#yapping about gage

[the-wiggler]

take me in your tender arms, roll me in the dirt

Sypnosis: It's not love, but Gage will take what he can (and remain in deep denial).

spotify play lover's dream by saints amongst sinners

[title is from cover me in roses in holden laurence]

word count: 1.3k

“Fuck, this party is boring,” They sigh, leaning on the counter and taking a swig of their beer. They were in the kitchen of some house party, the sound of some Spotify EDM playlist thumping in the background. 

Gage glanced over, peeling away at the sticker of some off-brand beer, condensation dripping down his hands. “Yeah,” He chuckled, eyes darting to them, “We should’ve known the minute we heard this music. It’s downright tragic.” His eyes follow the curve of their smirk, searching for approval. 

‘Down, boy. Your tail is practically wagging.’

Gage quickly averts his eyes, paying close attention to the way the ceiling light hits his beer bottle. He could barely look in their eyes most of the time, breathtakingly beautiful and full of promises. But now, when they were dressed in some tight top that left little to the imagination and showed just enough skin to leave him craving for more, Gage feared bursting into flames if he looked at them too long.

“I thought that parties now would be better than those booze-fests in high school but God,” They sigh, running a hand through their hair, “This is somehow worse. It smells like sex and artificial fruits everywhere.”

“That’s the vapes, I think. All the rage nowadays.” 

They wrinkle their nose, “Fuck, that must be it. God, I can’t believe I got dressed for nothing.” 

“I mean you look good,” He nervously forces out, taking a swig of his beer to fuel his confidence, “And maybe I could, uh, give that outfit the attention it deserves. Could think of a few ways to make it worth your while. Upstairs, maybe.” 

They return the look with a surreptitious smile and throw back a sip of their own beer, letting the question linger in the stale, suddenly too-quiet kitchen. “Yeah? And just what do you intend to do to me upstairs, mister?” 

It’s a game they play, sometimes at a frat party, sometimes when they message him in the middle of the night to come over, and they spend the hour making “small talk” before they inevitably end up in bed again. Always playing coy, dancing around what they really wanted. Teasing him and pushing him until he took the final step. It made Gage’s head spin. 

“Oh? You want me to say it here? In the kitchen?” He feigns disbelief, placing his beer bottle down, placing it on his chest in astonishment, “You absolute heathen!”

Mocking, joking, in an attempt to break the blatantly brewing sexual tension.

He’s still learning to get over his people-pleasing propensities, learning to ask for what he wants directly and accepting the consequences. But it’s a work in progress, and when faced with his friends-with-benefits that he’s not in love with, his resolve crumbles and all he knows is to beat around the bush, to laugh off any sense of intimacy between them, to hide any semblance of yearning on his part. 

“Hmm,” They smile, enigmatic as the Mona Lisa. Putting down their beer and moving to face him, they crowd him against the countertop, pressing their barely covered chest to his, eyes slowly dragging up, lingering, very pointedly, on his lips before meeting his gaze, “Me? A heathen? You’re the one who’s been staring at me all evening, don’t think I haven’t noticed.” The words whispered against his lips, softly, their lips grazing against his for the briefest of seconds before pulling away, like it was a secret only for the both of them. 

Cause at the end of the day, that was all it was, wasn’t it? They were each other's dirty secret, whispered under the loud music of a frat party, said in the silent looks sent across the room. And Gage was fine with that, really, he was. The physical satisfaction of feeling them close to him, sending waves and waves of pleasure coursing through him, sneaking out of their room even before the sun had risen, hiding away in closets and watching them flirt with other people, just for him to end up in their bed again. He was absolutely ok with that. 

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he surges forward, closing the distance between them with one hand cupping their face, the other dropping down to their waist, removing any semblance of space between them.  

They move in tandem, lips moulding and bodies pushing against each other. God, they tasted good, like beer and passion and wanton lust. He was addicted to the taste, addicted to them, their hands roaming his body, their body grinding against his. An erotic display of bodies moving against each other, grasping desperately where they could, tiny gasps and moans entirely too inappropriate for the back of some frat boy’s kitchen.

They part, eyes still closed, his lips desperately chasing theirs. “Shall we, uh, adjourn to the bedroom, my liege?” Even now, even when they’ve made clear their desires, will he continue to hide the hopeless pining of his heart. Because this isn’t what he wants, not really, no matter how much he lies to himself, tells himself otherwise.

He wants to kiss them because he wants to, wants to kiss them over morning breakfast, wants to be greeted with their sweet smile when he comes home from work, wants to learn the quiet, intimate, inconsequential details of their everyday life, wants to become so intertwined with them that he teetered on the very edge of losing himself. 

Most importantly, he wanted them to love him the way he loves them.

But that’s for another night.

For now, he revels in their breathless chuckle, letting them pull him through the throngs of drunkards into some random’s bedroom. There, they push him onto the bed, grinning deviously as he lets out a quiet oof before climbing on top of him and continuing their heated kiss. His hands move to tug at their hair, swallowing the groan that falls from their lips while they move to slip under his shirt, cold hands against his warm body making him shudder. 

“Watch the hands,” He breathlessly warns as they part, even as he quickly pushes his sweater over his shirt, “Oh- fuck- wait, my sweater uh- a little help please?” They snort, breaking the mood momentarily as they carefully manoeuvre his sweater over his head. 

“Ok, ok quit laughing, asshole,” He complains, tugging at the hem of their tight shirt, “C’mon, off. S’not fair I’m the only half-dressed one here.” 

“Wait.” They mutter, moving their head down to press a light kiss to his neck, forcing a gasp through Gage’s lips. They continue their assault on him, pressing soft kisses all over his body, marking him, smiling against his soft body as he falls apart under their ministrations. 

And maybe one day, Gage will ruin this perfectly good arrangement, maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. But for now? For tonight? When they’re worshipping him like this, sweet praises falling from those kiss-bruised lips? When their hands are pressed against his sweaty body? Gage will tell himself that maybe, just maybe, they feel the same way he does, that they want him the way he does. 

That maybe their heart also threatens to burst when they hear him laugh, that they search for him in every room without even meaning to. That every joke they tell is just to hear him laugh, that every love song seems to have that one specific line that so perfectly describes him, that they have a secret playlist for him that they listen to in the dead of night. That every kiss they press to his body is an admission of love, of adoration for his entire being. 

He lets himself forget, momentarily, that this is all a dream, that in the morning (if they even stayed that long) this would be over; that the love and ecstasy he feels is only a means to an end for them, a temporary distraction for his aching heart. 

For tonight, he forgets. 

[phineasgage]

Message to a man with a hole in his head

The bad news is, you will die, and you will die young. And later, you will be dug up and beheaded; and later, your grave will be destroyed in a storm.

The good news is you will live. You will see Vermont in the fall, and California in the summer, and the mountains of South America. You will tame horses and pave the way for train tracks.

The bad news is, you will die. Your death will be as avoidable as the iron rod was in the first place.

The good news is, you will live. You will get seasick, work at a circus, learn Spanish. You will love your nieces and nephews and animals. You will do odd jobs. You will treasure the tool that changed you as a beloved friend.

The bad news is you will die and people will tell your story wrong.

But the good news is that your story will be retold, over and over, sometimes with details smudged, and through them, you will live forever.

[astralnymphh]

Werewolf!Ellie? Her all primal n shit? OH MY GOD

I'd die.

💚💙

.⋆✮───she is FERAL, and she is PRIMAL, and she is HAIRY. that's random compared to the preceding terms, but it is TRUE. and i think she's the most horndoggiest hounding-your-backside type of girl. and has a breeding kink. but mostly, i want to yap about those sharp pearls of hers, and how she uses them. no bounds are found shackling her impulses— nor her capricious teeth. in the midst of getting down and dirty? bites. feral bites. from neck to ankle, the pits of her teeth have engraved your skin numerous times, in moments where her pleasure reined over every process of thought. she'd be humping her wetness into your bare thigh: lost in the sweat, biting and tugging lips over teeth, digging the fat of your thigh in the cleft of her nails, huffing, "fuck, s'good to me, so good.." when your own fingers softly trace the grooves and hairy trails of her body— and suddenly, her beady clit would drag against in such a delicious way, her fucked out demeanor would grow wayward. she lowers herself and immediately finds her teeth a home on your collarbone, sinking in as her pelvis continues bucking and eventually climaxing on your thigh. it draws blood, "ah— shhhit," tugging a hiss from your lips; her sound of reward. quiet growls brim your ears, until ellie unsheathes her bite and laps her tongue over the fresh wound. puckers her lips next, and presses them over the lunar shape of it, the corners of her mouth slightly stained in that crimson delight. so when her head perks to gage which face you're clading: satisfaction, or left in want, her strawberried smirk turns out to be wreathed in more red blotches. that satisfies you. "got your fill, baby?" you speak softer than a new-mooned night, plowing your digits through her hairline, and into her scalp. denial shakes beneath your palm. "mh-mn," hummed she, snaking the head of her tongue out to smear one of the blood stains drying her lips, "again?" looking so fucking eager with brows pinched and eyes carefully ashine. a newfound pressure slips between your thighs— fuck, she wants her fingers inside you. simultaneously.

trickery strums her a giggle as lips come to nudge at your shoulder; a request— or a promise, duly known as, "gonna bite you here, mhm?" but in reality, that won't be the last of her bites. no, not with ellie. rarely, an end is found with her bites.

[autisticgingerblonde]

If Fallout 4 companions had TikTok accounts

Cait would have an account dedicated to fighting and thirst traps (aimed at women mostly). Teaches women self-defense techniques. She earns a spot in the algorithm of muscle mommies. She also raises awareness for addicts and former addicts, educating on the effects of drugs and the reasons people seek them out in the first place. Honestly, it's a very good account to follow.

Codsworth is just confused about TikTok. He's like "oh so what are the children saying these days? Aura? I'll have to add a new word to my vocabulary banks! Cheerio, mum!"

Curie makes educational videos for all ages and all subjects. She has a series of learning Japanese, a series of vaccines and the science behind them, a series about the effects of different types of parenting, you name it. She also takes suggestions from her audience on what new things to research.

Danse has unintentional thirst traps. He talks about power armor and the Brotherhood of Steel but also posts workouts. These are what get the most attention out of everything he posts. The BookTok girlies find him and all hell breaks loose in the comment sections. He responds to this with, "Thank you, civilians. I am not sure what you mean, but I am glad you are supporting the Brotherhood of Steel by being on my page. Thank you for your enthusiasm for our righteous cause. Ad victorium." People armchair diagnose him as autistic.

Deacon does "GRWM as i tell you about the time i ______" videos where each day he looks completely different and you can never tell if he's telling the truth or not. He also does head shaving videos that double as story times or opinion pieces. You can't tell if those are true or not either.

Dogmeat has a viral account followed by millions. Get's a lot of "I can't imagine liking this guy" comments with the op replying to their own comment with "anymore than I already do. Huge fan!"

Hancock does subtle cheeky thirst traps and dance challenges. This entire post was inspired by the FACT that Hancock would participate in the brat summer trend and would do the Apple dance with Fahrenheit filming it. He also tells stories, mostly of him being high. He gets a lot of requests to cosplay Deadpool.

MacCready has a lot of things he does. Some videos are sniper trick shots, some are Grognak the Barbarian yapping (he does short lore deep dives when he can), and some are about being a young single dad. He doesn't show Duncan's face because he's extremely protective. Casually drops the most insane lore about his childhood which leads to comments like "are we just ignoring that he said he grew up in a cave?"

Nick Valentine would be a very popular fashion and "a day in the life of a detective". He'd do vintage fashion looks, like loose slacks and suspenders with a trench coat to top it off. Sometimes does a deep dive into detective history. Gets a lot of thirsty comments to which he replies "that's one way to get the coolant pumping."

Old Longfellow has the appeal of the New England, stormy weather, sweater-wearing fisherman aesthetic, and he tells stories of his youth while showing people around the area he grew up. Learns mobile phone cinematography to make it look cooler. Every video has either a lesson or a skill for survival.

Piper's account is solely focused on news and truth, posting every source she uses. She uses the trend of an insane video, like someone falling badly on the ground or getting splashed with water, and stitches it to look like a seamless transition of her rolling from the fall or being splashed to start talking about her news stories. It gets traction so she continues.

Porter Gage has a side gig of running TikTok accounts for different people. Gets the money, doesn't get the backlash when they get canceled for racism or worker exploitation.

Preston has an account dedicated to charity work and social activism. He makes sure to highlight organizations he feels are doing the world a service and regularly has fundraisers. He's well-known for always sharing content from people in dire situations and raising money for them. Has a master document of Go Fund Me pages and vets every one of them.

Strong has a lot of those unintentional boomer tiktoks that are 1 second long and he's just looking at the screen in confusion.

X6 cyber bullies the rest of them because he thinks having a TikTok is cringe and stupid (he is currently writing hate comments with his TikTok account)

[jo6hny]

Guilty Pleasure - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College student! Hazel Callahan x College student! Reader 

Contains: fluff, kissing, something more than kissing, reader and hazel being referred to as a girl, drunk sylvie, reader and hazel are in a situationship (oh no), freddy fazbear and fnaf mention

Summary: Based on this request.

Word Count: 2.18K

A/N: long time no post omg. sorry, i got caught up with work :( !! but i’ll still be writing and fulfilling requests. it'll just be very slooooow. tysm for all the support!!

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The sound of keys jingling breaks the silence of the once silent and unoccupied dorm room. 

“That was sooo fuckin’ crazy” Sylvie says. Her words are slurred as she continues to yap about the party her, Hazel, and you were previously at. After having one too many drinks, the both of you decided to let the drunk girl crash over at yours and Hazel’s shared dorm room. 

“Alright buddy, let’s get you tucked into bed.” Hazel says, letting her best friend crash on her bed on the left side of the room. The distinction between your side and hers was clear as day. No one would mistake one for the other. Hazel’s had different kinds of band posters on her wall, funko pops on her shelves, and five nights at Freddy’s plushies on her dark sheeted bed. You, on the other hand, liked keeping things clean and minimal with cream colored sheets and one rabbit plushie. 

Tension arises between the two of you once Sylvie is tucked into bed. It is here that you both realize that one of you is without a place to sleep. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind sharing with Hazel if it were any other day, but you weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now. 

The two of you had gotten into an argument at the party after Hazel wasn’t sure what to introduce you as to people she knew. She couldn’t settle between friend, roommate, or almost but not quite a girlfriend. It made you feel ashamed, if you were being honest. You didn’t want to be in this situation. Not knowing what stood between the two of you. Though, you did admit that the both of you were living in a bubble. A sweet, non committal and casual bubble. No one knows what goes on between the two of you except, well, the both of you. So a part of you understood her hesitancy when she introduced you, but a part of you also wanted her to take the reins and just shout out what she wanted you to be. 

“So…” The brunette mumbled, balancing herself between her toes and the balls of her feet. 

“It’s not like we have a choice.” You said, sighing. You’d stepped out of the way as a gesture for her to get in your bed. 

Hazel’s demeanor lightened. She must have thought that you were over the incident at the party (you were not). The brunette changes into sleepwear before making herself comfortable on your bed. She’s done this hundreds of times before so there’s no shame or second thoughts in her body as she takes up the space she believes is hers. The space that was next to you.

You do the same as her and change into something more comfortable before slipping into bed beside her. Your body betrays your soured feelings as it relaxes when your skin meets hers. It was automatic nowadays, the feeling of relief that washed over you whenever you were near Hazel. The brunette faces you and drapes her arm around you as she always does. 

“You looked really pretty tonight.” Hazel whispered, not risking waking Sylvie up. The brunette was anything but asleep and you could tell by the tone of her voice. She was gaging your reaction. 

“Just tonight?” You reply teasing her. 

A smile spreads across your lover’s dimly lit face. If it weren’t for Hazel’s night light, the room would have been pitch black. Thank god for Freddy Fazbear the night light. 

“Always.” She reassures, a dimple poking out of her cheek. Hazel looked charming under the dim lights. Her eyes sparkled and her hair ever so soft. It was no wonder that you fell for her charms. The charms which compel you to bare your heart out despite the disappointments you’ve suffered, that is. 

A visible frown forms on your face as you recall once again why you two were at odds. Hazel sees this and her eyebrows furrow in worry. She takes the arm that was draped around you and relocates her hand towards your face to caress it. 

“I’m sorry.” Hazel says apologetically. You knew that she meant it. Hazel was rarely malicious and even if she was, it was always in a teasing manner. She was the most pure hearted person you’ve ever met, which is why you felt bad about what you did next. 

“About what?” You asked, teasing. It was rare that your lover is the one apologizing, most of the time it was you. Taking on this rare opportunity, you decide to egg Hazel’s conscience further. 

“You know…” She trails off, avoiding eye contact but maintaining her hand on your cheek. Her thumb was caressing your cheek in a windshield like manner which signified that she was fidgeting. 

Fighting off a smile, you put on your best frown and puppy dog eyes. You wondered how long it would take the brunette to realize that you were joking. Most of the time, the jokes flew over her head. She had a knack of not detecting sarcasm and you found it endearing. 

“I don’t know, Hazel.” You sigh, slightly shrugging of the hand on your cheek. The blue eyed girl was visibly getting frustrated by the second. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her big blue eyes were the roundest it had ever been. 

“I’m sorry for not telling people what we are.” She admitted. You held in a gasp, you didn’t expect her to admit her fault outright. You were expecting a much whinier version of the woman beside you but right now you were faced with a visibly apologetic lover. The thought made your heart ache. 

“Hazel,” You sighed, taking the hand on your cheek with your own. “It’s okay.” 

She shakes her head in disagreement. A frown formed on her lips. She looked close to crying. 

“It’s not. I should’ve told them we were together.” She protested, squeezing your hand. 

“Are you sure?. I feel like you liked it when that sorority girl flirted with you.” Teasing, you interlock your fingers with her. No matter how guilty you felt, it was undeniably fun to tease your lover just a little bit. 

“I didn’t. I swear! I only like you.” She exclaimed, now holding both of your hands. The last part of her sentence was whispered but loud enough for you to catch on. 

A smile forms on your face and a warmth felt on your cheeks. You looked at your lover with much endearment and love.Hazel was nothing but pure. Her love for you had always shone and she’d never made you feel mad or sad or anything negative. Hazel’s was a love you’d never experienced with anyone else before. 

“I guess I only acted like that because I saw how Isabel looked at you.” Hazel said. Your heart drops at her revelation and you’re quick to dismiss her. Unbeknownst to you, Hazel was sporting a mischievous glint in her eyes. The same one she noticed that you had. She’d been able to notice whenever you were teasing nowadays. She noticed how your tone fluctuated, like it always does when you’re joking. And she noticed how you tried to stop yourself from smirking but the tips of your mouth would still turn upwards. All this she picked up because Hazel always took mental notes on you; observed you. 

“What? No-” You interjected, flailing your arms. “Isabel and I are just friends. Plus she has Josie, Haze!” 

“Are you sure? Because the hug you shared seemed a bit intimate.” She said, copying the tone you carried when you presented the same idea. She was toying with you and found it amusing how now you were the one who was panicking. 

“Hazel,” You grabbed her face gently to demand all her focus on you. “I would’ve kissed you in that sweaty house of people for everyone to see.” 

Now it was Hazel’s turn to blush. She could physically feel herself turning red, she imagined what she’d look like. Deciding to be brave and continue on flirting, Hazel encourages you further. 

“And why didn’t you?” She asked, her eyebrow raising. She looked at you with much anticipation, she wanted your lips on hers more than anything else. The desire to kiss and hold you is embedded in her person. Nothing else made her the happiest. 

“Because..I don’t know. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.” You mutter, avoiding eye contact. 

“I want to. You can do it right now.” Hazel said quickly and without hesitancy. 

Smiles form from both of you which cascade into giggles. Hazel’s blue eyes turn into crescent moons as her smile reaches her eyes. You could slightly see her countenance being tinted red, signaling to you that she had been flustered with the exchange.

The laughter dies down and all there’s left is tension between the both of you.The silence between you was palpable, the tension thick. You didn’t know why you felt shy now. Too shy to steal a kiss from your lover's lips like you always did. Your hands were still on her face, gently stroking it with your thumb. You imagined that the two of you looked like a couple of rags after a wild night out and yet, Hazel looked ethereal. You reckon that her face could launch a thousand ships as Helen did. 

“You look really beautiful, Haze.” You whisper, trying to shake off the nerves that suddenly appeared. It felt like the time you two first kissed. How the air was so thick and it felt like you were suffocating. The only solution was to put your lips on hers and kiss like her being held oxygen. You remember how you fantasized about how you would finally kiss her, running through so many situations in your head to prepare you only for it to happen on a random afternoon. 

Hazel smiled, the dimple on her cheek appearing. 

“You look beautiful too.You really always do. I mean it.” 

“That’s the alcohol talking.” You retaliate. Compliments never came easy to you, especially not from someone you adored. 

“I didn’t even drink that much. I was too busy looking out for…” She trailed, her gaze landing upon the bed next to yours. 

You laugh at this, following Hazel’s gaze to see that Sylvie had her mouth open as she slept. She also somehow found one of Hazel’s plushies and was snuggling it which earned a look of disdain from her. 

“She’s gonna deform him.” She says with concern. This makes you smile wider than you already had. 

Stroking her face, you decide to kiss her. Your heart couldn’t handle it anymore and it felt like it would burst with all the love and adoration it was holding. Hazel’s lips were sweet, which told you that she drank one of those liquor the sorority sisters made that was full of candy. You made a mental note to point it out to her later. But now, you were focused on the task at hand and that was kissing Hazel so much til your head felt dizzy. 

One of your hands loosen from her face and find their way to her hair. Hazel groans at the action, putting her hands on your neck in return. After what felt like a sweet eternity of kissing, the brunette takes it further by disconnecting her lips from yours and planting it down on your neck. You whimper at the feeling of her lips on yours and grip her hair tighter. 

“Mmmh head hurts!” 

A groaning Sylvie makes the both of you jump, fully forgetting that you had another person in the room. A smile is shared between you and your lover. You’d both silently agreed that you should sleep instead of fucking in case Sylvie actually wakes up. 

Settling back into your bed, Hazel takes it upon herself to position her body on top of yours and bury her neck on your face. You could physically feel her sniffing you. 

“Are you done sniffing me or do you need a little bit more time there?” You ask, wrapping your arms around her. She laughs at your comment and lifts her head up. 

“Can’t I smell my girlfriend? Is that too much to ask?” She asks, feigning sadness in her voice. 

You raise one of your eyebrows at Hazel’s reply, taking note of what she just called you. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” 

“Yup.” She nods, giving you a smile. “Unless you don’t want to, which is totally cool.” 

You shake your head frantically, earning another laugh from your girlfriend. Hazel situates her face back onto the crook of your neck and plants a small kiss. Your heart flutters at the gesture. This was it. You were finally officially together and it happened because Sylvie was forced to sleep on her side of the bed because of poor alcoholic decisions. You had to thank her in the morning, surely. But for now, you’d tighten your hold on Hazel and relish in her body heat. 

“Goodnight, Haze.” 

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tags: @academiareid <33

[gazspookiebear]

No thoughts, just arm wrestling with Ghost

You wanted Ghost's attention. There was no denying it- he was too enticing to let him slip through your fingers. You wanted, just once, to feel him.

You were purposefully being an arrogant and cocky prick all day, telling anyone who would listen to you (and those who didn't) that you could easily beat Ghost in an arm wrestling match.

Of course, Ghost caught wind of it, but he brushed it off. After all, there were tons of clueless rookies who talked shit when they didn't know who exactly they were facing.

Unfortunately for Ghost, it kept happening. First time he heard you yapping was during training. Then when Soap was laughing and telling him about some dumb comment you made earlier. A few times after that throughout the next few days, and finally, you had the nerve to say it to his face.

"You couldn't beat me, " you announced mockingly

"Mmh. Let's put that to the test, mate."

You were nervous. You hadn't expected him to agree to it in all honesty. Not that you would back down now.

Sitting down at the table, you had gathered quite a crowd. Who would want to watch some rookie get slammed by the Ghost? Everyone, apparently.

You readied your elbow on the table. On the opposite side, Ghost did the same. You took in a small gasp of air, nerves now getting the best of you. This was a horrible idea, wasn't it? You vaguely hear someone count down and yell "start", causing you to clasp your hand with Ghost's and start pushing with all your might.

Holy shit. He was hardly struggling- the both of your arms staying firmly in the center. You looked up for a second to try and gage his expression, only to be met with his eyes already staring into you.

It was like all the air was torn from your lungs- you might as well have forgotten how to breathe.

You couldn't deny it, his eyes were absolutely gorgeous. Weary and calculated brown eyes staring into your own, an odd softness to them.

He still hadn't beat you. He easily could, you were never a match for him.

But maybe, just maybe-

-he wanted to hold your hand, too.

[salemfrogtrials]

I'm getting into American housewife and genuinely need to Yap about cooliver and the entire show at large tbh, if anyone is interested in joining a discord interact with this so I can gage interest!

[coffin-hopping]

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— TAGS —

writing: #rays.fountain.pen

yapping: #rays.forked.tongue

drawing: #rays.crayons

deranged Malevolent ramblings: #malev.posting

stuff about Arthur Lester I’m too embarrassed to main tag: #arthur.posting

talking about racism and my experience as a brown man on tumblr: #ray.being.brown.n.angry

vent tag (contains a lot of discussion surrounding csa so block that tag if you don’t want to see that): #ray.vents

— ABOUT ME —

𖤐 names i go by: ray/raymond, lopez, angel, ricky, gage, coff, adrian, (and more to be added!) (go wild with this one)

𖤐 agender, trans

𖤐 they/it/he (I mostly prefer “he” and “it” rn)

𖤐 bisexual, aromantic, aceflux

𖤐 mexican-american

𖤐 agnostic

𖤐 minor (adults are allowed here ofc I don’t mind, but I ask to have my boundaries respected

— MY lNTERESTS —

𖤐 I love writing, playing guitar, drawing, and fashion

𖤐 SHOWS: Workaholics, What We Do In The Shadows, Blue Eye Samurai, American Dad, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Bojack Horseman, Futurama, Breaking Bad, Gravity Falls, It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

𖤐 MOVIES: Jennifer’s Body, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World, The Menu, Hereditary, Scream, Saw, Kill Bill, American Mary, Little Nicky, Scary Movie, Elvira, The Endless, Beaches, Mermaids, Beetlejuice

𖤐 MUSIC: Deftones, My Chemical Romance, A Perfect Circle, Insane Clown Posse, Kendrick Lamar, Isaiah Rashad, Queen Latifah, Mars Argo, Orgy, A Skylit Drive, Kreayshawn, Lil Uzi Vert, Death Grips, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Dystopia, Tyler The Creator

𖤐 GAMES: Danganronpa, The Sims, Sally Face, Fear n Hunger, Life Is Strange, As Dusk Falls, Call of Duty

𖤐 OTHERS: Jerma985, Malevolent podcast, Frenemies podcast

— BLOG BOUNDARIES —

𖤐 radfems and terfs just know that I hate you specifically, I will fist fight all of you at once idgaf — same goes for any of y’all who rb or repost that shit, you are my enemy and I WILL fist fight you

𖤐 any bigotry is not gonna slide here (queerphobia/exclusion, ableism, misogyny, racism, etc.)

𖤐 ngl I don’t rlly care if you’re a “proshipper” or an “antishipper” or any of those labels just. no fighting bc I find that corny asf, I dabble in taboo stuff sometimes but I don’t personally consider myself a proshipper👍

𖤐 I don’t fuck with creepy shit. I’ve seen pedos on this site and I’m not gonna stand for that. do not fucking interact with this blog if that’s what you’re here for.

𖤐 this section isn’t necessarily a dni but I am so fucking serious when I say do not interact with my blog if you are a tcc (true crime community) blog or someone who is in that circle. I don’t care if you “don’t condone” bc the amount of racist teenagers in that community is actually ridiculous😭

𖤐 don’t be an asshole, essentially. we’re here to chill and have fun and some of y’all are allergic to that apparently.

𖤐 spam liking/rb is okay lol don’t stress about it

𖤐 if I am uncomfortable with something I will say so, otherwise don’t stress about how you interact with me, any engagement is appreciated + I’m not discomforted easily

𖤐 interacting with my vent/personal posts is fine too! I don’t mind

— MY lSSUES BC I LOVE OVERSHARING —

𖤐 addict

𖤐 eating disorder (FULL RECOVERY MADE!!!🖤)

𖤐 borderline personality disorder

𖤐 lactose intolerant (it’s getting notably bad but I’ll die before I become a beta almond milk drinking cuck) (I have to beat the soy boy allegations you don’t understand)

𖤐 ocd

𖤐 autism

𖤐 ^ selective mutism

𖤐 glasses-haver (lost them and now I get headaches all the time hhhhh)

I stand with Palestine .

fuck all cops .

[gagegh0st]

Ugh Oh My God I Hate Intros

HAI !! I'm Gage (5/11/04, 20 y/o!!!) !!! (Hey/They/Xey/It/Paw/Null) But He/Him Is Best most times! ^-^ More Than One Blog! Exclusively therian content @galloping-gage! Honestly just stalk my twitter @/ChrismanStu if anyone I know talks about me saying any ferocious shit over there. If yall don't like terians yall might wanna GJOAC!!! (Go Jump Off A Cliff)

Just Some Tism Facts for you because I'm a chamoy pickle and autistic. My Sign Off When I'm Anon is ~🐾 I'm VERY multifandom and you guys can kiss my ass if you want that to change !! >-< Fandomzz: MD, SSO, Gorillaz, Arkhamverse + Batverse, Books !!!, I'm An Artist Of All Kinds!!, Sally Face, WLOEF, Spider Man !!!, FNAF, TMNT. Fandom Origins.. (I'm Not Proud. NOT AT ALL.) : Dsmp..., JOJO SIMPER (Siwa), MyStreet.., YO GABBA GABBA (Muno and Brobee my babies frfr !!). Therian of... god way too many... : Eastern Wolf, Friesian Draft Horse, SIMIEN FOX, Cotton Tailed Rabbit, Barn Owl, German Shepherd (I told you there was a lot), Persian Cat (Domestic.), Raven, Softshell Turtle, Fanged Deer. There's more Coming Don't Worry Assholes.

MY TAGS: #gage's poet rambles - Rambles About My Novel Or Just Life! #gage won't stop yapping - Dream Journal Or P-Attack Journal or vents, or meds log idk #gage's silly skribblez - Unfinished or shitty art that I post #gageanswers - Answering Any Asks I get ! ! :0 ? Will It Happen? We'll neva know!!

[rockshortage]

This might seem like sacrilege, but for that headcanon ask, could we hear 3, 5, 13, 17, and 18 for everyone's favorite stinkman Gage? I feel we don't talk about him enough

No you’re right, we have been neglecting him. I actually considered sending you an ask for Gage too with this one :’)

Can’t say I’m extremely confident in answering these, but I’ll give it a go:

3. Scars or painful spots

His eye, or where it used to be anyway. I imagine the skin there is very sensitive, so covering up an ugly scar isn’t the only reason he wears the eyepatch. Might be why he chose to make it out of metal instead of getting a regular cloth one – it gives him extra protection from someone or something poking and prodding at the skin underneath.

5.  Guilty pleasures

See below – soft little gestures that fluster him so, a little slice of domesticity with his partner. Will not openly admit to it but he loves it.

13. What gets them flustered

Talking about feelings ‘n’ shit… it puts him way out of his element, he’s not good at it and it’s a little frustrating because he doesn’t consider it all that useful anyways. Actions speak much louder than words, so why waste time yapping? Also, little gestures of affection (like holding hands), especially when the relationship is new.

17. Regrets

He couldn’t have known it would turn out this way when he set the plan into motion, but putting Colter in charge is definitely a big one. In one of his affinity talks, Gage is pretty adamant about not regretting the choices he’s made in the past, but I don’t fully believe that either. He probably wishes he’d handled stuff with his first gang differently, whether that be avoiding the scenario where Connor betrayed him altogether, or maybe getting some revenge after all.

18. Things they’ll never admit

I can imagine that sometimes he wonders if the raider life really was the best choice to make, or if he just convinced himself of it. Doesn’t really matter now though because he’s in way too deep and has been for a long time. And if anyone asks about it, it’s none of their damn business.

[the-wiggler]

The idea of Gage getting over his people-pleasing tendencies while also getting into a FWB situation with his crush is head rattling...bone crushing even

[phineasgage]

why are so many people in the boytag talking about him accurately with 100+ note posts. what is going on

[upsetapplecart]

Day 3- Hey you, dick bag!

Fandom: All Out!! Prompt: Angst Words: 4903 Rating: PG again? There is a fair bit of swearing, and teenage boys try to beat each other up? Warnings: Swearing. Fist fights near some lockers. More swearing. Another fist fight in a park. Relationships: Matsuo Toshinosuke/ Ebumi Masaru (pre anything more than blushing and crushing.) Characters: Matsuo Toshinosuke, Ebumi Masaru, Ise Natsuki,  Sekizan Takuya,  Hachiōji Mutsumi.

“Hey, you! Yeah, you! Don’t ignore me, you potato faced dick bag!”

It was more screech then shout, and had the voice a physical form, it would have been shoving its way to front of a crowd in an attempt to start a posturing competition with you.

In this it was a summary of it's owner.  

“Ebumi. Dude-“

“Shove off, Ise. You’re a fucking coward, Matsuo!”

Matsuo didn't turn around. He was tired, and well, maybe Ebumi would burn himself out and lay off. Stranger things had happened, Takku’s hair for one.

Logically, he was doing what was best for the team. Subbing himself out so that he wouldn’t be holding them back on the field. No matter how much they postured, talked, trained, it did not change the facts, and the facts were that Mastuo could not give them 110%.

Oh how he wanted to. How he wanted to fling himself into the training with frantic intent. The feeling of actual improvement was addictive as the taste of victory.

But he couldn't. Not with the sound of that cough echoing in his ears. Not with his so fake smile.

He was stepping down so they could step up.

At least the third years had accepted that. Or seemed to have accepted that. Knowing Hachi, he was just biding his time.

“Oi! Come on! You just gonna ignore me? Lame!”

As always, Ebumi had decided to make himself a very loud expectation.

One of his class mates bumped his shoulder, “I’m pretty sure he's talking to you, dude.”

The classmate seemed to be trying to hint to Matsuo, that maybe, if he, Matsuo, had the power, he should put a stop to the ranting lunatic in the school corridor who was following them like a dog behind a suburban house fence, yapping the whole time.

Matsuo would be damned before he gave Ebumi the satisfaction. Matsuo could be sensible and mature about many things in his life, but apparently, Ebumi was not one of them.

“Why would a second-year thug want to talk to me?”

The classmate did his best to look at Ebumi without actually turning his head to look at him, as if eye contact might draw his wrath. To be honest , it probably would.

“Dunno, dude. Isn’t he on your rugby team, or something?” he whispered, hunching in towards Matsuo.

“Maybe he is. There are so many faces, I forget who's who sometimes.” Matsuo said, loud enough that Ebumi was sure to hear.

The screech of rage in response made his heart warm a little.

Smiling now, riding his tiny wave of smug satisfaction at an Ebumi well annoyed, he decided to get going while he had still won this little skirmish.

“Come on, we’ll be late for class.” He said.

A swift glance at a phone screen proved him right. “Oh shit! Dude, hurry!”

The unfortunate classmate ran off down the hall, not loyal enough to stroll with him, but stopping to wave him forward occasionally before running on. Matsuo chuckled and strolled after. You didn't run from a victory. You especially didn't run from Ebumi, because like any speed hunter, he'd run you down.

“That’s right! You run away you-you great big bag of dicks! Fucking coward-“

Matsuo cut of the end of that sentence pretty effectively with the witty comeback of stepping into his class room and shutting the door.

Ebumi retaliated by kicking the door on the other side, making the handle rattle under Matsuo’s hand.

“Dick.” Said Ebumi.

Matsuo nodded, because, yeah, probably.

Then he took a deep breath, and ventured into the classroom, ready to have his young mind moulded, because you can't run a successful business if you can't do math.

***

“What do lame arses even eat for lunch? What you gotta eat to be this weak?”

Leaning through the open lunch room window Ebumi had taken it as an opportunity to resume his verbal barrage from the morning. Not much one for variety, was Ebumi, but he did have an aggressive amount of enthusiasm to level at his few interests.

“Fucking rice balls! Lame!” he said, leaning so far in through the window he was at risk of falling through.

Aggressive being the key word there.

“You have rice balls.” Said Ise from somewhere in the corridor, a sullen voice of reason.

“We’re not talking about me, you dick.” Ebumi’s fist pounded on the window sill, the other swinging out at the end of his arm, ending in an accusing finger. “We’re talking about that arsehole.”

Matsuo kept chewing, his mouth full of lame rice ball, content to let Ebumi wash over him.

The finger drooped a little at the lack of reaction.

Shinshi, who was sitting across from him, opened his mouth, and Matsuo cut him off with a shake of his head and a smile.

You didn't fight rip tides, you let them take you for a ride and then you climbed out at the other end, or so Matsuo had read. That or you drowned, but fighting back did nothing either way.

Shinshi shut his mouth. He didn't look happy about it, but he shut it.

Matsuo smiled vaguely in Ebumi’s direction and put his next lame rice ball into his mouth.

Going by the twitch developing in one of Ebumi’s eyes, this was not how he had intended the interaction to go.

Seeming to decide he wasn’t going to get what he wanted out of Matsuo, he switched tactics and went for the weaker link in the chain. The kinder link.

“Oh? You got something to say? Come on, I wanna hear it! Defend that potato faced fucker. Come on! I dare you!” Ebumi said, leering at Shinshi now instead, all teeth, eyes sidelong to keep watching Matsuo. Gaging.

Matsuo kept on chewing.  

Ebumi huffed. “You gonna let everyone else talk for you, smarty pants? Cat got your fucking tongue?”

“Oh, that’s it.” Shinshi rose like mountains do, slowly and with volcanic violence.

“Shinshi. Don't .” Matsuo warned.

“Yeah come out here! Come on! Have a go at me! Potato face ain’t goanna do it, so come on! Defend him. He’s too much of a coward to do it himself!”

Ise's face became visible in the window. It had the look of someone who was torn between loyalty, and just letting nature take its course. If that meant the end of his friend’s gene pool, well, natural selection wasn't a kind mistress. It was the face of someone who was chewing on their lip in indecision, deep inside their soul.

“Ebumi” he said, “teacher.”

“Oi, You! Get down from that window.” The voice was already tired, and was more than ready to make somebody suffer for making them more so.

“Aw, fuck. Don’t think you’ve won, you potato faced bastard. This isn’t over.”

Pointing at Matsuo the entire time, Ebumi walked backwards from the window, and then, spotting the teacher, bolted down the corridor in the opposite direction. Ise following cold on his heels.

Matsuo could hear shouts of annoyance and anger out in the corridor as they fled the teacher at the peril of anyone in their way.

Shinshi sat back down, graceful for such mass.

“And here I thought he’d been getting politer, more reasonable.”

Matsuo couldn't help laughing at that. “Well, he’s a bit upset.”

“We’re all upset, Matsuo. We want to help, you know that right?”

“Maybe Ebumi thinks he's helping too.”

“Matsuo-“ Shinshi sounded strained, like being unable to fix Matsuo’s problem was hurting him, and Matsuo couldn't take it. There was nothing to fix. He'd said his piece, said as much as he could bare too, and he couldn't take their pity, their well-meant kindnesses. It hurt too damn much. He didn't deserve them.

“Have you finished that assignment we got the other day? That Japanese lit one?” he asked.

Shinshi suddenly looked like he wanted to throw up.  

“Oh no! Aw no. I haven’t. Oh blast.” He shoved a rice ball into his mouth, as if it could stave off his panic, and the potential vomit.

“Do you have notes on it?” he asked, mouth full of rice, meaning it came out more as a panicked, “o yow half nots on it?”

Matsuo smiled and reached for his bag.

“Of course, but a moment.”

“Oh, thank you! Thanks a bunch!”

“No problem.”

He appreciated the efforts they made to talk, but telling would only make them want to help, and well, there was nothing to help. Nothing wrong but his selfish desire to keep playing. To win again and again.

Better to stay quite. Better to keep it all bottled up, with the cap screwed on, oh so tight.

***

“Lame! Lame! Lame! That’s what you are! Don’t even have the dignity to stick around and lose! Laaaame!”

Leaning against the row of windows opposite the third year lockers, hands in pockets, and shouting dramatically, Ebumi looked every inch the delinquent he dressed himself to be.

Matsuo grimaced and continued jamming his text books into his bag. So much for hoping that Ebumi had gotten bored with his little crusade, and that Matsuo would be able to escape home in peace.  

“Lame! I mean, if you aren’t tough enough you could have tried to get better, but no,” his voice became higher pitched, and highly sarcastic, “You’re taking the easy way out, subbing in a first-year. Wah. Wah.” Ebumi punctuated each ‘wah' with an aggressive foot stamp.

Matsuo smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. Choosing not to play, to not torment himself by going all out, when there was no future in it. To not make an embarrassment and a liar of himself, was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

Matsuo, very carefully, did not slam his locker closed.

Ebumi was so close now that Matsuo nearly elbowed him as he turned. When Matsuo meet Ebumi’s eyes, he was still smiling.

“I’m sorry.” He said, aggressively polite to the point where, if he had been a housewife, Matsuo would have been offering Ebumi his worst cups of tea. “Were you talking to me?”

“Oh! Oh!” Ebumi crowed, “The coward speaks! Did you hear that Ise? He can talk.”

Ise’s smile was all nervous and non-committal teeth. He was still over by the window, and looked intent on staying there for the foreseeable future.

“Yes, he can.” Matsuo said, dry as the dessert and feeling about as friendly.

“Yes he can.” Ebumi imitated, leaning in towards Matsuo, hands in his pockets and chest brushing Matsuo’s.

A paper thin gap.

Something about the just contact made Matsuo stand a little straighter, loom a little higher. Lean forward into Ebumis space, just a little more.

Matsuo said, “Now that you have my attention, did you actually have something to say? Or was that all you wanted? My attention?”

“Of course I wanted your fucking attention!” Now Ebumi sounded like the house wife, and desperate.

Matsuo smiled. He couldn't help himself. The opening was just too easy. The jab too petty to leave unsaid.

He leant down closer. “Of course you wanted my attention.” He laughed in Ebumi’s face. All pity. “Oh, Ebumi.” He shook his head in that sad way that disappointed authority figures have, when they had known, just known, you weren't going to do any better.

Ebumi slammed into him and Matsuo crashed against the lockers, still smiling. He laughed a little at the pain in his back.

“Don’t you fucking ‘oh Ebumi’ me!”

Ebumi pulled Matsuo forward by his shirt front and then slammed him against the lockers again. “What happened to all the wanting to win shit? Huh!? Why’d you just fucking give up?!”

“I haven’t given up. We’re still going to Hanazono. I think even you’d remember, what with Gion shouting about it all the time.”

“What the fuck? I’m not talking about the team, shithead.” Ebumi dropped the fistful of uniform and stepped back, hands back in his pockets, pouting for the Olympics.

“I’m not talking about the fucking team! I’m talking about you! Why the hell have you given up?! Oharano, please save me, I can’t catch the ball properly. Oh, your plans are so much better than mine. The fuck they are, Matsuo!”

“Look, Ebumi. I know you mean well-“

Ebumi’s hyena cackle was more unstable than normal. Close to the edge. Desperate in a way that Matsuo didn't understand.

“Fine. You’re a loser. I get it.” He threw his arms in the air, cackled again. “Silly me for thinking you actually wanted to win as much as I do.” He said. And then he turned away.

Turned his back on Matsuo.

“I do.” Matsuo said, an involuntary defence against Ebumis scorn.

Ebumi’s waved hand said, ‘yeah, yeah’ better than words ever could.

It was the dismissal that did it. It held no pity and no understanding, nor did it seek to find them.

It was the fact that Ebumi, Ebumi of all people, was disappointed in him.

Matsuo’s fist was swinging before the more rational side of his brain had time to catch up and put a stop to it.

The fist clipped Ebumi on the side of the head, and never having tried to punch anyone in his life, Matsuo felt a small thrill when Ebumi staggered under the admittedly poorly aimed blow.

He'd been working on his arms.

Ebumi clutched the side of his head, “What the fuck Matsuo? You wanna go?!”

Matsuo laughed. His knuckles stung already, but there was a satisfaction behind the pain. A satisfaction he normally associated with hard training and those fleeting moments when he could taste victory in the air, on the tip of his tongue.

When Ebumi said rugby was like a fight, he'd been right. Matsuo felt almost giddy, the lurking guilt suspended on the thrill of spontaneous action.

With a screech that sounded more like a hyena’s battle cry, Ebumi head butted Matsuo, which, since height difference was a thing, meant he landed a solid crack against the bridge of Matsuo’s nose.

Matsuo staggered, blinking back involuntary tears. He didn't have long to come to terms with this new pain, when thumbs began pushing into the corner of his eye sockets.

Matsuo grabbed at Ebumi’s wrists, and tried to force them backwards, away from his face and his easily damaged eyeballs.

“Ebumi! What the hell!?” Ise shouted.

What little space there had been between them was gone now. Matsuo could feel Ebumi’s breath on his face, heavy and frantic.

The rest of the world had become unfocused, like when a camera in a movie only wants you to watch this character. This one here. All others irrelevant.

Ebumi’s mascara was smudged, and his eyes were red.

Running over Ise locked his arms under Ebumi’s elbows, and tried to drag him away from Matsuo. Ebumi struggled against him, still trying to hook his thumbs into Matsuo’s eye sockets.

The sensible thing, Matsuo thought, would be to let Ise pull him away.

He was so fucking sick of being sensible.

He head butted Ebumi. Not being all that experienced in what needed to be done to deliver a truly devastating head-butt, he went for the biggest, most obvious target, and smacked his forehead against Ebumi’s.

It hurt more than he thought it would.

Ebumi hyena laughed, and spat in his face. Matsuo laughed back, still trying to push Ebumis arms away.

He was bigger than Ebumi. Heavier too. He could feel the strain of Ebumi’s muscles as they pushed up against him.

“Ise!” Hachioji shouted, somewhere in the distance. “I've been- What the?! Matsuo? Sekizan, help me!”

Hachioji arrived several heavy footsteps later, and grabbing Matsuo by the shoulders, put his considerable strength to work, and heaved him away. Ebumi taking pot-swipes for his eyes the entire time, and well, that must mean the maniac laughter was him.

“What the hell, Matsuo!” Hachioji shouted. “If you two get caught fighting you'll be off the team! What the hell were you thinking?”

Matsuo snapped his mouth closed, sealing away the laughter, as all the not thinking that he had just done slammed home with all the gentleness of a well delivered tackle.

The freeing giddiness fled as well, an unreliable teammate.

Experiencing one of those truly depressing existential moments where one really is not sure where to put ones face, Matsuo yanked his arms free and tried his best not to look at anyone.

He hadn't been thinking, and he had no way of explaining that without bringing their concern down on him once more. Concern he was really starting to think he didn't deserve.

His own breathing was too loud in his own ears.

“I wasn't. Obviously.”

“Matsuo-“ Sekizan said.

Matsuo wiped his mouth, and took a steadying breath.

“I’m going home. I’m late to help with the watering.” He said, maintaining eye contact with his shoes, unable to bear the thought, let alone the action, of meeting Taku’s eyes.

He could just tell Taku, but, no- that would just make it harder on Taku, and that wouldn't be fair.

He walked past Ebumi, who was still struggling in Ise’s arm lock. Some of the savagery seemed to have gone out of his movements. Whether that was from fear of hurting his friend, or fear of drawing the Captain's wrath, Matsuo was too tired to guess at.

He didn’t look Ebumi in the eye either.

“Yeah! Well fuck you too, Matsuo-san! Fuck you too!”

“Ebumi!” Ise hissed. “Quit it.”

“Not until he does!” Ebumi shouted, sounding hilariously indignant for someone who had been brawling moments before.

Matsuo went home.

***

“How’d your watering go, fuck face?” Ebumi’s voice said from somewhere above Matsuo’s head, sounding far friendlier than it had four and a bit hours ago.

Matsuo was sitting at the top of a grass mound. Gloriously green, it rolled down into the rest of the park, offering a wonderful view of trees and walking  paths, all of it faded yellow in the glow of the surrounding street lights.

Watering had been a disaster.

His parents had both been paragons of parental concern. Fussing over the fact that he was late, and then, when they got a better look at his face, by the fact that he was late, and had two blackening eyes.

By the time that he had managed to convince them, that, no really, everything was fine, he'd tell them if it wasn't, yes he knew he could talk to them, the watering schedule had been thoroughly disrupted and everyone was just standing about, having their own guilt decorated pity parties.

It was at that point he'd said he might go take a walk, and they'd nodded solemnly at him, as if it was they that were failing him, and not the other way around.

“Fine.” Matsuo said, and kept staring down the hill.

Ebumi shoved at one of Matsuo’s knees with his foot, almost gentle. “Liar.”

“Why would I lie, Ebumi?”

“Cause you’re a liar, Mr. ‘I don’t take the game seriously’.”

“But I don’t.”

Ebumi kicked his knee again, this time with more force.  

“Liar.”

“Would you quit that.” Matsuo shoved the foot away. “What are you doing out here anyway? Running?”

“Do I look dressed for fucking running? No, cause I’m not. I’m fucking out here trying to find out why the fuck you decided to just roll over to that fucking pretty boy.” Ebumi said, huffy as a house cat whose had it's furniture moved about.

“I already told you. He’s better. And I just can’t take this as seriously as the rest of you.” Matsuo said. Lying to Ebumi of all people shouldn't be making him feel this guilty. It wasn't the same guilt as he with Taku either. Taku, like his parents, Matsuo couldn’t bear let down.

Ebumi- Ebumi it was like, it was like lying to-

“Bullshit.” Ebumi shoved his face into Matsuo so fast he nearly head butted him. “Your just scared of a little competition. Got performance anxiety, or some shit. Well listen the fuck up, Matsuo-san, your better than that twerp any day.”

Matsuo laughed. “That’s not the issue, but I thank you for the vote of confidence.”

“Then what the fuck is the problem?” Ebumi said, throwing himself to the ground beside Matsuo.

Matsuo squeezed his own hands together. Why couldn’t Ebumi just leave well alone? Leave him in peace to work through his disappointment and guilt.

“As I said, I don’t take it-“

“And I said I didn’t fucking believe you! Now tell me your real fucking problem so we can get you back out there and win some games!”

“It’s not that simple, Ebumi.” Matsuo said, his smile made his cheeks ache, and he could fell his bones under his hands he was gripping them that tightly.

Ebumi lent back on his elbows so he could kick at Matsuo’s knee again. “In my experience, it usually is. Now talk.”

“And you are, oh so experienced in these matters, Ebumi.” Matsuo said.  

Ebumi ignored him, and pushed onwards.

“The other third years would let you back into the game in a heartbeat, so stop holding everyone back and say yes.”

Matsuo laughed, “I’m not holding anyone back.”

“Sure are. Why do you think we lost against Ryoin?” Ebumi sounded indignant.

“We’re inexperienced, and need to improve?”

“No. Because you weren’t fucking there!” When Ebumi kicked him this time it was hard. It hurt.

Matuso felt his eyes water, and for the second time that day, it was all too much.

Thinking fuck no, he wasn’t going to cry, and not in front of Ebumi of all people, but mostly not thinking at all, he grabbed Ebumi’s foot, and using it as a sling, sent him skidding down the hill.

Ebumi yowled indignantly as he slid across the grass. Scrabbling for purchase he recovered, and lunched himself back up the hill, grabbing the front of Matuso’s shirt with both fists.

“You know what? Fuck you, Matsuo.” He hissed into his face.

Tipping himself backwards, Ebumi dragged at Matsuo’s shirt, so that Matsuo toppled over top of him, and between Matsuo’s weight and the laws of gravity, he rolled them both down the hill.

Bracing his feet against the grass, Matsuo swung a fist up, and managed to slam it into Ebumi’s stomach as he was trying to stand, sending Ebumi straight back to the ground.

Gasping for breath, Ebumi swung his foot out and connected with Matsuo’s jaw, snapping his head back and causing him to skid further down the hill. A desperate grab at Ebumi’s ankle, and Matsuo dragged him down the hill with him.

This time there was no one to stop them. Matsuo was bigger, had more weight to throw around, so theoretically, he felt, he should have an advantage. But Ebumi had that psychotic drive to win known only to small dogs and used car sales men, and so while Matsuo went with the traditional elbows and punching, Ebumi hissed and spat, and generally made himself hard to hold onto, all-the-while, trying to claw Matsuo’s eyes out.

Ebumi eventually struggled to the top of their little brawl. Straddling Matsuo, he braced his knees against the ground, pushing down with his full body weight, and raised his fist to come down like an insomniac’s dream.

And Matsuo- Matsuo started to laugh. Big belly laughs that he hadn’t felt capable of since the coach walked onto their field and everything changed.

Ebumi’s fist froze. He cocked his head. “What the hell, Matsuo?”

“Sorry, sorry. Carry on. Carry on.” Matsuo gasped between laughs, lungs aching.

Ebumi’s smiled crookedly down at Matsuo, and then with a giggle, he brought his fist down to bump gently against Matsuo’s nose.

Matsuo screamed with laughter on impact.

“Fuck, you’re weird. Way to ruin a good fight.”

Matsuo waved an apology, still gasping for air.

Months of being responsible, doing what was right and proper, and here he was, brawling in a public  park with Ebumi at night, when any sensible person should be putting on their pjamas.  

And as far as he could tell, it would be fine, he could blow off this steam with Ebumi, and no one would get hurt. No one would feel bad for him. There was a magic in that.

Ebumi thumped him once on the chest and rolled off to sit beside him, which only set Matsuo off again. Giggling and laughing alternately, until he was almost hyperventilating.

When he finally managed to regain control of his sense of humour, Matsuo blinked away tears, staring up at the sky and feeling lighter than he had in some time, although that could just be the oxygen deprivation.  

The stars twinkle back at him, some peeking out from behind scattered clouds.

“I can’t go to college.” He said eventually.

It was shocking how much less concerned he felt about telling Ebumi that, then his fellow third years.

“So?” Ebumi said. “What’s so good about college?”

Matsuo laughed again. Ebumi would fight anything.

“I promised Taku and the others I would go with them and play. But I can’t. My- my dad's not well, and he needs me to stay and-"

“What’s that got to do with playing now?” Ebumi asked, dog at a bone.

Matsuo waved his hands at the stars as if that could, and would, explain everything.

“Fuck. That would just make me want to play more than ever. I’m not going to college neither, and these two years, they’re all I got left.”  Ebumi looked down at him, and Matsuo made the mistake of meeting his eyes.

There was a challenge in that look, and as always Matsuo wanted to throw himself into it. Knock it down, shove against it, until it caved. Show Ebumi that he wasn't the only one that wanted to win so badly it hurt, and knowing he couldn't felt like rubbing sand paper on his pride.

Matsuo looked away quickly, back to the stars and their more distant gaze.

Ebumi huffed, “Well I’m gonna play the fuck out of what I’ve got left, whether you’re with me or not, and you, you’ve got even less. Would think you’d wanna play while you had the chance.”

Wouldn’t be sensible, Matsuo reminded himself. Would only be prolonging the inevitable.

“We’ll probably lose if I play.” He said instead.

Ebumi’s ‘bah’ was loud in the quite park, “Just pass me the ball. I’ll get us points.”

He elbowed Matsuo in the ribs, “Plus, the other third years are such saps they probably wouldn’t consider it worth winning if you didn’t play.”

Matsuo couldn't help his fond smile. They were saps, the lot of them.

“You can be rather disrespectful at times, Ebumi.” He said.

Ebumi threw back his head and cackled up at the stars.

As the sound faded into the night, Ebumi stared back over at Matsuo, and he looked less sure this time. A little more nervous.

“I'm sorry about, you know.” He made a gesture that suggested it explained the ‘you know'.

Matsuo raised his eyebrows.

“Not about hitting you! About your dad, you idiot! If you need hitting again, I'll do it.” Ebumi said, nervousness blown away by indignant rage.

Matsuo felt the dopy smile on his face again, and he was certain that rage filled rants should not be this endearing.

“Thanks, Ebumi.” Matsuo said, “And, I'll try not to be such a lame loser.”

“Urgh. Whatever.” Ebumi said, and stood up. He offered Matsuo a hand, wiggling his fingers.

Matsuo sighed, took it, and let Ebumi pull him up.

They stood like that for a moment, hands joined. Matsuo looked down and looked back up at Ebumi, he had that glazed look he had going on sometimes when Matsuo came over to congratulate him on  particularly good try he'd just managed.

Matsuo smirked and tipped his head down at the joined hands.

Ebumi meet his eyes, blushed red as the team colours and yanked his hand back, wiping it on the front of his shirt.

Ebumi said. “Er, so, your parents gonna approve of you going home looking like that?”

Matsuo stopped smirking at Ebumi’s blush and looked down at his dirty hands and grass stained shirt. “They won’t be too hard on me about it, but I'd really prefer not to come home looking like I'd been in a fight twice in one day.” He rubbed his hands on his pants and then inspected them, no luck. “I might be able to sneak in the back door?”

Ebumi dug the tip of his shoe into the grass. “There’s a corner store not far from here. We could get some baby wipes or something? Try and clean you up a little?”

Matsuo couldn’t help himself, he ruffled Ebumi’s hair. “That’s not a bad idea.”

Ebumi knocked the hand away, blush still proudly red.

“Fuck off. Come on, it’s this way.”

“I'm getting mixed signals here, Ebumi.”

Ebumi gave him the one fingered salute and stomped off across the park, grumbling to himself, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.  

Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell his friends. He'd been worried that they would take pity on him, or try to talk him out of his decision, but Ebumi hadn't-

“Matsuo, are you coming or what?”

“Coming. Coming.”

He jogged to catch up with Ebumi.

[wafflesrock16]

Chapter 18 Teaser!

No sooner had Gwen and Tassius entered the kitchen and entertaining area, then they were charged by three small, extremely hairy creatures all making an unpleasant yapping, barking noise.

“My baby!” Gwen immediately knelt and picked up the brown furred creature with large black eyes and tiny pricked ears.

The animal laved his amicae’s face, neck, arms and anywhere else it could reach with its small pink tongue. The entire display was slightly unsettling, as Tassius stood back and watched Gwen coo at the slobbering creature in her arms while it attempted to mark her like a horny fledgling would a bedpartner.

“Look Tass, this is my dog, Fizzgig.” Gwen said with a huge smile as she thrust the small beast into his face.

He was not prepared for how vile the “dog’s” breath would be. He nearly gaged when the thing somehow managed to lick the underside of his mandible. Flailing his arms against the assault, he nearly backed into Remy, who was holding the white creature, also aimed at his face.

“And this is Parmesan! Isn’t he the whitest, fluffiest cloud ever?”  This dog managed to be even more revolting than the brown one and burped in Tassius’s face before he could flee.

Tassius let out a subvocal whine of discomfort. Mercifully, Gwen picked up on his displeasure and stopped her mother before the black dog could also be shoved in his face.

“Sorry Tassius, I forgot you don’t have any experience with dogs,” Gwen said apologetically as she continued to pet Fizzgig.

Tassius eyed the three animals suspiciously. They had ceased barking at him and were now all staring with tongues lolled out and fluffy tails wagging. The memory of having the inside of his mandible licked by Fizzgig was something he wasn’t sure he could ever repress.  

Gwen set the dog down and walked over to place a comforting hand on his arm. She likely felt the mild static from his biotics, as he had very nearly used them to push the dogs away.

“Hey, sorry about that Tass. Dogs are considered a part of the family in human households. We raise them as puppies and they are incredibly bonded to us. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Tassius relaxed a bit under his loves’ touch. “I’ve never seen a dog before,” he admitted as the brown dog sniffed at his boot. “Their breath is… unpleasant.”

[hitchcock-winter]

So I showed Wedsworth-Townsend to a friend oh, maybe, 8 years ago now. I had been so excited because she was also an old TV fan and I *knew* she’d like my show. But I forgot that the pilot is a lot different than the series - it’s slower, it’s more serious, it’s long. She found it boring and never watched another episode. It still hurts to this day! So I recommend not starting with that one? But definitely following up with it maybe? For me, I’d want something that shows the heart of the show - the bond between the paramedics, their dynamics with other characters, some fun rescues and without it being too zany. Because let’s face it - Johnny Gage is brilliant, and he is also sometimes embarrassing, haha. Also an episode without any of the problematic 70′s stuff (luckily there aren’t many imo). 

I’ve started marking some episodes as decent ones to share in my most recent watch-through. I’m only up to early season 3 but so far I’ve marked 1.04 Brushfire, 1.08 Weird Wednesday, 2.02 Kids, 2.16 Syndrome, 2.17 Honest and 3.03 Alley cat. 

That’s not to say these are my favourites, or even that these are the best. They’re not even the most memorable. But they’re solid and full of heart? I think I’d honestly choose one from the earlier seasons and also something in the later seasons that show more of the engine crew (and especially Cap, because I’m right on board with that).

Specifically to my own question, I think if I had only one out of the list I’ve made so far I’d choose Alley Cat?

Peace Pipe is fantastic. I’m not sure why I hesitated on that one.  I guess because it’s an exception to the show? Not a good indication of what the show as a whole is like? Though it’s really fucking progressive. I yap about that episode to anyone who will listen. Maybe I wouldn’t show it as a first, but would show it as a third or forth. Heh.

If you could show only one episode to a non-E! fan to introduce them to the greatness that is Emergency!, what would it be? (Okay, it can be more than one.)

Hilariously enough, I’ll be in that exact situation on Sunday. Most likely more than one episode, thankfully, but only one chance to have the show make a great first impression. 

So, what are my thoughts on that?

[insert loud frantic screeching here]

... yeah.

If I’m allowed Way more than one episode, I might start at the beginning with The Wedsworth-Townsend-Act (or, alternatively, throw it in after two or three regular episodes) - sure, the pacing is slow in that one, but it’s filmed oh-so-prettily, and it’s very deliberate about introducing the various characters.

Aside from that? Something from Season 1, probably Crash or Cook’s Tour, or maybe S2E1 Decision/Problem. Peace Pipe definitely has to be in there somewhere, because Johnny’s magnificent in that episode, ending aside. Maybe Snakebite? Other contenders would be Tee Vee, Firehouse Quintet or The Exam. Hypochondri-Cap should probably also be in there somewhere. Lotsa Stanley, basically, and as character-based as possible.

(also I’m not only always interested in everybody else’s answers to question like that, I could also really use some suggestions, haha)

(translation: pls help I’m very bad at decisions)

[erinseverly-blog]

Erin knows, even before she sees the little pink sign that tells her her life is about to change forever. 

It’s odd because she hasn’t really had the usual symptoms. She hasn’t been running out of bed in the morning to get to the toilet – yet. She hasn’t been sleeping all day or started to have a repulsion to her usual favorite foods. She hasn’t become even more moody than usual, though that one is hard to gage for herself. Axl might beg to differ. The only notable difference is that she’s had to slap her boyfriend’s pesky hands away from her sore chest a few times, and of course the slight bloating that hasn’t seemed to go away. Both are things she’d been attributing to her period coming on, but when that time came and went without anything happening she’d been almost sure.

It took her about a week to build up the courage to even buy the pregnancy test. And then a few days to actually pee on the thing. She’d been afraid Axl would find it first so she’d taken it back to her place and snuck out in the middle of the night to pee on it when she finally couldn’t handle the suspense any longer. The positive sign wasn’t really a surprise, but the overwhelming sadness and guilt she felt was. Even a little bit of anger at the other for not being more careful, and then at herself for not making him be. To her it felt like the end of her relationship. They hadn’t even been back together for two months, they’d only gotten back from the city a few weeks ago. They were arguing less and talking about their future more and Erin felt like it was slipping away right before her eyes. Like she’d said before, she didn’t think the their relationship could survive another tragedy. And even if nothing bad happened, babies could drive people apart. Especially when they weren’t exactly standing on solid ground. They were still in the honeymoon phase. She knows from experience that the first couple months back together for them hardly mean anything. 

She tells Axl that she’s been feeling sick and that she’d really rather she just stayed at home and slept whatever bug she had off. Told him to stay back and take care of the dogs and not to worry about her. She answers all of his calls to keep him from banging down her door and assures him she’s fine, tells him she’s more tired than anything else when really she’ll hardly sleep. It takes those few days for her to convince herself that what’s happening isn’t a bad thing. It’s not how she expected things to go but when do things ever go as planned? It’s not like Axl isn’t better now. It’s not like him running out on her was ever on her mind. And it’s not like the two of them haven’t always wanted this. In fact she knows the redhead’s heart is still hurting from losing what was like a son to him a few months prior, so she thinks maybe this did happen for a reason. 

By the time his birthday rolls around Erin has taken around 10 pregnancy tests just to be sure. She’s thought about going to the doctor but she’s pretty sure Axl will get huffy if he’s not there the first time. She has the good sense to clean all of them though before packing them into a small box and putting them in her car with the rest of his presents, leaving her apartment at around 7 to get birthday breakfast ready for her boyfriend. Luckily she can still do that for him. She uses the gate code and her copy of his key to easily enter the house, carrying all of his presents which mostly contain clothes, jewelry and little cheesy knick knacks that remind her of him into the kitchen and setting them on the table along with with at least 20 balloons. She can hear the dogs yapping from the bedroom and laughs to herself as she turns on the stove, hoping they don’t wake him up but unsure who can sleep through that. Getting out all the ingredients she’ll need to make his breakfast as well as cake she should have made yesterday, she forces herself not to stress out over what he’s going to find out and instead focus on the fact that it’s his birthday. It should be all about him for as long as it can be at least. Soon it won’t be about either of them ever again. 

@serrpentine