#*proceeds to write one anyway*

[anna-scribbles]

h-how do you ever finish any of your work? genuine question because you seem to be productive despite your agreste syndrome and I need to learn your ways. but also how do you ever finish any of your work

unclear. last night i stayed up and finished a report worth 25% of my grade at about 5am, arrived on time for my 9am lecture, and spent about half of it zoned out while thinking about seventeen year old emilie agreste. and i was one of the most active participants in the class discussion

[moeblob]

Ladd: but why would you kill me when I'm willing to kill for you?? Lass: omg you can't just say you'd kill someone, Ladd. that's murder and it's frowned upon.

(and then Ladd does kill for her but it's fine and part of the job)

[triglycercule]

if dust takes off his hood and scarf then nobody can recognize him. he has literally no permanent traits that make him recognizable (which actually kinds upsets me because,,,,, there is no physical representation of his character development from sans to dust BUT EAAHHHH whatever,,, we cope with it.) but in like a silly goofy comedic way. it's like perry the playapus ans dr doofenshirmst (incorrect spelling but only by societies standards)

dust with hood down and no scarf

killer: a sans?

he puts on the scarf

horror: a GENOCIDE sans???

the hood goes up

killer: DUST SANS AKA MURDER SANS AKA DUSTTALE SANS FROM HIT AU DUSTTALE?????

horror's skull breaks a second time on the other side from sheer shock

[yyshcul]

guys you know that i can read your tags when you reblog my posts right ??

[saphira-approves]

Okay so I finished Murtagh last night and I think I’m just going to put a lot of my slightly more coherent general thoughts here under a readmore. Spoilers ahead! Beware!

Right off the bat I want to bring us back to The Fork, The Witch, and The Worm. Not to Essie (although reliving that encounter from Murtagh’s perspective was EXQUISITE), but to Eragon, because the thing I love most about that story is that Eragon is glad to see his brother, even from afar, and is glad to see he’s alright, and hopes that Murtagh will one day join him at Mt. Arngor. We’ve talked recently on the blog about ill feelings and condemnation towards Murtagh during the war, especially on Eragon’s part, but the ending of The Fork makes it clear that—while I would love to see Eragon acknowledge and work through them—Eragon no longer holds those feelings, and in fact really wants the chance to reconnect with his brother and his friend, because he loved him like a brother before he even knew they were related, and after everything that’s happened, he loves him still—even if Murtagh is going to have some trouble believing or internalizing it.

And so I present the theme of this initial reading response: Murtagh is so, so loved, to an extent that he does not fully realize. He knows that Thorn loves him, obviously, but I believe it’s significant that—even though he has some Complicated™️ thoughts about Selena and harbors resentment towards her for, in his mind, choosing Eragon over himself—the memories of her that we actually get to see/“hear” (page 90 my beloved) are fully memories of Selena’s love for him. “…beautiful boy” anyone? “My strong boy?” That is her BABY and she LOVES HIM. Also, again, DESPITE HIS RESENTMENT, Selena’s love is the REASON HE KEEPS HIS SCAR! Scar lore alert! Scar lore alert! SELENA WAS THERE AND SHE’S THE ONE WHO HEALED HIM! (though I am still partial to thinking Brom was involved. I’ll write about that later it doesn’t matter right now)

(Also, on a bit of a lighter note, HIS HORSE TOY?????? Horse girl Murtagh CONFIRMED!!!! Little me would have been so jealous. …on a completely different note, I have woodworking connections and access to real horse hair. Hm. The Ideas.)

And then Tornac, son of Tereth, may your name live on forever. THE FIRST MEMORY WE GET OF TORNAC IS A HUG. THE FIRST TIME HE HUGS MURTAGH. MURTAGH HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH DO YOU KNOW??? I KNOW YOU KNOW A LITTLE BIT BUT DO YOU KNOW????? And the way he LEAPS to Murtagh’s defense when he falls in their escape, he REFUSES to let Murtagh languish in Urû’baen, that’s his BOY, his BEAUTIFUL STRONG BOY, that’s HIS SON, NO TAKE BACKSIES, MORZAN! He sees Murtagh’s darkness, yes, but more importantly he sees Murtagh’s goodness, and he knows Galbatorix will do everything in his power to destroy it, and that is something that Tornac simply cannot abide. You remember how I posted about Brom saying it’s easy to die for what you believe in, and then like ten pages later he dies for Eragon? Yeah. Yeah that one. That post. Do you see the point I’m making?

Tornac died for Murtagh. Selena did too, I’m pretty sure—it’s never been explicitly stated, in this book or the rest of the Cycle, but we know Selena was anxious to leave Carvahall as soon as Eragon was born, and that she died shortly after returning to Murtagh. I think Murtagh knows, on some level, but I also think that actually acknowledging it is going to break him just a little bit. Selena left Eragon and returned to him, presumably to spirit Murtagh to Carvahall as well, but she left too early. She wasn’t recovered. The real tragedy of this is that, if she’d left any later, she might truly have been too late—Morzan had been killed, and Murtagh would have been collected to Urû’baen before she reached him. Depending on how much she was coordinating with Brom, she might have known this, and made the choice to return to Murtagh anyway, because it was the easiest choice in the world. Eragon and Murtagh both believe that Selena left them. As Murtagh believes Selena chose Eragon over him, I’m pretty sure Eragon believes the inverse. In truth, Selena was trying to choose both of them, to save both of them. It’s a tragedy that she failed, but the most important thing about such a tragedy is that the love is there. It didn’t save them, not at first, not until much later, but the love is there and it matters because those are her babies, those are her sons, and she would gladly die for them. She did die for them. It was easy; she believed in them.

So yeah, I think eventually Eragon and Murtagh are gonna have a talk, and some revelations are going to be made, and a good long cry is going to be had all around. Catharsis! They need it!

But that’s not all! Murtagh is loved not only by the dead and the distant, but by the living and the near, too. Up to this point, the werecats we’ve met have been aloof, proud, intentionally distant. I always got the sense that Solembum likes Eragon and Saphira, but I don’t know that he would call them friends, even if Eragon and Saphira would, and he’s the most in-depth werecat we’ve met. But now we also have Carabel.

Carabel, who, from her position within Gil'ead, watches the people around them, and discerns their character: this is a skill I would say she has honed to near-perfection. When we meet her, she is desperate, though she hides it well. She sees Murtagh, and she measures his character, and what she sees is enough to make her take a chance on him, and she's right. Murtagh saves Silna, compromising his own principles to do so—swearing an oath he knows he'll have to break—and is so clearly relieved to see Silna safe with Carabel, despite the deceptions. We know, also, that Selena had been liked enough by Solembum for him to speak with her, and I wouldn't be surprised to discover that Selena was at least respected by werecats, if not outright known as a friend; it's possible that this, too, helped push Carabel to take a chance on Murtagh, though she makes no comment about it. Whatever the case, ultimately it is Murtagh's character that she gambles on, and Murtagh being simply who he is fulfills her hopes—not only in saving Silna, but his kindness towards her even when she was difficult, carrying her only when it was necessary and setting her on her own paws when he deemed it safe. Just in being himself, he earns love from two strangers, and the respect of an entire race.

(This echoes throughout the book, in all of Murtagh's interactions with children—he cares so much about kids. Not just as an abstract moral stance: he truly, genuinely cares for children on a deeply personal level. Essie in Ceunon; the two boys in Gil'ead he gives coins to, twice, and reprimanding their father for using them to pick marks; Silna; the children in Nal Gorgoth. In telling his story to Nasuada, he broke when he reached the children he slaughtered under Bachel's control.)

And Alín! Alín, who was raised to revere dragons, who cannot help but idolize Thorn. She is terrified of Murtagh, as a stranger and a strange man, but his connection to a dragon allows her to view him in another light. I can write so many essays about Alín, I'm probably going to, but here I'll just say this: despite her circumstances, despite how she was taught, despite how thoroughly she has been programmed by the cult of the Dreamers, the simple truth of Murtagh's compassion gave her the room to question, to think for herself, to ask herself if what she has been taught and raised to believe is truly right. Murtagh doesn't make the decision for her, he physically can't—it is Alín herself who finds the strength to break herself free, inspired by Murtagh, but not wholly because of him.

And in the dungeons of Nal Gorgoth, Murtagh meets Uvek, an Urgal shaman, and can I just say: I would kill and die for Uvek. He's got similarities to Murtagh that aren't discussed in plaintext, but are easy to draw: they both tried to be alone in the wild, thinking it would be better for them—different reasons, but they came to the same conclusion—but both have come to discover that they are better off in a pack. With friends. With brothers. With family. (As an aside, I really hope Uvek becomes one of the first Urgal riders.) I love the metaphor they share, about trust being a knife with a blade for a handle; and I love that once they decide to trust each other, they both jump in, feet first, 100% on board. That's always been Murtagh's method anyway (Eragon-era Murtagh my beloved, looking after this stupid dumb kid with his whole ass), and it is incredibly refreshing to see someone else with the exact same mindset throw their whole lot in with Murtagh. The gentle forehead bump! Uvek loves this crazy squishy Murtagh-man.

And finally, finally, Nasuada. The Guinevere to his Lancelot, and there's not even an Arthur for them to dance around, except for the Arthur of Public Opinion that would prefer to view Murtagh as dread Mordred. I couldn't keep from laughing, just a little bit, every time Murtagh was encouraged to/shown visions of taking the throne, because lol! Nah, you dumbasses, that's the love of his life for whom he broke his own shackles and turned on his tormentor and slave-master. The day he turns against her of his own volition is the day he is No Longer Murtagh. He keeps the newly-minted gold crown so that he can keep a piece of her with him—a coin!! A tiny little portrait!! An accurate tiny little portrait, to be sure, but one he'll soon be able to find in any decently full purse!! He may not want to admit it to himself, he may try to distance himself for her own good and the good of her rule, but he cannot truly deny his heart. As for Nasuada himself, she doesn't even hesitate to take him in—and she would have no reason to, having heard about Gil'ead, except that she knows him, she has seen his true being in a way only Thorn can relate to, and even in uncertainty she cannot believe evil of him. She's the one who reaches out to comfort him when he crumbles in telling his story, she supports him without a word when he struggles to stand, and she wants so badly for him to stay, Public Opinion be damned. She won't destroy what she's built, but she will move heaven and earth to be able to keep him near, for as long as he wishes to remain.

This whole book, really, was just a chorus screaming to Murtagh, "YOU ARE LOVED!! YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE AND YOU ARE LOVED!! IT IS THE LOVE THAT ENDS WARS, THAT DEFEATS FEAR, THAT PERSISTS IN THE FACE OF DEATH AND RUIN!! YOU ARE LOVED!!" And maybe he can't hear it yet, not with his ears, but his heart, eventually, might start to catch him up. And I absolutely cannot wait to see it.

[arcane-vagabond]

Really wish people would respect the first no that writers give.

[confusedandghostly]

Y’all know what’s an unexplored plot opportunity with Danny & Damian twin AUs??

Danny remembers the lazarus pits

Back when he was a little kid he just kinda accepted that they existed and they were a part of life or whatever, and the two weren’t really allowed near them anyway so when whatever happens to separate him from Damian happens he doesn’t think about them much. Maybe he remembers them every now and then but not too in depth. Maybe he practically forgets they’re there.

Then he reunites with Damian and all that stuff and, upon meeting Jason, he senses how messed up he is, and maybe asks what’s up with him. When he’s told, he makes the connection between the pits and the infinite realms and goes “what the FUCK”

[ssruis]

Also partial to the concept of rui and nene playing 4D mind chess with each other where rui is trying to hint that he knows nene likes emu and nene is trying to hint that she knows rui likes tsukasa but they’re both actually morons and completely unaware of what their own feelings are so they just get really confused vs emu outright ambushing tsukasa with “I like nenechan” “thank you for telling me emu I’m so happy you trusted me with this-“ “it’s because I know you like rui-kun teehee 😋” “- I’ll be sure to keep your secre- WHAT”

[tigersizedmonitorlizard]

Many people don't realize this, but a lot of things can be true at once. The sky is blue. Blue is relative term, and the sky only appears as such due to the scattering of particular wavelengths, and even then only sometimes. Blue is real and the sky isn't.

See? It's not difficult.

These were the thoughts crossing my mind as I stood in the museum lobby, patiently watching the comings and goings of all the days' attendees. It was friday, field trip day, my favorite of the week! It fascinated me so to see the human children, small and loud and squishy as they were. To think they became the lanky, well-upright things that escorted them around...I couldn't even imagine. It was just like the primate evolution diorama behind the ticket desk, only in hyperspeed.

A couple students stopped in front of me and ogled for a minute, then scampered back to their line without glancing at the plaque. This happened a lot. I liked to think about what my plaque looked like, especially when people came by and ignored it. I pictured it deep back with gold-etched letters, in some neat and legible script. Shiny, despite it all, enough to see oneself in the reflection. And descriptive! Oh, how descriptive it must be, because after all, there was so much to describe. But at the end of the day, I had never seen it, positioned as it in front of my feet.

The crowds thinned as the day waned, and I turned my mind back to the sky, visible in slivers through the atrium. Today it was the same shade as the fish printed on the map someone had dropped on the floor in front of me, although gradually darkening, as it always seemed to when the humans left for good. I wondered, in which direction did the influence run? Did it turn to night for their absence, or did they flee it? Whatever the answer, it was never shared in my earshot. I was simply left to wonder.

During the nighttime, it was always just myself and my security guard. She walked around a lot. Sometimes she sang. I didn't see her, or hear her, very often, but the museum was large and visitors were recommended to set aside three to four hours to see all the exhibits fully, so I understood.

During this nighttime, however, something was different. There was an intruder. I had heard twice the protocol for this, as it pertained to a visitor-heavy daytime, but never what to do if the museum was empty. Or, almost-empty. You understand.

The intruder didn't look human. Too tall. Too long. It paced outside the doors for a moment before seeming to commit, clawing through the glass like it was a well-worn map in a preschooler's hands. The noise was instant and shattering, and segued into the immediate screeching of an alarm, but the intruder didn't hesitate as it stooped through the doorframe and into the atrium.

"Hey, you!" My security guard had arrived and was shouting, from the very opposite side of the lobby. She held her walkie-talkie in such a way that I realized it could, in the darkness, appear to be the form of a weapon. I thought this was extremely clever, and made a note of the strategy for later.

Unfortunately, the intruder did not seem to be as impressed, as it only snarled and spat a little. It reminded me loosely of the ancient reptile statues I was fairly sure lived on the level above my head. Sometimes children carried very small and soft-looking versions of them, from the area they called a gift shop, and they tantalized me greatly. Did they have soft iterations of me? I had never seen any. But if not, why not? What would it take to merit such delightful imitation?

My security guard was backing away as the intruder got closer, predator-slow and breathing heavy. The claws on its hand-arms clicked against the tile floor with what I felt was an excess of melodrama, and it tail swayed hypnotically, oversized scales playing a soft clinking noise beneath the wailing alarm. It ignored my security guard's orders to stay back, to stay put until police arrived, to exit the costume. It just kept walking, and I could practically taste its sense of smug victory.

It broke into a run as my security guard turned to flee, and in the same instant, I heard the sound of dice clattering against tile. 9, said the voice behind my head that was also my own, mixed success.

You and the monster deal harm to each other.

I didn't hesitate. I exploded off the pedestal and into the intruder, ramming it into the self-serve ticket kiosk. The kiosk was smashed beyond repair; the intruder, unfortunately, was not. It hissed and lunged forward, slashing my sides with its claws and succeeding in piercing one of my shoulders entirely before I could bite the arm in question. The sensation was unpleasant and very much irksome. But, nevertheless, fixable.

Within seconds it had slid its claw back out and retreated a few feet, wary now. I was not a threat it had accounted for. I was not as helpless as my security guard who, I noted approvingly, was nowhere in sight. The intruder lunged for me again and this time I was ready, darting to its right and snapping my jaws where I expected its leg would be.

Success! My teeth sank easily through flesh and well into the bone, nearly meeting again in the middle, and the intruder screamed. Loud enough to drown out the still-ringing alarms, and to even obscure the sirens that I assumed were accompanying the flashing red and blue outside the shatttered doors. As the excitement wore down, I began to feel uncertain. This had been very spur-of-the-moment; I had attacked without thinking, already a horrible faux pas on my own part. Perhaps I had also made a grave miscalculation of intent on the intruder's part, and the entity I gripped did not deserve my wrath

[pardon me], I said aloud, teeth still firmly locked in the intruder's leg. [we may have gotten off on the wrong...foot...ah, if you can understand me, stay still. then i will let go and we can proceed with civility.]

The intruder snarled again and thrashed about trying to find purchase to further claw into my sides and tail, which I took as a reassuring "no". It was a crude miscalculation on its part, too, as the struggling nearly tore its own leg from my grasp. All at once I let go fully and then, before it could writhe too far away, lunged in to bite whatever I could reach. That turned out to be its flank; all meat, no bone. I ripped a gaping mouthful of muscle out of its side but it tore itself away and began to flee, limping rapidly towards the doors through which it had broken in.

The doors that were now, unfortunately for the both of us, filling with the silhouettes of police. The lobby was still dark, illuminated only by the car lights outside. I considered for a moment returning to my pedestal, resuming my pose, burying myself back within mundanity. But, no, wait. That wouldn't work. The syrupy, steaming pulp of the intruder that was still sludging out of my jaws wouldn't go unnoticed for long.

I knew what that meant, then. I needed to flee. The police were moving in, only occupied for now by the intruder having gotten its claws on a few of them. Still, I couldnt help but waver long enough to look at my plaque. That tantalizing mystery which had defined me for the years I'd stood. It had to be good. It had to be poetic. It had to speak to my grandiosity, elegance, power, poise.

It read, black letters on a white-beige backdrop, "'Steampunk Lizard' Donated 2008".

Well.

This sucked.

[gingerpeachtea]

🦀🧳🦀

YAY AIRPORT CRABS have 10 sentences from burning suns!!!

She fixed her hair while he worked, a feeble excuse not to look at him, though she also wouldn’t want him seeing her like this regardless. Sweat stuck wisps of hair to her forehead. She should’ve long since caught her breath, and her heart had calmed, but not entirely—a state that should be reserved for the company of aching thighs and pillow talk, not a poor stage performance. He placed her shoes neatly beneath her vanity, where she always kept them. Christian wrapped a loose hand around her ankle, his thumb slipping beneath the crosses of her fishnets to rub small circles over the bone. She looked down at him, still knelt before her. Her eyes fell to his hand [before he could/before he had the chance to meet her gaze]. “What is it?” she asked. She knew the answer. For all the ways he’d changed, Christian still hadn’t lost his boyish avoidance of directness. She considered some kind of physical comfort, perhaps a hand on his shoulder or cupping his cheek, but didn’t move.

(make me write!!)

[rosaacicularis]

want to write more scarian having fun during thunderstorms…. they deserve to kiss in the rain i think

[rawliverandgoronspice]

hey sorry everyone I'll reply the asks and everything (<3 thank youu they are all so good and I love them and I feel so blessed) I just... I need to be serious and focus on work for a solid minute. :((

BUT I played a little more of TotK and, yeah, I'm actually pretty baffled people are impressed by this story and considering it a step above BotW, when to me we are clearly below in almost every single way. Again: the game is super fun and I love the little touches and everything, but beyond The Issues there's a lot that's just... incompetent at a very basic level honestly, and I find little excuse for the amount of slack in the way informations are conveyed and, just, how nonsensical and disjointed I find the plot and the world to be overall

(I have a Post in my heart about how I think a single* fix would have done so much good to the story and actually led to a theme and to stakes and tension and characters arcs and everything this game is cruelly lacking in the narrative department)

((*it would imply a number of other cascading fixes, but the framework could roughly stay the same))

[saltyfilmmajor]

Person Who Has Only Watched Mission: Impossible Watching Detective Conan: Getting a Lot of Mission: Impossible Vibes from this

[velidewrites]

Just thinking about how Elucien are literally THE best dressed couple in Prythian 😌

[rosesradio]

does anyone want to make like a petition or something for thomas to donate at least part of the ad revenue on his sorting video to a trans charity? or at least put some kind of disclaimer in the video or in the description stating that he doesn’t support jkr, and maybe link some resources and/or charities to encourage donations? idk, it just sits weirdly with me that, upon checking the video a minute ago, there’s no alterations to how it was originally posted to address the bigotry of that franchise.

(especially considering he bought a bunch of merch for the video, which he makes a joke about, potentially encouraging his viewers to sort & buy merch for their houses as well)

[dutybcrne]

Thinking of Kaveh with Unhinged partners again