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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

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Refuge | chapter four.

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chapter four: changes.

wordcount: 2.1k summary: the aftermath of everything that has been warnings: estrangement, recovery from trauma, mentions of child death. some fluff a/n: reshuffling over! lmk ur thoughts <3

You stayed true to your word.

You started your own book club; letting the gossiping, brutal women of Jackson into your safe haven and their shrill giggles fill your bookshop. You even smiled along, a quick flash of your teeth assuring them all that you considered yourself one of them even when theydidn’t think so. You knew it’d get back to Maria if you didn’t cooperate.

It wasn’t too bad, though. The book club whispered about Joel, sure - but only until you walked into the room. It was all nervous grins and terrible changes of topic after that, with their breaths held and eyes darting. They were scared of you; you’d gained a reputation after the…incident.

Speaking of Maria, she hadn’t so much as approached you. No, she lurked in the shadows, with tight-lipped smiles and apologetic winces. Fred was eating solids now, and Maria practically had her tongue in his ass every time you saw them. You saw the judgement in their eyes. Straigtening, you turned away.

Tommy had come by and sat down for a cup of tea, spending hours straightening everything out. You’d forgiven him, despite not understanding why he hid Joel from you.Maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was just an idiot. You didn’t care. Either ways, he was truly sorry. That was enough.

You looked different now. Like a lion with blunt, rounded claws, and teeth that had been pulled out by a merciless owner for his amusement. Your hair and your nails and your appetite were better, easier to look at. Gone was the animalistic fervor that had once been written on your face. Your cheeks were fuller now, flushed in the cold; eyes softer too.

You looked like her again. Sarah’s mother, Joel’s wife. You. The mirrors in your house found themselves draped with old bedsheets. Their reflection was a jarring, cruel sight you’d long stopped looking at.

You couldn’t shake the thought that Sarah would have hated what you became - weak, timid, broken. You could picture it - the frown; Joel’s frown - and the way she’d curl her bottom lip out. Aching for her was inevitable.

If there was a God, you would have begged Him to let you die in her place. But there wasn’t, so you decided to live for her, instead.

Each rise of the sun signified battle, more ground to cover and another step to take. To get out of bed, to change, to shower. To open the shop, to wave at people, to smile.

And in the dark hours when the sun’s warmth abandoned you, familiar shadows crept into your room to wrap themselves around you once again. They crawled into your mind and festered within you; a sickness with no cure. Under the safety of your blanket, the tears would come - and with them, the panic. All you had to ground you were two words that served as both your blessing, and your curse. A brand marring the flesh of your psyche; seared into your soul.

I lived.

Sisyphus was punished for cheating death, too, wasn’t he?

You established a strict routine. Wake, shower, change. Go on a walk, pick flowers, go to the store, open the shop. Repeat.

A lifeline, really, to stop you from scratching at the plaster on your walls. You’d forgotten how exhausting it was to pretend being okay when you weren’t. You’d forgotten how exhausting it was to fall apart alone, too. It left a bitter taste on your tongue.

The good days were good, but the bad ones were terrible. Hands would grasp at your mouth, your neck, your chest, limbs growing heavy; and you’d be underwater again.

You stayed in bed longer on those days. The routine would fall apart, and so would you.

Against all odds - and intent - you made a new friend. It started with a grin from across the street, making you look over your shoulder in confusion. Surely that was meant for someone else? Brows furrowing at the empty street behind you, you’d reciprocated- but the grimace on your face was unyielding, lips stretching in an awkward baring of your teeth. You walked home faster that day, that replying laugh ringing in your ears. A warm, infectious grin turned into a smirk, paired with a “Hi!” you couldn’t resist replying to. Until you walked into her at the store, not having the heart to turn down her offer to walk home with you, realising you couldn't resist replying to everything else, either. The circumstances of your initial meeting were forgotten, and a bond was forged; purely because of the way her eyes twinkled with excitement, forgoing pleasantries for an exclamation that made you laugh.

“I can’t believe you’re such a badass, I mean-not that you can’t be, just that I wasn’t expecting it, y’ know?”

You’d quickly found that once she started talking, it took the threat of a clicker for Ellie to stop. And since you were in Jackson, and the threat non-existent, she prattled in your ear for nearly half an hour before you excused yourself. Initially, you’d been overwhelmed with her monologues - and a little concerned with the low number of breaths she took in between the rush of words that came tumbling out of her mouth. Nevertheless, there was something about the adorable way that she said exactly what was on her mind that warmed you up towards her, her constant chattering carving a way into your heart.

I didn’t know Joel had a wife. God, when I met you I thought you were a little scary, maybe even a little weird, y’ know? I mean, you did kinda try to stab me with a pen? But that’s ok - Joel told me you didn’t know about Sarah. I’m really sorry about her, by the way. I know you said you didn’t want people to be sorry but like, I am. Plus, you’re nice to me now, so it doesn’t matter. You run a bookshop, right? Wait-do you have comics? Or joke books?

Her answering squeal at the dip of your chin had made you smile - the first, genuine time your lips had stretched and lifted of their own volition - and so began yet another ritual. Ellie came by almost everyday, ignoring you when you said she could take home whatever she liked, arguing with a I have an excuse to visit you now! It all works out, see. She’d sit, and you’d make her some tea-she hated coffee, and her description of no wonder Joel’s so bitter all the time nearly made you giggle- and you’d both talk, or read, or just sketch together.

It quickly became your favorite part of each day.

Sometimes, she’d bring her friends too. They’d giggle about stupid jokes and shoot each other longing glances while thumbing through the pages of books they hadn’t even read the cover of, clearly neglecting their reading in favor of much better, important things like how stupid is Eugene’s new haircut? The fact that they got to have these moments at all - in your bookshop of all places (adolescence breeds fragility in spaces considered “safe” enough) - soothed a raw, gaping wound you hadn’t noticed before. The sounds of their laughter scared the nightmares for a few hours.

Though, you suppose calling them nightmares wouldn’t be quite so apt anymore. Memories, more like. The image of Joel’s knees on your vinyl tiles, was one you saw every time you closed your eyes. Shoulders slack, hands trembling and bloodshot eyes. Lips wobbling and voice cracking; the deafening silences of his confirmation. Repentance.

You wanted to turn back time; to pull his hands into yours, to kiss away his tears and let him bury his head into your shoulder, like he used to. To hold him and tell him over and over not to join his palms; not to kneel.

One repents only for the sins they have committed.

Sarah’s death was not his fault.

Tommy told you how it happened. And you hadn’t slept for a week when you found out she died in his arms. The distance between you and him was suffocating. The gaping maw of a chasm threatening to swallow you whole.

It hurt more to know he was within your reach, yet just out of grasp.

He had shut himself away this time. The fight with Ellie had supposedly gotten worse - though you hadn’t yet intervened; you didn’t know if you still had the place to. Joel didn’t leave the house except for necessities and to go on his patrols. You only knew because you'd been at the store one day when you saw him. Eyes sunken, cheeks hollower, beard overgrown and scraggly. Fingers inching towards him, you’d barely opened your mouth when his eyes had locked on yours, and he’d promptly turned away to walk out.

You didn’t open the bookshop that day. Or leave your bed again, for that matter.

Ellie had stood outside in the cold for hours.

You didn’t blame him for his isolation. The lack of contact between you both had become another scandal in Jackson, providing many ladies with the wondrous opportunity to appoint themselves to make him casseroles and cookies and cakes and whatever the fuck else they were making him, shameless enough to leave it at his door when he stopped opening it for them. Again, you said nothing. Again, you didn’t know if you still held the place.

The attention he got was unsettling, but expected. It had been the same before the outbreak, too. Jealousy, however, was a feeling that didn’t come to you often. Joel hadn’t ever given you anything to be jealous about.

Which was why you weren’t sure what to make of that woman - Tess. You weren’t upset with Joel. You just didn’t know how to feel. He thought you were dead, too. The world ended, Sarah died. Tommy left. He had no one. If her presence eased the burden on his back, the smudges of blue on his lips, or the wild, haunted look in his eyes, you felt comforted by the fact that she was with him. She had died for him and Ellie. That alone, made you pick a flower in her remembrance every single morning, putting it in your window as a reminder for yourself. She saved him; she was the reason he was here at all.

Which was why you hated that the idea of her still stung a little. You felt stupid, wanted to claw your hair and pinch the back of your hand. You didn’t even know if Joel still considered himself your husband, and yet the thought of him with someone else still made your clothes feel too tight.

You always picked the brightest flower.

It was on one of your worst days, when your mind had been spitting vile, spiteful quips at you that you cracked. That the silence between you and him transformed into a brutal, merciless thing; gripping your throat and making you choke on your tears as you lay in bed.

You hated him.

For the limbo he’d thrown you into. He’d defend you to Maria but he wouldn’t talk to you. He’d fight with Ellie, threaten Fred, but he’d walk out of a store if he saw you.

He hates me. He hates me and blames me and Tess would have been so much better. Tess should have survived. He hates me for living. Sarah should be here. Tess should be here. But they aren’t, and he’s left with me, and he hates me.

All you knew was you needed him. You flung your blanket off and bolted down your stairs, without thinking. A steady chant of his name overtook your mind, wiping away everything else. You flung your door open, defenseless against the frigid bite in the air as you stood in nothing but a shirt that hung loose on your frame and shorts that didn’t even reach your knees. And you ran, barefoot, until you were shivering, staring at his porch. Wracking your mind, you tried to come up with an excuse or an idea or something to explain your presence at three fucking am, sinking your teeth into your lip in irritation at the absolute blank you faced.

Until you heard a sniffle, from the other side of the door.

You didn’t realise you’d reached his door until your fist was rapping against it, softly. You didn’t know what to say until the words it’s me had already left your mouth.

The sound of a muffled thud reached you, and a shuffle. A pause at the door - as if in deliberation. You held your breath.

And waited.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (message to be taken off, no issues): @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @pawnshopb1ues, @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses, @planet-marz1, @chiogarza, @jenispunk, @spookyxsam, @obscurexsorrows, @lunxramour, @anavatazes, @joeldjarin, @stunkbiggu, @joels-darlin, @casa-boiardi, @noisynightmarepoetry, @jasminedragoon, @daddy-din, @moonlightdivine, @stickthegremlin, @jamesmasbone, @avampiregf, @wannab-urs, @for-a-longlongtime, @javierpena-inatacvest

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tylermileslockett · 3 months

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"The Performance" (part 5 of my Orpheus and Eurydice series)

(From Ovid’s Metamorphosis)

“The bloodless spirits wept as he spoke, accompanying his words with the music. Tantalus did not reach for the ever-retreating water: Ixion’s wheel was stilled: the vultures did not pluck at Tityus’s liver: the Belides, the daughters of Danaüs, left their water jars: and you, Sisyphus, perched there, on your rock. Then they say, for the first time, the faces of the Furies were wet with tears, won over by his song: the king of the deep, and his royal bride, could not bear to refuse his prayer, and called for Eurydice. She was among the recent ghosts, and walked haltingly from her wound. The poet of Rhodope (Orpheus) received her, and, at the same time, accepted this condition, that he must not turn his eyes behind him, until he emerged from the vale of Avernus, or the gift would be null and void.”

Tantalus (great-grandfather of Agamemnon) was a King who, after being admitted to dine with the gods, killed his own son (Pelops) to serve the gods to test their powers of perception. For this moral crime, he was cast into Hades where he endured the torment of everlasting hunger and thirst. Ixion was a corrupt mortal, who after killing his father in law and attempting to seduce Hera, was punished by Zeus to be strapped over a an ever spinning, solar flaming wheel. Tityus was a giant who attempted to rape Leto; the mother of Artemis and Apollo. After being slain by Apollo, the giant was punished in hades by being staked to the ground and having two vultures peck out his regenerating liver. The Belides (Daenaeds/water nymphs) were fifty daughters who were ordered by their father to murder their husbands on their wedding nights. In Tartarus they were cursed to carry water jars for eternity to fill an ever-emptying tub. Sisyphus was a trickster mortal who cheated death, and was cursed to roll a boulder uphill for eternity; another fruitless labor. The Furies (or Erinyes) were dark deities who punished mortals who spilled familial blood.

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in march to kickstarter. Please check my links in my linktree in my bio to join the kickstarter notification page. 🤟❤️🏛

#greekmythology #greekgods #pjo #mythology #classics #classicscommunity #myths #ancientgreece #Orpheus #Hades #persephone

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rwrbficrecs · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

happy wednesday 🎂

Me and Sisyphus by foux_dogue (book-verse)

@na-dineee: If you enjoyed the first, outstanding part of 'A cloud on fire', part 2 is an absolute must read! After a long, hard journey to their happily ever after, Henry encounters Alex's exes, which challenges him quite a bit. An excellent character study from an equally superb AU. Chapter 3 is absolutely hilarious, I can't stop thinking about it.

At the end of a bar by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: Henry co-owns a little bar with Pez. Enter Alex Claremont-Diaz looking to take the edge off of a hard day at work to find his life changed entirely by blue eyes at the end of a bar. Loving it so far!

Brooklyn in the Summer (series wip) by @porcelainmortal (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry's purchase of a brownstone in New York sets the stage for an unexpected encounter with Alex, a law student-turned-handyman for the summer. As the heat intensifies in Brooklyn, so does the undeniable attraction between them (couldn't help the pun). Sparks fly and fluff ensues, followed by some smutty bliss. This fic is just incredibly sweet and leaves you feeling good!

check out our past WIP recs here ❤️

#wip wednesday #rwrb fic recs

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jjackalope · 4 months

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Tagged by @search4god in “9 people you’d like to get to know better”

Last song - the devil in i by slipknot

Favorite color - green

Last movie/ tv show - pjo series (haven’t watched it in weeks tho whoops)

Sweet/spicy/savory - spicy

Relationship status - single :(

Last thing I searched - atarashii gakko!

Current obsession - tiny homes

Last book - the myth of sisyphus by Albert Camus

Looking forward to - cutting my hair again ! I need to just chop it all off

Tagging @soupcrouton @charliemegira @jeffbuckleyofficial @twinprime @noisecatcher @acrimoniousandrew @televisionfactory @58plymouthfury @dogearing (no pressure to do this tag btw!!)

#tag game

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threeking · 4 months

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... ⠀⠀יִיִ⠀𝃣 ⠀⠀ writeblr intro ⠀⠀ 💌 ⠀⠀ ── ⠀⠀ ;

hello ! my name is third king january but feel free to call me third or january ( or any other nickname you'd like ) ! i'm a twenty two year old black lesbian pursuing a graphic design major with a minor in art history and creative writing—considering media studies—who uses they/them pronouns !

ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ :⠀ 🍓. i think this may be my third or fourth time trying out a writeblr, but the other attempts didn't go well since i was busy and didn't put a lot of effort into interacting with my mutuals </3. this time around, i really want to be a part of the community and be more supportive of everyone's writing! my goal for this account is to share my wips, any writing, and keep motivated to do more than just stare at a blank document for hours </3.

i'm a big reader and i plan to share some of my recently reads on this blog. please feel free to send me book recs if you think it's something i might like or if you just wanna ramble about something you read that you really liked! my favorite genres are horror, magical realism, fairy tales and fantasy. i love beautiful prose that's almost poetic and ambiguous writing that has you questioning everything until the grand reveal.

my favorite books are: bunny by mona awad, deathless by catherine m. valente, and how to win the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone. the last two books helped me understand the kind of writing style i want to strive for as did poetry !! i don't have a whole lot of fav poems, but worm king's lullaby by richard siken is one that's always spinning in my head.

alongside reading i like manga, webtoons, videogames, and anime. my all time favorite anime is hyouka followed by angel beats and clannad. my favorite webtoon is omniscient reader's viewpoint and i can't recommend it enough. it's soosososo good! ( i started with the webtoon before switching to the novel bc i was too impatient to wait for the updates ) my favorite games are the halo series and oxenfree.

other interests of mine include music, drawing, art, watching youtube videos, journaling, horror movies, and sleeping 😴. i have a few graphic novels / webcomics in my wips so i'm learning how to draw to make them a reality! i also have a video game that's tied to another wip so i'm getting into coding as well !

please never be shy / afraid to tag me in ask games, send me an ask, or even a message! i also have a discord ( username: thirdking ) if you'd like to add me and message me there. also never think or feel like you're bothering me or anything if you wanna say hi or ramble about your interests. i'm always looking to make new friends !! 😁

i ask that minors don't interact or follow !! thank you !!

i have a handful of wips that's been running laps in my head for some time now but these are the ones ( excluding shorter stories ) that aren't multimedia projects or animation ideas, but i may talk about those anyways 😋 since most of these are still in the outlining stage they're subject to change but i'll make sure to update anything to reflect those changes !

📝 𖹭 ⠀ֵ⠀ wip one ; spring ( technically untitled but springs gna be in the final title )

the story follows two ex band mates reconnecting in their adult years after they parted ways when their front man signed a major record deal.

📝 𖹭 ⠀ֵ⠀ wip two ; sisyphus

sisyphus stars three siblings at the center of a conspiracy 1!1!1 the oldest sibling, an astronaut, goes missing during a privately funded space mission embarking to a new planet found in the solar system. i wouldn't call this a greek retelling, but it does a feature a lot of nods to classic greek myths!

📝 𖹭 ⠀ֵ⠀ wip three ; atwe

atwe follows the mother of a teen superhero getting revenge after her kid is killed by an unknown villain. though it's my own special take on superheroes featuring my personal criticisms on teen heroes, it's also a study on family—in particular—distant family relations and saying i love you a little too late.

📝 𖹭 ⠀ֵ⠀ wip four ; march marchen ( title will definitely change )

march marchen is my sort of alice in wonderland / fairy tale retelling that follows an unnamed girl in what might be wonderland trying to figure out who she is and who she isn't. ft parallel worlds, escapism, the fear of childhood, and the fear of adulthood.

📝 𖹭 ⠀ֵ⠀ wip five ; neapolitan ( title will definitely change )

neapolitan is a magical girl webcomic / graphic novel. the story follows a trio of girls becoming the successors of a long line of ice cream inspired magical girls. ft a bright fun palette, gore, and cannibalism! though it's a webcomic, i intend to give it a novelization from the perspective of a different set of magical girls.

if you'd like to be added to a taglist please send me an ask! it'll be easier for me to keep track ! thank you for reading <3

#ITS FINALLY DONE!!#sorry the text is so small i closed ps before i could re edit it </3 #black writblr #writeblr introduction #writeblr intro #writeblr community #queer writers #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poetblr #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters

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shifting---patterns · 3 months

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Between Existence and Self-Destruction: In Search of Meaning and Action - An Essay

An individual state leading to a deep loss of meaning and a sense of the world's meaninglessness can be caused either by a series of fateful events leading to a strong sense of melancholy or by sudden insights into the insignificance of one's own existence while facing the universe's indifference.

In his 2000 essay "Melancholy and the Act", Slovenian philosopher Slavoj Žižek explores the complex connections between melancholy and action in human psychology and the social context. He challenges the conventional idea of melancholy as a purely passive or paralyzing state, arguing instead for a more profound analysis of this emotional condition. Žižek claims that melancholy is a special form of pain and sadness, often considered a state of stagnation and powerlessness. Contrary to this common perception, he argues that melancholy contains an unrecognized potential for action.

According to Žižek, melancholy can be an internal catalyst that stimulates individuals to look beyond existing limits and norms, developing new perspectives. The crux of his argument lies in the idea that, paradoxically, melancholy involves a kind of activity. It can be a source of creativity, leading people to engage more deeply with their suffering and derive new insights and energy. This process can result in transformative actions, whether on a personal level through self-reflection and self-overcoming or on a societal level through the pursuit of change and innovation.

This realization can lead to a profound alienation from one's own existence, potentially extending to thoughts of suicide. It often arises from the incompatibility between expected outcomes or the meaning of life and the actual chaotic nature of existence. This discrepancy can cause deep uncertainty and frustrate the search for a concrete life purpose.

Romanian philosopher Emil Cioran often grappled with the question of whether life is worth living in his writings. The depressions and insomnia he suffered from an early age strongly influenced his first book, "On the Heights of Despair," published in 1934. Cioran was obsessed with the idea of suicide, critically engaging with it in his aphorisms and essays. He argued that contemplating suicide is necessary for leading a better life. By confronting suicide, we confront the profound suffering associated with existence. This humility enables us to change the deepest aspects of ourselves.

Simultaneously, it reminds us that our peculiar human ability to contemplate suicide elevates us above everything else in nature or heaven. Cioran believed that failure governs the world, similar to the capricious God of the Old Testament. Despite his pessimism, actual skepticism, and nihilism, Cioran remained joyous in a peculiar way. It is not a pessimism that can be traced back to simple origins, as individual origins themselves are questionable.Most people go about their daily routines without being aware of the profound absurdity and randomness of their lives. They live in a system of cause and effect that provides a certain predictability and security. These people rarely experience their lives as a tragedy.

French writer and philosopher Albert Camus notes that most human actions are based on a logical error that ultimately leads to a loss of meaning. This loss of meaning can lead to self-doubt and a deep sense of meaninglessness that weakens motivation for personal endeavors.

The idea of suicide as a response to the absurdity of life, however, is considered by Camus, in contrast to Cioran, as a surrender to the incomprehensibility of the world. He argues that a stronger and more authentic stance is to be aware of the absurdity of life and still choose to live. Suicide is seen as an admission of the inability to understand or endure life. Camus uses the metaphor of Sisyphus to illustrate how one can confront the absurdity of life. Sisyphus is condemned to roll a rock up the hill, only to see it roll down again repeatedly. Despite the apparent futility of this task and the absurdity of his existence, Sisyphus finds happiness and joy in this act. He rebels against the absurdity by despising it but simultaneously accepts it.

In the intricate web of existential musings we find a rich tapestry of perspectives on the human experience—ranging from the transformative potential within melancholy to the contemplation of suicide as a confrontation with life's inherent suffering, and finally, the defiant acceptance of the absurd. As we navigate this intellectual terrain, one overarching theme emerges: the profound beauty inherent in the struggle for meaning and the authentic experience of human existence.

Žižek urges us to reconsider melancholy not as a paralyzing force, but as a catalyst for innovation and societal change. Cioran's dark fascination with suicide invites us to confront the depths of our suffering, recognizing that in such confrontation lies the potential for profound transformation. In contrast, Camus advocates for a resilient defiance against the absurdity of life, finding joy in the very act of rebellion. Ultimately, these philosophical perspectives converge on a shared insight: that life's inherent absurdity need not lead to despair or resignation. Instead, the human spirit possesses the remarkable capacity to extract meaning from the seemingly chaotic and random nature of existence. In the daily struggle, in the pursuit of understanding and compassion, lies the essence of our shared humanity.

As we grapple with the existential questions posed by these philosophers, let us not merely dwell on the challenges and uncertainties but embrace the beauty of our collective journey. In the face of life's absurdities, we discover the resilience to persevere, the courage to confront our deepest fears, and the capacity to find solace in the shared human experience. The pursuit of meaning, in all its complexity, becomes a testament to the indomitable spirit that propels us forward, even in the shadow of existential uncertainty. In this view, it is crucial for people to continue living despite the absurdity of life and become aware of human conditions to develop compassion for the suffering of others.

Despite the apparent absurdity of life, beauty lies in the daily struggle and in the moments of genuine experience that human existence has to offer.

Davis Jahn

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 7 months

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Hello! I just read Heart of the World, and I loved it. It expands all the charm and mind-bending-theming of the original, but cuts out all the filler (and the copyrightable stuff, of course)—you did an amazing job with the adaptation. I especially love the new characters—Ilyn, Elizabeth, and Theyn are all developed so well. Furthermore, Lily and Wizard Lenin’s backstories now suit them in a way Harry Potter’s setting never did. Character-wise, Lily being alone, knowing humanity only through a television like Plato’s cave prisoners works so very well. Wizard Lenin’s backstory is perfect because you kept the absurdity of the original—I suspect John Jones was a Tellestrian like Tom Riddle is a half-blood, and so him nonchalantly saying God no, I don’t believe in any of the revolutionary zeal I peddled except kicking out the monarchy—well, it’s just so him. I especially liked his, “‘Chin up, Lily. (...) Most of us don’t have a destiny,” since it draws attention to how he made or defied his own destiny—rejecting being forgotten, and then rejecting his demise.

I could probably write for days about all I love about this book. I haven’t even talked about Ilyn in detail! The reveal around his pocketwatch is set up so well, and I’ve come to adore this strange, curt pyromaniac. Trotsky’s introduction hit me like a bat to the face, as Trotsky always does. You’ve taken all the quiet horror and made it loud, and it makes me feel some very intense things.

Anyhow, great job, 10/10, would read again and any and all sequels released. This entire post is an outlet for the tragic lack of AO3 comments for physical books.

Finally, while pretty much everything is stellar, I noticed some typos—seems inconvenient. I’ve made a list of them in the following google doc; fix at will.

Thank you! I'm really, truly, flattered by this very high praise and glad you enjoyed it so much. It's always good to hear when this has been in my head so long and finally out there.

Also, you're a godsend for the typos, I swear, you think you catch them all and then they just sneak up on you after staring at the same document so long/having to format things.

#the heart of the world #praise #sisyphus book series #typos #corrections #blueturtle459 #lily and the art of being sisyphus

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 months

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I've just finished Heart of The World and it was delightful! Frank the vampire minion and that mystery of his missing boss forever going unanswered is truly a tragedy.

I've not looked at any Lily and Sisyphus stuff but gathered Ilyn originated from Snape at some point in the development process. I truly enjoyed the "They put him in charge of children!?" realisation, but what had you decide he was going to be notorious as a warlord primarily for blowing things up with fire? Ilyn's hilarious retrieval mission blowing up cars, setting a house on fire, abducting a child and then not commenting on the most convenient portal you've ever seen form works brilliantly naturally, but when did you know that was the direction you were going?

Your remarkably nuanced handling of the very fraught political tensions among factions was very cool to see. It ends up making you feel bad for essentially everyone in some capacity (maybe not Questburger, he seemed like he was doing quite well for himself).

The Heart of the World (by me!) @janedoewrites

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! Really, this is very high praise indeed and I'm not only flattered but very glad to hear that I did what I set out to do successfully. (And yes, Questburger's done great for himself, at least so far.)

And that's a very interesting question.

So, Ilyn obviously started as a Snape counterpoint, same as Elizabeth is clearly what Hermione was, Theyn is clearly some mix of Dead Last and Neville, so on and so forth but he deviated in a large way very early/had that personality when he got introduced as a character in the first draft.

I don't think there was ever a draft where he hadn't set Lily's house on fire for no reason and was always this very taciturn/stoic/least talkative person you can ever find. @therealvinelle who helped with a lot of the editing maybe remembers better than I do but I think his characterization was set very early and the big surprise for me writing when it worked out and for her on editing is that he and Lily end the novel on very good terms.

I actually don't think characters changed that much in general between drafts. They changed a lot from the fic and in the outline for obvious reasons, the primary one being that they had different backgrounds now, different roles in the story, and that would inform who they were as people and how they best served the story but once they were decided on early in, they didn't change much in terms of personality. They've been very stable. The one who changed the most in a nitpicky manner was Lily herself who was made more... noble I suppose is the word for it in part of things happening or not happening to her in her youth, and being with the Tylors who are just absent versus the Dursleys who are present and awful. A lot of things about her and her lines changed between drafts and it took a bit to settle on just what her personality would be like with these changed circumstances and events.

But yeah, Ilyn's pretty much always been Ilyn, which is great because I love him and other people better like him because he's not going away any time soon.

#the heart of the world #the heart of the world meta #sisyphus book series #lily and the art of being sisyphus #ilyn sisyphus #meta #praise #darkwinganimus

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