#a paragraph for u

[boasamishipper]

🌹🌹🌹 (I'm tryna get a paragraph)

Dan looks flabbergasted. It’s not a word Harry has ever had cause to use, mostly because he’s never seen anyone look it. He’s seen astounded, stunned, shocked, even incredulous—all expressions directed at him on a regular basis—but never flabbergasted. Not until now. “You like me?”

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[baeshijima]

thoughts on being engaged to duke!sunday, the head of the oak family, an incredibly influential figurehead within society, the close subordinate of emperor gopher wood who brought him and his sister in and raised him like his own, and the villain who faces a tragic ending in a novel you recently finished — the very same one you just so happen to find yourself transmigrated into. he is as cunning as he is blinded, a trait which brought ruin to many in the empire, and one which ultimately brought ruin to himself at the hands of the protagonists.

as luck would have it, you became a barely mentioned side character from a marquis family, whose role was to be the villain's wife stuck in a one-sided love who, too, would get caught up in the tragedy alongside him. however, now that it's you who is stuck in this position, you're determined to try any means necessary to deter him from going down that path, all in an effort to escape your predestined doomed fate!

of course, you didn't expect it to be easy. the day of your arrival in this world was already the night before your wedding, so you had little time to prepare yourself for the nonchalance of your supposed family, how they viewed you as but a means — a tool — to boost their influence and prosperity, the dismissive mannerisms of the household servants, and the absolute beauty of a man you will be married to.

(seriously. the novel descriptions did not do him justice. he was like... like... like he was handcrafted by god himself! and not to mention his sister, robin, was the very epitome of an angel! perhaps you're destined to perish by the god-tier visuals instead...)

to say the least, the wedding ceremony went by quickly. safe to say you didn't spend the night; he was cordial and gentlemanly upon letting you know that he won't do anything until you're ready, that you can take this relationship slow, but somehow you ended up feeling a tad insulted. like, who leaves their newly wedded alone in a big cold bed as they walk out on their own? a sick bastard that's who!

well, whatever. it's not like you need nor want to consummate with him! besides, you have bigger things to worry about — things such as your impending death. and, of course, the only way to stop sunday that you can imagine working is by chipping away at his resolve bit by bit, and opening his eyes to reality.

he is a tragic character, one who cares more about the well-being of penacony and its people than anyone else, but was manipulated into getting his hands dirty in the emperor's stead. you knew this. you sobbed over his story, cursed out the protagonists, and even fought internet randos on novel forums about sunday's motivation and how,

no, he is not just a stupid villain. he is a complex character with flaws and humanity and was cruelly taken advantage of by someone he considered family. he was deceived through the suffering the emperor wanted him to see to make him easily manipulated, creating a rift between him and robin to have that prominent separation. you know what? maybe you're just a !%#@ who can't even #@?"% read properly!

and yet you still find yourself at a loss when faced with the walls he has in place. your initial efforts went as well as it possibly could have; you trying to earnestly help him, while he "kindly" dismisses your offers! well, "kindly" being more condescending since you could read between the lines of his mannerisms and amiable demeanour, but that's fine! you expected this! that just means you have to double down on your sincerity, get through to his heart (somehow), and help him realise humanity isn't as weak as he's led to believe!

you have three years until the novel's plot officially starts, and another year after that until your demise. that's plenty of time to get him to warm up to you!

it was easier said than done, but after your valiant effort and abundance of time put into this relationship, which admittedly you could do with some of that lost time back, you could give yourself a pat on the back with the progress you made! while you definitely could have done without a lot of the headaches, it's safe to say sunday has significantly warmed up to you in comparison to your wedding day. he now willingly eats all his meals with you with some real conversation, takes garden strolls with you in the early evenings, invites you out for dinner at a restaurant at least four times a week, hell he's even joked and laughed with you more frequently! but most importantly, he has begun asking for your opinion before finalising any decisions he is required to make. and he actually listens and considers your side! now, that certainly is the best outcome you could hope for after all this time, and it most definitely will help in your endeavour to save you both from the protagonists!

however, you've noticed he's been more... affectionate? well, at the very least he now willingly holds your hand when in private (not just in moments when you're in the public eye and he has to make sure the family's reputation is spotless), sometimes he will hug you out of the blue ("i just need to... recharge. you have a way of calming me down. i hope you don't mind." ...how could you say no to his supreme god-tier face card? that's just a losing battle you won't even bother fighting against.), oftentimes he opts to just gaze wordlessly at you (robin had mentioned over one of your tea times how it almost appears as though there is no one but you in the world when sunday gazes at you with, in her words, "the eyes of a man so deeply in love!" ...whatever that's supposed to mean...), but a more recent development has been his sudden interest in kissing you; well, more specifically giving you a kiss to the back of your hand or on your forehead — certainly not anywhere near the lips! (besides, he's probably just gotten comfortable with you, enough where he can freely act without judgement. nothing more, nothing less.)

well, either way, development is development! soon enough, the time for the main plot to start has arrived. it of course follows what you remember, from the organised balls to the protagonists meeting to the political aspects of it all. the only difference is sunday's less active involvement in all the schemes and the emperor's ploy. rather, he seems more focused on you and the future of your marriage and even displayed a sudden interest in your practically non-existent relationship with one of the foreign diplomats, aventurine— wait...

"[name]," he calls your name out so sweetly you nearly disregarded it as someone else he was talking to. well, perhaps you would have done had he not suddenly appeared before you, a tight-lipped smile tugging the corners of his lips as he steadily approaches you.

oh. he doesn't seem very happy, if his tense figure is anything to go by. you wonder if one of the nobles grated his nerves a little too much this time?

sunday comes to a halt a step away from you. "i don't like that... gambler being so close to you. it... it brings me a rather unpleasant feeling." there's a slight, trembling pause. not a moment later does he close the gap between you, one knee on the ground as he matches your seated height on the fountain rim, your hands gently enclosed in both of his.

you idly wonder if this is what robin meant by the so-called "eyes of a man so deeply in love" she constantly gushed about, for the way in which he gazes up at you is enough to render you breathless.

"tell me, [name]," he begins once more. there is an underlying desperation woven within his tone, one which has your head spinning and heart thumping wildly as his trembling gaze holds you in place. "tell me, what am i to do with this fervent love and overwhelming adoration i hold for you?"

oh.

...oh.

perhaps your impending doom should be the least of your concerns when you now find yourself in the arms of a clingy husband...

(though, it's safe to say you did, in fact, manage to prevent him from succumbing to his tragic fate! you just gained a loving, yet slight slightly emotionally challenged husband along the way.

well, you can help him work through it; you have the rest of your lives now to figure it out, after all.)

[horribluh]

im so so obsessed with mbj spoiling sqh after the airplane extras, like i keep thinking of that one moshang post that was like wwyd if u kept ur hamster in a tiny shitty cage and ur thinking everything is fine but then ur hamster runs away and when u finally find ur hamster again u upgrade its living situation bc u love ur hamster and u didnt realize it was that bad :((( treat ur hamsters right guys

i just want pathetic simp mbj who will do anything to prevent sqh from running off again, brick wall of a man who is soft to 1 (one) pathetic little guy. presenting him with over the top courting gifts and rare warm furs, and putting him in his adjoining spousal chambers before even getting married (so scandalous!), and learning to cook noodles even tho ur a king and having fireplaces built in ur literal ice palace so ur weak little human can stay warm. all while refusing to say the words "i love you" and therefore forcing the two of u to exist in an agonizing situationship (shang "overthinker final boss" qinghua vs mo "0 communication skills" bei jun)

and ofc sqh does not understand his intentions at all but he sure is happy to be spoiled! see! his king DOES appreciate him! hey ill do more work so this can keep happening! im ur loyal servant my king!!! (sqh is fully decked out like hes his wife, tales r told throughout the land abt sqh playing ultimate hard to get and mbj being the worlds most desperate simp)

theyre so stupid i love them sm

[sophietheghost]

I could feel how lonely you trurly are

[juicerca]

“make me dizzy,, ₍^. .^₎⟆

sylus x reader ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

a/n : i got a fever too. me and xavier synched up like we on our periods together (WHICH IM ON </3) or some shit. my nose is stuffy and my body is burning 😭 !!!!! sylus fever fluff written to comfort my pain. just a short lil thing <3 SUPER SHORT </3333 cus my brain is broken and ill and i have an exam in two days WAAAA

synopsis : f!reader gets sylus to cool her down when her fever gets too unbearably hot by calling him over

content : pure fluff/comfort fic. i can't bring myself to write sylus angst (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) also sorry i keep writing MC in pathetic situations. i love girlboss MC as much as the next girlie i SWEAR, mc is cat-like/a little spoiled AGAIN (sylusMC is SOOO CATTY TO ME)

pet-names : kitten, sweetie, cutie, princess,

word count : 642

₍^. .^₎⟆ ⋆ 🐾 °

you lay in his (basically yours at this point) black silk sheets, tossing and turning, kicking your feet in nothing but a small black vest and your underwear. no matter how much you shimmied around, your feet felt hot, your entire body burned with a heat that made your sweat feel unbearably lukewarm and sticky on your skin.

the sheets were most definitely damp from all the cold (now room temperature) towels that you had used to try to cool your body. but to no avail. nothing was making it more bearable. 5 cool towels around your neck just didn't cut it.

and so, you crawl across the endless expanse of bedding to grab your phone (with some difficulty). there was only one person you wanted to see you like this.

you spam him with this sticker about 10 times before the three dots finally appear. you wait for two seconds...five...ten...god why is this message taking so long? you grumble, huffing with his pillow tucked under your chin and contemplating throwing your phone against the plush back of his bed.

he calls you before you manage to hurl your device,

"kitten? do you need something? i'm at the store now."

"huh? i thought you said you'd be at an auction?"

he chuckles,

"i was at one. but you only text when you want something... or if you miss me... and considering how you're in my room and i saw you this morning, i assume it's the former. though i'd be very flattered if it was the latter."

"i also text when i see something that reminds me of you."

"that fits into the latter." he smile through the phone. you can faintly hear the bustle of the convenience store as well.

"...i feel a fever coming on. can you get me some ice cream?"

"got it. what else?"

"i want you..." you mumble into his pillow, feeling sluggish.

"..."

"respond..." you whine close to tearing up.

but before you can pick up more of a fuss, he's already next to the bed with a grocery bag in one hand and his phone in the other and his evol swirling around him.

not really thinking, you immediately go to nuzzle your heated face into his tummy. it's not really that comfortable, and you brush against the cold metal of his zippers that scratch at your face. but, nonetheless, it's just what you needed. he always is.

he puts away his phone and the bag onto the floor, gently carding through your hair and his voice a soft rumble,

"hi sweetie... want your ice cream now?"

"later..." you take his hands, putting them on your face in a happy mewl, "so cool..."

"aren't you just a cutie? does my princess want me to cool her down?" he smiles, sliding one hand down to your sweltering neck. you exhale in satisfaction, it's a little congested and you look like a sticky mess...but he thinks you're adorable. he always will.

spoiling you was irreplaceable to him. there was nothing in the world more special than the feeling of being your one and only prince, dictated by his only princess. you could have anything you wanted, be as bratty and as demanding as you wanted, surrounded by luxuries and comfort and you chose him to be your supplier and partner in it all. it was undeniably his favourite feeling in the world.

you nod, settling like putty into his large hands. gently but surely bringing you back to a comfortable temperature. as you drift off, you hear him softly humming to you a lullaby. something familiar but yet not quite. he might not have ever experienced the song in his own childhood, but everything he found beautiful and comforting was something he would share with you.

your life adorned in joy and comfort would always be his priority.

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[vamp-bites]

Wrote a wolfwood-centric fic recently and doodled this before i even finished writing the chapter its from

I just think they’re silly. And that they should’ve talked more at the end of volume 8, for my entertainment personally

[rochenn]

Compound words with triple consonants my fucking BELOVED

[soukokuforthesoul]

dazai’s texts to chuuya are a lot of very random things like telling him to get something for him, blurry pictures of himself, complaints about work, complaints about life in general, and chuuya rarely actually responds because why should he (though he does read the texts, and dazai sees and knows and thrives in the attention),,

but when chuuya’s drunk, chuuya’s the one sending nonsensical texts that are occasionally asking for his location, fifty texts under half a minute about how he hates dazai (or that dazai should die), etc.—

and then, dazai’s favorite, not that he’d admit it: sometimes chuuya sends pictures of himself, and not the stupid, low-effort, blurry ones dazai sends; okay, they’re usually blurry, but, like, high-quality blurry because his phone camera is perfect. ugh. oh, and they’re probably low-effort too, but— but not really. since somehow they’re always so pretty. of course, chuuya always immensely regrets sending them once he’s sober again, always threatens dazai to delete it from his side or whatever, threatens to take his phone, but dazai can’t, really, because chuuya’s beautiful and he hates it so much, hates it enough so that he’s printing the pictures out and keeping them in a folder full of chuuya dating back from when they were, maybe, sixteen or so, one of the few things he’d taken with him from the mafia, and he keeps them safely tucked away PURELYFORBLACKMAILPURPOSES he doesn’t actually look at them, he just—

okay maybe he does, but that’s beside the point. the point is that chuuya is also stupid and also sends stupid texts and pictures and dazai doesn’t respond to be petty (…but he does read them), and chuuya can’t call dazai a dumbass for his own texts (which are sent when he’s completely sober) when chuuya also sends stupid texts (when he’s really drunk)

… yeah

[stump-not-found]

dude it's just like the tv show ....

[robiinurheart33]

“It didn’t take him long to find Earth 138’s Stone and Robotnik; their severe loathing of each other had prompted Stone to become a supervillain in his own right. He and Robotnik 138 were locked in an epic battle that was razing most of New York City in its wake. Drone fought drone; robot battled robot; civilians fled for their lives; and, in the middle of the destruction, Stone and Robotnik traded blows and scathing, silver-tongued insults.

Stone mockingly spat the phrase ‘ My Ivo ’ through bloodied teeth. Robotnik didn’t wait to see who won.”

Ever since I’ve read this one paragraph I haven’t stopped thinking about it since actually no im not normal @vonlipwig ‘s Have We Met Before? Made me so ill when i first read it pls go check it out i was like biting my fist while reading it if ur the author hi i hope u like it !!1!

Without the blood and filters below⏬⏬

[woman-respecter]

LMAO they keep doubling down on these being real and making excuses for the spam bots.

part of me thinks it is just pure gullibility but it could be beyond that. i think deep down they KNOW they are wrong and have been scammed but are lashing out because accepting the truth would feel awful and humiliating so they are just clinging onto their percieved moral superiority and getting mad at the people who are less stupid in order to feel better about themself.

[seaworthee]

fire and blood was not good enough for people to be riding alyssa targaryen’s dick like this

[vardapilled]

yikes. u wanna be oppressed so bad.

adding, “i’m proud of my skin color” in the same post and thinking it’s a brave statement when historically you’ve had next to zero push back for that. this isn’t the radical hot take you think it is. Screencaps of ​this post (even in excerpts) and these tags are heinous:

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Explanations for the Robespierre sibling feud compilation

Version given by Augustin in 1794 — Charlotte is abusing her brothers’ ”spotless reputation” by spreading calumnies painting them as ”bad brothers,” and threatens to ”take a scandalous step in order to compromise us.” Her goal with this is to ”lay down the law on us.” Augustin also implies Charlotte is meeting with suspect people, such as ”a certain Saint-Félix” (a several times arrested ”hébertist”), and tells Maximilien to meet with Guillodon La Saudraie (Augustin’s mistress according to the memoirs of Charles Nodier) who ”would give you certain information on all the masks that it is interesting to know in these circumstances.” He himself has reached the conclusion their sister ”does not have a single drop of blood that resembles ours,” and declares her to be ”our greatest enemy” and ”a woman who causes our common despair.” He therefore tells Maximilien they must send Charlotte off to Arras in order to ”take her away from us.” Source: undated letter from Augustin to Maximilien, usually traced to May 1794, cited in Correspondance de Maximilien et Augustin Robespierre (1926), p. 293.

Version given by Charlotte in 1794 — Maximilien ”detested her because she had the courage of letting him know the danger he ran by being sourrunded so badly,” as she, everytime she had met him, ”had taken the opportunity to let him know that the men around him were trying to deceive him.” Charlotte says she understood that the Duplay family had taken up the case to lose her older brother, and that this motivated her to move out of their house. But both her two brothers and Madame Duplay had also asked her to leave, and on top of that the latter had ”reproached her for seeing counter-revolutionaires, among them Guffroy, representative of the people.” Charlotte also affirms that she had almost fallen the victim of the Revolutionary Tribunal, to which she knows Maximilien, in the public spirit, ”passed for having appointed people to.” Source: interrogation of Charlotte held July 31 1794, cited in Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1910) by Hector Fleischmann, p. 85-86.

Version given by Armand Joseph Guffroy in 1795 — Maximilien and Augustin kicked Charlotte out of their house ”because she did not think like they did, because she came to see my wife and because she visited citizens who were sincere friends of justice and truth.” Maximilien even reproached her for these visits by saying she was frequenting ”a conspirator.” When Joseph Le Bon, the representative on mission in Arras, briefly returned to Paris in May 1794, he took Charlotte back with him when he set out for the north once again. This was partly to prove her wrong about charges of cruelty she had directed against him, and partly because her brothers wanted to ”get rid of her” (unknown if he by this means to say ”kill her” or just ”get her out of their sight”). Source: Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices, deuxième censure républicaine(1795), undated Committee of General Security decree written by Guffroy in the spring of 1795, cited in Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) by Hector Fleischmann.

Version given by Maurice André Gaillard somewhere before 1844 — by the spring of 1794, Charlotte says the Duplays have ”destroyed me entirely in [Maximilien’s] mind, today he hates the sister who served as his mother.” Despite living in the same house as her older brother, she no longer has the power to approach him, and advices Gaillard to not even speak to him about her. Charlotte seemingly shows despair over her brother’s role in ”the terror,” saying that, even though she still loves him tenderly, she’s ”no longer able to bear the pain and the shame of seeing my brother devote his name to general execration” and therefore ”ardently desire his death as well as mine.” She is nevertheless certain Maximilien’s ”excesses” are only the consequence of ”the domination under which he groans,” and she hopes Augustin will be able to help her get him to move away from the Duplays, who ”obsess over him and lead him to the scaffold.” Gaillard writes Maximilien for his part had ”devoted mortal hatred” to Charlotte ”since the trip she had made to Arras to collect evidence of the massacres carried out by Joseph Lebon.” Source: La Révolution, la Terreur, le Directoire 1791-1799: d’après les mémoires de Gaillard (1908) page 263-266.

Version given by Charlotte in 1834 — in the fall of 1793, Augustin and Jean François Ricord travel to the army of Italy to serve as representatives on mission. For company, Augustin brings Charlotte while Ricord takes his wife Marguerite. After a while of traveling for town to town the group settles in Nice for a longer period of time. Augustin and Jean François inspects the armies while Charlotte and Marguerite make shirts for the soldiers during the day and go for horseback rides in the evenings. The rides do however cause ”several journals paid by the aristocracy” back in Paris to state the two women are acting like princesses, and Maximilien writes a letter to let his siblings know (I have unfortunately been able to find neither the journals nor the letter). Augustin therefore vetoes future horseback rides, and Charlotte promises to abstain from them. Shortly thereafter, when Jean-François and Augustin are away, Marguerite suggests going on yet another ride to Charlotte, who hesitantly agrees, sad to be disobeying her brother but somewhat assured by the fact Marguerite will have to take full responsibility for the ride since it was her idea. But when Augustin a few days later reproaches Charlotte for breaking the rule and Charlotte does call on Marguerite to testify, the latter lies and says it was Charlotte who came up with it and took her with her against her will. Charlotte gets so stupefied by this statement she is unable to retort it, but Augustin, chooses to believe it, much to his sister’s despair — ”My brother knew I was incapable of lying. Why then did he not want to believe me?” After this incident, Augustin stops speaking to Charlotte and starts keeping a certain coldness towards her, a coldness which grows day by day 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 cries over Augustin’s behaviour when alone, but hides her pain from her brother and chooses not to ask him for an explanation for why he’s treating her like he is either, since he’s so burdened by work.

A bit later, Marguerite suggests to Charlotte they should go to Grasse together to see a friend of hers, something which Charlotte agrees to. But just after they’ve arrived, Marguerite comes forward with a letter that she says is from Augustin, and that he’s telling Charlotte to return to Paris as soon as possible. Charlotte, without reading the letter, obeys. But Marguerite had in fact forged the letter, wanting Charlotte out of the way so she can seduce her brother. She and her friend Madame Gesnel now go on to slander Charlotte even more to Augustin, telling him that the reason she had so abruptly left for Paris was because she didn’t care about him, and that Charlotte had caluminated the reputation of both him and Marguerite. So when Augustin in December 1783 comes back to Paris for a short stay, he is ”outraged” against his sister, refusing to even put his foot in the same house as her, lodging instead with his colleage Record. He leaves for the army without seeing his sister even once, but does make their break known to Maximilien, and although he never speaks to Charlotte about it, she can see that he too is unhappy with her (he does however never seem to get more involved in the conflict than this). When Augustin returns from the army for the second time, in the summer of 1794, he is still ”fleeing my [Charlotte’s] 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.” The two never manage to make up before his death.

Charlotte writes the reason she never asked either brother for why they were treating her like they did was partly grounded in her ”pure conscience” and feeling that she should’t have to, and partly in the fact she saw them both overwhelmed with work and didn’t want to bother them with her problems. Charlotte does however claim it wasn’t until after thermidor she discovered what had actually caused her brothers’ change in attitude towards her. How exactly she did is unknown (did Madame Ricord herself come forward and tell her about her intrigues? 🤔). Source: Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1835), p. 109-116, 125-126.

@henriette-robespierre here you see what you missed out on! Still regret dying young?