#this is so much better than that one of noel

[aninipanin1]

Some ideas for Manager are them accidentally getting hit with an off course ball, learning how to play football so they can help out a bit or perhaps, for old manager (but ig young manager could work too), them having used to play football before and having the world five/the coaches help them brush up on their rusty skills so they can help the boys with overtime practice, perhaps?

Sorry, I can't say I have any more ideas beyond this

KICKED TO THE HEAD

Notes: This req is lowkey so cute! I chose young manager instead if youre fine with it hehehe, but I will try to make another one to answer the other two req because I lowkey like them.

"Hmm, next on my to-do list is to check up on each stratum. Hmm, since the closest to where I am is the German Stratum, I'll head there first!"

You found yourself skipping away to where the training field was, where you know the players were currently training. It was a not-so regular day in the Blue Lock Facility due to the fact that the continuation of the Neo-Egoist League matches will be held in 3 days time.

Hence, all players, masters and even staff were busy, slaving away in their training or jobs. You decided to just give a small peek to each stratum, wanting to ask anyone if all are alright and well-taken cared off.

As the manager, you always found yourself feeling unsatisfied if even one of the players are not very comfortable with whatever it is that is under the guise of your job. Their cleats are a bit too uncomfortable? Your bad, you didn't pick the right cleats for them! Was the bedsheets a bit itchy? Oops, you did not di your job well to make it clean and spotless.

Sure, it was a lot of pressure, but you liked it. It made you feel useful, made you feel motivated, made you smile. Were you a masochist? Maybe, but if its for the betterment of the players, you were ready to do it. After all, the Blue Lockers, Ego and Anri were not the only ones dreaming for Japan to win the World Cup.

Putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, you entered the training field where you can see the Bastard Munchen players were running around the field, doing simulations and other strategical work that you could not help but be impressed with.

'Wow...the places where the players are are so fitting for their playstyles! That's Bastard Munchen for you! Very logical!'

A smile was on your face as your eyes followed where the ball was passed from player to player. Watching matches, practice or not, is always entertaining for you. The cogs in your mind spinning and turning, trying to connect and make sense with all the details and information your eyes can take in.

It always feels entertaining and freeing to do this. To spectate, to watch each player. Like you were the audience of an orchestra or a mastermind behind the pieces of a chessboard. Everything and everyone felt like they were within arm's reach, like you were a puppeteer choosing not to move the strings and instead, let your dolls move themselves.

But, you know that if you so much as wish to affect the game, you can.

"Do you see anything, Y/n?"

Almost jumping due to the shock, you turned to face the French master, Noel Noa, who looked at you curiously. You have been quite close with the master strikers in the facility, especially Noel Noa, who seemed to be quite fond of you, too, finding your nature and aura quite adorable. Maybe it was because you were quite young and still naive, or maybe it was because you were always so happy and excited to learn more about the sport, he did not know.

But, what he does know is you were a very precious kid he would like to take under his wing.

"Um, its just the usual I see, Noa-san. Nothing too big! Maybe its because its just practice..?"

You tilted your head, looking down on your notebook that had many doodles and notes you made throughout the week. There were doodles of the players and what they need to improve on. And well, you were more than happy to add more to the things you already totted down.

However, due to this, you did not really see the missed shot Kaiser did, while he trained his infamous Kaiser Impact again and again. Nor did you hear the shouts of some of the players about the incoming ball, or hell, even the shwip sound of the ball as it rushed through the air and went to where your head was.

So, to your surprise, when you find yourself blacking out for a second due to a hard force impacting on your forehead, that it made you sit on the floor. It hurt, yes, and you can feel the blood dripping from your nose, but the most dominant reaction you can feel is shock.

Meanwhile, the rest of the players, were not as calm as you were.

"Oi, Kaiser, you bastard! I'm gonna punt you!" Isagi shouted from the other side of the field as he stood up, ready to fight the German striker.

"Y/n-chan!! Are you okay?!" Hiori and Ness were the first ones to run to where you are, worried about your dazed expression.

"Kaiser. Laps around the field." Noa's eyes were slanted like a hawk, as he kneeled beside you, patting your head softly to comfort you a bit.

Kaiser, on the other hand, was the most petrified of all. He knows how much force his kick had, from experience and, of course, his own knowledge of his strength. And he was very much worried and shocked, blinking his blue eyes like he saw something very traumatising.

He didn't mean to. He knows he did nof. But that did not make him feel less bad. Especially since he hurt you of all people. The only person who was not rude to him, but also did not patronise him like a certain someone (ahem, Ness), even if he acted like a douche to you in the beginning of the Neo-Egoist League.

And also the fact that you weren't like him and the other players, who were used to receiving any loose ball that had hard and forceful impacts. But even then, he couldn't move fast enough to be the first one to make sure you were okay.

"Y/n-chan, where are you right now? What team and stratum are you in?" Yukimiya also was beside you, asking questions to make sure you didn't have a concussion or any brain damage. Thankfully, you answered all his questions quite well, and you didn't seem to be hurt at all. Just shocked and a bit sore from the impact, but nothing major.

"I'm fine, everyone. I wasn't just paying attention. Sorry, everyone. Sorry, Kaiser-"

"Why the fuck are you the one apologising? You were the one hurt!" Kaiser said out of nowhere, holding your shoulder as you blinked at the mini outburst he had. The blonde-haired man was panting, although not too heavily, it was still noticeable that he was heaving due to the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders.

At first, you thought it was because of the practice, but the worried look beneath the usual nonchalance in his eyes told you otherwise.

"U-uh...sorry- um no wait- I meant, its just because you got blamed for all of it when it was an accident and now you're in trouble."

"I don't give a crap about that. Just...just go to the damn clinic...make sure...you're not having a concussion or whatever."

Like a drunkard being poured cold water, Kaiser realized that you two were not the only people in the field, and that many eyes were watching. So, he retracted his arms and turned around, trying his best to hide the confusing mixture of worry and self-disappointment as he walked back to the field.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked as he sat beside you, Kurona sitting on your other side ontop of the clinic bed as some of the Bastard Munchen players stood infront of you, also wanting to make sure you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. This is nothing."

"If you say so, but if you feel dizzy or just if anything is wrong, tell us immediately." Yukimiya said he held the ice pack to where the ball hit, while you wiped the excess blood from your nose.

"Yeah, yeah! Its bad to hold back what you're feeling." Kurona added, while Hiori was just quiet as he gave you your stuff, placing it on the desk beside the bed.

Meanwhile, Kaiser and Ness also stood beside you, Ness, along the worried ones as he patted your head softly, hopeful that it might help in some way, shape or form. Meanwhile, Kaiser and Isagi were already starting to argue, Isagi telling Kaiser to becareful next time and Kaiser being on the defensive as the two threw roast upon roast against each other.

"Your blindass is so rich, you can't even buy sports glasses? Even Yukimiya is responsible enough to do that!"

"Oh, please. I'm blind? You're fucking senseless."

The rest of players, well except for Ness who was fully supporting and backing up Kaiser, just watched with done and dotted eyes.

"Jesus, they never shut up, huh?" Hiori rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Theyre too, too intense sometimes." Kurona added as finally, Yukimiya sighed and gave his polite smile.

"I think thats enough for today, you two. Y/n-chan needs her peace and quiet to recover."

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BARCHA

"Bachira!! We can't!!" Kitsunezato said as he tried to stop the said striker from walking out.

"Yeah, you know that Lavinho-san won't like it." Hayate added, but Bachira was far from listening.

"NO! I need to see if Y/n-chan's okay!! I'll beat that German up the next time I see him!!"

"Please, don't- C'mon Otoya! Help us out here!" But, unfortunately for them, Otoya was somewhat agreeing to what the brown and blonde haired striker was saying and Kitsunezato sensing this, immediately prayed to whatever god there was, and even better plead to Otoya, himself.

"Oh god, please don't! We have enough with Bachira here! It was an accident!"

"But there is no accident when it comes to Y/n-chan being hurt!!" Bachira fought back.

"I agree-"

"Shut the hell up, Otoya!"

MANSHINE CITY

"WHAT?! Is she okay?!" Reo panicked when he heard the news.

"I swear, its always those from Bastard. What the hell is even happening in that stratum?" Chigiri said with annoyance and worry. Why does chaos always happen in that stratum he wondered.

"Y/n-chan...is she better now?" Nagi, commented from his bed, eyes abnormally wide, like a cat roused from its sleep by a predator.

"Yeah, I heard she's fine. She didn't have any serious concussion anything, which is lucky for all of us! She just needs to rest earlier today, but she will still be able to do her duties tomorrow!" The red-haired said, repeating what he heard from Isagi.

"Good. I kind of feel bad but happy at the same time. I want her to rest, but at the same time I want her to keep working so we can see her again tomorrow." Reo admitted, his back plopping on his bed, purple eyes looking up at the ceiling lights.

"I don't want Y/n-chan to be replaced as our manager, ever..."

"I don't think anyone in here wants that to happen at all, Nagi."

UBERS

"I should've kicked a ball straight to that Kaiser's face when I had the chance."

"That is a red card, Barou, but I don't even think I would stop you. Go wild." Niko sighed. The Ubers players just heard of the news and most of them were not happu with what they heard.

"Poor Y/n-chan, that has to hurt. I remember the first time I got hit on the face, and I'm a defender so I'm used to that! But she isn't even a player." Oliver said, cringing at the thought of being hit by a ball, much less from someone of Kaiser's calibre.

"Damn straight! And those useless peasants couldn't even protect her from those guys. Those damn donkeys." Barou said, his mind towards a specific raven-haired striker that he knew was not only his main rival, but also the main rival of Kaiser and hence why, he believed he was the most responsible for you not managing to avoid the ball in time.

PXG

"Charles! We're training that new move we're planning to make it better and make it hurt for our match with those Germans!" Shidou said, clearly pissed off at the news. The French midfielder only nodded his head, cheering along with the pink-haired striker.

"Fucking lukewarms, you should do it secretly not infront of the many cameras around this damned facility." Rin rolled his eyes, even he wasn't impressed when he heard that you got injured, much less bleeding!

"For the first time, you didn't say anything dumb, Rin-rin. You heard him Charles! We're going to meet up with that German bastard!"

"Yay! Yay! We're gonna avenge Y/n!"

But unfortunately for them, and fortunately for everyone else, Karasu was there to stop the two, holding the scruff of their uniforms immediately.

"Now, now. As much as I also want to square up on that guy, we can't go monster against his ass or do you wanna be electrocuted again, Shidou?"

The blonde and pink haired striker blinked at that and finally shrugged.

"We'll just have to beat them in the upcoming games. So, ya'll better train hard." Karasu said with finality as he headed to his room with the other Blue Lock players, and that idea did not sound bad at all in Rin, Shidou and even Charles' ears.

I hope you guys liked this one! This was supposed to be fun but it turned into some sort of twisted Kaiser angst piece lolol

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[allseeingharlequin]

Imagine with me for a moment if you would:

Oscar Malevolent

[lovelytsunoda]

(what’s the story) morning glory // lando norris

summary: noel gallagher’s daughter has a reputation for two things: being the funniest woman on the internet, and really having a thing for american guys. to the delight of all, she shows up at one of her dads concerts with a boy from bristol on her arm.

pairing: lando norris x gallagher!reader

yngallagher just posted!

northern quarter, manchester, united kingdom

liked by oliviarodrigo, heatherbarongracie and 3,457 others

yngallagher break through the barrier - tina turner

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user mommy? sorry, mommy. sorry!

user she really is that bitch

user real question: is she united or city?

-> yngallagher would you hate me if i said neither?

yngallagher just posted!

manchester, england

liked by noelgallagher, rollingstone and 4,170 others

yngallagher acquiesce - oasis

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yourbestie SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

noelgallagher it was an honor sharing the stage with you, my wonderful daughter

-> yngallagher awe love you too dad!

user is it just me or did it look like she was blowing kisses to someone off stage?

-> user no ur so right someone was definitely there for her

user yn could single-handedly bring oasis back together

entertainmentbuzzmanchester

liked by 984 users

entertainmentbuzzmanchester YN Gallagher spotted last night in the VIP area of her fathers Manchester show cozying up to this unidentified man. Gallagher, who performed at the show, was later seen leaving the arena with the same man.

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user has she finally found her american prince?

user we’ve lost her to a fucking yank y’all! the hold that eighties matt dillon had on her was too much!

stacey_spacey I’ve seen that shitty haircut somewhere before

yngallagher posted to her story!

landonorris so born jovi is better than me?

yngallagher maybe maybe not ;) listen i'm ready to hard launch whenever you are, but don't feel like we need to rush things

yngallagher you have my dad's approval, and where i come from that's like being knighted

yngallagher just posted!

liked by noelgallagher, caitybaser and 2,391 others

yngallagher my daddy likes him so you guys should too :) silvo dump is incoming, just have to get some film developed

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user hottie

user now that's defo lando norris fight me

-> user idk bro it seems like a reach to connect them together

-> user yes but have you seen the twitter thread by user stacey_spacey? she makes some good points

noelgallagher im just gald you aren't dating an american. i wish he was from manchester, but beggars can't be choosers

noelgallagher im just kidding, darling. glad youre happy xx

yngallagher just posted!

tagged: landonorris

liked by landonorris, stacey_spacey, noelgallagher and 5,000 others

yngallagher . . . surprise!

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user holy shit

charles_leclerc what the fuck

-> oscarpiastri what the fuck

-> carlossainz55 what the actual fuck

-> alex_albon what the literal fuck

-> yngallagher why are you guys being so mean to pookie?

stacey_spacey i was right HAHAH

landonorris you're my wonderwallll

-> yngallagher i love you too my sexy loser boyfriend

-> oscarpiastri what is wrong with both of you

user lmao why is everyone so shocked?

-> maxfewtrell when i saw them together at silverstone i was certain it was like a joke or a pr thing?

user he looks like he negotiated with god to be allowed on earth

[leviismybby]

Cat and Mouse

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader, mdni, nsfw 18+, fingering

Levi's eyes scan the rooftops, he can hear you, hear your footsteps. He launches his gear at the nearby building wall and steps on the rooftop, spotting your figure he hides behind a wall and waits for you to pass by. This time, he won't let you off the hook easily, you were gonna rush past him but Levi surprises you, spins you around and pushes you against the cold surface harshly. You grunt as your back hits the concrete, your eyes narrow immediately before they meet his grey ones. He will never learn.

"Captain." That sarcasm in your voice isn't something Levi appreciated, he jas had enough of your games. Before he speaks, he pins your hands above your head, last time you pulled a stunt, he isn't letting that happen again. "What the fuck is your problem?" You know why he is mad, you've caused him quiet the trouble, not that you regret it. "My problem? I don't have one. You clearly do." A brat, you were such a brat and he couldn't fathom what keeps him so infatuated with you. Maybe it's the fact that you're a thief that the MPs can't seem to catch or maybe is the fact that you outsmarted him both time he caught you. Either way, Levi wants it to stop.

"You have to stop. The military police will get a bounty on that shitty head of yours. You fucked it up badly this time." He was right, you did fuck it up, stealing from the Garrison just for the thrill of it. If Levi didn't know any better, he would say that you're crazy, than again, he isn't exactly normal either and he is the last person to judge you given his past as a thug. "Aww, thanks for caring, I don't care." You try to stir out of his grip and he only tightens it, keeping you still. "You're fucking insufferable you know that?" It was true, you were an annoyance for him, he had better things to do than to chase a petty thief around Trost but there was something about you that kept him coming back. He hated himself for always giving in.

"I can only say the same, Captain. Why do you care so much?" You roll your eyes, trying to find a way out of his grip but nothing seems to come to mind. He is too close to you, you can feel his breath on your cheek, this is getting dangerous. "I don't dammit. I will be the first to celebrate when your ass gets thrown in jail." Maybe he should do it, bring you in and let the militray police do as they please with you but his inner turmoil isn't letting him, he hates to admit it but he enjoys this, the chase and the games between you. His comrads would be disappointed if they knew, he knows your face, knows how you work so why doesn't he just report you? It's a problem that he can't slove tonight.

You don't say anything, the words coming out of his mouth were harsh but true, you did keep him on his feet and you enjoyed the attention. "So report me. Or is your ego not letting you." He hides things well behind that indifferent expression but his eyes tell you a different story, there is hate there, of course there is, you two hold mutual hatred for on e another however there is desire there too, it shouldn't be. It really shouldn't. Levi scoffs at your words, his fingers wrap around your neck and he squeezes, his other hand still firmly holding your wrist together. "You're the egotist one here. You and your shitty criminal jobs. How much money did you earn by selling sealed information huh? What is your game here?" That was his main problem, you stole from the survey corps too and he doesn't appreciate it one bit.

His fingers squeeze your throat again, he wants you to answer but he won't approve if you lie to him. "Enough and I enjoy the chase. Noel matter how big or minor my crime is, you always comr running after me. Why is that captain?" Now there is a question he wants answer at least not with words. Hos face inches closer to you, your noses touching. "Fucking annoying brat." You smirk, your eyes drifting to his lips, will he finally do it or will he run away from it like all those other times? You don't move away or lean in, you simply wait, eager to feel his lips agsint yours.

And just like that, a groan leaves his lips, his hand moving down to your hip and his lips crashing agsint yours. Returning the kiss immediately, you feel his grip on your wrist loosen and insted he interlocks his fingers with yours, his kiss getting more passionate. You let your hand fall to his hair, pulling him into the kiss even more, his body presses up agsint yours, the heat between you making a shiver run down your spine. You moan as his hand moves to your ass and he squeezes, loving the sounds that are leaving your mouth. He needs to hear more and he plans too. His grip gets more and more possessive, his hands start to roam your body, feeling your every curve. You can't go all the way put here, both of you know that but Levi is letting his desire for you cloud his judgement and he can't keep his hands off of you even out here.

The two of you keep kissing for some time until Levi pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to each other. Levi's eyes look you up and down, he wants to fuck you here and now but it's too risky, so he will simply have to do something else. His mouth starts kissing your neck, each kiss more sloppy than the other, you throw your head back, giving him more space, you're enjoying this more than you thought you would. A gasp leaves your swollen lips when he bites into your skin leaving marks behind. "You smell so fucking good." He says against your skin before biting again, this time he hits your sweet spot directly, making a shiver run down your spine. You grab onto his shoulders, your body pulling it self closer to his. "Desperate are you? Fucking brat." He turns you around, your hands on the cold wall, he bucks your hips sligthy and gives your ass a firm slap, fuck the things he would do to you.

He lands another slap on your ass, his body pressing fully into yours, you can feel how hard he is for you. You bite your lip and reach out for his bulge but he slaps your hand away. "No. Keep your fucking hands on the wall understood?" You nod at his words, as much you want to talk back to him, you don't want to ruin this moment so you keep quiet and listen to what he says. You keep your hands on the wall feeling his run up and down your sides before the reach your pants. His hand slides in and you gasp at his cold fingers as they reach your core, he rubs you over your panties making soft moans come put of you. "Wet aren't you? Is this waht this whole thing is about? You want me to fuck you don't you?" Bingo, thats exactly what this whole thing is about, him finally breaching his breaking point and taking you.

Your hips buck into his hands, you want more. Levi chuckles, sending another shiver down your body, this is the first time you hear him chuckle and it's making you feel things. "Yeah? Oh you would love to have my cock deep inside of you right now. Too bad you're not getting it." He nibbles on your ear as he says that, his voice horase and rough, he is turned on beyond belief. He starts to rub you again, feeling the way the fabric of your panties is getting wet, you're phehetic, acting all though while all it took is a single touch for him to get you under his control, you melt so easily, he will indulge in that. Finally his fingers slip into your underwear and feels your pussy, his fingers runs down your slit, feeling your slick and walls, you're so wet for him, fuck he really is in trouble.

He kisses your shoulder, his fingers finding your clit, you thighs close against his hand, whimpers escape your mouth. "How cute. You're phehetic, so fucking easy to break." His fingers enters you without warning, it starts of slow, he loves teasing you but as soon as he feels your warm walls clench around his finger, he starts to finger you faster. "Fuck Levi." You say, your hands steady on the wall, he knows what he is doing. As soon as you said that, he adds a second finger keeping the fast pace, your eyes start to water as he curls them hitting that soft spot. He keeps pumping his fingers in and put of you, your actions are getting him more drunk, he loves how your body shakes just from him fingering you. He needs to control himself or else his cock will be buried deep inside of you and he can't afford that.

The more you react, the faster his pace gets, you forget completely where you are. That people can see and hear you but that's the last of your worries right now. You have Levi, the captain of the survey corps, humanity's strongest soldier fingering you on top of a building. This isn't how you wanted your afternoon to go but its far better than you ever imagined. His fingers keep moving inside of you, his other hand runs under your shirt and he grabs your breast, massaging it in his hands. "Are you gonna cum for me out here?" That makes your pussy clench aagsint his fingers again, you're getting close, that pit in your stomach starts to build up but you're not queit there yet. Levi knows how to push you over the edge, his thumb adds pressure on your clit and he keeps fingering you in a fast pace, the moan that leavs you is something you should be ashamed of, oh someone definitely heard you now, not that you care. "That's it. Good girl, cum for me, let me see you fall apart."

You can't keep your hands on the wall anymore, your grabs onto his arm with both of your hands, digging your nails into his shirt as you cum. You roll your hips, riding out of your orgsam against his fingers, he keeps them inside of you even after you cum. You catch your breath, your head falling back on his shoulder, he kisses the side of your face, he removes his hand from your underwear, his fingers are soaked. "Took about two fucking minutes to make you cum. Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks you as you open your eyes, your cheeks flushed, his hand is still on your breast and he squeezes it once more before letting go and setting both of his hands on your hips. He kisses you on the lips again, the kiss is quick and sloppy.

Eventually, Levi pulls away from you, cleaning his fingers with his cloth. You turn back around, leaning against the wall. The sun is starting to set and you don't know what to say. Levi looks your way again, he fixes his gear. "Stay out out trouble or next time I am fucking you on the wall for all to see. Understood?" That makes you laugh, he had a way with words but you wouldn't mind at all. "Oh captain my captain, if that will be the outcome, I will be gladly robbing the bank next." Your words make his eyes roll, you really were a brat. You fic yourself, fix your hair and look at him again. "See you around, Captain." You wink and get off the rooftop. Levi is left there, staring at the distance until he realised something, his wallet was missing. Damn you.

[kamehamehamlet]

The Tumblr reblog sensation is returning. But like the Sayians or Shakespeare’s folios, it has the potential to develop in many forms.

Visit kamehamehamlet.com to be notified when we have more details.

Follow this blog for a peak behind the curtain.

And read on to learn more about the show, how we got here, and where we’re going.

Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

Revival Project FAQ

Who are you?

Hi! I’m Daniel Cole Mauleón (@writepictures), the writer of Kamehamehamlet. In 2015 I co-founded the theatre company Play-Dot Productions with KHH’s director Shalee Mae Cole Mauleón.

What is Kamehamehamlet?

Kamehamehamlet: Good Night Saiyan Prince, was an hour-long one act play, performed during the 2015 Minnesota Fringe Festival. It’s a staged retelling of Vegeta and Freeza’s battle on the planet Namek. Marketed as a Dragon Ball Z and Hamlet mash-up, the parody quickly shuffled off its weighted gi, revealing it was actually a Waiting for Godot spoof. After five performances, Vegeta hung up his helmet of spiky hair. Seven years later, K (@amokslime) wrote this incredibly gracious post on Tumblr, which inspired two people to reach out to me via Reddit to ask if I had a script or a recording of the performance.

I want to pause the semi-marketing voice and say a heartfelt thanks to K. Kamehamehamlet was brought to life by an incredible team of artists during a summer I’ll never forget. We got laughs at jokes, gasps at fight choreography, and we broke even on the budget (a Fringe miracle TBH). K’s post gave me the chance to revisit that show through someone else’s eyes. The mix of pride and humility it stirs up is truly indescribable.

If there is art which has changed you, and especially if the artist is still alive I encourage you to non-intrusively share that with the artist.

Is there a copy of the script?

Yes, I’ll speak more about that at below.

Is there a recording of the performance?

There was, but I genuinely lost the files. And that’s for the best, honestly. It was a last-second attempt, filmed from two cheap cameras (with different qualities and resolutions!), both at bad angles and with truly awful audio. Trust me. It’s better this way.

That said, I do have other archival footage from rehearsal's, tech, etc. that I look forward to sharing for those curious.

What’s next?

This is the question I’ve been asking myself over the past year and the reason it took so long to post anything. Especially since one thing I want to do differently this time is make sure that any artists involved are meaningfully compensated for their time and skill. However, I can’t plan without a better estimate of what kind of support we would have, and I didn’t want to share our intentions without concrete details. Right now, the best way you can support this project is by signing up for the announcement on kamehamehamlet.com and following us on Tumblr and YouTube!

The second best thing you can do is to share with others about this project, if I’ve learned anything reading through the comments on K’s post, it is that there’s a much bigger audience for KHH than I could have ever imagined, and you likely know at least one more person who would be interested.

And while I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver on, I will share that I’m planning on making the script available this year and I’ll be writing a separate post about that in near future.

Update 5/21/24: We've announced a staged reading for later this year! (Click to learn more) Update 6/11/24: We're going live on YouTube every Saturday through June to rally fans and talk about the project. This link will always take you to the upcoming stream. And this link will take you past recordings.

If you’ve read this far thank you so much.

Photography by Ann B. Erickson. Vegeta is played by McKenzie Shappell. Freeza is played by Cayla Marie Wolpers. Costumes by Sarah Noel Simon.

[popponn]

in perfection and in imperfection.

summary: he is loving, so much so, despite everything and because of 'everything' he calls as you. (a short headcanons of them as boyfriend, again.)

notes: january feels like it will be a busy month for me. in a good way, it's a good feeling. maybe this is also a sign i will meet rl isagi. those things aside, happy new year everyone. good luck for this year too. have this very fit of madness hcs. warnings: none, just fluff of downbad & lovesick boys, reader's gender unspecified.

characters: isagi, chigiri, rin

isagi yoichi—

is so understanding and sharp that you will never feel uncared for. most probably also got a list of your favorite things & important dates in his notes & calendar. even noel noa doesn't get that privilege. he is so downbad that everyone just accepts everything is second to you (and soccer).

is the type that gets so into you once you get his heart. do you worry that you might be #2 soccer? stay still babe, at some point you kind of mix in with 'the soccer' too honestly. every first goal? dedicated in your name. first person to call after a match? you—no matter how short or long it will be, it has to be you. he is away for a match overseas? you better be the one who gets a sleep call schedule ready because when yoichi wants something yoichi will somehow do it. and if you try to praise him—despite all the years of growing confidence—he still gets flustered like a boy with his first crush when it's you. it's as endearing as it is embarrassing to him. if someone points it out he will state it with pride though—after all, his feelings for you are one of his pride.

however, is also the type of guy who would rather shoulder as much as possible. he does it out of love, sure, but having him trying to swallow some problem under the guise of "forcing you to change something is a big no" is just asking for a bigger problem in the long run. so, you do have to be the one who gets the serious talks starting—and he sometimes could get really stubborn even though he is one of the most communicative ones so get ready for that. the thing with yoichi is that he really has to get it to accept it.

chigiri hyoma—

is a beautiful ikemen who walks with the charm of a shoujo manga lead maxed out. as in if this guy falls for you he just naturally acts like a shoujo lead who came to life. and he is also one of the most fashionable guys who puts attention and care on his and your appearance. try to aim for the cutest couple award and high chance you will win.

is also a very dedicated man. he will make sure you know how much he treasures you and it shows. he is not the tidiest person, he is also a pretty demanding guy, but with you? "fine, okay. i'm doing this just for you, you know," he says and hyoma doesn't lie. he will do anything for you. the amount of trust he puts on you is really evident too and he is not one to shy away from saying it. also, trust that this guy will gladly run across tokyo on a lazy monday morning during his rare break just to deliver you anything if you ask. he will demand kisses, yes, but that's also a benefit in its own way.

but, he is also very moody and, admittedly, impatient. so when he gets into this sort of mood you have to keep your head clear and deal with him until his head cools down. he won't hurt you—he will never—but without a doubt his attitude and wording could definitely drag your anger out. he also tends to focus on one thing and one thing only when he gets like this, while it has its benefits, during these times you have to be really patient when trying to talk to him.

itoshi rin—

is the type of guy who truly embodies "it's the small things". also, he is so attentive and combining this with the fact he is more into action than words—you honestly get yourself a gold mine of top-tier 'act of service' bf.

is actually very affectionate once you can translate his silent languages. he is always close to you at every chance he gets. it's not even funny. some people could translate this as some guard dog behavior, some braver souls translate this like a kid following the elder around, but honestly rin just likes being close to you. it calms him down in a way that also somehow manages to keep him awake—which is a nicer way to put 'this guy sometimes barely blinks when he is staring at you'. your happiness is one of his top priorities and he will bite someone literally if he has to just for that. this is how bad it is. but all in all, all of this is a way for him to keep an eye for you and be ready to assist you in anything—you need to take something? you need him to carry something? you want to buy something? just leave it to him, it will make him happy too. if you get overwhelmed? tell him, this guy is actually really quick to adjust things the moment he gets it. and for you? he will somehow do it even faster.

with all that being said though, this guy could get confusing at times. when he gets into a particularly negative thought, his first response would be to bark out his emotions and afterward distance himself. clearly, communication with him is hard. but despite all the silent treatment you get, he still wants to have you close—while being the one who keeps his distance from you. dealing with rin when he is being like this truly requires maturity and delicacy that probably rivals an esper skills.

[applecherryandpears]

BBC Radio 1 - 1997: The love edition

Can't believe that so many seminal Noel & Liam quotes are from the very same interview, either Noel's life + music crisis poured it all out of him, or the good moments are just indeed that good BTS.

Naturally, they were (allegedly) drunk. Liam wasn't supposed to show up but he changed his mind last minute, my headcanon is that he missed Noel judging from how well they got along that day.

I'm very friendly to my bed, I love my bed, and my bed loves me.

(Interviewer says Liam only gets better, Noel complains Liam doesn't show up for B sides recordings, Liam says he had a sore throat, and somehow, this comes to this.)

Love-love-love. Liam twists exhibition (oasis photo thing) into expedition and Noel's bullying turns into a live fantasy of marching down the south pole wastelands together to build heart shaped igloos, also Liam's shy. And fighting for his life.

There we have it, a recorded (half) confession.

Okay so here I find the "as long as ... for a couple of quids" holds some meaning as Noel goes a little rigid saying no. Can't ever meant this. but I can't for the life of me understand Liam.

Also Liam clears out that inspiration entails for him listening and understanding him without rushing into ill-made judgments and it's palpable he's at his limits with the media. Coincidentally the day after this interview he was tracked down by journalists, asking him if he had regrets over what he said, because apparently he swore too much and had people clutch on their pearls all over the UK.

Supersonic quote but in full. Mad for it, Noel says.

I'll be a really good uncle to Liam's child.

I could sum this one up with Pardon? but -- "that man is a bigger man than I am, why, it has nothing to do with you, but he has to deal with life and with somebody like me on top of everything else" yet by the end of that year it had all gone to flames. Also audio proof they did give each other birthday presents, not lost on me this one.

Noel truly cares about Liam's opinion but won't show it (nothing new ik) However that giggle at the end has my wonders.

Bonus:

In the honour of a 2024 magazine article deeply regretting Liam's menacing aura and rock n roll attitude from 1997

And, if anyone can possibly make out what Liam says Noel is pointing his way, this one maxed out my comprehension skills:

[pparadiselost]

your noa fanfic drove me crazy there is nothing i wouldn't do for you to write about ego 🧎

actaeon.

ego jinpachi x fem reader ego sets up the perfect trap to make you undeniably his. warning(s): nsfw, noncon, being filmed without consent, exhibitionism minors do not interact. author's note: hello there! thank you so much for sending in a request!! this one... got a little out of hand and gnarly, so if you'd prefer that i write a fic without the dark content, please shoot me another ask and i'll happily write up another fic for you!! (ノ*°▽°*)

ego jinpachi is distinctly aware of who he is as a person, and he’s distinctly aware of the privileges that come with his odd place as the coach of the blue lock project. he’s sworn under some legal masquerade to use his power only for the betterment of soccer’s future, as if anything other than his obsession with the sport flows inside his veins. 

he knows his place as a heretic. he’s an outcast always looking in: the director but never the star, the god but never the devotee, the abyss but never the light. he’s seen the way people distances themselves away from him, be it anri or even veterans like noel. ego is perfectly content playing the role he does. his crazed behavior brings the end, and in his worldview, the ends always justify the means.

but that doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy the unforeseen pleasures that spring up along the thorny path. he’s a free man now, and he has the world at his disposal. fortune favors the bold, but happiness favors the hedons. 

“you’re so sloppy,” he drawls in that condescending voice of his. if it weren’t for the slight edge to it, you would think it sounded robotic. his long cock is buried deep into you as you squirm in his lap, and his long arms hold you flush and captive against his chest. 

you’re faced with the horrifying sight of every single one of ego’s giant monitors lit up, each one displaying you. they’re all relatively innocent moments from your life. you’re eating breakfast in one, scrolling through your phone on the other, paging through a book you picked up in another… things that, creepy as they may be, are candid snapshots of your average life. 

except for the singular monitor facing center stage, seeming to mock you. you watch, stricken with fear, as the video plays a recording of you stuffing your fingers in your cunt, your pussy stretched out unmistakably on display. ego grins devilishly, and he thrusts in rhythm with the video of you masturbating.

“n-no… don’t do this to me-,” you squeak out. you need to clear your mind, need to speak reason into him, need to persuade him to get rid of these clips and to quit using all the cameras in the building for ill, and yet with his cock sliding in and out of you, it’s impossible for you to get any of your priorities straight. “d-don’t thrust into me like that-!”

“but you like it. you like it when i fuck you to a video of you getting off,” he giggles. you don’t need to be looking at him to envision the crazed gleam he’s bound to have in his eyes. you hate how much your pussy flutters and stretches around his cock, your juices making you gush every time you sink back down onto his lap. 

his hands tweak at your nipples, and he pinches your hardened buds in rhythm with the video. every time your fingertips swirl at your sticky clit, he moves his hands accordingly. pleasure courses in hot flashes across your vision and your cunt, and your hips move lewdly on your own, against your better judgment. 

“feels good, doesn’t it?” he chuckles behind you. his voice sounds high-pitched and crazed, like he’s a schoolboy going crazy over a scrap of attention from his crush. you should be disgusted, you should be scared, and yet with each inch of his long cock that pushes in and out of your squeezing pussy, your mind threatens to go dangerously blank. 

you shake your head weakly. sparks of heat and pleasure light up inside your brain. the dull stretch inside of your walls has your stomach doing backflips, his cockhead prodding deliciously at all of your deepest parts. “no- not you- you can’t do anything to me-”

he clicks his tongue, and when your head slumps against your chest, trying to retain your sanity by looking away from all the lewd videos of you he’s hoarded, he hisses as if you’ve scorned him. he grabs your face harshly, long and calloused fingers digging into the flesh of your face and neck, and he wrenches your eyes upwards so that you can’t look away from the screen. 

you hate it. your vision blurs when tears glaze over your eyes, but that can’t save you from the video. your legs are spread shamelessly open, your drenched pussy fully out on view as you toy with yourself. your face is twisted into a clear moan, lips parted as you gasp and cry out in pleasure, fingers buried deep inside of your cunt. your juices drool generously out of your clenching hole, and your thighs quiver uncontrollably as you masturbate.

“see? i have all of this and more,” ego murmurs. the glee in his tone is unmistakable. “i know how you like to touch yourself, how you like to be fucked. it’s cute that you think you can hide anything from me. you’re more feisty than you let on, aren’t you?”

he thrusts harshly up into you, his heavy balls slapping up against your clit. you barely bite back a strangled cry, electric sparks springing up inside of your chest. something tight pulls at your core, heat swirling like a slow whirlpool. you grit your teeth, and your breathing grows shallows. the friction of his cock rubbing into your gummy walls feels sinfully good, and his almost inhuman length makes it ridiculously easy for his tip to ghost over all of your sensitive parts.

it’s a lethal combination. his dick is just as long and tall as the rest of him is, not too thick but so long and enough to fill you up perfectly. each pump of his cock into you has you seeing stars, your nerves twitching and collapsing under the mounting pressure inside of your pussy. maybe it’s that, but maybe it’s also all the time he’s spent in the shadows, learning every inch of your body through the illicit videos and streams he’s collected of you, memorizing every quirk, every kink you have, making sure he knows by heart the best way to get you to crumble under his touch.

he was a feral beast that had been lying in wait, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. all you needed to do was to let your guard down for a split second, and he took full advantage of it to expose every single one of your weaknesses.

“don’t your worry. i’ll prove to you that i mean everything i say. there’s nothing i hate more than someone that can’t live up to their bragging. results… results are the only things that matter in this world—,” his sick laughter snaps you back out of your grief, “—even if that means making you cum until you’re a fucked out mess.”

he grips at your thighs, spreading your legs open a bit further in his lap so he can fuck his cock even deeper into you. your head feels heavy, a loaded scream locked in your throat when his tip starts fucking into your deep spots. you swear he’s hitting at your cervix, his cockhead trying to pry the entrance to your womb open so he can defile you thoroughly. you wouldn’t put it past him; ego was never the kind of guy to be satisfied with only doing the job halfway. it was always all or nothing with him.

pleasure consumes you from the inside out, his length stretching you out obscenely. your tight walls were massaging him so expertly, and ego can almost delude himself into believing that your cunt was made just to fit around his dick. you were made for him, made to be his perfect mate, and all the times he spent pleasuring himself to the illicit videos he took of you couldn’t even come close to actually getting his paws all over you.

“right here, isn’t it?” he thrusts up harshly into you, and you jerk back against his chest when heat slams down onto your skin. he’s abusing your g-spot, relentlessly bullying your sweet spots. helpess cries escape from you unwillingly as he fucks into you at his pace, his thrusts too sharp and too quick for you to relax into it, but your brain eagerly soaks up the friction. your cunt is begging for cock, wanting the addictive feeling of being filled up disrespectfully like you were just some loose toy, keeping you at constant odds with your shattered rationale. 

ego giggles in your ear, and you know his words are right. he does genuinely have you struggling futilely in the palm of his hand. you’re overwhelmed by all of the sensations around you: the haunting image of your fingers stuffed in your pussy flickering behind your eyes like a mocking vision. your hole was unknowingly milking him over and over, the shame and embarrassment of having to watch yourself fingering yourself while getting fucked making your pussy fall victim to all of the confusing pleasures.

“i can feel you getting tighter and tighter. i’m making you feel good,” he mocks you. his hands keep squeezing at your boobs, mesmerized by the soft flesh of your chest. his balls slap up against your skin, just waiting to spill his seed into your pussy and make you his forever. he sounds so pleased with himself. “you love to act like you’re all high and mighty, but we’re the same, you and i. it’s why i think you’re perfect for me. you’re just as dirty, just as much of a freak, and it’s my job to make sure you know that.”

tightness flares in your gut as if it’s mocking you. you don’t want to cum, don’t want to break that final boundary, don’t want to admit to yourself that you’re fully getting off of being manhandled and disgraced like this. but your body was never yours this entire time, and whatever madness possesses you right now only cares about the long dick sliding in and out of you.

“are you gonna cum? you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? filthy girl.” he twists your nipples harshly as if to emphasize his last few words. you feel so heavy and so weak all at once, broken down bit by bit and torn apart like a sheet of paper. how could you even dream of fighting back? you grit your teeth, not wanting to think about the frothy ring of ivory forming at the base of his cock, where your entrance is enticingly stretched out. “cumming from having a guy like me defile you… cumming from getting fucked while i play a video of you playing with yourself… filthy, filthy girl.”

tears had dotted over your vision a long time ago, and this was already a battle for you to lose the moment you got roped into his trap. your pride grips at your mind one last time, and you flex your thighs, wishing yourself the strength to forgive yourself when the worst of this would be over. even if intuitively, you knew that this was nothing more than the beginning to a wretched, wicked fall from grace, you wanted to take what little your remaining sanity could afford you.

you muster up the firmest voice you can. “you’re the absolute worst- you’re the scummiest man i know!”the lanky man simply laughs again, unaffected by your hurled insults. “oh, please. you’re just too predictable? you think i don’t know that? you think i wouldn’t consider myself scummy and awful after i’ve filmed you for so long in secret? what a stupid whore you are. it’s a good thing you have that pretty body of yours. otherwise, you’d really be nothing more than an unsalvageable excuse for a human being. naïve, gullible, all too easy for me to take advantage of…”

he pauses for a moment, and he leans in. horror settles in your psyche again when you can feel his hot breath fanning over the curve of your ear, and he presses a sickeningly gentle kiss right behind your ear. 

“and if i’m the scummy one,” he murmurs contemplatively, “what does that make you? you’re the one getting off on it. you say you’re not, but your body doesn’t lie to me. i can feel every little fucking thing that slutty pussy of yours is doing whenever i fuck myself into you.”

your stomach twists, painfully and needily, and your legs shake as his cockhead keeps ramming into your sweet spot. his tip bullies you right where you like it most, and your vision glazes over, threatening to go hazy and leave you at the mercy of this terrible man. you’re gonna cum—you can feel it. you can feel the heat building up inside of your core, the depraved tension just about to break.

you clench your eyes shut and brace yourself. your walls are greedily sucking onto his length, the wet noises of your bodies coming together echoing across the room. your toes curl as the pleasure overtakes your mind, and it feels like a second pulse is forming in your cunt, your body no longer willing to listen to you.

you grit your teeth and throw your head back against ego’s shoulder, much to his delight. “...nngh-!”

your pussy clamps down on his cock, milking him with all it has. it feels like something deep inside your stomach is exploding, and heat grips you all over. your nerves all feel as if they’ve been lit on fire. pleasure floods your brain as your pussy quivers and throbs. you hate that it feels good, a pleasure so blinding that your vision spins and it feels like you’re losing your center of gravity. any lingering strength escapes from your body as you shamelessly orgasm all over the cock that’s stuffed deep inside you, your walls fluttering all around his length and drooling around it as if it's the most delicious thing your cunt has felt. 

even as your high consumes you entirely, ego continues to fuck his hips upwards into you, threatening to break your body in half over his dick. you let out an incoherent cry, thrashing weakly against his frame. “n-nooo… d-don’t…!”

he laughs, his voice raspy and evil. “you came, didn’t you? don’t fucking lie to me. i told you i can feel everything, can’t i? that pretty little pussy of yours came from getting fucked by my cock. and to think you were going on and on about how you hated me that much… you’re not above getting dicked down, are you now? that’s what i thought… you really do look the prettiest when you’ve been fucked out like this.”

you don’t even have it in yourself to fight back against him. his cock weighs heavy inside of you, still thrusting rapidly into you despite the overstimulation that starts to claw at your weary insides. it’s too much; he’s moving too much at his own peace without any consideration as to whether or not you can fully keep up. but you don’t have any remaining fight to do anything to defend yourself, and it’s all you can do to even keep your head upright as he pistons his hips into you as if you’re his personal sex toy.

he twitches dangerously inside you, savoring the newfound tightness of your walls from fucking you straight through your orgasm. you’re sobbing softly, unable to form full thoughts and just crying out, praying that this whole thing will stop soon so you can tend to whatever remnants of your shattered psyche you can salvage. he’s close too: you can feel the way his cock throbs and shudders inside of you as he drags his inches in and out, the way his balls tense up against the curve of your ass, his ragged breathing and his muttered threats of stuffing your cunt up so full with his cum that not even contraception can save you from being marked inside and out by him.

you brace yourself. it should be over once he’s done having his fun with you.

but instead, he pauses. you peel your eyelids open at the sudden stop, and you gasp when he leans forward in the seat he has you trapped in between. he’s still buried deep inside you, his cockhead pressed up dangerously against the entrance to your womb, but he reaches for the controls of his monitor.

you know better than to think he has anything good in mind by reaching for his technology. but ego is faster, smarter, in all ways better at thinking a step ahead of you, and after pressing a button, he quickly traps you in between his long limbs to keep you from moving. you whimper pathetically, your legs spread out to reveal your stretched out cunt being continuously speared on his dick.

“shhhh,” he chuckles, the maniacal gleam in his eyes twinkling with an unmatched madness. horror swirls again inside of your gut when you hear the mechanic whirring of a camera, and your fears are confirmed when the giant camera lens atop his many desktop monitors swings towards the two of you, seemingly focusing straight onto your fucked out, restrained form, getting fucked out helpessly like some scene straight out of a porno.

in another move of faux affection, he kisses the shell of your ear. “letting you get off with only getting creampied is too predictable, don’t you agree? just you wait, my filthy girl… in a few seconds, that camera is going to display everything we’re doing to the entire facility… those hungry, hungry boys are going to see you bouncing up and down on my cock, and they’re going to see every second of me filling up that little hole of yours with my cum.”

you don’t want to accept this ridiculous truth. this has to be a bad dream, a manifestation of your nightmares that you just can’t wake up from, and yet the painful aches at your thighs and inside your pussy tell you otherwise. this is the reality you’re trapped in, and you can’t run away from it.

“you’ll be all mine forever,” ego whispers as the cameras buzz to life, sealing your fate entirely. “i just have to make sure the entire world knows it.”

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!

[nonbinarytoast]

Ok, everyone talking about how badly female characters in malevolent are treated, I wanna start this off by saying I know why you’re angry, but think about the other side characters for a minute.

I get it, the female characters don’t get a lot of screen time, and they hardly ever speak, and most of them are evil, and they’re only ever viewed through the lens of how they effect Arthur. I get that thats not good for representation. But think about this for a second.

Bella didn’t get seen other than when it was her effect on a man. That’s bad. We don’t like that. But what we don’t talk about is that Parker gets the exact same treatment in podcast, it’s just that he gets talked about more in the fandom because Arthur talks about him more than Bella because, comparatively, he was simply closer to Arthur than Bella was.

Marie and the Wraith from episode 4 and the Witch all deserve better. Yes they do. They deserve happy lives and their motivations were justified. Oscar did too. So did Daniel. So did the Butcher and Noel and Kellin and literally every character other than Arthur and John who only got an episode of screen time and then died. I get that those female characters deserved better, but if I’m being honest, they get treated with exactly as much dignity as the male characters do if not more.

And yes, there are very little girl characters in the podcast; yes this is bad for representation. It’s also a SOLO PROJECT BY A MAN. WHO CANNOT VOICE WOMEN VERY WELL. BECAUSE HES A MAN. And he should have the right to keep it a solo project and put whatever characters he wants in there because ITS HIS.

Yes, the men do get more screen time. Yes, the women are overlooked a lot. But there was a guy who was on for a total of like 12 minutes and no one remembers him. His name was Eddie, and he was Arthur’s second kill. He was the reason John got control of the hand. And no one cares. Because he didn’t make an emotional impact on Arthur. Because the podcast is about Arthur. And most women don’t make an emotional impact on Arthur because he’s never felt the need for an explicitly female companion.

And I need people to just think for a minute about how yes, the women do get overlooked, but the men do to. And it’s pretty much equal.

[slowcatsworld]

Noel Noa SFW Headcanons

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Takes his coffee black. This was the first way he had ever tried coffee when he was an older teenager; all of the add ins he tried later just never gave him the same feeling. The bitterness of the drink is enough to shock his body into a reactive state. If you ever offer him coffee, he requests some milk in it.

He prefers to dress more formally when the situation calls for it. By this, if he is going to a meeting with his club team it means he will be wearing a suit. The elegance of fashion and the social status of what you wear is most definitely not lost on him. It is a noisy static in his mind until he wears something more classy.

When he is in the solace of his own home, his guilt pleasure is to stay in his pajamas as long as he can. He just got home from practice at 8am? He’s putting back on his fuzzy pants. He got back from his morning workout he does during off days? The thick socks he wore to sleep are coming back on once he showers. He just arrived home during lunch hour? His sleeping sweater was on him by the time you stepped foot in the door. He does value his comfortableness in more private settings.

He is both a dog and a cat person. His stoic nature draws sweet, stray felines towards him weekly whether he’s out in the streets of Germany or France. The way cats will purr so loud he can hear them when he’s standing tugs at his heart, though he never mentions it. (He would so let a cat just climb up him like a tree). Dogs don’t really come up to him the way cats do, yet when he sees one out and about he is always tempted to ask the dog’s owner if he could pet the animal.

He doesn’t much like bread. It was one of the few things he was able to eat somewhat frequently during his early childhood in the ghettos of France. That bread will always taste different than the bread he has available to him now to eat, but the feeling of dirty grit will never leave his mind.

He takes pride in his title of the world’s best striker. It gratifies him to look at his teammates and his opponents and think to himself, ‘I’m the best forward there is here.’ About them both alike. He is somewhat humble, though. It’s only when his title is being threatened or ignored does he feel the need to be a total force of dominance on the field.

Can be seen as a slightly sore winner sometimes. The success and privilege that comes with winning a popularity vote, a league game, etc fulfills a dead space in him. To know he has worked hard enough to be the best and he got what he trained to earn is a feeling he will chase forever. It changed his life, gave him a life worth living for. So he when you come up to him saying it was unneeded for him to point out to another soccer player that he has the title of worlds best striker and he is the favorite to win the upcoming finals game for their league in a couple weeks; a ghost of a smile graces his face as he squeezes your hand.

He didn’t quite realize he was perfectly ambidextrous until he tried shooting a soccer ball with his supposed non dominant foot and it was just as easy and smooth as his other foot. This was where he began to plan, to get motivated to use soccer as a way to better his life.

Because of the ambidextrous quality in both his legs and arms, he is able to learn ball control movements and tactics at a faster rate. He’s also able to write very well with both hands, however his right hand has neater handwriting. He uses his phone in his left hand.

Enjoys intelligent conversations. The bounce back and forth between him and another person about whatever topic. Doesn’t actually need to be a topic that is only for those of a higher intellect to understand, it can be anything you are passionate and knowledgeable about. How they are able to articulate their thoughts and understandings and show Noel through speech or body language. It is engaging and he wants to know all of what you think and feel at this moment. It will forever outweigh the basic question-answer format he can get accustomed to in interviews.

Like Marc Snuffy, he does view football as a job. He has to in a sense. In the early days of his career, he had to be diligent and desperate to stand up above the sea of other players. He had to work harder than everyone else on the field, he had to work faster than everyone else on the field, he had to need football more than everyone else. He tries to carry this drive with him even in the peak of his football career, he won’t allow them to shelve him- not yet.

Unlike Marc Snuffy, Noel doesn’t try to rope in his whole team to create a ‘work force’ per se. He makes sure everyone on his team that plays either with him or with his name brand is a competent, driven, and rational person on the field. They do go over play strategies he’s, but he is sometimes dissatisfied at the level of tenacity in Snuffy to have such rigid plays.

Is a silent cheerer. He doesn’t yell and he doesn’t stand up and pump his fists in the air. He’s quiet, waiting and watching. He’ll occasionally mumble praise or encouragement, but you won’t hear it unless you’re right next to him.

He goes to bed really early most days if he can. When he is alone, he sleeps like a dead man. No movement and no noise. Even when he has a nightmare, he’ll just jolt awake in the same position. When he started sleeping next to you, the pair of y’all would just begin to wake up entangled with each other. His arm wrapped around your waist, his feet holding your ankle. Your hand in his short, frosty hair and your chin on the top of his head. He moved quite a bit with you, always seeming to try to burrow into you in his sleep.

Has received numerous compliments on his eyes. He didn’t really understand why people were so entranced with them, especially when he paired it with his eyeliner until you. You loved them. You loved staring into them during bed time, gazing at them across the room. They were precious to you, so they gradually started to become precious to him as well. They aren’t his favorite feature on himself, but it brings you enough pleasure to look at them so he confidently thinks they are one of his top physical characteristics.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽

9.15.24

[beuxwhoyouare]

Generational Trauma

Jiāháo was an unremarkable man by conventional means. Him and his parents fled to the U.S. when they were younger amid constant turmoil in Taiwan and nearby China. They fled to give him a future but they were still conventional in their values growing up. So Jiāháo grew up with their expectations in mind. Despite an intrigue in both men and women, his parents were quick to shut that down every time the brought up his future. condensing bisexuality to being gay. Making it seem like being bi was no real way to attain a future and the American "dream".

Coasting to make them happy he did what they expected and married the first nice church girl he was introduced to and had 3 kids. But living with other people's expectations is a recipe for disaster.

Despite a mediocre and equally unremarkable marriage, Jiāháo loved his kids. His 2 princesses, Nikki and Nina, were 12 years old, while his son, Noel, was 21 and living the life Jiāháo thought he would have once he got to America. You see, even though Noel never told his father, Jiāháo could tell he took after him in the bisexuality department always flirting with his friends at all ages. Always talking about the idea of boyfriends and girlfriends. Sparking a jealousy in Jiāháo.

That jealousy manifested into a nearly internalized biphobia. Jiāháo found himself hypocritically always at odds with Noel for his openness. As they say generational trauma is a cycle of abuse.

To the plain eye, Noel had a few things nearly anyone would be jealous of in all reality.

Unlike his father, Noel WAS conventionally attractive and had a personality to match. A charismatic energy that so many people gravitated towards, Noel was a star soccer player growing up that allotted him the chance to go to college for it. He studied rehabilitation science to become an occupational therapist and help people recover. A career path that essentially demanded he himself keep in shape if he didn't go pro for soccer.

Brains, brawns, and a face card that was hard to say no to, Noel took advantage growing up. Even if his family didn't always know it, he dated boys and girls his whole life. A long-term girlfriend broke up with him after 3 years of dating at uni, further fueling his drive to get into better shape than ever. Anytime he made his way home his family definitely noticed, Jiāháo being among the most jealous.

Walking around the house in tiny and revealing pieces of clothing illustrated a body earned by years of hard work. Jiāháo thought that should be me.

The family regularly made annual trips to Taiwan to visit the homeland but Jiāháo and his estranged wife did little to actually teach their children Taiwanese mandarin. His wife went out to the markets with their 2 daughters, leaving him and Noel to have a father-son day. Jiāháo wanted to be seen as the cool parent to Noel so much and the two went clothes shopping before Noel began to beg for a tattoo.

Almost as if it was fate a shop appeared around the corner from where the two were walking. A man approached the pair and asked in Mandarin if they were interested in a traditional tattoo for a discount if they both got one. Jiāháo thought it had to be a sign and said yes.

The man told the pair about traditional Paiwan tattoos that represented honor and dignity but told them his work has more meaning and even magic behind it. Of course the whole conversation was taking place in a language Noel didn't understand. He took reaction cues from his father who remained engaged in the whole story. Jiāháo got his tattoo along his back and spine, a rather edgy decision but he knew it'd be easy to hid at work and from his wife. Right as Noel was set to begin his in a similar section, the tattoo artist turned to Jiāháo.

"我知道你想要什麼。我在你的刺青上施了咒語，可以在他身上完成它。如果我這樣做，你就能得到你一直想要的東西。有機會過你應得的生活"

Shocked Jiāháo couldn't believe what he was hearing. What did he mean that he put a spell in his tattoo? What did he mean that he knows what Jiāháo wanted? It felt like time froze as he contemplated all his questions. Almost as if he heard his inner thoughts, the artist spoke looking back and forth at us both.

"我所需要的只是你兒子同意。你?"

Jiāháo froze again, a feeling of sinking setting into his stomach. Almost as if his gutteral response was speaking for itself, Jiāháo answered affirmatively and nodded at his son to do the same. Noel had no clue what was going on and naively said yes.

The session eventually ended and the pair walked away with their newest tattoos. Noel thought his father was the coolest dad ever after the bonding experience, but he couldn't even fathom that his father's selfish desires would soon ruin that perception of him.

A huge storm his the town that night and both men struggled through major pains and aches, both attributing it to major food poisoning. And when the pain felt like it reached a point neither could stomach anymore they both passed out.

The next morning, Jiāháo fumbled out of his bed and clumsily navigated his way to the restroom. He did it all groggily with his eyes nearly shut before grabbing a nearby shacket and walking out to go get a coffee or something to drink.

At the nearby convenience store he got a drink and paid before heading out to come back to the hotel. A young girl passed by and began to ask him for his number because she thought he was so cute. As Jiāháo answered it felt like the reply fumbled out as clumsily as he did flopping out of bed in the morning. Before he could muster out that he was married to the girl he caught his reflection in a nearby window.

Surely he was still sleeping or dreaming? He stopped his reply and ran back to the hotel. Running into the lobby like a mess, he found the closest restroom to find a mirror and confirm what he saw.

Noel's charming and stunning face stared back at him with nearly 80% less enthusiasm than he was currently feeling. He poked, prodded, and finished off by slapping himself across the face. Confirming this was happening. The artist was telling the truth. There was magic in that tattoo ink.

But that magic came with unspoken rules. Jiāháo wanted to check on the real Noel, but everytime he tried to pull his phone out to text him or call he couldn't muster the sentence to come out. Unbeknownst to him, the magic would not let either of them speak about what took place. Neither could say the swap happened or act any more way converse to the way they did before.

Jiāháo walked back into the hotel room to find his family dressed and ready to go out to eat. He saw his old body there ready but also with a hidden panic behind his eyes. It was an uneven trade in reality, Noel lost decades of his life and was forced to go through a miserably mediocre marriage. But Jiāháo got a chance to live the bisexual life he always wanted.

Noel was gutted. The family eventually flew back to the US and Jiāháo was forced to go back to uni and finish his degree as the magic made him, eventually both were forced to also find solace in their new lives. But speculation can only be had as to why a relatively young father like "Jiāháo" died randomly one day. But "Noel" knew the truth, his "father" died from sadness of the life he now lost.

Its another traumatic incident that once again fueled the new Noel to find solace in the gym. Like "he" had so often before, getting fit helped the heartthrob get through major trauma. Maybe generational trauma doesn't have to be a cycle. He picked up his phone and continued to plan his hookup for the night. Thank god for the genes he "inherited" from his ancestors that got him here.

[anywayxstarchild]

— mojo magazine full interview, oasis, may 2005:

+highlights:

liam gallagher: it's biblical innit, cain and abel... it's me and our kid. or me and you. two people who are the opposite, who become one.

[interviewer: are you holding an olive branch out to noel?]

liam gallagher: it's nice to put a band aid on it for a bit, knowwhatimean? i love him, i adore him, more than anyone else in the fuckin' whole wide world. but we also don't speak that much. we don't have to speak. but that song is basically for him. it's like, shut the fuck up. give respect and you'll get respect back. life, brothers and sisters, that's what we all want isn't it, respect?

[interviewer: or love...]

liam gallagher: but love is the same kind of thing. if you love someone you respect someone, you respect someone, you love someone. it all comes in the same... sandwich.

+

[interviewer: he says ggtia is about you and him...]

noel gallagher: oh is it? is that what he said? for 6 months, i thought that song was ggti a-b-I-e. i'm very fucking confused as to what it means, but if he's writing songs about me then great. it's fucking better than writing songs about the missus.

+

liam gallagher: me and him are brothers and we'll never be over. that's the beauty of the band. if we were mates then we'd be out on our arse before now, but we're in this forever. i'm a sense it was never over. but [la, 1994] was a dark time. what with our 'new found fame' and all that nonsense, and i thought maybe this was it. but in the back of my mind, there was always a way back. me and 'im will go on forever, and beyond... beyond this time. it'll go on forever and ever and ever.

+

[interviewer: what would persuade you to pack in oasis?]

noel gallagher: what, altogether? i'd never pack it in. i can't leave oasis. i am oasis. it's be like pete townshend leaving the who and roger carrying on. i can never leave. i am the fucking band.

saw the famous excerpt about ggtia circulating again and decided to unearth the full interview. have never seen it on tumblr before, so ! had to provide🙂‍↕️

[storiesabouteli]

Do The Damage. // Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut)

prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)

words: 3,5k.

Noel felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need anything more to complete his sense of satisfaction. Even so, during the band's final chapter, a mix of circumstances led him to start considering new possibilities. Unable to leave music behind entirely, he set up a studio and took on the more bureaucratic aspects of supporting future artists. It was his way of giving back to an industry that had given him so much.

He didn’t know much about the artist he’d suddenly become interested in—just that you were a young woman with an undeniable presence. Noel first heard your voice on his way to his mom. It struck a chord deep within him, leaving him sitting in the car even after he arrived, staring out the window and absorbing every word you sang like drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed. Minutes later, he was kicked out of the Uber.

Your voice carried raw potential, unpolished but undeniably captivating—not bad, just unmistakably new. The lyrics were tender and nostalgic, stirring emotions that felt both unfamiliar and deeply rooted. Noel found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. It was solid, needing no comedic relief or intrusive embellishments to make itself heard.

He couldn’t picture your face, your hair, or even your style, but your voice lingered in his mind. The breaths, the pauses—at times resembling soft, almost failed sighs—were profoundly compelling.

When the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. Quickly, he grabbed a notebook, scribbling it down before it could slip from his memory.

During dinner with his mother, he mentioned you in passing, his fingers running absentmindedly through his hair. She caught the subtle shift in his tone—how you had left an impression on him.

"Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Noely?" she teased.

He was typically poetic in his descriptions, even when veiling them in a layer of skepticism, but this time he struggled to downplay it. He swore he had been concise, though he doubted he’d succeeded.

As the visit neared its end, you were all he could think about. He needed to share your music with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted truthfully, though his tone betrayed him.

Peggy chuckled knowingly. "I’ll give her a try," she said, confident. After all, her son’s recommendations rarely missed the mark.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Noel had written down the wrong last name, which delayed his search longer than he’d anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and he later discovered that the radio segment he’d heard was an exclusive showcase for new artists. All he managed to find were amateur videos of you performing at pubs on YouTube, with poor audio quality that didn’t do your voice justice. Still, he played them on repeat over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution became his favorites, though Noel feared it might have more to do with your angelic face than he wanted to admit. He avoided acknowledging the fact that you were much younger than him—far more than he was comfortable quantifying. But in trying to ignore it, the thought seemed to take up permanent residence in his mind. Any guilt he felt over this, he brushed aside, though it lingered in the background.

When Noel closed his eyes at night, he often conjured the image of you from one particular video: wearing a light, summer wine dress with straps that slipped slightly off your shoulders. In his dreams—purely idealistic, he told himself—he imagined gently adjusting the strap with his finger, smoothing your hair as your calm gaze met his. Your head tilted into his touch, resting affectionately in his palm, and he left a soft kiss on your temple as your lashes fluttered. Not that he truly believed he’d ever have that kind of effect on you. The thought alone, however, left him sighing, strangely at peace.

It was indescribable how much your voice consumed his thoughts. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics while showering, cooking, and winding down after long days. By the time he called his mom the next weekend, she already knew what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed effortlessly from your lips. The cameras, the analog quality, and the audio from your YouTube recordings couldn’t compare to the experience of seeing you live. The room was small, filled with a modest crowd—mostly people your age, though a few older ones lingered with curious, skeptical expressions. It was an intimate and pleasant atmosphere.

Noel stayed at a comfortable distance, neither too close to draw attention nor too far to miss the details. He wore a dark collared jacket, paired with jeans, and kept his sunglasses on, even in the dim lighting, to avoid being recognized. Occasionally, he slid them down his nose for a clearer look, wanting to see you without the darkened lenses.

You held the microphone with care, almost as if it were weightless, weaving the cord between your fingers as you took small, measured steps across the tiny makeshift stage. Most of the audience was distracted, caught up in their conversations, but a fair few paused to watch and listen. Occasionally, your voice wavered, and Noel caught the slight furrow in your brow when it happened, a flicker of disappointment crossing your features. But to him, it only made you more endearing.

You wore white tights and a white dress with a Peter Pan collar—an outfit Noel thought suited you perfectly. As he watched, he tugged on the edge of his shirt beneath his jacket, mirroring the way you nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress. He smiled to himself, hoping that, somehow, you could feel his silent encouragement. You were doing beautifully.

The performance ended quietly, your soft “thank you” followed by a beat of silence before Noel started clapping. The applause swelled as others joined in. You seemed surprised, hesitating to meet the eyes in the room, but your shy smile gave away your happiness. Noel felt a wave of satisfaction watching you soak in the moment.

Later, with a glass in your hand, you stood chatting with the guitarist. Noel, lingering nearby, imagined himself in the guitarist’s place, strumming alongside you in the dim, hushed venue, where whispered conversations blended into the warm atmosphere. When the guitarist gestured toward him, you turned, and Noel felt a jolt of nerves. His palms began to sweat, and he shoved his hands into his pockets to hide it.

Up close, you were even more captivating. Your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, and your gait had a slight unevenness he found charming. He avoided smiling too widely, afraid it might give away how thoroughly you had enchanted him.

“I enjoyed your performance,” he said, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck. “You sing really well, and your original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.”

The compliment came out smoothly, the product of quiet rehearsals in his mind. But when you bit your lip and offered a shy smile, he felt heat rise to his face, knowing he was probably redder than he’d like to admit.

Your fingers fluttered to the edge of your dress, an unconscious gesture Noel found entirely too adorable. He wanted to take your hand, to offer something to distract you from the nervous thoughts he could see running through your mind. Instead, he waited as you stammered out a soft “thank you,” the sincerity in your voice unmistakable.

When he offered to buy you a drink, he noticed your hesitation but also your curiosity. Maybe it was something about him—the warmth in his tone or the subtle familiarity he carried. Whatever it was, you accepted, and as you joined him, Noel couldn’t help but feel hopeful.

"I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed," you said, your eyes sparkling. Noel smiled softly, sensing that in a few hours, you might warm up to him.

Your gaze lingered on his outfit, noting details you didn’t often encounter. The shirt was impeccably tailored, the collar subtly unique, and the jacket—definitely genuine leather—was unlike anything you’d seen around here. You weren’t an expert in such things, but the quality was unmistakable.

Noticing how you wrapped your hands together for warmth, Noel didn’t hesitate. He slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your icy skin. A pang of guilt hit him for not realizing sooner. You didn’t resist, your small nod of thanks revealing how much you needed it.

"Don’t you think you deserve it?" he said, without considering how flirtatious it might sound. The second the words left his mouth, he realized his tone, but before he could apologize, you gave a soft laugh, shaking your head.

You looked at him thoughtfully, a faint smile forming. "I think it’s nice," you said, "to think that someone would dress up to see me here. To imagine you picking out an outfit, anticipating it throughout the day, thinking about what’s most suitable or comfortable... It’s kind."

Your words had a natural grace, effortless and genuine. Noel felt a pang of self-awareness—most of his words were calculated, spoken with the intent to impress. But with you, it all felt unforced.

You sighed contentedly, nestling into the warmth of his jacket, your hands disappearing into the oversized sleeves. Noel felt a swell of affection as he watched your animated gestures while you spoke, completely unaware of how your knees had brushed against his and stayed there.

“Well, if it helps," he said, his voice deepening in a rhythm of soft pauses, "I heard you on the radio the other day... and I wanted to see you in person."

You nodded, brushing off the compliment—not because it displeased you but because you didn’t know how to handle it. "I like your accent," you said, your tone light and teasing. "It makes you sound older than you are."

Your shoulders brushed as you shifted restlessly, the contact unintentional but comfortable. For a moment, the two of you sat in quiet, the ambient noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations framing your shared breath.

Noel eventually broke the silence, explaining the record label project he had in mind. His words flowed, outlining the steps it would take for you to pursue something more professional. You listened intently at first, but at some point, your focus drifted to him—the slight silver streak in his dark hair, the furrowed concentration in his thick brow, the perfectly shaped mouth, and the shadow of stubble framing his face.

His gestures were minimal compared to yours, but his hands—large yet precise—drew your attention. They felt timeless, like something out of an old film, delicate but grounded.

“I’m listening,” you said at last, “but I wouldn’t have the money for it. I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because they let me use their instruments. It doesn’t pay well—sometimes it’s just beer and food.”

There was no bitterness in your voice, just a quiet acceptance of the limitations around you. Your sincerity struck him, the kind of purity that came from believing the music was meant for you.

Someone bumped into your chair, jolting you forward slightly, but Noel steadied it instinctively. The sudden closeness let him take in every detail—the precise shade of your eyes, the soft scent of your hair.

To you, his blue eyes were striking and the lines at their corners adding a kind of rugged warmth…

"That’s exactly my point," he said softly. "You get paid, and I help you get heard. You deserve to be recognized for your work."

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Gem's tone carried a teasing edge, though Noel knew it was rooted in some truth.

"It’s not like that," Noel replied, his voice steady but undeniably warm. "She’s really good. You’ll meet her." The anticipation slipped through his words—unintended but undeniable. In just a few months, you’d be right in the middle of this whirlwind with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head?" Gem pressed. "Like, the reason for your soft tone and that silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t sound like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Noel."

Noel shook his head, even though Gem couldn’t see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this." His words came out too quickly, like he was convincing himself. "Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." Saying it aloud felt heavier than he expected.

"Don’t fit?" Gem’s laugh was low and knowing. "Mate, you’re not fooling anyone. You think I don’t know you? I know that tone—you’ve got her in your head. I’m just saying, be careful. If you don’t handle this right—"

"I know," Noel cut him off, his voice sharper.

The conversation shifted after that, as if the topic had been laid to rest. But Gem’s parting words lingered in Noel’s mind long after the call ended.

"Noel, I’m sure this will hurt you as much as it’d hurt her. You don’t deal well with this type of emotion. Your feelings will get in the way."

It stung because it might be true. But as Noel sat there, staring at the half-written lyrics scattered on the table, he found himself wondering if it would really be so bad—spending all that time with you, seeing where this road might lead. Even if it wasn’t the most practical idea, even if it felt reckless.

Could it really be so wrong to let himself hope?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You were familiar with the band, though not with his exact current appearance. It certainly wasn’t like in the “Wonderwall” video anymore, but his more recent style—a dad vibe with a not-much-older kid—was charming in its own way. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

You knew his songs and compositions, maybe not all of them, and you weren’t fully aware of how big he had been in the ’90s. Still, he was clearly someone famous who, by all logic, shouldn’t have been paying much attention to you. He had been handsome when he was young, and he was still attractive.

"He doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being nice to people. Are you sure it’s the same person?" Your roommate raised an eyebrow at you, her skepticism evident. You had watched a few interviews of his and noticed the same thing she mentioned— as well as his red-stone ring on his rough hand, the way his tongue darted across his lips. He was certainly not shy.

"I’m sure it’s him, and it seems like he’s only like that with the press. He wasn’t arrogant at all with me," you replied, swallowing hard. You wondered if you were an exception to his rule, but that thought felt too hopeful and premature.

"One night with him and you’re already defending this old man?" she teased, laughing as she grabbed her things and headed for the door. You shook your head, trying to convince both her and yourself. This was a losing game.

"Good luck, babe. You deserve to have your music recorded professionally," she added before disappearing into the street.

You still had your doubts—it all seemed too much. Your laptop sat open beside you, paused on a podcast of him. He was in profile, his skin smooth but showing the marks of time in a way that only added to him. He occasionally ran his fingers through his hair between breaths, and the open buttons of his shirt revealed just enough of his chest hair to be distracting. His voice was captivating, and his heavy accent made you want to stay there. Slowly, his presence wrapped around you like a blanket as you burrowed further under your own covers.

Your vision was blurry, yet sharp enough—what mattered was the certainty that you could recall everything, every detail. You could hear his breathing, close enough to feel its rhythm. His gaze, usually opaque, gained a quiet brightness as it trailed over your body, seated right in front of him.

You were wearing a button-up shirt in a deep ocean blue, a perfect match for the color of his eyes. You had seen the very same shirt on him hours earlier, in some old photoshoot. Now it was on you. It barely reached your knees, and the sleeves were so long they hid your hands entirely. You sat on the edge of the marble counter, its cold surface doing little to mask the fact that he was the one making you shiver.

Your knee brushed against his hip, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes held a calm warmth that made you feel at ease. His broad fingers brushed your wrist, the heat of his touch making your breath hitch slightly. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt utterly vulnerable to him.

His movements were delicate, fleeting, much like the night at the pub. He reached for the oversized sleeves of the shirt and carefully rolled them up, his motions deliberate, taking his time, then revealing your hands at last. He took one of them in his, lifting it to his lips.

He kissed your palm more than once, and the contrast of his growing stubble—rough and scratchy—and his soft lips made your breath catch again. Your mouth parted at the sensation, then your shoulders relaxed in a way that seemed to please him. It was only then, as if your ease was his permission, that he smiled.

He didn't say anything, but it didn't seem necessary. His fingertips touched your knee, gradually adding pressure. The rough calluses made you spread your legs before you needed to be told to. His touch moved up, bringing heat to your entire body, until they were invisible beneath your shirt.

“Mr. Gallagher," you sighed, the words slipping out in vain—you didn’t even know what you wanted. Your hand rested gently on his wrist, drawing an affectionate line there as your fingers idly played with the coarse hairs on his arm.

His eyes, fixed intently on you, seemed to promise he could take care of you, and yours, slowly but surely, found amusement in wandering across the expanse of his neck or the hair of his chest.

His scent was getting more immersive, and without rushing, his fingers were diving into you. You weren't stupid, you were aware of how wet you were, and Noel knew exactly what to expect. It didn't take much, it wasn't difficult, his fingers were thick and you didn't hesitate to swallow them. The abrupt and painful closing of your legs that came from the pleasure was avoided and that made everything more enjoyable.

He groaned muffledly, between his teeth, just watching you sigh heavily as you were struggling to keep yourself spread for him. He made you endure everything until the edge of the ring touched your skin, he held it there, watching your eyes water, until your legs trembled as he slowly moved his fingers and then removed them just so he could do that whole scene again.

You were so desperate that his fingers made that line of slime as they pulled out of you. He licked his lips at that, and without seeing where he was touching, you just felt the wet accumulation on your clit as he caressed you in light circles. It felt good, and made you think that boys your age weren't like that.

He continued, his face very close to yours and his scent making you dizzy. He added more pressure, his movements were continuous and unhurried, you couldn't help but let tears escape. You wanted to be good for him, you wanted to see him see that you knew how to behave. But, your body ached.

Your indignation was clear, yet he pulled his fingers away, which were as damp as before. You needed him. He brought the tips to his lips, the blue orbs still on you, who were sweaty and couldn't breathe like a normal human being, and licked them. His throat rose, his tongue made an approving noise, and before you could grab his wrist in protest, everything was getting blurrier.

You were sore, your legs weak, and your thighs damp. His voice still lingered in the background, softened words that felt like a melody, and you could distinctly catch his scent on the jacket he had given you that night—one you hadn’t been able to resist wearing ever since.

 Your mind slowly grasped your reality, your mouth growing dry, and it felt absurd. It wasn’t as if you wanted this to happen—there was no sense to it—but you could no longer push him out of that space in your mind.

…

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” your voice echoed nervously through the studio as your fingertips froze. You had arrived a few weeks ago and had taken a few singing lessons that Noel had arranged with another professional, but now you feared he might become your only tutor moving forward.

[biblical-chronicles]

Puddles

________________________________________

where a small Anaïs brings the reader and Noel together.

________________________________________

The winter air bit at your cheeks as you pulled into Noel’s driveway, a little bag in hand containing the pedal he’d left behind at the studio. You could’ve just brought it to the next session, but you figured it’d be easier for him to have it sooner rather than later. Plus, you were in the area, and you also may have had a little bit of a crush on the man.

You knocked on the door, only having to wait a moment before it swung open. Noel stood there, looking about one step away from a mental breakdown, only muttering a quiet “God help me.” under his breath.

You blinked, caught a bit off guard. “Alright, what’s got you so dramatic this time?”

Before he could answer, the shrill voice of a small child echoed from somewhere inside. “NO, DAD, NO!”

You peeked around him and spotted the source of his woes—Anaïs, sitting cross-legged on the floor, clutching a wool hat in her tiny fists like it had personally insulted her.

“She’s supposed to wear the bloody thing ‘cause it’s freezin’ out, but no,” Noel said, throwing his hands up. “Apparently, hats are public enemy number one today. Yesterday they were fine, but not today.”

You couldn’t help but just laugh at his misery at which he just shot you a look of pure betrayal.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” you teased. “This is brilliant. Rock legend Noel Gallagher brought to his knees by a three-year-old and a hat.”

Anaïs, upon hearing your voice, stopped her tantrum and turned. Her eyes lit up when she saw you standing there. “Y/N!” she squealed, abandoning the hat entirely and making a beeline for you, throwing her arms around your leg in a tight embrace.

“Well, hello to you too,” you said, squatting down to her level. “What’s all this fuss about, then? Your dad says you don’t like your hat very much.”

Anaïs pouted, crossing her arms. “It’s itchy, and it’s ugly, and I hate it.”

“Ah, I see.” You tapped your chin, pretending to consider her argument. “But you know, hats are pretty cool. Look, I’m wearing one too.” You tugged at the brim of your own beanie, grinning at her.

Anaïs tilted her head, clearly weighing her options. After a moment, she picked up the discarded hat and held it out to you. “You wear it.” she commanded.

“Alright, deal.” You took the hat, slipping it on and giving her a little twirl for effect. “How do I look?”

Anaïs giggled, clapping her hands. “Good! Really good!”

“Well, there you go,” you said, taking the hat off and handing it back to her. “If it looks good on me, it’ll look even better on you, yeah?”

Anaïs nodded solemnly, as if you’d just delivered the most profound wisdom of her short life. She plopped the hat onto her head, adjusting it until it sat snugly. “I’m ready!”

Noel, who had been watching the whole interaction, just let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Of course. Two minutes with you, and she’s a bloody angel. I try all mornin’, and I’m gettin’ screamed at like I’ve just committed a war crime.”

You just started laughing at him again as Anaïs looked up at you proudly. “See, Dad?” she said, tugging at his sleeve. “We’re wearing the same hat now. How cool is that?”

“Yeah,” Noel deadpanned, “so cool.”

Finally, you remembered the bag in your hand. “Oh, right, I came to drop this off,” you said, holding it out to Noel. “Your pedal. You left it at the studio.”

“You’re a saint,” he said, taking the bag and setting it on a nearby shelf. “Dunno what I’d do without ya.”

Before you could reply, Anaïs grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Noel followed, grabbing his coat. “Oi, slow down, we’re not in a race.”

But Anaïs suddenly stopped in her tracks, turning to look up at you with big, pleading eyes. “Are you coming with us?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Noel said quickly. “She’s got work and—”

Anaïs cut him off with a firm, “No. I’m not going if she’s not going.”

You glanced between the two of them, biting back a laugh. “Well,” you said, squatting down again to Anaïs’s level, “I suppose I can join you. It’d be my pleasure.”

Anaïs beamed, reaching for your hand again, and Noel just stood there, watching the two of you with a look you couldn’t quite place. Maybe a bit of frustration. Maybe a bit of awe. Maybe a bit of love.

“Alright,” Noel said finally, voice softer than usual. “Let’s go, then.”

The three of you walked down the quiet street, the crisp air turning your breath into little clouds. Anaïs skipped along beside you, her tiny hand clutching yours tightly, while Noel trailed slightly behind, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

“You should come over more,” Anaïs chirped, looking up at you with a toothy grin. “It’s way more fun when you’re here.”

“Yeah?” you asked, glancing down at her. “What makes it so fun, then?”

She tilted her head, thinking for a moment before answering, “You sing better than Dad. And you know all the good songs.”

Noel snorted from behind you. “Oi, I heard that!”

Anaïs giggled, covering her mouth with her free hand. “It’s true!” she whispered loudly, as if he wouldn’t hear.

You couldn’t help but laugh, squeezing her hand. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The walk continued in comfortable chatter, Anaïs alternating between skipping and walking, her energy seemingly endless. Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze fixed on something up ahead.

“What is it?” you asked, following her line of sight.

“It’s a puddle,” she said, pointing to a shallow pool of water on the pavement. She leaned forward, examining it as if it were some rare artifact.

“You like jumping in puddles?” you asked.

Anaïs shook her head. “I never really did that yet.”

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Never? Oh, we’ve got to change that. Look at your wellies—they’re perfect for it!”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement. “Really?”

“Really,” you said, taking her hand again and guiding her toward the puddle. “Come on, let’s try it out.”

With a bit of encouragement, Anaïs took her first tentative hop into the puddle, sending a small splash of water out around her boots. She froze for a moment, then burst into giggles.

“Look at you, already an expert” you said, joining her in the puddle. “Now, like this—big jump.” You leapt, sending water spraying around your shoes. Anaïs followed suit, her laughter echoing down the street.

Noel stood off to the side, watching you with admiration, a smile automatically forming on his face.

“Come on, Noel,” you called over to him, grinning. “Have some fun for once!”

“Yeah, Dad!” Anaïs chimed in, hopping up and down. “It’s fun! You have to try!”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking torn. “I dunno… I’m not exactly dressed for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, stop making excuses,” you teased. “You can handle a bit of water, can’t you?”

Anaïs quickly walked over to him, tugging at his hand. “Please, Dad? Just one jump?”

He sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. One jump. Don’t expect me to make a habit of this.”

You and Anaïs cheered as Noel stepped cautiously into the puddle, his boots making a soft splash. He glanced at you both, shaking his head, before taking a half-hearted hop.

“Oh, come on,” you said, laughing. “That was pathetic. Give us a proper jump, Gallagher.”

Anaïs giggled, bouncing on her toes. “Yeah, Dad! Like this!” She leapt into the air, landing with a loud splash that sent water flying.

Not to disappoint her, Noel gave a real jump this time, his landing sending another wave of water outward. You all laughed, the moment surprisingly carefree.

Then Anaïs, perhaps getting a little too enthusiastic, landed with a forceful splash that sent some muddy water flying right onto your face.

You froze, blinking as the cold mud dripped down your cheek. Noel burst out laughing, doubling over as Anaïs clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oops!” she squeaked, eyes wide.

You wiped at your face, trying to suppress your own laughter. “Well,” you said, grinning, “I guess that’s what I get for encouraging you.”

“Sorry,” Anaïs said, but she was giggling too hard to sound sincere.

Noel shook his head, still laughing softly, and reached into his pocket. “Lucky for you, I grabbed some tissues before we left,” he said, pulling a slightly crumpled packet out. He stepped closer, unfolding one and holding it up to your cheek. “Stay still, yeah?”

You blinked as he dabbed at the mud on your face, his touch surprisingly gentle. The closeness caught you off guard and your cheeks warmed as his brow furrowed in concentration.

“There we go,” he muttered, stepping back slightly but still far closer than you’d expected.

Before you could find something to say, Anaïs chimed in excitedly.“kiss! kiss! kiss!”

Both of you froze, eyes wide. “What?” you and Noel said in unison, glancing at each other before turning back to her.

“Please!” Anaïs pleaded, her little hands clasped together. “Just like in the movies!”

Noel’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at you, his lips twitching as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or protest. “She’s got a wild imagination, hasn’t she?” he said, his voice a little tight.

You bit your lip, your own face heating up. “Well,” you said, trying to play it cool, “if the princess requests…”

Noel’s eyes locked with yours, then, as if on some unspoken agreement, he leaned in. The kiss was soft and brief, a tentative brush of lips, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Anaïs erupted into cheers, clapping her hands as she spun in the puddle. “Yay!”

You and Noel broke apart, both of you laughing nervously as your cheeks burned. “Happy now, then?” he asked her, ruffling her hair.

“Very happy!” she declared, beaming up at you both.

Noel turned back to you, his expression shifting to something softer. “As much as I’m not gonna make a habit out of puddle jumpin’,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I’d gladly make a habit out of this.”

Your breath caught, his words hanging in the air between you. You smiled, feeling a bit dazed but undeniably happy. “I’d gladly let you make a habit out of it,” you replied, leaning in to peck him on the lips again.

Anaïs clapped her hands once more, clearly delighted. “Does that mean she’s gonna come over more often?”

Noel chuckled, glancing at her and then back at you. “Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “Definitely.”

Anaïs cheered, running ahead as you and Noel fell into step beside each other, both of you smiling like fools.

________________________________________

Right, as promised, here’s the Noel version. Didn’t wanna just nick the Liam fic, so I came up with this for today. Proper cute to write, hope you lot are into it.

And no worries, I didn't forget about all the other requests—day off tomorrow, so I’ll scribble me arse off for ya, swear down xx

[tundrafloe]

In March, Noel spoke to Paste Magazine about casting Greg Davies in "The Completely Made-up Adventures of Dick Turpin"!

Noel: “There was a part in Dick Turpin of the rival gang leader who’s a much better highwayman than me. I knew that Greg would be perfect for it. We were sort of writing it for him. But then we had to quickly check if he wanted to do it. And he was so busy at that point, because everyone wanted him. He was like, “I’ll do it if I can. I’ll do it if I can.” We just took a gamble and said, “Look, it’s got to be Greg. We’ll write it for him.” Because I’ve spent so much time with him, it was very easy for me to write in his tone of voice. Then, he comes in and improvises anyway. But you can get the gist of how he would be. Greg is just one of those performers that he’s such a big presence, as well as being a huge man. He’s a giant. But on set, he’s so funny. He’s so giggly and he makes himself laugh. And then everyone in the room laughs. That’s quite contagious. He’s always sort of not taking it seriously and there’s something really brilliant about that. He was a joy to work with.”

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 1

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend!reader

Plot: There’s nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it’s too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

(1985)

You gaze at the ceiling, while soft guitar music fills the atmosphere. Outside you could hear people yell at one another, and perhaps Noel heard it too because his singing voice abruptly became a bit louder: “You’re my Coney Island Baby, you’re so precious, so sweet…” At the sound of someone slamming the door shut you involuntarily lift your head. “You’re my lucky star, that’s what you are.”

His voice is soft, or at least he attempts to sound smoother than he’s capable of being. Just last week, he managed to catch a vicious throat infection somehow. You kidded about how he got it from some girl down the block, but when he didn’t laugh about it you felt stupid. “How’s your throat?”, you ask, turning your head to get a better look at him. Noel shrugs:” You tell me.”

You nod before letting your head fall back down on the mattress. Outside the window, thick grey clouds have covered the once-blue sky, and a few tiny raindrops roll down the glass. “I hate September.”, you whisper and he quits playing. His eyes are burning holes into the top of your head:” I know. You say that every year.” “But only because every year, September manages to disappoint me.”

He chuckles before clearing his throat. He winces at the slight ache.

“Have you written anything new, yet?”, you ask, counting the small cracks in the ceiling. Three, five- eight. “Hmm, maybe.”, he replies, his fingers are tapping on the instrument. “Can I hear it?” “When it’s finished, sure.” A silence falls upon you both before Noel speaks up:” By the way, why- what did Tommy say to you?”

You quickly roll over onto your stomach:” Tommy? You mean when we stood in front of Ben’s Pub?” Noel nods, his fingers have stopped moving. It was the same bar where you and Noel kissed one another for the first time, a couple of years ago. Both of you happened to be extremely drunk that night, nevertheless not drunk enough for you to forget about it -you wondered if he had.

“He asked me for my number.”

“Oh, did he?”, a soft scoff escapes his lips, while he stares outside into the afternoon:” Did you give it to him?” There’s a newfound harshness to his voice, but it quickly disappears when he clears his throat once more. “No.”, you simply answer:” He’s not my type, anyway.”

Noel nods:” Yeah, right.” He slightly raises his guitar, until it’s back upright in his lap:” You’re my Coney Island Baby, you mean so much to me. You’re my pretty little lady.” A faded sigh escapes you before you move back onto your back. Ten, twelve, thirteen.

“Did you call Stacy back?”

He hums in response. “You know, that bird from school. Gave you her number on a cigarette.” You loathed how cool that was. And after a few moments of silence, Noel shakes his head:” Not my type, you know.”

Your eyes move down to your fingers, while they play with the corner of his beige bedsheets:” Well, what’s your type anyway?” The regret forms itself quickly in your abdomen and you swallow thickly. However, Noel merely chuckles:” I think, I need to know someone before I-, well, you know.” And you do.

“Yeah. Me too.”