#marche des possibles

[drawnecromancy]

ABNAR DEPUIS QUAND TU PEUX "FAIRE" DES MAITRES MAGICIENS. MOI CA FAIT TROIS BOUQUINS QU'ON ME DIT QUE C'EST UN TRUC HEREDITAIRE. WHAT

[play-now-my-lord]

GORDON RAMSAY: Alright, mate. I'll forgive the cockup with the soup course, but I want that caprese salad, and if there's any more forbidden knowledge of the future in it I'm going to need words with the chef de cuisine ME: Absolutely, chef. We have your caprese salad coming out now *additional member of waitstaff brings out a dish on one hand, and lifts the cloche to reveal basil leaves, fresh mozzarella, and slices of San Marzano tomato artfully arranged to spell out "MARCH 15, 2048 - AUTO ACCIDENT"* GORDON RAMSAY: Hold on a moment. Is that when and how I die? ME: I don't know, chef. It seems at odds with the concept of free will that knowing such a thing would even be possible GORDON RAMSAY: Not even through the antipasti and I'm already being asked to subscribe to a non-deterministic universe. Fuck me

[moinsbienquekaworu]

C'est mignon la fête de la musique mais il est presque 1h et il fait 28° les gars, je veux dormir avec la fenêtre ouverte moi 😔😔😔

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[01zfan]

your birthday pt. 2 | s. es

husband!eunseok x fem. reader | 8.5k words

a part two i never thought i’d make. i actually love this couple so much i fear. i love them so much i accidentally wrote 3.5k more words than intended. if you are interested in leaving a one time tip or commissioning me feel free to do so here!

contains: unprotected sex, shenanigans in a room while other people are in the house

your birthday: one | two

Snow covered the streets and rooftops, not caring about the time of year as it continued to fall. The street was bathed in white, the lamp posts down the curb of the cul-de-sac illuminated the snow that fell in a never ending frenzy.

Wistfully you looked out the window at the scene setting before you. Your chin rested on top your palms and your elbows were perched on the windowsill. Your eyes scanned the landscape before looking up to the white sky. You couldn’t sleep, too captivated by how the snowfall that made your life seem like a movie. You wondered if you looked how you felt, like a character deep in thought or a musician getting ready to sing about love. You believed you could sing about it for the rest of your life, each song about something different. One song would be about the love you felt the moment you stepped into this house. Another would be about the room you stayed in. You would sing about the bed that wasn’t yours that creaked from years of use then no use at all. You would sing about the blissful drowning in memories that weren’t yours, hanging on the wall and heard in the whirring of the old family desktop. 

The final song you’d sing, possibly the longest and the most heartfelt would be about the gleaming rock on your ring finger. All the love culminated to the diamond, cut and carved delicately to be put on a wedding band. You would sing the song long after your voice gives out from overuse, even after you realize their is no music left to sing along with. You let out a sigh when your fingers run over the engraved letters on the band, something that was a secret detail kept between you and your husband. You closed your eyes and breathed in deep, taking in all the nostalgia and love and beauty that almost became too much to handle. 

When you opened your eyes again you heard the door open behind you. You looked away from the windowsill quickly, hands falling to the armrest of the chair as you used the stability to turn your body further. For a moment you were worried, eyes wide thinking that you woke up the other people in the house. A quiet apology was on your lips before you saw a cautious head poke past the door. Instantly you softened and let out a breath, your hands balling up in silent excitement. 

“I thought you’d never show up.” You said quietly.

You didn’t try to hide your smile seeing Eunseok come inside before closing the door softly behind him. You heard the door quietly close, and you watched Eunseok step on the floorboards that wouldn’t creak as he made his way to the bed. He maneuvered around his room like a cat, on his tip-toes and keeping perfect balance. He winced silently as he got on the corner of the bed closest to you, like the smallest sound would trigger something.

“I was taking my time.” Eunseok whispered, looking past you for a moment to the view outside.

You took a quick turn to look outside again. Another layer of snow covered the ground. You smiled to yourself and subconsciously used your thumb to rub the gold band of your ring. 

“What are the odds it snows this hard in March?” You spoke while still looking outside, looking up towards the moon to try and find it. Eunseok completely forgot about the world around him until he saw you turn back to him slowly with a smile on your face. “And what are the odds it snows on your birthday?” You add.

He couldn’t stop himself from looking down bashfully at your comment. He stopped trying to fight the blush that would spread across his cheeks when he’d suddenly get your full attention, but he absolutely couldn’t handle keeping eye contact with you while it was happening. Eunseok came up with ways to play off the fact that he still couldn’t look at you for too long without feeling like he was going to die—his hands would fly to his bangs to readjust his hair or he’d shake his head trying his best to muster up a cocky smile. 

He fails to remain nonchalant when you move from your place on the recliner to reach towards him. Eunseok instinctually goes further onto his bed, trying to tease you while also trying to give himself some time and distance to get his head in the right place. But his plans are thwarted, they burst into flames when you follow him on your hands and knees. Eunseok tries his best to keep the sly smile as you add extra weight on your hands and knees, purposefully making the bed squeak underneath your body. Eunseok is no better, as he backs away from you his own body makes noise on top of the mattress too. When he gets to the headboard and realizes that there’s two sources of sound coming from this room when there’s only supposed to be one, he puts his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from coming any closer.

“You’re so loud.” He says gently.

You only cocked your head to the side, a confused pout on your lips. Looking at your face smoothed the clenched teeth and furrowed eyebrows Eunseok didn’t realize he had.

“I thought your parents slept through everything?” You asked.  

Eunseok was twenty-five. He spent his life at twenty-three living with you. He watched you graduate university and look for a job in your field and at the same time, Eunseok started imagining a proper future with you; one that required him to leave his comfort zone and apply for a higher up position at his job. 

At twenty-four he got the promotion the same time you landed a job. This was also around the same time Eunseok started looking at nearby jewelers and learning about different types of rings. At twenty-four Eunseok started planning your anniversary months in advance, long before you began thinking about it. At twenty-four Eunseok reluctantly started keeping secrets from you and hiding the shake in his hands as the date creeped closer and closer. At twenty-four Eunseok brought you to a beautiful restaurant while your friends and family set up the apartment. Like his birthday when he turned twenty-three Eunseok watched you navigate through the darkness of your apartment, talking about no surprises right before everyone revealed themselves. At twenty-four Eunseok got down on one knee and pulled out a ring, smiling to himself as the room went silent. He heard your confirmation the same time the room erupted in cheers and confetti was thrown.

At twenty-five Eunseok went from being your fiancé to your husband. You two went on a honeymoon out of the country where your eyes stayed on the ring, constantly looking at it and sighing in content disbelief. Eunseok repeated the phrase like it that much? with a proud smile on his face. 

(He knew you would like it. He made sure you would. Before he even considered buying the ring he took your bestfriend, your sister, and your Mother—all on separate occasions, he had to make sure ones opinion wouldn’t be swayed by the other—to the jewelers. He presented the ring he had in mind to each one of them, asking carefully if it was you. He was delighted to see everyone believed it was the ring. Even your friend who wasn’t easily impressed by Eunseok gave him a nod of approval. He still held onto the not bad, Eunseok like a lifeline when he swiped his card.)

Eunseok was twenty-six and forty-two minutes old now and he knew about way more things than he did the previous years of his life. He was more sure of himself, too. He was a high performer at work and a happy husband, something that seemed so foreign to him when he was a teenager doing God knows what. 

But even now, with all of his knowledge and amassed experiences he wasn’t sure if you were batting your eyelashes and pouting at him in a silent attempt to get him to make a move. 

Even if Eunseok’s heart was hammering in his chest he wasn’t opposed to it. The sight of you in his childhood bedroom with the backdrop of the beautiful snowfall actually left him fighting the urge to close the space between your two bodies. You stood on your knees now, still looked at him with that glint in your eyes. Eunseok was weak, he was grateful to lean against the headboard to give himself some sense of stability. But the way you leaned back on your haunches with your hands balled up in your lap and your ring staring at him he felt his inhibitions slipping away by the second. He was happy to be back home, Eunseok needed his friends and family to survive, but this trip has tried him to no end.

His parents were extremely old fashioned. They were so set in their ways that Eunseok had to tell you about it incessantly the first time you came over. He sat in the driver seat of his car and lamented the way they were until you nodded your head in annoyance. At the time, before Eunseok’s parents referred to you as their daughter, the only thing you were worried about was them liking you. Eunseok was more worried that you would see first hand why he was such a rebellious asshole as a teenager.

Even though time had passed and Eunseok’s parents arguably treated you better than they treated him, he knew their traditional ways would keep you apart. The first night when you were getting ready for bed Eunseok’s Mom came up behind you, leading you up the stairs to his childhood room while his Father continued talking to him downstairs. When his Dad bid you a goodnight and he started pulling out the couch that turned into a bed he remembers the shock on your face. He remembers you trying to as respectfully as possible tell his Mom that you were fine with the two of you sleeping on the cramped twin mattress in his room. He smiled to himself as he laid out the extra set of blankets, already knowing what his Mother was going to say.

“Eunseokie is sleeping on the couch so you can sleep in his room.” She said with a smile. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Even though Eunseok knew his Mother was going to keep you two separated at night, he still felt unprepared. He foolishly thought he could handle being away from you for only a night, but he tossed and turned on the couch. He felt like a teenager again, scowling to himself and getting angry at his parents trying to impose rules on him. He was old enough to admit now that he was overreacting when he rebelled to having a curfew as a teenager, or when he’d get grounded for having bad grades and when he’d come home smelling like smoke. But he was a kid then, an ornery asshole with a million hormones running through his bloodstream. Eunseok was a man now—a man who needed to sleep next to his wife to get a goodnight’s rest, but a man nonetheless—he believed he was justified in his indignation at being told what to do.

So each night, almost twenty-six Eunseok turned into a rebellious teenager again. The only difference was that he wasn’t sneaking out of the house, but actually going deeper into it. 

He stayed on one side of the staircase to avoid creaking and tiptoed past his parents room to sneak into his. Each night you were already up and waiting for him, a smile on your face as you leaned against the headboard of his bed. Eunseok got a kick out of seeing you be rebellious. On the first night your eyes would widen with each creak of the bed and you quietly shushed him a million times. Eunseok had to assure you that his parents didn’t wake easily and that he would go back down to the couch before morning came just to so you would cuddle with him.

He would’ve never thought you’d get so used to rebelling so quickly. The same girl that was nervous to even cuddle with his parents one room over was now staring at him with intent. You were nervous to even move on his bed the first night but now you played with your allotted decibels, he was starting to believe you purposefully overdid it just to get a rise from him. 

You even traded your usual nightwear for a set that was reminiscent of his birthday three years ago. He didn’t want to pay attention to your set when he came in, but now that’s all he could think about. Especially the way one of your straps made it over the edge of your shoulder and draped down your skin so perfectly. Each time you moved even the slightest the silk moved with you. 

Between your eyes boring into his and your chest grabbing his attention Eunseok wasn’t sure where to look. He was out of options, his eyes darting to the frames on his wall trying to recall his old memories instead of the image of you crawling on the bed towards him. Unfortunately Eunseok came to realize that it was already seared into his mind, burning everything else into a crisp. All there was in his mind was you, and here you were already in front of him still looking at him with those eyes. Your innocent question lingered in the air the suggestive nature in your voice imprinting on his mind. 

When you pushed slightly against Eunseok’s hands, he let his hands travel down to your arms. He had the strap of your set pressed between his palm and your upper arm, and you seized the opportunity to come even closer to him. Instantly you leaned your body against his, letting out a sigh as you looked out the window. Eunseok willed his body to relax as yours settled against his. When you turned to face the window your other strap fell from your shoulder, and you made a clumsy attempt to pull it back up. It seemed to fall down even lower after you tried, forcing Eunseok to move his hands upwards to put them back on your shoulders. He moved his hands up and down your arms, trying to soothe himself by soothing you. The repetitive motions should help his heart go back to its normal pace and that itch spreading across his body that only you could scratch should go away.

Just as Eunseok followed your gaze outside to the snow he saw your eyes go back to his room. You inspected the room like you only saw it in snatches, in between the mornings before heading downstairs and the night before going to bed.

He didn’t know why having you in here felt so different. He was suddenly hyperaware of the pile of clothes in the corner of his room and the aged desktop in the corner of his room. Eunseok noticed the hobby items of the animes he used to watch, the dusty trophies from spelling bees and certificates of decathlons before he decided he wanted to be one of the cool kids. Something that should’ve been hidden in the night was illuminated by the lamp posts and the snow, letting you see the highlights of Eunseok’s childhood. He would’ve told you anything you wanted to know about his life without hesitation, and he was sure he talked about his past before becoming a delinquent before. But still, having you see firsthand the child he used to be was somber. He only watched you in silence as you took it all in, he turned his head from the snow to watch yours tilt and turn as you looked at his life story.

He watched you pause on the cork board that hung on his door. It was dedicated to birthday cards, a faded Have a great Summer! and a faded countdown that reached zero. Eunseok leaned forward to kiss the ball of your shoulder, finding comfort in having his skin against yours in another way. When you hummed it let him know you saw all of him, and you were beginning to digest it. He followed your eyes and leaned his head forward, looking down at your cheek that you chewed on absentmindedly.

“What are you looking at?” He asked.

You looked up at him from his side. He still ran his hands up and down your arms in a soothing motion, only stopping when you pointed to the board.

“What was the countdown for?” You asked.

He forgot himself what the countdown was for. When he remembered he laughed to himself quietly before letting out a  sigh. A million memories ran through his head at once, the good, bad, and ugly that came with being a kid trying to find his way. Eunseok let the memories fall like the snow as he looked out the window again. 

“It was a countdown for my eighteenth birthday.” Eunseok continued watching the snowfall as you started laying down, getting more comfortable on the bed. When your head resting in his lap he started touching your cheeks absentmindedly, watching another layer of snow coat the ground. “I was always in such a rush to grow up.”

Eunseok looked away from the snow to the window nook. He wants to laugh again at how melodramatic he was, how he’d sit in that nook and be a moody teenager. He remembers waiting there until his friends pulled up in their car before he’d sneak out to go somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be. Your cheeks were soft underneath the pads of his fingers. He didn’t take his hands away, only nodding his head towards the pillow that was still caved in on itself from years of use and the blanket that was jumbled in the corner. 

“I used to sit right there.” Eunseok felt your head turn underneath his hands. “I would look at the sky and just think about what life would be like when I finally left.” He said.

Eunseok didn’t know why he was being so candid. He quietly walked up the stairs with the sole mission to cuddle, maybe even get a kiss or two. He would’ve never thought he’d be sharing the small details of his life he always kept to himself. But he also should’ve known by now that he could keep nothing from you; even if they were insignificant moments in his adolescence he only thought about in passing. Everything had the tendency to come to the surface when he looked at you. He was still trying to figure out why your presence always prompted him to speak. Silence was something Eunseok was praised for when he was a teenager. He wore the mysterious and quiet label like a badge of honor. When you were around, it was useless. Sometimes he felt like he was just talking to talk when you came around, like his body was forcing him to subject you to his voice. He never got better at controlling his urge to talk to you. Even now, his gaze cut back to the falling snow to point his finger through the white haze in the general direction of his neighbors house.

“Our neighbor across the street, can you see his house?” 

He wasn’t sure if you were humoring him when you craned your neck to look through the downpour of snow. You nodded your head regardless of if you could see it or not before leaning your head back on his lap. Suddenly his throat felt dry. He didn’t even know what he was going to say, what this useless ramble was leading to but he still felt antsy for some reason. He tried to shake the feeling away by shifting his body underneath yours, using the creaks in his bed as a palette cleanser for his voice. 

“He always puts up his lights up during Christmas the exact same day.” Eunseok puts one of his hands behind his body to keep himself propped up while the other continues mindlessly playing with your face. He thinks your eyes stay focused on the corner of the roof that’s visible through the snow. He doesn’t know, because now he really can’t bring himself to look down at you. “Like for as long as i can remember, he always puts them up on December 13th when his son comes from wherever he lives to help him. I think my Mom told me once he drives for three hours just to help his Dad put up decorations on the exact same day, every year.”

Even though your silent, Eunseok knows you heard him. He swears you’re looking at him as a teenager in the nook of his window, blanket curled in his lap as he looks across the cul-de-sac to his neighbors house. He swears you’re right behind him, looking down at the Father and son putting up the Christmas decorations together. He hopes you can see the things a small part of him doesn’t want you to see, that you can hear what’s left unsaid. He hopes you can understand the inner turmoil and how the lack of family traditions pulled at his heart. He hopes you can understand the battle he went through of thinking about the trouble he was going to get into with his friends while also wishing for a relationship with his parents. He prays you know he wanted more than day drinking on Friday mornings instead of going to class .You hum as you imagine Eunseok sitting in the nook of his window, looking across the cul-de-sac to the Father and son putting up Christmas decorations together. 

Eunseok had matured in more ways than he could count since you two started seeing eachother. After he learned about your aversion to alcohol he stopped drinking carelessly, when he found out you were moving to go to college he started getting serious about his life too. You often argued that he was more mature than you, but his biggest setback now was that he would never mention it. He didn’t like to dwell on the past, he didn’t like to look back on the type of person he was as a young adult. Even now, he was only realizing in the moment that the antsy feeling across his body was because he wanted to say something else. He couldn’t find the words, and he looked down to you for help. He still needed you, the same way you needed him. It was a silent agreement between you two, signed and sealed by prolonged eye contact and gentle touches and delivered through words. When he needed the push you were there.

“I want something like that one day. Family traditions are so nice.” You say with a smile.

“Yeah.” Eunseok’s voice tapered off at the end as he snapped his gaze to the window. The blush creeped across his face again and sweat lined his palms as you intertwined his fingers with yours.

Eunseok’s other hand went back to playing with your face, but his touch was a little harder. He tries to distract himself, he almost tries talking himself out of what he’s going to say next by clearing his throat and watching the snowfall. He started uselessly counting the falling specks, losing track over and over again as he tries to stop himself from being vulnerable. 

One

Two

Three

The feeling of your hand squeezing around his makes Eunseok lose count. He clears his throat, trying to will away the hot feeling across his body.

One

Two

Three

Six

Eight

Twelve

Avoidance of emotion is a terrible habit Eunseok has, one made instinctually through trying to hide his personality his whole life. The worst part was when sentiments were on the tip of his tongue but suddenly his throat would feel dry until he swallowed it back.

“What do you want to say?” 

Eunseok was pulled from whatever number at the sound of your voice. He looked down at you already looking up at him. Your smile is so welcoming and your eyes are big and focused on whatever he’s going to say. 

When he needed a push you were there.

“I was just gonna say that I can’t wait to have family traditions with you one day.” 

Eunseok didn’t realize he was pinching your hand from the nerves until his eyes drifted away from yours. He loosed his grip instantly but you made up for it tenfold, gripping him so hard he could feel the creases on your fingers. Being overwhelmingly vulnerable about his future with you (as if the ring on your finger didn’t bound your lives together for better or for worse, from now till the end of time) made him nervous. Eunseok felt like he had embarrassed himself in some way until you got up from your place on his bed to be eye level with him. 

“I can’t wait either.” You agreed. 

Everything about you dripped in sincerity. The way your eyes had only gotten wider to show you were serious and your hand reached up to cup his face to let him know you were right there with him. Eunseok was amazed by how you put yourself out there seemingly for his benefit. You so easily repeated back his sentiment without hesitation, even after you had to pull the confession from him. He didn’t know how he got so lucky, how you made him feel so seen when he spent his entire life trying to be invisible. You had the talent of reading his mind, he hoped and prayed that you understood what he was trying to say when his eyes focused on your lips.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” You said.

Eunseok didn’t say anything else when he rested his hand on the back of your neck. Any extent of being vulnerable made Eunseok mentally drained. His endurance when it came to using words was slim to none, but when he failed on that front he knew he could always fall back on his physicality. Eunseok could admit that it was a little pathetic his emotions needed a breather after something as insignificant as hinting at having a family but he was okay with that. As long as he was able to distract you from the fact by kissing you until you couldn’t breathe. 

When his thumb ran up and down the small space of your jaw and your hands went to grip his forearms Eunseok knew he had you distracted. He focused on you for a second longer, the backdrop of the snow seemed like you were carved out from a movie. He saw you part your lips and run your tongue over them quickly before you started slowly inching forward. He closed the distance even slower, tilting his head and pulling you in by his hand on the back of your neck.

The quiet sound of your lips making contact filled the space between the two of you. Your hand eventually planted into the mattress to steady yourself while Eunseok’s hands guided you through the motions, trying his best to minimize the sound of movement on his bed.

When you tried getting onto Eunseok’s lap he started using his hands to guide your body onto his bed. You didn’t know what he was planning but you let him do it anyway, maneuvering your body until he could guide your body down. He kissed you all the way down until your head was resting on the pillows, and his hands that touched your face started touching his sheets instead. You closed your eyes into the chaste kisses, pressing your lips gently against Eunseok’s as you searched for his hands. When you felt his wrists you grabbed at them, but Eunseok didn’t weave your fingers together like he usually did. He didn’t deepen the kiss either, only pressing hesitant kisses that got slower and slower. You could feel his anticipation falter with each old creek of the bed. 

Finally Eunseok’s hands started clutching at yours, but they were contemplative before you tried deepening the kiss. Before you knew it Eunseok pulled away from you, and you lifted your head in a habit of chasing him.

“I’ve never done this before.” Eunseok said breathily.

You blinked up at him, trying to get the gears in your mind to turn. Instead the only thing you could think about was Eunseok on top of you and the way the glow from the lamp posts dimly lit the side of his face.

“We’ve definitely made out before.” You say back.

Eunseok knew you were using the term making out very loosely. Unsure chaste kisses to lips were nothing compared to what you  two were accustomed to. When Eunseok ran his tongue over his lips he could feel the thin layer of drool coating them. But his lips felt nothing like the swollen warmth he’d usually be left with when you’d break away to catch your breath. The light catching on your lips didn’t resemble the usual sight either. When you two were actually making out Eunseok would always part from your lips leaving them a bitten red mess. Eunseok had a habit of sucking and lightly biting your lips, but he was too distracted to do anything beyond juvenile pecks. 

He was amazed to see your eyes were still ogling him like he was teasing you. He felt your leg rub against his as he shook his head.

“I mean I’ve never made out with anyone in my childhood room before.” Eunseok says.

Eunseok doesn’t miss the way your head tilted to the side in genuine confusion at his remark.

“Really?” You asked.

Eunseok’s own head tilted at the genuine shock in your voice. He knew that his reputation preceded him in many ways before you met. Living in such a small town meant that word spread fast, whether it was true or not. When one member of his crew did something, it was assumed the rest of them were doing the same thing. So when word travelled that people in his clique were sneaking girls in and out of their homes late at night, Eunseok should’ve suspected that the common consensus was that they were all fooling around in their childhood rooms. 

He could see instantly that you regretted how shocked you sounded. Eunseok saw that you were still frazzled from the kisses, catching you off guard to the extent that you weren’t able to hide your expression. Eunseok saw it as an opportunity to lean close, so close that his nose touched your ear.

“You think I was bringing girls over?” He asks.

Eunseok tilts his head slightly, a smirk on his face when he sees you trying to avoid eye contact. He presses even further, until his lips press against the shell of your ear and your hand grasps at his body as a reflex.

“Sneaking them in and out?” When you nod your head Eunseok tsks playfully and shakes his head. Before you can defend yourself, Eunseok drags his hand along the line of your jaw. His eyes follow his own hand, as if he doesn’t know where it’s going either. When his fingers rest lightly over your neck he feels you swallow underneath him. Eunseok’s eyes drift back up to your face, smiling to himself when you still avoid eye contact. “I thought you thought more of me.” He fake pouts.

Instantly you shake your head, but no words come out. Eunseok knows he shouldn’t be so cruel. He never debunked the rumors of him being a delinquent, to some extent it was true and he was also guilty of feeding into it. Eunseok would’ve never thought that it’d pay off like this in the future. He was able to see the gears helplessly turn in your head as you tried to think of a way to defend yourself. Just when the words were about to come out Eunseok flexed his hand over your neck again, adding the slightest bit of pressure. He watched your back arch off the bed from the sensation, and you whimpered weakly. He felt your pull at his shirt, weak despite your hand gripping his shirt so tightly it caused wrinkles.

Eunseok wonders if you were trying to be in charge tonight. The two of you were always impartial to roles in the bedroom, but on his birthday you always seemed to assert some sort of dominance. Even if it was breathlessly asking Eunseok to do whatever he wants to you, he always noticed that you tried maintaining control to some degree. But now here you were, gripping onto him pathetically and avoiding eye contact while you came closer and closer to him. Eunseok didn’t know if he preferred it this way, but he sure as Hell wasn’t going to complain. He only leaned into it, kissing your cheek before using his other hand to point your face towards his.

“It’s like our first time again.” Eunseok smiled against your skin before leaving wet kisses in the crook of your neck. 

You whimpered, your hand travelled up to press into his shoulder blade. Eunseok went back to kissing and laving the warm skin on your neck, shuffling your body underneath his as he got on top of you. When the bed creaked again he noticed it was you who hesitated this time, bending your head towards his so he couldn’t kiss you anymore.

“What if your parents hear us?” You asked.

Eunseok didn’t stop devouring you, kissing your neck and jawline and cheek before repeating the same cycle. His other hand started pulling at you, silently urging you to start pulling at him too. When Eunseok felt you give in an inch, he took another mile. He raised form your neck completely to look down at you, his eyes drifting to all the spots on your neck and face that were glossy from his spit. He ran his finger over the crease of your eyebrow, smirking to himself.

Eunseok looks around his room for a moment before settling on the nook. The thought of having you on top of him right next to the window with the snow falling has him off the bed in seconds pulling at your arms to get you up. Eunseok feels pride swell in his chest at how you follow him immediately and how you’re wobbly on your feet for a second before he pulls you towards the window. You teeter unsure where to go but let your body be lead by him. He is so hasty that he doesn’t know what to do when he has you where he wants you. He notices the lack of space first, he forgot that he has definitely grown since he was a lanky preteen. But seeing your blown out eyes and feeling your hands impatiently grab at his body and sweats fills him with innovation. He scoots back to the window and sits on the nook, letting his feet plant onto the wooden floor. He purposefully manspreads, distracting you more as your eyes flit between his lap and his eyes. Your strap fell down again at some point, but you aren’t focused on it at all. He has to look at the strap before you realize it had fallen down. 

“Come here.” He says gently, hands beckoning towards you.

You close the distance immediately. The strap is loose on your skin as Eunseok rubs the material between his fingers. Your hands already go to his shoulders, holding them in anticipation. He loves how easily you get wound up for him. It took him nearly a year to convince himself that you were truly always this ready for him and that you weren’t playing it up for his confidence. When he needed to prove it to himself all he had to do was stick his hand past the waistband of your matching shorts.

Instantly you gasped and he smiled to himself before looking up to you. Now it was your turn for your face to get hot and for Eunseok to be nonchalant. He still innocently played with the strap of your camisole, as if his other hand wasn’t teasing your slit. He played with the slick, purposefully messing with it in a way that caused the most noise.

“You still have to be quiet.” Eunseok said quietly.

You bit your lip and nodded, but you were still so loud. You were squelching between his fingers just from kissing and a little pulling at your skin. Sometimes he wondered if you ever rested, but he also knew he was no better. He was trying to fight the bulge from forming in his sweats since he opened the door and saw you in this set. That was the best part about sex with you—it could’ve easily been him being teased while you sat on the windowsill looking up at him evenly—it just happened to be him first. 

So Eunseok exaggerated everything. He shuffled closer to the edge of the nook and briefly stopped playing with your strap to pull you in by your lower back. Instantly you got so close his nose pressed against the silk fabric of your camisole. Eunseok looked up at your head lulling to the side, and he pulled at you again until his chin was pressed against your stomach. He smiled at you losing your balance, how your hand quickly pressed against the glass of his window to stabilize yourself. When your legs pressed against his he wedged his legs between them, spreading them apart until you looked uncomfortable. You still bit your lip and moved your body whichever way he wanted, being so good just for him. He went back to the strap of your camisole, pulling it lower and lower, slowly revealing one side of your chest. He fingers continued making a show of how wet you were. Eunseok knew everything he was doing was so close to what you wanted but at the same time so far away.

“Please.” You dragged out your quiet plea, preening and lowering your hips to try and get his fingers where you needed them to be. 

“Aren’t you worried—” He couldn’t even finish his question before you were shaking your head. His dick jumped in his sweats and he started pressing a little harder, right next to where your cunt was clenching around nothing. “Aren’t you worried my parents will wake up?” He asked.

“Don’t care.” You rushed the words out, but still spoke in a whisper. “I Don’t care.” You repeated.

To show that you were serious, Eunseok watched you quickly pull away from him to reach at the bottom of your camisole. In seconds it was off your body completely, thrown somewhere random in the room. Eunseok watch your hand greedily go up to your own chest and he started kissing at the skin of your stomach. He pressed his teeth to your skin the same time he pushed his index finger inside of you. He looked up to catch your expression, a wet mark left in the wake of his lips as you started teasing your nipple roughly. Your legs were already starting to get shaky, Eunseok watched you lean on him more and more for stability as he added in another finger. He was having too much fun messing with you. It wasn’t enough that he was ruining you in some convoluted way by finger fucking you in his childhood room right in front of the window, but he took the extra step to tease you by retracting his finger so it was only one again. Watching you pout was too satisfying, seeing your hands grab at your body to make up for loss of contact made his dick strain in his pants.

“Am I being mean?” He asked.

Eunseok made sure to be as sarcastic as possible, he even smirked up at you after he was done speaking. The smirk turned to a full blown smile when you nodded with your whole body, hands still groping your chest as you tried making sense of everything. The frosted glass was cold against his skin but he warmed it, and your hand left a foggy imprint in its wake. 

“Want me to stop teasing you?” He continued.

You nodded again, adding a pathetic whine while doing it. You made it entirely too easy for Eunseok to be an asshole. He wanted to know why you seemed to like it so much too. Each time he pushed his finger into your heat you squeezed him tight, desperately looking for more. He felt your heartbeat, he felt you gushing around him. Your reactions made him want to be a delinquent again, the type that gave you so much it made you make noise. But he decided now wasn’t the time, and here wasn’t the place. He had plenty of chances to be mean to you in the future. So he was going to bask in the teasing and the fact that you had to be quiet even though making noise in bed seemed to be your favorite thing. 

Eunseok added his finger back. Then he added another one. Then he reached his hand from your lower back to grab the other side of your chest that you were neglecting.

“Love seeing you fall apart.” He murmured against the skin of your stomach.

Eunseok felt his stomach lurch forward when your hand fisted his hair. You didn’t pull on the strands to assert dominance, you were using him as a human stress ball as consolation for not being able to make any noise. When he quickened his fingers your eyes screwed shut and you pulled even tighter. Eunseok had to swallow a groan as he tilted his head into your grip, trying to alleviate some of the force. He watched you slouch and felt your legs tremble against his. You were fluttering around his three fingers, and labored breaths were tumbling through your bitten lips.

“Close?”

You nodded your head immediately. Eunseok watched you rotate your hips slightly. He broke from the dominant haze for a moment at the look of discomfort that flashed across your face. He bent his hand that was inside of you, and when he knew he was getting it right your hand tightened in his hair again. He kissed and sucked on the skin of your waist, pressing his tongue flat before looking up to you again. 

This time your eyes were open, wide and glassy. You also freed your bottom lip from your teeth, Eunseok swore he could see the indents in the orange glow of the lamp posts. You looked like peace despite you in the middle of falling apart. Even though you were directly causing pain to his scalp Eunseok felt something so tender and raw in your rough hold. He was here with you and you were right there, trying so hard to be with him.

“I’ll be better for you.” Eunseok murmured.

Eunseok watched you nod quickly, your pout deepening. The cogs were turning in your mind, trying to keep up with the words falling from his lips and the rough pace of his hands. You were getting pulled back and forth by him. He was sure his promise came as an echo to you, bouncing off the walls of your hazy, lust-filled mind. Then suddenly, Eunseok saw you come back to Earth. Your hand was placed delicately on his cheek, stroking the skin with your thumb. He had to blink away the bracket of tears threatening his water line to keep his eyes on you.

“You already are.” You said.

Eunseok let out a sigh and leaned his head against your stomach. Your were like a warm pillow, jumping with each sharp inhale and exhale of breath. His eyes were focused on the wall as he went to your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves with his wet fingers.

“I need you to fuck me though.” You said. Eunseok swore the snow stopped and his desktop stopped whirring in that moment. He looked up to you and your hand squeezed his cheek, forcing his lips to pucker. “Please.” You added, as articulate as possible.

After wrapping such a tempting proposition in a pretty bow, Eunseok couldn’t control himself for the second time that night. He got up from his stoop and pulled at your waistband. Your hands started pulling at his shirt and sweats at the same time, trying to quickly undress him as he smashed his lips against yours. Eunseok couldn’t be pulled away from you, he pushed you further and further back towards the edge of his bed as your hands started reaching for any part of him. 

You almost tripped when he pushed your shorts down to your thighs, and you actually fell when the back of your legs hit the back of the bed. Your body caused the springs to creak when you fell, but Eunseok didn’t clench his teeth or try to silence it. He seemed to be striving for it. He made your body squirm on the mattress when he took off your shorts, and made them sound off again when he flipped you over onto your stomach. When you tried to crawl further onto the bed he stopped you by a hand clasped over your shoulder. He knew you were confused, he was confused himself. The only thing that was in Eunseok’s mind was the sincerity in your voice when you told him so nicely that he needed to fuck you. Your voice made his hands pull off his clothes quickly, it made him not waste time getting on the bed to mount you. He only stood next to the bed while you were laying on your hands and knees in front of him, looking back as you settled into your position. 

He at the very least took time adjusting your legs on the bed and pressing a hand to your lower back to deepen your arch. He also asked you if you were ready, to which you very impatiently gave the affirmative.

Eunseok wasted no time working up to a fast pace. The moment he felt your walls let him in he was pulling back and smacking his hips against yours. It knocked the wind out of you first, them it made his bed scream, but he didn’t stop. In his mind he was able to rationalize a quick burst of noise rather than prolonging it, even if he wished for the former. You let tiny whimpers and moans slip out underneath the pressure of the mattress. He looked down at you taking him in, each time he pulled out his dick was covered with another layer of your slick. His hand left your lower back for a second to point at your left hand balled up in the sheets.

“Gimme your hand.” He said.

Instantly you started flailing your hand behind you, too focused on not crying out to actually give it to Eunseok. He grabbed your wrist that fit so perfectly in his hand and pinned it to the same spot on your lower back. He focused on hitting that spot deep inside of you, and before he knew it one of his feet was propped up on the bed beside your body. You were really weak now, losing your form as your hand tried turning to grab his wrist. Eunseok pressed deeper, driven still by your order of fucking you. He leaned close, so close that your body was flat against the sheets and one of your legs slipped off the bed completely. He accommodated you immediately, and the screaming creaks of his bedsprings turned into quick steady croaks.

“You like that?” Eunseok’s other hand went to the back of your neck and he felt your walls clench around him. He moved his hand a little higher on your back, moving your pinned wrist to a slightly uncomfortable position. It seemed like that’s what you craved the most, because the tone of your sounds became whiny and weak. “You’re so quiet I can’t tell.” He teased.

Eunseok patted himself on the back at the sound of your incoherent babbles. The only word he could make out was close. 

“I love you too.” Eunseok squeezed his hand on the back of your neck and watched you attempt to get an arch back. He threaded in a love confession to your babbles on his own accord, knowing that was something you tended to say when you were almost there. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your other leg slid off the bed when you came. Eunseok had to move his hand from the back of your neck to clasp over your mouth preemptively to get ahead of the shaking moans that ripped past your parted lips. They were muffled and warm against the palm of his hand, and he muffled his own grunts on the clammy skin of your back. You felt the warmth inside of you and heard three more heavy creaks of the bed until Eunseok stopped moving on the final one. He stayed inside of you, his body pressed flush against yours as both of your hands pressed laid on top of the mattress. Eunseok intertwined his fingers with yours as you both caught your breath. Your wind came back to you through wheezes while Eunseok did deep inhales. You were still babbling about something, which Eunseok silenced with kisses to your tear stained cheek and the corner of your lips. 

Your feet helplessly dangled over the edge of the bed, impossible to get your footing or placement on the ground. Eunseok’s warm body crushing you almost lulled you to sleep, but then the thought of his parents catching you like this in the morning made you fully alert. You bent your leg to kick the back of Eunseok’s thigh, pulling him out of his own trance. He was too busy thinking about those family traditions before sighing, pushing his dick deeper into you one last time before pulling out completely. You still seized around him like your body wanted him but he continued to pull out. He looked down at your cunt briefly, seeing if you had pushed any of him out. But it looks like you took every last drop, and he bit his lip to hold back a smile until you stayed moving. 

When the bed creaked underneath you he hissed and his hands went to your body to try and still you. Eunseok watched you look back at him with actual confusion, head tilted to the side. 

“Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?” You grumbled, making the point to make extra noise while you clambered off the bed.

[cazzyf1]

pls tell me everything you know about the 1982 drivers strike i think about it often

Right I about to go into as much detail as possible about the driver's strike while hopefully keeping it comprehensible.

*cracks knuckles*

Let's go.

So to give some overall context to the situation, Bernie Ecclestone was doing some meddling. He had control over the Formula One Constructors Association (FOCA) which meant he could negotiate contracts between teams, track owners, television rights, etc. Realising the sort of power Bernie Ecclestone was getting, the Federation Internationale de I'Automobile (FIA) put Jean-Marie Balestre in charge. There was a big power struggle between these two however both Ecclestone and Balestre united against the drivers in 1982.

At the start of the 1982 season, a new license called a 'super license' was put forward for the drivers to sign. This license was based on other sports, like football's transfer systems, meaning the drivers had fewer rights - their team owners essentially owned them. For example, the super licence meant a team could keep drivers to one team for up to three years, even if the drivers wanted to leave. This happened after, in 1981, Alain Prost was racing for McLaren, and he became convinced that the car wasn't safe. He refused to drive for the team, though he had a contract. He said if necessary, he would walk away from the sport altogether. Then Renault approached Alain Prost, and he joined them. A new license was created to prevent this situation from happening again.

1982 was also the season that (at the time) 2x World Champion Niki Lauda decided to come out of retirement. In 1979 he had been racing for Bernie Ecclestone's team 'Brabham', but halfway through the season, he walked away, finding no more interest in the sport. Eventually Ron Dennis, who ran the team 'Mclaren' tempted Niki back into the sport.

Niki was sent the super license a few days before the start of the season to sign, and being a stickler for detail he made sure to read through all of it. In reading it, Niki realised the control the team owners would have over the drivers and did not approve of it. Quickly, he rang up Didier Pironi who was head of the drivers association, to talk him through what he had found. Didier agreed that these licenses were bad and then called all the other drivers, telling them not to sign the licence. They had been late though, as 24 had technically already signed as they hadn't properly read the licence. The only ones that hadn't were Lauda, Pironi, Villeneuve who had seen something similar in ice hockey and didn't like it, Arnoux, Giacomelli and de Cesaris.

In South Africa, Kyalami the track was prepared for the drivers to start practising, and the drivers were arriving in their normal cars. But before they could get out on track, a bus pulled up with Niki Lauda and Pironi in it. Without their knowledge, Niki and Didier had managed to borrow a bus from Trevor Rowe and were ready to take the drivers back to their hotel at the Kyalami Ranch. They rounded up all the drivers and told them of their plans, and while they were hesitant, eventually, most of them were convinced to get onto the bus. Only two didn't. Jochen Mass, who was late (He's always late, someone said) and Jacky Ickx.

The team owner of March, John McDonald, caught wind of what was happening and tried to prevent the bus from leaving by parking a van in front of the bus. Jacques Laffite got out of the bus to move the van, accidentally stalled it, but eventually got it out of the way. The bus then set off, taking the scenic route back to the Sunnyside Park Hotel while every news van and car chased after the bus, getting clips of Niki Lauda looking out the back of the bus and waving at them.

Eventually, they arrived, and all of them strutted past the journalists and went into the hotel. Thus ensued a fun time for the drivers relaxing around by the pool for the day. However, things back at the track were not shaping up well.

Bernie Ecclestone and Jean-Marie Balestre were pissed. The race organisers threatened to impound the cars, Bernie Ecclestone threatened to sue the drivers, and Balestre announced if the drivers didn't come back, then they would all be fired. Bernie Ecclestone had already fired the drivers from his team, Nelson Piquet and Riccardo Patrese. The mechanics put signs out joking advertising for new drivers. Didier Pironi was doing the main negotiations for the drivers at the track and reporting back to Niki Lauda at the hotel on how it was progressing. During the evening, when dinner was being served, the driver's wives and girlfriends, who were still at the track, started throwing bread rolls at Balestre.

Didier Pironi arrived at the hotel and explained that if they didn't return and drive immediately, they risked life bans. Niki Lauda realised that this strike would last the night, and he knew that if all the drivers returned to their own rooms, the team principles would easily be able to convince them to abandon the strike. They needed to stay united, which meant literally sticking together. He arranged to take over the conference room in the hotel and have all the spare mattresses brought into the room.

All the drivers moved into this one big room, and soon, the entertainment started. Many of the younger drivers felt quite panicked about the whole situation, worried that they would be fired for going on strike, which would have ended any career in motorsports, so they went to the older drivers like Niki for reassurance. Niki tried to lighten up the atmosphere by telling dirty jokes. Bruno Giacomelli, who was quite passionate about machine guns, got his hands on a chart and gave a presentation on how to take a gun to bits. There was also a piano in the room, and driver Elio de Angelis, trained to play the piano, performed for all the drivers. Everyone there said it was the most beautiful playing they had ever heard. Gilles Villeneuve also had a go playing a few joyful pieces.

The team owners and journalists had by now discovered that all the drivers were hiding out in this one big room, and they were trying to get in. At first, Niki gave an interview by the door, but he ensured no one would leave the room. One of the team principles, Mo Nunn of Ensign, had brought the driver, Guerrero's girlfriend, along as a bargaining trip. Niki made sure to accompany Guerrero to see his girlfriend. He said that the situation could have brought a tear to your eye. Eventually, they got the girlfriend away from the team principal and into the room. Team principal Jean Sage of Renault tried to get to Prost and Arnoux but was beaten off.

At this point, the team principals grew frustrated and decided to break into the room, so the drivers had to use the piano to barricade the door.

Then night came, and it was time for the drivers to get even closer. There were not enough mattresses for one each, meaning all the drivers had to bunk up. Many funny photographs have come from this event. Alain Prost and Giles Villeneuve shared a mattress, which led to Patrick Tambay saying if a child came from this, all the others might as well give up.

There was a problem with the toilet as there was only one and it wasn't in the room. There was a key to the toilet and so the drivers agreed to leave it in the middle of the room so they would know if someone left to the toilet and didn't come back. One driver, Fabi, ended up going to the toilet but did not come back.

During the night, Carlos Reuntemann or Keke Rosberg snored so loudly that Gilles Villeneuve threw a blanket over them to cover the sound.

In the morning, all the drivers got up, trying hard not to sniff the odour of the room and got ready to head to the track as Didier Pironi had been able to successfully negotiate a licence they were happy with. No drivers were fired, Nelson Piquet and Riccardo Paterese were rehired, and the race was successful. There were fears that the drivers could be arrested at the airport, but thankfully, that didn't happen. Instead, they were fined for taking part in the strike, which, while it didn't affect some drivers who already had plenty of money, it wasn't ideal for the drivers who were just getting started.

This is as much as I am able to remember; if you know anything more or if there is something wrong in this let me know in the comments below! Hope you enjoyed the read :)

[internetskiff]

Breen's unfortunately pretty underrated amongst the Valve antagonists, which I suppose is understandable compared to the likes of GLaDOS or The Administrator, but just like those two I feel like there's plenty of things to talk about when it comes to him. He seems like a very conflicted character, especially if you take into account the BreenGrub account and Laidlaw's Epistle 3. First of all is, of course, the leadup to the Black Mesa incident, with the G-Man seemingly making an offer to Breen which seemingly involved overloading the Anti-Mass Spectrometer while processing an extremely pure sample of Xen Crystal - and yes, while it's pretty obvious that the order to overload the systems was very intentional and motivated by whatever deal they struck, I believe that when it comes to the aftermath he may have been sold on a lie. Considering his actions as Administrator of Earth being entirely in the interests of keeping Humanity from feeling the full force of the Combine, I don't think "Becoming the de facto leader of all of Earth" was on his agenda. Perhaps G-Man promised that whatever their deal would entail would bring about a prosperous future for humanity, perhaps all he promised was the possibility of establishing contact with another sentient species (which is something he technically did provide), or perhaps it was something else - there's simply way too much room for speculation there, I think.

A little detail from a HL:A newspaper implies that his position as Earth's administrator wasn't exactly handed to him on a silver platter, instead he had to go out of his way to reach out to the governments with information on how to communicate with the invaders, at which point, already beaten down by Combine forces, they simply gave him the all-clear to speak for all of mankind. This still begs the question of who, or what, gave him the knowledge of how to speak with them - however, it's safe to say if they didn't, Earth would've been left a smoldering pile of rocks and withered carcasses. Once again, he acts with Humanity's best interests in mind, having to choose between the lesser of two evils - it's either enslavement or extinction. He simply chose the option in which Humanity would survive, even if just for a little while longer.

And ever since, we're watching the aftermath. He's trying to talk the last generation of Humanity down, so they may either pass of old age or be absorbed into the Combine - at least if that happens, something gets preserved. Once again, the alternative? They'll just wipe the slate once they get the local teleportation technology they desire. Breen sees no other way than to go along with their demands. He's eventually proven wrong, of course, but he refuses to see the Rebellion as anything but a suicidal march towards the extinction of the human race, and he sticks to that belief up until he is killed by Gordon at the tip of the Citadel. Of course, this doesn't make him a good person. Not at all. This belief has lead him to seek out and destroy anyone who tries to resist. He shows no sympathy to them. He paints them as fools. He himself believes it so. This intense hatred for anyone who resists is seen perfectly in how he treats the Vance family. He views them as fools. As narrow-minded rabble in the streets, senselessly struggling against a tide beyond their comprehension. He's willing to send off a father and his daughter into a world far beyond simply to use them as a bargaining chip. Listening to the two comfort eachother as they're almost raised up to a fate surely worse than death, the only expression on his face is that of pure contempt and annoyance. He's a very fascinating character that I wish Valve would explore again if they ever do another Half Life set during a time period in which he was still alive. He's a coward that easily bends to the oppressor, yet in the end he only does it to make sure something survives. He's cruel to those who resist because he's completely convinced they're going to get everyone killed. He is the Combine's perfect puppet.

haha anyhoo so why was he straight up serving on the magazine covers in HL:A like what was up with all that

[it-happened-one-fic]

Special Delivery - Wriothesley

Author Notes: It has been a journey in learning how to spell this man's name. This fic honestly just sort of happened. I didn't have a song I listened to while I wrote it and didn't really exactly have an idea either, outside of the fact that I've always though guys should get flowers just like girls. After all, flowers are pretty. I leave it up to you to decide what sort of flower was gifted here though. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-Neutral Reader/ Fluff/ Flirtation/ Teasing

Word Count: 1308

Just as it was with other nations, there were many, many different jobs and positions that one could hold in Fontaine.

But yours was very unique.

It wasn’t that you were anything nearly so grandiose as the receptionist to the revered Iudex or the widely-beloved Archon. And you also didn’t work for the Spina de Rosula or The Steambird.

No. You didn’t hold a position quite that illustrious. Instead, you were a delivery person.

You delivered ingredients, bandages, medicine, and, yes, even teas to the infamous Fortress of Meropide. After all, while such commodities were the norm of the Overworld, finding the same goods at the bottom of the sea was hardly possible. So you delivered them. Sometimes making two to three runs between the sunny upper side of Fontaine and the dark prison hidden in the depths.

 Your delivery runs were always waited for with bated breath by the people within the massive prison complex. Especially when the denizens of the depths knew you were going to be bringing special commodities, such as books for Sigewinne sent from Monsieur Neuvillette himself.

You strolled through the metal hallways with purpose as you went to make your final delivery for the day, and no one looked twice as you marched right up to the warden’s office and went in with barely even a pause.

Most inmates had no clue as to what you might be delivering to the duke who guarded these halls. You almost always had to make a stop at his office, though, and most preferred not to think too hard about what might be in the box you were carrying.

But, despite their fears, you held nothing quite so terrifying as what they might suspect. In fact, the box you held against your hip always held the exact same thing. Namely, tea.

To be fair, he usually requested an assortment of varying teas, but the regularity of his orders was somewhat concerning, and it might be worth mentioning to Sigewinne as to whether excessive consumption of tea could be detrimental to his health.

You walked up the steps silently as you entered the well-appointed office that you were now quite used to. Though you did have to wonder where the man in question hid his doubtlessly impressive tea stash since all the shelves of his bookcases were filled with books.

“There you are,” Wriothesley’s pale eyes immediately lifted from where he’d been looking at a stack of papers so that he was looking up to where you’d appeared at the top of the staircase as he stood from behind his desk. Almost like he’d been waiting for you. Or rather, more than likely, his beloved tea.

He walked around the desk with a slight smile as he met you halfway and accepted the box from your arm before immediately sitting it down so that he might peer inside at its contents. And you waited patiently as his gaze scanned container after container of fine tea and tea blends, nodding approvingly at certain intervals before he at last looked your way once more, “Perfect as always.”

There was a subtly teasing lilt to his voice that had you smiling before you shifted and revealed what you’d been hiding behind your back with that hand that had not been occupied by tea.

“Special delivery,” You announced cheerily as Wriothesley’s gaze darted between the potted plant in your hand and you. His expression shifting amusingly from curiosity to confusion.

After a brief moment of silence, he sighed, almost as if surrendering, “Y/n, you’re gonna have to help me here. I’m not the most well-versed in the language of flowers, but is this some form of hate mail from the House of Hearth or something?”

You rolled your eyes before handing the fully bloomed flower to him, “No, Sigewinne’s been telling me about how you’ve been staying holed up in your office, and you’ve mentioned that you rarely get to see flowers since you’re usually stuck down here in the fortress. I bought this for you to try and brighten the place up,” You gestured widely to the room as you finished, still smiling at the man who continued to stare at you.

“So you bought this for me?” He clarified with raised eyebrows, causing you to nod in amusement before you saw the glimmer that entered his eyes at your wordless response. A small, childish part of you whispered that you never should’ve entertained the thought of buying him a gift, but you ignored such thoughts.

Instead, you focused on the man in front of you as you braced for whatever it was he was going to say next.

“Well, something coming as a gift from you certainly is a ‘special delivery,’ but I must say, you’ve done what most can’t. You’ve surprised me, Y/n.” He paused, eyeing you closely, before pressing a hand to his chest with a grin slipping onto his face, “I never expected you to try and woo me.”

Somehow, you weren’t even surprised by his words as you leaned relaxedly against his desk and sat the gift down, causing the flower to bob lightly. “And what makes you think that this is me wooing you?”

He leaned forward, that grin still on his face as he spoke once more, “Isn’t that what gifts of flowers usually mean?”

Unperturbed by his teasing, you tilted your head, “Weren’t you the one who just implied that this plant was flower-coded hate mail to start with? And flowers are common get-well-soon gifts anyway; they don’t necessarily have anything to do with romance or wooing.”

“But I’m not sick,” He was quick to point out his apparently good health almost immediately. Straightening with an almost smug grin that had you shaking your head slightly.

You smiled at him innocently, though, automatically reminding him of Siegwinne’s concerns regarding his habit of holing himself up in his office, “But Sigewinne is worried.” 

He mimicked your motions, propping against the desk and half-caging you in with his body but still leaving your escape open, “Is this why you've been delivering such especially high-quality teas?”

You grinned slightly, despite yourself, at the man before you gestured lightly to the now abandoned box that sat on his desk next to him, “That’s the brand you always request, Lord Duke.”

His title slipped off your tongue easily, and you stared at each other silently. Wearing matching grins and similarly bright eyes as you each waited for the other one to make the next move.

After a moment, though, he shrugged and leaned back. Seemingly giving up even though that tell-tale glimmer still hadn’t left his eyes, “If you say so. I still find it suspicious, though.”

You held out his receipt for the delivery, watching as he took and signed it obediently before handing it back over. You accepted the slip of paper, having to actually tug it out of his hand as his gaze held yours with that persistently amused smile. But this was becoming a steadily more common set of interactions with you. A careful dance of teasing that he almost always slipped some form of flirtation into. 

You were still smiling as you finally managed to free the paper from his grasp without it tearing and without having to grasp it with both hands and yank it out of his hand, “Duly noted.”

He snorted slightly at your words but didn’t respond, and with that you were on your way. Not stopping until you were outside of his office and being greeted by Sigewinne.

“Did he like the flower?” The Melusine’s eyes were wide with giddy curiosity, and you paused. 

A smile flickered across your face as thought back to Wriotheseley’s amused grin, teasing tone, and glimmering eyes before you nodded, feeling oddly satisfied with yourself, “You know, I believe he did.”

[todaysdocument]

Letter from Thomas Jefferson to John Jay

Record Group 360: Records of the Continental and Confederation Congresses and the Constitutional ConventionSeries: Papers of the Continental CongressFile Unit: Letters from Thomas Jefferson

Paris July 19 1789.

Dear Sir

I am become very uneasy lest you should have adopted some channel for the conveiance of you letters to me which is unfaithful. I have none from you of later date than Nov. 25. 1788. and of consequence no acknolegement of the receipt of any of mine since that of Aug. 11. 1788. since that period I have written to you of the following dates 1788. Aug. 20 Sep. 3. 5. 24. Nov. 14. 19. 29. 1789. Jan. 11. 14. 21. Feb 4. Mar. 1. 12. 14. 15. May. 9.11.12 Jun 17.24.29. I know through another person that you have received mine of Nov. 29. that you have written an answer; but I have never received the answer, and it is this which suggests to me the fear of some general source of miscarriage.

The capture of three French merchant ships by the Algennes under different pretexts has produced great sensation in the seaports of this country, and some of it's government. They have ordered some frigates to be armed at Toulon to punish them. There is a possibility that this circumstance, if not too soon set to rights by the Algennes, may furnish occasion to the States general. Then they shall have leisure to attend to matters of this kind to disavow any future tributary treaty with them. These pyrates respect still less their treaty with Spain, and treat the Spaniards with an insolence greater than usual before the treaty.

The scarcity of bread begins to lessen in the Southern parts of France where the harvest is commenced. Here it is still threatening because because we have yet two or three weeks to the beginning of harvest and I think there has not been three days provision beforehand in Paris for two or three weeks past. Monsieur de Mirabeau, who is very hostile to Mr Necker wished to find a ground for censuring him in a proposition to have a great quantity of flour furnished from the United States which he supposed me to have made to Mr. Necker, & to have been refused by him; and he asked time of the states general to furnish proofs.The Marquis de la Fayette immediately gave me notice of this matter and I wrote him a letter to disavow having ever made any such proposition to Mr Necker, which I desired him to communicate to the states. I waited immediately on Mr. Necker and Monsieur de Montmorn, satisfied them that what had been suggested was absolutely without foundation from me, and indeed they had not needed this testimony. I gave them copies of my letter to the Marquis de la Fayette, which was afterwards printed. The Marquis, on the receipt of my letter, shewed it to Mirabeau, who turned then to a paper from which he had drawn his information. I found he had totally mistaken it. He promised immediately that he would himself declare his error to the States general and read to them my letter, which he did. I state this matter to you, tho' of little consequence in itself, because it might go to you mistated in in the English papers-our supplies to the Altantic ports of France during the months of March, April, & May were only quintals 12,220 - 33 of flour and quintals 44,115 - 40 of wheat, in 21 vessels.

[girlactionfigure]

He told his wife, "I love you," then left for work that morning. He never returned. It was September 11, 2001.

He was a husband. He was a veteran. He was an immigrant. And, he was a hero.

According to the Homeland Security web site, Rick Rescorla is credited with saving 2,700 lives that morning, when he defied official instructions to stay in the building and instead evacuated employees at his company on the 44th floor of the South Tower.

Another hero was Betty Ong, who was one of the flight attendants aboard American Airlines Flight 11, who gave vital information to the ground crew that eventually led to the closing of airspace by the FAA for the first time in United States history.

Flight 93 passengers Todd Beamer, Mark Bingham, Tom Burnett and Jeremy Glick fought their hijackers, preventing the plane from reaching its intended target, possibly the White House or the U.S. Capitol Building.

There were also 412 First Responders who died in the line of duty - 343 firefighters (including a chaplain and two paramedics) of the New York City Fire Department, 37 police officers of the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey Police Department, 23 police officers of the New York City Police Department, and 8 emergency medical technicians and paramedics from private emergency medical services and 1 patrolman from the New York Fire Patrol.

There were also smaller acts of bravery, such as Michael Benfante and John Cerqueira carrying a woman in a wheelchair down 68 floors of the north tower of the World Trade Center to safety and Frank De Martini and Pablo Ortiz of the Port Authority who saved at least 50 lives in the North Tower.

They and many others were the heroes of 9/11.

In all, there were 2,977 people who lost their lives on Sept. 11, 2001. The victims were mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, sisters and brothers who belonged to many faiths, races, and cultures, from more than 90 countries.

Of the Americans - they were white, they were black, they were brown, they were red, they represented all the different colors that built this nation. They were LGBTQ, they were straight, they were men, they were women, they were liberal, they were conservative, they were young, they were old . . . they were ALL Americans.

No one questioned whether they stood for the national anthem or put their hand over their heart, no one demanded they show their citizenship papers, no one questioned their love for their country.

I remember 9/11. I remember the names of the victims being read. I remember the heroes who bled. I remember the families who cried. I also remember that for one day, the entire world cried with us, marched in candlelight vigils in support of "America," whether it was in England or Iran -- for one moment the world was one.

I post this each year not just to remember the victims, the heroes, all the people who were directly touched in some way that day, but I also want to post this for those who are still suffering today, the families who had no choice but to continue without their loved ones, the veterans of the wars who were not supported upon their return and represent a majority of the suicides in this nation (on this World Suicide Prevention Day), the first responders who sacrificed their lives and their health and are still suffering today and their brothers and sisters fighting fires this very moment, and, most importantly, all the people of the world still hoping for, still seeking, still dreaming of a world without HATE, a world without fear, a world without greed.

A world instead focused with Love, a world with Hope, a world with . . .

Peace ~

The Jon S. Randal Peace Page

[chronically-ghosted]

between the earth and sky (lover, share your road - prologue) series masterlist | AO3 Link | part i

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 1.1K

chapter summary: how Joel Miller's forefathers came to settle the southern plains

chapter warnings/tags: references to genocide (human and animal), racism

a/n: Miller County was a real place!

Vincente Ramón Morelos with his wife María Guadalupe Rodríguez Saldaña went in search of a better life in 1848.

Exhausted from the bloody revolution against Spain, then the devastating loss at the hands of white “rebels”, the childless couple leave the southern hill country by the San Antonio river to go north, to find peace, in a place that the Anglos have never touched — so promised Señor De La Cruz, a former comandante like Vincente, who shared his dream of wide, open spaces, and a sky that stretches into infinite possibilities.

This land they marched across, with its barren trees and flat golden spreads, is nothing like anything they’ve ever seen before. The wagon chain the Morelos follow whispered in hushed, awed tones. María reached out the side of the wagon, letting her hand brush against brown thistles, watching how the reed springs under her fingers, how it tickles her palm. She never knew the earth could be so soft – teasing her with some great secret it’s eager to share. She looked to her husband and he glowed beneath the rich blue sky and bronze sun. Maybe this was God showing her how to fall in love with a new home.

Towns became few and far between. In a transitory cattle town, Vincente listens to two vaqueros tell stories over a loose game of poker about a briefly-disputed patch of land, five hundred miles east, one that exchanged ownership three times before disappearing into obscurity. But a single name settled permanently, before its township ever could: Miller County. Vincente quietly related to that blurring of identity, a loss of a permanent place to be known and loved, so when going through towns of white Texan Anglos that distrusted his olive skin and aquiline nose, he told them his name was Vincent Miller and he was, like all others, looking for a place to call home. He found it north of what would become Amarillo, and south of what would be Dalhart, between the Canadian and Red River, rivers that never seemed as endless and deep as the Gulf from his childhood. 

By the spring of 1852, Mary (formerly María) and Vincent, established on their acre of land, had welcomed two girls and were expecting a third child, who ended up being a boy. This boy was given the name John (though his mother called him Juan at home) Tomás Miller, after Mary’s grandfather. As a boy, John learned from his father Vincent to listen and trust the Kiowa, the Comanche, the Gods of the Grass Sea, who were said to have been born with a heart of a buffalo. Who walked with prairie chickens and raced the pronghorn antelopes. Recognizing a kinship with nomadic blood of the Millers – once Morelos – the Comanche taught them what it meant to use the land as one uses a brother for support. Use in kind, but treat just as kindly. Avoiding what the Anglos referred to as “dry farming” because it was only the Anglos who believed, by sheer force of will, they could make rain come down from the sky. The Comanche were shocked by their arrogance. As he grew older and stronger beneath that heavy sunshine that had endeared his mother to these foreign lands, John maintained his father’s relationship with The First People, even aiding them in keeping the encroaching Anglo homesteaders off the lands of the buffalo and the blue grama grass. 

When John married in the summer of 1885 a woman whose skin burnt easy in the sun, but had hands rougher than a sailor’s, Vincent was surprisingly happy for his son, because Jennie Sarah Hansen was quick-witted, brave, and possessed a rare quality when it came to the regards of the Tejanos and The First People – compassion. Disowned by her own family for such a trait, Jennie came to live with John, his father Vincent, his mother Mary, with letters from John’s two sisters and their families coming from down south every month. 

Joel Ramón Miller was born in the late fall of 1891, followed shortly there by his brother, Tom – Tommy, because Tom was too serious for a boy with a smile like that – and the lineage of working under blue skies in endless dunes of buffalo grass was passed down, third generation of Vincent, who lived to see his oldest grandson turn five before quietly, with dignity, leaving this world in his sleep. 

Tommy Miller continued to look towards the sun and, as a young man, followed it west. But Joel, like his father, like his grandfather, like the land itself, kept watch over the ones he loved from the porch of that a-frame house, the one his father built for his mother. For a time that included a woman with dark skin and darker eyes out of Alabama. And then it was just the baby who came from her, who came from him. Sarah, named after his mother who was as fierce and resilient as the buffalo grass and as beautiful as the endless sky. 

As far as Joel Miller was concerned that was enough. The two of them – him and his babygirl, with the plums and the maize, and the secrets of this wide wilderness handed down in partnership from the Comanche and the Kiowa, because the Millers knew what to keep and what wasn’t theirs, or anyone’s, to own.

Until the day came when the buffalo were slaughtered by the thousands, and the once great Gods of the Grass Sea were felled, both driven to extinction by a force that held no compassion or concern for the lands it swallowed. 

The cowboys over in the XIT, runners of cattle in the land that used to tremble beneath the hooves of thousands of buffalo, started to complain first. Rumbled that no good was to come of any of it; the American government gave too freely; real estate agents and land developers promised too much. Those arriving in the prairie came only for the green that the wheat boom offered, and had misjudged the quietness of the plains for emptiness.

Joel Miller watched as towns bloomed overnight, model E’s rumbled off the new railway lines, and nesters and sodbusters burrowed into their dugouts like wolf-spiders — at the cost of the beautiful, bellowing sea of grass. The bison were long dead, the Kiowa and Comanche now ghosts between the stalks of blue grama, and a wind was coming in from the north. 

It whispered to those who could still listen and would heed its warnings. 

And Joel Miller, with his only daughter, listened and waited and didn’t like what he heard. First, the drought came. Lasted ten years. Then the economic freefall that blew out entire financial systems on a global scale. 

And then, like a ghoulish nightmare, a specter of death that came from the ill-resting spirits of the bison, came the dust storms. 

The air crackled with electricity, car radios clicked off, overwhelmed by the static. Ignitions shorted out. Waves of sand swept over the roads. Children were lost and found thirty feet from their back doors, dead, suffocated on dust. Five thousand feet tall, wider than entire cities, this was blind vengeance, a reckoning well-deserved.

And for the first time in his life, Joel Miller was afraid.

series masterlist | part i

[margareth-lv]

😬🐴🤦🏻‍♀️ My Jamie is a stud 🤦🏻‍♀️🐴😬

Or: Après nous, le déluge [After us, the flood, this French expression is said to have been used by King Louis XV of France to Madame de Pompadour, his favourite. Brewer translates it as "When I'm dead, the deluge may come, and I couldn't care less," and "Ruin, if you like, when we're dead and gone."]

*** *** *** I hope you don't mind me going on a bit at the start. This quote from King Louis XV of France pretty much sums up my thoughts today. But let’s take a step back for a moment. 9 July, 2024: Happy 11th #castaverasary of the wonderful Sam Heughan. Starz posted an oldie but a goodie on social media, an antique video in which the Outlander stars talk about their first scene with the 'birthday boy'.

By the way, I was just wondering, when did we last see Caitríona with such long and damaged or neglected hair? I think it might have been on 8 March 2023 at The Gannet restaurant in Glasgow for the Grilled Live podcast?

Whatever. In an old recording from over a year ago (Caitríona's hair is longer than it was in Glasgow in March 2023), Caitríona shares the very first moments she spent on set with Sam. She's got this weird look on her face, and what she's saying is even weirder.

After weeks of beautiful, sunny weather during filming with Tobias, the first day of shooting with Sam was a real downpour. And it just kept on raining, a real deluge. It just didn’t stop bloody raining.

I have no idea what Caitríona wants to tell, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to say something nice. As if saying something kind is the worst possible thing to do.

And I just can't stand the fact that she's such a coward. And it really bothers me when she makes a public show of cutting herself off from Sam.

I think if they were just 'costars', she'd probably have more 'sympathy' and more 'heart' for him. And it made me think of an interview I saw ages ago that I never quite got. I'm thinking of the one with Sam, Caitriona and others from 13 February 2020 for Entertainment Weekly.

You know: Caitriona doesn’t picture Sam Heughan when reading the Outlander books. You know, her “Jamie” is a stud, as opposed to…

It was pretty awful, to be honest. Just look at Sam's face. He wants to get away from there. To disappear. To evaporate.

Oh my, oh my, oh my. After me, the flood.

[10 July, 2024]

[leschosesetlesfantomes]

Clôture

Je fais peu à peu le deuil de la vie que j’ai essayé de vivre. Je croyais qu’il était possible de sortir de soi-même pour devenir une autre, je croyais que mille autres filles étaient cachées sous ma peau, et que je pouvais les incarner une à une. J’ai la capacité de me dissocier très fortement de mes émotions et de mes désirs propres, ce qui a rendu cette errance identitaire plus facile que si j’étais stable et ancrée.

Je voulais rejoindre l’agitation du monde. Avoir beaucoup d’amis, être socialement acceptée, suivre les tendances et la mode, sortir, boire, aller à des concerts. Les concerts ont toujours été difficiles : les sons longs et prolongés me font peur, j’ai peur de perdre l’audition. Je tentais de me convaincre que c’était irrationnel. En mars, j’ai eu un mini trauma sonore et je n’ai pas pu ignorer plus longtemps le fait que mes sensations étaient valides. Je dissociais de plus en plus. Je ne voulais pas écouter mon corps, mon intuition, mon anxiété. À trop l’ignorer, l'anxiété sociale est devenue prépondérante et marcher dans la rue devenait impossible.

Je suis passée à mi-temps au travail et depuis je vais un peu mieux. Ce changement de rythme m’a permis de réaliser que je suis fondamentalement lente, et très sensible à tout changement de rythme. Je ne pense pas vivre sur la même temporalité que les autres. J’ai besoin de plages de temps extrêmement longues où « je ne fais rien » - c’est ce que je dis aux autres. Mais en réalité, je contemple, je réfléchis, je poétise et j’imagine. C’est le temps qu’il me faut pour me recharger. Je déteste que l’on me presse. Je déteste faire vite. Ça me rend très en colère. Je déteste la colère.

Je fais marche arrière. Je suis très triste. J’ai testé la vie des autres et je n’y arrive pas. Travailler à temps plein, sortir, vivre vite, le bruit, la foule : je n’y arrive pas. C’était intense, c’était fort, c’était drôle, c’était beau, c’était une illusion. J’ai repris mes livres. J’ai recommencé à écrire. J'ai abandonné instagram. Je continue la randonnée, et même ça, je le fais plus lentement : je regarde les plantes, je note, je prends des photos. Je fais tout plus lentement. Je fais tout à mon rythme. Et c’est mieux. La colère n’a pas disparu. Je crois qu’elle ne disparaîtra plus jamais. Elle restera là en souvenir de ces 5 ans passés à tricher, à croire que j’étais une autre personne. J’étais une adolescente qui ne s’énervait jamais, qui ne détestait jamais personne. Je suis une adulte qui a du mal à gérer sa colère et ne supporte plus les gens dans le bus. Mais je vais déjà mieux. Je suis sereine et je prie. Dimanche dernier, j’ai marché seize kilomètres pour aller à la messe dans mon lieu préféré, alors que je n’avais pas communié depuis dix ans, et il s’est passé une chose magnifique. Je ne crois pas que je l’écrirai ici. C’est une histoire de foi et les histoires de foi sont très intimes.

Je ne sais pas encore précisément quelle direction prendront ces prochains mois. J’ai très peur de redevenir triste. J’ai entendu une émission l’autre jour à la radio où un psychiatre disait qu’autrefois, quand il y avait des dépressions saisonnières, on envoyait les femmes, c’étaient souvent des femmes, faire des cures à la mer. On les autorisait à mettre leur vie sur pause et à se reconnecter à la nature. J’aimerais avoir ce temps. C’est pareil pour les cycles, je rêverais d’une société qui autorise les congés menstruels. Bref. Je crois que même si je suis lente par rapport aux autres, la société va beaucoup trop vite, pour tout le monde, et qu’on a perdu le lien à son corps et à la nature, et que ça amplifie tout symptôme. Les femmes dépressives qui partaient faire des cures à la mer ne revenaient pas guéries de leurs dépressions : mais au moins, elles avaient le temps d’accueillir la maladie, le temps de composer avec. Je voudrais le temps de pouvoir composer avec mes dépressions. Je ne voudrais plus avoir à me forcer à être vive, belle, douce ou bienveillante, quand je voudrais seulement m’enfouir six pieds sous terre. Je voudrais avoir le temps d'accueillir ma tristesse.

J’irai à mon rythme. Cette décision me rend nostalgique. Ce que j’ai vécu, je ne le vivrai probablement plus jamais. C’était beau, mais c’était mauvais. C’était comme nourrir le chien avec les aliments du chat : le chien adore, mais à long terme, sa santé se dégrade. Ce n’est pas la plus belle des comparaisons. Mais voilà. Je ne peux plus me nourrir du bruit, ni de la foule, ni de la course à la réussite. J’ai besoin de me nourrir du ciel, des arbres et de la poésie. J'irai à mon rythme. Cette décision me rend nostalgique, mais d'une nostalgie qui se rapproche de la résignation. Je sais intimement que c'est la bonne décision.

[roguishcat]

Honeycomb

Summary: Astarion had a brilliant, fool-proof plan. And nothing, especially not a piece of honeycomb, would get in the way.

A/N: My brain is running on almost no fuel. There probably are mistakes and misspelled words. Kindly tell me if you notice anything. ❤️I would like to make this into something longer in the future, maybe finally try my hand at writing something steamy. Would anyone be interested in reading something like that? Let me know.

Tags: sexy Halsin, annoyed Astarion, some suggestive themes.

Pairing: Astarion x female Tav

Oneshot, 1.2k words

Set in the beggining of Act II.

She was doing it again. Staring at that- that huge oaf of a druid as if he was the most fascinating thing ever.

Astarion scowled. The problem wasn’t even that she was attracted to Halsin. Because one would have to be blind or a complete liar to say that the druid was nothing to look at. What annoyed him that the druid could command all Tav’s attention after she had a taste of what Astarion had to offer. Having spent a mind-blowingly amazing night with an earth-shatteringly gorgeous vampire, Tav should not be eye-fucking others around the campsite!

And yet she was. Granted, she was not the only one who could not look away. Even Shadowheart seemed to be enjoying the show, murmuring something to Karlach which had the tiefling nodding and licking her lips.

And how did it start you may ask? Well, it started with a piece of honeycomb.

Tav, being the sweet, caring, lovable fool that she was, worried that Halsin did not feel welcome when he first joined them. They were fast approaching Shadowlands, meaning that they would soon leave behind the lush greenery of the forest in favour of the grim dangerous landscapes of the cursed lands near Moonrise. Although the thought was unsettling for everyone, Tav was worried about how a druid, whose comfort for some reason that Astarion could not possibly fathom mattered to her, would fare being stuck among all the death and destruction.

And what about Astarion, hm? Did she think about him? Oh, no! Because apparently he was not at the top of the list of her priorities. And that was… irksome. And Astarion showed that he was annoyed in the healthiest, most obvious way possible. That is, ignoring Tav and brooding. Which for some reason was not getting quite the reaction that he was hoping for.

But yes, the honeycomb. He did digress.

Tav found a large piece in the afternoon and proudly presented it to Halsin with a radiant smile, who accepted the treat with thanks, his fingers brushing Tav’s as he took it out of her hands. And therein lay the problem.

Halsin’s fingers.

Because apparently no one told him that one was not meant to eat with his hands, especially in such a scandalous way!

Halsin’s hands were sticky with honey, fingers glistening in the light of the fire as he sucked each digit clean like a man starved. Tav was transfixed, blush dusting her cheeks, spoon suspended in midair because she forgot that she was, in fact, eating in favour of the pay-per-view show that she had the front seat to.

Astarion gritted his teeth. Surely the druid could not be that oblivious? Surely he was doing this on purpose? Well, whatever his game was, Astarion could not allow this to continue. Because no matter how dishonorable his intentions for Tav were, he was definitely not done with her. And he would not be done with her at least until she and the merry band that called her leader marched into the city, slaughtered Cazador and defeated all foes that got in the way of their de-tadpoling. Then, and only then, he would think about dismissing Tav. If he so chose.

With that in mind, Astarion grabbed a bucket full of water and marched across the campsite, making his way for Halsin. It was time to put a stop to this.

“There. You might find it easier to clean up this way, hm?” he mocked, thrusting the bucket into Halsin’s hands.

“Thank you, Astarion. How thoughtful of you,” Halsin nodded, confused and not quite understanding what got the vampire so annoyed.

“Anytime,” Astarion huffed, pivoting on his heel, and making his way towards Tav, who finally noticed that the stew dripped off her spoon and onto her lap.

“Tsk, such a messy pup,” he scolded playfully, “why don’t we get you out these dirty clothes and into something more comfortable?” he leaned closer to her ear, letting his breath ghost over the shell.

His breathy invitation was quite lost on her, however, as at this moment Halsin chose to pour the water onto his head.

It was Tav’s squeak and wide eyes that made Astarion snap his head in the druid’s direction, ruby eyes narrowing as he released a growl at the sight that had Tav’s undivided attention.

Rivulets of water running down pectorals, getting caught in the grooves in the skin between the rolling muscles, and then down, down, down-

“Why does that druid never seem to have a shirt on?” Astarion hissed, finally having enough of this, and grabbing Tav’s hand to pull her away and towards his tent.

He could distinctly hear Karlach’s raucous laughter as the tiefling caught on to what got Astarion’s panties in a bunch, followed by amused sounds coming from the other companions. Astarion could not quite bring himself to care because he knew what his priorities were. And right now, it was high time to remind a certain someone what her priorities should be. Namely him and his needs.

Tav almost tripped as he shoved the flap of his tent aside, pulled her in and made sure the cloth slid back into place behind her. He, unlike certain someone, did not need an audience.

“Astarion? What happened? Is everything okay?”

Oh, that poor, oblivious, sweet idiot. If it were anyone else, he would be quite sure that she did all that on purpose, just to get a rise out of him. But not so. The look she was giving him now was genuine. All the more reason to keep this powerful, yet oblivious creature under his thumb.

“Nothing, darling, I am quite well. Just hungry, that’s all,” he purred, advancing on her step by tantalizing step, eyes locked on his prize.

“Oh! Of course! Sorry, today has been a lot, I forgot to offer,” she pulled the fabric of her collar aside to bare her beautiful neck to him, the imprints from the bite left after his previous feeding still visible.

Astarion licked his lips and pressed his mouth to her skin, delighting in the shallow gasp that she gave at the contact.

“As alluring as your neck is, my sweet,” he swept his tongue up the column of her neck and lay a tender kiss on the bitemarks, “I hope that there is more, much more on offer tonight.”

As he sank his fangs into Tav and felt her blood flow onto his tongue, Astarion soon found himself grinding against the swell of her ass, the hand that was not holding her in place sneaking to caress her breast. Which was when Astarion had to remind himself that he was doing this just to keep Tav on his side. It was simply a matter of convenience. Nothing more, nothing less. And this was certainly not something that he had to keep reminding himself of more and more as they progressed on their journey.

And yes, perhaps bedding Tav has been quite fun. She was a vision, with her cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kisses parted as she moaned his name sweetly into the night. But that was just a perk. Why shouldn’t he enjoy himself a little, given the opportunity?

Yes, his plan was flawless. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

[mapsontheweb]

Italy from 1796 to 1805

Cartes 1-4 & 6 : « Atlas de la révolution française », Beaurepaire & Marzagalli, Autrement, 2016

Carte 5 : « Atlas de l’empire napoléonien », Chappey & Gainot, Autrement, 2e éd., 2015

by cartesdhistoire

The incursion of Bonaparte's army into Italy in the spring of 1796 was primarily a diversion to relieve pressure on the Rhine front. However, its success quickly opened up new possibilities: French support and the activism of local patriots led to the establishment of sister republics. Over three years (1796-1799), known as the Triennio, the political landscape and institutions of the peninsula underwent significant changes. This period, marked by reforms and democratic achievements, as well as the involvement of individuals previously excluded from public affairs, is crucial for understanding how the Triennio influenced the attitudes of both elites and the general populace during and after the Napoleonic era.

However, the sister republics collapsed in the spring of 1799 in the face of the successes of the Austro-Russian armies of the Second Coalition and the armed uprisings of peasants incited by the clergy and angered by French abuses. Naples surrendered in June 1799, and the repression there was severe.

The political landscape of the peninsula was once again reshaped by France following the Second Italian Campaign, which began in 1800. The Cisalpine Republic, reinstated after the Battle of Marengo and expanded during the Peace of Lunéville, gave way to the Italian Republic in 1802, then became a kingdom in 1805. The kingdom's territory expanded to include Veneto and Istria (1805), the Marche region (1808), and South Tyrol (1810). Thanks to the Vice-President of the Italian Republic, Francesco Melzi d'Eril, the political efforts during these years resulted in the establishment of a modern state and significant reforms in administration, justice, and the military.

The Napoleonic experience helped to politically educate the Italian elites, providing them with a shared institutional and legal framework, as well as standardized administrative practices, which made the idea of unity feasible.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Hi! A lot has already been written about Robespierre's relationship with both Camille and Saint-Just, but I would be really curious to learn more about his relationship with Pétion that you've mentioned!

Specifically if there is any evidence that we know of that indicates any strong feelings or possible romantic involvement. I'd also be interested to know how their relationship transformed over time, since they ultimately ended up on opposing sides?

Thank you in advance citoyen!

Pétion and Robespierre met for the very first time after the convening of the Estates General in May 1789 to which both had been elected members, Pétion in March, Robespierre in April. Using Oeuvres complètes de Maximilien Robespierre, I’ve tracked the first instance of the two getting mentioned together to May 20 1789, when the journal Le Point du Jour describes a debate on the publication of municipal minutes both have taken part in:

In the debates occasioned by this motion, great talents already known, such as those of MM. Target and Mirabeau fulfilled the expectations one had created. Others, like those of MM. Barnave, Chapelier, Pétion de Villeneuve and Robespierre, manifested themselves in a striking manner.

Using the same source, along with Poursuivre la Révolution : Robespierre et ses amis à la Constituante (1994), it can be observed that Pétion and Robespierre from this moment up until the closing of the National Assembly in September 1791 fought side by side in a number of big discussions — the question of war and peace (May 16-22 1790) where both supported the motion that the Assembly alone should hold the right to declare war and king should be deprived of it, the colonies (May 11-15 1791), where both were among the 27 deputies speaking in favor of free men of color, the organisation of the national guard (27-28 april 1791), a body to which they argued both active and passive citizens should belong, the abolition of lettres de cachet (13-16 March 1790) as well as that of the silver mark and land ownership (August 1791), the non-eligibility of National Assembly deputies to the next Legislature (May 16 1791) an idea Robespierre himself had come up with, and the  question of the death penalty (May 30 1791), were both were among the rare ones to ask for its complete and total abolition. Pétion and Robespierre are found agreeing on a multitude of smaller topics as well, such as the sanction of the Declaration of the Rights of Man (October 2 1789), the treatment of bishops in office (June 22 1790), the inviolability of deputies (June 25 1790), the massacres of La Glacière (16-18 November 1790), police functions (December 28 and December 30 1790), the power of the colonial committee (January 11 1791) the organisation of the justice system (February 5 1791), the organization of administrative bodies (March 3 1791), an extradition request from the court of Vienna (March 5 1791), appointment of national treasury administrators (March 9 1791), the judgment of disputes in electoral matters (March 13 1791), the right to inheritance (April 1 1791) and the right to petition (May 9 and May 10 1791).

All these shared battles of course led to the two often getting mentioned side by side in the evergrowing press. Over the first two years of the National Assembly’s existence, these mentions mostly just consist of Pétion and Robespierre both getting listed as two of several deputies of the far left, alongside people such as Mirabeau, Barnave, Lameth, Duport, Buzot, and Grégoire. The first instance of someone describing Pétion and Robespierre as a unit while also seperating them from their fellow radical deputies that I’ve found is from December 13 1790, when Desmoulins writes the following in number 55 of his Révolutions de France et de Brabant:

One cannot speak about Robespierre without thinking about Péthion [sic]. 

This tying together of the two deputies and their cause was in the following months to do nothing but grow among the journalists. Desmoulins himself would go on to declare that ”it is only Péthion and Robespierre that I have constantly praised, because every man of good faith will agree that they have always been irreproachable” (number 69, March 21 1791) and that ”we must always come back […] to the system of Robespierre and Péthion: perish the colonies, rather than the principles!” (number 77, May 16 1791). In number 472 (May 28 1791) of of l’Ami du Peuple, Marat describes the National Assembly as consisting of ”two hundred men too narrow-minded to know what they are, and one or two honest men who have never wanted anything other than the general good. Such are Péthion [sic] and especially Robespierre,” and three days later, in number 475, he reveals that ”If I were tribune of the people […] I would give Péthion [sic] and especially Robespierre a civic crown.” In number 783(October 2 1791) of Le Patriote Français, Brissot called Pétion and Robespierre ”the two Catos of the Constituent” and a few days later Louis Marie Prudhomme expressed himself in similar terms, writing ”Péthion [sic], Robespierre and the small group of their like, did not fail to embarrass their adversaries so powerful in number and means: more than once their presence reminded that of Cato to the licentious spectators of Rome” (Révolutions de Paris, number 117). 

The image of the two as inseparable was even stronger in the different Jacobin clubs scattered across the land. On April 17 1791 it was discovered that one of them had placed busts of Pétion and Robespierre next to that of the recently deceased Mirabeau, contrary to the rule that no busts of living people would be displayed in the clubs. On July 13 1791, one M. Sigaud read a letter to the parisian Jacobin club signed by 300 people wanting to ”give thanks to MM. Pétion and Robespierre, for having announced the greatest courage in the defense of the people. They will threaten you with daggers, with death: fear nothing, their daggers will only be able to penetrate you through the rampart of our bodies. Our arms, our hearts, our lives, everything is yours.” Two weeks after that, July 25 1791 Tallien exclaimed to the same club that ”Where Pétion and Robespierre are, are the true friends of the Constitution,” and three months later, October 10 1791, he held a speech where he said that ”the names of Pétion, of Robespierre, and of of those who, like them, have well served their fatherland, must be the rallying sign of all patriots; we always see them on the path of honor, and, by following in their footsteps, we are sure not to go astray.” On April 30 1792, Simond told the jacobins that ”MM Pétion and Robespierre” were the best revolutionaires, ”because there are no individuals who have figured like them in our revolutionary splendors.” In Nouveau Tableau de Paris (1797), Louis Sebastien Mercier remembered how Pétion had been the ”inseparable friend of Robespierre, their principles were then so consistent and their intimacy so marked, that they were called the two fingers of the hand. They continued to be placed under the same accolade until the end of 1792,” while Robespierre’s sister Charlotte wrote in her memoirs (1834) that her brother during the National Assembly ”was closest with Pétion, whose popularity then equaled his. They […] fought for the cause of the people, like two generous imitators who looked to surpass each other in noble sentiments.”

In spite of all this, it’s not until December 1790 I’ve been able to for the first time find Pétion and Robespierre together with a backdrop that’s not political, as they on the 25th and 27th of that month signed the wedding contract and attended the wedding ceremony of Camille and Lucile Desmoulins, Camille reporting to his father that ”I had as witnesses Péthion [sic] and Robespierre, the elite of the National Assembly, Sillery, who wanted to be there, and my two colleagues Brissot de Warwille and Mercier, the elite among the journalists. […] The dinner was at my house, only M. and Mdm Duplessis, their daughter Adèle, the witnesses and the celebrant.” Two months later, March 3 1791, Sillery writes to the same Camille that ”Madame de Sillery is coming to dine at my house with Pétion and Robespierre, I dare to ask your lovable and beautiful wife to do me this honor as well.” Yet another month later, April 3 1791, Robespierre made the motion that the recently deceased Mirabeau be buried in the Panthéon. In his memoirs (written 1793), Brissot claimed that ”Pétion reproached [Robespierre] for it the same day, he reproached him for it in my presence.” According to number 72 of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Pétion was indeed the only deputy that didn’t attend Mirabeau’s funeral on April 5 1791. Finally, in 1850, Louis Philippe told John Wilson Croker that he at some point during the National Assembly had been at a dinner where the two deputies where — ”Pétion was big and fat, good-humoured and talkative, but heavy withal. He talked on, Robespierre said not a word, and I took little notice of him, he looked like a cat lapping vinegar. Pétion was rallying him on being so taciturn and farouche, and said they must find him a wife to apprivoiser him: upon which Robespierre opened his mouth for the first and last time with a kind of scream, ”I will never marry!” (The Croker Papers: the Correspondence and Diaries of the late right honourable John Wilson Croker… (1885) volume 3, page 209).

On June 10 1791, Robespierre was elected to become the future public prosecutor of the Paris criminal tribunal. Three days later, Pétion was chosen as president of the same body, after the first three elected deputies had all resigned. These new posts are the subject of the very first conserved letter exchanged between the two, dated 15 June 1791. Pétion writes the following to Robespierre using vouvoiement, the form the two are always recorded to have used with one another:

You probably know, my friend, about my appointment. I accept. I don't count having you as a colleague as something small. What scared Duport away is what attracts me. I looked for you in the hall and didn't see you. I wanted to go to your house, but I said to myself: I won't find him, he never dines at home. Buzot is a substitute and accepts. Be well, all yours.  This Wednesday evening.  Pétion.

There’s also the following letter from Pétion to Robespierre, that it too has to do with the latter’s position as public prosecutor. It is unfortunately undated, but Correspondance inédite de Maximilien et Augustin Robespierre (1910) traces it to June 1791 as well:

My friend, I violate the decrees, I become solicitor. It is true that my offense is not within the competence of the assembly. I ask you in the name of my relative, my friend and my host the right to supply medicine to the poor sick prisoners. I was told that this concession was within your competence. I don’t know anything about it.  All yours.  This Friday evening. 

Just six days after Pétion had penned the first letter down, June 21, Paris woke up to the discovery that the royal family had fled the capital during the night. In number 82 of Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Desmoulins described how he and others the very same day had brought a woman with information to give about the escape to the Jacobin Club, in the hopes that her testimony would get Robespierre to denounce Lafayette and Bailly. At first, Robespierre seems quite willing to go through with this, but when Pétion shows up and shows his disapproval of the idea he is quickly taken aback:

The section immediately named a deputation of 12 members, and we took this woman to the National Assembly. Robespierre and Buzot, whom we consulted, were carried away by the assured countenance of the witness, and by the whole of the testimony; but they were greatly perplexed as to the measures to be taken. All the members of the assembly were against revolutionaries, some without knowing it, but many knowingly, and the others out of fear. We will be, they said, pushed back from the tribune, referred to the research committee, and our accusation will be entered in this mortuary register of denunciations. Péthion [sic] came, and increased the embarrassment, and stopped Robespierre, who, at first, was quite disposed to take away the reputation of Bailly and La Fayette by assault.

In her memoirs, Madame Roland claimed to the very same day have seen Brissot and Robespierre at Pétion’s house (on rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honoré n. 6, today roughly a one hour walk from Robespierre’s apartment on rue de Saintonge 30) discussing the flight:

I was struck by the terror with which [Robespierre] seemed to be overcome on the day of the king's flight to Varennes; I found him in the afternoon at Pétion’s; where he said with concern that the royal family would not have taken this course without having a coalition in Paris which would order the Saint-Barthélemy of the patriots, and that he expected to be dead within twenty-four hours. Pétion and Brissot said, on the contrary, that the flight of the king was his loss, and that it was necessary to take advantage of it; that the dispositions of the people were excellent; that it would be better enlightened on the perfidy of the court by this approach than it would have been by the wisest of writings; that it was obvious to everyone, by this fact alone, that the king did not want the constitution he had sworn to; that it was time to ensure a more homogeneous one, and that it was necessary to prepare minds for the Republic. Robespierre, sneering as usual and biting his nails, asked what a Republic was!

In the night between June 21 and 22 the royal family was stopped in Varennes, and four o’clock the next morning, Pétion, alongside Barnave and Maubourg, left the capital to escort them back. They reached Paris again on June 25. The escape attempt resulted in massive discontentment and demands that the king abdicate. On July 15, a petition written by a certain Massoulard, asking the assembly to suspend “all determination on the fate of Louis XVI until the well-pronounced wish of the entire Empire has been expressed” was brought to the National Assembly. In Lettre de J. Pétion à ses Commettans sur les Circonstances Actuelles, released later the same month, Pétion described how he and Robespierre had held these petitioners off, saying that since the Assembly had voted to keep the king on the throne the very same day, a petition was out of order:

I will say, since the occasion presents itself, that only once in this affair was a relationship established between the citizens gathered on the 15th of this month at the Champ-de-Mars and myself. These citizens had drawn up a petition for the National Assembly; commissioners carried them; they were charged with speaking to those who had risen against the project of the committees, to Grégoire, Robespierre, Prieur and myself, to be their organs with the assembly, and to negotiate their entry to the bar. M. Robespierre and I left the room to listen to these commissioners; and we told them that this petition was useless, that the decree [to keep the king on the throne] had just been passed. They asked us for a word to see that they had fulfilled their mission; we wrote a letter which breathes the love of order, of peace, and which, I believe, has been able to prevent misfortunes. 

When Pétion, Robespierre and Rœderer entered the Jacobin club’s evening session the very same day they got covered in applause. Both were there again on both July 16, putting their signatures on a letter to the sister societies in the provinces about liberty of the press and the elections for the upcoming Legislative Assembly, as well as on July 17 and 18, this time dealing with the mass walkout (that left the two and a handful more as the only National Assembly deputies still members of the Jacobins) following the founding of the Feuillants club the previous day. Desmoulins, who was also present at the session on the 17th, stated that he didn’t want any writing to say the Jacobins were splitting from the National Assembly since, ”certainly, where MM. Robespierre and Pétion are, there is no split with the National Assembly.”

Pétion would later recall how afraid Robespierre had been during these days. In J. P. Brissot, député à la Convention nationale, à tous les républicains de France; sur la société des Jacobins de Paris (1792) Brissot even accused Robespierre of having ”secretly proposed fleeing to Marseille to Pétion.” If that is a charge that should be taken with a grain of salt, it was nevertheless during these same days Robespierre changed address and took cover with the Duplay family on Rue Saint-Honoré 366. In her old days, the family’s youngest daughter Élisabeth claimed Pétion would frequent the house ”in the early days.” The year after the move Robespierre himself would nevertheless write that it wasn’t until August 7 1792 Pétion for the first time set his foot in the house (see below).

On September 30 1791, the National Assembly was finally closed to be replaced by the Legislative Assembly. Several journals described the triumphant exit Pétion and Robespierre made from there the very same day, getting met by cheers, applauds and cries of joy from a huge crowd who offered them so called ”civic crowns,” before the two climbed into a carriage (a ”humble” one according to Révolutions de France et de Brabant) and rode off together to the sound of fanfares. Here is the description given by Le Thermomètre du Jour:

Pétion and Robespierre came out last, arm in arm. Citizens with oak crowns tied with tricolor ribbons in their hands embraced them and said to them: ”Receive the price of your good citizenship and your incorruptibility; we give, by crowning you, the signal to posterity”; and the applause, the bravos, the shouts of ”long live Pétion and Robespierre! Long live the spotless deputies!” mingled with the chords of military music placed on the terrace of the foliage, filled all hearts with the sweetest intoxication. In vain, the two legislators wanted to hide from these testimonies of public recognition: as they fled, a young lady whom they met on the stairs which lead to the storage room said to them: ”allow at least that my child embraces you”; and this they could not resist. To escape the chorus of applause who were pursuing them, the two deputies, who had taken refuge in a house in the rue Saint-Honoré, got into a carriage. Immediately, in the delirium of enthusiasm, the horses were unhitched, and a thousand biases hastened to drag the carriage; degrading idolatry, of which those who were the object of it were afflicted and indignant. At this moment the honorable Robespierre, seized with holy indignation, hastily alighted from the carriage. “Citizens, he said, what are you doing? What humiliating posture will you take? Is this the price of my work for you for two years? Don't you already remember that you are a free people?” And he quickly got back into the carriage where his worthy colleague was. The attitude and admiration of the citizens at this moment cannot be described: sublime spectacle! You make delicious tears flow. One let the carriage roll off to the sound of fanfares, applause, cries and the most energetic blessings. May those who could have deserved such a triumph dry up in spite, comparing this excess of gratitude to the silence of contempt, or to the curses of hatred who accompanied them. Above all, may this touching example produce Pétions and Robespierres in the new legislation. 

This celebration might very well have been the follow-up of an intervention made at the Jacobin club on September 25 by one Varnet, who asked for ”a civic feast rewarded by the grateful parties to MM. Robespierre, Péthion [sic], etc, much more fraternal than all these royal celebrations which recall the ancient idolatry of the Badauds.” These would not be the homages paid to the two in the wake of the closing of the National Assembly. On October 9, the Jacobin club of Strasbourg decided to send each of the two a civic crown, as revealed in a letter with 400 signatures published in number 231 of Mercure Universel (October 17 1791). On November 6 1791, Annales patriotiques et littéraires could reveal that the club of Saint-Laron ”has informed that of Paris of the tribute of homage which it has paid to Pétion to Robespierre, and of the annual festival which it established in their honor, to teach, it said, to children that a glance from the people is better than the caresses of kings,” on October 27 the club in l’Orient reported (in a letter published in number 123 of Révolutions de Paris) that ”the names of Robespierre and Péthion [sic] are in veneration among [its members],” and on October 18 the club of Lyon sent Pétion and Robespierre an open letter thanking the two for all their services.

Shortly after the closing of the National Assembly Pétion left for London, but not before he was able to hand a report written by him on patriotic societies to Robespierre, which the latter then read to the jacobins on October 5. When Robespierre too left the capital for Arras a few days later, Pétion’s shadow clearly accompanied him. In a letter to Maurice Duplay dated October 16 he could joyfully report the following:

At Arras itself, the people received me with demonstrations of affection which I cannot describe, and the thought of which still warms my heart. Every possible means was used to express it. A crowd of citizens had come out of town to meet me. They offered a civic crown, not only to me, but to Pétion as well, and in their cheers the name of my friend and companion in arms was often mingled with my own. 

A month later, November 17, Robespierre writes to Maurice again:

…I think with sweet satisfaction about the fact that my dear Pétion may have been appointed mayor of Paris as I write. I will feel more keenly than anyone the joy that every citizen should be given by this triumph of patriotism and frank honesty over intrigue and tyranny. 

Robespierre came back to Paris on November 28. One of the first things he did was go and dine at the house of Pétion (who he here goes so far as to call his family), as revealed by a letter to Antoine Buissart he wrote two days later:

With what joy we met again! With what delight we embraced! Pétion occupies the superb house inhabited by the Crosnes, the Lenoirs: but his soul is always simple and pure: the choice of him [as mayor] alone would suffice to prove the revolution. The burden with which he is charged is immense; but I have no doubt that the love of the people and its versus gives him the necessary means to carry it. I'm having dinner at his house tonight. These are the only times when we can see each other as a family, and talk freely. 

Following Pétion’s election to mayor, his apperances in public become much fewer compared to his time as deputy of the National Assembly. Robespierre on the other hand could not get enough of praising his friend at the Jacobin club. On February 10 1792, he held a speech in which he cried out the following, apropos of suggesting holding a ceremony at the Champ-de-Mars and making a sacrifice on the altar of liberty:

O Pétion! You are worthy of this honor, worthy of deploying as much energy as wisdom in the dangers that menace the fatherland that we have defended together. Come, let us mingle our tears and weapons on the tombs of our brothers, remind ourselves of the pleasures of celestial virtue, and die tomorrow, if need be, from the blows of our common enemies. 

Five days later, in his inaugural address as public prosecutor, Robespierre called Pétion ”the one of all my colleagues to whom I was most closely bound, by works, by principles, by common perils, as much as by the ties of the most tender of friendships,” and says it was due to Pétion’s advice that he was taken aback from proposing that National Assembly deputies not only be barred from serving on the Legislative Assembly, but also be excluded from any public offices at all following the start of said assembly. He then eulogized his friend once again: ”I swear that it is he who, up until this moment, has saved the capital and prevented the horrible plans of the enemies of our liberty; I swear that the courage and virtues of Pétion were necessary for the salvation of France.” A month after that, March 19, Pétion sent the Jacobins a letter disapproving of the recent usage of the so called ”bonnet rouge” among the club’s members. After the letter had been read out, Robespierre stood up and supported his motion, and together, the two succeded in getting the bonnet rouge depositioned from the Jacobin Club:

I respect, like the mayor of Paris, all that is the image of liberty, I will even add that I saw with a great pleasure this omen of the rebirth of liberty; however; enlightened by the reflections and by the same observations made by M. Pétion, I felt urged to present to society the reasons which have just been offered to you, but as I have only patriotism to fight with, I am charmed to be guided by M. Pétion, by a citizen whose civility and love for liberty is foolproof, by a citizen whose heart is ardent and whose head is cold and thoughtful, and who brings together all the advantages, talents and virtues necessary to serve the country, at a time when the most skillful and astute enemies can deal it disastrous blows.

And yet another month later, April 13 1792, Robespierre defended Pétion against attacks of unnamed enemies:

The mayor of Paris, they say, is ambitious; we are arsonists who slander the constituted authorities to elevate our ambition at the expense of others; well, prove it. Our goal has been to fight in the constituent assembly all the parties of tyranny, Pétion and I have done it, were it even the means Pétion would guarantee, far from foreseeing then that our principles would triumph over a cabal if strong, we believe that after the constituent assembly we would be immolated and that the principles of our ancestors would be adopted: I saw Pétion, at the time when he was brought to the position of Mayor of Paris, two months before his appointment, at a time when we can remember that the votes of the good citizens floated between him and me, I saw the mayor of Paris determined not to accept this place; he read the same feelings in my heart, and when he accepted it, I guarantee to the whole nation that he only did it because he had only considered it as a terrible pitfall for the citizen who would occupy it in such a stormy circumstance for the public good. 

Despite Pétion’s massive new workload, he and Robespierre still found the time to see each other, albeit with work still being the main topic of discussion. In Réponse de Maximilien Robespierre à Jêrome Pétion (November 1792), Robespierre recalled that ”Last January to June, when the ministers were renewed, I saw you (Pétion) in the firm belief that it was you who had chosen them. As I asked you if this action of the court was not suspicious to you, you replied, with a very remarkable air of consent: “Oh! if only you knew what I know! If only you knew who nominated them!” I guessed you, and I said to you, laughing at your good faith: “it’s you, perhaps.” And then, rubbing your hands, you responded: “Hem, hem,” No matter how much you persisted in confirming this fact to me, I didn't want to believe it. I esteemed you too much to suppose that you would have the necessary credit with Louis XVI and his courtiers to give him ministers.” Somewhere after Robespierre was sworn in as public prosecutor, the two also co-authored the pamphlet Observations sur la nécessité de la reunion des hommes de bon foi contre les intrigues par Jérome Pétion, Maire de Paris; et Maximilien Robespierre, Accusateur Public du département de Paris.

But all while this ”bromance” was playing out, so too was the debate on whether or not France ought to go to war. It’s most influential voices were Robespierre on the anti-war side, and Pétion’s childhood friend and freshly baked member of the Legislative Assembly Brissot on the pro-war side. Pétion himself would appear to have stayed neutral in the conflict, I have at least not been able to find any instance of him speaking his mind on the topic. But on April 25 1792, five days after France had declared war on Austria, he adressed the following letter to Robespierre, regretting the session at the Jacobins held the same day, during which Brissot’s ally Guadet had loudly denounced Robespierre, calling him an ”imperial speaker […] who constantly puts his pride before public affairs, the position to which he was called”, after which Robespierre had requested time to properly respond, something which he was granted. Pétion does however not attack Guadet for saying what he had said about Robespierre, instead confining himself to lamenting division in general in a time when external war has just been declared:

The session which took place yesterday [sic] at the Jacobins saddened me. Is it possible that we’re tearing ourselves apart like this with our own hands? I don't know what demon thus blows the fire of discord. What! It is when we are at war with the enemies without that we will stir up trouble within. The Society most useful to the progress of the public spirit and of liberty is on the point of being torn apart. We suspect each other, we insult each other, we slander each other, we accuse each other respectively of being traitors and corrupt. Perhaps if the men who present themselves thus were to see themselves in the open they would esteem each other. How hideous human passions are. What, we can't have the calm and energy of free men? We cannot judge objects in cold blood, we scream like children and are furious. I truly tremble when I consider who we are and always wonder if we will retain our freedom. I haven't rested all night, and have only dreamed of misfortunes. A grace, my friend, be aware of the split that is preparing itself. Caution and firmness. I see there men who seem to have the most fervent patriotism and whom I believe to be the most perverse and corrupt men. I see others who are only stunned and inconsequential but who do as much harm by levity as others by combination. Irritated self-esteem, deceived ambitions play the biggest game. When we reach port, must storms arise and the ship run the risk of crashing against the rock? Think about it seriously. Redouble your efforts to get us out of this mess. Be well.  Your friend.  Pétion. 

On April 27 1792, Robespierre could deliver a speech by the name of Réponse de M. Robespierre, aux discours de MM. Brissot & Guadet du 25 avril 1792 in response to what Guadet had said about him two days earlier. In it, he stated among other things that the things the two reproached him for ”are precisely the same charges brought against me and against Péthion [sic] last July by Dandré, Barnave, Duport, La Fayette!” Something which the authors of the journal Chronique de Paris picked up on when recounting the speech:

…Before finishing, [Robespierre] had taken care to name M. Pétion, and to establish between them a community of ideas, a relation of feelings on the objects which divide the society. He knows very well that M. Pétion is far from approving his follies, or rather his fury, but he also knows that he could not disarm him without losing a large part of his popularity, so the goal was not missed, and Robespierre's party was swelled with all the worthy friends of the worthy Pétion. 

Two days after that, April 29 1792, Pétion writes yet another letter to Robespierre:

My friend, I will go to the Jacobins tonight and ask to speak. I will not speak of people, but of things. I will set forth principles and I will come to conclusions suitable for restoring peace. The situation of this society is getting worse day by day. After having rendered such important services, when it can render still more important ones, it would be terrible if it gave the scandalous example of a split. The spirits are very irritated. One becomes the fable of all malicious people, the newspapers are tearing this Society apart, tearing its members apart, we must put an end to all writings. Your friend, Pétion. 

Pétion did indeed show up to the Jacobins the very same day, where he, according to the minutes, ”made a long motion of order tending to maintain the union in the Society, and asked that all these quarrels be moved on from.” Right after the club had ordered the speech printed, Robespierre tried to take the floor but was refused by ”girondin” president Lasource. The next day, he once again attempted to speak against Brissot and Guadet, underlining that ”I want to keep to the limits fixed by M. Pétion,” but that his approach had been turned against them by ”libelists, directed against him, against me, against this society and against the people itself.” Robespierre again insists on a closeness between him and Pétion: 

I know he is horrified of plots hatched against me: his heart has spilled over into mine; he cannot see without shuddering these horrible calumnies which assail me from all sides.

But his thoughts did not gain any approval from the jacobins this day either, and Robespierre instead opted to found a journal — Le Defenseur de la Constution — to attack his enemies from instead. When mayor Pétion and Procureur de la Commune Manuel got temporarily suspended from their duties on July 6 and arrested on July 7, for complicity in the demonstration of June 20, Robespierre used number 9 (July 14 1792) of said journal to defend them (in Réponse de Maximilien Robespierre à Jérôme Pétionhe confidently reminded him that ”no one more than me defended you in a more public and more loyal manner, against all the harassment [the court] brought upon you.”) On July 13, when the suspension of Pétion was lifted, ”M. Robespierre, while applauding [the decree], points out, however, that this should be less a cause for rejoicing as there are reasons for the true friends of liberty to grieve the fact that this decree was postponed for a fortnight.”

In Réponse de Maximilien Robespierre à Jérôme Pétion (November 30 1792), Robespierre reported about the following meeting (that Pétion also confirmed when later responding to him) the two had had, roughly a month after Pétion had been returned to duty, on the topic of popular insurrection:

On August 7, I saw the mayor of Paris enter my house; it was the first time that I received this honor, although I had been closely connected with you. I conclude that a great motive brings you; you talk to me for a whole hour about the dangers of insurrection. I had no particular influence on the events; but as I quite often frequented the Society of the Friends of the Constitution, where the members of the directory of the federates habitually went, you urged me earnestly to preach your doctrine in that society. You told me that it was necessary to defer resistance to oppression until the National Assembly had pronounced the deposition of the King; but that it was necessary at the same time to leave him the leisure to discuss this great question with all possible slowness. You could not, however, be sure that the court would adjourn the project of slitting our throats for as long as it pleased the National Assembly to adjourn the forfeiture; and everyone knew that the royalist party was then dominant in the Legislative Assembly; and your Brissot and his friends had delivered long speeches on this question, the sole object of which was to prove that it was necessary to retreat from it, and ceaselessly to postpone the decision. You even know what public disfavor their equivocal conduct had incurred; they saw in it only the project of frightening the court by the fear of an insurrection, in order to force it to take back ministers of their choice. I could have made these comparisons myself; but such was still my confidence in you, and, if it must be said, the feelings of friendship which your unexpected step aroused in my heart, that I believed you up to a certain point; but the people and the federals did not. 

Two days later, the insurrection of August 10 took place. Pétion’s behavior during this night would become a big subject of quarrel between him and Robespierre in the months to come. Two days after the insurrection, August 12, Robespierre begun to serve at the so-called Insurrectional Commune. The power struggle between this body and the Legislative Assembly would it too serve as cause for conflict between the two. Already on Robespierre’s second day at the commune, August 13, Pétion and Manuel came there, having just escorted the royal family to their new prison in the Temple. Giving an account over this mission, the two stated that the place ”did not seem suitably arranged,” and that the king should be kept somewhere else instead. Later during the session, Robespierre claims (I can’t find this recorded in the session’s actual minutes) that Pétion presented a report from the Legislative Assembly to within 24 hours dissolve the commune and replace it by the old municipality, a proposal which got rejected. He would later reproach Pétion for both of these things.

According to J.M Thompson’s Robespierre (1935), on August 17 Robespierre was commissioned by the commune to interview Pétion to get him to co-operate (I can’t find this in the commune’s minutes either). The interview did however not go that well, resulting in the following letter from Pétion to Robespierre, written on August 20:

You know, my friend, what my feelings are for you, you know that I am not your rival, you know that I have always given you proofs of devotion and friendship. It would be useless to try to divide us, you would have to stop loving liberty in order for me to stop loving you. I have always found more fault with you to your face than behind your back. When I think you too ready to take offence, or when I believe, rightly or wrongly, that you are mistaken about a line of action, I tell you so. You also reproach me for being too trustful. You may be right; but you must not assume too readily that many of my acquaintances are your enemies. People can disagree on a number of unessential points without becoming enemies; and your heart is said to be in the right place. Besides, it is childish to take offence over the things people say against one. Imagine, my friend, the number of people who utter all lands of libels against the mayor of Paris! Imagine how many of them I know to have spread damaging reports about me! Yet it doesn’t worry me, I can assure you. If I am not totally indifferent to what others think about me, at least I value my own opinion more highly. No… you and I are never likely to take opposite sides: we shall always hold the same political faith. I need not assure you that it is impossible for me to join in any movement against you: my tastes, my character and my principles all forbid it. I don’t believe that you covet my position any more than I covet that of the king. But if, when my term of office comes to an end, the people were to offer you the mayoralty, I suppose that you would accept it; whereas in all good conscience I could never accept the crown. Look after yourself, let us march forward, we are in a situation threatening enough to force us to think only of the public good. 

As can be seen, Pétion was still trying to salvage the relationship that had begun to deteriorate already in the spring, an effort that Robespierre seemed to share. If we’re to believe Buzot’s memoirs, written in 1793, Robespierre had suggested making ”a solemn declaration on the events which preceded the revolution of the 10th of August” to Pétion, who in his turn ”was willing to lend himself to it, for he had a kind of inexcusable weakness for Robespierre.” But when Robespierre came forward with the finished declaration that, according to Buzot, contained ”a lot of baseness and sweet talk [sic] for Louis XVI,”Pétion did however refuse to sign it, and Robespierre was forced to rework it. In an address from the representatives of the Paris commune to their fellow citizens dated September 1, Robespierre and his colleages also underlined that ”the principal artifice which our enemies employed to destroy us, was to oppose to the assembly of the representatives of the commune the names of Manuel and Pétion, and to claim that our existence is an attack against the authority in which these two magistrates were clothed.” But the relationship was well under way to break down, and the first days of September 1792 would be filled with conflicts between the two, in relation to the so called ”September massacres.” This time it would instead be Pétion who got appalled over Robespierre’s conduct.

Again on September 1, one day before the massacres, Robespierre held a speech to the same Paris Commune opposing the idea of opening the city’s barriers, that, in Pétion’s own words, ”saddened my soul.” […] [Robespierre] gave himself up to extremely animated declamations, to the lapses of a gloomy imagination; he perceived precipices under his feet, liberticidal plots; he pointed out pretended conspirators; he addressed himself to the people, excited the spirits, and occasioned, among those who heard him, the liveliest fermentation. I replied to this speech, to restore calm, to dissipate these black illusions, and to bring the discussion back to the only point which should occupy the assembly.”In Histoire générale et impartiale des erreurs, des fautes et des crimes commis pendant la Révolution française (1797), Louis Marie Prudhomme writes that, two days later, September 3 1792, Théophile Mandar went over to Danton’s place, where he saw ”all ministers, with the exception of Roland, Lacroix, president [of the Assembly], Pétion, mayor of Paris, Robespierre, Camille-Desmoulins, Fabre d’Églantine, Manuel and several members of the so-called Commune of August 10. The presidents and commanders from each of the 48 sections had come as well.” Half past seven in the evening everyone sat down in Danton’s salon to discuss the means to save Paris. Two hours later, Mandar, Pétion and Robespierre all retired to a different room, where Mandar laid out the idea of setting up a temporary dictatorship to stop the prison massacres for the two. Robespierre did however not respond positively, instead crying out: ”Be aware! Brissot would become dictator!” ”O Robespierre,” Mandar said to him, ”it is not the dictatorship that you fear, it is not the homeland that you love: it is Brissot that you hate.”  ”I hate dictatorship and I hate Brissot!”  Pétion meanwhile didn’t say a word.

The day after that, September 4, Pétion and Robespierre found themselves discussing Brissot (who Robespierre on September 2 had denounced as an accomplice of Brunswick at the Paris commune, leading to his house getting searched on the 3rd) once more, this time at the Hôtel de Ville, as revealed through the following part from Pétion’s Discours de Jérôme Pétion sur l’accusation intentée contre Maximilien Robespierre (November 5 1792):

The surveillance Committee launched an arrest warrant against Minister Roland; it was the 4th (September), and the massacres were still going on. Danton was informed of it, he came to the town hall, he was with Robespierre. […] I had an explanation with Robespierre, it was very lively. I still made him face the reproaches that friendship tempered in his absence, I told him: ”Robespierre, you are doing a lot of harm; your denunciations, your alarms, your hatreds, your suspicions, they agitate the people; explain yourself; do you have any facts? do you have proof? I fight with you; I only love the truth; I only want liberty.” ”You allow yourself to be surrounded,” [he replied], ”you allow yourself to be warned. You are disposed against me, you see my enemies every day; you see Brissot and his party.”  ”You are mistaken, Robespierre; no one is more on guard than I against prejudices, and judges with more coolness, men and things. You’re right, I see Brissot, however rarely, but you don’t know him, and I know him since his childhood. I have seen him in those moments when the whole soul shows itself; where one abandons oneself without reservation to friendship, to trust: I know his disinterestedness; I know these principles, I assure you that they are pure; those who make him a party leader do not have the slightest idea of ​​his character; he has lights and knowledge; but he has neither the reserve, nor the dissimulation, nor these catchy forms, nor this spirit of consistency which constitutes a party leader, and what will surprise you is that, far from leading others, he is very easy to abuse.” Robespierre insisted, but confined himself to generalities.   ”Allow us to explain ourselves, I told him, tell me frankly what’s on your mind, what it is you know.”  ”Well!” he replied, ”I believe that Brissot is with Brunswick.”   ”What mistake is yours!” I exclaimed. ”It is truly madness; this is how your imagination leads you astray: wouldn't Brunswick be the first to cut his head off? Brissot is not mad enough to doubt it: which of us can seriously capitulate! which of us does not risk his life! Let us banish unjust mistrust.”  Danton became entangled in the colloquy, saying that this was not the time for arguments; that it was necessary to have all these explanations after the expulsion of the enemies; that this decisive object alone should occupy all good citizens.

In her memoirs (1834), Charlotte Robespierre talks of yet another meeting between her brother and Pétion regarding the massacres, but in her version it is instead the former who accuses the latter of doing a lot of harm. Some  historians have suggested this meeting is the same Pétion is describing above, though if that’s the case I wonder why he doesn’t mention Charlotte anywhere in his account (as well as why Robespierre would even bring his sister with him when going to discuss political matters in a city where a massacre is currently taking place…):

A few days after the events of 2 and 3 September, Pétion came to see my brother. Maximilien had disapproved of the prison massacres, and would have wanted each prisoner to be sent before judges elected by the people. Pétion and Robespierre conversed on these latest events. I was present at their interview, and I heard my brother reproach Pétion for not having interposed his authority to stop the deplorable excesses of the 2nd and 3rd. Pétion seemed piqued by this reproach, and replied dryly enough: All I can tell you is that no human power could have stopped them. He rose some moments later, left, and did not return. Any kind of relations ceased, from this day, between him and my brother. They did not see each other again until the Convention, where Pétion sat with the Girondins and my brother with the Mountain.

In the 1960 article Charlotte Robespierre et ”ses mémoires,” Gabriel Pioro and Pierre Labracherie wanted to dismiss Charlotte’s story, finding it unlikely for her to have been in Paris by early September 1792, almost a whole month before her younger brother was elected to the National Convention and the two went to the capital for that reason. Though I suppose it’s not impossible for Charlotte to have gone to visit Maximilien beforehand, or that she’s simply very generous with what she describes as ”a few days.”

If Charlotte’s friend Armand Joseph Guffroy, who him to moved from Arras to Paris after getting elected to the National Convention, is to be believed, her claim that Pétion and Robespierre stopped seeing each other following the events of September gets muddied as well. In his Les secrets de Joseph Lebon et de ses complices… (1795) Guffroy writes: ”At Pétion’s house, the only time Robespierre took me there; I saw the latter eating a pot of fine jams, which were very expensive at the time.”

Regardless of any jam dinners, it’s clear the relationship was breaking down for real. On October 29 1792, Jean-Baptiste Louvet read his Accusation contre Maximilien Robespierre to the Convention, accusing him of turning himself into ”the idol of the people,” slandering ”the best patriots,” instigating the September massacres and tyrannizing the parisian electoral assembly, all with the goal of setting himself up as a dictator. A week later, November 7, Chabot told the jacobins that Pétion’s wife Suzanne had ”applauded everything Louvet said against Robespierre.”

Both Robespierre and Pétion picked up their pens to write a response speech to Louvet. Robespierre pronounced his to the Convention on November 5, which then passed onto the order of the day, preventing Pétion from holding his. The very same day, Collot d’Herbois exclaimed to the jacobins: ”I agree with Manuel on the comparison that he made in saying that Pétion and Robespierre were the twins of liberty; he meant that they were stars like Castor and Pollux; that they would appear in turn, but I ask that Robespierre be the summer star, and Pétion the winter star.” Pétion did however still wish to get his speech out, so shortly thereafter he published Discours de Jérôme Pétion, sur l’accusation intentée contre Maximilien Robespierre as a pamphlet instead. This is what would truly mark the beginning of the end for the relationship.

Pétion begins by writing that “I had promised myself to keep the most absolute silence on the events that have happened since August 10,” but that, after having heard so many things said about him and being asked for his opinion on the matters so many times, “I will say frankly what I know about some men, what I think about things.”  After explaining to which groups he thinks the insurrection of August 10 was due and to which ones it wasn’t, and deploring of the September massacres, saying that ”I cannot bring myself to confuse glory with infamy, and to defile August 10 with the excesses of September 2” (thereby seperating himself from Robespierre, who his response to Louvet instead argued that the massacres had been the inevitable sequel to the insurrection, and that to condemn one would therefore be to condemn the other), Pétion turns to Robespierre. Having regretted the speech held by him on September 1, through which he, if unintentionally, ”led the commune into inconsiderate moves, into extreme parties,” and reported about their interview on September 4, Pétion brings up Louvet’s accusation that his friend had been aiming at dictatorship. Just like with Brissot, Pétion dismisses these accusations, but this through pointing out the flaws in the designated one’s personality:

Robespierre's character explains what he did: Robespierre is extremely touchy and defiant; everywhere he sees conspiracies, betrayals, precipices. His bilious temperament, his atrabilious imagination present all objects to him in dark colours; imperious in his opinion, listening only to himself, not supporting contrariety, never forgiving those who have hurt his self-esteem, and never recognizing his faults; denouncing lightly, and being irritated by the slightest suspicion; always believing that someone is occupying himself with him in order to persecute him; boasting of his services and speaking of himself with little reserve; not knowing the proprieties, and thereby harming the causes he defends; desiring above all the favors of the people, paying court to them unceasingly, and ringing out their applause with affectation; it is this, it is above all this last weakness, which, piercing through the acts of his public life, has been able to make people believe that Robespierre breathed high destinies, and that he wished to usurp the dictatorial power. As for me, I cannot persuade myself that this chimera seriously occupied his thoughts, that it was the object of his desires, and the goal of his anticipation. 

At the very end of the pamphlet, Pétion publishes an open letter to the jacobins, a place where he, ”since some time have been attacked more or less openly.” Pétion reminds the society of the great services he has rendered it and even that he had saved it during the big Feuillant split one year earlier. He also recalled that Robespierre, unlike him, had been very afraid following this split — ”I saw Robespierre trembling, Robespierre wanting to flee, Robespierre not daring to go up to the assembly… ask him if I trembled. I saved Robespierre himself from persecution, by attaching myself to his fate, when everyone despised him.”

Robespierre answered Pétion in Réponse de Maximilien Robespierre à Jérome Pétion, a text that made up all of number 7 of his Lettres de Maximilien Robespierre à ses commettans (November 30 1792). Robespierre started by regretting having to write what he did in the first place:

What is, my dear Pétion, the instability of human affairs, since you, once my brother in arms and at the same time the most peaceful of all men, suddenly declare yourself the most ardent of my accusers? Don't think that I want to occupy myself here either with you or with me. We are both two atoms lost in the immensity of the moral and political world. It is not your accusations that I want to answer; I am accused of having already shown too much condescension in this way; it is up to your current political doctrine. It would already be a little late, perhaps, to refute your speech: but there is always time to defend truth and principles. Our quarrels are of a day: the principles are of all times. It is only on this condition, my dear Pétion, that I can consent to pick up the gauntlet you threw at me. You will even recognize, in my way of fighting, either the friendship, or the old weakness that I showed for you. If, in this completely philanthropic kind of fencing, you were exposed to some slight injury, it only affects your self-esteem; and you reassured me in advance on that point, by protesting yourself that it was null. Moreover, the right of censorship is reciprocal; it is the safeguard of freedom; and you love principles so much that you will find more pleasure, I am sure, in being the object of them yourself, than you felt in exercising them against me.

Robespierre then goes on to accuse Pétion of in his pamphlet not having treated the Insurrection of August 10th with the respect it deserves, depriving the people and sections of Paris — ”the destroyers of tyranny” — who carried it out of the merit of their service, and to even have done everything in his power to stop the insurrection by continuously telling the sections to remain calm. Then he hadn’t showed up to the Paris Commune until three days after the siege of of the Tuileries, and then to report that the assembly wanted to close the commune and call the old municipality back (”You constantly sighed for the return of your semi-aristocratic municipality. […] The spirit that animated the defenders of liberty frightened you!”) and to ”prove that it was not necessary to lock Louis XVI in the Temple, and that if he did not stay in a magnificent hotel the whole of France would rise up against the commune.”Pétion had even on his own initiative gone to the king two weeks before the insurrection — ”no one knows if it was to convert him or to justify yourself.” Robespierre asks why Pétion seemingly shows more indulgence for the court than for the people behind the insurrection, noting that ”I always believed I saw in you less condescension for the warmth of patriotism than for the excesses of the aristocracy.”

Besides this main charge, Robespierre also reproaches Pétion of not having done enough to stop the demonstration of June 20, which, unlike the insurrection, was driven by ”the intriguers who surrounded you [who] wanted […] to regain possession of the ministry,” of being jealous of him for getting elected first deputy of Paris, which he claims is what caused him to stand for election in Eure-et-Loir instead (”you were unable to hide your sorrow at the very moment; and rather than suffer the affront of priority given to another citizen, you preferred to be chosen third in Chartres, than second in Paris”), making a big deal of having reached the conclusions presented in the pamphlet by shutting himself alone (”Is an author obliged to prove that he himself went into secrecy to compose his works? And aren’t such singular oratorical precautions suspect?”) and interpretating La Fayette favorably even after the massacre on Champ-de-Mars, having guaranteed Robespierre ”a hundred times” of his innocence since he was at the head of the armies. Robespierre claims that it was this friendly attitude that caused Pétion to be elected to escort the king back from Varennes. He fights back against Pétion’s description of his personality — ”I am as easygoing, as good-natured in private life, as you find me touchy in public affairs; although you have long experienced it, and my friendship for you has long survived the processes which most offended my principles” — giving an equally unflattering one in return: ”I guarantee that, far from being sullen, defiant, melancholic, you are the man whose blood circulates most gently, whose heart is least agitated by the spectacle of human perfidies, whose philosophy most patiently supports the misery of others.” He also takes offence over Pétion’s claim that he was afraid during the splitting of the jacobin club and that Pétion saved him from persecution. Robespierre claims that he was persecuted no more than Pétion during this period, and besides, ”why are you more attached to me than to the homeland, or at least to your own honor? And how did you imagine that you were for me a more powerful protector than the public interest, and the sanctity of the cause that I defended?”

Robespierre does however seek to exempt Pétion somewhat. He concludes his pamphlet and recent conduct is the result of him having let praise go to his head as mayor (forgetting that the true heros of history were martyrs) due to being misled by intriguers (the girondins). On August 11 or 12, Guadet and Brissot would even have come over to his place, the latter openly reprimanding him for ”the ease with which you had complied with the popular wish,” accusing him of cowardice and summoning him to stop ”the chariot of the revolution.” This, according to Robespierre, is what caused Pétion to show up to the commune the following day to announce the assembly’s plan to dismantle it and bring the old municipality back.

Pétion wrote back in Observations de Jérôme Pétion sur la lettre de Maximilien Robespierre, released somewhere in December 1792, the majority of which was spent debunking all of Robespierre’s reproaches. No, he did everything he could to stop the demonstration of June 20, and ”I defy anyone to say I brought it about or rejoiced over it.” No, he has only ever spoken about the Insurrection of August 10 ”with admiration and enthusiam,” he will however never conflate it with ”the horrible day of September 2.” No, he did not try to stop the insurrection, he only put an end to a badly organized movement on July 26 that wouldn’t have led to any good, and during the night when it happened he only wrote a circular to the sections (he was kept from going out), recommending them to maintain order and tranquility in general, a circular which the sections appreciated. No, he has indeed rendered justice to the people of Paris for their role in the insurrection, he even wrote outright: it is due to the people. No, he has given the sections the credit they deserve as well, he just said the insurrection would have taken place even without the support from the commissioners sent by some of them. The sections have in fact showered him with proofs of their confidence, and he has kept up a ”fraternal correspondence” with them. No, he didn’t appear at the commune until three days after ”the day of the Tuileries,” he was there already the day after it, speaking of their victory, and when he came there on the thirteenth it was not to put forward a report dismantling the commune. No, it is a lie that Guadet and Brissot came over on August 11 or 12 and scolded him for not having put a stop to the insurrection, they did on the other hand come over the night before and exclaim: the homeland is saved! No, he absolutely did not visit the king in order to convert him or justify himself two weeks before the insurrection (”I couldn’t believe my eyes! […] You know me, and these words come out of your mouth. You read my compte rendu to my fellow citizens, and these words come out of your mouth!”). The king had in fact requested him in several secrets meetings that he refused, he only ever went to see him on official invitations and for business. No, he is not attacking the Jacobins in his letter, he’s protectingthem against fights and intrigues which could dishonor them.

Pétion is certain Robespierre knew full well non of these charges were founded, claiming he made them in order to ”indispose the public against me, and make it favorable to you by declaring yourself its avenger. If this is clever, it is neither fair nor just.” He then directs some denounciations against him in turn, starting by regretting the humorous tone used by Robespierre in his response — ”you say of me what you do not think; you say it with bitterness, with passion; you allow yourself sarcasm, irony, mind games beyond all propriety” — and especially that he refers to him by his firstname like that’s supposed to be funny. Where Robespierre accused him of being blinded by ”intriguers,” Pétion reproaches Robespierre of being the ”courtier” of the people, placing himself at the head of whatever opinion that for the moment happens to be popular, in order to remain so himself. That is why he has never gone to a public riot to try to stop ”the excesses of the malicious”, out of fear of making them his enemies, and why he today carasses the sections, even though both he and his friends spoke ill or them during the electoral assembly. It is also the reason Pétion always defended him against the charge that he had had the ambition to become mayor — ”not only would he find himself overwhelmed by often minute details, and above all without glory, but, as one must sometimes know how to resist the aberrations of public opinion, how one must know how to momentarily incur the disgrace of the people, he would never have the strength to tell them that he is in the wrong: he would believe his reputation or popularity lost.” While denying that him standing for election in Eure-et-Loir had anything to do with him being jealous of Robespierre (if the people of Paris didn’t give him the most votes, it was because they found him more useful as mayor), Pétion also critiques the electoral assembly of Paris, which he claims ”was influenced, was dominated by a small number of men,” lifting the fact Robespierre’s brother got elected as a deputy of Paris as an example. Pétion also comes back to his critique of Robespierre’s actions during the September massacres again, seemingly endorsing the idea that he on September 2 had tried to use them to rid himself of his political opponents:

I said that on this occasion you gave yourself over to the excesses of a disordered and dark imagination; that you allowed yourself odious denunciations; that you had gone so far as to denounce as traitors, men that were friends of liberty, whose talents were in your eyes the real crimes, against which you had not the slightest proof, and that this was then to indicate the victims. I now add that in the fury of your declamations, you announced that it was necessary to purge the soil of liberty of the conspirators who infected it; but with a tone, a gesture which was so well understood, that the spectators responded with trembling, and shouted: Yes... Yes, let’s do it.

Nevertheless, he reveals to Robespierre that when one of the many citizens outraged by this wanted to denounce and testify against him, Pétion had stopped him from doing so. Like how Robespierre underlined how he for a long time had defended Pétion and believed his intentions to be good, Pétion too reminds him that ”when I was told that you were my enemy, that you were eaten up with jealousy against me, that you would never forgive me the favor I enjoyed, I defended you with all my soul, I took your side against all odds.” Today, he must however announce that ”I am forced to believe in the baseness and wickedness of your heart,” and he reveals that ”what caused the blindfold to fall off my eyes” was a speech Robespierre held at the Jacobins on October 28, where he says that, the day after the massacre on Champ de Mars, ”I saw Pétion, who then also fought against the intriguers.” Pétion reacts strongly on this choice of wording:

You only uttered one word, and it was more treacherous than a whole speech. You seemed to throw it away accidentally: you said, going back to the time of the Constituent Assembly, that then I was fighting intriguers, and that I embraced the good party, as if I had never ceased to pursue both traitors and enemies of liberty. Don't worry, I won't let them rest. I was well aware of the system of calumny and persecution directed against me; but I thought, I confess, that it would be without result, and I deigned to do so. I believed above all that you were not immersed in this intrigue.

Pétion ends with yet another unflattering description:

I do not think, and I do you this justice, that you are a man to ever allow yourself to be influenced by the lure of riches; but let Pon know how to skilfully caress your vanity; let the most salutary project be presented to you like an intrigue woven by your enemies, like a conspiracy, like a betrayal, your imagination immediately catches fire, you lose yourself in an abyss of conjectures, and you give in to the first panel held out to you. I will show you twenty of your opinions which are absolutely in the same direction as that of the court and of the counter-revolutionaries. If these opinions had been held by anyone other than you, his reputation would be lost, and he would be regarded as a traitor to his country. I saw men of good faith, without any interest who were not your enemies, who said to me: is it possible that Robespierre is sold, I always told them not to worry, but that you had a bad head, and that you lead to the delirium of your imagination. I have always added at the same time that you would sacrifice everything for a quarter of an hour of popular favour. 

Robespierre responded in Deuxième lettre de Maximilien Robespierre en réponse au second discours de Jérôme Petion, that made up all of number 10 of Lettres à ses comettras… He started by telling Pétion that his complaints that he used irony, ridicule and tried to caluminate him seem unjust to him, and that he won’t change his tone for this second reply. Besides, he added, the friends of the homeland find such few occasions to laugh these days. As for calling Pétion by his firstname, he reminds him that he never did so without adding his lastname as well, and what’s so bad about the name Jérôme anyways?

Turning to countering Pétion’s arguments, Robespierre writes that, even if Pétion does view the insurrection of August 10 as something positive, his conduct during it was still way too moderate. Pétion admits to in the conversation they had on August 7 wanted to postpone the insurrection until the moment when the legislative assembly would have pronounced on the king's forfeiture, ”that is to say, until the end of the centuries.” He confesses to in the days before August 10 have tried to keep the calm ”and all the reasons that you give to explain your conduct on one of these occasions may well prove that you were a brave man, but not that you were a determined revolutionary, nor a clever politician.” He might not have visited the king on his own initiative, but that’s nevertheless how it came across for all patriots (besides, I didn’t write you had the shame (honte) to visit the king, I wrote goodness (bonté)! Robespierre even argues that the reason Pétion stayed at home during the insurrection was because ”you felt so inclined to oppose the insurrection of the people against the tyranny armed to slaughter them, that you knew of no other way of resisting this temptation than to be kept at home.” Pétion’s debunking of the anecdote Brissot and Guadet scolding him for not having stopped the insurrection, Robespierre counters with the fact it was an ”irreproachable citizen” that gave him the story, one whose word he chooses to believe over that of Pétion’s.

As for Pétion’s debunking of the claim he was indifferent to stop the demonstration of June 20, Robespierre simply doesn’t believe it — ”nothing is easier or better proven.” He ridicules Pétion’s suggestion that he was trying to make him look bad in the eyes of the jacobins, ”as if it was me who had composed the diatribe printed at the end of your speech against me,” and when Pétion himself has barely showed up at the club in the last year — ”Jérôme Pétion is therefore a very high power, since he thus places his sole authority in opposition to the services of an immortal society of friends of freedom; since he dares to present it as a stupid herd led by intriguers, at the head of whom he places me.”Pétion’s anger over the fact Robespierre in a speech held two months earlier is recorded to have said Pétion served the revolution well during the National Assembly (implying he doesn’t anymore), he dismisses since, in the version of the speech given in number 3 of Lettres à ses comettras, no such words can be found. Robespierre likewise dismisses Pétion’s claim that he wasn’t jealous at him for getting more votes to the Convention, reminding him that ”the pain did not even allow you to fulfill the commitment you had made with a very well-known man in the republic, to meet that day, at his home, to dine, with me, for an object which essentially concerned public harmony,” as well as Pétion’s suggestion that the electoral assembly was influenced by nepotism since he could only cite his brother as an example, who, he assures, was elected only due to his own merits. The idea that Robespierre would have  spoken ill of the sections or denounced men at the commune just to have them ”exposed to the knife” during the September massacres he too dismisses as simply slander. It is this last charge that breaks the camel’s back for Robespierre: 

Pétion, this excess of atrocity exempts me from all the consideration that I persisted in maintaining with you; and from now on you will only owe my moderation to my contempt. I abandon you to that of all the citizens who have seen me, heard me like this, and who deny you. I abandon you to that of all judicious men, who, in your expressions, as vague as they are artificial, perceive at the same time the hatred, the lie, the implausibility, the contradiction, the insult made at the same time to the public, to the patriotic magistrates, as much as to myself. Pétion, yes, you are now worthy of your masters; you are worthy of cooperating with them in this vast plan of slander and persecution, directed against patriotism and against equality. But no; I am wrong to get angry with you, whatever your intentions; because you take care to ward off all the blows you want to deal yourselves; and following a stroke of wickedness, I see a hundred ridiculous things happen, which you indulge in on purpose for my small pleasures.

In the last couple of pages, Robespierre jokingly accuses Pétion during his time as mayor had gotten into his head the idea that France wanted to crown him king and he, like Caesar, would have to fight this off. ”Good god! We would then have gotten us a king by the name of Jérôme the first! […] If you felt some regrets, who knows if we might not enjoy this one day. You have good friends, who lack neither power nor resources. It is not without reason that they do not want to let us make laws or a constitution, that there has not even been a question of the declaration of rights yet; that they work, with marvelous skill, to kindle civil war, and to plunge us into anarchy; who knows if France will not be obliged to come back to your knees and ask you to dictate laws to it?” He then addresses Pétion as you would a king throughout the rest of the letter, calling him ”sire” and ”your majesty.”

This was truly the final nail in the coffin for the relationship. In number 1 of the second series of his Lettres à ses commettans (January 1 1793), Robespierre regretted the earlier constant tying together of him and Pétion, now viewing it as an attempt of his enemies to undermine him:

In the past, I still remember, Brissot and a few others had entered into I don't know what conspiracy to make my name almost synonymous with that of Jérôme Pétion; they took so much trouble to put them together. I don't know if it was for love of me or of Pétion: but they seemed to have plotted to send me to immortality, in company with the great Jérôme. I have been ungrateful; and, to punish me, they said: since you don't want to be Pétion, you will be Marat. Well, I declare to you, monsieurs, that I want to be neither. 

The trial of Louis XVI, which had been ongoing at the same time as Pétion and Robespierre’s breakup exchange, provided yet another moment for the two to oppose each other, with Pétion suggesting the Convention first discuss whether or not the king should be judged, a question deemed quite unneccessary for Robespierre, who instead wanted to see the king executed right away, without any trial. In a speech to the Convention held December 3 he lamented the direction Pétion had led them in:

Today Louis shares the mandataries of the people; we speak for and we speak against him. Who would have suspected two months ago that it would be a question here, whether he was inviolable? But since a member of the National Convention (citizen Pétion) presented the question, whether the King could be judged, as the object of serious deliberation, preliminary to any other question, the inviolability of which the conspirators of the Constituent Assembly covered up his first perjuries, was invoked, to protect his latest attacks. O crime! O shame! 

When Robespierre a few weeks later, on December 28, defended himself against the charge of having belonged to ”the cabal of Lafayette” (just your typical convention workday) he nevertheless exclaimed: ”I attest to my former colleagues, Pétion, Rabaud, and many others, if I had any connections with this faction!” When the time had arrived to finally decide the former king’s fate, Pétion voted for an appeal to the people, and for death with the so called Mailhe amendment, calling for a postponement of the execution, while Robespierre voted against an appeal to the people and for immediate execution.

On January 27, six days after the execution of the king, Pétion was struck from the Jacobin club’s list of members, on the suggestion of Monestier. Two months later, March 26, Pétion and Robespierre were both elected for the so called Commission of Public Safety, alongside 23 others. The commission, which consisted of both fervent montagnards and fervent girondins, was however off to a rocky start, and already on April 6 it was put to death and replaced by the Committee of Public Safety.

Four days after that, April 10, Robespierre spoke for long at the Convention, denouncing the girondins as ”a powerful faction conspiring with the tyrants of Europe to give us a king, with a sort of aristocratic constitution” led by Brissot. The girondins were the successors of Lafayette, accomplices of Dumouriez, Miranda and d’Orléans, and supported by William Pitt, who had dishonored the Insurrection of August 10 and wanted to flee Paris with the king, tried to cause civil war by calling for an appeal to the people during the trial of said king, as well as having ”depressed the energetic patriots, protected the hypocritical moderates, successively corrupted the defenders of the people, attached to their Cause those who had some talent, and persecuted those whom they could not seduce.” Robespierre ended with asking that the Revolutionary Tribunal be charged with setting up a trial for ”Dumouriez and his accomplices” as well as for the Orléans family, Sillery and Madame de Genlis. Pétion’s name got mentioned outright four times in the speech, Robespierre accusing him of being the friend and defender of the general Francisco de Miranda, arrested since February 1793 after a failed siege of the city Maastricht and later denounced as an accomplice of Dumouriez.

Two days later, April 12, a stormy exchange played out between the two former friends at the Convention, after Pétion had asked that François-Martin Poultier be censored for making a personal suggestion when meant to speak in the name of his committee of war. Several variants of this exchange can be found throughout the different journals. Here is the one given in the Moniteur:

Robespierre: I demand the censure of those who protect the traitors. (Pétion rushes to the tribune, some murmurs rise)  Robespierre: And their accomplices.  Pétion: Yes, their accomplices, and you yourself. It is finally time for all these infamies to end, it is time at last for all this infamy to end; it is time for traitors and slanderers to lay their heads on the scaffold; and I pledge here to pursue them to death.  Robespierre: Answer the facts.  Pétion: It’s you I will be pursuing. Yes, Robespierre will have to be branded at last, as the slanderers used to be. 

The Mercure universel:

Pétion: I ask that the rapporteur be censored; instead of the committee's opinion, he allows himself to report his own to mislead the public. We must punish the conspirators. Robespierre: That’s you. (applauds from the tribunes, cries of indignation in the assembly) Pétion (runs to the tribune; unrest): It is finally time for all these infamies to end, it is time for the convention to be respected: I will pursue the slanderers, the traitors! Robespierre: Where are they? Pétion: You!

Journal de Paris:

Pétion asks that this member be censored, for having expressed an opinion that the Committee of War had not directed to him. Here Robespierre interrupts Pétion, and the interpellation he made, which we did not hear, was undoubtedly very lively, because Pétion flew to the tribune, and in a voice more vehement than he ever used in the two Assemblies of which he was a member, he complained of this system of slander adroitly directed against the true friends of liberty, by these people who thus believe they are hiding, at the moment that they will be discovered, the plots that they themselves have formed. He thunders against these informers who, without proof, pile denunciations on top of each other, without ever proving any of them. Pétion concluded that all denunciations should be signed, under penalty of being subjected to the same contempt as their authors.

Le Logotachigraphe:

Pétion: I demand censure against the rapporteur who allowed himself to overstep the powers he had received from the committee. Marat: I ask that we pursue the traitors. (noise) Pétion (flies to the tribune): I will indeed ask that the traitors and conspirators be punished (interrupted by boos from the stands. Part of the assembly stands up and shows its indignation: the president is summoned to remind the stands of respect.) The president: I have called the tribunes to order several times, and I call them again at this moment, to the execution of the law which prohibits any sign of disapproval and approval, and I conjure them, in the name of public safety, to remember that all is lost if the National Convention does not retain its liberty. Pétion: It is impossible (murmurs) to tolerate this infamy any longer. It is impossible for an honest man to restrain his indignation when he sees that men who should keep the most profound silence; that men who are marked with the most infamy dare to insult him with this audacity. Yes, I intend to pursue the traitors; I intend to pursue the slanderers, and I tell all of France that Robespierre must either be punished or branded with hot iron on the forehead as a slanderer.

Le Thermomètre du Jour:

Pétion calls for censure against Poultier for having expressed an opinion tending to mislead the public. It is necessary to underline, said Robespierre, that one is trying to save the traitors. Immediately Pétion, going up to the podium, said: ”It is impossible for an honest man to tolerate any longer the system of slander and disorganization that I see followed with a constancy that only great interest can give. Yes, I will fight against traitors and slanderers. In the end, either I must be punished or Robespierre must be branded with the hot iron with which ancient peoples branded slanderers. Even before the existence of the convention, people had already formed the wish to slander it, to outrage it, to degrade it, and some people have continued to follow this system. I ask what more our enemies would have done? Aren't these the real enemies of the republic? I will never compromise with despots, and if the enemy were at the gates of Paris, we would see which are the brave false ones, and which ones are the courageous republicans!

Pétion then went on a long rant about the need to punish the traitors, before denouncing Marat. Robespierre responded that ”I will be permitted to respond to your calumnies,” to which Pétion, according to Le Logotachigraphe, replied the following way:

I would like a written struggle to begin here, because words are elusive; I would like the indictments to be recorded in writing and the answers that each person submitted to put their head to be heard in writing, and I would then ask that whoever is found guilty loses it. I do not claim to be constantly engaged in a struggle, neither with lungs nor with screams, nor with insults and insults; all this means nothing: this is not how free men justify themselves: free men act with perfect integrity. I am not asking here for imprecation or approval; but I ask for peace and quiet; I ask above all that we do not allow ourselves these indecent accusations, a thousand times more atrocious than facts. We have already fought in writing with Robespierre; he knows that I know him, and certainly, I am doing him a kind of justice here. At the constituent assembly, for example, Robespierre behaved well, and I admit that I have never been convinced why he changed. (Long uproar.)

Later the same session, Guadet used Robespierre’s former friendship with Pétion as a weapon against him apropos of getting accused of being an accomplice of Dumouriez: ”Can’t I say to Robespierre: You have had liaisons with Pétion, but you accuse Pétion of betraying the public sake.” […] Well! Since you have had liaisons with Pétion, I can therefore conclude you have been dans ses projets. Why then do you start by suppose me to have liaisons with Dumouriez, which is false, and conclude that since Dumouriez has turned traitor I must be considered one as well?” In the defense he wrote a few months later, the girondin Gensonné similarily stated: ”in 1791 and 1792, Robespierre had the most intimate liasons with Pétion, Buzot and Roland, how can he accuse them today without accusing himself?”

Pétion made good on his promise to start ”a written struggle,” as he soon thereafter released yet another pamphlet, this time by the name of Réponse très-succinte de Jérome Petion, au long libelle de Maximilien Robespierre (1793), a 14 page long work where he answered Robespierre’s attack from the 10th. Robespierre didn’t respond to it thank god.

On May 17, Desmoulins presented his 84 pages long Histoire des Brissotins, ou, Fragment de l'histoire secrète de la révolution, et des six premiers mois de la République to the Jacobin club, a pamphlet we know Robespierre had had a hand in through a note inserted in one of Desmoulins’ later publications. In total, Pétion’s name got mentioned a total of 22 times in the damning work that painted him and the other ”girondins” as royalists, accomplices of Dumouriez and in the pay of foreigners. They had been leading an anglo-prussian committee working for the military failure of France, which they wanted to divide into 20-30 federalist republics, or to overturn the republican government altogether, and to set up the Duke of Orléans as monarch. For Pétion’s part, Desmoulins threw suspicion on the fact that he, during his trip to London after the closing of the National Assembly, had been accompanied by Madame de Genlis (the cousin of the duke of Orléans), her niece Rose-Henriette Peronne de Sercey and daughter Pamela, ”that we can call the three graces, and who pressed his virtuous and fortunately incorruptible knee; and wasn’t it upon his return that he was appointed mayor of Paris?” Desmoulins also picked up Robespierre’s criticism of Pétion’s attitude towards the insurrection of August 10, but this time he got accused of not only not having wanted the event to take place, but also to have signed the order for the Swiss guard to fire on the people. He was also claimed to have received 30 000 francs per month from Dumouriez in order to ”throw away the foundations of the republic” during his time as mayor.

Desmoulins concluded that the establishment of a democratic republic wouldn’t happen before ”the vomiting of the Brissotins from the bosom of the Convention,” and on May 26, a week after the pamphlet’s publication, Robespierre had reached the same conclusion, telling the jacobins that ”the people must rise up. This moment has arrived.” Three days later he repeated himself — “I say that, if the people do not stand up as a whole, liberty is lost, and that only a detestable empiricist can tell them that there remains another doctor than themselves” — and two days after that, the insurrection of May 31 took place, which ended with the Convention on June 2 issuing arrest warrants against 29 of its deputies and two ministers. One of these 31 men was of course Pétion, who was placed under house arrest like the others. It was however a very loose one, and many of the proscribed managed to get away. On June 24, Jeanbon Saint-André could report to the Convention that Pétion had escaped, after which he suggested bringing those still remaining under house arrest to actual prisons, a proposal which Robespierre supported.

Having gone underground (while his wife, child and father all got arrested and his mother-in-law executed), Pétion occupied himself with writing, both his memoirs as well as Observations de Pétion, a constructive criticism of the poem Charlotte Corday, tragédie en 5 actes et en vers, that his fellow runaway Jean-Baptiste Salle had penned down. ”Barère and Robespierre,” Pétion wrote in these, ”are known for being the greatest cowards on earth. In my view, the trick is Barère's distinctive character. Robespierre is no less perfidious; but what distinguishes him is that in danger he loses his head, he discovers in spite of himself the fear which torments him, he speaks only of assassinations, only of lost liberty, he sees the entire Republic destroyed in his person, whereas Barère, more dissimulated, without being less cowardly, is always coldly atrocious and preserves until the end the hope of succeeding.” Buzot, who was hiding out alongside Pétion, did on the other hand recall the latter’s former fondness of Robespierre in the memoirs he at the same time was working on: ”there was this great difference between Pétion and me — he had a particular deference for Robespierre, and I had an invincible aversion for this man who had the face of a cat.”

Robespierre for his part had no nice things to say about Pétion. On March 21 1794 he reminded the Jacobins how Lafayette, Pétion and Dumouriez had all conceived ”the terrible project of starving and enslaving [the people]” but that luckily these ”monsters” had now fallen. A few days later, April 1 1794, he shut down a proposal that the recently arrested Danton be allowed to come and defend himself before the Convention by pointing out that this was not the first time a former ”patriot” turned out to be a traitor  — ”And I too was a friend of Pétion; as soon as he unmasked himself, I abandoned him; I also had liaisons with Roland; he betrayed, and I denounced him. Danton wants to take their place, and in my eyes he is nothing more than an enemy of the homeland.” Finally, on June 27 1794 he talked about yet another conspiracy, and regretted that it would be hard to make ”so many horrors” perceptible to the people that once ”were seduced by the Lameths, the d'Orléans, the Brissots, the Pétions, the Héberts.”

On June 17 1794, Pétion, Buzot and Barbaroux left the garret in Saint-Émilion where they since five months back had been hiding out, after the people taking care of them had gotten arrested, and set out into the countryside. When in the next day some people approached, Pétion and Buzot took flight once more while Barbaroux unsuccessfully tried to blow his brains out and was captured. Eventually his friends decided to take the same way out. It is unclear when exactly this suicide took place, tradition placing it on June 18 and Michel Biard, in the book La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député 1792-1795(2015) instead dating it to June 24, having consulted two doctors with expertise in the field. Regardless, on July 8 1794, the Moniteur published the following letter from the Popular Society of Castillon that had been read at the Convention the day right before:

Citizen Representatives, our search has not been in vain. When we annonced to you that the scroundel Barbaroux had been taken, we assured you that his accomplices Pétion and Buzot would soon be under our control. We’ve got them now, Citizen Representatives, or rather they are no more. The end which the law prescribes was too good for such traitors; divine justice reserved for them a fate more fitting to their crimes. We found their bodies, hidden and disfigured, half eaten by worms; their scattered limbs had been devoured by dogs, their bloody hearts eaten by ferocious beasts. Such was the horrible end of their still more horrible lives. People! Contemplate this awful spectacle, the terrible monument to your vengeance! Traitors! May this ignominious death, may this abhorred memory make you recoil with horror and shudder with terror! Such is the terrible fate which sooner or later will be reserved for you. Signed The Sans-Culottes of the Popular and Republican Society of Castillon.

By the time the letter reached Paris, Robespierre had already stopped showing up at both the Convention and the Committee of Public Safety. But he probably still found out about what had happened, if not through the letter to the Convention, then through another one written to him on June 30 by Marc Antoine Jullien, representative on mission in Bordeaux, asking ”to raze to the ground the houses where Guadet, Salle, Pétion, Buzot and Barbaroux were [hiding], [and] transfer the military commission to Saint-Emilion, to there judge and make perish on the spot the authors or accomplices guilty of hiding the conspirators.” While we lack the sources to say anything really substantial about Robespierre’s psyche, it is nevertheless interesting to speculate if the news of his former friend’s horrible fate (as can be seen from the letter to the Convention, it isn’t even explained that Pétion and Buzot had committed suicide before getting mauled by the animals) was a contributing factor to Robespierre’s growing isolation from public life and deteriorating mental health during his last month alive…