#Why are you being so boneheaded?

[januaryembrs]

HOT UNDER THE HELMET | Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Request: Hi, would you mind writing for Poe Dameron where Poe accidentally injures the reader (whose a mechanic), which is how they meet for the first time. And would you mind using the dialogue prompt “Oh, oh my god! It was an accident! I’m so sorry!”? 

Description: Poe finds out the hard way the best mechanic in the resistance is also most beautiful woman he’s ever seen; too bad you’re so hot headed. 

word count: 1.5k

trigger warnings: sexism, fire, women in stem facing problems even in space (because ofcourse they do).

main masterlist

As much as you would love to admit times of war made people more benevolent towards each other, you’d be dead wrong. Not only had you been one of the only females in the resistance who knew her way around a wrench, but as it also turned out, not even the risk of dying could pull a males head out of his arse. 

You heard snickering before you saw them. The other three mechanics in your squadron crowded around a starfighter, laughing to themselves as they watched you tinker with a leaky engine, your body strewn across a lying board as you worked above yourself, your tools against your foot. 

Rolling out from underneath the ship, you paid them no mind as you searched for a screwdriver small enough to fit the flathead you needed removing. Scanning your work area, that you were proud to say you kept much neater than the blaster brained males you shared a space with, your brow furrowed when you saw your equipment nowhere to be seen. 

“Looking for something?” You heard Zagg, one of the males, say, and you felt a rage boil up inside you at the smug look on their faces as you regarded them with a sweaty, pissed off expression. 

“Where’d you boneheads put it?” You snapped, hauling yourself to your feet as you approached them hotly, your scowl only growing as they burst out laughing, “Real mature. The galaxy is going to bantha fodder, and you guys are hiding my tools,”

“You know, if you need help from someone who knows what they’re doing, you could just ask,” The tallest of the trio, Bran, goaded you, a smarmy smile on his face as he watched your cheeks puff with exhaustion, whirling around to charge up to him, no matter if you did have to turn your neck upwards to confront the pig of a male. 

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, instead of going after little girls who make you look like rookies,” You hissed, eying up the other two who seemed to exchange a sneer, “Leia chose me herself, handpicked me from the academy. You three nerf herders got through on sheer size alone, and it’s obvious you feel the need to compensate everywhere else possible,” 

You sauntered away, back towards the rear of the workshop where spare apparatus was kept, banging around the drawers with a foul mood, muttering about how useless the opposite sex was in times of crisis. 

As if he had heard the call of a siren, Poe strolled into the hangar, fully suited with his helmet under his arm, an all too cheery smile on his face for the belly of the beast he was unknowingly heading straight for. 

Catching the eye of one of the mechanics, a freakishly tall man that seemed to be chatting to the other two as they stood around an X-wing with a huge hole ripped into the body of it, he watched the worker drop his bitter face and regard him with raised eyebrows when he saw the chirpy pilot approach.

“General,” He nodded respectfully, though there was not a single trace of regard on his face. “You’ve come for your ship?”

“Leia said you had your best guy on it?” He said, almost missing the way the three of them nodded hesitantly, “She said it should be ready today,”

“Right this way, General Dameron,” The shorter, beefy one said, leading him away to a pristine looking starfighter, by far in the best shape he could see it being without it being brand new. He thought he caught a snigger behind him as the mechanic, whose oiled badge read as Kripply, took him over to the ship, “Why don’t you give her a whirl? As you said, we had our very best on the case,” 

Poe looked at him with an odd mix of a smile and wariness as he couldn’t miss the devilish excitement the man looked at him with. Had he sat in paint again, he wondered. Finn had had a field day walking him around the entire compound with two white ass cheek marks on his suit, he wouldn’t put it past his co-pilot to try his luck again seeing as Poe had been the one to win at cards last night and had not so graciously rubbed his credits in the man’s face. 

“Sure, let’s give this baby a whirl,” He said after a moment, his hair falling all over the place as he shoved his helmet over his thick, sable locks. 

Maybe he had a case of bedhead, he wondered. Afterall, he’d not exactly been sober as he’d stumbled back to his room last night, his winnings buying him round after round of smuggled Corellian Whiskey. 

He hopped up onto the wing, yanking himself into the cockpit that had been cleaned thoroughly, and he didn’t know why he ever doubted his repair team if this was the condition they left their vehicles in. The engine hummed to life as he flicked the tiny lever, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the oddly floral smell inside the small flight deck, and he wondered if they had gone so far as to spray freshener in there. 

You had found a spare tightener that would fit the screw, the last thing that needed fastening up before the engine should be good to run, Leia’s general would be by any second now. 

Rolling back under the vehicle, you tuned out the way Zagg cackled over the sound of an engine springing to life, you assumed their own, focusing on the tiny panel you had yet to cover the machinery with to protect the pilot from any stray blaster fire cutting the engine. 

But no sooner had you settled on your back beneath the jet, your hand reaching up for the metal sheet, you heard the familiar rumble of oil being fired through the motor, the drums whirling as the ignition started and a short blast of heat hit you in the face. 

You blanched as you knew that meant, knew what would come shooting out any second now. Heat always got kicked out of the engine first, the left over energy dishcharged out of the bottom grate. Because then came the fire as it sprung to life.

Your hand came up before you could think through what you were doing, the hard work you were unravelling in the interest of keeping your face intact, your brain from turning to crispy mush, as you yanked the oil pipe from where you’d connected it to the drum, the thick black liquid pouring over your entire body as you stumbled from out beneath the plane, just incase your plan hadn’t worked. 

You heard the engine cut, the sound of the cockpit sliding open as someone cursed from above, and you were filled with a new wave of rage as two feet jumped from the wing above you, turning to the three men who watched with entertained chuckles. 

“What happened, I thought you said-” Poe had started chewing out the males who didn’t seem to care all too much about the fact the jet had broken down, when he felt two hands shove him from behind, and he spun on his heel with annoyance. 

His face dropped entirely when he saw you, covered head to toe in a thick, gunky oil, your nostrils flaring as you glared at him with a heat he had yet to see from a woman before.

Usually women were so receptive to his charming good looks. Not this one it seemed. 

“What the kriff was that, man,”  You yelled, shoving his chest again with your slimy hands, and he quickly put it together what had been the problem. 

“What that me?” His brows flew into his hair line as you looked at him like he’d just learned there were stars in the sky, “Oh, maker! It was an accident! I’m so sorry!”  

“Oh he’s sorry. Thank goodness he’s sorry,” You threw your arms up, wiping the oil away from your eyes with slippy hands, and Poe had no idea what to say for the best. 

Though, he supposed telling you you were by far the prettiest woman he’d seen in moons was not the correct thing to go for, despite the fact it was the first thing he’d thought. 

“I’m a decorated pilot, I would never intentionally-” He spluttered, but you had already turned away, heading towards a small work bench where a bunch of old, dirty rags lay, supposedly for hands only. 

“You can decorate my ass, general. You’re waiting another week for that plane,” You seethed, barely regarding him over your shoulder. 

And he stood there, speechless, because what was he supposed to say. No one had ever spoken down to him like that, not since he’d grown into his good looks and had women falling at his feet to be near him. Certainly not since he’d become leader. 

You huffed past him, as he was rooted to the spot, jaw hung slack as you left the workshop, cursing him out clearly to yourself, and it was only then that he turned to the other three males who had watched him get his ass served to him with another round of sniggers. “Who in the maker was she?”

[rubiehart]

can you write something for jj + pope having a crush/dating a kook! reader? headcanons maybe? :)

i think you meant them both separately having a crush on kook!reader like not both at the same time?? but if this isn’t what you’re looking for lmk and i can totally rewrite it!! also this came out way longer than expected, i got carried away…

JJ!

✧ contrary to popular belief, i feel like he wouldn’t come up to you right away, especially if you were the so called ‘kook princess’, he’d study you from afar at first, catching glimpses of you at a kegger or maybe on the marsh with your girls catching some sun in your skimpy little bikini.

✧ you’d catch his attention because you weren’t a complete bitch like a lot of the other kook girls he’d had encounters with for starters, but also because you were the complete opposite of the tom boy-ish girls from the cut.

✧ he wouldn’t mentioned his (not so) little crush on you to any of the other pogues because he knew exactly what they would say ‘she’s too good for you jj.’, knowing all about his promiscuity, but he wasn’t gonna give up so easily.

✧ you first talked to him at some kegger thrown for the start of summer, despite your good girl reputation you and jj managed to bounce off each others jokes pretty much all night, bantering like friends which was refreshing coming from a kook, he hadn’t expected you to be like this but he somehow liked you more because of it.

✧ this obviously confused the pogues. jj bagging the kook princess? no chance. you were polar opposites. when jj was questioned about it he just told john b ‘what can i say man, opposites attract.’ with a wink which made john b roll his eyes.

✧ you’d been talking for a while when you came to realise the talk about the ‘big bad pogue jj maybank’ wasn’t real, and he was a genuinely nice guy and you really did like him even though he wasn’t the kind of guy you’d usually go for, stuck up preppy assholes were more expected, you guessed. that’s why so many people questioned your close relationship with jj and why you’d bother with a pogue like him, which you’d answer with some more than impolite remark or hand gesture or a punch in the face, when some bitch spoke about the man you were forced to love in secret because of the split between kooks and pogues.

✧ after you started dating and the news was out to the island, the waters seemed to calm down and you could walk around the island together holding hands, truly in love without getting yelled at by some random boneheaded kook just for simply being together.

✧ when he’d spend the night at your house, he’d be surprised by the luxury you’d been given on a silver spoon all your life, not exactly envious per-se just more shocked you weren’t a brat about it, lounging on your comfy mattress that he seemed to welcome him perfectly, your warm skin pressed up to his own and just you. clouding his senses as he drifted off to sleep with a lil’ smile on his face.

✧ you’d wear his shirts to bed sometimes when he’d sleepover, seeing them practically engulfing you making him all warm and fuzzy inside, leaning to press a big sloppy kiss to your lips making you giggle and push him away, whining “jayjjjj!” he’d just wink and reply “y’know you love me pretty girl.”

POPE!

✧ pope is honestly such a sweetheart so i feel like he’d be introduced through friends, way too nervous to go up to you himself, eventually your friends would scatter leaving you both a little further down the beach huddled around the fire pit soaking in the little warmth the flickering flame gave out.

✧ he’d be stuttering over his words, trying to keep eye contact with you through the conversation but it was a challenge because you were easily the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

✧ after talking for a little while you took a liking to him, inviting him to hangout at the beach the next night, deciding to set up a little beach picnic for the two of you, wanting to get to know him properly away from your tipsy conversation at the boneyard party the previous night.

✧ he’d gone home and told the pogues about the night you had planned, all giddy and smiling, john b slapping him on the shoulder with a prideful grin “that’s my boy.”

✧ he’d arrived at the beach, a lot quieter than usual especially when the sun was setting, seeing your white jeep in the parking lot, clearly empty and mad his way down to the shoreline, spotting you on a white and red checkered blanket, waving rapidly and giggling when you saw him smile and wave, shoving his hands into his pockets and making the rest of the way over to you.

✧ his body tensed up when he saw you wrapped up in a pretty yellow sundress, hugging your body in all the right places and your hair flowing freely down your back and splayed over your shoulders care-freely. “hey pope!” you smiled, getting up to engulf him in a hug, breathing in his musky scent and settling down onto the picnic blanket. he reciprocated the hug and pulled away looming into your eyes.

✧ “you uh, you look really pretty.” he stuttered out nervously, gesturing to your figure. you giggled and raised your eyebrows, eyes taking down his own body, “you clean up nice yourself, heyward.” you smile, which you see a faint blush grace his cheeks which you decide not to poke fun about, already sensing his nervousness, which honestly you found adorable.

✧ you continued in comfortable conversation about anything and everything, once he got comfortable enough he started telling you all about himself, his dad’s business, where he was planning to go to college and his goals for the future, he seemed to know what he wanted which was a total green flag, giggling at all of the jokes he’d make and adding in your own little stories every now and then.

✧ as the sun started dipping beneath the horizon casting a dark orange hue over the whole landscape, and most of the food was gone, excuse a few spilled grapes from trying to throw and catch them into each others mouths, giggling loudly when they missed and bounced of pope’s forehead, he turned to you, “i always thought you were the prettiest girl on the island.” your eyes met his at his sudden confession and you looked suprised, never been told something like that before, “really?” you whispered quietly, not quiet believing what he said.

✧ “really.” he said, feeling a spur of confidence seeing the starstruck look on your face and deciding it was now or never. “want me to prove it?” he whispered, leaning in to tuck a lock of hair behind you ear, you nodding dumbfoundly and swallowing, not believing this was really happening. he leaned in and your warm lips were connected passionately, tasting him on your tongue, and nothing else mattered.

[malereadermaniac]

Bully! ~ Yoichi x Male Reader

Idk what the public opinion on Camp Buddy is, but Yoichi is hot, and I wanna write abt him Also for the purpose of this fic Yoichi is like 4-5 inches taller than you - ever if your 6" like me 😭 word count: 1k amab m!reader (genitalia mentioned but no nsfw) / FDNI

You and Yoichi had a very straightforward relationship - bully and bullied

You were a timid kind-a guy - liked by many but no-one would stick their neck out for you

So you were what Yoichi would call "an easy target"

It was non-stop 24/7

Every time Yoichi saw you he would find some way to pick on you or tease you

His antics varied from small comments to threatening to beat the shit out of you

His actions never actually matching his words but he got the message across

You could see it in Yoichi's eyes that he couldn't bring himself to hit you for no reason

Once your eyes were graced with the scruffy purple locks and ragged body of the muscular man, your ears would be equally graced with snide comments

"God! You're so pathetic, (n/n)"

"Fucking hell you're so weak!"

And if you'd try to ignore the taller man, he would get personally offended

"Oh, what? So I'm not worth your time now, am I, (y/n)?"

Being the compassionate person that you are, you tried to understand why Yoichi was the way he was - he had a rough childhood and has practically no family

But fuck did it get harder and harder to understand that bully!

With the camp sports day coming up, tension was clearly building within your cabin

The main person creating the tension being Yoichi

So when the purple haired man shouted at you for the 5th time today for not being able to climb a ten foot fucking rope - you felt something in you snap

The man towered over you, shirtless from his own training - annoyance visible on his face

But for the first time since your little relationship had begun, you matched his expression

"Is climbing a rope that fucking hard, (n/n)?" Yoichi teases you, his tone oozing petty annoyance

"How 'bout you just shut the hell up, Wolf Boy!?"

You gagged him a little bit with that one

Yoichi had never seen you snap back at him, he was left speechless for long enough to allow you to hit him with more

"Just 'cause you're insecure about yourself doesn't mean you have to fucking harass me y'know?!" You shout, pushing your hands against the hunks muscular chest, pushing him backwards

"A-At least I-I ca-an use my muscles-"

"Wow! Can't even form a sentence now can you? Just fuck off you bonehead!" You keep shouting at the speechless man

Yoichi should be getting mad at you right now

He's supposed to be annoyed and be mouthing off back at you with a pissed off scowl on his face

But instead, the rugged man is... blushing???

Barely anyone snaps back at him when he teases them - especially not you!

Why was his heart beating faster by the second?

And why could Yoichi only focus on how your body was moving with anger and sass?

"What? Can't mouth off anymore, can ya?" You tease the wolf boy, crossing your arms across your chest and looking up into Yoichi's eyes with slight disgust

In the span of 2 seconds, it clicked in Yoichi's brain what was happening to him

So just like a wild animal, he acted on his instincts and feelings

"What can I say, (y/n)? I get speechless when I'm around ya~" the muscular man FLIRTS with you

"HUH?! W-What are you on about now?!" You stammer out, a blush rushing to your cheeks as you avert your eyes

Yoichi moves closer to you, so you move backwards out if nervousness

You two move closer and further from one another until your back hits the wall of the rope-climb - Yoichi cornering you

"Heh... I'd never noticed you were so cute, shortie" Yoichi teases, his arm resting on the wall above your head

"F-Fuck off!" You say as you keep blushing, gently pushing your hands against Yoichi's chests

'Fuck he's so buff...' you think to yourself as you push against his massive pecs

"Ha! Alright alright... I'll see ya 'round, shortie~" Yoichi flirts as he turns around, waving goodbye to you without giving you a single glance

'What the fuck just got into him? AND WHY AM I HARD?!' You think to yourself, almost hyperventilating from the mix of emotions and panic you were feeling

Which was justified, your longtime bully just randomly started flirting with you

Calling you 'shortie' and 'cute'! Who just randomly does that?!

And it didn't help that you shared a cabin with the muscular man

So when you saw him later that night, all he did was give you a smirk and a wink

WHAT THE FUCK

You just tried your best to ignore him, heading straight for the bathroom to change into your pj's

The rest of the guys could tell something was off, you'd usually chat to all of them before changing

And Yoichi was never this silent, he was clearly lost in thought - which was rare since Yoichi barely ever used his brain!

Randomly, Yoichi goes towards the bathroom - once again following his instincts to just see you and tease you

He barges in on you changing

You jolt up and freeze at the sound of the door banging open

Silence fills the room as Yoichi gets practically entranced by your ass - a blush sprouting on his face as he bares his teeth in a grin

You turn around slightly to see the taller man eyeing you down - your turn also revealing your soft dick

"Damn, shortie~ Giving me quite the show aren't ya?" Yoichi says with a teasing smile, eyeing up your body

You were speechless, but you could still force your muscles to throw whatever was in your hand at the rugged man

"You pervert!" You shout, the item of clothing in your hand landing directly on Yoichi's face

It just so happened that the item of clothing was your underwear....

The universe must have it out for you today.

The purple haired man grabs the worn boxers and bunches them up - making a comment about them being cute or funny then giving you a horny smirk

'So cute... they smell good too ya know'

'SHUT UP!' You shout, pushing the man put of the bathroom, your frame still fully naked

'Well I won't turn down some free material' Yoichi thinks to himself as he looks at your bunched underwear and chuckles as he remembers your reaction to him seeing you buttnaked

[corvoqueen]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❛ ʀᴇᴄᴏɴ ❜

PAIRINGS: Vader x Rebel reader

SYNOPSIS: After a successful mission, things take an... interesting turn.

WARNINGS: Explosions, rebel activity, the Empire...

NOTES: In this AU the Mustafar duel happened but his legs weren't cut off. He still has burns around his legs and further down, not as intensively.

TIMELINE: next

「 Force 」

You stood upon the boulder, detonator in hand. Staring at the weapons manufactory, the stormtroopers filtering in and out. You felt yourself suffering from a crisis of conscience, and couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. These were people responsible for slaughtering innocent civilians, even the ones that followed the regime. They didn’t show mercy, not a sliver of it. So why were you here second guessing yourself about blowing this abomination to the ground? The mission report didn’t require you to evacuate the people inside. But you felt something tugging at your heart. Have they ever hesitated when it came to collateral damage? No…

But you weren’t them, and you didn’t want to be. You held your head up high, grabbing your datapad from your utility belt. Hacking into the Empire’s systems which was surprisingly not as difficult as you thought. ‘That’s what happens when you hire boneheads for IT.’ Shaking your head amused, despite seriousness of the current situation. You set off the evacuation, the alarms started blaring. Flashing red as the factory workers and stormtroopers alike started filling out of the building systematically. Sharing confused looks amongst each other as they made their way to the designated evacuation point. Grabbing your binoculars from your backpack you scanned the building in infrared. After making sure there were no heat signatures left inside. You pressed on the detonator, hearing the click before the building shook. Collapsing in on itself, catching light. Startling the Imperials as they took cover, shouting amongst themselves. Feeling the heat from the explosion reaching you even from your distance. You looked down at them, giving a salute. “For the rebellion,” you whispered. The words being carried in the wind, before turning on your heels. Heading back for your concealed ship. Allowing your footprints to be distorted by the wind, no trace of you left behind. At least you thought.

[ Meanwhile ]

Darth Vader is pulled from his meditation by a tug from the force. His piercing eyes snapping open, a gnawing feeling tearing through his gut. He stood up, his cape following suit. He stepped off the platform in his meditation chamber. Smoothing his hair back out of his face before grabbing his helmet that rested on its designated stand. The cold lenses staring back at him, a constant reminder of who he is now and the responsibilities that came with that. Sliding it over his head once more, hearing it click. Securing its place as the respirator flooded the inside with oxygen, he took a deep breath. Before exhaling, the sound resonating around the room. Giving an even more dramatic tone to his mere presence. He let his heavy arms fall back to his sides. The weight of his worries weighing down his toned shoulders. He took one last deep breath to centre himself, before exiting his mediation chamber. Heading for the war room, as soon as the door of his private chamber slid open. Vader was met face to face, well face to chest. With a lower level officer, sent to fetch him no doubt. To be notified about whatever had happened to cause such a disturbance in the force. The officer spoke up hesitantly, his voice trembling. “I- I’ve been sent to retrieve you, Ad- Admiral Tarkin wishes to see you in the war room.” Vader look down at the man, no older than his early twenties he estimated.

Not much younger than himself, not that he would know that. His mask was worn at all times in public, both the physical and the metaphoric one. So much so that who he was before he’d adorned it was a distant memory now, essentially another life. Without a word, Vader heads to the war room. Leaving the officer frozen in fear in his wake. The soft stomping resounded through the hallways, alerting everyone in earshot of his encroaching presence.

While Vader stalked down the halls of The Executor, his cape the colour of night. Billowing in his wake, the stormtroopers that were making their rounds quickly darted out of his way. The sounds of his respirator echoing through the halls, and ringing in his head. A ringing he’d grown used to, it’d become background noise. While there were many things he hated about the suit. In moments like this, he appreciated the anonymity. Though deep down, in a corner tucked in his mind. He knew that was only part of its purpose. The costraphobic layers, served as a reminded. A reminder of his duty to the Empire, to Sidious. And of the betrayal that led him here, the scars he’d gained in consequence had faded. But still clung to his skin, digging their way into his very soul. What was left of it at least, taunting him. Of what he’d done, who he’d hurt. Betrayed, the lives he’d taken, and those that followed-

“Lord Vader,” the voice of Admiral Tarkin greeted him. His gaze shifted, looking up from his position in the doorway. To the Admiral, his gaze flitting to the projection lit. Exposing the damage to the manufaction plant, the hologram rotating slowly. His body was on autopilot as he stepped closer, analysing the image in front of him. “As you can see, the weapons manufactory plant has been completely levelled. No personnel were lost, an evacuation alert went off prior to the explosion.”

“Who set off the evacuation?” He questioned shortly, his words eerily even.

“Unknown. The perpretrator was able to compromise our systems, initiating the evacuation before the building was destroyed.” Tarkin’s words became a blur to Vader, his mind racing. As he felt that feeling from before tugging at his gut. He continued to stare at the projection, ‘this was a suspected rebel attack. But the MO is different, why evacuate the building if it’s supposed to be a message against the Empire? Why go through the effort of evacuation?’ He thought, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

「 You 」

I watch the ramp to my ship lower, and I took a deep breath. Steadying myself as I walked up the ramp, heading for the control panel so I could get out of this shit show as soon as possible. Something was… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and that’s what’s worrying me.

I heard the whoosh as the ramp door closed. I start the engine, taking off slowly and steady. Keeping the noise down to a minimum, even though the factory was destroy I didn’t want to push it. After exiting the atmosphere I prepare to jump into hyperspace. I wrap my fingers around the lever, gripping it tightly-

I can’t see anything, blinking rapidly. Suddenly blinded by fluorescent lights, slowly the room comes into focus. Something rotating in front of me, when my eyes focused. It was a blueprint… to the manufacture plant I just blew up. Shivers climb up my spine as I hear a deep inhale, that sounded like a machine… or a man? “Hello little minx,” I jolt in surprise. The voice lingering in my mind.

“What the fuck…” I whisper. My eyes darting around, I’m back in my ship.

dividers: @vibeswithrenai + @chilumitos

taglist 🏷: @rabbitrabbit12321

(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[applecherryandpears]

That time Noel car chased Liam to stress that Wonderwall’s indeed about a girl

So... this was supposed to be Wonderwall's single cover:

The photographer (Michael Spencer Jones) had brought Liam to Primrose Hill in London to take that shot but both were interrupted by what he described as a "black cab that came to a screeching halt". From that said running cab, came out Noel, allegedly shouting that Liam - "our kid" - was not to be on that cover as Wonderwall is a love song, about a girl. According to Michael, Noel downward hated the thought of Liam being on the cover.

The girl on the actual cover was a Creation Records employee in the exact same pose:

So, being incredibly grateful for the mental image this article gifted me with, I decided to make a post summing up the many Wonderwall meanings according to Noel.

Disclaimer : I think Wonderwall's about Liam, just putting it out there.

My own thought is that Noel can't say this because, and to quote him "it would look bad" see this interview excerpt about the song dirty shirt in 1997:

"Meg is the girl in the dirty shirt. (...) Liam will read this and say, You fucking wanker! Because he thinks all the songs are about him. He even thinks Wonderwall is about him. So he'll be telling me it's a geezer in a dirty shirt really, except I couldn't say that because it would look bad."

Apart from the absolute chaotic reaction of having the lead singer star on the cover of the lead single, Noel, I think, obviously wanted Liam to sing it, initially.

Liam had been given a choice between this and Don't look back in anger by Noel, who stressed many, many, times throughout the years that Liam didn't like the song when he first heard it (I'd say covertly disappointed). Also he gave different versions of whatever Liam said about it : 

But Liam, first time he heard "Wonderwall" he said, "That's puff's music, I'm not sing that." For weeks and weeks and weeks he wouldn't sing it, and then he heard me singing it and then he knew. in 1996  "(pissy voice) Wonderwall, it's fucking dance record, innit? All that hip hop drum beat - we're not a fucking dance group. Of course, once he's sung on it it was the best record ever made." "I said, ‘You’re singing one or the other, but not both.’ He hated Wonderwall. He said it was trip-hop. There speaks a man who’s never heard trip-hop." In a recent interview "Everyone in the band went, 'I'm sorry but I don't f*****g think so," "I remember Our Kid saying, and I'll never forget this, 'Why are you writing reggae songs?' And I was like, there speaks a man that has never heard reggae."

In 2023, Liam confirmed that as he first heard Wonderwall being played “I didn’t like it at first, I thought it was a little funky.” And Bonehead, added, “It sounded like a reggae song to me. The first time [Noel] came in, I was like, ‘What the hell’s that?”. (Far Out Magazine).

Which I get as Noel's acoustic version is very different from Oasis version with Liam on vocal. But anyway, Noel often mentioned that when Liam's reluctant to sing one of the songs he pretends he will sing it himself and this way Liam like clockwork jumps on it, and that's exactly what he said for Wonderwall + told Liam it will be a hit, and immediately, Liam wouldn't let go of it.

So my guess is that the 'choice' was just a snare to make Liam do what he wants, as Noel likes to do.  And also a bit of power play at hand there in an attempt to ground 1995 firework Liam and as Noel said again in 2023 "to have a song on his own" as he was getting annoyed by Liam walking out on him.

"The only time I laid down the law was Wonderwall and Don’t Look Back In Anger. "I was so fucked off with him walking off stage and me having to take over and do the gig. I remember thinking, if I’m going to do this, I want a big fucking song to sing." + "I said, ‘You’re singing one or the other, but not both.’

Liam said between 1995-96 “When Our Kid went, ‘Right, you’ve got a choice, “Wonderwall” or “Don’t Look Back In Anger,” ’ it done me head in,” the singer told NME. “I said, ‘I wanna sing both, you dick.’ But I chose ‘Wonderwall’ ’cos it was right and it happened. But I don’t think I could have sung ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’ the way he sung it. And when I hear it I think it’s great.”

Additionally in 2023, Noel kinda slipped and said "I'm glad I chose that one" after saying Liam chose it when a record label person said it would be their big hit.

But what is interesting is as their relation deteriorated Noel changed the Wonderwall story:

Around 1996-1997 "I wanted to sing Wonderwall because the guitars are accoustic but our kid insisted that he wanted to sing it. So I said Alright im going to do DLBIA"

In 1997, in the book Getting High: The Adventures of Oasis by Paolo Hewitt, he wrote "according to Owen Noel wanted to sing wonderwall which makes perfect sense, he had written the song with Meg in mind, it was the only way he knew how to properly express his love for her with the song detailing her struggle to find work but celebrating her ability to bounce back against the odds. So we finished Wonderwall, and Liam's Right I'm singing this one. And he did a blinding vocal a brilliant vocal."

in 1998  Noel went "I always wanted to sing "Wonderwall", but I'm glad he sang it 'cos he sings it better than I do."

or when asked on a TV show in 2000 'If I wrote wonderwall I wouldn't want to give that to my brother to sing', Noel said that he did not but they had a long heated debate on who will sing it and in the end, he didn't have a choice because Liam's 'bottom lip went too far down towards his kneecaps' 'he looked very very sad' and he said alright he will sing the other one don't look back in anger.

And only recently in 2021, he went back to the original story:

“He wanted to sing ‘Don’t Look Back In Anger’, but it became apparent during the recording that ‘Wonderwall’ was going to be the tune. If I’m being honest, I shouldn’t have sung either of them because I wasn’t really a singer then.”

I mean every critic agrees that Liam gave one of his most impressive vocals singing that song "both cuttingly sharp and heartbreakingly warm at the same time" Noel said he '"had no idea, even after the first album, that Liam could sing like he did on 'Wonderwall,'" and that he did " a sterling job (...) ‘Wonderwall, ‘Hey Now’ and ‘Cast No Shadow’ were literally one take. He delivers my songs spot-on. He knows." So it's a bit strange that he didn't just go on saying that like other songs such as Slide Away Liam's delivery gave it a special edge.

Personally I think it has to do with the meaning of the song for their relationship. There is a lot of hope and commitment in that song all while acknowledging the anger and difficulties of a relationship.

An other thing that struck me as important was, in an oasis book it was reported that while watching Wonderwall win some chart thing on TV Noel turned to the person writing and started going on about how high the wibbling rivalry was on the charts in comparison to the oasis tracks. So what came up to his mind was the 'Liam fight track' while listening to the song, weirdly enough.

And about the meaning --->

Originally, Noel attributed this song to his then girlfriend Meg Matthews as we know. She was compared to a schoolboy's wall to which posters of footballers and pop stars are attached, Noel told Select magazine

"It's about my girlfriend. She was out of work, and that, a bit down on her luck, so it's just saying, 'Cheer up and f---in get on with it.'" After Liam's and Noel's infamous interaction with their Father, he even told her directly as much albeit gave it a a more romantic meaning "Fucking hell Meg, you're meant to be my wonderwall and you were fast asleep when it all went off. What kind of Wonderwall are you?" or when a cover of the song came out and she thought Noel had plagiarized the song he wrote for her he told her " 'No, honestly, I did write about you...!"

Now, idk how reliable he is but their father said that the wall actually existed and it was Noel's and Liam's :

"both Noel and Liam's original ‘wonderwall’ was actually the wall of the bedroom they used to _ share as children in their — ex-council house. ‘They called it their wonderwall" "in 1983 they both started writing on the wall, bits of songs, poems, favourite bands, football teams. In one corder Noel wrote 'I love Diane Jones’ and underneath in the same writing, “Liam _ is a puff”. They'd fight terribly about who had the most writing space. | didn't touch it for years but | wallpapered - it before Christmas."

Meg has been written at the time as "The only girl he had met who came close to being as important as his music and the one who understood him better than almost everyone else."

But Noel then stuck to the following version about the song's name, that it came from Wonderwall Music the debut solo album by George Harrison and the soundtrack to the 1968 film Wonderwall, (She lives next door to a man who becomes fascinated with her, so he slowly makes holes in his wall so he can watch her through it. This is the "Wonderwall.").

Meg said that "George Harrison wrote the music to the film Wonderwall, so that's the reference, but to me it's about being his wall of strength. His solidity." She never asked him directly and found out the meaning in the papers months later. So idk if this is her interpretation or if Noel said something about the actual meaning.

Then in 2003, in Q magazine's 1001 Best Songs Ever, Noel backtracked, "The meaning of that song was taken away from me by the media who jumped on it. And how do you tell your Mrs. it's not about her once she's read it is? It's about an imaginary friend who's going to come and save you from yourself."

and In 2023 Noel pinned him saying the song was about Meg on this specific cover "We did the cover and there's a girl on the front, She had long blonde hair, she looked like my then-wife, Meg Matthews. Doing the interviews for the thing [later], and they say, 'Is this about your wife?', and what do you say? No? So you say yes but it's not about anyone in particular"

Yet Noel admitted it was a romantic song in 1998 : You don't write a song like Wonderwall if you're not romantic. I am. I'm a dreamer and a romantic. Liam is too.

and later

First of all, “Outside of England, it’s the one we’re famous for all over the world, and it annoys the fuck out of me,” Noel Gallagher once said. “It’s not a fucking rock and roll tune. There’s quite a vulnerable statement to it.”

So while I don't think this song is about Meg, it is definitely an emotional song that strips him bear.

More importantly, years later after hell broke loose in Oasis, Noel praised Ryan Adams's version and declared he is the only person who ever got the song “Wonderwall” right. Ryan Adams played it as part of his album "love is hell" and said that "It occurred to me that I was singing it from the perspective of someone in danger of committing suicide. (...) It's someone saying, you're my last hope. But in the second verse, that hope it's not happening, and I'm singing like that".

I don't think it's coincidence that after all the issues they had Noel was the one who mainly sung that song himself live in the late 90s and then gave it a tone of devastation and sorrow as he switched to playing it Ryan Adams way for a long time. The collapsing of their relationships brought out the frustration rather than the hope in the song.

As to Liam and Noel's thoughts on the songs, while around 95 they weren't critical of it, seemed quite proud of it, and Noel even said it was part of his favorite/best songs with Live forever, they changed their tunes years later, that said it could only be due to the reluctance and irritation of being seldom seen as 'that band that did Wonderwall'.

For example Noel claimed in 2006 "I don't much like 'Wonderwall,' but the effect that song has on people, I can't deny it," he said. "Great music is in the ear of the beholder." and that it's one of his least favourite Oasis songs because it's "unfinished". If I could somehow twist time and go back there, I’d probably pick a different song for our calling card. Probably Some Might Say."

But one comment from Liam struck me as extreme even for him, In 2008, Liam said during the press run for Dig Out Your Soul, “At least there’s no ‘Wonderwall’ on there. I can’t fucking stand that fucking song! Every time I have to sing it, I want to gag." So it could be its popularity or the fact Liam had lost his voice, but I've never heard him talk so critically about an Oasis song, it sounded personal. Just like when Noel recently said he's glad he's singing that one as it's a better song.

So I still think that while they're honest saying they don't want Oasis to be summed up to one tune, but their uneasiness playing the song live was due to its meaning. Noel even stressed the band couldn't find a way to play it right live, which is not exactly true, considering the famous live where Liam stares at Noel during the chorus.

So there's that.

[umathurwin]

your riara fic has me thinking about riara cheating trope but kiara is on the phone with her bf trying not to moan and scream while rafe is eating her out……

i’m sorry but little blondie has to be cucked

(rafe x kiara; nsfw/mild dubcon under the cut)

running up the spiral stairs in the cameron manor was so much more fun when kie knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

coming to hang out here used to be a whole production. she’d change her location settings to track her old ipad, which she’d stuff under her bed before sneaking out the side door. she had candid photos of her friend with edited metadata to look like she’d taken them that night in case she had to verify her whereabouts. 

nowadays? too much fucking work. she’d text her boyfriend a i’m going to sarah’s tonight and simply not check her messages again until she was home in her own bed again. usually at 3, 4 in the morning. 

kiara went into rafe’s room and sat cross legged on his bed—he’d be following shortly after grabbing some waters. she considered taking her top off, but he flamed her for being too eager last time and edged her for hours. 

when he finally joined her, she noticed the white phone in his hand— rafe’s was black. she must’ve left hers downstairs, and he was intently focused on the display before turning it to her. 

jj’s face illuminated the screen. if she ever took her phone off silent, it would be ringing at her too, but the room was quiet. “fuck, sorry. i forgot to put it on do not disturb—”

“answer it.”

he extended the phone out to her, but she didn’t move. “i—what? no, i’m not gonna answer it. you know he thinks i’m with sarah!”

“fine. i’ll answer it.” rafe pulled the device back out of her reach and slid his thumb across the screen, connecting the call.

kiara’s hand shot out and snatched it from him, putting the phone to her ear. “hey, babe…”

it was painful. she’d never felt so awkward talking to jj, and it was difficult to leave the casual conversation without giving a reason as to why she couldn’t chat. rafe just smiled and tugged his shirt off from the back of his neck. 

undressing was a bad sign. the countdown timer has begun. 

“so, you having fun with sarah?” the voice on the phone asked, and rafe sank one of his knees into the bed. 

“yeah!” she chirped with panicked, wide eyes, begging rafe to just wait. “she says hello, but she’s peeing right now and can’t talk.”

“gross. her birthday is coming up, right?”

rafe pushed kiara back onto his pillows. keep talking, he mouthed. fuck. 

jj went on about the local places they could celebrate as rafe unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them down her legs. she shook her head a little, trying to make him understand this wasn’t the right time. like he didn’t already know. 

with her tank top pushed up, her panties tangled around one of her ankles, and her boyfriend chatting away on the other end, rafe mashed his entire face between her legs. his tongue dragged across her clit, and he’d be making some obscene noises if his mouth wasn’t fully attached to her pussy. 

“oh my god!” kie cried out, and she felt rafe smile into her cunt. “that restaurant is so good. wasn’t that the place you got half the staff to walk out with you last year? h-how did that happen again?”

“hell yeah! the manager was this total bonehead, right…?” jj trailed off into his story, and she knew he hadn’t been taking his ritalin. she bought herself a few minutes, easily. 

kiara put her phone on mute and set her phone to the side, then threaded her fingers through his hair. she lifted her hips and used his tongue to chase more friction. with her boyfriend unable to hear her, she moaned and whimpered when rafe pulled away. 

“really? you couldn’t even try to keep quiet?” rafe chided, sliding his fingers messily over her swollen cunt. “quitter.”

“shut the fuck up and— oh, fuck!” he dropped his head down and pulled her clit into his mouth. his suckling, her slick on his lips, it was so loud and nasty and it pushed her over the edge easily. 

rafe held her still as she came on his face, and in a brief moment in between her cries and pleas for more, they could both hear jj rattling on, his voice distant and tinny. 

she caught her breath— or at least tried to— and grabbed her phone again to unmute the call. “oh my gosh, babe, i’m sorry but my mom is calling me right now. call you later?”

“oh! yeah, of course. bye, ki—”

kie threw the phone across the room as soon as she heard the hang-up tone. she’d be angrier if she could form a single coherent thought. rafe smirked— maybe his plan will work next time

[molter-writes]

pleeeasssee miller i know you let the work stand on it's own but please tell us jsut a tad bit more about the valyerian sex magic!!!!

i meannnn

on valyrian sex magic

i am not the person to ask for the true asoiaf lore, of course; but there is obviously a pervasive source of magic across Planetos — accessible by many cultures in many different forms — and the "flavour" of the magic of each is very much a reflection, i think, of what GRRM wants us to glean about each. the Starks are themselves effectively the oldest singular consistent human organisation, if you will, that we actually meet in the books, and their magic is extremely rudimentary and primordial—they turn into animals and talk to trees. It's giving primordial man, it's giving Lucy—humanity as a symbiotic participant in (rather than an editor of) the natural world.

fast forward almost five thousand years: the valyrians are not tree hugging hunter-gatherers. they are the roman empire if the roman empire were composed of evil wizards. Their magic is dark, rooted in blood and fire—it was a tool of mind control, of asymmetric warfare, of wroth destruction. It required blood sacrifice and whips and horns and knives. It mated slave women to animals to produce grotesque chimeras. The entire thing is about the subjugation, not the embrace, of nature. Obviously until we have WoW or (lol) aDoS, we won't know—and maybe not even then—but the best prevailing theory in my view is that blood of the dragon is literal. Planetos has wyverns and, more importantly, firewyrms (flightless, firebreathing lizards) that the Valyrians almost certainly combined with human beings in some ritualistic hellcurse to produce the first dragons. this explains (1) the psychogenic bond between rider and dragon; (2) why nobody without valyrian blood can ride one; (3) the decline of the dragons correlating near-perfectly with the Andalisation (read: de-magifying) of the Targaryens; and perhaps most importantly, (4) why an animal that can fly hundreds of miles in a day would for some reason be found only on a single small isle in some random corner of a massive content that has volcanos and mountains and hot weather elsewhere. only one culture having dragons is like only one airport having planes.

much like the american NRA often asserts about guns, dragons are something of a sexual equaliser. part of why rhaenyra is so much freer than alicent when they're young is not merely because of her elevated social station (which is a principal part of it, yes) but also because she is in sole possession of one of the only six nukes in the world. At fifteen Rhaenyra possesses the power to go burn Riverrun to its foundation. I mean, if you thought Daenerys had firepower—regardless of D&D's absolute boneheaded visual mistakes in the show—Syrax is bigger than Drogon.

in any case i digress; i bring this up to make the point that while we do know valyria was a patriarchy of sorts, you can imagine a world in which a valyrian noble house would be headed (on occasion) by a woman because she is the most powerful imperial military leader because she is in command of the largest dragon. as a result, you can imagine a culture that embraces less patriarchal sexual and gender politics than do the Andals, and when take this inference a step further with the chimeras and the dragon-making and all the other frankensteinian blood magic, i just don't think it's that much of a leap to imagine that some dragon-wielding all-powerful female ruthless blood wizard in ancient Valyria decided—based on blood purity or necessity or ego or whatever—to impregnate some other woman. some maesters recorded that dragons appeared to change their sex—becoming able and unable to lay and fertilise eggs. Anyway, I just don't put genderbending and fempreg past the people who—if the theory is right—invented fucking dragons. It seems easier to do magic pregnancy than to do dragons. idk. melisandre gave birth to a shadow. nearly every ancient tradition on the planet can explore the miracle of virgin conception but we can't have lesbo baby?? why?? thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

[pascaloverx]

Moonlight

Summary: You and Edward Cullen used to have a romantic relationship. But fate seemed not to believe in the possibility of a vampire and a potential she-wolf being together. Years after your separation, you return to Forks. Edward is committed to Bella Swan, and Jacob Black has his own pack. What happens when, upon your return, you begin to transform into a she-wolf and both Edward and Jacob seem eager to revisit the past with you?

Author's Note: The characters in this fanfic do not belong to me but to Stephenie Meyer and the Twilight universe. The story blends events that happened in the Twilight saga movies with invented ones. Enjoy reading. This story will contain inappropriate language, a possible love triangle, scenes of violence, and romance.

ONE THREE

TWO

You doze off during the rest of the car ride. When Jacob parks, you open your eyes and find yourself at the place where you spent the beginning of your life. Jacob has brought you near Sam's house, probably knowing that Uley would be upset if he wasn't one of the first to see you when you arrived in La Push.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam Uley says in the most concerned big brother tone you've ever heard. As soon as you got out of the car with Jacob, you expected to hear comments about your current state.

"So good to see that you're still the same. I'm fine, even though I'm in this chaotic state, in case you wanted to know how I am." You say, walking up to him and hugging him. Jacob stands silently right behind you.

"You let her get hurt?" Sam asks as he steps back from you. He's questioning Jacob, who seems bothered by Uley's questioning.

"She got hurt before I was with her. Not that I'm not used to being the guy who takes the blame for any mistake you find. But it makes me curious that even when I'm no longer part of your pack, I'm still the first one you want to blame." Jacob says, not moving a muscle, looking both irritated by Sam's question and satisfied with his response. Sam, on the other hand, looks quite annoyed by Black's comment.

"Look, as much as I love watching a good fight, I'm not in the mood for it right now. Can you both pretend to tolerate each other while I'm here?" You say, stepping between the two and looking especially at Jacob. He sighs and takes a few steps back.

"Emily is inside making tea for everyone. I'd like you to meet her." Sam says, turning his attention back to you. Your gaze shifts to Jacob, who seems calmer now. You all then walk towards Sam's house to go inside.

"Y/N, did you have to pass through a pack of vampires or something to get here?" Embry almost shouts, rushing towards you as soon as you enter the house. He hugs you so tightly that you almost lose your breath.

"She just got here and you want to bring up those topics, you idiot. No wonder she ran away from us." Paul says, smacking Embry's arm and coming towards you for a hug. You missed all this chaos.

"You definitely haven't changed at all. You two seem like two fools fighting to see who's the biggest fool. But I loved the welcome. Tell me, how's dealing with Black and Uley without me?" You say as you walk towards Quil to greet him. Quil laughs when he sees Black and Uley's reactions to your joke.

"Believe me, without you, we're lost." Quil whispers as he hugs you. You look at him, expecting to see him smile as if he's making a joke, but as you look at him, you're not sure if he's joking.

"We can't complain. Jacob left the pack and took two with him, which made the pack less chaotic. Who knows, maybe you, Y/N, can convince those two that their split in terms of the pack doesn't mean they're enemies." Jared says as he helps a woman make tea. She must be Emily.

"That's literally what it means." Sam and Jacob say in unison, and everyone in the room laughs as if they were kids. Of course, everyone except the two boneheads.

"Poor girl. Just got involved in some accident, and you guys are expecting her to solve an ego battle that's been going on for years. No wonder she ran away from you all. No offense, dear." Emily says as she sets the cups on the table and kisses Sam's cheek.

"Sorry for the rudeness. I walked into your house without even introducing myself. My name is Y/N." You say, greeting Emily. She smiles sweetly and shakes your hand.

"I'm Emily, and don't even worry about apologizing. This pack drives anyone crazy. But I don't need to tell you that. I hope you're here to stay with us." Emily speaks kindly as she serves tea for everyone. You look at her and then glance at Jacob.

"She's staying with me." Jacob speaks quickly, surprising everyone. Sam looks at you and then at Black, as if trying to understand what's happening.

"And it's almost like nothing has changed…" Embry tries to whisper. However, everyone hears him, and Emily looks confused.

"Don't you think Y/F/N would be disappointed in you for dishonoring his daughter even though you're in love with Swan?" Sam says, holding his tea cup, looking at Jacob as if he wanted to provoke a big commotion.

"Unlike you, I'm pretty clear about what I want and who I want. I don't deceive anyone or take advantage of feelings. Y/N and I have been friends for years, there's room in my house, so obviously she's staying with me." Jacob responds to Sam with a certain sharpness. The two clearly aren't able to interact with each other peacefully. You set your tea cup down on the table and step in between Jacob and Sam.

"Sam, I find it disrespectful for you to bring up the memory of my late father in such a ridiculous situation as this little spat with Jacob. Jacob, I think you owe everyone an apology for your behavior. Now, I hope you understand, but I'm going to go clear my head. If anyone follows me, it will be the last thing they do on this earth. Consider yourselves warned." You say and leave, without seeing anyone's reaction or caring about being rude. The truth is, you were waiting for a good excuse to go see Carlisle. You know Edward well. If you don't go get examined by his doctor father, he'll surely bother you. And you need to forget about him. Walking, you arrive in a short time at the spot that used to be the meeting point you and Edward used for your romantic encounters. You remember how you used to spend the whole night together, talking about the future.

"Miss Y/N, it's been a while. Would it be very vampiric of me to say that you've aged?" Carlisle speaks, obviously trying to show his humorous side. You smile a little as you approach him, carrying a medical bag that looks just like any common human doctor's.

"Mr. Cullen, you have youth on your side in many aspects, but not in the humor department. Would it surprise you to say that even though I'm older, people still treat me as if I have no choice?" You say, sitting on a tree trunk nearby. Carlisle begins to examine you.

"Edward has the best intentions in his actions, I can assure you. He still cares a lot about you." Carlisle speaks compassionately, as if genuinely justifying Edward's actions. You smile, thinking it's nice that they care for each other in this way.

"So, how am I?" You ask, changing the subject. Carlisle smiles a little as he finishes examining you.

"With superficial wounds on your face and arms. No signs of concussion or anything like that. But going to the hospital for an X-ray would be most appropriate." Carlisle says as he packs up his medical items.

"Thank you for the consultation, Dr. Carlisle. I'll take your recommendation seriously. And do me a favor, ask Edward to stay away from me." You say to Carlisle, who seems to know that you've noticed Edward hiding behind a tree not far from you.

"In my opinion, you two should at least have one last conversation. To finalize the relationship. But know that my family and I will always have regard for you. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out." Carlisle says, looking kindly at you. Seconds later, he disappears. That must be one of the best parts of being a vampire.

"Do you think it's fair to come after me while you're committed to someone else?" You say loudly, making sure Edward hears and responds.

"I can't get you out of my mind. But I agree it's not fair. So far, my love for Bella has made me the kind of vampire I always wanted to be. And you know, it's an uncomplicated love. Sure, our situation is complicated because she's human, but the feeling has never been complicated. With you, it's like you're consuming me." Edward appears suddenly in front of you and declares this as if it were the best thing in the world.

"If I'm consuming you, why are you here? Go back to your beloved. Forget about me and do everyone a favor." You say, approaching Edward without realizing that you're almost face to face. You were immersed in old feelings when you let yourself get so close to him. His cold hands gently touch your face, pushing back the strands of hair that were in your face. He leans in, as if to kiss you. You feel that it's wrong, but you want it so much that it's like you're out of control. Before you realize it, your lips touch his. A gentle, slow kiss. As if you both wanted to savor every second of it. Or prolong the kiss because you know that this moment signifies many things. It signifies infidelity on Edward's part. Betrayal on yours. And it signifies that there are feelings between you.

[littlemissfiore]

Plan Failed!

prompt: your crush starts dating someone else. in a vain attempt to catch their attention, you device a plan with your friend to make them jealous. although, it seems your plan has failed, now it's up to your friends to pick up the pieces.

pairing: monster trio + usopp x gn!reader [modern au] [college au]

note: i was bored lmao (this is unedited)

Monkey D. Luffy:

"Let's just get something to eat! I'm getting hungry!" whined Luffy. You sent a glare his way, hoping he wasn't blowing your cover.

Luffy stared at you unamused, watching you look over at your crush flirt with someone else. He was getting tired of your antics, you were letting him starve just so you can ogle at your crush.

Luffy knew about your plan and was more than willing to help. The plan was simple, right? Make your crush jealous by having them think you're making moves on Luffy. Then, once they realize what they are missing out on, you and your crush date and Luffy gets to go his own way.

If only it was as simple as Luffy made it out to be. This little scheme of yours was lasting a little too long. Your crush never paid attention to you, and when he did, it was half-assed. Only asking for the answers to the homework or if you could help them work out a question on an assignment in class.

You always seemed to take these interactions as a victory, but not even Luffy is this dense. He was well aware your crush did not reciprocate your feelings but you would refuse to listen to him.

"Shut up! You don't know anything about romance!" you yelled at him, your face growing hot with embarrassment.

Luffy? Not knowing about romance? Of course he knew what it was. Two people like each other, go on dates and kiss, it was simple, right?

Luffy sometimes wanted to kiss you, was that romance? You two were already going on-unofficial-dates and hanging around each other more than usual.

The both of you were always together one way or another. You would invite Luffy out for lunch after class. He would stay in campus at night, waiting for you to finish your night classes. You were both in the same friend group. Luffy already knew what you liked and disliked; hell, he's met your family before that bonehead had the chance to.

What did that meathead have that was so special about them? Unlike them, Luffy would do his homework, even if the answers were wrong. He would never ask you for the answers, instead choosing to spend quality time with you teaching him the material outside of class.

Plus, Luffy liked you. You didn't need a convoluted plan to catch his attention, you already had it.

You let out a defeated sigh, "This plan isn't gonna work is it?" you asked, looking for confirmation.

"Nope!" Luffy said bluntly.

Even though his response hurt you, you knew Luffy was just being honest with you. It was a trait you admired in him, it was much better than having him feed into your delusions.

Luffy noticed a shift in your behavior now becoming a sad one. Coming to the realization that your crush did not reciprocate the same feelings you had. You were planning on going home and crying your heart out, it felt like the only thing to do. Although, Luffy had other plans. He grabbed you by the hand, leading you away from campus.

"W-where are you taking me?" you stuttered, tryin to keep up with Luffy's pace.

He only turn to look at you, giving you that wide grin you absolutely adored. "I'm taking you out to eat, my treat!" was the only thing Luffy responded with.

You felt warm inside knowing that Luffy was doing his best to try and make you feel better. Maybe it was for the best your crush didn't reciprocate your feelings. Why?

Because you felt yourself becoming flustered at the realization that Luffy has been holding your hand the entire walk to the restaurant.

Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro watched you mop around in your seat, watching your crush flirt with another person. Even with all the efforts you and Zoro went through to get your crush jealous all ended up in failures. Zoro was not one to shy you away from the truth, he told you in the beginning this plan was not going to work.

Now, here you were, trying to drink your pain away. Zoro was the last person you'd imagine to tell someone to stop drinking. Although, this was different, you looked pathetic being all mopey over some dumbass.

Zoro didn't understand you at all. How can you be sad over that piece of shit? If you asked him, he wasn't even worth your time. Actually, don't ask him that, Zoro would never admit it. He was too stubborn to tell you anything other than "I told you so".

It was a bad idea to come to this party, it was supposed to be fun but you were having an awful time. Zoro could be out enjoying his time drinking with his friends, but he choose to stay by your side instead.

"You know you're not obligated to stay with me, right?" you sniffled, rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. "You can be with your friends..."

Zoro would've ignored your comment but he was surprised you were crying. Are you seriously crying over your crush? Somebody who could care less about your feelings? That guy didn't even know you were in the same class as him.

"S-stop crying!" exclaimed Zoro. He didn't know how to deal with emotional people, especially when they were crying.

"But it hurts!" you cried, rubbing your tears away.

Zoro felt anger running through his veins, aggravated by the thought of you crying over that jackass. Stop crying, thought Zoro. Why were you crying over your crush when you had Zoro right there.

"You need to get over it!" spat Zoro, his words coming out rather harshly. He didn't mean to make you feel worse, but he was not going to hide you from the truth. "That jackass is over there making out with someone else and you're here moping like if he even knew you!"

You felt crushed but Zoro continued, "Know your worth! Realize just how cool you are, you were willing to let a loser like him be your boyfriend? Toughen up and find someone who will actually give a shit about you like I do!"

Zoro realized the words that had just come out of his mouth. Did he just give you a borderline confession? No, there was no way Zoro had any feelings for his friend.

Zoro saw how you became flustered, "Don't take that in a weird way!" he was quick to add before downing his beer.

Zoro tried his best to ignore the situation that unfolded. Where did that all come from? There was no way those fake dates and hand holding could've made him fall for you. It wasn't real, it was all an attempt to make your crush jealous; but, Zoro couldn't deny that he felt a little warm on the inside when he thought about being official with you.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

You were mindlessly going through Sanji's TV, looking for something to watch and ease your brain. At first, Sanji was surprised when you showed up to his house unannounced with a somber expression. You told him you would be with your crush on a so called "study date". It wasn't a real date but you thought it was a step closer to victory to name it one.

"The study session was cancelled," you muttered, dropping yourself on Sanji's couch. "Said he couldn't make it and then I saw him making out with someone else in another part of campus. Amazing, right?"

You looked miserable, your eyes were red and puffy. You had been crying as you made your way to Sanji's house.

Sanji wasted no time comforting, "Let me make you something to eat, hopefully you'll feel a lot better," he said, heading to the kitchen.

Sanji couldn't understand how someone could do that to you. You were cute, passionate and smart, traits Sanji admired since the first time you two met in class. He wished he got to have half the attention that you gave to your crush.

Sanji was already aware of his growing feelings for you but he choose to keep quiet. Before he had known he grew so fond of you, Sanji had already agreed to your plan. Others would call it a bad decision on his end, you would hold his hand and take him on 'dates'. It didn't make his situation any better, seeing how he fell even harder

Yet, Sanji would refuse to tell you about his feelings. You had your eyes on somebody else and he respected your decision, even if it would hurt him.

"Here you go," Sanji laid the plate in front of you. "Don't cry too much while eating, it'll make it taste saltier."

You have him a tired giggle but it was immediately replaced with a sad expression. Sanji knew what had happened earlier hurt you a lot.

"Sanji..." you started, snapping Sanji out of his daze. "Do you think I'm beautiful?"

"W-what?" Sanji was baffled by your question.

You looked ashamed of yourself but you repeated your question. "Do you think I'm beautiful...?"

What kind of question is that? Does Sanji think you're beautiful? Beautiful is just one of the many words he would use to describe how you look to him. He could spend hours writing letters on your beauty alone, of course you were pretty. How could Sanji explain to you how fast his heart beats every time he sees you? How he wished you looked at him with the same adoration you look at your crush.

Sanji knew he would be crossing his boundaries, but he felt you needed to know. He cupped both of your cheeks, giving you a compassionate look. You felt yourself becoming flustered with how intimate his touch felt.

"You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes upon, darling," said Sanji.

He truly meant it. All those fake dates would pale in comparison to what he could truly offer you. You felt yourself lean in closer to Sanji, closing the gap between your lips and his.

If you let him, Sanji would make you the happiest person on earth.

Usopp:

"What if we egg his house?" suggested Usopp.

Curse him and his mouth, now you were adamant in putting his idea to work. Usopp didn't have this feeling when he was hyping you up and while both of you walked to your crush's house. Now that he was physically there, Usopp could feel his legs shaking, he wanted nothing more than to run to the hills.

"Are you ready!?" you exclaimed with eggs already in your hands. "Here!"

You handed Usopp the eggs so he could join you. Even though it was dark and nobody could see you, Usopp was scared. He felt like the police was watching the both of you, ready to arrest you. He didn't know why he would ever come up with this idea. If he was being honest, Usopp thought you would reject it, opting instead in taking the high road.

"Yes, that's a perfect idea!" you exclaimed, getting your sweater.

Usopp saw how awful you felt after being ditched by your crush who asked you out on a 'date". He felt happy for you that the plan worked but also crushed. It meant you would no longer be able to hang out with him like you used to. You wouldn't be able to hold his hand or invite him out to places. Instead of being 'dating' Usopp, you'd be dating your crush.

When he saw you down in the dumps, Usopp felt rage. You tried so hard to get your crush's attention just so he could blow you off? Usopp would trade places with your crush if he could, he was insane.

What was even more insane was the fact that you were ready to throw the first egg.

"Wait!" whispered Usopp, looking around nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

You frowned, "Usopp, this man ditched me, giving me false hope!" you didn't hesitate to throw the egg which landed on the window. "If you ask me, he deserves it!"

You're right. He does deserve it. He deserves it for making you cry, for giving you false hope, but most importantly, for ruining his chances with you. Usopp could feel his legs shaking but he decided to ignore the nervous feeling pooling inside his stomach. He took a deep breathe and threw the egg and it landed on his roof.

"Woo-!"

You covered Usopp's mouth to try and not draw attention, but both of you started giggling. The both of you continued to throw eggs, almost finishing the carton of eggs. Before you could throw the last two eggs, the lights inside your crush's house turned on.

"Who is that!" you can hear their yelling from the inside even though it's muffled.

Usopp did not hesitate to grab your hand, sprinting away from the premises. You were stumbling a little, trying to catch up to his speed but you were trying to hold in your laughter. You two were this close to getting caught, but to Usopp it was worth it. You were smiling and having fun, it always made his day when you were happy. If only he would be able to confess to you. He was a coward, constantly needing hype from his friends to even try and think of confessing to you.

But maybe one day, Usopp would gain enough courage to confess to you and ask you out on a proper date instead of a fake one.

[avelera]

I am never going to be over what the movies did with Steve and Tony's dynamic, because- listen, listen. The reason Civil War was (supposed to, it was kind of a hot mess) hit so hard in the comics was that these two were *best friends* and had been for decades of comic time. In the movies, they never are friends, so Civil War is just two colleagues who never really got on, and not the devastating tearing apart of a long-established friendship group.

Dude I literally burst out into like... outraged, furious laughter in the theater when Tony said, "I thought I was your friend?" because, umm, footage not fucking found?

I completely get and respect the comic readers here for whom Steve & Tony and Steve/Tony were, in fact, the best of friends! But the MCU never ever actually showed it.

To cram that line, which felt lifted from the comics, into the MCU was genuinely laughable. How could Tony possibly think he compares to what we've seen of Steve and Bucky's relationship, since childhood even if you don't ship them, as the only person Steve has left from his entire life pre-WWII? How could Tony possibly think he compares except through the lens of a galaxy sized ego and being totally self-involved to the exclusion of all else? How could any work colleague, since that's what they are at best when not outright antagonists to each other in the MCU, think they'd compare to a childhood friend in danger, that Tony is actively putting in danger? Who Tony is blaming for the death of his father despite the fact they've got piles of evidence that Bucky was a mind-controlled prisoner of war being actively tortured at the time?

It's literally staggering, it beggars belief that this line was uttered. And wildly enough, it's not even my least favorite line in Civil War. (That one goes to Vision's stupid fucking comment about how strength invites challenge, basically victim-blaming the superheroes for having villains, which only possibly makes any sense if you ignore Thor, the greater galaxy, all of the infinity stones, and basically every other part of the MCU timeline before Steve Rogers got the serum, Christ that line makes me mad.

Oh, and the line about Tony just handwaving signing the accords because their lawyers can fix it later as the most boneheaded line of insane privilege I've ever heard. Kids, never fucking sign something just because you can supposedly fix it later, christ it's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.)

ANYWAY, I have major beef with Civil War's logic. It never should have happened where it did in the MCU. Cap 3 should have been dedicated to its original plot before they found out RDJ was staying on in the MCU and they had the pieces to make Civil War (the original was the hunt for Bucky and an examination of Captain America's legacy through the lens of Bucky killing off the pretenders the US government set up to be him over the years, and I still weep that we never got it) But I do honestly, deeply, have sympathy for comic fans and why they're mad about the Steve and Tony friendship never actually appearing on screen in any meaningful way.

Civil War shouldn't have happened then. Civil War is a plot you run now, when you've got the rights to the X-Men and too many damn characters running amok. Civil War would be perfect now for pairing down some of the ballooning MCU nonsense. The cast was literally not big enough circa Cap 3 to make Civil War. And I'm eternally bitter that they pivoted away from the smaller-scale Cap-centric movie we should have had and instead made another Avengers movie in its name.

[angelmichelangelo]

2012 Squish annon here; I'VE WORKED OUT WHY THEIR HANDS AND FEET ARE SO BIG!!! THEY NEED TO GROW INTO THEM, LIKE PUPPIES WITH PAWS TOO BIG FOR THE REST OF THEM!!! AWWWWWW <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Also, all Casey Jones have Issues, but I think the 2012 has ISSUES.

OH ANON IF YOU THINK THATS CUTE WAIT TIL YOU GET A LOAD OF THIS!!!

he’s too damn small for his got damn shell 🥺

also another fun fact is that they actually (mostly leo and donnie) grow throughout the seasons! THEYRE GROWING BOYS!!! it’s very cute and their hands and feet being big and clumsy is exactly like a puppy and i am so here for it

and 2012 casey jones is like. my favourite version of any casey jones (just above 2k3 by a smidge) and people say he’s irritating and annoying but like. have you ever met a teenage boy before? a teenage boy with boatloads of unpacked trauma???? that is the personification of that exactly. casey is THAT. he’s a bonehead but we love him in this house <3

[legobiwan]

"What if Stanley somehow manages to destroy the portal just like he destroyed my perpetual motion machine?"

Holy shit, Stanford, you just spent the last few pages of your Journal outlining in horrifying detail how Bill took your body on a criminal joyride and forced you to forget your own name while pulling your bones from their very sockets in a hallucinatory nightmare void. You woke up weeping on your living room floor.

And yet, you have the absolute fucking gall to be concerned your brother, if you summon him to Gravity Falls, might destroy the Portal???? You mean the one piece of leverage you have over Bill? The main reason he's stalking you? The machine that will literally end the world if activated?

Between this, Ford refusing to burn his journals, and the fact he fully intends on continuing his work on the Portal once he's solved the Bill problem -

This is the picture of a man at the apex of both megalomania and a mental breakdown.

Could you imagine if Ford had found a way to beat back Bill and keep the Portal? Just how much would his ego have inflated even more? (Probably large enough that he wouldn't fit out the door). I feel like it's a timeline where Ford becomes the Big Bad, not because of Bill (well, a little bit because of Bill), but because he sees himself as transcending godhood and what little is left of his moral compass he casts into a black hole. ("He may be a god, but I am scientist.")

The juxtaposition between this and Stan's sacrifice during Weirdmageddon is insane. Ford, who steadfastly refused to give up his life's work to save world and Stan, who gave up everything he was to save the world. There's got to be a part of Stan that reads these pages and wonders just who his brother is, when he turned unto a supervillain, and if it would ever happen again. Stan may not want to acknowledge it, but deep down, I think he's legitimately pissed at Ford for being such narcissistic bonehead. I think it is something that haunts him in the odd hours of the night, his brother sleeping soundly in the bunk next to him on the Stan O'War II while Stan ponders if he's sharing quarters with Lex Luthor. You could have ended it, Poindexter. You could have ended so long ago.

The past is the past and as his mother would say, you can't unshit a turd. (Something Stan has more experience with than he'd like, regret trailing him his whole life like a vengeful shadow). Ford is here now, they're alive, the bastard triangle is gone. But God, does he want to sit his brother down, tie him to a chair, and scream at him, to shake him and demand to know just what hell he had been thinking, why he had allowed himself to become this kind of...this kind of monster.

Stan will never, ever do this. He has his brother, has his awkward affection, has almost everything he's ever wanted. The answers are not worth it. (In Stan's experience, the answers are almost never worth it.)

And as for Ford? Somewhere in his subconscious, a shrill, too-familiar voice likes to remind him of who he is and what he can still become. The same grating voice that tells him they're not so different, after all, that there's still time, there's always time to fix the past, to create the future. You're a scientist, after all. You're more than a god.

That's the voice Ford papers over with contrition, with guilt and self-abnegation and a near-manic dedication to the small boat bobbing along in the Arctic, not even holding a speck of relevance compared to the vast and might ocean, forget to the multiverse at large. That's the voice Ford drinks away in secret on the worst nights, the one that tells him a stone statue in the forest is as much him as it is the monster whose shape it embodies.

[unaloid]

WOY au notes

this is my swap au, if you haven't seen it, you can look at #swap au on my blog 👍

back then, i wrote down my thoughts on the characters new personalities and dynamics. but i didn't end up posting since i just kept editing it. so here is what i wrote!

~~~~ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ~~~~

basically i aim to keep the core personalities of the characters the same, even if they swap roles they are still themselves inside wherever i can help it. find a similarity between the characters and lean into it!

DOMINATOR: dawdle, name change suggested by @/kradeiz. i love it so much.

she is not 1000 years old, she is not a legend. she is just some immature woman who stole a hat. because she likes to take things 💚 she was down on her luck after fleeing her old galaxy for hat crimes, so wander helped her and quickly realized someone needs to keep her out of trouble. wander worries a lot for her when she goes off on her own.

she is selfish and tends to "look out for number one". she doesn't understand being told "no" and thinks, well i want it, so its mine.

when you watch episode "the prisoner", you don't get the sense that wander is being cruel in the episode. but if dom did the same thing, she would be laughing at him. if hater confessed his love to her, she is still laughing her ass off. she is a force of chaos more than anything.

WANDER: even while taking og!sylvia's role as a "toughguy", he is still 1000s years old and "the legend". he is wander the travelling hero who has saved many planets from villains, and will always lend a helping hand to those in need.

he is small but a good fighter that can take down a big opponent with tricks. wander and dawdle travel on his motorcycle, with which he has beaten many villains by challenging them to a race. wander offers a defeated villain his mercy, he still reforms people, its a bit of tough love ^_^ on the bike, dom holds onto his back or later he gets her a sidecar.

wander doesn't like to leave dawdle alone, he is always thinking of worst case scenarios

SYLVIA: "lady haymaker"! but i will still call her sylvia.

watchdogs had a lightning on their hats to match hater, so sylvia's army have a feather on their helmets to match her! the knight theming came from this. plus she is like a big dragon, so knights seem thematically appropriate. all she needs is a princess. her army call her "milady" instead of sir, and dawdle might call her "lady".

she is similar to og!hater in that her rage gets the best of her, so she wrecks her own plans often. why does she want planets? i guess she deserves some respect after always being shoved down by her family.

lady sylvia is bigger than normal, so she is taller than both hater and dom while standing up!! she needs an extra power, too, so she has fire breath!

dawdle is super annoying, she needs to be stopped, and stop saying we are friends and stop trying to ride my back. but maybe we can harness her chaos and use it for evil.

HATER: "sir hater". sylvia's minions are little skeletons called boneheads, but hater gets to be second in command because he is the biggest and strongest. his incompetence ruins things just as often... i originally thought, "they are like pinky and the brain," where sylvia is more competent and its hater who brings her down. but really, its more fun if they are both failing in different ways.

hater is bossed around by sylvia because she is bigger than him. he takes great pride in representing the army, being the best at what he does and being told "good job". it hasn't occurred to him that he could get recognition elsewhere, he wouldn't even know where to begin as a solo villain.

yupppp he likes dom. how conflicting, he's battling a lot of emotions when he's assigned to go capture and destroy her. she can often just talk him out of it bugs bunny style, running mental laps around him. she treats him cruelly and just finds the whole thing very funny.

PEEPERS: lord peepers.. maybe he should have a cooler name but i like to keep it simple. it takes a lot for me to change names lol.

he made it to the top due to being smart and nerd brain. i have the least to say about him because... you get it right? you can look at him and understand everything. its peepers if he was successful as a solo villain like he always wanted to be.

his suit is a big robot that he pilots, and its the big reveal that he's just a little guy in there.

i said this before, but sylvia does not want him. plots from the show about hater wanting dominator, can be supplemented by dawdle trying to be his friend. she thinks he is sooo cute and doesn't understand why she can't do whatever she wants. that's why she goes into his ship in this version of "my fair hatey" and they have to rescue her

SIDE CHARACTERS?????

the way i did the main characters was by lining them up in order of screentime and shifting to the right. there needs to be an end of the list so that the last character can swap to the front. i like that no one "trades" with eachother one-for-one like most swap AUs do, it changes the dynamics between characters more dramatically!

so if i wanted to add side characters, i'd pick the next group of 5 (or more or less) by screentime and do the same thing. i'm not a big side characters girlie tho, i prefer to only focus on the main characters, so i was not rly concerned with this at all lol. but there is a "right" way to do it, and i don't rly want to calculate all dat

(the only side characters i really like are major threat and emperor awesome)

[ivystoryweaver]

With You part 16 - conclusion

previous || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: We are Moon Knight

Pairings: Moon Knight system x you (gn!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Content: mostly fluff, mentions of food, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY, on "With You"...

"You have to settle it. You have to decide if you are Moon Knight."

"I am," he answered resolutely. "I am Moon Knight."

Marc Spector stood gallantly on the rooftop of your building, peering out over the darkened city. Clenching his fists in determination, he drew a calming breath as the ceremonial armor of Khonshu wrapped itself around each muscle.

Fierce brown eyes chilled to a somber, glowing white as a thick, white hood enveloped his dark curls. A heavy, ashen cape unfurled behind him, swept aside by an ominous gust of wind.

"Marc Spector," the menacing voice of Khonshu boomed, the sound chilling his avatar to the core. "Jake Lockley assured me you would not interfere in our affairs again."

"Jake is me, in a way," Marc returned confidently. "He's a part of me. So your business with him is your business with me. It's my body too."

An ancient metal clang rang out in the night as Khonshu thumped his staff against the rooftop. “Jake Lockley asked for your protection, so long as you stay out of our affairs."

"Cut the shit," Marc bit out, turning to face the ancient one. "You need an avatar. That's me." Folding white, bandaged arms over his chest, he returned his gaze to the city below. "I'm the reason you're free. And you promised to set us free."

"You and Steven Grant," Khonshu corrected, moving around with a dramatic whirl, to block Marc’s view. "I did not promise the freedom of Jake Lockley."

"We come as a package deal, like Steven said," Marc huffed, glancing back up at the annoying deity.

"Jake Lockley is my perfect avatar. Nothing will change that," Khonshu argued, leaning in menacingly. 

"Then why didn't you protect us?" Marc hissed, not caring to debate the logistics of being a system with a literally boneheaded god. "Why did you take your armor away that night?"

An eerie chill swept across the rooftop.

"You wanted to be free, Marc Spector, so I set you free."

"You left me to die in an alley, outnumbered three to one with no armor...while I was trying to save a woman from God knows what!"

A condescending chuckle echoed. "Save? If you were my avatar, you would know how to protect the travelers of the night, and when to be my Fist of Vengeance."

"I was trying to!"

From your vantage point, hidden across the rooftop, you listened intently, proud of the stand Marc was taking. Khonshu probably knew you were there, but it didn’t matter. All four of you had decided to face the old bird.

You couldn't see him, but you tried to follow what was happening from your husband's side of the conversation.

“The woman you tried to save was meant to die that night. I was ready to give Jake my orders, but you interfered." The god’s voice explained.

Marc scoffed, starting to pace across the rooftop agitatedly. “You wanted me to kill a woman who was being attacked? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Okay, you might be proud of Marc, but you were still concerned. You couldn't take him getting hurt again. But that's why Steven and Jake were with him. It was pretty rare for the three them to be co-conscious but this was essential to you all getting on with your lives. 

"That woman was the vilest of humanity," Khonshu explained, disappearing momentarily, only to reappear directly in Marc’s pacing path. 

Marc listened to how the woman he was trying to save that night was actually the person who deserved "real justice". Apparently, she was the actual worst. Trafficking. Ew.

"Uhh, that information would have been a bit more helpful from the start," Steven piped, wagging his gloved finger condescendingly.

You gasped in amazement as Marc's white bandage-looking garb dissolved into a crisp white, three-piece suit. Damn, you loved those tight pants.

"I wasn't talking to you, worm," Khonshu grumbled, gesturing dramatically with his staff.

"Well this worm's not about to let you off the hook so easily, silly old bird," Steven countered, shrugging both shoulders with his hands up. "Can't expect Marc to go around delivering justice if you don't give him the right information, can you?"

"Marc Spector doesn't listen to me, so he can no longer serve me as my avatar."

"No one is serving you, pendejo," Jake interjected, hands landing on his hips. The three-piece suit transformed once again, back to the ceremonial armor of Khonshu, but this version had Jake's delicious thighs, torso, arms and face wrapped in jet black. You had never witnessed this suit in person. It was kind of hard to concentrate on the extremely critical conversation with all this skin tight armor.

"We help you; you help us," Jake went on. "No more games. No more orders."

The black portions of the Moon Knight suit brightened to an ancient white once more.

"That's the deal," Marc finished. "Take us or leave us." Searching for you on the rooftop, he extended his hand, inviting you to stand before Khonshu. You scurried to your husband’s side, gripping his white bandaged hand. You still couldn't see who he was addressing, but you were there to support him no matter what.

"All four of us," he added. "We're Moon Knight."

Khonshu spared you one glance...Marc told you later. He didn't really have eyes - just bony socket holes. Then he turned his beak away and thumped his staff again. "Very well. Be my Fist of Vengeance and you will all have my protection."

Steven and his white suit appeared one final time. "Time to update the Fist of Vengeance though, innit? How about hand of justice?"

Khonshu made an annoyed grunting sound and disappeared.

"Do you remember the first night you met me?" Jake murmured against the shell of your ear, tangling his thick fingers with yours as you lay side by side.

You shivered as his soft lips tickled the sensitive spot right behind your ear. "Mm-hmm. You let me hold your hand just like this."

He squeezed your fingers affectionately, planting sweet kisses down the side of your neck. Warm puffs of breath made you tingle with love and desire. "Do you know how it felt to lay beside you all those nights and never be able to touch you?"

"I think you've more than made up for it," you giggled as he found the ticklish spot just above your collarbone.

"Uh-uh, not yet," he playfully refuted, between kisses. "Never enough."

Releasing your hand, he climbed on top of you - always moving like a panther, this one - since that first night. You could tell right away that he didn't move like Marc or Steven.

"Never thought I could have this with you, mi corazón," he breathed, tracing the shape of your jawline with his fingertips. His head cocked to the side as he studied you, unable to believe you were his.

"You do have this with me, Jake," you assured him, wrapping your arms around his back to pull him even closer. "I think I loved you from the second we met."

"Then marry me," he blurted, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip tauntingly. "I know we are...technically married, but I-I want to..."

"You want to be there?" You softly asked, running your hands over his muscular back, scratching softly.

He nodded, smiling sweetly down at you. "I want to be able to say the things Marc and Steven said to you. But I want it to be from me."

Staring into your eyes, he whispered your name. Leaning closer, he nuzzled your cheek with his nose before sealing his mouth over yours.

A while later, you and Jake cooked dinner together, with him humming and singing little phrases in Spanish. Afterward, you cuddled up on the couch to unwind.

Jake shuffled around in the "couch basket" - a collection of various bits of entertainment to enjoy while relaxing. Jake had his crossword puzzle book, you and Steven shared a couple of word search books. There were a few of fidget toys for Marc, who definitely did not find any relaxation in putting pencil to paper. But since he was a man wound rather tight, he liked to have something in his hands.

There was also a sudoku book that no one ever touched.

The four of you shared a nighttime journal and a set of brush pens, where you would jot thoughts from your day, doodle and leave notes for one another. Now this, Marc would participate in, because brush pens seemed like markers and drawing with markers was fun, unlike boring crosswords and word searches.

Marc liked to draw little cartoons - he was pretty bad at it, which made it so, so cute. There was always a deeper meaning to his drawings too. He could be quite passive aggressive with them when he wanted to be.

A stick figure with dark curly hair and a cap, holding a sandwich, under a red "NO" sign meant Jake should stop eating Marc's food out of the fridge. Obviously. Sometimes he drew fish for Steven or hearts for you. It's not that he was terribly creative, it was just adorable.

Jake handed you both the journal and the word search book. You smiled at him, motioning for the brush pens. You quickly flipped to a blank page and pulled out a marker. In all capital letters, you wrote, “YES” and passed the book back to him.

He smirked cutely at the journal but raised a dark eyebrow questioningly. 

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Jake,” you clarified, reaching for his hand. “You asked me before, but I didn’t get a chance to answer.” The two of you had been busy for a while after he kissed you. “But my answer is yes.”

Fall turned to winter and Steven aced yet another round of finals for his university classes. You passed your nurse’s exam and moved on to the next level of nursing, which came with a raise.

It was the third night of Hanukkah - not the biggest of Jewish holidays, but still one your husband had started to celebrate with a bit more gusto now that the pain of the past was a little more of a dull ache, rather than a raw, sharp thorn.

To that end, you had gathered the correct ingredients for latkes, which Marc was going to attempt to make with you tonight.

You turned the key in the deadbolt to the door of your flat and entered a darkened environment. 

Shit. Every time you got home to a dimly lit flat, there was sure to be alcohol involved. Okay, maybe not every time, but - 

“Hey!” Marc greeted, in a way that contradicted his typically grumpy eagle exterior. He appeared out of nowhere and you jumped a little.

“Sorry…sorrry,” he grasped your arms, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I have a surprise.”

“Oh?” You chuckled. “Was the surprise like a haunted house surprise? Because you got me.”

“No, no, I was working in the bedroom and it got dark in the flat and then…just come on.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallway- a move much more typical of Steven. 

You followed without question, melting a little at his enthusiasm. It was a rare treat to see him this way. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna…” He eased behind you, cutely reaching up to cover your eyes with his hands. “It’s not a big surprise,” he warned, “just something I finished.”

Finally, you made it into the bedroom and he removed his hands.

Before you sat the broken table. The one Marc had been promising to fix for…well over a year now. It was one of the many broken things he collected, but this one, he actually completed.

“I thought you could use it for a night table, or…well, wherever,” he quietly gushed, his dark eyes sparkling proudly. “Do you like it?”

“Marc, I love it,” you assured him, running your fingers along the freshly polished surface. “When did you have time to work on it?”

He laughed, “I’m unemployed - I have plenty of time,” he teased. 

“Well, I love it.”

He explained that he’d been plugging away at it on Steven’s days off, while you were at work. He stained the wood up on the rooftop, so the smell wouldn’t overpower the flat. 

“You should do this with other found pieces,” you encouraged. “This is really beautiful work, and people love this repurposed stuff.”

Marc swallowed, his eyes dancing from your gaze to the table and back. “You think so?”

“I do,” you nodded eagerly. “It could be a hobby for you or…maybe even something more. And besides,” you went on, reaching for his hand, “I just got a raise, so maybe we could get a bigger place - give you some space to work.”

A space just for him? He loved the sound of that. And there might be another reason he wanted a bigger place…

Later that night, after some yummy latkes and a huge kitchen mess, you were flipping through the shared nighttime journal while Marc tinkered with another chair he’d found on the street.

You saw where Steven had jotted some notes for his finals - just a bit of a brain dump, really. Jake had left you a note in Spanish, which made your heart do flip-flops. (He wrote you a lot of notes after finally reading all the ones you had written him months ago).

And Marc had drawn another terribly adorable picture.

In it, he drew all of you, in stick figure form.

Jake had his hat. 

Steven had his glasses.

Marc was just Marc.

You were just you.

And there was a teeny, tiny stick figure in your arms.

Above you was a big question mark. 

Before you could react to what you were seeing, you felt Marc’s eyes fixed on you from where he was working on the old chair. 

“I was thinking…maybe we could talk about adopting,” he softly supplied, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he slowly made his way over to you. “You-you don’t have to give me some sort of answer right now, but…I thought maybe…um - well, I’m sure a lot of kids need homes, and I would hate for a child of mine to have…”

“Yes,” you instantly answered. “Yes, I want kids with you. Any way you want them, we can talk about it.” You reached out to caress his cheek as he scooted over close to you on the couch. “We can figure out how, but yes. Definitely yes.”

“Really?” He breathed, sighing in relief. “Oh god. I was really hoping you wouldn’t mistake that baby for a dog.”

You burst out laughing, throwing your arms around your husband - the love of your life - your superhero.

END

Read the standalone sequel Still With You

Thank you all for making my first Moon Knight story and my first tumblr-posted story such a sweet and wonderful experience! Hugs and high fives all around! Stay tuned for my next MK fic, dropping Sept. 1st!

*bear in mind, this was a gn!reader, so Marc presents adoption as one of several family-starting options

@apollo-enthusiast

@i-still-dont-like-your-face @wordacadabra @lilacspider @imonmykneessir @saints-and-sinners

@steven-grants-world @thewinterv @aquaarietes @suddenlysteven @ohantonia

@deputy-videogamer @toecurlingstories @zephyrixx @juleshadalittlelamb @tsukkie-daisuke

@pockcock @minigirl87 @uncle-eggy@cookielovesbook-akie @wyldeflovver

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@deezisnotreal @serren-diamandis @alexxavicry

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@stevenknightmarc @marvelouslovely-barnes @evilbubu @usualsworld @ssp3ctor

@rivalriotrenegade @this--is--music @avengersinitiative2012 @lockleywife @poppyflower-22

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Imagine of Leonidas who found a child in middle of the woods, lost. Leonidas adopted Y/n. Y/n grown as beautiful woman when many years has pass by til her beauty caught Apollo attention. Leonidas is very overprotective of his daughter and never let Apollo go near her.

-He could remember the day he found you, all those years ago, you were only a baby, a few months old at least, abandoned in a forest, as he had been drawn to your cries.

-You were so little in his arms, cooing quietly up at him, now happy that someone was there, as you had been scared, being alone and he instantly fell in love you, adopted you as his own.

-His men didn’t know what to make of the sight, seeing their fearsome king and leader, smiling down at you as you were trying to walk to him, playing with you and being a totally doting and whipped dad to you.

-However, many were quick to learn that what they said was true, the dads with daughters are very intimidating, as Leonidas was fiercely protective, ready to even punch a child, a boy, who had been picking on you, much to the amusement of his men.

-You were not a delicate flower, despite your stunning looks, you were the daughter of one of the greatest Spartans to ever live! You were a warrior, being trained by your father himself, as he wanted you to be able to take care of yourself if he wasn’t there.

-You grew up protected, as your papa was the definition of protective, and his soldiers were all threatened to keep you safe if he wasn’t around, but you were able to defend yourself if needed.

-Not many believed you knew how to fight, you looked so angelic, like a delicate flower petal, graceful, soft, and your beauty was stunning to all who met you, men and women alike.

-So once you were old enough, Leonidas’ worst nightmare came true, where men were coming to ask for your hand in marriage. You set a stipulation for anyone wanting to ask you that question, that they had to ask your father first.

-He always said no.

-Many complained to you, claiming it wasn’t fair and some were even trying to turn you against your father. That didn’t work and you told them that if they had a problem with it, then to challenge Leonidas to a duel, if they managed to beat him, then he would give his blessing.

-You didn’t mind staying single, as you weren’t thinking about it at the moment and had no interest in being with someone who was only with you because you are pretty.

-You wanted someone who loved you for you. And that certainly wasn’t Apollo!

-The day that sun god saw you he was instantly enraptured, wanting you for his own, you were beyond perfect, you were so beautiful but so sweet, as he had seen you with some children, making flower crowns.

-As Apollo approached you to speak with you, like a demon of the shadows, Leonidas appeared between you in a plume of smoke, a fierce glare on his face, “You’re not going to approach my daughter, you bastard!”

-You turned, seeing a god and your father speaking and you could see that your father was extra grumpy with this man, before one of the children told you that this was Apollo!

-You nodded, now realizing why your papa was so pissy, now locked up with Apollo, both trying to make the other submit and you herded the children away from the area.

-Apollo wasn’t allowed to get close to you, if you left the house, you had to take several of his strongest warriors with you or take your papa with you.

-If you were with your guards, they just ushered you back home, keeping themselves between you an Apollo, but if you were with your father and he tried to approach, you heard the bell that signaled the start of a fight, and you walked off to sit until they finished.

-When Apollo finally was able to greet you, he grabbed your wrist, “You’re coming with me Y/N! I’ve been dealing with a lot from your bonehead of a father and you’re going to make it up to me!”

-He didn’t get farther than a few feet after you rocked his ass, punching him hard in the center of his face, sending him to the ground. He held his bleeding nose as you glared fiercely down at him, “Nobody touches me without my consent. Get lost you shithead!”

-Leonidas was beaming behind you as he had been running to defend you, little flowers of happiness surrounding him as he smiled, feeling so proud of you that you mimicked him while Apollo was stunned, seeing that you were just as strong as your father.

-He had to admit that he was impressed with your strength, as not many could put a god on his ass. If anything, your actions weren’t seen as disrespect, he came on too forcefully and you put him in his place!

-Leonidas couldn’t help but groan in annoyance as Apollo only seemed more infatuated with you! But hell to the no was he going to get you! Don’t worry Y/N!! Papa’s coming!!

[ostensiblynone]

'THOSE WINDOWS ARE SAYING THROW A CHAIR THROUGH ME'

-Light the touch paper and stand well clear. OASIS, Manc hooligans barely holding it together around the centre of their pop genius, are flying the rock'n'roll flag like no other band in Britain. SIMON WILLIAMS watches as their audiences tear apart stages, the band tear apart each other and hotel night porters are just plain terrorised. Blue loons: KEVIN CUMMINS

Liam: "My head's in ruins — so's my shirt." Noel: "You're a mad c—, you are." Liam: "No, you're the mad c—!" (Repeat to fade)

It all started off normally enough. A quiet Monday evening in Portsmouth, a sold-out gig for Oasis, followed by a drug pilgrimage and a 'crap' student party on the outskirts of town. Then back to the hotel for a few swift nightcaps. Simple, eh?

In the bar, Oasis bumped into East 17, fresh from their own gig at the Guildhall. "Are you Blur?" demanded East 17.

"No, why? Are you Take That?" came the stroppy reply. While the Walthamstow terriers wisely retired to their various rumpus rooms, Oasis settled down in the bar with a gin and tonic or ten. There was merciless ribbing of any roadie with more than a passing interest in Manchester United - crowned champions earlier that evening, much to the disgust of the pro-City band. Then a bottle of champagne or two appeared on the table. Then the barman made the terrible mistake of abandoning his post.

At this point, some drinkers would notice his departure and wonder how long he'd be, imagining wistfully all the alcohol they could purloin in the interim. Oasis don't imagine - they just do. Before you could say, "Bugger me, free booze!", two of the entourage were scrambling over the bar, emptying the fridges and passing the bounty over the counter. One minute later, 50 bottles of beer were being stuffed under chairs and into innocent bags. Then things got really strange.

Guitarist Paul 'Bonehead' Arthurs, decided to go for a dip in the horribly convenient pool next to the bar. The Gallagher brothers Noel and Liam decided to have a scrap about an ex-girlfriend. Allegedly. Expletives started flying. Then punches started flying. Then bottles of beer started flying. Then furniture started flying.

Bassist Paul 'Guigsy' McGuigan valiantly tried to separate the Gallaghers, receiving two knuckle sandwiches for his endeavours. Someone started throwing chairs at Bonehead in the pool. Then tables. Liam had Noel on the floor. Noel tore Liam's shirt off.

Other residents, tiring of the mass brawl downstairs, started coming out onto their balconies and shouting abuse. One particularly aggrieved sort was accompanied by his girlfriend. While her lover's attention was focused on the mayhem below, she would calmly open her towel to show Oasis either Nothing Very Much At All or Everything, depending on your perspective.

At this juncture, the pissed-up band would roar their encouragement, causing the baffled boyfriend to turn and find his demure-looking companion safely covered by the towel. Then he'd shout more abuse and she'd flash again.

And so it went, with a few more punches thrown here and a few more items of furniture thrown there (ie, in the pool). Eventually, at around six o'bleeding'clock in the morning, the night porter appeared to tell the fuzzy thrill-seekers that, actually, if it was alright with them he was going to knock off because, urn, someone had called the police.

IT IS common knowledge that hotels are utterly brilliant places. Let's face it, if you get smashed off your nuts in the confines of your own home and gleefully decide to trash your living room prior to catching a bit of shut-eye, are the cleaning pixies likely to rearrange the furniture into some kind of social order while your hangover works itself into a midday frenzy? Nope, you'd just wake up to discover that, somehow, World War Ill had kicked off during the night and your house is in a state of blitz.

But, hotels being hotels, when Oasis shamble into the bar the following lunchtime - apart from the occasional dark stare from the receptionists - life is back to normal. Stunningly overpriced pots of tea are being drained. Liam and Noel are comparing wounds and laughing about their fight. The swimming pool has been cleared of chairs and Boneheads. And everyone logically decides it was the hotel's fault, anyway.

"It's a stupid place to put a pool, innit?" frowns Liam. "It was asking for trouble putting us in this hotel."

"It's true." nods Noel. wisely. "Those plate glass windows are just saying, 'THROW A CHAIR THROUGH ME!"

In fact, were it not for a bar bill totalling £150, the odd bruised ember and some suspicious chinking noises emanating from a large black bag through the foyer out to the van, you could almost convince yourself that nothing happened. Really.

"Still we don't need a rider tonight," sneers Liam, waving carelessly at the departing baggage. "We can just go in and say, 'Newport - you can stick your rider UP YER ARSE!"

THIS IS life on the road, Oasis style. You may not think it's big, or indeed clever. But it is rock'n'roll bastard bonkers. This becomes screamingly apparent when, lounging around the hotel lobby preparing for the drive to Newport, while most sane people are dreaming of a world with no spirits and a nice weekend on a country health farm lest their livers quit and their brains implode, Bonehead studies the tour itinerary and suddenly yells, "F—ing brilliant!" The curfew at the venue tonight is half past one!" Oh good.

Our task is to follow Oasis around the country for three nights, from Portsmouth Wedgewood Rooms to Derby Wherehouse via Newport TJs and all blurred points in between. In this time various people will threaten to leave the band to set up habardasheries, the band will threaten to leave, several people and several senses will most certainly leave everyone.

Liam, Noel, Guigsy, Bonehead and drummer Tony McCarroll - fuelled by little more than raging testosterone, Big Macs, gin and tonics and whatever powders they can dust their nasal passages with - will play three splendid sold-out gigs, abuse more hotel staff and talk utter brilliant bollocks. Like about the time they stunned half of Manchester by appearing on The Word a full month before the 'Supersonic' single was released: here, Paula Yates was "up for a bit of sorting out", according to the ever-charming Liam, and Oasis once again made friends in their own inimitable style.

"Bonehead had his arm around Hufty," recalls Noel with a sad shake of his head. "He was shouting in her ear, 'What are you into birds for, anyway?' Then he started licking her head, right in the middle of the bar..."

It's hard to tell when the on the-road psychosis actually kicks in, such is the all-pervading air of insanity from day one. This is the second nationwide jaunt by Oasis, the first being a co-headline with Whiteout. And beneath the manic Manc exterior, the swaggering, crowd-shagging arrogance that dictates that they think they really, really are the best band in the entire galaxy, Oasis are freaked. Totally.

The first date was in Hull, where there were more people turned away than actually allowed in. The promoter eventually threw open every door of the venue, so the building was swarming with would-be punters peering in, striving to get just the smallest piece of the action.

Then 200 punters were turned away from the Coventry gig, where massed stagediving was the order of the night. So much so that Noel - possibly being as sensible as he'll ever be on this tour - suddenly had the diamond idea of, like, escaping unscathed. So halfway through the last song, he hands his guitar to a roadie and, with the legendary words, "I'm f—ing getting out of here!" heads towards the dressing room.

"I had to climb onto the PA to escape," he winces. "And someone's trying to untie my laces and someone else is grabbing hold of my trouserleg. I get to the dressing room just as the crowd is spilling onto the stage. Three-quarters of an hour later, the rest of the band appear and they look as though they've been in a fight! They were mobbed - the crowd wouldn't let them go! It was f—ing hysterical, like Beatlemania or something!'

"We expected the gigs to be full," he admits, warily, "so we could be arrogant and say, 'Oh yeah.' But I tell you man, we're more shocked than anyone! It's like, we've only had one record out - what's it gonna be like when we get an album out?"

There's a great - probably entirely mythical - story which sums up Oasis perfectly. After all the band (bar Noel) were arrested on the ferry to Amsterdam a couple of months back, Creation President, Alan McGee, took the group's press officer to one side and said: "F—ing hell, man, I've been trying to make Teenage Fanclub interesting for five years! Look what you've landed here!"

Fact is, Oasis are a dream come true. They fight! They flirt! They go f—ing mental! And they make music that creeps through your intestines, squeezes your kidneys and proposes to your heart. Probably. They are so OBVIOUS that the more manipulative record company sorts should be leaping off their high-rise ledges in droves, because Oasis - with their housing estate backgrounds, their working-class clumsiness end semi-genius pop sensibility could never be invented in a million units. Put simply, as The Stone Roses once said, Oasis are what the world has been waiting for.

Which, funnily enough, takes us to Newport, where Noel is comforting yet another G&T in a pub around the corner from the hotel. The fact that this particular hostelry has so many games it resembles a boozer's indoor sports centre, and thus leads to all manner of theories, vis a vis whether people in Newport actually talk to each other, is marginally interesting. What is fascinating, however, is that the posters advertising tonight's gig proclaim Oasis plus Very Special Guests. With The Stone Roses supposedly recording a few miles up the road in Rockfield it doesn't take a Nobel Prize winner to hazard a wild guess that the Manchester of yesterday is going to make an appearance next to the Manchester of today.

Noel laughs off the idea that the Roses intend to play, although subsequent rumour-mongers insist that Geffen had phoned TJs a few days before to book the slot for Ian Brown's bunch. Yet you can't rid yourself of the feeling that, in the absence of the Roses and Happy Mondays, there is a massive demand for a cocky, rocking, PC-shocking Manc band. And that band is Oasis.

"It's like, you get a band like Suede," ponders Noel, "and they write pretty decent music and all that, but Brett Anderson's lyrics are basically a cross between Bowie and Morrissey and I don't think that some 16-year-old on the dole is going to understand what he means by "Animal Nitrate" or whatever."

"The thing about The Smiths is that Johnny Marr was a lad and you knew he was a rock'n'roller - that's why I got into them. And I think a lot of kids find Suede too intellectual, while with Blur they don't understand all that stuff about sugary tea. But with Oasis, like the Roses and the Mondays, it's the bottom line: here's a guitar, here's the songs, you have them. We're not preaching about ye olde Englande or how it was in the '60s. We're not preaching about our sexuality, we're not telling kids how to act.

"You want to write about shagging and taking drugs and being in a band. You don't wanna write about going down the supermarket or anything like that - I know it's terrible, so I'm not gonna write about it. I met a girl the other night and I felt really sorry for her, because she came up to me and said (really quietly), 'I've got Supersonic' and I'm, er, really into your lyrics and I've been through a lot as well.' And I went, What do you mean? 'Supersonic' is about some f—ing nine stone geezer who got Charlie'd off his nut one night... it's not about anything!' It's just about a feeling, you just get up and play it. All I know is the gigs are selling out and we're probably gonna get in loads more trouble on this tour..,"

FACT: OASIS talk a lot of bullshit. After the Portsmouth gig, Liam insists that he's going to "sort out" East 17 because, he alleges, "They've ripped off "Imagine"." Half an hour later, the singer is insisting that all he wants to do is sit down with East 17, neck a few beers and sort out how they can "topple Take That".

The same applies for Noel when he's told that Manic Street Preachers are coming down to the Newport gig: "Do they wanna fight?" asks the guitarist. Nah, the Manics don't fight, comes the answer. "Right!" beams Noel, "we'll kick their heads in, then!"

The beauty is, much like all their hormone-raging banter about 'shagging' and 'birds', Oasis never actually get round to doing anything. All mouth and bad trousers, they're simply on a half-drunk, half-addled crusade to mollycoddle their audiences into believing that Oasis are the gnat's knackers.

Simplicity is the key: Newport, much like any other set on the tour, is utterly straightforward and unnervingly familiar. There's the Coca-Cola song! The one-that-sounds-a-bit-like-Blur-song! The T-Rex song! The Wham! song! A cover of "I Am The Walrus"! And no bleeding encores! It's the history of rock splattered over the past 30 years from The Beatles to the Mondays, played by five blokes who scarcely move a muscle onstage, who barely communicate between songs, and who are hardly likely to rival Bad Boys lnc in the,"Woof woof! Down boy!" stakes.

And if you believe that Oasis are adhering to some sort of genius game plan (look sultry! Look disinterested!), then Noel's confession that he'd "love" to dance around on stage, but he has to concentrate on playing guitar because he isn't that good will blow any conspiracy theories out of the water. Fact is, far from swanning through the ranks to run rampant in the Fab 40 with their debut single, the Oasis success story is...an accident.

"They were just an indie band before I joined," explains Noel. "It was alright, it just wasn't rock'n'roll. But the bassist looked good, the drummer didn't look too bad, and our kid looked pretty f—ing cool. At that time I was a roadie and I thought, 'F—me, it's looking me in the face.' So I bowled into the practise room one day and said, 'Right, change that guitar, take them shoes off, cut your hair, I'm gonna be doing this from now on.' And they just looked at me and said, 'Oh, alright, then.'

So Noel took control of the band, injected it with the requisite rock'n'roll spirit, played the rest of them stuff by T Rex, The Faces and, um, Burt Bacharach, started writing all the songs, insisted that the band rehearse three times a week — including Saturday nights — and then... nothing happened.

"We were actually trying to convince people we were great," sighs Noel. "But after the first four gigs in Manchester no-one would put us on, because we had this reputation for being...not lads, just difficult. We had a fight with the headlining band one night 'cos they pulled the plug on us during the last song. That's when it started, because loads of A&R men had come to see this other band and they saw them have this MASSIVE scrap onstage with us. It got us a bit of a reputation.

"It's like McGee saw us by accident in Scotland and he says, 'Have you got a record deal?', and we said no and he said, 'D'you f—ing want one? I'm the President of Creation Records!' So I said, 'Aha! So it's your fault then is it, you twat!' And he says, 'What do you mean?' And I said, 'Shonen Knife is your fault! It's all down to you, son!'"

Now, naturally, the phone doesn't stop ringing. Manchester rumours abound (the one about Oasis buying a massive house in London and living it up with butlers and limousines is a peach). And Oasis don't give a f—.

"That city's done us no favours, man,' shrugs Noel, defiantly. As well he might, because ultimately Oasis have rolled along under their own steam. In 'Cigarettes And Alcohol', Liam sings, "You've gotta make it happen", and, in a very real sense, that line could be taken as the band's short, sharp manifesto. Noel reckons he hasn't had a day off since last October. In a recent two-week break between tours the rest of the band went home (mostly to their mams) while the guitarist stayed in London doing press and mixing the album.

So it's little wonder he's letting his hair down now, raving about "enjoying yourself", about making the most of it while you can and taking in the smell of the crowd while the fans can still get close to you.

"It's all new, no-one's seen it all before," he insists. "The next tour will be even better because we'll have another record out. Then there might be ambulances at our gigs!"

He knows that this is the optimum time for appreciating why you're in a band, when you're buzzing on new-found infamy, when all the gigs are packed out, when the crowds are all singing along even though only a minuscule part of the set has actually been released. And — better still — Noel Gallagher knows precisely how f—ing ridiculous this entire situation is.

"Who'd have the bollocks to release a first single like 'Supersonic', with lyrics like that about Alka-f—ing-Seltzer?" he rants, waving his G&T around. "I just hope that some band reads those lyrics and goes, 'What does it all mean, maaaan?', while the guy who actually wrote it is in a pub somewhere, pissed as a F—ING TWAT!

"Music for me at the moment is DEAD. It's poncey and serious and everyone's gotta make some sort of statement, whether it be about 'Parklife' or their feminine side or their politics. But we're a rock'n'roll band — we say all you need is cigarettes and alcohol. Everyone's dead into analysing, but don't analyse our band. 'That's a good song, that is. What does it mean?'. Who gives a f— what it means?"

So 'Shaker Maker' (the Coca Cola song, naturally) is the new Oasis single, and it's kind of something to do with the Mr Fluffy guy who sells Soft Mints by wobbling into lamp posts. And Mr Benn's in there, as well as a load of other characters, and Noel says that, more than anything else, it just makes him laugh.

"There hasn't been any 12 bar blues in the charts for as long as I can remember. And I don't think anyone's sung about plasticine and Coca-Cola in the same song, so that's the one for us, that is. Get it in the charts!

"Like I said before, it's just a feeling. If you sit down and think, 'Why do I like this band so much? Well, the singer's an arrogant git, I'd like to twat him one. And the rest of the band might as well be cardboard cutouts.' So you end up thinking, 'I don't like f— all about this band, but... the songs! Aren't the songs F—ING GREAT!?'"

A FEW more things you may or may not need to know about Oasis on the road. Already a seasoned autograph campaigner, Liam has sussed that signing fans' chests is a daft idea because cleavage perspiration prevents your pen from working properly. Whenever two or three of Oasis are gathered around the piano they will bang out a cheery version (to the tune of The Small Faces 'Lazy Sunday') of, "Wouldn't it be nice to be a f—ing cock-er-nee / Wouldn't it be nice to be in f—ing Blur — SLAG!". And Newport witnesses some serious psychological collapse.

It may be something to do with the manner in which Oasis valiantly attempt to get a goodly proportion of the TJs crowd into the hotel after the gig. Dispensing with the trite formalities traditionally deployed to convince suspicious hotel staff of their guests' worth, Liam simply harangues and abuses the night porter until the poor bloke's left with the enviable choice of opening the front doors or spending his entire shift being chased around by drunk Mancunians. It may then be something to do with the six-hour drinking session that ensues in — spookily enough — the hotel's Oasis bar. Whatever, the following morning is a sad sight for bloody sore eyes.

Bonehead has trashed his room. You can tell this by the way the morning staff patiently file in from the street carrying paraphernalia (telephones, cushions, pillow cases scarred with tyre marks). Bonehead would have thrown the bed out as well but it was too big. Now he is sitting in the lounge with a transparent shower cap on his face, muttering, "I can't do it any more."

"There's no such word as 'can't'," a worryingly wise Guigsy informs his colleague.

"But I CAAAN'T!" howls Bonehead. "I'm giving up this rock'n'roll business, I'm gonna be a Tory MP. GIVE ME A SATSUMA! GIVE ME A SATSUMA!"

Over on the other side of the bar, an irate Liam is throwing the morning's music papers around and ranting about Oasis being exploited or some such like. Noel watches his brother, adjusts his shades and sighs. "I'm gonna tell him that Henry Rollins has been slagging him off," he decides. "He'd rip our kid's leg off, shove it up his arse and then lick him to death like a f—ing lollipop!"

And over in the corner, Guigsy sits wondering why his hands are shaking so much, enthusing about Star Wars and planning for the future: "You know Leonard Nimoy is on Creation?" Erm, yes. "Well, I want Spock to be our tour manager. Could you imagine it? 'You have just thrown that table out of the window — that is highly illogical, Guigsy'..."

Obviously, confronted with all this evidence, any sane sort without direct responsibility for the tour would pack up their bags, slink off to the nearest mainline station and get the first train back home to Normality, pronto. Sadly, the NME crew simply sits in the midst of the chaos and twitches.

Eventually, after losing the band transport for half an hour, Oasis apologise to the staff, pile into the van and head off to Derby armed with half of the local McDonalds. It's one of those afternoon-after-the-few-nights-before journeys, where a sense of communal numbness prevails, Bonehead wants to vomit and the tape deck blasts out The Beatles, The Who and The Sex Pistols. Then we hit the traffic jam from hell outside Birmingham.

When a sleek business type refuses to let the van sneak in front of his saloon in the outside lane, the previously dozy band suddenly erupts, banging on the windows and hurling abuse at the unfortunate driver. Then, as we crawl through the roadworks, Bonehead spots a clutch of archetypal British workmen doing bugger all and yells, "START DIGGING!" Five minutes later, and now fully warming to the task, Bonehead decides to stagedive. Clambering on to his seat, he throws himself headlong into the back of the van. Nothing wrong with that, you might say. Except Bonehead is driving.

It could be said that if in hedonistic terms Primal Scream are The Muppets, Oasis are more like The Muppet Babies: a danger only unto themselves, they're the sort of trainee rock'n'roll gits who may be sussed enough to go backwards for their musical inspiration, but they've mercifully left behind the nastier elements of the trad RAWK lifestyle. So their bag is speed rather than smack, and their attitude is based upon bewilderment rather than insufferable belligerence.

Noel's the one with the permanent half-smile who appears to get most of his kicks from watching the rest of his band's antics. Tony barely utters a single word in the entire three days. Guigsy, general consensus has it, is coming out of his shell and becoming more and more unhinged the longer the tour progresses. Bonehead is simply bonkers. And Liam... Liam is the loose cannon, the one who spends ten minutes abusing receptionists and the next half an hour trying to chat them up. Lippier than the rest, he's always up for something. And when he recounts the Portsmouth saga to an enraptured mini-audience in the Derby dressing room, you can see how much he gets off on the attention.

"Beer is the best drug ever!" he bellows at one point. "I don't f—ing care, me."

"I feel sorry for our kid sometimes," Noel had mused back in Newport. "I've got all this shit going on inside my head and I can write it all down and get off on that. But he can't, so his release is to get off his head."

Noel admits that he worries about some of the, uh, less PC things that Liam is inclined to blurt out: "There's no need to say them, really. He just sets himself up." He talks about his brother's responsibility towards the band, pointing out that he's representing five people, not just himself. And then the guitarist sighs heavily yet again.

"Our kid thinks that I want him sitting in a room reading a book. I don't want that at all, man! But he f—ing winds me up. He's the one person I argue with. He goes on about this and that and I'll say, 'Shut up, you f—ing dick — I used to change your f—ing nappies!' Basically, if he's asking for a smack in the mouth he'll get one. And the same applies to me — if I'm asking for a smack in the mouth, I'll get one."

What if Wank Weekly phoned up and asked Liam to romp around in a soapy bath full of naked models for the centrespread?

"He wouldn't do it," frowns Noel, after a long, considered pause. "That'd cause another fight. But do you know what really worries me? I worry that someone's gonna throw a bottle at our kid one night and he's gonna casually move out of the way and let it smack me right in the mouth!"

So Oasis do another cracking gig, and some more substances and some more socialising. And then — no doubt to the relief of five horrendously overworked bodily constitutions, not to mention all of Derby's hotels — they go home. After a bizarre night drive across England, there's a quick sprint around Manchester dropping various band members off at their houses.

It all ends at 3am in the Britannia Hotel, where The Buzzcocks are retiring to bed. These Animal Men cower in shady corners and the bar bulges with soft Southerners in crap Adidas gear loudly celebrating United's championship success.

In the midst of all this, Noel Gallagher partakes of one last G&T and contemplates the next step in the Oasis plan for global domination: Glastonbury.

"People go on about the pressure and all that because they sit and think about it all day," he decides. "But we'll just bowl up there, arguing in the coach on the way. Someone will probably have a tooth missing by the time we get onstage and we'll play the gig and then we'll get off and start arguing again.

"This is another dream: I always wanted to go to Glastonbury but I could never afford a ticket, and now all of a sudden someone's paying me to play to a load of people and give me loads of beer and drugs. It's gonna be brilliant, because once you're in that field anything goes. When you're at home in your local pub and announce, 'I'm gonna get my face painted like a panda,' everyone goes, 'What the f— does he mean? Let's bottle the c—!' But at Glastonbury you can take all your clothes off and run around naked — that's what it's there for! It's the same with this band: let your hair down man, have a good time, that's what it's there for. Then you wake up the morning and do it again."

And again. And again. And again...

—NME | 4th June 1994

NME | 4 June 1994