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byhuenii · 22 days ago

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YOU-ology

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader

Syonpsis Bucky has been trying to understand you—your habits, your silences, your smiles. You speak in gestures more than words, in shared glances and cups of coffee left just right.The problem? He doesn’t know what a “love language” is. It sounds like a literal dialect. So naturally, he puts on his reading glasses, makes a study binder, and asks Peter Parker to teach him Gen Z slang, but he knows one thing for sure: if loving you means learning everything—he’s ready to graduate with honors.

(Inspired by TXT 'Love Language')

Word Count 2.6k

Tags + Warning Soft misunderstanding / no angst, fluff overload, accidental confession via ASL, soft!bucky

— YOU-ology Researching you-ology, all about you, from A to Z

“I can’t read your mind,” he says, voice low. “But I want to.”

The sunlight hits just right in the Brooklyn apartment. You’re sitting on the windowsill, nursing your third cup of coffee, and Bucky’s leaning against the kitchen counter like the world isn’t tilting every time you look away from him.

You don’t speak right away. You’re used to silence. He’s learning that.

He watches as you stir your coffee absentmindedly. You always stir five times. Clockwise. Never more, never less.

He’s been keeping track of things like that.

Like how you always set out two mugs in the morning, even when he doesn’t sleep over. How you keep an extra blanket folded at the end of the couch even though he insists he doesn’t get cold. How you hand him a protein bar without asking if he’s eaten.

You don’t say much. But you do a lot.

And Bucky? Bucky’s trying to figure out if this—whatever this is—means what he hopes it does.

He’s never been great with feelings. Too many years pretending he didn’t have any. But with you, he wants to get it right.

��I think I might be speaking the wrong dialect of love,” he tells Peter Parker seriously. “Is there a Duolingo for romance?”

Bucky has fought in wars, survived brainwashing, outpaced death—and yet, nothing has confused him quite like you.

Well, you, and this strange thing Peter said over lunch the other day.

"Oh, love language? Yeah, it's like how people give and receive affection. You gotta know your partner's love language to really connect.”

Love language?

Bucky had blinked at Peter from behind his coffee, the words rattling around like marbles in a tin can. “There’s a language for that?”

Peter had shrugged like it was obvious. “Yeah, there are five. Physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, and gifts. You know… the usual.”

Bucky had nodded slowly, like he understood. He did not understand. He thought "acts of service" was a military term.

Back home, Bucky had pulled out his reading glasses (the ones Sam doesn’t know he owns) and Googled:

“What is love language.” “Love language translation.” “How to know if you’re good at love.”

Twenty tabs later, he had a headache, a notebook full of bullet points, and a tiny post-it with your name surrounded by little doodled hearts he definitely didn’t mean to draw.

STUDY NOTES:

☑ Quality time → you always wait for him after missions

☑ Acts of service → you make his tea how he likes it (2 sugar, no judgment)

☑ Physical touch → light shoulder pats, a knee against his under the table, casual-but-not-casual hand touches

☑ Gifts → brought him a vintage Captain America comic once. He almost cried.

☑ Words of affirmation → okay this one’s harder. You’re quiet. You show love, but don’t say it much. Still… he catches you looking. That means something.

He circles the last one twice.

—

One morning, Bucky shows up to your door with a homemade dictionary titled:

“You-ology: A Comprehensive Field Guide to Understanding You” (Vol. 1 — Beta Edition)

It’s leather-bound. Handwritten. Indexed.

There’s a doodle of you on page one that looks suspiciously like it was done by a man lying on his stomach with his feet up and his legs kicking.

You flip through it, trying not to grin. “You made me a… glossary?”

Bucky pushes his glasses up his nose. “I’ve been decoding your signals.”

“You’ve been—what?”

“You say things without saying them. And I figured maybe if I could learn your dialect, I could say things back.”

You’re stunned. Speechless. Warm all over.

“Bucky,” you say, “you’re literally learning a love language like it’s a spy code.”

He squints. “It’s not?”

Once Bucky learns that love languages aren’t actual dialects, he’s a little embarrassed. For five whole seconds.

Then he decides:

“Fine. Then I’ll try all of them. Just in case.”

And he does. With alarming dedication.

Words of Affirmation: You wake up to a note on your fridge:

“You’re the smartest person I know. Even smarter than Banner. (Don’t tell him.) - B”

And another on your coffee cup:

“You deserve the world. But I brought you coffee instead. I hope that’s okay.”

When you turn around, he’s leaning on the counter, flushed red. “Too much?”

Acts of Service: You offhandedly mention your sink is dripping.

The next day it’s fixed. And your drawer doesn’t stick anymore. And your laptop’s updated. And your favorite hoodie that you thought you lost? Folded on your bed.

He salutes you on his way out like it’s a secret mission. “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”

Quality Time: He clears a Saturday. No missions. No distractions.

You watch four movies, eat terrible microwave popcorn, and fall asleep on his shoulder.

He doesn’t move. Not for hours. His arm goes numb. He doesn’t care.

He tells Sam later: “Best damn day I’ve had in decades.”

Gifts: He leaves a flower on your desk. Not a rose. A tiny forget-me-not. The tag says:

“This reminded me of your laugh. Kind of small. Kind of magic.”

You keep it in a book. He notices. Doesn’t say a word. Smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

Physical Touch: He used to flinch. Now? He leans in.

You touch his hair once and he forgets how to breathe. Next day, he wears it slightly messy. Hopes you’ll do it again.

One day, you reach for his hand. He holds it like it’s fragile. Like you’re holding him. His thumb rubs soft circles into your palm.

“Just… letting you know I’m here,” he murmurs.

You squeeze back. “I know.”

Peter Parker ends up being his unofficial relationship coach.

“Wait—what’s a ‘green flag?’” “Peter, what does ‘simp’ mean?” “Is it normal to dream about their smile for six nights in a row or is that brain damage?” “Be honest. Am I down bad?”

Peter: “...You’re down astronomical, sir.”

—

One rainy night, you both get stuck in the Tower’s media room during a storm.

Bucky fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie. You notice he’s scribbled something in the corner of his You-ology notebook.

You tilt your head. “What’s that?”

He doesn’t look up. Just says, “It’s… new vocabulary.”

He passes you the notebook.

He wants to understand you like he’s memorizing a secret language only the two of you speak.

He clears his throat. “I’ve been… trying to study you. Is that weird?”

Your brows raise slightly in amusement. “Study me?”

“Yeah,” he says, running a hand through his short hair. “Like—figure out what you’re saying when you’re not actually saying anything.”

You look at him now, eyes softening. “You’ve been reading my… ‘you-ology?’”

He laughs. It’s a quiet, rusty thing. Rare. But so warm when it happens.

“I guess I have,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “I know you like your coffee sweet but pretend you don’t. I know you always hum when you’re nervous, and you’ll never ask for help, but you’ll stay up until 2 a.m. helping me.”

His metal hand flexes. Nervous.

“And I know you look at me like I mean something… but I don’t know if I’m reading it right.”

Your voice is soft. “And what if you are?”

He stops.

His heart stops.

The sun hits your cheek just right, your smile so shy it breaks something open in him.

“I don’t talk much,” you add, “because I never really had to. Not with the right people. But I make sure they’re warm. That they eat. That they know I’m there, even when I can’t say it out loud.”

He swallows hard.

“Then I guess,” Bucky says slowly, stepping into your space, “I’ve been speaking your love language this whole time.”

You smile, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist. You trace the edge where skin meets metal. He shivers.

“And you?” you whisper. “What’s your language?”

He thinks. He’s never been asked that.

Maybe it’s not words. Maybe it’s quiet, safe mornings and the way he remembers your favorite color. Maybe it’s standing between you and the crowd even when there’s no danger. Maybe it’s showing up. Not running.

“I think,” he says, “it’s time. Sitting with you. Watching dumb movies. Letting you talk or not talk. Just… being.”

You nod. “Then you’ve been speaking mine too.”

His hand curls around yours.

Chapter 6: When I’m With You, Everything Makes Sense

Coffee = comfort

Silence = trust

Laughter = home

You = safe

You = mine? (still unsure. researching.)

Your throat tightens. “You big dork.”

He glances up, hopeful. “But… like, a lovable dork?”

You kiss his cheek. “Fluently lovable.”

Weeks later, you hand him a little leather journal.

On the front:

“Bucky-ese: A Guide to Loving You Back (YOU-ology)”

He flips it open.

Page One:

“Your love language is: All of them. But especially being seen. And I see you.”

He presses the book to his chest like it’s holy.

Then: “You wanna watch that stupid baking show and drink tea out of mismatched mugs like we’re 80?”

He grins. “That’s my favorite dialect.”

There’s no grand declaration. No fiery kiss.

Just soft, sacred quiet.

But that’s the thing about love languages. You don’t always need to hear them. Sometimes, you just feel them.

And Bucky?

He feels you.

—

Lately, he’s gotten really into studying TikToks and music videos you like. You walk in one night and he’s watching TXT’s “Love Language” choreo on repeat.

He’s squinting at the screen, rewinding and mimicking one particular moment — where the members make the “I Love You” sign in ASL, fingers shaped just right.

He sees you enter and lights up like a puppy who just figured out how to sit.

“Hey! I think I cracked it. That hand thing—like, this?” He does it—thumb, index, pinky up. “It’s like, modern slang for love, right? Like Gen Z emoji but with your hands?”

You pause mid-step.

Your heart thuds.

“Bucky… do you know what that actually means?”

He blinks. “Yeah! It’s like, ‘you’re cool’ or something? Peter said it’s used in dances a lot. You know, like ‘🤟 vibes only.’”

You stare at him. He’s still holding it up—so proud, so casual—like he didn’t just set fire to your entire nervous system.

“James.”

Your voice is soft. He stops.

You step forward slowly, take his hand in both of yours, and gently lower it.

“That sign isn’t slang,” you whisper, eyes searching his face. “It’s American Sign Language. It means ‘I love you.’ Literally. Not ‘cool.’ Not ‘vibes.’ Love.”

Silence.

His eyes go huge.

His mouth parts—then shuts. Then opens. Then shuts again. He is rebooting.

“…Oh.”

Then—quiet panic.

“…Oh.”

He scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait. Wait, I’ve been doing that for, like, three days. To you. While you were making dinner. On the couch. That one time in the elevator—”

You nod, very calm. “Yes. You told me you loved me 17 times. And yes, I counted.”

He is bright red. Apocalyptic red. He looks like he might spontaneously combust.

“I—I didn’t know—*I mean I do, I mean not like—*I mean obviously I do—” He’s flustered and fumbling, hands waving.

You grab them. Hold them gently. Steady.

“You really do?”

His voice is barely a breath. “Yeah.”

Your smile cracks through the tension like sunrise.

“Then say it again.”

You release one of his hands. He looks at you—heart on his sleeve, nerves frayed.

And slowly, deliberately, he lifts his hand again.

Thumb, index finger, pinky.

I love you.

And this time—he knows exactly what it means.

BONUS:LATER THAT NIGHT!!

He flops onto your couch face-down and groans into a pillow. “I confessed on accident like some kind of boyband backup dancer.”

You’re sitting next to him, stroking his hair. “It was perfect.”

He peeks up. “You sure?”

You grin. “Fluently perfect.”

He groans again—but he’s smiling.

—

“You’re my safe place, and I think I just proposed to you using the wrong hand sign, oh my god—can we rewind time or am I gonna die here on this rug?”

Bucky has a Plan™️.

After accidentally telling you “I love you” 17 times in ASL (without realizing it) and then on purpose (with realization), he’s decided he wants to learn a full phrase.

Something simple. Something sweet.

Something like:

“I’m happy with you.” Or maybe: “You’re my home.”

So he goes to Peter. Again.

Peter, to his eternal regret, pulls out a basic ASL learning app and walks Bucky through the signs.

Problem is, Bucky’s fingers don’t cooperate yet. His muscle memory is stubborn. His brain is full of you and short-circuiting.

What he meant to learn was:

“You make me feel safe.” (“YOU — MAKE — ME — FEEL — SAFE”)

What he accidentally signs, in a combination of nervousness and fumbled syntax, is:

“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”

He doesn’t realize it.

You, who actually knows ASL, absolutely do.

It’s a quiet afternoon in your apartment. Rain against the window. Music low.

Bucky has that look again—the one where he’s clearly been practicing something all day and is about to do it nervously but dramatically.

You’re curled up on the couch when he stands in front of you, face serious, eyes way too shiny.

He clears his throat.

“Okay. I’ve been learning more. ASL. Because I wanna speak it the way you do. With your hands. With your heart.”

You melt. Instantly. He’s fidgeting, biting his bottom lip. He looks like a storm in a sweater.

Then he signs.

Slowly. Carefully.

“YOU — MAKE — ME — YOUR — WIFE.”

You freeze.

Your eyes go wide. Your heart? Gone. Brain? Empty.

Bucky is beaming.

“Did I get it right?”

You blink. “Um. Almost.”

“Yeah?” He looks so proud. “I practiced for, like, six hours. I wanted to say you make me feel… y’know, safe. Like… like I’m home.”

There is a pause.

Then you start laughing.

Not a mean laugh—a breathless, overwhelmed, you-are-so-stupidly-perfect-how-is-this-my-life laugh.

Bucky’s face crumples. “Wait. Did I say something weird?”

You can barely get the words out. “James Buchanan Barnes—you just proposed to me.”

He freezes.

Like—winter soldier frozen mid-mission freezes.

“…Wait. I what?”

You take his hands gently and show him.

“WIFE.” You do the correct sign. “SAFE.” You show the actual one. “Different hand shape.”

Bucky looks between your hands and his own like they’ve betrayed him.

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“…Did I really just—?”

You nod, biting your lip.

“…Oh god.”

He immediately flops to his knees, hands in his hair, face in his palms. He’s red everywhere.

“I didn’t mean to propose. I can’t propose like that—there was no ring, no speech, no flowers—you were in socks—”

You blink. “Would it have been better if I wasn’t in socks?”

“YES. I mean NO. I mean—GOD.”

He’s pacing now. “Do we take it back? Is it binding? Is this like vampire rules where once you say it it’s done—I didn’t even kneel on purpose—”

You walk up to him.

Cup his cheeks.

He’s still spiraling.

“…Was it weird? Was it bad? Was it too soon? Do you wanna break up with me and then date me again so I can do it right?”

You shake your head, smiling.

“Bucky.”

He stops.

You lean in, press your forehead to his.

Then you sign, clear as day:

YES.

He freezes.

“Wait. Yes what?”

You say it out loud this time. Soft. Steady.

“Yes. I’ll be your wife.”

His breath leaves him like someone knocked it out with a hug.

“…Even though I proposed by accident?”

You kiss his nose.

“Especially because of that.”

Bucky buys a ring the very next day.

He still does the ASL sign for “I love you” every time you leave the room. You never get used to it.

And one day, he signs perfectly:

YOU — ARE — MY — SAFE — PLACE.

You tear up.

And then, just to mess with him, you sign back:

MAKE — ME — YOUR — HUSBAND.

He drops his drink.

You both laugh so hard you forget the world.

(You've got mail!) well well well..WELL WELL WELLLLLLLL. this has been fermenting in my drafts so uh hereee. its very fluffy and cute and so much grandpa barnes code. i whole heartily believe hes such a cutie like you can not convince me otherwise. stream txt love language tho! i rmbered i had this while i was kinda making a txt series avengers masterlist so uhhhh yeah! ALSO I HAD NO CLUE THAT HUENING KAI WAS TRYNA LEARN MY YOU-OLOGY IM BLUSHINGGG

Tag List (For Mr. James Buchanan Barnes is open)

@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #bucky x reader #i need him so bad #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky x you #hes a cutie #hes trying his best

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what-even-is-thiss · 1 month ago

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Free or Cheap Spanish Learning Resources So You Can Run at Windmills in Fluent Spanish

I will update this list as I learn of any more useful ones. If you want general language learning resources check out this other post. This list is Spanish specific. Find lists for other specific languages here.

For the purposes of this list "free" means something that is either totally free or has a useful free tier. "Cheap" is a subscription under $10USD a month, a software license or lifetime membership purchase under $100USD, or a book under $30USD. If you want to suggest a resource for this list please suggest ones in that price range that are of decent quality and not AI generated.

WEBSITES

Dreaming Spanish - A website that is also a YouTube Channel. This is a comprehensible input site with videos about a variety of subjects with multiple hosts from multiple countries. It has content for learners from absolute beginner to lower advanced. It lets you sort videos by dialect, subject, length, etc. The free version has a lot of content. The paid version is $9 a month and has many more videos and allows you to track your listening hours. The website is in English but all videos are entirely in Spanish.

Lawless Spanish - A free website with resources to learn Spanish relating to grammar, pronunciation, and vocabulary. The website also has worksheets, charts, an AI chatbot, and reviews of different learning resources. The website is in English.

Spanish Boom - A free website with beginner lessons and free readings with audio and visual aids. They're also associated with a service called Esidioma that provides paid courses with tutor help for around $23 and also sells books. Prices are in Euros but they also sell to people outside of Europe. The website is available in multiple languages.

studyspanish.com - A website with free verb drills and grammar lessons. It's commonly used by high school Spanish students. They also have a blog that hasn't updated in a while but there is an archive to read through. They have a paid tier with access to their podcasts, vocab lessons, and their Spanish learning app which is $10 a month or $120 for a lifetime membership. The website is in English.

Speaking Latino - A website marketed at Spanish teachers but it's in English and has guides to colloquial Spanish and slang in a lot of different countries and a free blog with tips on sounding like a local in different countries. It has a paid tier but that's mostly useful for Spanish teachers. They also sell slang dictionaries for various countries that are usually less than $10.

UT Austin Spanish Proficiency Exercises - A bunch of free grammar, vocab, and pronunciation guides for various tasks you should be able to do in Spanish at various levels from one of my alma maters, the University of Texas at Austin. It's got videos of people from different countries pronouncing things. The podcast links often don't work for some reason but the grammar, vocab, and video links should work fine. The website is in English.

SpanishDict - A free dictionary website and app with a search feature that also has curated vocabulary lists on various topics and articles. They have a paid tier at $13 a month with a writing coach and subscriber only curated lists and articles. Personally I don't think their paid tier is all that special but it's up to you. The website is in English.

BBC Bitesize Spanish - Bitesize is a free study resource for kids and is sorted by level. It has articles aimed at little kids as well as secondary school aged teens studying for their exams or planning to study abroad. The website is in English and available worldwide, not just in the UK.

YOUTUBE CHANNELS

Hola Spanish - A channel by a woman named Brenda from Argentina who makes videos about grammar, pronunciation, culture, media, and general Spanish tips for upper beginner to advanced learners. The channel is almost entirely in Spanish with occasional vocabulary words translated into English onscreen. There are subtitles in Spanish onscreen but sometimes they randomly disappear.

Butterfly Spanish - A channel with free lessons from beginner to lower intermediate. The host also makes videos about useful phrases and listening practice videos. The channel is mostly in English.

Spanish After Hours - A comprehensible input channel for beginner to intermediate learners with vlogs, history, Spanish tips, and news. The descriptions and video titles are in English but the videos are all in Spanish. The channel host is from Spain.

Easy Spanish - A channel part of the easy languages network that makes a combination of videos with useful phrases and terms for beginners and interviews on the street with locals. They have teams in both Barcelona and Mexico City and there are dual language subtitles in Spanish and English onscreen. The hosts also have a podcast for intermediate to advanced learners.

My Daily Spanish - A catchall channel that has lessons, discussions of grammar, culture topics, vlogs, vocabulary, and other various things. The host is from Spain and also makes a lot of YouTube shorts. She mostly speaks in Spanish but occasionally uses English or has English translations onscreen.

Spansh Boost with Martin and Spanish Boost with Mila - These channels are run by a couple from Argentina who also work as tutors on italki. They often appear on each other's channels and both have their own podcasts and vlogs and general content videos that they make discussing their lives, giving tips, and discussing culture. Mila also makes a lot of videos playing the sims.

Spanish Boost Gaming - Run by Martin from Spanish Boost, this is a lets play channel in clear and easy to understand Spanish. Subtitles are available in English and Spanish and a few other languages as well and it's an actual let's play channel. He plays a variety of video games, makes jokes, and says cuss words and everything.

Mextalki - A channel run by a couple of guys from Mexico city that has listening practice, podcasts, street interviews, and Mexican Spanish specific lessons. Some videos have dual language subtitles onscreen while others do not. The channel is majority in Spanish but in a few lesson videos or portions of videos they will speak in English a bit.

Espanol Con Juan - A channel that teaches Spanish in Spanish from upper beginner to upper intermediate. Juan has grammar lessons, vocabulary lessons, and videos about culture. He is from Spain and the channel is entirely in Spanish. He also has a podcast for more advanced learners.

READING PRACTICE

Vikidia - A wikipedia type website specifically made for kids. The articles are short and written in more simple easy to understand Spanish. The website is in Spanish and made for native speaker kids.

Spanish graded readers by Olly Richards - Spanish has short stories and dialogues for beginner and intermediate, books in easy Spanish on world war 1, world war 2, western philosophy, and climate change. There's also dialogue books specific to Mexican Spanish and Spanish used on social media. The books usually go from $5-$20 new depending on how old they are and whether or not you bought a digital copy. These are really easy to find at used bookstores for cheap though, especially in the US.

Conatilteg Digital - This is a mobile app that provides digital versions of the free textbooks for children provided by the Mexican Ministry of Education both historic and current. The link I provided is for iOS but the app is also available on android and the app is available in multiple countries and not just Mexico. The app is entirely in Spanish and categorized by grade from preschool to secondary school so it's a resource appropriate for all levels and may be enjoyable for any kids you know that are learning Spanish. You can also view their browser website here. (also entirely in Spanish)

Hola Que Pasa - A free website with news articles for learners from beginner to intermediate difficulty. They also provide audio and have the news articles available in podcast form. Every article has certain phrases highlighted that you can hover over and get and English translation of. The website is in a mix of English and Spanish.

Spanish in Levels - A world news website in Spanish for learners. The articles are separated into three different levels and the website is in a mix of English and Spanish. Each article also has audio.

PODCASTS

Spanish for False Beginners - An unscripted podcast about various topics hosted by a guy from the UK and a guy from Spain. The podcast is aimed at people who find beginner content to be boring but still find intermediate content to be too difficult. English is very rarely used.

Uforia/Univision - Uforia is a free app aimed at native speakers in the US and has Spanish language radio, music, and podcasts. Univision in general is also useful if you like American and international news and programming in Spanish.

Radio National de Espana - Another site for native speakers, this is Spanish National Radio. They have a variety of free podcasts and radio programs.

Spanish Obsessed - This is a series of lessons in podcast form for learners from absolute beginner to advanced.

Storylearning Spanish Podcast - This podcast tells different short stories in Spanish and is aimed at upper beginner to lower intermediate learners.

Radio Ambulante - A Spanish language podcast from NPR that's similar to something like This American Life that tells stories from around Latin America. Although it's aimed at native speakers, the language used is clear and understandable and transcripts are available. They're also aware that a lot of intermediate and advanced learners use them for listening practice and they have developed a free app that helps with comprehension and vocabulary when listening to their podcast.

SELF STUDY TEXTBOOKS

Madrigal's Magic Key to Spanish - A self study textbook written in the late 80s that still mostly holds up for beginner to upper beginner Spanish. A paperback edition of the textbook is about $25 and used copies and ebooks are also usually available wherever you like to buy books. It's also half off on Amazon pretty often.

Complete Spanish step-by-step by Mcgraw Hill - This is a complete version of the McGraw Hill budget option, the spanish step by step series that focuses on the most frequently used words and grammar. It's $25 new but the individual books in the series usually cost less than $10 and used versions and ebooks are available.

Complete Spanish Grammar from Mcgraw Hill - This is a workbook as well as a textbook that usually costs around $20. The complete Spanish all in one version of the book costs about $40. Used versions of these books can be difficult to find because people tend to write all over them but ebook versions are available. You can also find their beginner workbook for around $18.

Practical Spanish Grammar - This book is usually around $25 but because it's not a workbook it's fairly easy to find used copies. An advanced grammar textbook is also available.

SERIES FOR LEARNERS AND KIDS SHOWS

Destinos - This is a series of over 50 episodes of a telenovela made for Spanish learners. The plot revolves around a group of siblings searching around the world for their long lost half sibling they just learned that they had so the series includes a lot of different Spanish dialects.

Extra Spanish - A 13 episode sitcom made to show in Spanish classrooms that revolves around a group of friends in Spain and a student that just moved there.

Dora la Expladora - Yeah if you remember Dora the Explorer from your preschool days it also unsurprisingly exists in Spanish. You can watch clips and some full episodes on YouTube and buy full seasons for around $8 each on Amazon.

PBS Kids in Spanish - A few PBS Kids shows like Cyberchase and Daniel Tiger have been dubbed into Spanish. The link I've given goes to a place to buy them on Amazon Prime but if you go digging on their YouTube channel or the PBS Kids website you also might be able to find them for free. They don't always make it easy to find though.

Plaza Sésamo - The Spanish language localization of Sesame Street for Mexican audiences with its own unique characters. The YouTube channel has a huge amount of content on it and often has episodes streaming live.

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eliserzilber · 2 years ago

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My DBT skill graphics organized by module🩷

Please feel free to save them, share, print and submit requests if there’s any skills you’d like sooner than others (as I make more, I’ll add them to this post for easy access).

Mindfulness: FLAME

Emotion Regulation: ABC PLEASE

Interpersonal Effectiveness: GIVE, FAST, DEAR MAN

Distress Tolerance: STOP, TIPP, ACCEPTS, ACCEPTS Worksheet

Misc: Wise Mind, Box Breathing

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taintandviolent · 11 months ago

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Taco Tuesday ; Gambit x reader!

summary: You live across the hall from Wade Wilson, and one Tuesday, he invites you over for tacos. 🌮 And that’s where you meet him. The Gambit. Post-Void, everyone got out alive and everything is fine. [PART TWO HERE]

word count & w a r n i n g s: 5.4K | smut with very little plot, alcohol mention, slightly drunk (but very consenting) reader, French and typing out accents/dialects, pet names (cher, mon ami, mon coeur, etc.), dirty talk (cos he is a dirty talker, don't argue with me on this), fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, no use of y/n.

a/n: this is based 100% on Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit / Channing's version of Gambit!! sorry for the lack of plot here, he deserves better than this filth, but I am down ASTRONOMICALLY and I needed to get it out. I spent so much time trying to get his accent right, I hope it comes off the way I wanted it to... anyway! i'm not certain if anyone will read this, but if you do - thank you a million times over! as always, requests are open! - banner by @/strangergraphics, and Remy gif by @scintie!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

He’s handsome. Like really handsome.

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle of Jack between your legs — wait. Pause. Rewind. How’d we get here?

Living in the same apartment complex as Wade Wilson was a trip. Even more of a trip was living across the hall from him. The things you heard coming from that apartment... nobody would believe you. So, you never told anyone.

He’s kind. Albeit, zany but kind. Your interactions have been cordial and nauseatingly neighbourly. But on one regular ol' Tuesday afternoon, Wade invited you inside. He said something about having a party later that night, making tacos and being neighborly. He assured you that it wasn't a sex party... which to be honest, you weren't worried about until he'd mentioned it. Against your better judgement though, you'd agreed, and said you'd bring some liquor.

So, that evening, you opened your door, one bottle of Jack tucked under your arm, and another in your left hand. You shut the door to your apartment and walked straight across to your neighbour’s door. Your fist had rapped against the wood only twice before the door swung open, revealing Wade, and a very… strange and very bald looking dog in his arms.

"Oh, what the fuck?" You asked, looking down at the creature. "I didn't know you had a dog��?"

Wade’s voice rose an octave or two, in a cutesy tone. "She's a new addition, yes she is!"

"I brought... well, this. Sorry, it was all I had in my cabinets and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't about to go out and spend money on this. I like… barely know you."

"HA! Brutal honesty. We love to hear it."

Wade took hold of your shoulder and yanked you inside, harsh enough that you made a small sound as he did. He shut the door with his foot, and towed you towards the table, where everyone was gathered. And that was when you first saw him. He wore all black, save for a tan trench coat with a high collar. He lounged casually on one of the dining chairs, playing with a deck of cards. They fluttered from hand to hand effortlessly, and for a moment, you were stuck, mesmerized by the dexterous way he handled them. You weren't sure what was pulling you towards him harder, your heart or your cunt, but you felt an undeniable draw to the man.

Wade's arm wound itself around your shoulders, guiding you around the room to meet each of his friends. At that point, living next to him, mutants were a forced transition. You were used to the concept of them, so meeting a giant silver man, for example, wasn't unexpected. Vanessa was the most normal - you were pretty sure she was human.

Finally, he got to the one you really wanted to meet. The one that your eyes had been darting back and forth to the entire time, the one that when he briefly met your gaze, your heart thudded in your chest.

"And this... handsome slice of man, is the Gambit. Good luck understanding him, he's a real mouthful."

I’ll bet he is, you thought.

He pocketed the cards in a quick motion and stood up from his chair. With a syrup-smooth chuckle, the man laughed and said: "You can call me Remy." He did in fact have a thick Cajun accent and spoke quickly – almost too quickly. You blinked once, focusing hard on his words.

"Remy," you repeated finally, before saying your own name and extending your hand. He took it gently and as he shook it, your palm tingled with what felt like electricity.

"Enchanté." (Enchanted)

Your cheeks burned, and you knew they were flushing. You couldn’t control it. "De même..." (Likewise.)

His brows lifted, surprised. "You speak French, mon ami?" (my friend)

"Heh, uhh... comme un enfant." (Like a child) You chuckled low, averting your eyes for a millisecond. "I took a few years of it in high school and again in college. I’m by no means an expert."

Wade's eyes were wide, flicking back and forth between the two of you. There was obvious chemistry there, and a knowing smirk drew itself across his lips. Abruptly, he yanked one of the bottles of Jack Daniels from beneath your arm, before leaning against the nearby wall.

"Oh, fuck me. You understand Gumbo here? That’s cute. No idea what either of you are saying though, someone forgot to turn the subtitles on. I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Whatever that meant. You scoffed, but turned your attention back to Gambit, looking at him.

“Sit a while, cher.”

You happily took the chair that he pulled out, not caring that it was facing away from the others, and plopped down onto it, situating the other bottle of Jack between your legs. You gripped the neck of the bottle tightly, and looked at him with a timid, but a come hither sort of smile. After a moment, you twisted the cap off, and flicked it off somewhere to your right. Wade would find it later, or he wouldn’t. You didn’t really care.

You two talked for hours, most of which consisted of him telling you about the Void, and how hard it had been, while you pretended to comprehend it. Between words, you passed the bottle back and forth, taking mouthfuls, and inadvertently swapping spit as you did. The thought occurred to you about halfway through the conversation, and your stomach tightened. You shook your head lightly and clenched your thighs together, trying to stave off the arousal that was bubbling in your core.

There we go. That’s better.

He’s handsome. Like really handsome.

Your stomach does a flip as he smiles at you, reaching for the bottle, which was still situated between your legs. His fingertips just graze the side of your thigh and his eyes flit to yours. He holds his smile, waiting for you to either protest or move the moment forward, and all you can do is gawk, because your cunt starts throbbing.

As the evening wears on, though cautious, it’s obvious that Remy feels the same pull that you do. He remains cool on the outside, but internally, he was battling the magnetic tugging he felt from you. He couldn't shake it. He’d compliment you, you’d compliment him. At one point, in between sips, you casually drop that you think his accent is hot and he whispers something underneath his breath, something you don’t understand. Before either of you realized it, you had started to lean closer to each other, your faces inches apart, and you felt the warm rush of his breath over your cheeks.

It was as if you both realized it simultaneously. You rear back, an embarrassed expression plastered on your face. Remy clears his throat. His attraction to you was stifling; something that he rarely felt. He was powerless in his want for you, the draw you had was irresistible.

"Maybe we should... uh..." You murmur, looking deep into his eyes. In a room full of people that were starting to fade away the closer you two got to each other, you were thankful you were still sober enough to suggest a different setting. Any longer and you surely would’ve just straddled him and gone to town.

Remy moves first.

"We gon' take a walk." He announces to the others, getting to his feet.

The conversation stops abruptly, silence hanging heavy. You straighten up, trying your best to avert your gaze, but you still see everyone’s reaction. Someone clears their throat and your heart sinks, feeling like you might die on the spot. The one that had been introduced as Logan, gruff looking dude, raises a single brow at you. In true Wade-character, he ugly cackles, shattering the moment. Your shoulders sink, embarrassed, as you head towards the door, doing the proverbial walk of shame.

Remy meets you at the door and pulls it open, holding it for you. You duck underneath his arm, looking sheepish and as you exit into the hallway, you think you heard Wade mutter something about a fanfiction but Remy yanks the door shut before you can react.

“You want to… get some air? Or um… I have… well, no I had liquor, but I brought it to Wade’s.”

He smiles, and looks down at the floor, before lifting his eyes back to you. “We can do whatever you want, chère. You ain’t gon’ catch me complainin’ eitha’ way.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, considering the options. Your heart was hammering in your chest at the prospect of just being near him without the others around. You two had been close to kissing in Wade’s living room, and now, you had the opportunity to continue that… or take a walk. The latter seemed less appealing.

“Y’know what, why don’t we… just…” You take a few steps backwards, jerking your head towards your front door. Concerningly, you had forgotten to lock your door. However, it allows you to open it quickly, and walk backwards into the apartment. Gambit follows you in, his attention never leaving you.

"You sure 'bout dis, mon ami? I can walk away righ' now." His words land heavy, a promise behind them. He was a gentleman at heart, you could tell. Fortunately for him, you were very sure, and wanted every inch of him.

Mon ami - something that in the few hours you'd spent with him, he'd called you often. Among other things. Mon ami meant my friend, but you knew you two weren't just friends. You saw how he acted with others, and the comments he made. Sure, he had a quick wit and a mouth on him, but the flirting... god, the flirting.

He stands in the doorway, his shoulders filling the frame. Silently, you nod and take another step back, giving him some room to enter. He takes one wide step towards you, leaving the door open behind him. He reaches for your hip, and you immediately take to playing with his large hands. Delicately, you pay attention to each long digit, trailing your middle finger along the knuckles, and up and down the length of them. You dip into the spaces between, your fingers barely ghosting over the webbing.

Was that a shiver? Your eyes flit to his, searching them for a hint.

"You sure do know how to make a man feel good."

Your heart flutters at his words. With his accent, even the simplest of things sounded charming. At least to you. You felt that he could ask if you wanted coffee or how the weather was and you'd be twirling your hair around your finger like a desperate schoolgirl. Embarrassing.

You’re about to respond and defend yourself by saying that all you had done was play with his hands, which was hardly considered foreplay, but his fingers come up underneath your chin, gently closing your mouth with a dull click of your teeth. He tilts it upwards to an angle where he could easily kiss you. And kiss you, he does.

It was the kind of kiss that makes your knees buckle, sends a violent shudder from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine. It’s the kind of kiss that needs to come with a warning; Danger: Will Result In Sex. As his lips move against yours, you feel the urgency of his need, of his want, and hum into his lips. Remy takes that as a green light and deepens the kiss, moving his body so that it’s pressing flush against yours. The action leaves you immediately breathless and in response, you break the kiss, tucking your chin to your chest. Your hand finds his torso, pressing hard against the muscles underneath the shirt.

"Ah, don't you be actin' shy now. You been teasin' me for hours."

“I have not!”

“You think I didn’t notice all ‘dem touches an’ looks you were givin’ me? I may ‘ave been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night.”

He had you there. You couldn’t deny that, at all. Even if you’d wanted to. Which, part of you did. Part of you was very nervous, standing before this very handsome man, with the taste of his mouth still lingering on your lips but another part of you, the louder one, was delighted that he’d noticed. Furthermore, that he’d enjoyed them enough to come to your room.

You lift your hand behind him, pushing the door shut with a harsh shove. With a twist of your fingers, you activate the locking mechanism, sliding the deadbolt into place. Gambit chuckles, grinning down at you. Your heart leaps into your throat, but you press on bravely, lacing your arms around his neck. They trail down the front of his body, feeling the muscles as they twitch with each ragged breath.

He quirks a brow as if to ask, 'Oh, really?' You simply smirk back at him. The contact is electric, and you find yourself resisting the urge to grind against him immediately. Instead, you focus on his hands again, bringing one of them up to your lips. You press a delicate kiss on the pads, before slipping one into your mouth and sucking gently. Remy makes a deep, husky sound in his throat, and brings his other hand to your hip, where he pulls you roughly against him.

For a man that uses his hands often, the sensations are high. The way your mouth envelops his finger, your tongue writhing around the digit had his jaw clenching, muscles fluttering on the side of his face. When you draw his finger into the confines of your throat, deep-throating it, his eyes roll back in pleasure. He pulls his hand back, shaking it off as if the inside of your mouth was hot to the touch.

"Woo, you nasty, huh? Nevah’ woulda' guessed... you been actin' like a good little girl 'uhround me."

After that, it all happened very quickly. Gambit takes a step and connects his lips with yours again, pushing them into you in an act of desperation. Without breaking the kiss, he shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto a nearby surface. You push against him until his back hits the door with a heavy thud, definitely loud enough for any innocent bystanders to hear. Your fingers undo the button of your jeans, breaking the kiss for only a second to slide them down your legs.

Once you return to his waiting mouth, the kiss deepens and the coil in your stomach winds tighter, claiming your body in a deep, fiery arousal. His big arms wrap around you, enveloping you in a heated embrace. Just for a moment, it’s tender — but shortly after, his hands drop to your ass, fingers slipping underneath the band of fabric to take greedy fistfuls of each cheek.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the roundness of them to use as leverage. Letting out a little hum, you sweep your hips across his groin, pressing tightly against him. His eyes drift shut, head bumping against the door as he leaned it back, a low growl coming from his throat. Keeping at it, you grind your hips against him, feeling the outline of his length as it hardens.

“You be drivin’ Remy crazy, grindin’ on me like ‘dat.”

“That’s the intention….” You stand on your tiptoes to pepper kisses on his lips, your warm breath fanning over his face, smelling faintly of Jack Daniels. Remy trails his hand carefully up your rib cage until he gets to the side of your breast, where he quickly slips around to the front, his large hand cupping the fullness of it outside of your shirt. Your reaction is visceral; your breath hisses through your teeth at the sensitivity.

Remy laughs again and with his free hand, pulls your hips back to his. Swiftly, he spins you around, pinning you between his body and the hard surface of the door. He presses himself tightly against you, shifting slightly so that his thigh was between your legs. The sensation of something that close to your core is dangerous and brings a weak, mewling whimper from your mouth.

“We gon’ have ourselves some fun.” His voice is low, tinged with a new sort of lustful tone that you hadn't heard before. Your mind is spinning, growing dizzy with lust. The alcohol had certainly helped your nerves, you were never usually this brazen. Your core burns with desire at his words, silently begging for everything he was about to give you. His lips hover just over yours; you can feel his breath on your skin and the heat that radiates off his body as it presses into yours.

"Oh my god," you whisper into his mouth. "Fuck..."

His teeth nip at your bottom lip before he captures your mouth in a heated, passionate kiss again. His tongue explores the inside, swirling along your own wet muscle. With every passing second, your heart beats faster and his hands grip your hips tighter, thumbs massaging the flesh above your jeans.

“Wrap ‘dem legs around me, mon coeur.” (My heart) Remy’s voice is husky with want; amongst his playful, lilted tone, a possessiveness lingered, and the thought sends a chill down your spine. He nods once, encouraging you into his waiting arms. You jump up, and he catches you effortlessly, gripping your thighs tight and hoisting you up into his grasp. Feeling secure, you wrap both legs around his waist and encircle his neck with your arms. Your gaze meets his and you can see the wanton need mirrored in his own eyes, darkened with desire.

Remy's smirk is dripping with confidence. Your body's response to him was causing his ego to swell within his chest, and his cock to swell within his pants. He leans in close, his lips against your ear, nipping at the lobe softly before pulling back slightly. In one fluid movement, his hips buck up against your center, teasing you over the layers of clothing. You let out a moan, throwing your head back against the door.

He thrusts up into you again, chuckling low against your ear. The hard line of his cock grinds against you, making you stutter out expletives as it presses against you with a needy demand.

"You like 'dat, cher? Talk t' me..."

You nod, swallowing and wetting your throat. "Y-yeah, fuck... I do... need you – it – so bad."

“Whaddya’ need?”

“N-need you… so bad.”

“You can do betta’. Tell Remy what you need...”

He presses you harder against the door, your back sliding against the wood as he kisses a trail down from your mouth to your shoulder, sucking and biting with all the right intensities. As his hips grind against yours, you feel the damp fabric slide across your cunt, alerting you to just how wet he’d made you. Fuck.

“Need… need you to fuck me. Hard. Need to feel you everywhere.”

A few hours ago, you’d agreed to Taco Tuesday at Wade’s. Now, you were getting dry humped by a really hot Cajun guy and moaning into the curve between his neck and his shoulder. You were positive that if someone opened their door, they’d hear you. Somewhere in your brain, the thought should have been moderately embarrassing, but you were far too invested in Remy to care.

Without warning, Gambit lifts you away from the door and carries you to the nearby couch. He never breaks the kiss, still feverishly claiming your mouth as he moves. Your back hits the cushions and before you can process it, his body weight is on top of you. He slots himself in between your legs, and his hard-on bumps into your stomach as his hips rut against you, finding some relief in the friction. But not enough.

Remy’s hand finds the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to allow his fingers underneath the fabric. You bite down on the pillow of your bottom lip and push your hips up into his. Thick, strong digits sweep across your skin, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake. Every touch brings your temperature up, and it isn’t long before your entire body is consumed in flames. You sigh contentedly, arching up into his touch.

Abruptly, Remy straightens up, crosses his arms over his torso and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his tan skin and bulky muscles. His stocky stature makes your tummy clench with anticipation. He was fit, as you assumed, but that didn’t stop your jaw from falling open at the sight.

“Wow,” you finally choke.

Remy grins. “You like what you see?”

You nod furiously, hands snapping to his toned abdomen. He’s warm and his skin is soft, begging to be touched. The muscles flex underneath your fingers as you trace a long stripe from his belly button to his collarbone. Your hands claw at his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down on you, but he resists.

He spoke with a playfulness, almost a sort of pleading. His thumbs flicks at the hem of your shirt. “Ah, c’mon, ‘dat ain’t fair. Enlève-tout toi, huh?” (Take it all off.)

You thought you understood, but if you didn’t, it didn’t matter. Remy was quick to translate his words, busy undressing you, pulling your worn t-shirt over your head, and reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. Most men would’ve fumbled with the clasp, but not him. His adept fingers make quick work of it, allowing your breasts to fall free. He throws your bra somewhere behind him.

“Hooo, cher…!” His eyes light up at the visual and you feel heat blooming on your cheeks again, half expecting him to make a lewd comment. Instead, his hands cup your tits, kneading the soft plumpness like dough, thumbs grazing the nipples. He exhales through his mouth, jerking his head to the side.

Finally, he kisses you again. It’s wet and sloppy and his mouth is consuming you, tasting you hungrily. His hips are still moving, sweeping into yours with a calculated precision. You try to spread your legs but the back of the couch thwarts your attempt. He notices this, watching as you struggle with the space.

“You got a bed?” He asked in between smearing kisses along your neck and collarbone.

“Yeah-yeah…. Down the hall.”

“Remy be needin’ more room for what he wanna’ do t’you.”

His weight is suddenly gone from you, an unwelcome sensation, even though you know he’s about to carry you wedding-style down the hallway. He bends down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, the other in the crook behind your knees. For the second time that night, he lifts you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his warm pectoral muscle, rocking back and forth, as he walks you both down the dark hallway. The only light in the room comes from the window, the city outside alive and humming. Carefully, Remy sets you down on the bed, unmade from this morning, your dark gray sheets cool to the touch.

In nothing but your underwear, which at this point, are damp to the touch, you’re left feeling very exposed. But you can’t muster up any shame, not when he’s looking at you with such hunger, such want. Your tummy feels tight, and the feeling gets worse when Remy’s hands drop to his waist, unzipping and unbuttoning his pants. They fall loose at the waist, and he shucks them down the rest of the way, leaving him in nothing but a pair of deep purple boxers. Your eyes swing heavy to the outline that’s now presented to you.

Oh my god.

Your breath hitches in your throat. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Remy was a big guy, and that proved true downstairs, too. You can barely pull your eyes away from it, but you begrudgingly rip them away, to look up into his gaze.

“Please,” you beg. “You’re too far away…” Your cunt is aching and nothing but him, his hands, his dick, will sate her.

He leans forward, flattening both hands on the mattress and walks them back until his face is in front of yours. He sweeps you into another kiss and your heart races. His hands are perfectly positioned on either side of your hips, you feel them graze the flesh. His finger hooks around the elastic of your panties, twisting it around his pointer finger and gradually, he tugs them down over the curve of your hip.

You nod lazily against his mouth, as you feel the warmth of his hand near your core. Your legs drop apart, knees touching the mattress as you allow him access. One hand sweeps across your inner thighs, stroking them, while the other palms your soft mound. His other hand comes to pause at your knee, and pushes his weight into it softly, forcing you to stay spread-eagle for him. No way you could’ve done this on the sofa.

There’s no hesitation in the way he fingers you; sweeping up through your slick folds, smearing your arousal around until she’s coated in it, splaying your pretty, wet cunt apart with his fingers, looking upon it hungrily. He knows what he’s doing, and how to do it right. You briefly wonder if that’s another mutant power he has… though being an expert at fingering someone seems outlandish. But he’s just so good at it. His middle finger barely touches you, circling the bundle of nerves delicately. Your back arches up towards him, a desperate groan vibrating your vocal chords. Delighted by your reaction, his finger flicks upwards at your swollen, sensitive clit, making your body literally quiver.

“Uhugh – god…. Shit, oh my god.”

He continues like this for several minutes, until your cunt is blazing hot and clenching with every moan you give.

By the time he presses one finger inside, you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and your voice fills the room with needy, desperate sounds. You let out a shrill whine, and he slips in another finger, feeling the stretch of muscle as he does. His heart is pounding in his chest, overcome with lust. The way you sound, the way your body is moving and writhing on the bed, he can’t wait to sink himself into you.

Amidst a laugh, he says: “People gon’ think we up in here watchin’ porn.”

Did he just insinuate that you sounded like a pornstar? You lifted your head, wearily, to look at him. Your chest heaves with each breath as you try to formulate a snarky remark to no avail. He looked so good – well, always – but he looked particularly good on top of you, his bright eyes lust blown and hungry.

“We’re… we’re… porn… it’s… oh god.”

He shushes you. “You just lay back and keep moanin’.”

Defeated, you huff and your head hits the sheets again, but not before you catch a glimpse of the way the muscles in his forearm ripple as it pumps back and forth into your cunt. You can’t help but moan at the sight, feeling a shockwave rupture your core. Your hips meet his fingers, rutting and writhing against the mattress in a needy rhythm.

Your first orgasm claims your body before you can stop it. You’re clenching around his fingers as they move, crooking upwards into your sensitive spots. Your slick coats his fingers and when Gambit pulls his hand back, thick, clear strands string from between them. He smiles down at you.

Remy raises himself to his knees. “Turn ‘round…”

You flip over and back yourself towards him, thinking that he’s going to go at it doggy-style, but to your surprise, he pulls you upright, pressing your back against his chest. His dick is hot between your legs, and when he reaches down to line it up, you let your head loll back against his shoulder. Gambit’s mouth finds the side of your neck, streaking it with wet, suckling kisses. He was taking his time with you, savouring you and you hum happily through closed lips, reaching behind you to thread your fingers through his hair.

“Fuck, you feel so good…” Instinctively, your hips undulate and his cock slips between your folds. Remy’s hips buck once, letting out a groan that comes from somewhere deep.

“You ready, cher?” He asks, sweeping your hair away from your neck. You nod furiously. You’ve been ready – you were ready the moment you laid eyes on him.

Remy reaches down to sweep his fingers along your entrance briefly, before gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock into the slit. You keen at the feeling of his velvet-soft head pressing into your entrance, warm pre-cum leaking from the slit. He murmurs words of encouragement into your ear as you feel his hips press against your ass, urging his thick, veiny shaft inside your cunt. He does it gently, allowing you time to adjust to the girth, but the sting still makes you cry out. “Fffuck!”

He begins to thrust his hips shallowly, your cunt stretching around his cock. The feeling is all-consuming, and your body feels heavy in his grasp. One hand is gripping your waist tightly, the other, fingers splayed out on your stomach just above your cunt. There’s a pressure building in your cunt, and each thrust magnifies it. The sting of his cock fades to an ache, then to a dull throbbing that makes you want more and you lean forward slightly and press your ass into the curves of his hips, meeting his thrusts.

“Mm, ‘dat’s it, cher…” His voice is hot on your skin.

His thrusts get deeper, but there’s a lingering tension in his body that makes you feel like he’s not getting what he wants. You’re right; all at once, Remy pulls his cock from you and switches positions.

You’re suddenly on your back, looking up at him as he looms over you, all muscle. His cockhead nudges your entrance again, but doesn’t penetrate.

“Say my name, cher… I needa’ hear it leave ‘dat pretty mouth.”

“Which one? Gambit? Or Remy?” You ask, breathlessly.

The way his eyes rolled back at the second option told you everything you needed to know. A smirk twisted your lips cruelly and you lifted your body slightly, just enough for your mouth to reach his ear. You moan his name over and over again, knowing full well the effect it’s having on the mutant man.

“Remy, Remy, Remy….” Your tone is high-pitched and whiny, but he seems to enjoy the lewdness of it all. He bucks his hips hard into you, and the fullness reaches an all-time high as he bottoms out, his pelvis hitting yours with a slap.

“Huhhh—!” You gasp, breathing ragged. “Fuck!”

“Gonna’ make you cum so hard you ain’t gon’ walk right for days.” His voice is low and filthy and leaves a stain on your mind. Your cunt clenches around him possessively, pulling him somehow deeper inside of you.

As your head bangs into your headboard, the tip of his cock bumps your cervix over and over again, and your jaw goes slack, literally fucked silent. Remy hears the thudding of your skull and puts a hand between it and the wood, but he doesn’t stop his relentless, deep thrusting.

The pleasure reaches a peak and your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his golden skin. Remy’s groaning loud into your ear as he cums, muttering in an almost incoherent melange of French and English. His accent is somehow heavier, and you can barely make out the words as he’s saying them into your skin. It doesn’t matter though, because you feel how full you are, and Remy’s hot, white completion is leaking out the sides and staining your sheets.

He stays like that for a moment, hovering on top of you. His cock softens inside, completely spent and eventually, he slips it out, rolling over onto your bed.

“Ah, joi de vivre, huh.” (the joy of life), he says drowsily.

You laugh, and nestle underneath his arm, in the space he’s left for you.

If you had your way, you’d do it all over again.

Though he doesn’t say it, so would he.

#Gambit #Remy Lebeau #channing tatum #Deadpool and Wolverine Gambit #channing tatum gambit #Gambit x reader #gambit x you #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau x you #female reader #Deadpool and Wolverine #Deadpool 3 #x reader fics #myfics

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evegwood · 5 months ago

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Nosferatu’s Contracts: A Linguistic Deepdive

(This is one half of a blogpost I put on my website! Read the full thing for a full list of sources and even MORE information on the contract from the 1922 film).

So I saw the new Nosferatu film the other day and while I didn't think it was all that fantastic (I loved the first half okay, calm down) the one thing that did stick out to me was the absolutely gorgeous scripts used for the contract that Thomas has to sign. Thank you to this Reddit post for sharing a picture of the entire thing:

The BEAUTIFUL red calligraphy is called Vyaz, a form of decorative Cyrillic calligraphy. In Vyaz script, letters are all joined and interwoven together to create a beautiful, ornamental typographical piece. The Wikipedia page about it is fucking pathetic but it does feature this example of text with a coloured breakdown of the individual words that comprise the piece:

Obviously this itched my language brain like crazy. The best resource I have found since to learn more about Vyaz is this full, free guide written by Viktor Pushkarev. He has also released a 254 page PDF for 25 euros called the Modern Slavic Vyaz Calligraphy Workbook and I think I'm going to have to buy it. His examples look stunning and I would love to learn more about this style of calligraphy. Thank you, Nosferatu.

The Vyaz calligraphy is only one style of writing used in that contract. The other is a completely different style of writing and, surprisingly (or not, maybe?) the best place to look for answers turned out to once again be Reddit. This commenter suggests it's another form of Cyrillic:

Here's some Glagolitic, to compare:

In a different thread, this commenter claims to have cracked it:

This commenter replies with an addition:

So that's cool! In that same thread, this commenter says that the contract looks like a Romanian hrisov, or medieval chancellery charter, and recommends this video explaining how they were written. As you can see from the example below that the commenter shared, these traditional contracts look pretty damn similar to Orlok's contract! So let's talk about them real quick, because it's interesting!

The video is by Adrian Gheorghe, a historian whose speciality is the editing and translation of all documents regarding Vlad the Impaler. He talks about how unlike letters, which would be written in Latin, these charters were written in Slavonic, a liturgical and "literary language, based on Slavic dialects of the Balkans, developed by monks in the 9th century" (X). Viktor Pushkarev suggests a book called Grammar of the Church Slavonic Language if you want to learn more about the grammar and syntax. Slavonic was often written in Glagolitic and hey, we've seen that before!

These charters also had explicit and strict structures that they adhered to. This strict standard served to not only prove the legitimacy of a document, but that "the document was drawn up with all due solemnity" (X). Interestingly, each charter would invoke God in the opening lines or would simply have a cross at the beginning, and according to the translations given above Count Orlok's contract does not seem to include this. I recommend checking out the video in its entirety to hear more about this cool bit of history.

But of course... that's not all that's written on the contract, is it? Thomas signs it, and he signs it in Kurrent script, an old traditional form of German cursive. If you'd like to learn how to write in Kurrent, there's a free guide by Margarete Mücke right here! Here's a screenshot I took of the scene along with a Kurrent alphabet for comparison:

Kurrent has a really interesting history. It evolved from gothic cursive at the beginning of the 16th century, which saw a lot of use in the medieval ages. Compared to the vast variety of gothic cursive writing styles, Kurrent was "beautiful, fast to write and comparatively legible" (X). It soon moved out of use solely in chancelleries and into everyday use, becoming more and more standardised.

This script saw a bit of a rollercoaster of popularity; in the early 1900s it was established and taught in all German schools, then steadily became seen as "antiquated and ugly", then the Nazis declared other writing scripts "Un-German" and promoted gothic typography until 1941 when Hitler declared Kurrent and its sister writing style Fraktur "to be of 'Jewish origin' and therefore taboo". More information about this can be found on this page about the history of Old German Script (another name for Kurrent).

So that's that! Count Orlok's contract is based on traditional charters of the region with set structures to highlight their legitimacy and importance as documents, using traditional scripts and handwriting of the time, and is also a style of document that is directly tied to Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Dracula and ultimately Nosferatu. Extremely cool and also totally makes sense considering Robert Eggers interest in authentic linguistic detail (like I didn't even mention the language that Orlok speaks throughout the film, which is Dacian, an extinct ancestor of Romanian). Lots of really tasty stuff to look at and I had a blast putting it all together.

Except.......... it's not the end. There's a whole second saga to be told about the contract from the 1922 film, and if you wanna read that (I get deep into talking occult symbols and angel languages) you're gonna have to read the original post on my site!

#nosferatu #not art #long post #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu 1922

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terraswallows · 3 months ago

Text

Creating your voice.

Something I tell other trans girls when they ask about my voice is this:

Don’t lose your accent just to sound like someone else’s idea of a woman.

Unless you want to—unless shedding it feels like liberation. But don’t do it because some online voice guide made you think femininity only comes in one flavor: soft, breathy, with a side of vocal fry. That Valley Girl twang is cute, sure—but it’s not the blueprint for womanhood.

There’s something so intimate, so deliciously personal, about keeping your own voice, it doesn’t need to sound like it came out of an influencer's mouth to be femme. It just has to sound like you, blooming. Like honey dripping from your tongue in a dialect all your own.

And honestly? A girl speaking in her native accent, lowkey giggling as she wraps her vowels around her lover’s name? That’s power. That’s charm. That’s sexy.

So yeah, voice training can help you find that sweetness—but don’t trade your soul for it. Sculpt your sound like you’re painting yourself in colors you’ve always loved. Whether it’s sharp, soft, deep, bright, high, or breathy… if it feels like home in your mouth, it’s already feminine enough.

Because it’s yours.

#trans #trans community #transgender #mtf trans #transfem #lgbtq #lgbtqia #trans woman #transgirl

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

Note

*insert Bernie Sanders meme*

I am once again asking for Prince!Sirius, perhaps a tryst in the royal gardens? A stolen kiss while practicing a waltz? An eventful evening at the opera for the “engaged” couple? A midnight motorbike ride throughout the city, away from the palace guards? Sneaking out in the night to see each other?

Anything you’d like, of course, and only if you’d like to write it♥️I love you just as much either way, which is bunches and tons🥰

Thank you for your request!! I shall be using more than one of these haha :)

cw: migraine, arranged marriage

prince!Sirius x princess!reader ♡ 1.3k words

By the way Sirius talked about it and everything you’ve experienced since setting foot in the palace, you’d come to the easy assumption that the negotiations of your arranged marriage would take place behind closed doors you weren’t invited through. You never imagined you’d be involved. Though perhaps involved is a strong word for what you are now, sitting like an ornament at your grandmother’s side while her courtiers argue in civil tones with courtiers from Sirius’ kingdom.

The more you’re around Sirius’ parents, the more intimidated you are by both of them. Sirius can be intimidating too, all roguish charm and sharp-toothed grins, but his parents are different. They’re just…scary. You don’t think they’ve stopped glaring since they sat down. Every now and then, when negotiations don’t seem to be going their way, Sirius’ mother’s mouth will become pinched and small, as though she’s only just barely biting her tongue.

Evidently, marrying two heirs is more complicated than simply getting married. Sirius would have to abdicate to his younger brother, there are inheritances to be discussed, land ownership, things like dowries which you didn’t know still existed. It all faded away around the time your ears started ringing. There’s a harsh, zagging line across your vision now. The undersides of your thighs are slick with sweat. You have no hope of translating this bourgeoisie legal dialect.

Sirius is sitting on the other end of the table, but you’ve been able to feel his gaze all evening. At times he’s looked bored, others agitated, but for the most part when he looks at you his eyes are calm. Placid waters. A thick morning fog.

You don’t think either of you are meant to speak, but Sirius wouldn’t be Sirius if he didn’t break the rules.

“Well, this is tedious.” His mother’s gaze snaps to him, but the prince appears not to notice. He stretches, pushing back his chair. “I’m going to nod off if I don’t get some fresh air. Care to join me, Your Highness?”

For once, you don’t care enough to decode the looks your grandmother and her courtiers are sending you. “Sure,” you mumble. Nausea presses at the base of your throat as you stand shakily. “I mean, yes, thank you.”

Sirius escorts you from the room like a true gentleman. A hand on your back, opening and closing the door for you. He doesn’t even comment when you close your eyes and put your hand over them in an attempt to block out the light. Just keeps walking, guiding you around turns and through hallways. You don’t think to ask where you’re going until you step outside.

The difference is brightness is immediate. You drop your hand. It’s nighttime, the palace gardens dark but for small lanterns illuminating the paths in front of you. Those are bearable, at least.

Sirius waits until you’re seated on a bench to ask, in a more hesitant tone than you’ve heard from him yet, “What’s wrong?”

You nearly moan as you fold over your legs, putting your forehead to your knees. “I’m sorry. I’m okay.”

“Don’t do that. Please. I could see you sweating from across the table.”

Your nausea worsens. “Did everyone see?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure,” he admits. You appreciate that you don’t have to question whether Sirius is telling you the truth. He always does.

“Not very princess-like.”

“Fuck that.” Sirius’ hand lands between your shoulder blades, fingers splayed but unmoving. “What is it? Do you need a doctor?”

You let out a breath. It warms your knees. “No,” you mumble. “It’s a migraine. I’ve had them before, it’ll go away.” Not quickly, you don’t say. But eventually.

“Oh,” Sirius murmurs. Somewhere in the garden, not very close, there are crickets chirping. Faint. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“What can I do?”

You pause. Maybe it’s because you’re already feeling so wretched, but the simple care in his voice makes you want to weep. “Nothing really. It’s helping just to be out of there. Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” he says in a quiet voice. His thumb moves a couple times over a bump in your hunched-over spine, thoughtful. “The lights from the path aren’t helping, are they?”

“They’re better than the ones inside.”

“Can you move?”

You pick your head up, gathering your strength. Sirius’ eyes are unreadable in the dark. “We should probably go back in, right?”

He frowns. “No.”

“They’ll be upset if we’re gone for too long. I’ll be okay.”

“The longer we’re gone, the more they’ll speculate about an heir, and the more they’ll have to talk about.” He quirks a brow at you, eyes glinting. “Come on, gorgeous. It’s the right of betrothed couples to canoodle in gardens.”

You let him pull you up from the bench, trying to ignore how that makes you feel. How lately you’ve found yourself wishing the perceptions of you and Sirius’ relationship were closer to reality. You don’t want to be married, or to be a queen, or to have the pressure of producing heirs. But you wouldn’t mind canoodling in gardens. Only if it’s with Sirius, though.

He takes you off the path, into a grassy area walled in by trees and shrubbery. The only light comes from the stars in the sky. You’ve completely given yourself over to Sirius’ whims by this point, so you make no objection when he lies you down with your head in his lap, the dewy grass dampening your clothes.

“Tell me if this hurts more than it helps,” he says, positioning his hands on either side of your head. His fingers sink into your hair and begin to massage gently at your scalp.

Tears press at your eyes again. Not from pain. From relief, yes, but also a rush of aching tenderness. You don’t know that you’ve ever been treated with such care.

“It helps,” you manage.

“Yeah?” Sirius' voice is near a whisper.

“Yeah.”

“I have a hard time believing that when you’re not breathing, lovely.”

He’s teasing, a little bit, but his tone slips into sincerity again when you let out a long breath. “Good,” he says, thumbs making small circles at the base of your head. “Thank you.”

You don’t know how long you lie there. No one comes looking for you, or if they do you’re too far into the garden to hear them. The breeze cools the sweat lingering on your skin. Sirius is diligent in his ministrations, working his way from your ears to the crown of your head and from your forehead to your nape. It works. Your migraine doesn’t go away completely, but you feel better.

You open your eyes slowly. The stars wink above you with their cold light, but Sirius’ gaze is warm on yours.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” you murmur.

His lips quirk. “I’ll wake you in the morning.”

“We can’t stay here like this.”

“Why not?” he asks lightly. “I don’t mind. Most guys would give their left foot to sit here with you all night. I’d count myself lucky.”

Your chest aches. You’re not going to take him up on that, but a few more minutes won’t hurt.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Really, babe, I don’t mind.”

“No, not just…I mean, for everything.” Emotion makes the throbbing in your head worsen, but you keep your eyes open to hold his gaze. “For always being so nice. Just, thank you.”

Sirius must see the pain in your expression. His brows furrow just a little, and he brushes his thumb next to your eye, encouraging you to close them. You do.

You think you might feel his lips on your forehead. It’s too ghostlike a kiss for you to be sure, the tickle of his hair past your ear perhaps more wish than sensation. You pretend it’s real anyway.

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