#well it’s me what else did you expect

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Could you tell us about Camille’s relationship with his father?

Given the fact that we actually have quite a bit of letters between Camille and his father Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins — 27 written by the former, 12 by the latter — we actually know a fair bit about their relationship. The majority of these letters have been published within Correspondance inédit de Camille Desmoulins (1836), however, there are a few unpublished ones as well (five for Jean, three for Camille), so if I don’t include a link to one, just assume this is the case and that I’m taking it from Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un rêve de République (2018) instead.

Jean Benoît Nicolas Desmoulins was born October 17 1725. After having considered becoming a priest and then taught at the college of Guise, he studied law at Reims and became a lawyer in 1751, and then a judge in 1757. He would go on to become one of the biggest pillars of his community, being mayor of Guise 1760-1763 and then obtaining the office of lieutenant general five years later (for more info about Jean in general, see Le père de Camille Desmoulins (1936).)

On January 9 1759 Jean got married to Marie Madelaine Godart (1730). The two quickly started a family and over the following 13 years they had nine children together, of which five reached adulthood.

Camille, the oldest of the children, was in October 1771 sent to Paris to study at the prestigious college of Louis-le-Grand. He was enrolled not as a scholar but as a paying boarder, the place of which cost his family 400 livres per year, a clear indicator Jean was willing to go great lenghts in order for his son to get a good education. In 1774, when the cost started to weigh on him, he was still determined that Camille continue his studies. On December 9 that year, he therefore sat down and authored the following text, hoping it would persuade the authorities of the school to do something for him:

J’ai du moins une descendance 

Enfants chéris, de fils nombreux,

Qui, si j’accepte l’opulance,

Ont presque déjà tout pour eux,

De ce qui para l’existence

Du premier des nobles aïeux:

Santé, vigeur, intelligence,

Goût du vrai, cœur bon, cœur joieux,

Grand appêtit de la science,

Et dont le travail fait les jeux.

L’ainé, près de l’adolescence,

Dans son college est un preux:

Il feuillette avec connaissance

Auteurs grécs et latins poudreux;

Mais malgré toute sa constance,

J’en suis pas moins soucieux

Qu’on ne le force avant vacance,

Par un congé disgracieux,

De faire aux maîtres d’éloquence

Ses involontaires audieux,

Parce que du sort l’inconstance

A rendu son père trop gueux

Pour subvenir à la finance

D’un pensionnait dispendieux.

Jean succeded, and Camille obtained a scholarship the following month.

Camille was the only one of the siblings who got sent to Paris to receive a higher education there. This could simply be seen as a sign Jean couldn’t afford to make them all paying boarders. However, a letter from him to Camille dated January 23 1791 also suggests he actually placed his oldest son on a higher level than the rest:

Your brother Dubocquoi has always had a rather limited peak, he has just acknowledged it to you; but it is not his fault. In the portion of nature and in the lot of the spirit, why have you exercised your birthright so copiously and taken such a great precipitate, to leave your siblings’ afferent share so small?

Camille kept up contacts with his father during his college years, as proven through a letter dated May 10 1782 he wrote to his cousin Ribeauvillé: ”If you’re interested to learn more about what happened at this ridiculous examination, you can go consult the gazette I sent to my father.” In the same letter, Camille also complains a bit over his father’s need for monitoring — ”There is one thing, my friend, that I really thank my aunt Viefville for, it’s for taking my sister to spend some days with her in Maizy. I do not doubt that this stay is a little diversion from the boredom she must have at Guise, for, although I sometimes lament seeing my dear father holding the purse strings so tightly for me, I cannot prevent myself from feeling infinitely happy by comparing my situation to that of my siblings.”

The same year this letter was written, Jean came to visit his son in Paris as revealed through another letter Camille wrote to Lucile’s father in March the following year:

At this moment my father has probably written to you and part of my joy was to think about he who does not care about the dowry (that of my mother, who is still whole despite our misfortunes because it has always been sacred in his eyes, was more important) but who loves me with tenderness and is no doubt delighted that I have finally obtained this demoiselle Duplessis of whom I have been speaking to him incessantly for five years and whom he wanted me to show him when he spent a few days in Paris two years ago.

But the relation was still far from problem free - in a letter dated June 4 1784 Camille accused his father of spending his time locked in his office ”compiling, compiling, compiling I don’t know what compilation” instead of caring about work and the future of his children.

One year later, in March 1785, Camille obtained his law decree and took office as a lawyer. He chose to stay in Paris, but we know of two confirmed visits back to Guise — one in 1787 and one in 1789. In the latter case, the goal was to stand for election for the Estates General. As we know, Camille failed to obtain the opportunity of becoming a deputy, as did his father. The former still went back to Paris to witness the proceedings, and in a letter dated May 8 1789 he wrote to Jean about the event, he had this to say:

I believe that if I had only come from Guise to Paris to see this procession of the three orders, and the opening of our Estates General, I should not have regretted this pilgrimage. I had only one sorrow, it was not to see you among our deputies. […] I was very angry with you and your gravel. Why did you show so little haste to obtain such a great honor? It was the first of my sorrows.

Over the following two months, Camille wrote five more letters to his father (they have all been published), telling him about the situation developing in the capital. I could however not find any details regarding their relationship in any of them. Jean responded with a letter (that has gone missing) where he must have expressed his doubt over Camille’s revolutionary career, because the first lines of the next letter sent from his son (dated September 20 1789) are as follows:

The best response to your reproachful letter is to send you the three books. I have therefore prepared a very large package in which you will find four copies of La France libre, La Lanterne, and a number of copies of a small sheet, which has just done me infinite honor, and from which I receive compliments everywhere.

But his father was still someone Camille respected, in the next letter, dated 22 September 1789, he writes: ”M. de Mirabeau has offered me to work on his newspaper. I hesitate, and I await your advice.” A week later Camille wrote yet another letter, telling his father to ”take care of yourself, and don’t say so many bad things about your son.” In the next letter, dated October 8, Camille asks Jean for money and goes on a long rant about how he feels abandoned by his hometown and family:

In truth, you are in my view of an extreme injustice; you see that in spite of my enemies and my slanderers, I knew how to put myself in my place among writers, patriots and men of character. Thank Heaven, I'm happy with my little reputation, I don't want more. […] So here I am almost without creditors, but also without money. I beg of you, since this is the time to collect your rents, since the price of corn is holding up, send me six louis. The King and the National Assembly are residing here, I want to stay in Paris, I am abandoning my ungrateful and unjust country. I want to take advantage of this moment of reputation to install myself, to register myself in a district; will you have the cruelty to refuse me a bed, a pair of sheets? Am I without necessities, without a family? Is it true that I have neither father nor mother? But, you will say, it was necessary to employ these 30 or 40 louis to have furniture. I will answer you: one had to live; I had to pay the debts that you have forced me to contract for 6 years; because for 6 years I have not had the necessary. Tell me the truth, have you ever bought me furniture? Have you ever put me in a position where I don’t have to pay the exorbitant rent for furnished rooms? Oh the bad policy of yours to send me two louis to two louis, with which I could never afford to have furniture and a home. And when I think that my fortune is held in my domicile; that with a domicile I would have been president, commandant of a district, representative of the commune of Paris; whereas I am only a distinguished writer: living testimony that with virtues, talents, love of work, character and great services rendered, one can achieve nothing. But, surprisingly, I have been complaining in these terms for ten years, and it has been easier for me to make a revolution, to upset France, than to obtain from my father, once and for all, fifty louis, and for him to give his hands to begin an establishment for me. What a man you are! with all your wit and all your virtues, you did not even know how to know me. You have eternally calumniated me; you called me eternally a prodigal, a spendthrift, and I was nothing less than all that. All my life, I have sighed only after a home, after an establishment, and after having left Guise and the paternal house, you did not want me to have another lodging in Paris than a hotel , and now I am thirty years old. You always told me that I had other brothers! yes, but there is this difference that nature had given me wings and that my brothers could not feel like me the chain of needs which held me to the ground. […] So help me in these circumstances and send me a bed, if you can't buy me one here. Can you refuse me a bed? I told you that I didn't want to hear any more about Guise. Your nullity in this country and a fortiori mine have detached me from it. So do something for me, for your eldest son. […] The hour of the post office had passed, I reopened my letter to insist again on my needs. All that I learn from Guise through cousin Deviefville's letters confirms my intention of renouncing that place, the antipode of philosophy, patriotism and equality. I have a reputation in Paris, I am consulted on important matters; I am invited to dinner; there is no pamphleteer whose sheets sell better: all I want is a home; I beg you, help me, send me 6 louis or else a bed.

Then follows two letters, one dated 4 December 1789 where Camille informs his father about his new career as a journalist and wishes him a happy birthday, and one dated 31 December 1789, where he wishes his family happy new year and tells them about the success of his journal. 

On January 7, in the seventh number of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Camille published the following letter from his father:

[…] What confuses me, and greatly alleviates the evil of my position, is the hope that my son, with more modern principles, and which nevertheless still seem to me to be very bold, will make one of the first workers of the ark which must save his brothers and himself from the shipwreck of their common father. I see you among the small number of the chosen ones, who, with the printers and the booksellers, remain upright in the midst of the revolution, which puts everything on the ground and overthrows your family. I find the task you have taken upon yourself to be immense, and I do not know how you will be able to cope with it. People talk to me about your successes, and I am not insensitive to them; but the dangers you run affect me even more.

In the same number, Camille included a response to his father:

So you will no longer make fun of my dreams, of my republic and of my old predictions, of everything that you have finally seen, what is called seen, with your own eyes seen. You have spent your life writing, struggling […] What consoles me for you is that you still have the memory of a life always militant against the oppressions of all kinds which desolate our province. The moment has come to reap the fruit of the gratitude of your fellow citizens, witnesses of so many sacrifices that the rigidity of your principles and your heroic and inflexible stiffness have cost you.

Two months later, 13 March 1790, Camille once again writes to his father about how he feels abandoned:

I feel more and more that my business is beyond my strength. When I have sacrificed for six months all my money to pay debts, to give myself a home, furniture and effects for more than a hundred louis, please tell me at least that you are not my enemy, and join those who encourage me. […] I am not asking you for news of Guise; but tell me about yourself. There are many times when, in spite of the compliments of a crowd of people who tell me that I have the arrows of Hercules, I find myself as unhappy, as abandoned as Philoctetes on the island of Lemnos. My bookseller assures me that he sends you and my brother my numbers. I embrace you a thousand times.

Once Jean got the letter, he sat down to reassure his son:

No, my son, I am not and can never be of your enemies; you could only have had this suspicion in the delirium of imagination or despair. I am and always will be your friend and your best friend. It has been a fortnight since your mother and my conscience begged me to write to you, without finding the moment because of my troubles and the numerous embarrassments which follow my painful administration. I like to see you more touched by Dubucquoi's correspondence and cordiality than by so many honorable testimonials, which are nevertheless well calculated to encourage you in the pursuit of your great work. If all that is missing to your satisfaction is my bravo, then receive it; I whispered it to you long ago, as befits a father. As long as you still have a father, a mother, brothers and sisters, your comparison with this Philoc, whom I have reason to fear of becoming more than you do, if only my pains and my misfortunes are left to me, will be wrongful. My island is beginning to become quite deserted for me; or what is worse, it seems to me no longer crowded with anything but monkeys, tigers, serpents and voracious birds, which infest our marshes of the Oise.

We have to wait until December 6 1790 to find a new letter from Camille, where he wraps up by writing: ”I embrace you and all my family. There are many times that I in vain have asked you for laundry, a tablecloth, towels and a pair of sheets.” Five days later he can inform Jean about happier news: 

This charming Lucile, of whom I have spoken so much to you, whom I have loved for eight years, finally her parents give her to me and she does not refuse me. […] Send me your consent as well as that of my mother. We can get married in eight days. It’s how long my dear Lucile and I can handle being seperated. Do not attract the hatred of our envious people by this news, and like me contain your joy in your heart, or pour it out in the bosom of my dear mother, of my brothers and sisters. I am now in a position to come to your aid, and this is a great part of my joy: my lover, my wife, your daughter and all her family embrace you.

Soon, Camille finds himself annoyed at his father yet again, as he’s lingering with giving his consent to the marriage. On December 18 and 21 he wrote three letters to Jean complaining about it, the last of which has been published:

This is the third letter I’ve written you to ask for consent to my marriage with a completely celestial woman, and you let the post go three times without sending me your acceptance; I did not expect that the obstacles to this marriage would come from you. You should have taken the post and brought it to me yourself. You know the vivacity of my character and the violent situation you would have thrown me into if you had used an absolute veto and even a suspended veto. M. Duplessis wants to attest to you himself that he grants his daughter to your son.

We have two unpublished letters (dated December 15 and 23) from Jean to Camille regarding the marriage, where, it would appear, he’s hesitating to give his support for it. However, after receiving a letter from Lucile’s father giving his approval, Jean was quick to respond positively:

The letter you do me the honor to write to me, confirming the approval you give to my son's happiness, fills me with all the joy that a father can feel at the news that his son will be happy. Please accept all my gratitude and expression of sensibility. We can only well guess the fate of our dear children with the auspices under which they contract. Let us unite on both sides our blessings on them and on their union. I would have been delighted if my health and the season had allowed me to attend this feast so sweet to my heart.

Camille and Lucile got married on December 29 1790. A week later, Camille wrote to his father to inform him about it:

[…] My wife embraces you, my dear mother and all my family. She asks me to tell you that she has not yet had time to write to you, that she does not dare to do it out of fear of not supporting the opinion that I give you of her, and that she postpones his letter for a few days. She was delighted with your letter about my marriage, and she keeps it very preciously; she reread it many times with tenderness.

Jean responded enthusiastically four days later, while also explaining why he lingered with giving his consent:

Your happiness, my son, resounds fully in the depths of my heart, since you yourself announced to me your solemn marriage. From the pleasure I had of learning about it indirectly from various people around me with more or less satisfactory circumstances, I felt that something was missing. These different voices were not yours: it was not you; that was not the outpouring of your joy and your sensibility. Your silence, so long kept since the receipt of a consent for which you had shown such sparkling impatience, left me somewhat uneasy: for the tenderness of fathers is as anxious as that of lovers. You are on the way to one day being able to experience and profess the truth of this provision or maxim. By kissing our dear daughter-in-law for us, tell her that we love her as much as you do. Reassure her about the embarrassment of her epistle; she will always have the eloquence of her heart next to mine when she tells me that she loves my son and that she is happy. Tell her that she has acquired a new family eager to emulate hers in everything that can contribute to her happiness and forestall her wishes. […]

After this follows a long silence, with one unpublished letter from Jean to Camille dated January 23 being the only (conserved) letter between the two until December 6 the same year. ”Our cousin Deviefville must have told you that I had reproached myself more than once for not writing to you,” Camille says on that date, ”my sentiments have not changed for you. I've always thought I'd right my wrongs by doing you some great service, but I don't know how to intrigue, or even ask.” Five months later, on April 3 1792, he writes Jean a letter about the current political situation, while also revealing that he and Lucile are going to have a baby. When said baby is born in July the same year, Camille writes to let his father know, who once again responds positively:

We share, my dear son, all the joy that the birth of a son, the first fruit of your love and of a dear wife, can give you. We learn with equal pleasure that the mother and child are doing well. I hope that the revolution, if it is consummated, will be happier for him than for you, and I do not really know whether I should wish him to be the successor to your popularity, which has made you, and in turn me, many enemies and few or no friends. For this revolution has been, I believe, to no one more fatal than to me in all respects, while I at the same time had to expect from it more than anyone the happiest effects. […] Embrace our dear daughter-in-law for us; renew to her all our eagerness to get to know her. When she has fully recovered from the birth, could you not steal a few days from your work in Paris to bring her to us and receive here the simple and frank caresses of your family and your relatives?

From the above cited part, we can however also see that Jean viewed the revolution more cynically and less as something completely good throughout than his son (which may very well have to do with the fact that he had lost his job as attorney-syndic and in turn most of his income because of it. We can see from the letter dated April 3 that Camille fruitlessly - and after having refused for a long time - tried to help his father out). Thoughts that only grew as the revolution further radicalised over the following months. On August 13, Camille told Jean about the insurrection of August 10 and his appointment as secratery-general — ”They have not cooled the filial love in me, and your son, who has become secretary-general of the department of justice and what was called secretary of the seals, hopes not to be long in giving you signs of it. Your people from Guise, so full of envy, hatred and small passions, are going to swell with gall against me.” Jean responded four days later by celebrating Camille’s new position while at the same time expressing his fears over the new direction the revolution had just taken:

I don't see it over yet and I still dread the consequences. According to the cries all around me, the events of August 10 have indisposed the provinces and the army against the Parisians and against the party of which you are believed to be one of the most ardent members. In the turmoil of all things around us, I would perhaps rather see you a peaceful possessor of my places and the first of our fellow-citizens in our native city than at the head of the ministry of a great empire already well mined, well torn, well degraded, and which, far from being regenerated, will perhaps be from one moment to another either dismembered or destroyed. Be that as it may, since you are second at the helm handed over to your friend M. Danton, for the part of justice, distinguish yourself there by the great qualities which are proper to this administration; add to your known popularity that spirit of integrity and moderation which you will often have occasion to develop there; strip yourselves of that party which perhaps raised you there, but which may not keep you there. With the uprightness that I know of you and the moderation that I preach to you, one goes a long way, even in the most scandalous position. Bring back your enemies by being fair with them and easily forgetting their wrongs; make as many friends as you can among the people of good people and always consult merit and talent in your choices.

Camille didn’t let his father rather sceptical tone affect him, and on August 26 he sent him his latest writings and expresses his hopes of being nominated to the new National Convention. Following this, we have two unpublished letters from Jean to Camille, one undated from somewhere in September, and one dated October 29.

When the trial of the king rolled around, Jean once again became uneasy, and he wrote to his son on 10 December 1792 and 10 January 1793 to advice him to not vote for death. Like with the Insurrection of August 10, it would not appear he did this because he was particulary fond of the monarchy, but rather because he saw Louis’ death as pointless and was worried about the gravity of the situation and of what Camille might be getting himself into:

I would be inconsolable, my son, to find your name on the list of those who will vote for the death of Louis XVI. I do not foresee in this judgment any good for the country, and on the contrary I foresee disastrous consequences both for it and for those who will have wanted the death of the prince. If the revolution is accomplished as I presume it to be, the blood of Louis XVI is useless for its consumption; spilling it is to appear to fear that it will not be done, or to beat an enemy on the ground and disarm him, and to renounce the generosity and dignity which must characterize the true republican, the free Frenchman. You have a just and true means, my son, of sparing yourself this stain which would be a perplexity for me: it is to challenge yourself, because you are effectively challengeable, not only in the eyes of Louis XVI, but in the eyes of anyone who has the first principles of justice. You said your opinion as a journalist before the judgment. Driven either by your own opinion or by a foreign prejudice, you have denounced Louis XVI in a great number of your writings, which have perhaps had only too much influence, and you have treated him as an enemy. For this double reason, either of having been his denunciator, or of having proclaimed your opinion in advance, relative to Louis XVI, you cannot remain one of his judges without injuring impartiality, which must neutralize whoever is called upon to judge. […] The death of Louis XVI can add nothing to your triumph and can even stigmatize it in the fickle opinion of the multitude.

My son, you can still immortalize yourself, but you only have a moment left: this is the opinion of a father who loves you. This is more or less what I would say if I were you: "I am a republican by heart and by action, I have proven myself, I was one of the first and most ardent denunciators or accusers of Louis XVI, for that very reason I challenge myself. I owe it to the austerity of my principles; I owe it to the dignity of the Convention; I owe it to the glory of the nation; I owe it to the justice of my contemporaries and of posterity; in a word, I owe it to the republic, to Louis XVI, to myself.” I only say this for your benefit and for your peace of mind and mine, because I am your best friend.

Perhaps their dissensions severed the friendship once again, because no letters seems to exist between January 10 and July 9 1793. On the latter date, Camille writes to inform Jean about his Histoire des Brissotins. He also talks about his brother Sémery who he believes to have died in the war. Jean must however have replied that it’s possible for Sémery to still be alive, because in Camille’s next letter, dated August 1 (incorrectly August 10 in the published version) he writes: ”I eagerly grasp your doubts about his death to attach my hopes to them. […] I felt still more just now, on seeing my son, how much this blow must have affected your heart. My wife and I have been deeply touched by the interest you show for this child who is so lovable and whom we love so much that I have a horrible fear of losing him […] If we have peace and quieter weather, expect me and my wife to come embrace you.” This appears to be the last conserved letter we have from Camille to his father.

Despite Jean’s interest to get to know his grandson and daughter-in-law, Hervé Leuwers writes this wish was never fulfilled. However, I actually found the following part in Robespierre’s notes against the dantonists, which would suggest he did come to visit somewhere in December 1793:

At the time where the numbers of the Vieux Cordelier appeared, the father of Desmoulins who had strongly disapproved of the… rather tainted by aristocracy testified to him his satisfaction and embraced him with tenderness. Fabre, who was present at this scene, wept, and Desmoulins, surprised, no longer doubted that Fabre had an excellent heart and was consequently a patriot.

In the last letter we have between them, Jean informs Camille about the death of his mother:

My dear son, I’ve lost half of myself, your mother is no more. I always had hope to save her: this was what prevented me from informing you of her illness. She passed away today at noon. She is worthy of all our regrets; she loved you tenderly. I embrace very affectionately and very sadly your wife, my dear daughter-in-law, and little Horace. I can write to you more at length tomorrow. I'm forever your best friend.

We know Camille got the letter, since he mentions it in his second prison letter to Lucile (April 1 1794).

Farewell Lucile, farewell Horace, farewell Daronne, farewell my old father. Write him a letter of consolation.

He mentions his father in his very last letter as well:

Farewell, my Lucile, my dear Lolotte, my good wolf, say goodbye to my father. […] Farewell, Lucile, my Lucile! my dear Lucile! farewell, Horace, Annette, Adèle! Farewell, my father!

Jean did try to intervene in the trial against his son. On April 4 he wrote to public prosecutor Fouquier-Tinville (who, sidenote, was a distant relative of the two and actually had Camille to thank for his job) the following letter. It’s written way too late to have arrived on time, and even if it had, it doubtless wouldn’t have changed anything.

Citoyen compatriote, Camille Desmoulins (that’s my son), I'm speaking to you from my intimate conviction, is a pure republican, a republican by heart, by principle, and, so to speak, by instinct: He was a republican in soul and by taste before the fourteenth of July 1789, he has so been in reality and deed ever since. His perfect disinterestedness and his love for the truth, his two characteristic virtues, which I have instilled into him from his cradle , and which he has invariably put in practice, have kept him on a level with the loftiest aspirations of the Revolution. Is it likely, is it not even absurd to suppose that he has changed his opinion, that he has renounced his character, his love for liberty, for the sovereignty of the people, his favourite and beloved design, at the moment when it has succeeded so brilliantly, at the moment when he had opposed and defeated the cabal of the Brissotins; at the moment when he had unmasked Hébert and his adherents, the authors of a deep conspiracy; at the moment when he believed the Revolution accomplished, or about to be so, and his Republic established by our victories and triumphs over our enemies without and within? Are not these improbabilities sufficient to remove from my son even the shadow of suspicion? And yet he lies under the weight of an accusation as grave as I believe it to be calumnious. Confined to my study by my infirmities, I was the last, owing to the care that was taken to hide it from me, to hear of this event, which is calculated to alarm every true Republican. Citizen, I ask of you but one thing, in the name of justice and of our country - for the true Republican thinks of nought besides to investigate and to cause the examining jury to investigate the conduct of my son, and that of his denouncer, whomsoever he may be; it will be soon known which is the true Republican. The confidence I have in my son's innocence makes me believe that this accusation will prove a fresh triumph, as well for the Republic as for him. Health and fraternity from your compatriot and fellow-citizen Desmoulins, who until now has held himself honoured in being the father of the foremost and most unflinching of Republicans.

We don’t know how Jean reacted to the death of his son and daughter-in-law. However, he was not to survive them for much longer, as he passed away on 14 October 1795, just three days before his seventieth birthday.

As a final note, it can be observed that Camille and Jean always adress each other with vouvoiement rather than tutoiement… Although as far as I’m aware, that business is much more complicated than ”if you’re close with someone you use tutoiement, if not you use vouvoiement,” so perhaps this doesn’t have to mean much…

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[stil-lindigo]

a non-comprehensive guide to my favourite characters in claymore, the best manga you've never read (more under the cut)

don't know what I'm talking about? here's a crashcourse.

[nomoretumbler]

i need to share this here because none of the videos reach 1000 views (and theyre also from 5 months ago, so pretty new).

this playlist has all the wordgirl shorts in 360p instead of 240p! this is the highest quality available i think (because they do exists in an even higher quality thats a hill i will die on).

heres a quick comparison between the most popular videos and this ones (click for full quality).

also!!! the mouse trap short doesnt have crunchy audio!!! and it doesn’t have a kinemaster watermark!!! YAY!!!

[one-strugling-bean]

Been thinking abt Lord Peepers recently...

[vigilskeep]

Who is Nennaia romancing?

blackwall!!!

[p4nishers]

ok but the fact that "aziraphale is softening. they haven't spoken in a hundred years: he's realizing they're still friends" and "there's no need to thank me that's what...friends...are for" was in the same night is making me go INSANE

[tojiscrack]

Recommend us some good jjk things u already read 🎀

say please 😐

unfortunately, i don’t read jjk fics… like, at all. i have two main reasons why:

i write them, sure, but i have this intense fear of reading jjk/reader fics (hypocritical, i know, but idc 🌝) simply ‘cause of the fact that i have these characters a certain way in my mind: VERY CANONICALLY-CENTRED.

when reading, i’d enjoy that with only a TOUCH of fanon, seeing as it’s usually romantic, reader-insert, love interest fics, and we’ve only ever actually seen two couples in jjk, and not even in depth — miwa and mechamaru + toji and mamaguro — therefore we can’t exactly say for certain what other characters would be like in a relationship and stuff: what we picture and write here is fanon.

but i did try a couple times. it just wasn’t for me, ig.

secondly, literally every gojo/reader story ever (i say gojo specifically cuz i’m only interested in reading about him and no one else 😭) has smut in it.

unpopular take, but i dislike smut. very much.

so essentially, i’m useless in this department.

p.s. that’s not to say that you yourself can’t read other fics and enjoy them the way they are. that’s great for you, and lovely for the author, but my personal opinion is that i just can’t, and that’s alr. i’ll silently move on and write my own :)

[autisticlee]

sometimes I think about how when I went to college for a year before I dropped out (basically failed out,) the counselors/dean told me they can't help me at all or give any accommodations unless I have an official autism/adhd diagnosis. that might sound logical at first, but when you think about it more, it's actually quite fucked up. if someone is struggling really bad, what's the harm in helping them? why do they require a paper to get even the smallest amount of help? people who don't need help aren't going to be failing miserably without help! even NTs could benefit from some adjustments to the horrible school system! (but changing the entire system is a whole other conversation that the school system isnt ready for)

but even if you do agree to jump through their hoops, you realize it's even more fucked up that the diagnosis process requires YEARS in most cases (in my case it took 4 or 5 years, can't recall exactly now, for autism/adhd diagnosis, which would have meant i finished school before getting it if i managed to mot fail out, or i wait that long before going back, which is a whole struggle itself) and they also tried billing me for THOUSANDS of dollars because of insurance issues!!

so you put a ton of time and money into this, and then get told the only accommodation they are willing to give you for autism and adhd is "a little extra time on tests"

....

my test scores were the best part of my whole class experience. that was NOT what I struggled with!!!!! those tests were all online and could be done in the comfort of your home where you can accommodate yourself and have plenty of time left over when you finish them because you are comfy in your own space, (and also, no one was stopping you from having your notes/books/google open to find the answers,) and you don't even need a time consuming, expensive diagnosis for that!

SO WHAT'S THE POINT!!!!!!!

[nocek]

Deadfang walked so that poolverine can run 🫡 (ik poolverine came first before comments say anything. )

The vamp mig and were Logan art perfectly captures the difference dynamics. Love ur art!

You dear anon, you get it! And also I love you :D

I mean I made this joke because on surface level it fits but then I started thinking and I guess I got myself into another crack ship? Or is that just growth xD

Anyway right now I have a nice doodle with the three of them coming up. I just need to finish editing the photo. I really like how Logan looks there.

Also I have a 4 page comic coming up but it will take more time because it requires backgrounds �� Because I got into thinking that both Logan and Miguel are kinda similar in being grumpy assholes that are very tsundere about the fact that deep down they have muschy heart of gold :D so I felt Wade would want them to bond over that so it's about dates in their natural habitats. It's obviously a disaster but also kinda works xD

[emmodii-mode]

Just finished my first playthrough of BG3. Romanced Lae'zel, but ending up turning into an Illithid because the idea of making Orpheus or Karlach do it didn't sit well with me (or my character).

I told Lae'zel to leave with Orpheus in the end (I heard she wouldn't stay with a ghaik anyway, which she's valid for, but also, it doesn't feel right to ask her to stay when I know how much her people mean to her). And like-

Her face before she flies off---

She looks so heartbroken and sad.

[dayurno]

[leyyvi]

aot fans putting unsolicited awful takes and tagging them in the main tags then getting surprised by other people dunking on them will always be astounding to me

[vincent-sinclair-deserved-better]

hm

thinking of my blorbos but not in a "i love you you love me all is well" way but a "i love you hope you kill me" way lol

[solalunar-eclipse]

@teamxdark happy birthday!!! I'm sorry I haven't been able to make you any gifts in a while...hopefully this one makes up for it. I've done my best to write everyone in character, and I hope that you enjoy reading someone else's writing for Team Dark (Hotwing ver.) ^ ^

“I have to do this…for all the people on this planet…for Maria!”

Shadow was floating in space. Somehow, he could breathe just fine in spite of what should have been a crushing vacuum, but he hardly noticed—his attention far too fixated on what was happening right in front of him to even consider it.

Rouge hovered a ways away from him, her fur blazing silvery-gold in lieu of her usual white coloration. She was staring up at the ARK, the space station a hazy blur when contrasted against the light emanating from her form.

Shadow felt his legs dimly, wanted to sprint towards her and scream at her to stop, but he couldn’t muster the strength to move. He couldn’t do anything at all.

He watched as she announced one final “Chaos Control!”, and the Space Colony ARK disappeared from his periphery—and Rouge began to fall.

Shadow still couldn’t move, even as tears began to well up in his eyes, even as Rouge plummeted towards the world she’d always wanted to visit in a trail of golden light. It was only once she was nothing more than a spark burning out in the sky below that he felt the muscles in his chest unlock.

Shadow screamed.

The sound echoed in his ears, one single raw sound of loss and agony and guilt all tangled together into a blend of pure, unfiltered grief, the likes of which he would never have made had he thought anybody else could hear him. Suddenly, though, gravity took hold of him as well with a lurch, sending him plunging down and crashing into the floor with a cry.

…the floor?

The black hedgehog blinked slowly, struggling to adjust to his new position. He was currently hanging half-upside down, his torso and head flat on the floor and his legs tangled in some sort of cloth. He looked up, and…oh.

He’d recognize that tacky beige ceiling anywhere. He was lying on the floor of his bedroom, in the apartment he shared with Rouge and Omega. Rouge wasn’t dead, she hadn’t even died when falling to the planet’s surface. As a matter of fact, she was currently paying a third of the rent for their shitty landlord who didn’t ask questions and let a robot live with them.

Shadow groaned quietly. Apparently, he’d fallen out of bed while in the middle of a nightmare. Just fabulous. At least he was able to get off without a sore spot on the back of his head, though he’d have to deal with the scratches his still-tense quills had made in the flooring at some point.

Since he was alone in his room, Shadow indulged himself in a bit of immature behavior and twisted himself to lie fully facedown on the floor. He hated these nightmares.

Yes, he’d formed a stupidly strong bond with Rouge within literal days of knowing her, all because she was kind to him. Yes, that bond was somehow enough for him to track her down across six months where she was presumed dead and to continue following her around even when she’d lost all her memory. His brain didn’t need to rub it in by reminding him of all the ways he was inadequate and couldn’t be helpful or useful to her, but it had elected to make that its full time job without his permission anyway.

So now he was awake before even the fucking sun, with the sight of Rouge falling to her almost-death seared into the backs of his eyes. Lovely.

Slowly, Shadow dragged himself to his feet, fully certain that he looked like death warmed over. He didn’t even make a cursory attempt to straighten his spines, his arms feeling too much like lead to bother. Instead, he shuffled out of his room and down the hall, hoping to grab himself a glass of water just so he could have something else to focus on.

He at least made an effort to tiptoe lightly around Rouge’s room so he wouldn’t wake her—she worked hard enough to earn money each day, she deserved as much sleep as she could get. Honestly, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself for his stealthy maneuvers (seeing as Rouge had her hearing cranked up to eleven, what with the bat genes and Ultimate Lifeform powers), and he kept it up as he walked through the living room, just so he didn’t disturb Omega either.

“SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG.”

Shit!

The jewel thief nearly felt his heart exit his body, jolting so violently it was a wonder he managed to get his hand over his mouth in time to choke down a scream. He whirled to face the now obviously awake robot, gasping for breath in an attempt to recover from the shock.

“Good fucking Gaia, Omega, what was that?” he hissed. “How long have you been awake?”

Omega’s eyes glowed red in the darkness, something that would have intimidated anyone who knew him less but just left Shadow distinctly irritated.

“I EXITED SLEEP MODE UPON HEARING A SOUND BRIEFLY IN EXCESS OF EIGHTY DECIBELS. SUBSEQUENT ANALYSIS SUGGESTS IT WAS PRODUCED BY YOU.” he informed Shadow, who glowered unhappily back at him.

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing that’s none of your damn business then, huh?” he grumbled sourly, turning back to his initial mission of getting a drink. 

“I LIVE HERE. THAT MAKES IT MY ‘DAMN BUSINESS’, IF ONLY PERIPHERALLY.”

Shadow pointedly took a gulp of water in favor of answering, turning away to lean on the counter of the apartment’s tiny kitchen.

“VERY WELL. IF YOU INSIST ON BEHAVING IN THIS MANNER, I WILL BE FORCED TO RESORT TO DRASTIC MEASURES.” Omega announced, not sounding even the slightest fraction either reluctant or remorseful.

“You know you’re not allowed to shoot this place up, you signed the contract like the rest of us,” Shadow muttered. He refused to grant Omega the courtesy of eye contact, electing to remain facing the wall.

Omega whirred sharply, sounding almost as though he had scoffed. “YOU THINK TOO LOW OF ME, SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG. MY PROCESSORS ARE SUPERIOR TO ALL OTHERS, AND THEREFORE I CAN CALCULATE COURSES OF ACTION THAT DO NOT INVOLVE VIOLENCE IF I CHOOSE TO DO SO.

“AND BEFORE YOU ASK, THE REASON I DO NOT CHOOSE THIS MORE OFTEN IS BECAUSE IT IS, AS YOU WOULD SAY, ‘LAME’.”

“Oh yeah?” he taunted, finally turning around. “So what’re you gonna—” 

His words dried up in his throat, clogging it and making it difficult for him to breathe.

Omega had called Rouge.

“I don’t know what he told you, but whatever it is, he’s a filthy liar,” Shadow said instantly, nearly tripping over his words with how quickly he spoke.

“…so you didn’t have a nightmare?” Rouge asked him, her voice far softer than he preferred (than he deserved).

The hedgehog scoffed. “Psh, what, me? Nightmares? Since when?” 

“Then what was that scream I heard earlier?” she pushed, one eyebrow raised doubtfully. (So she had heard him after all. Dammit.)

“Um, I just fell off the bed, and it startled me!” Shadow explained—why did this have to happen so damn early? He wasn’t at his best in the middle of the night…

Rouge gave him a Look. “And why did you fall off the bed?”

“BECAUSE HE HAD A NIGHTMARE.” the traitor robot said.

“Omega I will actually sell you for scrap.”

Rounding the counter corner into the kitchen, Rouge stopped less than a meter in front of him. “Somehow, I’m inclined to believe Omega here,” she remarked dryly, clearly attempting to get him to snap back with his usual sass.

But he couldn’t. Not when the sight of her tumbling to the planet was still fresh in his mind.

“Believe whatever you want,” he mumbled.

“Shadow…?” Rouge moved a little closer. “Why won’t you talk to me about this?”

Shadow shrugged listlessly. “You shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” He attempted to summon up his usual cocky smirk, but only managed a ghost of the real thing. “You’ve already got enough on your plate, yeah?”

Suddenly, he was startled by a pair of hands landing firmly on his upper arms, holding him with a gentle strength that belied Rouge’s true power.

“Do you even hear what you’re saying?” she asked him, so visibly concerned he almost wanted to apologize just to get her to stop looking like that. “You had ‘enough on your plate’ trying to survive an alien invasion, but you tracked me down not once, but twice just to convince me to snap out of it and save everyone. Heck, you had ‘enough on your plate’ when it came to making me and Omega stop fighting long enough to survive, but you still somehow got us to actually team up so I could recover my memories when we’d been at each other’s throats seconds earlier.

“After all that, well—I’d drop everything else in a heartbeat to help you if I thought I could.”

Now it was Shadow’s turn to frown. “I didn’t do all that so you’d owe me.”

“I know you didn’t. You tried so hard to hide it, but I could tell…you were worried. And I’m worried now, so please, tell me what’s going on?”

Rouge looked so earnest. He’d only seen her like this a handful of times: when she was struggling with her memories, when she was standing up to Black Doom…when she’d thrown herself into the final battle against the Finalhazard…

He couldn’t look at her. Not now, not like this. “I know I wasn’t there when it happened, but somehow I still see you saving the ARK sometimes. And—and I can’t save you. When you fall, I can’t help.”

Rouge’s eyes widened. “Shadow…I’m so sorry. I should have known it would hurt you when I chose to do that…I was in a lot of pain and convinced myself that I’d already pushed you away, but that’s no excuse.”

“B—wha—of fucking course that’s a good excuse! I should’ve tried harder, reached out again, anything! I could’ve helped somehow!” he sputtered, visibly taken aback.

“You did help me, in the end. And don’t say anything about doing it sooner!” she insisted, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth to speak. “I was determined to fight until I was worn down. You came for me at just the right time to make sure I could find myself and rebuild my life.”

Shadow scowled, still doubting her. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Can’t I do that and also have it be the truth?” Rouge asked.

“…what do you mean?” 

The bat smiled faintly at him. “I care about you, Shadow, of course I want you to feel better. That doesn’t mean I have to be lying.”

“Oh. Um.” He blushed nervously, reaching up to brush his quills back in an unconscious movement. “You…you care about me?” he asked, in the smallest voice possible.

Rouge looked a little awkward in the face of such a raw moment, but continued onwards regardless. “I did ever since I met you, I think. It just took a while for me to realize it…and then once I had, no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I couldn’t stop.”

Shadow’s face fell. “So you don’t actually want to feel that way?” He sounded pathetically lost and confused even to his own ears, and his insides twisted harshly with shame.

“No, no, that’s not it at all!” Rouge said hurriedly. “It…felt like I was betraying Maria, at first. But after a while, I realized that she would want me to keep living—and more importantly, I wanted to keep living. And I wanted to do it with you and Omega.”

“I APPRECIATE THE INCLUSION.”

Shadow rolled his eyes, and Rouge half-smiled. “Anytime.” 

She turned back to Shadow, and then, almost hesitantly, held open her arms to him. 

He felt his eyes burn with unshed tears as he practically threw himself into the hug, reveling in the feeling of being held with genuine care by another. Rouge was here, she wasn’t dead, she was here and holding him and liked him.

“…ttle br…Shadow.”

“Huh?” His ears flicked upright, too late to properly register what Rouge had said. “I didn’t catch that, what’d you say?”

When he pulled back to look at her more closely, he saw that Rouge had started to blush a light green, and was biting her lip nervously. “Back on the ARK…before everything…Maria used to call me her Little Sister Rouge. I got older than her eventually, though—weird genetics stuff, you know—but she didn’t call me Big Sister until…that day.”

Shadow didn’t need clarification as to which day she meant.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking, and I want to—I’ve started, in my head…saying “L-Little Brother Shadow.” Rouge explained, her voice and posture stiff with discomfort.

That was the final straw for the young hedgehog, who promptly burst into tears.

“Ah—Shadow! I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“Y-you really wanna c-call me that?” he gasped, in between sobs.

“Only if you’re alright with it,” she reassured him, pulling him into another hug and wrapping her wings around him as well.

“I—I am.” He gave himself a minute, just taking some deep, shuddering breaths. Then he added, still crying a little, “…can I call you ‘Big Sister Rouge?’”

She froze for just a moment, before swallowing thickly. “I’d like that a lot.” she confessed, sounding as though she might shed a tear or several herself.

They stood there in the kitchen together for a long moment, just holding each other and resting in the newfound security that was their love made obvious. Eventually, Shadow did stop crying (after feeling a few drops on his head that had made his throat tighten all over again), but he didn’t let go just yet, reluctant to potentially ruin the mood.

Then, of course, it was ruined anyway.

“MIDDLE SIBLING OMEGA DEMANDS PARTICIPATION IN THE HUG.”

Shadow felt his stomach lurch, looking up at Rouge to see if she’d be upset with Omega’s brazen co-opting of her special words. Instead, however, she looked amused more than anything, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth despite her still-damp eyes.

“Very well. Come on…Little Brother Shadow.”

And when his Big Sister Rouge said that, before pulling him into a hug pile on the floor with Omega (and lots of pillows and blankets), well.

How could he ever say no? 

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

got impatient and skipped past half of turnabout ablaze into aai2, and why does kay speak like a completely different character now