#Sky Full of Stars

[maureen2musings]

Galactic light

ang_sweet23

[assassin1513]

✨Beyond the Stars ✨

[absolute-1nsanity]

✨Coldplay✨

Ένας ουρανός γεμάτος αστέρια

06/09/2024

📍Αθήνα, Ολυμπιακό στάδιο

[strawberross]

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓪 𝓼𝓴𝔂

𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓼.

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - An Adrien Brody/Jade Burton (OC) Story.

Lord help me, besties. We're starting this, and we're starting it now because I cannot wait to reveal it to you! I did say I wouldn't write RPF again as it feels too personal a line to cross, so please bear in mind that while I have tried to remain true to who Adrien appears to be, he is a little fictionalised, too. The same goes for his family and friends as well. I have created them as OC's because it feels much too intrusive to his life to write them otherwise.

Well, the first chapter is mammoth, so please do make sure you're sitting comfortably with a drink and some snacky snacks before you embark. I cannot wait to hear your thoughts!

A huge thank you again to my beautiful @jemmalynette for the lovely photo manip she created for me, and to Angelina Jolie for serving as Jade's face claim! If you want to know Jade's voice claim a little better, here. This is the scream she hit Adrien with upon first meeting him! - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a98LI-arNS4

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 5,614

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

“Tell us something about your wife that people would find surprising.” 

He mulls it over for a few seconds, looking to his side at her, laughing as he takes in her raised eyebrows. “She’s actually quite introverted, unless she knows the people she’s with well. Then her volume and mischief amp up considerably,” he begins, which I must say is perhaps the last thing I expected him to reply with. “No, no. It’s completely true, she is. She’s often quiet, an extreme juxtapose for how she appears up on stage with a microphone in her hand, but yeah. The Jade you see performing live is a completely different entity to the woman she is away from it, and I found that out pretty quickly after we first met.”  

It is a stark contrast to the public persona of Jade Burton-Brody, a woman known for rarely shying away from being outspoken and controversial, whether it be her fiercely penned lyrics, or her opinions on the subject matters she holds dear. She was, after all, the woman who advised legions of young female rock fans to, and I quote, “Burn the patriarchy to the goddamned ground.” 

Before me today, though, I do see a much softer side to the screaming hurricane of a woman I familiarised myself with through the scouring of YouTube videos, a woman more than happy to let her husband lead in the questions, always looking to him to reply first. She has spoken in the past of him being her unequivocal strength and support, and I take her back to that, the moment she first met the man she would marry just six months after their first meeting. 

“Jade, you’ve spoken about your first meeting a couple of times in the past, but for the record, would you care to share it again?”  

She laughs loudly at my question, leaning into her husband a little, combing her fingers through her hair as she remembers fifteen years into the past. “I screamed in his face, he liked it, and the rest is history.” 

Indeed, such a meeting did seal itself into history, the moment the iconic pair met captured by a photographer pointing his camera in the right direction at exactly the right time, immortalising the moment where the formidable first lady of metal took to the barriers at the Rock and Iron festival, grabbed the hand of the Hollywood heavyweight, and proceeded to scream like a harpy about an inch from his face. “She blew my eardrums out,” Adrien speaks of the moment, “I had never heard anything that loud in the whole of my life!” 

Indeed, like it he did, the first stages of their fledgling relationship captured on film while a documentary team were following her and the band, shooting the footage for the 2010 documentary, “The Devil you Don’t Know.” As the footage shows, the actor found himself with a rare two week break between projects, one of those weeks spent living on a tour bus with the band, unwilling to be parted from the woman he’d struck up such an immediate connection with. 

“I called my manager and told her to shift all my interviews to telephone, rearranged everything for the following week before I flew out to Hawaii to begin shooting Predators, and yeah, lived on a bus with five insane, but adorable women for seven days.” He smiles a little shyly, his eyes warm as he views her. “Didn’t want to let her go.”  

When asked if it was love at first sight, he elaborates a little further. “I’ve never believed in that. Too many components have to fall into place for love to bloom, so I don’t think it can be so spontaneous as to simply view somebody and feel such a powerful emotion right off the bat. After that week I spent with her, though. Yeah. I departed from the tour knowing I’d left behind the girl I was going to marry someday.” 

And for Jade? “I knew. He was my person. Still is fifteen years on, too.”  

Just viewing the natural ease the couple have around one another cements that, after battling with so much over their years together. They both freely admit they rarely saw one another for the first two years of their marriage, their relationship plagued by media scrutiny, storms of paparazzi, accusations of their romance serving purely as a manufactured PR pairing for publicity, others stating that it was to give Jade greater leverage as she further embarked upon her acting career away from the world of music. One only has to watch the woman on screen to see that she carries enough weight from her own talents to not need the bolstering of her husband’s surname to snare her hard-earned successes.  

Indeed, the pair have weathered many storms and come through them stronger, standing as one of Hollywood’s most illimitable power couples, yet the term is somewhat lost on them both. “We’re complete dorks,” Jade laughs, “we really are. We set one another off all the time being absolutely ridiculous.” 

“It’s true,” her husband confirms, beginning to chuckle right on cue. “Nobody makes me laugh like her. It’s so corny, but truly, she’s my best friend. Deciding to get on that bus fifteen years ago was one of the greatest decisions I ever made.”  

It can be witnessed quite easily, too. It takes only a few glimpses into their respective social media accounts to see the humorous ease they tease one another with, but always with incredible affection. ‘Baby love! <3 Love you too, Morticia!’ Adrien commented on a heartfelt post his wife recently shared to Instagram, a throwback picture of the pair kissing at the 2016 Oscar’s ceremony, where his beloved won best supporting actress for her role across from Robert De Niro in the 2016 blockbuster, Five Marked Men. 

“It took him about a month to get over me with black hair instead of blonde, so I was Morticia for four straight weeks instead of Jade!” she laughs, obviously taking his teasing with good humour.  

“I was so damned proud of her, even though I couldn’t get used to the black hair,” he laughs taking her hand in his. “Always have been. She’s incredible.” 

And truly? Adrien wasn’t wrong in what he stated about boarding that tour bus in the interview for a very well-known media outlet, who had come to their home for a rare glimpse into their private life together. Yet for Jade, it began much earlier than that, at a time when perhaps she was least willing to hear what her future had in store for her. 

San Luis Obispo, CA, 2007. 

“Come on, Skippy. No dragging those feet.” 

Jade did nothing to conceal the force of her huff, pulling back from the beachfront steps of the home she was being dragged to by the enthusiastic, blonde whirlwind that was her closest friend and drummer in their band. Jen had always put a lot of faith in psychics, Jade not so much at all, living in a world of regret at agreeing from sheer relentless nagging only to go and have her tealeaves read.  

“You have to stop calling me Skippy. One day, this day, actually. Enough!”  

Jen grinned, a flash of bright white teeth widening her mouth. “Maybe when you don’t make clicking noises like the little kangaroo in your sleep, I might.” Skippy or Skip, it had been her much-begrudged nickname since they’d struck up a friendship as teenagers upon Jade’s arrival from the UK to America. 

Entering the home, they were greeted warmly by Cerise, the lady of the tealeaves, tarot cards and all things mystic, Jade politely giving her a little hug before they seated themselves at the large, round table. All around, large canvasses ode to the divine and spiritual covered the walls, candles flickering, incense burning, casting strong plumes of eastern fragrance into the air.  

“Her first!” Jen spoke enthusiastically as the tea was poured, drumming her hands rapidly off the table.  

Cerise jerked her head to the left, viewing Jade with a warm smile. “She’s always tapping, this one, isn’t she?” 

“Typical drummer,” she confirmed, winking at her as Cerise went about her tea preparation, the women making pleasant chit chat as the brew was drank. 

“Now, you don’t have to tell me anything, darling. I’m not one of those charlatans who cold reads situations to feed it back to you. What I see, I see it without being told anything from the person I’m reading from.” She truly doubted the validity of that, but nodded politely, passing her cup into Cerise’s outstretched hand. “I sometimes get extra information from my spirits as well, so if they have anything, they’ll pipe up. They usually do.” Staring into the cup, she began studying the pattern of the grainy tea, humming to herself. “The man you’re with right now? He isn’t the one. It’ll be the one after him.” 

Immediately, Jade found herself feeling prickled on the inside, mildly incensed that anyone would say that the man she’d spent three years with happily would not end up as the one she would stay so blissfully in love with. How dare she even suggest!  

She wouldn’t unleash that indignance, though. “How can you tell?”  

“Trust me, darling. I can tell. Oh, my spirits are in good voice, hold on.” Closing her eyes, she appeared as if she was listening, shaking her head and waving her hands. “One at a time, for the love of...” Jade’s face of utter disbelief earned her a soft foot to the shin beneath the table, Jen tightening her lips and widening her eyes. Cerise nodded, humming in confirmation before casting her eyes back to the cup. “Okay, I have more information. The man you’ll end up with, well you’ll know for sure when you meet him, sweetheart. You’ll scream at him. He also has the same name as your dog.”  

“I beg your pardon?” Jade coughed, her beloved Great Dane appearing in her mind’s eye. “I’m meeting someone called Brodie, who I’ll scream at? Right. Okay.”  

“He’ll spell it differently, darling. Oh, and his eyes. You’ll love his eyes, because you will never have seen green like them before. Yes, most certainly, he is the man who will come into your life and never leave it.”  

She had to bite her cheek to prevent herself from laughing. “Alright. Thank you.”  

While a much more willing Jen had her tealeaves read, Jade went outside for a cigarette, calling her boyfriend to relay the ridiculous message she’d just been given. 

“Um, she said what?” Ivan snorted, his laugh booming down the phone. “Uh-uh, no fucking way. Like I’d ever let you go.”  

The Russian born, but American raised Ivan Kuznetsov had been her absolute everything since meeting him three years previously, watching him win his bout at a UFC fight in Las Vegas. Because of their schedules, Jade and her seemingly endless long hauls of touring, also parlaying her talents into the acting world, and Ivan locked in rigorous training, they didn’t see as much of one another as they’d have liked, but they made it work.  

Until they didn’t. Until it broke, or rather, until he and his famously ferocious temper broke it completely, almost twelve months on from the tealeaves message she’d received, and quickly forgotten all about. She’d have been lying if she’d claimed she hadn’t seen the red flags, Ivan’s steroid use growing completely out of control, cheating urine tests in order to keep juicing, growing ever bigger through the use of the banned substance. It wasn’t just his muscles and performance that had dramatically grown. So had his temper.  

Roid rage, they called it. It was never something she thought she would bear witness to, until she found herself on his kitchen floor, being throttled and punched, her only saviour her dog, the Great Dane bitch jumping on his back and sinking her teeth into the meat of his trapezius at seeing her human being so viciously beaten.  

The combined effort of a valiant rescue dog and a woman determined not to die at her fiancé's hands got him off of her, Jade grabbing Brodie’s collar and her bag as she ran from the house, dived into her car and drove away as quickly as she could.  

She never returned.  

Ivan was arrested and subsequently charged for the sickening assault that disgraced his name in the sporting world, discharged from the UFC and sent away to serve a five-year prison sentence. It was a pitiful excuse for justice, especially when he’d probably be freed after three if he behaved himself. Jade knew the outcome likely wouldn’t see him put away for any longer, as she’d been advised by her legal team prior to giving evidence at the trial. Domestic violence victims rarely did receive the adequate recompense where the punishment of their abuser was concerned.  

A victim. It was a role she’d sworn never to play, speaking on the event many months afterwards. “I am not his victim. I’m the one who had the sense to get away as soon as he raised a hand to me. There’s nothing that correlates to victimhood there.”  

Some doubted her stance, thinking her to be in denial over it, claiming she needed to seek therapy to get herself through her ordeal. In Jade’s mind, her therapy was her music, one of the tracks from her band’s seventh album, entitled Nomad, serving as cathartic release over the attack. It also got her through the passing of her beloved Brodie, the dog dying at the grand old age of eleven six months after she’d parted ways with Ivan. It was almost unheard of for the breed to reach such an age, and if Jade was thankful for anything, it was having an extra three unexpected years with her faithful old girl. 

She felt lonely if she let herself sit still for long enough, so kept busy through the machine that was her life, driving her from movie set to stage to recording studio, long hours and hard work elevating her status in both worlds, her band, Seventh Gate releasing Nomad to a huge success and taking to the road in early two thousand and nine, complete with a stint moving from one summer festival to the next.  

One such date upon that stint was the Rock and Iron show, something all the girls in the band had been looking forward to playing. It had been a longstanding one-day festival held in California for the past eleven years, the band playing it a couple of times before on the smaller stage.  

This time, though, playing the prime afternoon spot of 3pm-4pm, they walked out on the main stage at the open-air show to eighty thousand screaming rock fans, Jade feeling sick with nerves, as usual. It didn’t matter an ounce that the rock press hailed her as the first lady of metal, who praised her huge vocal range and coined her as one of the first to combine both powerful, clean vocals and blistering, guttural roars. She still felt like her legs were about to give way every time she climbed the steps and walked across the stage, ready to view her kingdom.  

Or queendom, as it was. Because to the thousands of people who cheered at the sight of her, she was their monarch. Some viewed her a little differently. 

“Oh man, there she is!” Lewis piped up, clapping his hands above his head. “There’s god!”  

Adrien turned to view him with mild incredulity, shaking his head. “Man, you’re something else with this fanboy thing you have going on.” Whatever he might have followed that with was obliterated by the noise that came from the speakers, the roar of guitars, drums like canons, and a scream that sounded like something he could only liken to a creature being spat up from hell for being too aggressive. “Damn. She’s got some pipes.”  

Lewis didn’t reply, too busy getting into the first song of their set, Adrien feeling himself furtherly crushed right up against the barrier. He was trying to have a good time, he truly was, but metal wasn’t really where it was at for him. A die-hard hip-hop connoisseur, being dragged to an open-air rock and metal festival hadn’t been his idea, but Lewis’s girlfriend had bailed on him, quite literally, ending their relationship just one month prior. Conveniently, he had a rare two weeks off work, so had allowed his friend to talk him into it.  

As his chest was shunted hard against the barrier for what felt like the four hundredth time that afternoon, he once again sorely regretted it. However, looking up at the stage, he couldn’t help but view the women performing upon it with genuine curiosity. They were perhaps the tightest in sound of anyone he’d seen that day, their energy enigmatic, especially the swagger exuded from their front woman.  

She was like a supernova personified, commanding a crowd of thousands, her presence much larger than the tall, yet slight frame it inhabited. Although the music wasn’t to his taste, he had to admit she impressed him, having the vocal range that allowed her to sing powerfully delivered harmonies one minute, and roars that sounded not of his earth the next. Her talent completely blew him away. 

Also, her adoration for her fans was clear, sending the security into a frenzy when she jumped down off the stage between songs, embracing a few people reaching for her on the front row as the next song began to filter through the wall of speakers. The crowd screamed along with the opening lyrics, Adrien watching as suddenly, the blonde whirlwind strode in his direction at speed, jumping onto the barrier, grabbing his hand, and bellowing out a scream a mere inch from his face. He laughed, Lewis nearly fainted, and Jade winked at him before she was gone again in a blink, returning to the stage.  

“Do you know how goddamned lucky you are? Dude!” Lewis yelled, mouth hanging open. “Dude! God just screamed right in your face!” 

Adrien continued to chuckle, looking up at the stage. “Yeah,” he spoke, his heart fluttering, “guess she did.” While her music mightn't have been to his taste, seeing her so close up, he had to admit the way she looked definitely was. God, she was sexy. Very, very sexy “I think she blew my fucking eardrums out!” 

Lewis was in fits at his assertion, clapping him on the back before continuing to enjoy the show. At the next break between songs, Jade found herself beckoned for by Katie, their lead guitarist, her eyes wide as she jumped up and down with her usual zany energy. “Bro! You just screamed in Adrien Brody’s face!” 

“Who?” 

“Adrien fucking Brody! The actor!” 

Jade was still none the wiser. “The hot guy with the dark hair?” 

“Yes!” 

“What’s he been in?”  

Katie could have slapped her. “Um, only your mom’s favourite movie.” 

Finally, the penny dropped. “Oh shit, the guy from The Pianist?” 

“Yes!” 

“That’s him?” 

“Yes, you massively blind douche! God damnit, you never know who anybody is!” 

Her eyes almost came out on stalks for not actually recognising him. 

“Oh my god!” Having a very large crowd to entertain, she couldn’t say anything further on the subject, but she kept her eye on him for the rest of their set, calling over one of their roadies a couple of songs later as she ran to the side of the stage to grab her flask of herbal tea. “I take it you know who Adrien Brody is, right?” she asked, letting the herbal brew sink down her throat and coat it in an effort to not feel like she’d swallowed a chainsaw. 

Sunni smirked, stroking his beard. “Yeah, boss. The guy whose face you screamed in.” 

“Give him and whoever he’s with backstage passes. I wanna meet him.” She watched as Sunni scuttled off to go and locate a few of the prized lanyards that gave people access to the coveted backstage area, before launching into the next song. Out of the corner of her eye, she was able to see Adrien and the guy with the blonde hair he was with jump the barrier, being escorted stage right to watch the remainder of their set from the wings, along with the rest of the Seventh Gate road crew.  

While there, they were approached by a woman who introduced herself as Hazel Bernstein, the tour manager for the band, asking since they were currently being filmed for a documentary about Jade’s life and career if they minded being on camera. They confirmed that no, they didn’t mind at all, Hazel having them sign a couple of release forms before another member of the crew ushered them backstage.  

The area was made up of large tents dotted around for each band to reside in before and after their performances, the guys shown in and furnished with beers as they sat down on one of the couches provided.  

Adrien looked to his side, watching Lewis as his eyes darted around. “You look edgy, man.” 

“I’m about to meet one of my favourite bands, and I don’t even have a fucking clue what the hell to say to them!” he exclaimed, gulping back his beer. 

He couldn’t help himself. “Hello might be a good place to start.” 

“Noted, Captain Sarcastic.” Looking at him, he burst into a snorting fit of laughter, wishing he had a fraction of his very famous friend’s effortless cool. Alas, he did not. The first of the women through the tent made his mouth drop open, Katie going to the cooler and pulling herself out a bottle of bourbon, emptying an eye watering amount into an ice-filled red solo cup before she came right on over.  

“Hi guys! How you doing, you having a good time? Damn, it’s fucking hot, right?” She talked rapidly, like a machine gun going off, shaking their hands with the exact same enthusiasm she spoke with, Lewis looking like he was about to burst. 

“Katie Gilmore, just coming over, shaking my hand, asking how I am, like I’m fucking anyone at all,” he spoke in a daze of disbelief, Adrien shaking his head. 

“Ignore him, he’s a little... yeah.”  

She chuckled, lifting her cup to him. “And you’re one helluva actor, my guy. I could be obvious and praise you to hell for The Pianist, because damn, that movie was outstanding, but I fucking adored you in Summer of Sam! You make a cute punk, bro!” 

“Thank you,” he smiled graciously, “and in turn, you’re a hell of a guitarist. I don’t know much about rock or metal, but you make what I guess is real difficult look incredibly easy.”  

They were then joined by the force of nature that was Jen, the band’s drummer, the tall, rail thin blonde approaching, pointing at Adrien. “Can I sit on your lap and get a picture with you, dude?”  

He smiled, patting his black denim covered thighs. “Sure, hop on.”  

“Billy!” she roared, moving to throw herself down, “get over here and do the clicky, clicky!” A man holding a professional camera ambled over, Jen smiling as she wrapped her arms around him, and then promptly licked his cheek. “Man, you taste delicious!” she shouted, Adrien laughing, a little taken aback at her brash behaviour, but somehow quite charmed all the same. “What is that?” 

“Sweat and beer,” he confirmed, Jen throwing her head back and roaring before she got up.  

“My favourite things! See you guys later, I gotta go see some other people!” Sweat and beer, also cocaine, if her eyes were anything to go by. He knew high as hell when he saw it. 

“Hey, you boys like tequila? I got a load in the cooler, let’s get some shots in, huh?” Katie spoke, grabbing a hand a piece and hauling them up. There, they were introduced to rhythm guitarist Charlotte, who was much, much quieter than the other members of the band they’d met so far, very reserved and polite. Still, Lewis was firmly stuck in starstruck mode, trying hard to find some semblance of cool, but losing it completely. 

And then she walked on over. 

“Hi,” she chirped in a voice that sounded much too sweet ever be able to conjure the ferocious roars she was famous for, Lewis looking like he was about to pass out. Jade wasn’t looking at him for long, though. “How are you?” 

“A little deaf,” Adrien admitted. 

“Sorry about that,” she cringed, laughing softly. “One hearing test owed to Adrien Brody. Noted.” Oh, she was witty. He liked witty.  

“Yeah, that’s one hell of a set of lungs you have,” he complimented, Jade moving past where her girls stood, pulling herself a bottle of water from the cooler, sinking a shot Katie thrust in her direction. 

“Mm, yeah,” she hummed quietly, unscrewing the bottle cap, cocking her head as a confident smile shined through. “I like to think so.” God, the man had the most gorgeous green eyes she’d ever seen in her life, Jade feeling herself pulled in by them, trying not to feel awkward at the fact that she was standing there talking to a man whose fame eclipsed her own in shades. She could feel her internal monologue beginning to flounder at what to say to him next, relieved when Adrien pointed to her t shirt. 

“Rough Trade, that’s about my favourite record store in all of New York. Spent entirely too much time and money in there during my youth,” he noted, Jade gesturing to the couch. 

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she spoke as they sat down, sipping her water. “I used to work there on a weekend before the band blew up and took off.” 

“Yeah? What part of New York did you live in? I take it from the accent that you moved over, right?” Of course, she did. Duh. He could have kicked himself, but she didn’t react in any way other than to politely answer. 

“I did. I’m from Tottenham, London, but moved over with my parents when I was thirteen. I lived in Harlem. What about you? You sound New York born and bred, and apologies if you think I might be one of those people who knows everything about you already, but I really don’t!”  

He watched the embarrassment crease her face as she cringed, reaching to gently squeeze her wrist. “No, you’re fine! God, it’s refreshing, actually, to talk to somebody who doesn’t know anything about me already!” he began, very much enjoying that she truly was a little clueless over him. It made weeding out those with a genuine interest in who he was away from his famous persona much easier. “And yeah, Queens born and bred.” 

“Do you still live there?” 

“In New York, yeah, but further north. I’ve a house in Oswego County, right out in the middle of nowhere. It’s a mess still, long term restoration project, but I like it. I like not being bothered while I’m not working. I have a place here, too, but only a rental. How about you?” 

“Couple of places,” she began, noticing the documentary guys hovering, pointing at them discreetly. “Don’t mind, do you?”  

“I don’t. Your tour manager already came and asked us.” 

She nodded, continuing. “So yeah, I have a house out in California and an apartment in the West Village. I just bought a property over in England as well, gorgeous estate in Buckinghamshire that the Laurel Canyon house is shortly being rented out to afford.” 

Rock music was lucrative, it seemed, for her to own three homes. “That’s smart, renting. You’ll get more for it long term, too. Especially with the association of living in a rock star’s house.”  

“Certain would-be renters’ll probably think I have cocaine stashed all over or something,” she snorted, “which is hilarious as I don’t do hard drugs. Used to, but it messed with my ability to perform, so I knocked it on the head.” 

He loved how candid she was, not hiding anything for appearances sake. She was also entirely too beautiful for her own good, with the prettiest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen in his life, eyes he couldn’t look away from for a second. A parade of naked women could have walked into the tent right at that moment, and he wouldn’t even have turned his head.  

They continued their talk, seemingly oblivious to the merriment going on around them, finding out tentative bits of information about one another, their families, their interests and passions. They had one in particular that surprised the hell out of him. 

“Get the fuck out of here! You’re into hip-hop?” 

“No, you get the fuck out,” she teased, gently pinching his arm as she laughed. “Yeah, I am! I’m into so much music, but growing up in the areas that I did, it was such an ingrained staple. I was the only white girl amongst all my friends and just absorbed the hip-hop culture like a sponge. I got to listen to so much in the store too. It had its perks, working at Rough Trade.  

“I still nearly died on the spot when Method Man came strolling in one day. Wu Tang had released thirty-six chambers the year before, and I couldn’t stop playing it, so yeah, I was completely dumbstruck. He walks up to the counter and I’m just like, “no way, you’re Method Man,” to which he smiled, looked at my name tag and said, “no way, you’re Jade. Whassup, girl?" We became friends, he’s such a cool guy. Comes by my place whenever he can when we’re both back in New York. I cook him pasta and he plays me new stuff he’s been working on. I got a lot of time for Clifford, he’s real straight up.” 

“Yeah, I know him a little, too. I’m more friends with RZA, though. I got into making beats in my teens and he’s acted as a mentor to me. Cool guy,” he replied casually, Jade grasping his arms and giving them a little shake. 

“You make beats?” she cried, her eyes widening, “play me something! Do you have anything on your phone?”  

He shook his head. “Nope, it’s all at home on my laptop. But I will one day, though.” She made a sad face, Adrien pulling his arms from her soft grip, linking his fingers through hers. Oh... too forward, he suddenly panicked. When her fingers squeezed his hands, he realised it wasn’t. Her lit-up face told him it wasn’t, too. God, it was like a thunderbolt had just cut through the tent and hit him square atop his head. “You’re too cute, you know that? I definitely will let you listen to some of it. I plan for us to meet up at the same time in the same place again, for sure.”  

“Not many people call me cute,” she admitted, stroking her thumbs in circles over his palms. “Lots of other things. Loud mouthed bitch, profane whore, evil cock tease, but rarely cute.” 

The way she looked at him, licking her lip, oh fuck. Yep. He sensed something quite predatory lurking beneath the surface of the quiet, charming woman he was enjoying the hell out of getting to know. What was more? He liked it. “I think the latter is probably fairly apt, isn’t it?”  

She leaned forward, her lips tickling the lobe of his ear. “Might show you one day.” His face must have said it all, betrayed the barrier he tried to rapidly build to conceal the fire she’d stoked, licking his insides in a blaze.  

Holding eye contact with her, he lifted his chin slightly, his smile growing. “Might let you.” They held each other’s gaze, almost defying the other to look away first, Jade playing with his hands, running her nails up and down his long fingers, licking her lips. Oh, she was so, so sexy. “Might just tease you back twice as bad.” 

He winked, and her stomach exploded with butterflies, dropping her gaze for a moment, her internal monologue stuck on excited screaming mode. “It’s so loud in here. Do you want to go someplace quieter?” 

“That’d be good. Is my boy gonna be alright, or are your girls gonna eat him alive?” he spoke, nodding over her shoulder, seeing Lewis looking very well settled, drinking and laughing with Katie and Charlotte. 

“Yeah, the lesbians will look after him well. They’re together, if you didn’t know. Most don’t unless you’re a fan of the band,” she spoke, Adrien only noticing it then, the understated way they had their pinky fingers linked together. Cute.   

“Ahh, he’ll know, then. Save himself the embarrassment of trying to give his usual awkward advances toward two girls who don’t bat for his team.” They got up, exiting the tent without being noticed, although Jade was called out to by a few peers and industry folks as they walked down towards where all the busses were parked a short way from the entrance to the backstage compound.  

As he walked, Adrien couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so excited to spend time with someone who wasn’t a friend or family member, the people much missed as his hectic life whirled around him. He had no idea how much time he’d have with this utterly charming woman who turned to smile at him, but god, he hoped the minutes began to tick backwards with every step he took. 

[aystay]

they stole her sister.

[grilledsquids]

recently discovered that the reason my mom never re-purchased those awesome gummy vitamins when i was a kid was because my older brother ate all of them within three days (he figured out the child-proof cap) and she couldn’t trust it to not happen again.

then i got thinking about the hinata twins, wondering which one would eat all the gummies but i realized no, shouyou and natsu would listen to mom and only have two each day. but the miya twins?? they would both try to eat all the gummies, it’s just a matter of who’s more determined to open the child-proof cap.

is it food-motivated osamu or spite-motivated atsumu? hm…

[downfalldestiny]

My kind of people 🧡 !.

[goddessvibes333]

Music heals

Two weeks ago I danced in the mountains, under the stars. As my body flowed, I knew in that moment that I was a ritual. My breath, body, blunt and soul. I was high on life, grateful af and worshiping all the beauty that is. I laughed and threw my hands up, thanking the universe. I inhaled the knowing. No matter what happens, I have me. It was delicious. When dreams shatter, I’ll always have that moment. Tonight I was reminded that I am the magic. It’s always been me.

This song took me to a higher Timeline.

[assassin1513]

⚜️Stars Path ⚜️

[starstruckodysseys]

she’s getting into something (he’s going all or nothing) —

(or: lanie doesn’t do bets. or lessons, for that matter. there’s also not a lot she wouldn’t do for her friends. unfortunately.)

(or or: the ep8 business date/craps game but a little to the left. extremely to the left, some might say. possibly not even on the map anymore)

“Okay,” Lanie says, because she’s pretty sure they’re getting confused here, “hang on, sidebar real quick.”

She drags Wendell-as-Vic off to the side, just enough that no one should be able to hear them. It’s both easier and harder than usual, but somehow not in a way that cancels out.

“Wen,” she says quietly, staring him dead in the eyes, not taking her hand off his shoulder. “Wendell. You are aware that I, actual person Lanie Woodward, am not a lesbian, right?”

He stares at her like he was not, in fact, aware of this. “…What?”

Lanie sighs, rubs at her temple. “I’m— what do you mean what? I flirt with half the customers that come into the store!”

“I’ve never seen you flirt with a guy!” he whisper-shouts frantically.

Holy shit. Holy actual shit. There’s a voice in the back of her mind that isn’t hers yelling at her not to cry, but she feels pretty damn close to it.

It’s not— Lanie is not subtle. That has never been a word in her vocabulary. If she grins and laughs and leans a little closer during conversation than strictly necessary, people assume things, and that’s easier than dealing with her actual emotions. But this is not that, has never been that. She’s aware that she’s an awkward third wheel in whatever the hell Wendell and Liv have going on, but she’d assumed everyone was aware of that. It’s, like, her entire deal. Usha winks pointedly at her and Dang laughs while Russell attempts to be comforting when she groans too loudly and Paula— well, Paula might not actually be aware of it, but that’s perfectly fine with her.

But anyway. She was under the impression everyone knew, for the most part. Hell, Dave’s gotten onto her about it numerous times! Which, to be fair, he kind of does anyway, but fuck him because she’s nineteen and already in debt and—

Lanie sighs. Swallows. Glances around for anyone remotely resembling a bartender. Finds no one. “Is there a bartender here?” she asks desperately.

The weird clown man in the back steps forward, bowing slightly. Lanie squints at him, recognizes him as the guy who set up the kiss bet, and nods.

“Can I get, just… the strongest thing you have. In general.” She makes a vague hand motion that means nothing.

“Lan—” Wendell starts, stops, tries again. “Cara. I don’t—”

She waves him off. “I’m fine. Or, I will be fine in the next thirty seconds, if someone gets to it.” She raises a pointed eyebrow, something she’s never been able to figure out how to do as herself.

The clown man bows deeper. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lanie cringes, but nods, and he sets off to… somewhere. The where isn’t important. She’s currently unpacking the difference between what she’s meant the past few months and what everyone else has apparently assumed she’s meant. Or at least what Wendell has assumed she’s meant. Which is nothing.

She thinks she might have an aneurysm.

But that’s— they don’t have time for this right now. They have to learn how to play craps — and then pretend that they knew how to play craps the whole time, because Kingskin’s entire thing is crime and gambling and whatnot, and they can’t risk being found out now — so that Wendell doesn’t fucking die in the movie or whatever. Either that or he… kisses Liv on the mouth. As Kingskin and Vic Ethanol. She’s getting flashbacks to every high school party she ever went to.

Is it wrong that she doesn’t really care who wins? Probably. She’s also murdered several people at this point, so maybe her morals are a little off. Sue her.

Liv glances sideways at her when she sits back down. “Everything okay?”

“I think I’m going insane, Livvy,” Lanie mutters, just loud enough for only Liv to hear.

“Oh.” Liv frowns. “Do you want to head out?”

“I mean, I’d love to, y’know, survive,” Wendell cuts in, swinging around to sit on Lanie’s other side, which does not feel convenient if they do lose the game.

She’s not complaining or anything. It’s just impractical. From a logical standpoint. Obviously.

“They legally can’t kill you,” she says, bumping their shoulders together — a feat that’s a little more difficult now that their height difference… exists at all, really, but is more exaggerated than usual. “Pretty sure you made sure of that.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he protests weakly.

Lanie rolls her eyes fondly, and Liv laughs, and Wendell huffs but doesn’t say anything else. If she squints, it looks like he’s blushing, but that would be— well. Actually. It would be ridiculous on Vic Ethanol, sure, but she knows Wendell well enough that it’s hardly even surprising. It’s just… strange, seeing it on someone else’s face. Which is kind of a summary of their entire experience here so far.

The clown guy returns with her drink. He pauses in the doorway when he sees them, but recovers quickly, only looking at them a little suspiciously as he hands over the glass, the liquid somehow both muddy brown and bright pink at the same time. Right. She has a reputation to uphold, and the fact that her best friends slash main flirting targets are not women is not helping Cara’s whole lesbian thing. The lesbian thing being that she is a lesbian.

Maybe that’s Lanie’s lesson here. Stop being an obnoxious freak.

She’s never been good at taking lessons to heart.

“You all know how to play, yes?” French fry man asks — Pommefriete, whatever, it’s a stupid name. His accent is slowly getting less French and more incomprehensible.

“Um. Yeah. Definitely,” Liv says awkwardly. “But if we could get, like, a refresher? For the table…?”

This is going either nowhere or very badly and neither of those are great options.

“Just so we’re on a level playing field,” Lanie adds. If she leans a little more forward than necessary, well. “You wouldn’t want someone to have an unfair advantage, would you?”

Pommefriete shakes his head. “Certainly not. A refresher for the table it is!”

She lets out a very small sigh of relief. Wendell bumps their legs together under the table, and Liv flashes her a grateful smile when they make eye contact. She sends one back — it was Liv’s idea, after all. She’s just… using her resources. Yeah, that’s it. Pretty privilege works, kids.

Unfortunately, it isn’t enough to save their dice rolls, which end up being very bad. Lanie still doesn’t entirely understand how the game works, but the numbers are low and that’s not usually great in dice games. She leans back in her chair, lets out a low whistle. There’s not much else to do.

“Practice round,” Wendell mutters. Liv nods, determined.

Lanie takes a sip of her drink in preparation. It’s far stronger than she’d expected, even with her request, and it tastes strangely like nail polish remover. She coughs, attempting to muffle it with one hand and failing miserably. She’s still decidedly too sober to deal with literally any of this, so she takes another drink and pretends it doesn’t burn her throat on the way down.

There’s a tension in the air, electric and terrifying. Lanie isn’t even involved in the game, or the bet — they’d offered, but her luck has always been terrible — but she’s still on the edge of her seat. Metaphorically speaking, that is.

The dice clink against the table. Liv swears under her breath. Wendell goes deathly still. Lanie kicks back the rest of her drink before even bothering to look at the numbers. It’s entirely worth it once she does.

“Well then,” Pommefriete says, sounding just smug enough that Lanie actively resists the urge to not punch him in the face. “That’s the way the dice fall, I suppose. Or, roll, rather.”

He laughs as if he’s made some sort of clever pun, and not just a statement of fact. Next to Lanie, Wendell’s still completely frozen, and she covertly elbows him to drag him back to the present. He jolts, stares properly at the dice on the table, and seems to physically hold back a groan. She can’t say she doesn’t relate, and she’s not even part of the deal here.

“I, uh.” Liv moves like she’s going to mess with her hair, then seems to remember she doesn't exactly have hair to mess with. “Do we just…?”

Her hesitance is strange to see on Kingskin, but it makes it easier for Lanie to pretend that this is a normal situation for the three of them and not borderline life or death. Like they’re playing Truth or Dare at a sleepover, and not gambling Wendell’s life away.

The dynamite sticks out from behind the table. She thinks she sees red for a second.

Lanie has, over the course of their time in the movie and even before it, watched Wendell and Liv dance around each other. She’s seen Wendell forget how to form sentences like a functioning human, noted carefully as Liv’s feelings seemed to slowly blossom into something new. It’s cute, really, and she’s used to being the third wheel in their whole deal, used to being the advice girl, the therapist friend.

She scoots her chair back to give them space. Liv places one monstrous hand on her thigh to stop her and leans in.

It’s a painstakingly slow affair. Which is fair, because she doesn’t think either of them have kissed anyone before — not that she’s one to talk — and they’re two of the most awkward people she knows. When it comes to each other, at least. Thank god Liv is at least a little assertive when the situation calls for it.

They’re still incredibly far apart. The fact that everything feels like it’s going way too fast doesn’t change the actuality of the situation. Lanie sighs, leans back, catches Wendell’s eye for half a second and raises an eyebrow, pointed and teasing and a little jealous, all at once.

It’s just a Liv thing, he’d said. She doesn’t know if she still believes it.

“You chicken?” she says, like a challenge.

She doesn’t mean to say it, really. But there’s a buzz in her chest and a warmth in her bones, and her brain doesn’t feel completely tethered to the ground, much less her own head. It’s not entirely her fault she’s saying the first thing to come to mind.

Lanie isn’t particularly quiet, most of the time. The alcohol is doing nothing to help.

Wendell sputters, avoiding her gaze even as his face reddens. Liv pauses for a fraction of a second, glances at Lanie and immediately looks away. She doesn’t know what to do with any of this information. Her brain’s so fuzzy she might not even be retaining it.

(She is. It’s going straight to the back of her brain, highlighted in several different colors and cataloged under what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. She’s used that box a lot more recently.)

They’re leaning in again. Not that they ever really stopped, but it’s actually happening now, and Lanie really feels like she shouldn’t be here, or should at least be looking away, but Liv’s hand is burning a hole through her thigh and she doesn’t even know if she could move if she wanted to. She should want to. This is weird.

The voice in the back of her head — the one that isn’t hers, technically, just trapped in its own body — has dulled down. Logically, Lanie knows Cara’s in there somewhere, probably shouting at her to leave the situation, but she can’t hear the woman unless she actively tries. And, for reasons she thinks are pretty solid, she doesn’t really feel like trying. She’s got… other things on her mind right now.

She hasn’t been able to take her eyes off of either of her friends in front of her, which isn’t much different from usual, actually, but there’s a flash of movement in the corner of her eye, and even in her clouded state she manages to clock it. Pommefriete is dashing away, more subtle than anyone else in this goddamn film.

“Fucking—” Lanie mutters, then continues, at a normal volume: “I hate to break this up, trust me, but french fry motherfucker is currently getting away, and I feel like we should maybe do something about that.”

Maybe it’s her words, or her voice, or the fact that half of those words weren’t even words because she’s slurring them just barely, but Liv and Wendell spring apart, nervous and hesitant. Lanie rolls her eyes — she loves them, really, but there’s a time and a place and yes she’s being a hypocrite, but that’s not relevant. Blame the fact that she’s getting drunker by the second.

They, eventually, dash out the door, hopefully hot on the tail of the clown guys who apparently want them dead. It doesn’t take long to find them, mostly because they’re brightly colored and in a large room. Lanie reaches for the gun in her pocket, then switches sides because that’s her taser, actually, which is also her MacGuffin and not something she wants to be throwing around for no reason.

And then it turns out they don’t even need their weapons, because the hotel staff spring out from literally nowhere and, quite literally, commit murder in their own hotel. It feels far too convenient, but then again, they’d said they’d protect their group when they walked in, no murder rules aside. Which is kind of just an everywhere rule, actually.

“Holy shit,” Wendell says, awed.

Lanie laughs. “Again. You did that.”

She doesn’t know how she knows that, or even if it’s true, but he smiles in response, a little proud, a little shocked, and something warm fizzles in her chest.

Liv, on the other hand, looks more downtrodden, slumping out of Kingskin’s ramrod straight posture. Her halberd sits loosely in her hand, resting against the floor. Lanie attempts to process this, connect the dots that feel way too far apart. She doesn’t get a chance to before one of the clown guys pops up from the floor, apparently not completely dead, and Liv brings the halberd down right across his neck. There’s a grin on her face as she does. A subconscious shiver runs down Lanie’s spine.

“Holy shit,” she echoes, barely above a whisper. Wendell nods slowly, eyes wide.

Never Stop Blowing Up is not a slow paced film. It’s quite possibly been the most insane god-knows-how-many hours of her entire life. She’s committed several crimes by this point. And she doesn’t know if it’s because they’re just standing around, for the moment, or if it’s everything crashing down at once, or what, but this feels like far too much. Like they’ve crossed some sort of invisible line she hadn’t even known existed.

Don’t get her wrong, she’s not upset about the series of events that have led up to now. She’s just… having an adrenaline crash, it seems. Not the greatest time, all things considered.

Liv leans down, tosses Wendell his dynamite, which he fumbles with for just a moment. Something feels like it clicks in the back of Lanie’s mind, but she’s far too out of it to know what. Or care what, for that matter. She would love to get out of the room with several dead bodies. Maybe even find the rest of their friends.

“Are you feeling okay?” Liv asks, her brows furrowed.

It takes Lanie longer than it should to realize the question is directed at her. “Never better,” she says, and the slur of her speech immediately contradicts it.

Neither of them seem to believe her.

“Right,” Liv says, audibly holding back a laugh.

Wendell loops an arm over her shoulders, and she leans in on instinct, only then remembering that Cara’s 5’4 on a good day and not Lanie’s comfortable 5'10. She’s never had to lean against him like this — never been able to, really, they’re about the same height. It’s weird. She’s also not completely upset about the whole situation.

Liv’s hand — Kingskin’s, really, but Lanie cannot find it in herself to care enough to differentiate the two right now — darts out, then retracts, like she can’t quite figure out what to do with it. There’s a dazed sort of look in her eyes, which might be bold coming from Lanie, who is notably drunk off her ass right now, but the fact that it’s there at all is… a little concerning. Then again, a bunch of shit just happened in the span of maybe half an hour, more emotionally taxing than anything else they’ve done so far.

Mostly it’s just been explosions. These are like… mental explosions. Or something smarter than that. Again, her brain is not in her head right now.

They make it back to the lobby, eventually, and Lanie has to blink to reprocess the deep purples and bright pinks scattering across the room. For a moment, the only coherent thought that comes to mind is holy shit they’ve got bisexual lighting this place fucking rules. And then Liv snorts next to her, and she realizes it is not just a thought.

She likes making Liv laugh, though. She’s gorgeous when she does, when her eyes sparkle and her lips curl into a smile to create the most beautiful sound Lanie’s ever heard. It’s even better when she doesn’t pretend, when her eyes fall shut and her head tilts back and she grins like nobody’s watching, and it’s breathless and melodious and if Lanie could play it on repeat every day she would for the rest of her life. It doesn’t happen often, but Lanie’s pretty damn funny. She’s heard it enough to make it count for something.

At some point in the process of being too gay about her friend’s laugh, she’s been handed off to said friend, Liv’s hand warm where it rests tentatively on her back. Lanie blinks up at her, which is also new — god, someone should teach Cara about platforms, or, like, inserts, or something — but also not a terrible thing. She kind of understands why girls go for taller guys.

“Wendell went to go get water,” Liv explains quietly.

Lanie stares at her, eyes no doubt strangely wide and pathetic if the way she feels is any indication, processing the information. Her brain is currently the equivalent of Internet Explorer right now, so it takes a moment, but eventually she nods, and Liv lets out a sigh of what might be relief.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re really pretty?” Lanie says suddenly, because she needs Liv to know, and sure, it’s a little weird saying it to Kingskin, but it feels like if she squints enough, tilts her head, she can almost see Liv herself in there. “Cause you are.”

Liv coughs, flushes a shade of red that only proves Lanie’s point. “Um. Thanks!” She sounds strained, but not upset. “You’re, uh. You too. You’re also… really pretty. And cool. And, uh.”

She cuts herself off, glances away, scratches her cheek. The words send a thrill up Lanie’s spine anyway.

There’s the hint of a smile on Liv’s face, though. Lanie tries not to think about that too hard before she spirals. It’s pretty simple — there’s a paper airplane flying out the window, and she slips out of Liv’s grip to follow it, ignoring her protests. Her brain tracks movement and bright colors and pretty much nothing else. It’s not entirely her fault for getting distracted.

Someone bumps into her, as to be expected in such a crowded building, but they seem to do a double take, which is less expected.

“La— Cara?” Russell’s voice says, distant, and Lanie turns to see Jennifer Drips, in all her glory. He stares at her in confusion, which slowly morphs into more concern than she thinks is warranted. “Are you… good?”

Why do people keep asking her that? “Feeling great,” she says, attempting to lean on the nearest table. There is no nearest table.

Russell catches her before she can completely tip over, sets her upright. “Lanie,” he says, worryingly serious, “what happened to you?”

She pauses. That is… a very good question, actually. “Uh. Wendell ‘n Liv—”

“Didn’t do anything,” Wendell interrupts out of nowhere, his voice at an octave she didn’t know voices could hit. “Nothing happened. She’s drunk.”

He passes her the water. She stares at the cup, then back up to him. Raises an eyebrow teasingly. Grins when he becomes obviously flustered.

“You do care,” she says smugly. It doesn’t come out as smooth as she would like, but it gets the point across.

“Yeah, well.” He gestures vaguely at nothing. “I’m going to go, uh. Talk to Liv. At the— at the blood rave. If you… wanted to come.”

Lanie considers this, deeper than perhaps the situation requires. She shakes her head. “I think— I’m gonna chill with Russell. We’re buddies. Besties. Pals. Uh.”

Wendell gives her a look she doesn’t think she could decipher if she were sober. “Right. Well, uh. Don’t die?” he offers. Glances up to Russell. “Please make sure she doesn’t die.”

“Sure thing,” Russell says, amused. “Have fun.”

“Love you!” Lanie calls at Wendell’s retreating figure. She turns back around before she can see him stumble so hard he nearly faceplants.

Russell definitely sees it, but doesn’t comment on it, just looks at Lanie, expectant and amused. “So, what did you say is happening with them?”

She lights up at that, grins, because she loves to gossip and she loves to talk about her friends. “They’re, like, making out in the blood rave or whatever. I dunno. So—”

“I’m sorry,” Russell interrupts, and he does genuinely look apologetic. Ignoring the fact he’s obviously trying not to laugh. “The what?”

“You know.” Lanie shrugs. They all know about the blood rave, duh. “The blood rave. I dunno. Not my business. They almost kissed, Russell. ‘N I was just kinda… there. In the middle.”

Rest in peace to Russell’s brain for trying to figure out what the fuck she’s talking about right now. Godspeed, soldier. She can see him connecting the dots, and waits patiently for him to do so — it’s not that complicated, really. Why is everyone so confused about all this?

“So— hang on.” Russell actually sits down on the ground, which is kind of weird considering how many chairs there are here, but Lanie just follows suit because standing is getting tiring, actually, and her feet are starting to hurt. “What do you mean in the middle?”

Lanie huffs petulantly, like a toddler. “We played craps, ‘n the french fry fucker had Wendell’s MacGuffin, so we bet on it, and it was either that or he ‘n Liv kissed. We… didn’t win. It was so bad, Russell.”

“The kiss?”

“No— well. Maybe?” She considers that, then shrugs. “I dunno. I wasn’t part of that. I was just… in the middle. Literally.”

Russell stares at her, Jennifer’s piercing gaze boring into her soul. She doesn’t entirely blame him, this time. Her brain was just as foggy in the moment.

“So no one actually kissed.” It’s a statement more than anything, as if he’s processing everything. “And you’re… okay with that?”

She shrugs again. “I like being the guy in the middle. ‘M not that worried about it.”

She’s surprised to find she really means it when she says it. Anyone with eyes can tell she’s absolutely down bad for her best friends slash coworkers slash multiple question marks at this point, but she’s genuinely never really expected it to go anywhere. Especially now that Liv seems to return Wendell’s feelings, even if she’s not completely aware of it herself. Sometimes Lanie uses the only two psychology classes she ever took for good.

Russell frowns, which confuses her, because she’s not upset about any of this. “But you’re into both of them.”

Jesus fuck, why is this a conversation she’s having with a coworker nearly thirty years older than her?

Because she’s drunk and no one else will listen to her, most likely. And anyway, Russell’s initiating at least seventy percent of it, so it’s not entirely her fault. Just mostly.

“‘S like… imagine a tricycle,” she says, only half sure of where the metaphor is going. “Three wheels. Two of them are in the front, and then there’s the one in the back. The two are like… bonded or whatever. Besties. Lovers. Worse. I dunno.

“You can’t get, like, stability without the third one, though,” she explains. Her eyes feel less dry than they were a minute ago, and when she reaches up to rub at them her hand comes back tear streaked. Huh. “It’s there for emotional support, or something. And it doesn’t mind being at the back, ‘cause how else do you get to see the other two?”

“That’s…” Russell trails off. “I don’t think tricycles are set up like that.”

Okay, so it’s not a perfect metaphor. Sue her.

Lanie groans, probably a little overdramatic. “Shut up, I’m making points. You get it.”

He smiles like he just might. “That makes a lot of sense, though, Lanie. I just think maybe you haven’t been paying close enough attention.”

And then, like he hasn’t just casually dropped a bombshell like that on her, he pats her shoulder before standing up and wandering off. She thinks she sees him with Usha, but she’s too busy staring at the ground and trying to refocus her brain as she runs through every interaction she’s ever had.

It doesn’t go well, not at the moment. Later, though — later, they’ll end up on a speedboat to the Amazon, and Lanie will squeeze herself between Liv and Paula and shiver in nothing but a tank top. Later, they’ll end up in Alaska first, and she’ll throw up off the side of the boat when Usha takes over driving, and Wendell will quietly confess that he and Liv didn’t kiss the night before.

Later, Liv will run off, and they’ll find out about Dave, and they’ll storm the White House when it flies away, and a million other things will happen that Lanie won’t comprehend at the time, much less afterwards.

Later — much, much later — they’ll have time. Time to choose, time to talk, time to figure things out.

For now, Lanie passes out in the middle of the floor until Dang nudges her awake with his foot and dreams about almost kisses that aren’t an almost.

[apropositodime]

Caos e stelle

È solo una foto di sei anni fa

Senza filtri

😁 Le stelle sono vere 🌠

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Twelve.

A huge thank you to my regular readers and reviewers for your dedication to this story, you make it all worth it. In a tiny fandom where most people don't have the inclining to read a series and prefer the x reader insert, you are such a blessing. Especially since I seem to have lost a few readers along the way, too. I am extra thankful to you because of this :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,640

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

It tumbled over her bones, the gleaming little shocks of pleasure that continually flowed golden, her hands grasping the bed covers as she moaned softly. Her back arched up, the press of his big hands rooting her back to the mattress, tongue working a hard, then softly pressed circle over her clit. She’d never tire of it, the feeling of his mouth between her legs. 

“You’ve got such a pretty little pussy, honey.” 

Or that, hearing his intimate praise, his fingers rubbing through her folds as he paused to let his eyes fall to her wet, puffy sex, holding her spread before his tongue pushed a long, flat lick against her, groaning low. He knew she was ascending rapidly, backing off the contact a little, delivering kisses and licks steeped in a gentler heat before he moved to kneel, rubbing his cock through the dripping mess of her pink, rooting himself deeply with a soft grunt.  

He gave her a few thrusts before retreating, head lowering between her slender thighs once again, her clit licked with a rapid flicker of his tongue until she cried out, almost there, but not quite inching over into the realms of nirvana. Again, she was given his cock, hand clasping her jaw as he fed her his thumb, sinking in so deep, her eyes virtually crossed before once again, he moved to connect his mouth with her folds instead.  

God, he was too good. 

Pleasure danced in enchantment over her nerves, little darts flickering through her blood, split wide again by the shunt of his cock. This time, though, he didn’t retreat.  

The coil of pleasure winding through her was intensified by the feel of his cock cutting through her wetness without relent, spearing her deeply, her body keening as he drove into her with force. The veracity of his fuck claimed her entirely, hips rocking into each of his thrusts, hooking her arms beneath her legs and drawing them up a little, allowing him to sink in even deeper. 

He felt thick and hot within her fluttering core, her cunt tingling for him as he began to fuck her with merciless delivery, pounding her wet centre, dragging heat from her. All that was hurried and urgent then abated as he slowed, a slight rotation of his hips shifting his weight a little further, bearing down into her core and making sparks ignite. 

That action coaxed a string of expletives from her, walls clenching around him furiously, bathing his cock in a shiny slick as he thrusted so deeply and precisely, he had her howling as glimmers surged up her spine. 

“That’s it, baby. Mmm, fuck yeah. Let me hear those moans.” He murmured after leaning to offer kisses of sugared embers, taking her legs and resting them over his shoulders. He poured pleasure into her, igniting to her bones, the pace becoming uncontained once more. 

And this man was her husband. She was now married to the best sex of her life. Content didn’t quite cut it. 

She felt as if he was attempting to go through her with the voracity of each thrust, her body lighting up like a beacon until suddenly, the light completely illuminated, white hot and charging, striking each nerve ending and reducing her to a quivering wreck. 

The pace slowed, Adrien enjoying the beauty of her walls flexing around him, wet heat contracting against his girth, his hand moving between her legs to rub upon her clit with his thumb while speeding back up again a little. Those dual sensations were intensity unmatched, his cock stroking her insides so deftly while his thumb evoked waves of warmth to emanate, making her so dizzy and high on pleasure, she soared through constellations.  

His hips smacked against her body, pounding her wetness with primal need once more, her moans disturbing the still silence of the afternoon only fettered slightly when he reached to hold her throat gently, fingers flexing as he viewed her with an intense, yet loving stare, winking and leaning to assail her mouth with his. 

Her body was pushed to pulse and judder once more, the ebb and flow of sexual energy relentlessly flowing, a hum of utter erotic divinity between them both doing nothing but gaining momentum, their groans filling the air. With the white iron of the ornate bedframe beginning to clatter furiously against the wall, the pursuit of climax was zealously undertaken, both chasing their releases with illimitable determination, until they shattered at the same time. A rarity, but an intense one nonetheless. 

They stayed in bed enjoying one another and snoozing into the early evening, Adrien having the kind of dream that made him wake with a start, and hilariously give his wife some ammunition in the nickname game. 

“Nggh, there’s bugs!”  

Sitting bolt upright, he swatted at his face and chest, still not really with it, turning to watch her gently shaking with laughter. “Stop it.” 

Oh, how she blew. Like a volcano made out of giggles, she exploded, reaching for him. “What the hell were you dreaming about?” 

“Being covered in fucking bugs! Damn, it was horrible!” 

She couldn’t help her hysterics. “And now you have a nickname. Bug. That’s it. I’m calling it.” 

“Fuck you,” he groaned, flopping down onto his back again, still feeling itchy. 

Turning onto her front, she kissed his chest, tongue flickering over his nipple. “Don’t be like that, Bug. I say it with love.” 

All strange dreams aside, they got up not long after, dressing in casual clothes, deciding to stay at home and order food in. Both being reasonably introverted, they truly did enjoy staying in most of all, but did head out a few times over the days to come. One thing Adrien really enjoyed about being there was the fact that the general public weren’t quite so intrusive as they were back home. 

Mostly, people left them alone. In England, there seemed to be way less of a feeling of entitlement towards famous people. Take one of the nights they found themselves at the Black Horse pub in Fulmer, for instance. If those discreetly gawping were noticed by the couple, they would instantly apologise for staring, politely saying hello and asking how they were. A couple of younger people asked them for pictures, too, the pair happily obliging. 

“Oh my god, oh my god you’re not scary at all!” one young fan gushed as Jade gave her a big hug, delighted to be meeting her idol. “You’re so nice, aww!”  

“That’s very sweet of you, darling,” she cooed, “you have a lovely night with your friends.” If only everyone could be as nice as the village locals. Later that night, with Adrien asleep upstairs, she found herself wide awake and sitting in the small living area in the kitchen at her laptop. Being a self-professed night owl, she often stayed up until the wee hours getting work done, answering the barrage of emails she received, or as she was that night, tapping away with ideas for lyrics.  

It was while she was flitting between screens that she suddenly got the urge to have a little nose into what the press were saying regarding her marriage, typing her name into Google.  

“Bloody hell.” The results pinged back in seconds, just about every major tabloid and gossip site the world over running stories about her whirlwind romance. It surprised her that most were quite complimentary in the language they used to write the articles, but some, mainly the trashier publications, well, the scorn was clear. The comment sections? Even worse. 

“It’s a PR relationship, blatantly! Give it a year and they’ll be divorced.” 

“She’s only using him for his fame so she can get ahead in the acting world.” 

“Ugh, she’s so fucking skinny and gross, with her stupid, massive rubber lips. What does he see in that mess?” 

“Publicity stunt!!! He hasn’t made a notable movie since The Pianist and she’s just a user slut.” 

“Who fucking cares about these nobodies!” 

“OMG this is wild. I give it four months!” 

“Yeah, they won’t last.” 

God, people could be so mean. The negativity was tempered with a few nicer comments, though. 

“They look so cute together!” 

“Really wishing them the very best. After what that poor woman went through with her ex, she deserves happiness.” 

“They’re both so impossibly pretty. Is there a list I can add my name to for them to take me in as their sex slave? I WANT THAT SO BAD!” 

She laughed loudly at the last one, imagining Adrien’s reaction to such a statement. The next she read wasn’t quite so complimentary, though. 

“He’s just tanked his public image, hooking up with that tramp. I met her at an aftershow party in Birmingham back in 2003. Absolutely out of her head drunk and high on coke, coming onto anything with a cock. Fucking disgrace. She shagged my mate and then tried it on with me. I said no. Didn’t want to risk the STI’s.” 

“Well, you’re certainly full of shit.” she snorted. She remembered the very aftershow party in question, one she’d been stone cold sober for on account of taking a course of antibiotics and painkillers after her ill-fated nipple piercing had gone septic, meaning of course she wasn’t even drinking, let alone huffing blow.  

She also didn’t make a habit of having sex with fans. A few over the years, yes, but it wasn’t a regular thing, Jade much preferring relationships, or bona fide hookups she knew wouldn’t go blabbing to the press.  

While on tour with Korn, for example, she and their guitarist, Brian “Head” Welch had enjoyed one another for months on a very casual basis, and remained good friends to that day. She laughed then, remembering that it was Head himself she’d gone off with after the Birmingham aftershow to have sex with, and certainly nobody else.  

Continuing her little scour of articles, she then came to one that made her heart jump, the title making her mouth go dry. ‘How to kill your career in one easy step: Marry a rockstar.’ Clicking on the link, she began to read the scathing diatribe penned by a journalist named Penny Rutherford, which was in essence a complete character assassination. 

She winced and frowned while reading the lambasting words that summed her up as little more than a wild musician with a haughty temperament, who had only ever gotten anywhere because she was pretty, and happened to be a novelty, being in an all-girl band who played blistering metal. Her acting opportunities, she surmised, must have been from opening her legs to the right casting agents.  

She also made reference to her past relationships, her shortly lived dalliances with guys like Scott Weiland and Tommy Lee, which was partly incorrect. She had never dated Tommy, the pair just friends, but she had been with Scott for eight months over a decade ago, thusly scrutinising her intentions by marrying a man so far removed from ‘the booze fuelled, narcotic bolstered, trashy men of rock and roll’, as Penny had worded them.  

“If Adrien Brody has the sense to think with his head instead of what I sense he is currently making his decisions with, he’ll get out of this sooner rather than later, lest his public image be tarnished beyond repair. Being married to a drug-addled miscreant will serve for nothing other than lowering him to the same dirty gutter she resides within.” 

Penny’s closing line to her venomous piece didn’t sit well with Jade at all, her jaw clenching at such an overwhelming display of audacity. Not only because it was incorrect in its assumption of her being drug-addled and gutter dwelling (Lakeside and Stone Barn Castle were the fanciest gutters in the world by that logic) but because of the angle she’d so far not even contemplated.  

Never once had she considered that the often-skewed image the public had of her could ever impact her new husband and his career. Not until that very moment. True, it was the mere opinion of one journalist, this much was true, but she knew well how negativity had the tendency to snowball. 

What if his career was hurt, because of his marriage to her? It would be all her fault, simply for falling in love with him. It was at that moment she saw it clearly, the path her racing mind was attempting to lead her down, closing the browser window, saving her writing work and shutting the laptop. No. She wouldn’t let that happen, and so instead of sitting up and stewing on it before inevitably shouldering the blame for Penny Rutherford’s cruel assertions, she returned to her husband’s side instead. 

Curling up, she felt him turn, wrapping an arm around her waist. She would tell him about the article, feeling proud that she was making changes already on how she handled things that hurt her, rather than internalising. When she saw the look on his face the following morning after he’d read it for himself, though, she almost wished she hadn’t.  

Opening another window, he logged into his own email account, choosing a certain address from his list of contacts, Jade placing down a vegetable omelette and toast to his side, kissing his arm. “What are you doing, Bug?”  

“Contacting my lawyer,” he spoke, not looking away from the screen, his body rigid with irritation. 

She sighed, closing her eyes tightly, rubbing her hand over his back in an effort to soothe him. “Oh, Adrien. Please don’t.” 

He scoffed lightly, clicking back to the article, beginning to highlight certain parts as he rapidly copied and pasted them. “That right there? Slander. This here? Libel. This? Defamation.” And so he went on, picking bits out of the article he took particular objection to.  

Turning to her, he grasped her waist, placing a kiss between her breasts where her silky robe had slightly fallen open. She’d never seen him look so pissed off. “They’re getting a cease and desist. I want that article taken down or the bitch who wrote it and the publication she works for are being hit with a lawsuit. Nobody fucking talks about my wife like that.”  

Honestly, she wanted to forget about it, hoping it would go away despite her own fears that such could snowball. It was then that she realised he was right; nobody should get away with making such damaging remarks about someone. Her own career could potentially become besmirched too, not that she’d given that a lick of thought, her concern for Adrien prevailing.  

“I love you,” she spoke, stroking his face and placing a kiss upon his forehead. 

“And I love you, Moo. There isn’t a single thing I won’t protect you from when I can, against people who don’t even know the first thing about you.” What a loving protector she’d found in him, Jade grateful beyond words for a husband who truly had her back to such an extent. 

By the time they’d arrived in Paris, the article had been taken down, and the publication had even issued a statement in apology to them for any hurt the journalist may have caused. It was amazing, what threatening somebody with legal action could swiftly achieve. Still, it didn’t stop people from gossiping, Jade finding it difficult to cope with, especially when they parted ways three days after arriving back in New York.  

Without him at her side while she faced a torrent of online abuse and people poking their noses into her marriage, she felt a little vulnerable, especially since she wouldn’t see him again for a month and a half, until she’d get only two days with him before she was off again on another project. While she was grateful for the fact her acting career was taking off, a part of her wished she hadn’t been so keen to sign onto so many projects, the new wife in her craving to spend time at her husband’s side. 

Such a stance felt alien to her, too, always tackling her career with such a tenacious approach. Luckily for her, while up in Montreal, she had a very reliable soundboard to unload to, one who had driven up from her home in Vermont to spend a little time north of the border with her friend. 

“Oh, baby don’t be so silly,” Charlotte spoke softly as they enjoyed dinner together on Jade’s two-day break from filming, reaching to stroke her hand lovingly. “You’ve found the love of your life. It doesn’t make you less of a woman for wanting to put your marriage first.” 

“I know, I do know that underneath, darling. It’s just...” She gesticulated a little with her cutlery, sighing. Her widened eyes and agape mouth were read very clearly by the raven-haired woman sitting across from her. 

“It’s different for us as women. If we step off the machine for even a second, we fear it’ll be impossible to climb back aboard. Not that you can, though, now you’ve signed on.” She was so correct in what she’d said, Jade nodding vigorously as she continued. “God, I feel for you. I’m so lucky that my job revolves around getting to be with my girlfriend. Well, it’s a blessing and a curse. If we get mad at one another, there’s nowhere to escape with enough significant distance while on a bus or in a studio. Imagine, though, how precious that time will be, once you do actually get to be with Adrien. It isn’t going to be forever either.” 

It was true, she supposed. Absence made the heart grow fonder, as they old saying went. “Just most of the time, all the while with people who don’t even know us having their say.” 

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Katie’s been going wild about some of the comments. I’ve had to drag her away from her phone and stop her from creating accounts to argue with them. You know how she is.” Indeed, she did. Katie was the fiercest of the five by far. “It must be so tough, to have people casting aspersions, and so negatively in some cases, too. I really want you to know I’m here for you, though. If it gets tough, just call me anytime for a little rant.” 

Jade was thankful for her in that moment, Charlotte’s advice as grounding as ever, her nature so sweet and understanding. One thing she did find very helpful was the fact that no matter what anybody said about her and her husband, the man himself always spoke so glowingly about her. While he preferred not to be questioned too heavily into his private life, he was fine speaking about her briefly of his own volition. 

“I have to say, my wife is a constant source of pride and admiration. She rose to the top of her game in a very male-dominated musical genre, but yet she’s always remained humble about it, so down to earth. The way she fits so much into her time as well, she’s truly remarkable, and I consider myself a very lucky man to be married to such a strong, talented, funny and thoroughly lovely woman.” 

She read those words on the first anniversary of their meet, while sitting to the side of the set she was working on, having a small guest role in longstanding TV series, Supernatural, playing a demon hunted down and eventually slain by the Winchester brother’s. A year. A whole year of having him in her life, going from a random man whose face she’d screamed in to being her adoring husband. How the hell she’d gotten so lucky, she didn’t know. She never took it for granted, though. Not even for a second.  

And neither did he. 

Upon returning to her trailer at just coming up to midnight, ready to head back to her little rental home she was staying in for the duration of the filming up there in Vancouver, she got the shock of her life.  

“What the hell?” she cried, hands flying to her mouth at seeing Adrien sitting there. 

He got up, pulling her into his arms, placing a kiss atop her head. “There’s no way I was going to let us be apart on the anniversary of the day we first met. No way at all.”  

“But how?” she exclaimed, looking up at him, receiving a big kiss. 

“Jetlagged the shit out of myself. I’m seriously so tired, I fell asleep in the cab twice from the airport to here.” He’d been on a long publicity tour for Wrecked, his newest movie, Jade absolutely bowled over that he’d travelled across two continents to be with her. “I’ll stay here for a couple of days and then get back home. Gives me four days then to make sure the house is in good order before you arrive. Apparently, we almost have a lounge.” 

Her eyes lit up. “We do? Oh, wow!” Not that they’d see much of it, Adrien busy with publicity until mid-December, and Jade working on various projects until late November. Being together right at that moment was good enough, though, even if all they did was get into her car, head back to the rental bungalow, and fall asleep two minutes after they climbed into bed together. 

Sometimes, that was all a person needed, the simple joy of having their love right there next to them as they slept. Charlotte had been right; those moments became so precious to them, no matter how few or far between. Or what the media or general public had to offer in commentary over their marriage.  

In that bed, it was just them. Happy and comfortable. No harsh words could come close to affecting a bond like theirs. And they never would.  

[eghhhhhh]

[tuliharja]

This is actually an old drawing of mine, but I recently retouched it by fixing a few things that had been bothering me. (Nothing major, though.) I hope I can finally just strop ‘fixing’ this drawing, because the first time I was making this, I kept putting it off as I just kept fixing and fixing it, never truly being satisfied with it. So, with these recent fixings, I’ll now let it be as any more than that, would just an create endless loop. ^^’

Though, the funny thing is that I remember I wanted to learn how to draw digitally fur, but somehow ended up drawing Toshiro with a fur jacket…

Artwork: @tuliharja

Note: I’m fine with reblogging, but ask me first for my permission, if you want to repost/otherwise use my artwork.

[grilledsquids]

i just finished bingeing sfos for the nth time and like. it is SO good it's unreal hakdjdk i love your OCs and the characterization and the pacing and just,,, your writing in general??? thank you for feeding the fandom with some Good Fuckin Food, i hope you have a great day!

THANK YOU!! Somehow I’m always shocked when someone tells me they like my fic. I’m just here to plink away at a keyboard, laughing at my own jokes, but it’s so nice that there’s other people out there enjoying it too!