#camus muses

[solivagantingrebel]

If no one's got me, I know Simon Riley's massive, fat, protruding titties got me.

[solivagantingrebel]

Me rn.

me, writing a fic: Nice, I'm also at the ending!

me, 20 hours and 18 paragraphs later: WHERE IS THE ENDING

[septemberkisses]

September - a soft goodbye to summer, whispered gently by the rustling leaves of autumn.

Excerpts from:

The Letters of Sylvia Plath by Sylvia Plath • The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien • Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos by Julia de Burgos • Peggy Toney Horton • The Whole Story and Other Stories by Ali Smith • Albert Campus • To The Tune 'Soaring Clouds by Huang O. (tr. by Kenneth Rexroth & Ling Chung) • September by Earth, Wind and Fire

[a-hell-of-a-time-archive]

((Andrealphus energy.))

[beepboopp88]

Fuck a healing era, I want hate, disgust and anger

[of-invisible-ties]

❝ Greetings, General, My, you’re looking even more dashing and handsome than usual. ❞ -Nyna to Camus

Meme II Accepting!

Camus laughs, and the sound is as clear as a bell's toll. As a knight, he thought he would die without ever knowing love, but Nyna had proved him wrong. And he was grateful for it. Everything felt right when they were together. When he could hold her close and tell her he loved her, and plant kisses upon the top of her head ... he felt alive.

How had he lived without her? His life without her, his life before her, was woefully incomplete.

But, now, they had each other. All was right in the world. Right now, he wasn't Camus the Sable Knight; he was Camus, a simple man who had found the love of his life. Even if death were to take him now, he would have no regrets, for his life, as it was now, was complete.

"Thank you, princess."

"And I must say you look as radiant as the sunrise on a new day."

He takes her hand in his, their fingers interlocking. His face shines with happiness, his smile the promise of more.

"Will you join me for a dance, my rose?"

[solivagantingrebel]

I need to write Ghost and Soap sparring in a homoerotic way.

[irl-marlenemckinnon]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ━━━━━

ㅤㅤ𔓘ㅤㅤㅤMy DMs are always open to talk

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdon't be shy to message me anytime. :)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤplease use tone tags when interacting

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwith me ♡ ty.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐞. ❀

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHi, im Violet, and I'm a Ghost. Boo.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Hi, Im Violet, and I'm 18+, Please ask for my age in DM. Thank you ! I'm a She/Her, but I'm comfortable with any pronouns. I'm also a founder of the band called 'The Nomads' and lead singer. I am an INFP-T, My house is Slytherin, My Cabin is Cabin 5 Ares, and my Zodiac Sign is a Gemini. I am also a Semi-Literate Roleplayer, and I'm dead. lol.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Likes

Shows

American Horror Story, Breaking Bad, Tokyo Ghoul, NANA, Junji Ito, Bungo Stray Dogs, Skins, Euphoria, Chainsaw Man, Bridgerton, Hannibal, 13 Reasons Why, Mandela Catalogue, Happy Meat Farms, Local 58, Marble Hornets, League of Legends: Arcane, What We Do In the Shadows ...

Movies

Scream, It, The Shinning, The School for Good and Evil, Heathers, Mean Girls, Wild Child, Jumanji, Sherlock Holmes, Enolma Holmes, Girl Interrupted, Twilight, Blade Runner 2049, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, All The Bright Places, The Breakfast Club, Thirteen, Harry Potter...

Musicals & Plays

Heathers, Be More Chill, Harry Potter Cursed Child, Beetlejuice,...

Books, Comic Books & Mangas

The Stranger, A Little Life, The Idiot, Inferno, NANA, Junji Ito, Chainsaw Man, Red Hood & The Outlaws, The New Teen Titans, Portraits of Dorian Gray, Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Sherlock Holmes

Videogames

Left 4 Dead, Silent Hill, The Last of Us, Fatal Frame, Roblox, God of War, Undertale, Five Nights at Freddy's, Legend of Zelda, Life is Strange, Cyberpunk 2077, Mad Father, Sally Face, Alice in Madness, Franbow, Little Misfortune...

Music Artists

Mirah, Rob Zombie, Feeding People, Arctic Monkeys, Melanie Martinez, Gun N' Roses, Rolling Stones, The Kinks, The Strokes, Hole, Nirvana, Deftones, Panic! At The Disco, The Clash, The Killers, Hole, Radiohead, Chase Atlantic, The Neighbourhood, The Weeknd, Poppy, Mars Argo, Blur, Slowdive, Soundgarden, Ramones, Wisp, Strawberry Switchblade, Maneskin, Muse, Ice Nine Kills, Insane Clown Posse, Sleeping with Sirens, Joy Division, Sonic Youth, The Beatles, Pierce the Veil, Alice in Chains, Bikini Kill, Feeding People, Mother Mother, Paramore, My Chemical Romance, Ayesha Erotica, Ashnikko, Avril Lavigne, Three Days Grace, YUNGBLUD, Lil Peep, Kendrick Lamar, Pixies, Mazzystar, The Cranberries, David Bowie, Peneloppe Scott, Pearl Jam, Vocaloid, Widowspeak, The Smashing Pumpkins, Buzzcocks, Sex Pistols, The Smiths, Morrissey...

Artist

Gabriel Picolo, Michael Angelo, Carravagio, Salvador Dali, René Magritte, John Everette Millais, Federico Ferro ...

Authors

Edgar Allen Poe, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Brothers Grimm, Albert Camus, Franz Kafka, Sigmund Freud, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl Max, Jane Austin, Virginia Woolf, Osamu Dazai ...

Dislikes

Loud Noises, Assholes, Narcissists, Egotistical People, Crowded Places, Musical Snobs

𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐬

Discord: candied.vio.lets

Instagram: cxndiedvi0lets

Twitter: cxndiedvi0lets

Tiktok: cand.iedvixlets

Spotify: TheGhostofMyFormerSelf.

Tags

Violet Harmon Content: #candiedviolets

Personal Blogs: #ghoulblogger

Travel: #broomstops

Reviews: #cauldroncommentary

Asks: #1-800-necromancy

Poems: #theravenspoems

Music: #hauntingharmonies

Food: #forbiddenfruit

Art: #graveyart

Fashion: #witchywardrobe

Memes: #rollingoffthegrave

Writings: #mourningdoveliterature

Vents: #silentviolent

Paranormal: #onlyphantoms

[solivagantingrebel]

I want everyone who has made zombie Ghost content ever to know that they're gonna be responsible for the irresistible urge that's been building up for a while in me. The urge to start another wip with zombie Ghoap. It's horrible.

WIP (again)

!zombie!Ghost x Soap

his jaw dropped (literally he has no jaw)

[sillypenguinwitch]

isaac's books in heartstopper s2

episode 1:

Tillie Walden: I Love This Part

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé: Ace of Spades

episode 2:

Nina LaCour: We Are Okay

Oscar Wilde: The Importance of Being Earnest

episode 3:

Ocean Vuong: Night Sky with Exit Wounds (the one he is carrying under his arm, I'm assuming that's his and not for the display?)

has read: Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi: Bisexual, Pansexual, Fluid, and Nonbinary Youth

Emily Henry: Book Lovers

episode 4:

Victor Hugo: Les Misérables

Antoine De Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince

Kate Chopin: The Awakening

Nina LaCour: We Are Okay (again)

episode 5:

Albert Camus: The Outsider

episode 6:

Martin Handford: Where's Wally? The Great Picture Hunt

Meredith Russo: Birthday

Jules Verne: Around the World in Eighty Days

Sara Pennypacker: Pax Anne Berest, Audrey Diwan, Caroline de Maigret, Sophie Mas: How to Be Parisian Wherever You Are ? ? ? Damian Dibben: The Color Storm Alice Oseman: Loveless Susan Stokes-Chapman: Pandora Katy Hessel: The Story of Art Without Men ? Evelyn Waugh: Rossetti Arthur Conan Doyle: The Hound of the Baskervilles A.O. Scott: Better Living Through Criticism ?: Then We Came to an End (?) Ruth Millington: Muse Dr. Jaqui Lewis: Fierce Love Charlotte Van Den Broek: Bold Ventures - Thirteen Tales of Architectural Tragedy ?

Richard Siken: Crush

episode 7:

Garrard Conley: Boy Erased

George Matthew Johnson: All Boys Aren't Blue

Samra Habib: We Have Always Been Here

episode 8:

Akemi Dawn Bowman: Summer Bird Blue

Angela Chen: Ace

bonus:

Truham school library pride display (seen in ep. 3 and 8):

top to bottom, left to right: Angela Chen: Ace Andrew Holleran: The Kingdom of Sand Mary Jean Chan and Andrew McMillan: 100 Queer Poems Scott Stuart: My Shadow Is Pink Lotte Jeffs: My Magic Family Tucker Shaw: When You Call My Name Ritch C. Savin-Williams: Bi - Pansexual, Fluid, Nonbinary and Fluid Youth Alok Vaid-Menon: Beyond the Gender Binary George M. Johnson: All Boys Aren’t Blue Mason Deaver: I Wish You All the Best Alex Gino: George Melissa

on top of shelves (left to right): Kevin Van Whye: Nate Plus One Xixi Tian: This Place is Still Beautiful Becky Albertalli: Leah on the Offbeat Mya-Rose Craig: Birdgirl Bernardine Evaristo: Girl, Woman, Other Connie Glynn: Princess Ever After Saundra Mitchell: The Prom

Charlie's choice at Shakespeare and Co (ep. 6): Allan Hollinghurst: The Swimming Pool Library

That's it for now.

Sorry about the ones i couldn't identify and sorry if i missed any! Might try and do some of the ones in Isaac's room later but that'll take a minute

[sunspearesque]

‘Tis You, My Great Love

Summary: I've been betrothed to fear since the mists of memory, “the bride of despair,” they named me. And there, by the shore, you found me… sorrow veiling my face, and wounds blooming like tulips in my hands. But lo, you, my great love, now stand, lifting the veil and bidding my fears depart with each tender kiss. “Stay,” I say, “stay for all eternity.”

A/N: hello hello beautiful friends!!! i wrote this piece while feeling extremely sentimental and sappy after a conversation about motherhood with my best friend.. i was contemplating motherhood, marriage, and intimacy in general, but then tried to imagine how that would translate to Nala's and Oberyn's relationship.. so, this fic is mainly fluff with a sprinkle of smut :3 and lots of poetic dreams… hope you enjoy it! <3

Pairing: Oberyn Martell × OFC from WoV

Rating: E (18+ only)

Content: established relationship (marriage); talks of motherhood; fear of loss and abandonment; fear of motherhood; talks of dreams; pregnancy; childbirth; fluff on steroids with a sprinkle of smut; dad!oberyn (my favorite oberyn to write); brief p in v sex; oral (m!receiving); breeding kink

WC: 2.6K

Read on AO3 • moodboard

“Love me so strongly that the echoes come to me here, at night, in the hours of insomnia, where I am waiting for you. I kiss you, I kiss you madly.” — Albert Camus to Maria Casares, Correspondence, January 9, 1950

His breath, slow and warm, caressed her neck as he nestled closer. His arms, like bands of fire, encircled her soft belly. With a grip as tight as the grasp of a man fearing the loss of paradise slipping through his fingers, he held her close, as if she might vanish like the elusive dream of Eden he chased in his sleep. Just when he thought he could taste its waters, they turned to fire, scorching his throat and consuming him in flames, jolting him awake from his slumber. Yet now, she mused, he sleeps peacefully.

She traced her finger over the scar adorning his shoulder, much like the marks she bore on her own body from bearing their son—for when love leaves its mark upon us, not even the shadow of fear can erase it.

Her fingers deftly threaded through his raven locks, prompting a soft hum from him as she pressed a tender kiss upon his brow. Never before had she known such serenity, as sleep gently stole her away in his arms.

—

The sun, basking in its warm and inviting glow, reached its luminous tendrils into the chambers of their castle. The soft sounds of nature at dawn whispered promises of new beginnings. These beginnings ushered in healing and prosperity to souls who had yearned for the clasp of death for so long, forgetting how to revel in life's joys and surrender to its tender embrace.

Life in Dorne, akin to a nurturing mother, a goddess, a woman… the dunes of sand beneath their calloused feet, and the blazing sun in the sky, stood as an impregnable fortress of strength akin to Nymeria, their burning star. She was the mother of both land and people, her warmth forging indomitable resolve within her children. She is the sun—their sun blazing fiercely, instilling in them an unyielding grit against any rival, yet within their hearts lay a gentle warmth that embraced love as steadfastly as a sacred oath.

And like the sun and the earth and Nymeria, Nala harbored the urges of motherhood within her, which was a concept that she held in reverence, yet it also stirred a deep sense of dread within her. She longed for the life burgeoning deep inside of her, for a part of herself to wander this realm and embrace life under her vigilant care and unwavering devotion. However, she couldn't shake the haunting memory of how motherhood had claimed her own mother's life, how she harbored guilt for the tragic fate her mother endured.

If only I hadn't been, she might have fled the castle and escaped her dire end...

This lingering wound within her soul was the sole reason she had shunned the idea of bearing children until she met him.

He, adorned in all his splendor, tended to her wounded soul the very instant he professed his love to her, at a time when he himself was most in need of solace. This bastion of a man, generous, gracious, and gallant, freely bestowed his love, protection, and tenderness, even amidst the shadows of his wrath and vengeance.

For you, my great love, I ache with an unbearable keenness, feeling the wounds within me slowly mend, sewn shut with the thread of your love—a needle of devotion stitching together my injured being. Though painful, it is an insatiable need, a piercing sting I have yearned for throughout the passing years. It closes the chasm within me, that gaping void where the winds of despair and sorrow once freely roamed, leaving me as naught but a specter, undeserving of love, joy, or autonomy.

Your love, my great love, is what ignited within me a hunger for life after an endless fast of fear—fear of loss and abandonment. Your love bestowed upon me the strength to embrace love once more, despite the inevitable sacrifices. Did you know that you visited me in my dreams? You kissed me with such tenderness and held me close. “I was adrift,” I told you, my voice laden with fear, “take me..” I whispered, “Take me with you.”

When she pledged herself to him in marriage, she knew she needed to fear no one beneath the gaze of Gods and men. With him by her side, no rivals could breach her defenses; even in death, his spirit would haunt any who dared to harm her through all Seven Hells and beyond.

You told me once, do you recall? As we strolled the shores, my steps were heavy with dread or joy, or perhaps it was the dread of the joy that awaited me. I struggle to remember the last time genuine happiness graced my soul before that day. When the sweet taste of happiness touched my sorrow-laden lips, I froze in place, wary that this cruel existence might snatch it away, as it so often does.

You whispered to me, my great love, your love with such fervor, you told me how it frightened you, unable to resist the pull of our inevitable fate. “How could I?” you pondered, “You are inescapable.” You told me that sorrow is the price of love; to shun one is to forsake the other. Yet, you vowed not to evade me, you kissed me and swore to me that you would not allow my love to elude your grasp.

You told me how I melt into your dreams, whisking you away in my embrace mere seconds before the phantom hands could encircle your throat. Those same hands, which once tormented you each night, wrenching you from slumber, now find themselves impotent against your newfound peace. You impute to me your salvation, though I doubted my own. You rekindled a dormant tenderness within me, long thought doused by the harshness of life. ‘tis you, my great love, who rescued me… It was not I who saved you, but you who saved me.

She recalled a day they spent amidst the Water Gardens, a few moons past:

Reclining upon the grass, the soothing melody of a nearby water fountain lulled her into a serene state of repose. The laughter of Dorea and Loreza filled her ears, joyfully engaged in play with their father. Nala shut her eyes, savoring this heartening moment with those she holds most dear.

“W–Wait, papa, wait,” Dorea uttered between pants, attempting to conceal her sweet giggles. “I heard Arianne say that you engage in battles,” she inquired, her small hand resting on her waist as she sought to extract the truth from him.

“Yes, I do,” Oberyn replied, seated on the grass, attempting to catch his breath after chasing them all morning. “Why would Arianne tell you that?” He narrowed his eyes at his daughter, intrigued by the smirk that widened before Loreza jumped on his back, encircling his neck and hanging from it, ambushing him. “Papa, fight!”

Nala opened her eyes to witness the victorious father, besieged by little hands and tiny feet, playfully striking his stomach and chest, surrounded by laughter that compelled him to yield, lying flat on his back.

Dorea brandished a stick of wood, pointing it at his face, and murmured, “Surrender!” with a broad, toothy grin. Loreza, seizing the opportunity, delivered a playful punch to his soft middle. “I surrender, my lady, I surrender!” he exclaimed with feigned fear and defeat, eliciting more giggles from Loreza. “Have mercy on this old man, my lady, please!” he continued, jesting while maintaining his scared demeanor.

“Loreza,” Dorea commanded with a stern expression, feigning seriousness, “this soldier will join our army,” attempting a deep, authoritative voice. At that moment, Oberyn stealthily swept them both from their feet and hoisted them onto his shoulders, prompting a chorus of screams and laughter. “You shall never trust your enemy, girls,” he declared, his voice playfully admonishing.

Her faith in his paternal prowess never wavered, evidenced by his eight resilient daughters. He showered them with love and fierceness to such an extent that Nala's own heart ached with longing to bear his child—a primal yearning that twisted within her.

Each time he lay with her, she offered fervent prayers to the Gods, beseeching them, “Grant this union fruitfulness, let it take, let life flourish abundantly within me.”

When the soft stirrings of life within her ignited a radiant glow from deep within, his love grew even more tender, gentle, and expansive; even greater than the swell of her stomach. She marveled at the dichotomy of this fierce and dreaded man seeping such tenderness. How could hands, once stained with the blood of his foes and weathered by battle, now caress her with such delicate care, as if she were the most delicate of petals?

“Tell me,” he panted as he thrust into her, “Tell me how much you love me, Nala.”

“I do,” she said, her words strained with pleasure, melding into a moan, “I do, my viper, I adore you.”

As she entered the throes of labor, he sat steadfastly behind her, his legs parted to rest on her sides supporting her back against his chest, his words of praise gently murmured into her ear. Amidst his curses at the Gods, he avidly wished to shoulder her pain, to bear it in her stead. 

When they were greeted by the piercing cries of the fruit of their love—a child, glorious and perfect in every way, red and squealing, a reflection of his father in demeanor, soul, and visage—she cradled him in her arms, while Oberyn enveloped them both in his protective embrace.

Their eyes locked upon the tiny, fragile form before them, and as a rare tear escaped his forbearing facade, she reached out to brush it from his cheek. With a tender whisper, she said, “Look, my love, he bears your likeness.”

She reclined upon her side, nursing their son at her breast, nestled between herself and Oberyn. His gaze lingered upon the tender scene, his eyes laden with unspoken emotions that he dared not voice, lest tears betray him.

Do you remember, my great love? Do you remember how the fear wilted, its head bowed in shame? The fear that once gripped me, releasing my hand as it gazed upon you with eyes filled with dread.

“Fret not,” you whispered to me while I sat in sorrow by your side. Though you lay in a deep slumber for days, your voice broke through the darkness just when I feared I might never hear it again. When all semblance of peace metamorphosed into a looming specter, jeering at me, taunting my joy and desperation. “Oh, you naive child,” it sneered with a voice steeped in bitterness. “I am no child,” I retorted, yet I felt the weight of my old fears returning. “You never learn,” it spat, before your voice shielded me from impending despair. You whispered, “Fret not,” and I believed you, my great love, as I always do.

And now look... Look at him... How can one lay bare their heart to the world, a heart with little hands and tiny feet, and not fret?

—

Gently opening her eyes, she sensed the chill of the empty space beside her—a void she cursed and despised. Rising slowly from her slumber, she beheld him: bare-chested, glorious, as beautiful as a man can be, cradling their son in his arms.

Their embrace enveloped them in warmth, their skins melding as one, while the soft cooing of their child resonated faintly in the chamber's silence. Amidst the peaceful atmosphere, punctuated only by the hushed footsteps of her husband and the tender sounds of their boy, her heart pounded within her chest like a Sand Steed galloping across the Dornish plains, threatening to burst forth. The love she felt surged within her, surpassing all expectations, growing fiercer, more profound—unbearable. It was a love that dissolved her fears like the northern snows beneath the scorching sun.

In the treasured instants shared with his children, Oberyn found solace in moments where the chaos of the world faded into oblivion. Each time they gathered around him, their youthful spirits ignited a spark of joy within him, particularly in those tender early years when they sought refuge in their father's arms. Yet, amidst this warmth, a pang of sorrow lingered as he gazed upon his son, his thoughts drifting to memories of his nephew Aegon, the son of his sweet sister Elia.

He couldn't help but imagine how Aegon might have flourished had fate been kinder to him or his sister or their mother. A gentle touch from Nala drew him back from his sorrowful reverie, and as he turned to meet her tender smile, he leaned in to press a soft kiss upon her lips, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child cradled in his embrace.

“Why did you not awaken me, my love?��� Nala murmured, her gaze tenderly fixed upon their son.

“I wished for you to rest,” he replied softly, his eyes warm as they met hers, before he moved to lay their child gently in his crib, nestling him into the plush bedding.

Returning to their bed, he settled himself against the sturdy wooden frame, patting the mattress beside him, inviting her to join him. She approached, crawling between his legs, prompting a raised brow and a smirk from him. “And what might you be doing?” he inquired.

“I long to savor you,” she declared simply, positioned between his spread legs and deftly undoing his breeches.

“And your wounds, my love?” he gently reminded her. “You are not fully healed yet.”

“This will be my remedy,” she replied, her voice hoarse and tinged with sleep and yearning, almost on the edge of a whine.

She felt his cock swell and throb in her grasp, searing and already slick with desire. With gentle strokes of her hand, she evoked muffled groans from him, meeting his gaze as she whispered, “I love you beyond reckoning…”

Lowering her head to his glistening tip, she teased the slit with tiny licks, relishing every drop of his precum. His head fell back, a deep moan escaping his lips before she buried him in her mouth.

She swallowed him deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed within her throat, his leg jerked beside her as she moved him in and out of her wet and wanting mouth. A low hum accompanied her fervent ministrations, her hand tenderly caressing his soft belly, a part of him she had adored over the years.

Pulling him from her drooling mouth to catch her breath, she panted between words, “If not for my wounds, I would not have wasted your seed anywhere but deep within my cunt,” she licked his sensitive tip, and he whimpered quietly, “taking me day and night… today and tomorrow and the day after, and spilling your seed within me over and over ‘til it takes,” she confessed before taking him again, squeezing him within her tight throat, his primal groans filling the air and filling her with an immense sense of pride at her actions.

She swallowed around him once, then twice, until she felt his warm, salty cum spurt into her eager throat, eliciting a guttural growl from him as he filled her up and came down from his climax. She withdrew his softened cock from her mouth, gathering the seeping cum from the corners of her lips before eagerly sucking her digit clean. Crawling up to lie atop him, she rested her head upon his heaving chest, pressing kisses to his golden skin. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly, yearning to merge with her until they became one.

You, my great love, ‘tis you who will always reign until the end of times, in every lifetime, in every plane of existence.

[solivagantingrebel]

Posted my first writing here today! It was nice. Also I've been generally feeling good, thank you for the tag 🫡💞

you! the person reading this! please tell me one good thing that happened to you today

[hoboblaidd]

REPOST AND LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

just a man by EPIC the Musical

Every man I've slain is the price I pay, endless pain. Close your eyes and spare yourself the view. How could I hurt you? / But when does the comet become a meteor? When does a candle become a blaze? When does a man become a monster? When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame? When does a man become a monster? / (forgive me)

what could have been by Sting, Ray Chen

I am the monster you created, you ripped out all my parts. And worst of all, for me to live, I gotta kill the part of me that saw that I needed you more / I hope you know we had everything and you broke me and left these pieces. I want you to hurt like you hurt me today and I want you to lose like I lose when I play what could have been

saturn by Sleeping at Last, Tim Fain

You taught me the courage of stars before you left, how light carries on endlessly, even after death / With shortness of breath, I'll try to explain the infinite and how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist

when it's cold i'd like to die by Moby

Where were you when I was lonesome? Locked away with freezing cold. Someone flying, only stolen. I can't tell, this night's so old / What was that, my sweet, sweet nothing? I can't hear you through the fog. If I holler, let me go. If I falter, let me know / I don't wanna swim the ocean. I don't wanna fight the tide. I don't wanna swim forever

your world will fail by Les Friction

Your world has got you controlled and silent. You can't fill a whole with a billion empty souls. Your world has got you alone and silent / Your world will fail my love, it's far beyond repair. Your world will fail my love, it's already there. Calm before the rage, hostage in a cage. Now it's too late to wake up this place and bring you all back to life

the man who can't forget by the Bardbells

The colors of his morning, the darkness of his night, little graves that gave no warning, a sun that brought no light / he saw his whole world breaking, that tortured soul I met in a prison of his making / I can still hear the way that he cried for the ones he was missing. I can still hear the way that he cried for the ones he had lost / He caused the whole world’s breaking, the tortured soul I met, in a prison of his making. the man who can’t forget

& LIST 6 QUOTES THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE:

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay to mould me man? Did I solicit thee from darkness to promote me? - Paradise Lost

When you’re too tired or too afraid to defend yourself, defend others. - Peter S. Beagle

Every act of rebellion expresses a nostalgia for innocence and an appeal to the essence of being. - Albert Camus

It is restful, tragedy, because one knows that there is no more lousy hope left. You know you’re caught, caught at last like a rat with all the world on its back. And the only thing left to do is shout. - Jean Anouilh

I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there’s only one conclusion: I’m damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they’ve set me on a path from which there is no escape. - Andor

I sought loneliness when I was young. You’ve seen me there: on my promontory, patient and unaware. But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me. - This is How You Lose the Time War

tagged 300 years ago by @avrorean

tagging. @extravagantliar @wepthonor @martyrmarked @theodosiani @keepslore and anyone else!

[sissa-arrows]

Only three Arabs appear in The Stranger, none of them are named or speak, and the role of the central one (the brother of an Arab woman who is regularly beaten up by the protagonist’s friend, Raymond, and who seeks to avenge her) is to be shot dead on a sunlit beach by the novel’s anti-hero, Mersault.

It requires little effort for even the casual reader to see that the Arabs are merely the toys or mannequins or wordless puppets which exist solely to provide fodder for the adventure and agonised musings of the central, European figure.

Likewise there are no named Arabs in The Plague. It is a novel entirely about Europeans. The majority of deaths from plague in The Plague must, logically, be the deaths of Arabs, since they made up nine tenths of the population of Algeria and of Oran, the city where the story is set, but there is no sense of this in the novel, no sense, for example, that the Algerians might have had different cultural and religious ceremonies and traditions surrounding their Muslim dead.

In Camus’s two most famous novels, nameless and faceless Arabs have to die in order for Europeans to have fancy philosophical reflections.

Albert Camus’s fictions erase the identity, and even the presence, of colonised native people. Seen from this perspective, far from promoting a universal anything, Camus’s fictions, no matter how troubled and questioning they may appear to be, in actual fact, by virtue of their assumptions and subject matter, continue the racist, colonial project of imperial France. Algeria is the place with no memories, no traces of men. Camus equates the notion of anonymity with Algeria (and therefore with Algerians) but also on a moral scale equates it with a place where human history is insignificant, which allows the negation not only of the past of indigenous people, but also of the recent past of colonialism.

Funny you’re mentioning this because my aunt is getting a college degree and they are making them read The Stranger so she was telling me the exact same thing.

Not only indigenous Algerians are not named, they barely exist in Camus’s books but they are “the Arabs” never the Algerians because Camus was a product of his time which means that he saw settlers like him as the real Algerians indigenous people were just there.

(Part of me think that’s one of the reasons Algerians are so attached to their Algerian-Ness it’s because settlers tried to remove it and steal it from us.)

[soaringornithopter]

🎵 URL song game 🎵

Thanks for the tag, @medusapelagia!

Rules: Go to your playlist and find a song for each letter of your URL, then tag some friends to do the same.

To be honest, I don't currently subscribe to any music streaming services, so these picks will probably be fairly eclectic as I scroll through my randomly populated list of "likes" that I can still access with the free tier 😄 (Why is the ability to sort a list alphabetically considered premium?!)

Stalker's Tango by Autoheart One by Alanis Morissette Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths Repetto X Mosaert by Stromae I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters Night and Day by Cole Porter (sung by Ella Fitzgerald) Gone Daddy Gone by Violent Femmes

Only by Nine Inch Nails Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini by Sergei Rachmaninoff New Born by Muse I Feel Like I'm Drowning by Two Feet Trampoline by Shaed Hunter by Björk Oriental Uno by Beats Antique Plot a Little by Camu Tao Trip Switch by Nothing But Thieves Everlong by Foo Fighters Ruled by Secrecy by Muse

I'll skip tagging others for now since I have another version of this URL song game that's been sitting in my drafts for almost an entire year. This one reminded me of that draft's existence, so I'll be posting that one (hopefully) later and I don't want to give anyone tag game fatigue.

That said, if you see this in your dash and you want to make a list, consider yourself tagged!

[solivagantingrebel]

Scenes where I can dwell in a character's head long enough to pick them apart are so fun to write 👏

WRITERS!!!

What is your favourite kind of scene to write?