#second person pronouns

[m-grouped]

🦠 ;; GOO/GOO/IER/IERS/GOOIERSELF !!

⟩⟩ PHONETIC SPELLING — goo / goo / ee-ur / ee-ur / goo-ee-urself "

⟩⟩ IPA SPELLING — ˈgu / ˈgu / iʊr / iʊr / ˈguiʊr-ˈsɛlf "

🦠 !! USEAGE ;; Goo went to the store by gooierself, but goo accidentally took ier sibling's wallet with goo. Goo still got everything goo wanted, though, because goo told the cashier the wallet was iers.

> FLAG + COINING BY !! @m-grouped

📗 TERM COINING ;; Jan 10, 2023

❇️ FLAG CREATION ;; Jan 11, 2023

FLAG ID ;;

A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The center 3 stripes (fourth, fifth, and sixth) are smaller than the rest. The color of the stripes from top to bottom are dark green-grey, green-grey, pale green, pastel chartreuse, pale green, pastel chartreuse, pale green, green-grey, and dark green-grey. In the center is a pastel chartreuse cartoon splat. // END FLAG ID.

↓↓ Transcript under the cut ↓↓

Goo/goo/ier/ier/gooiers

Phonetic spelling: goo / goo / ee-ur / ee-ur / goo-ee-ur-self

IPA spelling: ˈgu / ˈgu / iʊr / iʊr / ˈguiʊr-ˈsɛlf

Useage: Goo went to the store by gooierself, but goo accidentally took ier sibling's wallet with goo. Goo still got everything goo wanted, though, because goo told the cashier the wallet was iers.

Flag and coining by @m-grouped

Term coined on January 10th, 2023

Flag made in January 11th, 2023

Flag ID: A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The center 3 stripes (fourth, fifth, and sixth) are smaller than the rest. The color of the stripes from top to bottom are dark green-grey, green-grey, pale green, pastel chartreuse, pale green, pastel chartreuse, pale green, green-grey, and dark green-grey. In the center is a pastel chartreuse cartoon splat. /end flag ID

[2nd-person-pronouns]

can i request any horror - themed 2nd person neopronouns ? ? one of my sp / ins is analog horror , so anything to do with static , vhs tapes , etc ! sorry if this is too vague , i can send a follow up ask if required ♡ i hope the mods are doing well & taking care of themselves !

Ofc ! Here are some , ty we are doing well (V haven't been doing very good but V've been getting better !)

horro/horror/horrors/horrorself

sta/stats/statics/staticself

da/dar/darks/darkself

fea/fear/fears/fearself

ta/tape/tapes/tapeself

video/videos/videos/videoself

?/?r/?rs/?rself or ?/?s/?s/?self

mysterio/myster/mysterious/mysteriouself or mysteriousself

sca/scare/scares/scareself

vh/vhs/vhs/vhself or vhsself

screa/screams/screams/screamself

sile/silenc/silences/silenceself

ta/tapes/tapes/tapeself

ni/nighs/nights/nightself

[watercolormogai]

[ Image ID: a rectangular flag with 7 horizontal stripes. the first, last, and middle stripes are larger than the rest, and the second and second-to-last stripes are slightly thicker than the thinnest two stripes. the colors are in this order: pastel pink, pale pink, slightly pastel purple, pale cyan, slightly pastel purple, pale pink, and pastel pink. ]

ANY/ALL SECOND PERSON PRONOUNS!

—> any/all second person pronouns is when you use all second person pronouns , with or without a preference !!

—> brow (brown) + pa (pale) + green + ish + ic

—> requested by no one , flag template by @mourningmogaicrew

[limetarte]

Question to other folks who use 2nd person neopronouns:

Is there a way to include everyone when talking to a large group and having to use 2nd person pronouns?

[bs-el]

On Second Person Pronouns

So for a long time I've had my pronouns pinned on my blog with a few other bits of information that I like people to know before interacting with me. Included with them are my Second Person Pronouns (henceforth "SPPs") that I use for myself (and for others when they don't specify). I'm well aware that having SPPs in English that differ from "you/your/you're/yours/yourself" is either seen as archaic (in the "thou/thee/thy/thine/thyself" sort of way) or is just... completely unheard of in general. So I'm gonna explain why I do it in spite of all that!

Before I continue, I will state that I'm defaulting to "you" as the neutral SPP for this entire blog post! Furthermore, if this somehow spreads too far off of my blog, it'd do better with some context: I use "mew" SPPs. Some examples would be "what are mew up to?" "Is that mewr item?" "mew're really cool!" "I dunno if mew can do that by mewrself..." Firstly, the idea for coming up with changing the SPPs I use came from a past of extreme escapism into my own imagination and the life and identity I had in that decade long fantasy merging with my actual self once I escaped my awful home life. Being something nonhuman entirely for a decade and then being brought back to humanity has caused me to thank about a lot of the things in day to day life in another light, and that's the sort of life I've been living. English only has one set of SPPs, the "you" set, and why is that? Why are we so limited when we have things liiiike Third Person Pronouns (henceforth "TPPs") in English are very tied to identity as they're used to refer to someone in particular (when not plural). There's dozens and dozens of sets you can find and see in use and help people distinguish you when speaking vaguely to make the flow of conversation easier. For example: if you're talking about two people who aren't participating in your conversation and one uses it/its TPPs and the other uses they/them TPPs, you can talk about both of them without using their names and keep the conversation flowing. "I heard it's doing that activity today" "oh it's gonna have a great time, i bet!" Only one person is being spoken about here but you know which of the two based on TPP usage. When it comes to SPP use, English really only has the one set for everyone. If you walk into a room with more than one person and say "can you help me out with something for a moment?" you're likely to get asked who you're talking to. So, why not pick out different SPPs? Another example: I ("mew" SPPs) and one other person ("you" SPPs) are in a room together and someone comes in and asks "oh hey can mew help me out really quick?", there's only one person that's being spoken to here, it's determined quickly without issue! Admittedly, this is only a small benefit, but a useful one nonetheless! This grammatical benefit on top of just generally owning your identity and being able to express it in another way was enough to push me to giving it a shot, and I have no complaints so far. Having your own SPPs is roughly equivalent to picking out your own name, you'll be able to tell nearly right away if someone is actually using them, since they'll have to do it right to your face! So, why be "you" when you could be "mew"? Mew could hear sentences like this one spoken to mew whenever mew're being spoken to, and mew could easily be distinguished from mewr peers with a single short word rather than mewr name! And you don't have to use "mew", you can use anything you come up with that sounds right to you! I use "mew" since it sounds similar to "you" and it's easy for people to pick up and get used to, you just add an "m" sound before saying "you" and it always works! Obviously I'm not trying to force anyone to try this, I want this to be something that people can use to understand why I use "mew" SPPs, and maybe just maybe might try out something other than "you" for a change.

[optimistic-tree]

Opinion

People think Toriel would be like-a lot more torn up about her death, or the deaths of others than it seems like she would be?

I mean, it seems like a pretty reasonable assumption. Even more so if Frisk has completed a Pacifist Route, and shown that they can rise above any challenge, and be nice about it (unless you want to be rude while your sparing everyone, which she won’t hear about for a while anyway).

But if you kill her on a Neutral Route, she tells you that you are strong, to leave, to not let Asgore take your soul, and to be good. None of these seem particularly torn up about her death. She can’t be spared at a certain HP threshold, if you keep hitting her, she dies. She doesn’t surrender.

If you kill her when she’s sparing you, she just says that you are just like everyone else. Presumably a reference to her volutarry exile following her child’s death and the war on humans. Not extremely mad. And if she thinks that of everyone, why would she care for all those civilians, so much. Frisk is a child. Do they not have enough stacked against them, without barring them from killing those who would kill them?

If you spare her, she does not tell you to not kill others. If you kill more than eleven monsters, the only thing it changes, is that you interrupt her. I do not think that if you attack monsters or the dummy in front of her, she will do anything. She tells you not to fight the dummy, with the idea that you will remain there, safe and comfortable. You are going to the wider underground. Six of her children have died there.

She does say that she was protecting the others from you by keeping you there if you kill literally everyone in the underground, but that’s a pretty large amount of evil to deal with. Maybe in another context, she’d be a bit more forgiving.

So-maybe she’d swallow the revelation you killed people better than you think she would. Just a thought

[roselightfairy]

My highly specific Special Interest is the implicit interpretation/expansion of levels of intimacy indicated by the use of second-person pronouns in translation.

[mrpsychokiller]

this is how people talk about you online when you dont use they/them pronouns

[messagesfromthestarrs]

The Monster Under Your Bed

There is a monster under your bed. It has been there for years now. Ever since that fateful summer night, as a child, you forgot to close your window. It slid in, one with the shadows, finding refuge underneath the warmth of your body and bedsheets.

It knew It would be safe, with you there above It. It spent weeks, months, unnoticed. But perhaps, as a child, you'd had sharper senses, a sixth sense even, and kept looking under your bed, trying to figure out what's off.

the monster wanted so bad for you to see It, and back then even It was so naive, just an extension of the shadows. It trusted you already, and It thought you knew about It already. It had made itself the the shadows of your toys, the imaginary friend, spending days in your closet and nights under your cot. It thought the two of you were friends. So, It summoned all It's strength at the time and took a semi solid form. It saw your eyes widen, and It heard you scream with what It could only assume was joy. Surely you would have been happy to finally see the friend your parents always told you was fake? You were even running out of your room and calling for them!

But the thing was, It didn't like your parents. They were always oh so strict, telling you to put your toys away and go to sleep, then to wake up and go to school. They kept insisting that It didn't exist, that you would grow up and realise how stupid you were as a child, talking to the shadows. It didn't want to waste It's energy on gracing them with It's presence. To be honest... It was even slightly scared of them. They could take you away from It.

No, It would never let such a horrendous thing happen. As soon as It's strength increased, It would focus on making a bond between the two of you first, so you could be forever together. Most of It's kin simply went from host to host, causing nightmares and never staying long. Most of It's kin had abilities related to disguises and quick escapes. None cared for anything other than Themselves. Originally, It had been like that too. But after It found you... It changed It's mind.

Everytime you went to call for your parents, begging them to see under the bed, they would simply be unable to. You called It a monster, begging your parents to just believe you for once. They didn't listen, called you stupid and childish. At one point, you wanted to start sleeping in the same room as them again. They just laughed.

At first, It felt hurt. Really hurt. But It didn't hold it against you. Maybe It just needed to improve its form? And possibly get rid of your parents? And then, surely the two of you would finally get to have all the fun in the world.

This continued till your teenage years. Soon enough, you started arguing with your parents more. They started yelling more. You started crying more. It didn't know whether to be happy or not. On the brighter side, you were spending time away from those killjoys, and spending more time in your bed, above It. On the other hand... you seemed troubled. Even It could notice that. So It would slither up sometimes, extend and arm towards you, cold but caring. And you would cry more, It was sure in happiness.

Nowadays, things were different yet similar. You had moved out of your parents' house now, and It had followed, ever faithful. Your new home was just as cold and filled with shadows as your old, so It liked the place very much. It had grown in power, just as you had grown in understanding.

You still had to go to that horrible job of yours, and even to university, but It was a very patient being. At the end of the day, you would collapse into bed, and dream of a better life. And The Monster? It was just happy to be in your presence, under your bed. All it wanted was You.

And Its wish came true. It spent hours in the morning, craving your warmth on top of the bed as it paced in the shadows. And you listened! you left your job, stopped going to classes, stopped talking to 'friends' (It didn't like them, It didn't like that you were smiling with them, and not with It.), you just, existed.

You begun laying in bed all day, wrapped up in blankets in the dark. And oh how happy The Monster was! How kind and caring were you, to devote every second of your existence to It! It craved your presence and your attention, and that's what It got.

You stared into the darkness, and the darkness stared back. And for once, you neither screamed nor cried. You did not smile or blink or speak. And when It reached out, the darkness alongside, you let it.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

I dont think Rex could’ve become a better living example of the Chad meme if he tried

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 15] At First Sight.

[m-grouped]

🌙 ;; LU/LU/LUNAR/LUNARS/LUNARSELF 2ndp !!

⟩⟩ PRONUNCIATION — loo / loo / loon-ar / loon-arz / loon-ar-self "

🌙 !! USEAGE ;; Lu went to the store by lunarself, but lu accidentally took lunar sibling’s wallet with lu. Lu still got everything lu wanted, though, because lu told the cashier the wallet was lunars.

> FOR !! @epikulupu's 1k coining event [theme: moon]

> FLAG + COINING !! @m-grouped

🌑 TERM COINING ;; Aug. 2, 2022

🌕 FLAG CREATION ;; Aug. 2, 2022

FLAG ID ;;

A flag with 9 horizontal stripes. The center 3 stripes (fourth, fifth, and sixth) are smaller than the rest. The color of the stripes from top to bottom are night sky blue, dark denim blue, cream yellow, cream white, cream yellow, cream white, cream yellow, dark denim blue, and night sky blue. In the center is a cream white crescent moon. // END FLAG ID.

ID: Read pinned before you interact.

[2nd-person-pronouns]

demonic-related 2ndp neopronouns!

*gently slides these over* hello fellow demons

demo/demor/demors/demonself

demo/demon/demons/demonself

devi/devir/devirs/devilself

devi/devil/devils/devilself

evi/evil/evils/evilself

evi/evir/evirs/evilself

ho/hor/horns/hornself

da/dar/darks/darkself

he/hell/hells/hellself

unde/under/unders/underworldself

unde/wor/worlds/underworldself

bloo/blood/bloods/bloodself

[hollybell51]

Gentleman

Navigation

Sam Winchester x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s03e02 “bloodlust”

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: you and Sam don't exactly see eye to eye with Dean's new friend, so you return to the motel by yourselves. Things... escalate.  

Content: smutty smut smut! Shameless, loving, gentle porn with a bit of a plot. Tooth rotting sappiness and fluff. Bit of hurt/comfort, bit of angst. Reader is just so in love with Sam (I am too dw). Sam is down horrendously bad for the reader (I'm horrendously down bad for him. I cannot emphasise this enough). Use of (Y/N), but not too much. Hickeys, making out, extremely light switchiness (barely noticeable, just healthily flexible dynamics), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, safe sex, vaginal sex. Hugs all round (someone needed to give these boys one), Dean and the reader get along, Dean has like one soft moment, there's quite a bit of reminiscing and stuff. Gordon's vibes are Off. As above, set during season 2 episode 3.

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES! I'm (kinda) back, and my summaries have not gotten any better! Started watching Supernatural and got brainrot. Got lots of stuff planned but probably won't actually write it (sorry). The things I would let these two men do to me is insane like actually insane besties I am not ok. Anyways enjoy the by-product of my suffering, consider this a peace offering as I worm my way into the Supernatural fandom.

Also I have been working sporadically on some requests so if you made one chances are I've seen it and I have started it, but also I have Things in my Life right now that are very Stressful so yeah that's fun but yknow it is what it is, thanks everyone for being so supportive and patient with me xx

To say you were uncomfortable would have been an understatement. It wasn’t just how easily Gordon was talking about what had happened, or the too-bright light in his eyes as he recounted it, or Dean’s ease with the whole thing. It had been a freaking execution! And sure, the guy was a vampire, but the way the saw had just chewed right through his neck, the kicking of his legs as he’d died, the blood spraying over Dean’s face… yeah. As Sam had put it, decapitations weren’t really your idea of a good time. And it certainly wasn’t something you felt like laughing about over drinks. 

You could see Sam’s leg bouncing slightly, his face blank as he stared at the beer he was nursing. Your own stomach twisted with unease. Chances were, if he was on edge, so were you. The emotional interplay wasn’t new, and in fact, Dean gave you endless shit about it. “I don’t know what’s up with you,” he’d say. “I just gotta thank God I don’t develop some freaky emotional feedback loop with every girl I bang.” 

Now, Sam glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. You screwed up your nose. Not enough to be too noticeable, but enough to let him know you thought something was a bit off too. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s up with you two?” Dean asked, frowning at your practically untouched beer. 

You shrugged. Sam shrugged. 

Dean rolled his eyes, taking a mouthful of his drink before turning to his new friend. “I swear,” he said, “they read each others' minds. He’s grumpy, she’s grumpy. She’s happy, he’s happy. I reckon if she stubbed her toe, he’d be limping.” 

Gordon barked a laugh, raising his eyebrows. “That so?” 

“Dean, come off it,” you sighed. 

He shook his head, smiling. “Lighten up, both of you.” 

You opened your mouth to say something about how you didn’t think lightening up was really appropriate given the circumstances, but the scraping of Sam’s chair cut you off. 

“I’m not gonna bring you guys down,” he said. “I’m just gonna go back to the motel.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed as he glanced at you, “I’m a bit tired.” 

Dean frowned. “You sure?” 

You nodded, standing. 

“Ok,” he shrugged. “Seeya.” 

“Seeya,” you smiled tightly, then passed him your unfinished beer. “You want this?” 

“You’re not taking it?” 

You shook your head. “Not in a beer sort of mood.” 

He gave you a searching look, then shrugged again and took the drink. “Sure.” 

“Thanks, Gordon.” You nodded to the other hunter. As much as you felt off about him, you didn’t need to be rude. 

He inclined his head back to you. “My pleasure.” 

Sam’s hand settled on your back as you joined him by the door, and you cast a final glance back at the two men remaining at the table. 

“Sammy!” Dean called, the car keys jingling in his hand as he tossed them to his brother. “Remind me to beat that buzzkill outta you later, alright?” 

Sam caught them with ease, Gordon’s enquiry of “something I said?” chasing you out the door. Hell yeah, it was something he said. It was everything he said.  

“Jesus,” you grumbled, shivering in the cold air. 

Sam snorted, absently shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. Equally thoughtlessly, you put it on. It had become something of a routine. Sam didn’t exactly get too cold very often, but you did. He was many things, and “gentleman” was pretty high on the list by you reckoning. 

“I don’t know about all of this,” he said, feet crunching on the gravel as he headed towards the car. “Something’s…” 

“Off, yeah.” You swung into the passenger seat, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

“I can’t quite–” The engine cut him off for a moment, but he didn’t finish the sentence anyway. It didn’t matter.

“I know, it’s a brain itch.” 

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Seatbelt,” he added as the car rolled out of the parking lot, another habit between the two of you. You could have sworn you’d have been dead years ago if you hadn’t had someone reminding you to use the damn things, a fact that both Winchester brothers were not afraid to attempt to drill into you. They hadn’t had much success. 

You hummed as you clicked the strap across your body, shrinking further down into the seat. You were feeling better now that you weren’t sitting across from Gordon, now that it was just you and Sam. You loved Dean, of course you did, but Sam was just so easy to be around. The two of you clicked, simple as that, and you adored it. 

“I’m gonna call Ellen,” Sam said decisively, frowning at the road. “Maybe she knows him.” 

You nodded. “Mhm, good idea.” 

You were still humming – the melody from something that had been playing on the drive that day, you thought – as you entered the motel room, gulping down a glass of water before jumping onto the kitchen counter. Your heels made a dull thud, thud, thud, on the cupboards as you swung them, the zipper of Sam’s jacket swishing over the cheap vinyl. You watched him take a seat on the bed and dial Ellen. 

You listened idly to his side of the conversation, eventually sliding off the counter top and coming to sit behind him on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing. It had been an oddly long day. 

“But I thought you said he was a good hunter,” he was frowning. 

You thought you heard her say “Hannibal Lecter”, and frowned too. Shit, was Gordon some kind of serial killer? You hoped not. 

Sam’s back was warm under your cheek, but his shoulders were tense. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy. You hadn’t known John Winchester well, but the time you’d spent with him had been… Well, it hadn’t been nice exactly, but you could see the love he had for his sons. You couldn’t imagine going through what Sam had, almost losing his brother and then really losing his father in the space of a week. You thought he was handling everything reasonably well, all things considered.

There’d been one moment, just a few days ago, when you’d thought he might crack. Dean had been out like a light in the back of the car, and you’d reached around to snap a photo of him squished up against the window. You’d laughed at it – he looked ridiculous. When you’d glanced up to show Sam, he was staring straight at the road, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Alright?” you’d asked, and he’d nodded.

You’d frowned. “Want me to drive for a bit?”

This time, a head shake.

He wasn’t alright, you could see that clear as day. “Sam, pull over,” you said softly.

He’d swung the car off the road so abruptly you’d jerked against your seatbelt, simply sitting with his foot on the brake and both hands on the steering wheel.

You’d reached over and put the car in park, switching off the ignition. “Come on,” you’d said, “out.” 

He’d leant against the side of the car, arms crossed, staring out into the field you were driving past. 

“Interesting grass?” you’d asked, bumping your shoulder against his. 

He hadn’t smiled exactly, but his mouth had definitely twitched up a bit at the corner. You’d consider that a win. 

“Seriously,” you’d prodded. “What’s up?” 

“I don’t…” He’d trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “I can’t…” 

You’d frowned as he’d shaken his head, looking anywhere but you. You’d told yourself something like this was gonna happen eventually, prepped the whole “I’m here no matter what” speech a thousand times, but now you didn’t really know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to put your hand on his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles like your kindergarten teacher used to do when you were upset. 

Sam’s voice was choked when he finally spoke. “I can’t lose you.” 

Four words, but you were convinced your heart had shattered right there. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping to face him. You took his hands in yours, uncrossing his arms.

“How can you–?” 

You cut him off, shaking your head as you raised his hands to your face and kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated. “Nowhere you can’t follow.” 

He’d just nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed deeply, the strong smell of the most recent laundromat’s detergent all around you, your fingers bunched in the back of Sam’s shirt. 

“I’ve got your back,” you whispered. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ve got yours, too.” 

“Good.” You’d pulled away, smiling as you stretched up to kiss him. It was soft and chaste, but that was all either of you needed. 

Then Dean had woken up and shouted at you to save your “romantic moments” for when you weren’t supposed to be driving. You’d grumbled that he was just jealous, which he’d vehemently denied amongst a lot of vomit noises. But later, as you’d waited for Sam to get back with lunch, he’d put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 

“I’m glad he’s got you,” he’d said. “Real glad.” 

“You’ve got me too,” you’d smiled. “Always.” 

He’d just stared at you for a moment, his arm still around you, before he’d cleared his throat and stepped back. “Thanks,” he’d muttered. “‘ppreciate it.”  

Now, with the same softness, you let your hand slide up Sam’s back and across his shoulders, then down his side. You brushed over his chest, down to his stomach, then back up to settle over his heart. You always forgot how big he was until you tried to get your arms around him, then it was like hugging a mountain. You loved it. 

He cleared his throat. 

You smiled, placing a soft kiss where his hair brushed the back of his neck, using your free hand to sweep it away. 

“Ok, yeah,” Sam said to Ellen. He sighed as your lips trailed higher, up under his ear. 

“Mhm, we will.” His fingers curled in the bed covers as you sucked ever so gently at the spot you’d found, the one you knew drove him insane. 

“Yep, alright. Thanks, Ellen.” A forceful swallow as you rubbed slow patterns across his front, nothing but the thin material of his shirt separating your hand from his skin. 

“Ok. Bye.” 

You smiled as the phone beeped, then was thrown to the bed. You eased your hand under his shirt, shivering as your fingers met the warm expanse of his torso. You could touch him like this forever, if you were given the chance. 

“What’re you doing?” he breathed, tilting his head back, baring his throat. 

“Kissing you,” you whispered as you moved down the muscle of his neck, “touching you,” as your hand ran gently over his pectoral, thumb grazing his nipple. 

“Mm, do I get to kiss you too?” 

You smiled. “If you ask nicely, yeah.” 

“Please?” 

“Hm?”

He sighed. “(Y/N), come on.” 

“Nope,” you laughed softly. “Ask nicely.” 

You felt his chest heave under your hand, and you pressed your mouth to his neck again. 

“Pretty please,” he murmured. 

You pretended to be considering this for a moment, dragging it out. Truth be told, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as he wanted to, but God it was fun teasing a bit. Especially like this, when it was you draped over his back, hinting at giving him hickeys, touching wherever you pleased. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. 

Before you could even draw another breath he’d turned and brought his hand up to cup your face, pressing his lips against yours. You let him lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding languidly alongside your own, the faint taste of beer still clinging to him. It was all so soft and gentle and full of care, everything you adored about him. 

He shifted back on the bed, turning to face you. Your hands were still under his shirt, arm still stretched across his body as he pushed against you. 

“I love this on you,” he murmured as his hands found the opening of his jacket, pushing it back over your shoulders. 

You smiled. “You want me to take it off?” 

“And this.” He plucked at the t-shirt you wore underneath, already coaxing it upwards. 

“Alright,” you laughed, batting his hands away. “Patience is a virtue.” 

“Whoever said that clearly never met you.” 

You looked away, hoping to hide the pink you could feel flooding your cheeks. However many times you did this, Sam never failed to get you flustered. You could sense his eyes on you as you stripped yourself of your shirt and his jacket, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.

He started to shuffle back further onto the bed, one hand settling on your waist as he leant down to kiss along your jaw. You sighed, your mind halfway made up to just let him keep going like that. But no. 

“Uh-uh,” you said, pushing him gently off you. 

“What do you–? Oh.” 

You smiled as you slid off the bed, kneeling between his legs. You ran your hand up his thigh, deftly undoing his belt and fly. Heck, you’d had practice. “Can I?”

“Yes,” he nodded quickly. “God, yes.” 

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to his pants. “Well you gotta help me out a bit, yeah?” 

“Sorry,” he grinned, shedding them in one smooth motion.

“And those.” You pointed at his underwear. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“Damn right,” you muttered as you kissed your way up his thigh, nipping gently at the skin of his hip. He smelled of the soap from last night’s motel room, faint but still there, a little sweat from the night’s earlier action. You could taste it where your tongue touched him, and man was it good.

His voice was breathy when he asked, “You gonna keep teasing me forever?” 

“Maybe.” You watched as goosebumps appeared where your breath tickled him, smiling to yourself. 

“Is that what’s got you smiling like that?” 

You sat back on your heels, arms resting on his knees as you looked up at him. He was so gorgeous, the shitty neon lighting of the room glancing off his hair in a kind of halo. You thought your next words through very carefully. 

“No,” you said slowly. “I’m thinking about how your cock’s gonna feel in my mouth. How you’re gonna say my name when I’ve got you so deep down my throat I’m almost gagging. I bet you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, I’ll make you feel so good.” 

Sam’s mouth fell open, his hands twitching where they rested on the duvet. 

“What do you think?” 

He swallowed. “I think I’m not even gonna take you up on that bet, I think you’re right.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok then.” You smiled, leaning forward and taking his dick in your hands. It was hard and warm to the touch, already leaking precum. You licked down, then up again, swirling your tongue around the head. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Please, (Y/N).” 

“You want me to suck it?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

You shrugged. “Since you asked so nicely.” You sank your mouth down onto him, your hands working what wouldn’t fit. Sam’s thighs tensed, and you moved. You could have stayed like that forever, you thought, just holding him in your mouth. You had half a mind to ask about that, actually. 

Sam moaned, his fingers twisting in the covers as you pulled your head back, then forward again, sucking and licking along his length. You’d wanted to take your time at first, tease him and see how long it took for him to be fisting your hair and moving your head for you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered as you increased your speed, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. His dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, something you might have been embarrassed about in the past. Now it turned you on. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Sam’s hips despite his best efforts. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “Shit, (Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos – before you met him, that was – as his hand finally flew to your hair, his fingers carding through it. He was trying so hard to be gentle, and you loved him for it. 

“You look so hot like that,” he whispered. “How’re you so fucking hot?” 

You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You vividly remembered a conversation you’d had with Sam and Dean in the car once, where Dean had proclaimed that “there are blowjobs, and then there are blowjobs.” Sam had turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Dean had yelled at you both and told you to get a room. What you were doing right now was definitely a blowjob, and you were loving every second of it. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Sam was panting, “(Y/N) oh my God I’m gonna cum.” 

His fingers tightened in your hair, his head thrown back and his cock twitching in your mouth. You went all in, sucking and licking and jerking with everything you had in you. 

Yes, you thought as you swallowed everything he gave you, basking in his muttered curses and groans like they were water and you were a wilted houseplant. This was heaven, right here. Every time you watched him come undone, you were completely convinced it couldn’t get any better than this. And without fail, the next time it did. 

He was still panting as you licked him clean, as gently as you could. His hand had settled on your shoulder, large fingers caressing your skin so tenderly it made you want to cry. 

“You ok?” you asked, sitting back. You patted his knee, watching his face carefully. He was flushed, a light sheen of sweat sticking some of his hair to his forehead. You hadn’t really paid much attention at the time, but now you wished you’d made him take off his shirt too. You loved watching his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Ok?” he echoed, opening his eyes. He grinned. “I’m more than ok.” 

You smiled back, licking your lips. “Good.” 

“Come up here,” he said, patting his leg. “And take off your pants.” 

“Magic word?”

“Please.” Then, on second thoughts, “pretty please.” 

You laughed, but got up and shed your jeans anyway. You slid onto his lap, straddling his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you softly, holding you close against him. The material of his shirt tickled your skin, very noticeably baring you from the silken warmth of his skin. 

“Off,” you said against his lips, plucking at the garment. 

“Off,” he repeated, tracing the line of your underwear. 

Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you shed the offending clothing. 

“I love this,” he whispered as he reached behind you, deftly unfastening your bra and pulling it away from you. He set it aside carefully, almost reverently, then bent his head and fastened his mouth to your breast. “Hey,” he said after a moment, frowning. 

You frowned too. “What’s wrong?” 

His finger traced a delicate circle over your other breast, tapping at a spot just above your nipple. “What’s this?” 

You squinted at the area, then laughed. The faded yellowish bruise wasn’t all that visible, but of course Sam would find it. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a hickey. From you. From last time.” 

His face cleared. “Shit, didn’t realise it’d last that long. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” you smiled. “Makes me think of you whenever I see it.” 

“Maybe I should give you more, then.” 

Your grin widened. “Please.”

“Mm?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Pretty please.” 

“Ok.” He bent once more, sucking a matching spot into your unmarked breast. Then he added another one beside it, and a third right in the middle of your sternum. 

“No more low cut tops, I guess,” you sighed, stifling a moan as he moved downwards with another. 

“Shame,” he murmured into your skin, “I love those low cut tops.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I’d be insane not to.” 

You laughed, then gasped as he ran his hand up your thigh. 

“Relax,” he said. 

“I’m relaxed, I’m so relaxed.” 

“Your heartbeat says you’re lying.” 

“That’s for you,” you told him, meeting his eyes. “That’s what you do to me.” 

“And this?” His finger darted between your legs, sliding easily with how wet you were. 

“Yeah,” you gasped, “all for you.” 

He cursed softly, then lowered you gently onto the bed. He propped himself half over you, half beside you, his hand stroking down over your stomach, your hips, around your pelvis. 

“Please,” you moaned. “Sam, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Touch me. Please,” you added as an afterthought. 

“Nice manners,” he noted, rubbing achingly slow circles over your clit. 

You gripped his arm, fingers digging into the muscle as he bent and resumed his assault on your breasts. 

“You take such good care of me,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly by your soft flesh. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Cause I love you,” you whispered. 

“Mhm, you gonna let me take care of you too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.” 

“Good.”

You whined at the loss of his fingers on your clit, then bit your lip to quiet what would have been a loud moan as he slipped the finger inside you. The heel of his hand ground against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his finger putting just the right pressure in just the right places. You’d be a mess in no time, and you both knew it. 

“Fuck, Sam,” you panted, your back arching as you chased the feeling. 

“Hm?” His chest was warm where it pressed against your side, the muscles of his arm rippling subtly under the skin where your fingers dug into him. His free hand stroked your shoulder, his mouth busy littering your chest with hickeys. You could feel him growing hard again against your thigh. 

“Fuck me?” you half asked, half offered. 

He grunted softly at your words, nodding. “Got a condom?” 

“Mhm, yeah, sure. One sec.” You reached over to your jeans, rummaging in the pockets until you struck gold. Or foil, you supposed. You watched as Sam tore it open and slid it on, as easily as if he was tying shoelaces. He’d gotten stupidly fast at putting the things on, courtesy of the whole “Dean could get back any minute so let’s just be as fast as we can” element you so often found yourselves dealing with. You weren’t complaining. 

“Ready?” he asked, positioning himself between your legs. You rocked your hips gently, feeling his hardness pressed against your dripping centre. 

He nodded, then softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers twisting in the duvet. 

“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded. 

“Move,” you urged him. He did, slow and gentle. The light was doing that thing with his hair again, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Brush it off his forehead, kiss him there, smooth the faint worry line that seemed to be present more and more frequently. You’d do anything to make it disappear forever. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured, leaning forward to deliver more kisses to your chest. You were gonna have a whole forest of hickeys when you were done.  

“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. 

“Touch yourself,” he encouraged you, “I want you to cum while I’m fucking you.” 

“Shit, ok,” you replied, reaching down and running a finger in tiny circles over your clit. You loved how easily you could give and take control with him, how quickly and smoothly you could switch roles when you wanted to. It wasn’t just in bed, either, and you adored it. You adored him.

Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was perfect. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Sam’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he. 

“(Y/N), fuck,” he moaned, his abdominal muscles twitching and tensing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax. 

He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning. 

He rolled off you, peeling off the condom and tying it neatly before tossing it to the floor to be disposed of later. You turned to face him, your head resting on his bicep, his other arm draped over your side. His hand stroked your back, soft and loving. 

You smiled as you reached up, sweeping the hair from his face. “You good?” you murmured, cupping his cheek gently. 

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You reciprocated, then stretched up and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“How about you?” he asked. 

“I’m great.” Then you sighed, your thumb stroking tiny arcs across the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered. 

“Look at you,” he answered. “You’re so beautiful.”  

You closed the few inches of space between you, pressing your lips to his. “I really do love you,” you said as you pulled away. “So much.” 

He smiled. “I know, I love you too. More than anything.” 

You went to kiss him again, but his phone buzzed and you froze. He groped for it blindly, frowning. You’d both learnt the hard way that if his phone went off and Dean wasn’t with you, it was best to check it. 

Sam snorted, flipping it around for you to see. 

The text, from Dean, was two sentences. “Back in 1/2 hour. Get decent.” 

“Screw you, Dean.” 

Sam laughed, tossing the phone to the side. “I guess we’ve got half an hour.” 

“I’m taking a shower then,” you said. “I saw a vending machine, like, right outside, and I really want a soda right now.” 

“I’ll get you a soda if you let me take the shower with you?” 

“Deal.” You held out your hand as if to shake on it, but he kissed it instead. Yeah, “gentleman” was definitely high up on that list. 

[twomiddlefingersforthehaters]

The way pronouns work in Japanese is culturally and linguistically different from how they work in English. This is quite different from how "you" works in English. "You" in Japanese is more associated with a person, and anything related to or speaking to a person in Japanese carries ranking, status, respect, and Pollitnes. The way people talk in anime/manga is completely different from the way people talk in real life.

Japanese people frequently drops pronouns. Instead of saying "you" to call a person you are speaking in Japanese, speakers usually use the person's name with an honorific like さん = San or their title. Because some Japanese people feel uncomfortable. But it depends on one's personality. Japanese people don’t usually call someone with chan or kun/ nickname or yobisute when they meet them for the first name. And you can always ask people how they want you to address them casually. If you don’t know the name, just skip the subject.

Eg:

1. 「あんたの名前は?」 = anata no namae wa? = What is your name?

「お名前は?」 = onamae wa? = What is your name?

2. 「お仕事は何をされているのですか?」 = oshigoto wa nani o sareteiru nodesu ka? = What do you do?

「お仕事は?」 = o shigoto wa? = What do you do?

3. 「あなたはどこに住んでいますか?」 = anata wa doko ni sundeimasu ka? = Where do you live?

「どこに住んでいますか?」 = doko ni sundeimasu ka? = Where do you live?

In manga, it sounds a bit stiff to use character names all the time, so pronouns are used instead.

Omae お前 : you (rough)

Japanese has many second person pronoun and Omae is one of them. It is super rude if you use it with strangers. This word normally guys would use. It is okay to use when you're talking to your close friends. But if you use this word to a stranger or old people they would think you want to have a fight. And it is often used in a derogatory way or when you fight. So, guys normally should call each other omae if they're close friends. And also, occasionally it is used in a friendly manner. As blunt as it may seem,but there are affectionate husbands or boyfriends who call their wife/girlfriend お前. And also there are parents who address their children お前.

Teme てめえ: You (rude)

Another word for 'you' (the person before me) which is rude is "Teme". It is also a second person pronoun and it is pretty insulting. It's generally only used when angry. It would use to call someone teme to start a fight.This word is used by rough people basically.

The word omae & Teme are still use in real life by some people.

Anata あなた : You

(It's also spelled アナタ with katakana)

Anata is supposed to be a polite second person pronoun but in Japanese anata hardly uses in conversation. Anata is more polite than "kimi" Or "Omae". Anata is fine if you are talking to general unspecific "You", like talking to a group of people and not taking to a specific person. Even though some people use it sometimes but it may sound kind of aggressive if you say. If you say "anata" they would think you are looking down on them or would think you looks like bossy. Also, if the person is superior to you, you can call them by their titles. Using "anata" to address someone who is older or of higher status can be seen as disrespectful. Some older people might call you "anata" and some old people wouldn't. Even with someone the same age, using あなた would feel a bit awkward. And "anata" also sounds like you're better than others.

Among married or dating couples, there is no effect of age/rank factors because they are equal. Generally, wives call their husbands "Anata" or husbands first name with "-san". Technically あなた is a gender free word so both husband and wife can use. And it is not just for a married couple. And also never use "Anata" with clients, business partners or even work colleagues and also don't use "Anata" for someone superior like your teachers, friends, parents, etc.

Anta あんた : you

(It's also spelled アンタ with katakana)

あんた is for both men and women. It is fairly casual and it could sound pretty rude to many situations so be careful when to use. Anta is a short version or contracted version of anata. It is a rude or less informal way of saying "you". When you use あんた in quarrels, it has insulting or aggressive tone. Japanese people often use it with really close friends because they know it's not used in a seriously rude context and same as あんた uses when an elderly person is talking to a familiar person. So あんた also uses to express familiarity.

Kimi 君(きみ) : You

Using "Kimi" in real life is rude. If you call them "kimi", they would get annoyed. It depends on the person. It is mostly used by men. If it is used in song or poetry it sounds romantic or cute but in real life it sounds weird. Kimi is commonly used in Japan's vertical, hierarchical society, where elders speak to young people and children, seniors speak to their juniors, teachers speak to their students and parents addressing their children etc. Some men call women with their family name + 君(kun) . Somtimes bosses use "kimi" when talking to their employees or family name with "-kun" to male employees. Though it can be insulting if "Kimi" used to address elders. Therefore, Kimi is used to refer to people who are probably inferior to you, such as people of a lower grade than you or of a lower age than you. So calling someone with 君 (kimi) might sounds snobbish and you may have to be careful when you use it. And also kimi uses the same kanji as "kun" which place after a person's name. You don’t usually call your female friend with an honorific, kun. Calling a female friend with "kimi" not necessary gives closeness. It may give someone the impression that you are looking down on that person, so be careful. If someone you know calls you with your first name and drops -kun and -san because they feels close to you. Using san is too formal between friends.There are husbands who refer to their wife as きみ.

[miraclemaya]

art is only art through suffering. (tw torture)

the gallery makes you sign a consent form before you enter the exhibit. inside is a white room with a single chair. you sit down. a few moments later a man enters with a hammer. he gives a polite nod and smashes your left knee cap in. you feel it shatter into pieces, bone shard getting embedded in your flesh. he exits the room as you scream in pain. a different person, a woman this time, enters the room and throws a bucket of acid at you. you only barely manage to shield your eyes. the rest of you is not so lucky and you burn without fire.

the next person comes in with a saw and gets started on your left hand. they are wearing earbuds and gardening gloves.

they give you five mins to rest. you can't rest as you are bleeding out.

small cuts and salty water on your back.

hot pokers pressed into your left stump.

you don't pass out.

someone just stabs you with a long sword.

waterboarded.

rip out your teeth.

someone comes in with a canvas and shows it to you. it's a fairly amateurish oil painting of a tree. the tree is unremarkable, and really that is the only way to describe the painting. you barely manage the words but you ask who painted it. the person says a name you've never heard before. they ask you if the suffering made the piece better and you say it didn't.

they help you out of the room and suddenly you are fine. one of the curators is standing by you and they ask you if the suffering being fake was what made the painting boring.

you think for a minute and answer probably.