when the story itself never really…. Understood the topic it was portraying. The level of abuse apologism and victim blaming present in this fanbase had such an awful effect on me and my friends, and again, that was intentional. Send the audience they curated to silence any conversation that might allude to blaring red flags. BUT! I’m in a better headspace to discuss the intricacies of its harm and how it failed, and simultaneously investigate how it managed to be so Real.

As for the story being written by a handful of actual abusers … well……. It’s no wonder it ended like a punch to the throat. Absolute horse shit spun from the mouths of men who know what they are, and want to keep being that way. Wilbur thinks he can just Leave for a while and everything would go back to normal. Dream thought he could Start Over so that no ACTUAL consequences would ever reach him. They learn NOTHING because they don’t believe they have to. It’s sick. But it’s always necessary to remember when analyzing the train wreck of an ending both men concocted. Dsmp failed as damage control because they played abusers in that story too. And abusers don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. Completely incapable of introspection.

Okay I’ve talked enough lmfao but . I’m rly thankful I get to receive anons like this … I do not think I’m the smartest person by a long shot and seeing other people articulate these thoughts and introduce me to new things has been very healing and validating. It’s much better than the ppl who would flat out deny it or harass me lol.

[pilot-boi]

For the tans winter maiden jaune au, think we can get a snippet of him meeting with Nora? Does he start using she/her pronouns by then or is he still mostly repressing everything and using he/him?

First of all, it’s not a repression thing. I cannot stress enough that Jaune’s pronouns are he/him. Being a woman doesn’t change that. Like I said before, it took this long for his egg to crack because he feels no discomfort in using he/him to refer to himself. He is a bisexual girl who uses he/him

That being said, I’ll do my best :]

Fair warning, I got VERY carried away

Jaune’s been acting weird since he got back.

Well duh Nora, of course he’s been weird. He’s been trapped in another dimension for gods know how long with nobody to talk to. And he’s apparently a fairy tale character, from a book popular enough that even HER mom had time to read it as a bedtime story before abandoning her.

Good times.

He’s the Winter Maiden.

She’s the Winter Maiden. He? She? They? Do the rules of that even apply anymore now that even Ozpin doesn’t know what’s going on and her family met the mother of the gods?

And how did it even happen? All she knows is her leader is back with flames from blue eyes and Jaune refuses to talk about it. So does the rest of RWBY. Well, to an extent.

The death of the Winter Maiden was something that got brought up immediately, especially since no Penny came through the portal and Winter showed up with Qrow and the Ace Ops. Everyone assumed that Penny was dead, but nobody knew who got the powers.

And then RWBY returns from the dead with a flame-eyed Jaune and an impossible story. They all dance around the question in meetings. It was Cinder’s fault, they all say, and Nora believes them. But they also all glance at Jaune whose hand is tight on the hilt of Crocea Mors.

Nora is many things, but she’s not oblivious. A ditz, sure, over-exuberant, definitely. But unobservant she is not. Jaune was involved in Penny’s death. How, she doesn’t know, but she recognizes the haunted look in those eyes from dark nights in Mistral. No amount of years could dull that.

Ren has taken his turn looking through their leader, and apparently Jaune is fine. Or at least as fine as can be expected. And Nora trusts him. She trusts him more than he trusts herself these days.

But there’s still something. Something in Jaune’s eyes when they land on her, a flicker of something she can’t recognize. Or wishes she couldn’t.

Blame. Guilt. Pain. Emotions that have never been directed towards her from Jaune. Flames from blue eyes, twenty years alone, a trauma she knows nothing about.

She doesn’t know who Jaune is anymore.

And it’s that realization that pushes her to find Jaune and talk in person.

“Jaune? Can I come in?” Nora knocks on the door. The Nora-Of-Before would’ve just barged in without thinking. There’s a lot of things Nora-Of-Before wouldn’t have bothered to think about.

“‘Course, door’s open.” Jaune is sitting on the bed that’s shared with Oscar, adjusting the straps on the shoulders of the armor. “Hey, Nora. Did you need something?”

“What do I call you now?” Wow, great going, Nora. Just blurt it out.

Jaune blinks and looks up at her, visibly confused. “Um… Jaune?” Blue eyes glance over her face. “Unless something changed that I don’t know about?”

Something did change, she wants to scream. You changed. You changed and you can’t even see it because it happened when nobody was around to point it out. You were alone and vulnerable and it’s all my fault.

“Can I sit down?” she asks instead. Jaune slides over immediately, shoving the armor onto the pillow to make room for her. “Jaune, we need to talk.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“I need to get something out of the way first of all.” She looks her leader straight in the eyes. “What do I call you now?”

“Jaune. Nora I don’t-“

“No no not that,” she waves away. “Not your name, I know your name.”

Jaune chuckles. “You’d be the first.” Short, sweet, ladies love it. The whole world knows them now. Not as much as Ruby, but still. Nora can’t fathom how Jaune deals with the world knowing the fairytale title more than the name from the broadcast.

“It’s just… So much has happened, and you don’t have to tell me all of it or any of it-” The words are tumbling out of her before she knows it, before she can stop them. “-but clearly so much has happened and you’re like family to me, and I’m sorry about what happened, I’m so sorry, but-”

“Woah woah woah, slow down.” Jaune grabs her hands. Dammit, she was rambling. This is about Jaune being hurt, and here she is rambling. “C’mere.” Jaune slides her over and plops a head of white streaked curls down on her head. She can feel Jaune’s voice rumble. “You can talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I just… I don’t think I know you anymore.” And dammit why is her voice so small. She’s supposed to be the strong one. Gods, how does Jaune do this?!

Jaune doesn’t answer for the longest time, and for her it’s like having her worst fears confirmed. You’re right, you don’t know me, her leader’s silence seems to say.

“I don’t think I know myself anymore,” Jaune says eventually. “I was the Burning Knight. I still am, I guess.” There’s a pause, and Nora leans into the ratty sweatshirt Neptune lent. “I don’t really know who I am without the fairytale. It’s hard to explain.”

I don’t actually know who I am without Ren. “No… I think I get it,” Nora says. “Ren and I have been spending time apart since you…” Died. Since you died, and we buried you, and I couldn’t bring back help. But Jaune isn’t dead, she can feel the tickle of blonde curls on her forehead and the warmth through the hoodie. “I wanted to figure out who I am. I’m still working on that, but I think I get it.”

Jaune hmms.

“I’m the Winter Maiden.” It’s so matter of fact that Nora had to remind herself that Jaune’s had decades to get used to the idea. “but I still feel like Jaune Arc. I think… I think I’m a girl, but I still feel like a man.” And Nora has to admit, she’s shocked by how quickly Jaune admitted that. Other dimension therapy must be bonkers.

“So who are you?”

Another chuckle, this one failing to hide the hurt. “If you only knew how many times I failed to answer that question.”

More silence. Less stifling.

“I think… I think I’m still me.” And Nora can hear the relief. How long has her leader been dealing with identity and self all alone? Did it start in fairytale land, or did she just miss the signs? “I’m the Maiden, and I’m a girl, but I still feel like a guy.”

“Oh yeah?” Nora shifts so she can look at Jaune’s face. Blonde hair streaked with white over blue eyes. The eyes are still the same. “So you’re a woman? Like May?”

Jaune grimaces, thumps back down on her shoulder. “Girl feels right, woman doesn’t. I don’t feel… grown enough for woman.” Nora nods. Young, then old, then young again. Enough time has been stolen, it makes sense that Jaune’s had enough of being grown.

“So you’re my sister now, not my brother?” Nora asks.

She feels Jaune curl around her, long arms holding her like a teddy bear. “I don’t think I know who I am if I’m not your brother. Or Ren’s. Or Ruby, or Oscar’s.”

Who is Nora Valkyrie if she isn’t part of Ren and Nora? “It’s just a part of you,” she murmurs. How many Winter Maidens is she going to lead down this path before she reaches the end herself? “Don’t forget about the rest.”

“The rest of me feels like a guy,” Jaune replies immediately. “Not a man, not a hero just… just a guy. Or a girl. ” She can almost hear the smile behind the words. “A friend.”

“So, what do I call you now?”

“What do I call you?” Jaune shoots the question back at her. “Who are you?” And that’s not fair, ‘cause she hasn’t had two decades to work on this, she’s only had two months. And most of that time was filled up with grieving.

Although, with the white-streaks in blonde hair and the haunted look in blue eyes, Jaune probably spent the two decades similarly.

“I don’t think I know,” Nora admits.

“Me neither,” Jaune sighs. “I should probably talk to May about this. She’s the expert.”

“Probably.”

“Who do you want to be?” And the way Jaune says it, the question clearly means something. Something locked up in fairytale land and the lost years spent there.

But it’s an interesting question.

“I want to be someone who’s there for her friends,” she says. A golden portal and knuckles and throat bleeding under the force of desperation. “Someone whose friends know that she’ll fight the battles they can’t, and laugh and cry with them afterwards.”

“Sounds like you want to be Nora.”

It does, doesn’t it? “Who do you want to be?”

“I want to be someone who can help people,” Jaune says. A gleaming shield and a shattered blade, glowing hands meant to comfort and heal. “The kind of guy who can say “Everything’s gonna be alright, I’m here to help,” and people believe him.”

“Sounds like you want to be Jaune,” Nora quips back at her leader, and receives a weak laugh in response.

Him. Jaune said him.

“Do you still want to be a him? You’re a girl who feels like a guy.” She leans back against Jaune’s chest, snuggling into the warmth there. “Whatever you say, I’ll still love you.”

Silence. Nora feels Jaune shift awkwardly, sees calloused fingers pull at borrowed hoodie sleeves in front of her. “Is that like… allowed?” Theres a shocking amount of vulnerability in her leader’s voice. Like her answer will decide the rest of the future.

Oh Jaune.

There’s an immortal witch trying to kill us, time travel is apparently real, and you’re a fairy tale character. Who cares what’s allowed? It’s what she wants to say. It’s what she’s thinking. But cradling Jaune’s bleeding heart in her hands, and knowing better than she knows her name how important the opinion of her leader’s friends are, she stays quiet.

Nora looks up. Blue eyes, full of shadow and doubt. But still Jaune’s. “It’s very allowed.”

And his smile is like the sun.

[emrysflame]

My opinion on the eye incident

Now there is still some discourse with this topic so I wanted to give my own personal thoughts with it.

I want to start off by saying that I don’t really blame any of the children. Not really. They are children and honestly this fandom needs to stop judging a child character for not making adult rational decisions. They are children.

I do blame the adults who should have been watching them. Why are five royal children able to roam around a castle at night with no guards around? Why was Aemond able to claim a dragon with no one knowing? Why were Jace, Luke and the twins able to go out of their chambers and roam around? Why were no adults watching them?

Also to the point of Jace bringing a knife. He’s a royal child. A royal male. It’s not uncommon for male royal children to be carrying knifes/small dagger. It’s really not something that should be a surprise.

Also the four children were not looking specifically for Aemond. They didn’t know who went to Vhagar until they saw Aemond. “It’s you.” Implies that they didn’t know until they saw Aemond. Saying they maliciously went after Aemond specifically is wrong.

I don’t blame Aemond for being angry over losing his eye. I don’t believe Aemond stole Vhagar. I don’t believe dragons can be stolen. BUT he did claim her right after a funeral for two young children’s mother. I can see why they would be upset. They just lost their mother and now just lost a connection to their mother, her dragon. Is Aemond wrong for claiming Vhagar, no. But I don’t think it’s wrong for the twins to be upset.

I also don’t blame Luke for what he did. He genuinely believed that Aemond was going to kill Jace. It doesn’t matter what we know to be true, Luke in his mind thought his brother was going to be killed. Anyone in that position would try to do anything they can to save the person they love and care for.

Should Luke have been more punished for what he did? Sure. But those punishments shouldn’t be: sending him to the Wall. He’s a child. That is weird. If you want to bring up young characters who were sent to the Wall, go for it. It’s still weird to want to send him there.

No he shouldn’t lose his titles and sent away. First, that wasn’t ever going to happen but it also doesn’t make sense. What Luke did was in defense. And you could say that Aemond calling them bastards (which they are legally legitimate as Laenor claimed them as his children.) would be considered treason. But no one is advocating for Aemond to lose his titles (and I’m not either. But I’m saying Luke shouldn’t have to lose his).

And no he shouldn’t have his eye cut out either. That’s also another weird punishment to want to do to a child. Wanting to see a child maimed is weird. Luke didn’t purposefully cut out the eye of Aemond. He was defending his brother but we don’t see him purposely cutting out his eye. Do you really think holding down a CHILD to cut out his eye is appropriate?

All in all, I don’t blame any of the children. The adults should have been watching them. There is an argument that all the children did something to escalate the fight but they are children and I don’t blame children for not making rational adult choices.

[justlarkin]

"It's been a long time, I suppose I should say. I, Archangel Mikhael, have transformed for you, my one and only... kind but shy brother."

This dialogue actually recontextualizes so much of Michael's behaviour and actions...

The general consensus of Eden is that Shaytan rebelled against the Almighty because he went mad or he was just foolish. Michael also believes that Shaytan was foolish, but this more likely comes from him thinking that Shaytan was a fool for his kindness. Shaytan didn't want to persecute or damn anyone, so he tried to rebel and stop them from doing so or at least release himself from the role in the process. Michael doesn't care for inferior beings, so he can't understand why Shaytan would throw away everything to try to save them from damnation and thinks Shaytan's softheartedness for them made him the fool. In fact, this probably adds more to why Michael looks down on humans so much, if he blames them for his brother falling from grace.

So Michael knows. Michael knows that Shaytan was too kind to handle his role. At least by himself. I don't think Michael ever wanted to be World Representative. That role was always reserved for his big brother in his mind. His intention is probably to become Shaytan's right hand man, who carries out all of the dirty work, while Shaytan takes the throne. That's probably what Michael meant when he said that he transformed himself for Shaytan. He became more analytical and cold, and pushed himself through law school at such a young age to learn and prepare himself. Michael just wants to help Shaytan and thinks this is the way to do it. All of this really has been for Shaytan.

While we're here, the shy part totally makes sense when you remember what Lucifuge said about Lucifer in his character quest. Lucifer usually kept his distance from the others and watched on. Lucifer still wanted friends, but was hesitant to approach anyone due to his role of World Representative.

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[star-scrambled]

hey this goes without saying but unironically dni if you hate paani octonauts. like actually.

[dykedvonte]

Preston x Danse is the only companion ship I think would actually work because Preston’s inner turmoil is sort of a loss of faith in himself due to the traumatic experiences he’s faced while Danse is looking for something to have faith in and would find the fact that despite the desire to give up Preston held out so long not just for the honor of the Minutemen but because he had some hope.

It would 100% start off as a lotta unhealthy on Danse’s side as I believe he completely lacks the emotional intelligence (due to a combination of factors) to recognize the he’s feelings as anything but a sort of respect for a superior along with leaning too much into Preston as a substitute for the BoS. Preston may not really have a title but he’s like THE Lieutenant of the Minutemen. Realistically he’s the only companion Danse would probably be comfortable taking instructions from especially for how trusted Preston is by the Sole Survivor and his adherence to military standards despite how unstructured the Minutemen are. It would be him waiting for orders, approval, anything from Preston and he thinks it’s just the desire to have the regiment of the BoS again but he also like when Preston compliments him on being useful or resourceful. He likes the stories of Minuteman glory days and he trades the stories of the BoS that don’t hurt to talk about. He likes the familiarity Preston would provide and he’d be oblivious that it’s not just new found loyalty to the Minutemen.

Yet Preston explains it himself that he’s not a natural leader. He’s not an instructor. He helps manage what the General has put in place and he content on doing that. He relays what needs to be done and does major upkeep but I don’t think he’d know what to do with this guy this literally marches up to him and practically begs for a mission that doesn’t exist. Like the formality and respect is nice but he can tell it’s covering something even if Danse doesn’t.

Danse could go to Sturges for the many repair and upkeep assignments he gives him and has the freedom to go straight to the Castle if he really wants a big mission, but he chooses to come to him everytime. He’s aware enough that Danse only trusts him out of all of the Generals confidantes but it would take a bit for him to understand why. If anything Danse should be strategizing with him as equals seeing as he almost got the Minuteme wiped out and Danse was a Paladin for the Brotherhood with many successes under his belt before Preston even led his first scouting mission. It’s like he sees him as some figure of hope, some one who can come in and add stability. Someone with a fresh outlook who can provide a new perspective for him.

It’s like he sees him like he saw/sees the Sole Survivor but that would be crazy because that would also mean… and then oh, it clicks.

The revelation is both flattering and he doesn’t know what to do with it cause how do you address “I know you respect me but is that the only feeling you have for me?” To the guy who like refuses to rest unless you tell him at ease? He has to reevaluate his whole manner of interaction with Danse cause this is a very slippery slope that he’s sliding down and it’s even more perilous due to Danse’s repressed emotions regarding… everything. There’s an equal chance Danse will try to open up as completely shut down and he’s not just concerned about it cause Sole Survivor cares for him but because he has grown to care for the guy too. It’s not like he doesn’t also enjoy Danse’s company and value as a Minuteman member. He’s not a love at first sight guy but he’s played with the idea, anyone would when you’ve spent nights trading stories, historical facts and beers by the fire in a little home you’ve carved for yourself through literal blood, sweat and tears.

I think it’s one of those cases where it’s agonizingly slow to the actual relationship but neither part are anguished about that. If anything happened to soon Danse would be too dependent and Preston not equipped to handle it. It’s a case where I genuinely think they’d bring out the best in each other cause theyd want to figure out what is best for the other and not just apply what they think is the best. It’s the care that Preston would ask Danse what he wants to do and encourage it and at the same time Danse would be incredulous everytime Preston second guesses himself.

Long story short it’s a good ship to me because it’s just two guys with broken confidences and faith in their roles being each other’s hype man and kissin a little about it.

[always-a-joyful-note]

As I have somehow become entangled in the Ensemble Stars fandom (I hate it here. Don't follow me to these waters, you guys) and am slowly reading the stories after the main one of music (and after watching the anime), I have come to the conclusion that Nito Nazuna is (probably unintentionally) Velveteen Rabbit coded.

If you don't know the story (spoilers for it ahead, you can read the short story here), it's basically about how a stuffed rabbit given to a boy as a Christmas present gets neglected in favour of newer mechanical toys. During his neglect, an older toy tells him a story about how the love of children to their toys can make them real, which the rabbit desperately wants but has little hope for. But by chance, a nanny gives the boy the rabbit to sleep with, cementing it as the boy's favourite toy. Sure, it gets more worn and other rabbits point out how it can't hop, but at least its loved...until the boy contracts scarlet fever and, for disinfecting reasons, the rabbit has to be taken out to be burned. Yeah, messed up...but as it waits for its fate, the stuffed rabbit sheds a tear where a flower with a fairy grows. The fairy proceeds to tell him that the boy's love made him real and takes him to the forest where he's able to finally hop away with the other rabbits.

I know it's a stretch. But a former toy/doll, incredibly loved but not really seen as real and that destroying him even if he's fine with it...then neglected when his "owner" contracts a sickness...then finding a spark of life that frees him from his inability to move...a transformation from loved doll to a real something that learns to love himself. Tell me that isn't Nazuna, and the rabbit imagery even fits. He breaks free from his constraints not to be alone but to be with others of his kind, to move of his own will with others! It's just so...we are all human and our relationships are so complex and someone else's tragedy that also makes you hurt for them can also be the reason you find your own self -

Honestly, I'm not sure if this is actually Velveteen Rabbit coded since I've only seen that story in the anime, but like...if you squint, it fits?

[designernishiki]

interesting to think about how majima was first introduced as a character beating the shit out of someone for not-so-righteous reasons and thus from then on he was/is widely interpreted as morally grey and difficult to trust, but when yakuza 0 starts with an opening scene of kiryu beating someone to near-death for similarly not-so-righteous reasons, it’s just sorta glossed over and forgotten because he’s just so sweet and innocent and can do no wrong. like damn it’s okay to admit the guy has his issues, some just as bad and unresolved as majima’s, that makes him 1000% more interesting than a guy who’s every action is morally justifiable

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[cinnamon-phrog]

How's your day going on tumblr

My day has only just started [EST timezone you see, I am so sorry if I'm incomprehensible] but it's going well, thank you!

I was a bit sad because I chose to give the benefit of the doubt to someone someone else was being mean to, but the person I gave the benefit too turned out to be exactly who I hoped they weren't.

That red x yellow shipper turned out to be a pr*shipper but just didn't say it, a friend of mine told me about their gross twitter acc, as well as the other shipper who sided with them. The only thing they're right about is yes it does indeed look like it's 2022 again :c

It makes me sad to see nothing but gatekeepers and pr*shippers in the dhmis tag so I'm just going to not bother looking anymore, you all had your chances.

It's very messy and has upset me for a bit, but I went offline to go to town and I felt much better!!

[I go off a lot more in the tags- like a LOT a lot. A sort-of vent/complaint but not an ooooooh look at me vent just a few things that've happened in the past that made me who I am now]

[boasamishipper]

[image description: a comparison of luke skywalker in 'the last jedi' to maverick mitchell in 'top gun: maverick'. under a picture of luke, there is a list of traits that read:

old luke:

old and grumpy

nothing like the real luke

gives up on the jedi

ridiculed

refuses to train rey

sad and pathetic

won't fight

dies for nohing

under a picture of maverick, there is a list of traits that read:

old maverick:

older and wiser

same core character

still believes in top gun

respected

trains new pilots

jaded but inspiring

fights despite the odds

puts his life on the line

end id.]

listen i hate rian johnson and the last jedi as much as the next guy but this post Just Ain't It

[eiiskonigin]

it's a million degrees and I made myself sad so you know what? fuck it, I'm going to finally write out the Kai headcanon / lore / whatever you want to call this nonsense. I kept putting it off because I was never happy with it but fuck it.

When Winter joined Atlas Academy, she was assigned to a team with three other people. Among those three was her partner, a young man by the name of Kai Troldenglas. The pair quickly proved a force to be reckoned with in their year, their fighting styles blending together almost seamlessly.

Despite the fact that Winter could be cold and standoffish even back then, Kai insisted on growing closer to her -- doing little things to break down her walls. Remembering the things she preferred to eat in the mess hall and saving her the last of them should she be running late. Taking an interest on the rare occasions that she did open up about herself, her home life.

If you had asked Winter, she would have said that Kai was a reliable partner. Someone she was growing to trust, someone she would begin to call a friend.

Over their first year at the Academy, their friendship blossomed into something more. Truthfully, Winter had never put much thought into romantic relationships: she knew that her father was insistent that marriage in a family like theirs was a tool to be used to move up in the world, so she had tried to never consider that sort of thing, had closed her heart off to avoid being hurt in the way her mother had been.

Kai had changed that. Kai, though his presence and patience, had wormed his way into her heart.

Winter had fallen in love, or at least whatever a teenager believed to be love.

So, when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she accepted. When he took her to his bed, she let him.

And when he proposed to her during the summer break, she thought that this was how things were supposed to happen. Weren't they? When two people found one another, this was the natural next step. Winter's own ignorance to how relationships were meant to work worked against her, accepting his proposal. She would marry him, and be happy, and that was how things would play out.

Happily ever after.

She'd never liked those stories.

It was during her engagement party that the cracks in Kai's facade began to show. It was as if a switch had been flipped: the calm and sweet boy she'd met at school replaced with a haughty, snobbish young man. Snapping at the staff working the event, acting as if he were above them. Talking to her as if he were someone completely different.

The truth revealed itself behind closed doors, a conversation she was never meant to hear. When stepping away from the party in an attempt to clear her head, Winter found her father in his office having a conversation with Mr. Troldenglas -- her father-in-law to be -- about how their business arrangement had worked out perfectly.

It was a lie. Everything she had believed about Kai. He had paid his way into Atlas Academy, buying out another student for their place. While being placed on a team with Winter was purely by chance, his getting close to her had not been.

He wasn't marrying Winter. He was marrying the SDC heiress.

Furious, Winter stormed back into the party and shut it down. Mortified at being so foolish as to believe he could have actually liked her, could have loved her. The ring was thrown back in the Troldenglas's faces, and she screamed for them to get out of her home, out of her life.

Sure enough, when the semester started in the fall, Kai was no longer enrolled in Atlas Academy.

Winter went through the rest of her schooling with no partner -- her own request, honored by Headmaster Ironwood -- and held the rest of her team at arms length. Over the years, it simply became an accepted fact that Winter Schnee was a cold, heartless person who wanted nothing to do with other people.

The wounds from her first love still show, now and then. That fear at being fooled again, the hatred of her own heart. Still desperately trying to heal.

[iamthescalesofjustice]

idk if anyone has done this before but da2 au where you think at first its a both twins lived au and then find out bethany died and thats actually non-warden amell posing as her. something something escaped with jowan maybe, found her relatives in lothering, sought refuge with them and when bethany ended up dying it was way lower profile for amell to take the place of her cousin than try to get in to kirkwall with them as a non-immediate family member (especially given that leandra is publicly coming in as an amell and theres a resemblance and its known revka had mage kids taken to the circle and im sure theres a bulletin out or whatever for an escaped apostate matching amells description). points if people comment on how ‘bethany’ clearly takes after her mother. leandra is not normal about it. aveline knew the real bethany at least in passing bc of living in the same town and treats this as a reason for her distrust of hawke and co and one of the reason she sabotages carvers application with the guard. 

[arttheclown]

twicord isn’t a bad ship people are just mean ):