#language shutdown

[bluegoblinfox]

Non verbal or not non verbal?

I've really struggled to express this and why I am having difficulty with not using the term become non-verbal. I'm gen x and I'm trying to understand. Please be kind.

This it's been a part of my life always really. It's just when it got to this point I would hide away my own. It wasn't really an issue in my day-to-day life because I was masking so much. However I would burn out and need to take days and days off work to recover on I've regular basis. Places of work don't like this.

When my daughter was unwell and I was caring for her full time and intensively, I became very burnt out. I Began noticing that I would start to do what I called- loose my words. It would be like there was a fog in my brain between what I was thinking and feeling and putting that into language and then expressing that in words. At its best this would just be a verbal difficulty and at its worse I couldn't communicate in writing either.

When my daughter hit crisis, so did I. When she went into a crisis house and then went into a psychiatric unit, I began to notice the periods of me having difficulty expressing myself with words was becoming more frequent. As I said at best this was a shutdown verbally and at worse it was an inability to communicate using language at all.

It seems like the more stressed I was, the more stressful the situation was, the more emotive situation was and the more communicating I needed to do, the more difficulty communicating I had.

I still have these issues. I can feel them coming on most of the time. When it's all getting too much and I'm shutting down and my communication ability shuts down too. I still use the phrase losing words. However most people don't understand what that means and what it means for me.

I have used the phrase becoming non-verbal to describe my difficulties during these periods. I have recently read on Tumblr from people who are non-verbal all of the time that this is offensive. I don't fully understand at the moment why that is but I want to understand.

I don't feel the term semi verbal quite describes me as the majority of the time I can communicate using my voice and typing. I don't feel the term selective mute is an adequate definition of what it is I experience. I don't know I could be wrong on this.

I don't want to use language which detracts from other autistic's experiences or obstructs understanding. I do however need to use words that other people generally are able to understand the meaning of.

I think discourse is important. It is vital to establish a shared and precise comprehension of the meanings of words. It is equally important to grasp their significance within different social groups. These meanings contribute to the associated ideas, assumptions, and stereotypes related to those words. The common understanding of these words and any prevalent stereotypical beliefs associated with the group they describe can unfortunately result in discrimination and prejudiced actions.

However I don't believe in the gatekeeping of terms, definitions, labels, over who can use them.

I am queer and there are many definitions of what that means. However generally it means not cis-heterosexual.

Queerness like autism is a spectrum consisting of many parts. My queerness is more evident in some parts of my life and less so in others. My autism is impacts me to different degrees in different areas of my life. I am 100% autistic and I am 100% queer. Both those labels apply to me as an individual, as ways of describing my gender identity and sexuality succinctly and as a way of describing my neurotype succinctly.

People are argue all the time about who has the right to use these labels. I don't care if you are self-diagnosed autistic I think that is just as valid as a diagnostic label. I don't care why or for how long or when you decide that you identify as queer. It is just as valid to decide that you are queer in your teens or when you're 50.

I experience not being able to use language verbally at times. I don't understand at present why it would be offensive or wrong for me to say I experience becoming non-verbal at times. As this is a succinct and well understood way of describing this experience in a way that others can understand.

If someone can explain this issue to me in a way that makes sense and can suggest another way of me explaining my experience and getting my point across regarding my support needs to people in general without saying I have periods where I am non-verbal, then I will stop using that term.

[noturlondonboy]

Hiiii

Might I request even more autistic! Yelena things, they mean so much to me.

Also thanks for responding last time :)

Heyyy nonnie yknow what would be so cool- if you gave yourself a silly little way for me to know who you are so I can keep up with the convo whenever we talk about the girl 🤭

ANYWAY!! I do have more thoughts about Autistic!Yelena :DD

(I really should be working on inktober rn. But. I am not.)

-I’ve been thinking about marvel characters knowing sign language and obviously we’ve got Clint and the Barton family, and Kate by proxy, but I like the idea of Yelena already knowing it for when she goes nonverbal

-Kate and Clint are talking in sign one time when Clint is having an old man day and needs to just not hear shit, and Yelena suddenly appears and chimes in with her own ASL and Kate and Clint are just like 😟😯😦😧😮

-Kate really wants to figure out why Yelena knows it but at this point she doesn’t know that Yelena is neurodivergent and can’t quite pin it down

-Clint figures her out way quicker than she likes because he sees her having a meltdown one time and recognizes the signs of going nonverbal (Natasha, Lila, Laura maybe? Nate? Bucky? I dunno) and is trying to help and give her ways to respond that are real easy but she whips the ASL out and he puts two and two together

-Fanny is actually an esa/therapy dog and is trained to get Yelena’s meds, water, chewelry, weighted blanket, etc. and make her sit down when she’s having a meltdown and is just generally very helpful because she’s the goodest girl

-idk if I’ve ever talked about what Yelena’s meltdowns/shutdowns look like but they are

Bad

-they start mild, and can be really easy to see coming, especially if there’s obviously already a lot of stimuli, and they can be preventable if someone who knows what they’re doing is there to help her, but more often than not she masks masks masks masks masks until her brain is on fire and she either explodes or goes catatonic and freaks people out

-I’m talking screaming crying wailing throwing up levels of freak out when she’s beyond her breaking point and something small happens that finally just makes her snap

-holding her down only makes her panic more but sometimes her flailing and disorientation become an actual risk and she needs to not

-or her eyes are glassy and her jaw is either clenched or slack and she just sits/lays there entirely unresponsive for a HOT minute and all anyone can do is get Fanny and make sure she’s positioned safely and in a secure place

-sometimes she just needs to lay on the floor for half an hour until The Feeling goes away

-it’s called her floor time and she needs it desperately

-you know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t pretend otherwise.

[giratina-and-the-skys-bouquet]

[ametistapp]

What do verbal, hearing people have against sign language?

I'm a hearing-able and "usually" verbal person, but since I'm autistic I sometimes go into verbal shutdown.

Both because of that and because I simply find sign languages to be important languages that should be more normalized around the globe, I really wanted to have the opportunity to learn my country's sign language properly.

However, whenever I mention that to certain people, they'll tell me it's useless and pointless because I don't know any deaf, hard-of-hearing or nonverbal individuals.

Like????? Excuse me?????

I don't know about other countries, but we don't have the chance to learn sign in Portuguese schools and I personally think we should be taught to communicate easily with everyone in our own country before being taught how to communicate with foreigns.

Sign languages are languages like any other. When my friends chose to learn French and German no one told them it was useless because they don't know any French or German people, so what's the big deal with sign language?

I apologize to any and every deaf, Deaf, hard-of-hearing, non-verbal or semiverbal person reading this for how rude some jerks out there can be.

(Also, sorry if hearing-abled isn't the correct term, I can’t really find an answer anywhere)

[forests-creatures]

Trying to learn BSL!! I am very new to it, but I hope to do it to talk to deaf family members, and also for verbal shut downs

[autogeneity]

oh this feels freeing

about to fuck off from work for three weeks and then come back to new year, new client/team, even new laptop

doing literally the same exact thing but hey

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

speech loss is weird I’ve just decided

[atinystraykid]

Good news:

I found a new therapist who is actually specialized in cases like me

After years of collecting anxiety diagnoses like Pokémon (social anxiety, generalized anxiety, agoraphobia, health anxiety etc.) I finally learned I do actually NOT have a classic anxiety disorder with panic attacks, and that my anxiety symptoms are actually directly related to my autism rather than being a separate issue, so they require a different approach

Ill be included in group sessions actually tailored to that now

Bad news:

I have a group session tomorrow and I am anxious about it

[stillinthatweirdfaze]

Thinking about how I only learned that I had, in fact, had anxiety and panic attacks before when I went to the doctor because I passed out from one. I have now learned that I have been having anxiety attacks for my whole life and just didn’t know because so one wanted to explain shit to me.

[post-punk-revival]

I always thought getting good at another language would be like instant mental translation to English which I can then understand. Like getting a new art program and you can't work with its layout so learning the language is like downloading an exact copy of the layout of the old one onto the new one. Instead it's more like knowing how to use the new layout. I don't mentally translate Yiddish into English in my head like a calculator, I can just... read the Yiddish and understand it, as Yiddish rather than potential English.

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Where you “unfortunately” caught your best friend's roomate—your unsaid enemy—masturbating in their shared apartment. — WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: smut, monster cock!seungcheol, explicit language and content, overstimulation, dry fucking, oral as a tongue massage (f. receiving)—a reward <3, body fluids (cum), dry humping, cock riding, dumbfication, degradation, aftercare, exhaustion, and DIRTY TALK.

here’s how it always goes with seungcheol:

you walk into a room, he immediately finds something to scoff at. maybe it’s the way you dress, maybe it’s the way you talk, maybe it’s just the fact that you exist in his general vicinity. but it doesn’t matter what you do—he hates you. or, at the very least, that’s what he insists on showing you.

joshua, your best friend and possibly the only person in the world who can tolerate both of you without losing his mind, always tells you to be the bigger person. “he’s not that bad,” he says, as if seungcheol didn’t practically hiss at you last week for sitting on his side of the couch.

but whatever. you don’t go out of your way to piss him off, and he doesn’t go out of his way to be nice. that’s just the way it is.

which is why you hesitate when joshua calls you:

“i swear, i wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. i left my keys at your place before i flew out, remember?”

“okay, but i literally don’t want to step foot in his apartment,” you stress, cringing at the thought.

“it’s my apartment, too,” joshua deadpans.

you groan, already feeling a headache coming on.

“just go in, grab the folder on my desk, and leave,” he insists. “cheol probably won’t even be home.”

which is how you find yourself standing outside their apartment door, holding joshua’s keys and hyping yourself up like you’re about to enter enemy territory. which, in a way, you are.

you unlock the door, push it open,

and immediately wish you hadn’t.

seungcheol. on the couch. fisting his cock.

your brain short-circuits. like, full shutdown, blue screen, cease all functioning mode.

the man is spread out—legs wide, head tipped back, theres a drop of sweat that drips from his neck aand land in the middle of his chest. hes exposing his toned abs that clench with every up and down of his hand. and his cock is huge. thick from the base to the top and flushed deep red at the tip, veins prominent as his fist works over it.

he’s so lost in it that he doesn’t even register your presence at first, not until he finally cracks his eyes open and sees you standing there, frozen stunned into silence.

the next few seconds happen in slow motion.

his eyes widen. his entire body stiffens. his hand stops.

“WHAT THE FUCK—”

seungcheol scrambles to cover himself, reaching for the nearest thing—which, unfortunately for him, is a shirt that does nothing to hide the absolute tent he’s pitching. his face goes red, splotchy from the neck up, and he looks so flustered that for a split second, you almost feel bad.

“why the fuck are you here?!” he practically barks at you, voice ragged from whatever the fuck he was doing before you ruined his life.

you blink, still processing the image that’s now burned into your brain for eternity. “uh. joshua?”

“what about joshua?!”

“he… he needed a document.”

seungcheol lets out a sound that is so frustrated, so exasperated, that it almost doesn’t register as human. “and you didn’t think to knock?!”

“why would i knock?! i didn’t think anyone would be jerking off in the living room like a fucking pervert—”

“IT’S MY APARTMENT.”

“IT’S JOSHUA’S TOO.”

“HE’S NOT HERE.”

“WELL, NEITHER AM I, NOW.” you turn on your heel, hand reaching for the doorknob. “i’ll just get the doc later—”

but before you can escape, he rasps, “don’t you dare tell joshua about this.”

you pause. smirk. oh, this is fun.

back still facing him, fingers still wrapped around the doorknob. you should leave. should pretend none of this ever happened. but something—some sick, wrong part of you—doesn’t want to.

so you turn. lean back against the door. cross your arms.

“what?” he snaps, shifting on the couch, the shirt still pitifully draped over his lap.

you tilt your head, dragging your gaze slowly down his body—his hard nipples, the taut muscles in his arms, the way his thighs tense like he’s fighting the urge to close them. you can see the way he twitches under the shirt.

“you’re still hard,” you note, your voice syrupy sweet, but your eyes gleam meanly.

seungcheol tenses. “so?”

“so… you’re mad at me for walking in,” you say, cocking a brow, “but you’re still hard as fuck.”

he grits his teeth, but his silence is loud as hell.

so you take a step forward. just one.

his breath hitches.

“cheol.” you coo at him. “you sure you hate me?”

he glares, but it’s weaker now, faltering under your scrutiny. you can see it—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his pulse jumps in his throat, the way he’s not telling you to stop.

so you take another step.

and another.

until you’re standing right in front of him, the shirt the only barrier between his cock and your eyes.

his jaw tightens. “don’t.”

“don’t what?” you murmur, reaching forward to trace your fingers over his wrist—the one that was just wrapped around his cock. “don’t call you out? don’t get closer? don’t—”

in a flash, he grabs your wrist, yanking you down.

you gasp as you land on his lap, his hands firm on your hips, his cock pressing against your ass through the thin barrier of the shirt and your clothes.

his lips are right by your ear when he growls, “don’t fucking test me.”

you shiver, but you’re not scared, you’re thrilled.

so you shift, pressing back against him, and smirk when he lets out a sharp breath through his nose.

“or what?” you whisper.

his grip tightens. “you really wanna find out?”

your fingers curl into his hair, tugging just enough to make him hiss.

“yeah,” you breathe, lips brushing his jaw. “i do.”

he snaps.

the shirt under you is gone.

his mouth crashes into yours, hot and angry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his palms. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue prying your mouth open, swallowing the gasp you let out when his fingers dig into your hips.

you grind down, moaning into his mouth when you feel just how fucking thick he is, leaking against your skirt. 

his hands are rough when he yanks your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist with no intention of letting it fall back down. you barely have a second to breathe before his fingers push past your thighs, finding the front of your panties hooking his thumb into the damp fabric and pulling it to the side.

the rush of cold air makes you gasp, thighs trying to snap shut, but his thighs pins them open. and maybe, he has a shred of decency in him, because he lets out a low breath and murmurs, “this is gonna be rough.”

no warning. just that.

you should stop him. you should tell him to go slow, to prep you, to at least spit on it—but you don’t, you need to feel this big cock stretching you until every single thought inside your head gets completely erased.

there’s no lube, no prep besides the mess between your thighs, just the torturous process of sinking down.

seungcheol watches all of it. watches the way your lips part, how your lashes flutter, how your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the lower you go. he’s leaning back against the couch, one hand gripping the plush of your ass, the other wrapped around his base, guiding you onto him like you’re something delicate. like he’s trying to help.

but he’s not.

because he knows what he’s doing when he taps his cockhead against your clit first, dragging the tip through your slick, coaxing out little whimpers that make him smirk. he knows what he’s doing when he presses up, just the tip slipping inside, barely enough to be satisfying but more than enough to make your thighs twitch.

your breath catches in your throat, your whole body twitching up as you take the next inch too fast. your brain is empty, your body is working on instinct, thighs shaking as you brace yourself against him, trying—failing—to push down further.

and he sees it. sees how you’re struggling, sees how your muscles twitch like you’re about to give out, sees how you want to take it but your body is fighting the stretch.

so he helps.

his hands clamp down on your waist.

and then he slams you down.

the sound that leaves your throat is so ruined that he cant help but feel a bit of compassion.

because suddenly you’re full. suddenly you’re sitting completely in his lap, completely engulfed in him, your thighs flush against his, his cock buried so fucking deep that you can feel it pressing up against every nerve inside you.

but when you try to move, try to lift yourself even an inch—nothing.

your thighs won’t cooperate. your muscles won’t listen.

you can’t move.

“oh?” seungcheol tilts his head, smug grin curling at his lips as he grinds up, watching the way your mouth falls open at the sensation.

“too big for you, baby?”

you whimper.

“thought so.”

and then he takes control, because you can’t move—so he does it for you. his hands lift you effortlessly, dragging your hips up before slamming you back down, setting the pace, forcing your body to take what it’s given.

and you can’t think straight anymore. every thrust knocks the air from your lungs, every time he slams you down it punches little whimpers from your throat that only make him hungrier.

“awww… thought you were so tough. but you can’t even fuck yourself on my cock, huh?”

you cry out, body giving up, melting against his chest as you desperately try to follow his rhythm, hips twitching with little, pathetic attempts to keep up. your body isn’t even yours anymore—just a toy, something for seungcheol to use, something he’s breaking in with every brutal roll of his hips. 

his fingers dig into your waist, gripping you so tight it hurts, but the pleasure drowns it out. you’re so deep into it, into him, that every ounce of shame has left your body, every shred of dignity gone. because you can’t do anything but take it, can’t do anything but let him use you like you were made for this.

he tilts his head, watching you fall apart, watching how your thighs tremble with every slap of his hips against yours.

“damn,” he laughs, licking his lips, voice mocking. “you’re making such a fucking mess of yourself.”

you whimper, forehead pressing against his collarbone.

and then he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“mm-mm, don’t hide now,” he says, smirking. “be a good girl and let me see that dumb little face while i ruin you.”

a sob rips from your throat, high-pitched and wrecked.

he groans, grinding up into you.

“fuck. bet the neighbors can hear you, huh? joshua’s gonna be so fucking embarrassed when he gets a noise complaint for his dumb little best friend getting dicked down like a whore.”

your whole body jerks, a whimper escaping your lips at the humiliation, the filth dripping from his tongue.

and he sees it.

his grin turns cruel.

“oh, you like that?” he taunts, thrusting up so deep your back arches. “you like knowing that you’re loud enough to make it everyone’s fucking problem? that you’re such a good little fucktoy for me that i can’t even keep you quiet?”

you nod, because you can’t lie. his fingers tighten around your jaw, his lips brushing against yours as he coos.

“poor little thing.”

he thrusts up again, so hard, so deep that your whole body bounces, hands scrambling against his chest, voice cracking in a choked-out sob.

and he moans, deep and satisfied, because you’re so fucking perfect for him. because your body is his to use, to mold, to ruin.

“joshua’s gonna kill me c-cheol.”

his hips snap up again, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“but you’ll tell him it was worth it, won’t you, baby?”

he smooths one over your back, pressing down so your tits rub against his burning skin, while the other stays firm on your hip, keeping you still. your body jerks with every pulse of his cock inside you, twitching as you flutter around him, so overstimulated you can’t tell where the pleasure starts or ends.

“s-seungcheol—” his name is nothing but a broken cry, muffled against his neck, but he’s relentless. he doesn’t even let you finish, just shifts his knees slightly and thrusts up into you with all the power in his core.

“fuck,” he hisses when you clamp down, crying out into his skin, and he wraps an arm fully around you to hold you up. “shh, baby, you’re being so loud.”

his hand snakes up your back, fingers tangling into your hair, forcing you to lift your head. you meet his gaze, and it knocks the breath from your lungs. he looks fucked, mouth parted, sweat dripping from his hairline, chest heaving, but he still manages to look at you like he’s about to devour you whole.

“c’mon,” he coos, tilting his head, his grip tightening just enough to make your scalp tingle. “tell me it was worth it. tell me how good my cock is.”

he punctuates it with a sharp snap of his hips and you keen, trying to lift yourself, trying to relieve some of the intensity, but your thighs betray you. seungcheol laughs, breathless but smug, and his fingers press bruises into your skin as he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing.

“see? can’t even move, huh? my poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, his free hand cupping your cheek now. “you’re just gonna sit here and take it like the perfect fucktoy you are.”

heat prickles at your skin at the words, your brain too fogged up to be embarrassed, too fucked out to do anything but let him guide you. he rocks you against him, making sure you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls, rubbing at all the right places, pressing into you deeper than you thought was even possible.

“you take me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning in to press his lips against yours, just enough to tease. “so fuckin’ tight, so warm—fucking heaven.”

his hand slides between your bodies, two fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over it. the sensation makes your thighs twitch, your nails dig into his back, a fresh wave of tears pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“shhh, i got you, baby,” he whispers, kissing your jaw now, your temple. his fingers on your clit work in time with the slow, torturous grind of his hips. “i got you, yeah? you gonna cum for me? hm?”

he kisses you full on the mouth when you sob, swallowing the sound like he wants to keep it forever. and then he speeds up just a little, rolling your clit with more pressure, meeting every rut of your hips with a firm thrust up.

you shatter.

your whole body seizes, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as you clamp down so tight on him that it sends him tumbling over the edge with you. he groans, long and low, holding you so tight against him that you can feel every pulse of his cum inside you, hot and deep. his hips jerk once, twice more before he stills, forehead pressed against yours as you both gasp for air.

it’s quiet for a moment, the only sounds are the distant hum of the city outside the window, and the soft squelch when he finally shifts, making you both moan.

your body trembles like a leaf caught in the wind, and seungcheol drinks it in, the heat of your overstimulated form twitching against his chest as he presses slow, lingering kisses into the curve of your neck. his lips move down, sucking at the pulse point that hammers beneath your skin. your breath stutters. his fingers, nails just barely grazing, trail down the arch of your spine, featherlight but enough to make you shiver. you barely even realize you’re moving, the last bit of strength in your boneless limbs used to weakly push yourself up, to let his cock slip free from where it’s buried inside you. 

the second it leaves you, your body gives out. you collapse right into his chest, heavier than before, spent and trembling, the exhaustion hitting all at once. you can’t even pretend to be embarrassed about it. you just sigh, your lips brushing the base of his throat as you settle against him, body limp.

seungcheol holds you steady with both hands, like he’s afraid you might melt right into the couch and disappear. his broad palm cradles the back of your head, fingers splaying across your scalp, scratching at your roots. he keeps the other hand wrapped around your waist, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your ribs. the tension in his body hasn’t left yet. his shoulders are still tight. you know him well enough to know what’s coming before he even says it.

“you good?” 

you hum in response, nuzzling into his chest as your fingers curl weakly against his pecs. “just a little sore.”

he exhales through his nose. shifts beneath you. you can feel his fingers flex where they rest on your waist, like he wants to squeeze but holds himself back. then, with zero effort, he grips the back of your neck and lifts you up, just enough to force you to look at him. your lids are heavy, half-lidded, dazed, and fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel so possessive, but it does.

his thumb sweeps across your cheek, his jaw tensing. “shit. i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over your features like he’s searching for anything more than just exhaustion. “lemme take care of you, hm?”

you don’t have it in you to resist, don’t even want to. you let him move you, let him handle you like you weigh nothing as he lifts you from his lap and shifts you onto the couch, laying you down as if you’re something delicate. and maybe you are, now, after the way he ruined you. maybe that’s why you don’t fight him when he presses your thighs apart, watching as they just fall open on their own, spread wide like a doll.

you don’t have the strength to do much else than whimper softly as his thumbs spread you further, gaze locked onto your swollen cunt, still so slick from where he fucked you. his jaw clenches.

you don’t even get a warning before he moves in, before his hands grip your thighs to keep them open as he dives between them, mouth sealing over your clit in one slow stroke of his tongue.

you jolt, a weak little gasp punching from your lungs. your fingers barely find the energy to tangle into his hair, and the grip is nowhere near as firm as it usually is, but he groans anyway. whether it’s from the feeling of your grip or from the way you instantly react to him, you don’t know. but he doesn’t stop.

his tongue moves slow, warm and so fucking wet as he licks broad, flat strokes over your sensitive flesh, working you open again with patience. he isn’t trying to overstimulate, isn’t trying to get you off again—though you can already tell it wouldn’t take much. his focus is entirely on easing the ache, on massaging every tender inch of you with his mouth, his lips, his tongue.

“feels good?” his voice is muffled against you, but it vibrates in just the right way.

you nod, breath hitching when he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue rolling it in slow circles. your body twitches, heat curling at the base of your spine. “cheol…”

he moans against you, and presses you down harder against his face. your hips jump, an embarrassing whimper breaking free as his tongue dips lower, tracing around your entrance before dragging back up, collecting every bit of slick along the way.

you whine, fingers curling tighter in his hair. he doesn’t tease. doesn’t prolong it. just keeps his pace slow and steady, gentle enough to soothe, firm enough to keep you on the edge of something, even if you’re too sensitive to chase it. and if the way he’s grinding his hips into the couch tells you anything—it’s that he’s just as affected as you are.

he’s not eating you out to get himself off, but fuck if it isn’t working.

the obscene sounds of his mouth working between your thighs filling the entire apartment, mixing in with your breathless moans and the way he groans right into your cunt. you don’t even have it in you to be embarrassed about the way your cum is smeared all over his chin, his jaw, his cheeks—how it drips down onto the couch below with every intentional roll of his tongue against your entrance.

his tongue works in circles, pressing flat to your hole before dragging up again, tasting every bit of your arousal as it gushes out onto his lips. his mouth is open the entire time, tongue rolling and flicking, nose nudging against your clit as he angles his head lower. he flattens his tongue, groaning as he drags it up through your folds before plunging it into you, so messy that you swear you see white behind your eyelids.

your back arches, chest rising in sharp, hiccupped gasps, every single nerve in your body on flames. your thighs twitch in his grasp, and he squeezes them tighter, keeping you spread open just for him. his hands slide up, one wrapping firmly around your waist, keeping you pinned in place, while the other travels up, up—his fingers finding the stiff peaks of your nipples.

your eyes snap open, a gasp catching in your throat as he rolls one between his fingertips, twisting just enough to make your eyes roll. you swear you hear him chuckle against you, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“breathe,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your clit before sucking it between his teeth, tongue rolling in lazy, teasing circles on the swollen bud. “breathe for me, baby.”

you try. you really do. but the way his mouth moves, the way his fingers tweak and pull, it’s too much. you’re spiraling. you feel another orgasm creeping up so fast it steals the air right out of your lungs.

he sees it. he knows.

his grip tightens on your thigh, his tongue flicking faster, working you open as his free hand continues to play with your tits, kneading the soft flesh, fingers rolling your nipples in rhythm with the lazy grind of his tongue against your clit.

your moans turn high-pitched, desperate. your body twists beneath him, unable to keep still as the pleasure builds, climbing higher and higher.

but then—a whimper.

not from you.

from him.

you force your heavy lids open, head lolling to the side as you try to focus on him. and fuck, the sight that greets you is almost enough to make you cum then and there.

seungcheol is rutting against the couch. grinding, fucking humping it like a damn dog, his hips rolling in slow thrusts, his rock-hard cock straining against his stomach, smearing precum all over his abs and the fabric beneath him.

he whimpers again, this time louder, his brows furrowed, his breath coming in short, uneven pants.

“fuck,” he groans, mouth still pressed against you, voice muffled by the way his tongue keeps working you over. he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening, his chin soaked. his eyes are dark, glassy, pupils blown wide as he looks up at you. “can’t—fuck, i can’t stop. you taste too good.”

your chest tightens, a desperate, aching cry slipping from your lips as you clutch at his hair, thighs twitching in his grasp. “cheol—gonna—gonna cum, oh my god—”

he moans, actually fucking moans, his hips grinding down harder against the couch as he redoubles his efforts, tongue circling your clit in precise, teasing flicks, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to send you over the edge.

your body locks up. your back arches. your mouth falls open, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you, all-consuming.

seungcheol doesn’t stop. doesn’t slow down. he works you through it like it’s his mission, licking you clean, his tongue rolling over your entrance, collecting every last drop as your body trembles violently beneath him.

your chest heaves, your vision blurring, but even through the haze, you can feel him still grinding against the couch, still so fucking hard and desperate, all because of you.

your brain is slow. dial-up connection slow. everything feels like it’s underwater, your body floating somewhere between consciousness and the best orgasm-induced coma of your life. it’s warm, so warm, like your body is still riding out the fever of your high, tongue pressed against the roof of your mouth, throat dry, muscles heavy like they’re full of sand.

you don’t even remember when it happened—when you blacked out, when you got moved. just flashes of cool wipes dragging over your skin, a damp cloth pressed between your thighs, seungcheol’s hands gentle, careful, murmuring something you were too gone to comprehend. like déjà vu, like something out of a dream.

but you’re awake now. sort of. and you’re in his bed.

the sheets are soft, cool against your fevered skin, and it feels so good that you can’t help the tired, pleased moan that slips past your lips, involuntary, barely conscious.

but it’s enough to make him look at you.

you blink, vision still a little hazy, but yeah, that’s definitely seungcheol, sitting at his desk, dressed in a loose shirt and sweats, hair damp, probably from a shower. there’s a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are soft as they sweep over you, taking in the way you’re still half-buried in his sheets, limbs heavy, body relaxed.

then it hits you.

the documents.

joshua.

fuck.

your eyes widen, and you jolt up too fast, regretting it immediately when the soreness between your thighs protests, a sharp ache shooting up your spine. “fuck—”

seungcheol’s already up, one hand pressing to your shoulder, guiding you back down before you can do any more damage. “hey, hey, relax. you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“the—documents,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut again as the exhaustion creeps back in. “joshua.”

he chuckles, and you open your eyes just in time to see him shaking a small stack of papers in his hand. “yeah, yeah. i got it. sent them over while you were passed out.”

you frown, groggy. “i was supposed to send them.”

“and joshua needs to get used to me handling shit for you,” he says, grinning as he sets the papers down. “besides, he’d probably prefer not to get another noise complaint under his name.”

your face heats up instantly. “oh my god.”

“mhmm,” seungcheol hums, tilting his head. “wanna know how loud you were?”

“no.”

he laughs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, thumb tracing your cheek. “then go back to sleep, baby.”

you glare at him. or, at least, you try to. it’s weak, and he knows it, because all it takes is one more stroke of his thumb before your eyes flutter shut again, body sinking further into his bed.

yeah. you can fight him about the joshua thing later. maybe. probably not.

[positivelyqueer]

friend asked recently how I knew I was autistic (late self dx) and after a joking answer of ‘five autistic people told me unprompted in the span of about two weeks, I settled on: I don’t.

I don’t Know that I’m autistic. What I do know is that my life makes more sense, and is easier to navigate, when I view it through the lens of being autistic.

I learnt what masking was, and started to undo the damage of 20+ years of it. I let myself stim for the first time out of joy and it was incredible. I recognised it as a regulation skill and started using it for coping. I stopped being cruel to myself about making ‘weird’ noises, I let myself ask for tone clarification from friends. I stopped thinking I was being rude by mimicking others (echolalia). I started respecting my own communication needs and differences. I started being able to communicate these with friends and loved ones, and had the language to do so. I recognised my sensory needs and was better at reducing shutdowns and meltdowns (which is also been confused by and blamed myself for in the past). I also could better identify things that were genuinely impeding on my life and ways to work with myself around them. (Social situations are easier now that I know what information I need before hand, and can prepare. I know what the difficulty involved in switching tasks is and can work with myself on it.)

Mostly I stopped bullying myself the way I’d been bullied growing up for everything that has made me ‘weird’. I stopped policing everything I did the way my parents had in an effort to ‘help’ me blend in. (I don’t resent them for this- I understand that what they did to me is likely what was done to them and they didn’t (and don’t) recognise it.)

Not a weird or broken horse, but a regular zebra.

[steampunk-raven]

why is mouth talking so hard rn

[astrolook]

✦🌒The Moon in You: Where You Crave, Connect, and Collapse🫀🕳️

Note: These are all my personal observations and patterns I've noticed over the years. Take what resonates with you more and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments if it hits home!

The Moon is where your body holds emotions, where your cravings reside, where safety and surrender blend into one. It rules instincts, erotic memory, the way you want to be held, touched, or simply understood. Locate where your Moon is in your Vedic chart!

Moon in 1st - needing skin-to-skin contact, impulsive sex, quickies for emotional reassurance, morning-after cuddles, exhibitionism in private settings, mirror sex (seeing yourself being loved), soft dom/sub with praise, being touched often, celebratory sex after emotional wins, birthday sex, body worship, needing emotional foreplay, deep kissing as regulation, sex that starts from eye contact, needy subspace, mood-driven sex, “make it about me” kink, being fucked with affection, crying from being seen, passion that shifts fast, chasing validation through touch, collapsing when ignored, needing to be reassured during sex, orgasm as emotional release, making love in shared spaces, craving emotional recognition during pleasure, emotional mirroring in bed, touching your own body while they watch, homebody kink, touch as grounding, sex tied to mood, clinging during climax, over-identifying with desire, disappearing when needs aren’t met.

Moon in 2nd - slow, intentional sex, deep kissing with weight behind it, giving oral as devotion, slow undressing, sensual bondage, earning trust before play, possession kink, needing consistency to feel aroused, sex in safe familiar spaces, “prove it” kink, craving reliability in lovers, staying in bed after, long foreplay, ritualistic touch, praise for patience, orgasm as reward, needing to be held after, emotional security kink, money kink (emotional currency), massage before penetration, feeling used when not seen, silent resentment during sex, investing in someone who won’t stay, hating casual touch, craving loyalty more than lust, earthy submission, kissing every inch slowly, being told they’re safe now, crying when sex feels one-sided, physical affection as proof of love, grinding slowly in rhythm, emotional shutdown when ignored, giving too much without return, needing to be wanted consistently, collapsing when love doesn’t grow.

Moon in 3rd - talking during sex, overstimulation kink, whispering dirty confessions, mental domination, love as obsession, brainy foreplay, being told exactly what to do, fear of saying the wrong thing during intimacy, orgasm with eye contact and words, needing verbal reassurance, feeling rejected when misunderstood, craving lovers who “get” your mind, humiliation kink, sex after arguments, spiraling after hookups, edging with intense internal pressure, guilt during arousal, emotional overexposure, anxious touch, need to narrate feelings during sex, craving mental control, fear of vulnerability through speech, overstimulation leading to shut down, submitting through logic, writing fantasies no one sees, begging for clarity, sex to quiet the mind, fear of being boring, emotional masochism, wanting to be unraveled mentally, crying from being misunderstood, needing to explain desires, shame kink, losing words mid-climax, craving someone who speaks your emotional language, touch that calms the panic.

Moon in 4th - spooning sex, slow touch under blankets, soft dom/sub with emotional care, sex at home only, needing emotional intimacy before arousal, breast/nipple worship, craving to be held more than fucked, hand-holding during climax, melancholic masturbation, emotional withdrawal during sex, kissing that feels like remembering, sex to feel close after distance, aftercare as foreplay, making love to sad music, crying silently during intimacy, being touched when you’re numb, emotional avoidance kink, needing reassurance mid-sex, longing for past lovers, hating casual sex but doing it anyway, silent longing, delayed arousal, playing hard to reach, giving affection quietly, memory-triggered arousal, clingy subspace, emotional shutdown mid-act, slow oral with eye contact, sex as emotional grounding, mood-dependent desire, nostalgic kink, fear of being too much, being held until you soften, pleasure that feels like safety, sadness when they pull away after sex.

Moon in 5th - performative sex, praise kink, being watched while touching yourself, riding for eye contact, fighting then fucking, bratty submission, needing applause in bed, striptease as emotional offering, orgasm as validation, hair pulling with affection, jealousy-driven sex, dramatic dirty talk, sex as show, needing to be chosen loudly, thigh grabbing, competitive teasing, passionate roleplay, sex as self-expression, giving head like a power move, being taken hard then held tight, push-pull dynamics, show-off kink, quick sex in risky places, craving to be admired naked, flirting as survival, fear of being boring in bed, collapsing when ignored, emotional highs and lows, climax as catharsis, rage sex, making love like it’s the last time, needing reassurance after dominance, deeply attached to who gives you pleasure, using sex to forget self-doubt, wanting to be someone’s favorite/ best.

Moon in 6th - needing to be needed, sex as care, slow touches, proving love through effort, devotion kink, tired but still giving, healing through hands, folding laundry as foreplay, feeding each other, craving consistency, emotional fatigue, love through labor, collapsing into touch, being good enough, invisible service, resentment kink, needing permission to rest, quiet submission, emotional routine, wanting to be useful, staying for duty, guilt-driven sex, loving through chores, overwhelmed but loyal, held in the kitchen, soft control, burnout lust, safe hands, waiting to be noticed, love as responsibility, craving structure, emotional routines as intimacy, building love brick by brick, care that aches.

Moon in 7th - needing to be met, quiet sex, stillness between bodies, emotional mirroring, craving closeness without noise, being held without fixing, collapsing into someone, sleeping skin to skin, sex as peace offering, unspoken need, love that doesn’t rush, fear of being misunderstood, freezing during intimacy, needing someone to stay, soft domination, being seen in silence, delayed touch, touch with meaning, avoiding conflict, love that feels like rest, sexual pause, absence kink, calm after crying, fear of being too much, emotional distance, shutdown moments, needing presence not passion, ache behind the eyes, sharing space without pressure, fear of not being chosen, wanting to be wanted gently, mirror sex, touch that asks nothing, tenderness under tension.

Moon in 8th - craving to be undone, obsessive desire, emotional possession, losing yourself in someone, sex as surrender, trauma bonding, needing to be consumed, grief kink, pain turned erotic, fantasy addiction, emotional shapeshifting, love that haunts, fear of abandonment, jealous lust, hidden affairs, craving what’s forbidden, deep eye contact, psychic sex, wanting to be broken open, emotional overwhelm, touch as power, guilt after pleasure, erotic control, sexual secrecy, drowning in options, yearning for one true bond, confusing love with escape, haunting memories, sex that feels like drowning, intense fantasies, trust as kink, emotional chaos, pleasure with consequences, devotion that hurts, wanting to be changed.

Moon in 9th - sex in unfamiliar places, long-distance obsession, love letters before sex, edging for hours, overstimulation, emotional masochism, tantric sex, deep-throating as offering, craving mind-opening sex, praise during penetration, needing to be worshipped, teacher-student kink, being talked through climax, wanting to feel "changed" by sex, holding eye contact while finishing, performance pressure, missionary with meaning, sex that feels like a quest, craving someone “wiser,” overstretched libido, emotional pain during orgasm, collapse after giving too much, begging to be understood, guilt after sex, carrying emotional weight during kink, crying mid-thrust, taking too much to prove love, rough sex with meaning, overstaying in hookups, submission as learning, needing to be “taught a lesson,” loving from afar, losing yourself to their philosophy, deep convos then deep sex, craving sacred kink, feeling broken after casual sex.

Moon in 10th - needing control, sex with rules, withholding touch, wanting to be wanted but hiding it, slow sex with full clothes on, fear of being messy, approval kink, being told “you’re enough,” sex as pressure release, mommy/daddy kink, boss/employee kink, teacher/student kink, needing structure to feel safe, silent dominance, staying composed during orgasm, slow undressing as foreplay, locked jaw during oral, craving recognition more than pleasure, holding back tears during sex, praise kink, sex to prove you're capable, public/private contrast, needing to be useful in bed, being taken care of but resisting it, routine sex as stability, fear of being exposed, letting someone see you lose control, being bossy but fragile, begging quietly, trying to be perfect, sex that feels like a job, staying in roles too long, reward-based intimacy, emotional detachment during climax, sex with one safe person only, touch as proof, clinging without showing it, breakdown behind the scenes.

Moon in 11th - sex with friends, watching others, voyeurism, secret affairs, emotional distance kink, quiet jealousy, friends with benefits, craving group acceptance, poly fantasies, exhibitionism with detachment, ghosting guilt, fucking with eye contact then disappearing, wanting to be the exception, soft manipulation, flirtation as currency, emotional withdrawal during climax, casual sex with deep hopes, dirty talk over text, group sex with one true focus, hiding arousal, lying about feelings, needing to feel chosen, anonymous hookup kink, trust issues in intimacy, being fucked while pretending not to care, avoiding attachment, guilt after pleasure, intimacy as rebellion, intellectual seduction, emotional betrayal kink, fear of being used, craving to be “in,” slow reveal fantasies, friendship-to-sex pipeline, rejection sensitivity, playing it cool while needing connection, sex to feel relevant, needing safe distance.

Moon in 12th - soft surrender, spiritual kink, sex in the dark, crying after orgasm, erotic aftercare, silent sex, losing yourself in them, needing emotional safety before touch, bath sex, craving to be saved, dreamy eye contact, being held more than fucked, merging kink, sex that feels like floating, loving unavailable people, healing sex, body worship, falling in love too fast, needy subspace, sex as escape, needing to feel chosen on a soul level, kissing until it hurts, devotion kink, self-sacrifice during sex, mistress, side chick/side guy, stealing other's partner, experienced/ inexperienced kink, erotic dissociation, deep cuddling after, emotional absorption, sex that feels like goodbye, writing poems about them after, shame around pleasure, craving emotional absolution, edging with music, wanting to disappear into moans, priest/priestess kink, being taken gently but completely, lost time during sex, being fucked like a prayer, orgasm as release from loneliness.

🌙💬 For readings, check out my pinned post for pricing and more info 💫💸

[yua0ra]

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞™

(𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲-𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐒𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

WARNINGS: downbad!mattheo x slytherin!fem!reader, SFW, english is not my first language. not proofread | fluff ☏

SUMMARY: Mattheo Riddle has a full-system shutdown when you shyly wave at him in the Three Broomsticks. After mumbling something about the weather (??), the Slytherin boys decide intervention is absolutely necessary. Thus, Operation: Matty Falls in Love™ is born.

Spoiler: it’s already working. Spoiler 2: Mattheo wants to vanish into his scarf.

WC: 1.4K AN: Just a silly little draft of an idea I had a few months ago. sorry for the super late post! I've been extremely busy with uni.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, the kind that practically begged for butterbeer and questionable decisions. The Three Broomsticks was packed with Hogwarts students trying to escape the miserable February wind, their chatter clashing with the clink of mugs and the occasional crash from behind the bar.

Mattheo Riddle was crammed into a booth with Enzo, Theo, Blaise, and Draco, and for once, he wasn’t scowling at the world. He had this far-off, half-smile thing going on—cheeks faintly flushed, fingers tapping a lazy rhythm on the rim of his mug.

And that was all the invitation Enzo needed.

“You’ve got that look again,” Enzo said, stretching his legs out under the table and smirking. “Like you're composing love poetry in your head. Something tragic. Probably rhymes with her name.”

Mattheo didn’t even bother glaring. He just took a long sip of his butterbeer and muttered, “Piss off.”

“Oh no, no—don’t go shy now,” Theo jumped in, eyes gleaming. “Our brooding prince has fallen. Hard. Honestly, at this point I’m expecting you to carve her name into the desk in the Slytherin common room like some medieval madman.”

“Swear he was humming in the shower yesterday,” Blaise added, grinning wide. “Humming. We’re witnessing history.”

Draco leaned in like he was about to deliver the final blow. “He flinched when she said hi last week. And then stared at the spot she stood in for a full minute like it owed him rent.”

Mattheo’s ears betrayed him. Flaming. Absolutely on fire. The kind of red that made it look like they’d been hexed. “You lot are all insufferable,” he muttered, sinking deeper into his seat.

And then—just to prove the universe had no chill—the bell over the door jingled. You walked in with your Slytherin girl gang, all laughing like you owned the damn world. The wind tugged at your scarf, your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and your smile? Devastating. Mattheo tried to pretend he wasn’t looking, but everyone at the table could feel the tension radiating off him like heat.

Blaise leaned out of the booth and squinted toward the door. “Merlin. She really is so fit, though.”

“Ridiculously fit,” Enzo agreed.

Draco let out a low whistle. “Unfair, honestly.”

Mattheo’s smile vanished. Completely gone. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Can you not?” he muttered, voice low and tense.

Theo smirked. “What? You don’t like us noticing that your little crush is objectively hot?”

Mattheo didn’t answer—his glare kind of said it all.

You, meanwhile, had spotted their table and gave a small, hesitant wave, a little shy but still sweet. Mattheo blinked like he couldn’t believe you were actually waving at him. His heart thumped. Hard.

Astoria winked at you. “Go on. Say hi. They’re all here.”

“I don’t know…” you murmured. “They’re probably busy—”

“They’re never busy,” Pansy cut in. “They just sit there being dramatic and drinking warm butterbeer like it’s a coping mechanism.”

“They are dramatic,” Daphne agreed, already nudging you forward.

With an encouraging nudge from Daphne, you walked over, your fingers fidgeting slightly with your scarf. “Hi, boys,” you said, soft but clear.

The effect was instant.

Theo grinned so wide it looked borderline painful and Blaise—because Blaise always had to be that guy—winked slowly like you were starring in your own dramatic black-and-white romance film.

Mattheo looked like someone had hit pause on his entire body.

“Hi,” he finally said, voice rough. “You look... uh. Cold. I mean—you’re here. Hello.”

You giggled quietly. “Hi, Mattheo.”

Enzo leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “You joining us, love?”

You looked at Mattheo, just briefly, before glancing away again. “Oh—no. Just saying hi.”

Theo tilted his head. “Did you know Mattheo writes sonnets about you in his sleep?”

Mattheo groaned audibly. “I do not.”

“Oh, come on,” Blaise said. “We were just talking about how—”

Mattheo cut him off with a sharp look, something dark flickering in his eyes. “Don’t.”

The table went quiet for a beat.

You blinked, clearly sensing the shift. “Is… everything alright?”

“Fine,” Mattheo said a bit too quickly. Then softer, glancing at you: “You look really nice today.”

You ducked your head, hiding the smile blooming on your lips. “Thanks, Matty.”

His ears burned again. Bright red. You didn’t see it, but the rest of the table absolutely did.

As you walked away, practically glowing with shyness and the cutest little smile on your lips, Mattheo sat there—utterly motionless, hands still covering half his face like he could physically hide from the moment that just happened.

No one spoke for a full five seconds. And then—

“I have never,” Enzo said, slamming his mug down, “seen a man malfunction so violently over a single word.”

Theo leaned in, eyes wide. “She called you Matty, mate. Matty. That’s endgame-level intimacy.”

Draco pointed his spoon at him like a wand. “You can’t come back from that. That’s a nickname you get married under.”

Blaise drummed his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “Gentlemen,” he said, voice low and scheming, “I propose a mission.”

Mattheo finally peeked through his fingers. “No. Whatever it is. Absolutely not.”

“Operation: Matty Falls in Love,” Blaise continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Phase one: awareness. You’re already smitten. Step one, complete. Congrats.”

“I hate you all,” Mattheo muttered.

Theo nodded solemnly. “Step two: contact. We increase natural exposure. Sit closer in class. Walk next to her in the corridors. Offer to carry her books.”

Enzo perked up. “Leave little gifts! Like, a chocolate frog on her desk. Maybe a note. Something simple and mysterious. But not creepy. We’re flirting, not hexing.”

Draco snapped his fingers. “Or! Casual compliments. Subtle. Like, ‘That’s a nice ink color.’ Boom. Romantic and scholarly.”

Mattheo was just staring at the ceiling now. “I’m begging you to stop.”

“Step three,” Theo said, now narrating with his butterbeer like it was a microphone. “The accidental study session. You, her, one quiet corner of the library. You pretend to struggle with a concept you’ve already mastered. Boom. Bonding.”

“Step four,” Blaise added, “emotional vulnerability. Get her to talk about her family, childhood dreams, favorite sweets. Then tell her a story about your tragic, misunderstood past.”

“You want me to trauma dump in the library?” Mattheo asked flatly.

Enzo shrugged. “It works on me.”

Theo clapped his hands. “Step five: The Grand Gesture.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Mattheo groaned.

“Nothing crazy,” Theo said. “Just like… serenade her under the Astronomy Tower. Or enchant the hallway to rain rose petals. Maybe a confession in the middle of breakfast? That’s dramatic and unforgettable.”

Draco tapped his quill against the table like a general approving war strategy. “You know, we could do a slow burn angle. Play the long game. Make her fall in love with the idea of you before she even realizes it’s happening.”

“I’m already in love with the idea of him,” Blaise mockingly said, sipping his drink. “And I live with him.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Mattheo said, finally dragging his hands down his face. His entire neck was still pink. “I’m not doing any of that. I’ll just… talk to her. Like a normal person.”

All four of them stared.

“You?” Enzo said slowly. “Talk to her?”

“You just said ‘you’re here, it’s cold’ like you were casting a memory charm with your mouth full,” Theo pointed out.

Mattheo reached for his butterbeer. “I panicked.”

“And now you need structure,” Blaise said. “A plan. A mission.”

“A team,” Draco added.

“Please stop—”

“Operation: Matty Falls in Love is officially a go,” Theo declared, raising his mug like a toast. “By the end of term, you’ll be holding her hand, stargazing, maybe even—dare I say—kissing.”

“I hate every single one of you,” Mattheo mumbled into his drink.

“That's the spirit,” Enzo grinned. “Now. Do you think she likes owls? Because I have a quill set and no self-control.”

And somewhere across the pub, you laughed at something Pansy said—and Mattheo couldn’t help it. He looked over.

Yeah. He was doomed.

And Operation: Matty Falls in Love? Already working.

[ladybugmania]

BE AWARE: HISTORY IS REPEATING ITSELF

Trump & Hitler Compared

Comparison 1: Nationalism and Scapegoating Minorities

Hitler (1930s Germany):

Hitler’s rhetoric emphasized an ethnically pure German identity and national rebirth, exploiting economic despair and cultural anxiety following WWI. He blamed Jews, communists, and other minority groups for Germany’s defeat and economic troubles. The Nuremberg Laws institutionalized racial discrimination, stripping Jews of their rights as citizens.

Trump and the GOP (2015–Present):

Trump has repeatedly used xenophobic and racially charged language, calling Mexican immigrants “rapists” and proposing a “total and complete shutdown” of Muslims entering the U.S. His administration instituted the Muslim ban, attempted to eliminate DACA, and enacted family separation at the border. Republican-backed state laws increasingly target immigrants and minority voters, using the guise of security or voter integrity, echoing exclusionary policies of the past.

Comparison 2: Undermining Democratic Institutions

Hitler:

After becoming Chancellor, Hitler manipulated the Reichstag Fire in 1933 to invoke emergency powers. The Enabling Act gave him the authority to legislate without parliamentary consent, effectively dismantling democracy. He repeatedly painted political opponents as traitors or enemies of the state.

Trump and the GOP:

After losing the 2020 election, Trump refused to concede, launched dozens of baseless legal challenges, and incited the January 6 insurrection—an unprecedented attack on the peaceful transfer of power. He and his allies have labeled political opponents as “deep state,” “communists,” or “enemies,” aiming to delegitimize dissent and create a hostile political climate. Many GOP figures continue to downplay or deny the events of January 6, paralleling historical patterns of rewriting or ignoring threats to democracy.

Comparison 3: Control of Media and Disinformation

Hitler:

Joseph Goebbels led the Nazi Ministry of Propaganda, controlling all media, art, and public messaging. The regime spread disinformation, suppressed dissenting voices, and crafted a narrative that glorified the regime while demonizing its enemies.

Trump and the GOP:

Trump labeled mainstream media “the enemy of the people,” a term used by authoritarian regimes to delegitimize journalism. He and GOP-aligned media outlets like Fox News, Newsmax, and OANN have been pivotal in spreading conspiracy theories (e.g., QAnon, election fraud), while vilifying fact-based reporting. This creates an alternate reality for supporters and undermines trust in factual information, similar to propaganda methods used by authoritarian regimes.

Comparison 4: Cult of Personality and Loyalty Above Law

Hitler:

The Nazi regime revolved around the Führerprinzip—absolute loyalty to Hitler. Personal loyalty to him was expected above all else, including law, ethics, or reason. Independent institutions were absorbed or dismantled.

Trump:

Trump demands personal loyalty from public officials, often attacking or firing those who disagree with him (e.g., FBI Director James Comey, former Attorney General Jeff Sessions, or military leaders). Loyalty to Trump—not the Constitution or democratic norms—has become a defining feature of many in the GOP. Those who criticized his actions, including former allies, are frequently branded as traitors or RINOs (“Republicans In Name Only”).

Comparison 5: Militarization of Patriotism and Law Enforcement

Hitler:

The SA (Sturmabteilung) and later the SS were paramilitary forces used to intimidate opposition, enforce Nazi ideology, and maintain “order.” Hitler used them to blur the line between state power and partisan violence.

Trump and the GOP:

During the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests, Trump deployed federal agents (often unmarked) to suppress demonstrations, particularly in Portland, Oregon. He encouraged violent responses to protesters, infamously saying, “When the looting starts, the shooting starts.” Some extremist groups like the Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, and others that support Trump have acted as quasi-paramilitary forces—prominent among those who stormed the Capitol.

Conclusion:

While the U.S. remains a functioning democracy, the parallels between Hitler’s authoritarian rise and the tactics employed by Donald Trump and elements of the Republican Party are real and well-documented. They include:

Scapegoating and demonizing minorities

Discrediting democratic institutions

Spreading propaganda and disinformation

Fostering a cult of personality

Encouraging or ignoring political violence

These tactics, if unchecked, threaten the foundations of democratic society—just as they did in 1930s Germany. As history shows, democracies often crumble not from external attack, but from internal erosion.

Be Aware: History will repeat. This has happened in the past and it can happen again.