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chickenparm · 6 months

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Give of Yourself (fox!Tartaglia/f!Reader)

check out the full version of the header art by @lemonemlyn!

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AO3 LINK

fox!Tartaglia/f!Reader 6,989 Words - NSFW (mating bites, knotting, breeding, mild dirty talk, reader is referred to a handful of times as "pretty")

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The first time you meet him is in the depths of the woods, the snow up to your knees as you hunch over your traps and deftly retrieve what’s going to be your dinner for the next few days.

At first you don’t even hear him. He doesn’t make a sound until he’s within arm’s reach, his boot crunching against the snow in a movement that you now know was intentional. After some time, you’d realize he’d never let you hear him there if he didn’t explicitly want you to know. The sound makes you drop the limp hare in the snow, the ones slung over your shoulder falling as well with the speed that you draw your weapon.

But it’s unnecessary. At the time, you’d assumed him unarmed, so your guard lowered slightly. He simply had a smile on his face and both hands raised in surrender, and a polite question on his lips. “Could I share your dinner this evening?”

Simple, polite, and almost forgotten when you catch sight of the soft auburn-colored appendage swishing behind him, the long triangles perched atop his head.

Tartaglia, he told you his name was, at least for the moment. When you inquire a little further, he just says that different situations require different names, but all of them are inherently correct. So, Tartaglia is his name, and he isn’t offended in the slightest when you ask if he’s a fox envoy from Inazuma.

“I’m Snezhnayan, like you. How could that be what I am?” Tartaglia carries your hares over his shoulder, following along in your footsteps in the snow but somehow looming over from behind you. It’s a bit unsettling, but he’s been nothing but cordial during this short interaction, so you chalk it up to your own uneasiness of people.

“I am no fox envoy,” Tartaglia says with finality. “But I am a Fox.”

“What’s the difference?” You ask as your cabin comes into view. A small, one-roomed thing with sturdy stone walls and a thatched roof just installed this last summer.

Tartaglia laughs a little, following your lead in stomping the packed-in snow from the bottoms of your boots. You rest them by the door when you enter your home, swapping for shoes that are softer, more comfortable. There are none for him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, the cold doesn’t bother him at all.

“Fox envoys are fox envoys, and a Fox is a Fox. You’re thinking too hard about it.” Tartaglia says this as if he were explaining that the sky is blue, and snow is cold, and there’s one extra hare strung on your line than what you remember lifting from your traps. You eye it curiously, but say nothing of the strange gift.

Taking them from him to begin preparing, you ask, “Well, are foxes some divine being? Are you immortal?”

“Foxes are Foxes, and I live as long as a Fox usually does.” Tartaglia watches patiently as you work, not offering to help, but you wouldn’t have accepted it anyway. He’s a guest, and you’d rather he just answer your questions. It’s been far too long since you’ve spoken with another person since the snows kept you in place for the season.

One rabbit is finished as you mull over his answers. Then, with more questions, you speak. “You’re not very good at answering questions, you know.”

“You’re just not asking the right questions.” While you work, he wanders your home, looking over your shelves and belongings, but never touching. Occasionally, his fingers will flex in his gloves like he’d love to pick up a trinket or book, but he’s remarkably respectful. “Try again.”

You hum, setting aside more bits and pieces of your prey, some to eat and some to preserve. “How long do foxes live?”

“As long as they like.”

“And how long do you like, since you’re a fox?”

A smile spreads on his face over his shoulder, and you try not to return it too widely at the prospect of playing this little game with him. Each question he answers dutifully, and you try your best to wheedle him into a corner where you can get the results you want. With careful maneuvering, by the time you’ve started roasting the rabbit and the fat is dripping and hissing in the fire, you’ve learned a handful of things about your guest.

Tartaglia is a Fox. Not a fox, but a Fox. There’s a distinction in how he says it, one that you eventually pick up on. Where he comes from are the forests around Morepesok, the ones you also call home, and he’s only now shown his face because he was bored. When you ask if Foxes can even get bored, he laughs as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.

Tartaglia tells you he likes you, and asks if it would be out of line to return and pass the time in your presence. You say yes, of course, because you’ve never met a Fox before and he seems like a rather charming kind.

The next time you see him, he’s across the river as you squat near the edge and check your cages. They’re all empty, meaning you’ll be eating salt-cured hare again tonight. As you look up, he’s already made it to your side without a sound. It’s not nearly as unsettling as you expected.

“Rabbit again, it seems,” you gripe, getting to your feet and dusting the snow from your pants. Tartaglia doesn’t seem terribly put off, instead giving you a shrug. His tail sweeps lazily from side to side, the tip leaving a single large crescent in the snow behind him. Clutched in his hand are the back legs of another hare, fresh enough that you won’t need to subsist off salted and dried meat for dinner.

On the way back to your cabin, you pose more questions for him. “Do you have human ears, too?”

“Why would I?” And you glance up as he follows along next to you. There are no human ears beneath the ginger locks of his hair. Just the two soft appendages at the top that swivel as if he were listening to everything around the two of you. “I’m not human, what use would I have for human ears?”

“Are Fox ears better? Why would humans need human ears, then?”

“Because humans are humans.” Tartaglia says simply, stepping over a log across the path and holding out a hand for you to brace on to follow after him. He does it naturally, as if it were second-nature to assist you with something so trivial. He doesn’t let your hand go until you’re safely on the other side.

“And Foxes are Foxes?” You ask, and his mouth curls in a little smile, like he’s proud of you for such a thing.

“Now you’re getting it!”

The third time he appears before you is a week after the second. It would be a lie to say you don’t recognize him immediately. The shade of his fur is the same as always, though it covers the slim and lithe body of a fox - a Fox, he would correct you - and you would recognize the shade of his eyes everywhere.

Snow reflects so much light, yet none of it seems to catch in his gaze.

Tartaglia follows after you, unperturbed by the fish hanging off your line as you carry it back home. Without asking, you know he plans to stay for dinner, and it’s a surprisingly quiet evening as he curls up on the warmed stones of your fireplace and pointedly remains underfoot as you try to cook. Even a nudge with your toes doesn’t move him, and you have to step over and around Tartaglia to ensure the fish is ready to eat.

“Can you change back?” You ask, sitting on the floor next to him. There’s a plate nearby with his food, but he hasn’t touched it yet. Instead he sprawls on his back with his stomach being warmed by the fire. It takes all your willpower not to reach out and pet him.

He might find it undignified, but he doesn’t seem particularly worried about being dignified. Only that you understand that he’s a Fox, not a fox.

Tartaglia tilts his head to look at you, and somehow you know he’s saying yes. So, you continue with, “Will you? I like how you look normally.”

He doesn’t respond. In fact, his eyes simply close and he looks impossibly smug as he waits for you to take your own utensils to be cleaned before he wolfs down his food. With an annoyed sound when you return, you take his empty plate to clean that, too. In the beginning, you wondered if he did these things on purpose. Now you know for certain that he does.

Tartaglia appears to you as himself only a few days later.

“Is this more to your liking?” Tartaglia gives you cheek with a little smile, ducking his head beneath the top of the door frame as he enters your home without knocking. You can’t bring yourself to mind much at all - he is always welcome.

Glancing up from the clothes you’re mending, you look him up and down pointedly before nodding once. “Yes, I prefer this much more.”

“I thought you’d prefer the other. I’ve been told I make a very handsome Fox.”

“By whom?” You ask, scrunching your nose at him. “Other foxes? They’re biased.”

“And so are you,” Tartaglia points out, moving to sit down on the same stones he’d sprawled across only a few nights before. “This form is more human, so you would prefer it. Both are correct.”

“Like your names,” you agree, and he gives you that little smile that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. Even so, you undeniably enjoy seeing it.

On his next visit, Tartaglia brings you a gift.

It’s a little thing, just barely fitting into the palm of your hand. It’s a small dome made of metal, the golden latticework interspersed with little squares of blue and red. Upon opening it, you find that it’s a music box, one that plays a tune you’ve never heard before, yet makes you nostalgic. Almost instinctively, you want to hum it, and Tartaglia hums with you as if guiding you along the notes.

The music box becomes your most prized possession. There’s little use for pretty trinkets this far out in the wilderness, yet every night before you sleep, you wind it up and drift off to the sound. When he sees it displayed on your mantle, Tartaglia seems to beam with an unknown, positive emotion.

It is not the only gift he brings, but it is your favorite.

Once, after dinner and before you turned in for the evening, Tartaglia gets to his feet and holds a hand out for you, ears forward and alert, tail moving with lazy interest. “Play it again and dance with me?”

Your movements are clumsy, but like he guided you with the music, he nudges you along with the dance. Tartaglia’s dexterity keeps you from stepping on his toes, but you learn soon enough how to match his steps to the music. He does not let you falter.

At your waist his hand curls, the other lacing with your fingers, and you can’t help but notice how impossibly warm he is. Like a furnace pressed to your front, you feel as if you’re burning alive as he hums to the music with half-lidded eyes and looks down at you with that same unfamiliar expression.

From this close, he smells like snow and the sun and pine needles. As if he’d dashed through the underbrush and picked up the scent of the forests around you. It’s almost enough to make you melt into him, his very presence becoming familiar and adored. You wonder if perhaps it’s in his nature to make himself endearing, to worm his way into your life and make space so easily.

It’s not as if you’ve made it difficult.

Winter turns to Spring, and Spring creeps close enough to Summer that the snow begins to melt and you feel more comfortable making trips into the village. On your first, Tartaglia muses upon the idea of going with you, but then backs out after a moment of consideration.

“Foxes aren’t welcome. Not in Morepesok,” Tartaglia explains, and you can’t help but be a little put-off after having hoped he would spend the day with you in the village.

But you understand. It’s an insulated town, and the unknown and unusual are frightening to them. Perhaps that’s why he never showed up to you until now? It’s hard to get an answer out of him pertaining to his reasoning, not with how expertly he’s able to weave your questions into something confusing and nonsensical.

Without his company, you see no reason to linger long. Once, you might have spent hours in the village socializing, getting used to the feeling of people. But this last Winter has been filled neatly with Tartaglia’s presence, and you haven’t felt lonely - not once.

With that in mind, you gather up all your gratitude and return to your home with a pull-cart of supplies and a single frivolity on top. Tartaglia is waiting for you, and he hasn’t bothered to hide the way he’s paced circles around your cabin, prints of boots and paws that intertwine with one another.

When you present him with your gift, he holds the stuffed toy in his hands, turning it this way and that. “More trinkets for your shelves?” Tartaglia asks, and you can’t help but laugh at him the same way he laughs at you. Only when it leaves your chest do you realize it’s laced with fondness.

“No, it’s for you. A gift. I’m sorry it isn’t fancy, my kind of life doesn’t leave much room for that.”

Tartaglia is silent for a long, long time.

After he’s taken his gift and disappeared on you for nearly a week, he returns once more when you’re settled into the snow next to a hole cut through the ice, bundled up in your furs with a fishing pole poised and waiting for a bite. Initially, you expect him to take a space across from you, but then you’re startled when he reaches down to pluck the pole from your hands and jam the handle into the snow.

Before you can protest, worried that you’ll miss a bite, his hands now reach for your cloak to untuck it from around you. You’re left bereft and cold, an argument poised on your lips about how you don’t have natural immunity like he seems to have.

Ultimately, you’re silenced by the way he sidles up behind you, bracketing your body with his legs, the heat rolling off him seeping immediately through your layers. Your forgotten cloak sits in the snow as furs of russet and auburn settle around the two of you comfortably. All thoughts of fishing for your dinner are lost as a dreamy sort of haze settles over you.

“Isn’t this better?” Tartaglia sounds a bit smug as he speaks over your shoulder, his cheek brushing against your temple. “The fur of a Fox is much warmer than anything else.”

“These are yours?” You ask, your hand tentatively running along the softness, strands plush against your fingers.

Something rumbles behind you, right up against your spine, beneath Tartaglia’s sternum. “Yes, and now they’re yours. You’ll keep them safe for me, won’t you?”

Of course, you will. You’ve never held on to something this sumptuous in your life. Absently you continue stroking them, the rumbling at your back lulling you into a trance the likes of which you’ve never felt before. It’s so enthralling that you don’t notice the tip of your fishing pole nudging, or the way he reaches out to pick the rod up and pull in your catch.

Once the fish is writhing on the surface do you snap back to reality and set to work killing it and stringing it up to take home with you. Tartaglia resets your line, then those long arms wind around your middle to pull you back into the warmth of his furs. The cycle repeats, you’ve never felt this secure in your life. Having to pull away to return once the sun starts to sink feels like the greatest torture.

Tartaglia leaves the furs with you, reminding you of your promise to keep them safe and to wear them when you’re in the trees. You do not see him in the form of a fox again.

At night, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to sleeping with them, keeping the thickness wrapped around you snug enough that your blankets are unnecessary now. Inadvertently, Tartaglia keeps you warm as you’re encompassed in the scent and heat of him. You’re not quite sure how he’d react if he knew that you were so taken with this, with him.

Secretly, you hope he’d give you that sweet smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes, and gather you up into his arms so you’d never be cold again. Having his fur is as close as you think you’ll get.

One morning, you sleep in late. Your food stores are plentiful with the comparatively warmer months, there’s enough wood chopped, you have only small chores to do that won’t take much time at all. So, you roll over on your side and snuggle into Tartaglia’s furs with a pleased little smile and a dreamy sigh. Somehow, they still smell like him, even after a handful of weeks.

The bed dips, first at your back, then at your front, and as you turn your head to look upward, you see Tartaglia hovering over you, looking curiously at your sleepy expression. Only his quiet breaths and yours fill the silence, the fire having long burnt out through the evening and morning. The dull blue of his eyes travels from your face to the warmth you’re wrapped in, something shifting, turning a little darker.

Against your cheeks, you can feel his breath shake as he exhales, then inhales, then says, “You accept, then?”

You’re not sure what he’s referring to, but you’re sleepy enough that you simply smile and nod. In truth, there aren’t many things that you wouldn’t do if he asked it of you. So accepting something blindly isn’t so frightening when it comes to Tartaglia.

“Wonderful,” Tartaglia murmurs, leaning closer, lips brushing against your cheek and nearly searing your skin. “You look so perfect like this, pretty Mate.”

Mate. The word makes your eyes crack open again, staring over his shoulder at the ceiling as his lips press more firmly against your cheek with purpose. Pine and snow fill your lungs as you inhale, then let it all go. You’ve realized with Tartaglia that perhaps questioning everything is the incorrect route.

If you watch with patience, you’ll learn what you want to know.

Shifting his weight to prop on one hand, his knee pressed into the bed near your lower back, Tartaglia’s other hand lifts to curl around the edge of the furs, pulling it down to get a better look at your face. “You don’t even know what you did. Do you?”

It’s not something he needs an answer to. You’re well aware that he knows you’re confused, yet still trusting all the same. Being cradled in the most precious part of his being feels as if it empties you of thought and refills you with affection that overflows. Tartaglia smiles, your heart flutters.

“Every step was perfect,” he muses, letting go of the furs to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing beneath your eye in a soft arch. Over his shoulder, the gentle sway of his tail catches your eye, back and forth like a metronome that soothes you. “You let me in your den. You accepted the prey I brought you.”

Lips brush against your cheek once more, his hand on the opposite keeping you steady as he speaks his words into you. “You expressed approval of my appearance. The music box was a courting gift; you accepted that. We danced and played together. You returned with a gift of your own.”

Letting go of your cheek, his fingers reach down to tug at the furs a little more, showing more of your face, your neck, your shoulders. Steadily he tugs it free until he can slip beneath it with you, sharing the warmth of his body until you feel smothered and safe.

“I gave you my form - my fur. It’s the way of Mates, you know. The exchange of what makes us who we are.” The curl of his body slots behind your own, pulling you back against his chest until every inch of you is tight against him, no space left for anything more than complete understanding.

A thought tickles at his previous words, and your voice feels weak and jumbled as you murmur, “I have nothing to give you in return.”

“I know. It doesn’t make our bond worth any less,” Tartaglia answers, face nuzzling into your neck, the feel of something sharp over where your pulse pounds the strongest. “You’ll give me yourself. I’ll mark you, and you’ll be mine, and that’ll be enough.”

Again, the drag of sharpness that could only be his teeth. Sharp pointed canines that you’ve seen enough to no longer be completely intrigued by. The slide of his hands around your waist as he squeezes you tight, one palm pressed to your stomach. “And I will be yours. I’ll care for you, protect you. Keep you safe and happy and full of my kits.”

Your thoughts feel muddled, but they’re still your own. No matter how comfortable you feel, how pliant you are beneath his hands, the words still bring you pause. Of course being his Mate would entail that, it should have been obvious when he first mentioned it. And yet, it doesn’t scare you as much as it might have before.

You fully expect him to do something. Anything. For him to bite you, or paw at you, or do anything except what he does now. Tartaglia’s body cradles yours and his hand strokes over your stomach and he inhales deeply at your neck as if he can’t bother breathing if it isn’t laced with your scent.

The movements almost lull you back to sleep. Your eyes have trouble staying open, and the strange weightlessness of unconsciousness makes your sink further into him. As a last resort, because you cannot simply let things lie, you ask, “Won’t you do it?”

“No,” he answers simply, not elaborating until you’re starting to prickle with impatience. For once, he has mercy on you. “You haven’t given me yourself, yet.”

“How?” Your question is only met with the slow spread of a smile against your shoulder. You think you might know.

Tartaglia’s grip falters a little, allowing him to move his hands to your hips to nudge you onto your stomach. With careful hands, he coaxes you to lift them, higher and higher until you’re propped on your knees, chest to the furs you’ve gathered subconsciously to cushion yourself for what you must intrinsically know is coming.

Those hands on your body squeeze, fingers pressing into your skin as if to test the give, and he hums appreciatively. “Good for grabbing, like I suspected.”

Tartaglia has seen you in many states. Bundled up in all your layers, only your eyes peeking over the edge of your scarf. In warm, casual clothing as you cook dinner. In your bedclothes when you’ve just woken and he politely demands breakfast. But there have been very few instances where he’s touched you.

A hand in yours as he helps you over fallen trees or across ice that the wind has blown mirror-smooth. The brushing of fingers as he passes you whatever prey he’s offering on a given day, the memories heavier now that you know what his intent has always been. His chest pressed to your back as he wrapped you in his furs - himself - for the first time.

But this is different. This squeezing and pawing at your hips, your thighs, your backside… There is no innocence about this. Tartaglia appraises you with purpose now, as if he were taking stock of a deeply sought after prize, something hard won and treasured. If he hadn’t so openly said it, you’d know just by the way he appreciates your form that you are very much his.

And he is yours, and you want to see him while he explores you. Wiggling a bit, you tell him so, and his hand slides up your spine to push between your shoulder blades, a firm denial. Mercifully, he clarifies enough that you relax into it. “Not this time. Humans have their preferences for mating, and I’ll go along with those happily. I see the merit in it. But if I’m going to take you as mine, we’ll do it my way.”

Like an animal, you want to murmur, but you know it wouldn’t be quite right. Tartaglia is not just some animal, but you’ve always been aware of something beneath the surface that speaks of a more primal way of doing things. Natural would be the word he likely used, but no matter how you add it up, the sum remains the same.

You don’t struggle against the press of his hand, and he squeezes your hip once more in approval. Sliding back down your spine, he nudges your lower back into a deeper arch before those long fingers hook into your pants and underwear. “Nothing would make me happier than to give you everything you want. As often as you want, in as many different positions. After you give yourself to me like this.”

“Yes,” you hiss, almost impatient with the methodical way he’s picking you apart, thrumming at your nerves while barely doing anything at all. It’s the implications that your mind is supplying in the spaces between, and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

The frigid air meets your backside, your thighs, the wetness of your cunt as he tugs your clothes down enough to bunch around your knees. It’s all he needs right now, and you’re just glad he isn’t wasting time by trying to reveal more of you. Those same hands touch your skin now, squeezing in all the same places, his palms burning hot against you. A pathetic little sound falls from your lips, and he freezes.

You can feel him smiling.

As his fingers spread you open, you don’t have the wherewithal to even be embarrassed at the vulnerability of it all. Tartaglia looks at you shamelessly, a little rumble leaving his chest as he thumbs over your clit with little warning. Your hips jolt, only for a moment, and then you’re pushing yourself back against his circling finger for more.

It feels as if you’re demanding it from him, but also that you’re offering yourself as some sort of… toy for him to play with. The mere suggestion of it has you reeling; that you would willingly put yourself in his hands for his amusement. But that’s what all this is for, isn’t it? You can’t help asking that of yourself, knowing that it’s the truth.

Tartaglia wants you to give yourself to him in the only way you really can. An even trade for the offering that still wraps around you now. The exchange for having him at your side always, giving you all those things he promised. Protection, happiness, safety… The feeling of his cock nudging against you, hot and weighty, the chill of something smearing across your skin.

“Look at you, all ready for me,” Tartaglia breathes, nails scraping against your skin as he pushes closer, nestling against your cunt until his tip brushes your clit, his pulse thrumming against you just as surely as yours races against him. “Knew you’d be perfect. I knew it. I watched you, you know.”

And that makes you stiffen. You’d suspected, of course, but-

“Ever since you came here–” two years ago– “I watched, I waited. The forests are wild, uncontrollable, imperfect. But you’re… different.”

Tartaglia rocks against you, a minute sliding of his cock against your oversensitive cunt. He lets you feel every inch of him before ever giving you a taste. “Humans are delicate. Fragile, really. Wrapped up in your layers, I thought you looked cute. But every day that passed, I grew more sure that you’d look even more divine with my furs wrapped around you…”

And he leans down, pressing his lips to your neck, just over your pulse once more. You can feel the heaviness of his breath as he murmurs, “And how you’d look with my mark right here.”

Goosebumps prickle along your skin at the open threat of his teeth pressing into your skin. Not hard, never breaking, but little indents left as he pulls away, surely. Perhaps it’s your own mind tricking you, addled with both desire and the man above you, but you have a distinct need to have those marks on you permanently.

So, you bite down on your lip and whine a little plea, unsure of what you’re really asking for, only knowing that you want it desperately. More than you’ve ever wanted anything. The entirety of your life feels like it’s been boiled down to this single moment, the pinprick in time where it’s just you and the Fox above you, behind you, surrounding you completely.

Tartaglia withdraws, just enough to give you the full drag of him against your folds before the head pushes against your entrance. Never before have you taken someone with such little resistance, but never before has anyone worked you into such a state with so little effort. Tartaglia has barely touched you beyond squeezes and gropes for his own gratification, yet you can feel a rivulet of your own arousal roll down the inside of your thigh.

And you can hear the squelch of his entry, your cunt being pushed open to make way for him to seat fully inside you. Your mouth falls open in a silent sound as Tartaglia eases you open in one smooth move, the sharp angle of his hip bones pressing into your backside. The pressure only increases when he leans over you again, one hand braced on the bed, the other smoothing over your stomach, fingers pressing in just beneath your belly button.

“Right here. Can you feel me?” Tartaglia’s voice is almost a purr as he coaxes you into responding with a nudge of his hips forward. Your mouth shuts with a click of your teeth, face twisting in pleasure as you’re swept up in the sensation of having him inside, of nearly being rearranged to make room for him to take you.

Each move is torturously slow, and you’re reminded of his words, of the implication. You moved into this cottage two years before he approached you, and it’s been half a year since then. Two and a half years of persistence points to a lifetime of patience. Because of his nature, you assumed he’d take you quick and harsh.

And yet he pulls out and pushes in at an agonizing pace, your mind latching on to the sensation of being filled and emptied. Tartaglia fucks you like he has all the time in the world to do so, like he wants to spend that time memorizing every trembling inch of your pussy before marking it as his own. Like… he wants to torture you for not letting him do this sooner.

You would have let him. Gods, the first time he smiled at you - for real, not the wide and false thing he defaults to - you would have graciously done anything he asked. Including this frustrating slow paced fuck. Or is it mating? You’re not sure, and you don’t really have the faculties to ask such a question in the precise way required to get a real answer.

Fisting the sheets, you push back against him as he pulls out, trying to get at least one sharp thrust in to satiate yourself. Tartaglia doesn’t stop you, doesn't prevent you from doing it, but only once. Only when you rock forward and off does he stop you with a hand on your backside, palm pushing into the flesh and fingers squeezing in quiet warning.

Next time, you recall him saying. This one is for him, for his enjoyment. You don’t move, sucking in a shaking breath to fill your lungs, and his grip lessens to pat your ass in encouragement. “Smart; you remembered. Just relax. Just feel. Can you do that for me, just a little longer?”

You make a sound of agreement, but he doesn’t accept it as readily as you thought. Another tap to your backside, a little bit harder this time. Perhaps his patience isn’t as infinite as you thought. “Say it out loud. Say that you’re happy staying right here, feeling my cock.”

Tartaglia doesn’t sink back into you. Your entrance is stretched wide around his tip, your cunt clenching around nothing and begging for him to give you anything at all. Weary with your own desperation, you cave for him. “I-I’m happy just feeling your cock–”

“Your Mate’s cock,” he amends his original request, nudging forward, giving you a little as compensation so far.

You want more, even if he buries inside and never moves again. “I’m happy staying here and feeling my M-Mate’s cock.”

Something that felt so frustrating before now feels euphoric as he slides all the way in once more, nudging against places inside that you’re not sure have ever been touched like this. All it took was a moment of realignment to take you from annoyance to appreciation for the slow, slow roll of his hips.

This is fine. This is enough. If you close your eyes and focus only on that slow dragging, on bearing down and tightening around him further, then you find yourself inching closer and closer to the release you need. A little groan of surprise leaves him as you do this, then a little chuckle as he quickly realizes what you’re trying to do.

You expect him to tease you, to demand that you hold off and you’re not allowed to finish while he does this. It would be cruel, but you’d do it, only because he’d made so many pretty promises about what comes next. And yet, he slides a hand around you, breath hot against your ear. His fingers find your clit again as his cock goes still inside. “Since you’ve been so good…”

Tartaglia doesn’t move himself an inch as he plays with your clit, stroking it between two fingers, drawing circles with the pad of his middle digit, pressing hard to give you a little jolt of pain before soothing it away with soft touches. You’re not certain what it is he’s getting out of this until you tense particularly hard and his cock twitches inside you.

The closer you get to orgasm, the more you tense and flex around him. Tartaglia doesn’t need to fuck you to get his own pleasure, you realize, and that only spirals you higher toward the very apex of it all.

Through the haze you feel his mouth on your neck, sucking against the little marks he’d left not so long ago. The pressure will leave bruises, and you almost think that’s the extent of it. A mark that will be left to show he’d been here with you, that you were his until it faded and he’d surely put another in its place.

Tilting your head, you give him all the access he’d like. You’d be proud to leave whatever mark he gives, even though you’re isolated enough out here that you’ll likely not see another person until it starts to fade. But you’ll see it, you’ll feel it. Just as surely as you feel him throbbing in your cunt, as surely as his teeth dragging along your skin before sinking in.

As surely as the pain of his bite mixes with the exquisite agony of your drawn out release, the two striking at the same time and mingling so thoroughly that there’s no hope of pulling one from the other. They’re the same thing now, both overwhelming and leaving you just as delirious as you’d been when he arrived.

Something else burns at you, too. Between your mind reeling and your muscles tensing as if you’d experienced electro directly from the source, you realize he’s moving now. Quick, shallow, sharp little thrusts, something pushing at you that you don’t recognize. If you weren’t so thoroughly ruined, you’d panic, but instead you sprawl beneath him and let his hands hold your hips to keep you from going completely boneless.

The bluntness pushes you open, slowly but surely with each thrust until the stretch making you nearly squeal as he forces it inside. Only when you accept it does he finally dig his nails in and mouth against your neck, moaning against your skin with each shot of his release. Involuntarily, his hips jerk forward as the waves roll over him, his body pushing yours into the bed as he loses his strength to keep you aloft for his use.

Your neck stings, your pulse runs hardest in your cunt that’s stuffed full of his cock. Mindlessly, your fingers reach for the red fur sprawled around the two of you, pulling it closer. Its owner is at your back, but you have a single-minded need to be completely wrapped up by him. Everything feels muddled, as if you’d had a bit too much firewater to drink and were in the throes of your cups.

Tartaglia’s tongue rolls against the stinging marks, and you wonder if he’s tasting your blood or if he’d even gone that deep. It felt that way, as if he’d pierced you clean through. Perhaps his mark will last far longer than you expected.

A sharp hiss leaves you as you shimmy a bit to get more comfortable, and his length doesn’t dislodge from you. In fact, you feel as if he’s locked inside, something keeping you from pulling free. Another shift, a whimper as you realize that’s exactly what’s happened, and he finds quiet glee in your confusion.

“Did you think I was lying? I told you that I would breed you, Mate.” His hand sprawls over your stomach, possessive as if something were already growing there. “Hush now, my knot will go down soon and you can ask all your questions.”

“Can’t I ask them now?” You ask, annoyed at how thick your voice feels from exhaustion. Against your neck he nuzzles, lips brushing over the tender spot where he’d bitten you. Verbally, he doesn’t answer, but you suspect that he’d just reiterate his desire for you to wait.

And so, you relax beneath him, letting his weight settle over you comfortably. The furs tickle against your nose as you inhale their scent, as potent as the moment he’d first wrapped them around you. A thought meanders through your mind about what you might smell like to him, and whether he pines for it in the same way that you do.

Tartaglia doesn’t seem the pining type. At least, that’s what you thought before all of… this. Apparently, he’d been doing so for quite some time, far before you even had laid eyes on him.

With a little roll, he pulls you to lay on your side, his body spooned against your back once more, just as before, the thickness of his tail curled over your hip. The movement slips him free of you, and you don’t quite have words to articulate the disappointment that settles in your chest from the loss. You feel unlike yourself, but somehow more in-tune with who you are, as well.

Sensing your confusion, Tartaglia answers questions that you hadn’t had time to formulate. You’re his Mate, he tells you. He’s put his mark on your neck permanently, claiming you for himself in the eyes of all others. When your fingers raise to your neck to feel, he brushes your hand away. “Don’t touch it, you’ll irritate it more.”

“I just want to feel it-”

“There’s nothing to feel. It’s the shape of my teeth, and it’ll scar over,” he chides you, squeezing your hand. “Just trust me when I say that it suits you.”

You suppose you’ll be the judge of that later. In the meantime, you sigh a bit petulantly and relax in his hold, trying not to drift off to sleep. To combat yourself, you needle him further. “Why didn’t you say anything before? About your… feelings.”

“I have been.” Tartaglia almost sounds affronted, like you’ve put this entire thing up to be judged for validity. “We went through every step of the mating process. It’s not my fault you didn’t ask about any of it.”

“How was I supposed to know!”

“By asking,” Tartaglia answers simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You want to spin around and smack him, your hand pushing against the bed to give you leverage to do just that, but he cuts you off at the pass by wrapping those furs around you so tightly that you’re certain you’ll turn into a Fox yourself.

And then he laughs at you, light and weightless, rasping a bit at the edges in a way his polite ones never do. If not from his smile, then just by the angle of his ears, Tartaglia is happy. As happy as you’ve ever seen him. You’ll be annoyed with him later, you think, when you’ve had your fill of his elated expression and grow tired of seeing him so jovial.

That moment doesn’t come.

#mind the a/n for content tags #tartaglia #childe #genshin impact #genshin #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #f!reader #afab!reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia/reader #childe/reader #reader-insert #nsft #mdni

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synthshenanigans · 4 months

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I'm curious as to peoples idea for what he'd do for the next power hour so

[These all being popular ideas or ppl he's mentioned]

This was all just a ploy to get you to read my info dump theory on the concept of a Chonny Jash Power Hour loser HAHAHA

Im joking tho. Not about my CJPH theory, that is very much real but I'm not forcing you to read it lol

However if you're curious, my inane rambles are further down :}

[Long Rant Post Below]

Okay so I'm gonna start with the basic idea I got it from; that being Nerd. Nerd already foreshadowed the THDPH & the WWPH [Even down to the last song for each of them] Not only that, but he references the stuff hes done in the past as well with a break/pause inbetween.

[This is what I mean]

The first three being all stuff he already did. BDG with Pocket, Tally Hall with Vol.1 & then Cage by Tim Minchin being the start the power hours.

The next two being the power hours he would do after this song [Memento Mori & Charlie's Inferno-Will Wood & That Handsome Devil]. But those are the only songs he would reference in Nerd, leaving no more clues as to what the last one would be. The only thing left in it is the video game references & Stairway to Heaven in the ending. [Which oddly enough also fit the pattern in a way. StH being about dying and the afterlife like Memento Mori & Chonny's Inferno and the video game references being all covers he made on his old channel]

While the VG refs could be a hint at a Videogame or Toby Fox Power Hour, I think at most, if its a clue at all, hinting at the next thing he does is recovering old songs.

----

Next, a couple of his songs reference his past stuff. Fine, I'm Fine has a good amount of lines that vaguely refer back to songs from the before [heres a post that goes more into it that's pretty cool!!]. And more importantly Dear Machine references Pocket, Dream (Outro from Calamity) & wings of wax. Pocket being later used in Nerd & the mention of Icarus coming back in Art. Not only that, but the voice in the very end Thermodynamic Lawyer is the exact same [if not very close to] voice filter/effect he uses in Dear Machine. Even down to the British accent he does in it. [Tho it is fairly normal for a music artist to reference their older songs in their music so it could be nothing]

Speaking of Dear Machine tho, quick thing to add about it is that it shows he not against covering his own songs. While yea technically its just a different version of Ode of the Cog, DM,HtC in a way counts as a cover of OotC. Same goes for bargaining/compromise & The Ballad of Dr. Jekyll.

----

Another idea with a CJPH is that in the CJFS discord theres a "Question of the Day" Channel. Where, as the name says, a Mod or Helper will ask a CJ related question & everyone can give their idea/imput on it. For Day 100, as a special fun lil thing, they asked Chonny if he wanted to give a question for that day. His question being:

And yes he does say that he doesnt plan on doing anything like that in future [if he even were to do it]. I fully believe he wasn't lying there & honestly I never saw him redoing any song ever until I had the idea of a CJPH [aside from stuff like Spring and a Storm & Storm and a Spring obviously]. But this is the best idea I could ever see him doing that. Also that question was from early August so a fair amount of time has passed. Whether thats enough time to equal "at least in the near future at all" I have no clue, but it is a thought.

----

One of my last points [that I remember atm lol] is on how he would end the power hours. Cos like, while yea he does whatever he wants & doesn't rlly follow what anyone says or asks [which I 100% agree with & is completely valid btw], I'd imagine he'd still want to end the PHs with a bang. Which is why I originally didnt think the recent one would be Will Wood.

He's stated a couple of time that hes one of his favorite artist & he definitely knows that a huge chunk of his fan base listen to WW as well. So why not end with that? Why not end with one of the most requested artist people wanted him to cover? Why wouldn't he end with a power hour of the artist that was his #1 on his Spotify Wrapped? What else could he do after that? Well maybe he'd go with his #2 artist? WHICH IS JUST HIMSELF BBYYYY

Plus, the name Power Hour already comes from this:

So it's very likely he's had himself play multiple times in a row & had a "Chonny Jash Power Hour".

Of course theories are just theories so there's always the chance I'm wrong & just insane. And again he does whatever he wants whenever he wants so who knows what it'll be. I just think id be an interesting idea for him to do.

As for how a Chonny Jash Power Hour would look? Maybe each song being a cover of a song from a past album or single? I'd imagine one from the before. & Covered in Discontent [maybe Gothic Whore?]. Like remake Pocket since its been referenced so much, tho that's still just a BDG cover so who knows. the before. would be interesting just to see how his perspective has changed since he originally wrote those songs. Gothic Whore he already has 2 songs that have a story version & a him version so I can see him doing another.

I HIGHLY doubt he'd do anything related to Vol.1 as its his completely separate thing & he doesn't rlly wanna touch any song that's TH/HMS related until whenever he feels like starting Vol.2 [which is valid lol]. If anything I could maybe see like TWWAY, Special or maybe Greener? Or go a different route with the og I'm Gonna Win or like a more outta the box one with like Just a Friend [only cos be did a 20 second "cover" of it in Mucka Blucka]. Again, I do not see him touching anything Vol.1 related but still something to entertain ig? [4th TME cover; The Chonny Electric when/j]

Tho maybe he'd just remake songs that he he fully made [like the before. or Gothic Whore], since those are more of actual Chonny Jash songs rather than the others just being covers. Would be very cool to maybe see a remake of some of his Majora's Mask song tho [no this isn't me coping over HEAL not being on spotify shush]. Or maybe he'd do songs from his old stuff like Don't Take it Personally? [also not me coping over wanting that song on Spotify too]

Idk these are just my thoughts on the idea of a CJPH [or even a Can of Soup Power Hour/j]. Either way I am gonna say idc what he'd do, BDG or Streetlight Manifesto are my other guesses, but anything he makes is always rll good & fun so I'll be interested to see whatever it is.

But ya know considering I typed all this out in the span of an hour & a half I kinda hope im not wrong PFFT

#apologies if there's any grammar or spelling mistakes lol #i just typed a lotta insane ramblings so im bound to mess up somewhere. also i am dyslexic #if you actually managed to read all that. Congrats & thank you :D! Also why tho! you're insane for listening to me being insane/j #I hope I made sense at least #And if you spent any time even glancing at my text thank you a lot but I hope you aren't bored lol #also its still gonna be a bit since he does a power hour but still curious as to ppls ideas of it #at least it BETTER be awhile. bro better take that damn br8k #chonny jash #moss post #KJ is going insane again

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

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UTMV agere!verse masterpost!

Ageretale here!

@utmv-agereverse the official blog!

(Don't know what agere is? Info can be found here! ^^)

You in the undertale Fandom? Are you ALSO an age/pet regressor? Maybe a dreamer, caregiver, babysitter, flip?

Well, I've made an AU specifically for Sanses, as part of the agere community! Which, can be found in the following list!

Here's the Sans made specifically for this AU, Binky/Agere Sans!

Bad Sanses!

Nightmare! (Caregiver!)

Cross! (Flip!)

Killer! (Middle!)

Horror! (Little!)

Dust! (Little!)

Star Sanses!

Ink! (Caregiver!)

Blue! (Flip!)

Dream! (Flip!)

Other Sanses!

Lust/Lavender! (Little!)

Error! (Petre!)

Runo! (Little!) Unofficial character! Though if requested by owner, I would make him one. /gen.

Classic Sans! (Caregiver!)

Fell! (Little/Petre!)

Freeze! (Little!) Unofficial character! Though if requested by owner, I'll make him canon! ^^ /gen!

Geno! (Flip!)

Alter! (Flip!)

Farmer! (Flip!)

Fresh! (Flip!)

I'll update the list as I post more content for the AU! You'll also find Writing here as well!

Written works!

Nightmare Headcanons!

A speck of Dust. (Fanfic.)

Art!

Art that's just for the AU in general! ^^

"I didn't even do anything!"

I'm always taking suggestions for Sanses in the AU! And yes, that includes Sanses from your OWN AUs as well!

For example! "Could you do Fell as a dreamer?" Or, whatever other ones you could think of! (Note, if you suggest your own Sans, please give me a reference for them, and a loose/detailed idea of what you want them to look like and like to do!)

ALWAYS SFW!

Credits!

Classic Sans and Papyrus owned by Toby Fox.

Dream and Nightmare owned by Jokublog.

Error owned by LoverOfPiggies.

Ink owned by Comyet.

Blue by owned AU community.

Cross owned by Jakei95.

Killer owned by Rahafwabas.

Horror owned by Sour-Apple-Studios.

Dust owned by Ask-Dusttale.

Lust owned by AU community.

Runo owned by @kiyo-void!

Fell owned by Fella.

Binky owned by me!

Freeze owned by @zombiestar1934!

Geno owned by Loverofpiggies.

Fresh owned by Loverofpiggies.

Alter owned by friisans.

Farmer owned by GuinongTale_AU.

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ratwavegamehouse · 1 month

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Doing work on This is Your Lifepath season 2 has got me thinking about lists of inspirations again. So I rounded up some lists in upcoming projects.

(Ritual Magic for Besties isn't here as its bibliography is fairly short and more explanatory rather than list-y, also like it comes out later this month so you can just wait)

PSYCHODUNGEON

The games listed are primarily about mechanical influence (which is why they're mostly a very large slice of Belonging outside Belonging games). Big exceptions are Subway Runner and DD.TV which are both there for post-dungeon fantasy influence. ACWtM is there for the influence on the asymmetric roles, which are a divergence from how BoB setting elements tend to work, and so my own Fear the Taste of Blood is there because working on that is how I understood that element better.

Probably should clarify Moonstruck is the comic (as like loose setting influence) rather than the film (which bangs but doesn't relate much to PSYCHODUNGEON).

NHSmackdown is a wrestling/performance art show by a friend of mine which was focused on being a nurse. The influence is in how it got me reflecting on being trapped in job which is nominally doing good but isn't protecting you and is honestly actively harming you.

Nemesis Revealed

Nemesis Revealed is a storytelling game of great rivals, where you play someone's nemesis, their dark counterpart and follow their story. It has multiple playsets which frame a different hero to create your nemesis in opposition to.

So the game influences are either in mechanics or in the structure of a book basically. Whereas the other section primarily focuses on specific influences for different playsets (there's a sort of conventional street level superhero, a gender-twisty tokusatsu inspired story, as well as strange space knights and near-distant future mecha crews). It's a scattershot and probably reads very opaque without context (I think that's how all my bibliography lists look which is probably why I place them at the back, where a reader will find them already armed with context, rather than at the start as a taste setter).

Transgender Deathmatch Legend II: Grand Slam

TDL2 actually has two separate lists. There's a traditional bibliography. I referenced my own work I've drawn on because it seems honest. Fox in the Forest is there for influencing the original mechanic. Hieronymus influenced how i wanted the shape of the book to be. Stealing the Throne influenced some non-fighting mechanics.

The other references are more for how they influenced specific scenarios (like one is loosely Raid inspired but turned into smashing up a GIC, while another is a direct Warriors-riff).

I included the Party of One episode i did cause it helped clarify how i felt about the game. British lads hitting each other with chairs is there because it's a mood.

Sh!t Theatre Drink Rum with Expats was a fringe theatre show I did set up for and it ended up influenced the content of a work-in-progress show I did called Crossface (which was a wrestling inspired character comedy performance drama). Some of the content for Crossface has been recycled into some personal essays I have in the book. So paying tribute to that root felt important.

But before that section TDL also has a Recommended Reading list. It's mainly stuff that I think conveys what's enjoyable about wrestling. I wouldn't say everything was a direct inspiration, but if you read the book and played the game and wanted to know more about wrestling; there's a little roadmap in the book.

(Though being serious this appendix is obviously super subject to change before release if anything horrific comes out about anyone featured, obviously the danger in recommending any wrestling tbh)

#game design #indie ttrpg #ttrpg #is this a preview of any of these games?#I have no idea #but hey maybe it gets you excited #even just to understand why this shit is there #time flies doesn't have a full list yet because the game still has a lot more writing to go #so anything i could share would be incomplete and i don't think a useful glimpse

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psychicpinenut · 7 days

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netflix atla review

i decided that i wanted to see it through anyway so i finished the netflix atla. here are the things that made me want to hurl rocks at my tv (i might not remember a lot of things because i stopped watching after ep 4 and only continued this week so this might get rambly as i try to recall things)

let me start on the cast. no offense to these kids but my god. one of the things i hate the most is when you can tell an actor is acting. the whole time you could see that they walk up to their mark, stop there and recite the lines like they're in a high school play. and i get that they're young and probably don't have too much experience but i just keep thinking about the original voice cast who were children as well at the time of recording and they're some of the most talented actors i've ever heard. but then again i know they had to not only find people who resemble the characters but can do martial arts and act. so whatever, i hope they'll grow more during this. the only actor i liked was dallas liu who is the oldest of the main cast (i believe he was around 20 when they filmed this) which is probably why he doesn't have a chronic case of child acting.

constantly making up and/or changing lore:

why can aang only speak to past avatars in their shrines?

roku is sidelined in favor of kyoshi (who for some reason is extremely aggressive towards him) who can see into the future apparently because she gave aang a vision of the northern water tribe being destroyed instead of sozin's comet coming.

aang somehow being "lost" to the ocean spirit at the end which is ???

sokka and katara can enter the spirit world with aang

koh keeping his victims like some fucking spider and only gives them back after aang gave some stupid totem back. they also brought him so forward that he doesn't tell aang about tui and la which was the entire fucking point of looking him up in the first place

yue is a fox? in the spirit world?

wan shi tong is there also in the spirit world

i'm guessing they're already abandoning the ancient library storyline because they already intoduced wan shi tong and zhao was shown that he found out about tui and la from the fire sages in roku's temple. which is going to be interesting because that's where sokka finds out about the solar eclipse but i guess they'll come up with some other solution like toph can sense the moon moving through her feet or some shit

tui and la becoming mortals for only one night?

zuko having extensive research on the avatars should mean he knows that roku is his great grandfather but we're either leaving that one out or he's just not good at research

they took out sokka's sexism, thus eliminating any chance of character development, in favor of putting in actual sexism perpetrated by the show itself. suki is made into this small town girl, rapunzel type of character who needs sokka, the man, to bring the world to her and expand her mind. and then instead of sokka being grateful to suki for teaching him, she's the one that's thankful for ... going there? and bringing the world to her? because strong women mean they can punch right?

constant references to book 2 in the first season

they made so that aang didn't actually run away from his responsibility as the avatar - which is a pretty important part of his arc as that guilt follows him through the entire series - but that he only took a little trip to clear his head. which makes everyone accusing him of disappearing seem dumb and unfair

which leads me to bumi. why the fuck would bumi be so pissed at him? the whole episode he's antagonizing him and yelling at him to go do his job as the avatar meanwhile he's holding him hostage and making him do his challenges. like let him go so he can do his job maybe?? stupid

the entire ep 3-4. they really just shoved like 5 episodes together into one which i get because they don't have time to do everything but they did it so badly and the messages from each episode disappeared in favor of the CGI fight scenes.

like what do you mean sokka barely even got to interact with jet? that's the episode where sokka is proven to have good instincts and leadership because he saw jet for what he was.

why are teo and his dad here? what about aang's massive grief over the industrialization of his wiped out culture?

why would jet try to kill bumi? they completely obliterated the moral dilemma of jet wiping out a fire nation village because he sees that as justified even though he's killing civilians who happen to be fire nation.

for some reason they had sokka and katara go through the secret tunnel which is kind of fucking weird. i don't mind if they cut the kaang romance line but it is going to be interesting once it comes to the earthly attachments and some plotlines that revolve around aang having a major crush on katara. also what do you mean the badger moles sense "emotions"? toph is about to sense people's emotions in her feet and learn bending that way

they mary sue'd katara. she's bad at waterbending until she isn't and suddenly she's a master just from self taught basic waterbending she learned from the scroll gran gran gave her?? which is another thing they robbed us of because katara going to great lengths to steal the scroll shows how determined she is and desperate to learn waterbending but here she just gets handed the scroll. she's timid and lukewarm the entire season, the only time i can recall her even raising her voice is when she's arguing with sokka over jet. she gets mad at pakku for not letting her fight which is stupid because girl who is gonna stop you? go and fight?? you should be getting mad at pakku for not even trying to teach you waterbending. then she brings the entire untrained female population to the fight because girl power™. despite all of this, she's proclaimed a master without any actual training and beats zuko's ass purely because she's So Good. like at this point she shouldn't be able to hold her own against zuko without the full moon's help because as soon as the sun comes up zuko easily overpowers her ("you rise with the moon i rise with the sun"). which didn't happen here because she's a self proclaimed master now apparently

aang didn't bend a single waterdrop the entire season. it's book 1: water. it's called water. where's the bending aang? too busy doing another stupid walk and talk

stripped of iroh telling zuko he thinks of him as his son

stripped of one of the rawest lines i've ever heard on television: "my father says she was born lucky, he says i was lucky to be born"

which leads me into azula's character. they brought her in earlier just so her role in the whole season can be her groveling at ozai's feet, seeking his approval, trying to outdo zuko. which is insane cause she already outdoes zuko by a mile. she's a prodigy. they make it look like ozai favors zuko over azula which is so fucking insaaaane it made me so mad. she already knows she's better than zuko, she doesn't need her father's approval. also why isn't her fire blue.

iroh being the one who kills zhao. this one pissed me off so badly because in the original, as the ocean spirit takes hold of him zuko reaches out to zhao to try to save him.... that man tried to have him KILLED. and zuko still tried to save him. but zhao's arrogance didn't let him take his hand and that was his demise. that single act tells us so much about zuko and they just??? took that out??? so iroh can just murder him?? instead of it being the ocean spirit's revenge for killing its partner? instead of giving us that glimpse into who zuko is as a person? i'm going insane

don't even mention the fact that zuko fought back against ozai during the agni kai. he was literally banished because he refused to fight him. he got the scar because he refused to fight him. that's who zuko is!!!! and then they show us that he, a 13 year old boy who is still fairly inexperienced at bending, could have defeated ozai but he chose not to?? i'm sorry???

during the meeting where he spoke out against their plan, they made it look like he only spoke up because the general taunted him and not because he thought what they wanted to do was morally wrong.

now tell me which line hits harder: "compassion is a sign of weakness" or "you will learn respect and suffering will be your teacher". yeah...

yue bringing sokka to the spirit oasis to heal momo?? it was so fucking stupid and unserious that they were cradling a cgi lemur that i was in tears of pain. i almost gave up there

sokka constantly talking about wanting to be a better warrior and bossing katara around but doing absolutely fuck all to prove himself was insane. sokka was just standing around the whole season making bad jokes (cause wow they made sokka unfunny somehow) and flirting with women.

there was no goofiness or lightheartedness to aang. he took everything so fucking seriously it actually hurt to watch because they blew things out of proportion that didn't need to be. why was he so afraid of his normal bending power? not even his avatar state power but just his airbending. constantly angsting over his responsibility and how he's failing as the avatar. jesus fucking christ.

since zuko never stole katara's necklace, june had to use some fuckin random fabric she found on one of the trees that could've belonged to anybody??

zuko was able to capture aang after june found him instead of getting his ass whooped and paralysed so when zhao basically forces him to hand aang over to him, it's easier to guess who the blue spirit is as zuko makes a whole scene about it earlier

truly the one thing i really liked was the addition that the 41st division was the crew he protected at the war meeting

circling back to the first episode where we start out in the past and we get to see the whole genocide of the air nomads instead of finding out along with aang. we also get to see how he ends up in the iceberg so we don't get his story paralleled with zuko's backstory like in the storm. i mean whatever but the aang and zuko parallels were always dear to me.

hated zhao's actor. instead of him being intimidating and scary, he was acting like a frat boy and talked like tom cruise's character in magnolia. just simply annoying

jet telling katara to just stop being sad about her mom and she stops being sad and suddenly she can bend again. and later when he tells her she can bend because he helped her, she straight up denies it because it was "all her" like i gotta disagree there cause no, it was definitely him who helped you.

icing on the cake was when zuko walks into a bar and the patrons there reference like 4 storylines that they skipped over

so anyway... that's all i could think of at the top of my head and i hope they fuck up less in the upcoming seasons god willing

#long post #pine rambles #natla critical

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ask-duotale-b2fc · 4 months

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✨️Duotale FAQ✨️

Just in case peeps ask questions a lot lol. Will add more as we go.

•What exactly is this AU about?

Its just a funny little AU where not all monsters were locked underground and some went into hiding instead. Some species of monster in this AU can take on human form with their magic, hence why this is possible. Of course, this doesnt stop kiddos, human or monster, from climbing that darn mountain though.

•When is the next page?

Duotale updates every Friday. Time varies but I try to keep it between 10am and 12pm EST. If either day falls on a holiday, the page will be posted the following day.

•Why is this AU called Duotale?

Because the two main characters are twins, hence the Duo in Duotale. Ok they aren't twins, but they are siblings, born a few months apart. Yes, Strawberry is the Older one.

•Is the player a thing in this AU?

Maybe, maybe not. Depends on the AUs in the Citadel. No one is controlling the Duotale cast though. They've had their own mind and actions from the start. Underplayer is in the Citadel though, if you count them as a player.

●Can my AU be featured in your comic?

Why yes. Just refer to the link in the Masterpost labeled "how to get your AU into the comic". Follow the rules, answer the questions, and you'll be in where we can fit you! Do note that we will try to spread everyone out through different MVC visits, so please, don't be upset if your appearance isn't automatic! You will be seen eventually before the story's end! Scene art and asks are a different story though.

•Will Kris make an appearance?

Yes :3. I'll leave it at that. Ralsei will make an appearance in asks or art, Susie may or may not be in the comic itself. Here's the boi. During the comic he's a lil toddler. (Gender explaination is below btw for those that care.)

•Is Kris gonna be Frisk or Luci's counterpart?

No. Neither. They will be their own person.

●Is Clover gonna make an appearance?

Like Kris, the cowboy ghost will be there, but unlike Kris, you won't see him in comic til the end. He will (and has already) pop up on our blog, like Dalv or Star sherrif boi, but in comic, sorry, hes in Asgore's castle and that's so far away right now lmao. But here's how he looks. Yes, he knows the fox stole his hat. He does not know where his gun is, though.

●Will xxx color soul child also be in this AU?

Depends. We already have the Yellow soul decided (obvi). If There's another colored child you wanna see pop up as a canon-to-duotale ghost at the end of the comic you can ask, but so far only Clover and MAYBE Marine(Patience soul) but the lore is off that comic might contradict yellow or ours so that's undecided. Any other kids so far would be only seen in the MVC. We're trying not to pick kids in full existing sets so thats why Clover and maybe Marine are our only choices so far. We are more likely to make up the rest tbh. No more red souls though beyond cameos. Red souls work a special way in our AU and there's not a lot (if any) that can fit that requirement.

•Can other ghosts see Chara/Luci?

Yes. And she can see said other ghosts. Strawberry can only see those that she summons and Blackberry can see ghosts as well. Frisky can sense spirits near him but obviously cannot see them.

●Why do some characters have rings around them?

That just means they're dead. Ghosts. Spirits that didn't move on to heven or hell. The ring color matches the color of their soul and doesn't change. Luci, Blackberry, Dalv, and Kris have special rings though. They change color based on emotions. This color changing mood ring is only available to one species and it starts becoming visible around puberty. Luci is fullblooded, hence why her ring is always visible and changing like a rainbow, though Blackie and Kris aren't fullblooded, so their rings might be a bit faultly ha. If you're every curious what the colors mean, you can refer to the link labeled "Luci's mood ring" on the master post. Or a more simplified list ca be found on her teen ref.

•What exactly are the main cast's species?

Blackie is is a halfbreed kitsune vampire, Luci is a purebreed vampire with demonic powers, Strawberry is a tanuki who practices witch magic, and Frisky is a human. He just has a magical scarf to give him wings like redbull. As for Kris... you'll figure it out. No spoilers, sorry lol.

•How did you come up with the idea of Duotale?

Originally this story was gonna be a comic of our own runs in Undertale, showing how they clash and would effect each other. Kinda like thise PMD comics and Nuzlocke animations people make. But somewhere between writing the script and making the first cover art, we changed our minds and made a whole AU instead.

•Is fanart allowed?

Yes uwu. You can find character info and all current ref sheets in the Masterpost, last section at the bottom :3 If ya tag me, I can reblog it in my main account so peeps can see it, and an account I have specifically for or art made by others so I wont lose it. Main account is @oatmealkitty . That is where all non ask/comic art goes.

•What ships are in this comic/blog?

Oh boy a hard question to answer. Ignoring any cameos, out of our own and JUST our own characters this is the list. I'm probably missing a LOT though as these are off the top of my mind.

•What are the pronouns of each character?

You will find all information on the masterpost, last section. If someone is missing we just didnt finish the refs yet. Apologies. Since I know MK, MTT and Blooky will be asked about due to lack of refs, they are all he/him here but Blooky and MK accept They/Them. Remember that this is an Alternate Universe, as in not sticking to the game's lore to a T. So please dont start a fuss over this. If canon versions of the characters ever speak or are spoken to in the Citadel, they will be referred to by the genders Toby (NOT THE FANDOM) placed on them, so be happy with that smh.

A note to avoid confusion since I KNOW this will cause issues if I don't give a bible explanation: WITHIN the comic, Kris' pronouns will be he/him, hence me calling the younger one he/him. Personally, I can't see a literal 3 year old toddler changing his gender or even caring about that. I know I sure didn't back then lol. I didn't care till damn near the end of highschool tbh. Soo, He starts requesting people use they/them (if possible) in his late teens as thats what I personally experienced. Sorry to anyone who wants out of the womb non binary/trans babies. Oh and when he's spoken to or about in another language, regaurdless of age, it will be male pronouns bc languages. Sorry, can't fix that either. That's just how languages work. So yeah, Tldr: In comic=he/him. In asks=they/them (he/him if non english language).

𖤐~~~~~~𖤐~~~~~~𖤐

✨️Asks✨️

•You can ask LITERALLY anything to ANYONE. Even the mods. All suggestive/sexual questions will be filtered with a label if need be.

•All questions will go to the post comic adult versions of the cast unless specified in the question, or unless we allow asks for the kiddos for some reason.

•You can ask spoiler based questions, but they will either be heavily censored or answered in a joking manner as to not give away everything that happens in the story.

•All asks that seem like spam will be ignored. I know we answered them before jokingly but after a while it becomes too much. Also! We will ignore asks about religion (offensive/forcing), racism, sexism, stuff like that.

#Duotale #FAQ #undertale #deltarune #undertale au #undertale blog #undertale ask blog #undertale art #undertale community #undertale askblog #undertale alternate timeline #undertale yellow #uty clover #utmv fanart #utdr fanart #utau fanart #ut yellow

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OFMD Stede Bonnet as a Macaroni: Wealth, Gender and Sexuality in the 18th Century Fashion World

Historical Inaccuracy in Our Flag Means Death? Never!

Historical inaccuracy! I hear you cry. A Macaroni in 1717!?! It is true macaroni fashion was really a late-18th century fashion trend, seemingly reaching its peak in the 1770s. However Our Flag Means Death is nothing if not historically inaccurate. Stede’s costumes seem to take inspiration from across the 18th century rather than worrying about what would have actually been worn in 1717.

Early 18th century suits tended to have round necklines, loose-fitting sleeves with wide cuffs, long waistcoats that stoped just above the knee, and coats with full skirts just a little longer that the waistcoat.

[Left: Matthew Prior, oil on canvas, c. 1713-1714, by Alexis-Simon Belle, photo credit: St John's College, University of Cambridge, via Art UK.

Middle: Matthew Hutton of Newnham, Hertfordshire, oil on canvas, c. 1715, by Johannes Verelst, photo credit: National Trust Images, via Art UK.

Right: William Leathes, Ambassador Brussels, oil on canvas, c. 1710-1711, by Herman van der Myn, photo credit: Colchester and Ipswich Museums Service: Ipswich Borough Council Collection, via Art UK.]

As the century continued we get standing collars and turned down collars but round necklines were still around as well, sleeves got tighter with smaller cuffs, the waistcoats got shorter and the coats lost their skirts.

[Left: Thomas ‘Sense’ Browne, oil on canvas, c. 1775, by Nathaniel Dance-Holland, photo credit: Yale Center for British Art, via Art UK.

Middle: Sir Brooke Boothby, oil on canvas, c. 1781, by Joseph Wright of Derby, photo credit: Tate, via Art UK.

Right: David Allan, oil on canvas, c. 1770, by David Allan, photo credit: Royal Scottish Academy/National Galleries of Scotland (Antonia Reeve), via Art UK.]

Stede’s collars are inconstant some are rounded but others are turned down and Ed’s purple suit has a standing collar. Many of Stede’s coats have wide cuffs, but most have little skirt to them. His teal suit from the pilot has a bit of a skirt but its paired with a short waistcoat.

Most of Stede’s waistcoats are short with the exception of his suits from both the wedding portrait with Mary and the the family portrait. Both suits are very straight giving him a boxy appearance and are pretty different from most of the suits we see him in.

All in all I don’t think they were aiming for historically realistic clothes but with the collars, short waistcoats, and lack of skirts I get more of a late-18th century vibe.

So what was a Macaroni?

A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1785), defined macaroni as follows:

An Italian paste made of flour and eggs; also a fop, which name arose from a club, called the maccaroni club, instituted by some of the most; dressy travelled gentlemen about town, who led the fashions, whence a man foppishly dressed, was supposed a member of that club, and by contraction stiled a maccaroni.

The macaroni club was said to have comprised of young men who had gained a taste for French and Italian textiles on their Grand Tour (a traditional trip taken tough Europe by upper class men when they came of age). The earliest reference to the club is from a letter from Horace Walpole to Lord Hertford on the 6th Feb 1764:

at the Maccaroni Club (which is composed of all the travelled young men who wear long curls and spying-glasses),

In his book Pretty Gentleman: Macaroni Men and the Eighteenth-Century Fashion World Peter McNeil suggest the club was actually Almack’s. Almack’s was a private club at 50 Pall Mall that was attended by prominent Whigs including Sheridan, Fox and the Price of Wales. (p52) While the name may have originated from the men at Almack’s it was soon used to describe any man who followed the associated fashion trends.

So what were these trends?

Hair

“Still lower let us fall for once, and pop

Our heads into a modern Barber’s shop;

What the result? or what we behold there?

A set of Macaronies weaving hair.”

~ The Macaroni by Robert Hitchcock

Probably the most iconic aspect of macaroni fashion was the hair. “It was the macaroni attention to wigs that caused most consternation” explains Peter McNeil. The macaroni hair “matched the towering heights of the female coiffure, with a tall toupee cresting at the centre front. The wig generally had a long tail at the neck (’queue’), which when folded double was called the ‘cadogan’, all of which required regular dressing with pomade and powder, sometimes in the colours of pink, green or red.” (p45)

The height of the macaroni hair was a point of particular fascination in macaroni caricature exaggerating it beyond what the macaroni were probably actually wearing. Compare below Tom’s hair in the satirical print What is this my son Tom to the self portrait of Richard Cosway, who was satirised by Mary Darly as “The Miniature Macaroni” (a reference both to his height and his career as a miniature painter).

[Left: What is this my son Tom, print, c. 1774, published by Sayer & Bennett, via The British Museum.

Right: Self-Portrait, Ivory, c. 1770–75, by Richard Cosway, via The Met.]

The way Stede usually wears is hair is not particularly macaroni nor particularly 18th century for that matter. The exception to this is his wig from The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well though even this doesn’t have the iconic macaroni hight.

Interestingly both Stede and Ed are wearing flowers in their hair. While there are certainly depictions of women with flowers in there hair I’m not aware of this being a trend in mens fashion at all. However macaroni were known for wearing large nosegays.

While the tall hair was certainly iconic not all macaroni wore their hair tall. Joseph Banks, who was satirised as “The Fly Catching Macaroni” by Matthew Darly, is depicted in his portrait with a fairly typical 18th century hairstyle. Its not the hair alone that makes a macaroni, it was just one aspect of the fashion.

[Sir Joseph Banks, oil on canvas, c. 1771-1773, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, via Wikimedia.]

Suit

“If I went to Almack’s and decked out my wrinkles in pink and green like Lord Harrington, I might still be in vogue.” ~ Horace Walpole to Lord Hertford, 25 Nov 1764

Menswear of the period consisted of the same basic elements; shirt, stockings, breeches, waistcoat and coat. What differentiated the macaroni from others was the fabric, cut, colour and trimmings of the suit. “At a time when English dress generally consisted of more sober cuts and the use of monochrome broadcloth,” explains Peter McNeil “macaronism emphasised the effects associated with French, Spanish and Italian textiles and trimmings”. Popular amongst macaroni were brocaded and embroidered silks and velvets, sometimes further embellished with metallic sequins, simulated gemstones and raised metallic threads. Popular colours included pastels, pea-green, pink, red and deep orange. (McNeil, p30-32)

Far from wearing “monochrome broadcloth” Stede likes a “fine fabric” and dresses in a range of colours, we see him in teal, pink, purple, green, white, red, peach &c.

Tightly cut French style suits known as habit à la française were popular with macaroni. (McNeil, p14) Stede’s suits vary somewhat in cut but some are very French. The peach suit Stede wears in We Gull Way Back particularly has a very macaroni feel to me. Compare it to the English suit (left) and the French suit (right).

From the back you can see the English suit has more of a skirt to it.

Both Stede’s suit and the French suit are somewhat plain but have been paired with a floral embroidered waistcoat, while the English suit has a matching plain black waistcoat.

[Left: English suit, wool, silk, c. 1755–65, via The Met, number: 2009.300.916a, b.

Right: French suit, Silk plain weave (faille), c. 1785, via LACMA, number: M.2007.211.47a-b.]

Fabric covered button’s were common in the 18th century, you can see them on both the French and English coats above. In contrast Stede wears a lot of metal buttons. Steel buttons were popular amongst macaroni, a trend that was satirised in Steel Buttons/Coup de Bouton.

[Steel Buttons/Coup de Bouton, print, c. 1777, by William Humphrey, via The British Museum.]

Pumps and Parasols

“Maccaronies who trip in pumps and with Parasols over their heads” ~ Mrs Montagu

High heels had been popular amongst men during the 17th century. The Royal Collection Trust explains:

In the first half of the 17th century, high heeled shoes for men took the form of heeled riding or Cavalier boots as worn by Charles I. As the wearing of heels filtered into the lower ranks of society, the aristocracy responded by dramatically increasing the height of their shoes. High heels were impractical for undertaking manual labour or walking long distances, and therefore announced the privileged status of the wearer.

(Royal Collection Trust, High Heels Fit for a King)

In 17th century France Louis XIV popularised red-heels by turning them into a symbol of political privilege, which in turn spread the fashion to England. But with the sobering of menswear in England around the turn of the century the high heel and the red-heels went out of fashion. (see Bata Shoe Museum Toronto, Standing TALL: The Curious History of Men in Heels)

The high heel had a bit of a resurgence in the 1770s with macaroni fashion. The Natural History of a Macaroni snipes that the macaroni’s “natural hight is somewhat inferior to he ordinary size of men, through by the artificial hight of their heels, they in general reach that standard”. (Walker’s Hibernian Magazine, July 1777, p458)

Red-heels were reintroduced to England by young men returning from their Grand Tours. A young Charles James Fox (satirised by Mathew Darly as “the Original Macaroni”) wore such French style red-heeled shoes. The Monthly Magazine recalls a young Fox as a “celebrated “beau garçon” with “his chapeau bras, his red-heeled shoes, and his blue hair-powder.” (Oct 1806) and The Life of the Right Honorable, Charles James Fox recalls him in his “suit of Paris-cut velvet, most fancifully embroidered, and bedecked with a large bouquet; a head-dress cemented into every variety of shape; a little silk hat, curiously ornamented; and a pair of French shoes, with red-heels;” (p18) And in Recollections of the Life of the Late Right Honorable Charles James Fox B.C. Walpole recalls him as “one of the greatest beaus in England,” who “indulged in all the fashionable elegance of attire, and vied, in point of red heels and Paris-cut velvet with the most dashing young men of the age. Indeed there are many still living who recollect Beau Fox strutting up and down St. Jame’s-street, in a suit of French embroidery, a little silk hat, red-heeled shoes, and a bouquet nearly large enough for a may-pole.” (p24)

Compare the French style red-heeled shoes of Louis XIV to Stede’s red-heeled shoes.

[Left: detail of Louis XIV, oil on canvas, c. 1701, by Hyacinthe Rigaud, via Wikimedia.]

However most macaroni were depicted wearing the more standard late 18th century low-heeled bucked shoes. Where they distinguished themselves was the size and decoration of the buckles. “Such buckles could be set with pate (lead glass) or ‘Bristol stones’ (chips of quartz), or diamonds if you were very rich.” Explains peter McNeil, “The new macaroni fashion was for huge silver or plated Artois shoe buckles which the Mourning Post claimed weighed three to eleven ounces.” (p90)

While certainly not as iconic has his heels Stede also wears these sorts of shoes. Compare below the shoes from a macaroni caricature to Ed wearing Stede’s shoes (I couldn’t get a good shot of Stede wearing them).

[Left: detail of How d'ye like me, print, c. 1772, published by: Carington Bowles, via The British Museum.]

“A great many jewelled accessories accompanied the macaroni look”, writes Peter McNeil, “They included hanger swords, very long canes, clubs, spying glasses and snuff-boxes.” (p68) Tragically we don’t see Stede with a fashionable dress sword or a cane but we do see him with another accessory popular amongst macaroni; a parasol.

Popular in France parasols/umbrellas were adopted by the macaroni. They were popular amongst both men and woman in France but in England they had a feminine connotation. (McNeil, p129) In the 1780s as umbrellas became more popular amongst men there was a cultural pushback to the perceived gender transgression. On the 16th of August 1780 the Morning Post complains of of the “canopy of umbrellas” bemoaning that “the effeminacy of the men, inclines them to adopt this necessary appendage of female convenience”. On the the 4th Oct, 1784, the Morning Chronicle published a letter complaining of “that vile foppish practice of sheltering under a umbrella”. The author of this tirade writes that while “the ladies should be allowed to secure their beauty and persons from the heat of the sun, or the inclemency of the weather,” because “it is natural, and has a striking effect”, that “to see a great lubberly cit, bounce from his shop, with a coat, hat, and wig that are not together worth one groat,” sheltering “from the influence of the solar beam” was “intolerable.” However:

The macaroni being of the doubtful gender, may in part claim a feminine right; his dress is too delicate to bear an heavy shower, perhaps his person is so too; but a coach, if a clean one is to be found would serve his purpose much better, as there would be less likelihood of his being washed away into the kennel, which he deserves to be kicked into for his d-----d affectation.

Wealth

Born from rich young men returning from their tours with a taste for French and Italian textiles macaroni fashion was expensive. Certainly a working class man would not be able to afford Stede’s wardrobe. Both the sheer amount of clothes he has as well has the fabrics those clothes are made of are indications of wealth. However to say that Stede’s wardrobe is only an indication of wealth would be missing part of picture.

Most rich upper class English men (including colonial) wore plain monochrome suits. Even amongst the gentry macaroni fashion was not the norm. Compare bellow George Washington (left) who was a wealthy planation owner, but notably not a macaroni, to Richard Cosway (right) who was a famous macaroni.

[Left: George Washington, oil on canvas, c. 1796, by Gilbert Stuart, via Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.

Right: Detail of The Academicians of the Royal Academy, oil on canvas, c. 1771-72, by Johan Zoffany, via The Royal Collection Trust.]

In spite of the expense macaroni fashion was not exclusive to the upper classes. “Macaroni dress was not restricted to members of the aristocracy and gentry,” writes McNeil, “but included men of the artisan, artist, and upper servant classes, who wore versions of this visually lavish clothing with a distinctive cut and shorter jackets. Wealthier shopkeepers and entrepreneurs also sometimes wore such lavish clothing, particularly those associated with the luxury trades, such as mercers and upholsterers -” (p14)

It was possible to copy certain aspects of macaroni fashion on a cheeper budget. The hairstyle in particular was achievable without braking the bank. And there were ways to replicate the effects of certain expensive fashion trends for cheeper prices. For example patterns could be printed rather than embroidered.

[Left: printed waistcoat, cotton, c. 1770–90, via The Met, number: 35.142.

Right: embroidered waistcoat, silk, c. 1780–89, via The Met, number: 2009.300.2908.]

The Town and Country Magazine complains “we now have Macaronies of every denomination, from the colonel of the Train’s-Bands down to the errand-boy.” (McNeil, p169) The Morining Post mocks macaronies that couldn't financially keep up with the trends:

The macaronies of a certain class are under peculiar circumstances of distress, occasioned by the fashion, now so prevalent, of wearing enormous shoe-buckles; and we are well assured that the manufactory of plated ware was never known to be in so flourishing a situation.

(14 Jan, 1777)

In 18th century England, class was about more than just how much money you had. It was about pedigree. “English society was particularly alert to those whom it felt were using clothes to achieve a social status they did not merit” explains McNeil. Richard Cosway was a famous macaroni from modest background. Born to a Devonshire headmaster he was sent to London to study painting at 12. He became a very successful miniature painter and grew rich from the patronage of the Prince of Wales (later George IV) and Whig circles. In Nollekens and his Times J.T. Smith writes of Cosway:

He rose from one of the dirtiest boys, to one of the smartest of men. Indeed so ridiculously foppish did he become that Mat Darly, the famous caricature print-seller, introduced an etching of him in his window in the Strand, as ‘The Macaroni Miniature Painter’

(McNeil, p105-14)

But it was not only the Darlys that satirised Cosway Hannah Humphrey mocks Cosway as a social climber in A Smuggling Machine or a Convenient Cos(au)way for a Man in Miniature which depicts him standing under the petticoats of his much taller wife Maria. In the background there is a picture of Cosway climbing a ladder that rests upon a woman (she is believed to either be Angelica Kauffman or the Duchess of Devonshire). Below this reads:

Lowliness is Young Ambitions Ladder, Whereto the climber upward turns his Face But when he once attains the upmost round He then unto the Ladder turns his back, Looks unto the clouds - scornin [sic] the base degrees By which he did assend. Shak. Jul. Caesar.

[A Smuggling Machine or a Convenient Cos(au)way for a Man in Miniature, print, c. 1782, by Hannah Humphrey, via The British Museum.]

Another famous macaroni not born into the aristocracy was Julius Soubise. Brought to England from the West Indies as a slave he was taken in by Catherine Hyde, the Duchess of Queensbury. She gave him a leisured childhood, in which he was taught to play and compose for the violin, was taught to fence by Domenico Angelo, and learned oration from David Garrick. “Macaroni caricatures of Soubise parodied a foppish upstart whose outfits and entertainments, financed by the Duchess, affronted both racial and social expectations of an African male.” Writes Petter McNeil, Soubise was satirised as “a Mungo Macaroni” an “offensive term meaning a rude or forward black man.” (p118)

[Left: A Mungo Macaroni, print, c. 1772, by Matthew Darly, via The British Museum.

Right: The D------ of [...]-- playing at foils with her favorite lap dog Mungo after expending near £10000 to make him a----------*, print, c. 1773, by William Austin, via Yale Center for British Art.]

The expense of Stede’s wardrobe is a key part of the narrative. Stede has nice fancy luxurious things. Ed wants nice fancy luxurious things. Ed was born a poor brown boy and while he may be rich now he can never truly change his class. He could be as rich as Richard Cosway or Julius Soubise but to the gentry he will always be that poor brown boy.

Gender

As we have already seen in the tirade against men using umbrellas the macaroni was perceived as being of “the doubtful gender”. (The Morning Chronicle, 4 Oct, 1784)

The Natural History of a Macaroni writes that there “has within these few years past arrived from France and Italy a very strange animal, of the doubtful gender, in shape somewhat between a man and monkey,” that dresses “neither in the habit of a man or woman, but peculiar to itself”. The author states that “they are in no respect useful in this country”:

that the minister of the war department would give orders to have them enlisted for the service of America: we do not mean to put them on actual duty there. Alas! they are as harmless in the field, as they are in the chamber, but they may stand as faggots to cover the loss of real men.

(Walker’s Hibernian Magazine, July 1777, p458-9)

A “faggot” being “A man who is temporarily hired as a dummy soldier to make up the required number at a muster of troops, or on the roll of a company or regiment.” (see OED)

[The Masculine Gender & The Feminine Gender, etching with touches of watercolour, c. 1787, Attributed to Henry Kingsbury, via The Met.]

The macaroni wasn’t just considered effeminate because of the way they dressed but also because of their interests and the way walked and talked. Famous for playing fops and macaroni, the actor David Garrick did a lot to establish the character of the macaroni in the public mind. In his poem The Fribbleriad Garrick mocks the men who were offended by his performances asserting, perhaps accurately, that they were offended because it was them he mocked. He portrays a group of angry effeminate men meeting in order to seek revenge on him for his portrayal of them:

May we no more such misery know! Since Garrick made OUR SEX a shew; And gave us up to such rude laughter, That few, ’twas said, could hold their water: For He, that player, so mock’d our motions, Our dress, amusements, fancies, notions, So lisp’d our words, and minc’d our steps,

The macaroni had become more than simply an effeminate man, he had become a new sex. Something not quite man or woman. Something in-between. A new description of a macaroni asks the question:

Is it a man? ‘Tis hard to say - A woman then

- A moment pray -

So doubtful is the thing, that no man

Can say if ‘tis a man or woman:

Unknown as yet by sex or feature,

It moves - a mere amphibious creature.

(McNeil p169)

Sexuality

Much like today in the 18th century effeminacy was associated with homosexuality. Men who had sex with other men were known as mollies. A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue (1785), defined a molly as “A Miss Molly; an effeminate fellow, a sodomite”. In the History of the London Clubs (1709), Ned Ward characterises mollies as follows:

There are a particular Gang of Wretches in Town, who call themselves Mollies, & are so far degenerated from all Masculine Deportment or Manly exercises that they rather fancy themselves Women, imitating all the little Vanities that Custom has reconcil’d to the Female sex, affecting to speak, walk, tattle, curtsy, cry, scold, & mimick all manner of Effeminacy.

“By the 1760′s,” explains Peter McNeil, “too much attention to fashion on the part of a man was read as evidence if a lack of interest in women”. (p152)

Macaroni were often portrayed as incapable or simply uninterested in sexual relations with women. This attitude is expressed by Mr. Bate in the following dialogue from The Vauxhall Affray; Or, the Macaronies Defeated:

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I always though a fine woman was only made to be looked at.

Mr. Bate: Just sentiments of a macaroni. You judge of the fair sex as you do your own doubtful gender, which aims only to be looked at and admired.

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I have as great a love for a fine woman as any man.

Mr. Bate: Psha! Lepus tute es et pulpamentum quæris?

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: What do you say, Parson?

Mr. Bate: I cry you mercy, Sir, I am talking Heathen Greek to you; in plain English I say, A macaroni you, and love a woman?

Mr. Fitz-Gerall: I love the ladies, for the ladies love me.

Mr Bate: Yes, as their panteen, their play-thing, their harmless bauble, to treat as you do them, merely to look at

While lack on interest in woman does not necessarily mean attraction to men, Matthew Darly takes the implication there in his 1771 set of macaroni caricatures which induces a print entitled Ganymede, a reference to Zeus’ male lover of the same name. Ganymede is believed to be a parody of Samuel Drybutter who had been arrested for attempted sodomy in January 1770. Darly also includes the character Ganymede in Ganymede & Jack-Catch. Jack-Catch is a reference to the infamous English executioner John Ketch. In the print Jack-Catch says, “Dammee Sammy you’r a sweat pretty creature & I long to have you at the end of my String.” Ganymede replies, “You don’t love me Jacky”. Jack-Catch is holding a noose with one hand and stroking Ganymede’s chin with the other. Jack-Catch is soberly dressed in typical 18th century menswear, while Ganymede’s dress is distinguished by his lace ruffles and styled wig. The print is not only suggesting that macaroni are sodomites but making a joke of the execution of them. The punishment for a sodomy at this time in England being death by hanging.

[Left: Ganymede, print, c. 1771, Matthew Darly, via The Met.

Right: Ganymede & Jack Catch, print, c. 1771, Matthew Darly, via The British Museum]

An anonymous letter to the Public Ledger (5 Aug, 1772) says blatantly what others had already implied. “The country is over-run with Catamites, with monsters of Captain Jones’s taste, or, to speak in a language witch all may understand, with MACCARONIES”. The writer warns macaroni who have “escaped detection” as sodomites and “therefore cannot fairly be charged” that they have not avoided suspicion:

Suspicion is got abroad-the carriage-the deportment-the dress-the effeminate squeak of the voice-the familiar loll upon each others shoulders-the gripe of the hand-the grinning in each others faces, to shew the whiteness of the teeth-in short, the manner altogether, and the figure so different from that of Manhood, these things conspire to create suspicion; Suspicion gives birth to watchful observation; and, from a strict observance of the Maccaroni Tribe, we very naturally conclude that to them we are indebted for the frequency of a crime which Modesty forbids me to name. Take warning, therefore, ye smirking group of Tiddy-dols: However secret you may be in your amours, yet in the end you cannot escape detection;

Bows on His Shoes

18th century shoes were typically buckled, laces and ribbons were simply unfashionable. As mentioned previously macaroni were distinguished by the size and decoration of the buckles. So are Stede’s bows simply ahistorical? Well there are references to 18th century men wearing laces and ribbons.

Towards the end of the 18th century laces started to come into fashion. Appeal from the Buckle Trade of London and Westminster, to the Royal Conductors of Fashion (1792) complained that despite how “tender and effeminate the appearance of Shoe Strings” the “custom of wearing them has prevailed.”

Perhaps the most intriguing reference is that of Commissioner Pierre Louis Foucault’s papers where he details the surveillance, investigation and entrapment of "pederasts” in Paris. It is important to note that the word “pederasty” was used synonymously with “sodomy” in the 18th century and did not denote age simply sex. An Universal Etymological English Dictionary (1726) defines “A pederast” as “a Buggerer” and “Pederasty” as “Buggery”.

Foucault and the men working with him identified particular clothing worn by men seeking sex with other men that he called the “pederastical uniform”. In Foucault’s papers men are described as being “attired in such a way as to be recognized by everyone as a pederast”, “clothed with all the distinctive marks of pederasty”, or simply “dressed like a pederast”. This “uniform” generally included “some combination of frock coat, large tie, round hat, small chignon, and bows on the shoes.” Jeffrey Merrick in his article on Foucault speculates that these men dressed this way to signal to each other. However when questioned by police they would understandably deny such a purpose, one man when questioned about his outfit responded that everyone “dresses as he sees fit”. (Jeffrey Merrick, Commissioner Foucault, Inspector Noël, and the “Pederasts” of Paris,1780-3)

Conclusion

I’m not saying Stede is intended to be a macaroni. If that were the case they would have given him the iconic macaroni hairstyle. However the costuming team has clearly pulled from fashion trends that were associated with effeminacy and homosexuality. While OFMD is evidently wholly unconcerned with creating period accurate costumes the costumes are still clearly inspired by historical fashions. Perhaps the curtains really are just blue but maybe Stede wears bows on his shoes because he’s gay.

#I had way too much fun doing this #our flag means death #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #queer history #macaroni #historical fiction #fashion history

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 2 days

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Bungou Stray Dogs Osamu Dazai Animatic Idea.

Song: Fireflies

Artist: Owl City

Basically this is an idea dump for an animatic I know I'll never make. If anyone gets inspired from this pls tag me.

So you probably know, how I CANNOT draw to save my life, and have very little experience in animation. Yeah, well I still have ideas for animatics so reluctantly, (but also eager for all the artist on here to see it) I'm going to share this really crusty animatic plan I made for a Dazai animatic with the song fire flies by owl city.

Like I said, I can't draw, so I made this using google slides (my trusty compainion) and horrid clip art so pls exuse it. It's just for general lay out and some notes about motion. Also when making it, I didn't intend to have lyrics displayed on screen, but I did put them for reference.

Because I can't draw but I wanted to make an animatic, I give you this really specifc break down of one instead. I just really thought that the somg fireflies was perfect for Dazai so I made this crappy thing. Here you go!

Don't quetsion the flowers. I just put them tehre because I fiund them while searching for other stock iamges/clipart and though that they were pretty. The title slide is prettyu much just for funsies and not part of the mian animatic.

ONE

So the basic idea of this one is the bed is in greater focus. He's laying awake, his arm handing off the side, with a bottle of pills spilt out onto the floor (from a failed Dazai typcial su!c!de attempt) Some fireflies flutter up in the top right corner of the room, maybe by a small high up window. There's a nightsand on the right side. The gardient has nothing to do with colour pallet, I just wanted to amke a gradient. Lol

TWO

The door stock image is a little fancy, but I couldn't find a regualr door fpr some reason, idk. Pretty mush he's wlaking to the door, maybe Dazai's hand is reaching for the knob.

THREE

This one is arugaubly the most complicated. Yes, I know the detail is going crazy with this clipart(sarcastic). Here's the note I put, inse it's too small. (He’s walking outside from inside. Going onto the lawn. Show him walking through the door. Show side of house with window w/ curtains to indicate, maybe wood siding. Def show grass and fireflies hovering outside of door. He’s crying a little bit.)

FOUR

He's standing in the middle of a field surrounded by many fireflies, looking around in awe, still teary.

FIVE

Farily simple. Somehow or another he's in space (hey, it's artistic license) He's standing on top of Earth and Earth is spinning underneath him. Starts blink/twinkle.

SIX

He's lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling. The fireflies have folowed him inside somehow. They give the mostly dark room a soft glow.

SEVEN

Fireflies surrounding Dazai and some lading on his shoulders and maybe hair. (The arms on the clipart manare so messed up because the fireflies are on a white not transparent background but it's hard to tell because the slide is also white.)

EIGHT

He’s dancing kind of, no specific moves needed, just enough to give the impression. Maybe twirling, idk. Fireflies follow his movements, drifting up and down and side to side with him. They move a little before he does, appearing to guide him.

NINE

A kitsune jumping over Dazai's bed. I imagined it looking like the full fox form of him in that one Kitsune Mayoi card. (https://images.app.goo.gl/atvjvAELR2ec1eBv9)

TEN

He's laying under his bed staring upwards. Idk thsi scene is weird, I know.

ELEVEN

He's on his tippy toes recahing up twoards a disco ball suspended from the ceiling by a noose.

TWLEVE

This scene again

THIRTEEN

This one again

FOURTEEN

Yay a new scene after the repeats! It's the front door again from the inside veiw. It's cracked open and there's light comming from within the house, fireflies fly out and back into the night.

FIFTEEN

This scene to me is about his guilt. He's now sititng up in bed and there's a thought bubble with the logo of the sheep.

SIXTEEN

Ofc it wouldn't be a true Dazai animatic without his bestie! Oda cameo, yay! Here he's standing over Oda's grave, not crying but looking very sad.

SEVENTEEN

I don't think i need to explain this one very much lol. I couldn't find a way to show this with images so I jsut wrote it out. Reminescent of this scene (https://www.reddit.com/r/BungouStrayDogs/comments/u57xqv/what_does_this_scene_in_the_opening_symbolize/) But with Dazia and Oda instead of Dazai and Chuuya.

EIGHTEEN

He's getting dreams of the dead apple dragon and vampire chuuya.

NINETEEN

Zooms into his nightsand to show a jar glwoing and full of 7 fireflies

TWENTY

Yup, this one is back again.

TWENTY ONE

And this one

TWENTY TWO

and this one again

TWNTY THREE (last one)

The differne between this one and the otehr's liek it are that in this last scene he finnaly falls asleep. Slowly the fireflies fade out.

Thanks you so much for reading this far down the post of just my nonsense. Pls have an amazing day!

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beardedmrbean · 1 year

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A Georgia mom is outraged over an interactive lesson taught during her daughter's field trip to the historic Mable House plantation in the city of Mableton, where third-graders were asked to simulate a slave auction by holding up signs containing dollar amounts equal to the prices of cars – except, in this instance, numbers indicated the value of humans.

"They lined the kids up. They had them to pick cars they wanted to be. So it was like $1,300, $2,000, $2,500, $3,000, and it ranged from like Honda, Acura, Lamborghini, Ferrari. Each kid chose a car, and basically she [the instructor] began to explain to them that they're being sold. Each one of them had a real bill of sale in front of them, and she was explaining to them the cost analogy of them being sold then as a slave child today would be the equivalent of whatever car they were," Gladese Cleaves told Fox News Digital on Monday.

Cleaves said her 9-year-old daughter came home and told her about the field trip by referring to one her friends as a Lamborghini and then referring to herself as a Ferrari. The comments caught her attention, so she called her oldest daughter, who chaperoned the event, to ask what happened.

She then contacted her younger daughter's teacher at W.C. Abney Elementary School via email and spoke with her over the phone.

UTAH ELEMENTARY SCHOOL CANCELS SLAVERY REENACTMENT AFTER PARENT OUTRAGE

"What was crazy is that the teacher, when I called… her response was, ‘I explained to the children that these were nice slave owners,'" Cleaves recalled. "This is exactly what she said to me. She said, ‘I explained to the children that these were nice slave owners because they treated the slave like family.’I said, 'Don't say it again, Mrs. Westmoreland.' There's no way you could put nice and slave owner in the same sentence. There's no way."

She met with the principal, who, according to FOX 5 Atlanta, told parents the following in a letter:

"The lesson had never been part of the Mable House's curriculum for Abney students prior to that day, nor was it described in the field trip materials or mentioned on the Mable House website," the letter read.

Cleaves said the school's statement addressing the issue and the eventual ban on future trips to the site came after media reached out to the institution.

MOCK SLAVERY LESSON AT CALIFORNIA HIGH SCHOOL STIRS OUTRAGE AMONG PARENTS

She argued she has still received no compassion from all fronts, and she believes school officials found the incident justifiable since a Black woman – donning attire synonymous with enslaved people from the antebellum South – had narrated the activity.

Cleaves's primary concern throughout the ordeal, however, was her daughter and how she said the assignment gave her a false narrative about a dark time in history by making slavery appear benign.

"They [the students] left there thinking that slavery was fine and that they clapped and that they danced and that it was a choice and that they could leave any time. That was the narrative that my child left there with on top of being on a chopping auction block," she said.

Cleaves said parents were not previously notified that the field trip would mention slavery and explained that they were told students would engage in arts and crafts while learning about 19th century history.

"The permission slip says nothing about that. It's little stick people in a wagon. So you think they're going to go learn about how corn was made, and they did learn about potato houses the slaves cooked in and that kind of thing, but nothing to the extent of them playing and running around a whipping tree because there's a whipping tree there with marks all over it. None of this were things that we were told," she said.

SUBSTITUTE TEACHER PULLED AFTER ALLEGEDLY JOKING TO STUDENTS ABOUT SLAVERY, DISABLED PERSONS: REPORT

A photo of the permission slip provided to Fox News Digital mentioned chaperones, lunch plans for students, what children should wear to the trip and expected departure and arrival times.

Cleaves called for diversity, equity and inclusion training to better inform school officials on how to handle such situations, arguing that the teacher – who claimed she was unaware of how the activity would go – should have been better informed.

"What they're saying now is that the teacher didn't know that the narrator was going to do this. Let's give the benefit of the doubt. I believe that she did [know] because she helped paint the narrative of the cost analogy after the narrator spoke, so I'm not buying into any of that," she said.

Cleaves said the most harrowing part of the entire experience was telling her daughter the truth about slavery after the project gave her a false narrative.

"The horrible part of this, all of this outside of my child believing a false narrative, outside of what she's been taught, is watching my child as I had to explain to her in depth why this was wrong and how her civil rights were violated and the truth about slavery. And literally watching the tears and the innocence leave her with exposing the truth at 9 years old because something else was given to her, meaning she would have learned about it, but it would have been in steps."

Fox News Digital reached out to an affiliate of the Mable House and Cobb County PARKS, to which the house is leased, but did not receive a comment from either.

The field trip programs occur through a nonprofit organization, however.

For News Digital also reached out to Paulding County School District for comment, but did not receive an immediate response.

#nunyas news

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stillflight · 1 month

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Part Two: Alterhuman Community Intro…?

This post will continue to be edited as necessary.

So I just posted my writeblr intro and since I’m definitely more active in the alterhuman community than the writeblr community I thought it might be fun to have a nonhuman/plural intro? Might be fun and it also occurred to me/us that most of our followers really only know me since I’m the only occupant of the body itself, and don’t know anything about the rest of the system. I will probably delete this someday if I decide once again I don’t like having my ‘types public depending on if the brainmates want to keep their own bios up. It will also probably change a lot because we tend to do that.

Context. We are a non-dissociative system, we do not switch, we were dæmonic originally meaning that I am the body and communicate with them through faux-visual projection and mental speech (which is why I talk like we're a total found family when they never seem to even say anything -- trust me they do, they just don't have access to the keyboard). We/they consider them all to have separate external bodies. We are quoigenic, not traumagenic or endogenic or mixed origins, only refer to us as the former.

Swift

He/it (they/them only under certain circumstances), bisexual, binary male* but only humans are ever men. I use quoi- ahead of all labels (both queer and alterhuman) in addition. POSIC, possibly (probably) (but not exclusively!) objectum. I have a special interest in biology, the arts, and the change of technology/art/language/media over time and throughout history (example: history of computer graphics 1950s-1990s <3). Psychospiritual, philosophical and narrative alterhuman. Species-wise: I am a raven (Corvus corax principalis), an osprey (Pandion haliaetus carolinensis), a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamiacensis kriderii), common spotted cuscus (Spilocuscus maculatus), sea slater (Ligia exotica), mosasaur (Megapterygius wakamayensis), and lastly, Musteloidea superfamily cladotherian. I’m a Novakid, a species from the game Starbound, which I consider more of a fictional kintype than a fictotype (and thus prefer alienkin or otherkin over fictionkin for this ‘type). I am also a computer, specifically an IBM 7090. I also consider myself a kind of entity or manifestation of autumn, I’d just call it “conceptkin with extra steps.” I am questioning two kintypes right now, more “I am this but what the heck is it” situations than “here’s the thing but is it me” but I won’t list them until I can figure it out; general idea is “embolomere fish-kaiju” and “have you ever heard of the Hidebehind? no, well have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? no ok well have you ever played Lethal Company” I was a ghost. Now I’m not. It was not a kintype and I did not “deconfirm” it. This affects some things. I am a flickerer with two fictotypes (Link from The Legend of Zelda, every canon game, and the Knight from Hollow Knight). I have four heartedtypes (domestic cats, cephalopods, sea urchins, and ghost type Pokemon) and three hearthomes (the ocean, the Pleistocene, and O’Neill cylinders). I consider dragons, wolves and foxes to be paratypes. I have a profound quasi-religious connection to stars & the night sky that I consider at least marginally alterhuman in nature. I am an archetrope; wanderer, and secondarily a "shapeshifter" and "generalist" which I need better words for both of -- as they say language is like trying to nail down the ocean, and I guess it would be more accurate but less concise to describe them as "one who changes, embodies or becomes" and "one who adapts, survives or opportunizes." If I ever explain these somewhere I’ll link to it here. I have a lot of playlists including my main 9,000 song one but this is my “Swift vibes” playlist. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/40rzRF67ocIDF2L7mLzNVC?si=20945cccc57942c0

Tetri

I’m Tetri, Swift’s dæmon. I CIE on November 11th, 2020. Pronouns are he/him. I’m comfortably settled as of February 21st, 2021, as an Asian palm civet. We believe this represents Swift’s personality well, even if it was coincidental and we didn’t consciously choose it. I’m a pretty traditional dæmon but I’m not 100% by-the-books and definitely more autonomous than most, just because of the general plurality. I’m ‘hearted with cats and I love going to coffee shops and library cafés and getting a pastry. I also like transport like trains and ferries. Please feel free to initiate a conversation with me. I like to offer advice even if I don’t know you very well. Here’s my playlist of music I like https://open.spotify.com/playlist/73IEcIlekV70adyrkLjeY4 Check out these MyNoise custom generators. I think they’re rather nice .https://mynoise.net/Community/user.php?submission=691c051129d33047b53b0e3d1664468885 https://mynoise.net/Community/user.php?submission=691c051129d33047b53b0e3d1654028735 CIE Day: November 11 2020

Ziv

I’m Ziv. I’m a wolf. Specifically a Himalayan wolf, as well as a Spanish imperial eagle. An adult, not a juvenile, even though juveniles for some reason are the image of our species. Pronouns -- zhe/hir. I’m agender and aroace. I’m autistic and I like weaponry as a special interest, especially medieval blades from all over the world. Also wilderness survival. Jewish philosophy, art and history interest me. I am not spiritual and do not put stock in spiritual beliefs whatsoever. I like heavy music, metal, metalcore, rock, especially punk, but also some folk. This is my playlist. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4cL88XYitlbWeb7wnvkT9W Swift wrote the descriptions for all of our playlists but I like mine so I’m not changing it. CIE Day: November 14 2020

Lumi

Hi! My name is Lumi. I use any and all pronounce and I’m big xenogender pansexual hours. Get zany with it. I love snails, video games, and Greek mythology. I have a special interest in Nintendo. Surprisingly, my favorite game is actually not Kid Icarus. It’s Pokemon. I would love to chat with anyone!!! Send an ask for me. I’m a shapeshifter otherkin. I have no base form so I like to be a lot of different things. Animals, bugs, birds, crabs, mish-mash monsters, dinosaurs, Pokemon, all kinds of crazy stuff. It’s like choosing a jacket for the day to me. I associate with clown, bard etc. archetypes, but I don’t know if I’m exactly an archetrope. Still working on it. And I’m fictionkin, I’m a) Pit from Kid Icarus b) Sky from Wings of Fire and c) a Jester from Lethal Company! Swift wants us all to share our playlists because it’s obsessed with music. So now you have context for the last three intros. Look at my playlist boy https://open.spotify.com/playlist/01Xgx5BnmzVXxv2sIoTScZ CIE Day: December 26 2020

Maz

Hi, I’m Mazel, Maz for short. Resident human. She/her. I originated as a male, I’m a woman now, not sure if that makes me trans or something else, the question is not worth my time. I’m a lesbian. I like sci fi movies, NASA and performance art. I guess that’s it. Am I allowed to go now Swift {She's having a blast, guys} Playlist https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0acN0u6kJrYFEFWycCM3gm CIE Day: April 22 2021

Axel

I’m Axel! I’m Maz’s dæmon. I’m not settled but I like to appear as a rat or a rattlesnake or a king cheetah. Probably some more forms in the future. He/him. Technically I am just a thoughtform but I’m a thoughtform with big transmasc energy, I like to think. I’m obsessed with kaiju and other big monsters and superheroes as well as alt scenes. So my playlist should be obvious https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7Ma2bNC0FlnTsb6DtDFhXc CIE Day: June 27 2023

Foxglove

I’m Foxglove, otherwise known as Europa. She/her, if you must refer to me. I am a dragon of silver lineage. I have special interests in psychology, botany and mineralogy. I suppose I am autistic in the context of a physically human brain, but it is difficult to recontextualize that to the culture of a draconic biological worldview. I have a great appreciation for baroque and art nouveau architecture and for the aesthetic of vintage fantasy artwork. I would also say I do not believe in anything spiritual and I do believe that everything can be explained scientifically. If we are sharing playlists, here is mine. It is majority progressive and psychedelic rock. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7vNU0chHir6XWfpt90jjxu CIE Day: September 21 2021

V’vohu

Swift here. V’vohu would not write its own intro. It doesn’t communicate in words exactly, save for a few syllables. Mostly emotions. V’vohu is a sheyd, a type of demon spirit in Jewish mythology, that appeared to me not long after my first three headmates originated. I thought it was a normal headmate at first, but it’s not really. I believe it is literally an extradimensional visitor or guide of sorts, and while I acknowledge this may be slightly delusional, it is a very real entity to me. Consistently, it creates epiphanies, asks me to do things that end up being important, and knows things about myself that even I didn’t know. Its motivations are difficult to ascertain. This is its playlist, less of music it listens to exactly and more music that will summon it. It’s a unique music taste because V’vohu doesn’t perceive our dimension the way we do and music doesn’t sound the same way to it that it does to us. Its favorite album is Everywhere At the End of Time -- so that’s a good primer for what’s on this playlist. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/61wvByMthx6WVVFduiEHCy CIE Day: March 14 2021

Anser

Swift here again. Anser is a tricky one. She could and probably would write her own intro, but she’s complicated much like V’vohu and I’d rather explain it in my own words, because I’m not sure hers would be… not too vague. Anser is not fae, nor a kitsune, nor a Huli Jing or any other kind of specific fox myth, rather a fae-like fox spirit who seems to embody multiple fox and faerie mythologies. He originated as a spirit. Sort of. When he first appeared, he may well have been a literal spirit visitor, like V’vohu. But he left, possibly of his own accord, possibly something to do with V’vohu. This Anser is a different entity while being the same individual psychologically, fully formed by whatever mental process formed the other headmates excluding V’vohu, but still also fully psychologically a spirit. Literally the exact same individual in every way except not a literal outside spiritual visitor. He still fully believes in magic and is the most spiritual of all of us. It's complicated. Anyways, she usually appears as a red fox with or without various fantastical attributes, and sometimes as a statue. She/her and he/him only, not they/them. I believe she identifies as bigender or genderfluid, not sure which or if gender means the same thing to her at all that it does to earthly people. Here’s her playlist, like V’vohu’s it’s pretty unique. She’s obsessed with different cultures, religions and folklores around the world, so her music taste is mostly comprised of regional folk, devotional and traditional music and nature noises. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XIssSbiAwI1e1G3AuiqIX CIE Day: June 13 2022

#this is just going up no categorizing tags #I wrote both of these posts a whiiiiile ago btw and have been excited to get around to posting them mostly bc #look!! it's my friends!! my brain friends that most of my followers don't even know the names of!! :D #they are very important people in my life. except v'vohu anser and ziv. who are not people‚ but still important.#DON'T tell me the link in my own bio is gone. I KNOW. it's broken. and by it I mean Tumblr

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