Got a vision of Fabre d'Églantine playing as a woman
(does anyone here even care about Fabre? I feel alone)
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@someflamingtown
Got a vision of Fabre d'Églantine playing as a woman
(does anyone here even care about Fabre? I feel alone)
are you a good suicidal boy (neil perry) or a bad suicidal boy (nigel colbie)
alex forbes and the entire concept of denial.
nigel colbie and the entire history of human desire.
you will NEVER be mayor because you say DUMB and STUPID things
Jérôme Pétion to La Fayette, 1791
I wish that the textbook for school would stop saying "Robespierre and the CPS" as if Robespierre existed on a separate plane to the other 11 members.
before nigel colbie, there used to only be one other person who rivaled alex in intelligence, though always, alex proved to come at first. it wasn't josh or raj, for they may be both smart enough to keep up with alex, there was a significant gap between their intellectual abilities. no, this boy was someone else, someone who alex eventually lost interest on once it was made clear he poses no threat to alex's spot at the top.
so why now is alex forbes leering at the very same boy, with his hands fisted and ready to strike?
"what do you want?" alex clenches his jaw as the boy who stood as tall as him smirked and looked over his shoulder, where nigel colbie stood a few feet behind. nigel has the slightest hint of amusement tugging his lips to a small smile, his eyes squinting vaguely.
"did babyboy come running to alex forbes for help?" the boy teases, turning his gaze back on alex.
earlier that day, the boy has cornered nigel after one of their classes. trying to figure out what nigel has that has gotten alex's attention so entirely focused at him. an attempt on intimidation that didnt last long for a teacher put a stop on it almost as soon at it began.
"what did he want?" alex asks nigel once the boy leaves, revealing that he watched the whole ordeal from afar.
"not entirely sure," nigel whispers, voice deep and cold. "i think he likes me, jack." smiling as if he was making a joke, yet alex could tell that he wasn't.
it was undeniable that before the boy left, he understood exactly what nigel had that has caught alex captivated as he, too, looked and observed nigel, specially from up so close. nigel was beautiful, the bearer of a darkness that only grew as one stares at his face, his eyes.
the boy and alex were cut from the same cloth, nigel thinks, for he recognized it as they shared a look into each other's eyes, it was the same as when alex first began to integrate himself into nigel's head, almost. it was almost the same, but it was not.
now, alex doesn't know what he's doing. doesn't fully understand what he's supposed to be confronting the boy for. he did this himself, nigel didn't come running to him for help, that's laughable, they barely left each other's side all day. he barely left nigel's side.
leave him alone, alex wanted to say, but it still wouldn't make sense, would it? who was he to say that? and who was nigel to him for alex to say that? so instead, he doesn't speak, only lets his fist fly up to the boy's face, hitting him until he fell to the ground. nose bloody and sight spinning. nigel almost felt jealous for the violence.
the boy stands back up, wobbly but angry, he grabs alex by his colar and punches back. alex is taken aback, and eventually they're both fighting each other as nigel watches in the sidelines, getting bored.
after theyve exhausted themselves punching each other, nigel has already long gone.
back at their room, nigel sat at his desk dissecting a new bird, feathers iridescent with white tips, covering the bird in generous dots.
alex throws himself at his bed and turns his head towards nigel's back, trying to rationalize in his head what he has just done. perhaps he was only seeking for the thrill, the adrenaline. though, truly, nigel is enough for that. what he felt today was something else, a different rage, a different possessiveness.
alex lets himself fall asleep, still wearing his uniform, blood still drying on his face, listening to the sounds of metal and paper quietly abiding to nigel's will. and nigel follows him to his dreams.
nigel goes to sleep not long after alex comes back to their room, dismissing it when he looks over to alex's bed and sees the boy still on his uniform fast asleep. but he is woken up by a weight straddling him in the middle of the night, to which nigel could barely see was alex in the dark.
"he wants you." alex says deeply as he lowers his face close to nigel.
nigel groans. "i do not take you as someone who sleepwalks." he could feel alex's breath ghost over him, how pleasant.
"i'm wide awake." alex's hands slither their way under nigel's shirt, from his waist up to his ribs, fingers carefully trailing ever bump of skin from bone almost peaking out.
nigel shudders from the heat of alex's palms.
"nigel." alex whispers once his face was close enough to nigel's ears. pressing cheek to cheek, a flash of memory of the train comes to both their minds from the contact of skin.
a memory enough to push alex over the edge and kiss nigel's neck as his hands squeeze nigel's ribs, and his weight presses against him. nigel feels as though he isn't given any mercy for breathing at all from both actions.
nigel tries to breathe the warm air exuding from alex, surrounding him, entrapping him, but finds himself getting dizzier. his hands gripping at alex's shirt, fingers clawing at his back. while the lips on his neck heavy with the intent to possess, intoxicate him, and the hands on his skin worse.
"jack, jack... alex, sto...stop." he can't breathe, it's all much too overwhelming.
alex stops his kisses, but doesn't remove his lips from nigel's neck. "do you want him?" nigel tries to catch his breath, but alex's voice was something else entirely. maybe he is truly sleepwalking, sleeptalking, unaware of what he's doing.
"nigel."
it was almost scary. alex was almost scary. and if only nigel didn't want it, didn't like it, he would've been scared.
"no." he tries to say, but it was only a mere breath, almost just a gasp lost in the air.
alex moves to face him, though their faces remained too close to each other's. nigel understands that alex wants to hear it better, see him better as he say it. there's no denying it, alex is wide awake.
"no." this time, nigel nearly mimics the heaviness in alex's voice.
alex smiles. and for the first time, nigel found something else more beautiful than the red of organ meats and the white of delicate bones. so when alex leans down to kiss his lips, nigel's heart sang a song of worship so loud alex must've felt his ribs vibrating as the song echoed inside his lungs. a song that climbed out nigel's throat, sounding of gasps and moans as alex's hands caressed and touched him everywhere.
"jack, oh, jack." nigel whimpers while alex sucked on nigel's skin, willing to mark, wanting for more.
"yeah?" alex responds, and for some reason, nigel could do nothing but cry. oh finally, he doesn't deny.
alex hears the sudden change in the ardent dulcet noises coming from nigel and looks again at the whimpering boy. alex removes his hands from nigel's chest and brings it up to cup the boy's face, wet from tears streaming down his cheeks. what a sight. what a beautiful picture. alex then proceeds to shower nigel's face with kisses until his tears stop, and continued marking up nigel's skin everywhere else till the boy fell asleep with the comfort of alex's skin pressed against him.
alex only sleeps once he's satisfied with the marks he's given his nigel, and once the electric jealousy that has driven him to awoke finally burned out, replaced by something he ought to reason and deal with come sunlight.
cw incest, brother/brother
i just know their hate fuck game is insaaaanne
comfort
I imagine John doesn't know if he's asleep or awake, but he talks (whispers) to him anyway, and it's comforting. My art trade with @makthemultifandomnonbinaryfellow - who requested cuddling lams in a tent during a storm, which reminds Alex of a terrible hurricane from his past.
they invented a new kind of jerking off called groping your bruises and whimpering
surgery is like if sex was awesome
The Poet’s Fan-Mail: Fabre d’Églantine and the Cult of J.-J.
We usually talk about Fabre d’Églantine in one of two ways: either as the whimsical genius who gave us the names featured in the Revolutionary Calendar (love u golden dick and hoe day), or as the “fripon” who got himself guillotined alongside Danton for a massive financial forgery involving the East India Company
But before the calendar, and before the 'corruption', there was. drum roll please. the Fanboy!!! WHO would've guessed
I. The Inscription (1785)
Here is what Fabre wanted you to read when you looked at Rousseau’s bust:
JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU Born a Citizen of Geneva in 1712; since then, by a noble abdication of this title, become a Cosmopolite. The most eloquent, most perfect Writer of the known world, ancient and modern. Philosopher persecuted by those who call themselves such. Friend of truth. Apostle of virtue. Restorer of the rights and pleasures of childhood. Religious in the simplicity of the Gospel and of his heart. Cynic toward vices toward the falsehoods of the age. Patient in adversity; Admirable in poverty; A good Man among the humble; a Man among the great. Of a peaceful spirit, of a sensitive and ardent soul. Political thinker Enlightened and profound; implacable enemy of oppression and tyranny. Republican like Cato; Citizen like Aristides; Lover of Nature. Ingenious in the cultivation of the sciences, above all in the art of Music. Gentle in private society: in short, pure in soul, in mind, in heart, and worthy of a better race of Men. He died on 2 July 1778
By M. Fabre d’Églantine.
Now this is four years before the Bastille falls: If it wasn't obvious, Fabre is in Geneva, living as a struggling actor and playwright, and of course he isn’t a “Representative of the People” yet because during this time frame, he’s just a man with a printing press and a massive intellectual crush on Jean-Jacques Rousseau. awwhhh bats eyelashes.. look at him, so cute.. my favorite 35 year ol' baby 🤭🤭
Hérault giving his evil complement sandwich to Saint-Just on the first day of working together...
"You're far too young to understand economics, that was a nice speech about the king, and your clothing is like a peacock crying out for attention."
Saint-Just: Thank you? [*silently* I will destroy you.]
That actually happened to me a couple hundred years ago
gift link, for free access to complicated feelings He may've been suspiciously sick on 9 Thermidor, but I do relate to having a weird attachment to complex historical babes. Interesting about the painting being cleaned
Jacques-Louis David, artist and politician of the French Revolution, has beguiled our critic Jason Farago for years — and scared him, too. L
Quick bonbon sketch for his bday (I’m a lil late)
Cute things to say between breaths while making out
- I fucking hate you
- Jesus Christ man I hate you
- I can’t believe how much I hate you
- I hate you