i think it's long past time that people accept that some of us are not meant to have random jobs just to make money.
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if you could see that you’re making excuses for yourself instead of opportunities we wouldn’t be having this conversation whatsoever. you post shit online and then when people try to help you avoid it. grow the fuck up and get a spine.
give me $9000
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i wish we lived in a world where talking about suicide and suicidal ideation wasn't so taboo, treated with the sensitivity it deserves but not overcautious to the point everyone affected feels like they can't reach out or talk for fear of being institutionalised against their will
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i’ve only had scrivener 30 day free trial for around five minutes but i’m about to invent a religion
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rant
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i have a bad stomachache again today
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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY
just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.
(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)
i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.
the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.
i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.
PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE
a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)
ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.
months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’
turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes
at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)
as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.
fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.
when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM
SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:
CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:
well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.
PART TWO: RESCINDED
a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask
right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.
of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered
there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA
first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.
second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.
in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.
TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.
i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.
but here we are.
PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?
this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:
when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.
it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?
i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not
my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.
at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense
PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES
it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say
BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?
is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.
if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.
and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?
(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)
i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.
you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.
if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.
so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.
THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.
as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING
AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.
any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?
any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?
let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.
when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.
if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?
or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.
PART FIVE: GENDERED
this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.
if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned
PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY
there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?
i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'
putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.
i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY
another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions
PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL
i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.
i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)
which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.
if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK
and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME
KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck
UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:
true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo
to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love
please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it
MOST RECENT UPDATE:
here is more
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i’m sick and didn’t give these lyrics any revision but just finished my intake meeting for therapy and these are my thoughts
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You know what's not nice?
The education system.
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Does the idea of having to get a car in order to just survive give anyone else an insane amount of anxiety or is that just me
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Hahaha heyyyy (I almost unalived myself today)
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What frustrates me about disability advocacy is that...of all the people I've seen talk about it, 99% of them - even ones who are disabled themselves - have eventually proven that their support has limits. Really stupid and arbitrary ones, at that.
You support disabled people...but if you see an adult with a DIAPER BULGE in their pants in public it's ON SIGHT, get your kink out of my face! Actually, even if it's not a kink, that's still gross and, like, it's not like the diaper exists to CONTAIN waste, you're a biohazard! Just stay home!
You support disabled people...but, ugh, you're so sick of masks, they feel so icky, the CDC isn't advising them anymore so really how bad can it be, if you don't want to be permanently disabled even worse than you already are then why don't you just stay home forever?
You support disabled people...but if you see anyone using a non-conventional straw that someone's billed as "anti-aging" on TikTok you proudly declare that you'll smack them, because what do you mean it might be a motor control or sensory thing?
You support disabled people...but no one is REALLY so disabled that they can't manage their lights conventionally, clean their homes by themselves, or hold a pen for extended periods of time or at all; that's just something people make up as an excuse for Bad Tech and exploitative luxury services.
You support disabled people...but, god, control your by-definition-uncontrollable tics, they're SOOOO annoying and rude!
You support disabled people...but when someone stops masking or runs out of spoons and starts speaking in a choppy, hard-to-understand way, it's a joke.
You support disabled people...but AAC is, like, sooooo annoying and hard to understand, learn to talk like a normal person instead of pointing like a baby or whatever, geez.
You support disabled people...but you hate image descriptions and video transcriptions because they're, like, sooooo ugly and transcriptions SPOIL things. (Not to be confused with "frequently not having the spoons to translate images and videos into text, which is a skill; one which everyone should try to develop, but a skill nonetheless" - I get that, it happens to me, but if you take issue with OTHER people adding them to your posts for Aesthetic Reasons, you're...kind of a dick! I'm not sorry for saying it!)
You support disabled people...but you think teehee funny joke annotations are a much more valuable use of caption tracks than, you know, actual captions are.
You support disabled people...but you still concern-troll people with armchair diagnoses of heavily stigmatized disorders for harmless weirdness, or try to paint them as icons of some kind of horrible social ill.
You support disabled people...but you're still convinced that every asshole is mentally ill, probably A Narcissist, and what do you mean that's a loaded thing to call someone when a heavily stigmatized disorder is rudely misnamed as such too, isn't it easier to, like, change the name of the disorder throughout the whole system than it is to just stop using that word as your go-to Bad Person Pathologizing Word, which you definitely need? (Or worse, you see no problem with this clash because you're convinced it IS Bad Person Disorder...)
You support disabled people...but you see someone mumbling to themself on the bus and you get as far away from them as possible because it's "scary".
You support disabled people...but you constantly try to pull "gotcha"s about people telling you not to touch people's assistive devices.
You support disabled people...but someone being okay with their delusional disorder and talking about that is BAD and PROMOTING SELF-HARM.
You support disabled people...but your body positivity still focuses exclusively on "people can be healthy and fat at the same time!" as if people who ARE fat because of health issues and/or have health issues BECAUSE of their weight don't exist or deserve support.
You support disabled people...but you declare that advocates who want us all to have more access to things that improve your quality of life are the REAL ableists for acknowledging that those things that you currently can't do tend to improve quality of life.
You support disabled people...but your advocacy for yourself involves distancing yourself from people with more support needs than you.
You support disabled people...but you treat addiction of any kind, or use of anything with known addictive tendencies, as a moral failing.
You support disabled people...until the accommodations they need clash with your own, then it's not just a benign incompatibility that sucks just as much for them as it does for you; no, you are an innocent victim and they are a horrible ableist.
You support disabled people...until it's too inconvenient. Too weird. Too scary. Once that line is crossed, it's not a disability issue anymore, they're, conveniently, just a Bad Person.
It's fucking exhausting and I'm sick to death of it.
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i've been listening to a lot more fat liberationist stuff recently and like...
so obvs i already had some backing in a lot of the basic theory, stuff like institutional anti-fatness in medicine, fashion, travel, etc, but like
so as a really thin guy who's always found it impossible to gain weight, its been unbelievably emotionally and mentally liberating to hear people talking really casually about the disability that's associated with thinness
so like being really thin, you lack additional joint and bone support - if you fall, you have less padding and less STRUCTURE to protect your bones from breaks and fractures, right?
obvs theres plenty of fat people that do have issues with bones and joints, im not saying thsres not, its just that normally i feel like im the lone person saying "being this thin is bad for me and is part of various health problems i also have"
and idk its just like. my whole life i was such a sickly child lmao
like i couldnt stand for long periods except "long period" would often be like. any period. i didnt understand how my peers were just standing for so long and just weathering that, bc to me it wasnt possible at all - i breathed badly, my joints were fucked etc
and looking back and realising as i get more disabled like the extent to which i was similarly disabled in my youth, and how i lacked the language to verbalise or sometimes even recognise my own pain and struggle
but also like
the treatment of me as so evil and lazy because i wasn't exercising, or because like. a PE teacher would pick me out as an example because i was so thin, and then be furious that i wasn't remotely physically fit, and that i was disabled
i remember multiple times esp from cis female teachers just. frothing rage at my diet and the things i ate, or when i wrinkled my nose at talk about diets, bc i was so thin so i had to be doing The Right Things, and if i was that thin and doing bad things i had to be punished
and its bc a lot of these ppl thought of fatness and being fat as a punishment, a target for abuse that people deserved, and bc i was a young disabled trans guy like. i deserved punishment for my laziness and nonconformity, and it became a lot about my weight
like expressing that i wanted to gain weight, that i was cold all the time, that i had no energy etc, that eating was hard but that i enjoyed food, all of that was met with such fuckin aggression and really sharp policing, esp from PE teachers and esp from women
and obvs all that is to do with the way that diet culture particularly targets women and those perceived as women, and the desire to engage in lateral violence to police others into complying with gender roles etc as they were upholding them
but idk like. fat liberationist politics is imo inherently tied up with disability liberation, because of the way that "health" is weaponised as a symbol of being good or deserving, and how fatness and disability are both used as targets and symbols of evil and punishment
MOST OF ALL for fat & disabled people
but for nondisabled fat people disability is often threatened as punishment - if you don't become less fat, you'll (deserve to) become disabled
and for disabled thin people, if you don't act less disabled, you'll (deserve to) become fat
and its not a punishment to be fat or disabled or sick. its just how some people are. its not BAD to be this way - and what makes things hard for us is not something inherent to the badness of our bodies, but instead the lack of kindness and accommodation anybody is willing to extend to them
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My dear lgbt+ kids,
Can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist?
Well, if you trust many social media posts, then the answer would be a resounding "No". Narcissistic is - apparently - a synonym for abusive, and of course you can't have a healthy relationship with an abusive partner!
But, well, social media is not always right. A lot of topics get oversimplified, terms get misused and black-or-white thinking is rampant - and "narcissistic means abusive" falls into all three of those pits.
Let's look at it a bit closer: "Abusive" describes a set of behaviors - while narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) describes, well, a personality disorder. It's a mental health condition.
I am not a trained mental health professional, so I'll use a medical source here. According to mayoclinic.org (link to article), symptoms and their intensity may vary from one affected person to the next (just like the exact symptoms and severity of depression or anxiety may vary!). A person with NPD may
have an unreasonably high sense of their own importance
have an excessive need for attention and admiration
have low/no empathy (struggle to understand or care about the feelings of others)
have low self-worth
be easily upset by criticism
struggle with social interactions
have difficulty managing their emotions
experience major problems dealing with stress
And, again just like with other mental health conditions, NPD can negatively affect the person in a lot of areas of life. For example, struggling to manage their emotions and stress levels may make it hard for them to hold down a job and cause financial worries, or they may avoid participating in social events, which may lead to them becoming isolated and depressed etc. And yes, of course some symptoms may also lead to problems in romantic relationships.
Therapy for NPD usually centers around talk therapy, with the goal of helping the person to better understand and manage their emotions, to learn how to cope with self-worth issues, and to create/maintain healthy fulfilling relationships and communication with the people around them.
Now, you can look at all this and go "See? The social media posts are right! They are self-centered, have no empathy and are easily upset! That's abusive!" - but that'd be jumping to conclusions. None of those things are behaviors.
An autistic person may also easily get upset and they may also feel low empathy. So could a person with major depression. Yet, we do not treat "autistic" or "depressed" as a synonym for abusive. We do not assume that their symptoms will definitely lead to abusive behavior. So, why would that be different for people with NPD?
Am I saying no person with NPD has ever been abusive? Of course not. That'd be black-or-white thinking, too. What I am saying is: People with NPD are people. And people can show abusive behavior or they can not.
If someone who easily feels upset hits you, that's abuse... but hitting would be abuse, even if they didn't feel easily upset. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be hitting you. If someone with no empathy degrades and insults you, that's abusive... but that would be abuse regardless of their ability to feel empathy. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be degrading and insulting you.
A person could have NPD and behave abusive - but "some people are X and Y, so all people who are X must be Y" is a flawed logic.
So, let's circle back to the beginning: can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist? Yeah. It will be a relationship with someone who has a mental health condition and that's something to be aware of because mental health conditions do affect everyday life (duh?).
You should set boundaries and take warning signs of abuse seriously - like you should do when you date anyone, regardless of health status.
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
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HEY POOKIE!!!!
Could I request a fic with either poly moon water or poly marauders where reader has had mental health issues but they were getting better and then they slip back into them. This happens to me in moments and I have to remind myself that it’s part of my progress but it would be so nice if I had someone else to say it too. No pressure lovely!!!!
I ADORE all of your marauders work!! Like OML I never know how much I needed poly moonwater until youuuu❤️❤️❤️😘
hi babes! totally get where you're coming from re: mental health issues. It's a marathon, not a race. and I'm so glad you love moonwater! my evil plan of converting the entire fandom (lol) is succeeding. I opted to go with the marauders but it's quite sirius centric
poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with her mental health
CW: non-sexual nudity [nothing is described], discussion of dark mental headspace and anxiety/depression [again, nothing is described]
You felt awful.
You knew the boys would be understanding, but it didn’t make you feel any better about your behaviour.
You’d found yourself slipping back into familiar and darker headspaces as of late, and though you couldn’t deny the disconcerting comfort that familiarity brought, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to fully fall back into it; you worked so hard to move beyond this, and you had been doing so well.
It hurt worse now that you felt like you weren’t just disappointing yourself anymore, but also disappointing three other people who - for whatever reason - cared an awful lot about you.
You’d been inching closer and closer to a panic all day and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed when you got home and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours days weeks.
Those kinds of plans don’t work when you live with three other people, two of which have the tendency to coddle you.
You knew that irritability was one of the symptoms of your anxiety, but knowing that didn’t stop the sting of your words as they left your lips.
James was too nice, too bright, too happy, too lovely. You felt like the polar opposite of your sweetest boyfriend, which made you feel even more disappointing than you already had. And Remus was a fixer; he had a tendency to see a problem and immediately start problem solving, but that’s not what you needed right now.
Of course, you didn’t say that.
Of course, you got angry and lashed out at them before storming off to your room and slamming the door.
What started off as feeling blue quickly spiralled into a low affect. Feeling low left you increasingly anxious. Your anxiety left you feeling disappointing and less than, which caused you to feel depressed. The more depressed you got, the more anxious you became. The more anxious you became, the more depressed you felt.
It was a vicious cycle and you were stuck in its seemingly never ending assault on you.
And now, you weren’t just depressed and anxious; you were also feeling terribly guilty and overwhelmed at the thought of having upset Remus and James.
Remus, who only wanted to help, who only wanted you to feel better, who only wanted to care for you.
And James, who only wanted to perhaps share a little bit of his joy with you on the off chance it could brighten your day.
You were awful.
Horrid.
You didn’t deserve them, and they didn’t deserve you - they deserved better. You deserved nothing.
You’re not sure how long you had been standing under the spray of the water with your head against the cool tile when you heard a gentle knock against the glass of the shower door.
You felt the irritability surge in your blood again at the intrusion of your pity party, but tried your hardest to take a steadying breath before you hummed a quiet “yeah?”
“Can I come in?” You heard Sirius’ voice ask from the other side, apparently having gotten home sometime during your meltdown.
He could, though you weren’t sure he should.
You were terrible after all.
Horrid.
The glass door popped open and Sirius shoved his face in. You didn’t bother turning your face towards him but you could feel the questions permeating his being nonetheless.
“I’m coming in.” He announced, deciding on your behalf.
You heard the sound of his clothes falling to the bathroom floor, and you knew if Remus were in here he’d be scolding him: “there’s a hamper right there, Sirius.”
But Remus wasn’t here because you were awful and you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the sodding hamper nor Sirius’ clothes littering the floor.
Some of your steam escaped as Sirius opened the shower door fully and you were accosted with cool air that left your body covered in goosebumps. He corrected it quickly by standing under the spray with you and pushing his front up against your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder.
“Fuck, you take hot showers.” He commented.
Usually you’d laugh.
“Sorry.” You said instead.
He rubbed at your hips where his hands had fallen with his thumbs, eliciting another layer of goosebumps on your skin.
“You’re not feeling too good, are you baby?” He asked quietly.
You let out an exhausted breath. “I don’t feel good; I’m no good.” You responded just as quietly.
Sirius ducked his chin down to kiss your shoulder before quickly replacing it.
“That’s not true.”
You didn’t respond, glad that the water streaming over your face hid the evidence of the tears escaping your eyes.
Wordlessly, Sirius pulled away and grabbed your shampoo, working it into your hair. You did nothing to help him in his task, keeping your head pressed against the shower wall as he lathered the soap on your scalp. He pulled the handheld down to rinse it out, paying special attention to point the spray away from your face since you didn’t seem too fussed over protecting your own eyes. He combed some conditioner through your hair and rinsed it out in much the same manner before grabbing a loofa and lathering body wash over your form.
“Sometimes it’s two steps forward and one step back.” He commented, finally breaking the silence that had long been only the sound of the water falling and each of your breaths. “But that still means you’re one step forward.”
A sob escaped you, causing Sirius to pause in his ministrations and pull you back into his chest again.
He didn’t say anything else; he knew better. Of course he would, Sirius sometimes understood this side of you better than the others did. Sirius had a tendency to fall into darker times too, also having a penchant for lashing out at those closest to him when things felt like too much.
He let you cry, standing under the likely too-hot-for-his-tastes water, as he rocked you back and forth with your head leaned back, resting on his shoulder as you faced toward the ceiling.
“Do they hate me?” You whimpered eventually, trying to convince your lungs to take in slower, deeper breaths.
“Of course they don’t; you know they don’t.”
“Are they mad at me?”
You could feel Sirius shake his head, but he answered you verbally anyway.
“No, doll. They worry, is all.”
You didn’t like that. You didn’t want them to worry. “I’m fine.”
“I know you are.” He agreed readily. “They do too.”
You let that sit in the foggy air for a little bit.
“Do you know that?” He asked eventually.
“Know what?”
“That you’re okay? That you’re just fine?”
You thought about that for a moment. You were sad, and you were anxious, but were you fine?
You admitted to yourself you felt the familiar tendrils of your darker self pulling at you, but you could also admit it was different this time. You were better, you had been working hard, and most importantly, that hard work was paying off.
You may have been two steps forward and one step back, but you were still one step forward from where you started.
“You’re sure they’re not mad at me?” You asked instead, earning you a chuckle as Sirius turned you in his arms to hold your face between his hands.
“No one is mad at you, love. I swear it. You are, however, very loved.”
You offered him the best smile you could muster and let him pull you forward for a chaste kiss.
“Then… yes, I know I’m fine.” You agreed eventually, earning you a beaming smile from your boyfriend.
“Atta girl.”
Your felt your cheeks heat up at the praise and pushed your forehead into his chest.
“Can we get out of this torture chamber, now? I swear this water is being heated by hellfire.” He joked, leaning around you to turn off the shower without your consent.
“It’s really not that bad.” You argued, earning you a scoff.
“I’m red, doll. The water has marred my skin, perhaps permanently.”
You continued arguing about proper shower etiquette as you rubbed lotion into your skin (and then into Sirius’ for his troubles [he really was sort of red]), and changed into your comfies.
You headed towards the living room before you remembered you were sort of ashamed with yourself for the way you had spoken to the other two boys, but Sirius didn’t allow you to hesitate in the hall as he caught your elbow when your steps faltered and ushered you into the room.
“Boys, we’re really going to have to do something about her shower habits.” He commented as if a) nothing had happened, and b) you weren’t even there. “I’m surprised she hasn’t completely melted her skin off."
“Perhaps hot showers are how she gets so beautiful, Sirius, ever think about that?” James jested back, earning him an indignant scoff.
“Are you saying I’m not pretty, Jamie?”
“As pretty as Y/N?” Remus interjected, looking between the two of you as if assessing. “No, not at all.”
“Well I-” Sirius began, but you interrupted.
“I’m sorry.”
Everyone’s shoulders fell as they turned to look at you, clearly willing to brush over the tension if that had been what you wanted.
“I was rude and irritable when I got home, and neither of you deserved that. I’m sorry.”
“Angel…” James started, opening his arms for you which you readily accepted and tucked yourself into his chest.
“I was never mad to begin with, but I’ll go ahead and forgive you right now if that’ll make you feel better, okay?” He murmured into your wet hair.
“Okay. Thank you.” You murmured back.
“You’re too sweet for us, dove.” Remus commented, moving to place a consoling hand on your back.
“I was the opposite of that earlier.” You chuckled at your own expense.
“Please.” Sirius scoffed derisively. “These two are too nice, especially when you feel like shit; I’ve given them a far harder time than you have, dollface.”
“It’s true.” James said quickly. “He once told me he’d rather have a cup of tea with his mother than snuggle with me when he was in one of his moods once.”
You gasped and looked at Sirius in horror. “You did not.”
Sirius, not at all guilty, shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure did, and I meant it too.”
“Oh come off it.” Remus chided, pulling Sirius into his side who broke out in a grin, effectively eliminating his earnest facade.
“No, of course I didn’t mean it.” He relented, leaning further into Remus’ side.
“I don’t like myself very much when I’m like this.” You admitted quietly.
“We’ll love you enough for all of us in the meantime then, yeah?” James asked, pulling you into his arms tighter.
“Just be patient with yourself dove, you’re much too hard on yourself. We’re here now and we’ll be here when you feel better too.” Remus added.
“Can’t get rid of us that easily, dollface.” Sirius concluded, shooting you a wink.
Two steps forward and one step back.
But you were still one step forward.
You knew you would make two more steps forward again soon.
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massage therapy | mapi leon x reader
mapi gets injured… reader tries to resolve some of the tension in her body
warnings: injury, hurt/comfort, smut, cunnilingus, fingering
“Maps, baby, I swear to dios just let me massage your knee, I have to, hermosa.”
María just glares at you from her position sitting on the couch.
She’s been next to unbearable ever since her meniscus injury, rightfully so, you would be two if you had no choice but to stop playing the sport that you loved for months.
But the whining, the wayward glares, the constant anger and tension is beginning to get to you, beyond it making you annoyed at your lover, you were worried about her more than anything.
Mapí had her fair share of mental health problems in the past, the two of you had gotten through them together, but whenever something like an injury arose it always seemed to signify the start of a rougher patch in her mental health.
So that had been your main focus, making sure that María’s mental health stayed intact, you thought you’d done a fairly good job, mentally she was doing well, but attitude wise she was acting like a little bitch.
Always snappy and critical, always annoyed about her lack of mobility, always refusing your help.
Alexia had attempted multiple times to reign her in on your behalf, the Catalan woman had practically moved in as soon as the news of the injury had come in, insistent on being a support system for her best friend, but it worked to no prevail, Mapí was angry with the world, with her knee, with everything that moved or breathed.
“Estoy bien.” I’m fine
Her words are forced out, gruff and croaky from her spot on the couch.
You’re pretty sure there is a half permanent Mapí shaped dent in the pillows that your girlfriend had been living in the last week or so, ever since her surgery.
“María, when are you going to stop being so stubborn and just accept my help?”
For a person who had some fairly serious surgery just over a week ago, Mapi was a menace, trying to do everything on her own, which was fairly hard when you were hopped up on pain meds and hardly mobile.
“Estoy bien, ni siquiera estoy adolorida.” I’m fine, I’m not even sore.
It’s a complete lie, Mapí’s been moaning and groaning for the last half hour as she tried to find a comfortable position amongst the pillows and blankets.
She’s practically crafted a nest on the couch, a big pile of blankets absorbing her completely.
“María, por favor.” Maria, please
Your use of Spanish seems to draw her attention, it’s not your first, or second language, you don’t speak it very often.
Both you and María understand each other's languages, just find it harder to speak them, so it just works that you normally speak in English and she normally speaks in Spanish, it saves either of you from having to awkwardly translate all of your words every time you want to talk with your girlfriend.
“Pequeña, estoy bien.” little one, I’m fine
Estoy bien seems to be at the forefront of Mapí’s vocabulary recently, it’s always I’m fine, even when she’s lying through gritted teeth and teary eyes.
You stand up from your spot sitting at the kitchen table, tiptoeing towards Mapí slowly, a deep frown set on your face.
Mapí’s watching some Spanish soap opera, something you're unfamiliar with, which makes it seem like it's more background noise for her than anything of interest.
You walk around the couch, until you’re standing in front of her, blocking her view of the tv so she’s forced to look at you.
“You can’t tell me your knee isn’t killing, the physio said it needed to be stimulated daily, let me help you, love.”
Mapí bites down on her lip, there is so much frustration playing across her face, so much anguish.
“Estoy bien.” i’m fine
It’s like being repetitively punched in the face, hearing the same two words fall from her lips, it’s incredibly aggravating, all consuming.
“María, you aren’t fine, hate me all you want, push me away, but give me the respect of not lying blatantly to my face over and over again.”
Mapi’s whole body tenses, her face scrunching up at your brutally honest words.
“Princesa, no es así.” princess, it’s not like that
You don’t give up, not when you know that this might just be your opportunity to get something back, anything at all.
“Maps, just a massage, we’ll go at your pace, your muscles need to be strengthened and that starts with loosening them up, por favor.”
María’s face is stubborn, unmoving.
She’s fairly good about recovery, doesn’t need any reminders to do her exercises or move her knee as often as it needs to, the massaging is the only thing she can’t do by herself, and because its Mapí that you’re talking about, she’d never ask you to help her with it, or accept a offer from you to help her.
You take her recovery seriously though, and you’ll be damned if she misses out on a crucial part of her recovery just because she is too bullheaded to ask for some goddamn help.
“No necesito ayuda.” I don’t need help
You scoff, it’s the biggest lie ever, Mapí can’t walk without crutches, can’t stand for much longer than a minute, she needs help with almost everything.
“Maps, I love you so much, no matter what, but this whole independence thing is just getting annoying. I’ll make you prawn paella for dinner if you let me give you a massage, how’s that for a deal?”
It’s Mapí’s weakness, you know it, it’s one of her mothers oldest recipes that she taught you when she was still alive, whenever Mapí’s having a particularly hard day it’s always your go to, it’s her comfort food.
“Promesa?” promise?
You nod your head, smiling to yourself as you realise that you’ve managed to somehow convince Mapí.
“I promise, I’m going to go and get the massage oil, can you try and take off your sweatpants for me, please, love?”
Mapí nods at you, a little smile teasing at the corners of her lips as she watches you walk off into the direction of the cupboard where the both of you keep all of your recovery related items.
You were quick to find the oil and creams that you required, returning back to Mapí to find her sitting on the couch, her sweatpants pushed to the side leaving her in just her boxer shorts.
Her knee was the only part of her legs that weren’t visible to you, hidden by a brace and plethora of bandages and gauze.
You perched yourself down on the pillows beside her knee, ditching the items in your hands and gently reaching for Mapí’s brace.
She flinched away from the contact, her knee jerking at the feeling.
“Maps, baby, just relax for me, yeah?”
She nodded, her teeth gritted, her eyes watching your every move around her knee, trying to gulp down her worries and discomfort that originated from places beyond her knee.
Once she’d relaxed a little bit more, you reached for her brace again, she still flinched, but it wasn’t as major, and you decided to continue, reaching for the velcro, exaggerating your movements so Mapí had a clear view of everything you were doing.
Once you’d managed to undo the velcro straps you gently un tightened it and then slid it down her leg, leaving gauze and bandages as the only thing covering it.
“Deep breaths Maps, if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable just tell me, sí?”
Mapi nodded at you, she looked like a woman who had just run a marathon, her face all scrunched up and red.
“Sí, gentil, por favor.” Yes, gentle, please
You smiled at her, nodding, like you’d ever be anything else.
“Sí, I’ll be gentle, how about I tell you what I’m going to do before I do it, just so you have some warning, would that make you feel a bit better, love?”
Mapi nods like your words are her saving grace.
“Okay, I’m just going to unwrap the bandages now, just let me know if anything hurts.”
Mapí nods her head, so you continue on, finding the tucked in part of the bandages and beginning to unwrap them, your touch and movements feather soft.
You flex her knee a little bit and notice how her face crunches up a little bit, you hate that she’s in pain, that something that should be so simple and basic for her has become a struggle.
She doesn’t tell you to stop though, so you continue, slowly unravelling the gauze and bandages until you are met with the sight of her bruised and swollen knee.
The stitches had been removed two days ago, so the scar is risen and red, but luckily, not infected.
You notice how Mapí’s eyes suddenly drift from her knee, you know she’s been struggling to come to terms with her injury, that she’s been denying it as much as one could.
“Maps, I’m going to apply some oil, I’m just going to start with your lower leg, nothing near your incision, just tell me if anything is uncomfortable, okay?”
Mapí nods, so you reach for the oil bottle and a towel, gently lifting her knee to slide the towel under her near and then dripping some of the oil onto your hands and then gently pressing them to Mapi’s shin, snaking your hands behind to her calf and working your fingers into her muscles.
The only thing you know is that she’s extremely tight, her calf and achilles practically pushing against you as you lightly apply pressure to the skin.
It takes a generous amount of time working up her calf, working out all the kinks and knots, María is lenient enough though, she looks like she’s in a different place, normally you’d probe her, check if she was okay, but you know that you’re winning right now by having her allow your to do this, so you count your wins and not your losses.
“Maps, baby, I’m working up to your knee and incision now, I know it's going to be uncomfy but the muscles need to be jostled, tell me if anything hurts, okay.”
María’s eyes are glossed over, but she nods absentmindedly.
So, you daintily and carefully begin the trek up to Maria’s knee, your fingers dancing around her non incision side, gently giving the tissue and muscle a rub before moving your fingers to the other side.
You start by just hovering your fingers over her scar, something that seems to capture her attention, and has her throat bobbing as she looks down at you with wide eyes.
“Maps, honey, talk to me.”
It’s clear there are words waiting on the tip of her tongue, and if you can get her to voice them that you will.
“Por favor.” please
It breaks your heart how vulnerable Mapí sounds, it truly does.
“Please, what, love? I’m going to need more than that.”
Mapí pushes her tongue out against her front lip, a fairly clear tell that something is turning the cogs in her head.
“Por favor, no me hagas daño.” Please, don’t hurt me
Your heart clenches at her words, your fingers removing themselves from the scar and gently resting down on her thigh, your palm flat and open against Mapí’s skin.
“María, I’m not going to hurt you, and definitely not on purpose, I’m trying to help you. I know it might not seem that way, but if you relax for me it’s definitely going to feel better.”
Mapí scoffs, sarcasm seemingly ready on the top of her tongue.
“Maps, you need to relax honey.”
Mapí’s face scrunches up, her nose and eyebrows furrowing together.
“No puedo.” I can’t
You don’t doubt Mapí, which makes it so much harder for you to reply to her, because she genuinely looks like she’s struggling, and somehow frustrated.
“Maps, honey, why so tense?”
There’s an inkling of an idea beginning to form in your head, but you don’t want to read this wrong, and a part of you wants to hear what Mapí has to say.
“Tus manos están en mi muslo.” Your hands on my thigh
You snort a little bit, but then reign yourself in when you see the unfamiliar hopelessness on María’s face.
“Yes it is, what’s your point?”
You're toying with her a little bit, for your own fun and genuine curiosity.
“No puedes poner tu mano ahí.” You can’t put your hand there.
If Mapi wasn’t whining at you, you would remove your hand, but there’s neediness hiding behind her tone, that leaves your hand exactly where it is.
“Why not?”
You cock your head at her, pushing down into her thigh a bit and choking on air when an almost breathy moan leaves her mouth.
“No cuando no puedes terminar lo que estás empezando.” Not when you can’t finish what you are starting.
You smirked up at her from your spot hovering between her sore knee resting on the couch and her good leg which is resting off the couch.
“Why can’t I finish it?”
This is uncharted waters with injured María, ever since her knee injury all bedroom activities had been abruptly stopped, you were terrified of hurting your lover and Mapí was always tired or grumpy so it hadn’t really been an issues.
It was clear though, that the both of you were apparently desperate, and as fearful you were of hurting Mapi, you also knew she had given a lot of herself to be this vulnerable with you, so she probably deserved some kind of reward.
“Princesa.”
Mapi’s whining again and all you can do is smile up at her.
“Usted no quieres?” You do not want?
Mapi shook her head, her deep brown eyes sparkling down at you.
“Por favor.” please
You knew that was permission enough, but you were enjoying seeing her slightly vulnerable.
“Please, what?”
María’s almost glaring, a little twinkle in the corner of her eye.
“Por favor, ayúdame.” Please, help me
You would have probed further, if her eyes hadn't fallen down to the centre of her boxers, her hand resting on her hip gently tugging at the waistband of her boyshorts.
“You want this?”
Mapí nodded frantically, making you giddy on the inside.
“Pull your boxers down for me baby, I think it’s time I massage more than your leg.”
Mapi moaned again, her hands falling directly to the waistband and tugging it off with as much force a crippled individual could.
“So eager baby girl, how long have you been needing me?”
Mapí doesn’t reply to you, just continues to tug her black boxer shorts down her ass and carefully over her knee and ankle before tossing them somewhere.
When you look up, you're rewarded with the view of María’s dripping sex, her clit poking out of it’s good and her hole clenching around nothing, her hips canting up to you desperately.
“Look at that, you're all wet for me and I haven’t even touched you where it matters.”
The noises that leave Mapí’s mouth are completely sinful, her head leaning back against the couch, little pleas leaving her mouth.
You trail your fingers up from her thigh, gently grazing against the inside of her thigh until they finally make it to her lips.
You do the same with her lips, trailing wet and sloppy kisses up the inside of her knee and thigh, until your lips come into contact with her dripping and throbbing clit.
You don’t waste any time, trailing a single finger down to Mapí’s hole and swiping up some of the wetness before gently beginning to push it into her eager hole.
Mapí’s pussy practically sucked your finger in, you fell into a fairly easy pace, your mouth suckling gently on her clit whilst your singular finger worked in and out of Maria.
When there was absolutely zero resistance or stretch you began to ease a second finger in, slowly increasing your pace and your pressure on her nub.
Normally, in situations like these, when you and Mapí hadn’t been with each other intimately for so long you’d take your time, show her just how much you loved and appreciated her, but this wasn’t the moment for that.
Mapí needed love, she needed to be worshipped, but in this moment you were acting as nothing more than a relaxant for her, a tension reliever, which you were completely fine with, if it made her feel better than you would do anything for her.
You found her sweet spot, the little pad inside of her and began to target it directly, simultaneously sucking on her clit and caressing her g-spot.
It was a combination that never failed to work during a quickie, sending her directly over the edge in a matter of minutes.
This time was no different, you could feel Mapí tightening around you, her hands finding home in your roots and tugging you up eagerly into her.
Her moans all of a sudden stopped and her hands relaxed, not a second after that she tightened around your fingers and her thighs spasmed on both sides of your head.
You gently worked her through her aftershocks, only removing your fingers when all of the post orgasm shakes had left her body you moved you reached your hand up to her mouth, allowing her to suck her own taste off of your dexterous fingers whilst you lapped up any of her leftover juices and cum that was dripping out of her.
Once Mapí had sucked every last drop off your fingers and you’d salvaged every last bit of her pussy juices you lifted your head out of the apex between her legs, to be rewarded with the sight of a far less tense looking María León.
“Feeling a little bit more relaxed now, bebé?”
Mapu just gave you a little post orgasm grin, her eyes glassy in a completely different way as how she had been a few minutes ago.
“Si, muy relajada.” Yes, very relaxed.
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