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skylermadness · 9 months ago

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The Rook (Heymans Breda TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: June 10, 2024)

Original Description:

This was initially a commission for YGuy99 on FurAffinity, but spiraled into more of a collaboration. Furthermore, a downloaded PDF with proper formatting has been uploaded on his page. It can be accessed here. This has admittedly been a few months in the making! I admittedly know next to nothing about Fullmetal Alchemist but truthfully after writing this I am very much tempted to get into it. Although I will note that I mainly handled the writing of the initial draft, and a lot of the descriptive systems present in this story were fully handled by the commissioner. Honestly though I feel like he really improved the story in every way with everything he added! But I do thank him a ton for the initial commissioning, especially because this was a really fun story to do. Rated Mature for mild usages of mature descriptive systems and themes.

The sound of a door closing in a less-than-gentle manner resonates through the air of Wyatt’s bedroom, the young man the place belonged to having fully stepped in. The slam reflects less of a “welcome home” and more of a “thank god that’s over,” whatever “that” is. With a wistful sigh, he flicks the lightswitch, illuminating the space and allowing him a proper view of his bed.

Wyatt has been feeling many things since he got off work today. Exhausted, frustrated, worn-out physically and mentally. At a hyperbolic level, he relates it to coming back from war, a monthly war to pay rent on-time. Even worse, this has now become the standard cycle of events and emotions that arises from a typical workday at this job, a job that can only be described, generously, as a motley mix of banal and draining. Running around in circles like a rat race every day has been debilitating his mental state, digging him further and further into the doldrums.

Wyatt continues to stare at his bed, zoning out like a zombie. His instincts nudge him forward, but a lingering dread tethers him to his current spot. Bedtime… a source of healing comfort, but also the gateway to fast-forwarding into the next predictably unpredictable day. It doesn't feel particularly pleasant for the young man that his two modes nowadays flip between work and sleep, leaving hardly any time in-between for actual normal human stuff. That very thought would make him shudder, but his weary physical state only allows him to shuffle slightly where he stands. Not even enough energy to complain.

Still though. How much longer must he beat his head on the wall and slog through his current job to simply make ends meet until the next round? How much longer until the grueling loop of stress and exhaustion mounts up and becomes too much for him? How much until everything combined finally makes him snap? He knows it’ll only take one more bad interaction to cause a meltdown, to prompt him to quit, to get him fired. To force him into the only thing worse than his current situation: another nerve-wracking round of unemployment.

As hard as Wyatt tries to count his blessings, he’s built up some unfortunate resentment, stemming from trying to force himself to constantly feel grateful for such a palled, monotonous existence, solely on the basis of the alternative being that much worse. From counting blessings to counting days, hours, minutes… how much longer? Isn’t he meant for more than this?

The mental bombardment of such answerless questions do not uplift Wyatt whatsoever. It simply seals his fate. This sense of resignation gently, forcefully guides him to limp towards his bed, like a set of invisible puppet strings. He pulls out his phone during this mental spiral in order to set tomorrow morning’s alarm. At least he's gotten used to doing things off of five to six hours of sleep alone. That has to mean something, right?

After setting the alarm to 5:30 AM, his exhaustion takes over, seasoned with dread, and he properly collapses onto the bed, not even taking the trouble to remove his work uniform. Doesn’t really matter if he’s just going straight back anyway, or so he convinces himself.

Naturally, he expects to feel nothing but the softness of his blankets and the inviting allure of the mattress to beckon him closer upon it. However, whatever comfort he could cling to breaks in an instant. Something small pokes into his torso, accompanied by the sound of some crinkling paper.

“Wha…?” Wyatt musters the strength to roll leftwards and onto his back, then properly sitting up to investigate. His expression changes to one of confusion when he sees what it is.

He takes his left hand and picks up the object, finding it to be a simple chess piece. It’s a white rook specifically, shaped like a castle tower, and as he holds it, the fine material surprises him even further. It’s very cold, as if made of marble, and with a closer look, he deduces that may very well be the case. It’s a very lovely piece, but a rather strange find for Wyatt nonetheless, seeing as he doesn’t really play chess. Any set he’s owned has long since found its way into storage, so he can’t begin to speculate where this thing came from. If someone’s lost it, then they surely miss it.

Not long after does he look back at the spot again and fully notice some kind of note that the chess piece had come with. He picks that up as well, realizing that the note is made of some kind of elegant parchment paper, while the writing on it is etched in dark ink and has an equally-as-refined handwriting, as if scribed with a quill. As he reads through it, he can’t help but notice a distinct air of sophistication, as if someone very important is speaking directly, personally to him.

“You are the rook. A team player who wields both physical strength and tactical prowess. The rook moves vertically and horizontally across the board, as far as it wants to. You are a stalwart force in all capacities, and those who underestimate you on appearances come to regret it in the end. This will make sense soon enough.”

“The heck does any of that mean?” asks Wyatt. His gaze revolves between the note and the chess piece as he fully questions everything about this obtuse observation. The rook and the parchment are obviously related, but how they got here is a complete mystery to him. A part of him wonders if this is some weird work thing he accidentally took home, but he doubts he wouldn't have noticed a small sheet of paper, much less a whole chess piece, stuck to him during his drive home. Furthermore, he usually locks his door, and the thought of someone just breaking in to give him this cryptic message feels a little absurd, yet still unsettles him nonetheless. Stuff like this doesn't spontaneously manifest out of thin air! Maybe he’d received this in the mail earlier, though he’s sure he’d remember as such. Or, or maybe…

From there, Wyatt slides down a mental spiral, brainstorming a viable reason behind this. While his eyes peruse the mysterious note, he also unconsciously rubs the chess piece with his thumb. In his fixation, he fails to notice a pressure welling up within that hand. Small at first, easy to ignore as his focus remains elsewhere, but increasing as seconds pass.

This strange pressure precursors the odd transformation starting to set in. Each finger of his left hand, initially fairly average, is steadily getting thicker, the length of each finger also extending forward. His knuckles crack and pop gently, his fingertips blunting and enlarging with the rest of his digits. Whatever is happening to Wyatt’s fingers works its way into the rest of that hand, starting a process of swelling. The mounting pressure makes that hand more firm, more meaty in comparison to its previous appearance. Even the skin under his fingers and on his palm gains more prominence, padding up, becoming soft and tough. After a short moment, Wyatt’s hand would look disproportionate, like it belongs more on someone much beefier than himself.

Though he’s stayed oblivious up to that point, the amalgamation of sensations within his hand has grown way too much for the beleaguered young man to ignore. Another tinge of pressure finally breaks his daze, and he turns his head.

“Why is my hand so- wh- what the-”

Wyatt is pierced by shock. He completely disregards the note and drops the rook as he takes a proper look, comparing both hands in a panicked fervor. The left one has already become so much larger than the right one, meatier and stronger in appearance. He cringes. It looks so wrong. Without hesitation, the pressure sensation migrates upwards and layers on and around the forearm, starting to blow it up.

Wyatt can only think of one thing to say: “What is happening to me!?”

He panics at the sight of his arm relentlessly growing with each passing second, condensing and contracting what he soon realizes to be his muscles. Wyatt’s always been a lean-built person, rather slender, but judging by his arm, that will be changing fast. His brow raises in confoundment as muscle mass quickly accumulates, thickening and bulging out from that limb as if forcing it through years of hard body work in seconds. It’s not painful, but not comfortable, either, like a deep, deep massage. The ridges that divide the muscles entrench themselves within his forearm, the clear musculature forming in his upper arm not long after.

The young man still adorns his work uniform, and as his upper arm swells, one of the short sleeves of his shirt strains against it, his bicep and tricep burning with raw strength and rapidly maturing with what feels like an instant series of workouts. Then, his deltoid rounds out, further developing through this sudden increase in power. Muscle doesn’t seem to be the only thing growing either; not long after, the ridges that divide his newly-defined muscles begin to fill up a bit. A pudgy softness wraps around the raw strength, bits of fat circling his arm, giving it a smoothness that it wouldn’t possess if it had stayed purely muscular.

The sleeve that contains this arm is quick to fit to form, struggling to contain its widening diameter. It doesn’t take long for Wyatt to pick up on this as a couple of rips pierce the air, a tear beginning to stretch on the shirt from above the bicep, slowly arcing around the sleeve.

“Uhhh-” Wyatt vocalizes, his mind trying to properly comprehend what’s going on. Why is he buffing up!? He can't help but shakily lift his currently unchanged right arm, curious, yet terrified at what’s now happening to his body. Gently, he strokes the firm mix of muscle and fat his altered left arm has garnered.

Unfortunately, this triggers a similar pressure that emerges in the other hand, followed by that same sensation pouring forth from his left shoulder to his torso. Helplessly absorbing these sudden feelings, he watches the fingers of his right hand pulsate, gradually bubbling as they too begin to thicken, becoming sausage-like. The changes in this arm mostly mirror those in the other. However, while his right sleeve fills out like the last, he is interrupted, rudely, by a queasy churning in his midsection. Wyatt grimaces as his stomach gurgles ominously. He feels sick.

“Oh no…”

Wyatt keels over, crunching onto his bed like someone’s dropped an anvil on him. He rolls and writhes in discomfort, trying not to scream as yet another series of changes billows into his torso region. In these excruciating moments, he doesn’t notice the fabric on the rest of his shirt tightening, starting to bulge around his entire upper body.

Wyatt’s body, for that matter, isn’t anything special. To his credit, in spite of his inconsistent workout routine, he still maintains a good physique, lean and athletic. His tall, toned frame of six-foot-one height and one-hundred and seventy-five pounds implies a healthy-enough lifestyle with plenty more room to grow. That growth is happening right now.

As the pressure heats up in his torso, his chest pushes out, gaining definition and packing hard muscle and size onto his breast. More and more, slowly but surely.

“Huff… huff…” Wyatt breathes heavily, almost panting as his newly hardened pec muscles squeeze up against his shirt, the developing cleavage cratering a canyon in the middle of the fabric. This chiseled muscle quickly pads itself up, blimping beneath another soft layer of fat, adding some moob-ish qualities. The two slabs of meat mound themselves larger, his nipples rounding out significantly, adjusting to the growth. This all gives his chest a much cushier appearance than before. He now carries much more power, the raw strength coursing around the tissue and fibers that call his chest home.

The bulk spills down from his boulder shoulders, and Wyatt can feel the back of his shirt rub up against his skin as the musculature behind him burgeons more each second. He groans and lurches forward, gripping his bedsheets with vigor as the sensation of more power pulsates beneath the pressure, expanding his trapezius and broadening his back. Such a mass increase between his back and front promptly causes the back of his shirt to start splitting open against his stronger dorsal build. He squints his eyes and grits his teeth, feeling his bulking frame tear through his work top at the seams, exposing more sections of bare skin by the moment.

“Great… there goes my uniform…”

The constant, relentless heaviness invading the young man’s body wracks itself into his very skeletal structure. An intrusive tugging sensation from both sides of his form causes his frame to widen fairly significantly. Before he can fully notice this, another sharp pop surges in his spinal cord, quickly followed by a squeezing sensation. Wyatt continues to grit his teeth, clenching his meaty mitts into tight fists as he rides the intense sensation compressing him downward.

Wyatt has always been a taller man; again, 6’1” in stature. However, the intense buzzing and popping sensation tells him that his height might be changing as well. Something seems to be squatting him down to a shorter height, shaving off inches, centimeters. He’s getting shorter.

All the while, the queasy, bloating pressure from before continues building within his stomach. This pressure soon turns into pain, and he groans again, clutching his abdomen and mustering whatever ugly noises he can to grind his way through this arduous process.

“Dude, guh…” Wyatt heaves, suppressing his nausea, beads of sweat dribbling on his forehead. “Wh… what the hell did I do to deserve this?”

His abs sizzle as they define themselves, rippling forward and gaining definition like the rest of his muscles up to now. One could possibly even see them indent the front of his shirt for a moment. However, this is not entirely the cause of this bloated, blazing stomach ache. Shortly before Wyatt’s abs could fully finish their upgrade, the rest of his torso starts heaving itself forwards. This stops Wyatt dead in his tracks. He stares wide-eyed, breathing deeply and anxiously as the hem of his shirt rises slowly to reveal his swelling stomach, burying his abs underneath as if never even there. Predictably, he is accumulating more fat. His growing gut peeks out more and more below his shirt, becoming increasingly softer and rounder as the moments continue to drag. The bottom of his increasingly ill-fitting worktop pushes up more and more, failing against the drastic changes of the expanding employee.

“Pop… pop pop… shrp… shrrrpp…”

Judging by the cacophony below him, he concludes that the side stitching of his shirt is now tearing against his increasing wideness, though he can’t even look out of fear that adjusting his position will cause more damage. Yet, the discomfort grows too strong, and as Wyatt’s face reddens with strain, he is jolted by a loud SNAP, followed by instant relief. A heavy sigh slides smoothly from his throat. Once his shirt rises sufficiently, his gut hangs freely over the waistband of his jeans, still bubbling and gurgling with more weight, hiding his now broken belt from view. He now must weigh at least over two-hundred pounds and counting.

Laying back on the bed, the distraught young man swallows a lump in his throat. He shudders, some heat rushing to his cheeks, and with self-conscious curiosity, he slowly lifts up a changed hand and tenderly caresses his belly. The corpulent mound of flesh pins him against the mattress like a weighted blanket. Damn… it’s really warm. He grabs a chunk of it with his thicker palms, the soft thickness convincingly filling his hand, widening his grip as it continues swelling with taut adipose. By this point, his other arm has caught up in size to his left one, the man’s body having lost that awkward asymmetry it possessed at the start.

Now, though, his attention focuses more on the slight itching on his ball-shaped gut. It tickles a bit, blanketing across the surface of his skin. The heftier man fixates on the sight of an increasing amount of fuzz making its way across his fat tum. A light, but noticeable spread of hair sprouts up and along his stomach; not too much, but enough to add an interesting new layer to his exploratory belly rub. He can even feel an equal amount of itching on his chest, no doubt because it too is dusting with fuzz.

Despite the discomfort and lingering fear in his brain, Wyatt can't help but observe a sense of enjoyment, albeit a nervous one, at the sights and sensations of his much stockier build. The mixture of warm fat and rippling strength makes the man feel a certain attraction to his own form that he isn't sure he’s felt in a long while. He huffs quietly as his head spins, face warming up again as the flustered transformee resists his willingness to admit, much less accept, such positive emotions with this change.

“Mm, s-so… fat…” is all he can utter. Wyatt catches a slight tingle in his throat as the sentence ends. That final word sounded different, slightly rougher than before, but his focus span only lasts so long in these emotionally heightened moments, even if those emotions in question aren’t all that bad.

Then, with zest, the pressure hits his legs. His lower body buzzes with sensation and anticipation, and against his better judgment, he impulsively decides to stand up from his bed. Bad timing.

“W- whoa!” he huffs, the transition causing him to wobble a bit due to his significantly thicker size and shifting center of gravity. He waves his arms a bit to regain balance, feeling their new mass as it jiggles in tandem, though he secures himself and remains upright. Standing, however, will soon prove itself difficult during this portion of the change anyway. He shifts his gaze and bites his lip, finding the right vantage point to watch just how the lower half of his body would change.

The tugging at his sides rolls itself down to his hips, prompting Wyatt to rest his hands on them. Within his hands, his hip bones snap and pop, becoming wider. This would certainly hurt more if his belt hadn’t already shot off. Even so, the man shifts his stance subtly, widening his base to maintain balance and avoid top-heaviness. This new posture can’t help but feel more and more natural for him as the size of his lower body begins matching up with the top.

As Wyatt grasps his expanding hips, more overt physical changes cascade further downwards. The upper half of his work pants starts to fill, and the skin surrounding his thighs steadily bloats towards the stiff insides of his legwear. Beneath his skin, his muscles have, again, begun swelling up in size. Hands fall from his hips to his knees as more burning permeates his quadriceps and hamstrings. Wyatt’s enthralled eyes go wide again, locked onto his thighs bulging up and out in conjunction, their growth causing ridges to form in his skin that outline themselves pretty clearly. These ridges indent his sweatpants for a few seconds before ultimately smoothing out, more fat filling in comfortably, hulking his upper legs.

Perhaps the most interesting portion of these changes is contained to the back of this region. His rear. Wyatt shudders. He’s been anticipating this particular change; with the rest of his body growing out like it has, it’s only inevitable that his glutes would follow suit. They do not disappoint, as a compressing surge throws Wyatt back forward onto his bed, the hopelessly flustered man leaning onto the mattress for support. A soft vibrating and growing tightness tells him that his perfectly average rear has begun expanding dramatically. His deep breaths grow louder, more visceral. Overwhelmed by sensation, the man is left with no choice but to surrender to these more intimate portions of the shift.

“Gghhhhhh…” he grunts gruffly and heartily, his two lean cheeks bulking up into two thick, sturdy slabs of beef. His face flushes crimson, his rapidly fattening ass bulging out larger and heavier against the seat of his pants. His blush only deepens as he feels the back of his underwear fill out more and more, the fabric rubbing against his mounding, fleshy cheeks. Even the waistband visibly weakens, tensing desperately around his increasingly obvious crack. It’s just so much larger.

However, what really differentiates these changes is the individual pressure in each buttcheek, the fat within them continuing to gain, no end in sight. His ass… it keeps swelling up and up, far larger than anything he had before, rounder as well. This roundness gains quite some prominence as he continues to feel his butt bloat by the second. He somehow holds down a moan as the soft warmth squishes itself firmly up against both his underwear and the seat of his ill-fitting work pants. Even without the belt now, his pants are tight. Really tight.

Naturally, Wyatt grows curious. Too curious. The man turns his head once again, trying to capture every moment of the change as possible. It shocks him when he finally gets a good look, though it doesn’t exactly upset him. It’s already gotten so thick. Perhaps that shouldn't be too surprising, given that most of his entire body has bulked up as well. He’s much fatter now. His shocked expression softens a bit, and he even suppresses a smirk, his continued self-exploration accentuating the odd feeling of enjoyment he’s been trying to ignore…

…and yet, he can’t stop himself from putting a hand on his swelling rump and giving it a nice squeeze. He doesn’t even think about it. Wyatt catches himself blushing as he feels the growth beneath his very hand, layers of hefty mass filling out within his wide, firm palms. A sense of bliss overtakes him, overriding his anxiety for just this moment, allowing him time and space to indulge in this incredible experience.

“N… ngh… damn…” Wyatt is ashamed to admit his undeniable attraction to the changes, but he just can’t help it. It all just feels so good! Luckily, now, it seems the pressure is subsiding, the changes presumably slowing, but it’s clear that his ass has garnered quite the bubbly attribute that it had not possessed before! He finally readies to unhand his butt when…

Shrrrp!

This time, he fails to stifle his moan, and a deep, gruffer-sounding voice bellows from within. The familiar shredding sound informs him that his work pants are likely no more. His entire uniform has officially surrendered, though really, it never stood a chance. Ironically, Wyatt cares far less at this point, though another deep blush returns to his face as he feels the air conditioning breeze along his now-exposed rear, as well as some other open areas where the seams in his clothing have torn. Before he knows it, his hands lift back up, each one grabbing hold of a brawny chunk of bare ass meat underneath his briefs. He feels the heavy flab bunch up in his grip, soft and thick, the bulbous butt cheeks bristling with some more light fuzz that sprouts softly along the top. He purrs deeply and lovingly under his breath. Wow…

“I-I p-probably should've… mmff…” he averts his gaze from his butt, fully embarrassed, as if all hypothetical eyes are somehow on him. There’s no denying it anymore, no denying that display, that very chain of events turning him into the stocky hunk he’s becoming.

Wyatt just lets out a defeated sigh before he finally accepts it. “I really am enjoying this, aren't I!?”

Wait. That voice… It sounds familiar. He’s not sure though; maybe it’ll come to him.

At this point, the chunky brawn he’s gained is just impossible not to love. He relishes the feeling of this raw strength and size coursing through his form beneath the warm layers of soft, malleable fat. Such a stark contrast to how he used to look, and he knows that the pure suddenness of gaining such a form is something he should probably fear. He certainly did at the outset. At the same time, though, he truly can’t suppress his burgeoning love for gaining this wonderful body type. It just feels so good!

“...I should really get to a mirror,” Wyatt mutters to himself, twinging a bit at the tone. He swears his voice seems to deepen with each sentence he speaks. Deeper, lower, huskier. The faintest hints of a nasal brashness have been forming as well, as if his voice continuously teeters the border between maintaining its original sound and changing entirely to something brand new, divorcing itself from the bright, youthful tone he carried before. Again, too, he can’t shake the fact that he’s sounding ever so familiar.

For the time being, though, it’s not something he puts too much focus on. He still needs to get a real look at himself. The man pushes himself up from the bed and steps forward, hauling himself to the bathroom that’s connected to his bedroom. His running is still a bit wobbly, Wyatt still not fully used to his weighty form, each step landing heavier on the floor than he’s used to. This is not to mention that his legs are still finishing up their changes. The constant pressure beating in his bones doesn’t make movement an easy task, and amidst the shuffle, he can just barely see his height continuing to alter with his own eyes thanks to just how many more inches subtract off of him. Although it isn't exactly the largest reduction in height, it still feels sizable since, even though he can't calculate it himself, he feels he’s dropped down by about half a foot. Things just feel a little taller than before, like his new self would definitely be looking up at his old one.

There’s also the swelling within his calves as the crura of his legs grow as well. Calves, ankles, all within his lower legs, thickening like everything else. Again, this just means movement while transforming is a challenging endeavor.

Still, he finally manages his way into the bathroom, instinctually shutting the door and locking it before turning on the light. He heads towards the mirror as the familiar buzzing starts to permeate his skull. He looks down at his belly in front of him, wobbling a bit with each step, until he reaches the sink. Reluctantly, he lifts his aching head, and his jaw drops at what greets him in his reflection.

A wave of reactions and emotions swerves through his brain as Wyatt officially gets a good look at his changed form. Everything starts sinking in, and despite his initial concern, he can’t help but chuckle. It is rather humorous to see his relatively unchanged head on such a big, stocky body. This perspective is odd. However, that doesn't stop him from lifting one of his arms into a good flex, just to see how strong it looks. The biceps and brachioradialis contract themselves into a pronounced peak, showcasing his solid, bulking strength.

“Eheh, lookin’ good…” he compliments himself, a newfound sense of confidence warming his soul.

It isn’t long until another sensory interruption, this time in his shoes. Alerted to this new constriction, Wyatt decides to kick off his footwear before they could explode from his growing pair of feet. This already proves rather challenging, seeing as his foot size has already increased a fair amount. Both feet predictably grew larger, thicker, and meatier than they had used to be, and this negates the idea of “kicking” off his shoes. They’re getting stuck.

“C’mon… hrfff…” he digs his fingers between the heels of his shoes, and luckily, he finds just enough strength to pry them off with minimal damage.

His socks aren’t so lucky though. He can only watch as the cotton easily stretches around his expanding feet, his toes chunking up a bit, twitching and popping beneath the fabric. This fascinates him, and as he continues to hold one of his feet, some holes start to pop and stretch across the material of his stockings. Tiny bursts of material snap as each thick toe busts out the front end of each sock, his heels even tearing apart parts of the back end, as well. A few tears also stretched across the bridge of his feet, growing them much larger than before. Longer, wider, at least 12 inches, a true foot, maybe even more. This also gives Wyatt a glance at the slight increase in hair in these areas, flecks of fuzz blanketing the tops. He now owns a pair of two truly big feet.

That's when he notices that the color of that on his feet hair seems a bit off. Come to think of it, the color of his belly hair looks a bit different as well. Wyatt has always had auburn hair; not entirely red, but his numerous freckles certainly cement his status as a ginger. Even his body hair possesses a brownish-red tone to it, though as he observes in this moment, he interprets a lighter coloration of almost reddish-brown instead, just different enough to pique his interest.

“Eh…? O- OH!”

The ache in his head pounds back in full force. Entranced by the mirror, Wyatt is completely jarred at the sight before him, the sight of his face starting to physically remold itself. A slight, albeit surprisingly painless, crack rattles his skull as his jaw juts out slightly, beginning to bolster. It seems to be broadening, restructuring from round and spherical into a distinct lantern shape, more like a widened triangle. In response, a descension of weight droops from beneath his wider jaw, a swelling of submental fat that steadily forms into a double chin. He watches silently, in awe, lifting a mitt to his thickening neck, feeling new indentations of fat surround his fingers, a subtle series of clicks still gradually expanding his visage. All the while, the man feels his vocal cords tingle as the internal workings of his throat shift at an even quicker rate, his steady huffing and puffing of breath now sounding completely foreign to him.

Of course, the rest of his face has begun changing, as well. His entire skull crunches in and around itself, shifting bit by bit to fit in proportion with his new body, all while his various facial features remold themselves before his very eyes. He continues to stare, entranced by the way his eyes reposition a bit, the browline pushing forward while his faded-looking eyebrows darken, becoming much sharper and more angular.

His nose cracks repeatedly before broadening out, getting rather large. It feels like a steadily growing sneeze that never quite works its way out, his sinuses tingling as his nose widens, popping out from a fairly average nose into quite the bold schnozz. Parts of his face almost seem to squash themselves inwards, though his features remain firm and prominently defined, more masculine in appearance. The larger nose coupled with the almost piercing gaze his eyes seem to possess now gives his face a more brutish appearance, one that actually intimidates Wyatt while looking at it. His bone structure thickens, and his cheeks chub up, puffing rounder and glistening with sweat as his head enlarges overall. A look of astonishment plasters his transforming face. He still can’t believe what he’s watching.

This disbelief further accentuates once the changes in his hair occur, another itching sensation scratching itself across his face, similar to his stomach and chest. Wyatt keeps an on-and-off beard, but he had shaved earlier that day before his shift (work shift). This clean shave doesn’t last for long, his chin tingling and darkening with scruffy fuzz. More reddish-brown follicles sprout like tiny blades of grass across the lower portion of his jawline, slightly centralizing at the middle of his chin before expanding a little bit across the ends of it. He wiggles his widening mouth in response, tucking his lips together as he strokes the sizable amount of new chin stubble with his thumb.

However, while his facial hair grows out, his already-short head hair tightens itself up. While one hand cups his chin, the other holds the side of his crown, each strand of hair sliding between his fingers as it pulls back into his head. Wyatt chuckles a bit; he recently outgrew a buzz cut, but it seems to be returning in full force, at least on the sides. As the same red hue brightens the auburn of his hair, the top tugs itself upwards, spiking and thickening, forcing itself into a crew cut. In truth this new hairstyle seems almost uniformly militaristic in appearance, the sides neat and tight to his head, along with a faux-hawk like trim on top, reddish-orange in color, almost a little rusty.

It’s at this moment that something finally clicks for Wyatt.

“Wait…” he drawls, narrowing his eyes at his reflection (and somehow still intimidating himself, provoking another blush). His irises and pupils narrow, his gaze somehow even more piercing than before. Even the color of his eyes alter, washing Wyatt’s former green color out with a deep blue. He also takes note of what seems to be hints of aging in his form. Nothing too drastic, but the beginnings of wrinkles at the ends of his eyes etch themselves in, as well as around his mouth and along his forehead. This strange rush of new wisdom and experience seamlessly permeates his psyche, and he knows that, to some degree, his very age is shifting, if only subtly. A warm, nostalgic buzzing in his brain informs him he has left young adulthood behind, now more properly an adult that hovers around his late twenties or early thirties instead of his early twenties.

By now, it’s clear as day who he has become, and given the physical and mental torrent he’d just experienced, he can’t say he’s disappointed in the outcome. The suspicion on his face relaxes into a smirk of fond realization as he finally recognizes himself.

“Yeah… there he is.”

Heymans Breda.

How hadn't he figured as much until now?! Well, maybe because he doesn't physically exhibit the anime art style to connect everything to, but still! Breda is one of his favorite characters from Fullmetal Alchemist, and now he’s actually become him physically? Why? For what? He continues to ponder his reflection, wiping more sweat from his furrowed brow. Eventually, his naturally intimidating demeanor gives way to a big, goofy grin.

“Guess that explains the chess piece, too!” Wyatt jests. His heart jumps at the sound of his voice, which has finally settled into Breda’s deep, brash, and hearty tone. He can't help but laugh, reveling at the sound of it reverberating through his ears, which shift only slightly, a little further downward.

He then realizes something else. In the midst of his discovery, his damaged clothing loosens, the rips and tears from his sudden growth starting to mend themselves. Moving his gaze downward, he finds the size of his tattered shirt expanding a bit, the constriction from his hefty body fading away as his shifting garment properly fits itself to his new proportions, all while fading from pale gray to a deep navy blue. For a bit, he is granted a proper look at his broad, fuzzy chest as the shirt splits further down the middle, the hem dipping down a bit before ending below his waist, flowing down to around his knees. The deep blue continues across the shirt as a silvery color lines the edges along with bits of gold weaving onto the shoulders. His collar rises further up from the neck, and a single lapel extends out and folds along the leftward side of the split. On the right, he feels something small slide along the top of his pec, a silver ring hooking around a small blue clasp in his shirt, adorned with a single golden tassel that snakes up to his shoulder. His short sleeves then proceeded to extend downwards to each of his wrists, his larger forearms accentuated by the form-fitting fabric.

Wyatt chuckles again as he watches the miscellaneous military adornments decorate his new uniform, although his gaze quickly drifts back to his chest. Again, he can't help but feel himself up, give one of his pecs a nice squeeze.

“Heh, that’s really good now…”

Knock-knock-knock.

The door? The door!

“Damn-” he shudders, snapping out of his spell and unclasping his chest. As he looks towards the door, a white shirt spontaneously manifests beneath his new jacket, splitting off from the former and becoming its own separate piece of clothing.

“Just a sec, sorry!” he pleads, the soft cotton of his new undershirt hugging his gut as he scrambles to answer whoever’s on the other side.

Wait… he lives alone. Why would-

“I'm just here to remind you of our strategy meeting,” a voice calls from behind the wall. “We’ll confer in 15 minutes.”

Whoa. Wyatt knows that voice all too well. No way… Colonel Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist. His commander.

Commander?! Except Wyatt’s not in the army! He knows that! Or at least he… he thought…

The man just looks down at himself, frozen dumb, watching the same blue overtake his work pants. They mend themselves like his jacket, morphing into the same fine material, fitting around his tree-trunk legs. Even his snapped belt repairs itself, turning from black to silver, almost metal in appearance, part of it dropping and hanging below.

“Breda?”

“Gah!” Caught off-guard again, Wydatt completely forgets Mustang outside the door. “Sorry sir! I'm just, uh… getting changed!”

A momentary pause. Great. He’s probably pissed now. Wonderful first impression.

“Pay no mind. See you shortly.”

With that, the sound of footsteps fades down what sounds like a much larger space on the other side of the door, the material of the floor sounding harder, almost marble-like. Wrydatt pauses and processes for a moment.

“Crap-” he utters beneath his breath. He hastily slides on the sleek black boots that his shoes have somehow morphed into, though not all of the previous tears in his socks sew themselves back up. Perhaps Breda simply needs a new pair of socks to begin with.

“GAH, CRAP!” Wryda yelps, clutching the back of his head. He squints with grit, that buzz in his brain from earlier only getting stronger, immutable to his resistance.

Something’s shifting again, something in his mind. That strange feeling of militaristic desire wells up in him again, the same one he felt when his comman- when Mustang spoke to him from behind the door. The fact that Mustang is there, talking to him. The fact that he saw that man as his leader, at least in that moment. No… the fact that he still can't help from viewing him as such, from feeling anything otherwise. This is a fact.

“This is crazy… I-I'm really becoming him??” is all he can utter. The name… W- Wre… no- Wyatt, right… ugh, it feels weird at this point, and the only thing weirder than that is the part of him that still remains acutely aware of everything happening. This part of Brydatt knows that the more he utters his new na- no, the more he utters Breda’s name, the more that connection will only solidify, cementing him into this new life he’s suddenly grown into.

Fatigued and confused, he moans weakly as the unrelenting headache rattles through his brain once more. This one feels different though, and every fiber in his being hopes that this is the last. He meets his reflection’s gaze for a moment, then another flashing throb within his skull sinks him to his knees.

It’s cathartic. Memories upon memories, increasing desires, familiar and new, a complete reshuffle of his personality. So many things Wreda just cannot stop from gushing their way into his redefining system, rewiring his neural pathways. Does he even want this to stop?

His new identity rewrites more and more brain chemistry, and the last shreds of his resistance finally give way, the battle long lost. An all-encompassing shift in his personality gives the formerly mild-mannered man a tough and gruff thought pattern, a sense of savvy pragmatism he’s certain he’d never possessed before. He feels intellectually sharp, much sharper than before, though maintains a down-to-earth aspect to his demeanor. He’s well-aware that his wisdom, experience, and skill in wartime strategy often surprises those who doubt his ability based on appearance alone, and he’s more than happy to use this to his advantage. He did graduate top of his class at the academy, after all.

Finally, his heart swells, beating warmly, overwhelmed with a sense of duty, dedication, and unwavering loyalty. He embraces a steadfast commitment to protect Colonel Mustang and the rest of his team, his family, from the tyranny of Fuhrer Bradley and the Homunculi. He’ll do whatever he can to save his world, anything to support the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, and his brother, Alphonse, in their life-or-death mission to save themselves and bring lasting peace to Amestris. To everything and everyone he loves.

Everyone. All the memories return, all the relationships. Mustang, Edward, Alphonse, Hawkeye, Hughes, Fuery, Falman, Havoc! Havoc… he hopes that jerk is doing alright.

Despite this drastic character shift, Wreda- wait, Wyatt! Right… despite this, Wyatt certainly still exists, in some capacity. His old identity persists in the background, unbothered, entirely aware of what happened. In truth, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to go back to his old job, or at least he infers such. His remaining memories and personality fragments coexist with those of the person he’s just become, living symbiotically with each other. Now, even if he identifies indubitably more with Breda than he does with Wyatt, they’re both there, the latter able to witness and enjoy the experience of being him, even if that means forgetting his old name every so often.

“Ugh, my head…” Breda mutters as he idly rubs the buzzed temples below his crew cut.

In spite of his exhaustion, Breda feels a swelling sense of pride in his core. It does feel nice to have a more concrete purpose to his life, a job that he knows will truly help people in ways he can only imagine. He gazes once more at his reflection, his expression softening, smiling with a gentle warmth. The self-intimidation from earlier melts away, the decorated lieutenant playfully patting his gut and giggling like a giant teddy bear. He turns around and examines his backside, his hips and rear perfectly shaping out that part of his uniform. His grin grows wider, coupled with a nervous blush.

“Heh… not bad.” Breda admits, allowing his confidence to shine through, sneaking in a gratuitous flex. It feels… refreshing? Invigorating? Hopeful. Something like that.

With one more chuckle, Breda turns to the door, preparing to meet Mustang and his team at their strategy meeting. The Rook is unsure of what awaits him on the other side; he never really can be at this point, given the state of affairs in his suffering nation. He presses his uniform neatly, brushing off some dust and adjusting the finer details before he walks out.

The next day, the next moment, is never guaranteed. He knows this.

He also knows his orders. He’s followed them up to now, and it’s kept him alive so far. He knows the alternative to what’s happening; he knows it too well. More than anything, however, he knows that he has faith in his allies and each of their individual skill sets. If he stays the course like he has up to now and relies on his team to do the same, then that’s all he can do.

With a deep, reassuring breath, he opens the door of his former bathroom and steps out into the regal halls of headquarters. Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, reporting for duty.

#character tf #tf #transformation #human tf #muscle growth tf #weight gain tf #male transformation

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putschki1969 · 2 years ago

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AnimagiC 2023 Updates

Sorry for the lack of updates on this one. I had honestly given up on going to the convention quite soon after the initial excitement of the announcement had settled. I realised that I definitely wouldn't be enjoying myself at an event like that so there was no point in even considering it. In retrospect, I'm kinda glad that I gave up on the idea since their program isn't too exciting. The official program (DOWNLOAD PDF pamphlet HERE) has been released a couple of days ago and it honestly leaves a lot to be desired.

As expected, Yuki Kajiura and FictionJunction are the main event with their 20:45 show on Friday evening at the convention's biggest hall, Mozartsaal. The 30-minute concert will take place right after the big opening ceremony so I imagine the hall will be incredibly crowded. Since the opening ceremony also includes an introduction of all the major German and Japanese guests, you should definitely be there for that as well if you want to catch a glimpse of Yuki and the girls before the actual live show.

Interestingly enough, they don't have any activities scheduled for Saturday. The main event on Saturday is dedicated to SACRA MUSIC with ASCA and ReoNa being the biggest names among the appearing artists. In some way, shape or form they are both YK/Kalafina adjacent so this could be interesting to fans.

Then on Sunday, YK and FJ are once again the main event since they get to perform at 16:30 in the big hall right before the closing ceremony (for which you can expect them to make an appearance as well).

I'm surprised there are no panels or signing sessions planned for them but then again, I feel like those are not really a thing any more at AnimagiC. Only a couple of high-profile guests have a proper signing session scheduled, the rest of them won't even be present for the "autograph-handover".

If you have already secured a ticket and are planning to go, this post is of course not meant to discourage you. I'm sure their performances will be pretty epic and totally worth the ticket price. Especially for those among you who won't get the chance to travel to Japan any time soon. The pre-sale for tickets has closed a while back but if you live nearby, you could always try to buy tickets on the day of the event. They end the pre-sale early to have enough tickets available for the on-site sale. However, that's not to say that the tickets won't sell out quickly once people start arriving so you better get there bright and early. Sales start at 9:00 on Friday (long before the convention opens its doors to visitors which is at 13:00).

YKL#18 Rehearsal Pics

Tweet 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

#kalafina #yuki kajiura #kajiura yuki #keiko #news #AnimagiC #anime convention #ykl vol 18 #fictionjunction

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kuleana--does-anyone-care · 1 year ago

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capstone update #1

TO REITERATE: I'm planning to produce a 30-min documentary film.

Hello, I'm finally here to update my blog! I meant to do this last week, but didn't... I was struggling to wrap my head around this project and what I'll be doing this semester.

I think I'm a little crazy for taking this on. Sometimes it feels like too much, but I certainly won't be quitting.

My first reality check was trying to populate the workback plan. It was a necessary step, but so difficult. I had to come back to it a few times to get it sorted out. I always feel like I'm overlooking something when I'm planning out a project, and I've never tried to produce something of this magnitude before. But I sat down with my workback plan again tonight and finally have it in good shape. Coming back to it has helped me process what I'll need to do, and I feel pretty certain now that I'm not forgetting anything. I also recreated my workback plan in Notion, because I don't think I'll be able to stay on track if I only look at it on Google Sheets. (The formatting... the lack of color-coding and other viewing modes... Nah, homie, I can't. TwT) I also gave myself dates to complete things by. I know I can work to a deadline, and now I have a ton of them. Isn't that fantastic!

Anyway, I'm really happy with my organization on this project now that I have all my tasks thought out, written down, and with dates. The tricky part now will be keeping the Google Sheet updated according to the Notion.

Right now I have a bunch of tasks marked as "in progress." There's so much I need to do in the next two weeks, mostly making lists of people and Instagram accounts to reach out to. I already follow a lot of accounts but I have not created a master list for myself to keep track of them all. Once I have my list, I can start drafting up messages to send to them, asking if they might want to participate in my doc, or could put me in connection with people who would. I'm kind of worried that I don't have much to show for myself, a presence, or a reason why they should trust me, that kind of thing. But I'll try it anyway.

I also need to draft emails/ send texts/ make phone calls to people I know, who said in one way or another that they might be able to lend a voice to my project. Cast out a bunch of lines and see if I get any bites. 🎣

Another thing is, I want to find videos on YouTube and Vimeo of the ʻOnipaʻa Peace March that happened a couple weeks ago. I wasn't able to go myself, but I'd really like to incorporate footage of it into my film. Maybe someone would be willing to let me use a few of their shots. If not a person, maybe one of the local news outlets. I also need to do some research. I have a playlist of some news clips about the Red Hill water crisis from when I made my 5-minute piece about it in Fall '22. But there have been updates since then, and I need to collect even more. I'm not 100% sure what or how much I'll do with it yet. But my creative process is 'collect all the stuff, look at and absorb it all, ???, get vision, create the vision'... so step one is gathering more things. :)

Also want to find more PDFs. Last semester, I found some studies and national news articles about Red Hill, pollution by the Navy/ issues similar to what's happening here, but my research topic was persuasion, so I spent the vast majority of my time on that. There's definitely more out there, and I want to find it because I'm thinking of using scans/ screenshots in my film.

Oh, and I'm planning to request titles from ʻUluʻulu by 2.16. Gonna try my absolute best to stay on top of the deadlines I've set for myself. LONG POST: FINITO!!!

#hawaii #documentary #film #red hill #water pollution #environment #nature #sustainability #water #land use #land ownership #uhwo #uhwo acm #uhwoacm #capstone

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lazeecomet · 1 year ago

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How to teach someone to drive

Featuring my younger brother who has anxiety and has already been a passenger in a car crash

I learned to drive in spite of my parents. They got me an online class (no video, just walls of text and clip art with quizzes) and sat in the car, but they didn't really do any teaching. I failed my behind the wheel test on my first go around. I wasn't gonna have my brother go though the same thing so this is how I got him able to pass his test with 0 faults on his first try in about 6 months (and my parents never even knew it was happening)

Make sure this is something they want to do or feel like they should do. It's very hard to learn to drive if you don't think you need to learn to drive. my brother was against driving but ultimately conceded that he needed to learn at some point even though he didn't like the idea of it

Use the right car. Don't use a big truck or something with weird or large blind spots. I hated driving my mom's volt because i sat way too high in it and couldn't see out very well which feed back to point 1

Link it in with a fun outdoor activity. Are you going somewhere? Plan to do driving afterwards. Do not spring this as a surprise. since your already out and about go for a drive.

Plan a route. Look on Google maps for some cul-de-sac or neighborhood where there is only 1 or 2 ways in or out. This will ensure they can't get onto a main road and also cut down on other traffic

Park the car and take photos of the mirrors from the drivers seat. Show them what you have centered in each. Have them adjust the mirrors to match the photo

Drive around the cul-de-sac. The first few drives will only be about 10 minutes long. Show were to stop at a stop sign. show when to yield. get use to accelerating and breaking gently. Do a 3 point turn and go the other way for some variety. reverse the car against the sidewalk for about 30 feet. parallel parking comes later.

Repeat step 6 until they are comfortable.

Plan a longer route. Use Google maps to find a different neighborhood that has more cross streets and route out a 20 min weave though the neighborhood. with android auto/apple carplay/a phone clip, seeing the route to be taken and knowing what turns need to be taken ahead of time will add purpose to the drive. it sucks to drive around aimlessly. always have a destination

Drive the longer route. This should only need to be done once or twice. Point out any new road signs and what the mean and what to check for

Find the driver's handbook for your state and send it to them. It's usually not more then a 10-20 page PDF with lots of pictures and is a very quick read. the next step is dealing with THE PUBLIC so they should know ALL the rules of the road

plan a route along a less populated multi lane road. something that gets up to 35-45 mph with low traffic. you know the type

drive the multi lane road. go over merging and practice changing lanes at speed. point out new road signs and have them keep awareness of surrounding cars. is there someone behind them that wants to pass? move over. is there someone beside you in the blind spot? are they in front with their signal on? let them in.

its time to start extending the driving time. have them drive to the destination/event or drive home from it. stick to back roads. do not use the highway. google maps has a setting to avoid highways. just follow that. parking lots will now be the new practice backing up

when the situation presents itself, practice parallel parking. its not on the test but its just so good to know. if you could pull into a parking space have them try and parallel park instead

and thats it. in ~6 months only driving one day a week for no more then 2 hours, you can get someone comfortable with driving. going from not driving to driving is all about building confidence. the steps need to be small enough not to overwhelm and the stakes low at the start to make messing up inconsequential. and speaking of mistakes, unless the error is unsafe, do not point out an error until after the situation was passed. its overwhelming and stress inducing if you point out the error while its happening as they will try to correct it, usually slamming on the breaks which is less then ideal.

for example, if they go though a pedestrian crossing without checking for pedestrians (even when there are none), point out how they didnt check, the signs that were leading up to it, and make a point to call out the next one so they do check. on the other hand, if they are about to make a unprotected left on green with cross traffic, STOP THEM.

I hope some people find this helpful. driving is stressful at times. learning how to drive does not need to amplify that

#comet tales #learning to drive #driving

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swimfaye · 5 months ago

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16 hours, 12 Steps, 8 Days.

I overheard him say " You have all this time between Christmas and New Years, why not spend 2 days or 16 hours trying to get a job" I immediately replied "because its hard to do just that"

I don't know or care if the guy on the trail heard what my response was but the thought stayed with me. I don't know how hard it is to get a job. I have just learned and practice getting a job consistently. Whether its taking a job I am not qualified for, or getting a job for a short period that I am over qualified for. I have enlisted temporary agencies and government websites. I have looked up web based applications and literally hit the pavement. I have gone to networking events and I have tried to meet recruiters for businesses.

I have not heard No, so much as the deafening silence of getting no response from an application. I know the frustration of looking up a job on craigslist, crafting my resume to the keywords and ensuring I submitted it through whatever portal the company is using only to get an automatic reply.

I have watched job posting repost after my application or telephone interview or in person interview is completed. I have felt the sting of hearing they didn't hire me because they choose from within. I have been disappointed with getting through three hours of job interviews that could have been an email only to find "you're not a good fit" because of my age.

So, why boil the job search down to 16 hours. Sounds easy enough.

Okay, let's start. Step 1: Open Craigslist.org Step 2. Select the vocation Admin Step 3: Select the location " All SF Bay Area " simply okay. Now review the listings of say 129 pages of jobs, first page 1. Now, you are looking for a full time job within the San Francisco Bay Area that will pay more than $25 and is permanent.

Step 4: you find a position $30 with an immediate start date. Its an Office Management position full time in the City of San Jose. The job responsibilities and qualifications are as follows:

Responsibilities Include: • Answering phones handling customer inquiries and issues • All office management and administrative activities • Customer Service • Basic Bookkeeping & Invoicing • Professional Communication Skills • Office Maintenance • Onboarding of new employees and processing all paperwork • Support company operations • Preparing monthly billing/some accounting duties • Time/expenses inputting • Mailing - Processing Checks and Incoming Bills • Overseeing Customer Service Reps Qualifications: • Office Management Experience • Works well autonomously and able to multitask and learn quickly • Strong organizational and time management skills • Proper written, interpersonal, and oral communication skills • Knows basics in Microsoft Word, Excel, and Outlook • Detail-oriented and strong work ethic • Ability to manage multiple competing priorities

You've spent about five minutes of your 16 hours so far. Now, you have to craft your cover letter and resume which you have never done before. Remember that will take some time. The next couple of steps are : Utilizing a Google Drive go to new Google Doc Select Template versus a blank sheet. Select a Resume style and start to plug in the keywords and information into an engaging paragraph format. Review the submission guidelines ( do you respond to the Craigslist ad and/or is there another address to send information to ? ). Be sure to keep the basics that respond to the ad - especially the start date you are available and the wage you expect.

Let's say that took two hours because you had to review and format into a pdf.

Now, you sent it off at the start of hour 14 of 16. What next? You go back to Craigslist job listings and you find another position to apply to. Maybe you select an specific area like East Bay and you find another one. This will take about another hour because you can utilize your previous cover letter and resume as you save it as new say version 2 and update the qualifications to match the key words and you send it off.

That is hour 12 of 16 and you have done two job submittals, what can you do next?

#find a job #16hours #steps to get a job

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percontaion-points · 9 months ago

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The Boy Who Sneaks in my Bedroom Window chapters 1 & 2

Today's review might be difficult for some; reader discretion is advised

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Click here for the rest of the series!

Chapter 1

He was a cute kid, with blond hair and grey eyes with brown flecks in them. He was my big brother, and as big brothers went, he was the best.

It seems kind of odd that she’d describe her older brother as being “a cute kid”.

Jake was ten, and was two years older than me, so he always helped with my school work

There is waaaaay too much telling going on right now.

Also, I didn’t forget to copy the period… There was none in that sentence. Joy. I can feel the headache coming on already.

“What are you doing here, Liam?” I whispered, wiping my face, but the tears continued to fall.

[...]

“I saw you through the window. I just wanted to come and make sure you were alright,” he whispered back, still hugging me tightly.

Okay, so the reviews warned that this story suffers from Absent Parent Syndrome©, so IDK why I even bother asking this, but…

So this literal ten year old boy sees Amber crying up in her room, climbs up to knock on the window, and comes in… Yet he himself can’t be assed to tell his parents? Or a teacher? Or literally any grown-up in his life?

I shuddered at the thought of what my father would do if he had walked in here to find Liam in the house at night-time.

Chapter 1 summary: We’re introduced to 8 year old Amber, who has been living under the tyrannical thumb of her abusive father for the past three years. Although she says that they have a large house in the nicer part of town, she wishes that they could go back to how things used to be, before her father accepted a terrible job.

Over dinner, Amber accidentally knocks over her drink, which causes her father to lose his cool. He starts yelling at her and hitting her, but when her older brother, Jake, tries to step in and protect her, dad takes his frustration out on him instead.

Later, Amber is in her room when a neighbour boy randomly climbs up to Amber’s window and holds her as she cries. He ends up spending the night with her, which freaks her out. Not because of Liam, but because what daddy-dearest might have done if he’d found Liam in Amber’s bed.

Chapter 2

[image description: A screenshot of the first page of the second chapter of the book. It has two different fonts that switch back and forth every couple of paragraphs. End description.]

Okay, so I need to highlight this. And I seriously don’t know if this is the PDF, or if this book is seriously like this.

But does everybody else see this? The fact that there are two different fonts on this page? What the hell is going on?

Of course I looked harassed, I had half an hour to get showered and dressed.

Okay, so first off, she actively CHOOSES to wake up and only have 30 minutes to get ready for school. So I don’t exactly have a lot of sympathy for her.

Also… Harassed? Are you sure that’s the correct word to use right here? ARE YOU SURE?!

Well, I say left, but in reality Jake and Liam came home early from hockey one day to see that my father had beaten me senseless, and was trying to rape me. Jake had finally snapped, and he and Liam had beaten the crap out of him, almost killing him in the process. They had thrown him out of the house and told him that if he ever came back, they would kill him. He never came back though, that was three years ago.

Calling the police? Lol what’s that?!

I also love how casually she talks about this. Like it was simply another day. “What did I do today? I went to the store, and then the park. Then my dad tried to rape me, but it was okay because Jake and Liam beat him up. Then I went to the movies.”

They had thrown him out of the house and told him that if he ever came back, they would kill him. He never came back though, that was three years ago.

A little while after that, my mom got a job with a huge electronics firm, she was the PA to the director and so she travelled a lot. She was gone twice as much as she was here, so we only saw her for about one week a month, if that. Jake was my only supervision, although at times it was more like I was the one taking care of him.

As I said, Absent Parent Syndrome©.

Liam was also very protective of me, but we still didn’t get on - even though he had literally spent every single night wrapped around me in my bed for the last eight years.

Uh-huh. Right.

She had dated Liam for a little while, well, if by dating you mean having sex a few times, and then getting dropped. She still wasn’t over it and wanted him back, much to his disgust.

I have been warned that this is the majority of this book. Joy, I can’t wait.

“How the hell can you be unaffected by how freaking hot they are? I mean, you’re so lucky to live with Jake! I would love to watch his hot ass walk around all day,” she purred, fanning her face.

It’s bad enough that we have to have a book in which Amber was almost raped by her father. Do we also have to have weird implications that Amber should be lusting after her own brother?

… so I knew that my brother and his friends were arriving in the canteen.

Canteen? Yes, it’s technically correct, but I seriously don’t know of a single person who would call a school cafeteria a “canteen”.

Great, just great! [Liam] was driving me home. Fantastic. He always made the drive home as long as possible just to annoy the life out of me. Then, he insisted on waiting at my house until my brother came home, which meant that I had to cook for him too. Damn it, he is so annoying!

Or you could… Not make him food.

I’m not quite convinced that Amber’s life improved all that much when her father left. Not if she’s still expected to be subservient to a man who pushes himself onto her 24/7.

“Hey, where you going?” the other guy asked, grabbing my hand.

My heart started to race as I looked around, frantically. “I’m looking for my boyfriend,” I lied, trying to sound confident.

“Boyfriend? I don’t see a boyfriend[...]”

Yes, that’s why she’s LOOKING FOR HIM, dipshit.

“I hate rushing around; I’ve looked and felt like shit all day,” I cried acidly.

I… I simply feel like the author thinks that she’s picking the correct adjective, but in actuality, every single one she selects comes off as clunky and awkward.

THERE IS LITERALLY NOT ONE SINGLE THING WRONG WITH “SAID”. FUCKING USE IT.

“Goodnight, Angel,” he replied, kissing the back of my head.

Chapter 2 summary: 8 years later, and now Amber is 16, which puts Liam and Jake at 18. He’s been spending literally every goddamned night with her.

As mentioned, almost in passing, Amber’s and Jake’s dad tried to rape her one day. Liam and Jake happened to come home at that time, so they beat him up and kicked him out of the house. They haven’t heard from him for the past three years. Also, mummy-dearest is absent, which allows for a lot of… well. Stuff that she probably wouldn’t allow if she was actually there. Like Liam spending every goddamned night with Amber.

The three of them go to school, where some random girl tries to hook up with Liam, but Amber slut-shames her. Then she hangs out with her friends, who ask why she hasn’t tapped either of the boys. Amber is more horrified over the thought of them suggesting she should hook up with her own brother. But she also tells the readers that despite everything, she and Liam are barely friends. Which seems like an odd choice to make, but sure.

I would also like the record to state that every second I spent being forced to read the interactions of Amber and her friends, I could literally feel my IQ dropping.

After school, Liam gives some excuse as to what Jake is doing, but it’s literally not important. He and Amber go to the store, where Amber is sexually harassed by some random boys. Liam has to rescue her.

She later gives him dinner, and they watch a movie together. Liam leaves for a bit, but comes back so that he can spend his night with her once again.

#The Boy Who Sneaks in my Bedroom Window #bookblr #book review #romance novel #new adult

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snek-panini · 2 years ago

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Printing another book and I have never had a project fight me as hard as this one has today. There's been just one roadblock after another here. I'm putting it under a cut because it got long and I just want to rant, lol.

Yesterday, go to print. Printer runs out of ink about 1/3 of the way through the job. I don't have any at home and have to go buy it.

Today, get in small accident in parking lot after buying ink. Everyone's ok, the cars just have small cosmetic dents in them now.

Replace ink. Delete pages that have already been printed from the document so I don't get duplicates. Printer prints three more signatures. I find out later that some of the pages here are blurry.

Printer has a mysterious error. Pauses, restarts job from the beginning. Cancel print job. I never found the source of this error.

Discover blurry pages. Fight with HP app till it lets me realign the printer. Delete more text in the original document. Print the remaining signatures.

Try to format blurry pages for reprinting without reprinting entire book. Word's book fold has no option to do this.

Paste offending pages into their own document. Can now print only these pages but the page numbers are wrong. Cannot fix this with any of Word's page number functions, including screenshots of the correct numbers pasted into the document. Nothing works.

Reformat to PDF because it has a was to print only select pages.

PDF does not support custom paper sizes, which this book uses.

Delete PDF in fit of rage. Exit original document without saving so the text I removed earlier isn't lost. Quit for a while. Contemplate all life choices that have led to this place.

Come back later to try one last thing.

Wifi (it's a wireless printer) is not working on only my computer. Other devices have no issues. Restart required.

Massive computer update that takes 20-30 minutes.

Get back into document, delete more text and blank out earlier pages so even if it prints those before I can cancel them I won't waste much ink.

Delete wrong pages, leading to Word reformatting the signature page counts on its own, because it feels left out and wants to help.

Cancel job, add more blanks to the end so it can't do that again. Printer sucks in two pages instead of one, prints on them sandwiched together, so while it did technically print on both sides, it has also in reality printed on only one side.

Cancel job. Yell at sky. Open print tray and shuffle all the pages to make sure they are not stuck together.

Finally print the godforsaken pages.

I do not think I will touch this text block again for a couple of days. I usually don't have much waste paper on projects, but I have enough from this one to have made a whole other book from it. This is the most I have ever fought with any craft project, software, or printer. Including that time in college when my home printer just went on strike for three or four days when I had a paper due. This was worse.

#long post #bookbinding #snek makes books #or she tries anyway #the books are not cooperating today though

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asterinunfathomed · 4 years ago

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@waffleschoco needed some tips for psychology practicals in class 12 so here we go...

For the written part

▪Don't spend your time trying to memorise the standardisation or the basic introduction part. You will be getting the manual, and you'll find everything in there anyways.

▪Do memorise the order in which you're supposed to write things. For me it was aim, basic concept, standardisation and norms, materials required, subject's profile, procedure, precautions, introspective and observational reports, scoring and result, interpretation and discussion, conclusion, references. (Wow that was long.) Follow what your teachers tell you though, I don't want to cost somebody their marks.

▪Learn 2 precautions only that are common to all your practicals so you don't get confused.

▪You should have an idea of what you're supposed to write in the discussion part, just an outline. For eg- aim, definiton, what the test measures and how, subject, scores

▪When you give the test to your subject, make sure they fill it in correctly. Watch as they fill in the first 2 items and correct them if they go wrong. I don't know how we're going to be conducting the tests, since its not feasible to call juniors to be our subjects, but for our preboard practical we did it on each other. And my very genius friend ticked the responses on SAS, where you're supposed to circle them (its even written in the instructions, idiot). So make sure that doesn't happen, because if it does, it'll be your problem not your subject's.

▪If your teacher has provided you with the manual before, like ours sent us as PDFs, make sure to go through it. You need to know where which table is, and where the norms are, and where the validity is etc. so that you don't waste your time looking for it.

▪Also make sure you know full well how to score each test. One of our tests was Sodhi's Attitude Scale and it has the weirdest scoring ever. Be properly thorough with it.

▪Also know which table is to be used to score what and whether you need to convert your scores into percentile or grade or something else.

For the viva

▪BE CONFIDENT. Our teacher repeated this multiple times. If you know the answer but you're not confident, it will give a bad impression on the examiner and you can lose marks. Vice versa, if you don't know the answer but you are confident about it, you might sound better than you think you do.

▪Don't add unnecessary and extra information. You'll only be digging your own grave by allowing the examiner to question you on all those topics. Be clear and to the point, and be prepared to elaborate that point itself, and not extra information.

▪In case you're 100% sure you don't know the correct answer, just tell the examiner that you're not sure of the answer. Confidently. Its better than looking around and going "umm...uh..."

▪Keep eye contact. Not creepily, but try not to look around or let your eyes wander around the room. Look at the examiner. Don't stare though.

▪Be properly thorough with each and every concept. If the examiner realises you know stuff, they will try to ask trickier questions to ensure whether you deserve a 30 or not.

▪Be smartly dressed. My teacher really emphasised on wearing school shoes only. She also said dress smartly, don't look nerdy. (I'm not sure what that means.)

▪If you feel very very anxious right before your viva and feel like you need to calm down, you can tell your teacher (not the external) to take your viva after 5 minutes. According to my psycho teacher, this doesn't happen to everyone so its not a big deal and they take it into consideration.

▪CLASS 11TH CHAPTER 2. That is the base of all psychological research. So be thorough with it. At least the basics. You should know what validity, reliability and norms are. You should know how to define a psychological test, and its advantages and limitations. You should be aware of the difference between an experiment and a test, the different types of tests etc. Basically do the whole chapter.

▪If your teacher is anything like mine, she will love love love asking concept based questions instead of straight up definitions. She asked me the difference between a personality test and a self concept test. So you should not only know your NCERT, you should properly understand it.

▪Adding my teacher's favourite question in case she is friends with your teacher: What is the difference between percentage and percentile? What is the sign for percentile? (Its a trick question, there's no sign. If you say this, my teacher will keep asking you if you're sure to confuse you. So you need to be confident.)

▪If for a question such as the above, you don't know how to properly define it, give an example instead. The examiner can see that you know your shit. Although even if you define, the examiner might ask you to give an example anyways.

▪And relax. Its not very difficult. We've been studying the whole year, if you know your basics, you're all set.

ALL THE BEST !

#studyblr #study #study motivation #studyspo #studying #studystudy #study tips #psycho notes #psychology #psychology practical #cbse class 12 exams #cbse #cbse boards #cbse school #class 12 #psychology cbse

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hardyorange · 4 years ago

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✨Productive morning journal✨

My schedule as a grad student and assistant is about to get a lot clearer, since there are no classes at all in December and I'm not taking any classes in spring or summer semester of 2022, so I want to start taking control of my time now to build good habits.

This morning I:

✨ got out of bed by 7:15 am (my first alarm went off at 7:00 am and keeps going off every quarter hour until 8:00 am, and I usually take all of that time and longer to actually get out of bed)

✨ used the restroom and finished checking fb by 7:30 am (I am really bad about getting sucked into social media while on the toilet) and did not crawl back into bed (which also usually steals my time)

✨ laid out my clothes and had my hair brushed by 8:00 am

✨ showered, washed my hair, and got dressed by 8:30 am (showering at all is a HUGE accomplishment for me, so I'm very proud of this)

✨ spritzed the shower with cleaner, retrieved my clean laundry from the dryer, and started my comforter and pillowcases in the washer by 8:45 am (my bedclothes haven't been washed in over a year)

✨ had breakfast made by 9:00 am; I had spicy tofu soup with zucchini and potatoes, a selection of pickled vegetables (from a pre-prepared bulgolgi bowl tray), a banana, and hot black tea with brown sugar and milk:

the tea has been a staple for me for a while now, but the soup, pile of pickled vegetables, and banana were all made possible by yesterday's grocery adventure that featured trekking an hour north up to the nice H Mart in Duluth; we have an excellent Nam Dae Mun near us, but it doesn't have as large of a ready-made section as this H Mart does, and our "local" H Mart is... struggling; I overall prefer hot food to cold, but I got to go to a Japanese language immersion camp as a teen, and I picked up an appreciation for breakfast salad there

✨ finished eating breakfast by 9:45 am; I watched a random person's morning routine vlog and closet clean out video on yt, which was nice and relaxing and I got to giggle over how unsustainable the vlogger's "routine" was by her own accidental admission ("I wanted to do this vlog because I've really fallen off track..."/"I don't normally get up this early..."; gee, wow, really???)

✨ had my desktop and laptop on, ms Teams up and running, the textbook pdf open, and my paper notes ready to go by the time my Intro to Analysis professor started class a few minutes before 10:00 am (however, I did type most of this during class)

✨ now my primary roommate Bat and I are getting ready to go drop their orders off at the post office and exchange the deodorant I picked up at wm yesterday for the one I actually wanted (the packaging for the powder and gel bars are nearly identical and I hate it!!!); we're going to try and leave by 11:30 am since I host office hours at 1:00 pm on ms Teams every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday

#idt #journal #morning routine #breakfast #food #october 25th #2021 #college #grad school #nonbinary guide to life

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sunnydwrites · 4 years ago

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My Triannual Goals: September-December 2021

Hey all! Sunny D is back once again; I’ve spent this whole time moving! I’m finally settled into a new place, and I’d love to start off this new chapter by setting some goals for myself. Here’s the link to my last post on triannual goals, so we’re here to review and renew!

Last Period’s Review

Complete the entirely of the “Korean for Beginners” textbook PDF. - Fail. I didn’t do this, but I did make some nice progress! I’ll be coming back at this one with a stronger study plan and schedule.

Land 540 spinning kick. - Success-ish. I didn’t completely get it, however I’ve been able to get the kick out more consistently. It’s a halfway success because while I can technically land the kick, the execution isn’t where I want it to be.

Test for my 2nd Dan Level 6 in Taekwondo. - Success! I did this! It was awesome!

Post and release a project for the TTWF server, and start planning the second one. - Success! We released the first edition of our zine! Keep an eye out for the submission process of the second, coming soon.

Code an operational bot for Discord. - Fail. I think this was a bit of a hyperfixation and me getting in way over my head. However, I learned the basics of Python!

Complete the development of two planets in Journey to Valeria. - Fail. This was something I’m kind of disappointed about, because the project still means a lot to me. I have some reworking to do.

Finish the readthrough and note-taking stage of The Murder of Elijah Patel. - Success! This actually went a lot faster than I was expecting it to, and I’ve made good headway already on the second draft!

Write 50 sections of Kaleidoscope. - Fail. Kaleidoscope found itself on the back-burner, which I’m definitely disappointed with. This is something I will also have to change.

Finish the first draft of The Immunity. - Fail. However, I did start releasing it on my Wattpad!

Move into a new house! - Success! I’m writing this post from within my new room!

Start releasing content on my Patreon. - Success-ish. Patreon ended up not quite being my thing. I released content there for a bit, but I ended up unpublishing my page for a few different reasons. Keep an eye out for announcements regarding that!

And two marketing goals. Sadly, I didn’t reach either of them.

This period is really forcing me to take the good with the bad. Some of these fails, I’m really disappointed in... others, not so much. I’m trying to take these into account as I set and start to work towards my goals for the next period!

Start releasing YouTube videos on a weekly basis again.

Create developed worlds on WorldAnvil to share.

Release the Halloween edition of Tripping the Zine Fantastic.

Complete the first draft of The Immunity.

Complete the second draft of The Murder of Elijah Patel.

Write at least 30 sections of Kaleidoscope.

Lay out a full development plan for Journey to Valeria.

Win NaNoWriMo with a first draft of a revisited old concept.

Have at least 18 short stories prepared for the release of a new anthology.

Land 540 spinning kick at chest height.

Test for my 3rd Dan black belt.

Achieve a 4.0 GPA and land on the dean’s list for the Fall 2021 semester.

Complete the “Korean for Beginners” PDF textbook and practice at least 3 times a week.

Finish the second section of Norwegian on Duolingo.

Read 4 books.

Work out for at least 20 minutes a day, at least 5 days a week.

Release the Ultimate Writing Tracker for 2022. (You’ll see!)

And 4 marketing goals that I’m choosing to keep private!

The last month of this period made it difficult for me to stay on top of things, and that’s something I’m really looking to change. A new place means I have readjusting to do, but I’d like to make it positive and push myself to some new heights here.

Does anyone else have any goals for the end of this year? Tell me all about them!!

#writeblr #triannual goals #this time i'm trying out todoist with my things #and i'm hoping it goes well!!#i already really like the layout #so we'll see how it goes

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bereft-of-frogs · 4 years ago

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today’s ‘list of desperate things to try and do around a stupid job that I have to go to to make money for some reason’

- laundry + wash every dish because ONCE AGAIN I haven’t done dishes in DAYS

- FINISH THE DRAFT. FINISH IT.

- try to figure out if there is an annotating/pdf notetaking app that I can download onto my first generation ipad mini that I use as an e-reader so I can maybe do some editing while I’m away in the countryside this weekend (that sounds lovely, right? lakeside editing? right? let’s hope I can actually find an app that’s compatible LOL, if anyone knows of one lmk) (the ipad mini is 10 years old and has been officially obsoleted by apple but largely works perfectly fine as an ereader and the fact that most apps just don’t work on it forever annoys me)

- run out for fresh cat litter for the little buddy so I don’t have to do it when I get home late on Sunday + car ride snacks

- download new(ish - came out in July) High Republic book because I finished book club book and I guess the only thing I’m reading this year is Star Wars books so sue me

- pack but I’m definitely doing that after work

I wasted like 5 minutes typing this post but it’s ok we’re still on schedule, I just have to start the laundry by 11:30.

#i should really just make to do lists in my planner #but the public accountability will ensure i actually do my dishes #actually that's a lie the fact i'm out of coffee mugs will ensure i do my dishes #lists lists lists

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onyourzeus · 5 years ago

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• stress-free | kwp

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: stress-free pairing: kim wonpil (of day6) & you (she/her pronouns) genre: FLUFF, college!au words: 3.4k

author’s note: @pirimiritiddy requested a fic about wonpil, and here it is. it went on for longer than i previously planned, buuuuut. i hope it’s still okay aaaa

(this is the 1st time i’ve written something for wonpil so if i get his personality wrong, i do apologize. i am also a baby myday huhu)

this dot fic (bullet style) is part of the falling asleep on the bus scenario that i intend to write for each day6 member. check out the others: dowoon (currently only 2/5 completed)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

wonpil hates his schedule for this winter term

who assigns a class that is only available at seven in the evening??

3 times a week

during THE WINTER

did he mention it’s a major lecture he’s required to take??

psychology of stress, more like

this class is giving him the kind of stress it is specifically warning its students about

anyway, what can he say. he chose this major, there’s only 1 more term after this one and then finally: graduation

it’ll be fine, he’ll live

thank the heavens they didn’t need to attend the first two meetings, but some reading material was provided

and was expected by the professor to have been read and reflected upon

the class is really living up to its name because when wonpil opened the pdf

it was 30 pages of tiny font sized sentences (for ants!) about the definition of stress and how it affects every part of the body yada yada yada

wonpil tried. he really tried

that is to say he fell asleep on his desk while going over the same 20th page of the document

if it weren’t for jae shaking him awake, he’d miss his first night class

it would’ve been nice… if only the professor didn’t take attendance (something about being generous enough to make the first 2 classes “free,” so everyone has an obligation to come in for the remainder of the semester)

great, he’s stuck freezing his ass off just walking to the bus stop alone

hopefully they turn the heater all the way up in the auditorium or else

the thousands spent in tuition would have literally been for nothing

overdramatic wonpil, can you blame him

he thinks about reading the remaining 10 pages on the bus, even if he knows nothing of value will be absorbed

he wants to tries anyway, he does feel a little bit refreshed from that impromptu nap

the bus has arrived, and it’s packed as usual; a lot of the students riding the shuttle are just yet to take off in the following stops

wonpil squeezes his way inside, 30 pages of stress psychology research gripped in both hands

“excuse me, sorry,” wonpil mumbles, eyeing for a spot to sit to make him comfortable

because once all the people standing up leave, it’s usually a race for the exit

he’ll never understand college students

finally, he sees an empty seat way in the back. there was a girl on one end and two other students who seem to be ready to get off on the right side

wonpil doesn’t mind sitting next to someone, but once those 2 are gone he’ll just scoot over to give the girl on the left some privacy

she seems very much in deep sleep anyway, wonpil wonders if her stop is coming or she’s riding to go to campus?

wonpil doesn’t have time to think about other people, it causes him unnecessary stress

once sat down, his eyes focus on the last page he left off of

the words register as gibberish in his brain, and with the bus moving so much it makes it even more difficult to follow along the paragraphs

wonpil takes in a deep breath, holds it in, and sighs very heavily

his patience is usually the best out of his friends, but this class is turning more and more into the psychology of how to get you stressed tf out instead

the bus nears its next stop, and the two people on his side stand up to leave, yes he can breathe normal air

however

hold on

his shoulder feels heavy

turning his head slightly, for some reason once the bus had stopped its engine the girl’s head had flipped over to lean against wonpil’s shoulder instead

oh no oh no oh no

his shoulders suddenly freeze, as if blasted with a ray gun filled with ice

it’s heavy and he can’t move, it’s numb and this girl’s hair is splayed all over his his sweater

and she

she smells of coffee, and wonpil inhales it in

it’s not foul or anything, but it’s definitely exuding notes of espresso bean and freshly roasted coffee

it makes wonpil feel a little more awake

but he still can’t move his shoulders, and suddenly he’s panicking because the bus started moving again and even though capacity has lessened by 80%

someone decided to sit on the other end of the row he’s at

so if he even attempts to move, he’ll still be seated next to someone

wonpil grumbles, lower lip jutting forward

something shifts

and he realizes he shook his shoulders a little bit with his frustration

“ah…” he exclaims inaudibly, panicking at the possibility that he had woken her up from her nap

wonpil tenses up, shoulders stiff and eyes peering at his side to see what she’s up to

she lifts her head just a few inches off of wonpil’s shoulder, and for a moment he’s relieved that maybe she realizes what’s going on

but wonpil only hears a soft yawn coming from her, and she returns to using his very rigid shoulder as her pillow during this bus ride

let’s just say that the next thirteen minutes was more stress-inducing than wonpil wanted it to be

right when the bus reaches the final stop (main campus), wonpil exerts any and all efforts he has to shake his shoulder, up and down, enough to elicit an awake response from this stranger

the moment he feels her let up, wonpil dashes through that bus door like there’s no tomorrow

he is greeted with the coldest wind hitting his face, and his shoulder feeling numb from all the.. pillow roleplaying it did, if you will

wonpil feels bad, borderline guilty for leaving her like that— what if she’s asleep until now?? he can almost hear soft snores from her end for a minute there, too, and it took so much of wonpil to resist chuckling at it while in panic mode simultaneously

suffice to say, he was not able to read the rest of the document

in wonpil’s defense, he had encountered it first hand — how stress overcomes one’s body and mind

he forces himself to focus on what’s ahead, as boring as it sounds

he enters the lecture hall with a few minutes so spare, deciding to sit in the back

the projector screens are big and wonpil is not about to take his chances of getting called on today

luckily enough, he finds a row with visibly no other student sitting around the area

shoulder feeling more alive, he comes back to his senses as well

he takes off his outer sweater as it had become toastier inside. he still had a couple layers beneath his clothes

as the professor starts talking, wonpil finds himself yawning a few times

he doesn’t know if the video playing on screen is boring him or the girl in the bus affected his sleepiness

suddenly he remembers the smell of coffee, and how that’d sound real good right about now

he slaps both of his cheeks lightly, trying to take him back in the zone of at least writing down important notes

he’s on the fifth bullet point of his note-taking when the door behind him opens abruptly

it wasn’t loud or disrupting to the whole class, virtually no one even batted an eye

but thats because they’re far from the door

and wonpil is literally ten feet away, so when he feels the cold suddenly hit his back he had to know the source of the sudden hit in temperature

the class hadn’t been going on for less than an hour, and there have been students coming in on the other end of the auditorium

so wonpil isn’t that surprised that another student has just arrived

he caught a glimpse of her hair, but that’s about it as wonpil goes back to his tedious notes

until the very same person scoots herself in wonpil’s row

he huffs under his breath, the illusion of some privacy now shattered

with a polite (semi-forced) smile, wonpil turns to the side to greet his classmate

again, wonpil becomes frozen in spot

kind of like when you feel a magnetic pull somewhere, you follow it

and then suddenly you see it from afar, not believing your eyes if it’s actually real; if it’s actually there

in wonpil’s case, he’s one seat away from her

recognizing the flow of her hair, but more importantly

that distinct scent of coffee beans from her clothes

this time, wonpil has a clear look on her face and he’s… speechless

his polite smile has turned into a look of awe, eyes glued towards her

she senses his gaze, turns to him and quickly bows down as a polite greeting

“sorry, but has the class been going on for a while?”

she speaks

“oh, um, what— what?”

“oh,” she looks confused, but rephrases her question, “what time did the class start? i had a hard time finding this lecture hall.”

she’s talking to him, not just leaning her head on his shoulder

“seven”

was all wonpil could say

“it started at 7? cool, i’m not that late then!” she cheers, grinning shyly. wonpil watches the way she puts a strand of hair tucked beneath her ear. she’s pulling out her laptop from her bag when she notices a pair of wide eyes still on her person

“is… is this seat taken?” she asks, and wonpil hasn’t even taken in the fact that this is the same person from the bus

“yes”

tongue-tied wonpil strikes again, blinking back his own obliviousness to her question

“i mean— no, now it is, by you. you’re sitting there, um, i— feel free to sit wherever you want”

he’s scrambling for his words, flustered cheeks heating up amidst the warmth of the room

she just nods her head in understanding, and wonpil finally realizes he’s been staring at her direction for longer than he should have

“STRESS”

the professor verbalized into her mic which causes wonpil to look to the front all of a sudden

right, right. he’s at a lecture. what’s gotten him so fidgety and embarrassed and now all that he’s pretending to type on his google doc is

sdfjfjdfhshllsghgjghsh

just so he looks busy next to the girl who fell asleep on him on the bus

was there any point in preoccupying his mind with thoughts of her, and her head resting on him? no it’s stupid, wonpil knows this.

people do it all the time, by accident, due to exhaustion, they don’t mean a thing by it

but wonpil is curious, and this is going to kill him. for sure

so he peeks at her again, and like a normal, decent student that she is (compared to wonpil at this point let’s be real) her hands are busy hand writing whatever the professor was saying

meanwhile, wonpil continues to sdfjskgnglddfjs his way to a passing B in this class

even in this large, spacious lecture hall he can still take in her scent

maybe it’s a new perfume that’s up and coming, that’s why it smells so strongly on her

oh! he can ask that? hey, do you mind sharing what line of perfume you’re using? it smells really good

it sounds like a common question, right? i mean if you wear strong fragrances you’re bound to be asked a question about it

he’s about to ask, he really was so ready to ask, what was he gonna lose? his dignity?

over a simple, inquisitive question?

“and now before we go on a twenty minute break, it’s time to introduce yourself to the person sitting close to you”

...

why do college professors have to do this?

wonpil bites his lip, at this point in time he’s a senior who’s fed up with ice breakers like this. if it were any other person sitting next to him, in front of him, behind him— he would just go with his usual introduction

“hi i’m kim wonpil, studying psychology and i graduate in the spring. i’m taking this class for a major requirement”

then go about his merry way.

but with her? she and him have history

sort of, and it’s the kind of history that is recent and wonpil is unsure if she is even aware of the weird string of fate-like connection they have

or, wonpil, hear your consciousness out

it’s not a big deal, and in the scenario she doesn’t remember she fell asleep on the bus on another person

then you can just say hi like usual, and cut the string of fate there and then

(but does wonpil really want that?)

“hi”

oh crap she’s started it

wonpil braces himself for whatever outcome this interaction comes out to. he’ll let her speak, and tailor his response from there

“i’m sorry, this might be really weird but that’s your sweater, right?”

so she didn’t give her name, her major, anything substantial about herself but instead shoots wonpil a question

pointing at the sweater that’s draped on the seat in front of wonpil

wonpil doesn’t even check to look. he gulps, nods his head and squeaks, “yeah… why?”

something in her eyes flash by, almost like a glint of recognition

she puts a hand on her mouth, and wonpil can make out the faintest shade of pink blushing its way to her ears

it’s kinda cute

“did someone happen to… fall asleep on you on the bus coming to campus today?”

“... yes?”

“that was me” she buries her face even further into her hands, almost lowering down to the chair

wonpil thought she was gonna fall for some reason so he had to remedy the situation somewhat

“i.. i, um, did you have a good nap?”

great comeback

wonpil was so ready to leave the auditorium and never come back after the break

but he hears her giggle, and slowly come out of her shyness

and it’s a sweet sight, to finally see the way her cheeks look full of embarrassed laughter

as she twirls around a length of hair nervously

and taps the pen on the surface of her desk repeatedly

it was endearing, and wonpil forgets about why he was panicking in the first place

she then explains that she had work the whole day, and only had an hour to rest up before going to this 7pm class

wonpil listens intently, watching her mannerisms and the lilt in her voice when she continues to apologize for falling asleep on him without realizing it

“i’m not usually a deep sleeper, but work was exceptionally tiring today and i just needed at least a bit of shut eye” wonpil nods understandingly, almost worried about her health

“where do you work if you don’t mind me asking?”

“at the coffee shop a few blocks away from campus,” she answers, head tilting to the side “i’m still wearing my uniform for it… is it too obvious?”

wonpil didn’t even realize her black long sleeves was a cafe uniform

but it did explain her strong coffee smell

“something like that,” wonpil decided to say, curling his lips upward, feeling content and relieved at the turnout of events

for the 20 minute break, wonpil thought they’d reconcile over what transpired between them and mind their own business soon enough— even if he thinks it’s hard to do that now knowing something about her

which intrigues wonpil

and, quite frankly, he’d like to talk to her more

just so he has an excuse to watch her emotions paint her face beautifully

but there was a pause right after their short conversation

and in real Awkward Wonpil Fashion, he shows her the 30 page reading material, in all of its flimsy glory and starts asking questions about it

“so uh did you read the whole thing? i thought it was interesting up until the part that i dozed off”

and wonpil got his wish; he sees her eyes shine in surprise at his sudden attempt of an intellectual discussion

but she doesn’t deter him away

and actually, she’s read the whole damn thing. and wonpil was beyond amazed at the level of detail she explains to him about the parts he didn’t understand

he actually starts typing real notes while she was talking

this made her laugh in between her explanations, and wonpil didn’t understand what was so funny about

the fight or flight response

“it’s just. the way you’re typing this down so seriously, i’m sure the prof can explain it better”

wonpil shakes his head no, shakes it so much it hurt his temples

she laughs again, and he likes hearing that sound

“do you want to see what i’ve typed the past hour and a half of this class?’

“bet :p”

“actually nevermind” flashbacks of dsfkjsdjffdslkg ring true in wonpil’s mind as he quickly backspaces the nonsense in his notes

and the conversation continues from more psychology talks, to figuring out they’re in the same major but she’s a recent transfer student from last year

and had been juggling work and school since the start of her senior year

wonpil wonders why he hasn’t seen her in the coffee shop yet

he would have done a double take the first time meeting her there for sure

“oh you’re too kind,” she suddenly replies???

wonpil had said his thoughts out loud

without further embarrassing him, she says that she had only started working there since it’s more convenient for her; wonpil feels grateful she doesn’t dwell on the compliment any longer

alas, the break finishes and the droll of the professor’s voice reverberates throughout the room

this time, though, wonpil definitely feels more alert (awake enthusiastic) as the two of them exchange little comments about the class material

and before you know it, class is over and wonpil is an excited bunny. since they’re by the door they got to leave before everyone else

wonpil thinks it’s time to part ways… but this time they’re not fully strangers at all. they’re taking the same class, same major, they even know each other’s name.

surely this isn’t the last time, right?

“hey, wonpil…” he didn’t even realize that they have started walking towards the bus stop together

“hm?”

“i think i owe you one,” she starts, stopping her tracks to face him. eyebrows up in hesitation, wonpil waits for her to finish

“you know, for taking over your personal space for my own comfort”

“oh that? haha that’s nothing :)” honestly if wonpil can do it again he’d volunteer in a heartbeat

“no, really. let me make it up to you. coffee? on me? i make a mean cappuccino” she winks

it strikes through wonpil’s heart

no need for resuscitation.. yet

“or a matcha latte? whatever you’d like it’ll be on me”

“anything!” wonpil exclaims, suddenly realizing the offer being given to him, the excitement bubbling up inside him again. “i mean, anything you’d like to have me try. surprise me,” he corrects himself

that manages to have her grin widely, eyes twinkling in excitement similar to wonpil’s and he thinks

they can get along

they can get to know each other better this way

“would you be up to go for one now?”

“oh— oh! now?”

“yeah, that way none of us takes the risk of falling asleep back on the bus hehe”

well, he really wouldn’t mind that happening a second time

“really now, wonpil?”

andddd he exposed himself again

it’s fine, she tugs his hand slightly to lead him to the bus that has arrived and wonpil follows in a daze

it’s a little full, so they have no other choice but to stand and hold onto the railings above

“guess no falling asleep here…” she teases, and now wonpil can’t use his hands to hide his blushing face

but the feeling of her just close by

and the scent of coffee lingering in the air

in between them

just inches away from each other

it’ll do for now

#day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #day6 au #kim wonpil scenarios #kim wonpil imagines #kim wonpil x reader #day6 fic #dot series #by:jiae

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rae-is-typing · 6 years ago

Text

Scars

Original request from @sorrybutimtrying: Can you do one where Chris Evans or Paul Rudd meets a fan, sees her scars and tries to help her. Or something like that

Description: You win one of those contests where you and some other people get to meet and fraternize with a celebrity. This time, it’s Paul Rudd. He notices something you wished he hadn’t.

Characters: reader, original female and male characters (Sophia the Marvel person, Olivia the other teen girl, and a lot of unnamed men and women), Paul Rudd

Warnings: swearing, implied self-harm, self-harm scars, being sexually harassed at work, mentioned cat calling

Word count: 3.8k

See Ant-Man three weeks early, hang out with the one and only Paul Rudd, play laser tag, and pizza together on an all expenses paid trip to LA! Enter now! 12 lucky fans will be chosen. Entries close in three hours.

You take a moment to stop scrolling. Your heart speeds up; it always does when opportunities arise. You always apply, but you never win. Glancing at the clock, you see you still have ten minutes on break.

What the heck, might as well enter. There's nothing to lose.

Entering takes the rest of your break. You were asked questions, and had to enter your phone number and email address a few times. You submit your entry as soon as your break ended. Sighing, you push yourself to your feet. Back to serving customers and getting yelled at by your manager.

------------------------

Life gets hard and you completely forget that you ever entered in the first place.

You aren't proud of what you do to cope. Hell, you've managed to stop doing it completely for a few months. But sometimes it's so hard. Too hard to do anything else.

You don't show off your scars. By sticking to long sleeve shirts, concealer, and strategically placed bracelets, you can easily make it seems like there are a few birthmarks on your wrists instead anything self-inflicted.

Unfortunately, you can't afford to see a professional. Both you and your mother are working multiple jobs so you can eat and have a place to live. Deep down, you know you should tell her. Deep down, you want to tell her. But you can't bring yourself to. It'll only stress her out. Between two jobs and going back to school to finish her degree, you don’t want to bring her more stress. But your always hopeful for the day where she'd be able to help you through your hard days.

Speaking of hard days, you hate being a waitress. You work in a particularly sleazy part of town where the guys like to call out anything resembling a female body. Walking down the street brings you one cat call after another, and waitressing isn't any better. You get called every pet name under the sun. Sweetie, babe, baby girl, jujubee. Someone even called you, a 16-year-old wearing some of the baggiest clothes imaginable, sugartits. Your manager had fun with him.

After getting home, you flop on your bed and fight the urge to cry. You made a whopping fifteen dollars in tips that night for working 4 hours, a customer yelled at you for giving them iced tea with ice in it, and a guy started following you home until he got bored. It was not a good night.

Then your phone starts to ring. Maroon 5 reverberates in your room, simultaneously annoying you and making you feel a tiny bit better. Without looking at the caller ID, you pick up the phone.

"Hello?" You ask, voice muffled by the pillow your head is still buried in.

"Hi there! I'm looking for a Y/N Y/L/N." A feminine voice chirps through the phone.

"Yeah, that's me." You roll onto your back so you can speak clearer.

"Great. My name is Sophia Ramsey, I'm the one organizing the event with Paul Rudd. I'm so excited to let you know that you won! You will be one of twelve to be flown out to LA to meet with him and spend the day with him."

A huge smile tugs at your lips, so much so your face starts to hurt. "What?" You laugh. "Are you serious?"

"I sure am! Some blank documents have been sent to the email you provided in your entry. I need you to fill them out and either fax them to the number listed on them, mail them to the address listed, or scan them and email them to that same email address."

"I-I can totally do that!"

"Now this event is an all expenses paid, so everything will be provided for you. You'll be flown out the day of and flown back home after it ends. It will be held June seventh."

"Thank you so much!"

She laughs at your enthusiasm. "Of course. Once we get those documents we will be organizing your flights. We will be in touch."

"Awesome, wonderful. Thanks so much!"

"You're so welcome. Bye bye now."

You pull the phone away from your ear, sporting a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat himself. You won! You won you won you won! You're going to meet one of your favorite actors!

You pull up your email on your phone immediately. Spotting the email, you skim through the PDFs quickly. Since you're a minor, there are a lot of things your mom has to sign.

I need to print these. You think, biting your lip. You don't want to wait for the next at school, you want to fill these out now. Grabbing your wallet and apartment keys, you run (yes, run) down to the library that's a few blocks away. A lot of students gather there for studying and the free wifi.

You wave at a few of your classmates, and they nod back. You print the documents off quickly, paying a small fee for the paper, and you run (yes, run) back home.

You bounce into your apartment, still giddy (and sweaty).

"Mom! Mom, you'll never guess what happened!" You exclaim upon seeing your mother sitting on the couch in the living room.

She looks up from the book she was reading with a tired smile. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Remember that thing I entered? That event Marvel was hosting?" You ask, vibrating with excitement.

"I do."

"I won! I won Mom! I get to meet Paul Rudd!"

A grin broke out on your mom's face. "Oh, Y/N, that's awesome."

"I know! I have to fill out these documents. Do we have somewhere we can fax things? Do you know how to fax? I don't know how to fax."

She laughs. "I'll teach you how to fax things, don't you worry."

------

You get everything taken care of the day after. After another call with Sophia, you manage scheduling flights and times for the drivers (you get a driver! how awesome!)

In the weeks leading up to the event, all your extra effort is put into a gift for Paul. You have a knack for art that you don't have much time for anymore. Between school and work, it's also hard to find energy to put into it.

However, you said 'screw school' and began an art project: a hand-drawn collage of all Paul Rudd's characters, including Ant-Man. It takes all the time leading up to the event, but you manage to make it look amazing. Along with the collage, you write him a letter. You don't believe it to be anything very special, but you hope he will appreciate it. You detail your own struggles and how much looking up to him has helped you.

Then the day comes.

You barely sleep at all the night before. Adrenaline and an unhealthy amount of caffeine replace any semblance of rest you may have gotten.

The driver arrives at your apartment at 4:30 AM to take you to the nearest airport. After triple checking your stuff and a quick goodbye with your mom, you're off.

The car is so nice. You have no idea what make or model it is, but you're sure it very expensive. The drive doesn't take a long time; the roads are practically empty and there is little traffic, which is great.

However, you're left on your own in the airport, which is not great. A lot of zombie-esque people are there, a few crying children, and some drug dogs even joined the party. You bite your lip, scratching at your concealed wrists. It's something you always do when you're nervous.

You don't have any bags other than a backpack, so you don't need to check anything. Looking around, you try to spot someone that looks like they know what they're doing. You eventually do, and follow them to security.

The line is long, and after moderate hassle with the agents, you're through and on the way to your gate. Once you get there, you closely examine your ticket. First class. Your eyebrows shoot up. The first time you're flying and you get first class. Damn. Okay, you'll take it.

The flight was good: no babies cried, the flight people were all super nice, and you even got the entire row to yourself.

After the flight, you're off to the venue. You meet your new driver at the exit and get to another very expensive looking car.

LA traffic is everything you've heard and more. The streets are packed, and it takes quite a while for you to get where you're supposed to be. But when you do, it is incredible.

The building is huge. It's wall to wall one way glass. The sun bounces off the silver accents, almost blinding you. Out of pure impulse, you take a picture. You almost don't believe that you're here.

After thanking the driver, you hop out of the car and walk into the glass building. The interior is even prettier.

It's clean, with dark oak floors and chairs and tables lining the wall. A small group of excited people are gathered by a longer table full of stuff. Your anxiety spikes. This is actually happening. You're going to meet one of your heroes and give him some of your art. This cannot be happening. You nails find your wrist again.

After making your way to the small group, they immediately welcome you into the circle. They each introduce themselves for probably the millionth time, and one of them informs you that everyone is here.

After a few minutes of pure small talk, a woman walks into the lobby area.

"Hi everyone!" You all turn to her. She's dressed in a red sleeveless blouse, black slacks and high heels. Her face is done up nicely, as is her hair. She stands proudly with a charismatic smile gracing her face."I'm Sophia, the manager of this event. I'm so excited to get started! First things first, we'll start with the meet and greet. Each one of you will get 15 minutes with Paul. After that, there'll be a few games of laser tag, and finally, the screening of the new Ant-Man movie! We at Marvel ask that you keep all the movie details to yourself so everyone can enjoy the movie when it comes out."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the room.

“If you all follow me, we can get started," Sophia leads the group to a different room. Paul is sitting at a table with an empty chair next to him.

Excitement spreads through you. He looks so much more real in person, as weird as that sounds. You bite your lip, keeping your mouth shut. Excited calls from the other fans make him smile widely.

You keep your place near the back, slowly building up courage and thinking out what you're going to say. You certainly don't want to look like an idiot when you meet one of your heroes.

"Nice bracelets." The voice of a girl pulls you from your thoughts.

"Oh, thank you." You say, turning to see her. She has short black hair, blue eyes and pale skin.

"Yeah. I love Panic! At the Disco. Their music is amazing."

"For real, they're so good!"

The two of you share small talk until it's her turn. For twelve people each getting fifteen minutes, time went by very fast. She talks to him excitedly, something that he reciprocates. Another wave of anxiety comes over you. Your heart speeds up, your hands get a little sweaty. Holy shit! You're actually meeting him.You fight the urge to scratch at your wrist.

Finally, it's your turn.

You go up to the table with an anxious smile on your face. He smiles back.

"Hi there!" He says. "I'm so glad you won."

"Thank you!" You say, sitting down in the chair. "I actually brought something."

"Oh thank you! That's awesome."

You pull out the small framed collage, placing it on the table with the enveloped letter on top. There's a small stack of stuff on the other side of him. He carefully sets the envelope to the side, now examining the poster.

"Wow! This is so good!" He exclaims. "Did you draw this?"

You can only nod shyly.

"This is great, really. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The two of you talk for the rest of the time. He signs a couple of things for you, and you take a few pictures. At the end, you want to take a funny selfie for your instagram. While taking the picture, your bracelets slide up your arm. Your heart stops for a split second when you see a fresher scar. You pull back the bracelets immediately, and play it off as soon as possible.

But it was too late, Paul saw some of the scars. His face falls into something more solemn, concerned almost. He opens his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted.

"Alright everyone! It is time to move on to the next event."

Paul put a smile on his face, but he gave you a worried glance at you while he stood up. He walks by Sophia as you're led through the building. The interior continued to take your breath away. Postmodern design flooded your sight as everyone crams into an elevator.

You're taken up a few floors and the elevator opens to a small room with vests and guns attached to said vests. A blank scoreboard hangs proudly above everything. You glance around. Everyone is sporting grins.

"Let's do girls against boys!" Olivia, the girl you were talking to before, exclaims.

"You sure?" One of the guys pipes up. "I think there are more guys than girls,"

"There's like one more guy. We should do at least one battle of the sexes." She grins.

"I'm cool with it," A woman in her mid twenties smirks.

"Me too," You shrug. More murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

“Alright, suit up everyone. Girls will be red and boys will be green." Sophia says.

"I will leave you to Ralph, he is our resident lazer tag expert."

"Alright everyone, your goal is to destroy the other team’s base. You do that by destroying the power supply in the deepest part of the opposing team’s base. It looks like a dinosaur egg off of Jurassic Park, and it lights up. I have a few ground rules. No fighting, no sprinting, no food or drink near the equipment. But most importantly, have fun! There are large towers on each side where you have to charge your gun. Your vest will beep at you when you need to recharge. Good luck. Boys, enter to the left, girls on your right." With Ralph ending his spiel, everyone hustles into the room.

You follow behind one of your teammates to the back of the base. The room is absolutely massive. There's a large structure running through the middle of the floor with at least four sets of stairs. The supporting poles are lit up by green and red lights. You clutch your gun to your chest. It's not the very first time you're playing laser tag, but it is the first time in a long while.

You go off on your own, jogging up the stairs on the large structure. You speed walk quietly, ducking behind large foam covers that were spread sporadically throughout the entire floor when you suspect one of the boys had spotted you.You climb to the top. You hold your gun by your thigh, keeping your finger on the trigger. Slowly walking in circles, you try to spot the egg like power supply that Ralph had described on the ground below.

Suddenly, someone bumped into you. You jump, barely holding back a yelp.

"Oh, my god. I’m so sorry." Olivia quickly apologized. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you just scared the shit out of me though," You laugh.

"I'm sorry... Y/N, right?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, and you're Olivia, right?"

"Mhm, what are you looking for?"

"I'm trying to find the power supply."

"Same girl. I think I saw it over there." She says, gesturing to your left. "But I'm not sure."

"Let's go check it out."

The two of you venture to the left, moving as quickly and quietly as before. Soon enough, you're able to spot the power supply through the guard rails. Only one guy is standing guard. You share a small low-five and split up to attack it.

Olivia jogs down the stairs to ground level and you go to the second floor for better range.

You crouch close to the floor, poking your gun through the guard rails and wait until you see Olivia come up behind the guard and start shooting. You join her immediately, and together you almost destroy it. However, your gun runs out of charge.

Cursing under your breath, you jog as fast as you can (almost running) down to a charging base, where you run into Olivia again.

"Dude, that was fucking crazy." She laughs. "We almost had them."

Laughing breathlessly, you agree. "For real though. We got them this time. Same plan?"

"Hell yeah,"

"What plan?" A new voice cuts in. The woman in her mid twenties pops up out of nowhere.

"We found their supply. I went low and she went to the second floor. If we have one more person, I think we got this. We'll have to hurry though."

A grin spreads on the woman's face. "Let's do it. I'll head to the first floor on the other side."

The three of you jog together back to the same place as before. You show the woman where to go, then you leave to go up one floor.

Once again, you start to shoot when Olivia does. The woman joins in soon after.

You hear the guards frustrated cries as he tries to fend off all three of you at once. A few of the other guys come running back, but it was too late. Girls won!

You laugh, throwing your hands up. "Hell yeah!"

Olivia cheers, and the woman whoops. The lights come on, making you wince.

"Game over. Red team has claimed their victory! Congratulations, ladies!" Ralph's voice comes over intercoms you didn't know were there.

You make your way down to ground level, meeting up with the other women. You congratulate each other.

"Let's do it again! Same team?”

The lot of you end up playing three more games: girls vs. boys, old people vs. young people, and Paul vs. Everyone else. Boys won, young people won, and the last one was a tie. (You and Olivia ended up teaming up with Paul anyways, but no one else needs to know that.)

After that, everyone was crammed into an elevator yet again. This time smelling a lot less pleasant after running and sneaking around.

All of you are lead to another floor. This one resembled a movie theater more than anything else. A huge table of food is set up in front of the door to the screening room.

Everyone begins to get their dinner, most of them being hungry from the hour and a half spent running around in the dark shooting at each other.

Before you could grab a plate, however, someone places a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Paul standing behind you.

You smile up at him. "Hi."

"Hey. I wanna talk to you, could we step out?" That look of concern from before is etched onto his face.

"Sure," You say, the slightest bit of hesitation seeping into your voice. You step into a smaller, unoccupied corner of the hall. Before you can ask any questions, he starts speaking.

"Look, I don't know your situation, I don't know you, and I don't know what you've been through, but I saw your wrist. I know what it's like to be low, and I just wanted to tell you that it gets better. Everything is going to work the way it's meant to. Everything is going to be okay. And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask. Mental pain is just as serious and debilitating as physical pain is. I hate to see anyone go through this, especially my fans."

Tears prick at you eyes at his words. No one has ever taken you aside and spoken to you like this before. All the anxiety and trepidation leaves your body, and your left with this warmth and reassurance.

You can only bite your lip and nod. He smiles again and opens his arms. You hug briefly before leaving the corner and getting your food.

Everything after that is all smiles and laughter. The food is some of the best you've ever had; they certainly spared no expense.

The movie is incredible. You have no doubt in your mind that you'll save your tips and take your mom to see it one night after it comes out.

Truth be told, you're sad this is over. You want to do more with everyone, but you're so undeniably grateful that you got this opportunity. More pictures are taken, social media is exchanged, and soon you're all on your separate ways home.

When you get home, you pass out on your face, shoes barely kicked off your feet. You never expected to wake up to what you did though.

A DM from Paul Rudd.

Hey Y/N! It was so nice meeting you! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to attend the event. It's always so wonderful to spend time with fans. I wanted to tell you that your collage is amazing! You have a real knack for art. You should definitely keep it up if you can. Thank you for sharing your story in the letter. It really moved me. I also wanted to let you know one last time that things do get better, things do improve. Stay strong for yourself and your future. You got this.

#paul rudd x reader #paul rudd x teen!reader #marvel rpf #paul rudd #teen!reader #marvel #ant-man #ant-man x reader #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfic #avengers cast x teen!reader #avengers cast x reader

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