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targaryenrealnessdarling · 18 hours

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A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity.

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly.

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight.

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over.

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

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doomedmoth · 20 hours

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Not fast, just furious

Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, unhinged behavior, alcohol and cigarettes consumption, kys joke, suggestive texts, chaotic fluff, grumpy x sunshine, lando getting bullied

Synopsis : During his winter break in Australia, Daniel meets a barmaid with a big heart and a bigger mouth. When she starts following him during the races, fans are a bit unsure of how to deal with her unhinged behavior and total lack of media training. Daniel loves it.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi friends ! Pls be kind, it’s my first attempt at a smau and I’m on mobile, so the formatting might be weird. Also sorry if your name is Malva, it was the first one that came to mind lol.

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wagupdates New wag alert ?? Daniel Ricciardo has now been seen a few times with an unknown woman around Melbourne and Perth during his winter break. At first thought to be a childhood friend, sources say they met at the bar where the young woman is working, and they have been getting quite cozy 👀 What do you think ??? 📸 via Australian celebrity press

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danyfanclub she looks cuuuute

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user2 apparently he been hanging out at melbournemirage so maybe she works there ???

malva she looks messsyyyy, doubt it’s gonna last till the season starts…

danyfanclub stay mad

*****

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daniel3.jpg Aussie adventures before going back to vroom vroom

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danyfanclub can’t wait to see her in the paddock ‼️

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daniel3.jpg sorry, too busy drinking cocktails 🤪

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[Messages] Your coworker has sent you a text in Charlie’s Angels

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melbournemirage Today we mourn the loss of our best bartender, yourusername . She had been with us for a little over a year now, and was the light of Melbourne Mirage, our pride and joy. She always won employee of the month, and not just because she created and awarded the title herself. A gathering in her memory will be held tonight at 9pm, everyone who knew and loved her is free to attend 💔

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yourbff LMAOOOOO

yourusername WHY THE FUCK DO YOU MAKE IT SOUND LIKE I’M DEAD I JUST QUITTED ???

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daniel3.jpg don’t worry I’ll take good care of her 😇

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daniel3.jpg Sorry my cat bites, I found her in the streets. She’s a good girl irl.

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yourusername don’t reveal my secrets 🙄 (love you)

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danyfanclub ppl love to hate on her because she’s not trained like a nepo baby but honestly relatable queen !!

user1 boy is simping so hard

user2 she looks so fun to be around, finally a wag that doesn’t look fake

malva yeah she definitely got the street cat look…

user3 OMG GET A FUCKING LIFE GIRL

danyfanclub being this salty won’t make him like you go get a grip

*****

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user1 replied to your story :

Did you and Daniel break up ???

malva replied to your story :

fucking finally, so looooong

danielricciardo replied to your story :

have fuuuun, I’ll call you when my plane lands 🐶

******

[Instagram] yourusername just posted a photo

yourusername Back where everything started. I know I sound like a bitch sometimes, but to my love, my sun, my pup, I am so glad I met you 6 months ago. You turned my life around and I can’t wait for more shenanigans with you. You make any place feel like home. I love you. To everyone else, especially those who thought we broke up because I had the audacity to go home two days before him : Fuck you all ❤️

Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbrother and others

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melbournemirage we were so happy to have you back, even for just a night ! Soon a #speeddating night at the Melbourne Mirage everyone ? 👀

Liked by yourusername

yourusername stop promoting yourself on my account

maxverstappen1 glad to have met you this year bro

yourusername #mates4life

user1 I didn’t know they were so close !!

danielricciardo my love ❤️‍🔥

yourusername my sun 🌞

user2 highway looking pretty good for a nap rn

user3 goooosh they are so cute I’m gonna kms

danyfanclub FROM THE MAIN ACCOUNT TOO ‼️

malva still not buying it

This user has been blocked

yourbrother you did not have to come back so soon

yourusername jeez 🤡 at least pretend to be happy for the gifts you little shit

yourbrother thx I guess

yourusername you’re adopted

landonorris can you bring me back some Tim Tam ? 🥺

danielricciardo no ❤️

yourbff no ❤️

yourusername no and kys ❤️

landonorris damn 🥺

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zenkindoflove · 14 hours

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Elucien Parallels: Eddard and Catelyn Stark's Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience Trope

I'm back again with more ACOTAR and ASOIAF/GOT parallels. You can go read this post where I breakdown my thoughts on comparing Elain Archeron and Sansa Stark as representing similar character archetypes in fantasy.

Today I want to talk about one of my favorite ASOIAF/GOT ships - Ned and Cat. What I want to do with this post is sort of breakdown the dynamics of their relationship and story arc and apply it to some common criticisms of Elucien and why in order to get the kind of tension Elucien have in canon, you need to have an understanding of how this particular trope works and the way these types of characters inhabit it.

So, a quick rundown on Ned and Cat and their relationship, just to get anyone reading this up to speed. Catelyn Tully was betrothed to Brandon Stark, Ned's older brother. Their betrothal represented a political alliance between the Starks of Winterfell and the Tullys of Riverrun - the liege lords of their respective regions. Despite being betrothed for political reasons, Catelyn fell deeply in love with Brandon anyways. And when he was tragically murdered by the Mad King, alongside his father, she was heart broken. Enters Ned, now the Lord of Winterfell, who has to secure this political alliance because he is about to wage a rebellion alongside his friend Robert Baratheon against the Targaryens. It makes perfect sense for him to marry his brother's betrothed. Ned and Cat get married quickly and off to war he went. When he returned a year later, he brought home his bastard, Jon Snow. He and Cat now have to figure out their marriage on top of not only being effectively strangers, but also with this betrayal looming over their relationship. When we enter the story of Game of Thrones, they have 5 children, the oldest Robb who was conceived just before Ned left for war, is 16. Cat and Ned are very much in love, showing open affection and devotion to each other. Cat is quoted later in the series telling her son Robb (show canon):

"Love didn't just happen to us. We built it slowly over the years, stone by stone, for you, for your brothers and sisters, for all of us. It's not as exciting as secret passion in the woods, but it is stronger."

Okay, so where does Elucien come into all of this and why should you care if you ship them?

Well, I think Cat and Ned's story illustrates a lot of things and disproves many doubts that are thrown at Elucien being endgame.

Betrayal

First is this issue of betrayal - that Lucien's involvement with Tamlin and his inevitable association with the situation in Hybern (though he did not know the extent of the deal with Hybern nor at all that Feyre's sisters had been kidnapped) will be such a huge breach of trust that Elain will never be able to get over it. That the relationship is dead before it even started.

Ned and Cat are a perfect example of how many anti-Eluciens are wrong when they think that Elucien are essentially dead before they start. By bringing home Jon Snow and raising him in his home amongst his trueborn children, Ned inflicted a huge betrayal onto his wife before they ever truly started their relationship. Although, at least in show canon, we know this ends up being quite a noble lie by Ned, this is never something that he reveals to Cat. So, Cat must swallow her pride and her jealousy and continue to be Ned's wife. This does not mean she has to fall in love with him, as it is not expected of her to, but she does all the same. Why? Because of Ned's inherent goodness and devotion to her. Cat sees that Ned is a good, honorable man - which is why she ultimately believes the rumors that Jon must be Ashara Dayne's son and that he is a love-child that Ned cannot bear to abandon. Because as she comes to know Ned, she sees his heart and his moral standing.

Which is all to say, that regardless of whether Elain begins her journey angry and blaming Lucien for association with her being Made and the end of her engagement, by getting to know him and spending time with him, she too will be able to see Lucien's inherent goodness. It is unavoidable and undeniable. Lucien, much like Ned, is honorable, loyal, and stands up to the face of evil, even if it will stupidly get him killed. He takes ownership over the people in the lands he runs and cares for that responsibility and their well being deeply. He commits violence when he must but he does not enjoy it. These are all traits that suited Cat well and why she ended up having such a loving marriage to Ned through many, many years. And likewise, suit Elain well and why she and Lucien will have a healthy and loving mating bond.

Reluctant Tension

Many anti-Eluciens do not understand the romantic tension presented in their situation. They see their distance, polite exchanges, and reactions as a sign of indifference or discomfort. It is a far cry from the explosive anger and deliberate pushing away that Nesta displayed with Cassian. Sometimes it's easier to understand Nessian's romantic tension because passion can exist both in anger and desire. But what about the stilted interactions of Elucien?

This is also where I will draw parallels to Ned and Cat. Ned and Cat did not go to the alter kicking and screaming. They were not political rivals or enemies. Catelyn did her duty with her head held high, living her house words (Family, Duty, Honor). Catelyn is often described as the picture of a noble lady - well-mannered, kind, diligent, dutiful, and respected. She held a high place of honor at Riverrun, effectively serving as Lady of the house after her mother's passing at a young age, and then taking over the role of Lady of Winterfell. She earned loyalty and respect amongst her subjects. We don't know much about the dynamic of Ned and Cat at the early days of their relationship. But what we can infer based on how Cat describes this time period, is that Cat hid her reluctance and anger behind silent pride. It was over time, as she grew to know Ned that this distrust and distance was thawed and she fell in love with him.

Similarly, Ned is not a hot head. He is grounded and stone-faced, a trait that Cat actually did not like initially because it was so different from his brother who she was in passionate love with. Brandon was a hot-head, charming, and funny. He was a showboat and is basically how he came to duel Petyr Baelish in the first place. But Catelyn eventually realizes the wisdom in loving a man like Ned, rather than the girlish love she had for Brandon.

Now Elain and Lucien are not mirror images of this. Lucien is certainly much more savvy and charming than Ned. And Elain is not forced into a romantic relationship with Lucien at all even with the mating bond. She has been given total freedom to choose, unlike Cat. But, my point here is that the presentation of their romantic tension, which is more quiet and understated and can confuse some readers who have a preference for the more passionate displays of tension, is very similar to Ned and Cat in the beginning of their relationship.

Now, as we learn both in the books and the show, Cat and Ned at the start of the series are well into their 16+ year marriage and are quite passionate now. They have many loving physical displays with one another, often passionately kissing or referencing passionate lovemaking they just had. They speak to each other with such warm affection others have to look away. It is clear they have deep love for each other that goes beyond duty. The passion certainly developed between them along the way. With Elucien I'm sure this will play out much differently given the presentation of the mating bond and how we know it affects people. It's very likely both of them are deeply desiring each other already, and very likely that they will have some dramatic rows between them, as it is likely Ned and Cat had as well, once they start really talking about the hard topics. But the point is that passion and the potential for passion does not have to be readily observable right from the start. If anything, there is something very delicious in the steady build-up to it through many of the tropes we see in historical romances where there are rules and etiquette to courtship (which many suspect Elucien will play with some regency era tropes).

Conclusion:

I really love finding parallels between ships of my favorite series, and there is of course a lot to draw from when its two fantasy series. In the end, my bigger point is that great love can come from Arranged Marriage/Marriage of Convenience Tropes which Elucien inhabit with the nature of their bond snapping right when they met. It's not for everyone, but for those of us who get it... we really get it. Fortunately for us, Elucien exist in a romance with HEAs and not the world of ASOIAF/GOT so they won't meet the same tragic fates as Ned and Cat *sobs*.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #ned x cat #elucien supremacy #will i stop making these?#probably not #i was in got fandom for too long and these will keep popping in my brain

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andthebeanstalk · 11 months

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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need.#the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist.#the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28!#a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents.#they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong.#and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives.#you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead?#or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of.#no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow.#i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong.#just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

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whereserpentswalk · 15 days

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The nazis that you see in movies are as much a historical fantasy as vikings with horned helmets and samurai cutting people in half.

The nazis were not some vague evil that wanted to hurt people for the sake of hurting them. They had specific goals which furthered a far right agenda, and they wanted to do harm to very specific groups, (largely slavs, jews, Romani, queer people, communists/leftists, and disabled people.)

The nazis didn't use soldiers in creepy gas masks as their main imagery that they sold to the german people, they used blond haired blue eyed families. Nor did they stand up on podiums saying that would wage an endless and brutal war, they gave speeches about protecting white Christian society from degenerates just like how conservatives do today.

Nazis weren't atheists or pagans. They were deeply Christian and Christianity was part of their ideology just like it is for modern conservatives. They spoke at lengths about defending their Christian nation from godless leftism. The ones who hated the catholic church hated it for protestant reasons. Nazi occultism was fringe within the party and never expected to become mainstream, and those occultists were still Christian, none of them ever claimed to be Satanists or Asatru.

Nazis were also not queer or disabled. They killed those groups, before they had a chance to kill almost anyone else actually. Despite the amount of disabled nazis or queer/queer coded nazis you'll see in movies and on TV, in reality they were very cishet and very able bodied. There was one high ranking nazi early on who was gay and the other nazis killed him for that. Saying the nazis were gay or disabled makes about as much sense as saying they were Jewish.

The nazis weren't mentally ill. As previously mentioned they hated disabled people, and this unquestionably included anyone neurodivergent. When the surviving nazi war criminals were given psychological tests after the war, they were shown to be some of the most neurotypical people out there.

The nazis weren't socialists. Full stop. They hated socialists. They got elected on hating socialists. They killed socialists. Hating all forms of lefitsm was a big part of their ideology, and especially a big part of how they sold themselves.

The nazis were not the supervillians you see on screen, not because they didn't do horrible things in real life, they most certainly did, but because they weren't that vague apolitical evil that exists for white American action heros to fight. They did horrible things because they had a right wing authoritarian political ideology, an ideology that is fundamentally the same as what most of the modern right wing believes.

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hyperlexichypatia · 3 months

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As I keep shouting into the void, pathologizers love shifting discussion about material conditions into discussion about emotional states.

I rant approximately once a week about how the brain maturity myth transmuted “Young adults are too poor to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own” into “Young adults are too emotionally and neurologically immature to move out of their parents’ homes or have children of their own.”

I’ve also talked about the misuse of “enabling” and “trauma” and “dopamine” .

And this is a pattern – people coin terms and concepts to describe material problems, and pathologization culture shifts them to be about problems in the brain or psyche of the person experiencing them. Now we’re talking about neurochemicals, frontal lobes, and self-esteem instead of talking about wages, wealth distribution, and civil rights. Now we can say that poor, oppressed, and exploited people are suffering from a neurological/emotional defect that makes them not know what’s best for themselves, so they don’t need or deserve rights or money.

Here are some terms that have been so horribly misused by mental health culture that we’ve almost entirely forgotten that they were originally materialist critiques.

Codependency What it originally referred to: A non-addicted person being overly “helpful” to an addicted partner or relative, often out of financial desperation. For example: Making sure your alcoholic husband gets to work in the morning (even though he’s an adult who should be responsible for himself) because if he loses his job, you’ll lose your home. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/08/opinion/codependency-addiction-recovery.html What it’s been distorted into: Being “clingy,” being “too emotionally needy,” wanting things like affection and quality time from a partner. A way of pathologizing people, especially young women, for wanting things like love and commitment in a romantic relationship.

Compulsory Heterosexuality What it originally referred to: In the 1980 in essay "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/abs/10.1086/493756 Adrienne Rich described compulsory heterosexuality as a set of social conditions that coerce women into heterosexual relationships and prioritize those relationships over relationships between women (both romantic and platonic). She also defines “lesbian” much more broadly than current discourse does, encompassing a wide variety of romantic and platonic relationships between women. While she does suggest that women who identify as heterosexual might be doing so out of unquestioned social norms, this is not the primary point she’s making. What it’s been distorted into: The patronizing, biphobic idea that lesbians somehow falsely believe themselves to be attracted to men. Part of the overall “Women don’t really know what they want or what’s good for them” theme of contemporary discourse.

Emotional Labor What it originally referred to: The implicit or explicit requirement that workers (especially women workers, especially workers in female-dominated “pink collar” jobs, especially tipped workers) perform emotional intimacy with customers, coworkers, and bosses above and beyond the actual job being done. Having to smile, be “friendly,” flirt, give the impression of genuine caring, politely accept harassment, etc. https://weld.la.psu.edu/what-is-emotional-labor/ What it’s been distorted into: Everything under the sun. Everything from housework (which we already had a term for), to tolerating the existence of disabled people, to just caring about friends the way friends do. The original intent of the concept was “It’s unreasonable to expect your waitress to care about your problems, because she’s not really your friend,” not “It’s unreasonable to expect your actual friends to care about your problems unless you pay them, because that’s emotional labor,” and certainly not “Disabled people shouldn’t be allowed to be visibly disabled in public, because witnessing a disabled person is emotional labor.” Anything that causes a person emotional distress, even if that emotional distress is rooted in the distress-haver’s bigotry (Many nominally progressive people who would rightfully reject the bigoted logic of “Seeing gay or interracial couples upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public” fully accept the bigoted logic of “Seeing disabled or poor people upsets me, which is emotional labor, so they shouldn’t be allowed to exist in public”).

Battered Wife Syndrome What it originally referred to: The all-encompassing trauma and fear of escalating violence experienced by people suffering ongoing domestic abuse, sometimes resulting in the abuse victim using necessary violence in self-defense. Because domestic abuse often escalates, often to murder, this fear is entirely rational and justified. This is the reasonable, justified belief that someone who beats you, stalks you, and threatens to kill you may actually kill you.

What it’s been distorted into: Like so many of these other items, the idea that women (in this case, women who are victims of domestic violence) don’t know what’s best for themselves. I debated including this one, because “syndrome” was a wrongful framing from the beginning – a justified and rational fear of escalating violence in a situation in which escalating violence is occurring is not a “syndrome.” But the original meaning at least partially acknowledged the material conditions of escalating violence.

I’m not saying the original meanings of these terms are ones I necessarily agree with – as a cognitive liberty absolutist, I’m unsurprisingly not that enamored of either second-wave feminism or 1970s addiction discourse. And as much as I dislike what “emotional labor” has become, I accept that “Women are unfairly expected to care about other people’s feelings more than men are” is a true statement.

What I am saying is that all of these terms originally, at least partly, took material conditions into account in their usage. Subsequent usage has entirely stripped the materialist critique and fully replaced it with emotional pathologization, specifically of women. Acknowledgement that women have their choices constrained by poverty, violence, and oppression has been replaced with the idea that women don’t know what’s best for themselves and need to be coercively “helped” for their own good. Acknowledgement that working-class women experience a gender-and-class-specific form of economic exploitation has been rebranded as yet another variation of “Disabled people are burdensome for wanting to exist.”

Over and over, materialist critiques are reframed as emotional or cognitive defects of marginalized people. The next time you hear a superficially sympathetic (but actually pathologizing) argument for “Marginalized people make bad choices because…” consider stopping and asking: “Wait, who are we to assume that this person’s choices are ‘bad’? And if they are, is there something about their material conditions that constrains their options or makes the ‘bad’ choice the best available option?”

#mad pride #neurodiversity #ableism #ageism #youth rights #liberation #disability rights #classism #capitalism #mental health culture #pop psychology #feminism #emotional labor

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trans-axolotl · 1 year

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saw a post the other day that said that psych survivors were overexaggerating and fearmongering for saying that people should be aware that having diagnoses on your record can be a danger + impede your life. and the more i think about it the more annoyed i am. because i think people need to know that there are exceptions to health privacy laws that can make having psych diagnoses and psych hospitalization history on your record risky depending on your circumstances. diagnoses follow you through your health interactions-you do not have to consent to have your information shared between providers. judicial proceedings are also an exception to the HIPAA privacy rule, so for things like custody battles, guardianship, getting orders of protection--the court can petition for medical records. there's so many other situations where even if they can't legally access your information without your authorization, people will require you to disclose diagnoses, records, previous hospitalizations and refuse to give you services/hire you/whatever unless you share that information with them. for example in many states anyone (a provider, a cop, friends and family) can disclose that you have certain psych diagnoses like bipolar to the DMV which then might require that you undergo drivers license review as frequently as every 3 months. my university is actively trying to kick me out right now because i had to disclose my medical record, psych diagnoses, and hospitalization history to them as a requirement to stay enrolled.

and i don't want to scare people or make people think that having a diagnosis on their records is automatically going to mean that it is weaponized against us. because i do know plenty of people who have never faced issues with their records. but i do expect that the community supports the people speaking out about the ways that we have been harmed by diagnoses creating barriers to accessing necessary parts of our life. instead of attacking us or saying that we're lying about things we are currently experiencing.

#personal #antipsych #antipsychiatry #mad pride #mad liberation #saneism #it's just like. i think we need to be realistic! and not deny people who are literally talking about things happening to them #and also allow people who have the option. to make informed choices about seeking diagnosis #bc for many of us that isn't up to us. but if you are considering seeking formal diagnosis. there can absolutley be some good and helpful #things that come from that! im not denying that at all! but there's also some negatives #and i think also like. if people refuse to acknowlege the ways this is structurally a problem #how are we going to make it better so that we don't have to deal with thsi stuff

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plague-parade · 10 months

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if upon being told about someones illness/condition, your first thought is to say “have you tried X?” i want you to step back for a moment and think to yourself “if i thought of X after hearing about this condition for the very first time, the person who has this condition very likely has thought of this and possibly tried it already”

we are tired of constantly being told to try the same things by people who didnt know our condition existed five minutes ago.

you dont need to offer any solutions or try to fix us. i know it might seem like a polite thing to do or that it shows you care, there are other ways to show us you care.

#thought of saying something about being told ‘get well soon’ too but idk if im ready for that possible backlash lol #my mom (able bodied) gets really mad at me when i say this kind of stuff is annoying #so i just assume all able bodied people would react that way #actually disabled #disabled #disability pride month #disabled pride month #disability pride #disabled pride #physically disabled #chronically ill #chronic illness #actually chronically ill #cripple punk #cripplepunk #cpunk

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merrinla · 7 months

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Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #karlach #gale #wyll #lae'zel #shadowheart #halsin #jaheira #minsc #minthara #funny stuff #bg3 datamine

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