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apprenticestanheight · 4 months

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More - Adam Stanheight x gn! reader

Alllllllll right!! It is my birthday and that means that I am officially one year older yay!! I'm not really big on celebrating my own birthday and instead of doing some big like, event type thing I wanted to just write a couple thousand words a week or two in advance so that I didn't have to worry about editing on the day of, and that's what this is!

This is a college-adjacent AU (Adam is canonically a hs dropout but I've been thinking about maybe working my way to a creative writing PhD lately and projected so thats where the college part comes in) bc I headcanon that Adam grew his hair out in his early twenties and also: recovery era leigh whannell my dearly beloved.

Fic type- this is fluff that leads into smut!!

Warnings - this fic is meant for audiences of 18+. Minors, do not interact. Other than that, religion is referenced once (in the context of the reader saying adams name like it's a prayer lol), the word cunt is used a few times, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes but I wrote the fic with AFAB anatomy in mind as that is the anatomy I know best. Petplay is also kind of present here (the puppy nickname has wormed its way into several of my fics bc I try thinking of gn petnames and my mind goes completely blank oops)

As it turned out, it was easier than one expected to get someone who wasn't an attendee into your college library. You'd snuck Adam into it without a care in the world, yearning for someone to lean against when you hit a breaking point in your studying while your closest friends were two-thirds of the way into breaking points of their own.

Adam was happy to leave the crappy apartment he lived in, though. He worked forty-hour weeks but his boss had mentioned that there was unclaimed PTO so Adam took the four days he was offered from the 186 days that had been accrued and relished in the fact that he was being paid not to work for approximately a day and a half before he yearned for fresh air.

When you'd asked him to come with you to finish up the last of the work you needed to do to finish up your thesis on your 22nd birthday, Adam had jumped at the opportunity and agreed to meet you near the charity shop that was a fifteen minute walk from his apartment and a fifteen minute drive out from your campus.

Of course, in his delight he'd ended up showing twenty minutes before the time you'd agreed, so he ducked into the aforementioned charity shop and looked around to occupy the time he had before you'd meet up with him.

He found a camera for fifteen bucks, three rolls of film and a camera bag included in that deal and couldn't resist. Scott gave him $200 a few times a month for printing up a hundred copies of his bands posters to hand out, and his paycheck had run in time for the rent and groceries to eat it completely, so the two hundred was something like lifesaver.

He'd gotten $400 that January because Scott and his band were doing a lot of gigs, which came as a bit of a surprise--Adam had heard Scotts band play before. Scott was lucky most people didn't pay much attention to bar music.

That $400 was originally going to take purpose at least partially as gas money because there were some distances that it just wasn't worth walking, maybe the purchase of a pack of cigarettes from the corner store that always had deals on them--$3 for two packs was the typical deal going on, and something Adam had used to his advantage more than once in the year since he'd become legally eligible to smoke and drink--and not much else, but the camera seemed like a decent enough purchase. If he got good enough, maybe he could display the photos he took somewhere or sell them as prints to make up for the money he lost to rent and a few groceries during his first paycheck of the month, keep him from going hungry until the second paycheck of the month came in.

He dips out of the charity shop and grins when he spots you, lets you drive him and steals the rest of your energy drink when you talk about the fact that you're not sure why you thought you'd like the peach flavor, and that gets you where you are--sitting in the darkest corner of your college library, face pressed against Adams shoulder as he laughs meekly.

"You can do this," he says. "You have another, what? Three pages left and then it's done. Then you can go back to whatever else your creative writing PhD entails and worry about your dissertation next year, yeah?"

"That doesn't work," advises a close friend of yours, Aurelie. She's been studying for a masters in biology and has known you since 1993, when you were both eighteen and freshly new to the college campus. "I've tried it numerous times, Stanheight, and it doesn't."

"I should've gotten my bachelors and masters before I jumped into this," you mutter, words muffled by the sleeve of Adams baggy black sweater. "But of course the only PhD option within two hours of work was an accelerated course. Ugh."

Adam laughs pitifully, pulls your face away from his shoulder to kiss your forehead before he gets up and you give him your card to get you, himself, Aurelie and her girlfriend Samantha a coffee.

When he returns, Samantha is pulling a strand of bright green hair behind her ear and watching you struggle, eyes narrowing at the book you're trying to focus on reading to get something you need for your thesis. Aurelie is offering you a bite of the sandwich she'd brought, telling you that a bag of chips also has the potential to be yours if you can get the last of your necessary research done in time to meet your February 18th deadline.

Adam presses a kiss to the top of your head as he maneuvers back into sitting down, gesturing at the coffees to tell Aurelie and Sam which ones are theirs and which ones are yours and Adams.

Adam wraps an arm around your shoulders as you thank him, taking a sip of your coffee, the order for which Adam had memorized at some point in the four years of your relationship to that point. He kisses your temple in response, grabbing his own coffee from the tray and checking the time.

It's not until six grueling hours, sunrise and four mental breakdowns have surpassed that you're officially done with your thesis. Adam asks if you want to spend the night at his place--you're not going into classes tomorrow if the way that you talked about sleeping in is of any indication--and Aurelie gives you a high five and mentions one of the bags of Doritos she'd brought along to munch on as she studied but hadn't ended up touching.

"You officially owe them a thousand kisses, you know," Aurelie says as you tuck your notebooks into the satchel you've been using since Adam had gifted it to you when you'd walked across the stage and graduated high school three and a half years prior. "You've gotta do it. It's what they deserve."

Adam laughs, blue-green eyes meeting Aurelies hazel brown ones. "I know," he says. "Though, to be fair, I don't think they really expected three pages to turn into fifteen more tacked on."

"They did not," you state affirmatively. "Professor Mason better fuckin' love me for it, though. I hadn't expected to meet his maximum page count and I managed to, just barely. Give me the chips."

Adam and Sam both laugh at the come-hither motion you make with your finger as Aurelie gets a bag of Doritos from her bag and tosses them at you, laughing a bit herself.

"Gremlin person," she says, shuddering a little for dramatic effect. "I surrender an offering to thee."

"The gremlin thanks you for it means the gremlin can put ordering dinner off for like, an hour and a half," you laugh a little, breaking open the bag of Doritos as Adam steals your two-litre water bottle from the table and takes a sip, leaving it open if you should decide to take a sip within the following thirty seconds.

You do, taking a break in your Dorito munching to take a sip of the water while Adam steals a chip from the bag and all of your preparations to leave are temporarily put on hold.

"I'm serious about the thousand kisses thing," Aurelie says. "Four breakdowns, fifteen pages and six different books in six hours. You have to do something to celebrate that."

Adam laughs, runs a hand through hair that he has yet to cut because he can't usually afford it and when he can, there are always better ways for money to be spent.

"I know you are," he says. "For the record, I am, too. I have a plethora of plans to make Y/Ns productivity feel worth it tonight, trust me."

"Gonna let me in on one of them?"

"I set aside $200 over my last few paychecks," Adam says. "Your birthday presents await, one of which is dinner."

"Two hundred from your paychecks--even multiple--means you have less grocery money, idiot," you scold lightly, glaring at him. Adam laughs, shakes his head, uses humor to fend off the anger issues that have a tendency to come up and bite him in the ass.

"Scott gave me $400 this month to print band posters," Adam says. "Also designed them, helped hand at least two and a half dozen out to people, but--you don't need to worry, okay? I have stuff covered and I had four hundred I could spend. I didn't spend it on groceries because I didn't need to, so it's okay."

Adam knows you only get defensive because of how his pay is and how his rent and groceries are in direct correlation. He works forty hours a week, brings in six hundred and fifty dollars every two. Rent eats four hundred during that first monthly paycheck and the other two hundred and fifty gets eaten by groceries.

The second pay period of that month is swallowed by other expenses. He sets aside gas money for the rarer times wherein he has to use his car, some money for cigarettes and other pop-up expenses as well as groceries for those two weeks.

His landlord had raised the rent in January of 1997, though. All he had left of his first monthly paycheck was a measly 100 dollars, which he couldn't buy very much with as it were. Scott had given him four hundred dollars for his efforts in graphic design and his access to a printer though, so he was cool as an ice cube in the few days before the second monthly paycheck he got was deposited into his bank account and he could afford to get a couple more things to last him through until next month.

"You promise it has no harm even though your landlord raised your rent to a stupid amount?"

"Rent being raised to a stupid amount means renovations," Adam throws you a cheeky smile. "The heater works, my showerhead isn't busted like it used to be, and the fridge, microwave and oven aren't running on fumes. It has it's perks."

"If I have to force you, you will be dragged by your gorgeous hair to the college apartments one of these days," you say. "They let non-attendees rent out the units year round for three hundred a month. You could actually afford to live if you went that route."

"You'd also be able to afford a haircut," Samantha chirps. You glare at her and Adam has to laugh, pressing his forehead against your shoulder and kissing it as he does.

You part ways thirty minutes later, waving goodbye to Sam and Aurelie as Adam asks who's place you want to go to.

You end up choosing to go to yours--you live in one of the apartment buildings owned and managed by your college. Its one of the many perks attached to the full ride scholarship you earned. It wasn't an easy feat, but you earned it from doing a collaborative photo and written essay that your english teacher called 'completely and totally heartwrenching' on the emotional support stray cats have proven to offer the homeless and those otherwise down on their luck.

Your apartment is nicer than Adams by half a mile, at least. Twelve hundred square feet, two bedrooms for the off chance someone has to move in. White walls, dark brown hardwood flooring, marble countertops in the bathrooms and kitchens, up-to-date appliances wherever such appliances are necessary. It's a good place, ten minutes out from your college campus by car, and you have every intent to keep living there and paying the rent attached once you're done with your PhD.

You and Adam debate dinner but decide to eat it later, go to your room while you talk idly. Adam tells you about his job, you tell him more about the professors who you like, and life carries on.

Adam relaxes in your room while you shower, happy to test the camera he'd bought in the charity shop by taking a photo of a polaroid you'd snapped the previous weekend. Adam has a love-hate relationship with the polaroid because of how goofy it is--it's a photo of him with two cigarettes in his mouth, one behind each of his ears, and one in his hand. They were horrendous cigarettes so the photo wasn't a waste, and he knew you loved it so he let it be.

You come out after fifteen minutes, hair damp as you wear one of Adams shirts and not much else. He grins as you settle into bed, head tilting at you before the question befalls his lips.

"How would you feel if I were to do what Aurelie practically demanded of me?" He asks, unawares as to whether or not you'd heard her remarks. "If I kissed you a thousand times?"

You ghost your teeth over your bottom lip, laughing softly. "You really think you'd be able to keep track?" Adams hand finds your thigh as he nods, palm running across it until he reaches your hip.

"I do," he says. "And besides--I think we kiss at least two hundred times when I wear the gray sweatpants in autumn anyway."

Your tongue juts out to wet your lip. "Okay," you say, realizing very quickly that 1000 kisses is basically the gateway to bliss. "I'm in."

"Really?" Adam asks, grinning like a fool. "Even if I take it slow and you start despising me for it?"

You nod, laughing a little as Adams lips find yours.

The first kiss is deep and intense, one of Adams hands on your hips as the other moves to up your face.

Adams tongue moves expertly around your mouth, thumb rubbing against the skin of your hip gently as he angles your head so that he can kiss you deeper. You moan into his mouth and he laughs a little, only pulling away when neither of you can breathe.

"999 to go," Adam whispers against your lips, smiling when the sound of your laughter meets his ears.

He kisses along your jawline.

998, 997, 996, 995

And then down your neck, tongue joining his lips as his hands move from your hips to your stomach, slowly and steadily inching up your chest.

You're happy to let Adam do as he pleases--it's a good enough gift for hitting twenty-two and because of studying and school getting in the way, you'd not really had much of an opportunity to give him anything significant for his 22nd birthday in the weeks before anyway.

One of your hands finds his hair as his lips remain focused on your neck and you undo the low ponytail he's got it in, moaning out his name as he keeps on going with his kisses.

994, 993, 992, 991, 990, 989, 988, 987

His hands keep their steady incline upwards, stopping to tease your nipples as he presses kiss after absolutely intoxicating kiss back up your neck and your jawline, grinning against your jawline when a soft moan falls from your lips and he tucks his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your core.

986, 985, 984, 983, 982, 981, 980

He captures your lips in his own, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your head and allow the kiss to deepen. The other one stays carefully focused on your nipple, and you laugh into his mouth as you realize he's fighting the urge to smile.

He pulls away to kiss down the other side of your neck and you manage to regain some of your breath thanks to your best efforts.

"Any regrets yet?"

"None at all," Adam laughs against your neck. "Oh, you're gonna be such a mess when I'm done with you. This is amazing."

979, 978, 976, 975, 974, 973, 972, 971, 970

You pull the shirt you'd stolen from Adam off your torso, fighting every single urge you have to grind against his leg as his kisses now start traversing down your chest.

He's the kind of person who commits to an action and it's a very good thing, ordinarily. He wants you to be so kissed up you forget your own name, only really remember his if you remember anyones name at all, and he's committed to that. His kisses will keep slow, his lips glorious and the pressure he puts onto your clit and aching core just enough to make you want to start grinding against him.

He kisses your breasts carefully, takes so much time with your nipples that you're almost completely sure there's a wet spot in his sweatpants from how wet the action has made you, laughs slightly when you moan loudly and become embarrassed.

969, 968, 967, 965, 964, 963, 962, 961, 959, 958, 957, 956, 954, 953, 952, 951, 950

"I love it when you get loud for me, baby," he whispers as he moves his lips down your chest and to your navel. You know he's going to take an absurd amount of time to kiss your hips, but you don't mind that.

You've always been particularly insecure about your hips and Adam has spent the majority of your relationship kissing them and holding them and telling you he loves them when your insecurity shines through. You hate your hips and you hate the hip dips you've been saddled with but Adam? You tell Adam he can't kiss your hips and he spends the next hour kissing you and telling you that you and your hips are fuckin' perfect.

He kisses down your navel and, of course, finds your hips. He glances at you for a second, waiting for your consent to kiss them because he knows it's an area of insecurity for you. When you nod, Adam can't fight his smile as he kisses across your stomach to your right hip, which he spends more time on than is probably worth.

He presses kiss after kiss there, probably leaving a hickey in the wake of his lips from his tongues involvement, murmurs an "I love you so much, baby," against your skin as he kisses across your stomach from your right hip to your left.

He takes his time with your left hip just as well, chuckles at the fact that you're so turned on that you've mindlessly let your moans go from quiet to average in terms of sound level because you've mostly stopped caring.

949, 948, 947, 946, 945, 944, 943, 942, 941, 940, 939, 938, 937, 936, 935, 934, 933, 932, 931, 930, 929, 928, 927, 926, 925, 924, 923, 921, 920

He kisses down to your dripping cunt, laughs when his lips press themselves against your clit because he knows just how wet he's managed to make you within maybe thirty minutes.

He moves his kisses from your wetness to your inner thighs, happy to kiss them for as long as he wants because he loves your thighs as much as he loves your hips--he loves them wholeheartedly, tells you as much as often as possible.

"Love your thighs, puppy," he whispers, breath ghosting against you in a way that makes you shiver. "You're so fucking perfect, yeah?"

You hum a response, unsure of how you're still even slightly coherent.

919, 918, 917, 916, 915, 914, 913, 912, 911, 910, 909, 908, 907, 906, 905, 904, 903, 902, 901, 900

He kisses from your right inner thigh to your left, once again taking his time because of how much he loves them. His hands slip under your thighs to find your hips, and you laugh a little, flustered because the fact of how much he loves your hips and hip dips when they're one of your biggest points of insecurity will never cease to turn you into a blushing idiot.

He laughs against your thigh, eyes keenly watching you. He's always been a bit voyeuristic so the fact that he's watching you is of little surprise, but you don't hate the way that he watches because he looks at you like you're the love of his life.

Granted, he always looks at you like that, but still. It's a nice emotion to register within the levelness of his gaze, the focus swimming in his blue-green eyes muddled by the love and adoration that rears itself upwards whenever he so much as glances in your direction.

899, 898, 897, 896, 895, 894, 893, 892, 891, 890, 889, 888, 887, 886, 885, 884, 883, 882, 881, 880

"So perfect," he whispers, kissing from your thigh back to the area just above your clit. He kisses from there back up your stomach, stopping once more to pay an absurd amount of attention to your hips and hip dips before he's kissing over your chest and you're another minute, maybe two, away from being so blissed out that you lose any and all senses of coherency onto which you've previously held.

"Adam," you whisper, saying his name like it's an unanswered prayer in an empty catholic church. "Adam, please."

His knee finds a spot between your legs again, and you moan as he presses it against your clit while his kisses move from your chest back to your neck.

879, 878, 877, 876, 875, 874, 873, 872, 871, 870, 869, 868, 867, 865, 864, 863, 862, 861, 860, 859, 858, 857, 856, 855, 854, 853, 852, 851, 850, 849, 848, 847, 846, 845, 843, 842, 841, 840

One of his hands finds your hip, the other one coming up to your lips. He presses his thumb against your bottom lip you take it into your mouth without a second thought, holding Adams gaze.

"Good puppy," he whispers, moaning lowly and pressing his forehead against the left side of your neck. "Oh, you're so good for me."

You moan, rutting your hips against his leg before you can stop yourself. The movement makes Adam grin, lift himself up so that he's staring down at you.

"You're desperate, aren't you?" He asks, a teasing grin on his face. "Keep doing that, mm? Grind against my leg, puppy. I know you want a release."

You moan, setting a pace with your hips as Adam slips his finger from your mouth and moves it to your chest, lips returning to your neck.

839, 383, 837, 836, 835, 834, 833 832, 831, 830, 829, 828, 287, 826, 825

Adams lips remain on your neck, occasionally drifting to your collarbone, upper chest and shoulders. He's relentless with his praise because he knows it's bound to make you melt, and make you melt it absolutely does.

"You're ethereal," he whispers, nipping gently at the skin of your collarbone. "I'm so proud of you, puppy. Workin' so hard to finish with your PhD program, you're fuckin' amazing."

You moan in response, needing more friction. Adam presses his knee against your clit further, adding just a bit more pressure--enough pressure to almost make you lose it.

You moan lewdly, hands slipping underneath his shirt to grip the skin of his back. The action makes Adam laugh, his kisses becoming more slow and deliberate as he starts kissing along your neck and eventually tilts your head up to reach the underside of your jaw.

"You're so perfect," he whispers.

824, 823, 822, 821, 819, 818, 817, 816, 815 814, 813, 812, 810

His kisses traverse back down your neck for what feels like the millionth time, and he kisses your shoulders and collarbone in a way that he knows makes you want him inside you more than will ever be reasonable.

When his kisses move down your chest and he adjusts so that he's not stuck in an uncomfortable position, you whimper at the loss of contact as his leg moves.

He's quick with it, though--one of his hands moves to your clit, rubbing slow circles as he tells you to grind against it in place of his knee.

809, 808, 807, 806, 805, 804, 803, 802, 801, 800

Before you can really register it, his lips are pressing kiss after senseless kiss against your inner thighs and you're moaning, begging words falling from your lips because all you want is to feel his tongue pressing flat against you while he slowly thrusts a finger into your folds.

He presses a few kisses against your clit, watching you through his eyelashes.

You look like a picture of bliss--one of your hands clutches the sheets, the other one has pulled itself through your hair so many times that a mess has been made of it, and you're biting your lower lip with anticipation.

His hands slide themselves under your thighs and over your hips, finding their favorite spot as his tongue presses flat against your clit. You press your head into the pillow it rests upon, moaning lewdly at the contact.

799, 798, 797, 796, 795, 794, 793, 792, 791, 790, 789, 788, 787, 786, 785, 784, 783, 782, 781, 780, 779, 778, 777, 776, 775, 774, 773, 772, 771, 770, 769, 768, 767, 765, 764, 763, 762, 761, 759, 758, 757, 756, 754, 753, 752, 751, 750

Adams tongue is skilled--eating you out is one of the things that gets you both off the quickest, and because of Aurelies words, you have zero doubt you're in for at least another few orgasms before Adam is done, but the way that his tongue feels against you is so good that you remain entirely unbothered by the idea, focusing on the way that his tongue feels when he presses it flat against your clit and the way that his hands feel as one locates your nipples and the other remains on your hip with the aim of keeping you steady.

When you start helplessly grinding against his face, Adam doesn't stop you. He moans, burying his face in your cunt and letting you ride his face paceless and senseless, clearly just wanting you to cum all over his nose, mouth, and chin.

When you come for the first time that night, you do so with a moan of Adams name before you release over his face. He keeps his tongue on your clit and works you through the aftershocks before he pulls away, lifting himself up to your level again and kissing you soft and slow, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

He cleans his face after your kiss, gets back into bed and presses kiss after kiss against your face, neck, and shoulders, delivering praise to you like it's nothing, and you can tell he means every word.

"You're amazing," he whispers. "You did so good for me, puppy."

Forty minutes of kisses go by, and you're happy to let Adam keep kissing you for the rest of time if he wants to.

749. 748, 747, 746, 745, 744, 743, 742, 741, 740, 739, 738, 737, 736, 735, 734, 732, 731, 730, 729, 728, 727, 726, 725, 724, 723, 722, 721, 720, 719, 718, 717, 716, 715, 714, 713, 712, 711, 710, 709, 708, 707, 706, 705, 704, 793, 792, 701, 700

"How many kisses down?" You ask, practically swimming in post-orgasm bliss.

"300," Adam grins cheekily at you. "It's been an hour and a half. That basically sets us up for another four hours."

"What time is it?" You ask. Adam checks the clock.

"About to be six thirty," he says. "We'll be done by around ten if you're still wanting me to actually kiss you a thousand times."

"Do you still want to?"

"I wouldn't tire of kissing you even if I gave it my all, so I'd like to, yeah."

You grin at him, nod. "Please kiss me again."

Adam does as you ask of him, smiling a little bit into the kiss as your hands slip underneath his shirt with the aim of eventually slipping the shirt over his head.

He pulls away to take his shirt and pants off, momentarily feeling guilt for being completely clothed while you were completely exposed.

The guilt fades when you're pulling him back into you by the neck and laughter bubbles up from his throat as he calls you a kiss fiend and moves to press kisses along your jawline.

You let him kiss you senseless, counting down the kisses while you have half the mind to do so, before he's taken you and turned you into a thoughtless, brainless version of yourself that's so clouded by bliss that any other emotion pushing past the weightlessness of how you'll feel is completely and totally inconceivable.

Adam has kissed you one hundred and fifty five more times across forty-five minutes by the time that you lose focus, as he's telling you to turn around so that he can kiss your back and you're doing as he asks because of how good the kisses feel and the fact that you never want them to stop.

He kisses along your shoulder blades, down the backs of your arms and the back of your neck, praising you and making sure you're not completely and totally blissed out by asking you to use your words and tell him how good it feels.

He kisses the backs of your hips, smiles against your skin and then turns you back around, kisses your lips sweetly as his hand trails down your chest, past your stomach, to your clit. He laughs, presses a kiss against your forehead when he presses his finger against your clit and you moan because it's throbbing and the touch feels amazing.

"Adam," you whisper. "Please."

Adam nods, rubs slow circles around your clit as his lips press themselves against your neck.

545, 544, 543, 542, 541, 540, 539, 538, 537, 3537, 535, 534, 533, 532, 531, 530, 529, 528, 527, 526, 525

The pace he sets with his finger is slow, his lips pressing kiss after kiss to your neck as you slip further and further into the bliss of it all. You're pretty much content to let Adam do whatever he wants to you at this point, all of the stress from completing your thesis and trying to figure out plans with Aurelie and Sam to celebrate your birthday melting away with every single one of Adams kisses and the pressure of his fingers.

524, 523, 522, 521, 520, 519, 518, 517, 516, 515, 514, 513, 512, 511, 510, 509, 508, 507, 506, 505, 504, 503, 502, 501, 500

Adam replaces his fingers with his thumb, pulls you into an open-mouthed kiss as he slowly thrusts his fingers into you.

You moan into his mouth, grinding against his fingers slowly.

"So good for me, puppy," Adam whispers against your lips. "God, you're so perfect."

You moan again in response, and Adams lips dip to your collarbone, paying attention to it like he hasn't since the kisses began. He fucks you with his fingers as his lips press kiss after fervent kiss against your shoulders, collarbone, and chest, dick throbbing because he hasn't let himself come yet.

When you're coming for the second time, Adam is kissing you and you're practically floating, willing to do any and everything he asks of you. His kisses are perfect and he knows how to make you teeter on the edge of release until he's ready to let you go, and he does such, kissing you senseless until he curls his fingers inside you with each of his thrusts and you're coming undone around his fingers within five minutes after those ministrations had begun.

You moan his name into his mouth, and he pulls away from the kiss as you clench around his fingers.

Clean up is simple enough--after he's kissed you through the aftershocks and pulled his fingers out of you, he simply licks his fingers clean while you watch him, dazed but mesmerized.

499, 498, 487, 496, 495, 494, 493, 492, 491, 490, 489, 488, 487, 486, 485, 484 483, 482, 481, 480, 479, 478, 476, 475 473, 472, 471, 470, 469, 468, 467, 466, 465, 464, 463, 462, 461, 460

"Adam," you whisper. "There are condoms in my nightstand. Need to feel more than your fingers."

"Y/N--" two times across three hours feels like a stretch, and he knows you have zero intention to go to class for the rest of the week because you've finished up with your thesis and thus, there's no point until you have to pass it in on it's due date, but still. Adam doesn't want to leave you so sore that you can't walk when you're a college student with more things to worry about than he.

"Please," you whisper. "I'll be fine, I promise. I had hoped the 1000 kisses thing would mean I got fucked senseless anyway. I already told my professors not to expect me for another week because of how much work I've done, and how badly I need a break. I need to feel you and you're throbbing because you've only fucked me with your tongue and your fingers, so it's a win-win situation."

Adam presses another two kisses to your forehead before he rolls over in the bed to grab a condom. He takes off his boxers as you tear the condom open, rolling it onto his length and relishing in the way that he moans at the contact of your hand with his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moans quietly.

You let him position himself at your entrance, moan at every inch he pushes into you because of how good it feels. Adams cock is long and thick and nothing you'll ever get tired of.

Once his full length is inside you, he moans, pressing his forehead into the pillow to the right of your head as one of your hands finds his hair and the other rests on his neck. Your thighs move to wrap around his waist, and he kisses the side of your jawline as he waits for you to adjust.

459, 458, 457

When you give Adam the okay to start moving, he does so, his lips pressing kisses just about wherever they can reach.

It doesn't take Adam very long to make you see stars, the kisses that he delivers adding to the mindlessness of the way you feel. Every single minute that passes and you get closer and closer to forgetting what your own name is, Adams name the only clear thought that runs through your mind, repeating itself over and over like a mantra that only barely manages to keep you from floating away.

456, 455, 454, 453, 452, 451, 450, 449, 448, 447, 446, 445, 444, 443, 442, 441, 440, 439, 438, 437, 436, 435, 434, 432, 431, 430, 429, 428, 427, 426, 425, 424, 423, 421, 420, 419, 418, 417, 416, 415, 414, 413, 412, 411, 410, 409, 408, 407, 406, 405, 404, 403, 402, 401, 400

Adam keeps going after you've released and you're happy to let him, the feeling of him inside you too good to do anything but relish in. He moans your name in between his kisses, chasing the high of his own orgasm while also wanting to bring you to the edge of a fourth.

"Fuck," he moans. You're practically brainless beneath him, a cock-drunk mess of moans as your nails dig into his back and the hand that's kept a hold on his hair holding it so that it doesn't fall to the side because you'd taken the elastic out of it without thinking.

"Adam," you moan, his name the only coherent thought you have.

"You feel amazing," he responds, kissing your forehead. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good around me, mm?"

You moan in response and his kisses return to your neck, kissing along the underside of it and up to the underside of your jaw before his lips move back to your shoulders again.

399, 398, 397, 396, 395, 394, 393,392, 391, 390, 389, 388, 387, 386, 385, 384, 383, 382, 381, 380, 379, 378, 377, 376, 375, 374, 373, 372, 321, 370, 369, 368, 367, 366, 365, 364, 363, 362, 361, 360, 359, 358, 357, 356, 355, 354, 353, 352, 351, 350

He's apologizing lightly for a hickey that forms on your neck as he continues thrusting, and you're so blissed out from being fucked into the mattress that you tell yourself you'll give him a response later.

He slows the pace of his thrusts enough to drive you up the wall just a little, keeps that pace while he kisses you senseless for a long fifteen minutes before he kicks the pace back up again, dialing it from a six to an eleven within seconds.

349, 348, 347, 346, 345, 344, 342, 341, 340, 339, 338, 337, 336, 335, 334, 333, 332, 331, 330, 329, 328, 37, 326, 325, 324, 323, 322, 321, 320, 319, 318, 317, 316, 315, 314, 313, 312, 311, 310, 309, 308, 307, 306, 305, 304, 303, 302, 301, 300

Adams pace is quick, evenly timed, and perfect. You can hardly control how loud your moans start getting and Adam loves it, laughs when you press your forehead into the side of his neck in a break where he'd stopped kissing you because of your embarrassment.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed, puppy," he whispers, kissing your forehead. You hum your disagreement and he kisses you as deeply as either of you can manage, hand cradling your neck to allow the kiss to be so deep.

He pulls away and presses his lips across your chest again, keeping count where you've lost the ability to because of how fucked out you're starting to feel.

One hundred more kisses pass you by, and by that point Adams kicked the pace up just enough.

You come with a whisper of his name, saying it like it's the most meaningful word you'll ever speak. Adams teeth bite gently against your neck and he moans your name as your fourth release triggers his first, and he releases into the condom.

After thrusting into you through the post-orgasm aftershocks, Adam pulls out. He disposes of the condom while you go pee to avoid a UTI, and when you're back in bed, Adams lips are kissing you again and you're so blissed out that all you can do is stare at him lovingly.

The last two hundred kisses go by within fifteen minutes, Adams lips soft against your skin as he delivers whispered praise and sweet nothings in between each of the kisses he drops over your face, your arms, your hips, stomach, and thighs.

When he leaves, you're smiling like a buffoon and so happy your heart could melt with the joy you feel. He gets a bath going and then helps you to the bathroom, helps you into the bathtub while he reaffirms that he's proud of you for all the work you'd done with your thesis and acknowledges how hard it's been for you.

You let Adam wash your hair, exhausted and still not very coherent as he does so. It's very easy to melt into him and the way that his hands feel, and you let yourself do so without a second thought.

You agree to order pizza as a late-night dinner--it's nearly ten o'clock by the time you're both discussing it--and Adam helps you out of the bathtub, gets you to sit on the toilet while he blowdries your hair and leads you back to the bedroom.

He laughs when you point out the drawer of clothes you have that belong to him, kissing your forehead and making a remark about a pair of sweatpants he's not seen in close to two years. He gets dressed in the clothes from that drawer, helps you do the same because every single one of your limbs feels like Jell-o--completely and utterly unstable.

He grabs your phone from where you keep it, on the television stand in your living room, orders your birthday pizza while the two of you lay in your bed.

"Happy birthday," he says after the phone call is done and the pizza order is placed.

"Thank you," you hum, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He grins a little, runs a hand through your hair and hums contentedly.

"I love you," he whispers after silence has settled.

"I love you more," you respond, half-asleep but so content your chest aches with it.

Adam presses a kiss to your forehead, holds you close and for a minute, feels as though letting you go is an impossible feat, hopes that nothing ever comes around to separate the two of you from one another.

His gaze shifts from you to the window, hand running through your hair as he watches the sky and listens to the sounds of the outdoors at two hours before midnight.

He's so content it makes him ache, and he knows you feel the same.

All in all, you have to think, as you drift off, that it's your best birthday yet.

#adam stanheight #adam stanheight x reader #saw 2004

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aishnico · 9 months

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#𝙅𝙊𝙃𝙉 𝙁𝙍𝙐𝙎𝘾𝙄𝘼𝙉𝙏𝙀: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 (𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝟮)

» summary: you were engaged and you felt like you were betraying a part in yourself. and one day, you bumped on someone who you thought you would never see again

» word count: 1.9k

» warnings: angst TO FLUFF

» inspired by sarah jio's always novel.

» part 1

— january, 1998

''listen, i already talked with them today and nothing changed. they ask for too much. i mean, we are talking about a hotel's lobby. and the view of it is not beautiful! ugh... you know what? let's just do it in our backyard, yeah? what's wrong with that? it's more beautiful than that stupid lobby. okay okay, let's talk when i go home. you aren't at home? okay then, i'll just wait for your arrival. bye.''

you hang up the phone when you finish talking about your ideas about wedding places to your fiancée. you two weren't the richest people, but your fiancée wanted something really fancy like when rich people get married. you, on the other hand, wanted a small and simple wedding.

you graduated from college a year after you left john. you sold your house when you found yourself a roommate, brenda. she was going to be your bridesmaid in your wedding now. and you were lucky to find a job after your graduation. you met there with a handsome yet squeamish man. you were chill and hilarious, and he was your exact opposite. you've still found him funny in your ways. and what do they say, "opposites attract." maybe because of that you are engaged now.

dating him was like a dream. he would help you with chores, pay for dinner, buy whatever you wanted, willingly go out to new places with you and more...

but sometimes you feel guilty when you're living your comfortable life. because you would wonder about john. he was a drug addict after all. the only things you knew about him currently were that he left the band five years ago in the middle of their world tour and released a solo album two years later. where and how was he? what was he doing right now? was he still alive..?

brenda was willing to help you with the wedding organization. helping you to choose your wedding dress and wedding cake, searching places where you'd like to have the wedding. she called you and said that she found new places you'd like. you agreed on meeting at your usual coffee shop. after almost twenty minutes, you both were there. hugging each other like you haven't seen each other yesterday. you both ordered your coffees and sat in a suitable place. she took off photos from her bag and put them all on the table.

''so, i found three new places that you both may like. they are at hotel's but they have excellent views, trust me.'' she showed you the first place which looked like a wineyard. second was just in a high place, and the view wasn't the best. and the final one was the best one for you. you already forgot the past two places. it had a huge oak tree in it, maybe it was over 200 hundred years old.

she started to give you information about each place. but you couldn't help but stare at the magical tree, it looked like from your dreams. but you couldn't marry him there. you didn't want to admit yourself that he wasn't worthy to marry there

''hello?? [name] are you even listening?''

''yeah yeah, i was thinking about the first one.''

''oh really? i thought you were gonna choose the last one.'' you just smiled at her and concentrated on what was she saying.

after sitting there for forty minutes, you said goodbye to each other before going on your ways. when you were close to the bus station, you bumped into a man and he fell. you gasped and immediately kneeled next to him. ''sir, sir are you okay? i apologize, sir? sir!'' the man groaned with his raspy voice and opened his eyes, looking at your face. you were concerned about him, knowing nothing about what to do.

when you looked at his face closer, you realized he looked familiar to you. but where was he from? he was so skinny, his hair was long and greasy, his lips were dry and ooh, those big pretty brown eyes... you would recognize them everywhere and anytime.

"john..?"

he looked at you for a couple of seconds. he then got up and started to walk opposite to you. you too got up and ran after him. "john, john it's me, [name]! don't you remember me?" you tried to grab his arm but he flinched.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. can we just talk, please?" you pleaded. he was looking at you strangely. you smiled to yourself. "i wasn't really expecting you to remember me."

"how can i forget you? you're one of the things that didn't fade away from my mind."

you took him to your house to ask and talk with him about million things. but he wasn't looking good. so you decided to heat him soup. his hands were kind of shaking and when he tasted the soup, he finished it within seconds. was he hungry, or just hadn't tasted homemade food for a long time? you were watching him in misery. your eyes suddenly moved to his arms.

"what... what happened to your arms?" your voice was shaking. he looked at his arms. "oh i, got them after my house got burned." you said "sorry" in a quiet tone.

when the atmosphere got comfortable, you asked him your questions in order. choosing careful words to not hurt him.

about forty minutes have passed. "it... it was really nice to see you again [name]." he smiled at you. you smiled at him too "same, goes for me." he

then noticed the pictures of you and your fianceé. "you're married?" he asked.

"i'm engaged. we’re planning to marry in august."

"oh, congratulations then." he smiled at you. but you could feel sadness behind it. "thanks" was the only answer you could say.

"well then, I should get going." he stood and started to walk to the door. you walked behind him and stopped him.

"john," you gently held his arm. making him look at you. "you said yourself that you don't wanna live like this anymore. you're hurting yourself both mentally and physically," you then gently caressed his scars. "i, i don't want you to join the '27 club'. you're too young to waste your life. i'm sure that your old bandmates think about that too. we all don't wanna see dying." you gulped. "let me help you."

his eyes were filled now. he shut them and sobbed. then nodded. he hugged you tightly. your eyes too, got filled. you then hugged him back.

you found a program on a hospital named las encinas and registered him on it. you would visit him there often. and you would bring your record player and a couple of vinyls you both loved. you would sing, dance laugh together. your fiancée, on the other hand, wasn't really happy about you visiting and spending time with him. you would convince him that you were only doing these to make him better.

you also noticed he was healthily gaining weight. that made you happy, to see him getting better and better.

after months, he was finally back from hospital. the guys were joyful to see him healthily again. they asked him to join the band again. he was happy to reunite with them. and they started to record their new album, californication.

you were blissful for him. he deserved to be happy again. you felt like a heavy lift just left your body. no more hunting ghosts, you thought.

oh you were so wrong...

you still loved him. you thought hearts and thoughts faded away but they didn't. it pained you. it pained you because you were engaged to someone else. sure you loved your fiancée, but you loved john more. and maybe the thing you loved about him was his love for you, his caring. after you ended things with john, he was by your side when you needed comfort, a love...

you took a deep breath and shared your thoughts with your fianceé. you didn't understand if he was furious, heartbroken or understanding. he yelled to you while comparing himself with john. telling you that he was better than him. he then sat and started crying silently. then giving you an apologetic smile.

"i always loved you. i always loved your presence. i loved being your 'the true one' but guess i was wrong. i wish you nothing more than happiness. take care of yourself, [name]. and don't forget that i'm always by your side. even if not physically."

you hugged him before apologizing to him and thanking him at the same time. you were glad that you separated your ways in a good way.

one day, john asked you if you two could hang out in his house. you agreed on and went to his house. he then greeted you with a heartwarming smile, inviting you in. bell bottom blues by derek and the dominos was playing on the record player.

he cooked for you lasagna and brought a fine wine. you two sat across from each other and started to talk about each other's life, random things and music. after finishing the dinner, you helped him wash dishes. you two then sat on the couch and started to watch SNL.

then you realized that the record player was still playing. you turned your gaze on it. now it was playing layla. you smiled to yourself and went next to the record player. dancing like you wanted. john chuckled at you and after shutting the TV down, he went next to you. you two were dancing like idiots but who cared? you were having fun.

after the last song, you two sat on the couch again, laughing at each other and resting in comfortable silence. after a couple of minutes, he started to talk. "so july is nearly over." you sighed. "i didn't tell you, did i..?" he shook his head. you turned your gaze at somewhere else.

"we... no, i, broke off the engagement." he looked at you surprised. "why? did he do something?"

"no, i did."

"what did you do then?"

you shut your eyes, and took a deep breath. "i, i love someone else, john. and that someone else is you. i never stopped loving you. even after all the bad things that happened in the past, i just can't help it."

his mouth was wide open, and his cheeks got slightly pink. you didn't want to meet with his gaze, but he gently touched your cheek and turned your head to his.

"i never stopped loving you either. never. i feel myself lucky to have found you in high school, i've loved everything about you from the beginning. and felt myself shitty when i started to ignore you, not trying to understand you, lying to you and even though i didn't, it seemed like i cheated on you. i am deeply sorry for everything.

and i am deeply grateful for your caring. thank you for helping me. i never want things to become like that again. i don't want to lose you, not again. i want you to be on my side like i want to be in yours. can we try again?"

you genuinely smiled at him and nodded. wrapping your arms around his neck while crying. he hugged you back immediately. rubbing your back, telling you that if you keep crying, he will cry too. you laughed and let go of your arms.

he was caressing your cheeks genuinely and connected your foreheads. then connected your lips with his, starting a sensual kiss. a kiss full of sadness, longing and pure love in it.

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aphel1on · 8 months

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tag someone you want to get to know better

tagged by @woobifiedvillain a few days ago and finally remembered to do it!!

Favorite color: Yellow, but not an overwhelming yellow, like that soft warm yellow? I love it. People tend to not expect this answer, I think I give off more of a blue or grey vibe. Honestly a pretty grey/silver is probably my second favorite color, but a buttery yellow is just so good for the soul.

Last song: You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. Danced to it in the kitchen, got consumed by the guitar riffs, nearly knocked a chair over. Before this morning it would've been the Genshin OST... I've been listening to it a lot while I write or do chores recently.

Last movie: An exceedingly mediocre romcom on Netflix that I watched with my sick mom to be nice. Genuinely couldn't tell you the title or more than like, two or three plot points. Last movie that I watched bc I wanted to was the Barbie movie, which was genuinely better than I expected. Enjoyable but would still give it, like, a mixed review. I'm not getting into two months' ago Barbie Movie Discourse on this post

Currently watching: I'M STILL TRYING TO FINISH THE UNTAMED!!!! woobifiedvillain i'm speaking directly to you and quoting you: i too am "chronically incapable of paying attention to visual media, even the good shit" and when i try to explain this to people irl they act like i am insane!!! I haven't watched Good Omens season 2 yet even tho I am reblogging posts about it rn. I think it's mostly adhd, or really just a part of the larger Neurodivergence Soup (tm) that makes it nearly impossible for me to learn something from a YouTube video. I mean, sometimes for a hands-on task a video is essential, but can't there be a written list of instructions to go with it too, bc that sticks in my mind way better sobs... ANYWAY i'm currently on episode 43 of The Untamed, so I should be able to finish it by, like. The end of the year at least lol?

Currently reading: I started reading SVSSS recently because, like. The mxtx mania is in full throttle. I just got here a little later than most people lmao. I'm also currently "reading" like seven different books that I bought or pirated this year and have on hold. One of my Unfortunate Skills is bingereading like 200 pages of something in 1-2 days and then not finishing the rest of it for 8 months.

Currently working on: Keep My Shadow Alive, my big xue yang-centric fix it fic!!! Well, more like a fix it, and then break it more, and then eventually actually fix it fic. Starting from the canon divergence of "Add Pre-Teen Xue Yang to the Burial Mounds Fam" and going from there. I read every fic like that that's on ao3 and was still being eaten alive by the brainworms so I started writing my own take on it and ~6 months later it's the longest fic I've ever written and only 25% of the way through its outline???? So. Who knows if it will get finished (my track record is admittedly not great)- but I've had such a blast writing it so far. Xue Yang is just SO fun to write. Yes it has a plot and character arcs and I could even go full English Major* and start telling you about its Themes, but also it's just an excuse to write Xue Yang interacting with every member of the MDZS cast. Going to STOP talking now bc I fully am the type of writer who will get carried away talking about their wips.

*i am not an english major, but spiritually i am an english major.

Current obsession: Yeah uh, MDZS. My friend convinced me to finally read it in January of this year, and the hyperfixation train has simply not stopped since then. Genshin Impact also dragged me back in with the Fontaine update and I've been having a lot of fun playing it. But MDZS is still mostly the thing that's eating up my RAM. Particularly the Yi City crew, but 3zun is rotating in there too. Sometimes even The Man WWX Himself, i talk about him less but i do love him a lot also lol

Tagging: I'm honestly too shy to do this!!! But thank you for tagging me anyway<3

#love when people invite me to ramble💕#if i ever post something unprompted it has been edited 6 times for conciseness #not this post. i sat down and word vomited until it was over and i am not rereading it or i'll get self conscious #tag games #aphelion.txt #mdzs has been like. category 5 autism event #it's been a long time since something grabbed me this hard #often i'll be super obsessed with something for 2-3 months and wring all the interest out of it and move on #i mean it's not uncommon for me to cycle back to a previous interest after awhile and have another obsession phase #but the enduring power of mdzs has been quite impressive

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strawberryblondebutch · 11 months

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Women's hockey blew itself up last night.

The PHF has been bought out by the owners of the PWHPA. For better or worse, there will only be one pro women's hockey league in North America this upcoming season.

As a women's hockey fan and as a prospective sports agent, I wanted to share my thoughts on the matter. This post is unrebloggable because I don't want it spreading beyond my bubble. You can absolutely ask me follow-up questions over DM or through my ask box, though.

BACKGROUND

The PHF, formerly known as the NWHL, began operations in 2015. At the time, it was one of two major North American women's hockey leagues, the other being the CWHL. At the time, the NWHL was a big deal as the first league to actually pay its players a stipend, but it was not a livable wage. the CWHL collapsed overnight in 2019.

In response to this, over 200 pro women's hockey players formed the PWHPA, which is a players' association, not a league. The PWHPA's goal was ultimately to have a league that could commit to providing living wages for pro women's players. When their relationship with the PHF fractured, they decided to create a new league from the bottom up. This was slow-going.

Enter yesterday's news.

WHAT'S GOING ON?

Late last night, the owners of the PWHPA announced that they had purchased the PHF. Beginning in January 2024, there will be one league with six teams (3 in Canada and 3 in the United States). Each team will have 23 players. PWHPA players will take priority in tryouts.

MISCONCEPTIONS

Most of the controversy over this acquisition is overblown, or shows a lack of understanding over how pro sports work.

"This is a hostile takeover by the PWHPA!" The PHF had been financially insolvent for its entire tenure and was on the verge of bankruptcy. Its options were overnight dissolution like the CWHL or acquisition by another company.

"Two leagues are better for the sport." This is not true. The CWHL and NWHL routinely cannibalized one another when they were both in operation. Player leaders in both leagues have *always* had one unified North American league as their end goal.

"Hilary Knight and Marie-Philip Poulin are evil masterminds who wanted to devour this other league." PWHPA players were informed of the acquisition at the same time as everyone else. The only people who had a say in this happening were the owners of the respective organizations.

"Oh, so these Olympians get to swoop in and take all the credit at the end, not the people who built up the league?" Most of the senior leadership in the PWHPA were former CWHL or NWHL players who had horrible experiences in those leagues and had no intentions of being burned again.

"Oh, so PHF contracts all get voided but PWHPA ones don't?" Correct. This is how a union works. Your enemy is the ownership that promised six-figure, multi-year deals and couldn't deliver. Not the women who protected themselves.

"What have Knight/Nurse/etc. actually done to grow the game?" More than the PHF. I only know a handful of PHF players, most of whom are UW alumni and thus I know through mutual friends. Both Knight and Nurse have been commentators for ESPN, TNT, and other national sports stations. PWHPA members are at the NHL All-Star Game. Sarah Nurse was on the cover of a video game. Every league needs star talent. The PHF has never had that. (This is, of course, the part where I clarify that even the worst PHF athletes are probably better than your median NHL player.)

"Oh, so the Olympians automatically get a better deal in this?" Yes. This is how every sport works. Aaron Judge and Bryce Harper make more than Travis Jankowski and Brandon Marsh. When leagues and agents negotiate salaries, they care about stats, hardware, and name recognition. A 3-time Olympic gold medalist carries a lot more weight.

ACTUAL CONCERNS

Wow, the PHF really screwed its players over. Shortly before the acquisition, many players signed six-figure contracts for multiple years. They just left their families and bought houses near teams that no longer exist.

Contraction of the league. From a financial standpoint, there's no way this new league would be able to operate with a dozen teams. However, between the PHF and PWHPA, there are now 250-ish athletes fighting for 138 spots. This also doesn't take into consideration trainers, coaches, grounds crew, medical staff, and every other non-player who keeps the ship afloat.

So, about the WNBA... It's well-known that, because people don't care about women's sports, the WNBA is kept afloat by its tight financial relationship with the NBA. This isn't as much of an option in women's hockey, because the NHL sucks with money. Like, "the Arizona Coyotes got kicked out of their arena for not paying rent" sucks-with-money. There's not a clear-cut answer for how a WoHo league might become solvent when the respective male league is such a shitshow.

The PWHPA is shady too. In addition to having a noted transphobe on their board (not that the PHF is great with trans athletes -- see Digit Murphy), there's some concern about the association marketing itself as an official labor union when, per the Department of Labor, that's not actually true.

TAKEAWAYS

Most of the ire currently being directed at PWHPA athletes should be levied at the PHF ownership that let things get as bad as they did. The athletes that protected themselves with collective bargaining and who have gold medals to back up their skills are inherently in a better position than those who signed at-will contracts fresh out of college.

Ultimately, I do think that this move was a good one for women's hockey. Having one league helps when acquiring corporate sponsorships and other financial aid, but the NHL's incompetence is a continued problem here. On a human level, the people I feel worst for are the athletes who thought they had a guaranteed contract and are now being pushed out of the league.

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applehare · 1 month

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How to loose 200 euro like a pro 😎

Story time, I guess, because this whole situation pisses me off.

So around Christmas last year (2023), I got some cash from my family for a gift. I decided I wanted to buy a set of books that I needed, so I just ordered them straight away. I purchased them on eBay. Now, I have purchased items from eBay around this time previously, so i knew it took more time to ship, I was okay with that, and have never had problems. However, the seller contacted me, saying there were issues with shipment and just returned my money. This is not technically relevant, but I found it funny - as if the cosmos was telling me to not buy these books.

Now the true story begins - I found another seller, selling the same set of books for the same money, so I just ordered them. This happened on Dec 28, again from eBay. I waited, knowing it took quite some time to ship when ordering around these dates. But it was getting near the end of January, so I was a little bit worried. Around this time I had ordered another book (from a different seller) and they messaged me, saying that it could take some time before it ships, as there were issues in general with international shipping. Both this seller and the one with the book set were based in Japan, so I assumed this was why it took so ridiculously long. Back to the main shipment - the book set was shipped, finally, near the END OF FEBRUARY. The packaging I mentioned before? I don't even remember, maybe I already had it! Now I just had to wait a bit more for my book set to be delivered. The waiting was almost over... OR WAS IT?!?

Somewhere around the middle of March I decided to try tracking where the package was. And I found out it was stuck - in customs.

And here goes another story:

This has happened before. In 2023, somewhere around October, I ordered a small item as a gift. I waited for it to arrive, only to find it was stuck in customs. I thought that I just had to wait for them to release it, this was the first time I've had an item stuck in customs, so I didn't really know what the order of things was. A month later I found a letter at my door - just a piece of paper, laying on the ground. It was a document, which allowed the Bulgarian Posts to represent me in customs (since they were the ones that had to deliver my packaging). And that was it - the item was released, all was well. So I thought this was the norm - if there was an issue with customs, the delivery company could ask for permission to represent me.

Back on the main story again. So when I saw that the package was in customs, I didn't think much of it. I thought the same thing would happen as the previous time I had an item stuck in customs. This package was shipped with FedEx, it was the first time I've had a packaging shipped with them. Around that time the eBay return window was getting close to it's end. I wasn't sure If i should wait, or just return them. Something was odd. I waited regardless and the return period expired on March 30. On April 4 I saw that the package was finally moving! Yay! So the issue had been resolved then, I thought.

On the 12th of April, near midnight, I got an email stating that the package was unable to be delivered and was being returned to seller.

...WHAT?!? I was FUMING! What do you mean unable to ship? Mind you, it was night and I couldn't call straight way, not only that but I had to wait till the weekend was over! I was pissed, PISSED! The package stayed in customs for less than a month, no one contacted me what so ever. How was I meant to know? They had my address, my phone number on that package, and no one called, no one send me an SMS, no one put a piece of paper in front of my door. I tried looking trough my calls, but found nothing resembling any of the numbers that might have been from FedEx or customs. And you know what - maybe they did call. The thing is - how would I know? I get random calls from strange numbers, why would I answer them all? (My parents told me not to answer to unknown numbers as a child, and I still stand by that, a little silly, I know.) And besides, if they did call and I didn't answer, there were still other ways to contact me. I was furious.

Monday comes, I try to contact whoever I can, nothing happened, obviously. I had written to the seller about the situation in Saturday, asking if they could re-ship my package again, or if they can return my money - nothing so far and I don't think there will ever be anything. They're not obligated to do anything now, since the eBay return window expired while waiting for shipment. Which leads me to another question - what took so bloody long? Normally the return window is WAYYY ahead in time than the estimated delivery date. I have never waited for a package so long that the return window expired. What in the world had happened? And you know the funny part? The package got returned to the seller for 4 days. 4 DAYS! I WAITED 4 MONTHS AND IT GOT SHIPPED BACK FOR 4 DAYS? IS THIS A JOKE?!

Now I can't stop thinking on what I could have done differently, maybe I should have just called the customs straight away, maybe I should have called FedEx (which proved to be a challenge), maybe I should have just returned the damn books. The item from October 2023 - it stayed in customs for around a month and I still got contacted and the issue resolved. This package - stayed in customs for less than half a month, no contact with me, straight to seller. Just... This whole thing could have been resolved so easily with proper contact, and yet it wasn't. I like to trash on Bulgarian Posts for not properly informing me on packages sometimes, but they do regardless. And coming in contact with them is very easy. And - I have not had a single package be returned to seller from them (at least yet). Damn, can't believe I'm actually being somewhat nice to them, you know it's bad when I'm praising them for somewhat doing their job.

At this point, I don't think anything can be done, the money are gone, the books are gone. And I think this will haunt me for the rest of my days. But, regardless, I did learn a few thins (wish it hadn't cost me 200 bloody euros):

don't order if shipped with FedEx - they might be great otherwise, but after this I don't think I will take the risk. They could have done more, and even if they couldn't it still quite bad, also properly contacting them is a pain.

just call customs when they stop your package - When I see the package has been stopped, I will just try my best to contact them directly. Praying I can track said package to see it has been stopped, otherwise RIP I guess.

if item is reaching the eBay return window deadline - just return it - if it ever again takes this long to ship and "deliver" an item, I don't think I will be risking it again.

don't order at the end of the year - although as I stated, I have done this before and I've had no such issues prior to this, I think after this mess I will just be waiting around the middle/end of January.

do as much as you can yourself - others will most likely fail you, not do their jobs properly, disappoint you, so just do it yourself.

Oh, wow, this was long. I don't expect anything positive to happen with this situation anymore, I just wanted to write it down and get it out of my system. Also, maybe to laugh a bit - the whole thing is so ridiculous - a convenience after convenience after convenience - conveniences in inconveniencing me. Well, anyway, I curse everything that made it happen so I lost my books and money to stub their toes everyday for 4 months.

And I'm sorry if I was too rude in any of this (even though I just cursed a bunch of unknown entities to stub their toes). My anger is not directed towards anyone in particular (somewhat of a lie) - just the situation. It could have been resolved so easily, and that's what truly annoys me. Well, that's it for now, I guess. Wonder if anyone will even read this bloody mess. Hah.

#story #storytime #mess #im just tired #manifesting those 200 euros back

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tonispencerart · 5 months

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A new year already?

Somehow time has passed in what seems like a blink of an eye and another year has gone. Is it just me, or does time move faster the older you get? Anyway, yes. Another year has passed. This one was very different to the last one, though. It's been one year since I stopped drinking. One whole year free of alcohol. It's a weird feeling. A year feels like it should be a long time. In many ways, it actually is a long time. But, like I said above, time appears to move faster the older I get. And now a year has passed since day 1 of not drinking. A little over a year ago, I woke up at my friend's house, a few hundred miles from my home. I'd barely slept. The night before was their wedding day, actually. The morning after was New Year's Day. I was OK but tired but I knew a hangover was coming. The groom had made a point earlier in the night before that "the wine needed drinking because we've paid for it!" I'd somehow taken that, not only as an instruction to help drink wine already paid for but as a personal challenge. I've known for years that my relationship with alcohol has been nothing short of destructive. But, for a long time (too long, really) I'd convinced myself that I only drank socially or for special occasions. At one time or another, that might have been true. But it hadn't been the case in quite some time. I drank when I was stressed or anxious. I drank when I was upset, angry, and frustrated. I drank in situations I didn't know how to handle - like being with other people. I drank to shut my brain up or block things out. I drank to cope with new and unfamiliar situations. I drank half a massive bottle of gin the day I accidentally smashed £200+ worth of art supplies when the box holding it all snapped on the bus home and sent the whole lot crashing to the floor. I drank the evening I'd applied for art school when what should have taken me a couple of hours at the very most actually ended up taking six hours. I drank when I couldn't sleep and my usual drink of a small but strong coffee hadn't worked fast enough. I drank when I was bored... But it sucked. I had bruises and cuts I couldn't explain after a night of drinking. I had a constant fear of What Did I Do?, and seeing the texts from the night before, and the night before that... And nobody likes a hangover. Imagine dealing with that most days! Granted, it wasn't every day of the week, but it was more than it should have been. Lucky for me, those years in Theatre proved handy, eh? I hope you can sense the sarcasm. But today, 5th January 2023, marks one year sober. Has it been good? No. Mostly, it's sucked.

Has it been good for me? Yes. I don't miss the hangovers, the unexplained cuts and bruises, or the What The Heck Did I Do? feelings when I finally sober up.

There have been good days, sometimes several in a row (which is nice) but it's still always in my head. I don't know if that will ever go away. And I still miss the dopamine buzz. Overall, though, it's probably the best decision I've made in a long time.

Here's to more years.

#sober #soberlife #sobriety #one year sober #one day at a time

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emmet-appreciation · 2 years

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😳GUHHH 😳😳

YOU ALL,,,,,,,, I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE YOU CAME FROM BUT I AM RLY GLAD YOU ARE HERE TO ENJOY EMMET WITH ME??? 🥺😳😳🥺🥺👉👈

Ty soooo much to everyone who followed or liked or reblogged stuff from me! It's literally mind boggling to see all these new people uehwjduhfsj 😳😳.

#Djsjs #Sjaksifishajsjdhsja #LEGITIMATELY YOU GUYS STARTED POPPING UO OUT OF NO WHERE AFTER PLA CAME OUT AJSJFHD #I couldn't of had like more than like 200 of you in January #Guys 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭 ufhsjsidufhjss #AND YOU ARE ALL SO GREAT TOO LIKE 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏 I COULD NOT ASK FOR A BETTER COMMUNITY TO BE A PART OF #So much good content and people to interact and see with #I should do something later on when I finish hw-#Prolly will do a customary ty art but if y'all have any ideas feel free to shoot me an ask or reply or dm or something #Literally frickin appreciate y'all so much... You are too kind.... 🥺🥺🙏 I should be a submas fandom appreciation blogs lmao #But I will not bc I like Emmet too much #anyway!! I can't do much bc I am at a local community college and not at home #But I prommie I will do something because holdy frick this is crazy 👀🥺🥺🥺🙏#Erm. Haha #Maybe I've said this too much but I remember when I first started the blog it was #Rly lonely in the submas community #Legitimately there seemed to be no new content (at least in 2019) and I felt self conscious for reblogging so much submas on my art blog #So I did the next logical thing and made a new sideblogs to contain myself #And we'll. Look at where we are now #The submas tag has never been more active #There's a heckin discord server DEDICATED to the submas #and we are getting more canon representation :) which I hope will be just as good as the stuff I've seen in the fandom #Uhm. Anyway 🥺🙏 quick ty again #You guys rly make my time in the fandom worth it and I appreciate you guys so. So much #not Emmet #mun rambles

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colossalcriminal · 2 years

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Unlawfully Real - f.w

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred and Y/N have always been the type to drive each other crazy, but it's only a matter of time before they drive each other crazy, despite many obstacles.

Content Warnings: Cheating, Takes place during Umbridge time but I haven't mentioned it at all for a clean plot, minor swearing.

Set in 1996, during the twins and Y/N's 7th year. For any confusion, winter holidays at Hogwarts apparently begin the Friday before Christmas (December 22nd, 1995.)

Merry Christmas to all that celebrate, and I wish you the happiest of New Years! Thank you for being patient with me, I know my list of fics to come has no dates, and that will remain the same until mid January as I am also moving house. As a thank you for your patience and 200 followers, here's my first ever Harry Potter fic!

"I'll see you during Christmas, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course." She leaned up to peck his lips. "Bye, Tom."

Tom said his goodbye, watching his girlfriend board the train. Y/N slipped into a nearby carriage containing the all too familiar Weasley twins, Lee Jordan and Oliver Wood. She glanced at her watch, 10 minutes until she had to make her rounds. "Tom Montague? You're joking." Fred commented, catching the head girl's attention.

"What? How did you know?"

"Freddie was stalking you through the window."

"Shut it, Lee." He muttered somewhat playfully. "Isn't he like a thousand years older than you?"

Amused at his exaggeration, she looked to him with a quirked brow. "He graduated last year, he's training to be a healer at St. Mungo's."

After subtle hums and responses of approval, except for Fred, the topic had been easily changed. "Hoping for a clean quidditch season, L/N."

"Of course, Wood."

∞

"What do you even see in him?"

Carelessly leaning against the bookshelf, Fred frowned at the pile of books perched on his arms. "He's nice."

"Nice? You say hello to him if he's nice, not date the poor bugger."

Y/N let out an airy chuckle, almost a sigh, dropping 2 more books onto the stack as a punishment to the boy. "He's serious, he's pursuing what he wants to do." The Gryffindor nearly scoffed, placing the tower of countless textbooks and novels onto the nearby desk. "What are you doing?"

Taking one long stride towards her, he leaned down, hot breath fanning over her cheek. "You think I can't be serious? Can't pursue what I want to?"

Lump forming in her throat, she concealed her cough as a nervous chuckle. "Don't be ridiculous, Fred." She forced out, picking up half the stack of books as she pushed past him.

Letting out a deep breath, he followed after her slowly.

"You and Fred, huh?" A fellow student questioned Y/N with a smile.

"Shut up, Beth."

∞

The couple of weeks after the library incident were torture, and the young girl couldn't stop herself from counting the days to winter holiday. A little over 10 weeks was way too long to wait for a holiday.

She sighed, fingertips tracing over the rough stone brick of the castle wall, hallway so silent you could hear a pin drop.

Perhaps she'd made a mistake accepting the position of Head girl, oh how she yearned to crawl into bed and wake up tomorrow to a delicious serving of pancakes, but instead she'd arise to finish whatever assignment she had before rushing off to class.

"Psst."

Jumping at the new sound, Y/N yelped at the presence of Fred. "What the hell are you doing? Go back to bed!"

He smirked, inching closer. "Or what? Are you going to take points away? Give me detention?"

She rolled her eyes at his taunts, not aware of their close proximity. "You test me a lot for someone at risk for a suspension."

"You're very testy."

His voice so close, plump lips too far, she took in the situation before her with a breath. "Fred?"

Leaning into the sound of her call, their lips brushed together ever so slightly. "Yes." He said it as a statement, not a reply or a question, a firm statement.

Smooth lips collided over hers, the most wonderful clash of teeth against teeth was soon forgotten by the warmth of his tongue against her own. A small gasp elicited from her as she hit the harsh stone wall, Fred releasing his own breathy laugh.

∞

Suddenly, 10 weeks was too little time for the young pair's wanton endeavors as Y/N counted the days to winter holidays less and less. Perhaps if she didn't count at all, time would halt just for her, as a favor.

December 22nd was looming on them, only a mere two weeks away, savoring was all they could do for now.

"So, I was thinking," The ginger began, completely enamored by the girl beside him, under the sheets. "when you come over for Christmas, we could go ice skating down at the pond when it's frozen."

Her mouth fell agape, eyes nearly clouded opaque with sorrow. "Sorry, Freddie." His furrowed brow begged for an explanation. "I promised Tom I'd be at his for Christmas."

There it was, the reminder, it was bound to happen. The Montague boy had never come up in conversation, but every now and then he would find her owling a letter to him or giggling about him to oblivious friends. The secrecy of their affair was only further proof that Y/N wasn't his to keep. "Right."

Fred looked away from her, swinging his legs over the bed to sit right at the edge, is eyes didn't move from the old carpet of the girl's dormitory. "So, none of this was real."

Y/N shook her head profusely, tugging on his shoulder in an attempt to persuade him to look at her. "Don't say that, of course it was real, it was real to me."

He just turned, catching a glimpse of her tear stricken face, a gut wrenching pain blooming in his chest at the sight. "Then choose. Me, or him?"

"What?"

"You either spend Christmas with me or him." It was a simple declaration, something that sounded so trivial had the entire weight of their relationship balancing on it.

She was voiceless, no words leaving her mouth as tears cascaded down her cheeks. He took her silence as his answer, gathering his things and stopping at the door. "Goodbye, Y/N."

∞

The five days left of term went too slow for anyone's satisfaction, hours feeling like centuries and minutes feeling like years. Students craved a break from school, and the festivities of Christmas while Y/N L/N just wanted to get away from Fred Weasley and his unwavering demeanor.

It didn't bother her that he didn't seem affected by their 'breakup', why should she care about how he recovered in the matter of days? It didn't matter that with every friendzoning smile he sent, a dagger was only being pushed deeper and deeper into her heart.

"Merry Christmas and happy new year, L/N."

"Happy Christmas, Wood. Have a great new year." She hugged Oliver in hopes of prolonging the goodbye process. Bidding her friends adieu, Y/N plastered on her best smile, praying for any sort of higher power to be on her side just for today. "Tom." She greeted, nearly timid.

The pit in her stomach only doubled in size when he scooped her up in a tight embrace. She nearly grimaced, mind clouded with the thought of Fred's arms wrapped around her so lovingly. "Y/N! I missed you, my family are somewhere over there."

Gripping Tom's wrist, the distant gleam in her tear glazed eyes was enough to silence him. "Tom, I can't." His eyes narrowed at her confession. "I can't do Christmas with your family, I just- I'm sorry, I can't be with you."

The obvious disappointment only placed a frown on the girl's face, no broken heart, no spillage of tears. "Alright, I'm sorry if I did anything wrong."

"No, no, Tom. You were perfect. Any girl would be lucky to have you, but it just can't be me. I really am sorry."

He shook his head. "No, it's okay. Do you need me to drop you home?"

His politeness even after breaking his heart had made a sad smile etch itself onto her lips. "My parents have sent the car over, so I'll drive myself home."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's not too far."

The drive home had seemed longer than usual. Perhaps she'd taken the wrong road? No. Y/N couldn't bear it when her intrusive thoughts of a certain Weasley were louder than the music on the radio.

The scene of their breakup had played on repeat in her head. She couldn't help but laugh at how he gave her a choice, and she didn't choose either of them. To hell with the Fred Weasleys and Tom Montagues, she was just fine on her own.

She arrived home feeling lighter, sunglasses pulled back on her head as she dropped her trunk by the door.

"Hello, darling! We didn't know you'd be home for the holidays!"

"Neither did I."

∞

Telephones were possibly the best invention muggles had ever thought up Y/N mused to Hermione over the phone, twirling the cord around her finger.

"I went to the burrow a few days ago on boxing day."

The bright witch was one of the fewer people to know of her infidelity. "And?"

"In truth, Fred's a total mess. He has been for the two weeks you've been apart."

She shrugged as if Hermione could see her, lips pursed. "That's not my problem." The head girl spoke, voice cracking ever so slightly, revealing her lack of meaning.

"They're doing a small get together for New Years Eve, you should go. Maybe even get back together."

"I don't know, Hermione."

"Trust me, if this works, no one is ever going to hear either of you moping ever again."

She sighed as the conversation steered away from the topic, eventually ending in goodbyes. News of Fred's devastation had caught Y/N dumbfounded. Perhaps reconciliation would be good for them, she couldn't deny the nights she'd spend occupied with thoughts of him, with every Christmas gift she opened from friends she hoped one would be from him, although they never planned on getting each other anything.

Maybe reconciliation was possible.

∞

Seeing her again was equivalent to 100 pounds of weight being lifted off of his shoulders.

In truth, he never expected her to walk through his front door any time in the near future. When his mother went to the door expecting one of Ron's friends, she and the family were pleased to find Y/N instead, shyly waving.

The house bustling with activity, everyone finally old enough to be up late to welcome the new year, it was a good few hours before she could finally approach Fred.

"Hi."

He remained winded for a moment, his gaze running up and down her frame in pure admiration, an action he didn't hide as well as he thought he did. "Hi, uh, you look beautiful."

She giggled at his nervousness, a bashful smile gracing her pigment coated lips. "Thank you. Happy new year." He returned the wish, an odd silence falling between them. "I broke up with Tom." Just the words she'd been itching to get out, and he'd been itching to hear.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"It was long overdue. What have you been up to?"

The redhead sent her a boyish smile. "George and I are thinking of opening up a joke shop, actually."

"That's great! I'm happy for you both."

"Yeah, thanks. I thought I'd take something away from what you said, it might not be serious but I am pursuing what I want to do."

The air around them felt thick, almost suffocating. "No, Fred, I think it's amazing."

"Alright everyone, countdown is beginning!" Molly called out, entering the living room.

Not even the shrill voice of hers could interrupt the young pair.

"10!"

"You don't need to be serious, or anything other than yourself. And I'm sorry if I made you feel that way because you, Fred Weasley, are perfect."

"9!"

"Really?"

"8!"

"Yes, and I mean it."

"7!"

"I'm sorry for leaving you like that."

"6!"

"Don't worry about it, Fred."

"5!"

"I think I'm in love with you."

"4!"

"What?" The counting had only gotten louder.

"3!"

"I'm in love with you!"

"2!"

"I think I'm in love with you too!"

"1! Happy new year!"

As loved ones around them paraded, graciously greeting 1996, Fred and Y/N didn't even notice the world around them as their lips connected. "I'm definitely in love with you." She murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred x y/n #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #harry potter #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagines #harry potter imagines #hogwarts

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mulanxiaojie · 4 years

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The high-profile remake, with an all-Asian cast, a PG-13 rating and a politically-charged star, was always going to pose major risks. Then the coronavirus upended its entire release plan.

Liu Yifei, star of Disney's live-action remake of Mulan, lives in Beijing, but she is originally from Wuhan, epicenter of the coronavirus. In January, the 32-year-old actress left China for Los Angeles to begin press for the film, weeks before the virus' outbreak, which has now infected more than 77,000 people, killed more than 2,500 and wreaked havoc in her home country. She says she doesn't have any family or close friends personally affected by the disease — she left Wuhan when she was 10 — but the epidemic has added an impossible-to-foresee variable to her film's March 27 worldwide release.

Liu pauses when asked about the outbreak. "It's really heavy for me to even think about it," she says. "People are doing the right thing. They are being careful for themselves and others. I'm so touched actually to see how they haven't been out for weeks. I'm really hoping for a miracle and that this will just be over soon."

In China, Liu is a household name, nicknamed "Fairy Sister" for her elegance and beauty. Modeling since age 8, she broke out in the 2003 Chinese TV series Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, a commercial hit in China and the highest-rated Chinese drama in Taiwan at the time, and hasn't stopped working in film and TV since, earning fashion partnerships with Adidas, Shiseido and Armani along the way.

Disney and director Niki Caro selected Liu from more than 1,000 aspirants from around the world to star as Hua Mulan, the Chinese heroine who disguises herself as a man to fight in the Imperial Army in a film carefully designed to appeal to Western and Chinese audiences alike. But now there's a question of when Mulan will be released in China. With the coronavirus shutting down all 70,000 of the country's theaters since Jan. 24, it's unclear — and more unlikely every day — that multiplexes will reopen in time for its planned release. (Several high-profile U.S. films, including Universal's Dolittle and 1917 and Searchlight's Jojo Rabbit, saw their February releases scrapped.) "It certainly has worldwide and global appeal, but there's no denying that this is a very important film for the Chinese market," says Comscore analyst Paul Dergarabedian. "It's a huge blow for Disney if it doesn't release in China." Disney president of production Sean Bailey says he's "looking at it day by day."

Of course, this puts added pressure on the $200 million budgeted film — the priciest of Disney's recent live-action remakes — to perform in the U.S. and the rest of the world. Liu, who is enveloped in her own storm of controversy based on a political social media post about the Hong Kong protests, says she is trying hard not to think about all that. "It would really be a loss for me if I let the pressure overtake my possibilities," says the actress, who learned English when she lived in New York as a child for four years with her mother, a dancer, after her parents' divorce.

Even before the outbreak of the virus, Mulan — the first Disney-branded film with an all-Asian cast and the first to be rated PG-13 (for battle scenes) — would have marked one of the studio's riskiest live-action films to date. While the original 1998 Mulan was a critical and commercial hit, garnering a Golden Globe and Oscar nomination and grossing more than $300 million worldwide ($475 million today), it faltered at the Chinese box office. Part of the reason is that the Chinese government stalled its premiere for nearly a year because of lingering anger over Disney's 1997 release of Kundun, Martin Scorsese's Dalai Lama movie that dealt with China's occupation of Tibet. By the time Mulan reached theaters in late February 1999, most children had returned to school after the Chinese New Year holiday and pirated copies were widely available. For the new film, the plan was to counter piracy by releasing the movie in China the same day as the rest of the world, a strategy that's no longer possible.

The film also has tested the ability and tolerance of Disney — which aims to be ideologically neutral — in managing global political fallout. In August, Liu stirred up a major controversy when she reposted a pro-police comment on Chinese platform Weibo (where she has more than 66 million followers) at the height of the violence in Hong Kong. Her action was seen by critics of the Chinese government as supporting police brutality; soon after, the hashtag #BoycottMulan started trending on Twitter. Liu, who has American co-citizenship from her time in the U.S., was harshly criticized around the world for supporting oppression.

"I think it's obviously a very complicated situation and I'm not an expert," she says now, cautious in the extreme. "I just really hope this gets resolved soon." When pressed, Liu, whose answer seemed rehearsed, declines to say much more, simply repeating, "I think it's just a very sensitive situation." (Bailey also deflects when asked: "Yifei's politics are her own, and we are just focused on the movie and her performance.")

"Most Chinese celebrities choose to avoid posting such political statements because of the risks to their careers internationally," says Dorothy Lau, a professor at the Academy of Film, Hong Kong Baptist University. But though Liu's post drew criticism globally, some experts believe the political drama could actually result in more support for the film in China. "At the time, the government came out in various publications supporting the film very strongly," says USC professor Stanley Rosen, who specializes in Chinese politics and society. "There's a real impetus on the part of the Chinese government to make this work. I'm sure the government is going to try to show that the boycott has had no effect." And while her comment might still anger filmgoers in Hong Kong, where the recent live-action Aladdin took in $8 million, that market is tiny compared to the mainland (total 2019 Hong Kong box office was $245 million compared with China's $9.2 billion). "Most people outside Hong Kong have likely forgotten about this controversy," says Rosen. "But the Chinese government does not forget these things."

The fact that this version of Mulan is a large-scale war epic inspired more by the ancient Chinese ballad than the original animated film may also help win fans in Beijing, but the choice carries its own significant risks: The film needs to satisfy Chinese audiences raised on the legend while not disappointing a generation of fans in Asia (and elsewhere) for whom the animated film is foundational. "People would come in to audition and would say, 'Sorry, I know this is really unprofessional, but before I start, I just want you to know, the animated movie was the first time I saw someone that looked like me speak English in a movie theater,' " says producer Jason Reed. "The stakes couldn't be higher."

Mulan also represents a leap of faith in the film's director, Caro, whose previous two films boasted budgets of about 10 percent of Mulan's (The Zookeeper's Wife and Disney's 2015 sports drama McFarland USA were each in the $20 million to $25 million range). Caro, 53, was not Disney's first choice. Before hiring the New Zealand filmmaker, the studio targeted directors of Asian descent, including Taiwanese Oscar winner Ang Lee (he was busy promoting Billy Lynn's Long Halftime Walk) and Chinese helmer Jiang Wen. Still, Caro showcased a knack for representing cultures outside of her own with her 2002 debut Whale Rider, which follows a young Maori girl who wants to become chief, a role traditionally reserved for men.

The feminist story of Mulan resonated deeply with Caro. "When I first started wanting to be a filmmaker, there was so little precedent for women doing this [big studio] work," she says. She has now directed the most expensive live-action film by a woman, joining only a handful (Kathryn Bigelow, Ava DuVernay and Patty Jenkins) who have helmed films costing more than $100 million. "Patty changed the game with Wonder Woman. It was like a shot of adrenaline for me as a filmmaker," says Caro, who assembled a mostly female-led crew, including cinematographer Mandy Walker, costume designer Bina Daigeler, makeup designer Denise Kum and first assistant director Liz Tan.

To those still upset that an Asian filmmaker didn't get the job, Caro responds: "Although it's a critically important Chinese story and it's set in Chinese culture and history, there is another culture at play here, which is the culture of Disney, and that the director, whoever they were, needed to be able to handle both — and here I am."

Soon after Caro's hiring, rumors about the movie began to swirl online. Years of studios centering Asian movies around white protagonists (from Scarlett Johansson's Ghost in the Shell to Matt Damon's The Great Wall) meant the threat of whitewashing loomed large. An early report online claimed that the first draft, penned by Elizabeth Martin and Lauren Hynek, featured a white male protagonist.

"This is the first time I've been on a big touchstone movie with the internet what it is today. And I had a Google alert set, so I'd see these things, 'Oh, there was originally a white male lead, or they're casting Jennifer Lawrence,' and they were all just made up," says Reed, who adds that there may have been two non-Chinese characters in the initial script, but both were secondary roles.

The rumors may have been unfounded, but the fallout was real: The Lawrence-as-Mulan story sparked a 2016 petition, "Tell Disney You Don't Want a Whitewashed Mulan!" drawing more than 110,000 signatures.

Ironically, as that rumor swirled, Caro struggled to find an actress to play Mulan. The global hunt began in October 2016, when Caro sent a team of casting directors to each continent and virtually every small village in China. They were looking for an actress who could play Mulan across three phases, from a young woman unsure of her place to a soldier masquerading as a man and, finally, as an empowered warrior. She had to be fluent in English, handle the physical demands of martial arts and deliver the more emotional moments with Mulan's family. "She's a needle in a haystack, but we were going to find her," says Caro. "It's impossible to make this movie without this person."

Though the studio cast a wide multinational net, Bill Kong — a veteran Chinese producer known for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Monster Hunt who was brought on as a producer on Mulan — advised Caro that in order for this film to play well in China, not just anyone of Asian descent would work. "The first thing I told her was, 'Hire a Chinese girl. You can't hire a Japanese girl to do this,' " he says.

Actresses who made it past that initial audition were brought to Los Angeles, but, after vetting several promising candidates for months, Caro decided to start over. (The search dragged on for so long that Disney delayed the original November 2018 release date.) Eventually, Liu, who had been unavailable during the first pass because of a TV show in China, was able to audition.

"I was determined that whoever played Mulan was not going to be fragile and feminine," says Caro. "She had to pass as a man in a man's army." So the director and a trainer put Liu through a 90-minute physical assessment, with extreme cardio and weight exercises. Other actresses fared less well. "Boy, did they flame out," says Caro with a laugh. But Liu "never complained once, never said, 'I can't.' She went to her limits."

With Liu, Disney also found an actress who could speak English, was familiar with martial arts from her TV work in China and, most importantly, was known to the Chinese market.

While Liu spent three months training for the role in New Zealand, Caro finished up her own extensive research. She took multiple trips to China and spoke to dozens of experts — including the world's foremost specialist on Tang dynasty military strategy. She also studied the 360-word Chinese poem The Ballad of Mulan, which first told the young heroine's story. The legend, which originated in the fifth or sixth century CE, is a tale as familiar in China as the story of Joan of Arc or Paul Bunyan in the West, and it's been adapted many times into plays, operas and films.

"I certainly wasn't aware of how deeply important it is to Mainland Chinese — all children are taught it," says Caro. "She is so meaningful that many places I went, people would say, 'Well, she comes from my village.' It was wonderful to feel that profound connection — but also terrifying."

As soon as the first trailers rolled out, so did the grumblings about factual inaccuracy, like the choice to situate Mulan's family in a tulou, a traditional round structure that housed several clans. These homes were mostly present in southern China, in what is now Fujian province (Mulan is said to be from the north), and would not have existed at the time she lived.

"I told [Caro] to not be too concerned about the historical accuracy," says Kong. "Mulan, though very famous, is fictional. She's not a historical person."

Disney tested the film thoroughly with Chinese audiences, including its own local executives. In an early version, Mulan kissed love interest Chen Honghui (Yoson An) on a bridge when they were about to part. "It was very beautiful, but the China office went, 'No, you can't, that doesn't feel right to the Chinese people,' " says Caro. "So we took it out."

Caro and the writers, Amanda Silver and Rick Jaffa (the husband-and-wife team behind Rise of the Planet of the Apes and Jurassic World who rewrote the original script), also had to consider the passionate fans of the 1998 film. Most Disney remakes, like Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin and The Lion King, have remained loyal to the tone and structure of the animated source material while adding a new song or character. Departing from that formula wasn't a swift decision. "We had a lot of conversations about it," says Reed. Ultimately they wanted "to tell this story in a way that is more real, more relatable, where we don't have the benefit of the joke to hide behind things that might be uncomfortable and we don't break into song to tell us the subtext."

They swapped the musical numbers and funny animal sidekicks for a large-scale war epic in which Mulan takes her father's place in the Imperial Army. "It's a woman's story that has been told for centuries but never by women, and we felt like it was really time to tell that story," says Silver. The question is whether Generation Z and millennials, who fell in love with these animated tales as kids and helped boost Aladdin to its $1 billion global haul, will embrace the direction. "To be honest, we really go by our gut and what creatively excites the team here," says Bailey. "I think it shows that there can be different approaches to these [movies] that have validity."

When word leaked that Mushu, the silly dragon sidekick (originally voiced by Eddie Murphy), would not be included, some fans expressed disappointment on social media. But the character's disappearance makes sense in the Chinese context. "Mushu was very popular in the U.S., but the Chinese hated it," says Rosen. "This kind of miniature dragon trivialized their culture."

Unlike its Marvel-branded films, Disney live-action movies must appeal to significantly younger audiences. Yet Caro wanted to make a real war movie. "You have to deliver on the war of it," she says, "and how do you do that under the Disney brand where you can't show any violence, gratuitous or otherwise?" She took advantage of the film's stunning locations, like setting a battle sequence in a geothermal valley, where steam could mask the fighting. "Those sequences, I'm proud of them. They're really beautiful and epic — but you can still take kids. No blood is shed. It's not Game of Thrones."

Disney's past live-action performance in China is a mixed bag. Both The Lion King ($120.5 million there) and Jungle Book ($148 million) enjoyed strong showings. Aladdin earned only $53 million, while 2017's Beauty and the Beast took in just $84 million (though it earned $1.3 billion worldwide).

Of course, the expectations for Mulan in China are much higher. "They will eventually release it in China," Dergarabedian notes. "It's just a matter of when and what effect that might have." Some analysts forecast that the film could match the success of the Kung Fu Panda series. The third movie, released in 2016, earned north of $144.2 million and became the country's biggest animated film ever. It was praised for being a Hollywood film that understood and showed respect toward the Chinese culture. Panda, however, had the advantage of being a Chinese co-production, which guarantees a larger share of the market — an advantage Mulan doesn't have.

Caro thinks about the film's fate there in more than simply financial terms. "Of course it's vitally important that it succeeds in China," she says, "because it belongs to China."

#mulan #live action mulan #disney #chinese #article #interview #china #liu yifei

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ifuckinglovestvincent · 5 years

Text

Switching Lanes With St. Vincent

By Molly Young

January 22, 2019

Jacket (men’s), $4,900, pants (men’s), $2,300, by Dior / Men shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Rings (throughout) by Cartier

On a cold recent night in Brooklyn, St. Vincent appeared onstage in a Saint Laurent smoking jacket to much clapping and hooting, gave the crowd a deadpan look, and said, “Without being reductive, I'd like to say that we haven't actually done anything yet.” Pause. “So let's do something.”

She launched into a cover of Lou Reed's “Perfect Day”: an arty torch-song version that made you really wonder whom she was thinking about when she sang it. This was the elusive chanteuse version of St. Vincent, at least 80 percent leg, with slicked-back hair and pale, pale skin. She belted, sipped from a tumbler of tequila (“Oh, Christ on a cracker, that's strong”), executed little feints and pounces, flung the mic cord away from herself like a filthy sock, and spat on the stage a bunch of times. Nine parts Judy Garland, one part GG Allin.

If the Garland-Allin combination suggests that St. Vincent is an acquired taste, she's one that has been acquired by a wide range of fans. The crowd in Brooklyn included young women with Haircuts in pastel fur and guys with beards of widely varying intentionality. There was a woman of at least 90 years and a Hasidic guy in a tall hat, which was too bad for whoever sat behind him. There were models, full nuclear families, and even a solitary frat bro. St. Vincent brings people together.

If you chart the career of Annie Clark, which is St. Vincent's civilian name, you will see what start-up founders and venture capitalists call “hockey-stick growth.” That is, a line that moves steadily in a northeast direction until it hits an “inflection point” and shoots steeply upward. It's called hockey-stick growth because…it looks like a hockey stick.

Dress, by Balmain

The toe of the stick starts with Marry Me, Clark's debut solo album, which came out a decade ago and established a few things that would become essential St. Vincent traits: her ability to play a zillion instruments (she's credited on the album with everything from dulcimer to vibraphone), her highbrow streak (Shakespeare citations), her goofy streak (“Marry me!” is an Arrested Development bit), and her oceanic library of musical references (Kate Bush, Steve Reich, uh…D'Angelo!). The blade of the stick is her next four albums, one of them a collaboration with David Byrne, all of them confirming her presence as an enigma of indie pop and a guitar genius. The stick of the stick took a non-musical detour in 2016, when Clark was photographed canoodling with (now ex-) girlfriend Cara Delevingne at Taylor Swift's mansion, followed a few months later by pictures of Clark holding hands with Kristen Stewart. That brought her to the realm of mainstream paparazzi-pictures-in-the-Daily-Mail celebrity. Finally, the top of the stick is Masseduction, the 2017 album she co-produced with Jack Antonoff, which revealed St. Vincent to be not only experimental and beguiling but capable of turning out incorrigible bangers.

Masseduction made the case that Clark could be as much a pop star as someone like Sia or Nicki Minaj—a performer whose idiosyncrasies didn't have to be tamped down for mainstream success but could actually be amplified. The artist Bruce Nauman once said he made work that was like “going up the stairs in the dark and either having an extra stair that you didn't expect or not having one that you thought was going to be there.” The idea applies to Masseduction: Into the familiar form of a pop song Clark introduces surprising missteps, unexpected additions and subtractions. The album reached No. 10 on the Billboard 200. The David Bowie comparisons got louder.

This past fall, she released MassEducation (not quite the same title; note the addition of the letter a), which turned a dozen of the tracks into stripped-down piano songs. Although technically off duty after being on tour for nearly all of 2018, Clark has been performing the reduced songs here and there in small venues with her collaborator, the composer and pianist Thomas Bartlett. Whereas the Masseduction tour involved a lot of latex, neon, choreographed sex-robot dance moves, and LED screens, these recent shows have been comparatively austere. When she performed in Brooklyn, the stage was empty, aside from a piano and a side table. There were blue lights, a little piped-in fog for atmosphere, and that was it. It looked like an early-'90s magazine ad for premium liquor: art-directed, yes, but not to the degree that it Pinterested itself.

Coat, (men’s) $8,475, by Versace / Shoes, by Christian Louboutin / Tights, by Wolford

The performance was similarly informal. Midway through one song, Clark forgot the lyrics and halted. “It takes a different energy to be performing [than] to sit in your sweatpants watching Babylon Berlin,” she said. “Wherever I am, I completely forget the past, and I'm like. ‘This is now.’ And sometimes this means forgetting song lyrics. So, if you will…tell me what the second fucking verse is.”

Clark has only a decade in the public eye behind her, but she's accomplished a good amount of shape-shifting. An openness to the full range of human expression, in fact, is kind of a requirement for being a St. Vincent fan. This is a person who has appeared in the front row at Chanel and also a person who played a gig dressed as a toilet, a person profiled in Vogue and on the cover of Guitar World.

The day before her Brooklyn show, I sat with Clark to find out what it's like to be utterly unstructured, time-wise, after a long stretch of knowing a year in advance that she had to be in, like, Denmark on July 4 and couldn't make plans with friends.

“I've been off tour now for three weeks,” she said. “When I say ‘off,’ I mean I didn't have to travel.”

This doesn't mean she hasn't traveled—she went to L.A. to get in the studio with Sleater-Kinney and also hopped down to Texas, where she grew up—just that she hasn't been contractually obligated to travel. What else did she do on her mini-vacation?

“I had the best weekend last weekend. I woke up and did hot Pilates, and then I got a bunch of new modular synths, and I set 'em up, and I spent ten hours with modular synths. Plugging things in. What happens when I do this? I'm unburdened by a full understanding of what's going on, so I'm very willing to experiment.”

Coat, by Boss

Jacket, and coat, by Boss / Necklace, by Cartier

Like a child?

“Exactly. Did you ever get those electronics kits as a kid for like 20 bucks from RadioShack? Where you connect this wire to that one and a light bulb turns on? It's very much like that.”

There's an element of chaos, she said, that makes synth noodling a neat way to stumble on melodies that she might not have consciously assembled. She played with the synths by herself all day. “I don't stop, necessarily,” she said, reflecting on what the idea of “vacation” means to someone for whom “job” and “things I love to do” happen to overlap more or less exactly. “I just get to do other things that are really fun. I'm in control of my time.” She had plans to see a show at the New Museum, read books, play music and see movies alone, always sitting on the aisle so she could make a quick escape if necessary. But she will probably keep working. St. Vincent doesn't have hobbies.

When it manifests in a person, this synergy between life and work is an almost physically perceptible quality, like having brown eyes or one leg or being beautiful. Like beauty, it's a result of luck, and a quality that can invoke total despair in people who aren't themselves allotted it. This isn't to say that Clark's career is a stroke of unearned fortune but that her skills and character and era and influences have collided into a perfect storm of realized talent. And to have talent and realize that talent and then be beloved by thousands for exactly the thing that is most special about you: Is there anything a person could possibly want more? Is this why Annie Clark glows? Or is it because she's super pale? Or was it because there was a sound coming through the window where we sat that sounded thrillingly familiar?

“Is Amy Sedaris running by?” Clark asked, her spine straightening. A man with a boom mic was visible on the sidewalk outside. Another guy in a baseball cap issued instructions to someone beyond the window. Someone said “Action!” and a figure in vampire makeup and a clown wig streaked across the sidewalk. Someone said “Cut!” and Clark zipped over for a look. It was, in fact, Amy Sedaris, her clown wig bobbing in the 44-degree breeze. The mic operator was gagging with laughter. It seemed like a good omen, this sighting, like the New York City version of Groundhog Day: If an Amy Sedaris streaks across your sight line in vampire makeup, spring will arrive early.

Blazer (men’s) $1,125, by Paul Smith

Another thing Clark does when off tour is absorb all the input that she misses when she's locked into performance mode. On a Monday afternoon, she met artist Lisa Yuskavage at an exhibition of her paintings at the David Zwirner gallery in Chelsea. Yuskavage was part of a mini-boom of figurative painting in the '90s, turning out portraits of Penthouse centerfolds and giant-jugged babes with Rembrandt-esque skill. It made sense that Clark wanted to meet her: Both women make art about the inner lives of female figures, both are sorcerers of technique, both are theatrical but introspective, both have incendiary style. The gallery was a white cube, skylit, with paintings around the perimeter. Yuskavage and Clark wandered through at a pace exclusive to walking tours of cultural spaces, which is to say a few steps every 10 to 15 seconds with pauses between for the proper amount of motionless appreciation.

The paintings were small, all about the size of a human head, and featured a lot of nipples, tufted pudenda, tan lines, majestic asses, and protruding tongues. “I like the idea of possessing something by painting it,” Yuskavage said. “That's the way I understand the world. Like a dog licking something.”

Clark looked at the works with the expression people make when they're meditating. She was wearing elfin boots, black pants, and a shirt with a print that I can only describe as “funky”—“funky” being an adjective that looks good on very few people, St. Vincent being one of them—and sipped from a cup of espresso furnished by a gallery minion. After she finished the drink, there was a moment when she looked blankly at the saucer, unsure what to do with it, and then stuck it in the breast pocket of her funky shirt for the rest of the tour.

A painting called Sweetpuss featured a bubble-butted blonde in beaded panties with nipples so upwardly erect they actually resembled little boners. Yuskavage based the underwear on a pair of real underwear that she'd constructed herself from colored balls and string. “I've got the beaded panties if you ever need 'em,” she said to Clark. “They might fit you. They're tiny.”

Earrings, by Erickson Beamon

“I'm picturing you going to the Garment District,” Clark said.

“There was a lot of going to the Garment District.”

As they completed their lap around the white cube, Clark interjected with questions—what year was this? were you considering getting into film? how long did these sittings take? what does “mise-en-scène” mean?—but mainly listened. And she is a good listener: an inquisitive head tilter, an encouraging nodder, a non-fidgeter, a maker of eye contact. She found analogues between painting and music. When Yuskavage mourned the death of lead white paint (due to its poisonous qualities, although, as the artist pointed out, “It's not that big a deal to not get lead poisoning; just don't eat the paint”), Clark compared it to recording's transition from tape to digital.

“Back in the day, if you wanted to hear something really reverberant”—she clapped; it reverberated—“you'd have to be in a room like this and record it, or make a reverb chamber,” Clark said. “Now we have digital plug-ins where you can say, ‘Oh, I want the acoustic resonance of the Sistine Chapel.’ Great. Somebody's gone and sampled that and created an algorithm that sounds like you're in the Sistine Chapel.”

Lately, she said, she's been way more into devices that betray their imperfections. That are slightly out of tune, or capable of messing up, or less forgiving of human intervention. “Air moving through a room,” Clark said. “That's what's interesting to me.”

They kept pacing. The paintings on the wall evolved. Conversation turned to what happens when you grow as an artist and people respond by flipping out.

“I always find it interesting when someone wants you to go back to ‘when you were good,’ ” Yuskavage said. “This is why we liked you.”

“I can't think of anybody where I go, ‘What's great about that artist is their consistency, ” Clark said. “Anything that stays the same for too long dies. It fails to capture people's imagination.”

Coat (mens), $1,150, by Acne Studios

They were identifying a problem with fans, of course, not with themselves. It was an implicit identification, because performers aren't permitted to critique their audiences, and it was definitely the artistic equivalent of a First World problem—an issue that arises only when you're so resplendent with talent that you not only nail something enough to attract adoration but nail it hard enough to get personally bored and move on—but it was still valid. They were talking about the kind of fan who clings to a specific tree when he or she could be roaming through a whole forest. In St. Vincent's case, a forest of prog-rock thickets and jazzy roots and orchestral brambles and mournful-ballad underlayers, all of it sprouting and molting under a prodigious pop canopy. They were talking about the strange phenomenon of people getting mad at you for surprising them. Even if the surprise is great.

Molly Young is a writer living in New York City. She wrote about Donatella Versace in the April 2018 issue of GQ.

A version of this story originally appeared in the February 2019 issue with the title "Switching Lanes With St. Vincent."

#st vincent #annie clark #gq #interviews #shakespeare citations #christ on a cracker #lmao

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