#I miss msn so so much

[thisischeri]

instagram: cheri.png

[bizarrelittlemew]

actually i think tumblr chat should look exactly like 2009 msn messenger. including all the functions like nudging and those obnoxious animated stickers and games. i want to challenge my mutuals to solitaire and shake their screen if they take too long to answer

[inkykeiji]

hello hello good morning!!! i am just stopping by to let u all know that fishie touya nibbled on my finger today and it was literally the cutest thing in the entire universe <333

our pretty rainbow boy <333

also!!! today’s everskies outfit under the cut!! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

how cute is this!? i wish i had a pair of black overalls irl :(( i only have blue ones atm 。ﾟ(ﾟﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anyway anyway come add me on this silly app if u wanna!! my username is inkyclari! let’s be friends!! i’m still figuring out how the whole thing works hehe but my gosh does it ever remind me of the hours my best friend n i spent dressing up digital dolls when we were lil kids!!!

[asumofwords]

Common Factors - Michael Gavey x Reader

Synopsis: Part 2 of Midpoint, though can be read as a standalone. Michael Gavey asked you out for a drink and you had surprisingly agreed. Will you be able to tolerate each others wit without bickering, or will you lose yourself to him once more?

Warnings: This fic is 18+, readers discretion is advised. Public fingering, teasing, degradation, name calling, voyeurism, dumbification, finger fucking, biting, bratty reader. This is porn with barely any plot.

Word Count: 6k

Notes: Hello my angels, I know you have all been waiting so patiently for part two of Midpoint and here it is! Now I can't say that there will be a third/final chapter, but I may have ideas for it. No promises though. Saltburn has made me so nostalgic, I miss MSN messenger and MySpace. I miss the early 2000s so much, the tackiness of it, how everything was just to the max. Lmao. I also miss Tamagotchis. *Sigh*, nostalgia. Anywayyyyy, thanks for your patience and I hope you enjoy! <3

Part 1 - Midpoint

When Michael had asked you out for a drink, or rather asked if you wanted to get a drink, it was not really a distinct question of going on a date with him or not, and perhaps you were arguing semantics right now, but that was besides the point.

He had thought that you would go right after your little event in the library. His eagerness was riddled by anxiety, clear for anyone, not that there was anyone in the vicinity, to see or hear, you hoped. 

You had shifted awkwardly for a moment, feeling his spend slide down you thigh in the large hole he had ripped in your stockings, explaining that you wouldn’t be able to go that evening.

He wilted.

It strummed a cord in your chest, and so you quickly explained that it was because of said issue between your legs, and not that you didn’t want to see him again. The fire in his eyes lit up again, and for a moment, the hair on the back of your neck stuck up. It felt as if you were about to be confronted once more by his obnoxious spite, though thankfully, and only because of your quick explanation, did he soften and you exchange details for your respected MSN Messenger accounts. 

The night after he was busy, apparently there was some sort of important chess tourney that he would be going to with his friend, you were unaware that he had any, and so he proposed the night after. But the night after you had told your best friend that you would bus into the city centre to meet with her, so that was no go as well.

You both thankfully settled on the Friday later that week, agreeing to meet at the small pub you frequented, which you found he did too. Each time the computer dinged at his reply, a thrill of excitement crawled through you. He was rather curt in his messages, but eager, and would often would send moving emojis at the end, which you saved and would send back.

Friday rolled around quickly, and you found yourself eager to see him again. You spent a solid two hours fretting over what to wear, deciding that pants or tights were not an option this time despite the cold weather.

You settled on a cute little outfit, the skirt of it coming to your mid thigh, looking at yourself in the mirror as you left before triple checking your computer and Nokia for any messages to say he was late, or couldn’t come, but none came. The last message he had sent to you, was a smiling thumbs up that moved largely across your screen agreeing to see you at 7pm sharp. 

You left early, earlier than what was needed, and sped walked the entire way to the pub, pulling your large jacket tightly around you, scarf covering the lower half of your face. The air was particularly crisp that evening, and by the looks of it, it may snow later, and although it was quite cold, you could see from afar that the pub was full, the winter air not deterring them. 

When you opened the door, the stale stench of its beer soaked floorboards filled your senses, loud music and even louder people, drinking and smoking and laughing in large groups without any care for the world. You knew that break would soon enough be coming to an end, and all the students would now be slowly making their way back, spending their last days or weeks of break with friends on campus and the establishments surrounding. 

The air inside the venue was stuffy, and almost wet with condensation, and as you rose on your tip toes, looking over the heads of others at their tables, or at the bar, you struggled to spot the familiar sandy blonde hair from your library, and the glasses that sat perched on his sharp nose. 

You pulled out your Nokia, checking the time and also checking for any messages. 

It was 6:57.

You were early.

But not too early.

Heading straight for the bar, you ordered yourself a drink, eyes drifting back over the pub, looking at the faces to see if you could see him with anyone. When again, you didn’t spot him, you told yourself not to panic, and instead decided that you would find yourself a spot to sit. There was table in the far corner, away from most, its surface was cleared bar a half drunken pint, hidden in the shadows and pressed against the wall between two larger tables, filled with people. You paid for your drink, and headed straight for the empty seat, winding past the pulled out chairs and wafts of smoke.

You were halfway there when a figure popped into your periphery. Your eyes locked onto a pair of familiar blue ones, a twitching smile pulling at his sharp yet plump lips. He came towards you from the direction of the loo, and you watched as he wiped his hands down the sides of his pants despite them looking dry.

“Hey.” You smiled, stopping short of the table, to awkwardly look up at him as he made his way over.

“Hi.” 

You shifted awkwardly around each other before you leant forward to give him a hug, he wrapped one arm around you stiffly in reciprocation, before pulling back to straighten, eyeing the drink in your hand.

“You get me one?” Michael nodded his head to your drink.

Your brows furrowed softly, “Uh, no. I wasn’t sure if you were here.”

Michael hummed, “I’m never late.”

Here we go again, you inwardly sighed. This is just what you didn't need. Another run in with his attitude.

“I wasn’t to know that.”

Michael stared at you a moment longer before turning away to the bar. You watched him awkwardly, yet somehow confidently, move through what little people stood at the counter waiting, standing rod straight as he ordered himself another pint. As he waited, you took your seat on the side where the half drunk beer wasn’t, back to the wall and completely cornered in. 

When Michael came back, beer in hand, you let yourself graze your eyes over him. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that exploded from your lips. He frowned as he sat opposite you, a tinge of defensiveness showing on his strong features.

“What?” He almost sneered, watching as you brought a hand to your mouth to try and cover it up.

“I’m sorry,” You giggled again, having to look at the ceiling for two seconds, trying to compose yourself, pushing a breath out shakily, “Your shirt.”

You began to laugh again, watching him as he looked down at it, inspecting it for a stain or hole.

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He asked clinically, not finding a rip or hole or bird shit which he had suspected was there for a moment on the material.

You bit your bottom lip and giggled again, “It’s awful.”

Tucked into his cargo pants and black leather belt was one of the worst shirts you had ever laid eyes upon. It was white, and in big font on the front, it read ‘Weapon of Math Instructions’. On it, small drawings of calculators, protractors, and sums surrounded the large font.

In a quieter voice this time, he replied, “I got it for my birthday.” He picked up the sweating beer to bring to his lips, the foam coating his mouth as he drank deeply.

You felt a tinge of regret for laughing at him so openly, even though it was admittedly the worst shirt you had ever seen, “Do you enjoy maths puns, Gavey?” You tried to sound flirtatious, but in the moment you sounded more unsure than anything.

Michael took the beer away from his lips, swiping the back of his hand against his mouth, “If they’re funny. Why?”

“Do you have more shirts like this?” You tried to contain your mirth and failed.

The curiosity melted away, and a stony expression slipped over his face, “You’re taking the piss.”

You shook your head, heart speeding up, “No! No, sorry, Michael. I swear I’m not, I just, I wanted to- I’m trying-“

“-For someone whose degree relies heavily on the english word, you sure do struggle to find them.” The smirk on his lips was a thinly thing that indicated that he was being playful, but if he hadn't of smirked, you wouldn't have known. His tone was flat, his body posture stiff, and not once did he laugh, but you knew him.

And it more intimate than you would have liked.

Tongue in cheek in you leant back in your chair, feeling a comfortable little bubble surround you, the tension that was there only simmering in the background now, and not drowning you in it.

“How was the chess tourney?” You took a sip from your drink as he watched you.

“Fascinating, if it’s something of interest.”

His answer surprised you,.

“And was it of interest?”

“TBD.”

You took another sip of your drink, “My nan used to play chess with me when I was little.” 

This seemed to peak Michael’s interest greatly, “You can play?”

You shook your head humbly, smiling, “I can play, though I’m probably not very good.”

“We should play.” His answer was so immediate, so abrupt, that you could only blink before remembering to reply.

“What, now?”

Michael raised his brows at you as though you were intellectually stunted, “Do you see any chess boards in this shit hole?”

You breathed sharply through your nose, “No.” You said more afronted than intended, “I was just asking-“

“-You ask a lot of questions but don’t know what ones you want the answers for.”

Annoyance began to bloom in your chest, “I thought we were done with this tit-for-tat nonsense. Or did you want a round two, Gavey?”

A soft blush spread across his cheeks, and you knew you had him.

“Are you going to ask me about my day?” You cheeked, enjoying the way he flustered slightly, and then held back an angry sneer.

“How was it?”

“How was what?”

Michaels jaw tensed, and you bit your inner cheek to not smile, “Your day.”

A large grin spread across your lips along with a false expression of realisation, “Oh, my day! My day was fine, thank you, Michael. I did some reading, I did some study, and then I got myself ready to have drinks with a right git.”

Michael sucked his teeth loudly, “You’re funny. Should be a comedian instead of studying them.”

“You’re cute,“ You countered, “Should smile more instead of sneer.”

“I thought you said we were done with this nonsense.”

“I did, and I am. Starting…. Now.” You smiled widely, bringing your drink up to toast. 

Michael looked at you oddly, then to the glass in your hand before finally he brought his up, connecting the two cups.

You smiled wider, proud to be ready to say something you know will interest him,“‘If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.’”

Michael's glass slammed down onto the table, his body leaning towards you in palpable excitement, “How do you know that?” His voice was eager, like you had lit a flame inside of him.

You smiled smugly, sipping on your drink, proud of yourself to have garnered such a reaction, “Learnt it with my degree. Einstein wasn’t just a man of maths. He was an important part of modern history. Especially regarding his involvement, or I should say rather, his non-involvement in the Manhattan Project.”

Michael's eyes lit up behind his glasses before he picked up his beer and thrust it against yours again, “Glad they’re teaching you something of importance.”

You huffed and laughed and sipped, watching as Michael settled his chair closer to you. It felt as if a door had been opened, and suddenly you were able to step inside the world that was Michael Gavey.

“You know,” You smirked, feeling heat from him beside you, chairs still apart, but bodies leant towards each other, “Art and History is just as important as Maths and Science.”

Gavey looked as though you had declared that the Earth was flat. It was a peculiar little look that made you want to lean across the space and press your lips squarely against his.

“I’m being serious.” You continued, “Without art, without history, the world would be a lot more boring than it is now.”

Michael pursed his lips at you, “Whatever helps you rationalise your choice of degree.”

You sipped your drink, eyes watching him over the rim of your glass, “I’ll let that slide. Only because I know you like watching me get riled up.”

“You’re rather confident of yourself this evening.” He commented, his blue eyes gleaming behind his glasses.

“And you’re rather goading. Not that that’s out of the ordinary.”

His fingers strummed against the table as he looked at you, eyes roaming over your body, “You look nice.”

“I would say the same, but I hate lying, and that shirt is an abomination.” You teased, bumping your shoulder into his lightly.

He smiled.

When did it become this?

How did it become so easy for you to melt into this conversation with him of all people?

Only earlier this week the two of you were at each others throats, snarling and fighting, and now here you were, seated beside each other, making little jokes and sitting intimately close. 

“Careful. Tit-for-tat.” Michael warned you, and you rolled your eyes playfully with a huff.

It seemed to please him, and soon enough you were moving through a smooth conversation. He mostly asked you about your studies and friends, and even asked about your family.

And you learnt about his. A fairly standard, run of the mill family. One sister, and an older brother, had a dog growing up, and now has a fish. 

But soon enough the conversation drifted back to your studies.

“Are you looking forward to term starting again?” You asked.

You felt as though he would be, his desire for learning and studying was clear whenever he spoke about it. He was passionate, and it was something that you admired about him. Or at least, now you did.

Michael shrugged, “I’m looking forward to graduating.”

This confused you.

“Why?”

Michael frowned, “Why do you think? I’m second in our year, I barely need to study-“

“-All you do is study, Michael.”

“Because there’s not much else to do here, I don’t have friends like you do.” Michael sneered the word friends, and immediately you knew who he was referring to.

“Michael-“

“-It’s different for us. People who aren’t ‘in’. Theres no parties, or accolades, only our degree.”

“You know that I’m not-“

“-I know that you don’t think you are, but whether you like it or not, they consider you one of them.”

You frowned. You didn’t like hearing that, especially with what Farleigh had said to you. You hated it because whilst it was wrong, it was still true. You did get invited to the parties, you had them all on MySpace and MSN, and even had their numbers in your phone. But for you, it was different, and Michael knew it.

You pushed your tongue against the side of your mouth, “I’ll bring you as my plus one to the next party. Then you can see that you’re not missing out on much.”

“You’d be seen with me in public? With them watching?” He said it with a laugh, though it was entirely humourless.

Your head tilted to the side, “We’re in public right now, aren’t we?” You looked around the pub, watching the many faces around you before settling back onto his. His expression was unreadable, until finally-

“We are in public.” He smirked. Gavey downed the rest of his beer quickly, all but slamming his glass onto the table, though not loud enough to garner any attention from the other patrons.

Michaels hand grabbed the seat of your chair and pulled it roughly towards him. You let out a squeak of surprise as your seat shifted against the floor suddenly, almost making you lose your balance. 

“Michael!”

“What?” He asked innocently.

“What are you doing?” Your heart began to quicken, his hand coming down to brush against your thigh as he intently stared at you from behind his glasses.

“I’m not doing anything.” His hand inched higher, grazing your inner thigh.

In a small panic, you lifted your gaze to the rest of the pub. Not one person had looked up when he dragged you to him, nor had anyone taken even the slightest bit of interest about the two students hidden in the dark corner table. Everyone in the pub was drunk and too absorbed by their own conversations and friends to notice anyone else.

“What’s wrong?” Gavey teased, voice dipping lower as he openly mocked you, his pinky finger skirting against the edge of your panties. 

Your brain had short circuited itself.

You were in public.

Where anyone could see.

And Michael had his hand under your skirt, teasing you.

This was what not what you would have expected from the man who was currently wearing a maths pun on his shirt. Your hand dropped under the table and grabbed his wrist tightly, stopping him from moving it any higher, though this didn’t prevent him from continuing to run his pinky back and forth under the elastic of your panties.

Heat coursed through you, and your core clenched around nothing. 

“What are you doing?” You asked breathlessly, a rhetorical question really. You knew just as well as he did exactly what he was doing. 

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Gavey.”

“I’ll tell you what,” He smirked again, eyes locked onto your face, watching as you struggled internally, “You sit there and be a good girl for me, and when we go back to your room, I will give you what you want.”

You blinked.

Michael squeezed your thigh roughly, “Use your words.”

“Okay.” You breathed.

“Okay what?”

“Yes.” Your blood pumped loudly in your ears, air struggling to get inside of you as you squirmed in anticipation. 

“Yes, who?”

You wet your lips with your tongue, mouth suddenly feeling dry, “Yes, Michael.”

He could be so demeaning so quickly. Like a switch was flicked. He went from this awkward, sneering maths genius to a cold and domineering man who could pull any response he liked from you.

“Better.” He smiled, “Now,” Swiftly Michael tugged your panties to the tide, two fingers immediately grazing your centre. You jerked as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds and up to your clit.

You were soaked.

“Tell me what they’ve taught you about Einstein, since you want to use his words as a toast.” He looked you in the eyes as your breath caught on itself, his fingers swirling around your bud slickly. 

Michael suddenly paused, stilling his fingers, “Unless you only used him to try and impress me?”

Irritation coursed through you alongside frustration, “I didn’t use him to im-“ Your voice stilted as he began to rub his fingers against you again.

“To what?” He mocked you.

“I-Impress you. We learnt abou-t him and his wife recently.”

“The wife he divorced?”

“Yes.” You grit through your teeth, pleasure winding powerfully through you. Your toes curled in your shoes, stomach clenching as his fingers dipped back down to your entrance, scooping up more of your slick to drag back to your bud. Your eyes flittered around the pub, checking nervously to see if anyone had noticed what was going on underneath the table. 

No-one had.

“Surely you can find the words to tell me more?” One long finger suddenly pressed inside of you, causing you to gasp loudly, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly, “Or are you dumb already?”

“H-his wife was a brilliant physicist,” You struggled to control yourself as he crooked the long finger inside of you, curling it up against your inner walls, “And a-a mathematician.”

“Was she now?”

“Yes. Mileva Marić. They were married for a decade, and he-“ All thoughts escaped you as Michael added a second finger with the first, the stretch pressing into you deliciously as he immediately hooked his digits. You blinked mouth agape whilst looking at him, feeling your face become flushed. 

His eyes were half lidded as he watched at you intently, watching your every reaction, testing and teasing to see what made you tick, eager to make you come undone.

This was affecting him as much as it was you. 

Only he didn’t care for others catching on.

His stare urged you to continue.

“H-he was cruel to her.” You muttered, brain struggling to catch up.

Michael hummed, “Most men of historical notice were. It was the norm.”

“It doesn’t m-mean that it was okay.”

“No. But a man such as him surely deserves more merit in your eyes.” As his fingers crooked into you, slowly rubbing the spongy patch inside, his thumb pressed against your bud, causing you to shift your hips towards him, grinding down on his hand as you breathed a breathy moan, “Einstein did things that no men could.”

“I-if it was all his w-work to begin with.” You argued weakly, unable to keep your voice sturdy.

“What do you mean?” Michael’s interest halted his hands movement, but this lapse in control only lasted a moment before he corrected himself and began again.

“M-Mileva scored higher than him in applied physics. Five to his one. I-It's believed she helped him complete equations that he couldn’t without the credit. I-It's why he promised her the money f-from his Nobel Prize.”

The mans fingers slowed down their ministrations as he digested your stuttered information, the coil within you already beginning to tighten, “Fascinating.” He breathed, edging closer to you, “Tell me more.”

“Many women-” Michaels thumb began to quicken, halting your thoughts abruptly, your hands still clutching the edge of the table, knuckles aching.

“Many women, what?” He parroted you meanly, “Don’t tell me you’re close already, are you?”

You swallowed thickly, not willing to open your mouth lest a moan or gasp fall out. Michael chuckled quietly, his fingers quickening the pace within, causing you to arch towards him and grind down against his hand again. His arm subtly moved against you, and if anyone in the pub looked, they would surely know what was going on.

“Look at you,” He cooed, his other hand brushing hair behind your ear, “Already so close.”

You whined, trying to shift closer to him and his hand, if that was even possible.

“Does it turn you on that I’ve got my hand in your cunt for all to see?” He purred, “If someone just turned around right,” His fingers pulled out from you momentarily, moving up to your clit where he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, causing you to jerk, “Now, and looked closely enough, they’d be able to see how you’re desperately grinding down against my fingers.”

Your core clenched around him at his words.

“Oh, you do like it.” He tutted, “Such a dirty little whore.”

You whined again, “Michael I-“

“Shhh, don’t you worry that pretty, little, empty head.” He cooed, emphasised by swift rubbing circles on your bud, “I’ll take care of you, but only if you behave.”

You nodded desperately, feeling yourself get closer and closer to the edge. You would do anything. You were desperate at this point. The week of waiting for him had filled you with anticipation, and meant you spent most of your nights with your fingers or vibrator between your thighs thinking about him and your last meeting in the library.

Michael watched you nod and grind down on his hand, his pace slowing so that you couldn’t get much out of it besides a slow and steady buzz of pleasure.

He seemed to think for a moment, deliberating, before an almost cruel smirk pulled at his lips.

“Do you know your times tables?” He asked, fingers almost still at this point, only languidly moving to keep you riled, or to remind you of what he was doing.

You could scarcely think, scarcely exist without feeling as though you were at any moment about to come undone, his hands keeping you just at the precipice. Your mind was hazy, and any and all thoughts of substance had seemed to escape you.

“Use your words.” He encouraged you in a demeaning manner.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. Not just a pretty face then.” The backhanded comment could have made you smile, “We are going to play a game.”

Could have.

Your eyes widened slightly, hands dropping down to clutch the underside of the table, “A game?”

“Yes.” He gave you an encouraging smile, “Good job. A game.” He was treating you like you were a child who is only just beginning to understand a basic concept, “I’m going to ask you an equation, and you’re going to answer it. If you’re correct, you get a reward. If not,” He paused, fingers teasing you again, “You get punished. Do you understand? Or do I need to dumb it down for you?”

The way he was speaking to you, so meanly, so smugly, made you clench harder around his fingers.

You liked when he was mean to you.

“Answer me. Yes or no.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. Alright,” His hand paused its movements, pulling his fingers out to just rest lightly against your bud, barely touching you, “What is the sum of seven times nine? I’ll use small numbers so that it doesn’t confuse you.”

Slowly, you did the maths in your head, “Sixty-three.”

Michael smirked, “Good girl.” You keened at the praise, and felt his fingers press a little harder into you, his movements beginning to start again slowly, though not enough to give you any pleasure.

“What is fifteen times six?”

Oh god. 

“Um,” You shifted, blinking rapidly to try and do the maths, but every time you got somewhere, Michael would press against you harder as if he knew, ruining your train of thought.

“Come on,” He teased with a swirl of his fingers, “That’s an easy one.”

-5 is 75, then-

“Ninety.” You gasped out.

“Good, good. So clever of you.” He cooed, though the sarcasm dripped from his lips. His fingers once again pressed harder, sparks of pleasure finally springing up inside of you. The sound of the pub was loud around you, and in the dim light, you could see that a blush had spread across his cheeks. 

“One more and then I’ll give you your reward. If you get it wrong, then you get nothing. Ready?”

You nodded shakily, chasing his hands with your hips. He tsk-ed you and stilled his hands, “Don’t be greedy.” You apologised softly and stilled, waiting for him to start again. 

"Twelve times seventeen.”

Oh God. 

What?

“M-michael, that’s not-“

“What? It’s easy enough. Even the thickest of people could get it. Though I suppose you’re getting all pretty and dumb for me anyway.”

“I-“

“How about this,” He smirked, and the way he did it caused you to sit on edge, “I’ll help you since you’re such a stupid little girl.” Michael plungers his fingers into you with no warning, immediately fucking them into you rapidly.

You sucked in air sharply, feeling the coil within begin to pull taught. 

“Twelve times fifteen is one-hundred-and-eighty. You need two more twelves. Do you know what two times twelve is?” 

Did you?

Jesus.

“I- It’s twenty four.” You answered shakily, surprised at your own voice.

“Twelve times seventeen?” He repeated the original question, “Oh dear, you really do have no brain.”

“N-No.” Your voice shook with how roughly and quickly Michael fucked you on his fingers, “Two times twelve.”

“Ah, clever little idiot. Go on now, what is one-hundred-and-eighty plus twenty-four.”

Your brain couldn’t do it, too hazy with how he was degrading you and how well he was touching you. You just wanted to cum. All you wanted was to cum. And then his thumb joined, swirling over your clit slickly as his fingers pistoned in and out of you, the sound of your wet rising from beneath the table. Your arousal pooled onto the back of your skirt and the wood of the seat.

“T-two-hundred-and-“ Michael pressed his thumb brutally against your clit suddenly, fire coursing through you, ruining your train of thought once again.

Damn him.

“Two-hundred-and what?”

Oh god.

“Two?”

Michael frowned at you, though you could tell that he was pleased, his fingers pulled away from you quickly, your eyes widening.

“N-No!” You grabbed his wrist keeping it against your inner thigh, his slick fingers pressing against your skin, “I-I-“

“Wrong answer.” He tutted, “You’re so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid and desperate, look at you.”

“Please, please,” You begged, clit throbbing, “I know- I know what the sum is. Please.” You pulled his hand back to your core, his fingers stiff as you ground against them desperately, “It’s two-hundred-and-four. Two-hundred-and-four. Michael, please.”

Michael’s fingers did not move, and watched you with entertainment as you desperately rubbed him against you. You needed to cum. You needed it. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care if it was degrading. You needed him. And you needed him now. 

“Look how fucking desperate you are.” He laughed, “So pathetic. Whining like a bitch in heat as you grind against my hand. Are you that desperate to be a little whore?”

“Yes. Please. Please, Michael. Please. I need it.”

“You need it?” He smirked.

You were so close, so so close, “Please, please.”

“Tell me you need me.” He breathed, face coming closer to yours, his breath fanning agains your lips.

You licked your lips again, swallowing thickly, “I need you.”

Gavey smiled toothily, “You’re so pathetic.”

And without a second thought, or really without even a first thought, you nodded in agreement, “I’m pathetic. Please. Please, Michael, I want you.”

“What will you do to get it?”

“Anything. Please.”

“Anything?” He asked again, eyes searching your face.

You nodded desperately, needing him more than you had ever needed something before “Please.”

“Okay.” His fingers slipped back into you as he breathed the word, almost as if he was bored, like fucking you with his hand in public was an all too boring affair.

Mundane.

Little to nothing coming out of it for him. But in that moment you didn’t care as the coil within began to wind again.

“Fuck.”

Michael leant forward, his lips beside your ear so that you could hear him clearly, “You’re going to cum on my hand in this disgusting little pub like the dumb, desperate, little slut that you are, and then you’re going to thank me for it. Understood?”

“Yes.” You whined, hand gripping his wrist as it pummelled into you, thumb brutally swiping your clit as his fingers brushed over the sensitive patch inside of you over and over. 

“You’re close already, aren’t you?” His lips brushed your neck, causing a shiver to roll through you.

“Fuck. Y-yes.”

Michael leant forward, his lips brushing against the skin beneath your ear, his sharp nose nuzzling into your hair before he bit down on you roughly, causing you to gasp. To anyone else in the pub it would have looked like an intimate gesture, a man trying to whisper something sweet into his dates ear, but to you, it was damning.

You were so close, so so close, and all it took was four little words to send you over the edge. Michaels tongue lapped at where he had bit you before he came back to your ear one last time.

“I own you now.”

Pleasure erupted through you, your release bursting from within. You jerked in your chair against him, tucking your head into the side of your neck as you hid your face, grinding down onto his had as you whimpered. Michael plucked pleasure from deep within you, his hand not once slowing, prolonging your orgasm. It was only when it began to subside did his hand slow as you breathed raggedly against his neck, slumped into your chair and against him.

Your heart thumped against your ribs as you panted, and gently Gavey withdrew his fingers from within you, a wince falling from your lips from oversensitivity before he pulled your panties back into place.

Michael cooed you gently, “Good job.” Almost inaudible in the loud of the pub, “So good f’me.”

Fatigue washed over you like a wave, crashing into you so fiercely that you didn’t have the strength to sit up yet. You were fucked out, mind thinking of absolutely nothing as you nuzzled your face into his neck further, breathing in his scent.

“Hm,” Michael hummed, “You still with us?”

You hummed back in reply dreamily, only moving back when Michael pulled you away, watching you with half lidded gaze as he looked over your disheveled form. Michael laughed again, eyes crinkling in the corners as he brushed his hand against your cheek. Your first thought was how pretty he was when he smiled, and then you felt the wetness of your slick clinging to your skin crudely. 

With a curious touch, Michael moved his fingers across your lips, the taste of yourself tart and warm as he caressed you. You opened your mouth for him and let his fingers inside, immediately tasting yourself as he rubbed his digits against your tongue slowly as you held your mouth open for him, drool beginning to pool at your bottom lip. 

“Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded lazily, small smile flicking at the edges of your lips. Michael pulled his fingers from your mouth and used his thumb to smear the saliva that had pooled at your bottom lip over lips messily.

He tutted, “Dirty girl.”

“Mmm.” You hummed in content.

Michael eyed your half drank drink, nodding towards it, “Finish it.”

You did as he bid, brining it to your lips as you kept your eyes on him, swallowing it quickly before placing the glass back on the table, a warm fuzzy feeling slipping over you, a little space that was warm and safe and cozy. Then Michael stood, rather abruptly, like he had remembered that he forgot to turn the stove off, chair hitting the wall behind him as he looked down below at you.

“Time to go.”

You stood, on shaky legs to follow, adjusting your skirt sheepishly, knowing that there would be a damp patch at the back but not caring enough to hide it. In a way, you wanted people to know what had happened, and in some ways your wish had come true. 

A table in the middle of the pub nearby had half of its eyes on you, whispers and smirks shared amongst one another, watching as Michael grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowd roughly. Wolf whistles and hoot’s were called after you, followed by rambunctious laughter. You weren’t sure if they had seen what was happening under the table, but you were sure they had seen his fingers in your mouth. 

The door to the pub was swung open as Michael pulled you out sluggishly behind him. As you stood in the crisp air he spun you abruptly, grabbing your face as he pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately swiping against yours, trying to taste your essence that lingered there. Michael groaned into the kiss, pressing his body against you, where finally you could feel how much what had transpired had affected him. He pulled back, restraining himself as his sharp nose bumped into yours as he moved. 

And then he was gone, stepping away from you as he began to walk away. You stood dumbfounded as you watched him, snow beginning to fall from the sky. 

Do you go after him? Was this it? Did he just use you in the pub only to humiliate you out the front? 

A wave of confusion and hurt washed over you, but before it could turn to anger, he stopped and faced you again, a soft smirk on his lips.

“You coming? You said anything.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to any tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

Taglist: @magnificentdelusionr @twglitching @fan-goddess @mydemimonde @itsshizyne @4v1d-m3t4l-3nj0y3r @liv-cole @lcecgg @sepherinaspoppies @marihoneywk @trashy-panda777 @bellaisasleep

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

Question. We’ve seen one of the best trios in the world MSN, Xavi-Busquets-Iniesta, Xavi-Messi-Iniesta. We’ve had APA before Alexia’s injury. We had Salma-Aitana-Caroline last season. We’re waiting for Salma-Ewa-Caroline. On the men’s team we have Raphinha-Lewandowski-Lamine. Am i missing anyone?

But for the time being, who do you think might be femeni’s trio? I like the Alexia-Ewa-Caroline trio, i mean we’re seeing the numbers & stats. Do you think they’re our super trio for now?

so i think the barça pep era trios that you listed were more like the aitana-patri-alexia trio in the sense that the beauty was really seeing them working together as a unit to create magic. it wasn't only that they were 3 amazing individual contributors on a team. individually, they were obviously wonderful, but together they combined into a super trio that was so memorable! ����

now, we still have the apa combo to watch today, but the other trios you mentioned now (alexia-ewa-caro, aitana-salma-caro) i wouldn't consider so much being that singular unit in the sense that we need those 3 to always play together. however, they are the highest goal contributors on the team, so you could call them a powerful trio in that sense. but we can't forget they also combine very well with others on the team too, so we can't discount those other contributors either! 🙏

[256gb]

i miss you single-purpose gadgets i miss you phones with weird form factors i miss you sony vaio p i miss you frutiger aero i miss you ipod nano i miss you handheld game consoles without wifi i miss you lenovo thinkpad mouse nub i miss you bondi blue imac running macOS 9 in the back of my middle school's storage room i miss you blockbuster i miss you beanie hats with built in headphones i miss you flash based websites i miss you dvd extras i miss you nintendo ds i miss you pivot stick figure animator i miss you blank rewritable cds i miss you interactive buddy i miss you homestar runner i miss you dial up sounds i miss you ytmnd i miss you LSDJ i miss you transparent game consoles i miss you 720p flip video cameras i miss you windows movie maker i miss you "super mario 64 free online" google searches i miss you brian eno windows boot sound i miss you msn messenger nudges i miss you so so much

[cripplecharacters]

Hello. I have a character (a couple, actually) who has an fictional, congenital physical disability. The closest-real world disability I might compare it to is EDS possibly? Her knees when they are "straight" are 15-20 degrees past 180 (what a normal straight leg would be), and her ankles and feet are malformed. Her ankles seem "swollen" and her feet are very small and squished. This of course causes her trouble walking, frequent dislocations and other injuries, balance issues, and chronic pain.

Also caused by the same fictional illness but can be given a name are moderate to severe arthritis from birth, autism (MSN/lv 2), apraxia, and (because of her disability she was treated poorly) PTSD.

So with that backstory, my question is what kind of mobility aides would be helpful for her? I've thought about a 3-base cane for stability and all that good stuff, but would forearm crutches or something else be more beneficial? I've also thought about rubber grips on cups/cutlery. What other things could I look into?

The other character with this disability has a similar build to her legs (though possibly more severe, instead of just her knees being hypermobile the joint is not formed very connectively) and is missing her ring and pinky fingers and 3 small toes on each foot, which causes her chronic pain and of course mobility issues. I figure her situation is pretty similar but in case there is anything that would be specific to her I figured it'd be worth asking.

And one last side note, if there are any real-world disabilities that better fit the description of this condition, I'd definitely be interested in looking into them for further research so please let me know.

Hello!

I definitely agree that Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS) would be the closest real-world match for what you're describing. For that, I'd suggest looking at some of the mobility aids used by people with EDS.

We've made a few posts contrasting the different mobility aids out there (You can take a look through the #mobility aids tag to check some of them out!), which can be helpful for some general information on mobility aids and the advantages/disadvantages of each individual option.

For your character specifically, it sounds like they would need more support than a cane can offer. While a cane can help with balance issues, it likely wouldn't offer much support for the frequent dislocations and chronic pain described.

From the sound of it, forearm crutches would be the best option if you're looking for mobility aids with a similar style to a cane. They're more weight-bearing than a cane is and would provide more support for her in her day-to-day life. That being said, if she frequently has trouble walking long periods of time, a wheelchair or rollator may be better suited to her needs.

Aside from mobility aids, other tools that may be useful for her can include orthotics, braces, compression devices, etc.

Orthotics are shoe inserts that help provide support for parts of the feet that take the brunt of it when walking. They can be especially helpful for your character because of her "malformed" feet and ankles as they can help keep them aligned when walking. This article [Link] talks a bit about the benefits of orthotics and explains them better than I'm currently able to.

Braces can help to prevent dislocations and just generally offer some support for her joints. They can also have a beneficial effect on her swelling but compression socks may be better suited for that specifically.

Compression devices (Specifically compression socks for her) would be able to help reduce the swelling of her ankles as well as decrease the pain from her ankles and feet in general. If she also has poor circulation, these can be beneficial in that way too.

Another aid that could be helpful for her would be grab bars, especially in the shower and by the toilet. Grab bars are generally very helpful for people who have poor balance or general weakness/instability in their legs. I cannot count the amount of times that grab bars have saved me from faceplanting in the shower (Including this morning😅).

If she struggles with her fine motor skills, rubber grips for utensils can definitely be helpful or even just utensils with thicker or rounded handles in general. Because of my own problems with grip strength and fine motor skills, I typically use the Ikea plastic utensils when I'm eating because the slight roundness to them makes them easier to hold. (There's also the added benefit of not making a terrible metal-on-floors sound when I inevitably drop them but that's unrelated)

Though you didn't specify how her autism affects her, noise cancelling headphones or ear protection in general can be helpful for any sensory aspects, along with sunglasses, blackout blinds, and/or a weighted blanket.

For the second character you mentioned, holding a cane may be especially difficult for them due to their missing fingers. When you use a cane with your full hand, most of the pressure is being sent through the wrist and goes up your arm. Using it without the use of the ring finger and pinkie means that the pressure is going straight to the wrist. Though it may be possible for short periods of time, it would likely cause issues with their wrist, shoulder, and arm in general if they use it long-term. Because of this, a rollator may be more effective for them -- especially since it's more weight bearing and supportive than a cane is -- or a wheelchair, depending on their needs.

The other supports mentioned for your first character (Orthotics, braces, grab bars, etc.) may all be beneficial for your second character, potentially more-so if their condition is more severe.

Although I can't think of any other real-world conditions that would parallel what you've described, the community here may be able to suggest some!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[amitieos]

toa anniversary munday!

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Nic

Pronouns: they/them

Birthday (no year): 14th July

Where are you from? What is your time zone? UK, GMT (or BST but don't get me started on daylight savings I'll explode)

How long is your roleplay experience? Does playing A Bug's Life on the playground when I was 5 count? If not, I started with rping HP characters with my friends when I was like 11-12 over MSN after school and whilst there have been breaks it's something I've always found myself coming back to.

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? As above, I made a couple of friends on (unrelated) forums and we all just thought it'd be fun.

How were you introduced to TOA? I thought I missed rp and looked for an FE based rp.

Do you have any pets? Yes, all hail Catcat the Great.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Summer. I hate the heat and humiditiy but once there's no daylight the seasonal affective disorder bass boosts my chronic mental health issues and it's just a bad time really.

What is your IRL occupation? I've gone back to uni to study Law :)

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? I love reading, I'm fascinated by linguistics and astrophysics, enjoy DnD and playing video games in my spare time. I'm a particular sucker for the Sims franchise.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Recently I've been playing BG3, Stardew Valley, The Sims & Fields of Mistria but I'm a big fan of the Persona series and really, really excited about Dragon Age The Veilguard

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: I don't really play Pokemon much anymore but I'll just say Sylveon I guess

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! I met the fourth Doctor when I was 11 and he complemented my vocabulary lmao. I once got published in a poetry anthology with a poem about Shadow the Hedgehog and my parents we so proud of me.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I think I saw a review on TV

What Fire Emblem games have you played? I've attempted to play every game except 1/2/3/5/11, although I've really wanted to play Thracia I just *need* some QoL updates and controls. I haven't finished every single one because of lost/deleted saves and stuff but I've watched playthroughs and read up on scripts on everything I haven't actually played myself.

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: My first was Fates but Jugdral, Magvel and 3 Houses are my favourite

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Elincia, Mercedes, Franz, Myrrh and ughhhh I can't choose between Chole/Yunaka/Sylvain so I'm cheating

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! I saw Ryoma in all that red armour and it grabbed my attention.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Miss Mercedes if you're free Thursday night

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: Chrom, originally be accident but now on purpose :D - Fates: My first was Takumi and I didn't know what an S support was and was very confused. Nowadays usually Kaze or Laslow if playing F!Corrin and Orochi, Nyx or Charlotte if playing M!Corrin. Niles for either. - Three Houses: Mercedes. She's still my go to ofc but I'm also fond of Dorothea, Dimitri and Sylvain. If I'm playing M!Byleth Yuri or Ingrid - Engage: Yunaka was my first and now it's either Yunaka, Diamant or Chloe. Or Mauvier maybe hahfsdgfsd

Favorite Fire Emblem class? I love Pegasus Knights!!!!!!!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Probably a reluctant recruit who accidentally gets involved. Weirdly magic based armoured character.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Either unaffiliated civilian or Blue Lions probably

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Lance, Reason, Heavy Armour Banes: Bow, Faith Budding Talent: idk Axes or Flying?

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) No idea! Probably Elusia or Firene. The Solm heat would literally kill me.

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) TOA ;) (like Noah)

Current TOA muses: Elincia & Mercedes

Past TOA muses? A lot but most memorable to me are Sylvain and Julia, though I'm so excited to see Sylvain in good hands <3

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Elincia and I still have her.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? White magic girlies though I'm trying to change things up.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? Hm, I wish I felt I could write more of the male characters I enjoy effectively. In most other fandoms I've written in most of my muses have been men but it's just not so in FE. I'd also love to write a villain okay I once genuinely considered Hilda FE4 lmao

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) I like writing dialogue and characters bonding but I'm starting to like more action oriented scenes too.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? For Mercedes in particular I get excited to write her steel and strength, especially when it's combined with her gentleness rather than opposed to it.

Favorite TOA-related memories? Every thread I've writen with Elincia and Rua's Byleth <3

Present or past tense? I tend to default to present in TOA but usually past tense. I'm flexible though and will try and match my partner.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? I actually find small text easier to focus in on and read (I can find normal a bit too cluttered and it can send my eyes wandering lmao) but I'm perfectly happy to use normal text, it just takes me a bit longer to comb through.

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 I can't see a shake up happening soon but... Zephia or Chloe are probably forerunners. I've thought about Palla and Astrid too but I'm not sure if I can see the longevity. Also Neimi, Myrrh and Rodrigue have sparked.... ideas. For muses I've written before, Julia is the most likely but I think she's having a nice break right now :)

[thisischeri]

ig: cheri.png

Microsoft, if you’re reading this pls let’s bring MSN back from death I’ll be even your lead product designer!!! pls call

[swearyshera]

I’m sorry what??? You have a furry ex who (tried to?) committed murder?! Alice you can’t just share things like that and not give us the full story

Oh, there is the most batshit crazy story behind it. I'll stick it under the cut because it has next to nothing to do with the blog (other than to provide partial explanation as to why I'm like this). Cw for murder and horrifying sexual acts.

I'll also say, just before I start, that some of you may be aware of this - may even be aware of my involvement - so I'd ask you not to talk about me in relation to it too much. I've changed a few things about myself (including my name) to try and ensure a clean break from it, but I'm happy to talk about it still.

So... Cast your mind back to autumn 2008. At that time, a sprightly young 20-year-old me met a 19-year-old guy that we will call Steve (that's not his real name). Now, being woefully naïve and having at-the-time undiagnosed BPD, I was the sort of person who would fall deeply in love with anyone who showed me the slightest bit of kindness, and Steve did. He seemed caring, had a wild sense of humour, and genuinely appeared to love me back.

And what that did to me was that it made me ignore an entire truckload of red flags. His house was one level above a squat, bare floorboards and windows, no heating ("We can just snuggle under a blanket and share body heat") and I'm pretty sure he spent more money on beer and DVDs than he did on food. But I didn't seem to give a shit, those rose-tinted glasses were stuck firmly on, so I just ignored that stuff. There was worse, too, things that I felt a little uncomfortable with at the time and only realised years later were... well, let's just say I'd implore everyone to be able to identify what consent does and doesn't look like, because it's not always clear when you don't know for sure.

Anyhow, we'd been together about 4 or 5 months. He spent Christmas with me because he had no family to go to, I visited his house, played the "slightly bemused partner at the furry meet-up" role a couple of times, and things (at least to me) seemed to be great. Then one weekend in February, he mentioned that he was going to see some friends - absolutely fine by me, he did that fairly often and I didn't think anything of it. I texted him in the evening asking him how his day was, and he replied "Had a good day, but didn't go meet them".

That was the last message I got.

I didn't hear from him for the rest of the evening. Or the day after. Or the day after that. I got worried, because it wasn't like him to go silent - he wasn't even online on MSN (2000s reference!). And then I got a message from his aunty asking if I'd heard from him - that rang alarm bells. I reached out to a few of the people he knew, and no-one had heard a thing.

He'd been 'missing' for about a week and a half when I got another message from his aunty. She asked me if I knew a guy called Craig (again, not his real name), and I didn't. Then she asked me something that I can still remember verbatim to this day, she said "Do you have a loving family? You're going to need them, I'm sorry." and sent me a link to a news article. I clicked through to find a story in a local newspaper about two men being held for attempted murder. One of them was Steve.

The next few months flashed by as I found my belief about who he was completely trashed and flipped upside down. I discovered he'd been seeing multiple people behind my back, including this Craig guy, and I tried to find out what had happened, and what eventually came out was a completely other life that I didn't know about. I spoke to the Police about him, and was expecting to speak as a witness at the trial (in the end, thankfully, I did not have to do that). But the reality of what happened was fucking wild.

Steve and Craig had developed some weird-ass master/pet relationship, which led to 'role play' about killing Craig's parents. Craig felt that they were controlling and he'd only get peace if they were gone. In the trial, Steve testified that he thought it was not serious, although if that was the case, why did you fucking do it. On the night he sent the last message to me, he had been at Craig's house, made a show of saying goodbye to him and his parents, then waited in a nearby park. He played a game on his PSP to pass the time.

Later in the evening, once his parents had gone to bed, Craig texted Steve to invite him back in. Once he'd arrived, he was handed a knife and told to go upstairs and stab them which for some fucking reason he agreed to. Now Craig's dad was thankfully on the ball and wasn't quite asleep, and he fought off Steve and wrestled the knife from him, before restraining him and calling the police. Initially, Craig was thought to be an innocent bystander, but he was soon arrested too. Steve was charged with attempted murder and conspiracy to murder, Craig with conspiracy, and in court, both were convicted of conspiracy to murder (but cleared of the attempted murder charge).

If you think it doesn't get more fucked-up than that, boy, do I have a surprise for you. Imagine someone's asked you to commit murder - you'd want something in return, right? And indeed, Craig did offer Steve something. What, you ask? Money? A means of escape? Nope! For successfully killing Craig's parents, Steve would have the opportunity to bite off Craig's dick. I am not joking. If he stabbed some middle-aged people, he would get a fucking sausage sandwich.

So yeah... that's what happened. My life has been an absolute soap opera (although honestly, this seems a bit far-fetched even for that - but I swear to you, every word of it is true).

[spectrumgarden]

Hi, I hope this is okay to ask. Is there a form of prompting is less intrusive than hand over hand prompting but that still counts as MSN? I've read your blog and some other blogs and can't figure it out (I also struggle with understanding things, so I'm sorry if I'm just missing something). Please let me know if you need me to rephrase this. Thank you in advance.

I'm guessing you read my longer post on support needs based on mentioning prompting in relation to "counting" as MSN because in there I said something like, I personally wouldn't consider someone MSN if they only need reminders not prompting. It's been a little bit since I wrote that so I do actually have a few additional thoughts on that first.

So basically I do think if you need regular prompting for bADLs it counts as MSN regardless of what type of prompt you do need. But there is some nuance there because every generalized statement is not gonna be accurate in 100% of the cases. For example I know people who rely on visual prompting for some bADLs but can live alone & considers themselves LSN, because theres no other person needed for that. Or someone who does not need prompting for bADLs but needs supervision to keep them safe, who I would not consider LSN. So yeah, Nuance.

Also, this is very nitpicky, but I think a standard reminder does theoretically count as "prompting". Because all prompting is usually defined as is "an action to help someone complete a task they are (currently) unable to do without this help". So a verbal reminder theoretically counts as a verbal prompt, and a written reminder as a visual prompt. The thing is, I seperated reminders from prompting because it generally isnt how prompting is talked about in regards to tasks that require multiple steps (aside from the fact that it also usually is a completely different amount of effort & time needed to complete compared to other prompting). Verbal & visual prompting, in all situations I've seen where it is about multi step processes, these are broken down into all (or most of) the little steps. Like, you could call a reminder a non broken down prompt and theoretically have it be accurate, but that's not how we really use the word prompt & the word reminder already exists for this specific action so. Yeah.

Anyways to save you some googling heres what I think commonly is the different types of prompting:

- proximity control: getting close(r) to someone to remind them of the task they're supposed to be doing. Obviously only works if it's already established what they're supposed to be doing (& I'm assuming staying by their side so they keep doing it, in some cases)

- verbal: saying the step they're supposed to do out loud. So like, "grab the toothbrush" then "put on the toothpaste" etcetc (contrasted to a "reminder" style thatd simply be "brush your teeth" without the additional steps. Verbal prompting pretty much exclusively refers to the multi step system) - also sometimes used to get people to speak verbally / use specific words by prompting stuff like "say: [specific thing]"

- visual: a (series of) drawing / photo / text. Basically the same as verbal but not necessarily reliant on another person to be there (the whole time.

- gestural: pointing at things for the task / direction of the task. Probably also in more intense ways "miming" the task, such as acting like you're brushing your hair with an invisible hair brush so they copy the behavior. Closely related to the next

- model: actually doing the same task as them in front of them. In that case you'd use an actually hairbrush and brush your hair, making them follow along with their own.

- physical: this is where hand over hand comes in, but it's not the only way. Less invasive (?) options include moving the elbow / wrist / ... , as well as not doing the full movement this way & only "nudging" them for the start of the action, stuff like that.

These can also all be sort of mixed and matched. Someone might pair gestural with visual. Pointing at the different pictures of the steps of a task. Or physical with verbal. Etc. Whatever seems to work best.

Also not necessarily the point of this ask but I cant stop myself from including this bit: prompting isnt the only way people with autism are cared for. I mean, some things are really hard to prompt for especially (some) iADLs, like how do you prompt someone to control their finances?? You need to understand abstract concepts for that. You can prompt parts of it like "take out x amount of money" then "give it to the cashier", "how much did you spend on x this week" etc but in the end none of these prompts generate an understanding of the abstract concepts. so sometimes it doesnt make sense to use in the greater scheme of things of learning specific things. Or they just dont seem to help in the long term (I have complicated feelings on whether they should be stopped in that case, but like. It is a thing that happens). Or also, sometimes people would need physical prompting, but they react (really) badly to being touched like that, so the thing getting done for them instead of as a physical promt might be more helpful. since it often requires less touch. (For example someone brushing your teeth for you, them holding the toothbrush on their own, touches you a lot less, compared to someone holding your own hand down with theirs on the toothbrush, or holding onto your wrist.)

[that-one-lotr-orc]

One post gotta be the first

So, for me Reddit finally died. As a programmer who is generally in favour of making stuff available for as many people as possible, they did right by that for many years. Giving everyone who wanted that access to it was generous of them, and made it a very fun platform. Random bots everywhere, apps catered to whatever preference people had, even -dare I say it- the tiniest bit of the wild-west-internet that once existed. But they got to greedy, flew to close to the sun, whatever analogy you want to have for it. I don't fault them wanting to make money off that, hosting is expensive, but the way they lied to everyone, attacked the Apollo developer for outing their lies, "riding the storm until it died out", it was too much.

So now I'm here, hopelessly lost in land I only got glimpses of on r/tumblr. I don't even know why I write this. I doubt many people will read it, or even see it. It's my first Tumblr post, and it probably will be very rambly, incoherent, and missing any kind of red line. The shortest answer to "Why I wrote this?" is probably "Because some google doc in '#tumblr help'" told me to post stuff!".

And I'm bad at posting stuff. I never done it. In the olden days, when forums were all around, I was a lurker. I'd read about everything, posted when I actually had something relevant to say, and shut up otherwise. I was known within the communities, generally active in the adjacent msn/skype groups, but not on the main spam threads in the forum.

When the forums began to die out, I got on Reddit. My account is 11 years old now, I've been using it almost hourly over the last 6 years, and it has a grand total of 9 posts. There's a bit more comments in that, but it's probably basically nothing compared to the average comments per hour spend on other accounts.

Why do I tell this? Because I might change that here. I've been lurking around Tumblr for the last few weeks, and the interaction and people are way different than I'm used to. Honestly, it's refreshing, and nice to see. But entering a new environment, one has to adept.

And I've been stuck too long in my old habits! I am often hesitant to contribute to anything, because I never did. I don't write, because I never wrote. But having a new environment, new people, new interest around me makes me wanna try out new stuff. And who knows? Maybe I'll like it, maybe I'll find people who like what I write, and I'll have more stuff to interact with.

And maybe I don't. Maybe I'll feel too unsure, too self-conscious, to change my lurking habits. I'm fine with that. I got other places to interact about my passions. Most of them are through Discord-groups nowadays, others through the few still-existing actual forums out there, but they still exist.

That's my last thing. I don't know what I even write about. Some of my interest are too different from the usual Tumblr-niches to have any kind of following. While typing this I had a look at the "enlisted game" tag, which has a grand total of 1 active poster. I had some looks at the different Magic the Gathering tags, but (as I expected), most of the people in there are about more about the lore of the game than I do. That's fine, I got my spike-talking places, and I will probably lurk those tags anyway.

The one place I'll probably feel most comfortable is the Brandon Sanderson-aligned tags. I'll be there, maybe even contributing, once I finished the last books (or I find the appropriate tags to block, I probably gotta look into that).

That uncertainty makes me circle back to a point a made a few paragraphs ago. I can explore, I can try out new stuff. Maybe I'll try to add to some of the punk tags here, maybe I'll hop onto some of the computer science tags and see if I can wordvomit there, maybe I'll go to something completely new! I can go exploring again, discovering things I never saw before, and that makes me eager.

[fair-dinkum-mechanic]

Take me back to when times were simpler. When I got joy from buying a new dvd, or when I could hop on msn and chat away with my friends for hours. Playing WoW late at night to get a weapon, or wasting hours on the sims. I’d give anything to go back, with the knowledge I have now, just to see it all again. To feel how it felt. Bring my cat with me, of course.

I find comfort that far in the past. Such a sad comfort. I hadn’t been hurt yet. I was unaware, I had no idea how cruel or brutal the world could truly be. I didnt know that having an open and dreamy heart was going to bring about such searing emotional agony. I just felt hopeful, and excited, and impatient. I miss it. So much. Please take me back. Take me back to before I knew how this felt, and before I could feel how it was to have lost the ability to feel it again.

[tagfer]

it's too bad MSN Messenger isn't around anymore. there was literally nothing better than MSN Messenger. if MSN was still here Discord would have NEVER had a chance. I know a lot of you younger folks weren't around for MSN, and you missed out.

But ain't it funny: Microsoft killed MSN Messenger to promote Skype, an objectively much inferior product, because they thought Skype would make them more money. They then focused on making it profitable instead of caring about the user experience. So Discord rose to fame as an alternative because y'know, Skype sucked. And guess what? It killed Skype. Who uses Skype anymore? Nobody, right? (Of course, Discord then almost immediately got Capitalism Syndrome and started worrying about profit and now it's dogshit too. The cycle continues.)

If MSN wasn't killed for the "more profitable" Skype, I have no doubt it'd still be a powerhouse of online communication. But they put her down like a lame horse and now their replacement that they were totally gonna make billions off of is dead. That's some irony. Sure, sucks for literally everyone, but it is irony.

[the-evil-pizza]

@catboyzoomies They revealed this in the last live letter I think, it's in Thavnair with Matsya!

Oh i must have missed that! (or completely forgotten abut it which is also extremely likely) but! So much better!! I love my msn Matsya and yeah and an the WOL SHOULD hang out

[smileweakandwrong]

Ok, I’m so sorry to just barge in here, but you mentioning that '05/'06 ronance au fic idea just gave me thoughts ™

MSN messenger??! my long lost love </3 oh man, i can totally picture it! Nancy's subnick would be a phrase like "ask for forgiveness not permission" and Robin's would be either song lyrics or that ‘now playing’ feature (and she's currently listening nonstop to songs about pining and unrequited love and whatnot), Nancy would totally ask her about it “oh wow, a lot of love songs huh? what’s that all about? lol” and Robin -> 😳😳😳 i miss those msn days ngl. So much teenage drama could be had… Like calling for someone's attention over and over, or going offline and going back online just so your name can pop up on people’s dash! lmaoooo Those were the days!!

Right?! You see the vision. This was also when Imagine Me and You was released so throw a pair of pining but stupid queers in that movie theatre together and watch the realization dawn.