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himexyandere · 7 months

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Leaves Fall Just Like Us

Pairing: Yandere Male!Spider x Female!Reader

Word count: 1750

Content Warning(s): Possessive behavior, manipulation, drugging (via venom), nonconsensual groping, slight mindbreak

A/N: So this is my first post on this separate, yandere-centered blog, I hope y'all like it! 💗 (Also, our ML's name is pronounced like "rain")

You weren’t sure how or even when you managed to get yourself lost in a mansion, which you originally assumed to be abandoned. That assumption of yours was swiftly proven false as you noted that no part of the mansion looked neglected. Aged, yes, but there were hardly any specks of dust to be found.

In contrast to the cleanliness of the place, there were spiderwebs in almost every corner, nook, and cranny that you’d laid your eyes on. The afternoon sun illuminated most of the space, but you could tell that based on the burnt oranges and light pinks decorating the marble floors, the light was fleeting and wouldn’t last for much longer.

You had to leave—now.

As soon as that singular thought crossed your mind, you began to backtrack immediately, feet seemingly on autopilot. You didn’t make it three steps back before you ran into something solid, eliciting a surprised-sounding grunt from whatever you’d collided with. Ignoring the fear sirens blaring in your mind, you whipped around without a second thought, only to come face-to-face (or more like face-to-chest) with a human. Or at least, that was what you would’ve liked to say—

Your eyes scaled the figure, just barely flitting to the side as inhuman appendages flooded your peripherals, continuing upward until you were gazing into the eyes—multiple pairs of eyes—of what you assumed to be a man-spider...? You were screaming before you knew it, which caused the humanoid spider’s eyes (all eight of them) to widen as he raised his arms surrenderingly, dropping a book he had been clutching onto in the process.

“Please, don’t be afraid!” He rushed to calm your fright while attempting to make himself look as disarming as possible; which, of course, wasn’t an easy feat as he was an intimidating height equipped with six pedipalps sprouting from his back and chelicerae framing his face. “I mean you no harm, I swear!”

“W-who—” Was all you could manage to say in response as your body trembled of its own accord.

The man-spider gave you a little smile then took a small step back to give you some more space. That didn’t really help, though, because now you could see just how tall he really was. For the most part, he was built like a normal, human man — if it weren’t for the obvious spider-esque parts, of course.

“My name is Raigne,” The man before you canted his head a little to the side. “May I ask what your name is, my guest?”

“[Your Name]...” You offered him your name without a second thought, leading you to wonder if it was out of politeness(?) or innate fear. Perhaps it was a mixture of both?

Then, as if you’d only remembered where you were and that you were indeed an active participant in this conversation, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at Raigne.

“Wait, ‘guest’..?” He’d referred to you as “his guest” mere moments ago, but getting over the bizarreness of the situation was difficult, admittedly.

“Well, yes, you are in my home. That makes you my guest, doesn’t it?” The smile on Raigne’s face widened a touch. “Though it appears we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, dear [Your Name]. Tell me, how did you end up here?”

Honestly, you were just as confused as he was. You remembered traveling with a group of explorers to find abandoned structures for an ongoing research project the lot of you were participating in, only to end up in this unfamiliar place. You were alone and there were no signs of your group. At one point, you tried writing it off as a convoluted dream until you came to realize that pinching yourself did not result in you waking up.

After racking your brain for a suitable answer to give the man, whose home you’d unknowingly intruded into, you eventually came up with nothing. “I… Don’t remember…” You felt bad, but you didn’t want to lie.

Fortunately, Raigne was pretty understanding and instead offered you a sympathetic smile.

“That’s perfectly alright, I’m sure the answer you’re looking for will come with enough time,” He said before bending at the waist to pick up the book he’d dropped. “In the meantime, would you mind coming with me, [Your Name]? Regardless of how you got here, I would still like to treat you as a guest, if you don’t mind.”

As apprehensive as you were to trust a complete stranger, (never mind the fact that he was, well… A spider) you didn’t see any other choice at the time being. After a few moments, you gave him a nod and a hesitant smile.

“S-sorry, thank you for having me, Raigne…”

The smile returned to Raigne’s face, wider than before in a way that seemed unnatural, accentuating his chelicerae.

“Please, it is my pleasure, [Your Name].”

You’re unsure of how much time you’ve spent with Raigne. Days? Weeks? Months? At this point, it very well could have been years, but you had no way of knowing, nor did you really care to. He provided you with a room, clothes, food, and entertainment — what more could you ask for?

Being with Raigne was a pleasant experience as well, once you overcame your initial fear of him. He was polite and accommodating, on top of understanding. He knew how scary spiders could be, so he took the time to ease your worries by reassuring you with some spider facts.

“Most male spiders don’t bite, nor do they produce much venom, so you’ll never have to worry about that!” Was what he told you in response to you asking if he was a venomous spider.

His answer brought you a sense of relief, and you noticeably began to relax around him afterward. Not only was Raigne a gracious host, he was also an interesting person overall to conversate with and you found yourself enjoying his company quite a bit.

As you sat with Raigne in his study enjoying a cup of coffee and chatting idly, your gaze was drawn outside the window behind him as the movement from a falling brown leaf caught your attention.

“Huh… Looks like it’s gonna be autumn soon.” You remarked as you swirled your finger around the rim of your now-empty cup.

Raigne stopped talking and followed your gaze out the window, staring in silence as the frequency of falling leaves increased. His odd shift in behavior should’ve been the first sign that Raigne was feeling… Off.

After your conversation, Raigne quickly retired to his room with the excuse of “feeling a little under the weather”, and shut his door without another word. It couldn’t have been something you said, right? Your conversation up until that point was light, amicable… So what the heck was up with him? You figured you could wait until later to ask him, since now seemed to be a bad time.

Later that night, after getting ready for bed, you decided to go back to Raigne’s room and check on him.

“Raigne? Are you in there?” You called out softly after knocking on his door twice.

No response.

You pressed your ear to the door, only to realize that it was already open. You pushed your way in, worry clouding your senses as you scanned the dark room. You’d only been inside Raigne’s room a handful of times before this, but for some reason, it was a little more… Foreboding during the night.

“Raigne..?” You tried calling him again as you stepped fully into the room, looking around the spacious area to find him.

A soft click sounded from behind you, but it was already too late.

Before you could even think to turn around, you were wrapped up in a familiar pair of arms and pedipalps, holding you rigidly in place until you felt a pair of fangs sinking into your neck. Then came the injection of an unidentified fluid—venom, you presumed, even in your stunned state. Who else could it be but Raigne clutching your body, back flushed with his chest as he bit you?

“I’m sorry, [Your Name],” Were the first words out of his mouth once he was through with the envenomation, followed along by a low chuckle. “You’re sweet, did you know that? A little too trusting as well… But that’s what I love about you.”

Raigne then nuzzled into the crook of your neck, right next to the spot where he’d sunk his pincers into you not mere seconds ago.

“W-why, d’you…” Your question was slurred and delirious-sounding, which only made Raigne coo at you in the same affectionate way one would do to a cute, struggling kitten.

“Hmm? Do you mean to ask why I’m biting you when I told you that male spiders typically don’t?” You couldn’t even nod, but he seemed to know that he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Well, my dear, I did tell you that most male spiders don’t bite… I never said that I didn’t,” Raigne chuckled again, still nuzzling against you. “Oh, and about the venom… It isn’t lethal, don’t worry. Why in the world would I want a dead bride? I’m a spider, not a specter~”

As he continued speaking, the frequency of his nuzzling increased, and you still found yourself unable to move a muscle. Your entire body was paralyzed.

“Did you know? Autumn is the mating season for most spiders,” Raigne’s unoccupied hands began to wonder then, starting from your shoulders and trailing down to your breasts. “I was wondering how I should court you... I truly apologize for not doing it properly, but I really could not help myself!”

He bent down closer to whisper in your ear, as if his words were much too sacred to be spoken aloud, “You are so alluring… I’m surprised by how uncouth I am behaving because of how much I want you.”

His words took on a somewhat warbly tone, entering into a raspy, dreamy-like pitch. It didn’t help that he was still groping you, hands eager and thorough in their exploration of your chest. In his mind, he had all the time in the world to do so, after all — and it wasn’t like you would be going anywhere anytime soon, what with his pedipalps still holding you and his venom in your blood.

Raigne fully intended to make you his bride.

Once that thought crossed your hazy mind, the idea of freedom slowly slipped away until you could think of nothing else...

#male yandere x reader #yandere drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere x reader #yandere spider #my writing #yandere #yandere male #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #male oc x reader #original character #yandere teratophilia #teratophillia

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vinceaddams · 9 months

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Coat, c. 1750's, V&A Museum.

Wool with a silk velvet collar. (Though the pile has almost completely worn off it now.)

The description for this coat claims that mariner's cuffs first appeared on 1740's naval uniforms, which I find rather suspect considering I can go to my pinterest boards and instantly find half a dozen examples in 1720's and 30's portraits.

Edit: Ooh, I filled out a feedback thingy and they replied! Apparently I've mistaken some of the cuffs in the portraits for mariners cuffs when they are actually slit cuffs (no extra cuff bit around the bottom) but that a couple of them do appear to maybe be early forms of mariners cuffs, so a little inconclusive and needs more investigating I suppose?

#been thinking a lot about mariner's cuffs and how cool they are #I just cut out a jacket and gave it very plan cuffs but next time I'll try something like this #coats #extant garments #18th century #1740's

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bro-atz · 7 months

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rooftop philosophy

in which: all hunter wants is a place to eat his lunch peacefully, but you disrupt the peace

pair: hunter/gn!reader

word count: 2k

content: fluff, a lot of unpopular opinions, slight heartbreak, kissing, teasing, and a box of chocolates?

apply for the permanent taglist here!

Hunter never thought that he’d have to share his safe place. He discovered that the roof was always unlocked one day by accident because he ran to the top of the stairs and tripped, his hand pushing the door open. He was running away from club recruiters that day. The school’s club fest was going on, and each booth tried to grab him before the other one could, hence the running away. Hunter was popular, and he knew that and he didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t a huge fan of all of the attention either. He needed a place he could go to and decompress in the middle of the school day.

So, when you showed up, he was flabbergasted. He was pretty careful about coming to the roof. All of his friends knew that he would go some place else to have lunch— they assumed with his significant other or something— and they all respected his privacy. You, on the other hand, were not close with Hunter in the slightest. You noticed every day around lunch time that he would sneak off somewhere, and one day, you decided to follow him all the way up to the roof.

The boy reluctantly shared his space with you because he was nice but also because he was scared that you were going to tell someone about the fact that the doors to the roof were unlocked and then the school would lock the doors and he’d have to find a new place. You, however, did not know this fear. You just wanted to enjoy the air outside, and the only times to do that were either during gym class or lunch.

You weren’t one to talk much in class, but you loved talking to your friends. You didn’t know if you could consider Hunter your friend on that kind of level, but talking to him was easy because he would just sit and eat his lunch in peace and occasionally agree with you while you talked about all the things in the world that concerned you, most of them being unpopular opinions.

“I still don’t get why people say money can’t buy happiness,” you started one day. “Money can totally buy happiness. My neighbors were really upset with their grandma died, and two weeks later, they were happy because they bought a dog. A dog. That’s literally buying happiness.”

Hunter nodded slightly in agreement, but you didn’t notice.

“I can’t make myself happy without spending money nowadays. No one can. If you want cheer up by eating chocolate or something, you have to buy it, right? That’s buying happiness. Little kids always want stuffed animals or toys, and when they’re sad, parents usually buy something to make them happy. That’s also buying happiness! Whoever said money can’t buy happiness is stupid.”

You continued talking while Hunter cleaned up the wrappers around him— he was pretty much done eating.

“The quote came from 1750 or something, so it makes sense for then, but now? Money is happiness. Material wealth is tied to happiness, and you can quote me on that.”

The bell rang. The unspoken agreement between the two of you was that you would head back to the classroom first, then him a couple minutes later. It’s not that he didn’t want to be caught with you, but he didn’t want his hiding spot being found, and if people thought you two were together, then it meant risking the discovering of his spot.

“Fairy tales are horrible if you really think about it. They tell you that there’s always a good person and an evil person and that you’re either one or the other. Fables are where it’s at. Those have lessons and morals, and more humanizing. Give me a lesson over a conquest any day.”

“Christmas is not the best holiday. Halloween is. We should be celebrating Halloween and having that day off to work on our costumes and enjoy the weather before it gets freezing cold outside.”

“Trying to put sweet and salty things in the same snack is gross and doesn’t work. They should come together but be packed separately so we can balance the flavors the way we want to.”

You would come upstairs with a new opinion everyday, and Hunter would listen to your opinions everyday.

As the school year progressed, there was one boy in Hunter’s friend group that caught your attention: Junghoon. Every time you saw him, your heart would flutter. He was always smiling and always laughing, and you knew that you didn’t stand a chance with him because of how immensely popular he was with the rest of the student body. Until…

“Forgetting to hit send on a message really does happen! Why do people automatically assume that it’s a white lie?! I literally forgot to hit submit on my homework last night, and now I have detention. I swear, I did the work…”

The bell rang. Hunter got up, and you left first. Same as usual. When you stayed back in school that day to serve your detention, you ended up getting to spend it with Junghoon, who was also in detention for the same reason as you.

“I do this all the time,” Junghoon sighed as he admitted to you. “I just suck at responding and pressing buttons. I’ll have something I want to ask someone and have it all typed out, but when they don’t respond, I get upset, and then check my messages to see that I never sent the damn thing. So annoying.”

“Haha, tell me about it,” you said as you stared dreamily at him. That was also the shortest sentence you said that day.

It made you so happy that your opinion was actually a fact that was proven by Junghoon, but it also made you happy that you got to spend time with him.

You never stopped thinking about Junghoon after that day. You fell for him. Hard. You were planning on confessing to him for Valentine’s Day because, as far as you could tell, he was single, no one else was in pursuit of him, and there was no harm in trying.

What a lie. There was totally harm in trying. You got him a cute little box of chocolates and waited for him before school in front of the gates. You were going to pull him aside and hand him the box of chocolates then confess, but before you could even do that, you saw Junghoon walk towards the gate hand in hand with another student in your class. You wanted to lie to yourself again and say that they were just friends, but then when you saw them hug and kiss, your world came crashing down. You quickly shuffled your way back to the school building, shoved the chocolates back into your bag, and sat at your desk.

Your eyes were misty for the first half of the day, but as the day progressed, your sadness morphed into humor as a defense mechanism then into cynicism. By the time you got to lunch, you justified to yourself why someone like Junghoon was totally out of your reach.

“Here’s the thing, Hunter,” you started with your lecture the second the rooftop door closed behind you. “Things are beautiful. People are beautiful. The world is beautiful. But! Not everything is beautiful. Not everyone is beautiful. The entire world is not beautiful.”

You plopped down on the ground next to him. He continued eating, you continued talking— lunch as per usual.

“I wonder what it must be like to be beautiful. I imagine those people are always, “oh my God, being beautiful is so hard! My life is so tragic!” and then they’re just sweating sparkles and gold and you’re annoyed with them because living a beautiful life is nothing. Nothing! They don’t have to work for anything! Things just fall into their hands.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow because this was a different rant for once.

“I will never know that feeling because I’m not beautiful,” you explained. “People are attracted to and love beautiful things… And I am not one of them.”

“Y/N, shut up,” Hunter said— he had never, ever said anything during your rants or lectures, but this time was different because the rant was different.

“What? It is true. Beautiful things, beautiful people— no one can resist them. Meanwhile, me? I’m not someone’s first choice, and I’m not really a choice anyone considers because I’m not beautiful or even pretty. I’m just… Okay. I’m mid. I’m aight. Not attractive, just aight.”

“Stop it, Y/N.”

“What’s your deal? Since when do you care about what I talk about? You usually just ignore me, anyway.”

“No, I don’t.”

“See? You don’t care—”

“I do care, Y/N,” Hunter interrupted. “And I don’t ignore you. I always listen to everything you say and stay quiet because I usually agree, but right now? Right now, you’re so wrong.”

“Huh? Wrong about what? Liking beautiful things? Do you not like beautiful things?”

“I do, but that’s not what I’m taking about. You’re not just okay, you’re not mid… I’d say you’re aight, but you’re beautiful, too.”

You stared at Hunter for a solid minute before bursting out laughing. He had such a serious look on his face, and he made the funniest joke with that straight face of his. “That’s a funny joke, Hunter. You should be a comedian,” you said while wiping tears from your eyes.

Hunter’s face didn’t even flinch, causing you to laugh all over again. His stone face was incredible. You continued to laugh, but he still didn’t laugh; he didn’t even smile because he wasn’t joking.

“Hunter, you don’t have to lie to make me laugh and feel better, but thanks for that. I needed it.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Wait, but wasn’t the joke the fact that it’s a lie? See, wait. Let me look it up…” You took your phone out and typed quickly pulling up the definition of the word. “Okay, it says here that beautiful means “pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically, and of a very high standard,” and that definition is definitely not—”

Hunter couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed your wrist and moved your phone away from your face before pressing his lips firmly against yours. Your eyes went wide, only for you to squeeze your eyes shut when you felt Hunter’s other hand move to the back of your head and hold you gently, his lips leaving an additional kiss, then two, then more until your phone slipped out of your hand. You were completely flabbergasted when he finally stopped and moved back, your eyes staring into his.

“W-wh-what…?” For once, you had no words.

“Now you listen, and let me talk,” he said gently. “Originally, I let you come up here because I didn’t want to lose the access to the roof. I was slightly annoyed at first because I wanted to eat my lunch in peace, but every day, you come up here with something new to talk about, and I’m always intrigued and entertained.”

“I had no—”

“Shut up, I’m not done,” Hunter held a finger to your lips. “I like your company, Y/N, and I like you, so it kills me to hear you say those kinds of things about yourself. So, stop it.”

You stared at Hunter, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

“I always care about everything you say and think and do, Y/N. If I didn’t, I would have made you stop talking like I did today.”

Hunter let go of your hand and moved away from you while you were still shellshocked. Your mind was blank for once, until a tiny intrusive thought entered your head.

“I have a question,” you told him.

“What is it?”

“So, if I say things you don’t agree with, will you make me stop talking?”

“Yes.”

“Would you make me stop talking the way you did just now?”

Hunter took a second to process the question before going hot red in the face. He let out a couple of empty noises before looking away from you, steam literally rising from the top of his head because of how embarrassed he was. You had to stifle a laugh as you watched him react to your genuine inquiry.

“Love isn’t a choice,” you teased him. “You only like me because you spend so much time with me.”

“Y/N—”

“You just don’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day.”

“I swear to God—”

“You just want me to give you a box—”

Just as he said, Hunter shut you up, and he shut you up by kissing you again. You couldn’t help but giggle as his soft lips encompassed yours and his fingers tickled your neck and cheek. You kissed him back, suppressing the urge to smile in between each one. It was only when the bell rang that the two of you separated, a slow exhale leaving your lips as he moved away. A small smile settled on your face as Hunter looked away shyly, his face a light shade of pink. You stood up and helped him clean up before heading to the rooftop doors.

“I’ll head down first,” you told him.

Just as you took one step down, you felt him grab your wrist. You turned to look at him, his face still pink, and his eyes barely able to maintain contact with yours.

“Yeah?”

“Um… You said something about a box…”

“What, you want me to give you a box of chocolates?” you asked with a snicker.

“I wouldn’t be opposed…” he mumbled.

“Okay, I’ll give you the box… Tomorrow.”

You shuffled down the stairs while laughing to yourself, and as you turned to take the second set of stairs down, you looked up to see Hunter with a huge grin on his face. He, like you, couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.

#xikers #xikers hunter #hunter xikers #hunter x reader #park hunter #xikers park hunter #park hunter xikers #papungkorn lertkiatdamrong #xikers fluff #xikers imagine #xikers fanfic #xikers fanfiction #xikers hunter au #broatz

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costumeloverz71 · 10 months

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Robe à la française, c.1750's

#fashion #vintage #robe a la francaise #mid 1700s

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stressed-and-fluff-obsessed · 14 days

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Hello are you still doing requests? If so can you make a lee!vox and ler!velvette fic?

I most certainly can!

Grumpy Gus

(Bro’s a lil mad ☝️)

Summary: Vox is in a particularly bad mood one morning and Velvette notices, she’s not having it.

T.W: Swearing‼️‼️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vox had it all planned out. A foolproof plan that was destined to work, to finally take down the feared Radio Demon.

He would wait till everyone in that silly little hotel had gone to sleep and use that opportunity to sneak up on Alastor and finally take him down but things didn’t exactly go as planned…

Vox was watching footage on the Hazbin Hotel one afternoon, waiting patiently for anything interesting to happen before he watched as a large beam blasted into the side of the hotel leaving a gaping hole in the wall.

Vox’s eyes widened and he sat at the edge of his seat, awaiting to see who the culprit was. When the footage landed on Pentious his hopes died. This guy? Really?

He watched as Sir Pentious and Alastor went back and forth through a verbal battle before large black tendrils snaked out of the ground, completely destroying Pentious’ ship in a matter of minutes.

As the tendrils continued wreaking havoc on the ship Vox watched from his monitors, jaw slack and anger slowly building up inside him. How dare this guy attack Alastor and ruin his chances at a perfect attack!

Vox’s screen glitched a little as his anger subsided a little into more of an annoyance flare as he slammed his fist on the desk, making the footage of the hotel cut out leaving only a blank monitor as he stormed out of his observation room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

“S-Sir??” Vox’s assistant trailed behind him nervously clutching his clipboard as Vox stormed towards the elevator, “S-Sir what’s the matter?” The assistant asked, stopping just short of the elevator where Vox stepped in and pressed a button to go up.

“I don’t want to talk about it Papermint. (I think that’s his name)” Vox sighed just as the elevator doors closed and ascended leaving a very nervous and confused assistant behind.

Vox’s first destination of choice seemed to be the adult film department where once he arrived on the floor he wandered around a bit, averting his eyes from actors getting ready for a new movie and bartenders carrying unusual drinks on trays.

Eventually he nearly wandered around the whole department and was ready to give up before he spotted a flash of red, white and black from his peripheral vision.

Vox followed the swish of fabric to a director’s set with a backdrop in front of it and spotted his fellow V Valentino lounging in the director’s chair when he got there.

“Val.” Vox spoke making the moth demon turn around and smile, “Vox! So good to see you my friend~” Valentino crooned, “Here to see the show?” He finished, gesturing to his actors and chuckling at Vox’s disgusted face.

“Quite frankly no.” Vox snapped earning a raised brow from Valentino. “Oh? And what’s got you in such a bad mood?” The moth questioned, taking a drag from his cigar.

“Meet me in the meeting room in thirty minutes, I have to talk to you and Vel.” Vox replied, leaving the room before Valentino could ask what was happening.

~~~

The next department he went to was the fashion department, taking the elevator up and re-entering a room full of models and racks of clothes.

Since Vox normally just teleported to Velvette and he was walking today it took him a little while to find her but after a bit of walking, looking at the new clothes lines and such he spotted her, yelling at an employee something about the 1750’s and wrist ruffles?

“Velvette!” Vox walked up behind her, as she shooed away her models and turned to face the other overlord. “What Vox can’t you see I’m busy?” She snarked at him, gesturing around to all the models.

“Yes my dear I can see that but I need to see you and Valentino in the meeting room in thirty minutes, this isn’t up for discussion.” Vox told her and she went to her phone, typing in a few things before she smiled at the screen.

“You got lucky Vox looks like I’m free then, see you then!” Velvette spoke, half saying bye and half shooing him away which Vox didn’t have a problem with at all, he went back down the elevator to go prepare for their meeting.

Thirty minutes later all three Vees were sat at the large circular table as Valentino’s assistant Kitty brought them drinks. “So why did you call us here?” Valentino spoke first, asking the question he’d been sharing with Velvette.

“I brought you here because we need to devise a new plan to take down Alastor once and for all, if he keeps helping Princess Morningstar with that little hotel of hers than that won’t be good.” Vox explained with a not-usually present scowl.

“Well how exactly are we supposed to stop him, he’s an overlord Vox.” Velvette piped up, scrolling on her phone the whole time. “That’s our problem we don’t have a plan yet.” Vox snapped, looking between the two of them who only looked away.

“Any ideas?” He asked them in which they both shook their heads making the TV overlord grumble in annoyance. “Fine then looks like I’ll have to come up with something myself.” Vox told them, standing up and turning away.

“Vox.” One of them grabbed his arm preventing him from leaving and he thought it was Valentino so he turned around getting ready to yell at the moth for slowing him down when he realized it was actually Velvette.

“Let me go Vel.” Vox told her, tugging on his arm but her grip held strong. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s wrong.” She demanded, still not letting him go.

“Nothing’s wrong Vel now let me go.” He snapped at her but she only raised a brow and spun him around, wrapping her arms around him in a backwards hug so his back was to her chest and she backed up to the wall.

“Vel what the hell are you doing…” Vox trailed off as he felt her long nails rest on his ribs over his suit. “C-Come on Vel let’s be reasonable…Valentino’s still here.” Vox began, hating how his voice faltered.

“Oh don’t mind me I’ve noticed you’ve been extra grumpy lately, I don’t mind watching~” Valentino taunted, waving his cigar in Vox’s direction making the TV overlord scowl at him.

“Vahal help!” Vox pleaded, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as Velvette tightened her grip on the other overlord. Vox reached an arms out in desperation but Velvette scratched at the small space under Vox’s arm and he yanked it back down and turned to look at her.

“V-Vehel?” Vox stammered, biting down a yelp of laughter as Velvette’s fingers, still resting on his ribs started moving, scribbling over the surface of his ribs as Vox doubled over in her hold.

“Tell me what’s wrong Vox~” Velvette spoke in a sing-song voice, switching to clawing over his stomach making the TV demon’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter.

“Come on Voxy you know how persistent Vel can be she’s only going to make it worse if you hold out~” Valentino teased which made Vox shake his head stubbornly, screen glowing a blue color as he still fought the wave of laughter that threatened to slip out of him.

“He’s right Vox~” Velvette taunted, moving again to claw at Vox’s underarms and finally he broke. “Ohoho shihihihit!” Vox swore as giggles poured out of him as Velvette continued her tickly onslaught.

“There it is!” Both Velvette and Valentino exclaimed simultaneously making Vox laugh harder, “Shuhuhut uhuhup bohohohoth of yohohou!!” Vox snapped through his persistent laughter, “Not till you tell us what’s wrong~” Valentino crooned, swirling his drink before taking a sip as he watched Velvette wreak havoc on their friend.

“Nohohohothing ihis wrohohong lehehet me gohohoho!” Vox practically whined as Velvette who only laughed and tightened her grip again, moving down to knead at the older demon’s outer thighs making him throw his head back onto Velvette’s shoulder and laugh heartily.

“VEHeheheheheHEL!!” Vox thrashed in her hold, gripping her wrists with his claws but surprisingly making no move to push her away. She made a curious noise at the back of her throat, shifting again to scribble over his sides.

“You’re not pushing me away Vox, are you enjoying this?” Velvette grinned and Vox felt his face heat up at Valentino’s interested hum and he cracked one eye open to find the moth smirking at him making his screen glitch in embarrassment.

“Fuhuhuhuck ohohoff!” Vox snapped at them but heard Velvette’s mock-disappointed hum from behind him, “You know Vox that wasn’t very nice, maybe you should punish him for that Vel.” Valentino told the designer which made Vox’s eyes shoot open and he glanced back at Velvette who smirked at him.

“You know you’re right Val, I’m giving you one more chance Vox, tell us what’s wrong and apologize for insulting us before I make you.” Velvette spoke in a low teasing voice, slowing her fingers to a stop temporarily to allow him to answer.

Vox caught his breath for a moment, a slow lazy smirk making its way onto his face and when he caught his breath he opened his eyes and did something that was the nail in his coffin. He raised both of his arms and flipped both of them off and was immediately greeted by the sight and sound of Valentino’s eyes widening with a grin and Velvette’s hearty laugh at the gesture.

“Oh you just dug your own grave you know that?” Valentino told him making Vox raise a brow until he stilled as he felt Velvette’s chin rest on his shoulder and one of her hands come to rest on his hat, “You’re going to regret that.” Velvette’s voice came from behind him and he immediately started throwing out protests.

“Waitwaitwait Vehel I’m sorry I’m sohoHOHORRY!!” Vox jerked hard with a loud yelp as Velvette buried her face in the crook of Vox’s neck and blew a large raspberry there while using the hand that was previously on his hat to start playing with and tweaking his antenna.

Vox’s face glowed a bright blue color and instantly a large grin that nearly split his face grew on his features and small blue pixels grew in the corners of his eyes as Vox threw his head back and cackled hysterically

Valentino fell out of his chair laughing nearly as hard as Vox was currently at the other overlord’s situation, “Yohohohou shohohould see yohohour fahahahace Vox!” Valentino cackled, “S-SHUHUHUHUT THE HEHEHELL UP YOU PRIHIHIHICK!!” Vox screeched as Velvette amplified the pressure making the TV overlord duck his head and thrash in the younger demon’s hold.

“Give it up Vox! Apologize!” Velvette declared with a laugh, Vox thought about it for a moment, he was having fun and it’s not like he hated this (Though he would deny it till the seven rings collapsed) so really he didn’t want this to stop, this was a wholesome moment but he was getting hot and the fans in Vox’s cooling system kicked on right then so he knew he had to give up from the tickly torment and give in to their demands.

“FIHIHINE FIHIHIHINE VEHEHEHEL HOHOHOLY SHIHIHIT YOU WIHIHIN YOU WIHIHIN!!” Vox cackled and finally it stopped and Velvette carried him over to a chair which he relaxed in while he caught his breath.

“Had fun?” Valentino, now back in his chair teased earning a middle finger from a still recovering Vox. “Hohoholy shihihit Vehel you dohohon’t hold bahahack.” Vox breathed out, a proud grin resting on his face as he watched as Velvette only grinned.

“Now what’s wrong? You were acting like a total grump all day.” Velvette asked him, “Alastohor.” Vox grumbled, looking around in confusion as a groan came from Val and Vel.

“What?” Vox snapped, confused more than anything, “Of course it’s the Radio Demon.” Velvette spoke up, “If you continue being grumpy about another pathetic defeat by his hand I’ll see to it that you’ll never be grumpy again by my hand.” Velvette told him, wiggling her fingers at him and laughing as he scrambled away from her.

“Don’t even think about it.” Vox told her but she only shrugged with a laugh, looking at Valentino who laughed as well.

Maybe he should stop being so grumpy about that stuck-up stag. Velvette would see to it that he would if he didn’t himself…

(So sorry this took so long I didn’t mean for it to but I hope you enjoyed 😭🙏)

#hazbin hotel #answered #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #ler!velvette

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fripperiesandfobs · 1 year

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Banyan and waistcoat, 1750′s

From the V&A

#18th century #1750's #banyan #waistcoat #chinoiserie

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kemetic-dreams · 3 months

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Afro-Jamaicans are Jamaicans of predominant African descent. They represent the largest ethnic group in the country.

The ethnogenesis of the African Jamaican people stemmed from the Atlantic slave trade of the 16th century, when enslaved Africans were transported as slaves to Jamaica and other parts of the Americas. During the period of British rule, slaves brought into Jamaica were primarily Akan, some of whom ran away and joined with Maroons and even took over as leaders

West Africans were enslaved in wars with other West African states and kidnapped by either African or European slavers. The most common means of enslaving an African was through abduction.

Based on slave ship records, enslaved Africans mostly came from the Akan people (notably those of the Asante Kotoko alliance of the 1720's: Asante, Bono, Wassa, Nzema and Ahanta) followed by Kongo people, Fon people, Ewe people, and to a lesser degree: Yoruba, Ibibio people and Igbo people. Akan (then called Coromantee) culture was the dominant African culture in Jamaica.

Originally in earlier British colonization, the island before the 1750s was in fact mainly Akan imported. However, between 1663 and 1700, only six per cent of slave ships to Jamaica listed their origin as the Gold Coast, while between 1700 and 1720 that figure went up to 27 per cent. The number of Akan slaves arriving in Jamaica from Kormantin ports only increased in the early 18th century. But due to frequent rebellions from the then known "Coromantee" that often joined the slave rebellion group known as the Jamaican Maroons, other groups were sent to Jamaica. The Akan population was still maintained, since they were the preference of British planters in Jamaica because they were "better workers", according to these planters. According to the Slave Voyages Archives, though the Igbo had the highest importation numbers, they were only imported to Montego Bay and St. Ann's Bay ports, while the Akan (mainly Gold Coast) were more dispersed across the island and were a majority imported to seven of 14 of the island's ports (each parish has one port).

Myal and Revival

Kumfu (from the word Akom the name of the Akan spiritual system) was documented as Myal and originally only found in books, while the term Kumfu is still used by Jamaican Maroons. The priest of Kumfu was called a Kumfu-man. In 18th-century Jamaica, only Akan gods were worshipped by Akan as well as by other enslaved Africans. The Akan god of creation, Nyankopong was given praise but not worshipped directly. They poured libation to Asase Ya, the goddess of the earth. But nowadays they are only observed by the Maroons who preserved a lot of the culture of 1700s Jamaica.

"Myal" or Kumfu evolved into Revival, a syncretic Christian sect. Kumfu followers gravitated to the American Revival of 1800 Seventh Day Adventist movement because it observed Saturday as god's day of rest. This was a shared aboriginal belief of the Akan people as this too was the day that the Akan god, Nyame, rested after creating the earth. Jamaicans that were aware of their Ashanti past while wanting to keep hidden, mixed their Kumfu spirituality with the American Adventists to create Jamaican Revival in 1860. Revival has two sects: 60 order (or Zion Revival, the order of the heavens) and 61 order (or Pocomania, the order of the earth). 60 order worships God and spirits of air or the heavens on a Saturday and considers itself to be the more "clean" sect. 61 order more deals with spirits of the earth. This division of Kumfu clearly shows the dichotomy of Nyame and Asase Yaa's relationship, Nyame representing air and has his 60 order'; Asase Yaa having her 61 order of the earth. Also the Ashanti funerary/war colours: red and black have the same meaning in Revival of vengeance. Other Ashanti elements include the use of swords and rings as means to guard the spirit from spiritual attack. The Asantehene, like the Mother Woman of Revival, has special two swords used to protect himself from witchcraft called an Akrafena or soul sword and a Bosomfena or spirit sword

Jamaican Patois, known locally as Patwa, is an English creole language spoken primarily in Jamaica and the Jamaican diaspora. It is not to be confused with Jamaican English nor with the Rastafarian use of English. The language developed in the 17th century, when enslaved peoples from West and Central Africa blended their dialect and terms with the learned vernacular and dialectal forms of English spoken: British Englishes (including significant exposure to Scottish English) and Hiberno English. Jamaican Patwa is a post-creole speech continuum (a linguistic continuum) meaning that the variety of the language closest to the lexifier language (the acrolect) cannot be distinguished systematically from intermediate varieties (collectively referred to as the mesolect) nor even from the most divergent rural varieties (collectively referred to as the basilect). Jamaicans themselves usually refer to their use of English as patwa, a term without a precise linguistic definition.

Jamaican Patois contains many loanwords of African origin, a majority of those etymologically from Gold Coast region (particularly of the Asante-Twi dialect of the Akan language of Ghana).

Most Jamaican proverbs are of Asante people, while some included other African proverbs

Jamaican mtDNA

A DNA test study submitted to BMC Medicine in 2012 states that "....despite the historical evidence that an overwhelming majority of slaves were sent from the Bight of Biafra and West-central Africa near the end of the British slave trade, the mtDNA haplogroup profile of modern Jamaicans show a greater affinity with groups found in the present-day Gold Coast region Ghana....this is because Africans arriving from the Gold Coast may have thus found the acclimatization and acculturation process less stressful because of cultural and linguistic commonalities, leading ultimately to a greater chance of survivorship and a greater number of progeny."

More detailed results stated: "Using haplogroup distributions to calculate parental population contribution, the largest admixture coefficient was associated with the Gold Coast(0.477 ± 0.12 or 59.7% of the Jamaican population with a 2.7 chance of Pygmy and Sahelian mixture), suggesting that the people from this region may have been consistently prolific throughout the slave era on Jamaica. The diminutive admixture coefficients associated with the Bight of Biafra and West-central Africa (0.064 ± 0.05 and 0.089 ± 0.05, respectively) is striking considering the massive influx of individuals from these areas in the waning years of the British Slave trade. When excluding the pygmy groups, the contribution from the Bight of Biafra and West-central rise to their highest levels (0.095 ± 0.08 and 0.109 ± 0.06, respectively), though still far from a major contribution. When admixture coefficients were calculated by assessing shared haplotypes, the Gold Coast also had the largest contribution, though much less striking at 0.196, with a 95% confidence interval of 0.189 to 0.203. When haplotypes are allowed to differ by one base pair, the Jamaican matriline shows the greatest affinity with the Bight of Benin, though both Bight of Biafra and West-central Africa remain underrepresented. The results of the admixture analysis suggest the mtDNA haplogroup profile distribution of Jamaica more closely resembles that of aggregated populations from the modern-day Gold Coast region despite an increasing influx of individuals from both the Bight of Biafra and West-central Africa during the final years of trading enslaved Africans.

The aforementioned results apply to subjects whom have been tested. Results also stated that African Jamaicans (that make up more than 90% of the population) on an average have 97.5% of African MtDNA and very little European or Asian ancestry could be found. Both ethnic and racial genetic results are based on a low sample of 390 Jamaican persons and limited regional representation within Jamaica. As Afro-Jamaicans are not genetically homogeneous, the results for other subjects may yield different results.

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ironwoman359 · 10 months

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i saw your tag about how in 500 years we WON'T be calling britney spears' "toxic" classical music, and i am willing and able to hear this rant if you so wish to expand upon it :3c

You know what, it's been over six months, so sure, why not, let's pick today to have this rant/lesson!

To establish my credentials for those unfamiliar Hi my name's Taylor I was a music teacher up until last year when the crushing realities of the American Education SystemTM led me to quit classroom work and become a library clerk instead. But said music teaching means that I have 4+ years of professional classical training in performance and education, and while I'm by no means a historian, I know my way around the history of (european) music.

So, now that you know that I'm not just some rando, but a musical rando, let me tell you why we won't be calling Britney Spears or [insert modern musician(s) that'd be especially humorous to today's audience to call classical] "classical music."

The simple answer is that "Old music =/= Classical music," which is usually the joke being made when you see this joke in the first place.

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As funny as this joke can be when executed well (this is one of my favorite versions of said joke, especially since this is a future world where there's very little accurate surviving info about the culture from the 21st century), there is VERY little likely of this actually being how music from today is referred to in the future, because, again, music being OLD does not automatically make music CLASSICAL.

If you'd indulge me a moment, have a look at these three pieces from the early 1900s, which is now over 100 years ago. That's pretty old! You don't have to listen to the whole of all of them if you don't want to, but give each around 30 seconds or so of listening.

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All three pieces are over 100 years old, but would you call "In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree" classical? Or "The Entertainer?" Most likely not. You'd probably call these songs "old timey" and you may even be savvy enough to call "The Entertainer" by it's actual genre name, ragtime. But if either of these songs came on the radio, you wouldn't really call them classical, would you? They're just old.

Whereas Mahler's Symphony No. 5, now that sounds like classical music to you, doesn't it? It's got trumpets, violins, a conductor, it's being played by a philharmonic! That's a classical musicy word!

The short answer of why we in the real, nonfictional world won't be calling Britney Spears's "Toxic" classical music in 100 years is it simply doesn't sound like classical music.

.....and the long answer is that Mahler's Symphony No. 5 isn't actually classical either.

See, music, just like everything in culture from dress to art to architecture changed with the times, and therefore 'classical music' is technically (although not colloquially) only one of about four to five musical periods/styles you're likely to hear on one of those "classical music tunes to study to" playlists.

Our dear friend Mahler up there was not a classical composer, he was a composer of the late romantic era.

So now, because I have you hostage in my post (just kidding please don't scroll away I had a lot of fun writing this but it took me nearly 3 hours) I'm going to show you the difference between Classical music and the other musical eras.

These are the movements we'll be dealing with, along with the general dates that define them (remembering of course that history is complicated and the Baroque Period didn't magically begin on January 1st, 1600, or end the moment Bach died) :

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

You'll notice that as time goes on, the periods themselves grow shorter, and there starts to become some overlap in the late 19th to early 20th century. The world was moving faster, changing faster, and music and art began changing faster as well. Around the beginning of the 20th century music historians quit assigning One Major style to an entire era of history and just started studying those movements themselves, especially since around the 20th century we were getting much more experimentation and unique ideas being explored in the mainstream.

Even the end of the classical to the beginning of the romantic period can get kind of fuzzy, with Beethoven, arguably one of the most famous classical (and yes he was actually classical) composers in history toeing the line between classical and romantic in his later years. The final movement of his 9th symphony, known as Ode to Joy, far more resembles a romantic work than a classical one.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

To oversimplify somewhat, here are the main characteristics of said movements:

The Baroque Period (1600-1750)

Music was very technical and heavily ornamented. This coincided with a very "fancy" style of dress and decoration (the rococo style became popular towards the latter half of this period). The orchestras were far smaller than we are used to seeing in concert halls today, and many instruments we consider essential would not have been present, such as the french horn, a substantial percussion section, or even the piano*. Notable composers include Vivaldi (of the Four Seasons fame), Handel (of the Messiah fame) and Bach:

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*the piano as we know it today, initially called the pianoforte due to its ability to play both softly (piano) and loudly (forte) in contrast to the harpsichord, which could only play at one dynamic level, was actually invented around 1700, but didn't initially gain popularity until much later. This Bach Concerto would have traditionally been played on a harpsichord rather than a piano, but the piano really does have such a far greater expressive ability that unless a group is going for Historical Accuracy, you'll usually see a piano used in performances of baroque work today.

The Classical Period (1750-1820)

In the classical period, music became more "ordered," not just metaphorically but literally. The music was carefully structured, phrases balanced evenly in a sort of call and response manner. Think of twinkle twinkle little star's extremely balanced phrasing, itself a tune that Mozart took and applied 12 classical variations to, cementing it in popularity. And speaking of twinkle twinkle, memorable melody became more important to the composition than ornamentation, and many of our most universally known melodies in the west come from this period. The orchestra also grew bigger, adding more players of all kinds as now we didn't have to worry about overpowering the single-volume harpsichord, and additional instruments like more brass and woodwinds were added. Notable composers include Haydn (of The Surprise Symphony fame) Beethoven (of, well, Fame), and Mozart:

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Pay attention to the size of the orchestra here, then go back to the Bach concerto. Notice how in that very typical Baroque setting, the orchestra sits at maybe 20 people, and that here in a Classical setting, there's nearly two times that!

The Romantic Period (1820-1910)

In the romantic period, it was all about BIG FEELINGS, MAN. It was about the DRAMA. Orchestras got even bigger than before, the music focused less on balance and became more dramatic, and there was a big focus on emotions, individualism, and nationalism. Discerning listeners will notice a lot of similarities between romantic symphonies and modern film scores; John Williams in particular is very clearly influenced by this era, any time I'd play the famous Ride of the Valkyries by Wagner in a class, the kids would remark that it sounds like it should be in Star Wars. A lot of romantic composers were German, including Beethoven, if you want to call his later works romantic (which I and many others argue you can, again, compare Ode to Joy to one of his earlier works and you can hear and see the difference), but you also have the Hungarian Liszt (of the Hungarian Rhapsodies fame), the Russian Tchaikovsky (of the Nutcracker and 1812 Overture fame), and the Czech Dvořák:

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See how this orchestra is even bigger still? Modern orchestras tend to vary in size depending on what pieces they are playing, but the standard is much closer to this large, romantic size, and it's far less typical to see a small, intimate Baroque setting unless specifically attending a Baroque focused concert. Also I know I embedded Dvořák because Symphony From a New World slaps but please also listen to Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 it's one of my all time favorite pieces and NOT just because of the Tom and Jerry cartoon, alright? Alright.

The Impressionist Movement (1890-1920)

A bit after it began but definitely still during the romantic period, a counter movement began in France that turned away from the emotional excess of romanticism and focused less on standard chord progression and explored more unconventional scales. This music was less worried about how it 'should' sound and was more concerned with evoking a certain emotion or image, giving you an "impression" of an idea. Debussy is by far the most well known name in this movement, even though he personally hated the term 'impressionism,' lol.

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Notice the way the periods build on each other naturally, literally, physically builds on the orchestras that came before, evolving in style and structure until you get to the late 19th and early 20th century when things were built up so big that a response to that excess started to develop, first in the impressionist movement, and then into 20th century music in general, which got much more experimental and, as we say, "weird." (frickin 12 tone scales, man)* *i do not actually dislike the sound of 12 tone, it's interesting and unique, but it is HELL to analyze in music theory, which is unfortunately when a lot of us classical musicians are first introduced to it, therefore tarnishing our relationship to the genre as we cannot separate it from our own undergrad anguish

Even if you're not a super active listener and you have a harder time discerning the difference between, say, late baroque and early classical, you cannot deny that the first piece I've linked by Bach and the last piece I've linked by Debussy sound completely different. They're both orchestral pieces (I intentionally chose all orchestral pieces as my examples here, getting into solo works, opera, and chamber ensembles would take too long), but other than that, they couldn't be more different.

Wait, so what are we talking about again?

Classical Music is first a period of music, a specific artistic movement with music typically written in Europe between 1750 and 1820 with a specific sound that is distinct from these other styles I've outlined here.

And Classical Music is second a genre. Because while academically and historically Baroque music is not classical, and Romantic music is not classical...colloquially it is. They sound similar enough that it makes sense to put them on the same playlists, the same radio stations, the same 'beats to study to' youtube compilation videos. While individuals may have favorites and preferences, it's not far fetched to say that if you like listening to one of these styles, you'll at least like one of the others.

But whether you're being broad and referring to our modern idea of the classical genre, or you're being pedantic like me and referring to a specific period of musical history (or modern compositions emulating that style, because yeah, modern compositions of all of theses styles do exist), I think we can all agree that, as much as it slaps, "Toxic" by Britney Spears is not classical music, and 500 years is unlikely to change our perspective of that.

A Traditional Ballad though?

Yeah, I can see us calling it that in 5 billion years.

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(the full version of this scene is age restricted for some reason, but you can watch it here)

Anyway, thanks for reading y'all, have a good one!

#music #music theory #music history #classical music #baroque music #romantic music #impressionist music #music teacher #music teaching #taylor teaches #asks and answers #long post

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fatehbaz · 3 months

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There is a direct connection between the expansion of [...] new [coffee] consumer culture in Europe [...] and the expansion of plantation slavery in the Caribbean. [...] [S]lave-based coffee was more important to the Dutch [Netherlands] economy than previously [acknowledged] [...]. [T]he phenomenal growth of [plantation slavery in] Saint Domingue [the French colony of Haiti] was partly made possible by the export market along the Rhine that was opened up by the Dutch Republic. [...] [E]arly in the eighteenth century, the Dutch and French began production in their respective West Indian colonies [the Caribbean] [...]. [C]offee was still a very exclusive product in Europe. [...] From the late 1720s, [...] in the Netherlands [...] coffee was especially widespread [...]. From the late 1750s the volume of Atlantic coffee production [...] increased significantly. It was at that time that the habit of drinking coffee spread further inland [...] [especially] in Rhineland Germany [...] [and] inland Germany [due to Dutch shipments via the river].

Although its consumption may not have been as widespread as the tea-sugar complex in Britain, there certainly was a similar ‘coffee-sugar complex’ in continental Europe [...] spread during the eighteenth century [...]. The total amount of coffee imported to Europe (excluding the Italian [...] trade) was less than 4 million pounds per year during 1723–7 and rose to almost 100 million pounds per year around 1788 [...]. In 1790 [...] almost half of the value of [Dutch] exports over the Rhine [to Germany] was coffee. [...]

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The rising prices in the 1760s encouraged more investment in coffee in Dutch Guiana and the start of new plantations in Saint Domingue [Haiti]. Production in Saint Domingue skyrocketed and surpassed all the others, so that this colony provided 60% of all the coffee in the world by 1789. [Necessitating more slave labor. The Haitian revolution would manifest about a decade later.] [...]

In French historiography, the ‘Dutch problems’ are considered to be the slave revolts (the Boni-maroon wars) [at Dutch plantations]. [...] France made use of the Dutch ‘troubles’ to expand its market share and coffee production in Saint Domingue [Haiti], which accelerated at an exponential rate. [...]

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[T]he Dutch Guianas [were] producing over a third of the coffee consumed in Europe [...] [by] 1767. The Dutch were the first Europeans to bring coffee cultivation under [substantial] European control [...]. Additionally, the Dutch regularly shipped and traded about one fifth of French coffee [most of which was produced by slaves in Haiti]. The Dutch flooded the Rhine region with coffee and sugar, creating a lasting demand for both commodities, as the two are typically consumed together. [...]

[T]he history of the slave-based coffee production in Surinam and Saint Domingue [Haiti] was pivotal in starting the mass consumption of coffee in Europe. [...] Coffee was a relatively ‘new’ product to Europeans: in one century coffee changed from being a [...] novelty [...] in [...] [urban] capitals to [...] [a product consumed regularly by many people]. The Dutch merchant-bankers organised coffee investment, enslavement, and planting and selling; [all] while not leaving the town of Amsterdam [...].

[This market] expansion ends in crisis [...] - a crisis caused by uprisings and revolutions, most notably, the Haitian one. Yet Germans still liked coffee. And the Dutch colonial merchant-banker[s] [...] learned something about [...] production, and perhaps also something about the role of the state in labour control: as soon as they could, they sent Johannes van der Bosch [governor-general of the East Indies] to Surinam and Java in order to solve the labour issues [by imposing the notoriously brutal cultuurstelsel "enforced planting" labour regime] and expand the colonial production of coffee.

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Text above by: Tamira Combrink. "Slave-based coffee in the eighteenth-century and the role of the Dutch in global commodity chains". Slavery & Abolition Volume 42, Issue 1, pages 15-42. Published online 28 February 2021. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Italicized text within brackets added by me.]

#abolition #ecology

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