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nvirskies · 10 months ago

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sand - c. la rue

idea taken from one of @star-girl69 's asks about married clarisse and immediately went to think about how the vast majority of greek demigods didn't get to live past their 20's or even teen years... and the survivor's guilt that would come with being one of the few lucky enough to live longer.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, traumatic nightmare flashbacks, descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood + war, spoilers for TLO, set after both reader and clarisse leave CHB about 6-8 years into the future, google translated Greek term of endearment, crying, survivor's guilt, platonic RueGard, ooc Clarisse, she's matured more over time and more articulate with her feelings and words

summary: clarisse wakes up from a particularly bad nightmare in the middle of the night, reader comforts her through a breakdown

wife!fem!demigod!reader x wife!clarisse la rue

word count: 2.2k

καρδιά μου (kardiá mou) - my heart

Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου (I kardiá mou eínai i kardiá sou) - my heart is your heart

"but you have more pieces of me than than desert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I can hold in my hand" sand, alchemical: vol. 1, dove cameron

taglist: @lvrue @star-girl69 @azrielsdiary @petitegavotte @b0ok-lover

men, nsfw, non-sapphic, 16-/19+ dni

Greek demigods fell in love hard and fast with an unmatched intensity. They normally didn’t live long enough to even envision themselves in their adult lives, and why would they? Every day was a struggle to stay alive with monsters coming in from all angles and quests most didn’t come back from.

And that was why, as soon as the two of you graduated high school, Clarisse got down on a knee and proposed with the knowledge that you were the one she would want to spend the rest of her life, however long or short, with.

When you two had graduated college, the next thing in the books was to make it official in the courthouse, and that was what you had done. No extravagant party or ceremony, just a quiet day in the courthouse and a night in to celebrate.

But no matter how far the two of you ran from Camp Half-Blood, the nightmares never went away, never got better. As the years passed, more of the people you had considered friends died. One after the other, falling like cursed dominos, helplessly standing by as they all tumbled down.

Soon, the nightmares became more about the people that were lost than the monsters themselves. Nightly plagues of searingly painful memories from watching the life drain from so many demigods’ eyes burned themselves in both of your psyches.

All you could do was hope Charon would be kind enough to ferry them across the Styx without his payment of a silver coin.

And tonight certainly hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary with the two of you and your limbs interlaced in a protective embrace while sleep claimed your minds, as if the both of you could protect each other from the monsters both in and outside.

Your head, nestled into her chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing made your hair flutter ever so slightly as she exhaled. Her arms, wrapped loosely around your waist, hands not-so-sneakily under the baggy shirt of hers you had stolen to wear as pajamas for the night. It was all perfect. Too perfect.

You would be damned fools to think that peace would last for so long. Demigods didn’t get peace, they didn’t get tranquility, and they especially didn’t get uninterrupted domestic bliss.

Unbeknownst to you, Clarisse’s face contorted into one of distress. Her arms pulled you in closer subconsciously as the all too familiar face of Morpheus greeted her with a sly smirk on his face in her dreams.

In moments, she was transported back to the Battle of Manhattan.

She was seventeen again.

Blood was everywhere. Abandoned weapons lay on the floor, the hands that once gripped them tightly, now loose and limp. Shrill screams echoed throughout the air, all cut short by gut-wrenching sounds of fatal injury. Metal cut through flesh. Acid burnt through metal. Flames licked and greedily consumed anything and everything as fuel.

Her feet felt heavy, her hands numb. She could do nothing but stand and watch it all unfold before her own eyes, forced to relive the carnage and devastation that had ripped through Manhattan on that fateful day.

Morpheus’ voice whispered in her right ear, the sound of it sending an uneasy chill down her spine. “Daughter of Ares. A fitting dream, no? Your father must have been proud of you for the way you fought after… well, I’ll let you relive that, too.” Before she could blink, she was transported to the moment right after Silena had been sprayed by the Lydian Drakon.

Clarisse was too late. She had always been too late.

She was back on her knees, choking and weeping bitterly as Silena lay in her arms, watching as life slowly left her once-lively eyes.

What kind of a warrior even was she? So weak that she couldn’t even protect her friend? Too weak to protect the girl who had adorned her armor and led her siblings into battle?

Just as Clarisse reached out to touch Silena’s face to wipe away the one mark of smudged eyeliner that the Aphrodite girl normally would never have even allowed to happen in the past, she was jerked back to consciousness, eyes flying open and arms almost crushing your sleeping form momentarily as she came to.

No longer was she in Manhattan, instead sheltered in the familiarly adorned walls of your shared bedroom. Upon the walls hung framed pictures of joyous times past and her sword collection, among other things.

Familiar faces stared back at her, some faces that would never age again. Immortalized memories of times that would never happen again. Everyone was dead or scattered across the globe.

A particular picture caught Clarisse’s eye. It was a portrait of Silena that she had commissioned one of the Apollo kids to draw for the daughter of Aphrodite’s seventeenth birthday.

She never lived to see that day.

Her eyes locked with Silena’s in the drawing for a moment, and that moment was one too much as hot tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes.

She had inadvertently woken you up with the way her arms tightened around your waist in a near vice grip, slowly coming to your senses. No longer were her breaths slow and rhythmic, their steadfast pattern replaced by one that was erratic and shallow. The once-steady thumping cadence of her heart as it beat in her chest was now quickened, all of which you could hear with your head having been nestled into her chest.

Craning your head to look up at her, you were greeted with the sight of Clarisse desperately trying to silently blink back tears and control her own breathing.

Hurriedly, you pushed yourself up off her chest and tugged the blankets off the two of you before sitting down on her lap. You took note of the way her hands had never left your waist, holding onto you as if she were drowning and you were the last life ring thrown out.

It wasn’t anything you and Clarisse hadn’t dealt with before. The nightmares had been a part of your lives as far back as you could remember, it just came with the territory of being a demigod. But they never got any easier as time went on.

She watched silently with eyes brimming with unshed tears, pleading wordlessly with you to do something, anything to make it all go away.

“Let’s switch, yeah? You can lay on me and completely cover me if you want, love,” you offered up, a melancholy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Wordlessly, she nodded and you slipped off her lap, laying back where she had just been moments ago.

Gently patting your chest, you motioned for her to rest her head on it, knowing that the rest of her body would soon follow, completely engulfing your form with hers. After she had positioned herself, her arms snaked around your waist again as she simply held you for a few moments, her face pressed into your chest as tears slowly soaked into your shirt.

One hand reached out to gently run along the length of her back, the motion meant to soothe. A few beats passed in silence before you spoke in a hushed whisper, the bedroom devoid of sound beyond the two of you breathing in tandem with each other.

“You hear that, love? That’s my heart,” you murmured softly, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “It’s beating, beating for you. Η καρδιά μου είναι η καρδιά σου.”

She didn’t respond beyond releasing another shaky sob into your chest and tightening her grip around your body, but you didn’t mind. You didn’t need her to talk just yet.

“You’re also η καρδιά μου, you know that, right? My heart, my wife, my love, my everything. And I’m yours. Entirely yours, and I”m not going anywhere.” You craned your neck again to press another kiss against the crown of her head, hand never stopping its path of running gently along the length of her back.

“I would go down to the depths of Tartarus for you. I would challenge Hades himself to a fight if it meant I had even a glimmer of a chance in getting you back.”

Never once did you try to rush her into talking or shushing her tears. You knew her better than you knew yourself, and giving her time to let everything out was the best thing you could do for her at the moment.

You were her safe space, the one woman that she could let her walls down around. She wasn’t Ares’ star daughter in your arms, she was just Clarisse. No expectations dangling over her head, just open arms and understanding.

After another few quiet moments, she finally spoke up in between half-choked sobs, whispering so quietly that her voice was nearly inaudible, “Silena… Manhattan… should have been able to save her,” before letting her face fall back down onto your chest, releasing another pained cry.

“She’s gone- a-and everyone else too- why me?”

Her question left you speechless, mouth partly opened in an attempt to come up with a reassuring response, but nothing seemed to come to mind immediately. It was rare for this to happen, as you normally had just the right words at the top of your tongue, weaving them as Arachne once wove tapestries on her loom.

“They’re all gone and- and- ”

“Shh, love…” you cut her off, gently pulling her head up to look her in the eyes, your other hand leaving her back to wipe the tears that were still streaming down her cheeks with the pad of your thumb. “Please, don’t go back into that self-sacrificial spiral. Talk to me, tell me what the dream was about?”

She only shook her head in response, unwilling to divulge details of the memory that had shattered your night of otherwise perfect proportions.

Deflating back on top of you, she whispered, “They’re all gone, and we’re one of the only ones remaining. It was like every time another one of them died, that small part of myself that I gave to them died as well.”

Her arms that were wrapped around your waist tightened for a moment before going limp along with the rest of her body as she lay atop you, her head pressed against your chest.

“Love…” you began softly as one of your hands found its way to her head and carded gently through her curls. “You can’t blame yourself for what happened. None of it was your fault. We didn’t ask to be born, to be thrown into this mess of a world and tossed around like pawns in the gods’ game of chess with our lives.”

“We didn’t ask for this life, and we were so young at the time. For fuck’s sake, we were only seventeen- we hadn’t even made out yet. We hadn’t graduated high school yet, there were so many things we couldn’t control.

“None of it was your fault, I promise you. You were so brave, and you did everything you could.” She stayed silent as you spoke, the only sounds coming from her were the soft, shaky breaths as she sniffled and burrowed her face further into your shirt.

“I can’t explain to you why so many things had to happen, that’s up to the Fates. I can’t give you the pieces of yourself back that you lost when we kept losing everyone,” you murmured whilst your hands kept on with their idle motions.

It shattered your heart to give her such an incomplete answer when you knew it was tearing her apart inside to live with it all, but there was nothing you could do beyond offer solace and comfort. “And for that, I am so, so sorry. But the one thing I can do is keep the piece you’ve granted me to keep, safe and sound.”

She only nodded in response, not trusting herself to speak in fear of her own vulnerability. Her tears soaked into your shirt, but you didn’t care. All that was important was that Clarisse was here, in your arms, and slowly calming down.

Clarisse knew just as well as you did that everyone had done the best they could with the circumstances given, and that the loss affected you just as deeply. But she didn’t dig into that, it would be a can of worms to open for another time, another sleepless night where your own troubles caught up with you after running from them for so long.

And so, the rest of the night stretched on into early morning, the two of you half-awake, seeking silent solace in each other until sunlight crept into the bedroom through the cracks of the curtains the next day.

The two of you might have been running from your trauma like runners to a marathon, but at least you were running hand-in-hand with matching strides.

#🖋️ nvir writes #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse larue #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo tv #im not sorry #maybe i am #no im not

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asegunda · 10 months ago

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The Spear and the Belt

Pairings: Clarisse La Rue x Aphrodite! GN! Reader

Summary: You are an Aphrodite kid, and you are given a mission...you just feel the whispers around the camp...who the hell can you make it? Clarisse offers some help. ( 3 + 1)

Warnings: This was written in a platonic form, but in this case you can read it in what form you want. Fluff + Angst so be ready.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the love, and I was waiting to write a Clarisse fic, well here it is. 😘

Walking around camp now was for you a 'death treat', the gossips, the way you heard your name being whsipered among all the campers...even the satyrs...

'Can't they just do their job?' You think as you walk back at your cabin, seeing the familiar pink building. As you open the cabin door and enter it you sigh in relief.

Why did you accept that mission? It was just a real death treat for you...You don't know how to fight, you weren't blessed by your mother with the charm speak like your two sisters. It was hard to admit but you are useless. You go to your bed and scream in your pillow in frustration.

'Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.' It's the only thing you can think of now.

As you are now looking at the roof you hear another person unlock the door. 'Weird.' You think and look for who is there, it was lunch time but you leaved out earlier after some Hermes kids were 'toasting' your success in this mission, and by toasting you mean just joking, they even said earlier to you: 'Hope you come back alive.' If it wasn't for Mitchell you would slapped them in the face.

As you go to the door you see Clarisse standing there...Clarisse, the Ares cabin head conselour, here at lunch time, by herlsef, just at the door? It was too confusing to argue in your mind. You and the Aphrodite cabin were greatfull by the efforts the Ares cabin made to help your cabin in anything necessary, but you were still confused as hell.

"Clarisse." You say and she stops looking at the rest of the cabin. "Do you need something?"

"I was trying to find you. We need to talk." She says and you point at your bed, the rest of the cabin would still take time to finish eating.

You two sit and she starts speaking again. "I heard about your mission."

You grunt to yourself as she says that, 'Of course you heard.' You think.

"And I just wanna say that I'm here to..." She pauses for a moment and continues. "To help you train your fighting, maybe I could train you..and we could do some spars?" You can see the expectative in her eyes. You weren't expecting Clarisse to just want to help you like that, you didn't know her very much...but, hey, it's better to try to survive than just sit and wait for your death. Atleast you can try to outcome it!

You look at your hands and then back at her. "I would like too..it would be of a great help." You smile at her and she nods back.

"Okay then, see you tomorrow." You jump in suprise. 'Tomorrow?' You think and Clarisse can see your suprise.

"Hey, your mission it's just two weeks away, better start now." She says and you nod back, it makes sense...

"See ya." Clarisse says and leaves the cabin, you say a small goodbye and wave, she waves back.

'It's for the better if I don't tell that I heard all the scream in the pillow, right?' Clarisse thinks as she is walking again at the dinning hall. 'Yeah it's for the better...'

The next day Clarisse is waiting for you in the sparring place. You enter it and the Apollo kids who were trianing archery look at you weirdly, but you ignore them and just go to Clarisse who is sitting in the back of it.

"Hey Clarisse!" You smile at her and she makes a small smile back.

"Hey. So...ready for it?" Clarisse asks.

"I...think so." You add and Clarisse nods.

"That's a start." She says. "So let's start this."

In the next hours you two train like you never trained, wich is ironic because you never trained fighting.

Clarisse is agile and fast and her attacks are strong as hell, you weren't expecting less of her of course.

After the training finished you two are sitting at the back drinking water.

"You are good for the real first spar." Clarisse says as she sips water.

You fell you your heart warm by that.

"Thanks, and you are as amazing as I thought you would be." You smile at her and she smirks back. "Of course you thought." Clarisse tells and you chuckle with that.

After some minutes of silence you decide to ask. "Why are you helping me Clarisse?" As you see her grunt you add. "It's okay if you dont tell of course!" Clarisse relaxes with that.

"I didn't want you to die of course." She smirks and you look at her with a 'seriously?' face.

"We both know ith wasn't for that." You tell her and she look at her water bottle.

"Silena." Clarisse says and you look confused. As she sees your face she adds. "You asked why I wanted to help you it's because of her." Your face brights in realization.

"Oh." You say and Clarisse says. "I don't want never one of her girls to have the same destiny as her." She says and you can see the hurt in her eyes. "Thank you." You say and Clarisse says. "No problem, and now it isn't just because of her, I really hope you don't fail." She puts an hand at your shoulder and smiles.

"Well it's dinner time." Clarisse says and starts leaving.

"Wait!" You say and she turns back. "Tomorrow at the same hour?" You ask and Clarisse smiles. "You know it." She says and waves you wave back.

"This was good." You whisper to yourself and go have dinner too.

After those two weeks passed it is time for your mission, your two other colleagues are there too (an Apollo and an Hephestus boys).

All of your cabin goes to you to says the goodbyes and give you presents for the mission, a good pair of boots, some food and swetts, and and a belt ?? 'Thanks anyway Lacy!' You think and wonder what you could do with it, but after you see that it isn't just one normal belt, it had all the cabin member signatures in it. 'Cute..now really thank you Lacy..' You think and mess her hair.

You wait to see someone at the croud of people who are saying the goddbyes for the three mission members and then you see it. 'Clarisse.' You think and she goes to you.

She smiles. "Good Luck, show them you are something to be feared of!" She says and you can feel your eyes water. You nod. "Yes mam!" You say and hug her. She hugs you back as you hug her you feel something touching you as Clarisse sees you looking at it she smirks. "One last present." She takes out a spar, a really beautiful spear. "Hope you like it." She says and you hug her again. "I love it, thanks."

After all the goodbyes you three start going, you look back one last time, you wave at Clarisse and your cabin mates. You see them wave back, you smile.

+1.

Camp Half-Blood is waiting for the three of the mission to come back, they were supposed to come back three weeks ago, wich isn't a good sign.

As Chiron sees the familiar shadows he rings the bell, and all the camp (mostly in pajamas) comes outside, waiting nervously for their arrive.

Clarisse and the Aphrodite cabin are there too. As the shadows become closer all the camp can see that it is just two shadows, they all start to whisper nervously and worried. 'What if it is one of their siblings?' It's what they think.

But then they can see two boys, and nowhere sight of you.

Aphrodite cabin starts all to worry.

"Were is Y/N?!" Piper asks tears alreafy falling through her checks.

The two boys are at really bad state.

"I'm so sorry. It is all my fault." The Apollo boy cries and Clarisse hisses in anger. "What did you do?!"

"He did nothing...Y/N...saved us." The Hephestus boy says. "What do you mean by that?!" Drew asks yelling.

"Three furies appeared, we didn't know what to do...they charged at us and Y/N distracted them..." Tears fall out of the Hephestus boy eyes as he holds the Apollo boy.

"I'm so sorry." He cries and gives a bag. "That is the only thing we could save." Piper takes the bag and opens it, tears still falling.

In it there is a belt, the Aphrodite cabin belt. All the Aphrodite cabin sobs, and there is also a...spear...

Clarisse cries in despair.

"Not again!" She yells at nothing at particular.

Days later it was the second funeral of an Aphrodite cabin member in 2 years. The coffin is of a beautiful pink, a spear with a belt glued to it.

'Why...why..." Clarisse cries in her cabin. She didn't want to show weaknesses. "Why...why.."

She still fells your last hug, how can she trained you for two weeks and she was still feeling like this?

"Why...why.." It's the last things she says before sleeping of exaustion.

Oh your sweet, sweet seventeen years.

#clarisse la rue #pjo #gn reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson x platonic reader #Spotify

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ultimateshixiongfuckertournament · 6 months ago

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Semifinal 1: Fei Du vs Jiang Cheng

Semifinal 1 is between Fei Du (shixiong: Luo Wenzhou) from Mo Du vs Jiang Cheng (shixiong: Wei Wuxian) from Mo Dao Zu Shi

Propaganda under the cut

Fei Du:

Fei Du: evidence? The entirety of Mo Du. His shixiong is is Luo Wenzhou, a dude with an eight-pack and parents who love him and love fei du as well, and a dude whom fei du is willing to not die/consider the future with, and consider himself not a monster to be with. Fei Du says shixiong to Luo Wenzhou so flirtatiously that they both stop and stare. Luo Wenzhou gets him birthday cake, a video game when he was small and a promise. (Also, they are cat parents)

Jiang Cheng:

Clinged to WWX constantly for 7+ years, wanted to have WWX as his right hand man forever after becoming sect leader, cried after WWX left, cried when he discovered what WWX sacrificed for him, was TORN APART when it got explained to him that if they were more outwardly close knit, WWX might not have died

PROPAGANDA!! to start, i'm still very bitter about how fairy lost the sentient animal poll and i want to win this badly. very very badly. current stats are 50.6 in favour of jc but that's too less of a gap for me. jc should be winning this by a landslide, y'all hear me? anyways. starting with a class act, like the clown i am->

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a few links ( because i'm chengxian trash, as always and i'd love if poll-guy could copy paste them on the og post): one, two, three, four (gif), five, six, seven (gif), eight (thoughts on different wavelengths), the absolute circles of them saving each other, the fucking golden core reveal scene. golden scene reveal part 2, jiang cheng will always forgive wei wuxian

to start with. jiang cheng is literally the picture of "i knew from the moment i met you that i'd spend a lifetime forgiving you".

the earliest dynamic of jiang cheng and wei wuxian is jiang cheng giving away his dogs (the only gift his father has ever given him, btw) because wei wuxian is scared of the dogs. tis only the start of it.

his father very obviously prefers his shixiong over him, his mother berates him for not being as good as wei wuxian and tells him his inheritance is in danger, and his sister (in my opinion) has more care for him (visibly. maybe jiang yanli doesn't show it because jc is an emotionally complicated purple grape, maybe because jc doesn't need it, or wei wuxian is traumatised but that's my opinion). but still. still. Jiang Cheng loves Wei Wuxian. so much. jealousy is like. the most tame response i can think of. and jiang cheng is proud of wei wuxian, okay? he'd believe his big brother if he'd said anything. want proof? well, here you go-> link

to paraphrase the link:

Jiang Cheng had just lost his family, his home, and his very golden core, and his older brother - his brilliant older brother who could fix anything, who could sneak wine into Cloud Recesses and defeat an ancient turtle nearly-god and make Jiang Cheng share a smile when Jiang Cheng’s mother was disappointed and furious at both of them - His big brother smiled and said, “I can fix this.”And Jiang Cheng believed him then, and believed him three months later when Wei Wuxian crawled out of the Burial Mounds (just the second miracle in three months), and believed him every day of the next seventeen(?) years until the pieces were shoved into place for him to see.

also. the circle these two go in protecting each other. (gif set by @sandushengshou), the 'if one of us is to die, then, i beg, let it be me' that they both do for one another in a seemingly neverending loop of sacrifice. via this post a la my lovely @backtoyunmeng

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jiang cheng is a cannonically ruined woman archetype, justified via the countless posts you'll get in the top posts of jiang cheng tag. he keeps chenqing, wwx's flute in perfect condition even when he hates wei wuxian, even when wwx, if only indirectly, has a part in jiang yanli's murder and oof okay someone pointed out to him that he's known to have killed wei wuxian and he almost cries. he absolutely believes, with his whole heart, that wei wuxian lives even when the world is sure he doesnt. and it always read to me like, i'd know if he was dead. he's a part of my soul, so i'd know if he was dead. he can't be dead.

this is getting too long, so, to sum up, some absolute poetry by @jiangchengsjawline

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#JC On The Other Hand Has His Entire Life Shaped By His Shixiong And Ended Up Cast As The Ruined Woman By The End

#jiang cheng though. wasn't able to fuck his shixiong but his shixiong definitely fucked with him

#hello?? the answer is Jiang cheng pls#he's the shixiongfucker or all shixiong fucker you wish you could be as pathetically in love with your shixiong as he is#chengxian

#i do not go here (chengxian) but the propaganda is incredibly correct they are insane abt each other#also sorry jiang cheng ik you're suffering but they are so funny to me#neway VOTE JIANG CHENG FOR CLEAR SKIN

#look I rarely go here#(here being chengxian)#but by GOD their lvoe compels me#they’re tragic and doomed and they love each other without knowing how to say it in words the other would understand#or in words at all because communication??? we don’t know her???

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he didn't even think about sacrificing himself, and consequently his entire bloodline, his sect, pretty much everything that depends on him for his shixiong??????????

is this not convincing->

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#had to vote jc though i have more feelings about chengxian#i think jc should have a huge gege kink

#like. jiang cheng should win the entire tournament hands down period

#fei du #luo wenzhou #mo du #silent reading #zhoudu #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #mdzs #the untamed #chengxian #priest vs mxtx

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wen-kexing-apologist · 9 months ago

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WKA Gay Analysis Assembly, Part Two

Well, it finally happened. My first Gay Analysis Assembly Post refused to edit for me. So I guess it's time to start a Part Two for all the new essays that I have been writing!

Please check out Part One here, it contains essays on: Utsukushii Kare, Moonlight Chicken, Bed Friend, Our Dining Table, Our Skyy 2, Step by Step, La Pluie, Cupid's Last Wish, Be My Favorite, My Ride, Only Friends, I Feel You Linger in the Air, Shadow, Last Twilight, and The Sign

Bengiyo's Queer Cinema Syllabus

Unit 1- Coming of Age: Pariah (2011), Get Real (1998), Edge of Seventeen (1998), My Own Private Idaho (1991), and Mysterious Skin (2004)

Unit 2- Race, Class, Disability: The Way He Looks (2014), Being 17 (2016), Naz and Maalik (2015), The Obituary of Tunde Johnson (2019),Margarita With a Straw (2014), My Beautiful Laundrette (1985), Brother to Brother (2004), and Beautiful Thing (1996)

Unit 3- Faith and Religion: But I’m a Cheerleader (2000), Prayers for Bobby (2009), Latter Days (2003), Blackbird (2014), The Wise Kids (2011), Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party (2015)

Unit 4- Heartbreak Alley: Bent (1997), Strange Fruit (2004),Boys Don’t Cry (1999), Brokeback Mountain (2005), Parting Glances (1986), Philadelphia (1993),The Living End (1992), Holding the Man (2015), Jeffery (1995), and Boys on the Side (1995)

Love in the Big City TV Show

Episode 1-2

Episode 3-4: What Does Eating Pasta Have to Do With a Tough Past?

Episode 5-6 Coming Soon

Episode 7-8 Coming Soon

The Miracle of Teddy Bear

I am being so sincere when I say episode 10 is one of my favorite episodes of BL of all time

Unknown

Episode 6: Breakdown Breakdown

Episode 7: Return Breakdown

Episode 8: Losing My Mind

Episode 9: Parallels

Episode 10: The Couch

Episode 10: Qian and Yuan

Episode 11: To Grow Taller

Fanfiction: Afterglow

Episode 12: Doors

Episode 12: Tie Scene

Dead Friend Forever

Dead Friend Forever: Episode 5

Power Dynamics in Dead Friend Forever

Dead Friend Forever: Squicks and Triggers Ep 1-8, Ep 9, Ep 10, Ep 12

Cooking Crush

Cooking Crush, Episode 8

Body Language in Cooking Crush

Love in the Big City Book Club

Part One: Two Friends Diverged in Emotional Sincerity

Part Two

Part Three: Now Introducing Kylie

Part Four: Regret, Rain, Loss, and Love

Love for Love's Sake

Symptoms of a System Error: Manifestation of Depression in Love for Love's Sake

Kiseki

Kiss-eki: Dear to Me

#kiseki: dear to me #love for love's sake #litbc book club #cooking crush #dead friend forever #unknown the series #the miracle of teddy bear #love in the big city #bengiyo queer cinema syllabus

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dearkyeom · 5 days ago

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tender wonhao moment at seventeen right here la day 1 😔

#wonwoo #minghao #the8 #seventeen #svt

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 4 months ago

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How close Desmoulins and Fréron were? And what did they think of each other? I'm asking because I discovered they managed a journal together, La Tribune des Patriotes.

The seventeen year old Fréron was enrolled as a paying boarder at the college of Louis-le-Grand on September 30 1771, and just a day later, the eleven year old Camille was as well. I have however not been able to discover any evidence indicating the two were friends back then, or even an instance of one referring to the other as ”college comrade,” something which Camille otherwise is proven to have done with a whole lot of other fellow students. Perhaps this should be read as a sign the two did not know each other back then, six years after all being a rather big age difference for kids. They also don’t exactly appear to have been the same type of student, Desmoulins winning a total of four prizes during his time at the college and Fréron zero, and their teacher abbé Proyart admitting (despite his massive hostility) that student Camille had ”some success,” while Fréron ”showed few talents” and ”was cited as a rare example when speaking of laziness and indolence.” (for more info on the school days of them and other Louis-le-Grand students, see this post).

Fréron graduated from the college in 1779, Camille five years later. I have not been able to find anything suggesting they had anything to do with each other in the 1780s either. But on 23 June 1790, one year into the revolution, we find the following letter from Fréron to Camille, showing that the two by this point have forged a friendship. Judging by the content of the letter, said friendship was probably much grounded in their joint status as freshly baked patriotic journalists (Desmoulins had founded his Révolutions de France et de Brabant in November 1789, Fréron his l’Orateur du Peuple in May 1790):

I beg you (tu), my dear Camille, to insert in your first number the enclosed letter, which has so far only appeared in the journal of M. Gorsas; its publicity is all the more interesting to me as I have just, I am assured, been denounced to the commune as one of the authors of l’Ami du Roi. It is a horror that I must push back with all the energy I can. If you cannot insert it in full, in petit-romain, at the end of your first number, at least make it known by extract; you would be doing me a real service. It’s been a thousand years since I last saw you; I have had a raging fever for more than a fortnight which has prevented me from returning to Rue Saint-André; but I will go there next Saturday. Ch. de La Poype came to your house with a letter from M. Brissot de Warville, but he was unable to enter. It was to talk to you about a matter that you no doubt know about. If patriotic journalists don't line up, then goodbye freedom of the press. A thousand bonjours, my dear Camille I am very democratically your friend, Stanislas Fréron.

l’Orateur du Peuple has unfortunately not gotten digitalized yet, so we can’t check if Fréron wrote anything about Desmoulins there that could tell us more about their relationship. But in Révolutions de France et de Brabant we find Camille listing Fréron among ”journalists who are friends of truth” (number 37, August 9 1790), calling him a patriot (number 33, July 12 1790), protesting when national guards were sent to seize the journals of Fréron and Tournon (number 63, February 7 1791) and when the numbers of Fréron and Marat got plundered (number 83, July 4 1791), as well as republishing parts of the journal he finds inspiring (number 83, number 85 (July 18 1791). In both number 1 (November 28 1789) and number 65 (February 21 1791) Camille republished a poem he had written in 1783 that mocked Fréron’s father, the famous philosopher Élie Fréron, as well as his maternal uncle Thomas-Marie Royou, him too a member of the counter-enlightenment (and who, as a sidenote, had also been one of their teachers at Louis-le-Grand). Given Fréron’s open hostility towards both his father and uncle, it does however seem unlikely for this to have had any negative effect on their relationship.

Just a few days after the letter from Fréron to Desmoulins had been penned down, we find the two about to enter into partnership. On July 4 1790 the following contract was signed between Camille, Fréron and the printer Laffrey (cited in Camille Desmoulins and his wife: passages from the history of the dantonists (1874) by Jules Claretie), establishing that from number 33 of Révolutions de France et de Brabant and onwards, Fréron will be in charge of half the pages of the journal, while he from number 39 and forward will be in charge of an additional sheet particulary devoted to news:

We, the undersigned, Camille Desmoulins and Stanislas Fréron, the former living on Rue du Théâtre Français, the latter on Rue de la Lune, Porte St. Denys, of the one part; and Jean-Jacques Laffrey, living on Rue du Théâtre Français, of the other part, have agreed to the following: . 1. I, Camille Desmoulins, engage to delegate to Stanislas Fréron the sum of three thousand livres, out of the sum of ten thousand livres, which Jean-Jacques Laffrey has bound himself, by a bond between us, to pay me annually as the price of the editing of my journal, entitled Révolutions de France et de Brabant, of three printed sheets, under the express condition that said Stanislas Fréron shall furnish one sheet and a half to each number, and that during the whole term of my agreement with said Laffrey. 2. I, Stanislas Fréron, engage to furnish for each number of said journal of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, composed of three sheets, one sheet and a half, under the direction of the said Camille Desmoulins, with the understanding that this sheet and a half shall form one half of the three sheets of which each number is composed. I engage to deliver a portion of the copy of this said sheet and a half on the Wednesday of each week , and the rest during the day on Thursday, and this counting inclusively from the thirty-third number until the close of the agreement between Camille Desmoulins and Jean-Lacques Laffrey. 3. I, Jean-Jacques Laffrey, accept the delegation made by Camille Desmoulins of the sum of three thousand livres, payable, in equal payments, at the issue of each number, to Stanislas Fréron, to the clauses and conditions hereinunder; and I engage, besides, to pay to said Stanislas Fréron the sum of one thousand livres, also payable in equal payments, on the publication of each number, which thousand livres shall be over and above the said salary of three thousand livres on condition that the said Stanislas Fréron shall furnish to the journal an additional sheet per week which shall be devoted to news to begin from the thirty-ninth number, which commences the approaching quarter. And I, Stanislas Fréron, engage to furnish , at the stipulated periods the said sheet over and above, in consideration of the sum of one thousand livres, in addition to the three thousand livres delegated by Camille Desmoulins. Done, in triplicate, between us, in Paris, July 4, 1790. Stanislas Fréron, Laffrey, C. Desmoulins.

According to Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république (2018) by Hervé Leuwers, nothing did however come about from this contract, Révolutions de France et de Brabant continuing to rest under the authority of Camille only, while Fréron instead kept going with his l’Orateur du Peuple. Why this project never saw the light of day one can only speculate in…

When Camille and Lucile got married in December 1790, Fréron neither signed the wedding contract on the 27th, nor attended the wedding ceremony on the 29th. Following the marriage they did however become neighbors, the couple moving to Rue du Théâtre 1 (today Rue de l’Odeon 28), and into the very same building where Fréron had gone to live a few months earlier.

In number 82 (June 27 1791) of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Camille writes that he a week earlier, the same night the royal family fled Paris, he left the Jacobins at eleven o’clock in the evening together with ”Danton and other patriots.” The Paris night comes off as so calm Camille can’t stop himself from commenting on it, whereupon ”one of us, who had in his pocket a letter of which I will speak, that warned that the king would take flight this night, wanted to go observe the castle; he saw M. Lafayette enter at eleven o’clock.” According to Hervé Leuwers’ biography, this person was Fréron, though I don’t understand exactly how he can see this…

A little less than a month later, July 17 1791, Fréron and Camille find themselves at Danton’s house together with several other people discussing the lynching of two men at the Champ-de-Mars the same morning. At nine o’clock, Legendre arrives and tells the group that two men had come home to him and said: We are charged with warning you to get out of Paris, bring Danton, Camille and Fréron, let them not be seen in the city all day, it is Alexandre Lameth who engages this. Camille, Danton and Fréron follow this advice and leave, and were therefore most likely absent from the demonstration and shootings on the Champ-de-Mars the very same day (this information was given more than forty years after the fact by Sergent-Marceau, one of the people present, in volume 5 of the journal Revue rétrospective, ou Bibliothèque historique : contenant des mémoires et documens authentiques, inédits et originaux, pour servir à l'histoire proprement dite, à la biographie, à l'histoire de la littérature et des arts (1834)).

In the aftermath of the massacre on Champ de Mars, arrest warrants were issued against those deemed guilty for them. On July 22, the Moniteur reports that the journalists Suleau and Verrières have been arrested, and that the authorities have also fruitlessly gone looking for Fréron, Legendre, Desmoulins and Danton, the latter three having already left Paris. Both Fréron and Camille hid out at Lucile’s parents’ country house in Bourg-la-Reine, as revealed by Camille in number 6 (January 30 1794) of the Vieux Cordelier. The two could resurface in Paris again by September.

On April 20 1792, the same day France declared war on Austria, Camille and Fréron again put their hopes to the idea of a partnership from two years earlier. That day, the two, along with booksellers Patris and Momoro, signed a contract for a new journal, La Tribune des Patriotes, whose first number appeared on May 7 (they had tried to get Marat to join in on the project as well, but he had said no). In the contract, Fréron undertook to each week bring 2/3 of the sheets, Camille the rest. According to Leuwers, Camille did nevertheless end up writing most of it anyway. The journal did however fail to catch an audience and ran for only four numbers.

On June 23 1792 Lucile starts keeping a diary. It doesn’t take more than a day before the first mention of Fréron, in the diary most often known as just ”F,” appears — ”June 24 - F(réron) is scary. Poor simpleton, you have so little to think about. I’m going to write to Maman.” One month and one day later Camille tells Lucile, who is currently resting up at Bourg-la-Reine after giving birth, that ”I was brought to Chaville this morning by Panis, together with Danton, Fréron, Brune, at Santerre’s” (letter cited in Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république). Lucile returned to Paris on August 8. In a diary entry written by her four months later it is revealed that both Fréron and the couple were at Danton’s house on the eve of the insurrection of August 10 — ”F(réron) looked like he was determined to perish. "I'm weary of life," he said, "I just want to die." Every patriot that came I thought I was seeing for the last time.” She doesn’t however, and can in the same entry instead report the following regarding the period that immediately followed the successful insurrection:

After eight days (August 20) D(anton) went to stay at the Chabcellerie, madame R(obert) and I went there in our turn. I really liked it there, but only one thing bothered me, it was Fréron. Every day I saw new progress and didn't know what to do about it. I consulted Maman, she approved of my plan to banter and joke about it, and that was the wisest course. Because what else to do? Forbid him to come? He and C(amille) dealt with each other everyday, we would meet. To tell him to be more circumspect was to confess that I knew everything and that I did not disapprove of him; an explanation would have been needed. I therefore thought myself very prudent to receive him with friendship and reserve as usual, and I see now that I have done well. Soon he left to go on a mission. (to Metz, he was given this mission on August 29 1792) I was very happy with it, I thought it would change him. […] F(réron) returned, he seems to be still the same but I don't care! Let him go crazy if he wants!…My poor C(amille), go, don’t be afraid…

Following Fréron’s return from his mission, he hung out with the couple quite frequently. On January 7 1793 we find the following letter from him to Lucile:

I beg Madame Desmoulins to be pleased to accept the homage of my respect. I have the honour to inform her that my destination is changed, that I shall not go to the National Assembly because I am setting out for the countryside with MM Danton and Saturne (Duplain). Will she have the goodness to present herself at the assembly, before ten o’clock, in the hall of deputations; she is to send for M. La Source, the secretary, who will come to her, and she will find a place for her by means of the commissary of the tribunes. I renew the assurence of my respectful devotion to Madame Desmoulins. Stanislas Fréron. Kindest regards to Camille.

Two weeks later, January 20, Lucile writes ”F(réron), La P(oype) came in the evening.” The day after that Fréron writes her the following note: ”I beg the chaste Diana to accept the homage of a quarter of a deer killed in her domains. Adieu. Stanislas Lapin.” This is the first known apperance of Fréron’s nickname within the inner circle — Lapin (Bunny). In Correspondance inédite de Camille Desmoulins(1834), Marcellin Matton, friend of Lucile’s mother and sister, writes that it was Lucile who had come up with this nickname, and that it stemmed from the fact Fréron often visited the country house of Lucile’s parents at Bourg-la-Reine and played with the bunnies they had there each time. In her diary entry from the same day, Lucile has written: ”F(réron) sent us venison.” The very next day she writes the following, showing that Fréron, as she already put it in December, ”appears to still be the same”:

Ricord came to see me. He is always the same, very brusque and coarse, truly mad, giddy, insane. I went to Robert’s. Danton came there. His jokes are as boorish as he is. Despite this, he is a good devil. Madame Ro(bert) seemed jealous of how he teased me… F(réron) came. That one always seems to sigh, but his manners are bearish! Poor devil, what hope do you hold? Extinguish a senseless r [sic] in your heart! What can I do for you? I feel sorry for you... No, no, my friend, my dear C(amille), this friendship, this love so pure, will never exist for anyone other than you! And those I see will only be dear to me through the friendship they have for you.

One day later, January 23, Lucile writes: ”F(réron), La P(oype), Po, R(obert) and others came to dinner. The dinner was quite happy and cheerful. Afterwards they went to the Jacobins, Maman and I stayed by the fire.” The day after that she has written the following, and while it’s far from confirmed Fréron is the one she’s alluding to here, it would fit rather well with the previous entries:

What does this statement mean? Why do I need to be praised so much? What do I care if I please? Do you think I’ll be proud of a few attractions? No, no, I know how to appreciate myself, and will never be dazed by praise. To you, you’re crazy, and I’ll make you feel like you need to be smarter.

Lucile’s diary entries abruptly end on February 13 1793, and a month later, March 9, Fréron was tasked with going on yet another mission by the Committee of Public Safety. This time, it would be a whole year before he was back in Paris again. It is probably during this period the following two undated letters from Fréron’s little sister Jeanne-Thérèse, wife of the military leader Jean François La Poype, were penned down and sent off to Lucile (both cited within Camille Desmoulins and his wife… (1874) by Jules Claretie. I also found a mention of a third, unpublished letter with the same sender and receiver):

Coubertin, this Monday morning. How good you are, my dear Lucile, to take such pains to answer so punctually, and to relieve my anxiety! I rely upon your kindness to let me know any good news when you know it yourself. Neither my husband nor my brother has written to me; but, according to what you tell me, M. De la Poype will be with you immediately. Scold him well, I beg, my dear Lucile, and beat him even, if you think it necessary; I give him over to you. Goodbye, dear aunt; I embrace you with all my heart. Do tell me about your pretty boy; is he well? We shall, I hope, see him at some time together. Be the first to tell me of my husband's arrival ; it will be so sweet to owe my happiness to you! Fanny is perfectly well. I received most tenderly the kiss she gave me from you. My compliments to your husband. Fréron de la Poype.

Here I come again, beautiful and kind Lucile, to plague you with my complaints, and the frightful uneasiness by which I am tormented. The letter your husband had the kindness to write to me does not allay my grief; he tells me that my brother has given him news of my husband, but he had not heard from him before his departure. He has not been absent long enough to have had time to give us news of himself since he set out. I do not hide from you, dear Lucile, state; for pity's sake, try to restore composure to my heart; let me owe tranquillity to you. They say the enemy is within forty leagues of Paris; if this is so, the country will not be safe. Will you promise to warn me of danger, and to receive me into your house? I count upon the friendship you have always been willing to show me, and I shall throw myself into your arms with the greatest confidence. I beg you to give my compliments to your dear husband. Fréron de La Poype. Coubertin, near Chevreuse. The 5th. Madame Desmoulins.

On October 18 1793, Fréron too picks up his pen again and writes the following two letters, one to Camille and one to Lucile. He is at the time in Marseille preparing for the siege of Toulon, a subject which he spends the majority of the ink on discussing, but also blends this with nostalgic remarks. Fréron addresses Camille with tutoiement, but Lucile with vouvoiement. The parts in italics got censored when the letters for the first time got published in Correspondance de Camille Desmoulins(1834):

Marseille, October 18 1793, year 2 of the republic one and indivisible Bonjour, Camille, Ricord will tell you about a lot of things. Our business in front of Toulon is going badly. We have lost precious time and if Carteaux had left La Poype to his own devices, the latter would have been master of the place more than fifteen days ago, but instead, we have to hold a regular siege and our enemies grow stronger every day by the way of the sea. It is time for the Committee of Public Safety to know the truth. I am going to write to Robespierre to inform him about everything. You may not know everything that has happened to me; I have upheld my reputation as an old Cordelier, for I am like you from the first batch; and although very lazy by nature (I say my fault), I found in the great crises a greater activity than I would have believed. But it was a question of saving the south and the army of Italy; because I am not talking about my skin; for a long time [unreadable word for me] have been an object of [unreadable word] for the counter-revolutionaries without [unreadable word]. I will prevent Toulon from forming its sections and consequently from opening its port to the English and from dragging us, at the onset of winter, into the lengths of a murderous siege. La Poype commands a division of the army in front of Toulon; you have no idea how Carteaux makes him swallow snakes: he had seized the heights of Faron, a mountain which dominates a very important fort from which one can strike down and reduce Toulon. Well! Carteaux left him at this post without reinforcement, and he was obliged to evacuate it. Carteaux would rather have the capture of Toulon delayed and missed twenty times than allow another to have the glory. Speak, thunder, burst. La Poype did not contradict himself for a single moment; you know him, he has not changed. I am perhaps a little suspicious: that is why I abstain from writing on his account; but ask all those who come from here and they will tell you what the patriots think. Did you learn from Father Huguenin that I had printed in Monaco six thousand copies of your Histoire des Brissotins which I distributed profusely in Nice and in the department of Var? You did not think you would receive the honors of printing in Italy. You see it's good to have friends everywhere. I have been very worried about Danton. The papers announced that he was ill. Let me know if he’s recovered. Tell him and give him a thousand regards from me. I look forward to seeing you again, but this after the capture of Toulon; I dream only of Toulon; it’s my nec plus ultra. I will either perish or see its ruins. Is Patagon (Brune) in Paris? Remind me of him. Farewell, my dear Camille, tell me the story of Duplain Lunettes. Is it true that he is in prison? Attacking Chaplain! ah! he is such a good man! Tell me the reasons for his detention. Has he really changed? This is inconceivable. We are doing a lot of work here; we are impatiently awaiting the troops which were in front of Lyon and the siege artillery which we lack; without that the only thing we would make in Toulon would be clear water. Answer me in grace; Ricord will give you my address. I embrace you. Fréron. PS. You have known for a long time that I love your wife madly; I write to her about it, it is indeed the least consolation that can be obtained for an unhappy bunny, absent since eight months. As there is a fairly detailed article on La Poype, I invite you to read it. Adieu, both of you, think sometimes of the best of your friends; answer me as well as Rouleau (Lucile).

Marseille, October 18 1793, year 2 of the republic one and indivisible How lucky Ricord is! So he is going to see you again, Lucile, and I, for a century, have been in exile. Communications between the southern departments with Paris have been closed for more than three months. Ever since they’ve been restored, I have wanted to write to you. A hundred times I have picked up the pen, and a hundred times it has fallen from my hand. He is leaving, this fortunate mortal, and I finally venture to give him this letter for you, the content of which he is unaware about. May it convince you, Lucile, that you have always been in my thoughts! Let Camille murmur about it, let him say all he wants about it, in that he will only act like all proprietor; but certainly he cannot do you the insult of thinking that he is the only one in the world who finds you lovable and has the right to tell you so. He knows it, that wretch of Bouli-Boula, because said in your presence: "I love Bunny because he loves Rouleau."

This poor bunny has had a great deal of adventures; he has traversed furious burrows and he has stored up ample stories for his old age. He has often missed the wild thyme which your pretty hands in small strokes enjoyed feeding him in your garden in Bourg de l’Egalité. Besides, he was not below his mission, exposing his life several times to save the republic. In seeking the glory of a good deed, do you know what sustained him, what he always had before his eyes? First, the homeland, then, you. He only wanted and he only wants to be worthy of the both of you. You will find this romantic bunny and he is not bad at it. He remembers your idylls, your willows, your shrines and your bursts of laughter. He sees you trotting around your room, running over the floor, sitting down for a minute at your piano, spending whole hours in your armchair, dreaming, letting your imagination travel; then he sees you making coffee at the roadside, scrambling like an elf and cussing like a cat, showing your teeth. He enters your bedroom; he stealthily casts a longing eye on a certain blue bed, he watches you, he listens to you, and he keeps quiet. Isn’t that you! Isn’t that me! When will these happy moments return? I don’t know, I am now pressing the execrable Toulon, I am determined to either perish on its ramparts or to scale them, flame in hand. Death will be sweet and glorious to me as long as you reserve a tear for me.

My heart is torn, my mind devoted to a thousand cares, My sister and my niece, little Fanny, are locked up in Toulon in the hospital like unfortunates; I can't give them any relief and they may lack everything. La Poype, who adores her, but still more his homeland, besieges and presses this infamous city; he cannons and bombards it without reserve, and, as the price of such admirable devotion, he is calumniated, he is hampered, his efforts are paralyzed, he is left devoid of arms, cartridges, and artillery; they water him with bitterness, they cast doubts on his civism; and while Carteaux, to whom Albitte has made a colossal reputation, but who is in a condition to take Toulon no more than I am the moon, seeks, through the lowest jealousy, to lose him in the mind of the soldier, sometimes by passing him off as a counter-revolutionary, sometimes by spreading the rumor that he has emigrated and fled to Toulon. He alone attempts daring blows, and having made himself master of a fort which dominates Toulon, he would have taken that town in a week, if Carteaux had sent him the reinforcements he in vain asked for. One thing that must not be forgotten is that in the army of Italy, the traitor Brunet, the federalist Brunet, made La Poype pass for a Maratist and an outraged montagnard. Why? Because the staff of which he was the chief, had been composed by him only of Marseillois from the 10th of August and of Cordeliers. This is the truth. Make it known to your husband. Prevent from being oppressed the most patriotic general officer perhaps of all the armies, who has never contradicted himself; who has sacrificed his wife and child to the homeland; who began by besieging the Bastille with Barras and me; who since has not varied; who has worked for a long time with l’Orateur du Peuple; who was decreed in the affair of the Champ-de-Mars, etc, etc. I leave it to your so persuasive mouth to assert these titles.

I embrace you, divine Rouleau, dearer than all the rouleaux of gold and crowns that could be offered to me. I embrace you in hope, and I will date my happiness only from the day when I shall see you again. Remind me of your dear maman and of citizen Duplessis. Will you answer me? "Oh! no, Stanislas!” Please answer me, if only because of La Poype. Show my letter to Camille, for I do not wish to make a mystery of anything.

Lucile wrote a response to Fréron that has since gone missing, but it was clearly satisfying for him judging by his next letter, dated December 11 (incorrectly September 11 in the published correspondance) 1793 and addressed to Lucile:

No, my answer will not be delayed by eight months as you put it; the day before yesterday I received, read, reread and devoured your letter; and the pen does not fall from my hands when it comes to acknowledge receipt. What pleasure it gave me !... Pleasure all the more vivid than I dared to hope! You think, then, of that poor bunny, who, exiled far from your heaths, your cabbage, your wild thyme and the paternal dwelling, is consumed with grief at seeing the most constant efforts for the glory and the strengthening of the republic lost... They denounce me, they calumniate me, when all of the South proclaims that without our measures, as active as they are wise and energetic, all this country would be lost and given over to Lyon, Bordeaux and the Vendée. I did not deign to answer Hébert (Fréron (and La Poype) had been denounced at the Jacobins on November 8 by Hébert, who said he ”was nothing more than an aristocrat, a muscadin”). I thank your wolf for having defended me, but he, in his turn, is denounced. They want to take us one after the other, saving Robespierre for last. I invite your wolf to see Raphaël Leroy, commissioner of war for the Army of Italy, who saw me in the most stormy circumstances and the most critical situation in which a representative of the people has ever been. He will say if I am a muscadin, a dictator and an aristocrat. This Leroy is one of the first Cordeliers. Camille knows him; no one is in a better position to make the truth about La Poype and me triumph.

I dare say that never has a republican behaved with more self-sacrifice than your bunny. The fact that La Poype is my brother-in-law was enough for me to make it a rule to keep him away from all command-in-chief, albeit his rank and his seniority, but even more his foolproof patriotism called him there. From then on I foresaw everything that malevolence would not fail to spread. I’d rather be unjust towards La Poype, and make obvious privileges, than I’d give arms to slander, and make people suspect even that the most vicious motives of ambition or of particular interest were involved in my conduct for some reason. When Brunet was dismissed, what better opportunity to advance La Poype? He came to command naturally and by rank. He was the oldest officer-general of the army of Italy. Well! I dismissed him and we named the oldest member of the same army, a man who had only been a general of division for a fortnight, and yet La Poype wanted to sacrifice his wife and his child, saving the national representation, with the certainty that both were going to be delivered to the Toulonnais, which did indeed happen. And these are the men that the most execrable system of defamation pursues! Vulgar souls, muddy souls, you have lent us your baseness; you could not believe, still less reach the height of our sentiments; but the truth will destroy your infernal machinations; we will do our duty through all obstacles and disgusts; we will continue to be useful to the republic, to devote ourselves to its salvation; we will sacrifice our wives and our sisters to it; we will make to our fellow citizens the faithful presentation of our actions, our labors and our most secret thoughts, and we will say to our denouncers: have you produced more titles than us to the public esteem?

Dear Lucile, tell your wolf a thousand things from me; make sure he puts forward these reasons based on notorious facts. Pay him my compliment on his proud reply to Barnave; it is worthy of Brutus, our eternal model; I am like you; a gloomy uneasiness agitates me; I see a vast conspiracy about to break out within the republic; I see discord shake its torches among the patriots; I see ambitious people who want to seize the government, and who, to achieve this, do everything in the world to blacken and dismiss the purest men, men of means and character. I am proof of that. Robespierre is my compass; I perceive, in all the speeches he holds at the Jacobins, the truth of what I am saying here. I don't know if Camille thinks like me; but it seems to me that one wants to push the popular societies beyond their goal, and make them carry out, without them suspecting it, counter-revolution, by ultra-revolutionary measures. What has just happened in Marseille is proof of this. The municipals who had dared to give the order to two battalions of sans-culottes whom we had required to march on Toulon, not to obey the representatives of the people, and who, for this audacious and criminal act, were dismissed by us, were embraced and applauded in the popular society of Marseilles, as the victims of patriotism. Fortunately we have stifled any counter-revolutionary movement; the largest and most imposing measures were taken on the spot. Many intriguers who only saw in the revolution a means of making a fortune, or of satisfying revenge or particular hatreds, dominated and led society astray, all the more easily because they are interesting in the eyes of the people through the persecutions of the sections and a few months in prison. Do you believe that there were secret committees where the motion was made to arrest the representatives of the people? Within twenty-four hours, we have mixed up all these plots: Marseille is saved. It must be observed that this new conspiracy broke out the very day when the English pushed three columns upon our army before Toulon, and seized the battery of the convention, from which they were repulsed with a terrible loss on their side.

It is not useless to notice again that the aristocrats, the emissaries of Pitt, the false patriots, the patriots of money who see their small hopes destroyed by these acts of vigor, repeat with affectation what has been said about me by Hébert at the rostrum of the Jacobins. But the vast majority of true republicans do me justice. This is the harm produced by vague denunciations, made by a patriot against patriots. I see it well; Pitt and the people of Toulon, who doubt our energy because they have tested it on more than one occasion, want, by all possible means, to keep us away from the siege of Toulon, because it is known that we are going to strike the great blows. Well! let us be reminded; we are ready. The national representation did not cross our heads like so many others. Don't come here, lovable and dear Lucile, it's a terrible country, whatever people say, a barbaric country, when you've lived in Paris. I have no caves (cavernes) to offer you, but many cypresses. They grow here naturally. Tell your glutton of a husband that the snipes and thrushes here are better than the inhabitants. If it weren't so far from here in Paris, I would send him some, but you will receive some olives and oil. Farewell, dear Lucile, I am leaving immediately for the army. The general attack is about to begin; it will have taken place when you receive this letter. We are counting on great successes and to force all the posts and redoubts of the enemy with the bayonets. My sister is still locked up in Toulon. This consideration will not stop us: if she perishes, we will give tears to her ashes; but we will have returned Toulon to the republic. I thank you for your charming memory; La Poype, whom I do not see, because he is in his division, will be very sensitive to it. Farewell once again, madwoman, a hundred times mad, darling rouleau, bouli-boula of my heart; this is a very long letter; but I gave myself up to the pleasure of chatting with you, and I took the night for it. Tell loup-loup to write to me; he's a sloth. With regard to your reply to this one, it will probably take a year to arrive. What does it matter to me! On the contrary. It's clear as day. I remember those unintelligible sentences; I remember that piano, those melodies, that melancholy tone, abruptly interrupted by great bursts of laughter. Indefinable being!... Farewell. I embrace the whole warren and you, Lucile, with tenderness and with all my soul. Stanislas.

PS - Don't forget me to the baby bunny (Horace) and his pretty grandmother Melpomène. I would also like to hear from Patagon (Brune), Saturn (Duplain) and Marius (Danton). The latter must have received a letter from me. I will write to him again. Make sure Camille communicates the parts of this letter regarding La Poype, and that his eloquent voice pleads the cause of a friend always worthy of him, always worthy of the Cordeliers. Remind us of his memory, for we love him and are attached to him for life. Consternation is in Toulon. We have killed the English, at the last incident, all their grenadiers. The Spaniards are assassinating them with their stilettos. They have already stabbed thirty of them. It’s now or never to attack. So I am leaving; the cannonade will begin as soon as we will have arrived. We are going to win laurels or willows. Prepare, Lucile, what it is you intend for me.

In the fifth number of the Vieux Cordelier, released January 5 1794, Camille did like Fréron had asked and defended both him and la Poype, clearly using Fréron’s letter as a source:

Note here that four weeks ago, Hebert presented to the Jacobins a soldier who came to heap pretentious praise on Carteaux and to discredit our two Cordeliers Fréron and La Poype who nevertheless had come close to taking Toulon in spite of envy and slander; because Hebert called Freron, just as he called me, a ci-devant patriot, a muscadin, a Sardanapalus, a viédasse. Take note citizens that Hebert has continued to insult Fréron and Barras for two months, to demand their recall to the Committee of Public Safety and to commend Carteaux, without whom General La Poype would perhaps have retaken Toulon six weeks ago, when he had already seized Fort Pharon. Take note that when Hébert saw that he could not influence Robespierre on the subject of Fréron because Robespierre knows the Old Cordeliers, because he knows Freron just as he knows me; note that it was then that this forged letter signed by Fréron and Barras arrived at the Committee for Public Safety, from where no one knows; this letter which so strongly resembled one which managed to arrive two days ago at the Quinze Vingts, which made out that d’Eglantine, Bourdon de l’Oise, Philippeaux and myself wanted to whip up the sections. Oh! My dear Fréron, it is by these crude artifices that the patriots of August 10 are undermining the pillars of the old district of the Cordeliers. You wrote ten days ago to my wife ”I only dream of Toulon, I will either perish there or return it to the republic, I’m leaving. The cannonade will begin as soon as I arrive; we are going to win a laurel or a willow: prepare one or the other for me.” Oh! My brave Fréron, we both wept with joy when we learned this morning of the victory of the republic, and that it was with laurels that we would go to meet you, and not with willows to meet your ash. It was in the assault with Salicetti and the worthy brother of Robespierre, that you responded to the calumnies of Hébert. Things are therefore the same both in Paris and Marseille! I will quote your words, because those of a conqueror will carry more weight than mine. You write to us in this same letter: I don't know if Camille thinks like me; but it seems to me that one wants to push the popular societies beyond their goal, and make them carry out, without them suspecting it, counter-revolution, by ultra-revolutionary measures. What has just happened in Marseille is proof of this. Oh well! My poor Martin (this could be a reference to the the drawing ”Martin Fréron mobbed by Voltaire” which depicts Fréron’s father Élie Fréron as a donkey called ”Martin F.”), were you therefore pursued by the Père Duchesnes of both Paris and Bouches-du-Rhône? And without knowing it, by that instinct which never misleads true republicans, two hundred leagues apart, I with my writing desk, you with your sonorous voice, we are waging war against the same enemies! But it is necessary to break with you this colloquium, and return to my justification.

The very same day, Fréron wrote a third letter to Lucile. Again, the parts in italics were censored when the letter was first published in 1836:

You did not answer me, dearest Lucile, and my punctuality has so dumbfounded you that your astonishment still lasts. You had deferred my answer to eight months; you see if you are a good prophetess. I inform you with a sensitive pleasure (which you will share, I am sure) that my sister and my niece did not perish; that they found a way to wear themselves out in the dreadful night which preceded the surrender of Toulon. She is about to give birth. I informed her of the interest you took in her sad fate; she was very sensitive and asks me to show you her gratitude. Answer me then, lazy that you are, and ungrateful, which is worse. One breaks the silence after a year, after centuries, and one gets, as thank you, a few words written in distraction, Bouli-Boula, what does it do to me? The bunny is desolute; he thinks of you constantly; he thought about you amid bombs and bullets, and he would have gladly said like that old gallant: Ah! if my lady saw me! I realize with sorrow that you are upset, since Camille has been denounced by the same men who have pursued me at the Jacobins. I hope he will triumph over these attacks; I recognized his original touch in a few passages from his new journal; and I too am one of the old Cordeliers. Farewell, Lucile, wicked devil, enemy of bunnies. Has your wild thyme been harvested? I shall not delay, despite all my insults, to implore the favor of nibbling some from your hand. I asked for a month's leave to recover a bit; for I am exhausted with fatigue; afterwards I fly back into the bosom of the Convention, and I stealthily amaze myself on the grass with Martin on the paths of Bourg d’Égalité, under the eyes of la grande lapin? and in spite of your pots of water. You'll have neither olives nor oil if I don't get a response from you. You can tell me whatever you like but I love you and embrace you, right under the nose of your jealous loup-loup. Goodbye once more. Do not forget me to our shared friends. What has become of citoyenne Robert? A thousand things to your old loup-loup; I wanted to write to him, but time is short and the mail rushes me. Tell him to keep his imagination in check a little with respect to a committee of clemency. It would be a triumph for the counter-revolutionaries. Let not his philanthropy blind him; but let him make an all-out war on all industrial patriots. Goodbye again, loveliest of rouleux. My respects to your good and beautiful maman. Give my regards to the baby bunny (Horace). The letter reached Lucile within a week, but it’s with a tone less playful than Fréron’s that she answered it with on January 13 (cited in Camille Desmoulins and his wife (1874) by Jules Claretie):

Come back, Fréron, come back quickly. You have no time to lose; bring with you all the old Cordeliers you can meet up with; we have the greatest need of them. If it had pleased Heaven not to have ever dispersed them! You cannot have an idea of what is going on here! You are ignorant of everything, you only see a feeble glimmering in the distance, which can give you but a faint idea of our situation. Indeed, I am not surprised that you reproach Camille for his Committee of Clemency. He cannot be judged from Toulon. You are happy where you are; all has gone according to the wish of your heart; but we, calumniated, persecuted by the ignorant, the intriguing, and even by patriots; Robespière (sic) your compass, has denounced Camille at the Jacobins; he has had numbers 3 and 4 read, and has demanded that they should be burnt; he who had read them in manuscript. Can you conceive such a thing? For two consecutive sittings he has thundered, or rather shrieked, against Camille. At the third sitting Camille's name was struck off. Oddly enough, he made inconceivable efforts to have the cancelling reported; it was reported; but he saw that when he did not think or act according to their the will of a certain number of individuals, he was not all powerful. Marius (Danton) is not listened to any more, he is losing courage and vigour. D'Eglantine is arrested, and in the Luxembourg, under very grave charges. So he was not a patriot! he who had been one until now! A patriot the less is a misfortune the more. The monsters have dared to reproach Camille with having married a rich woman. Ah! let them never speak of me; let them ignore my existence, let me live in the midst of a desert. I ask nothing from them, I will give up to them all I possess, provided I do not breathe the same air as they! Could I but forget them, and all the evils they cause us! I see nothing but misfortune around me. I confess, I am too weak to bear so sad a sight. Life has become a heavy burden. I cannot even think - thinking, once such a pure and sweet pleasure alas! I am deprived of it… My eyes fill with tears… I shut up this terrible sorrow in my heart; I meet Camille with a serene look, I affect courage that he may not lose his keep up his. You do not seem to me to have read his five numbers. Yet you are a subscriber. Yes, the wild thyme is gathered, quite ready. I plucked it amid many cares. I laugh no more; I never act the cat; I never play my piano; I dream no more, I am nothing but a machine now. I see no one, I never go out. It is a long time since I have seen the Roberts. They have gotten into difficulties through their own fault. They are trying to be forgotten. Farewell, bunny, you will call me mad again. I am not, however, quite yet; I have still enough reason left to suffer. I cannot express to you my joy on learning that your dear sister had met with no accident; I have been quite uneasy since I heard Toulon was taken. I wondered incessantly what would be their fate. Speak to them sometimes of me. Embrace them both for me. I beg them to do the same to you, for me. Do you hear! my wolf cries out: Martin, my dear Martin, here, thou art come that I may embrace thee; come back very soon. Come back, come back very soon; we are awaiting you impatiently.

In number 6 of the Vieux Cordelier, released January 30 1794, Camille responds to Fréron’s critique regarding a committee of clemency while informing him that his father-in-law has gotten arrested:

Beware, Fréron, that I was not writing my number 4 in Toulon, but here, where I assure you that everyone is in order, and where there is no need for the spur of Père Duchesne, but rather of the Vieux Cordelier's bridle; and I will prove it to you without leaving my house and by a domestic example. You know my father-in-law, Citizen Duplessis, a good commoner and son of a peasant, blacksmith of the village. Well! The day before yesterday, two commissioners from Mutius Scaevola's section (Vincent's section, that will tell you everything) came up to his house; they find law books in the library; and notwithstanding the decree that no one will touch Domat, nor Charles Dumoulin, although they deal with feudal matters, they raid half the library, and charge two pickers with the paternal books. […] An old clerk's wallet, which had been discarded, forgotten above a cupboard in a heap of dust, and which he had not touched or even thought about for perhaps ten years, and on which they managed discovered the imprint of a few fleur-de-lis, under two fingers of filth, completed the proof that citizen Duplessis was suspect, and thus he was locked up until the peace, and seals put on all the gates of this countryhouse where you remember, my dear Fréron, that we both found an asylum which the tyrant dared not violate after we were both ordered to be seized after the massacre of the Champ-de-Mars.

Fréron was back in Paris by at least March 14, less than a month before the arrest of Camille and Lucile. He is not confirmed to have tried to do anything to save his friends. Following their death, he does however appear to have laid low. He is not proven to have spoken at the Jacobins following March 26, and so far I haven’t found any recorded apperances at the Convention either. I don’t think it would be completely out of the blue to speculate in whether his choice to play an active role in the fall of Robespierre (he was one of nine deputies designated in the thermidorian pamphlet Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal [sic] par neuf représentans du peuple contre Maximilien Robespierre, pour le poignarder en plein sénat (1794) to on May 24 1794 have formed a plan to stab him to death, and also spoke against the robespierrists during the session of 9 thermidor) to some extent was motivated by the urge to avenge his dead friends, especially since I can’t find any instance of Robespierre openly denouncing Fréron or anything to that effect.

When Fréron shortly after thermidor revived his journal l’Orateur du Peuple, he used it to rehabilitate Camille’s memory, but also used said memory as a weapon against the Jacobins. These are all mentions made of Camille and Lucile in the part of the journal currently digitalized:

[The Jacobin Club] threw from its bosom and sent to the scaffold the unfortunate Camille Desmoulins, who was guilty of no other crime than of having wanted to uncloak and put an end to those of this detestable faction. Number 7 of l’Orateur du Peuple (September 26 1794).

Camille Desmoulins to the Jacobins of Paris: Citizens, I come to open your eyes to the abyss that is growing under your feet. I have just lifted you from the lethargic sleep into which it seems that a genius enemy of our joy and your safety had plunged you. Frenchmen, wake up! Never have the scroundels that do not show themselves, but who make their numerous beutenans act, according to the expression of Legendre, been more, in labor of the counter-revolution. They feel themselves lost, carried away, like in spite of themselves and tears; so to speak, in the tumbril of public opinion. [”Camille” then goes on to conduct Fréron’s politics for approximately seven pages, most of the entire number.] As it’s Robespierre who signed my passport for the other side, and who had the attention to send my wife there too eight days later, it’s him I must thank him for the good that I have now. […] Number 9 of l’Orateur du Peuple (September 28 1794)

Have they (the Jacobins) overlooked and denounced the abhorrent tribunal of Robespierre and his co-dictators? No, they’ve even sent innocents there, such as Phelippeux [sic], Camille Desmoulins and many others. Number 28 of l’Orateur du Peuple (October 19 1794)

In Réponse de Fréron, représentant du peuple, aux diffamations de Moyse Bayle (1795), we also find the following passage:

You (Bayle) who plunged the dagger (for your pen was the knife of our colleagues) into the bosom of Camille and Phelippeaux [sic]: your features cannot freighten me; I am stronger than your insults. […] A constant truth today, in Toulon, is that at most there were a hundred and fifty rebels immolated in the national revenge. In this regard, I appeal to my colleagues Barras, Ricord, Crevés, Rovére and all the inhabitants of the Medi: if I had only told Moyle Bayle this small number, we would have been recalled and guillotined as moderates and as being necessarily the same as this poor Camille, of the indulgent faction.

And in Mémoire historique sur la réaction royale et sur les massacres du Midi (1824, published posthumously?) he writes:

During a dinner at citizen Formalguès’ where I found myself together with Legendre, Tallien, Barras and other deputies, the conversation fell on Camille Desmoulins, this child so naive and spiritual, murdered for having proposed a committee of clemency. I tell Lanjuinais, whom Camille had pleasantly called le pape of the Vendée, and who was sitting in front of me: ”But, Lanjuinais, if the poor Camille had lived, would you have him guillotined?” ”Unquestionably,” responded the jansenist. As I was very glad that other witnesses heard, from Lanjuinais' own mouth, this sweet monosyllable, in which his beautiful soul was depicted, I turned a deaf ear and began my sentence again. "Without difficulty, there is no question," resumed the holy man in an impatient tone; and thereupon one rose from the table, he made the sign of the cross, joined his hands, and said his graces.

Furthermore, Fréron stayed in touch with Lucile’s mother Annette Duplessis, helping her get back the objects confiscated by the state after Camille and Lucile’s execution, obtaining the pension their son Horace in 1796 had been promised by the Council of Five Hundred, and making sure Horace got a good education at the Prytanée Français (former Louis-le-Grand):

I have just written to Fréron, as we agreed. This is what I think you ought to ask of him: 1. Being your children’s friend, that he should take all neccesary steps in Horace’s favour with the committees. 2. That he should claim for him the family papers and his father’s manusscript. 3. That he should claim for Horace the family books; they also will be useful for his instruction; they are indispensable for the supply of his wants; besides, this justice has already been done to Citizen Boucher’s widow, therefore there is a precedent for it. Committees composed of the friends of justice ought to be proud to being useful to the orphans of patriots. Fréron and his friends cannot refuse to act in concert with you. Greetings and friendship. Brune in a letter to Annette Duplessis, March 3 1795

22 vêntose year 8 I’ve spoken to the Minister of the Interior, Madame, about your (votre) position and that of Horace with so much interest that you inspire in me. He finds it right that the son of Camille Desmoulins enters the Prytanée Français. He told me about it, but it is essential that the child knows how to read and write perfectly before his admission. I will have the honor of seeing you over the next décade, and we will discuss together the procedure to follow; I do not doubt for a single moment the success, based on the way the minister responded to me. You personally have not been forgotten. I told him (because he was unaware) that the National Convention had granted you a pension, which was not paid, and has never been paid, I fear. He is equally prepared to make you receive it. You must send me, 1. the Convention’s decree or the copy of it; 2. your demand or petition, without forgetting to specify since when your pension has not been paid. Citizen Omae? will arrive in 15 days. Yesterday I saw his wife who had just learned of the news through a letter he sent her this Thursday. A thousand hugs to the charming little Horace, and a thousands attachments to his good maman. On the first fine day I’m going to early in the morning read and re-read all the packages from Bourg Égalité and the idyll of the most lovable woman I have known. Salut and respect. Fréron. Fréron in a letter to Annette Duplessis, March 13 1800

Aside from these two letters, there’s also several unpublished ones, one dated February 20 1795 through which we learn that Fréron, with the help of deputies Aubry, Tallien, Ysabeau and Rovère obtained a reprieve on the sale of Camille’s confiscated bed and libary, which they managed to save for Horace, one dated March 1 1795 and co-authored by Fréron and Laurance to the commissioners handling the sale of the property of convicts of the section of the Théatre-Français, one dated June 17 1800 from Fréron to Annette regarding Horace’s schooling (all of these were mentioned in Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de république), and finally one dated April 27 1800 Fréron adressed to Duplain, promising his support to Napoleon so that Horace could enter the Prytanée Français (mentioned in Journaliste, sans-culotte et thermidorien: le fils de Fréron: 1754-1802 (1909).

Finally, according to Marcellin Matton, Fréron named his two children Camille and Lucile in honor of his dead friends. However, I’ve not found any information about said children (which, if they existed at all, must have been illegitimate since Fréron never married) anywhere, neither in Fréron’s family tree nor in the 1909 biography, so perhaps Matton is mistaken here…

#fréron helping take care of horace and selling his soul to naps so that he could get a good education is like his 1 redeeming quality #guy srs wrote ”i dream about banging you in that bed you’ve got there lucile” 🤤#desmoulins #camille desmoulins #lucile desmoulins #fréron #stanislas fréron #horace desmoulins #frev friendships #frev #ask #fréron having the dead camille guest write in his journal though…#brings a whole new meaning to the term ghost writer

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127luvr · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ ⋆ ࣪. ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪ ٬ ุ๋ ⸱

nct ‧₊˚✩彡

127

purple 🌕

4:47 am 🐱

1:04 am 🐱

good thing 🐱

05:45 pm 🌹

favorite (vampire) 🐙

09:48 pm 🐰

from home 🐰

day dream 🐰

dreamer 🐰

fool 🍑

paradise 🍑

timeless 🍑

love song 🍑

try again 🍑

forever only pt2 🍑

sorry heart 🐯

black clouds 🐯

child 🐯

vitamin 🐯

make your day 🐯

poison 🐻

be there for you 🐯🐻

1, 2, 3 pt2 🐯🐻

dream

it’s yours 👑

my first and last 🦊

irreplaceable 🦊

moon 🦊

02:52 am 🐰

la la love 🐰

teddy bear 🐰

all night long 🐰

rainbow 🐰

birthday party 🐰

make a wish 🐰

sweet dream 🐰

my love mine all mine (smau) 🐰

08:08 am 😸

better than gold 😸

dive into you 😸

rewind 😸

take my breath 😸

11:41 pm 🐹

walk you home 🐹

tangerine love 🐹

quiet down 🐹

to my first 🐹

romantic st 🐹

like we just met 🐹

starry night pt2 🐹

work it 🐹😸

best friend (all)

wayv

all for love 🐻

low low 🐱

07:13 pm 🐑

dream launch 🐑

round & round 🦌

shinee ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

6:20 pm 🐰

lovesick 🦌

just me and you 🐣

cravity -͟͟͞☆

00:31 am 🐱

give me your love 🐰

divin’ 🐰

txt ☁︎｡⋆｡

magic 🐧

3:56 pm 🐰

ateez ₊ ⊹✮

1:09 pm 🍓

seventeen ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰

all my love 🍒

heaven’s cloud 🐸

p1harmony ⋆ °‧𓇼

4:08 am 🦎

wei ⋱ ✧

dancing in the dark 🐹

#kpop masterlist #nct x male reader #nct 127 x male reader #nct dream x male reader #wayv x male reader #shinee x male reader #txt x male reader #cravity x male reader #ateez x male reader #seventeen x male reader #wei x male reader #p1harmony x male reader #x male reader #male reader insert #tried so hard to make sure I had the right designated emojis for everyone so if one is wrong kys #<3

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kpopbestie96 · 3 days ago

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Thank you Seventeen, LA for an incredible weekend 💜💕

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hyunpic · 1 year ago

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list of songs hyunjin has played on his lives/recommended:

note: im probably missing some & i couldn’t put links to all of them cause apparently tumblr has a link limit 🤨

lauv: julia, lonely eyes, invisible things, paris in the rain, never not, im so tired, the story never ends, i like me better

offonff: photograph, cigarette (ft. miso & tablo), dance, bath

beyoncé: crazy in love (remix)

billie eilish: i love you, &burn, idontwannabeyouanymore, ocean eyes, before i go, tv

honne: day1, la la la that’s how it goes

christina perri: a thousand years

shawn mendes: mercy, treat you better, in my blood

dvwn: phobia

dpr live: jam & butterfly

jehwi: dear moon

leehi: rose

bts: dna, waste it on me, make it right

colde: where love begins, string (ft. sunwoojunga), the museum, wa-r-r, your dog loves you (ft. crush), control me, a song nobody knows, im in love

got7: miracle, hard carry

justin bieber: lonely

josef salvat: call on me

taemin: criminal

night off: sleep

sam kim: make up (ft. crush), like a fool, sunny days summer nights

niki: lowkey

iu: the visitor, lullaby, knees, love poem, give you my heart, my sea

cha ni: starlight

sia: snowman

akmu: happening

sunwoojunga: run with me

the black skirts: everything

korea cracker: ocean (ft. hoyeon kim)

cosmic boy: can i love?

penomeco: no.5 (ft. crush)

yerin baek: blooming memories, limit

10cm: so…., however

day6: i’ll try, love me or leave me, when you love someone, you were beautiful, congratulations, zombie, days gone by, afraid

dean: d (half moon), instagram, what 2 do, bonnie & clyde

exo: first snow, the eve, love shot

sam fischer: this city

jukjae: do you want to walk with me?, lullaby

ph-1: nerdy love (ft. yerin baek), as i told you

baekhyun: love again, un village

amine: blackjack

young k: come as you are, guard you

flume: say it (ft. tove lo)

twice: dance the night away, fancy

ariana grande: thank u, next

hajin: we all lie

about: it has to be you

caroline says: winter is cold

h.e.r: u, wait for it

bol4: to my youth

monday kiz: winter is as i wished

paul kim: the road, additional

sweden laundry: the winter

jung seung hwan: in that winter

chungha: gotta go

zion.t: no make up, snow

airman: gloomy star, i’ll be your spring (ft. j_ust)

motte: dont run away

seventeen: a-teen, super

khalid: location

lukas graham: 7 years

imagine dragons: believer

bo kyung kim: dont think you are alone

jung ilhoon: spoiler (ft. babylon)

davichi: falling in love, 이 사랑

coldplay: everglow, viva la vida

lyn: my destiny

jus2: focus on me, long black, senses (jpn version)

crush: beautiful, you and i

ed sheeran: lego house, perfect, photograph, beautiful people

croosh: why

20 years of age: x

tori kelly: paper hearts

seulgi: always

luna: do you love me? (ft. george)

wisue: someone’s shining

epik high: eternal sunshine

jp saxe: if the world was ending

seori: fairy tale

bruno mars: marry you

the weeknd: earned it, die for you

jung seunghwan: its raining, an ordinary day, dear

sam tinnesz: play with fire

post malone: motley crew

jihyo: stardust love song

kim feel: your voice

sung sikyung: solar system, heejae

younha: stardust

wonpil: a journey

taeyeon: invu, some nights, toddler, drawing our moments

nct dream: boom

ha hyunsang: 3108

huhgak: memory of your scent

se so neon: nan chun, a long dream, midnight train, stranger

umi: remember me

tvxq!: mirotic

johnny balik: honey

red velvet: psycho

new jeans: hype boy

christian kuria: losing you

cigarettes after sex: k. , each time you fall in love, sunsetz, apocalypse

dpr ian: nerves, no blueberries, 1 shot

samm henshaw: broke

woodz: drowning

kelly clarkson: underneath the tree

kimmuseum: to you who cant sleep

taylor swift: betty

lana del rey: young and beautiful

harry styles: watermelon sugar, she

pink sweat$: honesty

masego: tadow

olivia rodrigo: vampire

troye sivan: youth, for him

kai: mmmh

2pm: my house

oasis: wonderwall, hey now

mac miller: that’s on me, everybody

nothing but thieves: amsterdam

bren joy: sweet

back number: i love you

mac ayres: next to you, roses

daniel caesar: blessed, ocho rios, get you (ft. kali uchis), take me away (ft. syd), do you like me?, disillusioned

green day: dilemma

puma blue: already falling

bruno major: nothing, easily, places we won’t walk, the most beautiful thing, old soul

#hyunjin song recommendations #<- so i can find it later for updates #i spent like 3 hours writing this and putting the links shdjdndb #maybe anon from yesterday finds this helpful!

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ieiwi · 6 months ago

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So here's the thing. All the companions in BG3 are overcoming some form of abuse, right? Like that's THEMATICALLY the whole connecting thread between the companions. Astarion has Cazador Wyll has Mizora (and arguably his father) Shadowheart has Shar Lae'zel has Vlaakith Karlach has Gortash (and Zariel) These characters are all unarguably abused and have to overcome the abuse put upon them, right? (Aside from that really really gross joke in the christmas thing that implied Wyll is into Mizora who has had him chained to her since he was SEVENTEEN, though I can't speak much to Mizora apologia since I don't see it often on my dash - still If I haven't and it does, that shit is wrong.) Why does Gale have to have so many people advocate that NO, actually HE was the bad guy in his story? Like from a writing standpoint, why would there be that anomaly? I genuinely don't know why the debate exists when

1) Mystra HAS memories of her previous incarnation and Midnight IS NOT MYSTRA, not entirely, she is in her current form (from what I can tell here) an amalgamation of her previous selves.

2) Mystra is KNOWN to have abused/lied to people in the past that were her 'lovers' such as Silverhand and Elminster himself, how much she 'remembers' is up for debate, but at the very least she seems to remember her relationship to Elminster.

and 3) The writing again and again codes her as being in the wrong for how she treats Gale.

I really truly do not understand the whole "Mystra is actually a really good guy who cares a lot about Gale" narrative. Is he perfect? ABSOLUTELY NOT. He made mistakes that continue to plague him a la the crown. Yet...he was still abused. He was at the VERY LEAST brought up to revere magic with the help of Elminster discovering his talent at eight and Gale certainly knew OF her (how much her spark of divinity that survived death knew of Gale personally is debatable but I wont get into that here) and moreover, she IS magic itself. She has a massive imbalance of power over Gale mentally and quite literally as a goddess! WRT the whole commentary by Minsc, I have serious doubts that it is factually true in Rashamen, though they do revere Mystra in another form, but I think the writing there was less about "hey lets have Minsc say something random" and more trying to evoke a VERY SPECIFIC IMAGE to the player with regard to mystra. What are we supposed to do with that? Not sure, but to say that people are completely off base when they think of grooming when it comes to Gale feels a little disingenuous when it comes to the writers putting that on the table; they put that there for a reason. So at the end of the day it seems to me just so impossible to read this as anything other than there being a clear narrative thread here regarding the origins and everyone seemingly trying to cut Gale out...and I truly don't get why?

#gale dekarios

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royjamielibrary · 1 year ago

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RoyJamie Recomendations — Works in Progress (Part 1)

“Name’s Jamie Tartt, mate.” And there’s something about the way his eyebrows arch, the way his smile changes, slants at the corners with arrogance like he thinks he’s doing Roy a favor introducing himself — “I’m your new executive sous.” He’s dropped his hand now, and Roy half-wishes he’d taken it while he had the chance, because now they’re just standing there, sizing each other up in some demented, testosterone-fueled parody of a staring contest, and it’s horribly awkward. Roy grunts. “That’s weird, because I think I’d remember it if I hired a fucking thrift store mannequin to work in my restaurant.”

He’s about to get into the driver’s seat when another flash goes off right in his face and some smirky fucker says, “So, you like taking it up the ass?” “Love it,” Jamie’s mouth says before Jamie’s brain can get in on the action. “Feels fucking great. Have a good day!” Or: the post-Season 1 fic where, Instead of self-destruction via reality show, Jamie tries self-destruction via public and very messy coming out. It works out better than expected.

There’s a part of Jamie that’s still thirteen and awestruck, or seventeen and infatuated, or twenty-two and bitter and still fucking obsessed, that still can’t believe he lives in a world where he gets to have stuff like Roy Kent inviting him over for tea. Can’t quite believe this is his life. Jamie’s summer, and beyond.

“Jamie. They want to have a season where the lead is openly bisexual, and they have men and women contestants. And they called me. Asking about you.” “Holy shit,” Jamie breathed, steadying himself against his kitchen counter. “They want me to be the fucking Bachelor?” or, jamie is the bachelor. roy is a contestant-but not by his own will. the world gets to watch them fall in love anyway.

In a world where everything is a distraction, his Master's thesis deadline is rapidly approaching and the pressures of academia are crushing, university student Jamie Tartt finds a unique safe space with a handsome broody man willing to help him get his work done, through positive or negative enforcement. At Nelson Road Cafe, incentives and coffee orders are customisable.

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ambiguouslady42 · 3 months ago

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Remember Summer Days - Chapter 3: How Are Things On the West Coast

Read Chapter 2 here.

Chapter 3 is here. This is just a passion project for me. I'm grateful for your time to to read my little fanfic.

Word Count: 2K

There's a lot of banter in this one. This will be definitely a slow burn.

I'll be posting this also on AO3 if you prefer that as well.

July 2007

Gojo was picked up on Hollywood/Vine by his driver. He remained silent on the car drive, pondering if Isabel would make it home safely. The evening was coming. He liked that Los Angeles had these cotton candy-coloured skies, and he began to notice the sun setting slowly. He checked his messages to see if Isabel had messaged him. The only text message he had received was from Suguru Geto.

[Suguru]: Hey, you doing okay? Are you coming back soon?

Gojo quickly responds. He knows better than to leave his best friend hanging.

[Satoru]: Yeah, heading back right now. Should be there soon.

What do 3 seventeen-year-olds do when one of them has enough money to swim in it? You rent a house in the Hollywood Hills. It was Gojo’s idea to rent the house because 1) He thought he’d be able to see the Hollywood Sign from where he was staying 2) He figured he could live the dream like a movie star living in the Hollywood Hills. The house was a mid-century modern house. There were large windows that showed various views of LA. Outside was a pool that oversaw the skyline. The house included 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a giant living room, a dining room, and a kitchen.

The house was located a stone’s throw away from the Chateau Marmont. If he wanted to, he could also just go hang out there and throw a party. However, the house felt more convenient to stay for the duration of the trio’s stay. Gojo walks into the home and sees Shoko Ieri sitting on the sofa nearby. Meanwhile, Suguru is in the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Satoru, where did you go?” asked Suguru

“Eh, just wanted to go check out some movies at a nearby record store,” Satoru answered.

“Oh yeah, what did you get?” Shoko interjected.

“I have Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Gremlins, and Back to the Future. Which of these 3 would everyone be interested in watching?”

Shoko was currently reading a fashion magazine that she had picked up on the coffee table. “Isn’t Gremlins a Christmas movie?” she asked.

“Arguably, it can be” responded Satoru.

“Dinner is ready” shouted Suguru. “I think Ferris Bueller’s Day Off would be a great watch. 3 kids skipping school to go out in a car. Sounds very familiar, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does” Satoru respond. At this moment, he just remembered to check his phone. He has yet to receive a text message from Isabel. He double-checks again, and nothing from the girl he had just met. Did she make it home okay? Should he have just given her a ride despite her protests?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Isabel had a bit of a commute. After the subway, she needed to transfer over to take the rail line at Union Station. She knew that it would only take a while to get home because of the wait times for the trains to come. However, Isabel knew to pick up the pace to get home. It was nearly sundown and she did have a curfew that she couldn’t break.

While on her way, she listened to her iPod. She looked at her phone and contemplated if she should message Satoru. She was anxious about texting him first because she didn’t want to seem too needy. She already displayed herself as a damsel in distress after nearly fainting earlier. God, how embarrassing she thought. She played with her phone while on the rail line. She’s nearly home.

“I’m sure he’s not really worried about me. Why would he? He just met me” she thought.

She arrives at her stop and starts making the quick walk home. As she arrives her mother greets her and asks what she purchased. Isabel shows her mother the Amélie DVD and the Interpol album that she wanted. She hugs her mother and thanks her for allowing her to make the purchase today. Her mother is quick to respond with a hug and welcomes her.

“Are you hungry?” Isabel’s mom asks in Spanish.

“Yes. All I had was a coffee earlier.” Isabel responds in English.

“You need to stop drinking coffee.”

“Why? It doesn’t impact my sleep. Plus, I needed it to finish my homework tonight.”

“Alright then, I’m just saying. Did anything else happen while you were out?”

Isabel ponders if she should tell her mother about the boy she talked to her earlier. However, she didn’t want to get her hopes up with Satoru. Isabel wanted to see if Satoru could be her friend. Of course, she would want something more; the truth is, she felt that she never stood a chance with him.

“No, just got the movie, the CD, the coffee, and hurried back here”.

Her insecurities stem from the way the last year has gone by. A boy that she had developed immense feelings for had used her to see if he could ask out her friend instead. In addition to this, she had a boyfriend for about a month and didn’t like that he was too handsy with her. Her boundaries were not respected and this relationship proved not to be very fruitful. Overall, the love department didn’t seem very lucky. The best things she had going for her were her music, Mariella, and the one or two people that she interacted with at school.

Once she finished her dinner, she closed the door to her room. Surrounded by music posters, pictures of art and buildings, she proceeded to walk to her desk where her stereo was. She went ahead and played her newly purchased album. She skipped immediately to the Heinrich Maneuver. She thought the name of the song was funny considering the act of performing the actual Heinrich Maneuver.

How are things on the west coast…

She looked at her phone and wondered if now was a good time to text Satoru. Her anxiety to seem desperate scared her, but he deserved to know that she was safe. After all, he was there to help her and walked her to her stop. No one just does that right?...

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The gang had just started watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Empty plates on the coffee table, the room was dark to set the ambience for movie watching. Satoru was waiting for his phone to ding.

“It’s been ages since I’ve heard from her. Where the hell is she?…” he thought

The vibration on the table was heard. It was Satoru’s phone.

[Isabel]: Hey. Thanks again for walking me to the station. Sorry for not letting you know sooner that I had made it home.

Satoru curled his lips upwards. His friends quickly caught sight of this.

“Who are you talking to?” Shoko asked.

“Yeah, what happened today?” Suguru questioned as well.

“I met a girl. She’s cool, but also so…frail.” Satoru responded.

“Huh. That’s not the kind of girl that you usually go for. I thought your type of girl was the feisty one who doesn't want you at all.” Shoko said.

“Well, what happened?” Suguru pried.

“I was just trying to find movies to add to my collection, the next thing I knew, there’s this girl just staring at me. I began to talk to her. She was pretty cool. She knew a lot about movies and music.”

Satoru is not one to shy away from talking to girls. He’s had his flings and relationships. They never lasted that long. He either got very busy with school or broke it off before he could get derailed from the ambitions that his family had set up for him. He knows he eventually will take over his family’s major company when he finishes his post-secondary studies. Everything had been laid out for him. Romance was very far from his mind. However, he took a liking to Isabel today. He just wanted to make sure she was safe. What was that about?

“Just be careful. We’re not here for a long time and nothing more can come from that.” Suguru said firmly.

“I know…” Satoru responds despondently. He wants to ignore this advice and talk to Isabel. He wonders what this could be, but he is aware that their future isn’t forever.

[Satoru]: Woman! Did something happen?

Isabel reads the message from her phone. She begins to laugh.

[Isabel]: Woman?! Who do you think you’re talking to?

[Satoru]: Oh, we got a badass over here. Well SORRYYY for worrying.

Isabel found herself amused. Also, slightly irritated because there was nothing to worry about. She is beginning to think he likely perceives her as weak.

[Isabel]: I’m not a weenie hut jr’s, dude. Also, who do you think you are to call me “woman”?

[Satoru]: Please. You should be flattered that I even spoke to you today. May I remind you that I helped you out earlier?

[Isabel]: Oh I’m sorry. Should I be grateful?

[Satoru]: Is this sarcasm?

[Isabel]: Maybe it is, Gojo.

[Satoru]: I told you, it’s Satoru, Izzy.

[Isabel]: Izzy? Who the fuck is that

[Satoru]: You, dummy.

[Isabel]: Hey!

[Satoru]: I bet you’re laughing, right?

Isabel liked that she was already on a nickname basis. However, she still felt apprehensive. She felt that maybe this is where the conversation should end.

Satoru changes Isabel’s contact name. A small smile appears.

[Izzy]: Anywho, cool talking to you. I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing with whoever you’re doing it with.

[Satoru]: My friends and I are watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. IZZY, do you want to have a day at the museum?

[Isabel]: Absolutely. I want to hold hands in the gallery with my friends and admire the art. There are a few art museums in LA that are worth checking out, but haven’t gotten around to them.

[Satoru]: What’s stopping you?

[Izzy]: No one to go with.

[Satoru]: Are you asking me to go with you?

[Izzy]: Pfft, no.

[Satoru]: What if I want to hang out with you?

[Izzy]: Don’t you have your own friends to hang out with too?

[Satoru]: They came a long way to hang out, but we all have our mutual interests too. Suguru likes books, and Shoko likes to shop and go to the beach when she can.

[Izzy]: They seem really cool.

[Satoru]: They are. You can meet them sometime if you want. They don’t bite

[Izzy]: Sure, if you’d like.

[Satoru]: I just said you can.

He was surrounded by his closest friends. So why does he feel the push to keep talking to her? At this point, Isabel is beginning to feel it’s now or never.

[Izzy]: When do you want to hang out?

Satoru sees that Isabel is making an effort to be open. He is not going to deny her his company. He has nothing to lose at the end of the day either.

[Satoru]: I know you mentioned that you’re in school, right? Unless…you want to skip school tomorrow?

[Izzy]: I shouldn’t. I’m free on Friday afternoon/evening.

[Satoru]: Sure. I’m definitely dropping you off home this time though.

[Izzy]: God no. It’s not necessary.

[Satoru]: I insist. I want to see you go inside your house.

[Izzy]: I live in an apartment.

[Satoru]: Same thing. I just want to make sure that nothing can happen to you.

Isabel was taken aback by this. Why does he insist on being chivalrous? He doesn’t owe her that. She is beginning to feel very comfortable with him too.

[Izzy]: There’s no big bad wolf outside. I’ll be safe.

[Satoru]: I will insist, woman. That’s the last that we’ll talk about this.

[Izzy]: Fine. Have you ever seen real-life tar pits?

[Satoru]: Can’t say I have. Doesn’t sound romantic.

[Izzy]: It’s not a date, stupid. I’m showing you how cool this place is.

[Satoru]: By taking me to some smelly pits.

[Izzy]: Whatever then. Meet me at the La Brea Tar Pits at 5 pm on Friday. We can walk to the art museum after.

[Satoru]: K, woman. See you then.

“ Idiot,” she thought. Now she’s thinking about what Friday will be like. How will the day play out? Will she bore him at the end of the day? Why would he even want to talk to her?

Satoru relays the information to his friends about his plans with Isabel on Friday. However, Suguru’s words ring back to his head.

We’re not here for a long time and nothing more can come from that.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x oc #gojo satoru x oc #jjk fluff #fanfic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #jjk headcanons #jjk reader

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