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mdpplgtz03 · 1 year

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Beauty And The Beast - Ari Levinson

Pairing: Beast!Ari Levinson x Belle!reader

Warnings: SMUT! UNPROTECTED SEX, ORAL SEX (F)

Author's note: Here is the long-awaited start of Fairytale Fantasy! I hope everyone likes and enjoy it as much as I did writing it (Hehehe) I tell you that the back pain I have from working on this is worth it hahaha. I'm a whore for Beast!Ari 🫣🥵

Taglist: @optimisticallygarbage , @smile1318 , @alessandraavengers , @she-wolf09231982 , @octobers-snow , @sizzlingfurydeer , @ccutieprincess , @imrandomstuffsblog

Maybe you should have listened to your father. Maybe you should have stayed home and called the guards as he told you to do in case something happened to him. But of course, you had to be stubborn and go looking for your father by yourself. Deep down you know why. Because everyone in town doesn't think you're capable. They believe that you are a simple, innocent young woman who does not pay attention to her surroundings and who plunges into the world of fantasy. But that world is so beautiful. Not only reading but writing as well. Your little notebook next to your writing machine keeps stories that have made you lose your innocence for a long time.

If only people knew what you do at night when you finish writing them. The times that your hands have traveled from your chest to your femininity, releasing that pleasure that reading them generates. And it all comes from your mind. Your precious mind.

But that's a secret that the rest of the town doesn't know. Nor will it know. Oh, the scandal they would make! they would kick you out of town, they would try to...

But if they only knew that it started with a dream. A very realistic dream that woke you up in the middle of the night with your underwear stained with a fine creamy liquid.

For in the dream, you were the victim of a beast, an abominable, male, beast.

You remember it as if it had happened in reality. You ran through the forest, your clothes were torn little by little as you collided with the branches of the dry trees. you hide behind a tree enough to cover your body. You closed your eyes. Your heart gave millions of beats per second. And then, as if your body felt it. He was standing in front of you. And you, even with your eyes closed, felt how his great and bestial hand caressed your body...

A strange noise makes you wake up from your thoughts. It's night, and you're still alone walking through the woods looking for your father.

You just hope he's okay.

In the distance, a large object, which is illuminated by the moon, becomes visible before you. Your eyes widen in shock. It's your father's carriage.

You quickly approach and desperate you begin to shout:

“Father? Father are you there!?".

But there is no answer. The carriage is wrecked. On the right side, there are some fine lines marked. As if someone or something had scratched it. Suddenly, a large shadow passes in front of you, alerting all your senses in less than a thousandth of a second. You, desperate and scared, start running, going back the way you came from. Or so you think because it's too dark for you to notice. The great shadow seems to haunt you. Your whole body feels it.

Not daring to look back, you continue and continue running until just a few meters away, a large tree appears in your visual field, and without thinking, you sneak behind it and close your eyes. If there is someone chasing you, they will surely lose sight of you. But how wrong you are... A great shadow rises in front of you, and without daring to open your eyes, you start running again, only, having your eyes closed, you are not aware that there is a stone, and before you could react, your body falls to the ground and everything turns black.

"My sweet daughter, please wake up." You feel a voice from far away.

Slowly, you start to open your eyes as the voice becomes clearer. In front of you is your father, who carries big dark circles under his eyes. You get up without hesitating and hug him.

"Dad! You are alive! Oh, thank you! You are okay," you take a look at his form. His clothes are dirty, and torn, as if someone had scratched him "Wha-what happened? Who hurt you?" you ask, concerned.

"You don't worry about that hun, why did you come here alone? I told you to call the gua-"

A loud throat clearing interrupts your father, who quickly takes you by the arms and runs you, staying behind him.

"She didn't do anything, don't kill her." He says scared of the big shadow hiding in the dark.

“Shut up!” The big shadow now stands in front of your father, and you can't believe it.

He is the one from your dream—the beast.

You do not let out a single word, nor sigh, but how your body is shaking at his presence, clearly shows how scared you are of him. But is it fear that you feel?

"Stupid man, don't you see why you are here?" The big beast lets out a smirk, "You were just bait. A bait to attract what I really want." his penetrating gaze travels quickly to you.

Your father seems to realize that because the way he slowly puts you behind him shows it.

"You won't lay a hand on her, Never!" He spat the last word harshly.

"Then I'm afraid I will have to kill you." The big arms of the beast try to junk away your father from you, but you instinctively stand in front of him. Stopping what he is about to do.

"No! Please wait!” you put your hand up as if that could serve as a shield from preventing the beast to take another step. “Don't kill him, please! I-I'll go with you, just-just don't kill him"

Your father tries to talk to you but you stop him giving him a quick look, silent telling him not to do anything.

“I'll stay on one condition,” you take a deep breath, “Let him go. Alive.” You lower your head as you say it. The penetrating gaze of the beast provokes something in you that you still can't figure out what, or why...

You do this for your father. You do this for your father, you repeat yourself mentally.

The great sigh of relief you breathed when the beast strangely agreed to let your father go.

And even though you would have liked to have hugged him goodbye, you should have been content to see him dragged away from you, outside the castle, while you watched from the castle gate.

Apparently, the beast owns this old and great castle...

And now you find yourself in this great room, standing in front of a great bed, and on top of it, a small box embroidered with your name.

How was he able to know my name?

Doubtful, you open the box, and in it, there is a large note that read: put it on. And without waiting any longer, you stir the box to see what was inside. Your eyes can't believe what they are seeing.

A light knock at the bedroom door makes you jump a little. A slight forward is emitted from your lips.

The instructions were clear. Behind the note that was inside the box there were also two clear indications:

1. Sit in the chair in front of the window.

2. Blindfold.

And this is how you are now, as you listen to the door open.

"Hello?" you ask. Although it is a stupid question because you already know who he is. Him.

Obviously, you don't get an answer, but you do feel how close he is to you.

“You look beautiful,” He says. “Like in my dream.”

"What dream?” your words seem to tremble at the confession. "Have you also dreamed of me?"

You try to get up so you can look at his face, silly of you, because you forgot you were wearing the blindfold. But the fall to the ground never arrives. Large arms support you, preventing the fall.

"Calm down, calm down." the voice comforts you. "Don't tremble, I won't hurt you." The beast's voice emanates sincerity.

His arms lift you up, you emitting a small moan at the action, as they take you to the bed, where you are gently deposited on top of it and immediately afterward the blindfold that covers your eyes is untied. And after so long, you can see him up close.

He is sitting across from you, his eyes seeming tiny before his large features. But nevertheless, that seems to turn you on.

The beast's eyes don't seem to waste time, as they cover your body from top to bottom, with admiration but also with lust. Instinctively your hands try to do what they can to cover your body.

The beast denies and, gently, its hands are positioned on top of yours, detaching them from your body.

"I won't hurt you."

"How can I be sure of that? You kid-kidnapped my father!” You exclaim ignoring his gaze.

"I wasn't going to hurt him, I didn't mean to" The beast sighs. "Everything was for you to come."

Her words confuse you. "What?”

"I saw you in my dreams. You helped me heal."

Your eyebrows knit together, "Heal?"

The beast nods. "To become human again...My name is Ari and I...I have been the prince of this castle for as long as I can remember..." He pauses before continuing. Telling this seems to affect him. "But my greed and ego made a mistake and cursed me, turned me into this!" he says getting up angrily, turning his back on you. And after a few seconds, he seems to give up, “Help me, please…”

You get up and slowly walk towards him. Your delicate hand rests on his shoulder, motioning for him to turn around. And it's what he does. Both are face to face, his eyes connected with yours. The hand that was on his shoulder now rests on his large, bare chest. You nod, giving him to understand that you are going to help him. “Just tell me what to do…” you whisper.

The beast—Ari, with his hands, enclose your face between them and bring you closer to his lips. You stand on your toes quickly since he is much taller and bigger. Your eyes close when you feel the touch of his lips with yours. His tongue quickly asks for passage, something that becomes messy, because no one had ever kissed you, much less done that with you. You were only able to write it thanks to your imagination but, god... this is so much better.

Quickly you both move until you collapse on the bed, he remains on top of you, holding on with one hand to avoid crushing you while the other remains on your cheek. After a few minutes, Ari separates his lips from yours, a fine line of saliva peeling off both of them, cutting in the middle of the separation. His hands now run and caress your body.

"It's perfect for you. Beautiful.” he says referring to what you are wearing. A fine yellow lingerie set covers your beloved body, highlighting your qualities. And it's not like you were going to tell him, maybe not yet, but when you saw yourself in the mirror, you felt a surge of confidence. Well, if there was something that the beast had, it was good taste.

You let out a thin chuckle, your eyes traveling over his bare chest. He was only wearing big pants.

One of the beast's hands is positioned above your femininity. A small wet patch is present on this one. He smiles when he feels it and begins to put a little pressure on that area. Your giggle quickly turns into a moan. A wave of electricity warms up your body in no time. Everything in you asks for more of his touch. Your pelvis rises a bit, signaling him not to stop.

This time it is you who decides to take control of him, joining your lips with his again, intertwining your hands behind his great neck, drawing him closer to you. With his big hand, Ari breaks the fine cloth that covers your precious femininity, and without warning his mouth travels there, fiercely devouring your pussy. The sensation you feel generated by his beard between your feminine lips is incredible. A finger enters your inner walls without difficulty because of how lubricated you are there still, you shuddered in pain, and Ari realizes and lubricates the area even more, murmuring meanwhile to you to be calm and that it's only temporary.

Ari was right. You lost count of how much time has passed, but Ari has been so patient with you, it's amazing to think that this man, who turned into a beast, would take the time to make you feel comfortable, to prepare your femininity.

And now you are ready. Everything in you feels it.

You told Ari how you wanted to do it, and he didn't object.

Sitting on top of him, your hands on your chest, and with all his cock inside you, you move up and down. The sound of both skins colliding, the moans, the scent of sex in the room, everything fits perfectly.

Ari quickly grabs you by the waist to take control, further speeding up his penetrations.

Your moans are getting shorter from all the pleasure you are feeling, and you no longer know where that strength comes from to emit them. This is better than your nights alone. A hundred times better.

For Ari to enter you like this, for him to have been so gentle, is a combination of pleasure that cannot be described.

A knot seems to form in your stomach. Ari notices because he feels how your insides contract, making his member tighten a little, turning him on even more.

Ari takes your body and lays it on his chest, your face is hidden between his neck and shoulder.

You both move haphazardly. You looking for your climax and him for his. But at the same time, both are going to come to the same thing. Your grip on his arms intensifies more. Ari hides his head on your shoulder sucking on a bit of skin until… The ferocious moan they both let out is inhuman. Both reached the climax.

The great jet of hot liquid that you feel inside you tempers your interior. You let out a big sigh. Fine drops of perspiration fall from their bodies.

You are the first to get up from his chest, without removing his member from yours, when you feel how Ari's body changes.

In front of you is no longer that great and enormous beast, but rather a man. And even though he's still so much bigger than you, Ari looks more human. His face is no longer full of hair. But rather only one fraction of it is adorned with a beard.

You and Ari smile. He hugs you and doesn't move away from you, but rather he stays inside and strokes your hair, whispering to you:

“Thank you…”

THE END.

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thewinchestah · 3 months

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Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor fanfic #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon x you #im insaneeeeeeeee #baixaria #im sorry everyone #alastor #the radio demon

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marchy-emmet · 11 months

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The visual post to send when your friends don't believe Submas are autistic

Verrrrry much for fun, but also for education. Without further do, here's my physical graphic I worked on. :) It's much easier to explain this via funny pictures than it is to write an essay. [Yes, other people have done something similar to this -- but I wanna spice it up a bit!! Point out every single canon sign I can think of, and make a fun little graphic.]

I am also pretty passionate about the topic of autism as a whole-

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO.... LET'S BEGIN.

Adding onto this point, warden Ingo displays a wide lexicon that he hadn't previously shown in BW/BW2. If you take into account that other Hisuians [in the English version of the game] speak in almost the same way, Ingo's masking behavior becomes clearer.

This could be blamed on the abundance of dialogue he has in Legends Arceus compared to BW/BW2. But I could also see this being a masking behavior.

The implication that Ingo needs to be "proud" of his expressive tone says something in itself.

Standing in the middle of the battle may have been how the panel was drawn, but personally, I believe there's some ADHD/autism combination happenings....

NOW, AS FOR EMMET.... HE'S THE ONE THE FANDOM NOTICED MORE.

Aaaahhhh, this one is such a prominent feature that everyone noticed -- Emmet's shameless stim march.

Where is where my blog name comes from~

Don't make the mistake of portraying Emmet as rude "for the sake of it"! The behavior comes off as oblivious and clearly reads as autistic.

It's possible that Ingo does this as well -- but it's more prominent in Emmet!

He repeats this line quite a few times to passengers, as well as, "Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedule. Everybody smile! Check safety. Everything's ready! Aim for victory! All aboard!" and "I am Emmet" generally. He also may script, "What I do. What I say. Always the same."

Scripting is a vey common autistic behavior that helps us speak to others with less room for error.

AND LASTLY....

Their special interest is pretty obvious.

The two are reputable train conductors as well as the bosses of the battle subway. Ingo in particular uses regular train puns in his speech and is known to infodump about them passionately in Masters. Despite it having a reputation as a "stereotypical" special interest, it's real.

#submas #subway twins #pokemon #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #did I miss anything?#I hope I covered it all lol #if not feel free to give your thoughts!#THIS TOOK ME A DAY LOL

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thejournallo · 5 months

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How do i manifest WITHOUT a method?

As always, I will love to hear your thoughts! and if you have any questions, I will be more than happy to answer them! If you liked it, leave a comment or reblog (that is always appreciated!). If you are interested in more methods, check the masterlist!

Many times, especially when we start this journey to learn how to manifest, we tend to believe that the methods are necessary to manifest. which is not true; the methods and technology are a plus, a premium version, a booster, whatever you want to define them as

On this blog, I explain methods over methods, especially because I generally believe that some methods really help us understand what we have around us and help us be grateful before we reach our desires and be grateful even then.

HOW DO I DO IT?

Every experience is different, and what I am going to write is all to be taken as suggestions because you have to live your own experience, and if you have any problems or struggles, I am here to help. One-by-one, I'm going to explain every step based on my personal experience that still helps me manifest even in my darkest times.

Change of mindset: There HAS to be a change of mindset, and for that, I mean to not self-doubt or doubt your inner potential. You are a star, in the literal sense. We come from the universe; we are part of it. Why should we not listen to the universe? Why should we not listen to ourselves? How do you change the mindset? The way that I changed my mindset is a game of play and pretend. Every time i cauth myself having a negative thought, I replaced it with a vocal or mental one by refusing and changing it into a positive phrase. Example: "I'm manifesting a great body, but I'm still a potato." I catch myself having this thought, "No, it is not true that I look like a potato. Some people will envy my body, and my body does a lot for me! I can only manifest to take care of it."I replace it with a positive remark.

By changing my mindset, I also bring it into existence: How can we know what we want if we don't speak it or say it clearly, not even to ourselves? How can the universe know? How can we change what we don't know? That's why we have to speak about it, reflect on it, and write about it. The clearer it is in our minds, the better. Let me give you a practical example: Person A (me) and person B (the universe) are friends; person B does something that upsets person A; person A does not say that it is upset about person B's behavior; person B tries to insist because it can be seen that person A is upset about something. Person B and Person A get into a fight because Person A didn't communicate. If person A had been clear about how they felt from the start, person B would have known how to react and help better.

I always had a really active imagination,which is not the same as visualizing, but it helps, so visualizing my dream life was always easy, and I always did that even before I found out what it was. Visualization is something I truly believe you can develop with time too. Becoming able to close your eyes and having scenes play in your head is the most powerful tool that we can have to manipulate our 3D reality. Quick and easy visualization can be done everywhere. (Except if you are driving or working with heavy machinery, be aware of your surroundings and when it is time to manifest or not.)

But the thing that helped me manifest most of all was faking and acting: I faked the most of my confidence and beauty until it became true—until it became my reality. I acted, taking actions towards my manifestation. In this way, not only did I impersonate who I wanted to be, but I also took action as them. Let me be more clear than this: I desire to be A, so I fake being A until I don't believe it. I desire an object, thing, body, etc. and for that I have to take action, i do the action!

I hope I was clear with my explanations, and I am so sorry because I have been more absent on my blog. I will try my best to be as present as possible. Have a nice day or night!

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ilookbehindthewall · 1 month

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Taylor Swift's new album is about herself

I only hear, "It's about Matty!" "It's about Travis" "She sings about Joe!" No, no... I think she's singing mostly about herself. Who says "he" directly refers to a lover?

I'm pretty sure many songs are about her internal and public identity. I believe none of us can imagine what life must be like as Taylor Swift. The most successful singer currently with probably the largest fan community. She's probably often told she has to pretend.

"They said, 'Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it' and I did" (Song: I Can Do It With a Broken Heart)

I think Taylor's true self has something to hide... something most people won't understand/accept.

Why do I think it's about Taylor herself? There are many clues in her lyrics that I'll list shortly. But first, let me show you something else.

Taylor Swift wrote the following on Tumblr: "When I was writing the Fortnight music video, I wanted to show you the worlds I saw in my head that served as the backdrop for making this music. Pretty much everything in it is a metaphor or a reference to one corner of the album or another. For me, this video turned out to be the perfect visual representation of this record and the stories I tell in it."

So, the Fortnight video reflects the stories she tells in TTPD. So, let's take a very close look at the music video 👀

Right at the beginning, you can see Taylor taking a Forget Him pill. The number on the bottle starts on her birthday (December 13, 1989) and ends on the release date of her new album (April 19, 2024). How can people still think it's about specific lovers? She literally tells us it's not about a man here. Did she know Joe/Matty/Travis since birth? No, I don't think so. I think it's about her forgetting "him," her true self.

Because she's Taylor Swift, she has to be perfect as everyone wants her to be without flaws, right?

April 19, 2024, represents the date the album comes out, as she's now telling us the complete story about "him." About her inner true self, because she's not taking the pill anymore. Her last sentence from the whole album in The Manuscript is "But the story isn’t mine anymore."

In fortnight, she sings about how she and he were together for 14 days. So, for 14 days, she was herself, her true self. However, something happened as it's not the case anymore.

In "Down Bad," it becomes even clearer. "For a moment I knew cosmic love. Now I'm down bad crying at the gym"

She briefly found herself but is back to square one, wearing a mask. Another line would be a hint that she's singing about herself.

"They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about the existence of you"

Why would people think she's crazy if she talks about the existence of a lover?

"I loved your hostile takeovers"

That's very literal. She loves it when she's her true self and shows that to the public.

"I'll build you a fort on some planet. Where they can all understand it"

I think Taylor's true self has something to hide... something most people won't understand/accept.

"This cage was once just fine. Am I allowed to cry?I dream of cracking locks. Throwing my life to the wolves. Or the ocean rocks. Crashing into him tonight" (Song: Guilty as Sin?)

She's trapped in a cage; she wants to break free and show her true self to everyone. But showing her true self would have consequences. She describes it very well here. Her true self has something to hide that apparently many people don't acknowledge?

"What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyway. What if the way you hold me. Is actually what's holy?If long-suffering propriety. Is what they want from me. They don't know how you've haunted me. So stunningly.I choose you and me... Religiously"

She hints at religion in several songs.It could be that her true self has something to hide in a religious context.

There are more clues that could be interpreted this way.But I believe that would exceed the scope.

Thanks for reading :)

~Hanna

#taylornation #taylor swift #the tortured poets department #gaylor #taylors version #interpretacion #analysis #down bad #guilty as sin?#fortnight #post malone

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axe-o-lotlol · 2 months

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I’ve been, OBSESSED with this game for a while for a while so I decided to do some fanart of my favorite Milo! @perfectlovevn

👇🏾🗣️🗣️🗣️ yap session below

I’ve already sent in a ton of asks and now I’m very excited to be able to post this, I’ve always had a tumblr account, but I’ve never really posted my art, anywhere so I’m a little nervous about this but I wanted to send in this drawing I did of Perfect!Milo

It totaled to about 42 hours of rendering on and off for about a month, but I feel like it was so worth it, I wanted to create a visually interesting piece, and have Eris’s hands sort of reaching out to touch Milo and mold him, with this trippy, drippy, oozing effect on the hands (kinda hard to see it in the first pic but a lot clearer in the second pic) I also wanted to do something cool with the background and his 8 eyes and make his eyes all have a unique design relative to their respective routes

especially considering how much I love this game, I love the motifs and the characters, all of the characters feel so alive and unique, I love Eris especially since they’re so much more interesting than our average yandere protagonist, having a MC with a personality is SO much better than the blank slate MC’s you write all your characters so well that it’s so easy to empathize with and connect with all of them, even Ryan, watching Milo get corrupted is HEARTBREAKING but also WAYY too fun and the endings are so insane like it’s incredible

I hear today’s your birthday so I hope you have a happy one!

#perfectlovevn #perfect love vn #Milo change #perfect Milo #fanart #yandere #dating simulator #the drippy effects on one of Eris’ hands looks kinda fucked up in hindsight #fuck it we ball #it was probably best without the drippy hands but hey they look cool and hindsight is 2020

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miscellaneoussmp · 6 months

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I'm normal, I swear! (<- a lie of the highest degree). I have some fluff ideas I'll write soon. Anyways, here's Mike trying to watch through static (cw/tw: implied/referenced mental health issues and referenced drug use):

It's the cold or some Federation bullshit that's keeping Mike out of his side of the link between him and Pac. He's tried to reach out more than once, but nothing has come of it. He wonders if Pac has done the same. He hopes that's the case. What he manages to get from the link is full of static. Like watching an old television that only just barely gets any signal.

It had been a while, or at least Mike thinks it's been a while before he gets something through the static. Forever is acting weird, off almost. He presses his palms into his eyes, for a gentle pressure, hoping it would make the image clearer in his head. Mike is caught off guard by what he could make out of a too wide smile and pure white suit. He doesn't understand. He can feel Pac's anxiety mixed with the static. Though, it's an oddly welcome feeling. Pac's anxiety already felt like static because of his attempts to keep it away from their link. He tries his best to reach out. It doesn't work. He loses what little he could see. It's all static now. It's cold.

Pac's anxiety has always felt like static to him. Sometimes, it's barely noticeable background noise. Other times, it feels like an electric shock. Mike has to calm his own breathing down. He doesn't have the energy. The question becomes how close is he to absolute zero, where all motion stops? All he can feel is pinpricks of cold numbing his extremities and the electric shock of his other half's anxiety. Mike closes his eyes again, hoping to see something through the static. What he sees is Pac leaving a note for Cellbit. That's not a good sign. Mike tries to reach out for Pac. It doesn't work. It's back to pure static. He gets closer to absolute zero.

The next time anything appears in the static, Mike's stomach drops. In Pac's hand are two white pills. The pills are familiar in the most awful way possible. He knows the recipe to those pills. He knows the effects won't be good. Oh, and suddenly, it hits him. The Federation must have given Forever, and now Pac, the pills. He tries again to reach out for Pac. It was more of a pull, trying to yank him away. Pac pauses for only a moment, but only a moment. Mike can taste the pills on his own tongue, plastic, and the artificial cherry-grape-strawberry of children's cough medicine. Pac swallows, and Mike loses to the static again. He can't do anything about it.

Everything is great, perfect even. That's all Mike gets now, though the static. He doesn't want to look. He doesn't want the visual to the emotions he gets through the static. The high of the pills and hysteria induced borderline panic attack is an unpleasant combination through the static. He can only imagine Pac feeling it at full force. Mike has to keep his breathing slow and shallow if he wants to survive. It's cold, freezing, and close to absolute zero.

#qsmp #qsmp drabble #qsmp fanfiction (sorta)#qsmp risus arc #qsmp mike #qsmp pac #qsmp tazercraft #we love mike here prommy #<- new tag! to go along with the pac one!#i have fluff ideas i promise ill write them soon!!

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the-wip-project · 3 months

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Bad Brain Days

Today I’m having a bad brain day.

It’s not that my brain is misbehaving. It’s just having a rough time functioning.

You might call it something else, and it has numerous causes, a bad night’s sleep, a flare up of a chronic health condition, medication issues, a short term illness, or simply being overwhelmed with responsibilities.

Whatever the cause, we all have days when our brain doesn’t want to do what it’s supposed to, ie: think.

Which is bad for life in general, and particularly bad for the thinky work of writing.

So what does a committed writer do when faced with a bad brain day?

The first and simplest thing is yield. If your body is telling you to rest, it’s a good idea to heed it.

I don’t advocate for pushing yourself to write every single day. (unless streaks really work well for you, in that case streak on!) It’s especially important if your bad brain days are often caused by feeling overwhelmed.

No doubt you have things you must get done: work, classes, child or elder care, household responsibilities. Things you can’t skip just because you’re not feeling up to it. So do yourself a favor and skip the non-vital tasks, like writing. Just for today.

But perhaps that writing habit thing is starting to catch hold and you’re looking forward to your writing session as something you do for yourself, but sadly your brain just won’t go in the words and ideas direction. What then?

The best thing is to make a list of what you can do. If you have low brain usefulness days frequently, on a good day try coming up with a list of things you can do on slow brain days.

Here’s some ideas to get you started.

1. Read. Skip the social media doom scroll, turn off your devices, and read something on paper. It could be an old favorite that feels comforting, it could be something new and exciting, but either way, focus on what makes the book or story good. We hear a lot about reading critically, and finding fault seems to dominate that. But try reading to admire. Pay attention to what you enjoy, what makes you smile, what makes you feel immersed. Read with the intention of enjoyment.

2. Do something story adjacent. If you like posting about your WIP on socials, find a few good pull quotes and queue them up. Or create a synopsis or pitch to keep on file for whenever someone asks what you’re writing. If you like making visual stuff like mood boards, make one for a scene or character.

3. Feeling up to diving into the work itself? How about updating your outline? Read over what you have written and add whatever changes you’ve made to the outline. It doesn’t have to be complex. Just try making one sentence summaries of each scene. You can do this if you didn’t have an outline to begin with too.

4. Talk to a friend about your writing. Writers need social interaction and if your writing has been consuming a lot of your spare time, just connecting with a friend might be what you need. (and don’t make it all about your writing! Be a good friend!)

5. Make starting tomorrow easier. Do non writing stuff that smooths the way, like tidying up the formatting or layout, creating blank chapters or scenes, or even sketching out a scene without making an attempt to fill in all the blanks.

Finally, don’t make any major decisions about your WIP on a bad brain day. You might do something your regret. Instead make notes on any major cuts or changes that feel needed, and look at them again on a day when you feel good.

And don’t make your writing another burden that makes everything too hard to carry. Tomorrow, when your head is (hopefully) clearer, take the time to assess if your writing is too much. To consider if the goals you’ve set yourself are workable with your current life situation. There’s no shame in dialing things back. If writing 250 words a day is too much, consider reducing it to 200. Or adding in more days off. Or considering a lower pressure project. Writing short fiction instead of tackling The Novel.

Most of all, remember that a solid writing practice is first of all a healthy one. So take care of yourself.

—Maree

Subscribe to my substack to make sure you don't miss a post, chat with me on the WIP Project discord, and tag any posts you make about the challenge with #slomowrino if you want me to see them!

#slowmowrino #bad brain days #writing advice

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foursaints · 2 months

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i know you get asked this probably 16 times a day but as a fellow artist who usually paints based off of references of real pics and trying to be somewhat realistic. how did you develop your style? did it take awhile, or was it pretty immediate? did you start out doing mediums like painting and drawing and transition to digital or was it always digital? final question: do you have any “tips” or “words of wisdom” for silly people like me who wanna try digital art but never have and because i never have im too scared to try…? sorry for the elephant stampede of questions i just really love your art and would love to know YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS!!! (please)

hi ♡♡!! this is so kind & honestly i'm incredibly touched... I forget that people even like my silly art so this had me making 🥺 eyes at my phone. i will answer your questions to the best of my abilities!!!

i'm putting it under the cut so i can attach examples lol

DON'T BE SCARED OF THE SWITCH TO DIGITAL!! it's so fun and the undo button will change your life... come take my hand... my biggest tip is to watch speedpaints! that was really huge for me when making the switch. find artists with styles close to yours & pay attention to their steps (how many layers they have, how they do lineart, do they use overlays, etc). if you do this a lot, you can get a clearer sense for how the digital workflow/process can look for you

i feel like kind of a pompous asshole discussing my own "style" or whatever 😭😭 my silly yaoi fanart 😭😭 but i do want to answer your questions!!! i started out drawing traditionally but i transitioned to digital when i was 16. and for a very long time i was one of the people who drew with my finger on my iphone .......i def get the most questions about my style & the unsatisfying answer is that it's pretty much always been there. it's evolved over time in a way i can't really describe so i'll show it visually

(my examples are all my ocs in an attempt to get you guys to be curious about them)

^ i did a redraw pretty recently so i can put that here!! these are the same characters from Jan 2020 -> March 2024... the first one was drawn on my literal phone lmfao. to me it's almost as though my "style" has always been there, but it's become like... yassified?

^ my art looked like this in 2020-2021

^ and like this in 2018-2019 when i was still doing trad

sorry for responding to your questions with an elephant stampede of images lmfao!!! I APPRECIATE YOU!! i guess my only words of wisdom are that even if it's intimating, you will never look back & regret trying something artistically. looking at my own stuff like this, im the cringiest yaoi artist EVERRR but im still doing it because it's the most fun when you're being self-indulgent.

i really really wish you the best on your art journey! thank you so much for writing & i hope my answers weren't too long-winded ♡♡

#a #i need to learn to Say Less #EITHER WAY I APPRECIATE THIS SM I HOPE YOU ENJOY !!!#saintsocs #<- look i’m making a tag. i feel like i posted them enough here #foursaints art tag

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ambyandony · 4 months

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Bruno Buccellati - Monster AU Profile

(hopefully screen-reader-friendly edition with detailed image descriptions)

Bruno Buccellati, something much greater than a human, with more power than you could imagine.

Preface about species type:

In this AU, Bruno is an angel—a Catholic-aligned, Biblical angel to be specific—of the highest order, having inspirations and traits from depictions of both Seraphim and Thrones. The intricacies of Religion in the Monster AU are hard to get into, but as a general idea, understand that most major theistic religions (Judaism, Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, Shinto, as well as many native religions and other theology e.g. Greek, Norse, Finnish) all 'coexist' to an extent, in terms of actual mythological legitimacy. I'm not going to get into all of it, just know that Buccellati being a Catholic-aligned angel doesn't mean there aren't also, say, Jewish-aligned angels. It's complicated. Being a thematic combination of a Seraph and Throne, Bruno's true form is largely incomprehensible to the average human, and he has incredible, yet limited, divine power. He's "from" "Heaven", but unlike what one might expect, he's not much limited by a 'divine law'; he has no strict morals that he must adhere to, and perhaps he doesn't necessarily have a directive on Earth. The circumstances for his existence as he is here are a little complicated, but, simply put; in a sense, he's just here to keep an eye... or several... on things.

Details related to Angelicism:

Forgive me but— he's basically the Aziraphale to Abbacchio's Crowley.

Trying to 'save' or 'redeem' him. He knows there's still good left in him. The, uh, getting him to join the mafia thing is... questionable, but we're not gonna get into all that.

Both Buccellati and Abbacchio recognised what each other was the moment they set eyes on each other. Their energies and auras were clear and visible to each other. Abbacchio naturally turned to retreat initially, but Buccellati recognised the good he saw remaining in Abbacchio and instead of letting him leave, offered redemption. And maybe some part of Abbacchio knew there was good left in him, because he accepted.

He uses his human form most of the time as it doesn't make much sense for him to use his true form when most can't properly comprehend it and it would really just freak people out.

He also has a '''true voice''' to go with the true form. It can't really be effectively described as it's, like his true form, fairly hard to comprehend, but if words had to be put to give a general idea; imagine a voice that is actually a collection of several different simultaneous voices, heavily distorted, completely understandable communicatively despite being so hard to process.

When enraged or when he generally just loses his cool, sometimes the true form will slip through, which often occurs with both visual and vocal distortion, but may also only appear as vocal distortion.

The true voice and form are both pretty terrifying no matter who's experiencing it, especially as he's a high-order angel, thus incredibly powerful.

Sometimes uses a bit of the True Voice intentionally to intimidate people. Most people around who have caught snippets of it generally end up writing it off as "that's just Bruno being Bruno", which, to be fair, it is,

He has an... Aura. I'm not talking about the Stand Aura; he at times appears to have a sort of golden glow around him, particularly around or behind his head. You can actually see it, at least, and the longer you look, the clearer it gets, it's just hard to pinpoint what exactly you're looking at.

If you catch sight of him just out of the corner of your eye, his true form will be perceived instead. But because it's hard to comprehend, it essentially means he can't really be seen at the edge of someone's peripheral (unless the person in question happens to have some kind of special eyesight) and it ends up looking a bit like catching a movement or shadow out of the corner of your eye.

He's an angel, yes, a divine being, not a human. However... he still had his parents. How does that work? Well, sometimes circumstances like this can occur. Sometimes, a baby may fall deathly ill. The parents, helpless to improve the situation by their own abilities, turn to praying for a miracle. The baby isn't given much time left to live, then suddenly, miraculously, recovers, as if they had never been ill in the first place. The child's soul may have been substituted with an angel as the original soul had to move on. The child will be raised as a human, and will watch over their human parents once they have the cognisance to recognise their own true nature; somewhat reminiscent of a less-sinister changeling. This may be the case with Bruno.

Perhaps one of the many reasons he is so opposed to drugs in the way that he is; he was sent to trade places with a human and to protect the human that would raise him, but his human father's death was ultimately caused by drug dealers, and Bruno was thereby unable to protect him in that situation, interfering with his purpose for being on Earth.

Again, yes, he's an angel. But this doesn't mean he must be perfectly virtuous and nonviolent. He unsurprisingly frequently uses violence as a means to an end. While violence isn't typically his first answer to most problems, he will never hesitate when he feels that it IS the answer.

Details about Buccellati:

Generous and welcoming to those in need. Very nurturing and protective by personality. You Do Not Mess With His Men.

Particularly protective of his human men. Humans are so... fragile. Plus, Fugo joined him first, that's his firstborn-

Loves to play up the whole 'angel' thing when he gets the chance. Likes to use the sort of "Old English" equivalent of Italian (so, Latin, I suppose). 'Be not afraid, child...' ...Fugo gets on his case for grammatical errors frequently.

Has an instinct to know when his children men have broken something (generally an object). This generally allows him to show up near-immediately after something's been broken to lecture whoever broke it about being more careful. In some extreme circumstances, it can be used to call on him for backup—preferably, just try not to have the thing you're breaking be your bones.

Being a literal divine being doesn't save him from being a Suburban Parent stereotype. Stupidest dad jokes you've ever heard that are so unfunny that they're ironically funny, and the irony eventually gets lost and they're just ... funny. Live laugh love! Man I Love Fishing! Turn that frown upside down—

It's really hard to sneak things by him. Even when he turns his back, he seems to know if you're doing something you shouldn't be. He jokes that he has eyes in the back of his head... but is he really joking?

Very kind when he can afford to be. Civilians love him! He always finds it so funny when people are like "Thank God you're here!!" or "You're a godsend/blessing!" because he's like... 😏 that's right

Hates drugs! Winners don't do drugs! This hasn't changed.

Oh dear! It appears that this daughter, which is not mine, is a demon! I can fix one of those problems by becoming her new father.

Yes there's Bruabba but it's really more queerplatonic than anything as Buccellati doesn't feel a full grasp of romantic 'love' and Abbacchio isn't ready for romantic love after suffering the kinds of loss he's suffered, so their relationship is blatantly not-platonic but doesn't reach fully into 'romantic'.

He's trying so so hard to control these kids but every day it's just another thing where Fugo's having a mental breakdown and Narancia's eating the asbestos in the wall insulation and Mista is getting way too close to Abbacchio with that silver cross necklace WHO LEFT THE OVEN ON

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99corentine · 5 months

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How To Write Good by Corentine

THE DRAFTING PROCESS, PART 2/2

Writing guide continued! Here's PART ONE.

STEP THREE: THE START, THE END, THE BEATS

I’m of the opinion that every story should start with a bang. You could start mid-way through a notable event, as seen in GHD:

- O L H A - D - V - The words, incomprehensible, rattle around his head like the last rumbles of a great thunderstorm. Then, much like after a storm has passed, the air suddenly feels clearer, sharper. A sludgy fog he didn’t even realise he was in clears from his mind and he blinks, confused. The first thing he sees is his own hands.

If you want it to be especially punchy, you can start with a line of dialogue or a short sentence, like I did for T4T:

CHAPTER ONE: It is the end.

It’s reeeally easy to lose readers at the start, so you always want to write a strong opener. Something that grabs the reader by the collar and drags them in to read the rest of the chapter.

You don’t need to have all the details, but you should have at least a vague idea of how the story ends. If you’re writing fanfic that follows along the same plot as a game or existing story, most of the legwork is done for you – so writing GHD, I planned for it to end when Alduin was killed. As I got further into the story, I came up with a more narratively satisfying ending, because it’s okay if the ending changes. As long as you have an ending in mind, you have something to work towards.

So GHD’s original, very basic plot was:

START – the Last Dragonborn wakes up with total amnesia

???

He saves Miraak

???

They kill Alduin together – END

Now you have to map out those ??? parts by deciding the major beats of the story, i.e. notable scenes. This gives you something to work towards other than the ending. I ended up with notes like these:

START – the Last Dragonborn wakes up with total amnesia

Who is he? Don’t spend too much time on this, not important, can be answered later

Goes to Solstheim, meets Miraak

Finds a way to communicate with Miraak – sneaks into Apocrypha? Shares dreams? College of Winterhold has psijiics, use telepathy?

Finds a way to save Miraak

Go to Apocrypha, confront Hermaeus Mora, save Miraak

They look for ways to kill Alduin together

Hermaeus Mora comes for them

Prolonged recovery, tells reader that even ‘redeemed’ Miraak is still scary

They kill Alduin together

What happens after Alduin?

(Redacted for spoiler purposes) – END

The story beats should ebb and flow like the tide; high-octane scenes should be followed by periods of calm. You don’t want to do this too quickly or the story will feel like whiplash; rather this is a process that happens over many chapters. Let’s look at some examples in GHD:

⇈⇈ Miraak dominates telepathy and is really scary!! ⇊⇊ Chry wanders around Skyrim doing errands and Thinking About Life… ⇈⇈ Chry breaks Miraak out of Apocrypha!! ⇊⇊ They recover from the ordeal and have a honeymoon period… ⇈⇈ They go to Blackreach and it’s visually awesome, and also Chry gets jealous!! ⇊⇊ They do misc stuff for a while… ⇈⇈ They talk to Septimus Signus, Mora shows up, nearly kills Chry!! ⇊⇊ Miraak whisks Chry away somewhere to recover in peace…

You see what I mean?

Right, you know roughly what’s going to happen. Time to turn that into words, baby!

STEP FOUR: GOTTA START WRITING

My actual writing style is its own separate topic so I’m not going to tell you how I structure a sentence or anything, just my literal writing process.

In my chapter document, I start by making a bullet-point list of everything I want to happen in the chapter. What happens can, and probably will, change as you actually get the chapter down. That’s fine, you just need a starting point.

I very rarely write individual chapters in order, as in start to finish. Rather, I tend to write the scenes I can picture clearly in my head – then by the time I’ve written those I’m in a writing groove and the gaps in the rest of the chapter will come easier. When I’m done, I’ll stitch the individual scenes together, which sometimes requires altering the scene start or end to make the whole thing more cohesive.

There are times when the writer’s block takes me, and I have like two finished scenes and just cannot summon the words for the rest of the chapter. When this happens, to be honest, the only answer I’ve found is brute force: I sit myself in front of the computer, get rid of phone/alt tabs/other distractions, and force myself to type something. Or I hold myself hostage (i.e. ‘I am not allowed to play more Baldur’s Gate 3 until I have written GHD chapter 47’) that works too, for me anyway.

Whatever it takes to get something on paper. What’s mostly important is to get something written, even if it’s not very good. You can always edit, rephrase or even rewrite sections later. Usually I’ve found once you start writing, you get into a groove and then it’s no longer a chore.

I also aim for a certain word count / chapter length while writing. I know a chapter is exactly as long as it needs to be and blah blah, but I set myself a minimum wordcount to reach. Or if I go way over the word count it’s probably because I’ve waffled too much, so I either aim to split the chapter into two, or to ruthlessly edit it back down again.

For GHD I average 7,000 - 9,000 words, but I actually think that’s a bit too long and risks losing people’s attention span, so for T4T I aim lower, about 6,000-ish. Less is perfectly fine, but if I’m reading another fic I find a chapter length of 2,000 words or lower to be disappointingly short. That’s all personal preference of course, and certain fics will lend themselves better to shorter chapters.

Although I jump around scenes within each chapter, I make a point of writing my entire chapters in chronological order. If I’m on chapter 5, and I know something awesome happens in chapter 12, it’s imperative that I do not write chapter 12 ahead of time. If I do, I’ll reeeally struggle to write chapters 6-11, because I have already rewarded my brain by writing the cool thing. If I hold off, my enthusiasm to write chapter 12 may in fact motivate me to crank out chapters 6-11 in record time.

I do have one other thing – in my Scrivener projects I always have a document called ‘Unused’. Sometimes, usually at like 2AM when sleep has failed me, I’ll get a really good idea for some dialogue or description. I scribble it down somewhere (or it will be forgotten for sure) and later I type it into my Unused document, so it’s just filled with random bits of text like this (note, everything you see here is unused, so it's not going to feature in the last chapter of GHD):

At some point in time I’ll peruse it and think ‘yes, this line!!’ and drop it into a future chapter – again though I just write bits, not entire scenes or I’ll have written all the exciting parts already. Anything I edit out of a chapter (i.e. a paragraph I liked but didn’t quite fit) gets dropped here too, in case I can reuse it later.

STEP FIVE: FINAL EDITING

I will be honest, I’m pretty impatient. Once I’ve finished a chapter, especially if it’s one I’ve been struggling with for a long time, I want to publish it now. So I’m guilty of not editing as thoroughly as I should – but this is what I usually do and it catches at least most of my mistakes:

As a first step, I copy-paste the chapter from Scrivener into google docs. Remember I said Scriv’s word processor wasn’t the best? Yeah, it’s no good at picking up on dodgy grammar, but google docs is, so I run it through there and skim-check for wiggly blue lines, then make the changes in Scriv. You may not have this issue if you’re using Word or another more comprehensive software

In my great excitement, I publish the new chapter to AO3. As I re-read the chapter over there, I see a minimum of 5 glaring errors I somehow didn’t spot in the previous steps, and hastily correct them before anyone notices.

Once I know the grammar is mostly fixed, I run it through a text to speech software to read it back to me (surprisingly Microsoft Edge has quite a good one built in called 'Read Aloud'). You'd be surprised how many mistakes you pick up this way. I’m looking for whatever google didn’t catch, wonky phrasing, repetition (i.e. I used the word ‘quickly’ twice in the space of two paragraphs, that sort of thing)

Sometimes I do a re-read with a fresh pair of eyes, anywhere from hours to days later. If I have the patience, of course...

I like to get at least the first 2-3 chapters of a brand new story written before I post anything to AO3. This is to make sure my enthusiasm doesn’t immediately wane and I actually stand a chance of finishing it. After that I’m rarely more than a chapter ahead of what’s been posted, because go figure I’ll post the newly-written chapter once the editing is done, then start on the next one.

Some people won’t even post a story at all until they have the first draft fully written. This is admirable, but not always realistic – GHD is like 375,000 words, you think I would’ve sat down and written all that before posting chapter one and even knowing if anyone would read it? Hell no.

But while you don’t need a story to be fully written, you do need it to be decently mapped-out. I used to start fics with absolutely no idea where they were going to go; I’d finish 1 or 2 chapters, get really excited at writing that much and hungry for feedback, then post something that I would inevitably lose all enthusiasm for and leave unfinished.

So, know how it starts, know how it ends, and know the story beats in between so you always have a goal to write towards. There will inevitably be fics that you never finish and that’s fine – it’s all writing practice – but readers don’t like to be left hanging, so try your best to finish! Even if it takes ahem four years or so.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

And there you go, that’s my writing process! I’m not sure how useful that really is, but if it was I could write more guides in future? I have…

A guide to my writing style (this one might be hard to put into a guide but people like my turn of phrase so, maybe useful?)

How I write a sex scene

How I write a fight scene.

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puuta-heinaa · 4 months

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Joker Out -sweater series Post 1 Post 2 Post 3 Post 4

Happy Carpe diem's birthday!

As promised, here's the chart now that I've finished the yoke! The four rows I added on the go (20, 22, 29, 31) are now part of the chart, so no need to knit any row twice. I did alter the most annoying cloud rows slightly.

There's "colours only" chart at the end of this post.

What you'll need:

Technique Ladderback jacquard/invisible stranding technique is a MUST, and honestly it makes following the chart easier as well! If you don't feel like learning it, you might want to mark the blue lines with stitch markers. Here's an EXCELLENT video of the technique in Finnish, it's very visual + auto-translated subtitles seemed to work reasonably well, so it might work even for non-Finnish speaking people! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtapBYocY80&t

Yarn I'm using Drops Alaska, 17s/10cm in color 15 and 58 and 3. It is widely available and affordable yarn. It's not soft but it's not worst either, somewhere around 29-33 microns I'd say.

In reality I'm using Drops Nepal 0501 for the grey, as I was going to use Nepal in the first place as it is a lovely yarn!!!! I'd say around 25-27 microns, and 35% alpaca, makes even warmer sweater! Colours are sold out in most places in Jan and Feb as it's always on big sale in Nov-Dec, but 6790 or 1709 would work for blue, and 2923 for the yellow.

I used one skein of grey, 1(2) skeins of yellow and as I'm making a crop version like I always do, about 8 skeins of main colour. If you want a regular sweater, you'll need 10-12 skeins of blue depending on your height.

Friendly reminder to check your local shepherd's and local mills' yarns before buying Drops, if that is something you financially can afford.

Needles 5 mm needles. I've recenlty fallen in love with addi's unicorn needles. They're easy for the hands as they are slightly shaped. No need to grip hard = more knitting time per day! And they're pretty! You want to use lacquered or metallic needles for this yarn, you will struggle with bamboo needles.

Some adjustments The chart is not scaled. It's one size. It makes size M/L. The widest part of the yoke is 150 cm, and I'm aiming for 100-105cm for the body. If you need a bigger sweater, use yarn that has 15 or 12 s/10cm and bigger needles, or add a few (blue) stitches on each side of the chart. If you need a smaller sweater, use yarn that has 18-20 s/10 cm and smaller needles. Do some math before choosing your yarn. And please swatch!! It's boring and annoying but you will thank yourself later.

+ stitch markers (you can use yarn loops)

I'll write up the whole pattern once I have energy to do that. I started with 86 stitches, knit rib for 5 rows, placed the stitch markers (17,17,17,17,18), did some shaping for the neck (5 short rows with 42 stitches in total) and moved on to the chart. 1-2 rows with just blue to cast off the ladders, and then I'll move on to sleeves. I don't promise my pattern will be any clearer than these quick notes right here, but if you know someone who knits or have already knit few sweaters, these should give you a decent starting point.

OK ON TO THE CHARTS.

One with only the colours. The numbers on the cloud are upside down when you're knitting, but they still help somewhat (I had put them in the same table/layer with the colours, and couldn't hide them easily, so we'll just have to live with them.)

Dark grey boxes are stitches that don't exist yet, but where will be a stitch later on on the chart. You add the stitches on rows where the boxes turn white.

And the second; what you might want to embroider on the suns and clouds as finishing touches.

And yoke part of the sweater for those who hadn't yet seen it yet and didn't click the links:

#carpe diem #joker out #joker out sweater #fan crafts #crafts #knitting

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lingthusiasm · 3 months

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Transcript Episode 90: What visualizing our vowels tells us about who we are

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm episode ‘What visualizing our vowels tells us about who we are'. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the episode show notes page.

[Music]

Gretchen: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Gretchen McCulloch.

Lauren: I’m Lauren Gawne. Today, we’re getting enthusiastic about plotting vowels. But first, we have a fun, new activity that lets you discover what episode of Lingthusiasm you are. Our new quiz will recommend an episode for you based on a series of questions.

Gretchen: This is like a personality quiz. If you’ve always wondered which episode of Lingthusiasm matches your personality the most, or if you are wondering where to start with the back catalogue and aren’t sure which episode to start with, if you’re trying to share Lingthusiasm with a friend or decide which episode to re-listen to, the quiz can help you with this.

Lauren: This quiz is definitely more whimsical than scientific and, unlike our listener survey, is absolutely not intended to be used for research purposes.

Gretchen: Not intended to be used for research purposes. Definitely intended to be used for amusement purposes. Available as a link in the show notes. Please tell us what results you get! We’re very curious to see if there’re some episodes that turn out to be super popular because of this.

Lauren: Our most recent bonus episode was a chat with Dr. Bethany Gardner, who built the vowel plots that we discuss in this episode.

Gretchen: This is a behind-the-scenes episode where we talked with Bethany about how they made the vowel charts that we’ve discussed, how you could make them yourself if you’re interested in it, or if you just wanna follow along in a making-of-process style, you can listen to us talk with them.

Lauren: For that, you can go to patreon.com/lingthusiasm.

Gretchen: As well as so many more bonus episodes that let us help keep making the show for you.

[Music]

Gretchen: Lauren, we’ve talked about vowels before on Lingthusiasm. At the time, we said that your vocal tract is basically like a giant meat clarinet.

Lauren: Yeah, because the reeds are like the vibration of your vocal cords – and then you can manipulate that sound in that clarinets can play different notes and voices can make many different speech sounds. They’re both long and tubular.

Gretchen: We had some people write in that said, “We appreciate the meat clarinet – the cursed meat clarinet – but we think the vocal tract is a little bit more like a meat oboe or a meat bassoon because both of these instruments have two reeds, and we have two vocal cords. So, you want to use something that has a double vocal cord.”

Lauren: I admit I maybe got the oboe and the bassoon confused. I thought that the oboe was a giant instrument. Turns out, the oboe is about the size of a clarinet. Turns out, I don’t know a lot about woodwind instruments.

Gretchen: I think that one of the reasons we did pick a clarinet at the time is because we thought, even if it’s not exactly the same, probably more people have encountered a clarinet and have a vague sense of what it looks like than an oboe, which you didn’t really know what it was. I had to look up how a bassoon works. We thought this metaphor might be a little bit clearer.

Lauren: Yes.

Gretchen: However.

Lauren: Okay, there’s an update.

Gretchen: I have now been doing some further research on both the vocal tract and musical instruments, and I’m very pleased to report that we, in fact, have an update. Your vocal tract is not just a meat clarinet, not just a meat bassoon, it is, in fact, most similar to a meat bagpipe.

Lauren: Oh, Gretchen, you found something more disgusting. Thank you?

Gretchen: I’m sorry. It’s even worse.

Lauren: Right. I guess the big bag – a bagpipe is made of a bag and pipes – the bag acts like your lungs. The lungs send air up through your vocal folds as they vibrate to make the sound. You do have a bag of air, just like in the human speech apparatus.

Gretchen: That’s a good start. What I didn’t know until I was doing some research about bagpipes – because the lengths that I will go to for this podcast have no bound – is that a bagpipe actually has reeds inside several of the pipes that extrude from the bag.

Lauren: Because there’s multiple sticking out in different spots.

Gretchen: There’s the one that you blow into, which doesn’t have a reed, but then the other ones, there’s the one with the little holes on it that you twiddle your fingers on and make the different notes, and then there’s also some other pipes up at the top. They also have reeds in them. Those reeds are just tuned from the length to a specific level. You know when you hear someone start playing the bagpipes and there’s this drone? [Imitates bagpipe sound] The sort of single note? That’s because of the note those reeds are tuned to in the other pipes that don’t have the holes in them.

Lauren: Ah, they’re not just decorative.

Gretchen: Right. They have this function of giving this harmony to the melody that’s being played on the little pipe with the holes in it, which is technically known as the “chanter,” but this is not a bagpipe podcast despite appearances to the contrary. We will link to some people on YouTube telling you more than you ever wanted to know about how bagpipes work if you want to go down that rabbit hole. But if you had an extra pair of hands or two, or a couple people helping you sort of reaching around your shoulders – this metaphor’s getting weirder by the minute – and you cut a bunch of little holes in the other sticking-up-the-top pipes –

Lauren: You would have less droning, and you could play multiple melodies or multiple notes at the same time. Hm.

Gretchen: At the same time. With this, you could make a bagpipe play something very close to vowels.

Lauren: Ah, cool!

Gretchen: This is so cursed.

Lauren: I mean, yes. Before we even talk about making it out of meat – it’s deeply, deeply cursed – it kind of reminds me of this instrument from the early 20th Century called the “voder.”

Gretchen: Would I pronounce that “vo-DUH” or “vo-DER”?

Lauren: With the R at the end.

Gretchen: Okay, “voder.”

Lauren: Thank you, convenient rhotic speaker here.

Gretchen: I’m glad to be of service.

Lauren: It kind of looked like something between a little stenographer’s keyboard and a piano, and with a whole bunch of finger keys and foot pedals you could manipulate it to make something that sounds like human speech.

Gretchen: Ah, wow. And this is pretty old?

Lauren: It’s from like the 1930s. There’s a little, short video snippet in one of the links in the show notes.

Gretchen: You could play these chords, and also have some consonants somehow, and end up with something that sounds like a synthetic human voice.

Lauren: Yeah. A lot of the early computer speech synthesis, as well, was actually quite good at making things that sounded like vowels. It turns out a lot of the consonant things are a little bit harder to do, but the very basic sound of vowels, as you say, you could play it with just a few bagpipes very carefully re-engineered.

Gretchen: I guess if you’re looking at instruments that can play multiple notes at the same time, we could also say that the human is like a meat piano.

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: Or at least you could make vowels on a piano by doing a sufficiently complicated sequence of weird chords, like notes at the same time.

Lauren: I mean, we also have an instrument that’s known as the human voice. Humans are very good at singing. We possibly don’t have to engineer all these cursed things to get to that.

Gretchen: Okay. Let’s talk about the human voice as itself. We start with the vocal cords or folds. The tenseness or looseness of the vocal folds is what produces pitch. Then they go through the throat, which we can think of as one tube. Then they go through the mouth cavity, which we can think of as a second tube. Each of these tubes bounces around the sound in different ways to add two additional notes – one from the throat, one from the mouth – onto the sound that’s coming out, which is what makes it sound like a vowel to us.

Lauren: You can map the physics of air moving through the throat space and the mouth space as it comes out to pay attention to the differences between different sounds.

Gretchen: If you’re taking a physics diagram or a diagram of the acoustic signal and saying, “Which pitches are coming out of the mouth, which frequencies are coming out of the mouth that are being produced by these two chambers?” then you can see what those are, and you can do stuff with those diagrams once you’ve made them.

Lauren: The seeing bit is spectrograms, which we looked at in an earlier episode and played around with making different sounds and how they look in this way of visualising it where you have all these bands of strength and information that you can see vary depending on the different sounds that you made. That’s because of those different ways that we manipulate and play around with the air as its coming out of our mouth.

Gretchen: The first band that comes out is just the pitch of the voice itself. The lowest one is what we hear as the pitch of the sound, but I can make /aaaa/ and I can make /iiii/. Those are the same set of pitches but on different vowels.

Lauren: There’s something more than pitch happening there.

Gretchen: There’s something more than pitch happening. There’s two more notes – sounds – that come out at the same time. If the throat chamber is large because the tongue is fairly high and far forward, then this sound that’s the next one after the pitch, which was call “F1,” is low. Then if the mouth is quite open, and the lips are spread, the mouth chamber is quite small, so that sound is quite high, so the next sound, “F2,” is high pitched. If you put your tongue far forward, and your lips spread, you get /i/. The first of these dark bands is low; the second of them is high. That produces the sound that we hear as /i/. Whereas, by comparison, if we make the sound /u/, the throat chamber is still large because the tongue is quite high, but now, the mouth chamber is big because we have the lips rounding that make it big – /u/. Now, F1 is low, and F2 is also low, and we’re hearing the sound /u/.

Lauren: We have a very clear way of telling from those signals in the spectrogram, if we look at it, the difference between an /i/ and an /u/, even if we can’t hear it, we can see it on the spectrogram. This is where you begin to read spectrograms.

Gretchen: Or if we want to start measuring spectrograms very precisely, we can start doing this. We can also start seeing, okay, is /i/ when I make it the same as the /i/ when you make it?

Lauren: They’re similar enough that we recognise it as the same sound. If we both say, “fleece.”

Gretchen: “Fleece.”

Lauren: You say, /flis/. I say, /flis/.

Gretchen: /pətɛɪtoʊ pətatoʊ/. I think they sound pretty similar.

Lauren: Mine is maybe a little bit higher. I really pushed my tongue forward and up. It’s a very Australian thing to do.

Gretchen: We can actually record some people making all of the vowels and compare their measurements for these two different bands of frequency and see how similar two people’s vowels are to each other.

Lauren: Depending on the quality of your recording, you can see a lot more happening there as well. There’re all the properties that mean that we can tell your voice from my voice, or my voice from someone who has exactly the same accent because we have all these other features. It’s very different to if you record, say, a whistle or one of those tuning forks that people use to tune instruments because they are giving a clean single note.

Gretchen: A pure tone that’s just one frequency, one pitch, not several pitches all at the same time that we then have to smoosh together and interpret as a vowel sound.

Lauren: That’s what gives the human voice its richness. If a human voice sings the same note as a clarinet and an oboe, which are definitely two completely different woodwind instruments, there’s all these extra bits and things in the spectrogram that you can pick up the difference in the quality or just use your ears – also another possibility.

Gretchen: Yeah. If you wanna do detailed acoustic analysis on it – which is kind of fun and can tell us more precise things about the differences between how different people speak, which is neat – then you have this very precise way of measuring it by converting it into a visual graph/chart thing or a vowel plot rather than just listening to someone and being like, “Uh, these sound pretty similar. I dunno. I guess they’re a bit different. How are they different? Hmm.” Sometimes, being able to do it with numbers is easier.

Lauren: In the era before we had computers to create spectrograms and take these measurements, people did use their ear. The best phoneticians had this amazing ability to tell the difference between really, really subtly-similar-but-slightly-different sounds.

Gretchen: And they’re so well trained in being able to hear the difference between “Oh, you’re saying this, and your tongue is a little bit further forward than this other person who’s saying this with their tongue a little bit further back,” but if you’re not very good at hearing tongue position out of sounds, you can also produce some stuff and make the machines tell you some numbers about it, which can be easier with a different type of training.

Lauren: When we talk about the position of the tongue and how open the mouth is, we can use a plot to map where in the mouth these things are happening. That’s called the “vowel space.” We made a lot of silly sounds when we talked about that many episodes ago.

Gretchen: The vowel space goes from /i-ɛ-a/ on one side.

Lauren: That’s all up the front of your mouth, and it’s just going from being more close to more open.

Gretchen: /i/ to /ɛ/ to /a/, but you can through all these subtle gradations between them, and through /u-ɔ-ɑ/ at the back.

Lauren: That’s from all the way up the top at the back to open at the back.

Gretchen: You can draw a diagram of this which is shaped like square that’s been a bit skewed. It’s wider at the top than at the bottom. It’s known as the “vowel trapezoid” because the mouth is not perfectly shaped like a square. The jaw can hinge open.

Lauren: Only so far.

Gretchen: Only so far.

Lauren: Because this represents how you say or articulate these sounds, this is known as “articulatory phonetics.”

Gretchen: But then because you’re articulating a thing that goes into a sound that we can also analyse as the sound itself, these ways that you can articulate things map onto things that show up in the sound itself. Analysing that is called “acoustic phonetics.”

Lauren: Because you’re paying attention to the acoustic properties – the sound properties.

Gretchen: The really nifty thing is that this vowel chart that we’ve made from over 100 years ago, linguists, before they had computers, were like, “Here’s what I think the articulatory properties of the vowels are based on my mouth and my ear and some other people’s mouths and ears.” You can actually map very precisely this acoustic thing. Once we had computers, you can make them correspond to each other in this way that – you hope it works because, obviously, people do understand the vowels, but it actually does work when you start measuring things as well.

Lauren: I had always wondered whether it was just a coincidence that the articulation – where you put your mouth – and the acoustic information about the F1 and F2 with the spectrogram, but explaining it in terms of F1 and F2 are the way you change the shape of your throat and your mouth that leads to these changes in the acoustic signal, you can see how the articulation and the acoustics come together, and you get a similar type of information across both of them.

Gretchen: Absolutely. I think it’s really neat that there’s this relatively straightforward correspondence. There’s also, you know, an F3 that also does other stuff because there’s other more squishy bits of your mouth, and we’re not getting into them.

Lauren: There’s also a bunch of flip-flopping of X- and Y-axes that you need to do that Bethany kindly walked us through in the bonus episode.

Gretchen: Because these diagrams were created in an era before they were doing the computer acoustics. Sometimes, I think about the alternate version of what phonetics would look like if we’d started doing it with computers right away, and how there’s all this analogue stuff that’s residual based on human impressions, and how our vowel charts might be completely rotated if we had just started doing it with computers the whole time.

Lauren: But then we’d have to imagine ourselves standing on our heads to say anything, so I’m glad they are the way they are.

Gretchen: That’s true. When you’re talking about vowels, it’s an interesting challenge with English because there’s lots of different dialects of English, varieties of English, ways of speaking English, and, generally speaking, we’re pretty good at understanding other accents. One of the big factors that accents vary on, though, is the vowels.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: If you’re getting people to record a word list to do some vowel analysis on, what you might wanna do is have them record a bunch of words that all begin and end with the same consonant insofar as possible.

Lauren: Because vowels are very sweet and easily influenced. They’re very easily influenced by the consonants that are next to them. You have to make sure that they’re all kept in line and not influenced by what’s happening around them by giving them all the same context.

Gretchen: They’re very susceptible to peer pressure. You can have people say something like, “beat,” “bet,” “bit,” “bought,” “boot,” all of this stuff between B and T.

Lauren: I learnt to record between H and D: “hid,” “had,” “hoo’d,” “hawed.” Some of those words are less, uh, common – frequent – than others, but again, a really consistent environment.

Gretchen: But this also, obviously, causes problems for when you want to talk about the particular vowels in a given accent or in a given variety because if you go around saying, “Oh, well, the /hoɪd/ vowel” or something like this, how do you know if that’s a Cockney person saying, “hide,” or it’s me saying “hoyed,” or something else because all your consonants are the exact same, and there’s nothing to let you figure out what the original word is.

Lauren: Someone did come up with a solution for this. That person’s name is John Wells.

Gretchen: John Wells is this British phonetician who I’ve never actually met in person, but I feel like I know him because I used to read his blog back when he posted more actively.

Lauren: He used to write his blog in the International Phonetic Alphabet, which means that if you read the IPA, you would be reading it in John Wells’s voice.

Gretchen: You absolutely would be. This was a challenge that I used to set to myself. Sometimes, he also wrote in Standard English orthography, to be fair, but sometimes he would just write a whole blog post in IPA, and you’d be like, “Cool, I guess I’m reading this out loud to myself and hearing John Wells’s accent and speaking it like him,” which was really neat. In the 1980s, John Wells was like, “Hey, it’d be really useful if we had a way to refer to sound changes that happen in different English varieties,” which often happen to – like, all of the times you say the /ɪ/ vowel are a little bit more like this or like that, depending on the accent.

Lauren: I think it was very personally motivated because he was writing a book called “Accents in English.” It gets very difficult in a book, especially, but even in an audio recording, to be like, “the /ɪ/ vowel,” “the /u/ vowel.”

Gretchen: Right. You could use the International Phonetic Alphabet to refer to the specific vowel that people are making. But if you want to say, “People in this area realise this vowel as that, and people in this other area realise the same vowel as something else,” how do you refer to that thing that’s the macro-category of vowel that people would consider themselves to be saying the same word, but the specific way they’re realising it is different? He came up with what he called “the standard lexical sets,” which are now also called, “Wells Lexical Sets,” possibly John Wells’s greatest legacy, which is a bunch of words that are, crucially, easy to distinguish from each other based on the surrounding consonants that you can say when you’re giving a talk – like you can say, “the ‘kit’ vowel,” or “the ‘goose’ vowel,” or “the ‘fleece’ vowel,” and people know that the “kit” vowel refers to the specific sound because there’s no other “keet” word in English that it could be confused with.

Lauren: John Wells was somewhat self-deprecating when he was talking about this, and he was like, “I just kind of came up with it in a week where I had to write this bit of the book, and it’s weird to think that they’re still in use now,” but it was based on years of insight into the different ways different varieties of English realise different vowels and the balance he was trying to strike.

Gretchen: He has this charming blog post from 2010 where he’s like, “Anybody’s welcome to use them. I don’t claim any copyright. Maybe this is my legacy now, I guess.” He does actually put quite a bit of thought into the sets because they’re words that can’t be easily confused for each other. Sometimes, that means the words are a little bit rare. You have “fleece.” You might think, “Well, why not use ‘sheep’ because surely that’s more common. People say that.”

Lauren: But “ship” and “sheep” are very hard to distinguish in some varieties of English.

Gretchen: Right. If you had “sheep,” it could be confused with “ship,” whereas if you have “fleece” and “kit,” there’s no “flice” or “keet” for them to be confused with.

Lauren: Good nonce words to add to your collection.

Gretchen: Thank you. Similarly, for people like me where I make the vowels in “caught,” as in the past tense of “catch,” and “cot,” as in a small bed, the same. If I talk about /cɑt/ and /cɑt/, people are like, “I dunno which one you’re talking about because you say them both the same.” And I’m like, “Great, neither do I.”

Lauren: You mean when you’re talking about /cɑt/ and /cɔt/.

Gretchen: Hmm. Yes, see, you don’t have that “caught/cot merger.”

Lauren: Very easy for me, but it’s much easier to be able to say /θɔt/ and /lɑt/ – much more distinct for me to perceive with you because they don’t have merged equivalents.

Gretchen: “Thought” and “lot” are much more distinct because the consonants are different. You don’t need to be relying only on the vowels. Some of these words are just super fun. Can we read the whole Wells Lexical Sets? There’re not very many of them.

Lauren: Sure. Let’s take turns in going through each of the words.

Gretchen: All right.

Lauren: So, you can hear the differences in the way we pronounce each of these vowels.

Gretchen: /kit/.

Lauren: /kit/.

Gretchen: / dɹɛs/.

Lauren: / dɹɛs/.

Gretchen: / tɹæp/.

Lauren: /tɹæp/.

Gretchen: /lɑt/.

Lauren: /lɑt/.

Gretchen: /stɹʌt/.

Lauren: /stɹʌt/.

Gretchen: /fʊt/.

Lauren: /fʊt/.

Gretchen: /bæθ/.

Lauren: /bɑθ/.

Gretchen: Ooo, very different.

Lauren: We’ll come back to that one.

Gretchen: /klɑθ/.

Lauren: /klɑθ/.

Gretchen: /nɛɹs/.

Lauren: My Australian English speaker in me is already immediately prepared for /nɛːs/.

Gretchen: So, non-rhotic. Very good.

Lauren: Yeah.

Gretchen: /flis/.

Lauren: /flis/.

Gretchen: /fɛɪs/.

Lauren: /fɛɪs/.

Gretchen: /pɑm/.

Lauren: /pæm/.

Gretchen: Ooo, very different. /θɑt/.

Lauren: /θɔt/.

Gretchen: Also, very different. We’ll come back to this. /goʊt/.

Lauren: /gəut/.

Gretchen: Bit different. /gus/.

Lauren: /gus/.

Gretchen: /pɹəɪs/.

Lauren: /pɹæɪs/.

Gretchen: Bit different. I have Canadian raising there. We’ll get back to that. /t͡ʃoɪs/.

Lauren: /t͡ʃoɪs/.

Gretchen: /moʊθ/.

Lauren: /mæʊθ/.

Gretchen: Also, we’ll get back to that. /niɹ/.

Lauren: /nɪɑ/.

Gretchen: /skwɛɹ/.

Lauren: /skwɛɑ/.

Gretchen: /stɑɹt/.

Lauren: /stɑːt/.

Gretchen: /nɔɹθ/.

Lauren: /nɔːθ/.

Gretchen: /fɔɹs/.

Lauren: /fɔːs/.

Gretchen: /kjʊɹ/.

Lauren: /kjʊɑ/. I’m only slightly hamming up my Australian English diphthongs there.

Gretchen: That whole set with the Rs where I’m like, “These are just the same sounds, but now there’s an R,” you’re like, “No, these are really different diphthongs.”

Lauren: /kjʊɑ/.

Gretchen: /kjʊɑ/. /kjʊɹ/.

Lauren: Taking you on a journey of my whole mouth.

Gretchen: One thing you could do if you’re trying to compare mine and Lauren’s vowels is you could listen to us saying them and being like, “Yeah, those sound kind of different in some places.” But another thing we could do, is we could draw some diagrams.

Lauren: That’s what we did.

Gretchen: Yes!

Lauren: We were very grateful that Dr. Bethany Gardner – who is a recent PhD in psychology and language processing at Vanderbilt University in Nashville in the USA – took the time to work with us to take recordings of us saying words and plotting the vowels onto a vowel plot.

Gretchen: Now, we can look at our vowel plots and compare our vowels to each other. We have a whole bonus episode with Bethany about how we made these graphs with them. For the moment, let’s just look at them and compare them with each other and say some things about the results.

Lauren: We sent Bethany recordings of us reading the Wells Lexical Sets, much the way we did just then.

Gretchen: Less giggling though.

Lauren: We did record them a little bit more professionally, but they also used some processes to scrape data of equivalent word recordings from episodes of Lingthusiasm using our transcripts – turns out, another use of our transcripts!

Gretchen: Get people to analyse your vowels for you. It’s so cool!

Lauren: You can see the difference between clearly spoken vowels where we’re really focusing on them and then that really compelling influence that other sounds have on vowels that drag them all over the space.

Gretchen: Yeah. I’m looking at the first set of graphs for each of us, which are the Wells Lexical Sets, and my vowels are a lot more consistent in them. When I make /i/ and /ɪ/ and /u/, all the points are quite clustered in one spot – because we said everything several times – but I seem to be hitting quite a consistent target there. Whereas when I look at Bethany’s vowel plot of me from the Lingthusiasm episodes, there’s way more stuff there, and I’m way more spread out. My vowels are less consistent with each other because I’m producing them in several words. They tested several different words. I’m just producing them in running speech where things merge into each other a lot more rather than this very clear word list style.

Lauren: And human ears and brains are so good at disambiguating things that might be very close to each other in the plot, but in a running sentence, we can hear them quite clearly for the words that they are.

Gretchen: Right. My “goose” vowel and my “foot” vowel – /gus/ and /fʊt/ – are almost totally distinct from each other when I’m reading a word list. There’s very little overlap in terms of how I’m saying them. But when I’m saying them in running speech, apparently there’s a lot of overlap because I’m probably saying something like, “Oh, go get the goose,” /gʊs/, rather than /gus/ with that really clear /u/.

Lauren: There’s no other word I’m gonna confuse “goose” with, or even if I did, in context, I’d know what thing you’re expecting me to go get.

Gretchen: Right. Even if I’m saying something like, “dude,” you’re not gonna confuse that for “dud.” I’d be saying them in different contexts.

Lauren: The nice thing is you can see, especially from our clearly spoken word lists, that we are speaking a language where the vowels are in a similar place, but there are some slight differences. You can actually start to get the hang of the differences in the way different varieties of English tend to use the vowel space from this information.

Gretchen: One of the things I noticed about your vowel plot, Lauren – and this is a feature of Australian English – is that your “kit” vowel and your “fleece” vowel are very close to each other, especially in episode speech rather than word list speech.

Lauren: Yeah, “kit” and “fleece,” for me, are both really far forward. You’re using other features like length or tenseness to really disambiguate them. People struggle to do it.

Gretchen: Or just in context. I noticed when I was visiting Australia that people would say things like /bɪːg/, and I’d be like, “Oh, okay, I would say that as /bɪg/.”

Lauren: It’s a pretty classic feature of Australian English. It does remind me of one of the most embarrassing times someone misheard me when I was living in the UK. I was talking about how I used to be on a team with my friends for social netball. This person was not listening that well, and it was a noisy environment, and they thought that I had said, “nipple.”

Gretchen: Oh, no!

Lauren: /nɪpl̩/ and /nɛtbɑl/.

Gretchen: /nɛtbɑl/, /nɛtbɑl/, whereas I think my /ɪ/ and /ɛ/ vowels, my “kit” and “dress” vowels, are pretty distinct from each other. They don’t really overlap.

Lauren: Whereas all of Australian English is really far forward. It tends to be quite high. The British English speaker – I don’t know what sport they thought we play in Australia, but there was a moment of deep confusion.

Gretchen: These are the types of things that you can find out when you get your vowels done the way sometimes people – I think there’s a trend on Instagram right now to get your colours done, you know, find out whether you’re a “winter” or a “soft spring” or something like this.

Lauren: I’m an Australian English “kit”-fronting.

Gretchen: Yeah. What are your vowels? What does this say about where you’re from? Is there anything you noticed about mine?

Lauren: I think, for you, definitely what becomes clear is that “caught/cot merger,” or, as I like to think about it, the “Gawne/gone merger.”

Gretchen: Ah, the “Gawne/gone merger.”

Lauren: I can tell if people have it if my name and the word “gone” sound the same.

Gretchen: The past participle of “go.”

Lauren: It’s very salient for me. The cot/caught merger is so famous, people don’t use the Wells Set terms for it. They just refer to it as “caught/cot.”

Gretchen: But you could also call it the “thought/lot merger” or the “lot/thought merger.” I never know which one goes first because I literally just think of these as being said the same.

Lauren: You can see evidence. We’re not imagining that you’re merging them. You are physically merging them in the vowel space.

Gretchen: I’m literally saying them as the same thing. I was always confused about the “thought” vowel when I was learning the International Phonetic Alphabet because I was like, “I can’t figure out how to make a sound that is somewhere in between this sound in ‘lot’ and ‘thought’ but doesn’t go all the way up to the /oʊ/ in ‘goat’.” It doesn’t feel like there’s anything between them for me. That’s true. The vast majority of Canadians have “thought” and “lot” merged. But unlike at least some Americans, we don’t have them merged low; we have them merged high. I have “thought” and “caught,” and in order to produce the other vowel, I had to actually produce something lower in my throat – like /θɑt/ /cat/ which sounds very American to me – I had to produce this lower sound because there was no space between “thought” and “goat.” They’re very close to each other. In fact, the thing that I wasn’t producing was /ɑ/, the really low one, that sort of dentist sound.

Lauren: Yeah. Movements and mergers can happen in all kinds of different directions. The merging of “cot” and “caught” also explains why it took me a very long time to understand that “podcast” is a pun because it’s meant to be a pun with “broadcast,” and /pɑd/ and /bɹɔːd/.

Gretchen: /pɑdkæst/ and /bɹɑdkæst/. It’s the same vowel for me.

Lauren: Whereas it works as a pun for you. That was very satisfying to learn that’s why that’s meant to be a pun.

Gretchen: The pun that I didn’t get based on my accent – and this is to do with the “price” and “mouth” vowels – I didn’t realise that “I scream for ice cream” was supposed to be a pun.

Lauren: Oh, because the raising that you have in Canada means that it doesn’t work that way, whereas /ɑɪ skɹim fə ɑɪ skɹim/.

Gretchen: Right, you have the same vowel in those – or the same diphthong – but for me, “I scream for ice cream,” those are very different. In “choice” and “price,” I have different vowels than I would have in “choys” and “prize” – if “choys” was a word.

Lauren: “Bok choys” – multiple.

Gretchen: “Bok choys” – yeah, several of them. And “prize.”

Lauren: Returning to “podcast” but moving to the other end of the word, /kɑst // kæst/ as a distinction is so famous in mapping varieties of British English that people talk about /bɑθ // tɹæp/ distinctions all the time.

Gretchen: I hear of it as called the “bath/trap split,” but as you can hear, the “/bæθ // tɹæp/ split,” I just say them both the same.

Lauren: Whereas in Australia, Victorians traditionally would say /kæsl̩/ like “trap,” and people further north and in the rest of the country could say, /kɑsl̩/ –

Gretchen: Like “bath.”

Lauren: So, whether you’re a /kɑsl̩/ or a /kæsl̩/ shows this “bath/trap split” as well, to the point where, in New South Wales, you get the city of “New /kɑsl̩/,” but in Victoria, you have the town of “/kæsl̩/ Main.”

Gretchen: Ooo, this “castle” distinction from the “trap/bath split” – I think sometimes when I’m trying to do a fake British accent, I will just make all of my “traps” and “baths” into /tɹɑps/ and /bɑθs/.

Lauren: Right, okay. You know there’s something happening there, and you haven’t quite landed – because it does vary.

Gretchen: Well, then they’re not different categories for me because it’s all one category, and I push them all forward rather than moving half of them because I don’t know which half to move.

Lauren: I find it very satisfying listening to “No Such Thing as a Fish,” because they talk about the /pɑdkɑst/ or the /pɑdkæst/, and their guests do, depending on whether they’re from Southern England or more in the midlands and north where they tend to say /kæst/ instead of /kɑst/.

Gretchen: I have literally never noticed this distinction. I’ve also listened to many episodes of “No Such Thing as a Fish” because you made me start listening to them back in the day, and I’ve never noticed that they say anything different because it’s just not something I pay attention to.

Lauren: It’s so salient for me as a Victorian English speaker, but I notice it all the time. There would be a really fun mapping variation activity to do listening through to Fish – turns out I just listen to it and don’t get distracted by that too much.

Gretchen: Well, if you want to commission Bethany to make graphs of their vowels, I’m sure that’s an option.

Lauren: I love how Wells’ lexical set has just entered – in many ways, the “bath/trap split,” it means you get all these other terms like “goose fronting,” which is just great as a term.

Gretchen: I love how vivid these words are. Things like “fleece” and “goose” and “goat,” they’re very common animal nouns that are quite vivid.

Lauren: And there’re definitely linguists who have dressed up as Wells Lexical Set items for Halloween. It makes a great group Halloween costume.

Gretchen: Oh my gosh, my favourite one of these was from North Carolina State University. They got the whole department, and they each dressed up as one member of the Wells Lexical Set. Someone was a “kit.” They dressed like a cat. Someone dressed like a goose, and someone dressed like a cloth or a fleece. Then they stood in the positions to create the vowel diagram. They posted a photo on the internet. You can see it. We will link to it. It’s really great.

Lauren: Magic. You and I also once had a project where we plotted the Wells Lexical Set using emoji.

Gretchen: That was your project.

Lauren: I did the making the joke. You did the graphic design. It was a good team project.

Gretchen: Okay, that’s fair. That’s fair. I feel like I remember you being the instigator of this.

Lauren: Shenanigans were shenaniganed.

Gretchen: You can get a goose emoji and a goat emoji, and you can map the vowels in there as well.

Lauren: And “Goose fronting” – because we’re talking about moving the tongue further forward or back or up and down in the vowel space – I have quite fronted vowels as an Australian English speaker for my front vowels. So, “goose” – I’ve already got it quite far forward compared to you. You can see that in the diagrams.

Gretchen: I think my “goose” – my goose is also cooked – my “goose” is also fronted. Because I think Canadian English is also undergoing goose fronting. There’s a lot of different regions that are all simultaneously fronting their geese – no, not their “geese,” fronting their “gooses.”

Lauren: Fronting their “gooses.” I feel like the really stereotypical example is from California, particularly in the lexical item “dude.”

Gretchen: “Dude” – sort of like a surfer pronunciation of “duuude.”

Lauren: “/du̟d/ you’re a fronted /gu̟s/.”

Gretchen: If you compare that with like /dud/, which would be less fronted, /dud/ sounds like you’re more of a fuddy duddy, and /du̟d/ sounds like you’re “so /ku̟l/.”

Lauren: Yeah, I mean, there’re other things happening there as well because I found a paper while researching this where someone looked at 70 years of Received Pronunciation, which is that incredibly stuffy, British, old-fashioned newsreader voice. Apparently, goose fronting is happening in that variety as well.

Gretchen: Oh, so if the Queen was still alive, she’d be fronting her “goose” as well?

Lauren: Quite possibly. Gooses are being fronted all over the place.

Gretchen: All over the English-speaking world. One of the things that can happen if you’re getting your vowel tea leaves read is you can say things about region. Another thing that looking at a vowel plot can do – because vowels just contribute so much to our sense of accent – is it can say things about gender. One of the cool studies that I came across about this is there’re studies of kids. People often assess someone’s gender based on their voice. If someone’s on the phone, you may have an idea about their gender. You may also have an idea of their age. Part of this is based on vocal tract size. Kids’ voices are high pitched because kids’ heads and throats and larynxes are smaller than adults.

Lauren: The cool thing is there’s no gender difference in that until puberty. People who go through a testosterone-heavy puberty tend to grow larger vocal tracts and tend to have deeper pitches. I mean, not in the scheme of things where they’re so completely different. There’s so much overlap. But we’re really tuned into these subtle differences. But before that age, anything that kids are doing different, it’s nothing to do with what’s happening with the meat pipe and everything to do with what’s happening with the social performance of gender, which is to do with your culture.

Gretchen: Even at age 4, when there’s really no physiological difference, age 8 when there’s really no physiological difference, you can see that kids are producing their vowels somewhat differently in a difference that increases with age based on their gender because they’re culturally acquiring “This is what it means to feel like a boy,” “This is what it means to feel like a girl,” and they’re doing gender with their voices even when they don’t have the vocal tract changes reinforcing that yet.

Lauren: Cool.

Gretchen: Yeah. You can see that there are differences at age 4 that increase with age and increase up to age 8 and 12 and 16 and get more distinct from each other. The other thing is, once people get a bit older in teenage-hood and in adulthood, there are gender differences in vocal tract. The general finding with gender differences in vowel plot size – so we’ve been talking about having some vowels be more front or some vowels be more similar to each other, but the overall finding when it comes to gender is roughly that, at least in English-speaking environments, men tend to have all of their vowels more similar to each other, more towards the centre of the space/ Specifically, cis straight men tend to have vowels that are all more towards the centre of the vowel space. Everybody else – so cis, straight women, gay men, lesbians, trans people of all genders, nonbinary people – use way more of the vowel space.

Lauren: Straight men, you’re missing out.

Gretchen: Like, cis straight men are doing this one very specific thing with buying into hegemonic masculinity of vowels where they’re not wearing interesting colours, and they’re not doing interesting vowels.

Lauren: Hmm.

Gretchen: There was one quote from one of the studies that I read where they had one cis straight man who was an anomaly in the list of not doing this very centralised vowel thing, and he was like, “Yeah, sometimes people hear me, and they think I’m gay, which I’m not. I’m just a nerd. I don’t really do that macho stuff.”

Lauren: Aww, it’s nice they asked him.

Gretchen: Yeah. “People just perceive my vowels as whatever. I don’t really care. I’m not trying to do that thing with my vowels.”

Lauren: Fascinating that the social discourse was enough that he had been made aware of it.

Gretchen: Yeah, and that doing anything out of that little man box of the very small set of vowels was enough to get him thinking, “Oh, yeah, well, it’s because I don’t buy into this particularly narrow view of masculinity.”

Lauren: Fascinating. I should say, you flagged English there, but that’s because we have more of this work in English. We need more of this work across the world’s languages. There’s so much to be done about the social dimensions of vowels.

Gretchen: Right. A lot of the early work in, especially, gender and vowels has this very essentialist framework of like, “We found the male vocal tract; we found the female vocal tract.” There’s a recent study by Santiago Barreda and Michael Stuart which I got to see at the Linguistic Society of America last year where they were looking at “What are the vowel differences between genders, and can we actually characterise these more precisely?” They found that the biggest thing that affected vowel spaces was actually related to height. Taller people have more space in their vowels – deeper voices.

Lauren: Makes sense. They’ve got more space for their bigger meat pipe. That’s more of a bassoon than an oboe, Gretchen.

Gretchen: Taller people have a bigger meat pipe. In fact, the relationship between height of your whole body and size of your meat pipe is very linear and doesn’t have a categorical distinction for gender. Of course, if you collapse this into two different buckets labelled “men” and “women,” you’ll find, on average, that men are taller than women on average, but of course, there’re lots of individual people who are exceptions to that, and it’s much more of a variant thing. Similarly, with some of the research on sexuality, some of the early stuff is like, “Oh, do gay men or do lesbians have different-shaped vowel tracts from a physiological perspective?” The answer is “No, this is cultural.”

Lauren: Right, yeah.

Gretchen: But the finding keeps being reported in terms of like, “Oh, well, gay men have more extreme vowels in various places,” especially with “trap” being produced further away from the centre of the mouth. Lesbian women tend to have further-back sounds for “palm” and for “goose,” or sometimes they’re intermediate between male and female targets. But again, this seems to very much be cultural. The bi women – some studies found they patterned with the lesbian women. Some studies found they pattern with the straight women. No one knows what to do with us. The one study I found on bi men found they patterned with the gay men, but again, maybe other studies would find something different. There’s a paper by Lal Zimman about trans men’s voices being perceived as quote-unquote “gay” after they go on testosterone. He finds that it’s not quite the exact same as the cis gay men, but it’s also because it seems to not be in that narrow man box. People are just parsing it as gay.

Lauren: So many cultural attitudes coming to bear on vowel spaces.

Gretchen: Studies on trans women’s vowel spaces is often fairly dominated by the speech pathology literature, which is about, specifically, vocal training and trans women really trying to make their voices sound different, but it still finds that they’re not doing exactly the same thing as either cis women or cis men.

Lauren: Right. Again, lots of cultural practice at play there. Anything about our nonbinary pals?

Gretchen: There is a recent dissertation by Jacq Jones, and they find that basically nonbinary people do whatever the heck they like.

Lauren: I love it.

Gretchen: Which is, again, not exactly the same as anybody else and not necessarily the same as each other either. They could just keep doing whatever they want. But yeah, there’s a lot of stuff on gender and sexuality, especially in terms of dispersion of the vowel space and regional stuff in terms of specific things being closer or further from each other.

Lauren: There’s so much happening in vowels in terms of plotting them all in this space in the mouth, but also so much happening in terms of plotting them in the social space. This is what makes vowels so rich and so interesting.

Gretchen: I feel like when we’re talking about vowel plotting, there’s this aspect of “Mwahaha, I am putting my fingers together and plotting,” which is maybe the fact that vowels do convey so much social information about who you are or where you’re from that you can make plots about people when you know what their vowels are. If we were going to make a meat clarinet or a meat bassoon or even a meat bagpipe –

Lauren: Oh, dear.

Gretchen: I’m so sorry. We would not only want it to be able to convey the basic vowel chart. One of the reasons why I think these synthetic versions of the human voice often sound so weird is that they don’t have all of this additional demographic information, regional information, gender and sexuality information that’s also so important to our experience of vowels.

[Music]

Gretchen: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode – including visualisations of our very own vowel plots – go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on all the podcast platforms or lingthusiasm.com. You can get transcripts of every episode on lingthusiasm.com/transcripts. You can follow @lingthusiasm on all the social media sites. You can get scarves with lots of linguistics patterns on them including the IPA, branching tree diagrams, bouba and kiki, and our favourite esoteric Unicode symbols, plus other Lingthusiasm merch – like “Etymology isn’t Destiny” t-shirts and aesthetic IPA posters – at lingthusiasm.com/merch. Links to my social media can be found at gretchenmcculloch.com. My blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com. My book about internet language is called Because Internet.

Lauren: My social media and blog is Superlinguo. Lingthusiasm is able to keep existing thanks to the support of our patrons. If you want to get an extra Lingthusiasm episode to listen to every month, our entire archive of bonus episodes to listen to right now, or if you just wanna help keep the show running ad-free, go to patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons can also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and be the first to find out about new merch and other announcements. Our most recent bonus topic was a chat with Dr. Bethany Gardner, who built the vowel plots we discussed in this episode. We talked to Bethany about how to do vowel charts and how you can plot your own vowels, or you can just learn about how they did it for us. Think of it like a little behind-the-scenes episode on the making of this episode. If you can’t afford to pledge, that’s okay, too. We really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone in your life who’s curious about language.

Gretchen: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, our Production Assistant is Martha Tsutsui-Billins, and our Editorial Assistant is Jon Kruk. Our music is “Ancient City” by The Triangles.

Lauren: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

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