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cognitiveoverload · 19 days ago

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Nobody got you the way I do (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: One of your employees turns out to be a serial killer, and the BAU suspects that he might want to hurt you too, so they want to make sure you're safe. Hotch takes it a little too seriously, and there's a reason for that.

note: I'm not so sure about this one, I don't know why. But this is the robotics expert!CEO!reader story I mentioned in the poll.

tags: afab!reader, overprotective!Hotch, brat tamer!Hotch?

wc: 5.4k

“I told you not to bother me today.”

Your assistant, Lizzie, is the only one at this company who spends the entire day in high heels, which is why the familiar clicking sound lets you know it’s her who entered your private lab. Since you know who it is, you don’t even look up from the prosthetic arm you have lying on the table in front of you, connected to your laptop to spend the day fixing the damn thing. A deadline is coming up, and you took charge of this pet project of yours, this is why you are dead serious when you ask your employees to respect your request to leave you alone for now.

She lets out a hesitant hum as she steps closer to you, leaning down so you can hear her clearly even when she speaks quietly. “Two FBI agents are here to see you. They said it was important,” she tells you.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you look up to find two men standing there in the room. One of them is young, maybe a few years younger than you, and his eyes are focused on the prototype you’re working on. The other? Now, that’s an interesting situation. The other agent in question is someone you have met before, at a party over half a year ago, when he helped you talk to a suicidal acquaintance who decided to pick that night to jump off the roof of the building. Unlike his colleague’s, his eyes are fixed on you, making you feel like you’re currently being studied under a microscope.

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” you ask casually, folding your hands on the table.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid,” the older man begins, pretending not to know you. Well, if that’s how he wants to play, you’re happy to join the game. “Your company showed up as a link between the victims in a series of murders.” He puts a folder in front of you, waiting until you open it to take a look at the paper inside. “Is there anything they have in common besides being your ex-employees?”

You go through the list of names, and it’s instantly obvious what that thing is. “They were all fired,” you reply as you close the folder and push it back towards them.

Sadly, Hotch knows there’s more to the story, and he’s not afraid to pry for more information. “And? I know there’s something you’re not telling us. Why were they fired?”

“Corporate espionage.” While you don’t want to go into the details and think about these cases again, they both seem interested in hearing what it’s all about, so you let out a sigh and continue. “They were all caught selling confidential information to our competitors or anyone who was willing to pay enough. Classic case, nothing unusual.”

Reid bites his lips as he quickly thinks about something. “What’s the process if you have a case like this? What do you do?” he wonders.

“I usually let my Chief Security Officer take care of it. His name is Jonathan Hayes, he’s been with us since the beginning, so he knows everything about the company. He sits down with the employee in question with HR present, hands over the paperwork, and beside that, he consults the legal department to take care of the rest,” you explain.

“We didn’t find court documents,” Hotch points out.

With a small smirk, you shrug. “I don’t need scandals. We keep things quiet.”

The two men look at each other, then, as if there was a silent agreement between them, they excuse themselves and ask for a moment while they discuss something outside. With a shrug, you roll the swivel chair to the side to check something on the laptop, but moments after you begin to tweak the set of codes on the screen, your fingers freeze above the keyboard and your gaze shifts to the glass wall to take a look at them. Whatever they’re talking about, it surely involves you, because every now and then they turn your way. Perfect. They hopefully don’t think you used Hayes as your personal assassin or something.

A few minutes later they finally return, and it’s Reid who speaks up. “Can we talk to Hayes? We have some questions, hopefully he can help us out.”

“He’s on unpaid leave due to some family issue,” you tell them.

“Since when?” he asks with a frown.

You blow out the air you didn’t even notice you’ve been holding, and lean back in your chair as you think. “He left about a month ago. Why?”

Before Reid can speak up, Hotch takes a deep breath and steps closer to the desk. “Has he tried to contact you since then?” he asks, his voice laced with worry that you’re not sure his colleague can detect. But you notice, you’re painfully aware of it.

“He called a few times, but usually when I was busy doing something else.”

“So you didn’t talk to him?”

“Not really.”

“When was the last time he called you?”

That one you don’t have to think about. “Three days ago. He called me more and more frequently in the week before that, and since he didn’t stop even after I sent him a text to find my assistant, I decided to block his number until he returns,” you explain.

Reid turns to his boss when he hears this. “The timeline checks out, and his number being blocked might be what triggered the changes in his method and the messages,” he says quickly.

There’s a nod of agreement before Hotch turns back to you. “You need to come with us now.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. But Hayes will soon be looking for you, and we’d rather have you somewhere safe until we find him,” he tells you, earning a doubtful look from you.

Because you have a feeling Hayes stepped up to be their prime suspect, although it simply doesn’t make sense to you. If you don’t count this little phone call issue, your relationship is quite good, and he’s always so nice, so friendly. “He would never hurt anyone,” you tell them, deciding that ignoring them might be the best approach. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to ask you to leave now. I have a lot to do.”

“Listen to me,” you hear Hotch’s hushed voice once he leans over the table, “you’re not safe until we catch him, so put the attitude aside and come with us.”

With a huff, you look back at the screen and begin to type like they weren’t even there. But despite your best effort, his brown eyes are burning a hole into your skull, and you can feel the annoyance that fills him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say without looking at him.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Stop being a brat,” he tells you angrily.

“Did you just call me a brat?”

“Hotch?” Reid asks in the background, but he raises a hand to stop him. That doesn’t work, though, because the younger agent realized that he needs to intervene before things get out of hand. “We found messages at the crime scenes, and now that we know the real reason why those employees had been let go, it’s clear Hayes did this to protect you,” he explains.

This gets your attention and you finally look up from the screen to meet his eyes. “To protect me? How does killing them protect me?”

“He’s loyal to you, and he would go to great lengths to make sure you and your company are safe. To him, you’re like a family member he needs to protect,” he says.

Gulping, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “But he’s such a normal guy. Tough, sure, but murdering people?” you note with a desperate laugh. It’s insane, why can’t this madness happen to someone else?

“They often seem harmless,” he offers with a sympathetic smile. “Look, we need a list of the employees who were fired for corporate espionage or other major issues Hayes dealt with in the past.”

“Sure, I’ll ask my assistant to send you the list,” you assure them without hesitation.

But Hotch doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, because he moves around the desk to close your laptop, then helps you up from the chair. “You can make that call from the car. Let’s go,” he says as he lets his hand move to your elbow to lead you toward the door.

“Wait, I can’t go, I have a deadline, and an interview, and—”

“Now,” he says sternly, leaving no room for an argument.

For a moment there’s a staring contest between you two, but then out of the corner of your eye you notice Reid’s surprised expression. Maybe this isn’t the time for such an argument, so you put up your hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, just let me get my bag and laptop from my office,” you say as you yank your arm away and take the lead toward the elevator.

On the way out of the building, Reid starts a conversation with you about your work, but it’s hard to focus with Hotch’s hand on the small of your back as he leads you. He doesn’t look at you, and deep down you’re grateful for that. When you get into the car, you sit in the middle of the back seat so it’s easier to keep the chat with the younger agent going, because you’re happy to talk about your little projects with someone who truly appreciates the science behind your innovations.

He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, and the more you learn about him, the more you feel like in another life you could be friends, and you would probably ask him to work for you too. While the conversation flows freely, you don’t miss the way Hotch looks at you through the rearview mirror every once in a while, so when there’s a little break in the discussion, you take the chance to change the topic a little.

“Is he always this grumpy?” you ask Reid with a playful smile.

Before he can respond, Hotch rolls his eyes. “I’m not grumpy,” he states.

“Then serious.”

He exhales slowly, making it clear he has to force himself to stay calm. “I’m chasing serial killers, more people would die if I took my job too lightly,” he explains.

“So would a smile kill you?” you wonder, deliberately pushing his buttons.

“I think you should—” Reid begins his warning, but the other man is quick to interrupt him.

“No.”

You grab the back of his seat and lean forward to be closer. “Then why don’t you smile?” Hotch groans as he shakes his head, and you take the hint. So, once again, you change the topic as you lean back against the seat. “You know what? I’ll make a few calls and hire a security company to keep an eye on me in my own house, so I don’t need your protection. Also, you said Hayes—if he really is the killer, that is—was looking for employees we let go for certain reasons. As far as I know, I’m still the head of this company.”

Reid turns in his seat as he begins to talk. “Yes, but Hayes is getting impatient, angry, and based on the timeline you told us, it’s related to you ignoring his calls. He will get mad at you and try to punish you for that.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Why?” Hotch asks.

“Does it really matter?”

“I’m going to ask this one last time—why?”

Your silence gives Reid an idea. “Were you in a romantic relationship with him?”

“God, no, no, it’s just,” you begin, stopping for a moment to think. “He has a family, he’s always so nice to everyone, why would he do that? It can’t be to protect me.”

“His way of thinking isn’t exactly rational anymore,” the younger man begins, flashing an understanding smile at you. “As for the security company, it would be best if you stayed close to us.”

With a sigh, you decide to drop it for now. In fact, you want to let go of the conversation altogether. So, instead of putting up another fight, you unlock your phone and dive into your emails, ignoring the men’s existence for the rest of the ride.

••••••••••

Once on their floor, Reid leads you to an empty office, saying you can use that for the time being. It’s way darker than the office or the lab that you’re used to, but you don’t have the luxury to be picky, there is a lot to do before you can call it a day. The interview was transformed into an online one, the journalist promised to call you a little later, the board meeting that was scheduled for the afternoon was postponed to the day after tomorrow, and you gave yourself a new deadline as the prototype wasn’t here with you.

Yet, despite the long to-do list, you don’t interrupt Reid when he continues your previous conversation about your work, and soon you’re joined by Garcia, who charms you in a matter of seconds. Prentiss and Morgan arrive as well, shortly introducing themselves before leaving to get back to work.

But then the little gathering is coming to a halt, because Hotch shows up just to tell you that you can’t stay here. Instead, he wants you to use his office, saying he’d rather have you somewhere he can keep an eye on you. Garcia and Reid both watch you with visible confusion, which tells you it must be quite unusual, even for them. But you don’t feel like arguing, so you follow the unit chief down the hallway.

As you’re sitting on the couch, you can’t help but glance over at him every now and then, watching as he tries to catch up with the paperwork while they wait. For what, though, is a mystery, no one tells you anything regarding the case. Being left in the dark is definitely not what you’re used to.

Two hours later he returns to the office, but instead of coming in, he simply leans against the doorframe, brown eyes watching you with surprising softness. “How about getting some coffee?” he asks.

Now that’s something you can’t say no to. “You have coffee?”

A short, dry laugh follows your question. “We do, it’s terrible, which is why I was thinking about going to a coffee shop nearby. Want to come with me?”

“I thought I had to stay here to be safe,” you point out.

“It’s close and I have a gun,” he says with a barely visible smile. “So?”

“That would be great.”

He signals you to follow him, and, as if you were a trained puppy, you do exactly as he wants. While you pass the bullpen, you can’t help but notice the eyes of the members of his team, and you even hear the whispers behind your back. Do they suspect something? Did they notice that maybe you have met before this morning? Or what if Hotch told them himself? But no, if he did, he wouldn’t have acted like he didn’t know you.

In the car, there’s a comfortable silence settling between you, and it’s hard not to think about the night you met him. The party was boring, the usual shallow event where people could network and show off, but when a woman you knew came over to you to say a mutual acquaintance was on the roof, planning to jump down after receiving a phone call, things took an interesting turn.

Hotch was in the group you were both a part of in a conversation, and when he heard what happened, he offered to join you. It took a good half hour, but eventually he managed to convince the man to change his mind, and that’s when he told you about who he was. The rest of the night passed with a pleasant chat, learning a lot more about each other, and at the end he asked for your number, promising to call you soon.

Well, he never did.

But today, you’re willing to put that aside if he wants to act like you didn’t know each other. Instead of stirring drama, you inhale deeply and look out the window. “You know, it’s nice,” you note, breaking the silence.

“What’s nice?”

“Not being treated like I was some weirdo.”

For a moment, he turns his head to look at you. “That’s how people see you?” You let out a hum of confirmation. “Well, having Reid on the team helped us gain some experience in dealing with geniuses, I guess.”

“Look at that! A smile! You should smile more often,” you note teasingly, even biting on your lip before commenting on how much more handsome it makes him.

He shakes his head without glancing over at you. “You’re not letting that smile thing go, are you?” he asks.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think so.” Silence falls between you, because there’s something you want to ask, something you’re not sure you should bring up. But then you take a deep breath and speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re nice to me,” you say, then turn to look at him. “Why?”

Hotch takes a deep breath before looking at you, and you can see a slightly confused expression on his face. “As far as I know, it’s not a crime to be nice.”

“That’s true, still.” His eyes turn back to the road ahead, and you can tell that this was all, he doesn’t want to talk more about this. “So, I guess he wasn’t at home,” you then say, changing the topic. You know Morgan and Prentiss went to Hayes’ home, but neither of them told you about the result.

“No, he wasn’t. But we will find him,” he assures you.

“Are you sure I’m in danger?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He remains silent for a little too long, probably wondering how much he can tell you. “His wife left him about eight months ago and took their daughter with her. That could be a stressor. He focused on his job, where he once again found traitors, then he lost control.”

“That doesn’t explain why he would turn on me.”

“You’ve been ignoring him. You blocked his number. He’s getting angry, he kills more frequently. We found another body today, but this time it wasn’t a past or current employee. He will reach the point when he starts to blame you for his own actions.”

You look out the window on the side, watching the people on the street. “I don’t believe it,” you note, although this sentence is meant more to you than him.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” Your attention snaps back to him when he reaches out to touch your hand. “Take it seriously. Please.”

“Okay.” You look down at his hand, having a hard time deciding how the way his thumb massages your skin makes you feel. It certainly makes you think, and you don’t shy away from bringing it up. “We should probably talk about the elephant in the room,” you tell him.

But Hotch suddenly pulls his hand away and parks the car in front of a coffee shop. Even though he gets out, you stay behind, staring ahead as you think about this. Maybe you should tell them you’ll take care of your own protection, you won’t need their help any longer. It would be easier for everyone.

Eventually, you catch up, but after you both place your orders, there’s an argument about who’s gonna pay, although he shuts you down with a single look. So, you give up the fight and decide to remain silent until you arrange your trip to your holiday house in Aspen.

Then you take a seat in a booth, and he starts talking unexpectedly. “I thought we were having a fresh start, like we didn’t know each other at all,” he says, continuing the conversation that ended so abruptly in the car.

“You started that this morning when you introduced yourself like I was a complete stranger, I just played along,” you respond, although you’re having a hard time figuring him out.

He lets out a sigh, his fingers drumming on the side of the cup as he watches you. “I didn’t know where we stood after that night.”

“You disappeared, Hotch. You asked for my number and never called. I thought I misunderstood what happened, so I decided to move on, but don’t think it didn’t hurt.”

“I wanted to call you, but then I had one case after another and realized I don’t have the time to maintain a relationship you would deserve.”

You can’t help but snort. “You could have told me that instead of ignoring me completely.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can tell he’s being honest now.

It doesn’t make sense to you. He’s been sending you mixed signals since you met again in the morning, and deep down you want to clarify the situation before leaving. “Tell me this,” you begin as you lean closer over the table. “If you wanted to act like we didn’t know each other, why did you become so overprotective? Because that’s what you’ve been all day long; forcing me to come with you, keeping me in your office, and taking me out to get coffee.”

Hotch stops to think. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I know it’s probably hard to believe, but that’s the truth. I like you, and every time I read an article about you, or watch one of your interviews, I think about what things could be like.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared on me back then.”

“We can fix that now,” he says softly as he reaches out to take your hand.

But you don’t like the idea of him touching you, so you pull your hand away as you look elsewhere. “I’m not sure if I want it now. Maybe it’s already too late.” You can hear him let out a long sigh, which makes you turn back to him. “Look, when we get back, I’ll call a friend of mine to send someone who will escort me to my holiday house in Colorado. I’ll take my jet, it will be safe.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hotch,” you point out.

“I know, but you can’t leave. We don’t know when we’ll need you to help us with something. So, no, you’re not leaving. In fact, you’ll stay in my apartment, because I can’t leave you in the office.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you, as if you’ve just made a stupid joke. “No.”

••••••••••

You decided to be a good girl and didn’t put up a fight when he told you it was time to leave the office at the end of the day. You didn’t argue when he ordered food for dinner. You weren’t hostile when he started a conversation. You played his game, just like he expected you to, as if you understood why he was so keen on keeping you close.

You even offered him a chance to lure Hayes to the party your company was holding for the employees the next day. When he agreed to do it on the condition of him and his team attending too, you said good night, and went to sleep. But that didn’t last long, the moment you heard his bedroom door close, you sneaked out and returned to your office.

But the next day he found you. You were sitting behind your desk, signing a couple of documents your assistant left behind for you, when you heard footsteps getting closer.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, walking around your desk to stand right in front of you.

Morgan raised his hands to calm him down. “Hotch,” he warned his boss, but it felt like he didn’t say a word.

Because he completely ignored the other man, instead he focused on you, his eyes burning a hole into you. “You disappear in the middle of the night without a word? No one knew where you went, he could have found you!”

“Hotch, calm down, she’s safe.”

“Morgan, stay out of this, please.”

“Am I arrested?” you ask, keeping your voice calm and quiet.

He looks back at you. “No, but—”

“Then I can go wherever I want,” you tell him. “I don’t need your permission. Hell, you don’t even have proof that he’s after me.”

“But he could be, which is more than enough.”

“Unless you want to arrest me, please, leave the building. If you don’t, I’ll ask security to escort you out,” you inform him, already reaching for your phone to make the call if needed.

Hotch’s eyes soften, and you can see his desperation. “Don’t do this,” he asks you.

Silence follows his words, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning this one. So, rolling your eyes, you close your laptop and stand up, already moving past him to reach the hallway. If they want to stay, then fine, let them stay, but you’ll sure as hell not stick around. He doesn’t try to stop you, neither does Morgan, although you can feel both men watching as you disappear on the hallway.

You barely reach the first corner, though, when you find yourself face to face with Hayes, the very man they’ve been trying to protect you from. Fuck. But maybe you’re lucky, maybe he’s only here to pick something up from his office, maybe it’s a meeting, maybe it’s anything other than the need to hurt you. Flashing a friendly smile at him, you say, “John, I thought you were on leave.”

“There’s something I have to take care of,” he says, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you.

“Okay. I’ll spend most of the day in my lab, so if you need anything, you kn—” You don’t finish the sentence, because he suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at you. “John, put that away,” you try weakly.

Hayes closes the distance between you to grab your arm and yank you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

“There are innocent people here, don’t do something you would regret later.”

“This has to be done,” he says, and you can hear the determination in his voice, mixed with a hint of insanity.

Before you could get far, though, you’re both stopped by a familiar voice when Hotch's angry voice cuts through the air. “Hayes, let her go,” he instructs.

The man steps behind you and pushes the barrel of the gun at your head. “No! Take one step closer and I’ll shoot her.”

“You only wanted to protect her and the company, didn’t you? Killing her would ruin your plan,” Morgan tries to reason, although you’re not quite sure he’s in the right state of mind to process that properly.

“She doesn’t appreciate what I do for her.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“No! She didn’t say thank you after I punished those people, she didn’t even answer my calls and messages.”

You gulp, feeling like this whole mess is your fault, that maybe if you talked to him, you would’ve found out what he did sooner. “John, please,” you beg him.

“Shut up!”

Before anyone else could speak up, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye when the assistant of one of the deputy CEO’s steps out of the main meeting room, and she cries loudly when she notices the weapons. “What’s—Oh my god!” she says, her voice laced with panic.

This averts Hayes’s attention, and he lets go of you just enough to give Morgan the chance to shoot him. You look down at the body on the floor, blood pooling around him as the agent comes closer to check his pulse. “He’s dead,” he announces, turning to his boss before looking back at you.

You’re crying, you can’t stop yourself, and you’re only pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Hotch’s worried voice as he moves closer and extends his arms. “Come here.” You don’t even think about it, you only follow your instincts and let him pull you into a tight hug. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe,” he whispers to you, then turns to his colleague. “Morgan, take care of this, I’ll take her back to her office.”

“Okay, you got it,” comes the answer.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to come with me,” you note as you step away from him and wipe the tears away. “Would you like me to evacuate the building?”

“No, only close this floor.”

“Sure.”

Hotch grabs your shoulders and turns you back to face him. “Look at me.” When you do, he goes on, his voice soft and worried. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you mumble.

“You’re pushing me away, but you shouldn’t be alone now.”

You shrug. “Then Morgan could stay by my side until you are ready to let me go.”

“Hey, I think it would be better if you stayed with Hotch,” the agent says.

“What did I do to you? Did I hurt you?” you ask him, sounding as serious as you manage in this situation.

Morgan groans as he rolls his eyes at you. “Come on.”

“You’re childish, and stubborn, and getting on my nerves now,” Hotch states impatiently. “Let’s go, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“About Hayes holding you at gunpoint.”

“But you saw what happened.”

“Not the whole thing.”

Since there is nothing you can do considering you’re expected to work together with them, you follow him to your office, where you lean against the desk with your arms defensively folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you inform him.

Hotch scoffs, giving you a disapproving look. “You left my house and he almost murdered you. Since when does being worried about you count as overreacting?”

“And why are you worried? Who am I to you exactly?” you ask in an attempt to challenge him.

He watches you for a short while, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on inside his head. But then, out of nowhere, he places a hand on your neck and pulls you into a kiss. A soft one that’s full of emotions, something he’s been planning to do for a while now. “It’s up to you,” he says quietly, staying close to you.

“That’s emotional blackmail,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you were telling this to yourself.

He lets out a short laugh, the big smile remaining in place. “Not quite.”

“Hotch, please, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says as he shakes his head. “Have dinner with me. Tonight, before I’m dragged away for work.”

“I can’t.”

You don’t miss the disappointed look on his face as he steps back. “Of course you can’t,” he notes bitterly.

Tilting your head to the side, you reach out for his hand. “Hey, the gala, remember? That’s tonight.” Finally, he remembers. “How about a deal? You join me as my plus one, and we can talk.”

“You’ll ignore me.”

“I won’t.”

“And if you do?”

A playful smile appears on your lips. “You don’t trust me?”

“I just want to make sure you keep your word,” he points out while he laces your fingers.

“Ouch. I’ll behave.”

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead, then flashes a smile at you. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Before he could kiss you again, Morgan knocks on the door and watches the pair of you with a teasing grin on his face, but seeing the look his boss sends his way, he decides to leave this for now. Instead, he gives him an update. Despite the conversation happening in your presence, you can’t focus on their words. You’re busy studying Hotch’s face, getting lost in those eyes that caught your attention months ago. Maybe this time he’ll stick around and stop ignoring you.

Maybe this time it can work out.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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hyperballart · 6 months ago

Text

last nite

art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader !

art and patrick aren’t exactly subtle, and you are the push they didn’t know they needed.

(18+ pls!!)

author’s note: that one bitch (me) who doesn’t play about homoerotic friendships… this is mostly artrick but they all get nasty trust!

the swishing of the cheap beer from art’s mini fridge overlaps the song playing from the radio. it was something you recognized from this new york band you really liked—your friend had gifted you that record for your birthday a few years prior—you hummed out the tune as you sat on the desk chair of your friend’s dorm room, periodically lifting your gaze to the two boys also sharing the space.

you and patrick met at a local band’s show, that same night ended with you being pushed into the dark bathroom of the bar it was held at and you nearly swallowing each other’s tongues. he whispered into your ear about how good you tasted, how nice your ass felt in his hands, how fucking sexy you looked dancing out there. and after he bent you over the sink to get a taste of your sweet cunt and you returned the favor, the brunette gave you his number—it surprised you, that he wanted to continue seeing you and maybe take it further. it wasn’t until a couple hangouts that you met art.

he was by definition a good boy. always respectful and cordial around you, sweet, and even bashful at times. you coincidentally attended the same university—even shared common friends other than patrick. the three of you became well acquainted quickly. movie nights in art’s dorm when patrick came to visit, night drives to the beach, it was all simple and fun.

of course you and patrick hooked up whenever he came around, which seemed to frequent as he was on a month-long break from tour. on one of those particular nights, as you were riding him, somehow the topic of art came up.

“saw him at practice last week,” you take his earlobe between your teeth and slightly tug, “he’s really good.”

patrick stutters his hips and unwillingly twitches inside of you, as if images of his best friend playing flashed through his brain in those few seconds, “fuck, yeah he’s always been good.” his brain is too foggy to comprehend that he’s given away something you’ve been suspecting for a while—and you’ll keep digging to find what you really want.

you look down at him on the bed and notice how his mouth has dropped a bit further and his eyes become more slanted, you push your fingers into his mouth which he automatically starts to suck, and you ride him until he’s whimpering around them and filling you up. you’ll get something else out of him soon.

the next time happens to be the night right after, you’re at your favorite ice cream place and decide it’s the right time to keep prodding.

“you and art—you seem pretty close—how long have you known each other again?” you scrape the sides of your cup from the melted treat and look at him eating his.

“well, we went to boarding school together,” patrick speaks with some waffle cone bits crunching in his mouth—a horrible habit of his you have come to detest from the few months of knowing him—“we shared a room since we were 12, i think i’ve mentioned this,” he swallows everything in his mouth down and continues, “we are pretty close. we’d get teased for it a lot in school—i never really gave a fuck but you know art. he takes things to heart.”

“right, i can see that,” you didn’t exactly plan out how you were going to lead him to where you wanted but you get an idea, “i wanna know more. tell me some fun stories, i can imagine you two got up to a lot of trouble,” you fully turn to face him in your seat.

he racks his brain for a while and eventually, “one time i got caught with porno magazines under my bed and i blamed art. it was this whole thing—his grandma gave him an earful over the phone—god she was pissed,” a chuckle leaves him as he recalls the story, “anyway, we almost got kicked out and he didn’t speak to me for weeks. can’t remember how we made up or how i even got in possession of those magazines but we definitely learned our lesson.”

you’re giggling, “god you’re awful, what else have you put poor innocent art through?”

he turns to face you now, “i taught him everything he knows,” a smug smirk slowly takes over his expression, “ taught him how to kiss and how to jerk off. poor thing didn’t even know how to handle morning wood before i showed him.”

and there’s your chance, “so you two have like…”

he pauses and takes in your assumption, “oh god no, not like that,” a hand runs down his face quickly as a laugh of disbelief leaves him. “we’ve never—would never go there, you know? no shame to anyone who does we just—it was practice before we started dating and all that. was just helping him out.”

and well, that gave you enough of an incentive.

now you’re all in art’s dorm, a little buzzed from the alcohol and tired from a day at the beach. patrick sits on a small couch with his legs spread. both boys have decided to forgo their shirts, only in their swim trunks—patrick’s much shorter than the blonde’s. you still in your bikini top and tiny jean shorts.

“what about that girl you were seeing, what’s her name again?” patrick interrogates a clearly agitated art who sits on the floor rolling his eyes.

“i told you that’s over, she wasn’t looking for anything serious and i found out the hard way.”

“he means he saw her making out with one of his buddies at a frat party,” you add smirking over your bottle.

“okay, fuck off first of all—“

“hey, man calm down, look—“ patrick interjected, “there’s lots of chicks that would bang you, i’m sure a pretty boy like you has no problem getting laid. go charm up some nice girl that volunteers at the soup kitchen on her free time and—“

“fuck you patrick.” there’s no malice behind his words though—and you can spot the blush that takes over his pale complexion at the previous remark as he shakes his head. “it’s easy for you to say,” he looks up at you as he says it, “you guys fuck like rabbits any chance you get.”

“is that what it is then? you being pent up?” you cut in. “there’s lot of girls here who would love to fuck you, artie. you’re telling me none have caught your eye?”

art is silent, looking to see what patrick was thinking, but the latter simply looks curious—excited almost— and so he just sits picking at the hem of his shorts.

“oh i get it,” you continue, “you’re jealous. you think i’m taking your precious best friend away, don’t you?” you slide down from the chair to take a spot right next to him and whisper the next thing so only he hears, “you are jealous. don’t worry, we can share him.”

you pull back to see his pupils dilated and his mouth slightly parted, in shock and arousal—maybe even in acceptance. you can’t help the small grin as you look from him to the other still sitting on the couch, you can see his chest rising a bit heavier now.

you feel that as an agreement from both as you perch on the bed and call them both to follow at each of your sides. you can feel them eyeing you and for a split second, you see them staring at each other in a way that surpasses anything platonic they insist on having.

when you feel them both lean in to opposite sides of your neck you halt their movements. a look of confusion passes through their faces as they wait for you to explain.

“i think you guys have some making up to do,” the look on their faces creases further, “art, aren’t you curious to feel what his lips are like again? i have a feeling he has improved greatly since you were 13.”

art’s face falls, he looks at patrick in annoyance, “you said you would never tell, dude what the fuck.”

patrick just shrugs, still wanting to proceed. “i told you, that was only for practice. we’re grown now.”

“sure,” you pretend to let it go and you have on a stupid smile that he just wants to kiss off your face. you start leaning towards patrick and grant him that wish, using your hand on his jaw to give you access to his tongue. it quickly becomes heated, you land on his lap and grind yourself on the hard bulge in his trunks. his big hand gropes your ass and he moans greedily in your mouth. you pull away and let him suck and nip on the length of your neck before looking at art, who looks pitiful with his mouth hung open and his eyes lingering on the spot where patrick is occupied. a smirk returns to your swollen lips.

you tug on patricks hair and swivel even harder on his dick, leading to him groaning out a fuck me baby, and you swear you see art’s cock twitch under the layer of thin clothing. you leave patricks lap despite his efforts to keep you there, now sat on the pretty blonde who can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. you stop his stressing when you place both of his palms on your hips, trailing them up to your barely-covered tits where he gives a soft squeeze and lets out a little whine. you finally lean down to kiss him and it’s as you’d expect from him—tentative and soft. a kiss you’d get from a boyfriend after a nice dinner date—not from whatever this was.

he lets out hums and low moans, but you can tell he’s getting desperate. god knows how long it’s been since he’s fucked something other than his hand. you pull away and return to your spot between them. they instantly both try to catch your lips, it’s messy with all three of you licking and sucking and kissing. at this point no one knows whose mouth is whose, and it doesn’t even matter because suddenly you’re pulling off. you lean back to catch your breath and then you see them.

they lick into each other’s mouths, art is mewling and patrick grips his curls to hold him in place. they seem to catch on after a ridiculous amount of time but when they do, they stare at you while they’re heaving breaths.

“are you guys gonna take care of that?” you look down at their laps, both having matching leaks of pre bleeding through their shorts. “come on get them out, you’ve seen each other plenty before right? nothing to be shy of.”

they both listen, each erection slapping up and standing on its own. it’s obscene and you dont think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. art’s cock is so pretty—you think—pink and curved. he is smooth, you always had assumed he would be anyway. you can tell he takes good care of himself, his balls the same flushed pink he gets on his cheeks when you tease him. the tip of him is so red, a dribble of white streaming down when he notices your attention on his cock—you almost coo at it when it twitches.

then you look at patrick. that same cock you love and worship. he’s thicker in girth, your pussy pulsates when your mind trails to the stretch he gives you. his balls are heavy, and he doesn’t ever fully shave them. you like them like that—the musk and how they give friction to your clit when hes fucking you. he’s also drooling from his tip. you decide to start off slow.

you scoot forwards and extend your arms to their laps. each one of your hands holds them and at the contact, they can’t help but buck their hips. you think it’s adorable to see them synchronized like that.

“ah, shit!” patrick throws his head back and looks down at you jerking him off, then looks to his right at the other cock in your hand and shakes his head in disbelief, “i can’t—fuck—i can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“i see the way you look at him, pat,” you quicken the speed of your hands and both of them cry out, “i gave you both what you wanted, handed on a silver fucking platter. i think you should be a little more grateful. in fact, my hands are getting tired,” and with that, you cut all contact with them and you can quite literally see them wilt.

“wha- no, please,” art manages to get through a whine, “my hand doesn’t—it doesn’t feel as good i’m so hard it hurts, please—“

“who said anything about using your own hand?”you cut him off.

patrick hesitantly stretches his arm over his friend’s lap, “we’re just,” his fingers make contact with art’s dick and he almost drools, “helping each other out.” an experimental tug has his back arching and makes him shut his eyes tight.

“pat-patrick—oh fuck.”

one would think art already came by how much he’s wetting his friend’s hand, and patrick seems to be mesmerized by the sight. “holy fuck art, look at how much you’re spilling,” as if on cue, that makes him squirt out more. art is gripping his sheets and his eyes dart from the hand stroking him fast and the boy in front of him.

“i’m—don’t go so fucking fast,” art tries to get out, “it’s been a while if—nghh—if you don’t slow down i’m gonna—fuck!” patrick clearly enjoys this as he can’t help laughing at his state.

“don’t tell me you’re a virgin, artie,” he slows down but continues teasing, “thought i taught you how to hold off better than that.”

and while you’d love to keep watching art squirm under his torture, you stop him, “i got an idea.”

patrick reluctantly pulls away and they both now stare expectantly, “push both of your cocks together, here like this—“ you direct them to sit with their legs spread in front of each other, overlapping and then you position them how you want them.

they can’t even speak, they’re just panting and looking down at the contact until you continue, “come on pat, hold both of them together,” you watch as he does so and grimaces trying to hold off, “look at that, your tips are kissing—how cute.”

they both whine and patrick mutters a shut up under his breath.

after a minute of heavy breathing, patricks large hand slowly strokes down on both of their cocks. it’s so wet, the sound of the slicking lewdly filling up the room but the sound of their cries is almost enough to drown it out. art is almost sobbing at this point, you’ve never heard someone sound so desperate. they almost can’t bare the friction of each other, their tangled legs twitching and shaking.

you almost start to get annoyed at how slow patrick is going for the sake of making the feeling last, but in a way you think it’s sweet. the years they’ve held off on each other finally leading to this—they deserved it. you’re still annoyed tho.

“go faster,” as the words leave your mouth they both mewl and shake their heads, “you look so hot like this, i’m so wet. i’m thinking of letting you both fuck me—at the same time. just like this, both in my cunt,” patrick’s hand loosens his grip he is almost shivering now, he has to hold off, “why’d you let go, hm?” you pull his hand back on, “i want you both to imagine it, it’s gonna be a tighter fit than this,” you pull your hand over patrick’s and tighten the grip hard, “there you go.”

art can’t even make out words anymore, the second he heard you say you wanted them both at once, his ears started ringing. as if that wasn’t enough, the tightened grip made him moan out pleas over and over. when he looks down, he knows he can’t hold longer and he lets you both know, “i’m gonna, i can’t it’s too much, too much, too tight i—“

you take this as your chance to do what you wanted since you saw the tent in his shorts, you lean down to where they are connected and suckle on his tip and that does it. he sobs out a curse and starts twitching, he cums all over your lips and patrick, you can’t believe how much is coming out of him.

patrick just about loses his mind when he sees it all happen. it’s a miracle he lasted over two minutes like this and he’s about to pass out, “oh fuck me, yeah fucking soak that dick—oh god— you’re so wet—how do you get this fucking—“ he suddenly yanks art by his neck and fucks his tongue into his mouth again, and even tho he is still dizzy from his orgasm, he kisses back just as messily. that’s the final straw for patrick to cum all over them and squeeze their tips together for the last time that night.

you watch it all happen with a lazy smile. they both lay down, still out of it while you scratch their heads gently and murmur sweet affirmations to them. you’re between them and it feels just right. you don’t need to talk about what happened just yet. just sleepily kiss each other until you knock out.

they’ll make up not making you cum tomorrow, you can picture them both licking between your legs and when they take turns suckling your clit, you’ll pretend not to notice how they’re jerking each other off out of your sight <3

#dont know how to feel about this tbh #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #artrick x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fic #challengers smut #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #my writing

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genderkoolaid · 2 months ago

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Translated with Google and edited for clarity

Transgender men in Mexico suffer the same type of violence as trans women, but they tend to remain silent and not report it due to gender stereotypes that impose the idea of strength on men, LGBT rights activists agreed on Wednesday. Davien Gómez, a transgender man originally from Guadalajara (western Mexico), told EFE that this sector faces attitudes of devaluation in society, since many of them are in a process of gender transition in which their feminine features have not completely disappeared. “Since they are perceived as women from the start, they have this idea that they will always be women. There are [transmasculine people] that do not have a phallus, but that see themselves as cisgender men, so there is not so much of a problem as long as no one knows, but if they do not [pass as cis, they think,] "how can I consider you a man if you look like a woman?” he said. The activist from the Impulso Trans organization stated that this devaluation is present not only in front of acquaintances or in work and family environments, but also when trying to establish emotional relationships in person or on dating apps focused on the LGTBIQ+ community. Impulso Trans and the Existimos Foundation conducted a survey among trans men in various states of the country, in which they found that 80.2% of the participants have experienced discrimination and violence, but 9.9% of them do not know how to identify it. In the data released within the framework of the LGTBIQ+ Pride month, it stands out that 54.9% of transmasculine people experience violence in the family, 50% at school, 33.5% at work, 38.5% on the street and 34.6% when requesting a service in public institutions. Adrián Arellano, a trans man, told EFE that sometimes violence arises because people have an idea of what it means to be a man, dictated by a heteronormative system in which only what is conceived as masculine is valid. “There are people who believe that all trans men want to have a beard and want to look 100% like a [cis] man, if we don't get to that point we continue to be treated as women,” he explained. Worse still, transgender people face verbal and physical violence because of their appearance or gender expression, attacks that extend to those who identify as non-binary, although transgender men tend not to report them, Gomez added. “It doesn't have the visibility that transfemicides have (...) there is a huge invisibility towards the trans male community and it is very strange that transmasculine people cannot say what happens to them because of this sexist idea that men have to put up with it or that nothing happens to them,” she said.

According to the survey conducted in early 2024, trans men who have experienced violence or discrimination do not file a complaint because they do not know how or where to do so (31.9%), because nothing will change (23.1%) or out of fear (19.2%). Izack Contreras, coordinator of Impulso Trans, told EFE that while it is common for trans men to remain silent out of machismo or to act tough, they also do so because they do not know how to recognize or differentiate violence. “We don't recognize violence, we don't know when I'm experiencing violence or discrimination and I don't know where to go or how to report it or what to do, in general. Add to that the fact that the justice system doesn't work, so we report it, but nothing happens,” she said. Of the survey participants, they found that in 6.6% of cases there was no change among those who dared to report, 3.8% of them were re-victimized, and in 2.2% of cases there was reparation of the damage. Based on these results, both organizations will launch a campaign to make the problems of the trans male community visible, “to make them aware of the violence they may experience, to inform them of the places to go if they are victims and to generate a culture of respect in different areas of society,” explained Contreras.

#m.#examples of transandrophobia

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cherie-doll · 7 days ago

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What if our MW Boys were in their teenage years and Reader is a Cheerleader?

oh, so we hitting that high school au?

ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з

ଘ Price notices you slack off in class sometimes, but he's not close enough to offer you help. So instead, you are trying to figure out who is leaving notes in your locker and slipping outlines of class into your textbooks. In the library while you might be falling asleep from staying up late the previous night practicing for the upcoming school game, he is peeping at you over his book to quietly chuckle to himself at your sleeping form. He might correct or scold anyone else who is slacking off, but he gently corrects you and guides you to help you stay on top of your studies. His reward in this is just getting to be acquainted to you, otherwise you wouldn't associate with him since there is little to nothing in common between you two.

ଘ Simon being that quiet, tall and brooding kid everyone's too scared to approach but is crushed on by half the school. He receives a ton of love letters and confessions in his locker but he always throws them away. Sometimes, he doesn't even spare a glance at them before he's discarding them. He's almost always seen at the bleachers when you're doing practices with the rest of your team. He's the only one there who stays for the entire practice, from beginning to end, observing the routine. When you're not looking you can feel as if eyes were on you, burning into you as you moved. Yet, he always left before you were able to approach him. The other cheerleaders tease you for having a "stalker".

ଘ Johnny is that hot jock who's always had a crush on you. Well, he's dated a lot of girls but really you're the only one who's had him stuttering and nervous to ask you out. He takes you seriously but is afraid you'll reject him. He's seen you reject anyone else to asks you out, so he's afraid you'll barely spare a glance at him before ignoring him. He enjoys throwing parties but does it mostly in hopes that you'll show up, yet he's hesitant to approach you and when he does it's small talk that leads no where for him. For the first time in his life, he's looking down, biting his lip and awkwardly smiling trying to crack jokes to make you laugh. It's sort of cute seeing him flustered.

ଘ Kyle is the one friend who's stuck with you since you were new in school. He's the one who helped you with all your classes, with his gentle smile and warm eyes that made you feel like it was going to be alright. He had noticed you staring at the poster for the cheerleader tryouts and encouraged you to join. If it weren't for him, you'd never have made it. Not only was he a good friend, but an excellent role model of a student; straight A's and all got along with teachers and most students. He came to school in neat yet fashionable clothes, he looked so put together and you don't think you've ever seen him be stressed out even when it seemed like he was balancing so many things at once. He invites you out to the movies and other outings that could almost count as dates, is he trying to hint at something?

ଘ Roach is that secret admirer of yours you've been receiving gifts and letters from since the school year started. You don't know it's him because he's always sitting at the back of the classes he's in with you and is in the crowd, excited to see you when you're at games. He didn't reveal it was him until a school dance came around and you decided to give him a chance. Hey, he's kinda endearing, why not? He wasn't bad looking, that's for sure. You found his love to be a little of a puppy love, him sticking to you when he could and following you around. But he grew a little more confident and would take you places and show you things. "Hey, I want to show you something cool". And he'd have the most interesting, and a little weird, interests to fascinate you with. But he really did know what you liked, which was a huge difference to you from the hot jocks who seemed to be brain dead and only talk about what they liked.

ଘ Alejandro with his charming smile who makes everyone fawn over him. You notice him getting along with everyone and he's smiled at you a few times when you pass each other in the hallway and you can't help but develop a little crush on him. You're not sure if you are interesting enough for him since he always seems to be the topic of interest. He is simply someone who people constantly want to be around, he makes funny jokes and is charismatic. Little do you know, you've caught his eye. He is curious about you and observes you when he gets the chance. He thinks you must be quite popular seeing as you're on the cheerleading team.

ଘ You're sorta struggling in class and you've noticed Rudy is one of the top students. You feel dumb asking for help but end up deciding to get tutoring from him after school. Turns out he's the nicest person you've ever encountered and whenever you two stay after school to study he ensures you understand each lesson before moving on not caring about how late it is and you can't help but start to like him. So far, he's really the only guy who hasn't flirted or said anything inappropriate to you despite still wearing the cheerleading outfit with the short skirt/shorts when he tutors you. He's never let his eyes drift down to your body and all his gestures are careful and respectful. You just love a guy like that.

ଘ Phillip who has made it clear to the entire school that he is dating you. He is very loud when cheering for you at games you reconsider who is the real cheerleader here. Everyone knows he is a daddy's boy because he often has money on him and borrows expensive items like his father's cars to impress you when driving you around town. He knows you're not big on showy stuff so he takes the time to find out what you like, maybe simpler things, and taking you to do that. One of his favorite activities is picking you up after your cheerleading practice to eat at a diner he's discovered.

ଘ Makarov is the rich foreign exchange student. Many try to offer him help but he isn't worried about his education, if anything he preoccupies himself with other things. He doesn't bother being around people he finds bland so he often skips classes, not caring. Well, what about one day when he sees you practicing your routine out in the field? He watches from afar and finds it strange he cannot take his eyes off of you. He has good taste so he doesn't wait long before approaching you directly. He is upfront and it's honestly hard to reject him asking you out when he does it in front of the entire school, with a huge bouquet of flowers and an expensive present. All that just to take you somewhere out of school.

ଘ Keegan the cute alt guy who never shows up to the school games, sits at the back of the class just observing everyone else or completely absorbed doing his own thing and has like one other person he hangs out with. Still, his off-putting demeanor isn't his only trait as he was the one who scared off those bullies who wouldn't stop trying to corner you in the school library. You have no idea how to thank him other than giving him a free ticket to the next school game. He can only shrug and look at it before you say it'd mean a lot if he came since you don't know how else to thank him. That day, you make sure you look your best even if you are not sure if he will show up. But he really is curious and decides to show up. He could get used to showing you attention since you are worth his time.

ଘ The adorable new foreign exchange student you've taken an interest in. König seems to be very occupied with learning the school system and passing his classes. But he just so happened to catch your eye and you were planning on bagging him before anyone else could. You would loop your arm around his, your hand in the crook of his elbow, and pull him along with you while he just allows himself to be dragged along because he doesn't want to be impolite. He can't help but think your smile is nice and feels a little hot when you give him those eyes. But he's here to study not get sidetracked, how about you show him that a little distraction won't hurt his grades? He did tell you he wanted to branch out and socialize a bit more.

ଘ Skater boy Horangi who spends a lot of time outdoors practicing his skills, he listens to music on a speaker and is very honest you think he might be mocking you sometimes. In reality, he is trying to win you over by trying to make you laugh with his questionable jokes. Secretly, he may watch you and write down facts or try to capture your likeness on a sketchpad he carries around. He keeps it hidden because he is afraid what will you think of him if you saw how many pages you've filled up in that sketchbook of his. He tries to maintain that effortlessly cool boy image you probably have in your head. He is in fact a lover boy but doesn't want to admit it.

ଘ There aren't many things Nikto displays an interest in. Most people assume he isn't even human due to his nature of being extremely frank and blunt. Most students wouldn't believe someone as intimidating as Nikto was dating the cheerleader. It is like your own secret that he cherishes deep in his heart, since he doesn't have to share there is no risk of others taking it away from him. He looks forward to those stolen moments of the day where he can get away to some isolated place with you, like on the school rooftop, the woods near the schoolyard or underneath the bleachers where you can enter in your own world. He can be quite the sweetheart when you least expect it, since he expresses himself very sincerely it is hard not to think he is lovable.

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nymphbroadcast · 2 months ago

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Can we get the octa trio with a fluttershy reader please? I just Love her!!!!

Octavinelle x MC! Like Fluttershy

⊹Synopsis ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆The Octavinelle boys with an MC! or Yuu like Fluttershy.

⊹Relationship ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆ Fall in love / free of interpretation.

⊹FEM! MC/Yuu/Reader ⊹ೃ⋆

⊹Clarifications: my Little Pony Fluttershy pony ver!

⊹Fluttershy's Analysis ⊹ೃ 🌊⋆

• Fluttershy is the living representation of kindness, her personality is introverted but not asocial, since she enjoys spending time with her friends, she is gentle with her acquaintances and friends, although she prefers the company of animals since due to the bullying she suffered from young, his consolation was the company of butterflies and other animals. At that moment she discovered her talent for handling animals and beasts of all kinds. Despite her shy and calm personality, Fluttershy is also a person with a strong character, not necessarily aggressive but firm in her ideals and, if necessary, protecting her friends... Fluttershy does not judge by appearances and always tries to find a second chance for those seeking redemption. Although she can also be insecure and doubtful and carry a lot of guilt on herself, she´s very talented in her 'work' with her animals, maybe like a Vet in the series. Unlike Twilight, Fluttershy is not from an aristocratic family, but she is not from a poor family either since it is mentioned that her father worked in a cloud factory and for his part he has a large house in the most natural areas of Ponyville. And the others seem to go to only her for advice regarding their pets, Fluttershy is a balance between peace and chaos.

Azul Ashengrotto

🐙 Cute butterfly... You get on Azul's nerves, you know? You must be doing it on purpose.

🐙 At first, Azul, without knowing you, begins to feel nervous, you are too kind, you do things for others and you don't even receive a payment, you must be dangerous, that is his conclusion.

🐙 Since no one has ever been genuinely nice to Azul, Azul has a hard time getting used to how selfless you seem to be.

🐙 You're so gentle, even while he's trying to manipulate you with the Dorm Ramshakle, Azul was genuinely expecting you to yell and insult him, you're full of surprises, aren't you? - Chapter 3

🐙 Although he must admit that he underestimated you... You're smart, strong and you have limits... That itself only makes him panic, you're like a dolphin, cute and seemingly friendly, but you can be genuinely scary sometimes. – Chapter 3

🐙 Luckily for him, you're the embodiment of kindness (Literally) and even after he tried to steal Ramshakle from you, manipulate you, and almost kill you in his Overblot, you're still kind and understanding to him, Azul almost genuinely feels like he's gonna crying. – Chapter 3

🐙 After all... Azul begins to feel more and more desirous of your kindness and genuine affection, looking for a way to see you and feel your genuine affection.

🐙 Azul genuinely wonders how you are so transparent, he has seen you talk more to animals than to people, you are shy and anxious, how do you do it? He needs the advice.

🐙 But, Azul begins to grow fonder of you every time he sees you, he is glad that despite everything, you were able to forgive him and continue to be so kind and gentle with him. Who knows, maybe it's a deeper affection than Azul believes, maybe even genuine love.

Jade Leech

🍄 Jade finds you adorable, you don't really like socializing or being the center of attention and yet, one way or another, you always end up doing it.

🍄 For Jade it is also funny how your kindness often works against you, since you don't want to hurt other people's feelings you usually resist your displeasure and end up helping (even if it is something you don't like, fear or feel disgusted by) and maybe Jade sometimes (almost always) takes advantage of this.

🍄 You are good with common animals and since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland you decided to study about the fauna there, so it is certain that you know a lot about the Tweels and Azul species, but don't use it against them, okay? They are just "innocent" guys.

🍄 That is something neutral for Jade, on the one hand you understand his behavior and his needs, on the other you can use it against him despite your kindness, although we all know how sadistic he can be, so he probably provokes you on purpose to see your reaction.

🍄 Something else to highlight is that Jade loves it when you lose control, you are so kind and shy almost all the time... Until someone breaks that way of yours, you scream and look harshly at whoever provoked you regardless of whether you are being the center of attention, which normally would make you panic. You can see this guy smilling with pleasure in the corner.

🍄 It's something unusual, but Jade tends to be more real with you, you don't judge him by his... Curious likes... For mushrooms, you even give him advice since you usually deal with animals that eat all kinds of plants and he thanks you... In its own way, but he does it.

🍄 Just like his twin Floyd, Jade finds you adorable, your natural but well-groomed appearance and adorable embarrassed expressions make this eel boy burst with you into a tight hug that could almost be mistaken as Floyd.

🍄 We would like to fool ourselves a little, but Jade is Jade, he takes advantage of your kindness a little to help him do his homework and your company. What can he say in his defense? That he likes your company... Which isn't a lie, actually.

🍄 For the same reason, Jade starts to develop that 'protective instinct' towards you, you are too kind and shy in his eyes that he should protect you, come on, the whole NRC is afraid of Tweels, so you have your cute eel boy as your personal bodyguard... Or something more, maybe...

🍄 Of course, maybe he mentally compare you to a pretty butterfly or a shrimp, just like Floyd does.

Floyd Leech

🏀 Are you two Discord and Fluttershy in this universe???

🏀 Well, in a way yes, you two are chaos (Floyd) and peace (you) in NRC.

🏀 We all know that Floyd has a similar way of being to Discord, rarely being serious and actually in great danger when he is...

🏀 You, on the other hand, prefer discreet and simple, here are two options: he calls you 'shrimpy' because you are easily scared by everything except real pests, or because you are shy.

🏀 Floyd loves to make fun of you, scaring you and chasing you, God help him be careful because you have patience and I don't think it's a good experience for him to receive 'the look'...

🏀 You seem adorable to him, squeezable and very tender, your big gentle eyes make his heart race and he can't help but fawn over you, pinch your cheeks or hug you for a long time.

🏀 Just like in the series, no one believes that you two are really friends, especially knowing Floyd's adventures, you are too good to even be his friend! Floyd is bothered, but as soon as you tell him that you like being with Because they are very different, he is immediately happy.

🏀 He likes to see you take care of the animals, it's funny how you keep Grimm like a spoiled baby knowing he's a beast! However, be careful if you interact too much with any brunette other than him... He may be jealous... In a strange way, obviously.

🏀 As an animal whisperer, you love that he's a merman! You insist a lot on seeing his mer form and he gladly shows it to you, you both spend a lot of time just playing in the water and having fun!

🏀 Eventually the two of you would become very fond of each other, Floyd is happy that you are his true friend, one who doesn't care if he is chaotic and different, you love him just the way he is and he loves you too...

Nymph's Note:

I'm loving these MLP requests since it's my favorite cartoon for a long time, I remind you again to read my rules in the post pinned to my profile for your requests!

I hope you enjoyed!

Remember to tune in, end of this broadcast!

Octavinelle Dorm x MC! Like Fluttershy Done!

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jockbroski34 · 11 months ago

Text

How Things Used To Be

I wonder how long it took me to notice that there was something wrong with Nathan. We had been best friends for years, ever since the 5th grade, and we always hung out together both in and out of school. I was hoping things could’ve stayed like that this summer, but it seemed like fate had other plans. Between family vacations and college prep, it seemed like he didn’t have time for me anymore. And to make it worse, whenever he wasn’t doing that, he was hanging out with some other guys who I had never met, and he never even bothered to ask me if I wanted to come with. I know people grow and change, but I didn’t want to see it happen to my own best friend. On the bright side, we’re going to the same college, so I hope I can see him around.

And I did see him. It was the third week of courses, once I was starting to get acquainted with campus life. For once, I was actually being more social, trying to fill the gap that Nathan left. I used this opportunity to start talking to people in my classes and I found that we had some similar interests. I wish I could say the same for my roommate, but he mostly keeps to himself and we don’t have much in common.

Okay, back to Nathan. I was walking back to the dorms after my last class, texting one of my classmates about the homework. I was interrupted when I walked headfirst into another student. I should’ve been paying more attention to my surroundings. I looked up at the giant in front of me, probably 6’3”, before apologizing.

“James, is that you?” the giant asked. The voice sounded very familiar, yet at the same time, different. I took a closer look at him. “Long time no see, huh?” I was surprised when I realized who it was.

“Nate? Woah, what happened to you?” I couldn’t believe that this person in front of me was my best friend. This was not the same Nathan from three months ago during graduation. He was always a bit taller than me, but he had to have grown at least 3 inches. He used to wear glasses, but it seemed like he switched over to contacts.

In the warm August heat, he was wearing a tank top which revealed his newfound biceps for the whole world to see. The tank top clung closely to his chest and I could see his newly-formed six-pack through the fabric. He was wearing basketball shorts that were short enough that I could catch a glimpse of his thighs, which were just as big as his arms. I never knew Nathan went to the gym, and if he did, he never told me. But still, I couldn’t comprehend how he became so huge in just three months, which made me more curious about what he had been up to. A backwards hat fit tightly atop his head with Greek letters on them. Sigma Lambda Chi… Had Nathan really joined a frat? To be completely honest, he looked like he was cosplaying as a frat bro, a far cry from how I knew him.

“Like what you see, bro?” James chuckled, as he flexed one of his arms. He definitely never came across as a cocky showoff, but I was too distracted by his flexed bicep to notice. I caught myself staring for a second too long, before feeling my face turn red hot. Me and Nathan knew everything about each other, but there was one thing I never told him. I was gay. To tell you the truth, I had a crush on him, but I knew I could never tell him to preserve our friendship. But now he looks even better, and he hasn’t made time for me at all. Now he really felt out of my league.

“I’ve been working out a lot lately. I’m glad you noticed.” He still had his signature smile, but it looked out of place on his new body. His face especially looked a lot more angular and masculine. A visible tan glazed over his body like a fresh coat of paint.

“Daaamn! You look great, dude!” To be honest, I wasn’t sure how to feel talking to him again. On one hand, I was happy to see him again, and, admittedly, a little surprised to see him like this. On the other hand, he ditched me this whole summer to hang out with some other guys. It felt so bittersweet.

“If there weren’t other people around, I’d let you…I mean uh, how have you been bro? I know I’ve been busy a lot lately. Sorry about that, dude.” We told each other what we did over the summer, and wow, was his summer more interesting.

As we caught up, I learned more about what he has been up to. Apparently, he joined a frat and he was hanging out with the guys there more and more. He promised that he’d bring me to a party sometime, but I was hesitant because I’m not much of a party animal. That lifestyle just isn’t for me. He also said he was thinking about joining our school’s football team at the request of his roommate, which I found even more surprising because Nathan never played sports in high school. I did track, but I was never that big into sports myself. Our conversation was interrupted as another guy entered the scene.

“Yo, Nate! Finally found you. You seriously need to get better at texting me back, dude. And who’s this dude?” The guy was wearing the same hat as Nate, so I figured he was one of his frat bros.

“My bad, bro. Brett, this is James. We go way back. James, this is Brett. He’s my roommate. We met over the summer and we’ve been hanging out since.”

“Alright, cool, bro,” Brett responded, clearly impatient and indifferent towards me. He dismissed me entirely, almost like I wasn’t worth his time. “You still going to the gym with me or what?”

“Sorry, bro. I just ran into him and we were catching up.” Nathan responded. “Hey, I gotta get going. We should get food sometime. Peace!” I watched as Nathan and Brett walked away in the opposite direction of me towards the gym. As they moved further away, I could hear Brett chastise him about something. This is the guy that Nathan ditched me for? I hope I’m wrong, but he seemed like kind of a dick. I know I was jealous of him for taking up my best friend’s time, but I didn’t trust him. As for me, I returned to the dorm to work on the assignment with my roommate.

The next time I saw Nate was that weekend, when I held up his promise to get something to eat. I tried to ask him about it earlier in the week, but he was doing stuff at the frat all that time. I was at least grateful that he took time out of his schedule for me for once. He mentioned that he normally doesn’t hang out with anyone who wasn’t in the frat, almost like they were some exclusive bro clique that I was excluded from. For once, it was good to hang out with him one-on-one without any of his frat bros getting in the way. I expected things to be like how they were before, but I couldn’t be any more wrong.

It’s not that I disliked the new Nathan, but I felt like we didn’t have much common ground anymore. It was like he was a completely different person. He didn’t seem to care that much about our old interests anymore. He didn’t have time for video games and he just wasn’t that interested in watching movies or photography anymore. All he seemed to care about was working out all day and partying all night. All he would talk about was some stupid stuff he or one of his bros did.

Plus, he told me he switched his major from mechanical engineering to be a personal trainer. It seemed like he just became a total gym bro overnight. The studious and witty Nathan that I loved kinda just seemed to be a stereotypical meathead now. The worst part was that I knew that this was the same Nathan deep down, and he still treated me the same even if he was a lot busier. I felt like maybe I was the problem since he was clearly still having a good time, and I wasn’t. Why do I feel this way?

I felt my mood change as we talked. Eventually, I figured it was time to cut off the conversation and return to the dorm, but Nathan definitely knew something was off. He texted me later that evening, asking me if everything was alright. To be honest, I wanted to make some lame excuse that I was feeling sick, but we’ve always been honest with each other, so I told him how I really felt.

Me: Nate, to be honest, I think I need some time away from you. I don’t hate you or anything, but it feels like we’ve been growing apart and I feel like you’ve become a different person. I feel like when I look at you, I don’t see the Nathan I’ve known for years, but someone else entirely.

I wanted to say more about how I felt about his new changes, but I didn’t want to escalate things.

Nathan: James, I’m sorry you feel that way about me. I felt like we had a good time today. I’ve grown and changed a lot recently, and I’ve realized a lot about myself, but I’m happy with who I am right now. I know I’m spending a lot of time at the gym or with Brett or my other bros, but I still care about you deeply, bro. You might be right though. Hanging out with you isn’t the same as hanging with the guys at the frat.

Me: Do you honestly see yourself as just a frat boy? You’re more than that. You’re my best friend. But now, you have more in common with the jocks from high school than the Nathan I knew. It’s hard talking to you now since all you care about anymore are your gains and partying. You’re nothing more than a meathead now.

Nathan: So that’s how you see me, bro? The reason I had been avoiding you is because I knew that you wouldn’t like seeing me like this. I guess I was right, bro. But trust me, I’m happy like this. I’m a lot more social than when I was when I was with you, and I’ve even become more in shape too. I care about our friendship more than you can possibly imagine, but I guess this is for the best. To be honest, I think it would be a lot of fun if you were here in the frat with me, but I know you wouldn’t say yes.

I didn’t bother responding. I could never picture myself joining a frat. I would never get along with his frat bro friends, especially Brett, who seemed to be the one he was closest with. I still couldn’t believe Nate would choose him over me. I wasn’t sure whether to feel angry, or sad, or disappointed towards him. I felt like he was wasting his life partying when he should be studying. To think this was the person I cared about more than anyone. It was at this point that I figured I probably wouldn’t have my old friend back. Or so I thought.

A couple weeks passed and I tried to move on from Nathan. I always saw him on his story drinking and partying late into the night at the frat house or posting selfies at the gym. He looked like he was fully embracing his new frat boy persona now. If he didn’t still care about me, it would’ve felt like he was doing it out of spite. As for me, I started to hang out with my classmates more and more, and there was even a guy I went on a date with. It was a nice date and I did like the guy, but for some reason, the thought of Nathan lingered in my mind. Even though I hated what he had become, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about him. I couldn’t deny how much he turned me on. Why was I still thirsting after a stupid fucking frat bro? One afternoon, after I returned to my dorm, I received a text on my phone. To my surprise, it was Nathan.

“Hey bro, can we talk? There are some things I need to get off my chest.”

I didn’t know what he could possibly want with me now. I suppose I can hear him out just so I can see what he wants. I went over to his room further down the hall, and thankfully Brett was not here to ruin the moment. Nate said that he was doing some preparations for some stuff at the frat. When I asked, he didn’t specify what though. It always feels like stuff at the frat is kept under wraps.

“Did you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

“Even if it’s beer?” A mischievous grin appeared on his face. Was he seriously offering me beer? I knew that alcohol wasn’t allowed in the dorms, but clearly that rule didn’t faze him. Obviously he knew how to get his hands on some drinks. To be honest, I had never drank alcohol before, but I figured this would be the easiest way to try it before I turned 21. Plus, it might alleviate the tension between us. Either that or make us fight like two drunkards in a bar.

“Sure, why not.” Nate went to get two bottles for us. I took my first sip and was disgusted by the bitter taste of the beer.

“You don’t like it? Neither did I at first,” Nate chuckled. “After a while, you get used to it.” Nate turned the TV on as we chatted. I apologized about what I said about him last time we talked, but he said it was no big deal. I felt like I was a little too harsh on him. It could just be the alcohol, but I found that I got along with him better than I did weeks ago. As we chatted, my body started to tingle. Was this how it felt like to be drunk?

“Hey, Nate. I feel kinda weird, but not like drunk weird. Is this normal, bro?” I asked. By this point, we both had two drinks each. I didn’t mind the taste of the beer the second time.

“Nah, you’re fine bro.” Nate responded, with a smile on his face. Compared to me, he appeared to be much more sober. “It happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to it.” I figured he knew best, since he was the one drinking and partying all the time, so I ignored this foreign feeling rushing through my body. I felt as if my body was overheating as I felt my arms and legs throb and pulsate. Sweat was leaking off my armpits and down my forehead. There was part of me that knew that something was off, but it was drowned out by the alcohol. As I took another sip, I felt my arm spasm as I accidentally spilled some beer onto my shirt. Shit, I wasn’t expecting to do laundry later.

“Damn bro, you made a mess. You alright? Do you wanna change your shirt?” Nate asked. I nodded and he quickly went to his room to pick out something for me. It wasn’t the first time I had to wear his clothes. “Sorry about that, bro. First thing I found. Hope it fits you.” It was a stringer tank with Sigma Lambda Chi on it. I bet Nate looked like a walking symbol of the frat wearing that stuff. For some reason, the idea was kinda amusing to me because it seemed so over the top. I wondered how I would look dressed up like that. I’d probably look really stupid.

I stripped out of my wet shirt and changed right in front of him. I caught a whiff from my armpits, and I thought I smelled like a sweaty gym bro. The tank appeared to be a size up and it hung loosely on me. Still, it was better than nothing I guess. Despite that, it had a nice familiar smell to it though. It smelled like Nathan, but at the same time, it had a different flavor to it. He smelled a lot more manly than I remembered. I bet he wore it to the gym often.

Eventually, after my third drink, I went to go to the bathroom. My body was starting to ache, like I had just done a workout with Nate earlier. Workout…Was that what happened earlier? …I think so? Did we work out after class and come back to his place for some brewskis? For some reason, the events of today felt incredibly fuzzy to me. I was starting to forget the reason I was here in the first place.

I clumsily stumbled over my feet which looked bigger than usual. After I took a piss, I looked at myself in the mirror. Something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I didn’t always look that big, right? From a first glance, it looked like I was looking through one of those distorted mirrors they have at amusement parks. I had to have been really drunk at this point. I chuckled at the figure in front of me. At this point, I almost looked like one of those frat bros! I decided to flex my arms like they would, oblivious to the fact that they already grew just a little bit, before joining Nate on the couch.

“There you are, big man!” he said as he squeezed my muscles. I have been working out recently, I think. “I thought you passed out in there. Most guys don’t last that long for their first time, but you look good enough for another brewski.”

After downing our fourth drinks, the conversation took a different turn.

“Yo, James. I knew you said you weren’t too big on the idea of joining our frat last time we chatted, but how do you feel now, having thought things over?”

I remembered our last conversation. Honestly, I was so drunk that I didn’t remember why I turned him down in the first place. The idea that seemed unappealing to me at the time seemed like it was perfect for me at this moment. I didn’t even understand why I would be so reluctant to join. I needed to join more than anything else. I would do anything to join, even if I had to completely humiliate myself in front of my fellow bros. At this point, nothing was too extreme for me. The fact that Nate was in it was enough reason to join, so we could hang out more like we used to. Plus, I could get to hang out with all my other bros and drink and party whenever we want.

“I’ve given it some thought, and yeah bro, I’ll join,” my voice slurred as my mouth moved before my mind could. I had committed at this point. No backing out now. I’m a member of Sigma Lambda Chi for life.

“Sweet, bro!” He grabbed me on my far shoulder and pulled me close. “I’m glad you said yes, because I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes, bro.”

I closed my eyes as Nate went into his room to grab something. Did I actually agree to join his frat? I’m not sure what’s going on with me today. When he came back, I felt Nate press on my head as his “surprise” fit tight around it. “You can open them now.”

I realized I was wearing the same hat that Nate always wore, with his frat’s letters printed on it. “We’re gonna be matching now, bro. Isn’t that awesome? I know you’re gonna want to wear it whenever and wherever. But you’re wearing it wrong. Let me fix it for you, dude.” He turned the brim around so it faced my back. As my hat turned backwards, I felt my mind fog up and any tension or brain activity screech to a halt. I was unable to realize what I signed myself up for, unable to protest. My conscious mind was drowned out by the alcohol and this hat was like a lock, sealing it away. Not that I was against this, as a wave of pleasure surged through me. I felt my mind slow down, almost as if it was stuck in molasses, as my thoughts began to simplify. It felt good though...

I would follow the example of my fellow brothers. Look like them, think like them, act like them. Almost like a hivemind of bros, you know, bro? By this point, the changes were irreversible. Nate had turned me into another frat bro just like him.

“Everything worked out as planned, bro. You see, when you, my own best bro, told me you didn’t want to join the frat with me, I was actually really hurt. So I talked to Brett, and had him “work his magic”, to help me do to you what he did to me. I don’t like to lie to you, but it’s a frat secret, so now you get to know bro. Like I said, it’s a secret, so don’t talk about this with anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it bro. It’s all…uh…

Fuck dude, what’s the word…water under the bridge? Huhuhu…” I really had to think about that one. I found it harder to articulate and use complex words, as I mainly just spoke in bro-speak. To be honest, I wasn’t really that upset that he lied to me. He did what he had to as a member of the frat. I never stayed mad at one of my bros for very long.

“Now we get to be brothers for life,” he said as he gave me a big bro hug. We clung to each other like two giant masses of muscle. My huge biceps wrapped around his firm back as his did for me. Afterwards, he handed me my fifth drink and we cheered to me joining Sigma Lambda Chi. He laid down all of the rules, what everything was like, telling me about the coolest guys there, and so on. He said he’d bring me to the frat house and introduce me to everyone tomorrow. “They’re gonna love you for sure, bro. I’ve got an eye for cool bros like you.”

As it got later, and we moved on to drink numero 6, I felt myself get very tired as we both passed out on his couch. I woke up a couple hours later, and I looked out the window to see a pitch black sky. Shit, it was almost 10 PM and I had to turn in my assignment at midnight. But for some reason, I didn’t really care right now. I didn’t mind turning in assignments late as long as the teacher still gave me credit. I felt no different from the way I was a couple hours ago, just another Sigma Lambda Chi frat bro, but I liked it. It felt right to me. It was where I, no, where we belonged.

I looked down. Nate’s tank hung tightly to me now. It took me a second to notice my arms…Holy shit, they were fucking huge! I looked awesome, bro. As I admired my new body, Nate was still asleep, his hand on my meaty thigh. Just above that, my dick throbbed through my pants. Fuck, I was so horny for some reason. Eventually, Nate slowly regained consciousness.

“I usually don’t drink this much on a school day,” Nate said, still a little hungover as he rubbed his eyes. We sat in silence for about a minute before he spoke again. “By the way, there was another reason I invited you over. There’s something that’s been on my chest for a while.”

“Go ahead, bro. I can take it,” I responded confidently. My voice sounded deeper and more bro-like than usual, just like him.

“Here goes, dude. I think I like you, bro. Not like you, but I think I like like you. I know it’s hella gay, but I couldn’t stand to see you be so cold to me. That’s why I had to make you a bro like me. I’m sure you’ll love it here, bro. And hey, if you’re not gay, that’s cool. We can forget this shit ever happened and go back to being bros for life.”

At first, I honestly thought I was still dreaming. First, he turned me into a frat boy, and now, he was confessing his feelings to me? How crazier could this night get? For all my life, I thought he was straight. I remembered being glad when he broke up with his girlfriend two years back. I couldn’t stand her. When he joined Sigma Lambda Chi, I assumed he was 100% straight and that he was banging some sorority chicks every night. To think he felt the same way I did all this time.

“Bro, I like you too. When you stopped talking to me, I started to get kinda jealous. I didn’t want to accept you for who you are. But being your bro just isn’t enough for me, bro.” I leaned in for a kiss, my inhibitions still nowhere to be found. It was my first kiss and it was with the person I cherished most. I felt like I was in heaven. I didn’t really care that I was a dumb frat bro like him anymore. I never did. That shit was stupid anyways. But now, Nate fixed our friendship and made us closer than ever. I loved the taste of his lips against mine and I didn’t want it to end but eventually Nate parted our lips.

“Wanna fuck me, bro?” he whispered in my ear. A flirtatious smirk was plastered on his face, and one of his hands was still wrapped around my neck. This was real. I nodded as he took me to his bed. I had never done this before, but I’ve seen plenty of porn, so I knew what to expect. He laid down on his back and stripped naked. I never felt this aroused before. My dick even looked bigger than it used to be. I was so pent up that I felt like I was holding this load in for months. I guess frat bros really are as horny as they say. I lubed up my larger cock before sticking it into Nate’s hole.

My serpent stretched out his tight hole as he had clearly not seen much action down there until now. I pounded his ass as my dick went in and out of him. In and out, in and out, in and out…It was a steady rhythm, my dick was like a metronome. My hands clung to him as I held him in place, pinning him to his bed. My hands ran all over his shoulders, broad and muscular, built like a football player’s. We both felt absolutely euphoric as our deep, masculine moans filled the room. The moans were loud enough that the students on the other side of the wall could easily hear them, but I didn’t care about any noise complaints as I fucked him harder and harder. After half an hour of fucking, he both hit our orgasm at almost exactly the same time. I ejaculated inside his tight hole, my hot, sticky seed flooding his insides as Nate came all over his abs. At this point I was exhausted and still hungover and I basically fell on top of him on his bed. We were both panting and out of breath.

“I knew you were a good fucker, bro.” he whispered seductively as he kissed me. We stayed in that position for several minutes until we heard the door open.

“Yo, Nate! Did you do it? How did it go?” a voice asked, shouting loudly from the other room. I recognized the voice as Brett’s. He peeked into the room, witnessing the two of us cuddling together naked. To be honest, I thought he would’ve been grossed out. Guess I had the wrong idea about him.

“Better than expected, dude,” Nate responded. He didn’t seem to care that we were both naked in front of his roommate and that we just got back from our trip to Pound Town.

“He looks way better this way, don’t you agree, bro? But man, dude, now I know why you wanted him to be a pledge so bad. I was wondering why you wouldn’t fuck any of those sexy sorority babes. More for me, I guess.”

A week passed and by then, I joined the frat officially. Me and Nate started dating shortly after, but none of our bros minded. It didn’t matter if we were gay, we were still brothers. I also learned how Nate met Brett. He was taking a tour of the campus over the summer and he ran into Brett who was recruiting people for the frat. Brett took a liking to him and kinda took him under his wing like some sort of mentor and they started hanging out since he only lived a town away from us. Brett was our age, but he had more seniority and authority because his older brother Brad was very popular within the frat. Turns out Brett and some of the upperclassmen knew how to turn guys into the ideal bros for their frat. They wanted to bolster their numbers to make Sigma Lambda Chi the biggest and coolest frat in the state, with the biggest bros and the biggest parties, and naturally both me and Nate were chosen. Not that either of us minded. Nate joined the football team with Brett and some other guys in the frat, and the rest of us would go watch them play every game. Our section of the stadium was always the loudest and rowdiest, especially when one of our bros scored a touchdown.

Apparently I grew a ton during the night that I was with Nate, but I was too drunk to notice just how massive I had become. It must’ve been something in the beer, huhu. I started working out with Nate and Brett, and sometimes some other bros too. I even ended up changing my major. I chose business because my bros said that it was the easiest shit ever and I wasn’t feeling psychology anymore. I didn’t really feel like thinking much anymore and I found that focusing on education so much was a chore and that I was wasting my college experience. I’d rather be partying and drinking or hanging out with the bros at the frat house, watching sports, playing video games, or playing ball outside. I got to see why Nate grew to enjoy this lifestyle so much, and I was mad at myself for not seeing his point of view sooner.

Three years later, me and Nate are still dating and we’re set to graduate this semester. We’re thinking about getting a place in the city not too far from campus, probably with Brett and another friend of ours to save money on rent. We’ll probably still throw parties every weekend like we used to. College was such a memorable experience and I wish I could live it again. I only have Nate, Brett, and all my other bros to thank for making college awesome for me.

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kookyburrowing · 6 months ago

Text

Different Languages AU Part 1: Wait, Fuck, They Don't Speak Basic?

First things first motherfuckers, let’s get one thing straight: Basic as a language does exist in this AU! It’s just less common outside of the Core/Mid Rim. SO. What does that give us? Well, it gives us way more interesting conflict, for one thing, and for another, so many languages. Let’s get crackalackin!

In the Outer Rim, Huttese is largely The Language To Speak. If you don’t speak Huttese, you might as well just hurl yourself into the nearest bottomless pit now and save yourself the time and trouble. Even in the Core and Mid Rim, Huttese is a very common language just because of how useful it is if you ever find yourself in the Outer Rim. Most bounty hunters (i.e. Jango Fett, just for one completely random example) speak Huttese fluently, alongside their native languages. Naturally, then, this is a language Anakin is very familiar with. In fact, when he became a Jedi, it was the language he knew the best, and most people thought his speech was stilted in Basic because of this. He spoke Basic maybe once every month on Tatooine—can you blame him?

In the Mid Rim, each planet has their own language and conversations between diplomats are typically done as they are on Earth—via interpreters, to avoid any misunderstandings. Padmé, for instance, does speak Basic, but that is the language she would use in the Senate, not on Naboo. The same goes for Palpatine, but we’ll get to him in a minute, because he sucks and I want to not talk about him for as long as I feasibly can.

The Core means Basic, Basic, Basic, because of just the sheer number of people making it necessary. Coruscant is a weird case because of how communities develop there. Since it’s kind of like a gigantic version of a modern city (I’ll use NYC as an example because I know it the best), it’s broken up into enclaves. Cultures clump—it’s a thing. Some neighborhoods in NYC are predominantly Jewish, some are predominantly Italian, the list goes on. The same goes for Coruscant, although on a supersized scale. There’s some areas where non-Mandalorians need not apply, some where everyone is a Twi’lek or Togruta, some where everyone is a Mirialan, et cetera. Also, Coruscant dialects of certain languages are very much a thing.

Anyway. Let’s talk Kamino, because that’s why I started this to begin with!

Jango Fett is a Mandalorian. He’s also a bounty hunter. He’s from Concord Dawn and was a True Mandalorian. Therefore we can guess he probably at the bare minimum speaks two dialects of Mando’a (Concord Dawn, True Mandalorian) Huttese, and has at least passing Basic. He probably speaks more than that given how well-traveled he is, but those are the ones I can name for sure. So Jango Fett, who speaks Mando’a and Huttese and Basic, encounters Count Dooku. Count Dooku is from Serenno, but he was also a Jedi, so he probably speaks Serennese, Basic, Huttese, and a few more. He may even speak Mando’a, but his dialects wouldn’t be likely to overlap with Jango’s. Count Dooku tells Jango to go to Kamino and let them clone him in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money. Jango does, because Jango is a thinking human being and thinking human beings under capitalism do not turn down exorbitant amounts of money in exchange for what amounts to (at most) being a three or four-time sperm donor.

And on Kamino, our intrepid Mandalorian encounters something a bit weird. The Kaminoans, being that they are an extremely isolated species and thus have absolutely no reason to have developed humanoid vocal chords, have to rely on droid translators. Cool! This means Jango can speak to them exclusively in his native language (Concord Dawn Mando’a), and they can speka to him exclusively in theirs, and everyone’s largely happy. Jango negotiates the finer points of the contract, acquires an infant who he names Boba, and calls up some old friends (and acquaintances) to teach the clones to kick ass. He informs them they don’t have to worry about speaking Basic, so they don’t bother speaking Basic.

Thus, we have our setup. The Kaminoans have no reason to make the clones speak Basic because literally none of these outsiders are bothering to inform that oh yeah there’s this whole common language thing going on, and said outsiders have no reason whatsoever to tell them because it would ultimately just be an inconvenience. They’ve got a good thing going, and Jedi are required to speak more than one language anyway. The clones can definitely find at least one in common!

So the clones learn to speak Mando’a, understand Kaminoan, and speak and/or understand one extra elective language. Most pick something weird because they can—everyone around them speaks either Mando’a or Kaminoan so why would they bother with languages they don’t care about, like Basic? Unfortunately for the Kaminoans and the trainers in equal measure, they do also realize that in order to express themselves in private they need their own universal language, so they acquire one. They just call it clonespeak to keep things simple, and for most of them, that’s their native language. They feel most comfortable speaking in it because that’s the language they associate with safety and with their siblings/parents.

Thus: the predicament.

Obi-Wan arrives on Kamino. Obi-Wan is a Jedi. Obi-Wan speaks Basic.

Uh-oh. See, Jango is out of practice—the Kaminoans can’t make those noises. Boba’s language skills begin and end with Mando’a and some random bits of clonespeak right now—he’s kind of conversational with Huttese but every once in a while he just throws in a Mando’a word or an idiom in clonespeak and Jango has to take a minute to breathe lest he slam his head straight through the wall in frustration because he doesn’t understand clonespeak. And so much performing of charades, many awkward moments, and exactly one sentence in Basic later, Obi-Wan is heading back to Coruscant with several questions.

First: why the fuck did Sifo-Dyas order an army who didn’t speak Basic? No one knows. No one can find any records of this order, for one thing. No one knows who Tyrannus is, for another.

And second: what languages do the clones speak? Obviously, Mando’a is amongst them, but Jango’s extremely intensely staring son also spoke another, infinitely weird language and no one can find any record of it, and not even Jango seemed to understand him. Do they understand the Kaminoans’ clicking noises? Are they just mute? Is it constantly Shut The Fuck Up Friday up in there? What is going on?

The Council loses their collective minds. Shaak Ti is about ready to haul ass across the galaxy to collect these poor, lost young men—Plo Koon is right there with her. Yoda is—well, Yoda is swearing loudly in several dead languages right now. Mace Windu, ever the voice of reason, just has one thing to say: how about they meet the clones, first. Before they panic.

In the face of this intense, all-consuming, glorious sensibility, the Council collectively shuts the fuck up. They decide to let things run their course.

And then Geonosis. Quickly, Yoda collects several hundred clones, manages to communicate to one of them—who speaks a really weird, ancient, and fucked up dialect of Basic that could basically scan to Elizabethan English, and whose name is probably Kowalski—what he needs, and that one tells an older, larger and more intimidating one. Then that one yells a lot in a language Yoda has never heard before, and several hundred clones are suddenly hauling ass into gunships.

Enter one Anakin Skywalker and one Padmé Amidala, who are about to acquire some friends, none of whom understand a word they’re saying. They fuck some things up, get strapped to some poles to be devoured by Space Beasts of some sort, and then escape.

Battle of Geonosis happens. Mace Windu quickly discovers that the answer to the question what do the clones speak is effectively every language except Basic, and the answer is also supremely inconsistent. He is Suffering. He is Experiencing The Horrors. Obi-Wan is likewise fighting for his life because he speaks a fancy-ass dialect of Mando’a that the clones don’t understand. This is because they, like normal people, don’t talk like dignitaries on diplomatic missions.

Moving on! Obi-Wan gets assigned Alpha-17. Alpha-17 is a demon. Actually. He probably speaks Basic but refuses to out of spite. This is the biggest asshole to ever stomp his way into a Venator and terrify Anakin Skywalker into cowering submission. (He may even be why Anakin behaved like that as Vader. We will never know!) Like most clones, Alpha-17 speaks four languages. Clonespeak, Mando’a, Kaminoan, and Huttese. In that order. So he has no real trouble communicating with either Anakin or Obi-Wan.

What he does have, though, is a surplus of kids. Like it or not (he insists he doesn’t) they are his kids, and he wants them to have a shot at having a moderately tolerable existence. Enter everyone’s favorite group of six weirdos: Wolffe, Ponds, Fox, Bly, Cody, and Rex.

Wolffe is easy. He’s horrible with languages, and so gets sent to Plo Koon, who speaks through a translator anyway. Add Mando’a to the translator, and bang! Easy. Done. They understand each other perfectly.

Ponds is also easy. He, being sensible, learned Basic, so he goes to Mace Windu, who is equally sensible (and grateful for the easy transition).

Fox, who is a scheming little shit and also just so happens to speak Naboo, get sent to Coruscant. The Chancellor can’t get one over on him if Fox can understand every word he says, and most Senators have protocol droids with them for translation anyway.

Bly speaks Ryll, so she gets Aayla Secura. Again, easy.

Cody, on the other hand? Cody speaks the same languages as 17. Cody has a favorite younger brother who needs guidance. Cody, therefore, gets deposited with Obi-Wan, and Rex? Rex gets Anakin.

But the issue with Rex is he and Anakin have no language in common. Rex’s elective language was Togruti, and like the rest of his batch he also speaks Tusken sign. Because his batch are a bunch of assholes who wanted an extremely private way to talk.

So. Anakin and Rex start off the war with no way to communicate! None! Literally not one language in common!

And they do try to communicate—via charades, via text, et cetera—but they don’t really have access to translation software on a regular basis and thus things become complicated.

Things are made even more complicated by the fact that Rex, like Wolffe, is shit at language learning. Anakin, who isn’t, could try to learn clonespeak, and does! But when you can’t communicate with the person teaching you it is immensely slow going.

And thus, our premise is complete. How do you run a war with someone you can’t talk to?

Well, it depends. If you’re Anakin, you say, maybe I can figure a way around this.

If you’re Pong Krell?

I dunno man. Yell? Yeah, that sounds about right.

#hahaha #heeeeere's nonsense!#lee writes #different languages au #star wars #tcw #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #alpha-17 #commander cody #captain rex

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cece693 · 4 months ago

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Hiiii

I recently saw your fanfic of Percy with son of Demeter reader and I was wondering if you could write a fanfic of like how the 2 met/how they started dating

Daisy (Percy Jackson x Son of Demeter)

Wow, I wasn't expecting so much love for my son of Demeter headcannon/fanfic. TBH, I haven't thought much about how they would meet and the lead-up to their relationship, however, I think it came out nice. Hope you enjoy it!

Percy had always heard whispers of the son of Demeter. However, your paths wouldn’t cross until Grover began his search for Pan, the lost god of the wild. Since you were the son of the goddess of harvest—and, to some extent, wilderness and wildlife—you were quickly asked to join their quest.

When you first met Percy, it was clear that you two didn’t really hit it off. What did you even have in common, aside from your mutual friendship with Grover? Your powers weren't exactly on the same field, in fact, they contradicted on another.

How would one grow plants with sea water anyway? Your initial encounters were awkward, filled with hesitant exchanges and misunderstandings.

These differences led to quite a few conflicts between the two of you—not only were your powers different, but your personalities clashed as well. Percy, always ready for a fight, relied on his sword and his natural inclination to dive headfirst into danger.

You, on the other hand, preferred a more strategic approach. Your method was to analyze situations carefully, using your knowledge of nature and the environment to find solutions. While you knew how to wield a weapon, you often sought to avoid confrontation, believing that there was always a way to resolve problems without resorting to violence.

You called him reckless plenty of times, while he hinted your 'hesitation' as a drawback for the quest.

The growing tension between you didn’t go unnoticed by Grover, who often tried to mediate, cracking jokes and redirecting the conversation whenever you two began to butt heads.

It was during one of those moments—when Percy had charged ahead to fight a monster, leaving you to cover his back—that you began to see glimpses of the strengths each of you brought to the quest.

This change in mindset brought you two closer, evolving your relationship from mere acquaintances to something resembling friendship. Then that friendship soon becomes you two being best friends as the quest comes to a close.

This is where Percy fucks up....

Because as he watches you tend to one of the many plants in Camp Half-Blood, kneeling in the dirt with the sun shinning brightly above you, Percy suddenly finds you beautiful.

The way your e/c eyes sparkle with tenderness as you speak to the plants as if they were old friends, coaxing blooms to open with your gentle words. The sight was captivating; the way you interacted with nature stirred something deep within him.

Percy couldn’t help but admire the serenity you exuded, and for the first time, he began to realize that his feelings for you had shifted beyond friendship.

Of course, after this realization, he runs off in search of Grover, almost tripping over his own feet.

“Grover!” Percy exclaimed, eyes wide with urgency. “I think I have a problem.” Taking a deep breath, the words tumbled out in a rush. “It’s about [Your Name]. I mean, I knew we were getting closer, but watching him with the plants...It’s like he’s in his element, and I can’t stop thinking about how incredible he is.” His heart raced as he spoke, the realization hitting him like a wave crashing against the shore. “I think I like him—like, really like him. More than just friends.”

Grover’s eyes lit up, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “Finally! I was wondering when you’d catch on. You should tell him!”

“But what if it ruins our friendship?”

“You won’t know unless you try,” Grover urged, his tone encouraging. “And even if he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, he's your friend. He'll understand."

Of course, Percy didn’t follow through with Grover’s advice right away. Instead, he decided to wait, hoping for any sign of interest from you before making his crush known.

Then, one sunny afternoon, he stumbled upon you laughing and hanging out with a son of Apollo. You were seated on the grass, surrounded by blooming flowers, the sunlight enhancing your already radiant presence. The boy’s charming demeanor and easy laughter seemed to draw you in, and Percy’s heart sank as he watched from a distance.

It was painfully clear in that moment—this boy was everything you deserved. After all, who wouldn’t want to be with the child of Apollo? He was the perfect match for a son of Demeter: sun, plants, growth, and all things flourishing.

Percy’s chest tightened as jealousy surged through him, mixing with a sense of hopelessness. He concluded that it was no use; you clearly had found someone else, someone who could nurture the garden of your heart better than he ever could.

With that thought, he began to create distance between you two, forcing himself to suppress his feelings to maintain the friendship he had grown to cherish. He convinced himself that being your friend was better than risking everything for something that would never be.

Unbeknownst to him, you noticed the sudden coldness in Percy’s demeanor. At first, you thought it was just a phase—perhaps he was dealing with something personal—but as days turned into weeks, his absence felt more like a gaping hole in your life.

As you tried to engage him, Percy would respond with short answers, avoiding any conversation that might bring you closer. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and worry gnawed at you. Did you say something wrong? Was he upset about something that you did?

Every time you spotted him with his friends, laughing and joking, a pang of disappointment shot through you. Why was he pushing you away? You longed to reach out, to bridge the distance he had created, but you didn’t know how to break through the wall he had built around himself.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when you found the son of Poseidon sitting by the lake, tossing pebbles mindlesly across the water.

“Percy,” you called out, taking a deep breath as you approached him. He looked up, surprise flashing across his face. “Can we talk?”

He nodded, but the unease lingered in the air as you sat down beside him. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been distant lately, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something to upset you.”

Percy hesitated, his expression conflicted as he searched for the right words. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It’s not you. It’s me,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you and the son of Apollo were…I don’t know, more than friends. And it just hurt to see you so happy with him. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. “Percy, we’re just friends! I never dated him,” You took a breath and decided to be honest. “I like you, Percy. I’ve liked you for a while now. I didn’t know how to say it, and then seeing you pull away…it hurt.”

His eyes widened in surprise, a spark of hope igniting in his expression. “You like me?” he asked, disbelief mingling with excitement.

You nodded, a shy smile breaking through your earlier frustration. “Yeah, I do. I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way, so I didn’t say anything.”

Relief washed over him, and a grin spread across his face. “I thought I was the only one. I’ve been such an idiot for not saying anything sooner.” With a mix of laughter and newfound courage, Percy reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers. “So, would you like to go on a date with me?”

“I’d love to.”

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 18 days ago

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robespierre family dynamics... what were augustin and charlotte like? how did maximilien act towards them? wasnt charlotte into horse riding, and didnt her brothers discourage her from doing that? wasnt augustin known as the more goofy, lighthearted version of maximilien? oh! and why was augustin nicknamed "bonbon"?

(these are questions mixed in with random facts ive heard about the robespierre family... since you know a lot about frev, im hoping to get some more context and clarification on some of these!)

To start off with Augustin’s nickname Bonbon: Élisabeth Duplay Le Bas confirmed in a note written around 1847 that it stemmed from the fact Augustin’s middle name was Bon. Interestingly, we actually have no recorded instance of Maximilien and Charlotte using the nickname, even if it can be assumed that they did.

As for the family dynamics, pre-revolution we more or less only have two sources to rely on — La Vie et les Crimes de Robespierre, surnommé Le Tyran: depuis sa naissance jusqu’à sa mort (1795) by Le Blond de Neuvéglise (abbé Proyart), who was an acquaintance of the family and teacher of Maximilien, and Charlotte’s Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1835). For both authors, the primary point is not necessarily to tell the full truth, but rather to denounce/rehabilitate (or if you want, vilify/glorify) Maximilien, and as a consequence, the pictures they paint are radically different from one another (and perhaps not always to be treated that literally). According to Proyart, the child Maximilien ”was tyrannically harsh towards his brother and his sisters. As he spoke little, he found it bad that they spoke more than he did, he did not grant them common sense; nothing they said was well said. He missed no opportunity of mortifying or humiliating them; he lavished on them, for the smallest of subjects, the reproaches of rudeness.” Charlotte on the other hand writes that her older brother ”loved us tenderly, and there were no caresses he did not lavish on us.” She does however subscribe to Proyart’s description in some sense, as she right before this states: ”since [the death of our parents] he saw himself, in the quality of eldest, as the head of the family, he became poised, reasonable, laborious; he spoke to us with a sort of imposing gravity; if he joined in our games, it was to direct them.”

Following what more reliable sources can tell us about the early family dynamics (see this post for a more complete timeline), we know the siblings lost their mother on July 16 1764, when Maximilien was six, Charlotte four, Henriette two and a half and Augustin one (according to Charlotte’s memoirs, he was still with a wetnurse when this happened). Shortly thereafter (unclear exactly when) their father cut contacts with his children. According to Charlotte’s memoirs, she and Henriette were then taken in by their two paternal aunts, while the two brothers got looked after by their maternal grandparents. They did however make sure that the children got to see each other every Sunday. On December 30 1768, the eight year old Charlotte was enrolled at Maison des Sœurs Manarre, “a pious foundation for poor girls” situated in modern day Belgium, which she presumably left in 1778, aged 18. On October 13 1769, eleven year old Maximilien left for the boarding school of Louis-le-Grand in Paris, from which he graduated on May 15 1781. Henriette was sent to join her sister at Maison des Sœurs Manarre on May 3 1771. She died in March 1780, it’s unclear exactly where. As for Augustin, he presumably studied at the college of Duoai until October 11 1781, when he got to overtake Maximilien’s scholarship to Louis-le-Grand. It can in other words be concluded that the siblings (with the exception of Charlotte and Henriette) didn’t see much of each other for the majority of their childhood.

From 1781 to 1789, Maximilien and Charlotte live together in Arras, first on Rue du Saumon, then on Rue Teinturiers, Rue des Jésuites and finally Rue des Rapporteurs 9. In 1787 they are joined by Augustin who has finished his studies at Louis-le-Grand. The information we have regarding the family dynamics for this period continue to be very lacking, we still more or less only have Charlotte’s memoirs and Proyart’s La Vie et les Crimes de Robespierre… to rely on. According to the former, Maximilien worked much, from six or seven in the morning to seven or eight in the evening, spending the rest of the day with his friends or family. Charlotte nevertheless also remembers that he was often rather distracted in these gatherings — ”when we played cards, or when we spoke only of insignificant things, he retired to a corner of the apartment, ensconced himself in an armchair, and gave himself up to his reflections as if he had been alone” — something which she and the two aunts often reproached him for. She still insists that ”he was naturally gay; he knew how to be pleasant, and sometimes laughed until he cried” and that the same aunts would often tell her: “Your brother is an angel; he has all moral virtues, he is made to be the dupe and the victim of the vicious too.” Charlotte notes that she and the aunts ”spoiled [Maximilien] by a crowd of those little attentions of which women alone are capable,” but also that she often had to decide for herself what they were having for dinner, Maximilien responding he had no idea when she asked him what he wanted.

As for Augustin, Charlotte writes that he had less aptitude for study than Maximilien, and was sometimes reproached for ”his idle tastes” by his big siblings — ”we exhorted him to create some occupations for himself; sometimes our remonstrance made Augustin withdraw into himself; he put himself to his work with an ardor to lively to be durable; enclosed in his chamber he passed many days with books; but he could not long support this constraint.” Regardless, Charlotte concludes by describing the bond between the three siblings as strong — ”never had a family been as united as my two brothers and I.” An image that Proyart doesn’t exactly agree with, here is all he has to say regarding the family dynamics during the same period:

In his domestic affairs, [Maximilien] was neither less despotic nor more amiable than in his external relations. He treated with equal harshness and heaped the same reproaches on both his brother, who could deserve them, and a sister, who did not deserve them. The first was twenty-five years old, and he still addressed him with a brutal "shut up, stupid beast." At a time when his sister, although economical with her time, earned very little from the work of her fingers, he did not grant her even the necessary supplement for the most modest maintenance.

When Maximilien in 1789 set out to get elected for the Estates General, Proyart claims that Augustin helped in the campaign: ”Robespierre the younger went from village to village, seeking votes for his brother.” In an undated memorandum presumably written in March 1795, Armand Joseph Guffroy, an associate of the three siblings, claims that Charlotte also helped here, selling for her brothers the capital of her 400 livres income to help them get to Paris, and this in spite of ”the prediction of an aunt.”

In her memoirs, Charlotte claims that the siblings wrote to each other frequently during Maximilien’s time as deputy of the National Assembly: ”[Maximilien] gave me the most emphatic testimony of friendship in his letters. “You (vous) are what I love the most after the homeland,” he told me.” However, we have zero letters conserved from Maximilien to his brother and sister, as well as zero from Augustin to his sister. Both brothers did however write several letters to the family friend Antoine Buissart while away in Paris (we have a total nine from Maximilien between 1789-1792, and eighteen from Augustin 1789-1793). In said letters, they often tell Buissart to say hello from them to his wife Charlotte, but never ask about their own family… We do however have signs of Maximilien having corresponded with at least Augustin. One can be found in a letter from Maximilien to Buissart dated May 1 1790, where he mentions that he’s ”sending you a letter for my brother,” not daring to address it to him directly ”out of fear that my name would incite aristocratic hands to violate the secrecy of the letters.” The other sign is in a letter from Augustin to Maximilien dated April 10 1792 where there is to read: ”You are mistakenly complaining about the bad address I sent you.” These letters from Maximilien have then either gone missing or gotten destroyed.

Throughout 1790 we also have a total of nine letters from Augustin to Maximilien, most of them undated. These are entirely business related, and can’t really be used to say much about the dynamics between the two brothers, other than the fact Augustin was utterly loyal to his big brother. In one of the letters he complains that Maximilien is hesitant to publish a response to Briois de Beaumetz who in an open letter had accused him of having charged the people of Arras with failure to pay their taxes — ”This is an insult you are doing to your greatest friend.” He also doesn’t hide his fears of the risks Maximilien’s position puts him in: ”I tremble, my friend, when I think of the dangers that surround you. […] Farewell, I embrace you with tears in my eyes,” sentiments he repeats in a later letter, though this time with some resolve added in: ”I cannot hide my fears from you, dear brother, you will seal the cause of the people with your blood, perhaps these people will even be unfortunate enough to strike you, but I swear to avenge your death and to deserve it like you.” Augustin was also ready to give his brother political advice: in one of the letters he suggests dropping his motion for the marriage of priests, since it causes too much uproar: ”[the motion] is well within my principles, but few people are at the same level! You would lose the esteem of the peasants if you renewed this motion. This weapon is used to harm you; people only talk about your irreligion, etc.”

As for Charlotte, we have one letter from her to Maximilien dated April 9 1790, in which she mentions a local whip-round that she and other ”patriots” have occupied themselves with, a falling out she’s had with the journalist Thérèse Merchand — ”I took the liberty of telling her what the good patriots must have thought of her journal, and what you thought of it. I reproached her for her affectation of always putting infamous notes for the people, etc.” — and which she ends by asking him to ”to send what you promised me. We are still in great trouble” and to see if he can’t find a place in Paris for her and for Augustin, ”because he will never be anything in this country.”

That the two younger siblings were in dire straits back in Arras is also confirmed by two letters from Augustin to Maximilien from 1790. In the first one he writes that “We are in absolute destitution, remember our unfortunate household,” in the second one he reports that ”my sister has payed your rent. She has very few things left. She begs me to tell you this. I don’t know what to become, I don’t find any resources.” That Maximilien helped them out economically is confirmed by Souvernirs d’un déporté (1802) by Paul Villiers, who claimed to have served as his secretary in 1791. Villiers recalled that Maximilien at the time sent half of his fees to ”a sister he had in Arras, whom he held a lot of affection for.”

While Charlotte wouldn’t see her older brother again until 1791, Augustin went to visit him at least two times during the lifespan of the National Assembly. The first visit came in September 1789, as seen through letters from Augustin to Buissart dated September 3 and September 10. Through the second letter we learn that Augustin and Maximilien had gotten into some kind of argument prior to the latter leaving for Versailles, but that they had now made up — ”My brother has righted his wrongs against me.” Through the address given on both letters, we see that Augustin moved in with Maximilien on Rue d’Étang 16, a place he shared with three other deputies from Arras before the National Assembly moved to Paris in October 1789. It is unclear if Augustin was still with his brother when this move took place. We do know he was back in Arras by at least April 1790. In June the same year he writes to ask Maximilien to supply him with the means to go to Paris for July 14, in order to compensate for the lack of ”patriotic enjoyment” in Arras. We don’t know if he got his will through here. He was however back by his brother’s side again by September 1790, as revealed through a letter from the same month from him to Buissart. Augustin seems to have been ready to go back to Arras by the end of the year but gotten hindered by his brother, as revealed through letters from him to Buissart dated dated November(”My brother has delayed my departure, I will not announce it anymore; I will arrive, I will embrace you, everything will be forgiven.”) and December 13 (”I thought you would have received me at your home today instead of receiving my letter the day after tomorrow; but my brother did not allow me to leave and I’m staying in Paris for the week.”) Though the first letter we also learn that Charlotte would not appear to have been so fond over Augustin having left for the capital once more: ”A thousand things to my sister, she must be very cross with me, but she easily forgets, that consoles me, I will try to bring her what she wants.” Augustin nevertheless appears to have stayed in Paris until at least March 1791, as seen through a letter from him to Buissart the same month. Maximilien’s secretary Paul Villiers gave the following portrait of Augustin during the stay: ”…a miserable lawyer, without means, false, drunkard, base and villainous; he did me the honor of esteeming me and borrowing money and linen from me which he then never returned.”

On September 30 1791 the National Assembly was closed down, and a few days later Maximilien settled for Arras for a short stay. According to number 289 of the journal La Feuille du jour (October 16 1791), Augustin, Charlotte and ”many other young ladies” traveled to Baurains to meet him, dressed in fine clothes and equipped with music and a so-called ”civic crown,” but were forced to return empty handed when no Maximilien appeared. This was something the people of Arras could not stand for, proposing that Augustin serve as substitute for his brother and be given civic honors in his place. Augustin did however manage to shut this project down with the words: ”No, I refuse, they would make fun of me almost as much as they would of my brother.”

Recounting this episode in her memoirs forty years later, Charlotte does however claim that Maximilien had written to her about his arrival beforehand, recommending her to keep it a secret. She still writes that she and Augustin went to meet him on the way and had to return empty-handed, but that they were accompanied only by the family friend Charlotte Buissart, and were quite surprised to on their return to Arras see ”a considerable crowd; already the rumor of Robespierre’s arrival had spread in the city, whether by some indiscretion of Madame Buissart’s, whether because our servant had understood the reason for our trip to Bapaume, and had divulged it.” The next day, Charlotte, Augustin and Madame Buissart did however set out again early in the morning, and this time Maximilien eventually did appear: ”Finally, we held him in our arms, and we tasted the ineffable pleasure of seeing him again after an absence of two years.”

For Maximilien’s stay in Arras, Ghislain Morel, clerc of the priest Joseph Lebon, told the following anecdote (cited in La Terreur dans le Pas-de-Calais et dans le Nord. Histoire de Joseph Le Bon et des tribunaux révolutionnaires d'Arras et de Cambrai (1864) regarding a dinner the two brothers attended at his master’s house:

All they talked about was reforms and upheavals. The guests seemed to be preparing the plans that two years later they carried out. Robespierre the younger was a man of peace, who only asked to dine quietly; when he saw Maximilien and Lebon lose their temper, he exhausted himself in efforts to calm them down and bring them to other thoughts.

In late November 1791, Maximilien did however leave for Paris once more, to never see his hometown again. The following months we find three conserved letters from Augustin to Maximilien dated November 1791, December 14 1791 and April 10 1792, all entirely about politics, as well as a somewhat more personal one dated March 19 1792 from Augustin to Maximilien’s host Maurice Duplay:

Patriot Dupleix [sic], I learned indirectly that my brother is indisposed; I am worried; let me know about his situation as soon as possible. Send me also the cartridge that I asked my brother's friend to look for in his papers. Tell my brother that my sister is convalescing, and that I will send back Mme Witty's book in a few days. Don't waste a moment, send answers right away. My worry is at its peak. Nothing prevents me from flying to Paris. Also send me some copies of the speech on the war that your friend gave and the observations of Pethion [sic] and Robespierre. I embrace you and your family.

On September 16 1792, Augustin was elected to fill a seat in the National Convention, representing Paris. This time, Charlotte was not left behind when he once again set out for the capital. The two moved in with the Duplay family on Rue Saint-Honoré 366, where their brother had been lodging since a year back. The family, which consisted of father Maurice, mother Françoise-Éléonore, their three unmarried daughters Éléonore, Victoire and Élisabeth, son Jacques Maurice and nephew Simon, appears to have been on great terms with both of the brothers. This is what Élisabeth in her memoirs has her husband Philippe Le Bas tell her that Augustin had told him:

He praised you, told me that he had the friendship of a brother for you, that you were cheerful and good and that he liked you best of your sisters, that your good mother was excellent, that she had raised you well, as housewives, that your household was perfect and recalled the golden age, that everything there breathed virtue and a pure patriotism, that your good father was the most worthy and generous of men, that his whole life had passed in goodness. He told me that his brother was very happy to be among you, that you were a family to him, that he loved you like sisters and regarded your father and mother as his own parents.

In Histoire de Saint-Just député à la Convention nationale (1860), Ernest Hamel also publishes a testimony from Élisabeth’s son Philippe, revealing that Augustin, together with Simon and Jacques Maurice, once visited the house of saloon hostess Jeanne-Louise-Françoise de Sainte-Amaranthe, ”and this escapade was so severely criticised by Maximilien that, despite all the attraction of such a house for men, the oldest of whom was barely twenty-nine years old, they were careful not to return there.”

As can be seen above, Augustin also seems to have gone under his nickname ”Bonbon” within the Duplay family.

Charlotte on the other hand wrote in her memoirs that she got along well with Élisabeth and Victoire, but not so much with their mother and Éléonore. For the first, she writes that she ”looked constantly to put me in bad standing with my older brother and to monopolize him.” She also brings up (as she is not alone in having done) the claim that there existed marriage plans between Maximilien and Éléonore. Charlotte however, argues that only Françoise and Éléonore actually wanted this, her brother being too ”overwhelmed with work and affairs” to have time for either mistress or fiancée. She writes Maximilien ”told me twenty times that he felt nothing for Éléonore; her family’s obsessions, their importunities were more suited to make feel disgust for her than to make him love her,” and that he even told Augustin to marry her instead, to which he would have replied: “My faith, no.”

Charlotte also insinuates Françoise was bullying her: ”If I were to report everything she did to me, I would fill a fat volume. […] [Élisabeth] often came to wipe away my tears when Madame Duplay’s indignities made me cry.” This ill treatment is however contested by the same Élisabeth, who in her memoirs instead reports that her mother ”regarded Charlotte as a daughter” and ”never refused her anything that could please her.” She does however imply that Charlotte did eventually fall out of favor with Françoise: ”At the time (April 1793), my mother liked [Charlotte] a lot, she still had nothing to complain about,” but without elaborating on why exactly…

Though Charlotte doesn’t write it outright, we might imagiene the feud between her and the Duplays was fueled by the fact she, who for the past ten years had had her own household to run, now had that role taken away from her by Madame Duplay. Another theory, that we’ll get to later, is that there was a political dimension to the feud, namely, Charlotte blaming the Duplays for Maximilien’s radicalization.

If information regarding the relationship between the three siblings and their hosts is far from lacking, it is more scarce when it comes to the dynamics between the siblings themselves at the time. But it can be observed that no general disagreements between the two brothers can be spotted as Augustin took the step from dealing with local politics as a lawyer in Arras to national politics as a deputy of the Convention in Paris, and that he in large parts seems to have kept the protective attitude towards Maximilien already seen in their correspondence. We know Augustin was moved by the open attack on his brother by the ”girondin” Louvet at the Convention on October 29 1793. Later the same day he exclaimed to the jacobins: ”I am somewhat ashamed to be speaking before you, because the brother of Robespierre should be calumniated, and he is not. […] I heard men say that he would perish by their hands. Another one, whom I asked if he wanted to be the executioner of my brother, responded: ”He has been the executioner of a lot of others.” After this, it is possible to believe innocence will never be victorious!” And he ended by assuring them that Marat must be innocent of the charges currently directed against him as well, ”because he is persecuted by the same enemies that persecute Robespierre.” Augustin nevertheless also seems to have shared his brother’s 1, unwillingness to compromise and 2, belief that ideals are worth more than single individuals, when, five days later, after a jacobin proposed trying to reunite with the ”girondins,” he was firmly opposed and exclaimed: ”Citizens of Paris, be calm, let Maximilien Robespierre be sacrificed (cries of no! no! from the citizens in the tribunes). The loss of a man doesn’t entail the loss of liberty.” Finally, on December 31 1792, after having summarized the Convention session of the day for the jacobins, Augustin is recorded to have ”complained about attacks against his brother contained in the speech of Vergniaud.”

In Observations de Jérôme Pétion sur la lettre de Maximilien Robespierre (December 1792), Pétion insinuates Augustin getting elected to represent Paris in the National Convention must have been due to nepotism: ”your brother might be a brave and loyal citizen, I’m speaking neither for nor against him; but you must admit he wasn’t known to ten people.” Something which Maximilien hastily refuted when responding to Pétion a little while later:

As for my brother, he was known to the patriots of Paris and the Jacobins, who had witnessed his civic-mindedness; he was presented by members who, since the beginning of the revolution, have enjoyed public confidence; it was discussed solemnly and publicly, following the usage adopted by the electoral assembly; he was attacked more sharply than any other candidate; and were it true that one had counted, among the guarantors of his incorruptibility, the loyalty of his brother to the cause of the people, would one have to conclude with you that this choice was the fruit of the cabal, and that the electoral assembly, the purest that has yet existed among us, was a collection of intriguers and imbeciles?

As for Charlotte, Élisabeth Duplay writes in her memoirs that the two often visited the Convention together, where they sometimes met Augustin. On February 2 1793 the three siblings also had dinner with Rosalie Jullien, who the next day left the following portraits of them in a letter to her son. I would guess the idea of Augustin as more lighthearted than his brother has much to thank Rosalie’s description:

I was very pleased with the Robespierre family. The sister is naive and natural like your aunts, she arrived two hours before her brothers, and we had some women’s talk. I got her to speak about their domestic morals, and it is just like ours, simplicity and sincerity. Her brother had as little to do with the tenth of August as with the second of September. He is as suited to leading a party as he is to catching the moon between his teeth. He is abstract like a thinker and dry like an office man, but gentle like a lamb and gloomy like Young. I see that he does not possess our tender sensibilities, but I believe that he wants the best for mankind, more for the sake of justice than for the sake of love. Besides, you don't have to do more than look at his face to determine that never has nature given such gentle features to such a beautiful soul. Robespierre the younger is livelier, more open, an excellent patriot, but with a common mind and a contented temper which make him an unfavorable noise to the Mountain.

The siblings eventually move from Rue Saint-Honoré and into an apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin. No author has been able to identify when exactly this move took place. From what the different sources indicate, I personally think it’s most likely Charlotte and Augustin moved out before Maximilien, somewhere in the summer of 1793. Shortly thereafter, on July 19 1793, Augustin was was tasked by the Committee of Public Safety with going to the Army of Italy. Augustin set off a few days later together with fellow representative on mission Jean François Ricord. According to Charlotte’s memoirs, it was when she learned that Ricord was bringing his wife Marguerite for company that she asked Augustin if she too could join on the journey, something which the latter ”joyfully agreed to.”

Again according to Charlotte’s memoirs, up until this point ”nothing had altered the vivid harmony that reigned between us [three siblings].” Charlotte does however claim that it was during this mission a rupture took place between them that they would never recover from. The start of this episode, she writes, came when she, Augustin and the Ricords, after a while of having traveled from town to town with counter-revolutionaries constantly after them, finally settled in Nice for a longer period of time. There, Augustin and Ricord made frequent outings to different divisions while Charlotte and Marguerite occupied themselves with making shirts for the soldiers during the day and went for walks and horseback rides in the countryside in the evenings. This latter activity soon proved to be troublesome, as ”several journals paid by the aristocracy” back in Paris started accusing the two women of acting like princesses with their equestrian outings. As a consequence, Augustin vetoed further horseback rides after receiving a letter from Maximilien regarding the issue, and Charlotte promised to abstain from riding from then on (this is the horse controversy you were talking about in the ask) But not long after, while Augustin and Ricord were away, Marguerite, who according to Charlotte ”was the most frivolous and inconsiderate person in the world,” proposed the two should go on yet another ride, and Charlotte, after trying in vain to remind her of what her brothers had said, hesitantly joined her. ”During the entire ride, I was sad and had a heavy heart, because I was so affected by disobeying my brother.”

When Augustin reproached his sister for the ride three days later, Charlotte called on Marguerite to testify that it had been her idea. But Marguerite, instead of telling the truth, not only enforced the lie that it was Charlotte that had wanted the ride, but also added that she had taken her with her against her will. Charlotte was so stupified she couldn’t respond, but Augustin chose to believe in it, much to her distress — ”My brother knew I was incapable of lying. Why then did he not want to believe me?” After this incident, Augustin stopped speaking to Charlotte and started keeping a certain coldness towards her, a coldness which grew bigger everyday since Marguerite ”didn’t cease to speak ill of me to my brother and invent thousands of lies to make me lose his friendship.” Charlotte for her part cried a lot over Augustin’s behaviour when she was alone, but ”was resoluted to hide my pain and to not show it, especially to my brother.” She claims she didn’t understand what was causing his behaviour at the time, but chose not to ask for an explanation for it since ”I saw him so occupied, so burdened by work, that I couldn’t bring myself to.”

The straw that broke the camel’s back came when Marguerite a while later suggested to Charlotte that they should go to Grasse together to see a friend of hers, something Charlotte agreed to do. But hardly had they arrived when Marguerite came forward with a forged (so Charlotte writes) letter, telling Charlotte it was from Augustin and that he urged her to return to Paris as soon as possible. A shocked Charlotte obeyed and set out for the capital the following morning, ending her journey somewhere in the fall of 1793 (we don’t have a clear date as to when here either). Marguerite in her turn went on to slander Charlotte even more to Augustin, saying that the reason she had so abruptly left for Paris was because she didn’t care about him, and that Charlotte had caluminated both of them. According to Charlotte, Marguerite was seducing her brother, who for his part ”believed it essential to his honor and duty” to respond to her advances. If there is any truth to that interpretation or if the story is actually such that Augustin and Marguerite were having a mutual love affair that Charlotte became an annoying witness to I will leave unsaid…

It is after Charlotte’s lone return to Paris that I think it’s most likely she got Maximilien to leave the Duplays and come live with her on Rue Saint-Florentin. According to her memoirs, the argument she used to persuade him was that, occupying such a high rank in politics, he ought to have a home of his own. ”Maximilien recognized the fairness of my reasons, but for a long time fought the proposal that I made to him to separate from the Duplay family, fearing to distress them. At last I succeeded.”

On December 18 1793, one day after the siege of Toulon, Augustin writes to let Maximilien know he’s coming back to Paris. We have two conflicting reports regarding his short stay in the capital. According to Charlotte’s memoirs, Augustin had swallowed all the bad things Marguerite Ricord had told him about his sister, and was therefore ”outraged” against her upon his arrival in Paris, refusing to see her during his stay and not even putting his foot in the house, choosing instead to lodge with his colleague Record (unclear to me if she means Ricord, which would be strange given the fact they were not given a leave at the same time). He did however make known to Maximilien that Charlotte had compromised him and Marguerite, and even though her older brother never spoke to her about it, ”I saw that he was unhappy with me.” Charlotte herself writes she was still completely unaware of what had caused Augustin’s change in attitude towards her, but that ”the purity of my conscience” stopped her from asking either brother for an explanation of why they were treating her like they did.

Maurice André Gaillard, who had known the siblings before the revolution, did on the other hand claim in his memoirs to have met Augustin when the latter made a stop in Melun on his way to Paris. Augustin, far from speaking ill of Charlotte, would then have told him that ”my whole family will be content to receive news from you. We often speak of you, my brother, sister and I, come and see us in Paris, public affairs shouldn’t hinder from cultivating old relationships.” Recalling a meeting he had with Charlotte five months later, Gaillard similarily has her say that both she and Maximilien got very happy when Augustin could deliver news about him, insinuating she and her younger brother were not on bad terms at all and that he, contrary to Charlotte’s memoirs’ version, stayed at same house as them during his leave.

We have one confirmed interaction between Augustin and Maximilien during the former’s brief stay in Paris, and it occurred on January 5 1794 at the jacobin club, in the middle of the flamewar between the journalists Hébert and Desmoulins. Augustin stood up to regret the quarrels infecting the club that were not there when he left on a mission five months earlier. ”I ask that Hébert, who has many reproaches to make, because it is he who is the cause of the movements in the departments, relating to worship [...] be heard in his turn. […] If Hébert has to respond to Camille, Père Duchesne can enter the fray with the Vieux Cordelier.” This comment did however earn him a rebuke from Maximilien, who immediately after declared: ”It is easy to see that the last speaker has been absent from the Society for a long time. He has rendered great services at Toulon, but he did not sufficiently consider how dangerous it is to still fuel small passions which clash with so much violence.”

Soon thereafter Augustin left for another mission in Haute-Saône, this time accompanied by his mistress Guillodon La Saudraie (by now it can provably be seen that he appeared to have a much bigger appreciation for such activities than his brother, something I suppose it too has contributed to the image of him as the more light-hearted one). It wouldn’t be until June that he could see his family again.

Maximilien was for his part soon to return to the Duplays again. In her memoirs, Charlotte claims he moved back in with the family after Madame Duplay one day came to visit and found that he had fallen ill, whereupon she told Charlotte he would be better cared for at her house. The only period of illness in Robespierre’s last year alive that I’ve been able to identify is in February-March 1794, when he was away from public life for as much as a month, so it seems likely for this incident to have happened here. Charlotte claims that Maximilien first weakly refused to go, but when Madame Duplay ”doubled her instances or rather her obsessions,” he decided to follow her, telling Charlotte that ”they love me so, they have so much respect, so much goodness for me, that it would be ungrateful of me to push them away.” Élisabeth Duplay did for her part in a note written in her old age claim that Maximilien had in fact disliked living with his sister because her ”imperious character rendered him really unhappy.”

Charlotte was hurt by Maximilien choosing the Duplays over her. She writes she regardless of that often went to see him after he moved back, always being received in a ”disgraceful manner” by Françoise Duplay. Charlotte also often charged her domestic with bringing her brother jam and fruits that he liked. But one day Françoise sent the domestic and her jampots back with the words: ”Bring that back, I don’t want her to poison Robespierre.” (unclear if this is meant to be read literally or just as a joke about Charlotte’s cooking). Learning about this, Charlotte recalls she was ”stupifed,” but again chose not to tell Maximilien about what had happened since this would ”provoke a scene that could only be strongly disagreeable for him” and instead chose to ”devour in silence my grief and indignation.”

If Charlotte really was as reserved in front of her brothers as she portrays herself in her memoirs, she on the other hand appears to have been much more politically active in other places. In an undated letter probably from 1793 we do for example find her submitting papers to an unknown person and asking for a copy of ”the proclamation that you have given to M. La Jourdeai.” Charlotte seems to have been especially investigated in the situation in Arras, corresponding with both the Buissart couple, the daughter of a municipal officier and administrator in the army Claude-Louis Bruslé de Valsuzenay, who in a letter to her dated April 25 1794 paints a grim picture of the repression currently carried out in the city under the leadership of representative on mission Joseph Lebon: ”While we were relaying I fulfilled your errand. What has been said of your country is true; for six weeks one hundred and fifty people have been guillotined and about three thousand imprisoned.”

Charlotte also visited Convention deputy Armand Joseph Guffroy, who was also from Arras and had been an associate of all three siblings, even if, according to Élisabeth Duplay, Augustin and Maximilien ”held a great contempt for him” since at least 1793. In his work Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices (1795) Guffroy claims there was one affair concerning Arras that Charlotte got particularily invested in. It revolved around several members of the city’s revolutionary tribunal — the president Beugniet, public prosecutor Démouliez and committee of surveillance member Gabriel Leblond — who on April 19 1794 got arrested for not having voted for death in a recent trial (these would later be joined by Leblond’s brother, as well as a couple by the name of Danten). On May 4, all of them were taken to Paris to be transferred before the Revolutionary Tribunal of the city. While Guffroy since May 7 started mailbombing Maximilien denouncing and asking him to recall Joseph Lebon and receive declarations from the imprisoned, he writes that female relatives of the accused, alongside Charlotte and the aforementioned Charlotte Buissart, tried their best to approach him in person to tell him about the situation — ”Leblond’s sister, Demeulier’s daughter, Buissart’s wife, Robespierre’s sister, to whom he was almost invisible, took every means to reach him” (this claim is also confirmed through a letter from Guffroy to the Committee of Public Safety dated June 26 1794, where he writes Robespierre surely must remember what Charlotte and Madame Buissart have told him on this subject.)

Charlotte’s attempts to get her brother to listen to her might eventually have motivated her to move back in with the Duplays as well. That is at least the place Maurice André Gaillard portrays her as living at when in his memoirs recounting a meeting the two had somewhere in May 1794. During said meeting Charlotte would have again ”named with great bitterness, the prodigious number of very honest people dragged to the scaffold by Joseph Lebon,” before again raging against the Duplay family. By now, it would however appear like the relationship with Maximilien it too has much deteriorated, and Charlotte comes off as deploring of her brother’s role in ”the terror,” while nevertheless blaming all his negative changes on his host family:

When my younger brother passed through Melun, all three of us were living together; I still hoped to be able to bring back the older, to snatch him from the wretches who obsess over him and lead him to the scaffold. They felt that my brother would eventually escape them if I regained his confidence, they destroyed me entirely in his mind; today he hates the sister who served as his mother… For several months he has been living alone, and although lodged in the same house, I no longer have the power to approach him… I loved him tenderly, I still do… His excesses are the consequence of the domination under which he groans, I am sure of it, but knowing no way to break the yoke he has allowed himself to be placed under, and no longer able to bear the pain and the shame of to see my brother devote his name to general execration, I ardently desire his death as well as mine. Judge of my unhappiness!…

When Gaillard wants to see Maximilien to speak with him of an affair regarding 60 arrested judges from Melun (an affair on which Charlotte is quick at voicing her mind as well), Charlotte even suggests not mentioning her name to him. After Gaillard is refused at the Duplays’ door, Charlotte aims even more reproaches against the family, and hopes Augustin will eventually be able to get Maximilien to move away from there:

No one can approach my brother unless he is a friend of those Duplays, with whom we are lodging; these wretches have neither intelligence nor education, explain to me their ascendancy over Maximilien. However, I do not despair of breaking the spell that holds him under their yoke; for that I am awaiting the return of my other brother, who has the right to see Maximilien. If the discovery I just made doesn't rid us of this race of vipers forever, my family is forever lost. You know what a miserable state we found ourselves in, reduced to alms, my brothers and I, if the sister of our father hadn’t taken us in. It’s strange that you didn’t often notice how much her husband’s brusqueness and formality made us pay dearly for the bread he gave us; but you must also have noticed that if indigence saddened us, it never degraded us and you always judged us incapable of containing money through a dubious action. Maximilien, who makes me so unhappy, has never given a hold, as you know, in terms of delicacy. Imagiene his fury when he learns that these miserable Duplays are using his name and his credit to get themselves the rarest goods at a low price from the merchants. So while all of Paris is forced to line up at the baker's shop every morning to get a few ounces of black, disgusting bread, the Duplays eat very good bread because the Incorruptible sits at their table: the same pretext provides them with sugar, oil, soap of the best quality, which the inhabitant of Paris would seek in vain in the best shops... How my brother's pride would be humiliated if he knew the abuse that these wretches make of his name! What would become of his popularity, even among his most ardent supporters? Certainly my brother is very proud, it is in him a capital fault; you must remember, you and I have often lamented the ridicule he made for himself by his vanity, the great number of enemies he made for himself by his disdainful and contemptuous tone, but he is not bloodthirsty. Certainly he believes he can overthrow his adversaries and his enemies by the superiority of his talent.

Charlotte then helps arrange a meeting between Gaillard and Maximilien’s Committee of Public Safety colleague and friend Georges Couthon, so that Gaillard can discuss his errand with him instead. But when Couthon, once the conversation turns hostile, makes a move to call on his guards, Charlotte throws herself on him and holds him still while telling Gaillard to escape and go wait for her. Meeting up with him again, she claims that they both were fooled by ”the profound hypocrisy” of Couthon and that Gaillard would have been executed this very day if she had not intervened. But, not convinced that Couthon will stay put, she tells Gaillard to flee Paris and not to take the ordinary route, something which he also goes ahead and does. If Maximilien found out about this incident is something the anecdote leaves unknown, but we might imagine he wasn’t super happy with his sister if he did…

While all this was going down, Augustin was still away from Paris serving as representative on mission. Aside from letters to the entire Committee of Public Safety, he also penned down seven ones only to Maximilien during this one year long period. These are all entirely related to politics, with one exception, a letter that is undated but usually gets traced to May 1794:

My sister does not have a single drop of blood that resembles ours. I have seen and learned so much about her that I regard her as our greatest enemy. She abuses our spotless reputation to lay down the law on us and threatens to take a scandalous step in order to compromise us. We must take a decisive stand against her. We must make her leave for Arras, and thus take her away from us, a woman who causes our common despair. She would like to give us the reputation of bad brothers, her calumnies spread against us aim at this goal. I would like you to see the citoyenne La Saudraie, she would give you certain information on all the masks that it is interesting to know in these circumstances. A certain Saint-Félix seems to be from the clique.

What exactly Augustin is denouncing Charlotte for here is of course hard to know for sure. At first, a connection might be drawn to him having incorrectly come to believe Charlotte had ”caluminated” him and Madame Ricord, as Charlotte would have it in her memoirs. In said memoirs, Charlotte does however not make that connection, choosing instead to not mention this letter at all, making you suspect there could be something more serious it is alluding to… Indeed, it can be established that the Saint-Félix Augustin claims to be part of Charlotte’s ”clique” in the letter was a ”hébertist” since February 19 1794 held under loose house, and whose brother had gotten executed the following month. But regardless of whether the conflict between the two be personal, political or both, the fact Augustin could denounce Charlotte in this vague of a manner and expect Maximilien to act on it might tell us a bit on how the trust and power dynamics between the three siblings looked…

Augustin’s letter may be the reason (though it’s not confirmed) Maximilien on May 14 wrote the following letter on behalf of the Committee of Public Safety, asking Joseph Lebon, the representative on mission to Arras that Charlotte according to Gaillard’s account repulsed, to make a short trip to Paris. He would however not appeared to have been affected by his sister’s feelings for him, instead telling him that the Committee of Public Safety is happy with his work:

Dear colleague, The Committee of Public Safety needs to confer with you on important objects, it does justice to the energy with which you have suppressed the enemies of the revolution, and the result of our conference will be to direct it in an even more useful way. Come as soon as possible, to return promptly to the post where you currently are.

Lebon quickly did as he was told. According to Guffroy’s Les Secretes de Joseph Lebon the following played out during his short stay in Paris:

Lebon returned to Paris for 24 hours. He spoke to the committee, to Lebas, to Saint-Just and to Robespierre. He was very diligent with the latter. His sister, worthy of the esteem of all good citizens, reproached him for his cruelty, he denied it, and under the pretext of making her an eyewitness, he brought Robespierre’s sister with him. Her brothers wanted to get rid of her: their correspondence proves it.

In an undated memorandum written after the death of the two brothers, Guffroy furthermore argues that it was Charlotte’s relationship with him that caused her fallout with them: …[The brothers] drove her out of their house because she did not think like they did, because she came to see my wife and because she saw citizens who were sincere friends of justice and truth.” A story that Charlotte’s going to somewhat subscribe to in her interrogation held July 31 1794, that we’ll get to later.

On May 17 Lebon reached Cambrai with Charlotte by his side, as announced by a letter written by Augustin Darthé two days later. From there, it didn’t take long before she was back in Arras again. If Charlotte had given her consent to be escorted back to her hometown by a man she allegedly had accused of bloodlust a few days earlier remains unknown. Gaillard for his part claims Charlotte willingly went there in order to ”collect evidence of the massacres carried out by Joseph Lebon,” but that Maximilien ”devoted mortal hatred to her” because of it.

For Charlotte’s time in Arras, we learn through a letter dated May 23 that she seems to have worked as some kind of informant for one Solon, another enemy of Le Bon, visiting the Jacobin club of the town to hear what the word on the street was. In another letter, dated June 28, Antoine Buissart informs Maximilien that since a month back, he, his wife and Charlotte have been ”injured” by a certain Carlier, administrator of the department of Pas-de-Calais — ”You know that from this time on I am a conspirator in the eyes of the famous Carlier, and my wife and your sister two intriguers.” When Charlotte eventually set out for Paris again, Guffroy claims it was caused by Lebon’s ”cutthroats” having denounced her as an aristocrat to the Jacobins. Guffroy speculates that the pretext for this was that she had visited one Payen de Neuville la Liberté, ”an estimable farmer whom Lebon had guillotined, and brother of another Payen, member of the Constituent Assembly who had served as father and friend to Robespierre (Payen was indeed one of the men Maximilien and Augustin had shared an address with at Versailles in 1789) and who Lebon also had guillotined, for not having been at his constitutional mass.” In an undated memorandum he also adds: ”without Florent Guyot, who brought [Charlotte] back to Paris, she would have been imprisoned [in Arras].” All historians mentioning this claim also dismiss it as slander, but this seemingly only on the grounds that they find Guffroy untrustworthy. Considering the two letters above, as well as the fact the execution dates for the two Payen brothers (June 21 and June 26) match up pretty well with the date Charlotte would have departed from Arras (we know through a letter from Buissart to his wife that she was back in Paris by July 1), and the fact Charlotte in her interrogation is going to claim she had almost fallen victim to the Revolutionary Tribunal, I don’t think it deserves to get entirely thrown away. If we also endorse the idea that it was Maximilien who on Augustin’s insistance got Lebon to bring their sister back to Arras, that would mean Charlotte was put in a position to be prosecuted indirectly because of her brothers.

If there is any truth to this, Charlotte does however not let any of that show in her last (and only conserved) letter to Augustin, who had come back to Paris just days before her. In her memoirs, she describes the situation between the two was the same as in December, with Augustin ”fleeing my presence” and ”telling anyone who would listen that I am unworthy of him, that I conducted myself badly with him, that I no longer deserve his esteem” while she herself was entirely clueless as to what she could have done for him to do that. On July 6 1794 Charlotte therefore sat down and authored the following letter to Augustin. She would later try to declare certain parts of it to be fabricated by her brothers’ enemies, but an encounter with the fac-simile of it proves that this is not the case:

Your (votre) aversion for me, my brother, far from diminishing, as I flattered myself, has become the most implacable hatred, to the point that the mere sight of me inspires horror to you; also, I must not hope that you will ever be calm enough to listen to me, which is why I will attempt to write to you.

Crushed under the weight of my sorrow, incapable of connecting my thoughts, I will not undertake my apology. Yet, it would be so easy for me to demonstrate that I have never deserved in any wise to excite this fury which blinds you, but I abandon the task of my justification to time, which unveils all perfidies, all darknesses. So, when the blindfold which covers your eyes will be torn apart, if you can distinguish the voice of remorse in the disorder of your passions, if the cry of nature can make itself heard, returned from an error which is so fatal to me, do not fear that I will ever reproach you for having guarded it for so long; I will only occupy myself with the joy of having rediscovered your heart. Ah! if you could read at the bottom of mine, you would blush for having insulted it in such a cruel manner, you would see there, with the proof of my innocence, that nothing can erase the tender attachment from it which ties me to you, and that this is the only emotion to which I relate all of my affections; without complaining about your hatred, what does it matter to me that I am hated by those who are irrelevant to me and who I despise? Their memory will never come to trouble me, but being hated by my brothers, I, for whom it is a necessity to cherish them, this is the only thing which can render me as unhappy as I am.

This passion of hatred must be atrocious, since it blinds you to the point of bringing you to slander me among my friends. Nonetheless, do not hope in your delirium to be able to make me lose the esteem of a few virtuous persons, which is the only good which remains to me, along with a pure conscience ; full of a just confidence in my virtue, I can defy you to detract it and I dare to tell you that, beside the good people who know me, you will lose your reputation rather than harming mine.

Thus, it is important to your tranquillity that I am far away from you, it is even important, as they say, to the chose publique that I do not live in Paris! I still do not know what I have to do, but what seems the most urgent to me is to clear you of the sight of an odious object, also, as from tomorrow, you can return to your apartment without fearing to meet me there. I will leave from today unless you formally oppose it.

My stay in Paris should not bother you, I take care not to connect my friends to my disgrace, the misfortune which persecutes me has to be contagious, and your hatred for me is too blind in order not to fall on everyone who shows interest for me. Also, I only need a few days in order to calm the disorder of my thoughts, to decide on the place of my exile, because, in the obliteration of all of my faculties, I am in no state to take a course of action.

Therefore, I leave you since you demand it, but, in spite of your injustices, my friendship for you is so indestructible that I will not retain any bitterness from the cruel treatment which you make me endure. When, [being] disillusioned sooner or later, you will come to hold the feelings for me that I deserve, when shyness does not prevent you from informing me that I have recovered your friendship and, wherever I may be, may I even be beyond the seas, if I can be useful to you in anything, know how to inform me of it and I will soon be by your side.

I send you the exact summary of the expenditures which I have made since your departure for Nice. Sorrowfully, I have learned that you have singularly degraded yourself through the manner in which you have spoken of this affaire d'intérêt. Because of this, I oblige you to observe that, in all of these expenditures, there are debts for the shoemaker, the tailor, a washtub, and powder, prior to my return from Nice, you will also observe that the money that was returned to Madame Delaporte had been lent by her to René during my stay in Nice, that the 200 livres given to René are for his wages which had not been paid to him in the last year, finally, you will also distinguish postage for letters, and if you still have any doubts after this, you can share them with me, I will elucidate them, I will give all of my remaining money to you, and it this does not match my expenditures, this can only be because I have forgotten a few items.

PS: You will observe that the polisher is not paid, nor [is] the locksmith who has made a key for your secretary.

PS: You have to think that, while leaving your apartment, I will take all necessary precautions in order to not compromise my brothers. The quarter where citoyenne Laporte lives, [to whose home] I plan to retreat temporarily, is the place of the entire republic where I can be ignored the most.

Charlotte presumably then left this letter in the apartment on Rue Saint-Florentin before moving in with her friend Madame Delaporte on 200 Rue de la Réunion. Her husband, François Sébastien Christophe Delaporte, had at the time just been appointed judge at the Revolutionary Tribunal of Paris, a position that would land him in prison for several months after thermidor. In the defence he then worked out (cited in Charlotte Robespierre et ses amis (1961)) he had the following to say regarding the Robespierre family dynamics:

I never had relations with any member of the former government, nor with Robespierre. My wife having gotten to know his sister took her into our home, when she was proscribed by him because of her feelings which were quite opposed to his. Certainly, one could not be the friend of this implacable man, when one welcomed his enemies.

According to Charlotte’s memoirs, she never saw Augustin again. She did however meet Maximilien one or two more times, but in the presence of ”several people” (she doesn’t specify which ones) making it impossible for her to speak to him about the conflict with Augustin, since, again: ”I knew both of them were entirely absorbed by the dangers threatening the public sake; I postponed every explanation.” Another person she sometimes met when walking on Champs-Élysées was her former courtier Joseph Fouché. After learning that he was Maximilien’s ”declared enemy,” Charlotte does however claim she no longer wanted to speak with him. In a letter written a few months after thermidor, she reveals that she was offered asylum at the house of Maximilien’s childhood friend Guislain Mathon, something that her brothers protested against, and it would appear like she did indeed not move in with him until after their death.

Charlotte would also appear to not have made the fight between her and her brothers’ known to her friends in Arras, as can be seen through a letter from the siblings’ step-cousin Régis Deshorties to Augustin dated July 18: “Charlotte Robespierre had promised to inform me immediately of your arrival to the capital. Not receiving a letter from her either on this subject or on any other letter of which she should have acknowledged receipt, I imagined (as several people had assured me) that you were going to come to Arras and that this was the reason for your sister's silence.” And Deshorties ended by asking Augustin to ”embrace Charlotte Robespierre and her girlfriends for me.”

If the relationship between Charlotte and her brothers had cracked down by now, Augustin’s loyalty towards Maximilien was as strong as ever. If we’re to believe the memoirs of Barère, some time after the passing of the Law of 22 Prairial on June 10, which had caused a lot of frictions within the Committee of Public Safety, Augustin entered the committee ”under pretext of giving an account of his mission to Nice; but instead of fulfilling this duty, he addressed me in a furious tone. ”You have maltreated my brother. We missed you on the 31st of May 1793, we shall not miss you on the 31st of May 1794.” He left still threatening us.” A month later, July 11, Augustin appears at the jacobins and ”complains that the lowest flatteries are used to create division between patriots: they went so far as to tell him that he was better than his brother: “But in vain,” he cries, ”would anyone want to separate me from him: as long as he is the proclaimer of morality and the terror of scoundrels, I aspire to no other glory than to share the same tomb as him!”

According to Guffroy’s Les Secretes de Joseph Lebon, Augustin, like his sister, also set out to help the six ”persecuted patriots” from Arras. Guffroy writes that he, following Augustin’s return to Paris in June, wrote a letter to him explaining the affair. Augustin, who ”soon seemed to want to seriously help and serve them” showed the letter to his brother and later also succeeded in organizing a few meetings between Danten, Demeulier, Leblond and Maximilien. Guffroy claims to have been present at one of the meetings where it was just Augustin and the ”patriots.” Augustin would then have reproached him for ”having sought to harm his brother” with a note in his journal where he’d written he had more humanity and sensitivity than Maximilien since he was a husband and father and Maximilien was not. Finally, on July 22 or 23, Augustin brought Leblond and another one of the ”patriots” to the room of his brother, who starts a discussion with them. But Augustin soon makes the conversation revolve around other things than Arras, encouraging Leblond to ”tell my brother what it is you know about Carnot, against whom Duquesnoy has said that he’s going to bring papers and proofs on fifteen facts capable of guillotining Carnot fifteen times.” When Leblond instead starts talking about the despotism of said Duquesnoy as well as that of his brother, Maximilien gets mad and tells Augustin: ”Let’s go!” The two leave, but in the middle of the stairs Augustin turns around and tells Leblond: ”Damn beast, we should only talk about Carnot; why talk about the two Duquesnoys? My brother and the Committee of Public Safety have the biggest confidence in them… You’re lucky to be free… Duquesnoy!”

Finally, on July 27 1794, Augustin made good on his promise to share the same tomb as Maximilien from sixteen days earlier, when he with the following words asked to be included on the arrest warrant just issued against his brother by the Convention:

I am as guilty as my brother: I share his virtues; I want to share his fate. I demand an act of accusation against me also.

The two brothers, alongside Saint-Just, Couthon and Lebas, were declared under arrest by the Convention around 1:30 PM. Around 5 PM they were taken to the Committee of General Security and served dinner, before getting seperated and taken to different prisons between 6:30 and 7 PM. Shortly before midnight they had however been reunited at the Hôtel de Ville, Augustin writing and Maximilien and Saint-Just putting their signatures on a letter urging Couthon to join them as well. Not long after midnight the building was stormed, and two o’clock in the morning a severely injured Augustin was carried into the civil committee of the section of l’Hôtel de Ville. According to the medical report, the patient managed to state the following before the pain became too much:

Proceeding to learning of the causes of the accident, the patient told us his name was [Augustin] Robespierre; that he voluntarily threw himself from one of the windows of Hôtel de Ville, to escape from the hands of the conspirators, because, having been put under a decree of accusation, he believed his death inevitable; that he never stopped doing his duty well at the Convention, like his brother; that no one can reproach him for anything; that he regards Panis as a conspirator, because he once came over to him and declared that Collot d’Herbois does not desire the good of his country in order to deceive him; Carnot appears to him to be one of the conspirators, who wants to surrender his country...

The two brothers were eventually taken to the Conciergerie prison, before they six o'clock in the evening got driven to the scaffold. According to number 675 of Suite de journal de Perlet, released two days after the execution, Augustin was the second first to be guillotined, Maximilien the second to last.

In her memoirs, Charlotte recalled how she on July 28 had tried to visit her brothers in the Conciergerie prison but been refused, shortly after which she too found herself arrested:

On 10 Thermidor, I ran through the streets, my mind troubled and despair in my heart; I called out, I sought my brothers. I learned that they had been taken to the Conciergerie. I ran there, I asked to see them, I asked with hands joined; I begged on my knees before the soldiers; they repulsed me, laughed at my tears, insulted me, struck me. A few persons, moved to pity, led me away. I had lost my reason. I did not know what was happening, what became of me; or rather I learned it several days later; when I returned to myself I was in prison.

How much truth there is to this account can be questioned. If there is no way to know for sure if Charlotte had attempted to see her brothers in prison, she on the other hand doesn’t appear to have ”lost her reason” more than necessary for her to take on her mother’s maiden name Carraut and for her and her hostess to leave their lodging and take cover at the house of one citiziness Béguin on rue du Four, section du Contrat Social n. 482. There, on 31 July, they were arrested alongside several other women.

Brought before her interrogators the very same day (see this post), ”citiziness Carraut” admitted that she was ”Marie-Marguerite-Charlotte Robespierre, 28 [sic] years old, living on her income, residing with citiziness Laporte, rue de la Réunion n. 200, and this since about a month back.” When asked why she wasn’t residing with the Duplay family like her brother she responded that she had left since her brothers and Madame Duplay had asked her to, and that the latter also had ”reproached her for seeing counter-revolutionaries, among which was Guffroy, representative of the people.” As for her older brother, he ”resented her because she had the courage of letting him know the danger he ran by being sourrunded so badly,” his host family having taken on the quest to lose him. Asked about the fact her hostess’ husband was a member of the Revolutionary Tribunal, Charlotte responsed that she was unaware of it, but that ”she had known that, in the public spirit, her older brother passed for having appointed [people to] the Revolutionary Tribunal, of which she had almost been the victim.”

Finally, Charlotte was invited ”to declare if she had been aware of the infamous conspiracy that her older brother had been hatching and if she knew which were the men who frequently visited him.” Her answer was clear:

She responded that she loved her country so much that she had the courage to lament this diabolical conspiracy, that every time she had met him she had found the occasion to tell him that the men around him were trying to deceive him, that if she had suspected the infamous plot that was being hatched, she would have denounced it rather than seeing her country lost.

Charlotte ended the interrogation with implicating a man named Didier, who for a period of time served as secretary to her older brother, and who through that position had been appointed juror to the Revolutionary Tribunal.

At least three of the other women Charlotte had been arrested alongside of were they too interrogated on July 31, all three linking arms in insisting on the vulnerable position Charlotte had found herself in. Citiziness Béguin, Charlotte’s hostess at the time of her arrest, claimed that François Topino-Lebrun, juror at the Revolutionary Tribunal, had told a friend of hers to stop seeing Charlotte, ”given that Le Brun knew that all those who came to see citiziness Robespierre would be guillotined.” Like Charlotte, she claimed to know nothing about the conspiracy the two brothers were said to be involved in, ”she had however heard it said that if Robespierre came out victorious they would all be lost.” Citizinesses Girard and Canone did in their interrogation similarly reply that ”they did not know the people who habitually associated with the infamous Robespierre, that they had never seen him, that they only knew their unfortunate sister,” and that the reason they were arrested at citiziness Béguin’s house was because they had gone over there ”to congratulate [Charlotte] on the happiness she was currently enjoying when she was finally free from the infamous tyrants Robespierre who had never had another purpose but to sacrifice their sister.”

In her memoirs, Charlotte claims she remained imprisoned for a fortnight and got set free after her cellmate (a for her unknown woman) convinced her to sign a document, the content of which she didn’t read. No such document have however been found, and it might be suspected this is another attempt by Charlotte to portray herself as more loyal to her brothers than she really was… On the other hand, it seems like it would go against her goal to make her imprisonment shorter than it actually was, so that she only spent two weeks in jail is something I’m more inclined to believe. That would make Charlotte the one out of all of the women imprisoned for being related to a revolutionary I’ve been able to track so far that got out of prison by far the fastest. We might imagine she had her fallout with her brothers, as well as having contacts in the right places, much to thank for that…

Following Charlotte’s release from prison, we know through a letter dated November 18 1794 from her to her uncle that she stayed in touch with Antoine Buissart, who for his part already a few days after thermidor had hurried to abandon and denounce Maximilien and Augustin. Charlotte also appears to have kept contacts with Guffroy, whom the pamphlet Conjuration formée dès le 5 préréal [sic] par neuf représentans du peuple contre Maximilien Robespierre, pour le poignarder en plein sénat released shortly after Thermidor designated as one of nine deputies who since May 24 1794 had been planning on stabbing Maximilien to death in the middle of the Convention. This can be seen through an undated memorandum to the Committee of General Security where Guffroy can reveal that Charlotte’s health has deteriorated due to her many sorrows, that said sorrow is keeping her from making lace which she could use to make a living, that she owns nothing aside from her clothes, that her uncle has sent her some help, and that she at the moment is staying with ”one of our mutual friends.” He adds that he is ”well aware of the ingratitude and injustice of her brothers towards her, while she did everything for them in the just belief that they would not abandon her,” and ends by suggesting that the nation should ”offer her help so that she can procure furniture and a pension capable of sustaining her in the state of infirmity and languor to which grief has reduced her.” A while later, April 13 1795, we find a Committee of General Security decree signed by Guffroy and other enemies of the two brothers, proclaiming that ”wherever citoyenne Robespierre wishes to travel and retire, she deserves the confidence of good citizens and the protection of the constituted authorities, who are invited to lend her the aid and assistance that the purest and most civil good citizenship deserves and French loyalty must grant.”

The background to this is a letter dated March 14 1795 Charlotte wrote to the Committee of General Security to help her host Guislain Mathon who had come under suspicion. This is all she has to say about her dead brothers in it:

…One has assured me that citizen Mathon, commissioner of transports, has been denounced as having been a friend of my brothers, and I have no doubt that, whatever the pretext of this denunciation, I am the real cause of it for having accepted an asylum at his house since a few months back. […] I will not undertake the apology of Citizen Mathon. I will only tell you that, forced to leave my brothers, unjustly irritated against me, he had the courage to offer me an asylum with him in spite of their protests. He did not incite me into accepting it. I went to live with him when my misfortunes became greater and made me too burdensome to those who had first taken me in.

This is the last conserved written material we have from Charlotte for over 30 years. When we find the next piece, her testament dated February 6 1828, her image of her brothers has however drastically improved, and she affirms that she has always recognized Maximilien as ”a man full of virtue” and wants to ”protest against all the letters contrary to his honor which have been attributed to me.” The story of how Charlotte following this moment reinvents herself into, as her friend Albert Laponneraye puts it in her funeral speech, ”[a woman who] shared [Maximilien’s] principles and his feelings, and had, like him, waged a fight to the death against the aristocracy,” might however be a topic for another day.

#robespierre #maximilien robespierre #augustin robespierre #charlotte robespierre #frev #frev friendships #long post

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