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mreowsu · 2 months ago

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DRABBLES, ONESHOTS / itoshi sae x fem!reader

part two

Have you ever wondered why and when Sae started wearing his baby bangs up? :)

cw my writing. español conversational monologue is google translated, please correct me for any mistranslations and I apologize in advance. both are 14-15 in this since I speculate the reason started all the way back. hopefully, once the mangaka reveals more of sae's backstory in españa, he isn't far too emo yet at this age.

wc 2.5k

Sae had never been one for vanity. His appearance was something he wore like his jersey—unremarkable in his eyes, but a source of endless fascination for others.

He’d stick to the basics—clean-cut, effortless, and sharp enough without even trying. Though, his fans obsessed over every detail, from the sharpness of his jawline to the way his bangs, short and neat, fell softly over his forehead, framing his teal eyes. To Sae, all of this was incidental—just another part of his preference for simplicity.

It was one of those days, during a rare quiet (courtesy of you) evening at the academy dorms. Dinner had been a casual affair, with nothing much to do afterward, and as you wandered back to your room, the brightest idea struck you: why not pay a visit to—bascially, your only friend—at the other side of the academy housing?

When you were both scouted at the ripe age of 13 to play in Spain, both of you had left behind everything you knew—your families, your home, your language. The sudden plunge into an entirely different environment had been jarring. The culture, the food, the constant buzz of español around you—it was overwhelming. High expectations pressed down on your shoulders, with the academy’s reputation and dreams of a professional career constantly looming.

There was no support system to fall back on. Your parents were thousands of miles away in Japan, unable to offer more than occasional video calls and mailed letters. The club staff and academy members tried, in their own way, to act as mentors and parental figures, but it wasn’t the same. The homesickness, the struggle to adapt, and the pressure to perform all felt crushing. Conversations had been stilted and awkward, especially with the two of you still learning to speak in broken, halting español. But over a year later, you’d found a rhythm. When no one else understood, he did. You both knew what it felt like to miss home, to feel like an outsider, to be surrounded by noise but still feel alone.

As cliche as it sounds, in the end; it was you and, annoyingly, Itoshi Sae against the world.

The male dorms were quieter than you expected, a stillness hanging in the air that made your footsteps feel far louder than they were. You had no business being here, not really, but that never stopped you before. And besides, Itoshi Sae didn’t seem to mind your intrusions. Or so you told yourself.

The sharp knock you gave was met with his voice, calm and cool as ever.

“Come in.”

You opened the door to find him sitting at his desk, the glow of his laptop casting shadows across his face. His bangs shifted with the turn of his head, teal eyes flicking up with an expression that was neither surprised nor annoyed—just Sae. Acknowledging you before returning to whatever analysis or footage he was engrossed in.

“You again.” he said, his voice neutral, almost bored.

“You should be honored, really,” you poised, breezing past his room like it was yours too. “And unfortunately, you’re my only option Sae.” You drawled.

“Lucky me,” he said dryly, though he didn’t tell you to leave. “You know, most people knock and wait for an invitation.”

“You’ve never needed to invite me before,” you said, settling onto the edge of his bed. “Why start now?”

He didn’t argue, but the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. For all his complaints, you knew Sae appreciated having you around. You were the only piece of home he had here, just as he was for you.

No matter how much the world outside demanded of you—how high the expectations, how foreign the environment—in moments like this, with him, you could breathe.

Sae's dorm was a plain space that reflected the utilitarian nature of the academy housing, yet much derived of personality compared to yous: sparsely decorated but immaculate, everything in its place. A couple of freshly folded jerseys on the shelf, a framed photo by the bed—nothing excessive, just functional and quietly personal. It was so… Sae.

“Well, you’re early.” He remarked, shutting the laptop and leaning back in his chair, his eyes briefly meeting yours before shifting to the clock on his desk.

“Dude, it’s literally evening, and everyone just finished dinner,” you exasperated, rolling your eyes.

He shrugged, a faint smirk at his lips. “For you, that’s early. You usually show up when you’re about to pass out from boredom.”

You crossed your arms, pretending to be offended, before mirroring his smirk. “Damn right I did.”

“Of course,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You need to lighten up,” you teased, flopping around his bed unceremoniously. “This place feels like a showroom. Do you even live here?”

He rolled his eyes, standing up to retrieve something from his shelf. “It’s a dorm, not a hotel. What do you expect?”

“A little personality wouldn’t hurt,” you quipped, watching as he settled back into his chair.

He glanced at you, expression calm but faintly amused. “If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

You grinned, knowing full well you aren’t going anywhere. “Nah, I think I’ll stay. Someone has to make this place feel alive.”

Sae sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. “Just don’t make a mess.”

“Right… So, what’s the plan?” You asked, kicking off your shoes and leaning back on your elbows. “Am I supposed to sit here in silence while you work on drills in your head?”

He stood, walking over with that signature calmness of his, and sat criss-cross beside you on the bed. The mattress barely dipped under his weight, as if even gravity couldn’t unbalance him.

“Maybe,” he teased, voice soft but laced with dry humor. “Unless you have a better idea.”

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone and shoving it toward him. “How about we pick a movie? Something that isn’t Taxi Driver for once.” As much as you loved the movie, it was getting repetitive, and you were starting to feel like you knew every line by heart.

Sae glanced at the phone, then back at you, his lips twitching ever so slightly. “You don’t like it anymore?” he teased, his voice the usual mix of indifference and amusement.

“I love it, but I don’t need to watch it every time I’m over here,” you replied, scrolling through the options. “We’ve literally watched it four times this week.”

“Then pick something better.” He leaned back against the headboard, his posture as controlled as always, like he had no intention of exerting effort in this decision. But you could tell by the way his teal eyes followed your movements that he was paying attention. Typical Sae.

You sighed dramatically. “You know, it’s a lot more fun when you at least pretend to care.”

Sae raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking to the phone before returning your sigh ten times more dramatic, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Fine. But if it’s boring, we’re switching back to drills.”

You picked a new movie, something lighthearted, easy to watch, and settled back against the pillows, feeling oddly content.

The lights were killed, and the room slipped into a cozy darkness, save for the faint glow of the screen. Everything was ready to go and the movie started. But as it played on, your attention drifted back to Sae, completely absorbed in the film. His burgundy hair fell slightly over his eyes, distracting you for a moment. Without thinking, you reached over and brushed it back into place, the soft strands slipping through your fingers.

Sae’s eyes flickered incredulously toward you, but made no move to pull away.

He was uncharacteristically still as you perched beside him, fingers idly trailing through the silky strands of his hair. Your eyes flickered to his back and shoulders, noticing his now stiff posture. Though he didn’t speak, you could feel the subtle tension in his frame.

You murmured to appease him, “Sae, hold still.” The soft brush of your fingers through his hair seemed to ease the tension, so you continued with slow, deliberate strokes. When you brushed his bangs back, his eyes became the centerpiece of his face—sharp, vivid teals. They were like swirling oceans caught in the throes of a storm, deep and endless, with flecks of light dancing like sunlight on restless waves.

There was an intensity there, the kind that made you feel as though he could see right through you, peeling back every layer with a single glance. But beyond the sharpness, there was something softer hidden in their depths— like the stillness just before dawn.

Without the curtain of his bangs to soften the edges, his gaze became piercing, almost dangerous, like shards of sea glass—beautiful, but with a sharpness that could cut if you weren’t careful.

It was impossible to look away, not when his eyes held that kind of quiet power, commanding attention without a single word.

But then, Sae blinked.

He looked up at you with a slight frown.

"What are you doing?”

You felt the trance slip away, leaving you almost disappointed at how quickly reality snapped back into place.

You blinked back at him, brushing your hands off like you hadn’t just been lost in his eyes for longer than you cared to admit. “Nothing,” you replied innocently, tucking a few strands back into place and brushing his bangs, so they no longer fell over his forehead. “Your hair was in your face.”

“It wasn’t bothering me.” He said, though he didn’t pull away or stop you.

“Yeah, but it was bothering me.” You shot back, smoothing the strands until they stayed where you wanted them. His hair was surprisingly easy to manage, soft and silky under your touch. You backed up to admire your work.

His hair stood upright now, his whole face on display—sharp lines, ahem piercing eyes, the kind of look that stopped hearts if you weren’t careful. Gulp. “You look good like this. Cooler, maybe.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his attention seemingly back on the screen, but the slight tilt of his head toward your hand betrayed him. He wasn’t just tolerating it—he didn’t mind.

He scoffed, “You’re ruining it.” He finally uttered, voice flat. Though he didn’t make a move to fix it.

“Ruining what? You barely even care about how it looks.” You teased, letting your fingers drift through his hair one last time before settling back against the headboard.

His lips twitched, almost a smile but not quite. “Maybe. But now you have to watch the movie. No more distractions.”

“Fine, fine.” You smiled, turning your attention back to the screen. Yet something about the quiet approval in your gaze stayed with him.

From then on, Sae started keeping his bangs up.

It was a subtle yet significant change that didn’t go unnoticed. His fans speculated endlessly about the reason behind the new style—some attributing it to his growing maturity, others to a shift in his on-field persona. But smugly, only Itoshi Sae knew the truth.

* * *

The stadium roared with life as the final whistle blew, signaling another victory for the Re Al youth team. Sae, as always, was the picture of composure. His hair, damp with sweat, stayed stubbornly defying gravity in its upright style, the way he’d styled it before the game.

You watched from the stands, pride swelling in your chest amidst the thrumming energy of the crowd. Unlike your usual matches with the female Re Al youth team, tonight was all about the boys. Your district didn’t have a match, so you’d ended up in the crowd, cheering for a game you didn’t have to play in.

Sae’s teal eyes scanned the rows until they found yours. He didn’t need to smile or wave—just the faintest nod in your direction. It was so like him, subtle and understated, but somehow, and alarmingly, made your heart flutter all the same.

As the team took their victory lap around the field, Sae broke away, making a bee-line toward you. The crowd stirred, curious eyes following his every steps.

When he reached you, there was no hesitation. You leaned over the railing, your fingers instinctively brushing through his sweaty hair. His bangs, stiff from hairspray, you assume, and effort, softened under your touch, falling slightly out of place.

For a second, everything stilled. The roaring crowd, the flashing cameras—it all melted into a backdrop as Sae stood there, letting you fix him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The stadium fell into a stunned silence before the spell broke, erupting into cheers and whistles.

One of his teammates, whose name you didn't really care enough to remember, shouted from the field. "¡Oye, Sae! ¡No sabía que tenías un peluquero de guardia!" Oi, Sae! Didn’t know you had a hairdresser on call!

Hollering followed, and Sae shot them a quick, unimpressed glare. He turned back to you, his lips quirking into the faintest of smirks, leaning just a little closer. “You’ve made quite th scene,” he said, voice low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled, your fingers still lingering in his hair. “Can’t help it. You looked like you needed it.”

For the first time that night, Sae let out the faintest chuckle—a soft, almost invisible sound that felt like a treasure meant just for you.

When he walked back to his team, his bangs slightly tousled from your touch, the teasing began almost immediately.

“No sabía que nuestro Sae-chan podía verse tan humano.” Didn’t know our Sae-chan could look so human. They teased, a mischievous grin plastered across his face.

“O tan mandilón.” Or so whipped.

“Ni siquiera puedo imaginar que pueda sonreír así.” Can't even fathom he could smile like that.

“¿Es esto lo que el amor le hace a un chico?” Is this what love does to a guy? One of them added with a dramatic shake of his head, sending the group into another fit of laughter.

Sae ignored them, of course. But as he glanced back at you one last time, there was something different in his expression—something warm and quiet, a look reserved, meant only for you.

Meanwhile, the crowd’s whistles and playful jeers had you feeling just as flustered. Your cheeks burned, and you could tell by the way Sae’s ears tinted pink that he wasn’t immune to it either.

It was a simple thing, really. A touch, a moment, a look. Nothing too out of the ordinary for the two of you. After all, you were just friends. But amidst the crowd’s cheering, the teasing of his teammates, in the way Sae’s gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary, and in the way your heart raced, it felt like there was more to it.

And then the whispers started.

Backstage chatter, curious glances, and the media’s ever-watchful eye. They’d always known you and Sae were quite close, two prodigies from Japan.. childhood friends, even. But now... now, it seemed the world was starting to wonder if there was more to your bond than just friendship. Perhaps it was.. puppy love? Was there something more to the way you interacted? The teasing? The hair stunt you pulled? Was it all casual?

For now, that was all it was. Just speculation. But for Sae, maybe that small, fleeting interaction was everything.

Maybe.

And maybe that’s why, no matter how many times his teammates teased or fans speculated, Sae never explained why his bangs were always styled up.

* * *

sorry that i didn't write the way i usually do—in a poetic sense, anyway. This was just pure unfettered bluelock brainrot and the last epiodde from s2 had me going haywire i swear the animators were in the flow ong 😭🙏

#mreowriting #canon character x reader #blue lock #blue lock manga #reader insert #blue lock season 2 #blue lock x reader #blue lock anime #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #itoshi sae #sae itoshi #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae fluff

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 5 months ago

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Converting Gallifreyan Age to Human Years

GIL's noticed some confusion about how old Gallifreyans are in human years. Have no fear; GIL's here to help.

✨ Quick Answer

If you're not interested in the breakdown, here's the formula:

For Gallifreyan ages under 100: (see below).

For Gallifreyan ages over 100: Human age = 18 + ((Gallifreyan age - 100) * 0.0133)

Here's a straight conversion table:

Continue reading for the maths...

🌌 Gallifreyan Ageing: Some Key Facts

Gallifreyans physically mature at 100 years old (roughly like humans at 18).

They're considered socially mature at 200 years old.

They typically live between 4000 and 7000 years, with 13 different bodies over their lifetime, each lasting around 450-500 years (though both can be more).

The 10th and later incarnations tend to have shorter lifespans, around 350-400 years per body.

For comparison, the average human lifespan is around 73 years.

🔢 How Does Gallifreyan Age Compare to Human Age?

To make the conversion work, we use a two-step approach that adjusts for the different life stages of Gallifreyans:

1. For the First 100 Gallifreyan Years:

Gallifreyans mature rapidly during their first 100 years, and we map these years to 18 human years. This period includes:

0-8 Gallifreyan years = Infancy

8-16 Gallifreyan years = Childhood

16-100 Gallifreyan years = Teenage years (ages 11-18)

2. After 100 Gallifreyan Years:

Once Gallifreyans reach physical maturity at 100, their ageing slows significantly. We scale their entire lifespan to fit within a typical human lifespan of 73 years, using the formula 1 Gallifreyan year = 0.0133 human years for ages beyond 100.

📐 Why These Numbers?

The reasoning behind these numbers is based on two main factors:

Different ageing rates at different life stages: Gallifreyans physically mature by 100 years, just like humans reach maturity around 18 years old. But after that, their ageing slows down significantly. We needed two different formulas to account for these different ageing phases.

Mapping a long lifespan to a human one: Gallifreyans live for 4000-7000 years, far longer than humans. To make sense of this, we compress their later years to fit into a human context, ensuring that even the oldest Gallifreyan reaches a human-equivalent age of about 70-80 years.

So there you have it! So next time you meet a 900-year-old Time Lord, don't call them old. They're only 28.

Any orange text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →📢Announcements |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts → Features: ⭐Guest Posts | 🍜Chomp Chomp with Myishu →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

#doctor who #dr who #gallifrey #gallifrey institute for learning #whoniverse #dw eu #gallifreyans #GIL trending #Time Lord biology #gallifreyan culture #gallifreyan lore #gallifreyan society #GIL: Gallifrey/Culture and Society #GIL: Facts #gallifreyan biology #GIL: Biology #GIL: Biology/Foundations #GIL: Species/Gallifreyans #GIL

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pluralasking · 8 months ago

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#One-Hundred

[pt: #one-hundred]

In order to celebrate 100 days of posting, here are 100 questions for you to answer! You can either answer them all at once, or let others send in the numbers they are most curious about!

Some of them are general questions, others are just really silly and should not be taken too serious. I put a lot of effort into coming up with all of these, so I truely hope you have fun with this!

For simplicity sake, all questions will use the words "System" and "Members".

1. What is your System name and / or the name you collectively go by?

2. Which word do you prefer to use for your System? (example: System, Collective, Constellation, ...)

3. What are your Systems origins, if you choose to label them?

4. Do you have any Subsystems?

5. Do you have any Sidesystems?

6. What is your opinion on you& / your& language and similar types?

7. What methodes do you use to keep track of your System and it's Members?

8. What is your Systems ways of communication?

9. Is communication hard or easy for you (and why is it the way it is)?

10. Do you view yourselves as parts of one person or as multiple people in one body?

11. Who are you out to as plural?

12. What languages do you collectively / one of you speak?

13. What is something you can't seem to collectively agree on?

14. If you have a collective Identity (such as Gender or Orientation), what is it?

15. Do you collectively identify as queer / LGBTQIA+?

16. Do you collectively identify as Otherkin, Alterhuman or Nonhuman?

17. Do you have a collective rentry / carrd / something along those lines? (feel free to share!)

18. What does switching feel like for you?

19. Are you Monoconscious, Polyconscious or something else?

20. What does fronting feel like for you?

21. How many System members do you have?

22. Which word / words do you prefer to use for members of your System?

23. Which age group seems to be the most common in your System?

24. Which gender seems to be the most common in your System?

25. Are there any talents / hobbies you picked up because of a Member?

26. Do you have any in-system relationships?

27. Do you label roles within your System (and if yes, which ones?)

28. Are most of your Members introjected, brainmade or something else?

29. Do you use names, emojis or something similar to sign off messages (and if yes, which ones and why?)

30. Do any of your System members use Xenogenders?

31. How do Members pick face claims?

32. Do you have any Introjects of popular sources?

33. Do you have any Introjects of unpopular sources?

34. Do you have nonhuman Members?

35. Do any of you use Typing Quirks?

36. Do all of you front, or only a selected amount?

37. Are there any Members who can't or prefer to not speak?

38. Are most of you short or tall in height?

39. Is there a Member that is collectively loved by all in the System?

40. Do any of you struggle with being front-stuck a lot of the time?

41. Do you have a Headspace (if not, is there a reason)?

42. What does your Headspace look like?

43. How do Members look like in Headspace? (example: Cartoony, Foggy, Realistic, ...)

44. Is there a reason why the Headspace looks the way it looks?

45. Is it easy for you to enter Headspace?

46. Do you remember what happened in Headspace when you switch into front?

47. Does time in Headspace pass (and if yes, is it at the same speed as in real life)?

48. What is your favourite place in Headspace?

49. Are there "NPCs" within your Headspace?

50. Are there any interesting fun facts about your Headspace?

51. Are there any "System Stereotypes" you fit into?

52. Who of you would be considered the "evil alter"? (in a lighthearted, joking manner)

53. What is your favourite inside-joke with a Member?

54. What is your favourite Plural meme?

55. Is there any character that you headcanon as plural?

56. Is there any show or movie that you believe is a good plural representation, despite that not being its intention?

57. Is there any song that you believe decribes your plural experience?

58. What about an artwork that describes your plural experience?

59. Which Member of your System do you believe to be the prettiest of them all?

60. Do you collectively have a lucky number?

61. When did you first discover your System?

62. How many Members did you know about during your Syscovery?

63. Was accepting your Plurality a challenge for you?

64. How did you learn about Plurality?

65. Where there any signs of your Plurality, if you look back at your past?

66. Do you think your Syscovery changed a lot in your life?

67. If you're out to others as plural, have they ever told you later on that they already thought about it before you realised?

68. What was the biggest struggle during your Syscovery?

69. Was there any big event that led to your Syscovery?

70. What is something you want questioning plurals to know?

71. Are you Neurodivergent (and if yes, how?)

72. Do you have any physical disability?

73. Do you have a dissociative disorder?

74. Do you have any other disorder?

75. Do symptom vary in intensity depending on the fronter?

76. Do you think your disability / disorder has an influence on your plurality?

77. Do you have amnesia of any kind?

78. Are there Members who deal better with symptoms than others?

79. Do your disorders / disabilities influence communication or switching within your System in any way?

80. Does being plural help with your disorders in any way? (example: another Member switching in to take care of the body during difficult times, ...)

81. Which is your favourite plural flag?

82. If you have one, which is your favourite plurality related tumblr blog?

83. What is a fun fact about your System?

84. What is a flavour of ice cream that describes you collectively?

85. Which pride flag is the prettiest, in your collective opinion?

86. If you collectively had to choose between being a sweet or a sour candy, which do you pick?

87. Your body always morphs into what the current fronter(s) look like, would you want this power or not?

88. Is there a Hatsune Miku in your System?

89. Who has been in your System the longest (if you can remember)?

90. If you collectively had to choose, would you rather only eat sweet foods or only eat savoury foods for the rest of your life?

91. If you collectively had to choose, would you pick to become a vampire or a werewolf?

92. Your body is transfered into one of your Members sources, which do you pick and why?

93. If all of you turned into animals right this second, which animals would we find in your System?

94. What would a Minecraft server with all of your Members look like? (example: chaotic, peaceful, laggy, ...)

95. If you could choose between only living in Headspace or only living in Meatspace (real life), which would you choose?

96. What topic would you collectively make a youtube channel about? (it can't be plurality!)

97. Which superpower would your body obtain, if you had to collectively decide on one?

98. Who would pick the coolest tattoo for the System and who would pick the worst?

99. If you only were allowed to eat one food for the rest of your life, but you would have to decide on the food collectively, what would it be and what would the decision making look like?

100. What is the most fun about doing polls and answering questions, in your opinion?

#[question]#🕊️💞#endo safe #plurality #system #plural #plural system #pro endo #pluralgang #plural stuff #question game #ask game #long post

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zudufeu · 2 months ago

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‹ ✶ › — 𝐆𝐈𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊 / ALISHA BOE. 13 REASONS WHY (2020) # 205 click the source link to find a free download for this public commission. alisha was born in 1997 and she is norwegian-somali, so please cast her accordingly. all gifs were made from scratch by me for roleplaying purposes, so please don't claim as your own, edit, or redistribute them. a like or reblog would be greatly appreciated as well if you enjoy them. thanks !!

— ‹ 𝔃 › content warning: kissing.

#alisha boe gif pack #alisha boe gifs #gif pack #rpc #rph #supportcontentcreators #fcxdirectory #gifpacknetwork #gifpackshq #gifsociety #dearindies #s4 eps 7-10

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zosan-secondchances · 3 months ago

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The Pirate King of the North: Part 4

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Three days after the call, Sanji follows Zoro’s instructions to the book and waits for him at an island with a bustling town in the middle of the day. The blonde is well aware of the local Marine base in the area but he ignores this fact and turns up at the townsquare just as he promised, not wanting to disappoint his, hopefully, future fiance. Unsurprisingly, he is met by navy officers who tell him to come along quietly.

Law had refused to use The Polar Tang to contain their guest as he didn’t want to risk his submarine and crew to suffer any potential consequences as a result of the interrogation that they're planning. Zoro had to pull strings to borrow a room at the Marine base, stating that it’s for an official Warlord business. He and the doctor had been waiting for over half an hour overtime for the soldiers to return with Sanji. Zoro sends additional troops to investigate the delay. After another suspicious amount of time of having received no news, the two decide to investigate the matter themselves.

Zoro and Law make their way to the townsquare where the swordsman had instructed Sanji to be. Upon arrival, it was clear what had happened to the navy soldiers that he’d sent out. Deep red and severed body parts taint the white tiles throughout the block. A few had somehow made their way on top of trees and the shops’ window sills. Some float lifelessly in the fountain right in the middle–its sprinkling water had changed to a scarlet red. Liquid splatters grossly against the white marble sculptures that decorated the water feature.

Law grits his teeth, his knuckles turn white from gripping his sword tightly.

Zoro all but rolls his eyes. He hates the fact that he’s used to Sanji doing this sort of thing.

Zoro

What a waste.

They follow a trail. It’s not hard to find where Sanji had gone given how much blood there was, and Zoro had a sneaking suspicion that the blonde had purposely left his stained footprints to show where he’s going. He enjoys Zoro chasing him this way after all.

While walking, Law sends a message through his own den-den mushi to his crew, ordering them to check in on the citizens and make sure that everyone’s safe. Not long after, Bepo reports that the citizens are unharmed–extremely shaken but they’re untouched. The polar bear adds that a few witnesses say that it was only the Marines who tried to force the Pirate King into cuffs that had been torn apart. Some had apparently been allowed to flee.

Law looked to Zoro, as if expecting him to have a reasonable explanation as to why the Pirate King behaves the way he does. Cutting down local town Marines seems a bit too excessive in his opinion. The swordsman confesses that he's just as confused, and that over the years he'd just accepted that he's just mad because it's just the way he was born.

Zoro

All the more reason he deserves to die.

Zoro stops in his tracks, standing on the wooden pier of the docks. It looks like the rest of the bloody footprints lead right through to the very end. Looking at the ocean, he sees a distinct murky area of red on one spot. A head of blonde and white hair pokes out from the middle, the sun shining beautifully over it. Zoro felt–

Zoro shakes his head at the thought.

Law follows Zoro's gaze, ending the call on his transponder snail when he sees who's in the water.

Law

Speak of the devil….

Zoro

OI!!!

The blonde turns to look at the source of sound.

Sanji

MELLORINE!!!

Sanji waves enthusiastically at the duo staring at him.

From afar, Zoro could tell that the man practically had heart eyes bulging out of his eye sockets.

Sanji takes a plunge into the water, swimming away from the murky area then reappears next to the wooden pier just under where Zoro was standing. His head pokes out gracefully, then gives the swordsman a warm smile.

Zoro takes a step back to distance himself, suddenly feeling like a girl whose skirt is being perverted on.

Zoro

Don’t give me that, idiot. Your outlash may have cost me some pull from the Marines.

Sanji

Oh? Has it occurred to you that that may have been my plan?

Zoro’s eye twitches, clearly infuriated at being toyed with. He pulls himself together internally and lets out a defeated sigh.

Zoro

Is this for not meeting up with you in person like I said I would? I got stuck with all the bureaucratic paper bullshit.

Sanji

I don’t know…

Sanji had a teasing tone behind his voice. He effortlessly pulls himself up to sit at the edge of the wooden planks, shakes his head and starts wringing his hair over his shoulder.

Sanji

Next time, don’t make promises you can’t keep.

Zoro lets out an offended huff.

Zoro

Next ti–? NO! There’s no next time! We're enemies. And what, is this your way of punishing me? To make me feel guilty? By murdering a bunch of Marines?

Sanji

Oh please, it was out of self-defense! They came onto me first….

Sanji calmly stands on his feet. Slowly, he begins to strip off his top, revealing his lean but muscular figure.

Zoro’s eye trails from Sanji’s scar across throat, down to the defined v-shape below his waistline. He recognises the cuts and burns from their battles, and some he guesses are from his own volition. When the blonde turns to fix his hair, Zoro eyes a small red tattoo, located below the nape of his neck. For some reason, he’s never noticed it on him before–a red circle with four triangles, arranged to look like the claws of a dragon. It has a cluster of messy scars over it, as if it'd been attempted to be removed by means of violent scratching. Like all else, he’s wondered what the story behind this is–

Zoro almost slaps himself to shake the thoughts out of his head. He makes an effort to look the blonde in the eye before he notices him staring.

Sanji gives Zoro a side glance before squeezing the damp clothing in his hands to dry it. He closes his eyes and his mouth curves into a cheeky smile. He gives his top one last flick before tossing it over his shoulder.

Sanji

I gave them a chance to apologise but some of them didn’t have any manners and charged in. Really, they were quite rude.

Zoro

You could have just knocked them out. Some of them were fresh blood. They’re probably just trying to prove they can do a good job to impress their seniors.

Sanji

By overdoing it. And now that fresh blood is all over my poor clothes. All because they tried to force me into those…heavy, rusty fuckin’ pieces of–

Law clears his throat.

Zoro and Sanji look at him, annoyed at the interruption.

Law

If you’re done bickering like an old married couple….

Zoro’s eye visibly twitches, his brows furrowing angrily at Law's poor choice of words.

Sanji practically swoons, his hands slap his own reddened cheeks while the rest of his body squirm comically.

Sanji

OH, YOU–stop that! We’re not married yet, you bastard!

Zoro

WE’RE NOT GETTING MARRIED. PERIOD!!!

Law could practically feel the veins in his forehead pop.

—

They start the trek back to the Marine base, purposely taking the longer way through the shoreline to avoid panicked citizens after Sanji’s onslaught.

Sanji

Marimo-kun~!

Zoro ignores the man, and concentrates on walking quietly. He attempts to put his mind in a meditative state.

Sanji

Ma–ri–mo-kun~?

The shade under Zoro’s brows darkens. He focuses on his breathing–he inhales, holds it, then exhales. He repeats it several times more.

Sanji crumples his heavy damp clothing into a ball then throws it at the back of Zoro’s head, causing the other man to stumble.

Sanji

I SAID “MARIMO”, YOU ASS!!!

Zoro grabs the wet top and throws it hard onto Sanji’s face square on, knocking the man down on his butt.

Sanji

THAT HURT!

Zoro

DON’T THROW GROSS THINGS AT ME! WHAT DO YOU WANT?!

With a blink of an eye, Sanji’s demeanour changes. He bites his lip and looks up to Zoro with a large puppy eye.

Sanji

Why is he here? Isn’t this a date?

Zoro

Fuck off. I never said it is. We’ll tell you when we get to the base.

Sanji

Hmm…no, then I’m not going.

Sanji crosses his arms stubbornly. His legs do the same, planting himself firmly on the ground.

Law

Zoro-ya, can’t you just tie him up and drag his ass along? I just want this over and done with.

Zoro

You’ve seen what happens if you force him into things, idiot.

Sanji

Yeah, idiot.

Zoro

I’m not talking to you.

Sanji

Then do, otherwise I’m not coming along. You're taking me into a Marine base after all. I'd be at a disadvantage as soon as I step inside. You have to give me a good reason to go with you.

Zoro

You said you'd help me.

Sanji

You? Sure. I was hoping to gain your personal favour. Him? Ehh…. He's not exactly my type.

Sanji looks at Law, slowly dragging his eyes down his frame.

Sanji

Hmm…I guess he could be if he's willing to play.

Law nervously takes a step back, feeling hot and bothered.

Zoro sighs. He considers for a moment, trying to come up with a way to make sure that Sanji cooperates with them peacefully for as long as possible without sacrificing anyone to indulge in whatever sexual fantasies are in his head. After a time, he speaks firmly.

Zoro

Tra-guy, tell him everything you told me.

Law

Here? We’re doing this right here, right now?

Sanji

I'm glad you understand, Marimo.

Law

I… I don’t know.

Sanji

I don’t need the whole sob story, Trafalgar D. Water Law.

Law blinks in surprise that Sanji knows his name. Sure he had a bounty but he didn’t think it was anything noteworthy. He certainly wasn’t aware that the Pirate King would care enough to know about it. He opens his mouth as if to say something but gets interrupted.

Sanji

I have eyes and ears everywhere, love. What I don’t know is why the Surgeon of Death is looking for Doffy.

Zoro

Doffy? The same guy who gave you your new weapon?

Sanji

Aww! You remembered?! …Are you jealous?

Sanji gives Zoro a suggestive wink, taking the swordsman aback.

Zoro

Don't be ridiculous.

Sanji

If you like, I can call off my affairs with him and just make it exclusive with you….

Law

As much as I want to kill that monster, I don’t think I can right now. Not at my current strength.

Sanji snaps his gaze to Law, giving him a dangerous look.

Sanji

You’re right. You can’t.

Law

I’m just looking for my friend. It’s…it’s his brother, Donquixote Rosinante.

Sanji raises a brow.

Sanji

Corazon has been dead for years.

Law

Then you better check your sources, Mr. Prince-ya. Because I have letters from him from the last several months.

Sanji stands on his feet and approaches Law slowly.

Sanji

Show me.

—

Back at the Marine base, Sanji and Law escalated into a heated argument in the interrogation room. Sanji insists that if they truly want his insight into Donquixote Rosinante, the doctor should show all the letters that he claims to have.

Naturally, Law refused to show the blonde, stating that it’s all too personal.

Zoro knows he shouldn’t, but for once, he feels relieved that someone else is dealing with the mad king’s temper. He hides a smirk behind a bottle of sake, taking a swill.

Sanji

Don’t be an idiot. I don’t give a flying fuck what’s in them!

Law

Then there’s no reason for you to see a single one.

Sanji clasps both of his hands together, and gently sets them down the wooden table in front of him. With a deep voice, he speaks.

Sanji

Enlighten me then, how do you truly know it is him?

Law

If you must know, all his letters have…details that only he and I know.

Sanji firmly presses his fingers down the table, then speaks slowly but clearly.

Sanji

All the more reason that you could be in bigger danger than you think, doctor.

Law frowns.

Sanji

You're far too enamoured to think straight. How do you know it’s not just someone else messing with you? Hmm? Someone like Doffy?

Law crosses his arms then leans back against his chair, listening intently.

Sanji

Think about this… very… carefully.

Sanji shuffles in his pockets and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. When he opens the box, his eyes furrow in disappointment, seeing that all of his smokes are heavily damaged from water and blood. He throws the pack over his shoulder then snatches Zoro’s bottle of sake as the swordsman was about to take a drink.

Zoro

Oi!

Sanji takes three big gulps before slamming the bottle down on the table.

Sanji

Given how touchy you are about the idea of me reading them, I’m guessing you’ve become quite emotionally attached to the letters, haven’t you? Just consider, whoever wrote them knows an awful lot of details about you. What’s more, they know where to find you, and how to find you.

Zoro raises a brow at that. He notices that the doctor is starting to lose his composure slightly as a tiny bead of sweat falls on the side of his face.

Law

You assume it’s being sent to me.

Sanji

A trail, then? He’s leaving you clues and you’re more than happy to follow it.

Law

That’s…

Sanji takes another big drink, then explains his point further, waving Zoro’s bottle in front of him as he makes hand gestures to emphasize his speech.

Sanji

What if it’s a trap? If someone, say…I don’t know–like Doffy–is pretending to be Corazon, then you’d have been sold out for a fool.

Law slams his hand aggressively on the table, cracking its surface where his fist landed.

Law

You’re wrong!

Sanji stares at him unimpressed but doesn’t say anything, as if allowing him the chance to explain himself. He leans back against his chair.

Law

Look, I just know, okay? It’s him. I’m sure of it.

Sanji

You just know…?

Law

Yes.

Sanji

Then you’re hopeless.

As Zoro attempts to steal his sake back, the blonde slaps his hands away and takes several more swills from the bottle, as if telling the swordsman that he’s not done with his turn yet. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then returns his focus back to Law.

Sanji

And how is it that you just know?

Zoro

Tra-guy, he’s not going to stop until you show him.

Law

You’re on his side, Zoro-ya?

Zoro

Look, you don’t have to show him everything, just show him one–like the bit where you’re stuck. It was enough to convince me.

Law pinches the gap between his brows.

Law

What you’re basically telling me…is that I should trust him with this information? That I should trust this mass murdering fucker with something extremely important to me?

Sanji

I told you, I don’t give a shit what’s in it–

Law

That’s what worries me! Because I care–a lot! I….

Law’s ears visibly reddens in embarrassment. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, averting his gaze.

Law

He was… is… very important to me. The letter is from him. I’m sure of it. And if you don’t care about it then I’m not letting you get your hands on it.

There was a moment of silence. Sanji watches Law in his vulnerable state. After a while, the blonde takes another drink from the bottle and sets it in front of Zoro.

Zoro grabs the bottle enthusiastically. He raises it above his mouth and nothing but a single drop falls onto his tongue. His smile vanishes, and his shoulders droop sadly until his arms and face melt onto the table. He sets the bottle down, pushing it away from him.

Sanji

I apologise, doctor.

Zoro and Law both look at Sanji in surprise.

Sanji offers a warm smile to Law.

Sanji

I’m afraid I’m not so good at these things. I’ll help you however I can.

Zoro stares at him in disbelief, cocking his head on the side against the table, processing the genuinity behind Sanji’s tone. He detects no ill will or malice behind it. He tells himself he’s just a bloody good liar.

Sanji

However, I still need to see a letter��just one will do, like the swordsman said–so I can study it. I promise I’ll take good care of it. If it resembles Doffy’s writing in any way, I will tell you. If it’s not, I’ll see what I can deduct from it, given that you’re apparently…”stuck”.

Law

I…thank you, Mr. Prince-ya.

Sanji slightly bows his head at him in acknowledgement.

Law

However, there is one thing that still bugs me….

Sanji

Oh?

Law

Why the interest in Corazon? You seem very keen to find out if he’s really dead or not.

Sanji

Corazon was–is…Doffy’s brother after all. His death shook a number of undercover Marine agents, enough to blow their covers.

Zoro

How would you know that?

Sanji

Because it all happened under wraps, which I make it my business to know. Your precious World Government made sure to cover it up nice and snug to keep up appearances.

Meanwhile, everyone else who actually did the work started pointing fingers, accusing each other of who ratted out your mate, afraid that they’re next. Ultimately, they hunted each other down. Now, while I don’t give two shits about the Marines, this whole ordeal should not be taken lightly.

Sanji leans forward on his seat.

Sanji

If he is alive, then Doffy has lied to me, which violates the rules of our country’s alliance. I’ll need to look into this matter personally to keep this quiet. If you let me help you, this will be beneficial for the both of us, I assure you.

Law takes a moment to process everything that Sanji had laid out for him. Reluctantly, he nods. Thinking it takes a criminal to know one. He reminds himself that he just needs advice and nothing more. He leans forward and shuffles in his pockets. He pulls out a folded piece of paper but before he could stretch his arm to offer it to Sanji, the blonde raises his hands in front of him.

Sanji

Let me just wash up. I still have Marine blood on me and I don’t want to get them all over your letters.

Sanji stands, then walks to the door.

Zoro’s eyes follow him. His expression softens at the blonde’s thoughtfulness and unexpected change in character. It must just be the single sip of the sake that clouds his own thoughts. He makes it clear to himself that it’s just acting–no doubt to get on Law’s good side then at the last second stab him in the back.

Sanji

Marimo-kun, the door, please?

Zoro

Ah. Right.

Zoro unlocks the door, then hollers for a couple of Marines to take the Pirate King to the washroom, instructing them specifically to “be nice” if they value their lives. Hesitantly, they do as he says, even with the odd request, too scared to do anything out of hand especially after learning what had happened to their colleagues in the townsquare.

Law kicks back on his seat, placing his hands behind his head.

Law

He’s not what I expected.

Zoor closes the door behind him, and turns to the doctor, glaring at him.

Zoro

That may be the last thing in your head if you let your guard down. Remember what I told you earlier.

Law

His mind is his real weapon, not his claws. I know. But he–

Zoro

As soon as he charms you, he’ll make you do things you’ll regret. Luffy would kill me if he gets to you.

Law

You sound like you talk from experience….

Zoro

Don’t even go there. Have you forgotten that he’s just murdered a bunch of Marines not far from here?

Law

I…you’re right.

Zoro approaches Law, jabbing a finger on his chest.

Zoro

Don’t forget what I said.

Moments later, Sanji returns to the interrogation room, escorted by a couple of trembling Marines behind him. They bring him inside, then rush out the door, locking it behind them in a panicked state. The blonde looks and smells a lot cleaner this time, and his hair is damp again–presumably after having borrowed the navy’s shower room. Zoro and Law also can’t help but notice that he’s completely changed out of his blood-stained clothes, and is now sporting a Marine officer uniform worn with the coat buttons undone and no shirt underneath, keeping his front exposed.

Sanji saunters, twirls gracefully, then strikes a pose to show off his new outfit proudly. Zoro can’t help but let out an unexpected hearty laugh.

Zoro

That looks awful on you! You didn’t just pry it from the dead, did you?

Sanji

Goodness, no. They had spares. I admit, it’s a little loose, but you don’t have to be so mean.

Sanji flicks his hair, keeping his other hand on his hip. The small spray of water from his hair strands makes it look like sparkles in the air with the way the room’s light shone on it. He looks down at the swordsman, making the other man stop in his fit of laughter.

Sanji

Besides, I feel fantastic in it.

Hey, tattoo guy, let’s do this.

Sanji is back on his seat. The look of confidence he usually wears on his face has dithered away. He looks dumbfoundedly at the piece of paper that Law had given him. He flips the paper to check its back, looks at the front again, then flips it once more.

Sanji

This is it?

Law nods. His face had gone red.

Sanji

It just says “I love you.”

Law pulls out a stack of the similarly sized papers of varying shades from his breast pocket and lays it down in the middle of the table.

Law

Now you’ve seen one, you’ve seen it all. But uh… you can’t touch these.

Sanji slaps his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Sanji

I don’t know what I expected. THEY’RE NOT EVEN SIGNED!

Law

It’s something he’d do, okay?! You wouldn’t understand.

Sanji

No, I don’t!!! This is ridiculous! Is this seriously it?!

Sanji stops abruptly. His eyes stare at the stack of papers, shifting left and right, as if suddenly deep in thought–and he’s thinking fast. He inspects the one closely in his hand, then holds it close to the stack on the table, comparing the two.

Sanji

These papers are all not from the same place.

Law

Why does the paper matter?

Sanji

Because, my dear, this means that you’re always in his thoughts–or whoever’s writing it anyway. They didn’t write this all in one go then went about scattering it. They took their time, and wrote down a new letter each time they thought of you with whatever they could get their hands on.

Law freezes. Whatever thoughts he has, he keeps it in his head but it’s noticeably making his hands and lips tremble. After a few quiet moments, Zoro breaks the silence to help him out.

Zoro

Tra-guy, show him the other thing.

Law

Right….

Law pulls out a long envelope the length of his arm. He carefully places it in front of Sanji

Law

This came with the letter that you’ve got in your hand.

Sanji tilts his head curiously. He carefully sets down the letter he’d been given earlier, then gestures towards the envelope.

Sanji

May I?

Law nods.

Sanji gently lifts the flap, then pulls out a delicate feather from the envelope.

Law

The letters always come with a clue where to go next. My crew and I have been travelling for several months now, mostly in the Grand Line. This is the latest, and the reason why we thought Doflamingo may know something, or has got Corazon locked up somewhere. But we haven’t been able to track him down for quite some time.

Sanji pinches the hollow shaft, spinning the feather to admire its features.

Sanji

Hmm…I don’t think it’s Doffy. Though this would make a nice feather for a hat.

Law

What makes you say that?

Sanji claps his hands excitedly.

Sanji

Ooh, I’m glad you asked! There’s this hat that Zoro’s dad wears everywhere. It’s got this gorgeous white feather that makes it stand out nicely with–

Zoro

Not about the hat, stupid! Why do you think it’s not Doflamingo?

Sanji

Rude. But that’s a simple question. Doffy’s coat is pink. This is more purple-pink. Hmm… I think this might be from a South Bird. They’ve got a big body and an even bigger personality. They’re native to Skypiea.

Zoro’s brows shoot up.

Law

Skypiea? The legendary island in the sky? Isn’t that just a tall tale?

Zoro

I remember those birds. I can see why there’d be some confusion now.

Sanji

Have you been there, Marimo-kun?

Zoro smiles softly at the feather, then reaches out for it. Sanji obliges, handing it to him by the hollow shaft gently, their fingers brushing each other. The swordsman runs his hands through its soft barbs.

Zoro

Sure have, while travelling with my old captain.

Sanji watches Zoro admire the feather, taking notice of his brightened expression and hazel eye. He wonders what sort of tales he has in store. He doesn’t speak much of his old captain to him. Then again, he doesn’t really share a lot of things with him because why would he?

Only now did Sanji realise that he hasn’t really taken his time to admire the swordsman’s features up close. He makes a mental note to plan a sneaky peek under a different light–maybe outside during dawn or dusk when the colours of the sky would bring out his eye colour more.

Law

How do you know for certain that it’s from a South Bird, Mr. Prince-ya? I don’t recall you being an aviary expert.

Sanji

Oh, I’m not claiming to be a scientist in any way. But I have this thing for feather coats since Doffy likes to use it for sex.

Zoro drops the feather from his hands.

----------

Here's a more polished art to make up for the longer chapter.

#pirate king of the north #villain sanji #villain au #one piece #vinsmoke sanji #fanfic #opfanart #roronoa zoro #one piece fanart #one piece fanfiction #sanji x zoro #zosan fanfic #one piece zoro #op zosan #one piece zosan #zosan #old zoro #warlord zoro

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delphi-shield · 4 months ago

Text

early morning reverie

jill x reader - morning sex - mdni

jill wakes at the first bleat of your alarm. you doze peacefully next to her, undisturbed by the gentle chiming. she's not surprised; she's been a light sleeper since adolescence, a habit only reinforced by her service in the army and chiseled into her bones by countless missions with the BSAA.

she rolls onto your side of the bed, swipes your alarm away, and settles back to admire your features in the darkness. she's unused to your apartment, to the softness of your bed and the way your body warms the space next to her. she'd spent the night with you before, was used to you tossing and turning - but that had been at her apartment.

it hadn't been out of avoidance, but she'd barely spent any time at your place. it just came naturally to offer her home up to you. you've never had shrimp scampi? come over. jill would make it for you. long day at work? poor thing. come over, relax with her; let her make it better. jill had quickly gotten addicted to your presence in her home, your toothbrush next to hers, spare clothes tucked under the pillow of her bed.

but there was something sickeningly cozy about your home. you had to work in the morning, insisted that you didn't want to bother her on a rare day off, but jill had waved your concern away. she'd wanted to see your routines. to see what life could be like if you kept her around. she couldn't escape you in your own home, every corner filled with reminders of your presence. it was obsessive, maybe, to think about pocketing some of your tchotchkes to sprinkle around the countertops of her own apartment, but the thought lingers all the same.

a second alarm chimes in. she swipes it away without a thought. it's totally normal to have a back up alarm. her arm settles at your waist, admiring the peaceful smile on your face as you sleep.

by the time alarm number seven goes off, jill has had enough.

her face stays buried in her pillow. her arm flops over your chest, hand groping on the other side of you for your phone. she's tempted to fling it against the wall, see if that would get you up, but she resists. jill squints against the brightness. she holds your phone an inch from her face, swatting your alarm away.

next alarm: 5min

"what the fuck," she whispers in the dark.

how many alarms could you possibly need? you shift next to her, mattress dipping as you roll onto your side. that peaceful expression seems dastardly now. you're messing with her. got to be. you've probably been awake this whole time.

she whispers your name, your phone still clutched in her hand. nothing. she nudges your shoulder gently, trying to rouse you. if it's not some stupid joke, then you sleep like a dead man.

no movement. jill knows the panic jumpstarting her heart, the hint of adrenaline that sends spikes through her extremities, is uncalled for. you're both safe, tucked away in your bed. but beds don't stop tragedy any more than prayer stops sin.

she tucks a finger under your nose, waits for the soft puff of breath against her skin. just to be sure.

you're alive, all right. just sleeping like some kind of maniac. jill curls around you, knotting your limbs together. if she's going to be kept awake by your barrage of alarms, then she's going to be comfortable.

her noise buries into your hair. it's impossible to escape your scent, but she wants it straight from the source. she's surrounded by you. it's just another reason to come over more often.

you wiggle in her arms, a little more actively than just turning in your sleep. a smile tugs at her lips. so she could wake you up, but the cacophony of alarms did nothing? she gets a weird rush from the feeling.

your hips squirm against hers. the rush she gets from that isn't weird or foreign at all. jill swallows thickly. she reaches up to turn off the eighth alarm in advance. she shifts lower on the bed, peppering your skin with soft kisses.

"why do you have 13 alarms set?" jill noses along the junction of your shoulder and neck. her hair tickles your nose, makes you giggle. the sound is a slow fizz.

"i don't wanna sleep through 'em," you mumble into her hair.

your arm loops over her waist, heavy with sleep. your hand splays wide against her back, rubbing slowly along the muscled planes with a warm touch that melts her against you. jill slips further down your body. she palms the point of your hip, hitching your leg around her. your hips roll into her more powerfully. you scooch closer, pussy pressed tight against her thigh.

"you slept through them anyway."

"i usually wake up by the eighth one."

jill laughs, breath puffing warm against your skin. she keeps your phone close by, just in case she needs to swat away any more alarms. you have to work, she reminds herself. you'll have to leave bed some time soon. by her count, though, you've still got five alarms to go.

it's almost mindless, the way you're grinding against her. half-asleep and still using her body. she doesn't know if she's trained you well, or if you're just like this naturally. she doesn't know which gets her more wet.

"feel good?" jill murmurs.

you whine in the back of your throat, squirm closer to her. her palm glides to your front, long fingers trailing against your skin to palm your pussy. heat radiates off of you. jill knows if you put your hand against her you'll find the same, but it's not your hand she craves.

she draws her thigh back from you. you grip her biceps, nails biting into her skin. she swears she hears you grumble 'no' against her neck.

"gonna show you something," she shushes. her poor, impatient baby. jill hooks an arm under your knee and spreads you wide.

"ow," you grumble. jill strokes your thigh, watches your leg pull back to a more comfortable angle. "what're you doin'?"

“you gotta do some stretches," jill chuckles. "trust me. it's gonna feel good."

her hands pinch the fat of your hips, pressing you down into the mattress. she kisses you again, her tongue sliding into your mouth.

jill positions herself over you, a hand against your knee to keep you spread, coaxing you a little wider. jill knows you too well. knows your nerves, can tell by way your skin warms beneath her hands. it's cute, the way she can still get you worked up. she lines herself up carefully, one leg kneeling. she finds your clit with her hand first, rolling the pad of her thumb against it. you're worked up enough for this, and god knows she is, clit pulsing.

she lowers herself to you, drawing your leg up to her shoulder. the change in angle is just right, lines her clit up with yours perfectly. her fingers stroke your ankle. she takes a moment, watches the lights turn on behind your eyes in the dark of your room. let you adjust, she reminds herself. don't pound you into the mattress the very first time.

“don't hold your breath,” she says. her hips draw lazy figure eights against you. the nervous coil in your chest unspools, melts into a heat that drops in your belly.

it doesn't take long after that. it never does. once she gets you to breathe easy, the relaxation in your bones quickly turns liquid, turns you into this soft, curious little puddle that soaks up sensation and churns out the prettiest noises she's ever heard. you let her guide you first, observing, learning. then you replicate her movements on a smaller scale.

pleasure makes you bolder. her clit back and forth against yours has jill's fingers dimpling your flesh. your hips buck into hers in short, lazy thrusts, back arched and head pressed back into the pillow. jill can see it-- fuck, she can feel it, the slow heat pulsing through you and into her, the fuzzy feeling ending in your fingertips that makes you grip the sheets.

“there you go,” jill breathes. she strokes your cheek with the backs of her fingers, leans down to kiss you deeply.

your mind swirls in a languid tailspin. you're so used to having the pleasure ripped out of you, the earth crumbling beneath your feet, that you don't recognize the slow, searing heat spreading through you for what it is. the pleasure envelopes you; it drains out as slowly as it built, leaves you breathless by the time you even realize you've cum, cunt clenching, clit pulsing against jill's.

jill's hands brace against your ribs. she presses her chest against your, hips changing angles against yours. you roll onto your side together, legs tangled.

"what the fuck," you whisper against her lips, kissing her as she laughs. she's just as breathless as you, you realize. pleasure bubbles up from your core, champagne fizz in your blood.

"like it?" jill shifts your leg over her hip again. you came, but she's still right there, skin hot and tight, nerves shuddering with every brush.

"mhm." you mouth at her neck, your hips angling against hers until she locks you in place.

your alarm blares next to her head. jill swears under her breath, nose scrunching.

"how much time do you have?"

you squint at the screen, blinking like a newborn kitten. "like, ten minutes."

good enough. jill grips your chin, drags you back to her. she kisses you hard, teeth clicking, all her early-morning restraint bowing under the weight of her need.

"you gonna make me cum like this," she bucks her hips against yours, nearly rolling you onto your back, "or am i gonna sit on your face?"

"face," you say, no hesitation. you kiss her once more before rolling onto your back. almost forgot your manners -- "please."

you don't need any extra instruction for this part. you'll skip the perfume on your way out the door. why would you want to dilute the scent of jill?

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x you #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #jill valentine imagine #divider by @adornedwithlight #resident evil fluff

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drvscarlett · 11 months ago

Text

About You Pt2

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

A/N: were in the 2009 season. i also grabbed some ideas from a film quote so if you notice that, hello hehe. hope you enjoy, let me know your comments

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Taglist: @spideybv28 @randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama

2009, Albert Park

Moving from Toro Rosso to Red Bull has been the source of excitement of Sebastian ever since he signed the contract last December. He was excited to work with a bigger team and it opened up better opportunities for a championship which is why he feels really giddy walking to Albert Park.

"Seems like a good year for a championship?"Christian greeted Sebastian.

"I'm looking forward to that, the car feels nice"Sebastian agreed.

When the two walked to the garage, they immediately saw the Webber siblings discussing with some of the mechanics. Mark immediately waved at Sebastian.

Sebastian can tell that their dynamics improved since it was announced that they will be teammates. They spent a lot of time together in Milton Keynes so they found each other tolerable. It was surprising that now he feels a lot more closer to Mark than to Y/N.

He was actually expecting her to be around when they said Mark will be around Milton Keynes but the female Webber never showed up. Mark says that Y/N has been taking some time off since she will be busy during the season. Sebastian thinks he might be the reason why she has been absent so he felt a little relieve to see her.

"Excited for the first race of the season?" Y/N asked.

"The car seems alright, I think we can bring some good points in"Sebastian replied.

"We're gonna bring in a challenge this year, I can feel that we can compete for the drivers and constructors championship this year"Mark added

"How about Brawn, do you think they'll be a challenge?"Y/N wondered.

Sebastian heard about the team during the winter break. It was sort of a crazy story about how everything happened. He never saw Jenson or Rubens as a threat so he thinks that they might be an okay team that he doesn't have to worry about.

"They are a new team, I'm sure they won't be a threat" famous last words.

Brawn GP turns out to be a slight threat. Sebastian calls it a slight threat since this was only the first race and maybe its just their luck that they managed to pull away. They have to see how they perform in the next few races.

It was quite a bummer that Red Bull was unable to bring any points. It frustrated him heavily since he started 3rd and managed to stay 2nd the whole race until that unfortunate collision with Kubica that ruined his race.

Mark managed to finish the race but he finished 13th. Still out of the points.

As Sebastian was replaying the whole thing in his hotel room, he heard soft knocks at his door. He didn't remember ordering anything from room service so he was a bit confused as he headed to open the door.

"Hi Seb" it was Y/N "I was sent here by Mark to ask you if you want to go out and eat. You are in Australia and our family is from Australia and it will be a little bit rude if we didn't treat you out in Australia"

"That's too many Australia in one sentence"

"Have dinner with us and the family?"she simplifies "Please?"

There was not much to do anyway, Seb thinks so he accepted the offer. It might also be a good start to rekindle the friendship since its been a while since the two spoke with each other.

"You're driving?"Sebastian asked

"Of course, what kind of host am I if I'm going to make you drive"

The drive was reminiscent of Sebastian's memory when they were in Germany. Only that the view is more of beaches rather than the greens and the cold of Europe.

"I heard stories about you and Mark, it seems that you two are getting along quite well"Y/N opened up the conversation

"Oh he talks about me?"

"Well as his assistant, I have to ask about his work dynamics so yeah you have been a talking point of our conversation"

"That's nice"Sebastian smiles "How is life treating you? I didn't see you in Milton Keynes"

She lets out a heavy sigh and Sebastian could tell that there is a certain tiredness in her eyes. Maybe its true what Mark said that Y/N is actually drained from a season of F1.

"I just have to get away. A lot of pressure to deliver"

Sebastian understands that. Its probably the reason why he also tried to be understanding with Mark's situation as well. He knows that at the end of the day, the sports was brutal in one way or another. Everyone eventually gets that pressure to deliver.

"Let's not talk about f1, lets just talk about basic life things" Sebastian steered the conversation.

There was a smile gracing both of their faces because its just Sebastian and Y/N again. No last names, no championships, just them.

2009, Sepang International Circuit

"I hate wet races" Y/N confirms.

She doesn't get why everyone gets a bit excited with wet racing but she can't find how this is enjoyable for some people. Isn't the thrill of racing beyond speed limit exciting enough for them? Now they even want to race under dangerous weather conditions.

"It test your skills as a driver" Sebastian defended "Back me up here Mark"

"You're on your own Seb"was the reply of the older Webber. He did not want to take side with anyone.

The trio has been sitting at the garage waiting for the race to start. There was still 20 minutes left and Y/N has been stressing about how the dark clouds are looming over. She thinks it may start under dry conditions then go to wet in a snap.

"You can test your skills by overtaking and setting the fastest lap" Y/N noted

"Its all about strategy and taking risks"Sebastian assured.

"You better make sure that the both of you finish the race"

"No promises, Seb might hit me again"Mark joked

"Oh c'mon, I said I was sorry about that"

True enough to Y/N's prediction, the race started on the dry conditions then it ended up to be a wet race. Y/N had her fair share of wet races but this was the most terrifying for her opinion. There were puddles and the drivers can't see a thing with the rain blocking their vision.

It gotten so bad that Y/N actually went out of the driver's room to check on the status of the drivers.

"Aren't they red flagging the race?"she asked one of the mechanics

"There is still nothing from the stewards but Mark is also insisting that the race should be stopped"

Y/N was glad that she wasn't the only sane Webber around.

Just then there was a crash on screen and the weather made it very difficult for them to decipher which car spun but it was for sure a Red Bull. Y/N felt a bit comforted that it just spun without hitting anyone or anything.

"Its confirmed, that is Seb's car"

"Safety car for the lap"

"Webber is gonna ask to stop the race"

There was a flurry of emotions inside the garage. The race was stopped at lap 33 and there was the question if they will wait for it to restart or is it called off completely.

"I'm in 15th, this is not good"Sebastian was already groaning. He missed out on the points again by a big margin.

"Hey 15th is okay than dnf or being hospitalized"

Knowing Sebastian, Y/N knew he wanted to do well and it didn't seem like it was going to how Sebastian had it in his mind earlier this year. She gave him a comforting pat.

"Do you want some ice cream?"she asked

Sebastian looked at her as if she grew two heads "In this cold weather? You are asking for ice cream?"

"Ice cream heals people's boo boo" Y/N shrugged "Besides Kimi made me hungry for ice cream"

"You are crazy" Sebastian started "But c'mon lets go get some ice cream"

2009, Circuit de Catalunya

Mark: Can you see me before qualis at the back of the garage Mark: need your help, please

Sebastian never received any urgent texts from Mark so he must say that his curiosity is piqued by it. He immediately set out to meet Mark in the designated location.

"You need me?"Sebastian asked.

"Sebastian, just the person I needed" Mark seems elated to see him "Listen I need you to do me a favor"

"Okay as long as I don't have to hide a body"

"What?"

"Nevermind that. It was a joke Mark"Sebastian wanted to facepalm himself. Mark never seems to understand his humor especially when he was too excited with things.

"So May 15 is coming up. I need your help to distract my sister and maybe tour her around Spain while we do some preparation at the hotel. I just need your help to distract her for like 3-4 hours"Mark explained.

"15th?What's on the 15th?"

Sebastian was pretty sure that there was no race or other commitments that is happening on the 15th. He tries to rack his head for any important dates on the 15th but he can't remember a thing. Meanwhile, Mark looked offended that Sebastian didn't know the significance of May 15.

"Its Y/N's birthday"Mark answered.

Oh. Now that Sebastian thinks about it, Y/N never told her birthday. He felt like an idiot after realizing how they spend a lot of time together but he still haven't asked her about her birth date. But now that he knows, he makes a mental note of it.

"Okay. I think I can do that. Leave it to me"

"Thanks Seb, I owe you big time"

Seb: Are you still here at the 15th? Y/N: Why are you asking? Seb: I'm feeling adventurous. What do you say about getting lost in spain? Y/N: hmm sounds nice. Count me in.

"How long till we get there"Y/N asked.

They have driven for quite some time already and Sebastian promised that this place will be worth the wait. Sebastian will not admit it but maybe he got a little bit of lost in directions for the past 20 minutes and he is just starting to get the hang of the destination right now.

"Just a few minutes more" Sebastian assured. He can already see the spires of the building so he felt a sigh of relief escape.

"We were lost a while ago, aren't we?"

Sebastian just give out a grin as he continues to drive closer to the place. He stopped at the designated parking lot and unlocked the door.

"Adventure awaits Miss Y/N, welcome to La Sagrada Familia"Sebastian introduced.

When Sebastian was looking for a place to go, the La Sagrada Familia was one of the top hit. Sebastian didn't even consider if she is religious or what but he thinks she can appreciate the reminder that this architecture is still a work in progress and it has managed to endure a lot throughout the years of construction.

"This is beautiful" was her response.

"They say that this will be the most beautiful form of apology when it is finished"Sebastian informed "This was built for the city's sins"

"I beg to disagree"Y/N replied.

It was now Sebastian's turn to be curious.

"I think this is the grandest gesture of someone's love"Y/N elaborated "This went on for years, decades, centuries-they did not stop loving Barcelona that they continue working so that the city will be forgiven"

It was a pretty analogy in Sebastian's mind. He felt like no amount of his research could compare with that realization.

If the outside of the cathedral looks majestic, the inside is beyond what they could imagine. The both of them let out a small woah as they stepped foot into the church.

"You know you can make three wishes when its your first time to enter a church, they say it comes true when you do that"Y/N mentioned "You wanna give it a go?"

Sebastian nodded and he noticed how Y/N immediately closed her eyes.

'A world drivers championship. Happiness. Y/N receiving her wish' was what Sebastian prayed for.

He takes out a peek and Y/N was still in her own solemn state. Sebastian wonders what is it that she wishes for and he hopes that this three wishes thing works. He really wanted Y/N to fulfill her wishes, it will make him extremely happy.

"What did you wish for Y/N"

"Safe races, World Peace, and points for you and Mark" she answered

"Oh c'mon, you don't have things about yourself. Don't you have any personal wishes? Like your own goals or your own things?"Sebastian quizzed

Y/N knew deep down that she wanted something but she knew that saying it at the moment might not be ideal. But heaven knows, she prayed for Sebastian Vettel to stay in her life.

2009, Nürburgring

Y/N didn't mind that she was in heels, she was running as fast as she could to parc ferme. The moment that the last lap started and Mark was still leading, she immediately headed straight to the destination. Their father was already at the pits waiting with the signboard.

There was certainly a mix of emotions. Y/N's mind reel back to how Mark started pole and then had an incident with Hamilton at the start of the race. It caused him to have a penalty which lessens his chances of winning but Mark was in for a mega-drive. He managed to regain all the places that he lost from the penalty and here he is leading the Grand Prix.

Y/N felt her ears ringing as the crowd roars as the chequered flag appeared. Every speaker was blaring out the obvious, this is Mark Webber's first win in Formula 1.

People are starting to line up near the barricades. Y/N doesn't care if she was being pushed but she will be the first one to meet her brother and congratulate him once he gets out of the car.

"YOU DID IT! YOU ABSOLUTELY CRUSHED IT" Y/N screamed to Mark.

Mark did not miss his sister and immediately hugged her tight. He kept on repeating his thanks for her support and for not giving up on him. Y/N could only choke on a sob with the cameras flashing the emotional sibling moment that they shared.

"Congratulations Mark"Sebastian appeared next to him and Mark gave him a hug.

It was a happy day for the Red Bull team for securing double podiums. The whole Red Bull team cannot contain their happiness as the two walked to their podium spots. It is certainly a day that warrants a much needed night out.

So fast forward and Red Bull rented out a club to celebrate the victory of today. Y/N was certain that she deserved to let loose a little with the events that happened today.

Shots after shots, Y/N managed to drink everything up until the room started to feel a little bit wavy. It was a good thing that Sebastian has not been much of a party animal, he knew that this was Mark's time to celebrate so he won't be taking too much of a spotlight.

"You are seriously wasted, you should stop drinking now" Sebastian said, catching Y/N before she could trip in her heels.

"my brother won, can't you believe ittttt"her words are slurred.

"Yep, I'm getting you water and were going back to the hotel"

"NOOOOOO"

But Sebastian has already carried her out of the club. Sebastian knew that there are probably much more people wasted there but Sebastian was focused on Y/N. She was the reason why Sebastian decided to sober up the entire night. Knowing that Mark will be celebrating, no one will take care of Y/N.

Sebastian wanted to take care of her.

The trip to the hotel was smooth as Y/N was asleep at the car. Sebastian was giggling when he picked her up and she started rambling about how there are different kinds of beautiful in formula 1.

"But you know what's the most beautiful thing in f1 that I have seen?" she asked "Its the time where I saw Sebastian Vettel test the car"

Sebastian got curious, he didn't know that Y/N was around when he tested the car.

"And it was so dreamy. There was this beauty about him and you know he is so passionate. He isn't a paid driver or maybe he is but damnnnn the way he raced and the way he loved the wheels"Y/N rambles on.

It feels illegal for Sebastian to be hearing this and he knows he should not take advantage of Y/N's truthful drunkness to hear what she thinks about him. But somehow, Sebastian stayed with her. He tucked her in the bed and left a glass of water at the bedside table.

"Did you know Sebastian Vettel is the prettiest boy ever. He is so pretty like how the sun is so pretty to the plants" Sebastian also laughed at the comparison. Y/N was really really drunk.

"I like Sebastian"

"What?" was Sebastian's shocked question.

"I like sebastian, what sue me? I think he is a pretty pretty boy"

Sebastian feels like his heart is pounding but he has to stay cool. She is drunk right now and she might not be aware of the things she is saying.

"You get some rest, lets talk about this in the morning" Sebastian said as he left the girl.

It took every ounce of his being to prevent himself from confessing that he likes her a lot too. But Sebastian will do his confession sober. If Y/N remembers this incident then they will talk about it. If not, he will wait for the right timing to discuss the feelings he has for her.

Morning came and Y/N did not remember anything.

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #sebastian vettel x oc

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 2 months ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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