#ok well among the creepiest for sure

[evadingreallife]

Im doing an aot rewatch and OMG THE FIRST EPISODE. GUYS THE FIRST EPISODE. unbelievable. u n b e l i e v a b l e

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Feeding Alligators 51 - I Lived Bitch

You wake up.

On AO3.

People’re hollering. It’s all gibberish. You feel well-rested for the first time in a long, long while. Are half-tempted to turn over so you can go back to sleep, except two things: there’s something in your arms that smells like vasoline and farts, and the chatter around you is real loud. Right until it hushes.

A woman says something. She’s got nice perfume. Don’t stink of chemical or sickly sweet. Her voice rings like a bell, though her words don’t make no sense.

It’s a stuffed animal that you got in your arms. That’s what smells. You cuddle into it and sigh…

Why is it sticky? What the hell—

Open your eyes. Spot a pair of boots with real nice embroidery along the seams. Track it up to a purple mumu and—

“Gale!” you say.

The man smiles down at you, all but sagging. And then Shadowheart fills your vision, leaning over you, her jesus hands over your chest.

Shadowheart. And Karlach and Wyll watching. You got Karlach’s bear. And apparently the little procedure made the dirt potion stop working, the fucker.

“You got any…?” you say and mime tilting a bottle.

“Yes,” Gale says.

You start to sit up as he reaches into his bag, and then you pause. Stare at him as he produces the blue bottle.

He holds his innocent expression for a good five seconds before cracking. “Aang-lish. Ta-ok.” And he mimes writing.

You blink a couple of times, trying to make sense. Cause it sounds like the man is saying he’s trying to learn English (from your chats). But that is monstrously complicated and y’all are super busy and…and you’re you. Ain’t no reason for somebody to take on that kinda task on your account.

You point to him. Tap your temple, and then your mouth. “You talk? English?”

“Ye-ah,” he says again.

Oh god, he’s learning English with your accent.

You are simultaneously amused, horrified, and then indignant at the horrified part. Ain’t nobody complains when a non-English speaker picks up a Western accent. Fuck all them classicist fuckwads.

You down the potion so you can say, “Why?”

“Ah! Well, a multitude of reasons,” he says and lifts that pointer finger and that man is the dictionary definition of a lecturer. “I reckoned it might do to have a backup plan should we run out of ingredients again. And as I’ve always said, a good education—”

“She seems fine,” Shadowheart cuts in. Gives you a tiny smile and then stands. “Take it easy the rest of the night. I’m not sure how this process goes, exactly. But I’d say if you start to feel strange, at all, let one of us know.”

“Yes’m,” you say.

She gives you a nod and leaves you be.

“How d’you feel, soldier?” Karlach says.

Physically, great. A little dizzy, maybe. And tired, now that you think about it. You want to find a blanket, burrito yourself next to the fire, and sit there until everybody goes to sleep.

So that’s what you tell her. She nods along, then jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Sounds like you and Wyll’ll be spending some time together, then.”

That…don’t make no sense. Why would Wyll…?

The spectator. Him lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Oh fuck, Wyll, how’re you doing?”

Karlach moves so you can see him leaning against a bedroll. He gives you a wave. “Nice to see you among the living again.”

…what?

And then something moves in the shadows and your skin shudders like a pissed off cat as the fucking mummy emerges.

He regards you with his shriveled, raisin eyes. Then, “Thou soul is tied to this place. Thy destiny shall play along as it must.”

And then he turns and just, you know, leaves. Like that was a totally normal interaction and he wasn’t the creepiest thing to ever exist spouting some of the most cryptic shit to ever exist.

“I don’t like him,” you say.

“Yeah,” Karlach drawls, watching him shuffle over to the perimeter of camp. “I’ve seen people get turned inside out—literally, and it’s the hells so they don’t die, you know? But there’s something really off about that one.” Then she looks behind you, to the sound of Gale lowering himself, and something flashes across her face before she slaps another smile over it. “Guess I’ll leave you to it. You did good, soldier. Knew you were a tough one.”

She goes back over to Wyll and settles down about three feet from him—the closest she can safely get. Leaving you and Gale, alone.

Gale clears his throat. Waits for you to look back to him. Folds his legs beneath him and both his knees crack. “I can certainly understand your level of apprehension around him. But we should probably discuss what he said. Or didn’t, I suppose.”

Well fuck.

“What, the shit about fate?” you say, because if you make a joke about and throw in profanity, it can’t be all that serious, right?

But Gale don’t smile back. Nor does he join in on the joking. He looks serious in a way that makes your conjured joviality wither in on itself.

He holds up something. The evil bottle. Motions for you to take it. The soul jar. Right. But like, it’s a physical object? For some reason, you didn’t think it would be. Like, they would do all their woo woo shit and it’d disintegrate into the ether or some shit and you’d wake up all better.

The metal is smooth in your hands. You expect warmth or an electric tingle. Maybe a creepy heartbeat or something. Souls are, apparently, real, and they’ve (said they’ve) trapped yours inside that thing like a genie in a lamp. There should be some mystical shit, right?

Only it’s just a metal bottle. Smooth and cool, and about as heavy as it looks.

“Are you sure it worked?” you say. Cause it feels just like holding an empty bottle.

“It did, eventually.” He catches your look. “There were some…complications. It caused no damage, both Withers and Shadowheart assured me!. All of your soul is within that flask, and we’ll continue to monitor it, but you appear to be perfectly stabilized.”

Huh. “Complications” can mean so many things.

“But?” you say.

Gale makes a “easy there, Bessy” hand gesture. “But you, ah, died in the process. Again. You are perfectly alright now! Withers was able to keep both parts of you here long enough for the spell to work. But you, well. I’m no necromancer or soulworker, but your soul went elsewhere for a time before we could draw it fully into this realm.”

That…is horrifying. Where the fuck does a soul just wander off to? Like it fucked off to some interdimensional 711, stole a car, and drove three hundred miles out to fucking space-Idaho?

“Do you remember anything?” Gale says. And there’s that gleam in his eye, the one he gets when you brought up your speculations of the religious aspects of them animal stones in that ancient city in Turkey. Dude hungers for knowledge the way Astar—the way a vampire hungers for blood.

But the last thing you remember is settling down with Karlach’s bear.

“No,” you say. Though the thought niggles something in the back of your mind.

Corn?

Whatever.

“I see. Well, it does please me to say that you seem to be present and accounted for. No need for those potions—I gathered from your facial expressions that they didn’t taste terribly fantastic. However. That flask must stay on your person at all times. Or near enough to it.”

“Oh god, is this a proximity thing?”

What’s a reverse electric fence? If you forget the damn thing in you tent and go to the river to bathe, is it gonna tase you?

A twitch of a frown at the word “proximity.” His lips silently move over the shape of it. Then, “Not in the sense I suspect you think of. If I were to snatch it and use a waypoint to travel to the other side of Faerun, it would do you no harm. But I would be holding your soul in my hands, and that…”

And…that sounds bad. Catastrophic, even.

“You said soulworker and necromancer before,” you say, a different kind of dread oozing up your spine to claw at the muscles at the base of your skull. “Someone could, like, use this against me, huh?”

He nods. “Indeed. At the very least, one could hold it for ransom. At the worst, there are ways of chaining a soul to a person or an object. Or even, well. Even bartering one to the hells.”

If somebody gets their sticky fucking fingers on that flask they can literally sell you to a demon? Oh what the actual fuck.

“Kinda hate this place,” you say.

Gale winces. Sympathetically.

“So keep the damn thing safe,” you say.

“Yes. I cannot stress that enough.”

Part of you thinks it really would have been easier to just die.

Except…there’s something in you. A little glow against that darkness. Though the exhaustion and the dread pull you down like your guts are made of concrete, that tiny ember glows on.

Fuck. Fuck.

“I…thank you, Gale,” you say. “Thank you for all a this. I’ll do my best not to let y’all down.”

He claps your arm (you try not to flinch at the touch). “You’re doing far better on that account than I suspect you give yourself credit for. Now, I’m going to whip up something light but filling, and I suggest you eat your fill and get some rest, hmm?”

You nod. Food does sound really good.

The others mingle or tend their gear. You lie there and half listen to Wyll and Karlach talking. Things haven’t gotten better so much as simply…changed form. Same problem, new and exciting ways for it all to go wrong.

The exhaustion drags at you. Gale is right. Food and rest will be good. This shit will land and settle as it will, and you’ll have to pick a path through it.

Which is when something pale moves in the dark. A set of glowing eyes leer out of the shadows.

“Well hello, darling,” Astarion says.

Previous - Index - Next Chapter

[masha-russia]

Please know that fans of elia or Brandon have no problem with rhaegar and lyanna being in love and getting a happy ending. Problem only arose when those 2 chose to pursue their happily ever after at the expanse of elia, his children by her, Brandon, Rickard and basically the whole realm. Lyanna is supposedly so moral a person that she can't see howland being bullied yet she doesn't bother coming back an telling everyone that she wasn't kidnapped but consented? This makes no sense.

Hi, thanks for asking,

Before talking about Rhaegar and Lyanna, I’d like to start with Brandon. Brandon Stark has fans? … In this case, I feel like these people don’t know that Brandon Stark was one of the creepiest men in the story. I realize that many may have forgotten, or not truly comprehended, the part of Dance with Dragons that showed us Brandon’s personality, since it was a small part in a Theon chapter. Brandon Stark was a sexual predator. Apart from killing people, which is already bad enough, his other favorite pass time was to sleep with virgins, specifically virgins, because he loved the sight of blood on “his sword” -> "a bloody sword is a beautiful thing”. I know the text is subtle here, but that’s the meaning. And no, Barbery Dustin wasn’t lying. Also, GRRM words: “It’d be an exaggeration to say that Brandon died before he could have children” which translates to “he had plenty of bastards”.

“Brandon loved his sword. He loved to hone it. ‘I want it sharp enough to shave the hair from a woman’s cunt,’ he used to say. And how he loved to use it. 'A bloody sword is a beautiful thing,’ he told me once.”

“Brandon was never shy about taking what he wanted. I am old now, a dried-up thing, too long a widow, but I still remember the look of my maiden’s blood on his cock the night he claimed me. I think Brandon liked the sight as well. A bloody sword is a beautiful thing, yes.”

Brandon Stark was gross. His caring for his sister and father makes him a three dimensional character, but not any less of a creep (edit: and not because of his relation with Barbery which was consensual) I am glad he died, and I have to say, House Stark was lucky he did, because if Brandon became Lord of Winterfell, the reputation of the House wouldn’t be at all as good as it was under Eddard’s rule.

Alright now, you say you have no problem with Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love, only that it happened “at the expanse of Elia and the children”. If you refer to the moral aspect and to the idea that Rhaegar “cheated” on her, I don’t understand what alternatives would satisfy you? Rhaegar was made to marry Elia, it was an arranged marriage, and Lyanna was being forced to marry a man she absolutely did not want. Divorce isn’t an option in Westeros (though judging by the outraged reactions among Elia fans following the news of show Rhaegar divorcing Elia, divorce doesn’t seem to be an option for you either), polygamy isn’t allowed, the only way for Rhaegar and Lyanna to be together is as a non-married couple, sadly. Again, I think Elia was in friendly terms with her husband and supported him. And Rhaegar’s children don’t have a say in his love life. As long as the children are cared and provided for, he did his duty as a parent. As you know, Rhaegar was greatly concerned about the War for the Dawn, and he believed Rhaenys and Aegon would have a role in it, so obviously he would have returned with Lyanna and their child to raise all of his three children together. 

If you refer to their deaths, I already explained several times that you cannot blame Rhaegar and Lyanna for the murders of Elia, Rhaenys and Aegon. They didn’t commit the murder. The responsibility lies with Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch (the actual murderers), with Tywin Lannister (for giving the order), with Robert Baratheon (for wanting to kill all the “dragon’s pawn”) and to an extent with Aerys Targaryen (for refusing to send Elia and the children with Rhaella and Viserys to Dragonstone). Same for Brandon and Rickard. Rhaegar and Lyanna couldn’t have known what would happen, and they certainly didn’t wish for such horrors like the murder of Elia and the children.

Please do not believe that Kingdoms rise in rebellion over highborn girls who elope with noble Princes. “Such stories make for charming songs, but poor history”. Jon Arryn didn’t call his banners because of Lyanna, and not even because of Brandon’ and Rickard’ executions (Aerys was in the right by law to execute them, for threatening a Royal with murder, even though he did it cruelly). He rose in Rebellion when Aerys asked him to kill the innocent (by law) young men he was fostering. Thousands of people won’t go to fight and die in a war for the sake of a girl. Betrothals can be set aside.

“This makes no sense,” you say, not understanding why Lyanna and Rhaegar didn’t inform anyone of their eloping, and accusing them of idiocy and selfishness, or the story of being inconsistent. It is not the story or the characters being inconsistent though, it’s the text screaming at you that there is something wrong with the informations it gave you thus far, and that there are missing pieces of the puzzle. I think it’s evident from the novels themselves, but even GRRM is always elusive when answering any questions about Rhaegar and Lyanna and their actions. Just from one interview:

“Will we learn more about Rhaegar in the next book? Why did he take almost a year to join the fight against the rebels, or why did he kidnap Lyanna?”“You will learn more, but I can’t promise it’ll be in the next book. Keep reading.”

Rhaegar took a year to join the fight because he did not know there was War, and I believe someone was doing his best to keep him ignorant. This someone could very well be Varys - he is a Blackfyre supporter, his wisperings in Aerys’ ear was what made him even more paranoiac and cruel, he was the one responsible for Aerys’s coming to the Tourney at Harrenhal, where it is rumored Rhaegar planned to dispose him as King. If Varys really cared “for the Realm” (he does not), he would have helped Rhaegar, but instead he helped Aerys to keep the Throne while making sure his paranoia and madness grew.

Old Lord Whent had announced the tourney shortly after a visit from his brother, Ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard. With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent’s tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together. Aerys had not set foot outside the Red Keep since Duskendale, yet suddenly he announced that he would accompany Prince Rhaegar to Harrenhal, and everything had gone awry from there.

As for not telling anyone of their eloping, again I believe they did tell someone. I strongly suspect Lyanna told Eddard that she fell in love with Rhaegar and that she would run away with him, but Eddard didn’t have the courage to let his father and Robert know. Other people must have been told as well, but again something went awry.

Once Rhaegar joined the war, it was too late to sue for peace. The leader of the Rebellion, Robert Baratheon, declared Rhaegar his number one enemy, so I can hardly see Rhaegar making peace with him. The Kingdoms were fighting, divided between Targaryen loyalists and Robert Baratheon supporters. It’s just not realistic at all to believe Rhaegar could have raised a white flag. Killing Robert would have put an end to the Rebellion, just as killing Rhaegar brought an end to the fighting at the Trident. Rhaegar and Robert were the faces of the War. 

I very much doubt Rhaegar wanted to kill Eddard. It is possible that he gave orders to spare Eddard, for Lyanna.

This is funny. Ok as I said already Rhaegar didn’t know of the war, but … Basically the whole Realm from Dorne to Casterly Rock passing by the North fangirls about Rhaegar, how noble and gifted he was, that he was a true dragon, that he would have been a great King. How exactly did you reach the conclusion that “Canon paints him more as a coward”?

Even Yandel (Yandel!!), who wrote a very biased book (The World of ice and Fire) as he was trying to please King Robert Baratheon, said:

 For despite his crimes, Prince Rhaegar was no coward.

Even he, not a lickspittle exactly but a man who wanted to be in Robert’s good graces, couldn’t bring himself to talk badly of Rhaegar.

I’d gladly come back to this conversation once we get the other two books.