#then I realized I’m just Eragon

[good-morzan-inheritance-cycle]

Eragon would be that white woman that sees one of those highly reactive pitbulls and be like “let’s get him a pup cup and sweater and name him Edgar.”

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Stabilize, pt. 1 (Multi-part story, extended war timeline)

(A/N: Heads up. We've got some Gil'ead content mixed in with lots of blood an' stuff. Durza being himself. The usual, really. Except if you don't like broken bones {specifically those of the chest varity} or mentions of what's pretty much extra extreme flail chest {only funky moves for a little bit thankfully}, then this isn't the story for you. Next chapters are Eragon's and other POVs of the event since Arya is not exactly comprehending things going on.)

Summary: What should have just been an outreach mission to help heal and treat citizens of a recently captured city goes wrong. Arya finds herself tossed into her own mind with little to no control over anything around her, watching confused and in pain as the world whips by. Outside her body, Eragon, Saphira, Glen, Blödhgarm and the other spellcaster guards work franticly to stabilize her, uniting as a family Eragon and Saphira had not quite realized had formed around them.

~~~

MODERN INHERITANCE: STABILIZE, PT. 1: BACK AND FORTH

Dim light assaulted her eyes as Arya blinked them open. She took a deep breath, tensed in preparation of cracked bones and torn muscles protesting…but nothing came. A few twinges of nearly healed wounds at her back, red scars pulling at…skin. She had skin on her back again.

‘Just get up. Think later, get up now.’

Arya grit her teeth and, a phantom of soreness remaining, gingerly pushed up from the ground. It felt…odd. To not taste blood upon waking. Why didn’t she? 

The answer fluttered into her mind like an afterthought, all her faculties focused on drawing her legs under her body and starting the cautious rise to standing. ‘Healed. Why am I healed?’

And then something slammed into her, and a hand slid around her neck

The world spun and shifted and it felt as if someone had grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her to the side. As if she was being thrown through open air over the Crags, breath ripped from her lungs and

“–on’t move, don’t move. Shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

Blurry shapes. Nothing hurt. Besides her head, really. A headache more powerful than the worst thunderstorm she had ever encountered bashed and exploded behind her eyes every time she struggled to move them. 

An odd brush of feather light pressure at her forehead. Trailing down, smoothing those wild fringes back. A familiar voice, calm, just the hint of a distressed warble at the very end of each garbled word. 

Couldn’t move. Even though they said not to. Tried to speak but lips barely parted and something warm rushed out of her mouth. Slid, cooling rapidly, from the corners of her lips to the edge of her jaw and tickling her ears before settling along the back of her neck. 

More shushes. More pronounced warbling. More gentle stroking of her hair. 

Other…hands? Maybe. Pressing on her chest, at her sides. Something felt off, a tug and a vibration felt inside her body. Muttered words, soft. What should have been an alarming sudden flare of energy, magic being worked, and the tugging eased significantly.

The world suddenly darkened as the figure above lowered their face to hers, pressed shaking lips to her forehead. 

“I’m s–––. I love you.” She felt her eyes rolling back, back to

He slammed her back against the cell wall, one clawed hand around her throat. Smiling a smile that would have been perfectly at home in one of the human fairytales, wolfish and sneering and just begging to be wiped off his bone-white face. 

If it was a fight he wanted, she would give it. He had healed her, and she would not let the opportunity slide. Get up. Cause trouble. Any way she could. 

He caught her right hook as she swung for his exposed armpit, pinned the offending wrist to the cold stone. The amused laughter died in his throat when her left, two knuckles raised, impacted squarely in his solar plexus, air whooshing from his lungs. He would have doubled over had she any more strength, but as it was her blows were still pitifully weak for people of their calibre.

He released her right wrist and slammed his palm down behind the knee that shot up to take him between the legs. Bone snapped, he snarled loud as her freed hand tangled in his hair and yanked as her head went back with a silent cry, a ragged growl all that escaped her.

Cold fingers finally clamped down at her throat. Success! 

‘Take me seriously you flaming headed fuckwad! I’ll dig your rotted heart out with the next spoon I s–’

Another wave of nauseating movement. 

Someone was screaming. It couldn’t be her, she still…still couldn’t move. But someone was moving her, she could feel pressure at the bent crooks of her knees and roughness at her cheek and something supporting her upper back. 

She felt…oddly weightless. It almost felt good. 

A cacophonous clatter, the unmistakable sound of ceramic shattering. “–here–. Down, gent–, gently.” Lowered, tipping back, world spinning. Eyes wandering, trying to take in something, anything. 

What was happening? Why couldn’t she move….

Eragon. Oh shit, Eragon! And Saphira, they

They were in danger. 

Screamed at her muscles to move but nothing worked. 

And just like that the surge of fear, the surge of energy to do something, it vanished. Everything was floating again. Everything was

Sparks flickered in her eyes. Arya came back to herself as her body dropped to the ground where he had thrown her into the opposite wall. 

She couldn’t tell if she should be amused or just a little bit frightened by the clump of bloodied hair in her reflexively clenched fist. She bared her teeth and chose the former. ‘Trouble caused.’

Durza seized her collar and yanked her body to the center of the tiny cell. Sat on her snapped femur, eyes blazing as she yowled in pain at bone grinding against bone, instinctively tensed muscles trying to rip the breakpoints past each other with each contraction. 

‘Least his bony ass is keeping them aligah fuck.’ Honestly. Arya was starting to wonder if she was simply delirious all the time now as the man-shaped monster settled his hand around her throat again. ‘I think he has a thing for that.’ 

Ah yes. Very delirious. Everything shouldn’t be so funny right now. She really would have laughed if she could get any air in. A Shade. With a thing for choking! Well, maybe it wasn’t so unusual, Shades were bloodthirsty and manic at the best of times, genocidal and mad with devastating power at the worst. 

Morbid curiosity drifted through her mind. ‘What makes him different? He’s got some self control…’  Things were getting hazy again. Durza had well and fully settled now, sitting on her legs, hunched over her like some rabid dog. Stars burst in her fading vision when he lifted his grip slightly, let her gasp in and out for a handful of seconds. 

“I want you to remember this one, little elf.” His smile was back, a new darkness to it. “I had…a spark of inspiration after I left you last.” 

One of his cold hands slipped under the prison tunic, gliding over the bruises left as he grasped her side and squeezed. Slid up to her ribs, grinning like an excited child as he felt the muscles shift and undulate under his touch. Her skin was blazing, an obvious fever having taken hold. No matter. It should not interfere with his plan. 

Arya frowned, teeth snapping. ‘Knock it off, I’m not for that.’ Her chest rumbled, the deep connections to the dragon pact awakening again. ‘Hands…to yourself.’ 

And he still smiled. Stroked the spaces between her ribs with the utmost care. 

“It would be…dangerous. To attempt something so extreme in your previous state, as lovely as it was.” He mused. “Extreme, and yet…remarkably simple.” That altogether far too toothsome grin stretched further. “I’m sure you’ll agree. Shall we begin?”

She spat at him. Struggled to sit up against his weight and the forces he applied. 

Durza clicked his tongue. “Shh, shh, shh. Now, now, little elf. So impatient.” 

His hand slipped from her ribs. A cold chuckle filled her ears as he pressed his palm between her breasts, flat to her sternum. “Don’t look so disgusted, little elf. I am not here for that.”

‘Wonderful, then wha–’ He was muttering the Ancient Language. When he finished, she didn’t feel anything different, but the words floated in her mind until she latched on to their meaning. ‘Wards? Why ward–’

He released her throat. Pressed his now free hand beside her head, leaned over her. Watching her face with a glint of utter anticipation in his maroon eyes. If she wasn’t busy sucking in air and trying not to squirm away from him as his other hand slipped down to wrap around her side, clinging to the curvature of her ribs as if he could lift and hold her like the spine of some old tome, she would spit at him again. 

She really, really wanted him to stop making his stupid smile even bigger. It had to be some hallucination, no one could smile that fucking b–

Durza tightened his grip around her ribs. Lowered his face till the tip of his nose brushed hers.

And whispered, “Jierda.”

“–lease what––r y–– did, –– interfe––. Now! Quick–”

A harsh growl of frustration, cracked with a contained sob and an apology and something clicked inside her mind or her brain or whatever and

The world exploded. The rabble of voices shot spikes into her ears as she instinctively tried to arch her back, tried to get away from the source of the pain. And there was so, so much pain. Hadn’t felt this in so long, really felt it, not just in her mind, it was here and now and everywhere and nothing was spared. 

There was so much yelling and hands were pressing her down as she thrashed and tried to just get. Away. A ragged voice above her was screaming in anger, that was probably it, anger, before another set of hands gripped onto her shoulders and what had to be forearms clamped her head and neck in place. 

Warmth bubbled up from her throat instead of the scream she wanted. Choked on it. Something jammed into her mouth, a muttered spell, and the…stars, was that blood? That had to be blood, she could taste it–

The Ancient Language was flowing off someone’s tongue so rapidly it all blurred together. 

The pain stopped. 

Cold. 

She was so cold. 

Blood was still being pumped from her mouth, she could feel it at the back of her throat, endless. She still couldn’t…couldn’t breathe. 

“––orry, I– so sor––.” The hand from before slid over her forehead, shaking. “Slyth–”

No, wait, no she knew the feeling from before. Her chest, her ribs, everything was sha

A thud of overpressure. That’s what it felt like. For just a split second, time the width of a fragile hair, a pulse of overpressure rushed her chest and felt as though her lungs and heart were squeezed as it passed. 

And in its wake her ribcage, each and every piece of it, shattered. 

Arya went blind. There was only white. A keening whine in her ears. A weight settled on her chest as all her muscles seized and spasmed as just…

Pain. 

For a moment, that was all that existed in the world. For eternity. It was all she had. 

And the pain remained as her eyes cleared, wide, wide eyes, staring up into his as she could feel just barely through it all the chill touch of his fingers stroking her face, mapping the agony of her expression. 

“There there, little elf.” He cooed, wandering over the slope of her cheek, her lips parted in a silent scream that wouldn’t come, the bridge of her nose, the hollows beneath her eyes. “There, now. It’s not over yet.” 

His own face held fascination, eyes hooded, tip of his tongue tracing his thin lips as he watched the explosions behind the green fire, the confusion, the beautiful pain. All for him. 

Durza settled back on her legs, tucked his heels tight to her knees to further jostle the lump of her broken femur. The fresh shock among the waves of agony snapped her up, back struggling to arch more than a scant handsbreadth off the floor.

A pitiful wail, strangled and disbelieving, trickled from the elf’s throat. Oh, she had never made that sound for him before. So confused, so afraid, so much delectable pain and misery. 

The soft thud of her settling back to the concrete ground rolled her eyes into her head. Her throat spasmed, blocked her airway out of shear pain. And he couldn’t have that. Not yet. 

So he seized the wild hair at her forehead and pulled her head down, tucked her chin and hissed a word to wake her. 

His growl was fire in his veins. “Breathe, little elf. Breathe, and see what is left of your pitiful body now.” 

And Arya…Arya tried. She was so dizzy now, the blanket heavy on her mind, on her broken body, and she tried to wheeze in a single breath.

Her chest rippled as she watched. Rippled. Like ice-splintered water. Her ribs sagged–

And then the pain of the barest attempt hit and everything

Black. Something over her eyes. It was damp, too, and smelled like…like sharp herbs, all pungent and smoky. 

So cold. Shivering in fits and bursts. 

It didn’t hurt as much as before. Something…dulling. Unlike the first absence of pain, it wasn't complete but was...soothing. And there was…was someone hovering over her head, something brushing her face. 

Tried to speak again. A dusty, barely there croak that died before all of it could escape. 

Light, flaring and painful against her still-closed lids. 

Stormy curls. Brow pinched in concern. “–on’t mo–. St– –ill.” Small hands cupping her face, the frown forcibly easing. “Good w––k. Er–gon a– Saphi– –– safe.”

Eragon. And Saphira. 

Had to help, had to get up, go–

“No! No, no y– mal––na–!”

Locked in place. Her chest wasn’t…wasn't moving when she tried to breathe but…still could feel air coming in. How…

The world fumbled into focus. For just a handful of seconds, she found herself staring up. Staring up at…

‘Angela?’

She could hear others in the room. Murmurings of the Grey Folks’ tongue, a massive pool of energy swirling and surging and sinking and dissipating in pushes and pulls. All…all gathered over her body.

Her shattered body. 

Stars above. 

What…what happened?

The herbalist flickered a new light over her eyes. She couldn’t flinch away. The small woman seemed put more at ease by whatever she found, and Arya could feel her nails gently scratching her scalp through…blood. Dried blood. As she combed her hair back from her face. Like her mother had…so long ago…or not so long? 

It felt nice. Angela wiped the pungent rag across her forehead, murmuring something that she couldn’t quite hear. Someone was sleeping. More than one. Back soon.

That…that was good. Maybe she could 

Something on– in – her chest tugged. Slowed. Warmth surging, spilling over her hip, down her side. A different type of heat replaced it, glowing in her stomach, warming her insides. Another tug. Serrated. 

If she could have cried out, she would have. Not that it…it hurt, not quite as much but the feeling of it–

“Shh, shh, elfl–ng. We ha– y–. Sleep.” Angela’s fingers softly swirled at her temples, skin damp from the blood wiped away. Arya couldn’t help but see the worry still embedded in the witch’s eternal eyes. “Slytha.”

He left her on the floor. 

Sat on the cot and watched her. 

Watched her struggle. 

Sometimes, when it all was too much, when her lips had to be dusky and she couldn’t…couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel anymore because there was…there was so little air…he would lift a hand in a most permissive gesture, and her chest would rise without her command. Crisp, fresh oxygen would flood her body and mind and lungs and she would scream it out in an instant because…because she could feel all of it moving. Shifting. 

But…

She couldn’t move her eyes. Dropping her gaze…it moved her body just slightly. Just enough to ripple her shattered bones and oh it was…it was too much. 

But he hadn’t won. 

Because she could still feel it. Clamped in her sweaty hand, sticking to her clammy skin. 

A clump of blood red hair. 

A small…small victory. 

A small vict

Or

Y

A deep breath. Twinges of settling across her chest. Cartilage tweaking and popping as it finally, finally took proper shape with a nice, big inhale. 

And out.

“...Oww….”

It was barely a wheeze, but at the pathetic sound slipping from her lips a chorus of chairs ripped back and clattered to some poor, abused floor. Arya winced at the rush of footsteps, still blinking and trying to clear her eyes as halos of light splashed across her vision. 

“Don’t! Don’t move, don’t move.” Glen already had a hand on her shoulder, damn near skidding his legs out from under him as he pivoted into her line of sight. What the hell was wrong with his voice? Low, concerned, urgent. Shit, he only used that voice when someone was really in a bad way. “Just stay down.” 

Arya worked her mouth. Her tongue was dry and sticky. She could taste iron. A lot of it. “Gllnn?” Little more than a croak, but it was something. “Wha…wha’appn.” She swallowed hard. It didn’t help. “Er…an’ ‘Afira?”

A curly mess of dark brown and honey. Something, a…window maybe? Clattered and crashed and a great whumph of air, snuffling and sniffing, filled the room. And it was a room. Arya could see crossbeams above, could hear a small fire crackling somewhere. The sounds of others sleeping. Hushed whispers in another portion of the house. 

 “We’re here! We’re here.” Oh, that silly Rider. Eragon leaned in and, pushing Glen’s warning hand aside, touched his forehead to Arya’s from where he stood behind her. “Saphira and I are fine. You…you took the hit. You saved us.” 

Arya blinked. 

And in a rush, the…day? Week? How long…

It all came back.

They were all in the city. Going through the streets at Eragon’s insistence, helping to heal and tend to the fallen friends and foes and civilians alike. Knocking on doors, offering aid. 

She had been out front, ahead of the others. Glenwing had been held up at the last house, showered with gratitude for healing the eye of a poor girl who had been caught in the crossfire. 

If he had been there it would have ended badly. In some way, it did, but in her eyes…in her eyes it was a small victory. 

Because she felt the surge, heard words flying from spittle flecked lips, wild eyes and robes swirling as the half mad mage had darted from his hiding spot between hovels. Arms outstretched towards the Dragon and Rider over her shoulder, the last syllables so very close to leaving his lips.

Wyrda had sprouted from his chest as she barreled into him, both of their bodies slammed to the ground and skidding in the bloodsoaked dust on the road. 

Then a snap like static turned to lightning, a wave of overpressure. The energy had nowhere to go but outward, the guidance of the spell lost, a sphere of pure force rippling and radiating and

Wyrda’s hilt ripped from her hand. A childlike rush of panic at losing the sword before a half realization of just what was happening, was going to happen, touched her thoughts. 

Weightless. Wind ripping, clawing past her head.

Emergency wards flared. Protected her neck, her spine, skull, heart, liver, most arteries, her brain. Drew power from the diamond sewn into the hem of her combat jacket at a prodigious rate.

That was fine. It would hold, could hold against damn near anything but now she had to worry about

Dust exploded outward.

Primaries flared BRIGHT as the energy allocated to protect the rest of her bones was instantly sapped away from her body’s reserves. Failed. 

Bits of…cinderblock? Brick? She must have already been through the wall by the time the primary wards winked out. The stone raked across her face, scratching. Rough. A scream from some poor, poor woman simply minding her own business in her own house. 

It felt like she went quite nearly through the other wall. There was something between that one and the first, some flimsy, wooden thing that burst into pieces. A dull hope that none of them hit the woman who now had a person sized hole in her front room. 

Secondary wards around the other organs ripped off like so much tissue paper. When…. Not important.

She felt her back strike another plastered wall. Solid. At least it…stopped her. Hard. Sudden. 

There was a lot of crackling and crunching. When she tried to breathe. Slumped to the ground as friction lost to gravity.

Her neck wasn’t broken. Her heart…it was definitely…beating. She could…kind of see…things.

Her chest…and her stomach…felt…warm.

Could still feel…fingers. Toes…. Wiggled for good measure.

Her vision winked out for a…was it just a few seconds? It had to be, because the woman was still screaming. 

Damn. What a set of lungs.

Arya slowly lowered her gaze. Dropped her chin to her chest. Visual check for damage.

Legs splayed out in front. Armor, marching bare bones kind, guard duty kind. Stops over-flex kind. Feet pointing. Right ways. Not broken. Then. 

Her hand bumped against something as she tried to pull her arms in.  Everything was…spinning. 

She leaned over the chunk of…wall? She was draped over on her right. Vomited. 

Vomited red. 

Arya looked up and mumbled an apology to the shrieking resident. Looked down again.

Hm. Possible…abdominal…injury.

Wood. A piece of wood, twisted up with some…metal? A…‘stud plate,’ she remembered Simon, all those years ago, calling it while they helped…to rebuild that little town…in Surda….

Against…regulations. For it to be stuck…in her chest…like that. Big…fine. For sure. Other little… bits…sticking out. 

Shouldn't…shouldn’t it hurt?

She blinked. Something changed.

Eragon was clasping her face in his hands, a wild, horrified look to his dark eyes. Blue, big, Saphira through the hole behind him.

“Don’t move! Don’t move.” He was already chanting words. Stabilize? No, no. She was…she was fine. It didn’t hurt. No hurt, no…problem.

She smiled at him. Big, broad smile. “Are you…two…okay?” 

Huh. Speaking was…why was it hard?

He finished the spell. The feeling of warmth spreading across her chest slowed. She almost missed it. Crackles almost stopped.

“Shh, I’m fine, Saphira’s fine.” Eragon snapped his head around, his voice a screech. “BLÖDHGARM! GLEN!” He turned back, wiped something off her face with his thumb. “You did so good, Arya. You…you kept us safe. Good…good job.” More words tumbled from his lips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s all going to be okay.”

She wanted to laugh and tell him, ‘of course it is! You two are safe!’ but she…she couldn’t get the air to say them. 

Maybe if she just…closed her eyes for a second. 

“Arya, no, no, please, no.” Eragon grabbed at her face, pushed wild hair from her eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead as if trying to breathe into her skull. 

Hm. Hopefully there wasn’t any wood there. And that wasn’t how he was supposed to do CPR at all. They had taught him better than that, and she…she didn’t need it, her heart…was still warded….

“GLEN! BLÖDHGARM! I NEED HELP HERE! THERE'S TOO MUCH BLEEDING!” 

Bleeding?

Glen’s face was white when he saw her. 

Blödhgarm…he hissed. Like housecat. As he ran over.

Their hands were covered in blood when she saw them move them away from her chest. 

…Oh. She must have…gotten cut by the wall.  

Well…if it was bad….

Maybe whatever they saw would…would heal faster…if she just…took a nap.

[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.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Unexpected And Appointed" Eragon x Modern! Reader

(A/N: A prologue to “Here And There” and an extended version of an Eragon Reaction with “Are you armed?” So back to clumsy Modern! Reader and their first signs of clumsiness, which wasn’t all physical.

Warnings: Mild curse word and use of (Y/F/N) for Your/First/Name.

Word Count: 1,048 words)

A light breeze granted you a delicate mercy as you walked. Easing some of your discomfort.

Your destination in your sights.

How could you stop to rest? You could give yourself the thought later.

Almost there. You could do it. No horse. No boat. Definitely no vehicle to aid you on the last trek of your journey.

Squinting your eyes against the midmorning sun, you could make out figures in fields. Trees adorning the area around.

You can do this. Remember, you thought, be as formal or friendly as possible. Use titles—please.

“Wah—.” You stumbled over a patch of grass.

Easy. Breathe. Just introduce yourself calmly. I’m the ambassador. Don’t blank out and freeze up on Ancient Language. Do your best. You smiled, attempting to encourage yourself as your pack weighed down on your shoulders.

Passing another cluster of trees, you felt odd. As if you were being watched.

Just breathe. Think of another song for goodness sake because if the dragons get in—

“Who are you?”

You quickly turned to the voice.

A tall young man stood three paces away from you with a long gardening tool at his side. The hair on his head was windswept and brown. A light shine to one of his palms.

You blinked as your fear tumbled into a fluttering mess.

The man was almost human.

Eragon.

“I asked: Who are you?” He voiced louder in the Ancient Language.

Clearing your throat, you answered with a round of dry coughs.

Sounding real confident, you thought sarcastically and swallowing. Don’t panic.

He did not move.

Standing in the shadow of a mountain, you held gazes with the Dragon Rider.

Eragon Shadeslayer did not know you, however you knew of him. Not that it helped much as he narrowed his brown eyes your way.

“Are you armed?”

Tilting your head, you did your best to translate the Ancient Language. Learning the language tied to the world took work. Practice in the face of it held a challenge.

Yet, you understood, you hoped and looked down to your arms in confusion. Then you glanced back to Eragon.

“. . . Yes. You can see them?” Your words were unsure. Doing your best in pronunciation.

His features skewed into his own doubt.

There was an obvious miscommunication no matter how small and it was up for debate who slipped up. Awkward when both were strangers.

For a split second, easily to be missed, the corner of the Dragon Rider’s lip curved up.

“Yes. I can.”

Perhaps you would be all right.

Why would he ask that? It—crap. No. I misheard a verb or something. Think. You sighed. Great. I’m all ready making myself look less capable.

Once more, you cleared your throat.

“Queen Nasuada…sent me…to look at the mountain.”

Realization sparked in his brown eyes. Shoulders relaxed and he took a couple of steps forward.

“My name is (Y/F/N).” You nodded. “The ambassador.”

Honestly, you had no idea what the greeting protocol was anymore nor were you inclined to bow after walking all morning.

So what if he was much closer and smiling slightly?

“Greetings. Welcome to Mount Arngor,” he gestured toward the snowy-capped mountain. “I am Eragon, Dragon Rider.”

I KNEW IT! You thought with a smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet y— Oh.” You stopped yourself and continued in the Ancient Language to your best ability. “Good…to meet you, Dragon Rider.”

Eragon nodded in kind and responded, “And you. I was not expecting you for another week or more.”

“I…” You frowned.

How do you say walk? Crap it.

“I walk fast,” you finally answered in the common tongue. “Especially when I hear noises I don’t recognize.”

Leaning on the tool, Eragon mused with a smile, “It was for the best you arrived early. Safer still, a storm looks to be approaching for later in the day..”

“I’ve been doing my best to avoid thunderstorms and parties.” You added. “Being sick while traveling doesn’t help anything.”

“Parties?”

The confusion on his face nearly sent you into a laughing fit, you held strong to avoid doing so.

“Not a party per se. I may have met King Orik on my way to Hedarth.” You pulled on your bag’s strap and said, “I’m not sure if I rambled too much or if I somehow made a good impression. I almost didn’t catch a ship without giving a portion of my life story to him.”

Shaking his head with a smile, Eragon rested the gardening tool over his shoulder. He did not add commentary as he turned towards the mountain.

“You must be wary from your travels. I will show you inside.”

“Thank you.” You followed after the Dragon Rider

* *

Wind blew against Mount Arngor as the thunderstorm rolled in. Walls of stone held you and every one residing with the utmost protection.

You laid across a bed. Your new bed and room in the fortress. Safe quarters for the new ambassador. The second ambassador.

Stretching your legs only made you want to groan at more than one event.

One, being the awkwardness of introducing yourself to Queen Nasuada’s first ambassador outside of Alagaësia.

Two, having to recover from both traveling and ascending all the steps into the mountain.

If my legs weren’t fit enough before, you thought, they sure will be.

No one else seemed to be fazed by the stairs.

Tiredly, you took a breath and counted what you were grateful for. Among them and high on the list remained your survival.

Even knowing what a map of Alagaësia looked like, it took a great amount of will power to travel through it and come out in one piece.

Anything to get away from suspicious side glances and Alagaësia’s politics. You thought, and here I’ve been introduced to most people and have only gotten questionable looks from one person. Too bad it’s Eragon. But I expected nothing less when I’m the unplanned and newly appointed ambassador to the Queen. That and I seem to speak better Ancient Language to everyone else.

~~~

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Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[everythingloveandanimated]

Probably low chance of happening…

but I really want Murtagh and Thorn to meet Rhunon.

(Not in order)

Rhunon is happy that Zar’roc has been renamed and that Murtagh has taken it upon himself to rewrite the sword’s history. Also proud of him in her own way.

Thorn: If it’s not an imposition, Rhunon-elda, may I watch you work?

Rhunon questions Thorn’s interest in smithing. Thorn: I suppose you could say I’m interested in the creation of art. Turning ordinary things into works of beauty.

Rhunon makes a comments about Murtagh resemblance to Morzan and Thorn’s scale colors being similar to the scales on Morzan’s dragon.

Thorn asks what Morzan’s dragon was like.

Murtagh asks why Morzan named his sword “Misery”.

They got onto the topic of Eragon and Rhunon making Brisingr. Rhunon says that Eragon “pestered” her into making one. Murtagh chuckles at Eragon’s persistence. Rhunon asks what Murtagh thinks of Eragon and their relationship as kin.

In the forge Murtagh creates a poem stanza but finds it hard to write outside the forge as if the inspiration leaves him and what he’s trying to capture in words can only be captured in the proper atmosphere.

Rhunon becomes interested in his scribbling, Murtagh reads it hoping the Attenwrack, the meter from Galbatorix’s court, doesn’t offend the elf. She comments that it’s not as melodious as the elven meter. She mentions that Eragon wrote a poem, more like an epic, for his first Agenti Blodren.

Murtagh gets a bit miffed at once again being compared to his brother. Thorn gives him a nudge and his own soothing thoughts.

She gives him some tips about writing poems. Murtagh creates stanzas based on what he sees, sort of recording the world as he sees it. Or it’s something born of something he feels. He doesn’t have any grand plans of a compilation of his poems. Merely just the observations of a traveler (or a man dealing with his past.)

At some point this comes up…

Murtagh: I grew up around gilded tongues Rhunon-elda. I may not always like what it said, but I prefer a blunt truth over veiled statements.

Rhunon applauds this.

Thorn comments that Murtagh is an accomplished dancer, this briefly piques Rhunon’s interest.

Murtagh: The steps from the court of the mad king won’t offend you?

Rhunon: if you can still enjoy the steps after all, he’s put you through. I will be fine. Cheeky hatchling.

Thorn rumbling with laughter: I’ve never heard someone call you a hatchling like that!

Murtagh: in the case of years, you’re more of a hatchling than I am.

Thorn: perhaps. Though given her age I assume you’re practically fresh out of your egg.

Murtagh scoffs with humor.

Thorn: Queen Arya is probably also a hatchling to her.

Murtagh briefly remembers the day Thorn hatched. Thorn touched his arm with his snout, positioning himself behind Murtagh as a human would to give a hug from behind.

Thorn: I do not regret hatching for you, dearest friend.

Murtagh curves his arm to caress Thorn’s lower jaw and leans his head against Thorn’s head. Eyes closed, a smile as he soaks in Thorn’s comfort and affirmation.

Rhunon sees this and notes the softness in their relationship that wasn’t as prevalent with Morzan and his dragon. It warms her to see Morzan’s son so gentle. She watches as Murtagh stands to wrap both arms around Thorn’s snout; they lean into each other.

Rhunon: You were a foreboding scourge to us, Morzan. But for his all sins your son does not have the same twisted nature you do. She softens. The boy must get that from his mother.

Not Rhunon related, but Murtagh and Thorn do briefly meet Dusan and Alanna, the two Elven children of Du Waldenvarden. They briefly interact with Thorn who rumbles contentedly from their touch. Murtagh is taken by their youthful beauty. As they depart Murtagh realizes that the children would be potential targets for Du Eld Draumars if they had any cult supporters in Du Waldenvarden, He thinks darkly that if anyone threatened or set hands on the children, he would personally see to it that their captors would not live to see another sunrise.

When Murtagh and Thorn leave Du Weldenvarden, they say goodbye to Rhunon. It’s understood that there is a respect between them. Rhunon appreciates Murtagh’s mission, she appreciates Thorn’s compliments and appreciation of her work. Murtagh and Thorn respect her as a smith and thank her for her time, allowing them to be in her forge, and for her wisdom. She wishes them well.

[magicandmundane]

thanks for getting me into the inheritance cycle bc im like 200 pages into eragon and i just realized that the writing is so entertaining that i actually pace myself while reading?? like usually im too dyslexic and impatient to read carefully, so i'll just skim paragraphs and let my brain fill in whatever words i skipped over. but this series makes me read it sentence by sentence and i love it

saphira is best girl

Omg anon, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you. These books mean so much to me, so if I can share that with a few people, then I must be doing something right around here lol.

If you’re having a good time now, then you’ll be having a blast with the later books because this series just gets better as it goes on. It’s really fun to watch Christopher’s writing grow because he wrote Eragon as a teenager. Keep me posted! And feel free to dm me, I’m always happy to talk about The Inheritance Cycle.

Yes, Saphira is best girl. She was my favorite in book one, but tbh Eragon himself really grew to be my favorite character. His development is incredible.

I’ll leave off here for now. I could talk about these books all day lol. Happy reading, anon!

[modern-inheritance]

I keep saying it, but I still don’t like that Paolini said it felt more in-character for Arya to take the throne, even when she clearly didn’t want to (imo) and explaining it as being tagged on to her dedication to her people and the culture of service and sacrifice.

Arya has been fighting for seventy. YEARS. She was rarely in one place long. I know she was probably yearning for a time of peace, and a time where she didn’t have to do that, but Arya, and yes I’m talking Canon!Arya here, does not seem like the type that CAN stay in one place long term without constant stimulation and challenges. She’s seen as late teens/very young adult by the other elves. She still has growing and learning to do, especially now as a Rider and with Firnen to get to know! She’s had EXTREME trauma not only over the entire course of the war but over the past year (or two, again I don’t know how long the ‘epilogue’ really is) alone!

I honestly do not see her being able to stay still there, in a social environment she detests, playing politics, when we are shown just how much more happy she is when she’s both physically and mentally challenged! Arya shows what I like to term Battle Joy when in combat, Eragon says himself that she looks and IS so much more carefree and herself when she’s fighting. She NEEDS that stimuli, she’s grown fully accustomed to spending her days traveling and moving and fighting and squabbling with difficult generals and leaders, which while it’s similar to some of the Knotted Throne duties, it doesn’t have the same catharsis or physicality to it.

I really think that if Murtagh and Thorn had reached out to them, Arya and Firnen would have answered and been at their side as soon as physically possible. I really don’t think that Arya could last long on the throne, even by human standards, and I just hope that Paolini realizes that while he’s built her character to be self sacrificing for her people, he also built her to do that more physically than she does sitting on the Knotted Throne nursing her third migraine in as many days while the Elf Lords play out political 5D chest at a glacial pace.

I wonder if Arya getting cornered into accepting the throne was also something The Dreamers had a hand in. After all, it keeps her from investigating around Alagaesia like Murtagh is. She is also considered a war hero, too, so she would have a lot of support from the people. Meanwhile, they can make sure that Murtagh stays a villain to the people of Alagaesia and constantly spread the word of all atrocities he’s committed and keep him isolated in that way.

The Dreamers probably think they have no reason to fear him since he seems to have no support whatsoever. Or they think they still have a shot at enslaving him. Little do they know that he’s probably the most dangerous to them out of the three. Now if he just loosened up about letting others touch his mind to communicate and also swallow his pride and accept some rider education from Eragon and Arya, he’d be even more unstoppable. After all, he figured out with Bachel that her lack of education was a weakness just as much as it was his.

If Murtagh’s adventures can prove that Alagaesia needs more riders, it might allow Arya to leave the throne to someone else and force her people to see that she’s needed outside of their kingdom. I’m hoping that’s what will happen so that she isn’t stuck in Ellesmera the whole time. Or at the very least allow her to leave the elven kingdom more often and accept that she has duties beyond just being their queen. Murtagh will need help eventually after all and Eragon can’t physically be there.

[aaaghhhhhh]

The Inheritance Cycle was the first real secondary world fantasy I’ve ever read and it’s embedded itself in my psyche in a way no other series will ever be able to but this fact is usually not something I’m very aware of. But sometimes I’m sitting down to write the daily prompt and I’m thinking of the scene and then i realize it’s like: wow. It’s just like Eragon. But if like, he sucked at the magical meditation thing.

[utterrandomnesswithlulu]

Currently Reading: Eragon, Part Two

Welcome back to part two of our Currently Reading series. We are checking out Christopher Paolini’s Eragon, and it’s April’s Book of the Month. However, I have a sinking suspicion that this will extend into May, but I have no problems with that.

Note from the author: This will have multiple parts, as I am doing this in segments as I read. I’m hoping to do one for every book in the Inheritance series.

If you haven’t read the first part of Currently Reading, please go check that out before continuing. Otherwise, spoilers ahead.

HERE, THERE BE DRAGONS

Previously, we left off with Eragon (our main protagonist) and Garrow (Eragon’s Uncle) speaking with the trader Merlock, who not only informed them that the stone Eragon found in The Spine was hollow, but the likelihood of it being created by magic was high. We also heard the story of King Galbatorix starting his life as a fresh out-of-training Dragon Rider to him, stealing the throne and ruling the Broddring Empire for years from the village’s storyteller, Brom. A story that can get Brom killed.

Eragon returns home that evening and decides to test the stone. He bangs on it with a hammer and produces a sound hollow yet pure, like a bell ringing. As he does this, he realizes that nothing he does damages the stone’s surface. It remains pristine, not even a chip. Nothing dents its sapphire surface, however, the stone seemingly emits a squeak. Brushing the sound off (he thought it was a mouse), he wonders if he was meant to have the stone because of its mysterious and almost magical background. Thinking heavily about this, he decides to go to bed.

The squeaking is back, but this time louder, definitely not a mouse. Groping blindly in the dark, he realizes that the stone is the source of the sound. He attempts to go back to sleep but is awoken a short while later because now the stone to physically moving, rocking back and forth on his shelf. Tired of the misfortune and headaches the stone has brought to him, he gets up with the intention of burying the nuisance of a stone, but before he could do anything, the stone rolls off the shelf and cracks open against the floor. As pieces of stone fall away, Eragon realizes what he’s looking at, that the stone was not in fact a stone, but an egg and now he was staring at something seemingly impossible. A baby dragon.

Not only is this newborn dragon the length of Eragon’s forearm (approximately 20 to 30.5 cm or 7 to 12 in), but it is also the exact same color that the stone was. The dragon starts exploring its surroundings a bit, bumping into furniture and the like. Eragon decides to touch the dragon and receives a shock that stuns him and travels up his arm. Something interesting happens too, not just from the shock he got from touching the dragon, but it felt like something also brushed against his mind. When he recovers from this, a silver shiny oval is now in the palm of his hand. When he touched the dragon for a second time, he doesn’t get shocked and feeds the hungry dragon. After eating, the dragon curls up on Eragon and he has thoughts about becoming a Dragon Rider, but he knows the risk. He could become powerful and even famous, however, he knew that the Empire would track him down to the ends of Alagaësia and even torture and kill his family. He also decides that he’s going to keep the dragon and has to find a way to tell Garrow about it.

The next morning, Eragon wakes early and takes the dragon to the edge of the forest with the intention of re-homing the dragon. Can’t exactly keep a dragon a secret from the people you’re living with now, can you? After making sure the dragon’s secured, fed, and understands that it has to stay put in its new makeshift tent (using a mental connection that he now has…like what?), he returns home to the farm. When he’s able to return to the dragon that evening, he finds that it has stayed in place, and has even managed to hunt for itself (too bad for some birds). Eragon gives the dragon a tour of its new home in the forest, talking the entire time. Like earlier when Eragon told the dragon to remain in the forest, he’s pretty positive that somehow the dragon can understand him. He’s worried about leaving the dragon by itself overnight, only to have that worry mean little when he comes back to see the dragon fine and happy to see him.

In the first week, the dragon nearly doubles in size, and Eragon has to build a new shelter for it. It doesn’t take long for it to even outgrow that. Eragon allows the dragon to roam, knowing that the small wildlife around the tent wouldn’t be enough to sustain it. However, he’s careful to warn the dragon about people who may venture into the forest with the same mental connection as earlier. As the dragon grows and ages, that connection becomes stronger and stronger. Eragon starts to worry that as the dragon becomes larger that the signs of it dwelling in the forest become more and more evident (large claw prints and dung piles being left everywhere, kinda hard to hide). He’s also worried about its growth rate, more specifically when dragons hit certain milestones (like breathing fire) as well as how he’s going to tell Garrow and Roran about the dragon. Eragon ends up in the village and speaks with Brom about dragons and their Riders.

DRAGON TALES

A bit of background on Brom. He moved to Carvahall nearly fifteen years ago and became the local storyteller.

Eragon arrives at Brom’s pretty much unannounced, and unfazed, Brom invites Eragon in. After sitting down, Eragon asks about the significance of the Dragon Riders and their dragons. Brom calls the dragons the “true inhabitants” of Alagaësia, and they were there long before the arrival of the elves. Now Eragon wants to know more about the elves (he’s very curious about the world Brom tells him). Brom is obviously annoyed at Eragon’s constant interruptions, but answers nonetheless, telling Eragon that the elves arrived in Alagaësia in silver boats from their home, Alalëa. Brom tells Eragon that the elves are a powerful race, both magically and physically, and one of the elves that arrived hunted a dragon for sport. Enraged, the dragons began hunting the elves, and a war broke out between the elves and dragons until one day an elf named Eragon found a dragon egg. Our Eragon is named after the founder and the first Dragon Rider. He believed that raising a dragon would foster a friendship and end the war between them. When the dragon became older, his name was Bid’Daum, Eragon and Bid’Daum were able to forge a treaty and effectively end the war. The creation of the Dragon Riders was a way to maintain a peaceful relationship between the two species. However, they were moved to Vroengard and there they grew to be the powerful force that the stories tell about.

Now Eragon is not out of questions. Far from it, in fact. Brom answers various questions about dragons,. Size: they can get pretty massive. Growth: they mature and breathe fire at six months. Age expectancy: they are immortal as long as their Rider doesn’t die, and according to Brom they cannot listen to thoughts (hmm?). After the barrage of questions, Brom starts becoming suspicious. So Eragon skirts around the questions Brom starts asking, such as where did he hear this information (Eragon said he heard it from a trader, but he doesn’t remember his name, convenient). Eragon asks about the Riders next. Apparently, they can live long lives, have muscular bodies and minds, and can develop pointy ears (but not as pointy as a true-born elf, especially if they’re human Riders). Eragon asks about names for dragons, and Brom notes some famous ones, including Saphira. Eragon thanks Brom for his time and leaves in a hurry.

As Eragon is heading home with his cousin, Roran, he finds out that Roran received a job offer from a miller. Eragon is upset to hear that Roran intends to take the job because he wishes to have a stable life before proposing to Katrina, Sloan’s daughter. And obviously, he needs money to do that. While this makes sense to Eragon, he is still not happy about it and thinks that Garrow won’t take it well too.

Eragon confides in the dragon and finds that it’s a good listener. At this time, he decides that the dragon needs a name (can’t keep calling it “the dragon” forever). He lists off the names that Brom gave him, but none of them seems to suit the dragon. Until Eragon realizes that the dragon is a she, and settles on Saphira.

GROWING PAINS

That evening, Roran lets Garrow know his plans on taking the job with the miller. They expect the worse, but Garrow turns that expectation on its head. He lets them know that he’s expected to leave in two weeks. Eragon feels bummed and left out in all of this. He continues to confide in Saphira, and she’s much bigger now, so large in fact, that Eragon can now sit comfortably in a hollow space on her back. In turn, Eragon teaches her new phrases and words, and Saphira teaches him how a dragon typically thinks and behaves. Their relationship continues to grow the more time they spend together.

Eragon finally decides to tell Roran about Saphira the day he’s leaving for his new job. When he reaches his room, though, Roran is packing a stone that was gifted to him by Eragon. However, something stops Roran from packing it up and he puts it back. Eragon now is incredibly unhappy about the change happening in his life and decides against telling Roran about Saphira.

Roran is setting off to the village the next morning. Garrow gives Roran a parting gift, money that he’s been saving for Roran for a day such as this. He also gives Roran and Eragon parting words, basically surmising here: be respectful, honest, but independent as they grow into adults. Words you can live by.

Eragon leaves with Roran to the village, and they meet Dempston, the owner of the mill at Horst’s smithery. Horst pulls Eragon aside to tell him about hooded strangers in Carvahall asking about Eragon’s blue stone. Horst promises Eragon that no one has said anything, but he’s worried that Sloan (you know, the jerk of a butcher that doesn’t like Eragon at all) will say something to the ominous strangers. Horst offers some advice, ditch the stone, but a bit too late since the stone burst into several pieces, becoming a beautiful blue dragon. Of course, Eragon doesn’t tell Horst this but instead says his goodbyes to Roran and heads home. Or so he wants people to think. Eragon ends up doubling back and sneaks over to Sloan’s butcher shop only to see him talking to those strangers he was warned about already. The strangers seem to thank Sloan and head back outside. Eragon attempts to get a better look at these people, only for them to spot him. Frozen by fear, he finds himself powerless as they approach him. Brom saves the day, and the strangers “hiss” at the interruption from Brom and walk away. Brom asks Eragon why he looks sick and Eragon shrugs the question away, but Brom continues to stonewall Eragon. Drilling him about the nonexistent trader that knew so much about the Dragon Riders and dragons, but once again, Eragon avoids the questions. Attempting to make his getaway, Eragon drops his gloves, Brom picks them up for him, but as he hands them to Eragon, Brom grabs his wrist to reveal the silver mark on his palm. Jerking away from Brom, Eragon hurries away while Brom just whistles merrily.

As Eragon hurries home, he mentally connects with Saphira to let her know what’s going on. Unfortunately, she doesn’t take it well at all and I mean not at all. She freaks out massively, and in an attempt to calm her, Eragon climbs onto her back, which seemed like a decent idea at the time. However, Saphira literally launches herself into the air with Eragon clinging to her back. She gains some major altitude and gets so high, in fact, that frost starts accumulating on Eragon. Eragon’s desperate at this point, doing anything to get Saphira’s attention, but she’s hearing none of it. Saphira has effectively shut Eragon out of her mind completely. Instead, Eragon is resigned to holding on for dear life and attempting to not throw up.

Saphira doesn’t stop until nightfall and lands in a small clearing somewhere in the mountains. Eragon’s in rough shape from the unexpected flight. He’s frozen, his muscles are cramped, but that wasn’t the worse of it. The skin from the inside of his thighs had been stripped because of Saphira’s scales. And flying was supposed to be fun. Unfortunately, Saphira is still freaking out because of the “murderers” she calls them and absolutely refuses to take him back. This worries Eragon because Garrow is still at home, and he worries that the strangers might get to Garrow before they can. He has no choice but to go to sleep because Saphira is still adamant about remaining where they are. Saphira, distressed about the events, curls up with Eragon, and allowing the warmth from her to warm Eragon up, she even sweetly covers him with her wing, creating a small blue tent for him.

ERAGON, PART 3

We are now at the tail end of chapter 10 of Eragon. I know, why are we leaving off at a cliffhanger? But that’s seven chapters further than where I left off previously. There’s a lot going on right now.

The dragon now has a name, Saphira, and she grows at an exponential rate. Here are the most unnerving questions that I have as a reader: Who are these strangers asking questions about the stone, and how much do they really know? And from the hiss, are they human, or something else entirely? Brom also knows so much more than he’s letting on, and his nonchalant attitude toward the silver marking on Eragon’s palm seems troubling. And is Garrow safe, especially because Saphira took off so unexpectedly and Eragon literally had no time to warn him.

So, that’s where we are leaving it, for now, there will be a part three. Hopefully, you guys enjoy this part. What do you think so far about Eragon? Obviously, if you’ve read further than chapter ten, please no spoilers.

[good-morzan-inheritance-cycle]

Because this is technically a book blog, I’m gonna share my weird reading habit I didn’t know I had.

Context. I’m very Mexican Italian, as in lived in Mexico, Italian family and Mexican family. And because of this, I speak with my hands. Lots of gestures and movements. Hard to misunderstand me when talking in person because of it.

But due to this, I’ve found that I use a LOT of hand gestures when I imagine characters talking. Particularly vocal ones. Like, Nasuda, Eragon, Angela. Anyone who tends to tell stories, argue, or is diplomatic I imagine has very clear body language unless stated otherwise. And even then, they ALWAYS use their hands when speaking, even if subtle.

And I didn’t realize I had this, UNTIL it became an issue of reading a book where a teacher/mentor/crazy dude/story teller, doesn’t have hands. He’s an amputee on grounds of punishment, and using hand movement for his magics. So although hand movements would fit his character in my mind and canon, he LITERALLY CANT. I have to keep reminding myself that he doesn’t have hands and I can’t just give him Spector ones for my brain, because that wouldn’t make sense for other characters seeing him, and not mentioning him literally waving his arms around like a madman.

Anyone else got their own reading quirk?

[incandescent-creativity]

Ok so I read Eragon for the first time when I was in middle school, which is also when I started the first drafts of what would become the SOLE Project we know and love today

I have never remembered enough details about the Inheritance Cycle to realize it might have influenced my writing, but now rereading it, and with the power of writer growth and retrospect… it appears that I may have just accidentally copied his writing style as my own when I first started writing?

This is not necessarily surprising, all baby writers have to start somewhere, and I remember loving these books. That’s why I’m rereading them, to see what I think of them now.

What I did NOT expect to discover was that the two hallmarks of early SOLE, which were bite-sized chapters and one-sentence summaries of things that could be written out as actual scenes, were apparently stylistic choices I snatched directly out of this book.

This is not a criticism of Paolini; when he writes that Eragon traveled through the mountains instead of spending time on it in narration, it’s for streamlining purpose because his books are operating on such a large scale. I mean, this is high fantasy, dragons, magic, rebels, and overthrowing the king of an evil empire. It’s not like my own work, which does have larger plot points but is really more character driven by comparison.

OH ALSO the way I set scenes, by highlighting a series of concrete sensory details, also apparently comes from Eragon. But that’s one thing that I’ve actually kept and still use. I’ve kinda outgrown? The other things?

(Which is also something I’m interested to see when I read through the other books, is if Paolini’s writing style changes significantly and if the changes are similar to how my style developed)

Rereading Eragon and having revelations about where I started as a writer within the first 30 pages

[modern-inheritance]

I wish I had a better grasp of when I’m doing show not tell and vice versa. I’ve got this fic that I’m not sure is going to be posted. It doesn’t feel right. I think part of it is because I am trying to write Eragon’s pov in some places and Arya’s in others (and no, beta readers it’s not THAT fic) and I just…I’m struggling a bit.

It starts out as Eragon being frustrated with Arya never staying past when he falls asleep. He’s let this build up over two months, and was trying to just sort of ignore it even though it really bothered him, so they could keep the peace in the rest of their pretty decent and smooth early relationship. Arya didn’t quite realize how much it upset him, and she reveals to him that the reason she leaves to sleep in her own tent is because she can never predict when she’s going to have a nightmare or a nightmare-to-Recall episode, which started happening for the first time in the field around Varaug’s death and began occurring semi-regularly since Dras Leona. She didn’t want to worry him or wake him up. Seeing someone in a fully involved Recall episode can be really, really hard and really quite frightening. She had it kept under wraps from Eragon and anyone else who would be pretty obligated to report her relapse to a commanding officer.

Iunno. It just…it feels stilted somehow. I’ve always had trouble writing Eragon. At this point in MIC he’s really matured, he isn’t the brash youth we first met, but he’s frustrated as all hell and in some ways angry, as he feels like, though Arya swore to him in AL during their claimed mates ceremony, that she loves him through thick and thin, like she is having second thoughts and is running from their relationship. She’s not. She’s just trying, as always, to protect him, and, as she and the other elves are learning over time, he doesn’t always need quite so much protecting.

Eragon is a very empathetic dude. He catches on fairly quickly that Arya leaving isn’t about their relationship, it’s about her trying to keep him safe from what she sees as her personal demons. And when she confirms to him that she does indeed want to continue their relationship, his anger disappears and he’s more concerned for her, and only a bit frustrated when she pushes that she thinks she’ll hurt him. They come to a compromise to try to have Arya stay the while night after Eragon is taught by Glen and Brom how to help her through Recall.

I donno. I’ll keep working on it of course. But this one just feels off, and since the idea is already down I doubt I’d ever be able to do a full rewrite. We’ll see if it ever gets posted

[ziggyevenstar]

march twenty one, 2023

i don’t know why i’m just now realizing that patroclus from movie troy is murtagh from movie eragon. i crushed so hard on murtagh i can’t believe i didn’t notice it before.

also, this is me just reminding myself that i can’t always live in whatever’s next for me. i can work for what i want, draw up a plan for my future, but i can’t keep claiming things that aren’t mine yet.

it’s one thing to not have plans; to feel lost, and it’s another to just be completely present where you are. as much as plans are made now, life also happens now. i need to learn to give appreciation in the now, as much as i give my hopes to the future. life is always moving. i am always growing. as much as i believe my present sucks, i’ll never be in this phase of my life again. i have to enjoy it while i’m still here. tomorrow will be beautiful but today is fleeting. i don’t want to be in the next phase of my life visiting old videos and photos just to realize then that i had a happy now, and i didn’t even bother to live it.

[lailanihan]

1, 4 & 5 for the OC ask

1. Your first OC ever?

PROBABLY A HP/AVATAR/ERAGON MEDIA CROSSOVER OC I MADE FOR RECESS RP DURING SCHOOL

I don’t remember her name but she was a very unique special goth loner girl with red eyes and had one covered and of course she also was hiding some big secret (I think she could talk to snakes but also the Secret was just that she was a Freak and Born Weird)

i look back on this now and wonder how I didn’t recognize I was ND sooner lmao

4. A character you rarely talk about?

In reality I think I don’t talk a whole lot abt my characters online aside from occasional snippets even tho I talk abt them like 24/7 IRL

I think one I don’t talk abt a whole bunch tho is Idunn? I haven’t had a whole lot of time to develop them tho! OH ALSO a revival of another old OC (about as old as Derek, actually I’m realizing now maybe older oops lmao) Sven! He’s. Been renamed because he had a dumb pseudo Japanese name from before when I was a weeb and he was just a naruto fan character

Here’s a recent sketch I’ve done of him as I’m trying to figure him out actually

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be?

Honestly? Amihan. She gets the least interaction when I post her, but I also feel like I don’t often show her in the light that makes her such a fun character. I feel like she’s my character that I feel most safe facing towards the public (though I just know u cant ever save ppl from misenterpreting ur works ever). She’s an outgoing, kinda ditzy, lightly esoteric, very flirty/glam and super silly god-being/diwata that masquerades as a Normal Human in a small backwater harbor town. She is also deeply tied to an externalization i realize now of Bisaya identity and it is something I love about her and also about myself, and is something I would gladly share with the world.

[writingforfun0714]

I just finished binge-watching The Dragon Prince S4 and I thought I’d share my thoughts as a show-only fan.

Warnings—spoilers for TDP S4, long post

*I’VE NEVER READ ANY OTHER MATERIAL

**I remember hearing from Wonderstorm (the animation studio) that it wasn’t necessary to read TTM (Through the Moon) to understand the story, so I never bothered with it—but boy I’m assuming it’d be helpful

Out of every season, I thought it was ok, however, definitely the weakest of the seasons so far. I’ve seen people make excuses, the most popular one is that ‘it’s just setting up the arc, it’s not supposed to wrap everything up’. To those that use the ‘it’s not finished’ excuse, may I point to you S1??? The first season of any show is hard to pull off b/c of world building and introducing the story. I’d say that TDP’s 1st season is much better than season 4. Yes S1 had wonky animation, but the story was great! It kept me engaged and that’s the goal of every story: to be interesting.

So here’s what I liked/enjoyed:

By S4, the animation has improved and looks amazing. The music is also not bad. S1 I thought did just a bit better with the music (ep3!), but definitely still good. There’s a 2yr timeskip so Callum is about 17 and Ezran is 11-12. Loved everyone’s new look (though Ez’s voice threw me but I understand a lot of boys don’t start puberty until about 13–my 12yr old brother is just starting/and the VA is female so dunno if they’d just pitch her down or what).

I know a lot of you didn’t like that the pastry chef guy was made like an official member of the royal council or whatever, but I actually loved it. It’s a refreshing take compared to having solely important people on the council. Adding people who seem like ‘normal/everyday’ kind of people to a high position (yes, it’s cooking/food, but he can be in charge of feeding the needy in Katolis or something) isn’t something that’s normally seen in fantasy stories imo.

Also know that some of you didn’t like that Igneous Rex was swayed by a pastry. His explanation though really made sense. He wanted to try something new (think Isabella from Encanto). It made total sense and I loved it. Also immediately knew it was chocolate. Never once did I think it was like cinnamon or something. Chef man is gonna bring world peace w/ chocolate calling it now.

The bond between Zym/Ezran reminds me of Eragon (especially w/ Ez being able to see through Zym’s eyes) and I’m absolutely living for that.

The new characters introduced are ok. Definitely love Terry. Honestly, I was wondering why he wasn’t freaking out when Claudia would do dark magic (since he’s an elf), but after thinking on it, I realized Terry’s probably never seen anything bad happen for using dark magic. For being so smitten w/ Claudia, I assume they’ve known each other for maybe a year or so. Enough time to get to know her but to not know everything about her. And even though Claudia is clearly traumatized by what she had to do to bring Viren back, she brought someone back from the dead. That’s gotta be amazing from a bystander POV.

I also loved Viren’s brutal talk with him and how Terry chooses not to follow that advice. I hope their relationship grows. I wonder if he’ll start to see Terry in a different light. Assuming it’s just been Soren, Claudia and Viren for years, having a stranger come in and say that he loves Claudia has got to be weird/foreign for Viren. Speaking of…I loved how Viren and Claudia’s relationship now has pretty much flipped, with her being the one in control and he just kinda has to do what she says. Really mirrors their S1 relationship. I’m sure she wasn’t forced, but I’m sure Viren’s words sway her to do what he wants. I hope that Viren and Claudia’s relationship is explored more cuz when she was forcing him up the spire, she really didn’t seem to see anything was wrong (that he was freaking out).

I also kind of like the fact that I can’t really tell if Claudia is really having feelings for Terry or not. He clearly loves her no question, but we haven’t really heard Claudia talk about Terry in the way he does about her. I’m worried that she’s using him in some way/will betray/leave him (especially considering that speech she gave Soren when they reunited. Like ??? Girl, you’re dating an elf??)

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT FIGHT SCENE BETWEEN IBIS AND CLAUDIA with Ez’s speech narrating over it. From what I remember, I don’t think we’ve seen a mage vs mage (magic v magic) fight before. It’s interesting because a lot of the sword fighting shown isn’t really dangerous or anything because anytime someone loses their sword, it’s considered that they lost. I think how sword fighting is typically portrayed though there are exceptions, but especially within children shows (obviously). The fight starts out with magic until they both disarm each other and it switches to a free-for-all, doing anything they can to get the upper hand. This is truly a fight for their lives. Ibis manages to stab Claudia’s leg and she kills him, leaving him on top of the spire. More fights like this please!!

I love how we were all expecting Aaravos with beautiful wings or something to come out of the cocoon and we get Gollum with wings that Claudia names sir sparkle puff. Perfection. They made the ‘winter is coming’ joke in S1 for GoT, is this their version of Gollum for Lord of the Rings? Also loved the callbacks to Avatar the Last Airbender (Soren saying yip yip and the shot of Igneous Rex’s treasure hoard that has Aang’s glider and Sokka’s boomerang).

I liked that Aaravos has targeted Callum and while possessing him, calls out everyone’s ‘flaws’/insecurities. I haven’t really seen anyone mention this but while Aaravos basically confirmed that he targets mages, I believe Callum won’t be like any other mage Aaravos encountered because Callum is the only human known to use magic w/o help. He uses the primal stone at first, but he quickly starts using magic all by himself, simply recalling spells he’s seen/heard. I always thought that was weird and hopefully will be explained in future seasons, but I definitely think that will play a role with the whole Callum/Aaravos relationship.

The last thing I enjoyed was Janai and Amaya’s relationship (but thought the story there was a little underwhelming/predictable).

Now that I’ve gone over things that I enjoyed out of this season, here are things I didn’t quite enjoy personally:

I think the most obvious and one that I’ve seen most people talk about so far is Callum/Rayla’s relationship. As stated before, if you haven’t read Through the Moon, like me, S4 is super confusing for their relationship. I did like that Callum didn’t forgive Rayla immediately and was pretty icy towards her. He’s been hurting immensely since she left, which I think is part of why he asked her to kill him if he became Aaravos’ pawn. She’s hurt him before, she can do it again, at least in Callum’s mind. What bugs me is that even though Rayla said she was so focused on getting revenge for what happened, she just..gives up? After 2 years? She left Callum, obviously knowing how deeply it’d hurt him, and didn’t see it through to the end (something her character arc wrapped up in S3 becoming a dragon guard). In S1, she didn’t finish killing the Katolis guard, putting her friends in danger. S2, she didn’t finish finding her identity/who she wants to be (the pirate ep and the ep where she chooses to save the dragon). S3 finally wrapped her character arc up by her choosing to pick up where her parents left off, in becoming the last dragon guard.

Now w/ S4 out we find out Rayla has given up her search for Viren after only 2yrs. And the worst part? She doesn’t even seem to realize what she did was hurtful to Callum. Rayla expects to pick things up right where they left off when Callum is still clearly hurting. Neither of them are the same after the 2yrs but she expects things to go back to ‘normal’ when that can never be the case. Causing that kind of emotional pain can’t be repaired with just time, or even with apologies. It’s frustrating that Rayla doesn’t acknowledge that she hurt Callum or even apologized. Callum clearly has some choice words for her and he’s just…deflecting and rejecting her any time they see each other because he doesn’t wanna talk about it. I get it, Big Feelings, I know, but this talk clearly needs to happen.

Honestly I could go on about their relationship, but I don’t want this post to get too long.

Next, I really didn’t care for the humor/jokes. Honestly even in S2 and 3, the humor seemed to be dipping/going down hill. The cringe-iest one was obviously the fart joke. Like…really?? It seems like kid shows have been putting those in more (even in Legend of Korra-Meelo). AtLA had 0 fart jokes. Humor can be more than fart jokes in kid shows! The other really cringey joke was Soren’s pajamas and stinky feet waking Rayla up. I know a lot of you guys also think this too so I’m glad I’m not alone.

Also I felt that adding ‘Stella’ the purple cuddle monkey thing Rayla has as a companion was too much. We already have Bait and Zym, this is just too much. Also the portal thing Stella can do is too OP for an animal imho. Like it’s cool for animals to do stuff that’s helpful (Bait glows, Zym fights), but this just felt…tacky/too unreal? Yes dragons are a thing and yes it’s a fantasy show, but Stella doing the portal thing seemed really out of place for me. Stella really just felt like a ‘marketable creature’ inserted to make money as toys. Also she interrupted Callum!!! HE WAS GONNA TALK UNTIL SHE SCARED THE SHIT OUTTA HIM AND HE CLOSED BACK UP!!!!

If I’m being completely honest, I didn’t really like Ezran’s development (or lack of) this season either. He’s always portrayed as the innocent/naive kid and even though he’s king now, he’s still the same (despite everything he’s gone through). He’s the pure character for the sake of being pure and is incorruptible. His whole deal of trying to get the humans and dragons to get along was ok, it made sense for this animal-loving boy king, but we’re in the 4th season, over the half-way point. Ezran has to have more to his character by now. I wanna see him struggle like Dany in GoT when that guy brought his daughter’s burnt corpse to her and she had to lock up her dragons. Let’s see Ez wrestle with a horrible accident caused by Zym or another dragon.

Also didn’t really like that they sidelined Soren and Viren. There’s so much trauma to explore there and I’m surprised we haven’t seen anything from Soren’s POV like a nightmare of him killing Viren or something.

And as I said earlier, the whole Janai struggling w/ ruling her people and the whole humans vs elves thing was a little…basic. And Janai’s brother Karim was so predictable. I knew he wasn’t gonna win that fight. I did like that he didn’t try and break up Janai and Amaya cuz of their species and instead wanted for them to live a humble, peaceful life somewhere else and he would rule instead. I think it would’ve been better writing, story-wise, had Janai listened to Karim, given up her crown, then regretted that decision, and have to fight Karim to get it back as the rightful ruler.

The only thing that I can take or leave is Claudia and Viren’s redemption. At this point, I see Viren folding/wavering slightly, especially when he talked about just living out the time he has left with Claudia, despite that ending of him transforming back with the all black eyes/gray skin. If done well, I’d like to see both of them being redeemed, though at this point, the way Claudia describes bringing back Viren, I’m not sure if redemption is possible for her (though Terry seemed to really get through to her w/the coins and Rayla, so maybe Terry can help). Either way, I think their relationship/story is the most interesting at this point (especially since Claudia has the power now in their relationship).

I haven’t seen anyone mention this but I hope Sir Sparklepuff isn’t killed when Aaravos finally does arrive. He’s been somewhat helpful so far and I wonder if, being related/conjured/created by Aaravos, Sir Sparklepuff would be able to find/make the key (the star diamond things). Something is definitely gonna happen to that map Terry made out of the goop stuff, I can feel it.

Well I think that pretty much all my thoughts on Dragon Prince season 4. After watching, I definitely would recommend reading Through the Moon to understand Callum/Rayla’s relationship cuz I was confused af (even though Wonderstorm said ‘don’t worry about it’/not needed). I definitely think it’s the weakest season so far, but the animation is gorgeous and everything with Aaravos is just interesting enough to keep me engaged. S1 arguably had a harder time to find its footing with the story, but I think it did a better job than S4. We essentially start of with a rocky relationship between humans/dragons and humans/elves, and we are still there by the end of S4. I would think, being past the half way point, at least one of those would have been resolved by now (considering how built up of a villain Aaravos is—I would assume everyone-humans, dragons and elves would need to pitch in).

Big thanks to all of you that made it through this whole post. Can’t wait to see what happens next. Lemme know what you thought of The Dragon Prince’s S4.

❤️

PS—I know I keep saying this, but I promise I’ll be back with a fic/chapter soon. I’m currently trying to write Chapter 4 of Older Sister, a Bad Batch fic and am writing 2 different versions before deciding which one I like (I made a post about this here so if you have a preference lemme know).

[that-house]

What pieces of media have been formative in your taste?

Let’s see... to count it as formative id say it’d be stuff I read around 10 years old or earlier so here’s some of it. I’ll just address book series

Warriors (I’m a rare exception in that it didn’t make me a furry but it did give me a taste for violent stories)

Eragon (epitome of mediocrely written fantasy, remains one of my favorite series but I’ve reread it too many times to want to read it again any time soon)

Harry Potter (liked it until I realized (a) how shittily built the world is and (b) how rancid Rowling is)

Percy Jackson + other Riordan stuff up to trials of Apollo which I hated (some of the funniest protagonists/writing in YA)

Wings of Fire (violence and dragons are recurring themes in stuff I like)

Hunger Games (at least the first two books. Not a big fan of book 3)

Unwanteds (like if Harry Potter was better, at least until the second series which I loathe)

Fablehaven (like if Harry Potter was better, including the second series, which isn’t as good as the first series but it’s still decent unlike the previous entry)

Amulet (one of the most batshit insane plot twists in anything I’ve ever read. Kazu Kibuishi you absolute madlad just changing the whole genre halfway through huh)

Yeah. Lots of fantasy and sci fi. Big fan of cool power systems (bonus points if they’re “hard magic” with strict rules about their limitations and whatnot).