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onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

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when solomon falls in love

content + warnings: solomon x reader, angst with a happy ending, there is a deep sadness within solomon but i can fix him, minor discussions of s3 plot points // [masterlist]

word count: ~1.5k

the day solomon realizes he's in love with you is the worst day of his life, he thinks, in the first moment he realizes.

solomon's had a lot of terrible days. from simple ones-- caught in the rain, misplaced keys, harsh words spoken by people he cares about-- to life-altering, fate-changing hellish days. he's been around for centuries, and admittedly conjured himself up some pretty shitty karma. this day, however, tops the list.

because the moment solomon realizes he's in love with you is the moment he realizes he'll never have you.

it's a rare moment the both of you are sharing. the two of you are alone in a coffee shop in some quaint corner of the human realm. your trials with the sorcerer society have been wearing on you, so solomon saw it fitting to sweep his adorable little apprentice away for some well-deserved down time.

it's dawn here. sunlight peaks through the clouds, painting the gray skies a vibrant orange through the shop's large windows. the sunlight tickles your cheekbones, occasionally catching your eyes and making them flutter as you dodge the blinding sunbeams. how long has it been since solomon's seen you in the daylight? the devildom is beautiful, but it's dark and dim during all hours of the day. he's used to seeing you under city lights, shop signs and advertisements in neon colors dancing across your features. or under the warm-but-artificial house lights in all the buildings down there, cozy but not quite the same. no, you look best in daylight. golden, pure daylight, trickling through the cosmos just so he can see every detail on your face.

he wants to memorize you. he wants to etch your features into his brain so that he'll be able to remember you far into the future. the coming days are uncertain. licensure into the sorcerer's society is not exactly easy-- you'll have your work cut out for you if you continue down this path. maybe somewhere along the way you'll find yourself content instead with a simple life in the human realm, shedding the devildom like a winter coat in spring when your life begins a new chapter. he's always worried about you, about losing you, about a day when you'll bid him goodbye for good. obsessive? he likes to think of it as "sentimental". and he's never been this sentimental for anyone else but you.

you take a sip of your drink with a small smile. it's cold outside, the subtle chill of autumn beginning to fade into the biting cold of winter. the drink in your hands is warm, and you cup it between your between your palms for warmth. he smiles. his own drink is smooth and a little bitter. solomon he grabs the last sugar packet from the center of the table and dumps it in, swirling the mixture around the distribute the sweetness. then he folds the trash into a compact ball. there's a dink! as he flicks it at you, hitting your cheek gently before it falls onto the table. you laugh at his antics. it's the best sound he's ever heard.

"gotcha."

"what are you, seven?"

"you're just mad i have good aim."

"yeah, yeah, whatever, old man. do... do you mind if i ask you a question?"

"anything."

you proceed to ask him how he found this place. technically, it's not even in the country you're from... he laughs and explains how he found it. he likes when your attention is focused all in on him. your eyes get this certain glint to them as you listen, like he's the only person you care about in that moment. he'd kill to see that look anywhere else-- could you imagine the faces of the demon brothers should you look at him so attentively around them?

solomon swallows down the lump of jealousy rising in his throat. that's the thing. you don't look at him like that in front of anyone else.

his next sip of coffee tastes bitter, more so than before-- he can't blame the shop, nor the sugar packet for the taste, but instead the acid creeping up his throat from the mere displeasure of the idea. it's so very solomon to ruin his own good time with a nasty thought.

why?

why does he do this to himself? to cherish something so delicate even though he knows it will shatter under the weight of life's circumstances?

that's because solomon's in love with you. and love doesn't always listen to reason.

he has toyed around with the idea of loving you for awhile. he doesn't want to. he doesn't want to always be the petulant, lost child he once was, always reaching for things he was never destined to have. when he was young, he craved freedom. as an adult, power. and now, further along in his life, he wants you.

you seem to notice the sour look on his face. your eyebrows furrow as you ask him what's wrong. it's instinct that guides him to brush you off, to give you a big smile and feign attention into whatever you begin talking about next.

does he deserve you? probably not. his sins probably outweigh that of any lower demon. he's lied and cheated, fucked people over in ways unimaginable to someone like you. you're a blank slate, a clean ledger, yet to ruin your own life. or maybe you won't. you've always been better than him that way.

will he ever distance himself to heal from the wounds of unrequited love? probably not. he'll stick by your side as you inevitably choose one of the demon brothers or angels or royals over him-- he won't blame you. of all the fascinating people you've met, he understands the allure of a human like him is dim in comparison. no hard feelings. he can't ever seem to muster up anything sour towards you.

"are you listening?" you finally ask, loud enough to grab his attention. he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"sorry. i'm... a bit scatterbrained today. what were you saying?"

you huff. "i was telling you a story, but i bent my straw too far and it broke."

you bend it again to show him the damage. sure enough, it's snapped under the weight of your fidgeting. solomon's lips curl into a sympathetic pout.

"i can grab you another."

"nah, it's okay. i've got it."

you rise from your seat and walk to the counter of the coffee place. solomon takes a deep breath and steals his resolve. all this self-loathing and pining is making him a bad friend, and you deserve much better than to talk to a brick wall. he sighs. so what if he's in love with you? so what if he's lost in the tumult of his own feelings? he needs to get it together and enjoy this time with you before you return to the devildom, and he has to share you aga--

"excuse me?"

"yes? how can i help you?"

"can i get another straw? oh, and can i get some more of those little sugar packets? my boyfriend used the last one on the table."

"of course! give me one moment--"

...

what?

his brain almost completely shuts down hearing those words leave your lips. he subtly looks around to see if anyone else is in the coffee shop-- there's a man in the corner reading his paper and two teenagers huddled over iced coffee. no, none of them are at your table, using the last sugar packet like he did, your boyfriend--

"close your mouth. you're attracting flies," you say quietly, sliding a few sugar packets over to him.

he's... flabbergasted, honestly. during the entirety of his downward spiral, never once did he anticipate this outcome. you... you wanted him?

his lips pull into a smirk-- it's more of a grin than he wanted, but he just can't help himself right now. he's damn near giddy at your indirect confession.

"boyfriend? you wouldn't happen to be referring to me, would you?"

"that's why you brought me here, right?"

that question catches him off-guard. honestly, no. he just wanted some time to breathe with you, without obligations or demons ready to pounce for your attention. but the way your lips curl around the straw between them makes his heart race.

"... and if i did?"

"then i would say this is a pretty good date spot. now, pay attention when i talk, old man."

as attentive as he aims to be, he just can't stop his mind from wandering. you're his. all of the fear and angst wash away as the sun shines brightly on your table, illuminating the delicate wood grain beneath his trembling fingers. and for once, solomon doesn't worry about what will happen if he lets himself love you.

maybe this day isn't so bad after all.

taglist for this series: @deepseafragments // @darkflowerav // @annoying-and-upset

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #otome #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader

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lizbethborden · 11 months

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Its so true, Dworkin and Mackinnon predicted everything about this current era. Porn has become sex now; teenage girls being bullied into anal and getting choked by boys and coerced into sending nudes at an age typically understood as one of “exploration”—now porn defines sex and sexuality; and Gail Dines and many others have talked about the deeply deadening effect of porn on empathy and the ability to recognize women as people. Porn crept ever further into the mainstream and it has totally saturated our culture, from the ‘arts’—not just streaming/TV or Lars Von Trier films, but I’m thinking of stuff as small as frames of comic books traced from porn, art distributed online traced from porn—to the personal intimate lives of human beings, women being choked, spat on, beaten—then again, even back in the 80s, men were using porn to abuse women, and the most widely available stuff was still not as vile as the porn you can find with a 2sec Google search from any phone or computer today. Deepfake porn turns all women existing in public into potential victims of violent and degrading misogynist fetishism and sexuality. OF and its ilk makes it possible for any woman to monetize herself in the form of porn and in a time of increasing economic instability, inflation, high food and gas prices, the upcoming potential loss of health insurance for millions, I’m sure it’s more appealing than ever. Porn terminology is everywhere, “MILF,” “ebony,” etc. And all of this is done under the guise of sexual liberation and free speech, and to argue against it is seen as puritanical, condescending at best, hateful, antifeminist, “SWERF”/“TERF”-y at worst. It is a demonstrated fact of the research done into porn that it shuts off vital abilities to connect with women as human beings, to empathize with women and to reject violence against us; that porn usage conditions the user into seeking out ever more intense, bizarre, violent content to use in order to achieve the same pleasure and orgasm that “vanilla” content used to do for them. What must it be doing to all of us, collectively, to have porn on every level of our culture now? What is it doing to the position of women in our society, already half citizens at best, earning significantly less than men, with our bodily autonomy stripped away in many states, being denied life-saving procedures and medications—not just mifepristone etc but even things like lupus medication and anti-inflammatories that may potentially affect us and our bodies if we chose at some point to maybe get pregnant—even being arrested for drinking or taking drugs while decidedly not pregnant because it could affect a potential fetus at some point? Are we not degraded objects already? What does it mean for us to be reduced to “cumsocks” and pornographic objects on top of all this? How deeply destructive is this society, how much further will it go to enforce the category of woman as hole, woman as receptacle, woman as vessel, woman as meat?

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starblaster · 2 years

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October 9th is Psychiatric Survivor Pride Day

“The problems of the ex-patient are more subtle but no less pressing. Many ex-patients try to cope with what has happened to them by pretending that the experience never occurred. However, because the experience of having once been a mental patient teaches you to think of yourself as less than human, this is not a satisfactory solution. People feel emotions. They are justifiably happy or sad, angry, calm, elated, and so forth. As patients, however, we were taught to think of ourselves as permanently crippled, and we tend to react to the normal ups and downs of life as affirmations of our secret deformity. In addition, society imposes penalties upon ex-patients which affect you whether or not you acknowledge your identity. For the rest of your life, you will lie on applications for jobs, schools, and driver's licenses, and worry about being found out. Your friends and acquaintances will be divided into two groups, those who know and those who don't, and it will always be necessary to watch what you say to the latter. Ex-patients are full of anger at what has been done to them, but alone and unorganized this anger is not expressed and is often turned inward against oneself. Our anger is the fuel of our movement, and when we come together, acknowledging our identity to ourselves and to each other, we will have made the first and largest step in striking back at our oppressors.”

— "Mental Patients' Liberation: Why? How?", originally distributed in the early 1970s by Mental Patients' Resistance of Brooklyn, New York

[image ID] Seven photographs from antipsychiatry demonstrations. They are described below, in order of appearance: 1. a picture taken at the National Association for Rights Protection & Advocacy (NARPA) Conference on November 10, 2000 in Sacramento, California. Fifty to sixty people stand around a red sign with white text that reads: NO FORCED TREATMENT EVER. 2. a picture taken on October 9th, 1999 in Toronto, Ontario during a march for Psychiatric Survivor Pride Day. Several people march in a line, including one man at the start of the march playing bagpipes. Behind him is a hand-painted sign being held up that reads: Psychiatric Survivor Pride Day. 3. pictures taken at a demonstration outside the California State Capitol building in Sacramento on February 28th, 2000. The signs in each of these pictures say: Psychiatric drugs can kill! 4. a picture taken at a demonstration outside the American Psychiatric Association's 156th annual meeting in San Fransisco, California. The activist's sign says: PSYCHIATRY IS NOT A MEDICAL PROFESSION: IT IS A TOOL OF OPPRESSION. 5. a picture taken at a demonstration outside the Jacob Javits Center, hosting the American Psychiatric Association's 167th annual meeting in New York City on May 4th, 2014. The picture features an activist wearing a printed t-shirt and is cropped so as not to feature the face of the wearer. The t-shirt says: TO HELL WITH THEIR PROFITS, STOP FORCED DRUGGING OF PSYCHIATRIC INMATES! 6 and 7. pictures taken at a demonstration outside the California State Capitol building in Sacramento on February 28th, 2000. The signs in each of these pictures say: Psychiatric drugs can kill!, STOP expansion of forced treatment, Mental illness is NOT a CRIME, and FORCED MENTAL HEALTH TREATMENT IS INHUMANE. 8. a picture taken at an antipsychiatry demonstration on May 2nd, 1998 in Freedom Plaza, Washington D.C. Two people hold a hand-painted banner-sign that says: BET YOUR ASS WE'RE PARANOID. 9. taken at an antipsychiatry demonstration hosted by the Mental Patients Liberation Alliance during Mad Pride Week in 2000, between July 13th and 16th on the lawn in front of the New York State Capitol Building in Albany. [end of ID]

#antipsychiatry #psychiatric abuse #psychiatric survival #psychiatric survivor pride day #psych abolition

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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

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You ohhhandedly mentioned tessai livong through ww2 and… wow thats true there were a lot of characters that got a first row seat to both conflicts, even if only the second was really impactful on japans history. Does urahara, yoruichi, tessai, the vizored or any of the shinigami have any specific feelings on ww2/the nuclear bombs? I know its a wild fucking question but it literally just occurred to me and i cant stop thinking about it.

Yeah WW2 is an entire 5-chapter arc in the fic because apparently Kubo is from Hiroshima, and Karakura town is based on his memories growing up there. Stuff that happens during that arc:

The Soul Society's sole warning that something catastrophic might be coming is the arrival of an irradiated and enraged Coyote spirit from the Trinidad test site. It's up to Newly-appointed captain Komamura to calm it down and explain what happened, and Mayuri is able to work out that atomic weapons are real from it's descriptions. He gives Soul Society about a month before the humans drop one on a city.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

***

Urahara and the Visoreds use the fact that they're already dead to mitigate some of the damage from the bombing by walking into the epicenter and shoving carbon rods into the most radioactive points, stemming much of the radiation damage, but there's nothing they can do for the initial wave of destruction.

It involves going through a new gigai every trip and learning what if feels like to have the flesh actually melt off your bones, but Hirako Shinji and the other Visored are no cowards, least of all about Hard and Dirty Work.

Tessai makes Ururu and Jinta out of spare parts from Urahara's Gigai experiments to house a heavily damage Kitsune and Tanuki spirit pair from a shrine that was destroyed. Ururu is the Tankuki, and the older one- Jinta seems a bit more 'organic' because Tessai learned a lot making his sister, and because as a Kitsune, he's a better actor.

***

Soul Society is in major trouble though.

with the sudden influx of souls- first from the bombing, but then from the radiation sickness and the famine that followed, the living and spirit worlds are in danger of becoming unbalanced.

It's a Major Crisis!

Fortunately for them, people with sociopathy tend to operate really well during Crises, and I realized the reason Mayuri hasn't been fired or killed by the time Ichigo shows up is that when shit hits the fan, Mayuri's lack of emotional response to the suffering of others means he can buckle down and fucking DELIVER.

Expansions to the pocket dimension that the queue of incoming souls is housed in? He didn't sleep for two weeks to get it done on time, but there was more than enough room when the bomb dropped and for the few months after as casualties continued.

Emergency rations for all these incoming factory workers that know nothing about farming? Behold, Nutritionally complete meals that you can eat right out of the box! And smaller, friendlier ones for the kiddies!

Hell, the 12th division even makes instructional propaganda videos about how safe and tasty these new foods are, featuring The Grand Clown Himself, and distribution centers featuring his likeness, so Mayuri enjoys a peculiar popularity in the Rukongai, not unlike an off-brand and sometimes educational Krusty The Clown.

Just ah. Stop asking questions about the ingredients list.

***

"I'm not fucking killing civillians." Says Kenpachi when Yamamoto begins to bring up the historical method that the Shinigami have used to balance out sudden influxes of souls from the living world.

"Oh?" Yamamoto glares at him. "You have a better idea?"

"What's them big fuckers that come outta tears sometimes? Hundred feet tall, black, bird faces?" He asks, waving as he tries to remember the names.

"...Menos Grande?" asks Ukitake, who has gotten remarkably good at interpreting for the man next to him at meetings.

"Yeah!" Zaraki grins, patting his six-foot-tall colleague on the head like a small child. "You said they're like... combination creatures of a thousand souls each right?"

"Zaraki is correct." Pipes up Tousen, who is also extremely eager to not murder civilians and even more eager to absolutely fuck up the army of Menos Aizen has been gathering in Hueco Mundo. "-It wouldn't be *easy* but dispatching approximately Five hundred Menos in the next week seems much more doable and much, much more morally sound than killing five hundred thousand civillians. Sir."

Kaname can feel the curse nails on his back starting to bleed from Aizen's glare but he presses on.

"-There appears to be a significant population of them gathered on the far eastern edge of Hueco Mundo. It would probably take most of the 11th Division's forces but-"

"IKKAKU!" Zaraki is already bellowing out the door to his lieutenant. "TELL EVERYONE TO PACK AN EXTRA PAIR OF PANTIES, WE'RE GOING ON A HOLLOW HUNT!"

There is a distant but enthusiastic whoop form Ikkaku in reply.

"An excursion into Hueco Mundo is exceptionally dangerous." Unohana notes, voice placid as he returns to the table.

"-and? I don't do this job because it's safe 'n' easy." Zaraki shrugs.

Her neutral expression softens just a bit into a small, affectionate and perhaps ever-so-slightly lascivious smile. "May I suggest that a detachment of the 4th Division accompany the 11th? It won't make the work easier, but it will mitigate some of the risk."

Yamamoto groans, aware that the decision has been made for him.

"Fine." He grunts. "Take a detachment of the Ninth too, you can use that newfangled radiodar whatsit to keep me updated."

"Pardon?" Mumbles Kaname, slightly woozy from blood loss.

His circulatory situation is not helped when an illusion-blind-to-the-blood Zaraki grabs him about the middle and starts carrying him off under his arm in exactly the direction the 9th and 11th are not like a particularly bewildered purse Chihuahua.

***

Aizen... almost strays from his path.

The Hogyoku is slow and tiresome, his first plan to barrage Karakura with Menos to create the Oken is being trashed and actually being forced to work his job of Rukongai Management is- Well, it's reminding him just why he started this quest to Dethrone God.

What loving creator would make an afterlife of squalor, where the 'lucky' are cursed to outlive everyone they know and love? Not one worth worshiping, surely.

But actually being out here, setting up emergency food distribution, implementing the latest in civil engineering from the newly arrived and seeing it immediately improve the quality of life, uniting families and... actually helping people? it's making him question his path. Perhaps- Perhaps God is not some uncaring regent on a distant throne. Perhaps God is something that lives in all souls, a kindness and goodwill towards one's fellow man, and to spread the will of a loving creator, one must Act to Enact God's Will...

Gin Panics.

He has not spent the last 300-odd years dangling the Hogyoku in front of Aizen, stuffing him full of spiritual energy to feed to the machine that generates reality like he was fattening up a goose for Pate, only to have him give up his quest for divinity NOW.

He's gonna have to do something drastic.

He's gonna have to convince Aizen he was right all along, and that he needs to keep using the Hogyoku.

He's going to need to use Aizen's own Illusions against him, and convince Aizen that the souls of the citizens of the rukongai aren't worth playing a Benevolent God for. That the whole thing needs to come out and be replaced.

Sure, it's a dick move

but those are his specialty.

***

It's the night before the 11th and the two detachments are supposed to leave for Hueco Mundo, and Yamamoto's been doing some thinking.

He is also in Zaraki's quarters at midnight sharp. "Captain-General." Nods Unohana, pausing mid-activity to acknowledge him. "Bruh." Zaraki grunts to indicate they were busy. "I need to borrow Zaraki for an hour or so, and then you may continue." he says, and then steps back outside so the man can get untied and dressed.

"This better be good old man, I know you haven't been married for a few centuries but REALLY-" Zaraki grumbles, emerging and putting his sandals on. "Don’t worry, it’ll take twenty minutes tops, all you have to do is stand behind me and don’t hide your rage." Yamamoto explains. "-We'’re going to go see the central 46." Zaraki pauses mid-sandal, slowly looking up at him with an intrigued arch to his brow. "Yes, it’s forbidden." Yamamoto says, not tearing his gaze away from the moon above them. "-But I've received reports that the Central 46 has acquired blueprints of the... Device. Used in the living world earlier this month and I'm nipping this at the damn bud." Zaraki grins, and finishes putting his sandals on.

The Central 46 are alerted to the Presence of Yamamoto and Zaraki by the main gate to their district being kicked through the wall of the council chambers.

"Hello, Sages and Wise Councilors of the Soul Society!" The Old Man greets them as he steps through the hole he just made, and The Barbarian squeezing through after, sword casually over his shoulder. "Well isn't this a surprise, everyone here in a full meeting at One in the Morning on a Teusday!"

"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" one of the head councilmen sputters, mustache bristling. "Shinigami are forbidden form this place, I'll have you both execu-!"

"Shut up." Yamamoto glares, and sparks fly from the corner of his eye. The hem of his Haori is starting to smolder and singe as well as he approaches the table the councilors are crowded around the blueprints from the living world.

"Now, we are all good and honorable people here." Yamamoto says, casually waving a hand in what would normally be a placating gesture but now only made his sleeve flicker as Ryujin Jakka grew hungrier. "-But I've been around long enough to know how Power corrupts."

"And we've all been exposed to a new, horrific level of Power."

"Oh, of course, you would never! It's unthinkable to sink to such a level!"

"...but it's been a few weeks. The initial shock has faded, and you're starting to understand the full toll of the destruction." he explains, strolling up, the diamond insignia on his back spreading across his shoulders as the Haori singes. Behind him, Zaraki is following with an unpleasantly carnivorous stroll, yellow eye lazily moving from face to face, taking stock of all those present. "...and you are perhaps developing a new standard of devastation and suffering to wish upon your enemies."

There is some muttering, some protesting, and worse, some agreeing. They are silenced by a sudden electric crackle of Energy from Zaraki.

"I’m just here to tell you all-" Yamamoto continues, unperturbed. Or perhaps so perturbed he's warped all the way around to a deep, ruthless peace.

"If I hear any ONE of you has taken steps to develop a weapon like this-" he points a finger at the blueprints, which singe and then burn, a low, slow flame that reduces them completely to ash.

"-I’m going to kill all of you."

"Actually," he explains, as the blueprints finish burning and the table catches as well, fire blooming and crackling, lighting him from beneath. "I’m going to kill all of you and your families. By which I mean, I’m figuring out who all your ancestors were going back Five generations, Kill them, and kill all their descendants."

The table burns, and the floor is threatening to catch, but nobody can move to ring the fire alarm or grab a bucket of water.

"-Because that’s the kind of indiscriminate destruction these things cause." he explains. "It's a damn shame to say this, but this is the first time we've been able to settle whole families in the same town- because five, six, even seven generations of families, from great-great grandmother to the newest infants were burnt together in an instant."

"So if you want to wield that kind of destruction, you best be prepared to deal with those kinds of consequences." he growls, and suddenly sweeps his hand over the fire, which snuffs out immediately.

Slowly he turns to go, and regards Zaraki behind him.

"Oh, and just in case any of you had thoughts of hastening my retirement in regards to this matter-" he speaks up, and points to Zaraki "-Near as I can tell, this asshole is immortal and indestructible, so if I happen to be dead, he'll do it for me, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." Zaraki Nods, eye fixed on the head councilor, committing his face to memory, blade and crackling eagerly.

"-and he's nowhere near as speedy and clean a killer as I am, so I suggest you don't test either of us." Yamamoto grins, and Ryujin Jakka can't help but flicker off his brow for emphasis.

"Goodnight, and go fuck yourselves." Yamamoto bows, and exits through the same hole he entered.

The walk back to the 11th is largely silent, but Yamamot can feel the pleased-yet-curious thrum of reiatsu from Zaraki.

"Question, boss-" he suddenly speaks as they approach the 11th.

"You're not supposed to question orders, Zaraki." He sighs. He'll make a proper shinigami out of him. Eventually.

"...Request for clarification, Boss-" Zaraki tries again, and Yamamoto nods. "-Why me?"

Yamamoto arches an overgrown brow at him.

"Not complainin'-" Zaraki explains, pointedly looking up at the moon and scratching his neck in deferment. "-But Byakuya's got more sway with them and Gin's definitely better at terrifying first impressions."

"Hm." Yamamoto nods. "It's in the follow-up, not the impression, you see."

"I do not." Zaraki says. For all his faults and frustrations, Zaraki sure keeps Yamamoto on his toes about not being lazy and actually explaining himself.

"-I am very serious about you killing them and their descendants if they ever think about making one of those devices." he sighs and Zaraki nods, waving a hand for him to continue. "-So I picked the Shinigami most invested in a peaceful future to make sure my orders would be carried out."

Zaraki still looks confused.

"You're my only captain with children, Zaraki." Yamamoto explains. "I know you only give half a rat's ass about the court guard, but I've seen what you'll do for Yachiru."

Zaraki nods understanding now, and a few more paces of silence pass between them.

"...Thank you, Sir." Zaraki mutters, bowing his head and using the honorific with genuine intent for the first time since Yamamoto had known him. "-For understanding."

"Thank you, Captain Zaraki." Yamamoto nodded slightly, stopping before the gate to the 11th. "-For understanding as well."

"-Now get back to Captain Unohana before she schedules some sort of blood test of a thousand needles for me!" Yamamoto grunted, prodding at Zaraki with his cane, and the man didn't need to be told twice.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #zaraki kenpachi #mauyri kurotsuchi #kisuke urahara #genryusai shigekuni yamamoto #kaname tousen #retsu unohana #long post

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decolonize-the-left · 27 days

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To all the trans people in Palestine and Sudan the DRC and every other place being attacked by imperial powers, you are not forgotten or unseen!

Global solidarity!!

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A post shared by Queers in Palestine كويرز في فلسطين (@queersinpalestine)

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#TDOV #trans day of visibility #transgender day of visibility #lgbt2s #two spirit #non-binary #trans women #trans men #queer solidarity #Instagram

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futurebird · 2 years

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The Queen is Dead!

There is this tiresome old trope in any science fiction that deals with ants, (or aliens that are stand-ins for ants or termites or bees or any other eusocial insect,) where the queen dies and then, suddenly none of the workers can function anymore. The workers in this theory of what a "hive mind" is are all just automata that extend the body of the queen. This is, of course, totally backwards. It's the death of human queens that leaves their subjects disoriented. We misperceive the order and smooth functioning of eusocial colonies for authoritarianism. No society could function so well without a tyrant, a single central mind, we assume. A great man or woman who drives their history must exist. This is all human mythology applied to the alien world of ants. What happens when the queen dies? Well let me tell you, because I've seen it happen... sadly. Queens are the longest lived members of ant colonies. So, naturally if you keep ants, you grow attached to the queen. And it's true that without her the colony has no future in the long run for most species of ants (there are exceptions, who can gain new queens, or who have multiple queens... but most ant colony have but one) So, when the queen dies it's sad. But, when she dies the workers ... keep going. You see the advantage of a "hive mind" isn't that there is one central node doing all the thinking, no, the colony is a distributed organism. And when the queen dies it's like menopause for a human body. There will be no new children. (though all eggs and larvae alive when the queen dies will be raised fully.) The ants without a queen continue to care for each other, continue to grow their fungus gardens, or heard aphids, they keep storing seeds and feeding the young. With time, the last of the eggs and brood are raised to be adults. The nest is cleaned and tidy, everyone is fed, with all these tasks done the ants huddle together to conserve energy. They will keep tending the nest and eating when they need to... possibly for years. Menopause isn't the end of an individual life, it's just the closing of a particular door.

I do think ant colonies like this, like my own queen-less colony can seem a little sad. Eggs and larvae and pupae are such joys for ants. They lavish food and attention on their little sisters. No more little sisters means a less active colony, it's like winter has set in permanently. But ants live through winters. Sometimes many winters. If you give a colony in this state brood from another queen they will raise them with great excitement. But there is no peaceful way to move the workers to a colony with a living queen.

This situation happens rarely in the wild. There are so many other things that can kill a colony long before a queen lives so long that she dies of old age. In the wild there are also parasitic species of ants that look for colonies without a queen, or with a queen that is weak and easy to kill. These sneaky queen ants will "steal" a colony. Though, from the perspective of ants without a queen, this is almost a mercy. But, there is none of this... everyone falling over and dying or everyone going crazy you see in stories about hives. The queen is just one part of the colony... a critical part... but still only a part. And each individual ant still has her own life to live.

#antposting #ants #ranting about eusocial creatures in sci fi #bad tropes #writing tropes

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ixlander · 1 year

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What is the family? So deep runs the idea that the family is the exclusive place where people are safe, where people come from, where people are made, and where people belong, it doesn’t even feel like an idea anymore. Let us unpick it, then. The family is the reason we are supposed to want to go to work, the reason we have to go to work, and the reason we can go to work. It is, at root, the name we use for the fact that care is privatized in our society. And because it feels synonymous with care, “family” is every civic-minded individual’s raison d’être par excellence: an ostensibly non-individualist creed and unselfish principle to which one voluntarily signs up without thinking about it. What alternative could there be? The economic assumption that behind every “breadwinner” there is a private someone (or someones) worth being exploited for, notably some kind of wife—that is, a person who is likely a breadwinner too—“freely” making sandwiches with the hard-won bread, or hiring someone else to do so, vacuuming up the crumbs, and refrigerating leftovers, such that more bread can be won tomorrow: this feels to many of us like a description of “human nature.” Without the family, who or what would take responsibility for the lives of non-workers, including the ill, the young, and the elderly? This question is a bad one. We don’t hesitate to say that nonhuman animals are better off outside of zoos, even if alternative habitats for them are growing scarcer and scarcer and, moreover, they have become used to the abusive care of zoos. Similarly: transition out of the family will be tricky, yes, but the family is doing a bad job at care, and we all deserve better. The family is getting in the way of alternatives. In part, the vertiginous question “what’s the alternative?” arises because it is not just the worker (and her work) that the family gives birth to every day, in theory. The family is also the legal assertion that a baby, a neonatal human, is the creation of the familial romantic dyad; and that this act of authorship in turn generates, for the authors, property rights in “their” progeny—parenthood—but also quasi-exclusive accountability for the child’s life. The near-total dependence of the young person on these guardians is portrayed not as the harsh lottery that it patently is, but rather as “natural,” not in need of social mitigation, and, furthermore, beautiful for all concerned. Children, it is proposed, benefit from having only one or two parents and, at best, a few other “secondary” caregivers. Parents, it is supposed, derive nothing so much as joy from the romance of this isolated intensity. Constant allusions to the hellworld of sheer exhaustion parents inhabit notwithstanding, their condition is sentimentalized to the nth degree: it is downright taboo to regret parenthood. All too seldom is parenthood identified as an absurdly unfair distribution of labor, and a despotic distribution of responsibility for and power over younger people. A distribution that could be changed. Like a microcosm of the nation-state, the family incubates chauvinism and competition. Like a factory with a billion branches, it manufactures “individuals” with a cultural, ethnic, and binary gender identity; a class; and a racial consciousness. Like an infinitely renewable energy source, it performs free labor for the market. Like an “organic element of historical progress,” writes Anne McClintock in Imperial Leather, it worked for imperialism as an image of hierarchy-within-unity that grew “indispensable for legitimating exclusion and hierarchy” in general. For all these reasons, the family functions as capitalism’s base unit—in Mario Mieli’s phrase, “the cell of the social tissue.” It may be easier to imagine the end of capitalism, as I’ve riffed elsewhere, than the end of the family. But everyday utopian experiments do generate strands of an altogether different social tissue: micro-cultures which could be scaled up if the movement for a classless society took seriously the premise that households can be formed freely and run democratically; the principle that no one shall be deprived of food, shelter, or care because they don’t work.

Sophie Lewis, Abolish the Family

#sophie lewis #abolish the family

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anotherhumaninthisworld · 7 months

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Frev Friendships — Saint-Just and Robespierre

You who supports the tottering fatherland against the torrent of despotism and intrigue, you whom I only know, like God, through his miracles; I speak to you, monsieur, to ask you to unite with me in order to save my sad fatherland. The city of Gouci has relocated (this rumour goes around here) the free markets from the town of Blérancourt. Why do the cities devour the privileges of the countryside? Will there remain no more of them to the latter than size and taxes? Support, please, with all your talent, an address that I make for the same letter, in which I request the reunion of my heritage with the national areas of the canton, so that one lets to my country a privilege without which it has to die of hunger. I do not know you, but you are a great man. You are not only the deputy of a province, you are one of humanity and of the Republic. Please, make it that my request be not despised. I have the honour to be, monsieur, your most humble, most obedient servant. Saint-Just, constituent of the department of Aisne. To Monsieur de Robespierre in the National Assembly in Paris. Blérancourt, near Noyon, August 19, 1790. Saint-Just’s first letter ever written to Robespierre, dated August 19 1790

Citizens, you are aware that, to dispel the errors with which Roland has covered the entire Republic, the Society has decided that it will have Robespierre's speech printed and distributed. We viewed it as an eternal lesson for the French people, as a sure way of unmasking the Brissotin faction and of opening the eyes of the French to the virtues too long unknown of the minority that sits with the Mountain. I remind you that a subscription office is open at the secretariat. It is enough for me to point it out to you to excite your patriotic zeal, and, by imitating the patriots who each deposited fifty écus to have Robespierre's excellent speech printed, you will have done well for the fatherland. Saint-Just at the Jacobins, January 1 1793

Patriots with more or less talent […] Jacquier, Saint-Just’s brother-in-law. Robespierre in a private list, written sometime during his time on the Committee of Public Safety

Saint-Just doesn’t have time to write to you. He gives you his compliments. Lebas in a letter to Robespierre October 25 1793

Trust no longer has a price when we share it with corrupt men, then we do our duty out of love for our fatherland alone, and this feeling is purer. I embrace you, my friend. Saint-Just. To Robespierre the older. Saint-Just in a post-scriptum note added to a letter written by Lebas to Robespierre, November 5 1793. Saint-Just uses tutoiement with Robespierre here, while Lebas used vouvoiement.

We have made too many laws and too few examples: you punish but the salient crimes, the hypocritical crimes go unpunished. Punish a slight abuse in each part, it is the way to frighten the wicked, and to make them see that the government has its eye on everything. No sooner do we turn our backs than the aristocracy rises in the tone of the day, and commits evils under the colors of liberty. Engage the committee to give much pomp to the punishment of all faults in government. Before a month has passed you will have illuminated this maze in which counter-revolution and revolution march haphazardly. Call, my friend, the attention of the Jacobin Club to the strong maxims of the public good; let it concern itself with the great means of governing a free state. I invite you to take measures to find out if all the manufactures and factories of France are in activity, and to favor them, because our troops would within a year find themselves without clothes; manufacturers are not patriots, they do not want to work, they must be forced to do so, and not let down any useful establishment. We will do our best here. I embrace you and our mutual friends. Saint-Just To Robespierre the older. Saint-Just in a letter to Robespierre, December 14 1793

Paris, 9 nivôse, year 2 of the Republic. Friends. I feared, in the midst of our successes, and on the eve of a decisive victory, the disastrous consequences of a misunderstanding or of a ridiculous intrigue. Your principles and your virtues reassured me. I have supported them as much as I could. The letter that the Committee of Public Safety sent you at the same time as mine will tell you the rest. I embrace you with all my soul. Robespierre. Robespierre in a letter to Saint-Just and Lebas, December 29 1793

Why should I not say that this (the dantonist purge) was a meditated assassination, prepared for a long time, when two days after this session where the crime was taking place, the representative Vadier told me that Saint-Just, through his stubbornness, had almost caused the downfall of the members of the two committees, because he had wanted that the accused to be present when he read the report at the National Convention; and such was his obstinacy that, seeing our formal opposition, he threw his hat into the fire in rage, and left us there. Robespierre was also of this opinion; he believed that by having these deputies arrested beforehand, this approach would sooner or later be reprehensible; but, as fear was an irresistible argument with him, I used this weapon to fight him: You can take the chance of being guillotined, if that is what you want; For my part, I want to avoid this danger by having them arrested immediately, because we must not have any illusions about the course we must take; everything is reduced to these bits: If we do not have them guillotined, we will be that ourselves. À Maximilien Robespierre aux enfers (1794) by Taschereau de Fargues and Paul-Auguste-Jacques. Robespierre and Saint-Just had also worked out the dantonists’ indictment together.

…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre! Lucile Desmoulins in an unsent letter to Robespierre, written somewhere between March 31 and April 4 1794. Lucile seems to have believed it was Saint-Just’s ”bad influence” in particular that got Robespierre to abandon Camille.

In the beginning of floréal (somewhere between April 20 and 30) during an evening session (at the Committee of Public Safety), a brusque fight erupted between Saint-Just and Carnot, on the subject of the administration of portable weapons, of which it wasn’t Carnot, but Prieur de la Côte-d’Or, who was in charge. Saint-Just put big interest in the brother-in-law of Sijas, Luxembourg workshop accounting officer, that one thought had been oppressed and threatened with arbitrary arrest, because he had experienced some difficulties for the purpose of his service with the weapon administration. In this quarrel caused unexpectedly by Saint-Just, one saw clearly his goal, which was to attack the members of the committee who occupied themselves with arms, and to lose their cooperateurs. He also tried to include our collegue Prieur in the inculpation, by accusing him of wanting to lose and imprison this agent. But Prieur denied these malicious claims so well, that Saint-Just didn’t dare to insist on it more. Instead, he turned again towards Carnot, whom he attacked with cruelty; several members of the Committee of General Security assisted. Niou was present for this scandalous scene: dismayed, he retired and feared to accept a pouder mission, a mission that could become, he said, a subject of accusation, since the patriots were busy destroying themselves in this way. We undoubtedly complained about this indecent attack, but was it necessary, at a time when there was not a grain of powder manufactured in Paris, to proclaim a division within the Committee of Public Safety, rather than to make known this fatal secret? In the midst of the most vague indictments and the most atrocious expressions uttered by Saint-Just, Carnot was obliged to repel them by treating him and his friends as aspiring to dictatorship and successively attacking all patriots to remain alone and gain supreme power with his supporters. It was then that Saint-Just showed an excessive fury; he cried out that the Republic was lost if the men in charge of defending it were treated like dictators; that yesterday he saw the project to attack him but that he defended himself. ”It’s you,” he added, ”who is allied with the enemies of the patriots. And understand that I only need a few lines to write for an act of accusation and have you guillotined in two days.” ”I invite you, said Carnot with the firmness that only appartient to virtue: I provoke all your severity against me, I do not fear you, you are ridiculous dictators.” The other members of the Committee insisted in vain several times to extinguish this ferment of disorder in the committee, to remind Saint-Just of the fairer ideas of his colleague and of more decency in the committee; they wanted to call people back to public affairs, but everything was useless: Saint-Just went out as if enraged, flying into a rage and threatening his colleagues. Saint-Just probably had nothing more urgent than to go and warn Robespierre the next day of the scene that had just happened, because we saw them return together the next day to the committee, around one o'clock: barely had they entered when Saint-Just, taking Robespierre by the hand, addressed Carnot saying: ”Well, here you have my friends, here are the ones you attacked yesterday!” Robespierre tried to speak of the respective wrongs with a very hypocritical tone: Saint-Just wanted to speak again and excite his colleagues to take his side. The coldness which reigned in this session, disheartened them, and they left the committee very early and in a good mood. Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûreté générale (Barère, Collot, Billaud, Vadier), aux imputations renouvellées contre eux, par Laurent Lecointre et declarées calomnieuses par décret du 13 fructidor dernier; à la Convention Nationale (1795), page 103-105

My friends, the committee has taken all the measures within its control at this time to support your zeal. It has asked me to write to you to explain the reasons for some of its provisions. It believed that the main cause of the last failure was the shortage of skilled generals, it will send you all the patriotic and educated soldiers that can be found. It thought it necessary at this time to re-use Stetenhofen, whom it is sending to you, because he has military merit, and because the objections made against him seem at least to be balanced by proofs of loyalty. He also relies on your wisdom and your energy. Salut et amitié. Paris, 15 floréal, year 2 of the Republic. Robespierre. Robespierre to Saint-Just and Lebas, May 4 1793

Dear collegue, Liberty is exposed to new dangers; the factions arise with a character more alarming than ever. The lines to get butter are more numerous and more turbulent than ever when they have the least pretexts, an insurrection in the prisons which was to break out yesterday and the intrigues which manifested themselves in the time of Hébert are combined with assassination attemps on several occasions against members of the Committee of Public Safety; the remnants of the factions, or rather the factions still alive, are redoubled in audacity and perfidy. There is fear of an aristocratic uprising, fatal to liberty. The greatest peril that threatens it is in Paris. The Committee needs to bring together the lights and energy of all its members. Calculate whether the army of the North, which you have powerfully contributed to putting on the path to victory, can do without your presence for a few days. We will replace you, until you return, with a patriotic representative. The members composing the Committee of Public Safety. Robespierre, Prieur, Carnot, Billaud-Varennes, Barère. Letter to Saint-Just from the CPS, May 25 1794, written by Robespierre. It was penned down just two days after the alleged attempt on Robespierre’s life by Cécile Renault.

Robespierre returned to the Committee a few days later to denounce new conspiracies in the Convention, saying that, within a short time, these conspirators who had lined up and frequently dined together would succeed in destroying public liberty, if their maneuvers were allowed to continue unpunished. The committee refused to take any further measures, citing the necessity of not weakening and attacking the Convention, which was the target of all the enemies of the Republic. Robespierre did not lose sight of his project: he only saw conspiracies and plots: he asked that Saint-Just returned from the Army of the North and that one write to him so that he may come and strengthen the committee. Having arrived, Saint-Just asked Robespierre one day the purpose of his return in the presence of the other members of the Committee; Robespierre told him that he was to make a report on the new factions which threatened to destroy the National Convention; Robespierre was the only speaker during this session. He was met by the deepest silence from the Committee, and he leaves with horrible anger. Soon after, Saint-Just returned to the Army of the North, since called Sambre-et-Mouse. Some time passes; Robespierre calls for Saint-Just to return in vain: finally, he returns, no doubt after his instigations; he returned at the moment when he was most needed by the army and when he was least expected: he returned the day after the battle of Fleurus. From that moment, it was no longer possible to get him to leave, although Gillet, representative of the people to the army, continued to ask for him. Réponse de Barère, Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois et Vadier aux imputations de Laurent Lecointre (1795)

On 10 messidor (June 28) I was at the Committee of Public Safety. There, I witnessed those who one accuses today (Billaud-Varenne, Barère, Collot-d'Herbois, Vadier, Vouland, Amar and David) treat Robespierre like a dictator. Robespierre flew into an incredible fury. The other members of the Committee looked on with contempt. Saint-Just went out with him. Levasseur at the Convention, August 30 1794. If this scene actually took place, it must have done so one day later, 11 messidor (June 29), considering Saint-Just was still away on a mission on the tenth.

Isn’t it around the same time (a few days before thermidor) that Saint-Just and Lebas would dine at your father’s house with Robespierre? Lebas often dined there, having married one of my sisters. Saint-Just rarely there, but he frequently went to Robespierre’s and climbed the stairs to his office without speaking to anyone. During the dinner which I’m talking about, did you hear Saint-Just propose to Robespierre to reconcile with some members of the Convention and Committees who appeared to be opposed to him? No. I only know that they appeared to be very devided. Do you have any ideas what these divisions were about? I only learned about it through the discussions which took place on this subject at the Jacobins and through the altercation which was said to have taken place at the Committee of Public Safety between Robespierre older and Carnot. Robespierre’s host’s son Jacques-Maurice Duplay in an interrogation held January 1 1795

Saint-Just then fell back on his report, and said that he would join the committee the next day (9 thermidor) and that if it did not approve it, he would not read it. Collot continued to unmask Saint-Just; but as he focused more on depicting the dangers praying on the fatherland than on attacking the perfesy of Saint-Just and his accomplices, he gradually reassured himself of his confusion; he listened with composure, returning to his honeyed and hypocritical tone. Some time later, he told Collot d'Herbois that he could be reproached for having made some remarks against Robespierre in a café, and establishing this assertion as a positive fact, he admitted that he had made it the basis of an indictment against Collot, in the speech he had prepared. Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûrété générale… (1795) page 107.

I attest that Robespierre declared himself a firm supporter of the Convention and never spoke but gently in the Committee so as not to undermine any of its members. […] Billaud-Varenne said to Robespierre, “We are your friends, we have always walked together.” This dishonesty made my heart shudder. The next day, he called him Peisistratos and had written his act of accusation. […] If you reflect carefully on what happened during your last session, you will find the application of everything I said: a man alienated from the Committee due to the bitterest treatments, when this Committee was, in fact, no longer made up of more than the two or three members present, justified himself before you; he did not explain himself clearly enough, to tell the truth, but his alienation and the bitterness in his soul can excuse him somewhat: he does not know why he is being persecuted, he knows nothing except his misfortune. He has been called a tyrant of opinion: here I must explain myself and shine light on a sophism that tends to proscribe merit. And what exclusive right do you have to opinion, you who find that it is a crime to touch souls? Do you find it wrong that a man should be tenderhearted? Are you thus from the court of Philip, you who make war on eloquence? A tyrant of opinion? Who is stopping you from competing for the esteem of the fatherland, you who find it so wrong that someone should captivate it? There is no despot in the world, save Richelieu, who would be insulted by the fame of a writer. Is it a more disinterested triumph? Cato is said to have chased from Rome the bad citizen who had called eloquence at the tribune of harangues, the tyrant of opinion. No one has the right to claim that; it gives itself to reason and its empire is not the in the power of governments. […] The member who spoke for a long time yesterday at this tribune did not seem to have distinguished clearly enough who he was accusing. He had no complaints and has not complained either about the Committees; because the Committees still seem to me to be dignified of your estime, and the misfortunes that I have spoken to you of were born of isolation and the extreme authority of several members left alone. Saint-Just defending Robespierre in his last, undelivered speech, July 27 1794

One brings St. Just, Dumas and Payan, all of them shackled, they are escorted by policemen. They stay a good quarter of an hour standing in front of the door of the Committee’s room; one makes them sit down onto a windowsill; they have still not uttered a single word, pleasant people make the persons who surround these three men step aside, and say move back, let these gentlemen see their King sleep on a table, just like a man. Saint-Just moves his head in order to see Robespierre. Saint-Just’s figure appeared dejected and humiliated, his swollen eyes expressed chagrin. Faits recueillis aux derniers instants de Robespierre et de sa saction, du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by anonymous.

The Committee of General Security was being spied on by Héron, D…, Lebas: Robespierre knew, through them, word for word, everything that was happening at said committee. This espionage gave rise to more intimate connections between Couthon, Saint-Just and Robespierre. The fierce and ambitious character of the latter gave him the idea of establishing the general police bureau, which, barely conceived, was immediately decreed. Révélations puisées dans les cartons des comités de Salut public et de Sûreté générale ou mémoires (inédits) (1824) by Gabriel Jérôme Sénart.

Intimately linked with Robespierre, [Saint-Just] had become necessary to him, and he had made himself feared perhaps even more than he had desired to be loved. One never saw them divided in opinion, and if the personal ideas of one had to bow to those of the other, it is certain that Saint-Just never gave in. Robespierre had a bit of that vanity which comes from selfishness; Saint-Just was full of the pride that springs from well-established beliefs; without physical courage, and weak in body, to the point of fearing the whistling of bullets, he had the courage of reflection which makes one wait for certain death, so as not to sacrifice an idea. Memoirs of René Levasseur (1829) volume 2, page 324-325.

Often [Robespierre] said to me that Camille was perhaps the one among all the key revolutionaries whom he liked best, after our younger brother and Saint-Just. Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 139.

After the month of March, 1794, Robespierre's conduct appeared to me to change. Saint-Just was to a great degree the cause of this, and this leader was too youthful ; he urged him into the vain and dangerous path of dictatorship which he haughtily proclaimed. From that time all confidences in the two committees were at an end, and the misfortunes that followed the division in the government became inevitable. […] We did not hide from [Robespierre] that Saint-Just, who was formed of more dictatorial stuff, would have ended by overturning him and occupying his place ; we knew too that he would have us guillotined because of our opposition to his plans; so we overthrew him. Memoirs of Bertrand Barère (1896), volume 1, page 103-104.

About this time Robespierre felt his ambition growing, and he thought that the moment had come to employ his influence and take part in the government. He took steps with certain members of the committee and the Convention, asking them to show a desire that he, Robespierre, should become a member of the Committee of Public Safety. He told the Jacobins it would be useful to observe the work and conduct of the members of the committee, and he told the members of the Convention that there would be more harmony between the Convention and the committee if he entered it. Several deputies spoke to me about it, and the proposal was made to the committee by Couthon and Saint-Just. To ask was to obtain, for a refusal would have been a sort of accusation, and it was necessary to avoid any split during that winter which was inaugurated in such a sinister manner. The committee agreed to his admission, and Robespierre was proposed. Ibid, volume 2, page 96-97

The continued victories of our fourteen armies were as a cloud of glory over our frontiers, hiding from allied Europe our internecine struggles, and that unhappy side of our national character which acts and reacts so deplorably as much on the whole population as on our nghts and our manners. The enthusiasm with which I announced these victories from the tnbune was so easily seen that Saint- Just and Robespierre, being in the committee at three in the morning, and learning of the taking of Namur and some other Belgian towns, insisted for the future that the letters alone of the generals should be read, without any comments which might exaggerate their contents. I saw at once at whom this reproach was directed, and I took up the gauntlet with the deasion of a man willing to once more merit the hatred of the enemies of our national glory, and the bravery of our armies. Then Samt-Just cried, “ I beg to move that Barère be no longer allowed to add froth to our victories.” […] While Saint-Just was reproving me, Robespierre supported the longsightedness of his friend… […] The next day my report on the taking of Namur was somewhat more carefully drawn up, and I alluded to the observation of my critics, who were envious of the power of public opinion in favour of our troops, then busied in saving the country. This phrase in my report was much commented on, although its meaning was only clear to those who had heard the debate in the committee on the previous evening “Sad are the tunes, sad is the period, when the recital of the triumphs and glories of the armies of the Repubhc is coldly hastened to in this place! Henceforth liberty will be no longer defended by the country, it will be handed over to its enemies!”This pronouncement was not of a nature to be forgiven by Saint-Just and Robespierre, so they determined to supplant me with regard to these reports. They forced that idiot Couthon to attend the Committee of Public Safety at eleven in the morning, before I got there Couthon asked for the letters of the generals that had come in during the night, and took his usual seat at the back of the hall, waiting until the assembly was sufficiently full for him to announce the victones. About one, Couthon, being paralysed and unable to stand up in the tribune, coldly read the news from the armies from his place. This time, no effect was produced in the Assembly, or upon the public. This attempt, authorised by Robespierre and Saint-Just, having missed fire completely, the committee signified its dissatisfaction at the innovation. Ibid, volume 2, page 123-125

After his return from Fleurus, Saint-Just remained some time in Paris, although his mission as representative to the armies of the Sambre and Meuse and the Rhine and Moselle was unfinished. The campaign was only beginning, but he had several projects in hand, and he stayed in committee, or rather his office, where he was always absorbed and thoughtful. Robespierre, in speaking of him at the committee, said familiarly, as if speaking of an intimate friend: ”Saint-Just is silent and observant, but I have noticed, in his personality, he has a great likeness to Charles IX.” This did not flatter Saint-Just, who was a deeper and cleverer revolutionist than Robespierre. One day, when the former was angry about several legislative propositions or decrees that did not please him, Saint-Just said to him, “Be calm, it is the phlegmatic who govern.” Ibid, volume 2, page 139

This tyrannical law was the work of Saint-Just Consult the Momteuv of the 22nd of Germinal, where it is reported with the explanation of his motives, and you will see that, if there had been no committee, SamtJust would have used his power with as much dictatorial fanaticism as did Manus, that great enemy of the Roman anstocracy. Robespierre’s fnend never forgave me for having dimmished the force of this blow. Whilst I was at the tnbune of the Convention, he came, with someone unknown, and perused my register of requisitions. He took down certain names, and some days after, towards midnight, Robespierre and Saint-Just entered the committee, where they did not usually come (for they worked in a private office, under pretext that their duties were completely private) A few moments after their entry Saint-Just complained of the abuse I had made of the requisitions, which had been granted, said he, in such profusion that the law of the 21st of Germinal had become null and void. Ibid, volume 2, page 146

Robespierre, Saint-Just and Couthon were inseparable. The first two had a dark and duplicitous character; they pushed away with a kind of disdainful pride any familiarity or affectionate relationship with their colleagues. The third, a legless man with a pale appearance, affected good-nature, but was no less perfidious than the other two. All three of them had a cold heart, without pity, they interacted only with each other, holding mysterious meetings outside, having a large number of protégés and agents, impenetrable in their designs. Révélations sur le Comité de salut public by Prieur-Duvernois

Robespierre, who had great confidence in Le Bas because he knew his wise and prudent character well, had chosen him to accompany Saint-Just, whose burning love of the fatherland sometimes led to too much severity, and who had a tendency to get carried away. […] [Saint-Just] also had friendship for me and came often enough to our house. […] Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with them, along with my sister-in-law Henriette. He consented, but with some conditions. Memoirs of Élisabeth Lebas (1901)

Volume 8 — page 153. ”Saint-Just, his (Robespierre’s) only confident.” His only confident? Élisabeth Lebas corrects a passage in Alphonse de Lamartine’s Histoire des Girondins (1847)

The Lamenths and Péthion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti. Élisabeth Lebas regarding visitors to the Duplay’s during the revolution

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When arriving in Paris in September 1792, Saint-Just first lived on No. 7 rue de Gaillon up until March 1794, and then on No. 3 rue de Caumartin (today’s No. 5) up until his death. Both those places were within a ten minute walking distance from Robespierre’s home on 398 Rue Saint-Honoré.

Saint-Just was away from Paris (and therefore Robespierre) on missions between March 9 to March 31, October 17 to December 4, December 10 to December 30, January 22 to February 13, April 30 to May 31 and June 10 to June 29.

#sj and max holding hands 🤗💓#robespierre #saint-just #maximilien robespierre #louis antoine de saint just #barère #élisabeth lebas #philippe lebas #frev #frev friendships #long post #saintspierre

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