#because that contrast is really beautiful

[likeumeanit9497]

just like that | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

based on this request :))

summary: after dating for four months without having sex, y/n finally decides that she's ready to take matt for a ride

warnings: smut; established relationship; unprotected p in v; oral (fem receiving); riding; mentions of questionable consent (NOT with matt dw); dirty talk; 18+

notes: damn i completely forgot about this im so sorry:/ i've just been so busy over the past week or so it completely went under the radar. def not my best work (i wrote it all today), but i wanted to get it up because i'm going on a trip through europe for 6 (SIX???!!?!?!) weeks and will probably not be able to post much when im there. anyways i hope u all enjoy!!

p.s. working on one more fic that i would LOVE to post before i leave tomorrow, if not it might be a while before im able to write again :/ it's gonna be a good one for the matt girlies though so keep ur eyes peeled ;)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Do you want anything from the kitchen baby?” Matt’s soft voice in my ear pulled me from the lull I was in, curled up beside him on the couch watching a movie. My drooping eyes fluttered open and I couldn’t help but smile once I came face-to-face with my beautiful boyfriend. The late-August sun was setting, and it shone through the living room windows in just the way that made Matt’s gorgeous blue eyes almost transparent; a harsh contrast to his dark eyelashes and tidy beard. He was looking at me with such unclouded care, the way he always did, and it never failed to make my heart flutter.

Matt and I had met on social media about six months ago, and started dating just two months after that. Our earliest conversations online had consisted of occasionally discussing our shared interest in pretty embarrassing hobbies — playing Minecraft, journaling, and watching rom-coms to name a few — but those occasional conversations evolved into staying up all night messaging each other, multiple-hour long Facetime calls, and eventually meeting at a restaurant for our first date.

Although it hadn’t been long since we started dating, Matt’s soul was one that I felt like I’ve known all my life. Never before had I felt more at home around another person than I did once I met him, and his presence in my life gave it a new level of stability that didn’t exist before. I had dated a guy in high school for almost two years, but the quality in the time spent with Matt versus him was incomparable. I was sure that Matt was the person that I was meant to be with, and everyday he did something new to prove that to be true without even trying.

Another thing that I loved so much about Matt was that, even after months of dating, he hasn’t once pushed me to have sex with him. In one of our early conversations, I had told him that my ex had always made me feel bad when I would turn down sex with him. While him and I did have sex a few times during our relationship, I had since come to terms with the fact that I really was just doing it to make him happy. Once Matt got over his immediate anger for me, he had sat me down and told me that he could wait forever, but that he won’t have sex with me unless I tell him I’m ready.

That was months ago, and still, he has kept his promise. While we have done plenty of other things in bed, he has always made it a point to stop everything before it gets to the point of sex. At first, I felt riddled with guilt because I felt like I should want to have sex with my boyfriend —especially one so kindhearted as Matt — but over time that guilt has fizzled out from Matt’s reassuring words and actions. He never ever put me in situations that he knew had the potential to make me uncomfortable, and wouldn’t allow me to feel bad about it either.

Lately, though, I had been feeling slightly different. While before, I would squirm at the thought of anything more happening once Matt’s hand would slip out of my panties, now I feel a slight tightening in my stomach at the idea of more. And before, I would feel a certain level of nervousness as I felt the weight of his member in my hand, where now there is a flutter in my core at the thought of that same part of him filling me up.

Never before in my life had I felt any of these feelings, and I didn’t quite know what to do with them. I was afraid of the abundance of dirty thoughts that flooded my own head constantly, and I realized that I was ready for more, but only with Matt. I had been contemplating on telling him this for the past week, but as I watched him walk back over to me on the couch in nothing but baggy grey sweats — the black ink of his tattoos hypnotizing me — my body reacted in such a way that let me know that tonight was the night.

“Here, I know you didn’t say you wanted anything but I grabbed you a water anyways. I haven’t seen you drink any yet today and you-” I cut Matt’s rambling off by climbing on top of his lap as soon as he was back on the couch; wrapping my arms around his neck and planting a deep kiss to his pink lips. He responded with a soft hum against my lips before wrapping his own arms around the small of my back. I opened my mouth slightly before pressing it against his again and moving them in a slow but passionate rhythm. Matt quickly followed suit, slipping his tongue through my parted lips before using it to explore my mouth. I fluttered my eyes open for a brief moment and caught a glimpse of Matt’s most beautiful features up close — lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, straight eyebrows — and released a satisfied sigh against his mouth.

I ran my hands through his soft brown hair, tugging slightly at the ends and eliciting a soft gasp from him as I felt my body flood with arousal. His hands travelled up and down my back, his firm yet somehow delicate touch a comfort that eased my nerves. From my place on his lap, I could feel a growing hardness against my ass. This wasn’t uncommon, obviously, but in the past I usually pretended to ignore it pressing against me. This time however, I rolled my hips up and down, feeling it slide against my aching core. “Baby.” Matt’s voice was barely above a whisper against my lips, but the combination of shock and arousal was still evident in its tone as he grabbed firmly onto my forearms to hold me still.

I detached my mouth from his while still keeping our faces just centimetres apart. His breath was rapid, but so was mine as we stayed like that for a moment; wild eyed and equally uncertain. Finally, I repeated my action by grinding my hips against his clothed shaft; this time watching as his eyes rolled back slightly in pleasure. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He mumbled, clearly wavering between making sure I was okay and wanting desperately for more. I continued grinding my hips against him, my mouth dropping open as I felt his shaft reach my nerves. “I want you Matt.” I whispered, and I watched as his eyes widened in shock; pupils dilated. “What do you mean?” He asked hesitantly, brushing his knuckles softly against my arms.

“I mean, I’m ready. Ready to have sex again.” I blurted out, feeling my face immediately flush in equal parts nervousness and arousal as I waited for him to respond. His face was unreadable as he clearly tried to gauge whether or not I was serious. That was confirmed once he finally spoke. “A-are you sure? I don’t want you to think just because I’m hard we have to do anything, baby.” I felt his dick twitch in between my legs as he spoke, and it shot electricity down my spine. “I know Matt, but I really am sure.” I responded, running my hands up and down his bare chest and leaving a trail of goosebumps in my path.

He continued to stare at me, his eyes travelling wildly across my face; clearly still in a state of uncertainty. I, on the other hand, was growing more and more frustrated by the moment as the heat continued to grow between my legs. “Give me your hand.” I stated, and he obliged; placing his much larger hand in my own. I guided his hand down to the waistband of my sweatpants, inside of the material, and finally slid it against my dripping wet core. Intaking a sharp breath from the contact, I watched his face as it immediately darkened once he felt my arousal coat his fingertips.

“See? I told you I’m ready,” I leaned forward slightly, bringing my lips to his exposed collarbone and kissing it wetly. “So please Matt, can you fuck me?” The room stayed silent for a beat, the only sounds being our ragged breathing, and I felt fear begin to trickle down my spine; worried that Matt might reject me. Just as I was about to retract everything I had just said, Matt’s hand snaked to the back of my head, guiding it up from his chest before crashing his lips onto mine.

I deepened the kiss immediately, feeling a mutual level of desperation like a surge of electricity between our lips that had never been there before. Matt’s hands began traveling all across my writhing body — taking his time on the curves of my ass — before planting firmly on my hips where he helped them grind against his rock hard member. Breathy, almost silent moans fell from both of our lips as our bodies slid against each other, and the deep-rooted sensation was taunting.

Matt’s hands slithered from my hips up to the bottom of my t-shirt, where he toyed with the material for a moment before detaching his lips from mine. “Can I take this off?” He asked, glazed eyes staring longingly into my own. I nodded, and without a moment’s hesitation my vision was blocked for a brief second by Matt peeling the fabric over my head and tossing it to the side. Once my vision returned, my view was of Matt’s hungry eyes glued to my bare chest.

Matt had seen my tits countless times before throughout our relationship, but at this moment it was like he was seeing them for the very first time. Mouth slightly parted, his breathing was ragged as he brought both hands to my chest and cupped my tits delicately between them; pushing them together slightly and brushing a thumb along each nipple. I hissed at the feeling, and that seemed to pull him from his trance, as his eyes immediately shot up to mine. “This okay baby?” He asked, and I nodded my head wildly.

A smirk toyed at the corners of his mouth before he attached it to my left nipple. I released short moans as he sucked and nibbled it gently, still pressing my core against his throbbing shaft. I felt myself falling deeper and deeper into a trance that I had never experienced before, and it was like my body and mind had completely separated as I mindlessly tugged desperately at the waistband of his sweats. Catching on to my gesture, Matt shifted slightly below me before using one of his hands to haphazardly pull his sweats down slightly; allowing his cock to spring up in between my legs.

I gasped at the sight before me, only now realizing its true size with it between my legs and feeling just a tinge of excited fear trying to figure out just how it was going to fit inside of me. Shaking the thought from my mind, I collected a pool of saliva in my mouth before spitting it in my hand and bringing it down to his shaft.

Running my thumb along his slit, I felt his whole body shudder below me from the contact. I began pumping my hand up and down his length; spending extra time twisting my wrist around his sensitive tip, and watched as his mouth went slack on my tits. “Mmm, keep doing it just like that baby.” He muttered against my plump skin, and I continued to work his cock in my hand while simultaneously grinding my core against its base. Just knowing that I was making him feel good was making me feel good, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head in pleasure.

After a few short moments, I felt Matt’s hands snake to the waist band of my own sweats. My eyes found his again, and I watched as they searched my face. “You’re sure you want this, Y/n?” He asked, his voice gentle but laced with a huskiness that could only be explained as pure desire. I nodded desperately once again, feeling so pathetic but not capable of giving a shit. “I’m sure baby, please.” My voice had a slight whine to it, making my frantic need even more evident.

Planting a soft kiss to my lips, he grabbed firmly onto my sweats and began peeling them off of my body. I lifted my hips up slightly to assist him in this, and once I dropped them back down, I hissed from the feeling of my bare core against his cock. “Matty, I need you right now.” I practically cried out, leaning my body forward and planting nibbles and kisses along his exposed neck. The suspense was torturous, my body only just now recognizing how badly it was craving his.

His hands cupped my ass, and he used his grip to lift me just a couple inches off of him. I felt him spread me open slightly before dragging a finger once again against my aching folds. “Mmm, so wet for me baby.” I released a breathy moan at the combination of his touch and words, and squirmed in his grasp. “I’ll help you get it in, but I want you on top. That way you can take it as slow as you need to, okay?” His voice softened as he spoke, and his hands massaged me gently causing me to physically relax. “O-okay.” I muttered, so turned on that I was willing to do just about anything he wanted me to.

Just then, he placed a soft kiss to my lips before I felt the very tip of his cock brush against my opening; causing me to gasp. “Shh, it’s okay baby. I’ll go slow.” He whispered in my ear, and I pressed my forehead into the crook of his neck in anticipation. Finally, I felt my walls begin to expand as he pressed the first few inches into me. Moaning at the sensation, I felt my whole body flush in immediate lust. As if they had a mind of their own, my hips subconsciously began lowering onto his shaft; taking more and more of him as I sunk down.

A moan fell from his lips as my walls enveloped him inch by inch, and I slowly lifted my head from his neck and straightened my body up to allow more of him to fill me up. Even though he was big and I hadn’t had a dick in me in a long time, my slick arousal allowed him to bottom out without causing me to feel any pain; only indescribable pleasure. Once every inch of him was in me, I stayed still for a moment looking down at him. His desire was plastered across every inch of his face, and it made him look impossibly beautiful. There was no fear in me in that moment, only want, and so I began riding him.

As soon as I propelled my body up and down his shaft just once, I felt a pit of arousal begin to grow in my stomach. Groaning in pleasure, I continued with my moments; holding onto his shoulders to keep my trembling body stable. “Mmm you feel so good baby.” Matt moaned out, his eyes never leaving my pinched face. After a while, my body adjusted completely to his size and I was able to increase my speed. As I slid my walls up and down his shaft, Matt gripped onto my ass with all his might, using his hands to help me maintain my speed.

Moans fell from my lips as his cock ruthlessly hit my g-spot, and I felt my lower stomach build in pressure. “Fuck.” I muttered under my breath, feeling my skin go flush from the heat of the moment. The room filled with the echo of our wet skin slapping against each other, adding to the erotic air around us. Prolonged strings of moans fell aimlessly from my lips, and as I came closer and closer to my impending climax I began struggling to maintain my movements.

Matt seemed to pick up on this, as he adjusted his hips and began pounding into me from below; his hands holding me in place where I just clung onto him for dear life. “F-fuck Matty, like that. S-so good.” I cried out, my voice choppy from his rapid movements. My brain melted into a pool of liquid as all I could think about was reaching my high that was just out of reach. “You’re taking me so good baby.” Matt groaned out as he continued driving his length into me, staring deeply into my eyes with a fogged over expression.

“I-I think I’m gonna — oh god, think I’m g-gonna cum Matt.” My eyes rolled to the back of my head and I dug my nails into his shoulder blades, struggling to give into this new overwhelming sensation bubbling up inside of me. At this, a guttural moan fell from his lips and he somehow increased the speed of his thrusts even more. “Want you to cum around me baby, please.” There was a desperate whine to his voice as he spoke through his shortness of breath, and it was enough for me to reach my climax. Legs shaking, I released a plethora of moans and curses as my body was hit with multiple waves of indescribable pleasure. “Good girl, feels so good honey.” Matt’s voice was soft in my ear, and it helped to bring me back to earth as my hurricane of an orgasm left my body in shambles.

I continued to bounce on Matt’s dick slowly as I attempted to regain what little composure I had before my orgasm stole it from me, but I quickly learned that all of my energy had been stripped away. My body was trembling uncontrollably, and my head was filled with a fog that made it difficult for me to stay upright. Matt caught on to this, as he planted his hands firmly on my hips, keeping me still, before reaching forward and kissing me deeply. “You tired, baby?” He asked gently, rubbing circles on my sensitive skin. Sheepishly, I nodded, and Matt didn’t hesitate before guiding me off of his lap and helping me lay down on the couch.

As soon as my head hit the soft material, I felt my body immediately begin to relax again. I watched from my place on the couch as Matt began to slowly crawl over to me, before leaning above me. “You did so good baby,” He brought his lips to my chest and began dropping soft kisses against my skin, “Now,” His mouth travelled from my chest down to my stomach, “I want you to just lay here and relax,” He continued to move his lips down my stomach to my hips, “Let me make you feel good, okay?” His face was now hovering above my swollen heat, and I couldn’t help but nod frantically, feeling a sudden need to have his mouth on me.

Matt situated his body so that he could lay down with his face still just above my core. He brought both of his hands to my folds and I flinched as he used his thumbs to spread them apart slightly; exposing my bundle of nerves to the air. My vision partially skewed by his hair flopping in front of his eyes, I watched in awe as he brought his mouth closer and closer to where I needed it the most; before immediately gasping in pleasure once I felt his warm tongue make contact with my clit.

Immediately, Matt got to work in swirling his tongue in expert circles on my overstimulated nerves. This sensation in combination with his rough beard against my inner thighs was so intense it was almost painful in the best way possible, and I was incapable of controlling the throaty moans that fell from my lips as I watched him devour me entirely. Matt then used his mouth to suck on my nerves, bringing forward yet another new sensation that drove me crazy. It felt so unbelievably good, my hands flew to his hair where I held firmly; doing everything in my power to keep him in place. “Oh yeah baby, please, just like that.” I struggled to get the words out through my constant gasps of pleasure, but it was clear that they didn’t fall on deaf ears as Matt moaned in pleasured acknowledgement against my heat and kept his rhythm and pressure the exact same.

Feeling another orgasm begin to bear its teeth in my stomach, it was like my hips grew a mind of their own because as soon as Matt brought his hands under my ass to lift me slightly up on the couch; I began grinding my heat against his eager mouth. “Fuck.” He moaned against my clit as he continued to greedily suck and lick my nerves. I squeezed my eyes shut as a whine escaped my lips from an approaching orgasm, the pleasure that his mouth was giving me was too much. “S-stop baby.” I said suddenly, to which he immediately detached his mouth from me and I watched as his eyes scanned my fucked out face. “What’s wrong? You want to stop?” He seemed so concerned, clearly worried that he had somehow crossed a boundary, and it caused my chest to flutter. “N-no. It’s just, I was gonna cum again.” He raised a quizzical eyebrow, clearly confused by how that might be a problem. “I…I want to cum with you.” I finally said, and watched as his facial expression changed from one of concern back to one filled with lust.

He smiled quickly before dragging his body up my own, planting occasional kisses along my body on his way. Once he reached my head, he immediately began kissing me passionately, slipping his tongue through my parted lips and allowing me to taste myself on his mouth. Pulling away, I noticed my arousal laced throughout his beard, and that along with his pink swollen lips fresh off of my heat was enough to make my head spin. Just then, I felt him line his shaft up with my entrance, and immediately gasped out when he slid it in completely. Before moving at all, Matt took a moment to gaze down at my destroyed face before grabbing my legs and wrapping them around his waist. He then leaned forward and propped himself on his forearms on either side of my head; slipping a hand through my hair and grabbing onto it gently.

After noticing my body relax, he finally began thrusting into me. Starting off slow and deep, he gradually increased his speed until he was pounding his inches deep into me at a rapid pace. Already being close to cumming, I struggled to get a grip on my thoughts as the pleasure of the moment pulled me deeper and deeper into a world of euphoria. “You’re so tight sweetheart.” He muttered through his grunts, and I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head at his words. “F-feels so good Matty.” I managed to reply, tightening my legs around his waist as I tried everything I could to hold off my orgasm.

Matt’s hand snaked through my hair before he grabbed onto my cheek, brushing it gently with his thumb as he stared at me with a gaze so intense that it was almost intimidating. “I-I’m close Y/n.” He nearly whispered, and I felt his pace begin to slow slightly as he began to be overtaken by his own orgasm. My eyebrows knitted together as I felt my walls began to break. “M-me too.” I replied, wrapping my hands tightly around his biceps to keep me grounded. “Ah fuck, I’m cumming baby.” His erotic words were followed by a string of animalistic grunts as he drove his cock in and out of me — slow but hard — and it was like my body was waiting to hear those words as my second orgasm immediately ran through me like a freight train.

My breathy moans harmonized with his deep ones, and I felt my walls contract around his shaft; milking his dick as it painted them white. My legs were wrapped so tightly around his waist, he was barely able to move them as we both rode the waves of our intense pleasure. As my orgasm continued to tear through me, my back arched off of the couch and my body trembled. From above me, Matt watched me writhe in bliss as his movements completely stopped. As I finally began coming down from my high, I felt his hand brush through my hair affectionately, and watched as his face turned up in a smile before he placed a deep kiss to my lips.

He gently pulled his cock out of me, causing me to wince from the raw pain, before laying beside me on the couch and pulling me into him. Face to face, we stared lovingly at each other for a moment; my mind still spinning from how good he had made me feel, and in that moment I was worried that my heart might explode. His blissed expression told me that he was feeling the same, and his hand delicately rubbing the small of my back confirmed it. “Are you okay?” He finally asked, minor concern visible on his beautiful face. “I’m more than okay.” I answered honestly with a chuckle, causing him to laugh in relief as well. “I think I actually love sex.” I continued, causing him to really laugh this time before planting a kiss on my sweat-beaded forehead. “Well I think I actually love you.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[gallierhouse]

Thinking about Louis bleeding himself out. There are a couple layers to it.

He’s suicidal. He’s been suicidal since the day we’ve met him. And I don’t think he was necessarily trying to die, but he was hurting himself, and I don’t think he cared if he lived or died as a result of that. The blood’s drenched the floorboards, Louis staring at the wall with a vacant expression, totally numb. He doesn’t even seem like he’s really thinking about Claudia at that moment, only that his obligations are finally complete. He’s given Claudia a companion — the one thing she’s always wanted — and now there’s no real need for him to be her companion. Louis, the father, the older brother, has done his duty. It’s sort of like when a daughter gets married off; her father is finally freed of his familial duty to her. There’s no more use for him in Claudia’s life, which is both a relief and something totally crushing. She’s grown up. She doesn’t need him anymore. He resents caring for her. He resents that she doesn’t need him. He resents that they’ll never go back to being a family in New Orleans. He’s happy she’s happy. He misses her. He wishes she missed him more. He’s finally done his duty, and now that he’s done his duty there’s nothing left. Louis cared for his human family by providing for them at the expense of himself. He made Madeleine to provide for Claudia at the expense of himself. His task is finally done. It’s a relief, and it’s horrible, all at once. His daughter-sister-substitute for his human family-last remnant of his family with Lestat is gone. She’s grown up. It’s all gone. Louis structures his identity around fulfilling the needs of others. Now there’s no place for him left. I know there’s Armand, and he loves Armand, but he has no obligation to protect or provide for Armand the way he does with Claudia. Armand’s not his family the way she was. I think, for Louis, turning Madeleine isn’t expanding his family, it’s ending it, which is why he immediately falls into depressive self-harm. It’s loss. Grief for his human life grief for his life with Lestat, grief for their family.

He didn’t want Madeleine to be connected to him. He tells Armand he’s trying to bleed her out. The blood that runs in his veins is Lestat’s blood. It’s his only remaining connection to Lestat, and he doesn’t want it to be tainted by a stranger. Even though Louis’ turning was traumatic, violent, and coercive, it was love (“I love you, Louis. You are loved.”) and it was freedom. Freedom from his self-hatred, freedom from the rules of the Church that made him deny his sexuality, freedom from the demands of his family that exhausted him. Lestat turned him because he loved him. Lestat gave him his blood and gave him a home and gave him a new life because he loved him. I don’t think he wants Madeleine to be a part of that. She’s a stranger. He doesn’t even know or like her on a personal level. She’s Claudia’s creature. She’s not a part of the Lioncourt family, she’s an outsider Claudia is leaving the family for. By bleeding himself out, he’s trying to preserve the last connection he has with Lestat. It almost disgusts him when he says he can feel her. He’s experiencing how Lestat felt him. I think he’s seeing his relationship with Lestat in a new light, and he can’t help but contrast it with his relationship with Madeleine. Lestat turned him out of love, out of their love, and he turned Madeleine out of obligation to Claudia. It couldn’t be more different. He doesn’t want to experience how Lestat felt him through this obligation that connects him to a stranger. He’s bitter. He’s tired. He misses Lestat. He regrets it all. He regrets not trying to see it through Lestat’s eyes sooner.

Turning Madeleine, for Louis, even though it was beautiful and consensual and an act of love and creation, is a reminder of everything he’s lost and is losing. He lost his human family. He lost Lestat. He lost the family he had with Lestat and Claudia. He even lost New Orleans. Now he’s losing Claudia. Of course he’s sitting alone, hurting himself, while Claudia galavants with her new companion. He’s an empty nester. He’s alone. Everything that he used to be, everything that used to define him, is gone.

[dairymistress05]

Penelope IS Beautiful…

Penelope Featherington is absolutely gorgeous. So why aren’t the men of the “Ton” tripping over themselves for her hand?

I think the explanation for that lies not in the way she looks, but is in fact is the way she carries herself and feeling she doesn’t belong. She is not and hasn’t ever been confident in her own skin. I mean, as she herself said, she created Whistledown as a way to participate in society. So, whether her lack of confidence stems from being overlooked for so long, picked on by her sisters and mother, the fact that she was forced to debut a season too early or the way her mother always dressing her in citrus colours, she has constantly struggled to find her footing in the world.

When she does try to venture out in the world she believes that the only change she needs is wardrobe. Even Madame Delacroix doesn’t suggest that there might need to be some internal reflection, because she knows the whole of Pen (LW and all). So, then to Pen the most logical conclusion is that it has been how she has dressed all along that she doesn’t have suitors lined up the block? The simplest way to garner the attention she seeks is changing her wardrobe.

When she changes her wardrobe she assumes that this will have inspired all the confidence she needs, but it didn’t. This fact was actually confirmed by Nicola herself. When Pen arrives at LDs ball, in that that deep green dress, she appears completely changed. Granted she does feel much more comfortable in the clothing she has chosen and that seems to help, if only for a minute.

During her entrance, she removes her cloak and all eyes are on her. As she walks down the stairs it is clear that she is trying to change the way she carries herself, exude confidence and then 3 suitors approach. However, the conversation that follows shows just how much ‘changing the outside didn’t change the inside’. She is not confident, she stammers and stumbles and makes inappropriate word choices for the conversation all while crossing her arms in front, hugging her body. Heck, she can’t even make eye contact with any of these men who are speaking with her. She’s looking up and around the room while she speaks.

Nicola actually spoke about this in an interview; once she is down those stairs and has to actually open her mouth and interact, it is clear “that she has done no internal work.” I just love the parallel here too, because let’s be real, Colin hasn’t done any internal work either (but that’s a post for another time).

—— As an aside, to anyone who says Colin only fell for her at this point were clearly not paying attention (but again, that’s a story for another post). ——

Since her debut Penelope has often been on the outside, she has been an observer of the world, rather than a participant within it; and although she is a keen observer of other people, she doesn’t seem to have that same awareness of herself. It is not until some of the attention she is receiving and she takes Colin’s advice to not worry so much about how she is perceived, that she begins to come into her own. Even the whole debacle with the fan in the park, the assessment before the lessons, is a blatant display of just how awkward “in a train-wreck kind of way” she truly is. It is in fact not until Colin is giving her “lessons” which aren’t really lessons in charm, but an encouragement to be herself, that she begins to see herself how she has seen others all along.

It’s actually quite beautiful how she begins to bloom, pun intended, when she begins to see herself how Colin does. It harkens back to his quote from season 2 I believe, “If Penelope can see me this way, then surely I can too.” And it’s a stark contrast to how she has seen herself all these years through the eyes of her family who for whatever reason (I want to write about this too later 😉) have not truly seen her.

So when Colin says “you already know how to do this”, Yes he is completely clueless as to the reason Why, but so is Penelope herself. She has always been searching for her place in the world, where she belongs, as a friend to the Bridgertons (a glimpse of what when you are accepted) or in writing Lady Whistledown. And until this season that feeling of belonging, has only ever been in fleeting moments for her. Sunday teas at Bridgerton house, talking about books with Eloise and writing to Colin, to name a few.

IF she would have married Lord Debling these fleeting moments of belonging would have continued that way. I know some have said he was a good match but I wholeheartedly disagree and this is a prime reason. The love story between Penelope and Colin is not just between them but also a love story with themselves. They both have to “find that love in themselves” and “not live for the estimation of others” to be truly happy. Colin and Penelope love all the parts of each other, especially those things that have made them both outsiders in the past and they each have to learn to love the truest version of themselves.

And so, it is Penelope finally loving herself the way that Colin does (before he himself even knows it) that gives her the confidence to participate in society, to find her own voice and to “come away from the wall”.

In this way, she finds herself where she belongs; in love with her best friend, which is surprisingly enough, is exactly where she has always been.

[xuhuihuis]

I cant get off of anon help but omg im having such bad baby fever imagine ricky w a breeding kink telling u how pretty the baby is gonna look while he stuffs u up with his cum over n over again (also i love ur writing sm ur one of my inspirations to write ily pls dont die) - from kuni 🎀 (cyberkunizz)

Laced With Love | Shen Ricky

warnings: dom!ricky, sub!reader, breeding, dirty talk, pet names, pussy drunk!ricky

“You were made for me, darling; I missed this cunt so much,” Ricky grunted as he rocked inside of you, reaching all of your deepest spots inside of you. All night he has been treating you like the princess you really were, making sure you were comfortable no matter what. All of his life, he has dreamed of having kids, and when you came into his life, he knew you were the one. You spent many hours at night talking about having kids, and now you were both finally ready for it to happen. Ricky didn’t want to rush this at all; he was doing everything to make it last. This would be a moment for him to remember forever. 

Ricky hummed as he took your hand in his and laced your fingers together, feeling closer to him than you already were. He took one of his thumbs and rubbed over your knuckles any time you looked in distress, not wanting you to be in pain at all during this. He couldn’t look away from your facial expressions as his cock rubbed against your gummy walls. You were so wet for him, which made it easier for him to make you feel so good. All that could describe your gasp as he hit that spot inside of you was perfect. 

Although you have been together with him for many years, this is one of his first times fucking you raw. Making sure to treat every moment like it was precious, as nothing will ever be the same after this. Finally, after so long, he has the chance to stuff you with his cum, leaving you nice and filled. Getting to make love to you raw like this has much more meaning, as in a couple months your stomach could be swollen with your child. 

“Taking me so well, my beautiful girl." He moaned into the crook of your neck as you clenched around him tighter, wrapping your legs around his hips. The sudden rush of pleasure took him by surprise as he choked on his own moans. No matter how many times he makes love to you, Ricky will never get used to the feeling of your cunt clenching his cock so tight. It's always been his dream to have children with you, from the day you started dating. Spending hours at night only dreaming of what your future children will look like when they are born. 

“Our babies will look so beautiful, darling." He couldn’t help but start to ramble as he got lost in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him. Your cunt was wrapped so beautifully around his cock, taking every inch he gave you. Ricky kissed your neck gently as his hand started to rub your lower stomach, only dreaming of how it would be all swollen because of him. 

Ricky never took his eyes off of you the whole time, thinking that you were such a princess, taking him so well. He moaned so beautifully whenever he hit that spot where you needed him the most, keeping your cunt nice and full the whole time. Looking up at him with such sweet and innocent eyes, which contrasted with his dirty words. The room was filled with the sounds of mixed moans, and the bed was rocking against the wall with each caring thrust of his hips, making sure that you were feeling so good.

“Fuck, even your tummy will look so pretty swollen. Let everyone know who you belong  to." He was so far gone at this point, babbling against the warm skin of your neck. The strong scent of your perfume wasn’t helping him at all; it was only pushing him on more. Ricky groaned as he held your stomach, letting his mind wander to how swollen your stomach could be in a couple months.

All you could do was lay there breathless, taking everything, and beg him to cum for the nth time that night. Ricky never got tired of watching you cum for him, every time felt like the first for him. You wrapped your legs around his hips tighter, which erupted a groan from him. God, he sounded so beautiful. Panting and moaning out for you, he tried his best to hold back, but nothing was working now. What once were sentences are now just babbles as he got too carried away.

“I’m gonna make you a mommy, going to be so fucking pretty." His thursts were now sloppy and messy, making it difficult to keep going. You started to rock your hips up and help him. It all got too much for him, spilling into your cunt with a groan and burying his head into your chest. Ricky’s eyes were rolled back so far into his head that you could see the whites of his eyes. Finally getting to feel sweet relief. His whole body started to shake as he came down from his high, and then his eyes widened as you clenched down hard as you came.

The feeling of his thick, warm cum was all too much for you, matched by the sight of his shaking body. All you could do was lay there and hold one another as you both came down from your highs, both still aching for one another. Ricky was so gentle with the way he held you, slowly rubbing your tummy, only hoping that tonight was the night. There was something there in the pit of his stomach, which made him feel like it was going to happen after all. 

He couldn’t tear his eyes from where your bodies connected, and he saw the ring of white around his cock. Ricky had filled you up so much that it was starting to leak out onto the bed sheets below. You couldn’t help but whimper at the loss as he pulled out of you, but he was soon fingering his cum back into you. It was so precious and couldn’t go to waste like this. Doing everything that he could to keep you so full and warm of his seed.

“You're going to be such a good mommy.”

[demonslayedher]

Something I really loved about this past episode (and I loved a lot of things about this episode) is that I got to enjoy Himejima at his dweebiest.

I've been on the meta side of enjoying Himejima so long now that I feel like I went straight from "ugh, crying is this guy's personality" to "Himejima is deeply jaded but that has nothing to do with how deeply everyone respects him." This episode is that wonderful space in between where Himejima is an even bigger dork than most of the rest of the Hashira. Like, you could expect that this is going to be his role for the rest of the series and still be just as happy with seeing another side of him, like "haha, of course he cries about trash. OMG, he loves cats. HAHAHAHA LOOK AT HIM HE THINKS HE IS HIDDEN BEHIND THAT SKINNY TREE" because he's just such an adorable oaf.

Also, I startled myself a bit when I thought that, because often when I say that I love oni (of the red- and blue-skinned cartoony kinds), I say its because they are such big, silly oafs. My apologies, Himejima, I know you would make a terrifying oni.

But that's the beautiful of this episode. People only following the story in the anime don't know that yet.

I'm so happy we got the silliest of Himejima Taisho Secrets animated, both the way he is goo when holding a cat, and how seamlessly they integrated Himejima smacking Inosuke face first into the ground with the flippancy of a cat knocking a cup off a countertop. That is one of my favorite Gotouge doodles ever.

Anyway, that is my happy, cheerful, "yay, Himejima is so cute and silly" ramble. I really hope to see his flashback get the same dramatic treatment that Muichiro's did (which would be especially satisfying after showing this light side of his character so we get that contrast), and I'm very excited for the next episode. But man, we don't *truly* get Himejima until he's facing off against Kokushibo, do we?

[medicalunprofessional]

never change, man !

[jichanxo]

onnagata. boyhood, blood, etc. + followup

[quietwingsinthesky]

even does know what plants are though. (as per doctor who canon, the way ships manage to keep oxygen on long voyages is via having literal forests in them. now, nothing to that extent, obviously, they weren’t that well-equipped or funded. but there’s definitely plants In There, probably relegated to a much more ordered existence, think the difference between a natural forest and one grown for logging.) at least they have that. they have seen plants. not often, but they have.

i don’t think they really understand plants beyond their functions (to eat, keep everyone breathing, etc.) whereas with natural beauties and animals and other such things that even has no experience with and can wonder over, they can’t really. do that with plants. the ability to admire a flower rather than immediately think of it in terms of resources lost and gained in its creation is a skill they have to learn.

but you know. at least they have seen them. that’s something. that’s slightly less depressing, right.

[scissors-barbie]

.

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[glow-wine]

There are a lot of really fantastic singers in power metal, and I am not a fan of labelling any one of them "the best" because they all have different qualities and it's not a competition. That having said, I'm currently totally smitten with Antonio Calanna's voice. I "discovered" him last year, when he was filling in for the singer of Induction for a few concerts. I didn't know that band and never would have guessed that Antonio wasn't their regular singer. He owned those songs with total confidence, throwing out high notes like confetti. (I later discovered that the original versions of the songs don't have those high notes. He just added them becaue he could. I was even more impressed!)

Induction is a really good band, too, but Antonio was the stand-out. I was definitely not the only one who was impressed specifically by him. It's not just the voice, but the stage presence. He really knew how to move and pose on stage, and had decided to dress in a glittery silver shirt with a very low-cut neckline (is it a still a neckline if it's around the boobs?) and he can pull it off because he's also extremely good-looking.

So I decided to check out his own band, All For Metal. They make energetic, anthemic power metal, not very deep but really catchy and with a heavy focus on THE SHOW. Turns out that the silvery low-cut neckline was actually modest by Antonio's standards, since he spent most of the All For Metal concert completely shirtless and with tight leather pants. Like I said, there is a focus on the show as a whole, and the two singers showing off their bodies is very much part of the concept. I am not being shallow, I am appreciating the art as it was intended! :) But honestly, Antonio's voice carries the whole thing. It could carry anything.

Look at this Scorpions cover they did. I crack up every time at 0:57 when Antonio comes in like a total madman.

No notes.

These are not my complete thoughts on All For Metal, but the Tumblr editor is giving me grief, so it will have to do.

[sirfrogsworth]

Remember this joke?

Well, I am going to do something similar only with photography. This is a photo someone took for an Amazon review of their Clinique products.

Honestly, it is not a terrible photo. They did some staging. They have an interesting background. All of the labels are legible. It is properly exposed. This would be a perfectly acceptable product photo for an Etsy page.

I've been taking these advanced photography courses in preparation for whenever I am able to create a new studio in the house. And my teacher is a photography badass. I just watched a 6 hour class on how to recreate a professional Clinique ad. And at first glance it looks deceptively simple. It's just some skin care products being splashed with a little water.

Which is why I wanted you to see an average person for reference.

This is what Karl Taylor came up with.

And I don't think I've learned so much about photography in one tutorial before.

Product photography is just loads and loads of problem solving. You have to light the chrome caps with a gradient. Which requires giant diffusion scrims.

Those big white panels are literally only there for the two chrome caps.

You need a pure white background, but you can't let light spill all over the studio, so you put up giant black light blockers.

And you have to add another light just for the orange bottle on the right.

Oh, and if you want the bottles to glow, well, you have to hide a silver reflector behind them.

But you still want the edges of the bottles to be darker so they have some contrast. So you add some black tape to the sides.

And in order for the reflective labels to have bold black lettering, you have to reflect black cards into them.

Ack! Karl's beautiful bald head is showing up in the chrome caps! He must put on the naughty blanket.

And once you get every aspect of every bottle perfectly lit, you finally get to yeet some water at it all.

I don't love product photography because I have a weird obsession to help greedy corporations make their wares look more beautiful. I love it because it is a complicated and challenging new puzzle every time. Every product is a different shape and requires a different technique to make it look its best.

I don't know if I will be able to live up to Karl's standards.

This is about the level I was at in 2017 before I quit photography.

I have so much more knowledge in my brain now. I'm really hoping I can surpass that.

[teaboot]

This is gonna sound rather conceited but I feel like it highlights an issue we have in Art.

I'm good at art. I've never had a hard time making art. I started using crayons before I could walk. Painting, Beadwork, sculpture, sketching, stippling, whatever- once I have a feel for the material, it doesn't take long to start doing what I want with it. It's been a common theme my whole life.

(Y contrast I'm awful at things like dancing, performance, sports, etc- in all things there is balance, right?)

Now, I've taught myself to use so many artistic mediums now that I KNOW how to most efficiently integrate them into the brain database. Once you really *understand* a material, it's much like memorizing the layout of your house, or flexing a muscle, or something in-between- it becomes PART of your brain in a way I cant quite articulate. But to get there involves just fucking around for a bit doing nothing in particular.

And I've found, especially in group settings, that nobody seems to be able to see you make something badly and leave you alone. Even if you say you're fine, you don't want help, you're happy, you're having fun, it's fine, they gotta ride your ass and hover.

I was at a class the other day for something I hadn't done before. The medium was one I've never used, so once the instructor told us the basics I started experimenting with weight, gravity, texture, viscosity, saturation, temperature, etc. The instructor had given enough info to know what was dangerous and what was safe, and beyond that I just wanted to absorb what I could about it.

And no insult to the instructor, but they kept checking in. Which was fine the first few times.

But then, without asking me what I was trying to do, started giving tips. That I told them I was grateful for but didn't really need just yet. If I had a question, I'd ask.

But they kept coming over. And touching my shit. And manipulating my project. And touching my hands. And using my tools. Without fucking asking.

And this happens every time. EVERY TIME. And by now I know the best way to get them to fuck off is to make something way beyond their expectations so they know I'm capable, then go back to doing what I want.

So I did. I wanted to keep having fun and learning, but instead I made something beautiful that I really didn't want to make, and wasted my time, and really didn't learn what I wanted to learn at all. I knew the formula to create a beautiful thing, so I followed that formula the same way I have a hundred times before, and didn't get to try anything spontaneous or ugly or exciting, just so I could be left alone.

And I know when I was a kid, I was aware aware people saw me puttering alone on something ugly assumed I had a special issue and treated me like I was stupid because of that. (I was neurodivergent.) And at at time I knew that I could do a neat trick for them like a trained pony and they'd go, "Oh, surely they aren't defective if they can do something like that!" And piss off.

But what if I hadn't known how to do that?

What if I hadn't been talented, or "special"?

What if I'd been just any other average kid trying to learn, and I couldn't pop something pretty out of my ass to get them off my back?

My problem my whole life has been that I haven't been allowed to make anything ugly in peace. I'm capable of beauty, so I have to make beauty, or get stepped on. And once people see what I can do, they get loud about it. "Look at this! Look what they did! We all know who the best is, don't we?". And that used to feel good, but it's tiring.

And how many people like me just wanted to play? Just wanted to have fun and experiment? Who were having fun with no goal in mind, or just took longer to learn, who gave up because of all the obnoxious helpers breathing down their neck with no way to shake them off?

How many of us are made to feel defective because we aren't doing things beautifully?

I have a lovely piece of art I didn't want to make.

I think I'm gonna frame it.*

(*I think I'm gonna burn it in my yard.)

[comradekatara]

i know that a lot of people take issue with the fact that pakku only agrees to teach katara because he realizes that she’s the granddaughter of the woman he tried to get with a bajillion years ago, but i actually see that moment of him realizing that kanna left to escape their marriage as a moment of self-reflection from him. like, imagine having to contend with the fact that your rancid vibes drove the love of your life away after having just publicly humiliated her fourteen year old granddaughter who was begat on the literal other side of the earth because how that’s far she went to escape him. sokka gets the moment of realizing “oh, men and woman are ontologically equal in their capacities, and divisions between genders are socially assigned and arbitrary,” but that isn’t really pakku’s deal at all. pakku’s deal is more like, “oh, my unyielding insistence on adhering to and imposing unjust patriarchal traditions actually makes me deeply unpleasant to be around and drives my loved ones away. maybe I should take a fucking chill pill perhaps.”

like, the fact that katara ultimately loses the fight and nothing she actually says or does persuades him is interesting, because it means that his reflection is internal, his moment of revelation not brought about by didactic moralizing, but through taking a long, hard look in the mirror, and realizing that being kind is more important than being right. and that’s why he seems to make an effort to be friendlier and more helpful, more so than making any effort to become a male feminist and fight for women’s rights. sokka, for example, initially has a narrow view of gender because his worldview is limited and then it expands, but pakku, by contrast, is literally a member of the white lotus; he is old and worldly, so he clearly already understands that their tribe’s traditions are not ontologically necessitated, but he nonetheless supports them because they benefit him. it is only when he learns that the love of his love literally escaped their tribe and left behind everything she ever knew just to avoid him that he decides to reevaluate his staunch insistence on clinging to his patriarchal values. and who wouldn’t. i mean, that’s gotta fucking hurt!

i know that katara’s fight against him does feel like a grand feminist moment as she fights for her ideals and her rights as a girl, and to her (and to us as the audience) it certainly does feel that way, but to pakku, his change of heart is one of realizing that he should probably stop being an asshole to every woman he’s ever met while he still has a few good years left. a core motif of katara’s arc is that she cannot actually preach her ideals and simply enlighten every asshole she meets, as much as she’d certainly like to; enlightenment comes from within. and so it is pakku’s regrets that motivate him to be kinder, because it’s never too late to change for the better. and that’s kind of beautiful actually.

[drchucktingle]

my masks

hey there buckaroos. due to all of the attention the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION situation has gotten i am going to take a minute to talk about my personal way as an autistic buckaroo. im going to tell you about my masks.

im doing this for a few reasons, some are good FUN reasons full of love and some are not so great. 

lets start with the GOOD STUFF. first of all, i am talking about this because speaking on my way can help other buckaroo feel more comfortable speaking on there own way, ESPECIALLY if they are good at ‘passing’ for neurotypical like chuck is. 

unfortunately the NOT SO GREAT reasons im talking about all this dang stuff are two fold. reason one: i have been put into a position of having to explain and justify my needs and boundaries by the TXLA. this is not something that i WANT to be taking up all of my time, but when large organizations do not make space for those who they have pledged to support, it puts us smaller buckaroos into position where were have to defend our existence. it is not plesent but it is necessary.

the second NOT SO GREAT reason is that ‘passing’ bisexual and autistic people like myself are ALWAYS just seconds from being gatekept from folks both outside and inside these communities. there will probably be a day on chucks deathbed where i take off my mask and say hello to this timeline (mostly so you can all see how handsome i am under here but I DIGRESS). i KNOW with absolute certainty (the same way other bi and autistic buckaroos are probably nodding along right now) that when that day comes i will STILL be accused of ‘not being real’ and ‘faking’ because i ‘dont look autistic’ and i have a beautiful ladybuck partner in sweet barbara.

ALL THAT IS TO SAY, i am taking a moment today to talk FOR THE RECORD about my neurodigence and my particular needs. hopefully i will not have to keep diving this deep every time an organization takes a discrimantory action against me, but i will also say this: at least it is a good fight on an important battlefield

anyway buds, here is the story of my way on the spectrum

when i was a young buckaroo i knew that my thought process was different. i could socialize easily, which is unique in contrast to many autistic buds (it is a spectrum after all), but my social ease was for an interesting reason. I ALWAYS KNEW WHAT OTHERS WERE ABOUT TO SAY. it was like a strange ‘human game’ where someone would say one thing and i would think ‘well you actually mean something else’ in a sort of logical way (this is why i later related to DATA from star trek so dang much). at first i remember thinking ‘well i am just NOT going to play along with this human game’. i quickly learned neurotypical buckaroos do not like this, that there is a BOB AND WEAVE to social interactions that must be learned. 

later i realized ‘actually if i WANT to make friends and prove love is real then i can do this like an expert because i can SEE the game where most cant’. this got chuck many buds and took me on many adventures. please understand, i am not saying these connections are not important to me, they are just different. they are full of love, but i express this in my own unique way.

HOWEVER, while growing up i felt disconnected from this timeline in other ways, like an alien or a reverse twin trotting along in a world that is not quite my own. i did not feel emotions the same way my buds did. they would get upset over the ‘human game’ interactions and i would not be moved at all, HOWEVER i could see the way sunlight hit a window and start crying my dang eyes out over the beauty. so my emotion was still there and VERY STRONG, i just felt it in more existential ways (like hearing the call of the lonesome train). these days that feeling has progressed to where i am pretty much in a constant blissed out state of cosmic emotional connection (make of that last sentence what you will, but it is the truth). when i make existential posts online i am not just FIRING OFF SOME CONTENT, i really mean every word. this is really my trot.

anyway as a young buckaroo these feelings made me worry sometimes. i thought about various mental health dianosises and marked the parts and pieces that matched with myself. am i this? am i that? sometimes, instead of just being’ different’ i worried i might actually be ‘wrong’. 

when i saw david byrne on letterman in my younger days i immediately recognized something connected to myself. i thought ‘wow this is the mystery being solved before my very eyes.’ i could hear it in the music of talking heads too. i started doing research and realized that i might be on autism spectrum, something that was later confirmed by a therapist (back then the diagnosis was called asperger's). it was a glorious and fulfilling moment. i was SO EXCITED TO BE AUTISTIC LIKE MY HERO. i felt very cool because of it, and i still feel very cool because of it.

one of the big reasons i talk so much about being autistic these days is because i want to make sure OTHER buckaroos can have that same moment that i did. they can see chuck and think ‘wow i really like this autistic artist, maybe being autistic is cool’

so what does an average day WITHOUT wearing the pink bag look like for me?

my thought process is exactly like ROSE from CAMP DAMASCUS, which is part of why i wrote the book. we have the same stim (complex order of finger taps), we prepare for social interactions the same way, we analyze things in the same logical trot that neurotypical people might think feels ‘detached’ but for me feels natural (certain reviews of camp damascus are very funny to me in this way. you can tell when a reader is just very confused by existing in an autistic brain for 250 pages.)

from the outside you would not be able to tell that i am on the spectrum. in fact you would probably find me very socially adept. 

the problem is, all of that masking can take its toll. i spent years trotting in and out the emergency room, talking to confused doctors who could not figure out the chronic phantom tension and pain that radiated through my body. i eventually accepted the fact that i would either live a life constantly on heavy painkillers or just stop living altogether.

eventually, however, i started noticing a correlation between the way that i felt, and the space that i allowed for chuck and the pink mask. i was exercising that tension, allowing my mental mask of neurotypical existence to take a rest. i started practicing physical therapy and this time THE RESULTS STUCK because i was approaching from two sides, MIND AND BODY. after a while, i got my pain down to about 5 percent of what it once was. i still have flare ups in times of stress, but the healing has been very real and life changing.

lets get VERY specific now. if i attended the TXLA confrence without a mask and gave my talk i can tell you this: i would do a dang good job. i can work the heck out of a crowd and (not to reveal too much about my secret way) I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO DO THIS ON OCCASION VERY WELL. however, going home from this event i would very likely be in pain. i would likely need to do physical therapy. i would likely need to stim for a while. i would NOT be emotionally fullfilled in the same way. in other words, without my pink mask i can charm the heck out of buckaroos, but THE SPACE OF CHUCK TINGLE IS NOT THE SPACE FOR THAT. the pink bag is a place for me to not have to put up with that tension. it is a place for me to unmask mentally by masking physically.

this pink bag space SAVED MY LIFE and i am not going to risk blurring these lines. if and when that ever happens it will be MY decision, not someone elses. that is my boundary. the part of me that neurotypically masks could handle a library conference in a purely technical sense, but the part of me that chuck represents absolutely cannot and should not be asked to do that without the pink bag. unfortunately, the complexity of this point makes it even MORE difficult for me to think about and takes up even more of my time, because it forces me to START QUESTIONING MYSELF and my own needs. to be honest, that is the most insidious part of other people questioning your identify and refusing to accept your accommodation needs without ‘proof’.

the thing is, while all of this discussion of disability and accessibility is important, i have a much larger point to make by writing these words.

a conference should not uninvite someone with an unusual physical presentation or a strange way of speaking REGARDLESS of it being classified as a disability. it does not matter WHY i look the way that i look and wear what i wear. i should not have to spend all day writing this post instead of writing my next book, just because my sensibilities are unique and my presentation is unusual. 

fortunately the solution is very simple: let other people be themselves. its not hurting you to simply accept and nod at the buckaroos you think look strange. let us exist