#no option on her kin

[prophecyoflunarflame]

[blossyossyossy]

Best Grojband song by FAR

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Just learnt ‘Findis’ is a combination of ‘Finwë’ and ‘Indis’—

they were that sort of sappy parent.

[ghost-van]

guys should we make sword a blog……… we know there’s like 3 swords already but she thinks it’d be fun & also we’re evil & see the event going on for that venomshank blog rn……………..

yea sure i’ll poll this why not

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

i am once again debating changing estrel's name and title

[esoteric-terror]

one if not all three of the dawncrow kids shouldve been protagonists in avos send tweet

[delusionalelegy]

kinda wonderinf if i have a sim canon..

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

[oreganocactus]

i don't participate in any sort of svsss fandom stuff so my apologies if this has been said already but a HUGE part of the humor of that book comes from how it parodies typical isekai harem tropes and not just in the way you might think. there's the typical "wow so cheaply derived porn trope" humor but part of the humor is also in that despite LBH being the original protag, the book SVSSS itself features SQQ as the protagonist.....

ppl like to joke about SQQ's "harem" but the humor of the harem isn't just in that he has one at all (when normally that would be LBH's role), it's how every "member" of that harem fulfills a typical isekai harem role in an inverted way!!!!!!

most obvious example is LBH. he's an inversion in that he's originally intended to be an all-powerful demon king who's a housewife in SVSSS, but (imo) the humor in his "role" is that he's supposed to fulfill the trope of the young abused battle-hardened "demon" girl who longs for peace and housewifery and latches onto the older man who showed him kindness -- except instead of being a moe anime girl, he's an all-powerful protagonist-style power insert hero. so, not so much an inversion of "this demon king is actually a housewife??" and moreso "this housewife is actually a male demon king" (which might not sound like much of a difference at all, but it's moreso about how the MEN fulfill harem girl tropes and not the other way around.)

another example is YGY - set up as a "big brother" figure and clearly has history with SQQ. he's meant to fulfill the trope of the clingy "older sister" childhood friend who promises marriage to the protagonist and has clear history w/him but is insecure about his role because he's not as "appealing" as the other options. his humor as a "romance option" comes from 1. him being a man (you might notice this is the case for a lot of these LOL) and 2. actually, in fact, being immensely powerful - it's another inversion of the trope of the physically weak "starter" harem girl who agonizes over being unable to do more for her beloved childhood friend in their journey.

my favorite example: LQG is the most obvious "tsundere tomboy" trope ever. physically powerful, out of touch with her emotions, gets flustered and aggressive with her crush, focuses on getting stronger above all else yet somehow extraordinarily beautiful -- all of these are extremely obvious tropes assigned to this "tsundere tomboy" trope, with the humor lying in the contrast of LQG actually being a man. the succubus extra is hilarious not just because of the awkward situation and their reactions, but because it's an EXACT setup of an extremely common scene in isekai harem novels. the cold tsundere beauty gets affected by succubi, doesn't know what to do, goes to the protagonist for help - it's the exact kind of situation that would have the protagonist pushing her down and saying lines like "you shouldn't act like this - i'm a man too, don't you know?" and making her aware that she's a woman and "in danger" around him. it's funny because LQG is very much a man, and indeed SVSSS parodies this directly by having SQQ tell LQG that he's a man too, he'll understand if he needs to jerk off! no worries!

even ZZL falls into the trope of the typical beast-kin girl who's saved by the protagonist and falls into his harem, subverted by his loyalty to someone ELSE besides SQQ and nonchalance as he does it.

it's the main draw of the humor of the novel for me and i surprisingly feel like not enough people talk about just how much SVSSS really leans into being a parody of a harem-collecting isekai....

and if you're curious about my credentials for making this post: if you name a shitty isekai novel, i've almost definitely already read it all. i read too many midsekais. it's like an addiction.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

People are so insensitive when it comes to Rhaenyra’s situation. I have never seen so much cruelty directed towards a girl who was put between a rock and a hard place.

You all are acting as though Rhaenyra’s goal in life was to cheat on Laenor and undermine the Velaryons, her allies and her kin. She didn’t sleep around with the purpose of getting back at her husband and having children with other men out of spite (she’s not Cersei).

Rhaenyra was forced into marriage with a gay man and expected to produce heirs not only for the Iron Throne but also for Driftmark. So, an heir and a spare for House Targaryen. Another heir and another spare for House Velaryon. Four children (preferably sons) were expected from her womb. Good luck with that.

Let’s suppose that the rumors are true and Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are not Laenor’s. Rhaenyra’s decision to have children with another man should be less criticized, and regarded with more sympathy. She couldn’t spend her entire marriage life to Laenor without having children. Her “suitable” options were these:

1. Remain childless and let herself, the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Throne, be called barren.

2. Demand an annulment by exposing Laenor’s nature (confirming the rumors), and not only humiliating House Velaryon (her allies) but also putting the succession of Driftmark into question (since Laenor was Corlys’ only son and his chosen heir).

At a time when a faction of snakes was constantly nipping at her heels, either one of these options would have left Rhaenyra vulnerable at Court.

She took matters into her own hands and had children with another man. And not just another man. This was a man she could trust, her sworn shield, a man who cared for her and who would never betray her (it’s hard to find someone like that).

To claim that she should have chosen a Valyrian (as though the options are unlimited) is extremely superficial. For this to work, she needed someone trustworthy, someone who would not attempt to claim the children later on. We all know that Daemon would have been the best option for her. She loved him, he was Valyrian and her ally. But alas, with his own marriage and life away from Court, it wasn’t really possible. And I am not really sure if Daemon would have been okay with another man laying claim to his children (that is up for debate).

Rhaenyra preferred a man who was trustworthy over a man with the “correct” features. The chances were 50/50 that the children would look like her, and unfortunately, they didn’t. That’s that.

Laenor and Corlys accepted the situation, because they understood what it would cost them all if they didn’t. This whole thing was on their heads. They provided the heir to the throne with a husband incapable of reproducing. It was not Rhaenyra’s fault.

As such, the children were recognized as Velaryons by the father (Laenor), the Lord of Driftmark (Corlys) and the King (Viserys). And these are the only opinions which matter. No one can prove that the boys didn’t inherit Baratheon and/or Arryn genes. Legally, Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are the sons of Rhaenyra and Laenor.

When it comes to the Iron Throne, it doesn’t matter who fathered Rhaenyra’s children, as long as they are hers. She is the ruling Queen. And we have no way of knowing how things would have gone down after Rhaenyra became Queen. Daemon had two sons of his own. He could have managed to convince Rhaenyra to acknowledge Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey as bastards and then legitimize them, since she has the power to do so. If the boys wouldn’t have been accepted by the Realm (unlikely), there is also the possibility that Rhaenyra could have decided to pass the succession to her and Daemon’s children. Rhaenyra had legitimate heirs who could have taken the throne after her death.

As for Driftmark, despite greedy Vaemond’s ramblings, the succession was just fine. The Velaryon line would have continued through the marriage between Lucerys and Rhaena.

Lucerys had the Velaryon name and Rhaena had the Velaryon blood. Their children would have had the Velaryon name and blood. Problem solved.

People need to stop acting as through Vaemond was some sort of crusader, demanding “justice” for his House. He was just as much of an upstart as the Hightowers and he wanted to take Corlys’ power for himself, and so he took advantage of some rumors to discredit Rhaenyra’s children and advance himself.

Things are not black and white, and given Rhaenyra’s nearly impossible situation, exceptions can be made. And these exceptions wouldn’t have affected neither the succession of Driftmark nor that of the Seven Kingdoms.

[mj2606k]

Cockwarming

Kinkmas Day 1

Pairing: So’lek x fem!Sarentu!reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI 🔞, P in V, raw sex, semi!dirty talk, praise, cockwarming, (technically) breeding

A/N: I decided at literally last minute that I wanted to join in on Kinkmas, so this might seem a bit rushed. Hope y’all still enjoy it though! :)

Summary: So’lek took the Sarentu he had grow closest to on an overnight trip to observe a nearby RDA site, but they get stuck in a cave during a heavy storm. They build a small fire but they’re both still freezing, so they come up with another way to keep each other warm.

So’lek grunts in annoyance as he climbs further up the steep hill, rain pelting him in the face and nearly making him lose his hold on the outcropping rock he had been holding onto. He regains his hold quickly before glancing behind himself at the other Na'vi with him — one of the female Sarentu. She was the one that escaped alone when he was helping Alma rescue her and the other remaining members of her clan from TAP.

She’s right behind him as they climb the rock, and only a few minutes later So’lek reaches the top of the hill and the foot of the cave, reaching down to grab the Sarentu’s hand before lifting her up into the cave beside him. They both just rest there for a moment, catching their breaths as they watch the middle of the storm finally reach them, the rain pouring down outside the cave nearly enough to form a small waterfall.

After a few moments the girl Na’vi stands and heads deeper into the cave, finding a few dry branches and setting them up to make a fire. So’lek does his best to scout the area around their cave without getting himself drenched by the rain, then he makes his way over to her just as she lights the fire.

She adds a few more sticks and small branches to the fire before carefully stripping off most of her coverings, leaving herself only in her tewng, chest covering, and her chest plate. So’lek watches her silently, his eyes trailing over her body here and there, pausing over the small bruises on her hips and the occasional bite spread out over her inner thighs from one of their most recent endeavors.

Hours later the pair are huddled together as far back in the cave as they can get, the Sarentu visibly shivering even as So’lek adds more wood to the small fire. He’s more discreet about his lack of warmth, but he’s quick to huddle back up behind her once he’s finished adding the remainder of the wood to the fire. So’lek takes a moment to consider his options before leaning in and wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against the back of her neck as he gently pulls her closer in an attempt to share their body heat with one another. The Sarentu smiles as he leans in close, resting one of her hands over his even as she continues to shiver, her teeth chattering quietly.

Both of them try desperately to sleep but even as So’lek begins warming slightly, the girl’s chattering teeth and insistent backing up to get closer to him does nothing but keep him awake. This goes on for another ten minutes before So’lek thinks of something new to try and begins softly pressing kisses to the back of her neck, his tail curling gently around her’s when she gasps softly.

Only minutes later the Sarentu had given him verbal consent and now So'lek had pulled her tewng to the side, lazily thrusting two of his own fingers inside her, groaning softly at the quiet moans she let out as he stretched her gently. As if she wasn't already practically putty beneath his hands, he was also finding amusement in whispering little comments, whether he meant for her to hear them or not she wasn't sure. "Nìtxan 'ekxin...tswìk oe nemfa nìtxan nìltsan. (So tight...sucking me in so well.)" So'lek murmured right beside her ear, chuckling softly as her cunt fluttered around his digits.

The Sarentu whimpered needily, bucking her hips against his hand before grinding her hips back against him through his tewng, “Please, So’lek.. Oe nìtxan mek, kin nga mìfa. (I’m so empty, need you inside.)” So’lek coos softly, nuzzling his cheek against her shoulder as he gently pulls his fingers from her before moving his own tewng to the side. He used her juices on his fingers as lube as he stroked his cock once, twice, before lining it up to her entrance and slowly pushing into her.

It seemed that they both held their breaths until he was fully bottomed out inside her, a soft whimper falling from her lips as So’lek muffled a groan against her shoulder. He allowed her a few moments to adjust before he began slowly pulling out until only the tip remained, then slowly but deeply thrusting back in, repeating his movements until little moans were spilling from her on each thrust in.

As he steadily rocked against her, soft groans and quiet curses continuously slipped out of So’lek’s mouth, little murmurs of “O-oh, fuck-” or comments muffled against her shoulder that make her stomach flutter and her cunt clench around So’lek’s cock. “Tsä’ pxaw oe.. nafì’u sìltsan ‘evenge. (Gushing around me..such a good girl.)” the words were whispered right against her ear and her inner walls gave another flutter around him, a choked moan falling from her lips as his tip grazed her g-spot, “Nga kop txukx… (You're too deep…)” So’lek groaned again before pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder in response to her words and her tone.

She could tell when So’lek was close to his release by how his cock twitched inside her, how he wet a few fingers on his free hand before reaching around and beginning to rub quick steady circles against her clit to mask the way his thrusts were starting to get sloppy and uncoordinated. “Lu nga tstu si? (Are you close?)” he asked her, his voice pitching up slightly at the end as he swallowed down a soft whimper at the way her walls were beginning to milk him, bringing him dangerously close to the edge that he was desperate to push her over before him.

The Sarentu was about to answer him when she suddenly felt his tip brush against her cervix. A loud gasp left her mouth before her inner walls spasmed around him, properly milking him as her arousal squirted out and partially soaking both their thighs. So’lek let out a quiet broken moan, thrusting hard into her a few more times before pushing as deep in as he could go and stilling, panting quietly as Sarentu shivered slightly from the feeling of his cum painting her walls white.

A few more minutes passed as they both just relaxed, panting quietly until So’lek gently adjusted their position, returning to properly spooning her while letting her warm his cock, both of them purring softly while he pressed light kisses up her jaw, his hips lazily grinding against her. “Lu nga sang set? (Are you warm yet?)” So’lek broke the silence after a while and the Sarentu couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that left her until they were both laughing quietly, the loud but calming sound of the rain outside the cave eventually sending them both to sleep.

[mermen]

please help me cremate my mother

hi everyone, this is a very difficult post to make. early in the morning on april 9th, my mother was pronounced dead at the hospital after being brought by ambulance. it was a very sudden and unexpected death, and as her only living next of kin, i'm responsible for everything after her death. there is no other family, only me. there is no one else to ask for help from.

i've called several funeral homes asking for their most basic procedures & if they have financing options. nearly all wanted payment up front, and the one that did offer financing i was not eligible for. loans are not an option either; i'm on disability and my income is limited.

this is the cheapest option i could find, $1290.60 cad after taxes. as i mentioned, i live on disability benefits and this is more than i could ever afford on my own. it's a huge amount, but i don't feel like i have any other options.

if you can't assist, please boost. thank you for reading

$0 / $1290.60

paypal

UPDATE 04/12: $1290.60 / $1290.60

[lorhaghanima]

so, it finally happened. writers of the hotd finally destroyed everything good about it, any potential it once had, all for some kind of... agenda?

they were destroying greens slowly during the whole season two. aemond, being hateful and vengeful, but not towards ones, who deserve it (the blacks), no - to aegon, his brother, his king. aemond not having any interaction with alys rivers, instead of it the whole season and a potentially large part of their relationship was given to daemon - prophecies, visions, support in war, romantic implications. helaena, whose scene of great loss was cut, happened because of incompetence of writers royal guards (absolutely impossible for a setting), somehow her mother's affair (which is also impossible, since there's know way criston could be the only and personal protectpr of helaena and kids), and she was robbed of her burden (choice between sons) and her grieve (she is already unhappy most of the time, not cheerful, not beloved, and her loss doesn't haunt the narrative the way it should - the way it traumatized the whole family daeron who). aegon crippled not in battle and with glory, but by betrayal of his own brother (supposed to be his supporter), also deprived of his rightful grieve and anger, and even his dragon - the most beautiful, the most loyal, sunfyre, so important for the original story and our understanding, how strong and unbreakable this bond can be - erased to one scene. alicent - oh, my sweet alicent, i will remember the one, who could've been - the one we lose completely. alicent, who always loves and protected the monstrosity and beauty and destiny of motherhood and queenhood, what have they done to you? alicent, who stands in front of dragon, to protect aegon (at least try to protect him), alicent, who cuts her husband's beloved daughter and heir to the throne because all of the injustice done to aemond, alicent, who loves, loves, loves, her sweet daughter helaena (even in first part of season two she says - but what have they done to my daughter?). alicent, the actual queen, alicent, beloved by the smallfolk, alicent, respected by the council, alicent, loyal to her family to the core. where did you go, my beloved?

And to the worst part - all of this was done for one purpose - to remind us once again about this targaryen supremacy. that they are chosen ones, that they are supposed to save everyone, that they are gods, not men, and they will not be punished by the story, instead - they will be victimised, they will be martyred, they will be rewarded for cruelty. The blacks have only two options in season two - they are either absurdly boring (cause they can't have any flaws, and supposed to be heroic - that's why it safer to make them blank and dull), or they are chosen, special, destined - to rule westeros, to ride dragons, to get whatever they want. this, of course, are qualities of the right kind of targaryens - the blacks, the connected with daenerys ones, not the whole family, obviously. This is the reason, why rhaenyra has nothing to do with the death of a child, somehow goes to the king's Landing and tries negotiations with alicent, breaks up with not-so-perfect daemon, tames bronze fury just because she can, and acting incredibly passive most of the season. This is the reason, why we don't have nettles - girl of color, of unknown birth, younger and more beautiful, who tames the dragon using only her wits, survives the story, surpasses the tragedy. of course we don't have you, dear nettles - you are a mirror, where targaryen, mostly daemon and rhaenyra, were supposed to see their flaws.

I remind you, that hotd is supposed to be an interpretation of a very specific story. One where dragons dance and house targaryen falls. One where smallfolk kills the dragons, where dragons are monsters, destroying cities, and targaryens are false gods and precarious rulers. The cursed war - kin against kin. The narrative, where everyone is dead long before the beginning, everyone is doomed. It's not supposed to praise house targaryen, on the contrary - it says 'look, what they've done, look, what they do', 'look, how treacherous, flawed, hypocritical, unnatural, brutal, unreliable they ALL are, even to each other', and what is most important - 'look, they can be killed, look, they can fall, look the dragons and their riders bleed, and we can destroy them'.

and all of this potential, all of this greekish kind of tragedy, lost... and i have no idea, what for.

[annwrites]

sons & daughters. aemond | harrenhal outtake.

— pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

— type: outtake from this series

— summary: aemond fears he is beginning to go mad.

— tw: mentions of rape, murder of an animal

— word count: 4,124

— tagging list: @tvangelism @aemondwhoresworld @callsignwidow @emilynissangtr

He'd never so thirsted for blood as he did the morn he and Ser Criston arrived outside those black spires of melted stone.

He had become restless, as well as Vhagar.

Your loss was beginning to eat away at what remained of his humanity.

His sanity, even.

While still residing at the Red Keep—desperate for reassurance that you would return to him—he'd gone to Helaena and begged her for some form of consolation.

He knew she could see that which others could not.

She had only served to make it all that much worse, however.

She lives, and will come to find rest in a castle of snow, with a wolf guarding her at her side, his pups growing in her belly.

She had stepped closer, Aemond nearly stumbling back.

She will raise her cup as you yourself fall. She is lost to you now. She does not wish to be found.

It had taken all his strength not to choke the life from her pale throat for speaking such falsehoods.

And now, since coming to this wretched place, he has heard whispers that used your voice—making him listen to such false prophecies over and over again.

Has seen shadows cast against the stone walls, familiar figures turning a hall and then disappearing into thin air when he followed behind.

He had hoped with what little hope was left within him that coming to a place you had never been—that the memories of you around every corner and in every room that he'd suffered at the Red Keep—would renew his resolve.

Instead, it has only fostered the opposite.

They say the castle itself passes judgement upon all those who pass through its gates. He'd thought it no more than tall tales told to frighten children before bed.

Now he thinks otherwise.

After executing Lord Simon and his kin... he'd seen the blood dripping from his hands. And no matter how hard he scrubbed—to the point of making his pale skin raw and cracked—it always returned.

He was unclean.

And then there had been that woman. That fucking temptress who always spoke in riddles.

He'd wished for silence, so he'd held her down as he forced himself upon her, whispering and crying your name while he shoved her face into the mattress. He could not look at it—did not want to see.

With her back to him...if the fire shone just right upon her hair, she was a fair enough duplicate for his beloved niece.

And while he rammed his erect member inside of her repeatedly, he had you back. Even if for only a moment.

But it would never be enough, he knew. But what other option had he now without the Street of Silk—his closest attempt at bringing you back to him, into his bed? At the very least, a bed.

And when he spent himself, he would shove her onto the floor, weeping into the mattress, ordering her "out, you whore!".

Before long, she disappeared, too.

He could've sworn by all the Gods she haunted his steps—cursing him, his name, his family, but when he would turn, he would be met only with darkness.

Aemond returns to his chambers—to a bedframe designed from weirwood, which only serves as another fucking reminder of you.

It is no wonder he finds no rest in it.

And when he opens the large, groaning doors, he halts in his tracks, lips parting as he stares with a wide eye at a vision he has only witnessed within his dreams.

You...you have returned to him.

His beloved.

His niece.

His blood.

Helaena had been wrong, then. She was a simpleton, so of course she had been. He had been such a fool to believe her for even a moment.

The room is changed—no longer are the walls cracked and leaking, nor is there a cold draft which washes over him, or looming darkness.

The hearth is blazing bright flames, the abode is clean, his bed made, and birds chirp happily outside colored window panes.

You always made everything better.

Even this cursed place.

You turn slowly round, your long locks swaying round your waist, a dress of red and black clinging to your lovely, feminine frame he has missed so dearly being within his grasp, and shimmering tears fill your eyes as they meet his.

"Uncle," you whisper, like a soft prayer.

And then you are running toward him, throwing yourself into his sturdy arms, wrapping your own around his neck as your lips collide in a clash of passion and grief.

Grief for each other. For the temporary loss of your romance.

His hand cups the back of your head, his tongue plunging into your mouth, his other arm wrapping around you, and his tears begin to mix with your own, swallowing them down, along with your heated kisses.

Then he pulls back, breaking away, wondering how this could be. "How—"

"I escaped. Gods, please, Aemond, you have to protect me! He is a savage. I did not want it—to wed him. He has made me prisoner in what is meant to be mine own home. The things he..."

You cup your hand over your mouth, choking back a sob. "I...I waited for you to come for me. Did...do you not...love me any longer? Did you forget about me?"

His heart cleaves in two.

"My beloved," he says, coming back to you, cupping your face between his hands. "Not for a moment. There were letters—"

"Like those you lost?" You ask tearfully, a doubtful look in your eyes.

His brows furrow and then he shakes his head. "No. I told you, I never received them."

"But you did these."

He nods repeatedly.

You pull away from him. "And you did not come."

You wrap your arms around yourself. "You did not care."

You begin to tremble. "The horrors he subjected me to... Forcing me. Hurting me. I felt my will to continue on... It was beginning to slip. Death seemed the only way—"

He shakes his head. "No, my love, you mustn't. I am here now."

"You abandoned me," you proclaim, pushing against his chest, tears streaming from your tired eyes.

It is only in that moment that he finally sees—the dark circles, your sunken cheekbones, your protruding collarbone, and bruises. You are covered in them.

Your lip is split, fingerprints wrapped round your throat...

What has he done to his beloved niece?

"You forgot me. You took another instead! You lied. You told me you had only ever wanted me. You left me behind!"

He pulls you to him, holding you, shooshing you. "No. No, my love, please."

Your body shakes as you sob violently into his chest. "He forced me. So many times. I begged for mercy. I thought if I screamed your name loud enough you would hear. But you wouldn't listen!"

He begins to cry as well. "Please, forgive me. Please, my love, please. I beg of you."

"First Dragonstone and then that place. That wasteland. You never came! You let me go. You wanted rid of me!"

He holds you tightly to him. "I only ever wanted you back. I had thought to..."

He shakes his head—he should've done it, then. Should've flown directly from Storm's End to the North before that man ever had a chance to freeze you in snow and ice with no escape.

"We received word that you were with child."

Your eyes meet his, a hand sliding down to rest over your stomach. "I was. And then he beat it out of me."

"My baby," you whisper, you chin wobbling. "He...said it was my fault. And when I miscarried..."

Your eyes widen in utter fucking terror. "I—he—what he..."

Your body begins to shake. "I lost him another heir. I thought...he was trying to kill me. He locked me in that...place. And when he would come... The things he used..."

Your eyes meet Aemond's, his lower lip trembling. He reaches out a hand to cup your cheek and you flinch violently away.

He is a fucking monster.

"I will kill him."

You wrap yourself around him, desperate for safety. "Please don't send me away. Back to him. I...I would rather you feed me to Vhagar before... Please, uncle. P-please, don't—"

He wraps his arms around you, doing his utmost to comfort you.

His beloved.

"We will never be parted again. Not for one moment. I make this a solemn vow to you, my love. I will raze the North and—"

You stare up at him with wild eyes, shaking your head fervently. "No, you can't leave me. You can't leave me. You can't leave me. You—"

He crushes his lips to yours then, desperate to calm your frightened heart.

By the Seven, what has this beast done to you?

He scoops you up, carrying you over to the mattress, settling into it as he cradles you in his arms. He has done this before—many-a-year ago when you were still young, and would come to him after a night terror.

You have always had a fragile mind. He will care for it now. With love and gentleness.

You are safe at last.

And one way or another, Lord Stark will pay dearly.

Aemond wraps you in a soft blanket, resting his cheek against your warm forehead, holding you close.

"I love you, Y/N. I will spend all the rest of my days doing whatever I must to earn your forgiveness for leaving you to that place. Forgive me, my love. Forgive me."

You cry quietly in his arms. "He told me that you despised me. That..."

Your voice becomes a whisper. "He convinced me of so many terrible things. He used to tell me often, that once I gave him enough children, he'd kill me. He couldn't stand to even look at me. I...what did I do wrong, uncle?"

He begins to gently rock you. "You are perfect. Every single part of you was made for me to love. And I do, and I will, and I shall. I would never raise a hand to you. And any who do shall lose as much, along with their head. You are under my protection now. You are safe."

You whimper. "I am afraid to close my eyes."

A lump forms in his throat. "All is well now. We are together. You may rest. He cannot get to you here."

You nod softly, while he presses a kiss to your hair, and you fall asleep in his arms.

When Aemond wakes, it is to an empty bed and an ache in his chest.

When he goes in search of you, you are nowhere to be found.

He interrogates guards and servants alike, demanding to know where his beloved niece has run off to—that they are to search every room; every crack and crevice until you are found and brought to him.

"N-no one entered through the gate the night last, My Prince," one young guard assures him, another nodding in agreement.

His fist wraps tightly around the pommel of his sword. "I had her. She came back to me! She was here!"

They look at him in fear, but repeat themselves nonetheless.

"A dream," he finally mumbles. "Or a nightmare."

He does not eat that day.

Come that night, he tosses and turns in bed, sure that every noise he hears will be you finally coming out of hiding—you will apologize and explain yourself to him: where you have been all day.

Not in his arms as you were meant to be, that much is for certain.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes him—the raging tempest that is his mind quiets as darkness fills his singular source of vision.

"Uncle," your voice calls from a room away. "Where are you? I'm so lonely here."

He flees his chambers in search of you.

"Uncle," you say, the word drifting on cold winds.

The room next to his own? No. He...he had searched it. Hadn't he?

He throws the doors open, finding you seated upon the edge of your bed, making yourself busy with a familiar-looking piece of embroidery—initials sewn together as one, crudely-so.

And then you look up from it, your eyes filling with relief.

"There you are," you say, standing, coming toward him. "I...I had waited all day."

He takes your face in his hands.

"What farce is this?" He questions harshly.

Your eyes fill with tears, body beginning to shake. "You're angry with me. You're going to hurt me. Just like he did."

His gaze softens. "My love—"

You try to pull away. "It's why you put me in here, isn't it? I thought you said we would stay together. But when I went to your chambers, you had locked me out."

He shakes his head. "I would never."

You press yourself to his chest then. "Where have you been? I was so lonely here. I...I had waited all day."

He cradles the back of your head in his palm. "I'm here now, my beloved niece. Forgive me."

You pull back, looking up at him. "There is...something I want."

"Anything," he replies in a whisper.

You reach down, tugging at the bow tied at the front of your robe. "Teach me," you say quietly, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

"You were always meant to," you say, cupping his cheek. "Uncle."

His hands overtake yours.

"You had been my first in so many ways. But not in this. It was stolen from us. I wish to take it back. I am yours. Yours, Aemond. I belong to you. I have always."

Your robe falls open and he breathes in a sharp intake of breath as his eyes trail along your lovely, womanly body.

He slides his hands along each of your soft hips, swallowing thickly.

So long. So long he has waited for and wanted this. So many nights has found him abed with his cock fisted tightly in his hand, your name spilling from his lips, his seed onto the sheets instead of inside of you where it belonged, so it might bloom into fruit within your fertile womb.

For you are the only woman he desires to bear him children.

Children that would be perfect reflections of your equally perfect union.

He would love them with all his heart, just as he does you.

This night he will make it so. He will give you a babe. You are too maternal to not be a mother. He will right this wrong—will erase what that godless beast has done.

He pulls you toward him, your robe falling to the floor and pooling at your feet as he crushes his lips to your delicate lips, his tongue slowly exploring the taste of you.

And it is of the sweetest nectar.

He drinks it down greedily.

Your fingers tangle in his silver strands, your body melding to his as he trails his mouth lower. Along your neck, atop your breasts—between them he plants open-mouthed kisses.

He slides his hands beneath your thighs, lifting you, carrying you over to the bed.

He tosses you down gently and you giggle, causing him to smile widely in return.

You reach upwards for him, and he gives himself to you, continuing to give you affectionate kisses as he begins to undress.

And once his warm skin meets your own, he eases his throbbing cock between your warm, velvety walls.

The two of you fit together so perfectly. Just as you always have.

You had been made for him alone to love.

He rocks his hips slowly against your own and you sigh, your eyes fluttering closed as you turn your head, allowing him access to your neck. He sucks gently at your hammering pulse and you mewl in approval, clenching tightly around him.

"Oh, uncle," you whisper, causing his cock to twitch.

"My beloved niece," he drawls against the shell of your ear. "One lifetime of having you will not be near enough."

You turn your head back to look at him, smiling with tears of happiness shimmering in your warm brown eyes. "Then let us bind ourselves for eternity."

He cares naught that you are still legally wed. He shall not acknowledge it. Any who try will be met with raging dragonfire.

It will be, before long, as if that northern savage never existed.

He nods, kissing you. "Come the morn, we shall."

He is alone again. In an unmade bed—his dried seed spent upon the mattress.

Still naked, he rises with an unquenchable fire burning deep in his belly as he tears the room apart, roaring like Vhagar does atop the burnt towers at having lost you yet again.

It is then he begins to realize that Harrenhal is not to be held, but instead serves only to hold... Ones mind against their will.

He would rather be lost in madness for all time than to have you, only to lose you again and again come sunrise.

If sleep is the only place you may be together, then he chooses not to wake.

He returns to his own chambers—still naked—and buries his face in his feather pillows, desperate to have you returned to him.

In his mind's exhaustion, it does not take long for him to find sleep.

"There you are," you say softly as Aemond slowly steps toward you, brows furrowed.

How did he get here? Back to the Red Keep?

You turn and his eye widens.

You slide your dainty hands along your swollen belly, caressing it lovingly as you smile at him. "Baelon is asleep, we should not wake him."

He glances across the room toward a large four-post bed, a small bundle wrapped in blankets, sleeping soundly.

He steps over to him, eye filling with tears as he takes in his head of silver hair.

You take Aemond's arm, wrapping your own around it as you gaze down at your son. "He so looks like you. At least he has my eyes."

Aemond's chin wobbles.

You reach up, cupping his cheek as you sigh softly. "I've told you about this. When we are alone," you say, gently removing his eyepatch. "I want to see you. All of you."

You take his hands in yours then, pressing them to your belly.

You lightly squeeze his right hand. "She sleeps with her head here," you state before squeezing his left hand. "And her feet here."

His eye meets yours.

You flush. "I know there is no way to know for certain until I bring her into the world, but it is simply a feeling. That it is a girl."

You look to your sleeping son. "He will be such a wonderful brother to her. I am sure of it."

You tuck a loose strand behind Aemond's ear, a sapphire ring glinting upon your marriage finger. "We've made such a perfect life, uncle. You have made me so happy."

He kneels then, pressing a kiss to your belly, resting his forehead against it as he begins to cry softly. "Stay with me," he whispers.

There is a sudden knock at the door then. "My prince!"

You bristle. "They are meant to address you as king now. Why—"

"Prince Aemond!"

He stands, feeling as if he is about to lose something of great import. Aemond crushes his lips against yours, holding you tightly to him.

"I don't want to go," he says, crying into your soft brown hair.

Just then, the doors open.

As well as his eyes.

He begins to weep for the children he never got a chance to hold.

Aemond does not listen as his squire enters the room where he and his makeshift court are meeting to discuss battle plans.

Something about a lake, or a shore, and defeat.

He cares not.

He glances up, his body tensing as he watches you walk across the room, a broom in-hand as you begin to sweep the floor.

He stands abruptly, all eyes turning toward him.

"What're you doing?"

You turn, looking at him with a blank expression, then continue on with your chore.

He rounds the table, grabbing you roughly, turning you back around as he begins to shake you. "Where are they? Our...our little ones? I did not get a chance to—"

"My prince?" A man speaks from behind him.

Aemond turns his head reluctantly back to him.

"What is it?" He spits.

He stands. "Are you...quite well?"

The man glances away, nodding toward you then. "Perhaps...Julia should find another room to tend. So as to prevent further...distracting you, My Prince."

Aemond scoffs at him. "Jul—"

He turns back around, then suddenly releases his hold, stumbling as he gazes upon an unfamiliar face that is two decades too old, with hair too red in color to be right.

"I—" he starts, then stops.

The woman quickly curtsies before quickly stepping away.

Aemond shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the ringing and whispers gathering in his ears.

He seats himself once more, and someone clears their throat, speaking of political matters which mean nothing to him as he himself broods.

When Aemond returns to his chambers, his mind is swimming, his body feeling as if it is both heavy as lead and floating like a cloud in the sky simultaneously.

When he shuts the doors behind him, the lighting suddenly changes, growing warmer and brighter.

He steps further into the room, watching as a girl sits before the fire, a small wolf pup to one side of her, a bronze dragon with green and blue that reflects off of the flames to the other.

She begins to sing Two Hearts That Beat as One as the dragon breathes a puff of smoke, before crawling up her small leg, watching her with its head cocked in interest.

She cuts the song short, sighing, turning away from the creature, which deflates with sadness at her loss of attention.

She giggles as the small wolf pup barks at her, wagging its tail.

She picks it up, holding it high as she begins to sing The Winter Maid with glee.

When she finishes, she hugs the pet to her chest.

"I think you are my new favorite," she says happily.

Aemond's stomach turns then, coming closer, and closer, the dragon crying out in pain at her side—her seemingly oblivious to it as she stands, cradling the pup in her arms.

And then her familiar eyes meet his.

"Uncle," she starts before glancing down with a smile. "I love him."

Is it meant to be you...this new torturesome vision.

He sneers as he looks at the pup, which growls back at him, its hackles raised.

"You are meant to be with a dragon. Not a wolf," he spits.

Your smile falls as you stare up at him with a glare. "I made my choice. I know which one I want."

He nods toward the dragon, watching it slowly die before the fire. "You would abandon it so easily? Would forget the joy it provided for you? The protection and love it can still yet give?"

He looks at the wolf. "For a fucking dog?"

You hold it closer to you. "I am his and he is mine."

His palm twitches at his side before coming to grip the hilt of the catspaw dagger which hangs from his hip.

"I am giving you one last chance, beloved niece," he says acidically. "Give up this bit of ridiculous pretend before you force my hand."

You back away in fear, the wolf howling and barking incessantly. "P-please don't. I've done nothing wrong."

He stalks toward you. "What is wrong here is your choice."

He looks to the dragon, which crawls closer to the fire, desperate for warmth, near to burning itself it wants it so dearly.

And then his eye flits back to you. "Choose."

"I—"

"Choose!"

Tears fills your eyes. "We are happy. Please just let us be."

He reaches for the wolf, having had enough.

You scream in terror as he tears it from your arms.

"Please, please, uncle! Don't! I am begging you! I'll do anything! Please, not him! There will be no going back!"

He holds the blade toward its throat. "We shall be miserable together, then."

You let out a guttural high-pitched scream of agony as he slices the wolf's throat open, blood coating his hands, pooling on the stone floor.

It is as you lunge toward him with a look of such loathing that he has never before witnessed...that he wakes.

[cryptidclaw]

Whisperingclan moon 19 pt. 2

I love how my designs for the evil lesbian spawn, they are so prettyyyy, clangen blessed me with such pretty colors, I mean Sleet is literally pink.

annnd Weedpatch is a big brother now!! I haven't mentioned Celeste before (because technically the clan hasn't met her yet at this point) but she looks exactly like Weed but long furred so.. that's his mom there's no other option. I decided that Rattlekit is Weed's sister bec she's tan and also I wanted to give him some kin since he lost his bff/cousin Jaggedlark last year and she was the whole reason he joined Whisperingclan in the first place :(

Whisperingclan Year 1 | Previous Update | Next Update

designs for the apprentice sisters below!

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Okay I have had this theory for months but I never actually laid it out before now. However it's well past time I actually do that considering episode 115 all but confirmed its truth (theres still wiggle room for me to be wrong, but honestly not much)

THE FERIN FAMILY ARE AASIMAR, AND HERES WHY:

The thing that originally made me go Hey Wait A Damn Minute was the visions of the original prophecy and its history that gillion got from that tree: "Another flash, and you see these red-haired olympian looking humans and elves and all kinds of different races that are flying with their own wings". And I heard that and thought about how much that sounds like aasimar, and then the weird dreams jay had and then captain widow insisting she has powerful blood and then star saying she sensed divinity on jay and then the whole ferin family's affinity for fire magic and everything just clicked into place.

Then in episode 114 we got the recording of Faye Ferin saying "hail the solar mother" and i was like no fucking way- BUT i set it aside because it felt like I could be reaching with that evidence. It could just be a religious phrasing, not necessarily something literal.

Then episode 115 happened and I got confirmation of my theory.

Grizzly doesn’t outright say "yes the ferin are aasimars”, but he gives us all the last few pieces of the puzzle.

Here's a link to the episode that should start where the confirmation is - the two tablets: https://youtu.be/M9ig9XCUrvU?si=oYdisYFxTqx6ogbb&t=868

Transcript of the tablets: Tablet One: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. We are descendants of the sun. Thus, we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail. Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history. Tablet Two: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes. Unity is the key to prosperity. Our elders will raise generations that burn with vigorous radiance.

NOW ON TO MY EXPLANATION!!

The thing that confirmed it outright for me is literally the line "We are descendants of the sun", because there are no ifs ands or buts about it - aasimar are descended from celestials. The aasimar entry for Monsters of the Multiverse states "Whether descended from a celestial being or infused with heavenly power, aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls." the tablet Jay stole from her grandmother is written in celestial, and says they are descended from the sun(aster), ergo, descended from a celestial.

Next up is the whole "Thus we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail." bit. The entry for Protector Aasimar (the subrace i believe Jay fits best) in Volos Guide to Monsters reads "Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness."

Then there's "Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history." Which then in the MotM entry it says "aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls. They can fan that spark to bring light, ease wounds, and unleash the fury of the heavens."

THEN THERES THE REAL FUCKING GIVEAWAY!!! THIS LINE: "Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes."

MotM says "They resemble their parents, but … often have features that hint at their celestial heritage." and VGtM says "They are a people of otherworldly visages, with luminous features that reveal their celestial heritage."

OF THE CELESTIAL FEATURES OPTIONS OFFERED BY MOTM, ENTRY 2 IS "METALLIC, LUMINOUS, OR DARK EYES" AND ENTRY 3 IS "STARKLY COLORED HAIR". THE FERINS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR HAVING BOTH.

The tablets are, of course, not my only evidence.

the ferins arent born with The Ferin Eye as revealed by Jay having to earn hers and Drey talking about when he got his. "now icarus," i hear you say "wouldnt that mean they dont actually fit the celestial features requirement?" and to that i answer "NO! IT IN FACT FITS IT BETTER!"

In discussing aasimar celestial features, MotM says "These [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature." Jay didn’t have the Ferin eye until she earned it and its subsequent abilities. And we all remember how she earned it, right?

A weird ass fucking dream.

Now let’s look at that. According to VGtM “An aasimar, except for one who has turned to evil, has a link to an angelic being. That being … provides guidance to the aasimar, though this connection functions only in dreams. As such, the guidance is not a direct command or a simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.”

In Jay's first sun dream (Juice Roll With It // Episode #88), Grizzly describes the sun and says "You feel like its presence is trying to reach you. And as you notice, you feel almost like you want it to.”

And then the core of the dream itself:

Grizzly: “Do you think Jay can withstand this impossible heat of the sun as you get just barely one step closer?” Condi: “I’m gonna say no… but she would try anyways, if that is, like, what the feeling is kinda giving her, you know?” Grizzly: “This powerful presence, as hot as it is - you can’t help but think of your sister. You can’t help but think of your friends. But then, you think of your mother, and then you think of your father, and then you think of your grandmother” (makes condi roll con save with disadvantage, condi got an 11) “with an 11, you take that step forward, but this overwhelming pressure, anxiousness, fear, handcuffs your spirit, closes your mind, and you just feel the heat of the sun overcome you. And you are jolted awake back in the reality. … but you know that in this dream you lost. You lost to the heat.”

Then the second dream (Happy Wife Happy Life // Episode 102), where the sun is hotter and larger than before and excruciatingly painful:

Grizzly: “You just can’t help but stare at it with both eyes wide open. And behind you you feel another heat.” (Condi asks if Jay can see this heat or if Jay is too focused on the sun) “You know that this heat signifies that backing away and falling is not an option this time. But as you look at the sun, you once again think about your family: your mother, who said she was sick; your father, who called you naive; your grandmother, who threatens the safety of your friends. You think of your friends. So I ask again, this time: do you think Jay can withstand that heat? That pressure and that fire?” Condi: “I think as Jay is staring up at this sort of immense fireball that represents… obviously her pressure, and she feels that heat at her back… I don’t think she would look at the heat as, like, something preventing her from stepping back and falling anymore. But in this metaphorical sense - since a lot of this is a metaphor - she’d probably look at it as what she basically can’t turn her back on, what she can’t leave behind. Basically like her new hope. You know, what she wants to protect. So she’s in between this and this giant fireball. Um. And I think with that in mind she would take a step forward and, um. While maybe not fully confident in herself, she would jump into the fireball with all her might, doing her best. ... I think she can handle it. She thinks she can handle it.” Grizzly: “Fair enough. That’s all I asked. You jump in- go ahead and roll a con save with advantage.” (Condi got a 19) “You leap with almost like a raging fire of conviction even if you doubt yourself, jay. And the sun almost seems to open up to welcome you in. And at first, the searing pain of the fireball’s heat feels like it’s melting your skin. You scream until it feels like it’s melting away that doubt. And then, all of the pain subsides. There’s a calming sense that kind of overtakes, jay, in your subconscious. And it’s all white at this point - your whole vision.”

So the sun reached out to jay through a dream, as aasimar’s celestial links tend to do, and gave her a test of strength that she had to figure out for herself (“as such, the guidance is not a direct command or simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.” - VGtM). She only passed it by remembering she had people she needed to protect (“Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness.” - VGtM). And when she passed this test given to her in a dream: “speaking of your vision, you begin to feel a warmth behind one of your eyelids. And the next day comes as you’re the first to wake at the very crack of dawn. The sun rises, and you rise with it. And you blink a few times - you feel something different. … This time, you look into a mirror and, just like your dad, just like Drey, you see this bright orange glowing eye on one of the sides. And you feel whatever that was: you passed it.”

This, therefore, perfectly fits Jay into the aasimar’s celestial features description that “these [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature.” Jay had to prove herself to the goddess to earn another celestial trait.

And once more, “Icarus!” I hear you cry. “You keep saying Jay fits the Protector Aasimar subrace, but don’t Protector Aasimar have incorporeal wings that come from their celestial heritage? Jay’s wings are from a tattoo! That doesn’t work!” To which I say, “Are you sure?”

The Protector Aasimar’s subrace ability is called Radiant Soul and allows the aasimar to “unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.”

Jay’s wings come from enchanted tattoos with which she can cast Fly. These were a deliberate choice Jay made and are not celestial in origin. However, in the first sun dream, when Jay reaches out for the sun Grizzly says “You begin to feel the tattoo on your upper back sting.” When condi asks to clarify if it’s the Niklaus tattoo, Grizzly only says “Just the upper back.”

This, of course, leads me to believe that those dreams will or already have affected her wings in some way - perhaps leaving space for her to unlock more of her celestial heritage and power as she earns it. It’s something we’ll just have to watch and see for.

Either way the Ferins are aasimar, Jay's gonna be the first one in generations to earn their true celestial power from Aster, and i will Die On This Hill