#not posting this on ao3 atm bc it never developed much of a plot or coherent structure

[oacest]

fic: kenet, dragon!liam, 3.6K words

When Liam was little and did something to annoy Noel, whether it be stealing his stuff, whining, chattering, following him around everywhere, or generally just existing in his space, he used to tell him they weren't really brothers.

(This was before Liam's fire came in, before his explosive tantrums were a threat to the structural integrity of the council house.)

Liam was bad at school – his head was in the clouds years before he ever managed to wing his way up there. If he'd paid any attention to his special classes, he would've known Noel was only having him on, that it was one of those genetic fuck-yous that riddled their family. They had a grand uncle in County Mayo like Liam; he was locally famous for having a few too many and terrorizing pilgrims off Croagh Patrick.

As it was, it didn't take much to convince Liam he was adopted; it wasn't like Noel or Paul occasionally had a tail, now did they.

You're lying, Liam would moan. As if he wasn't already tearing up.

I ain't. Da won you in a card game. Pair of sevens was all he needed to bring you home.

It didn't matter to little Liam that their family was dirt poor and kind of awful; the idea of not really belonging to it filled him with an instinctive terror. Noel never knew if that was because of his condition or just being the baby of the family.

Of course it always backfired, because Liam would go running to Mam, and then she'd twist his ear for telling his little brother he came from an egg like one of them turtles down by Cringle Brook.

Noel pretty much forgot about it by the time they left Tommy and got the new house. The old taunt got buried under years of other insults and lies, under a mountain of reluctant fondness and occasional wonderment, and then other things.

By the time they were in Oasis, the fact of their brotherhood was not only obvious to anyone who looked at them, it was also central to every facet of their waking lives. It was the first thing people knew about either of them, which is a bit fucking much when you considered Liam occasionally shifted into a winged, fire-breathing creature the size of a fucking tank.

Nevertheless: Noel Gallagher, big brother to Liam. Liam Gallagher, little brother to the entire fucking country it sometimes seemed. But first and foremost Noel's.

So yeah, Noel forgot what he used to say.

Liam never did, though.

–------

Most dragons? Proper ugly fuckers. Bullish heavy foreheads and beady eyes, ill-formed features like they got jumbled about after a lifetime of being rearranged all the time in the shift. It's just one of the many ways Liam was blessed at birth that he seems to be the exception.

In some lighting you wouldn't even notice the faint iridescence of scales just under Liam's skin where it gets thin: the underside of his wrists, the imprint of his spine. The bleach of his knuckles when his hand is in a fist.

He has a slight pebbling at the ridge of his eye socket, but somehow through the magic of his brother that gets turned around into something beautiful too. Beautiful and occasionally terrifying.

Between the two of them, Noel is the one who looks like he'd be the dragon. But he's never been jealous, except for a brief stretch of years when he dreamed nonstop about what he'd do if he could grow bigger: if he could smash Tommy into bits or breathe fire, transform his entire ugly world into cinders.

He got over that, though. And Liam went on to live his life in such a way as no one could feel jealous of it.

1994

“Is it true you're telepathic?” asked the girl from Em Tee Vee. They were in some hotel room, where half these interviews seemed to take place.

Truth was, they used the hotel rooms because their schedule was so crazy, and also because Marcus hoped Liam would behave better if he was in a space he felt he could own. What Marcus or anyone had yet to understand was that Liam felt he owned any and every space he happened to be in at the time. And that he was hardly more likely to behave if Noel was present.

“No,” said Noel.

“'Course it is,” said Liam. He waved a hand between them and then at himself. Wiped his nose; the fire made his sinuses tingle sometimes. “But not – not like this.”

“Not ever,” said Noel firmly. Liam couldn't communicate in his other form; he could barely communicate in this one.

“He's lying,” said Liam. He took a drink from his pint, looking sullen. “I remember, when I was little and could still like, perch on his shoulder—”

“So when you were two?” said Noel, shaking his head at the girl.

“You let me do it until I was at least five. Anyway, I could talk to him then. Hear 'im in me head too. 'Course I did, how is a kid supposed to get on if he can't talk to anyone and he's hungry or, or gets lost up a tree or summat? But he stopped talking back. Now he never listens neither.”

“None of that is true,” said Noel, and the world believed him because the alternative was insane.

2015

Noel.

Noel.

Noel, Noely G, Noel Gallagher. You fuckin prick, let us in. Noel, you awake? Noel, I know you're awake, the cousins always drag us out when we're in Dublin. Nole. Noel! NOELNOELNOELNOEL—

He groaned and finally pushed up from his marvelous big bed. There was the not-lately-familiar feeling of someone trying to tweeze out thoughts from his head with a pair of serrated chopsticks, and he half-hunched over in pain as he made his way over to the window of the rented flat.

He dragged aside the floor-length curtain and grimaced up into the glowing blue eyes of his brother, who had somehow wedged his elephantine body into the narrow space of the balcony. The wrought iron railing was battered and bent outwards, the grill and wicker chairs toppled over. This was going to do wonders for Noel's reputation for partying.

He rubbed his eyes and considered shutting the curtains again.

Liam, as if he could read his thoughts (he couldn't), huffed a massive breath that caused half the glass door to immediately fog over, and then thumped his head against it. Once, twice. He blinked his massive eyes down at him.

Let me in, cunt.

“Why are you here?” he demanded as he slid the balcony door open. Liam's head immediately pushed inside, followed by his long neck. “Aren't you supposed to be in New York for court? What the fuck, Liam?”

Liam shook his head like a dog and wiggled forward a few more steps. Out on the balcony, the railing groaned and shrieked as his heavy, razorback tail slid free of it.

He shifted as he walked, because even those massive balcony doors wouldn't fit his shoulders. In a minute he was standing naked in the middle of Noel's bedroom, looking around like he'd never seen one before.

“What the fuck?” said Noel again for good measure.

“In the morning,” he grumbled, rolling his neck and already stepping towards the bed like it was his. “Man, 'm completely knackered.”

“Long day being unemployed and a wanker?” But he was tired too and, while he had long since learned that the path of least resistance did nothing to actually ameliorate their relationship, he couldn't be bothered when it was four in the morning and he had a busy schedule the next day.

He got back into bed and Liam wasted no time cuddling up, like they still did this all the time. As always, his chest was like a reactor core. It was like trying to sleep on a bed of hot coals.

“You're sneaking out tomorrow morning,” said Noel, shoving a pillow in the nonexistent space between their bodies for some insulation. “I mean it. Tour's only starting, and if I have to spend it talking about you drunkenly winging across Ireland sky-writing tweets instead of promoting my album, I'll kill you. I really will.”

Liam ducked his head and chewed on the corner of the pillow. “Your album,” he muttered, muffled. “I used to have albums. Loads of 'em. A lovely, bright collection.”

Noel rolled his eyes. He said nothing and hoped for sleep to instantaneously claim them both.

“And fans,” continued Liam mournfully around the pillow corner, which was starting to get singed. “And music every day.”

His eyes slid up the length of Noel's body, faintly glowing again. If he tried shifting and broke the bed, Noel would find this flat's fire extinguisher and spray its contents down his throat.

“You could still have all those things,” he pointed out, exhaustion masquerading as patience. “If you got off your ass and put your name on the line. You know, you'd think you'd want that – your name over everything.”

“That was always the difference between me and you,” said Liam. “Didn't need my name over something to know it was mine.”

He slid his knee forward and up over Noel's legs. His dick was a hard burning line against his thigh.

Noel chewed on his lip and held his breath for a long moment of possibility. It had been years since they did that. Stopping was probably part of the reason things got so bad; generally speaking, dragons did not like being told no. But it was the only way.

Noel had worked too hard to start saying yes again on some random night in March on the eve of his second world tour.

“Go to sleep,” he said, and he rolled over so his back was to him.

2018

People were too fucking precious about it these days, the way they were about everything. Fucking snowflake millennials. Suddenly naming something for what it was or describing how it fucks with your day was simply not on, apparently.

Back in the nineties, people would meet Liam, spend maybe half an hour with him, and come away wincing sympathetically at Noel for what he had to deal with all the time. Twenty years on, neither of them have changed and yet now Noel's the bad guy for simply stating Liam is obsessed and jealous and thinks even now that Noel is part of his—

“Ooh,” says Donald from Radio 2, “I don't think we should use that word.”

It takes a moment for Noel to realize which one he means. “What, hoard?” he says incredulously.

A click signals the producer on the other side of the glass has hit a button. Cathy's voice pipes into the booth. “It's considered othering, Noel.”

“Then it's doing its job, because my brother is as other as it fucking gets.”

“That – may be,” says Donald bracingly, “but our listeners are not, and we wouldn't want to blindside them.”

Blindside, fucking christ. As if they were not talking about the man who once went on a three-day bender and passed out in broad daylight in Notting Hill on Michael Hutchence's jag, crushing it.

Noel sits back and crosses his leg, then his arms for good measure. “What word should I use, then?”

Donald looked back through the glass to Cathy for guidance. They waited while she considered the question or, more likely, googled it.

Another staticky click and she came through, clearly reading off her phone, “People avoid the H-word because it puts the compulsion at the center of the experience. This can be avoided through the use of people-first language—”

“People-first language,” repeats Noel. “Well, there's your problem right there. Liam's not a person.”

There's a beat of silence and then Donald gives a short, uncomfortable laugh.

–---

Any-fucking-way, here is a list of everything Liam considers part of his hoard:

When he was really little, Noddy toys; thereafter their childhood bedroom and everything in it; Noel's apartment in India House; Noel's first apartment in London; a series of very stupid hats; every fucking song Noel ever wrote for Oasis, including the ones Noel kept back to sing himself; every fuzzy layering garment he has ever clapped eyes on through a shop window; Noel's time; Noel's attention; and lastly but also firstly and everything in between: Noel himself.

1996

It was probably really fucking dangerous, flying while they set off fireworks below. But Liam was off and running before anyone guessed what he was doing, and then it was too late to even worry. It was always too late to worry about Liam.

Anyway, after a show like that, everyone kind of thought he was untouchable. He'd make the universe bend around him.

The massive crowd continued to cheer; music poured from the speakers. Noel leaned against the fence and sipped his beer, watching along with everyone else for glimpses of his brother through the explosions and smoke overhead.

His chest felt like it was bursting full of warmth and light. He might start floating any second. He wondered if this was how Liam felt all the time.

1985

C'mon, wheedled Liam.

“Not a chance.” It was the fourth time he said it, and it was growing harder with the repetition to say it casually. He tried smiling at Diane, who was sitting on the park bench drinking a lemonade and managing to look absolutely stunning as she did it. She smiled back, sorta.

Liam put his head down like an anteater and started trotting at him. It took Noel a baffled second to realize he thought he could scoop him up like that. It was really embarrassing, but it would've been even more embarrassing if he succeeded, so Noel evaded him by darting and jumping behind a tree.

So then he was hiding behind a tree from his kid brother while his potential girlfriend watched. He hated his life sometimes.

A furnace blast of air ruffled Noel's hair as Liam wound his head around the tree. Why not? He sounded plaintive in Noel's head.

People who saw them only could see the surface of things. They saw a little guy getting harassed by a massive blue-green dragon with a lazy eye. And then they looked the other way, because that's what everyone in the world did when things were happening to little guys.

“The last time we tried flying, I damn near broke me arm,” he said, pressing back again the bark like he could become one with the tree. “I said never again, and I meant it.”

I was ten. My balance is way better now. I been practicing.

“Practicing with who?” he scoffed.

Girls, mostly. But Polly Lynch let me take her guinea pig up once. I reckon if a guinea pig can manage it, so can you.

“Oh, that's just what Mam needs, you killing some poor girl and making us pariahs in the neighborhood.”

Liam nosed forward and chucked his chin with his snout. Not gonna kill nobody. Told you, I'm good at it.

“Answer's still no.”

Why not? I wanna show you things, like Black Chew Head and this one geezer's office in City Tower, you won't believe it, he's got a whole wall full of—

“You ain't supposed to be going into the city,” says Noel sharply. “How many times we gotta tell you that, you'll get in trouble. There's rules, Liam.”

Liam chucked his chin again, but more roughly this time. Noel could feel the sting of scraped skin along his neck and clapped a hand to it, grimacing and cursing.

His little brother stepped back, long tail shambling in a large circle over the park lawn as he turned his back on Noel.

Unease trickled in, too late. Noel started after him. “Liam!”

If you're not coming with, you don't get to tell me what to go.

And then he was taking off with a heavy, sulky beat of wings. Noel and Diane watched him go. He favored his right side, listing badly. Better balance his arse, thought Noel. He would've killed Noel for sure.

“What did he say?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing, I don't – I don't know. He can't talk when he's like that.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised. “But I thought—”

“What?” he asked, real fast (too fast).

She looked at him in steady appraisal. Eventually, she shrugged and said, “Nothing. I just thought you could hear him, is all. Your mam made it sound like you could. Said you were the only one.”

Noel looked back at the sky, where Liam was only a small dot now. He was going too high.

“I'm a good guesser, is all,” he said.

2019

He didn't need the tell-tale shadow or the sound of beating wings overhead to know his brother had just left. It was obvious from the scorch marks spelling out CUNT in the lawn. The letters were large and crooked, somehow identical to his scrawl when he signed something for a fan. The T was still actively on fire in two spots.

It was just as well Sara and the kids weren't here yet and wouldn't be until the end of the week. The Hampshire house was still mostly empty. Noel was only out there to oversee the relocation of some of his more precious items (that is, his guitars).

He walked across the lawn, already hearing his wife's voice in his head: this has gone too far, we need to get a restraining order, he's dangerous, can't you see he's not well? How are we supposed to sleep like this? What about the boys, what if he takes the boys? After the things he's said and now he's over here proving he knows exactly where to find us?

The problem is, Liam will always know where to find him. There's nothing he can do about that, short of murder and/or suicide. He's only not done at least the former because the mere thought of the Cain and Abel references in all the headlines and book titles and documentaries made him disgusted.

Noel stamped out the two small fires and wiped his shoes on the grass to get the ash off. He took out his phone and made two calls standing there in the center of the lawn. The first was to his landscaper.

The second was to his mother.

2006

They had told Liam from the very beginning he needed to take special care with his voice, because of his condition; the fire was harsh on his larynx, made the cartilage more brittle. But Liam said fuck you, first just in his head, and then in Noel's, and then a few times aloud to anyone who dared tell him how to live his life over the years. And now that voice was gone: shredded and hoarse, you'd never guess what he used to be able to do with it.

“What do you mean, you're going on tour without me?” he said. They were in his local in Primrose Hill, in a corner booth. Noel had wanted to break the news somewhere familiar, so Liam wouldn't destroy the place if things went really poorly.

“It's not a tour,” he said, downplaying it like that has ever made a difference. “It's a few acoustic shows. I've always done those on the side.”

Liam shook his head. “But not like this, not as a tour.” He sat back, putting his arm over the back of the booth. His eyes traveled over the room, already seeing past Noel to the ranks of invisible enemies lying in wait.

Like a fool, Noel leaned forward to reason with him. “Look, it's to promote our album. You cannot possibly have a problem with this. I promote the album, you don't have to do nish, we both rake in the money.”

“Fuck the money,” said the man who's been a millionaire for a third of his life. “You're running off with my shoes, trying them on for size. Well, I think you'll find they're too big for you, little man.”

Noel tapped the table. “Right.” And then, to himself, “Why the fuck did I even bother.”

“Yeah, why did you?” he asked as Noel began sliding out of the booth. “I'll tell you why – you wanted to be able to say to people, I gave him fair warning. But I see through you. I got that third eyelid, brother, I'm always watching.”

He informed him, “I didn't have to tell you anything, actually. I don't need your permission to tour and, as I won't be dealing with your sulking on the road, your cooperation is also irrelevant. But I thought you deserved to hear it from me, that you might handle it like an adult and not a puffing little skink.”

For some reason, this is what cause Liam to flip his colours. His arm shot out and he grabbed Noel's wrist in his hot little hand.

He stood there looking down at it, for some reason not pulling away immediately.

“My voice is recovered from the spring, if that's what this is,” said Liam quietly. “I'm ready to go, Noel. Just name the date. I could do Knebworth tomorrow, man, you know I could.”

Despite a lifetime of proof that it wasn't any good, sometimes Noel caught himself wishing they could speak telepathically like this. Maybe it would be better, if it were these eyes he was looking into, this hand he was holding, when he lied and told him it wasn't about his voice.

[merlyn-bane]

Fic Writer 20 Questions

Thanks for the tag, @frostbitebakery !!🥰🥰🥰

1.) How many works do you have on ao3

35, but that also includes some of pyro's that I'm listed as co on because I helped with so much of the plotting out and behind the scenes stuff

2.) What's your ao3 word count?

336,631

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Right now primarily Star Wars bc that's where my brainrot is, but I've been known to play around in a few other sandboxes. There are a few Star Trek fics on my AO3 as well, and there's a multifandom xreader sideblog floating around somewhere that I am not going to tag because I consider it a Different Era and not reflective of the work I'm doing now. Even though I'm STILL getting notes on a Wolverine smut fic I posted all the way back in 2018.

4.) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Foelu

SubObi Week Day Five

SubObi Week Day One

SubObi Week Day Four

SubObi Week Day Six

(Foelu is leading by A Margin in basically everything but hits now, it's insane)

5.) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! And I'm usually pretty good at it. Sometimes I'm really not sure what to say and sometimes I get kind of overwhelmed so not always, but I do try. I'm super behind on Foelu atm bc you all continue to just blow me away with the support on that one, but I promise I'm planning to sit down and try to get caught up soon.

6.) What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Angsty endings aren't super my thing, to be honest. Most of the things I've actually finished have happy endings, just because that's my personal preference. Most of my angst is in the middle, and I'd say probably the angstiest fic I have (at least right now) is Traveling Song. Ari has...been through it. It used to be a whole lot worse before the first rewrite happened though.

7.) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Idk, maybe the Obi-Wan Omegaverse series I did for SubObi Week?

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet, here's to hoping that doesn't change anytime soon.

9.) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Oh, yes. All sorts of it 😈😈

10.) Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Crossovers have never super been my thing, so no, not really.

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that know of, again, hoping it stays that way.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not yet, I think, but I have had one or two podfic'ed!

13.) Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I'm listed as a co-author on @pyromanicdaydreamer 's The Moments In Between since I helped with so much of the development for it (what can I say, I'm an ideas guy if I'm anything), but I've never really co-written anything, as far as the actual words and stuff.

14.) What's your all time favorite ship?

I'm mentally ill about Codywan in a way I've never really been before or since, to be honest. They're my special little guys. Also, though, Octavious and Jedidiah from Night At The Museum, Obviously.

15.) What's a WIP you'd like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Oh, so many.

16.) What are your writing strengths?

I think the most consistent feedback I've gotten is that my character work and humor are good, which does just make me feel real nice because characterization is something I worry about.

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I am a total slave to the muse, my WIP graveyard is sprawling. I do think I could stand to be a little more descriptive at times, and I'm never going to claim that an English teacher wouldn't cry at some of my grammar. I'm a lot more concerned with how things sound than if they're technically correct.

18.) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's one of those things that's dependent on the characters, but when appropriate I do think it can add more depth. It also just makes sense for some characters--for example, you can be on either side of the clones-being-Mandalorian debate, but picking up another language from the trainers that the Kaminoans and likely their future generals don't know could only be in their best interest strategically.

19.) First fandom you wrote for?

Marvel I think. Pyro and I wrote a bunch of OC stuff in the 2012 era, and I think one of my very first ones was a Thor x OC that might even still be on ff.net.

20.) Favorite fic you've ever written?

Oh fuck. Uh. C'mon, man, this is like asking me to choose a favorite child. Shit. Um. I don't know if it's my favorite, but They Told Me I Couldn't Bag A Jedi was a lot of fucking fun to work on.

I think I'm gonna tag @ferretrade @goddammitjim @shootingstarpilot @bluemaskedkarma @brigittttoo

[lilolilyrae]

g, h, k, m?

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Usually I write an outline first (bullet points or just badly written sentences, no dialogue), then try to do it start to finish but when I'm stuck at one part I just skip it and write another first- although usually I have enough wips at the same time that I just go to another one if that happens, so the fics are still mostly written start to finish

H: How would you describe your style?

I would love to know that! Do I have one? XD I feel like it adapts a lot to whatever book or fanfic I've read before. Some of my fics are dialogue-heavy, very real-time, some focus on inner monologue, some describe a lot, sometimes I stick to one POV sometimes I don't... All very feelings based without too much plot but that's just most of fanfic as a genre I think.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

Not a fanfic but I remember years ago writing an original short-story about a woman killing a girl in a carcrash, then getting pregnant and the girl's mother is the nurse or sth and aborts her foetus without consent so they're 'even' (I'm vry pro-choice, there was just def no choice involved in that story)... Idk what my brain was thinking. Nothing good.

So that's the only creepy thing I've actually written down, but I just noticed it says 'come up with' instead of written, so- uuuuh a lot. I have this gigantic headcanon-crossover-multiverse, I've recently started actually writing some fics for it on ao3, but nothing too angsty- although one angsty af thing that I've started writing is that one entire universe just shattered (too much time travel, it's a long story), leaving everyone in it not just dead but never existing, even the plane of death of that universe is gone. The only survivor is one little girl who was in a different universe at the time, now she lives in a world where her family still kind-of exists, and there's another little girl very similar to herself..... I have some ideas to make it more angsty and give it some coraline vibes but I think I'll stick to mostly hurt/comfort for what I'm writing atm. I have loads more angsty ideas so do let me know if anyone wants to read those, but for now imma stop spamming!

M: Got anything on the back burner that you’d care to share?

That entire headcanon verse I already talked about... (lucyverse/lverse after a former main character in it) There's a lot of Harry Potter, twilight (I was 11 ok? Also by now everything and everyone there is too ooc to be recognized as twilight anyways), Lord of the Rings, Marvel, doctor who, star trek,... And everything is queer in some way <3

Apart from that some not fanfic stories that idk yet whether I'll fanfic-ify them and post them on ao3, mostly one about an underground society split into basically the bad guys ™ who want to see the planet burn and everyone die with loads of kinda brainwashed soldiers and their own mash-up language bc they never stay in one place for long, good guys (or that's what they think they are) who basically try to save civilians but often die in the process & recruit a lot of these civilians for their own purposes... And during the story two more groups develop, the Revenge and the Silver, basically the ones that just kill for personal reasons and the ones that don't just use defensive tactics anymore. Also featuring: technology to look like other people, so civilians that join a group to fight can seem to stick around when really someone like an analyst takes their place, also good to stay close to everyone's resources; a lot of sci-fi treehouse, underground or under-snow bases and transportation systems; traitors, double-agents, friendship, love-stories, loss and a lot of confusion.

I also have some more ideas for my 666 Good Omens series on ao3! And of course more Podfics coming up :)

Thanks for the questions, I really appreciate it!

My ao3 is lilolilyrae, same as here :)

Ask me fanfic asks