#porter gags

[slocumjoe]

Brief explanation on my interpretation of these guys

Cait; an animal, when cornered, begins to roar. It puffs itself up, feathers and fur raised, teeth bared. An animal with its claws out is an animal afraid. Cait does not want to hurt—but she doesn't want to be hurt. A victor is not a victim—a predator, not prey. She had it beaten into her, and beat it into herself so she'd never forget. The claws are always out, teeth always bared, eyes always flicking across the room. But once she starts recovery, she's free to be herself. Cait slows down. She sleeps in when she feels like it. She eats when she has an appetite. She takes the time to bathe, to brush her hair and teeth. Once the loudest, brightest burning fire in the room, she mellows into a match—the potential of explosion is there, but for now, she's only a little light. Her eyes are no less sharp, but Cait only wants to be left with her friends, and enjoy the peace and quiet she can steal away for them. Her ambitions are small and unimpressive, and she appears more like a cat lazing in a sunbeam than any pit dog.

Curie; well meaning, and sweet, but too smart for her own good and she knows and acts like it. She wants the best for you, but she thinks she knows what that is. Sometimes she does, but Curie often forgets that people are more complicated than the biology that comprises them. Curie is bubbly, and social, but struggles with the idea that her perception of things is just that—her perception. It could be a result of her coding, her nature as a preprogrammed robot with set realities, or it could be a sign of her humanity. It's the critical flaw every human has, after all. Her sense of justice is too strong for her body. Her grief is too strong for her body. She examines each sensation—anger is in her cheeks and chest. Joy is a lightness in her head. Sorrow is a bitter lump in her throat, and cold hands. She wants to help everyone and everything. She knows she can't. She will try, anyway, and no one needs to know if it hurts. There is no other fate for someone so kind.

Danse; He once called the thing in his chest Wrath. Righteous connotations, implied justification and the promise of vengeance. Whatever brought this Wrath will meet it. The Wrath was provoked, summoned, and therefore, the summoner is the hand of their own undoing. Danse doesn't think about how this frees him of accountability. What he does is not his fault. The blood is not on his hands. He's a tool of Wrath—not one man of thousands, free to choose for himself. Danse doesn't respect himself enough to believe in his own judgement. He finds himself a stumbling fool, soft in the heart, fragile outside of his armor. Gentleness comes naturally to him. Such a huge man, and his heart is still too big for his body. He is equal parts intelligent and kind, but a soldier has no need for his own mind, and kindness has no place in war. Danse doesn't trust himself. He doesn't trust that his choices, his ideas for the world, are right. He leaves himself in the hands of the Brotherhood. The responsibility is no longer his.

Deacon; You can't change a soul, and Deacon seethes at this. He is the same man he was all those years ago. It's only his body that he can change. Even then, only by so much. His eyes are recognizable. Silvery blue, tired, and paradoxically, as sharp as they are dull. He never looks like he's fully there with you. Always a few steps into some other reality. Deacon wants to be good. He wants to clear his name. It really is Deacon, but no one needs to know. He is the same man. He lies about what he's done, the things he's seen, but he'll never lie about what matters. So, he will always be Deacon, because the important parts never change. He knows and hates this. The synths are what drive him now—people looking to be themselves, to wear their own face. He gets it more than any other human. Sometimes he wishes he was a synth, just so he didn't have to be Deacon. But he's stuck with himself. He keeps himself company through all the faces he wears, and leaves them when he feels to close to a life he could make for himself. A lie left to settle could grow into a truth. He loathes himself but fundamentally, there is a good man in there. Only a good man can want to be better. But he feels that good man isn't good, that being good is what he has to reach for first. He is stuck in a loop of trying, when he doesn't have to try. Deacon is Deacon, and he doesn't know. He isn't unsalvageable. Just buried so deep under attempts he doesn't need to make. The only forgiveness that can save him is his own.

Gage; if Cait is a pit dog, Gage is a bull. This creature is no gentle thing, those horns are not merely regal. But in other life, he could have sat with his field and his herd. He could have watched the clouds roll on by with the wind, and kept watch on the outskirts of his pasture. A gentle thing, lumbering and quiet, but on guard. Always waiting to gore. Even as he circles his farm, he has kept it this long because there is nothing more dangerous than he. But as it stands, he has found what he thinks is a calling in violence. It doesn't come as naturally to him as the stray dogs he runs with. Meat has no place in his flat teeth. But he runs with them nonetheless and keeps pace. He leads the charge whether they admit it or not. Gage is strength and sharpened bone, but they were never meant to initiate. He is meant to stand his ground. He was meant to protect. But no one saw it coming, the bull with the predators, and surprise is a deathblow. It's easier to hunt than be hunted. You eat what you can get even if it fits wrong in your jaws.

Hancock; There is a flavor found in the guilt of the privileged that you can't find anywhere else. He was raised wealthy, well off. When he was younger, he watched others starve, die, suffer, and knew it was an aspect of life. It was nothing to mourn. It was inevitable. Between the exile and his revival of Goodneighbor, Hancock feels his biggest crime is not finding his shame sooner. He will say he has no shame, no embarrassment. Hancock lies awake at night thinking of every meal he's eaten when there was enough to spare for everyone else, but they went hungry. He thinks of people beaten in streets and how quickly he turned around. He thinks of how his own survival is selfish when so many good people die. Hancock is anger given flesh. It's not like Cait's; his is a wailing misery, stalking the ruins and knowing what Graveyard he steps in. Hancock feels too much sympathy for him to handle. He has to numb himself or he will lose it. He'll break under the shame of not knowing better sooner. Hancock finds blood on his hands that isn't there. Most of all, he hates how bad it makes him feel. Hancock thinks he has no right to the shame or the pain. There is worse. His disgust at his inactions is not enough. It's isn't enough that he tries to help now. He didn't help then. Hancock doesn't forgive easily.

MacCready; A quiet boy raising a quiet boy of his own. MacCready seeks peace in a way most people can't. He finds sunbeams filtering through windows, plants creeping through concrete, birdsong on the wind. MacCready is the everyday wastelander; too young to see the things he's seen. But he's different. Robert finds enjoyment in the world around him. He entertains himself, takes pride in his skills, and takes pleasure in good company in such a simple way, he feels almost out of time. In other world, he could have been the one crawling out from a Vault. MacCready is haunted like anyone. His ghost doesn't terrify him. Her memory is a comfort. It hurts and always will, but MacCready wanders on. He finds toys for their child and takes interest in them as if he's still a little boy himself. He feels as much, most days. MacCready is often distrusted, but often very beloved, because he is himself. There is no character, no mask, nothing warping the man you speak to. He is a kid trying to take care of his kid, but he'll take a moment to crack jokes at you and talk about something he read in a magazine. For someone so materially greedy, on a personal level, all he wants from anyone is pleasant conversation. It's refreshingly human in a time where even humans seem more like monsters.

Nick; A painful period of one man's life, etched into hardware and frozen forever. The man dies but his pain lives, trapped in the agony of grief and betrayal. If Hancock is anger in flesh, Nick is disgust in a jar. Disgust at the injustice, at the trickery of a mastermind, the wasted life of a fine woman. Disgust at himself, fading away into a bitter old man who failed his city and his love. Valentine was a very good man who took a very dark turn after Jenny. Nick is the moment before he fell off that precipice. If Nick knew who Valentine hardened into, he'd have yet another crisis, another thing to brood over. Nick is so loved by Diamond city because he is an inhuman thing, but so capable of love and tenderness. He is all give, and incapable of take. You can't give him anything in return, and you don't need to. He's a robot very good at comforting. A robot doesn't need comfort. Nick convinces himself of this, as well. But people try. Humans get attached to the inhuman. A child hugs his leg and says they're glad he made it back. A guard throws an arm over his shoulder when he can't save someone and tells him he still did good. People hand him patches of fabric for Ellie to sew into his trench coat. Nick is loved. To be loved is to be known. Nick doesn't even know himself.

Piper; The plight of the angry woman rarely leads to a happy ending. The angry woman has her reasons. She is right. However, there are techniques to achieve results. A battering ram doesn't fix a door, it merely opens the path. Piper sees problems, but her solutions forget the complicated world around her. She wants to fix things. Some things can't be fixed, or the problem isn't actually what she thinks it is, or maybe it's just not the right time. Piper sees a problem, and the simplicity of knowing it has to change is enough for her. She barrels at the betterment of the world and doesn't think about it. She is angry that things are wrong. Piper is a young woman scared out of her mind, for herself, her sister, her community. The people around her beg her to be careful, to slow down, to not burn herself in the attempt to set the evils around her on fire. Piper doesn't realize how reckless she is. She doesn't realize that her life has value beyond fixing everything. A reporters job is to report. It is not to be a savior. Piper speaks the truth, but when nothing changes, she thinks her job isn't done. Her job is to spread the word. Piper thinks it is up to her to act on it. Her work will never be enough for her.

Preston; A good man hanging on by a thread. So close to being a monster to the people preying on him and his kin. Preston holds civilians in one arm, and a gun in the next. He has lost much of his mercy, and much of his patience. But he still acts on it. He knows right from wrong even if the wrong seems like it's the only thing that can soothe the fire in his gut. Preston lets people talk about him as if he is a gentle soul, still. As if he's merely a gentle lamb. Preston feels more like a guard dog who can still smell the bloodied wool of all the herds he's failed before. He won't even grace the next pack of wolves with a warning howl. This rage terrifies him, but Preston feels that being scared is how you stay alive, now. If you're not scared, you're not paying attention, you haven't noticed the torches on the hill. He is so angry it makes him sick. Gunshots from Quincy still ring in his ears. He still hears Hollis hit the ground dead. Preston wants to be a good person. He is one. But there is so much fury inside him, that he fears any chance of revenge that he gets will rip that away from him. He just needs one chance, and he'll be a monster like the Commonwealth has never seen before. He'll just be on its side.

X6-88; A robot with human traits, different from other synths. All of them have humanity they hide away, but X6 is exactly what he seems like. There is no internal softness, no tenderness or wanting. He doesn't stare at the sun and ponder his existence. He doesn't count the stars and think about what makes up a soul. Oddly, his disinterest in his humanity is rather human in itself. X6 is not concerned with his rights or his status as a living thing. This frustrates many in the Institute. Synths were made to be adaptable. In many ways, X6 isn't. He's the most inflexible motherfucker they've ever met. There is one way to do things. There is always an answer for a question and if you haven't found it, the question is pointless or you're stupid. Humanity doesn't seem efficient so he doesn't want it. He fascinates many. Most synths will give a long, careful answer about their existence, worded just so they don't get wiped. X6, when asked if he is human, will say no and look vaguely irritated that you could compare him to one. This is not intended. No one programmed in this lack of curiosity. He is so robotic, so one note, that he sticks out like a sore thumb from the other synths. X6 wears his inorganicness like a badge of honor. He is not human. He is better. The Institute argues about him constantly, whether he is an accidental success they didn't know they should strive for, or a black mark against everything they believe.

[saw-x]

HSMTMTS APPRECIATION WEEK ↳ day 5 - free choice

[hushhushplzzz]

RICHARD.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING

[gre3dy]

wasn’t    brielle’s    first    time    sitting    through    someone    else’s    words    of    affection    toward    her    ,    no    ,    though    easily    the    first    time    woman’s    actually    felt    something    .    could    feel    the    impact    of    each    and    every    word    that    left    from    male’s    mouth    ,    causing    a    wave    of    goosebumps    to    produce    and    spread    across    entirety    of    her    body    before    disappearing    .    no    secret    that    aaron    remains    to    be    the    sole    object    of    blonde’s    desires    ,    evident    by    the    way    it’s    second    nature    to    cozy    up    so    intensely    once    bodies    are    locked    in    .    ❝    that’s    sweet    ,    ❞    nods    ,    partial    smile    while    meeting    gaze    to    match    genuine    nature    while    words    continue    ,    ❝    and    i’ve    already    thought    it    .    .    overgrown    beard    ,    beer    belly    ,    you’d    be    totally    at    rock    bottom    without    me    .    and    it’d    be    the    same    over    here    ,    obviously    .    ❞    springs    into    a    momentary    fit    of    laugh    while    scenario    plays    out    so    perfectly    ,    embrace    causing    sense    of    comfortability    to    sweep    over    her    frame    like    usual    .    he    was    home    .    ❝    i’m    so    thankful    to    have    you    in    my    life    ,    i    know    ──    i    know    i    don’t    say    it    enough    .    ❞ 

homme   feels   his   heart   warm   as   brielle's   arms   loop   around   his   neck   and   he   pulls   her   even   closer   .   slight   smile   tugs   at   his   lips   as   he   listens   to   her   words   ,   her   worries   sinking   into   him   .   he   knew   she’d   look   out   for   him   ,   just   like   he   would   for   her   .   lets   his   forehead   rest   gently   against   hers   ,   timbre   dropping   to   a   soft   murmur   .   '   you   don’t   have   to   apologise   ,   bri   .   '   aaron   reminds   her   ,   running   a   hand   gently   down   her   back   .   '   and   i   get   it   —   i’m   not   gonna   let   people   get   to   me   like   that   ,   i   promise   .   '   male   pauses   ,   letting   the   silence   stretch   between   them   ,   feeling   the   rhythm   of   her   heartbeat   so   close   .   '   when   you’re   around   ,   it’s   like   .   .   .   i   don’t   feel   that   pull   to   please   anyone   else   .   just   you   . '   tightening   his   grip   slightly   ,   his   lips   brush   her   forehead.   '   you   keep   me   grounded   ,   you   know   that   ?   i   don’t   know   what   i'd   do   without   you   .   '

[sarka-stically]

in a way i kinda get a vibe that this is the season of brennan (once more) hiding important plot points behind gags. like sth clearly plotty happens but players dont pay attention because he puts it forward as a gag. like

several npcs getting unreasonably angry and lashing out in this and last episode (but he puts it as sth goofy so they laugh)

porter and zara discouraging fig from being cassandra worshipper truly was to me kinda weird and random and feels like they want her to have one less worshipper so she can die (and I genuinely hope im wrong)

literally everything buddy said this ep and also him mentioning bucky

[no-see-um-incorrect]

When Porter and Vincent(+lovely) witness Sam being all cute/sexy-like with Darlin they will act like a couple grossed out kids watching their parents kiss

Sam: let me get a kiss from my darlin~ *Kissing Commences*

Porter: UGH-*Gagging noises*

Vincent: eweweweweEWEWEWEW!!

Lovely: MY EYES!!!!!!!

[thespidersabdomen]

Fucked the First Night (Feitan x Reader)

An excerpt smut piece taken from my full work (full story on Ao3,)

Prompt: Sis and Fei are getting into it after only meeting a matter of minutes ago Pairing: Feitan Porter x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.5k TW: fem!reader, Unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m giving and receiving), penetrative sex, spit kink (if you squint) smut below the cut

Your breath shaky, you turn your head towards his, pull his cloak’s collar down, lean forward, gently close your eyes, and let your lips meet his in a heated kiss. His hand on the back of your head pulls you closer, and he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip. You keep your finger hooked on his collar as you open your mouth, granting his tongue access to yours, a light moan falling from your mouth as his tongue explores your own. He tugs your head back, scanning your face for any apprehension or reluctance, and when he finds none he smirks and commands, 

“Open your mouth.” You obey, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue. His saliva soon falls onto your tongue, and you close your mouth swallowing it.

“Good girl.” he places his free hand on your chin, placing his thumb on your glossy and slightly bitten lips, smearing the combination of his and your saliva. You open your mouth and he presses the pad of his thumb on your tongue, and you close your lips around it, sucking.

“Your mouth will do well” You smile around his thumb and bring your hand up to bunch up the hem of his cloak, lifting the surprisingly light material. He takes his thumb out of your mouth, you both watch as a stringy strand of saliva falls from between his thumb and your tongue to the floor, earning a smile from you and a chuckle from him. You lift the hem of his cloak higher and hook your finger on the waistband of his pants, 

“Hold on…” You look up at him again, ready to stop on a dime. “What’s your name again?” Your jaw drops. 

“You were about to let me blow you and you don't even know my name?” You blink, dumbfounded. He just nods and shrugs

“That’s how it usually is, but you’ll be sticking around so…” You sigh, 

“It’s Y/n…” He nods and re-tightens his grip on your scalp, bringing your face closer to his obvious bulge, urging you to continue. You roll your eyes and lower your hooked finger, pulling down his pants and boxers simultaneously. You asphyxiate a giggle, that only existed out of pure nervousness, and take his cock into your hand, 

‘He's pretty big for someone so small’ Your thumb barely is able to touch your middle finger, and he’s a little over 6 inches and uncircumcised. You give him a few strokes, revealing his angry tip, and a drop of precum threatening to fall. You start by giving it a kiss, followed by swirling of your tongue before taking the tip into your mouth, just to quickly pull back and look up at him. You can’t see much of his face, but his ears are a bright pink, and his chest is rising and falling rather heavily. You give him a few strokes and take his cock back into your mouth, shaking your head to try and fit as much of him as you can, but you gag and come back up when you feel his hot tip poke the back of your throat. You gather the saliva that accumulated and spit on his length, using it to make it easier to slide his cock back into your mouth, but as soon as you reopen your mouth, he pushes your head back onto his cock. The surprise makes you gag again, and your vision gets blurry from the new forming tears. You try to pull back to breathe but he doesn't allow it, instead chuckles at your short-lived struggle. He keeps his tight grip on your head as he begins thrusting his hips into your jaw

“You move too slow…” He gradually picks up the pace of his hips but even that escalates quickly. The room is soon filled with lewd wet sounds, along with moans of discomfort from you. Though the vibrations of your voice on his cock only spur him on further and his head falls back as his hip’s rhythm stutters. You feel your own saliva drooling down your chin, and fall onto Machi’s already stained shirt. Your tongue registers the familiar taste of his precum, signaling he’s getting close. You can’t deny that this whole situation isn’t only affecting you uncomfortably, You reach down and dip your fingers into your panties, collecting the slick dribbling out of your sex and rub small fast circles on your clit. Feitan takes notice of the increase in moans on his cock, how they’re longer and less spaced out and looks down to find you playing with yourself. God he could cum just from the sight of you, you had your eyes closed, yet tear streaks down your cheeks and wet lashes, one hand holding up his cloak, and one in your sweatpants, moving at the same speed as his thrusts, not to mention your hips wiggling, from your desperate search for release. You look up at Feitan, making eye contact, and smiling purposefully letting your teeth graze his shaft, for a teasing threat that tips him over the edge. His grunts pause and he lets out an audible whimper, then forces your head flat against his pelvis. Your nose is met with a small tuft of deep black hair and your throat is filled with his seed. Your mouth is unable to hold all of his load, making some fall down your chin, eventually hitting your chest and the floor. Feitan gives a few languid thrust, riding out his orgasm for as long as possible, before finally letting go of the back of your head. You swallow around him, causing him to suck a sharp breath through his teeth due to the sensitivity. You only make him flinch once more by pulling back your head, letting him slip out of your mouth, and placing a small kiss on his softening cock. You pull his pants and underwear back up and pull your hand out of your pants, a bit let down he got to cum and you didn’t, but you decided you’ll deal with the ache between your legs later. You try to get up and fall right back down, due to your knees being mad at you, hurting from such long usage. Feitan sees it and chuckles, but doesn't do anything to help you up. 

“You haven’t cum yet.” He says. You nod, not exactly knowing how to respond to that. He kneels down to your level, intensifying the eye contact you shared, and pushes your stomach so you fall back onto the cold concrete floor of the room, gnarly hitting your head on a large piece of rubble behind you. 

“H-Hey!” You say, your voice is more horse than you had expected. He props you up on said rubble and pulls down the waistband of your sweats. 

“W-Wait, you don't have to-” you try to argue, 

“-I know.” He says plainly, and folds down the collar of his cloak. He uses his finger and teases a line along your panties, smiling at how they cling to your wetness. 

“I want to… and so do you.” He pulls your panties down to your ankles and ducks his head so he’s in the small circle your legs create. He spreads your plush thighs so as to make a clear path and a clear view of your heat. He stays kneeling on one knee, and lifts you up, carefully making sure your back is supported by the broken concrete behind you, and licks a flat-tongued stripe from bottom to top, earning a moan from you.

“Quiet. There’s no door remember.” He says, and you remembered where you were, Owl is still in the middle of the room and practically anyone could walk in and have a perfect view of Feitan eating you out. You’re snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of Feitan suctioning his lips to your clit, eliciting another moan from you. Feitan sighs at your unintentional disobedience, and pulls your pants all the way off, along with your panties, which he takes and balls up. He lowers you a bit and reaches up to stuff them in your mouth. Knowing they’ll keep you quiet. You bite down on them, your tongue pressing against them, tasting yourself

“You're rather delectable, don't you agree?” Feitan teases, with a playful smirk, before bringing his hand back down to support you from your upper thigh, and diving back into your cunt, working his tongue between your folds, and moving it in a way that seems intentionally recognisable. It wasn’t until he reached the ‘T’ that you realized he was spelling his name. A stifled moan left your lips, and your thighs unintentionally closed around his head. He finished his name and resumed the attention he was giving your clit. He could tell you were close by your pulsing cunt and the bucking of your hips against face. You placed your hands on either side of his head, gently tugging on his hair, and using it to stabilize yourself. His grip on your thighs tightened to the point you’ll have bruises on them later for sure, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. your back arched and head fell back, thighs shaking as you came undone all over Fetian’s tongue. He looked up to your face, god, the faces you make, first the one when you were on your knees, and the one now, he can’t help but want to see them again. His vision is soon obstructed by your thighs closing around his head as he allows you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. You were a panting mess and visibly disheveled but to him you looked ethereal. Without thinking, he pulled you into him, he supported your back as he laid you down on the cracked concrete beneath you. He needed you now. He made quick work of discarding both his and your clothing. 

“F-Fei… What are you-” There was no warning when he slipped his cock into your heat. You were so warm, so inviting, he couldn’t help it, he by no means eased it in, but did give you a moment to adjust to him being inside you. He knew he could move when your walls finally relaxed enough for him to be able to move. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held your legs down by the back of your knee, pushing you into a mating press to get as deep into you as physically possible. He then began thrusting into you at his consistently fast pace, and readjusted the nearly soaked panties in your mouth, keeping them from falling out, and keeping you from making too much noise. He looked down to you, who had your eyes closed, hershey biting down on your makeshift gag, and had sweat beading on your forehead. He loves watching you take it. 

“Look at me.” You open one eye, meeting his, though both of your eyes opened when you saw his face. His eyebrows were knitted, he was panting heavily, and his bangs were sticking to his forehead from the sweat, 

“I want to see your face when I fuck you” The amount of control his words have over you was unbelievable. Your hands move from his neck, to sit parallel from each other, you dig your nails into his skin, and run your fingers down his back, making him grunt from the pain. He repositions his hold on your thighs and moves his hands lower, holding up your calf and leaning back to place a soft yet sloppy kiss to your ankle. You pull him down by the neck and he swiftly snatches your panties from in your mouth before you tug him further down, letting his lips crash onto yours, one hand remaining on the back of his neck and the other tightly gripping his hair. Your tongues intertwined for a minute or so, before you pulled his hair back so you could breathe, the stringy saliva returning to keep you two connected, and slip down your tongue after dripping off of his. His senses were getting overwhelmed, his pace stuttered and was gradually becoming noticeably sloppier. You were also on the verge of your climax, your walls spasming, your moans (although muffled) getting louder, your hands desperately clawing at his skin, looking for something to grab. He reached one of his hands down, pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit and began drawing fast circles with moderate pressure, keeping his the rhythm for merely a minute or so before your back arched up off of the now moist, warm concrete below you and your toes curled as your eyes squeezed shut, and a your moans being replaced by a silently failed gasp. Feitan loved the face you made when you came, both times now, he made sure to burn the image into his memory, both times the sight never failed to push him over the edge, even when your face contorted back to one of discomfort as you began to feel overstimulated…

“Inside?” He asked, but wasn’t met with a response, you were too out of it to register what he said. He had successfully reduced you to a mindless moaning mess, and he loved it. He’s fought many times, gone through torturous training, and after many years, he’s become very strong, one of the strongest in fact, though deciding to pull out was the hardest battle he’s fought yet. He let out a pained moan as his cock twitched inside you, and he quickly slipped out of you, his seed spilling all over your exposed stomach, your loosened grip made it easy for him to readjust himself. He sat back on his knees, tilting his head back, looking to the ceiling and panting, but once he caught his breath, he looked back down to you, who were still laying on your back, chest rising and falling drastically and visibly exhausted. You barely managed to roll over onto your side, before looking down in front of you, seeing Feitan, surprised when he was staring back at you. His face was still flushed to a deep pink, his skin was glistening, hair unruly, and gaze softer than how he usually looks at someone, but something else catches your eye. You don’t know how you didn't notice it before, but now, you squint to try and see better, you can kind of make out a spider on his tongue through his slightly ajar mouth. Who’d have figured. You try to reach for him but you find your limbs to be too heavy to lift, the only movement you could make was a clenching of your hand, and a twitch in your leg. A cold chill covers your body and makes your skin tingle, giving you goosebumps, but your fatigue prevents you from doing much. You close your eyes, deciding you’ll get up and clean yourself off when you regain your strength. Feitan, stands up, pulling his pants back up and walking over to the other side of the room, picking up his cloak and taking a moment to put it on. He also picks up your tank top that you were originally wearing under Machi’s shirt and walks back over to you, wiping the leftovers of your previous activities off of your stomach. He then grabs your sweat pants, redressing you like a doll, before muttering a small, “I’ll be back” and walks out of the room.

[utilitycaster]

maybe a slightly unpopular opinion but I love how this season of D20 is about the boring day to day of high school along with all the usual mystery and hijinks. I like how after the wacky chaos and Spring Break Vibes we have to see the characters actually balance all their high school responsibilities, and I love the downtime mechanics. I like how all the running gags from season 1 - D20's first season - are getting fleshed out and explored and made serious, like Fig attending barbarian classes and Porter not liking Gorgug. I like how on some level the party is just exhausted from spending all summer saving the world instead of doing dumb teenage things. I like how the structure of D20 means that we actually do play out the long-term consequences of some of the party's victories that would have been in the endgame of most campaigns (eg: Adaine killing her terrible father). I like how Kristen's story especially echoes this, with her being told that she has to get good at the less flashy stuff, not just the huge miracles. also I definitely think Jace, who was killed by Aguefort very early in the first season, killed Yolanda.

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Tis a niche of its own

Sorry there is only two female characters, I kinda pulled these off the top of my head and probably missed a ton of other candidates. Reblog with an addition if you have one!

Edit: I forgot to make this poll a week long! Once this poll ends I'll remake it with new additions depending on the results (the characters with the fewest results will be replaced with suggested characters from the notes so be sure to suggest some!) in the meantime tho plz reblog to increase sample size

This follows my own definition of what "Comic Relief" means: A character that is used as a conduit for comedy in a piece of media

Through character studies I have determined that there are 5 types of comic relief: the Character Relief, the Audience Relief, the Tone Shifter, the Butt of the Joke, and the Slapstick. Characters that identify as "Comic Relief" usually fall into one or more of these categories

Further explanation under the cut

The Character Relief refers to a character who actively makes jokes to be funny in-universe through conscious humor. Examples from this poll would be Sans and Rayla, who go out of their way to make their friends laugh

The Audience Relief refers to a character who makes the audience laugh regardless of their impact on the story. Examples from this poll would be Lapis and Gus, who are often involved in comedic bits meant for audience entertainment that aren't acknowledged by the narrative as anything unprecedented

The Tone Shifter refers to a character who makes jokes to relieve tension and shift the tone of a scene, either consciously or unconsciously. Examples from this poll would be Jay and Leo, as they both consciously make jokes about grim situations to help their friends or family feel better. Additionally, Jay would do this unconsciously before his trauma made him start doing it on purpose

The Butt of the Joke refers to a character who is made fun of by other characters in-universe, whether endearingly or not. Examples from this poll would be Dewey and Lance, who are often met with insults whenever they do something wrong or silly. The insults are usually meant to be endearing and comedic, but they can still feed into the character's possible inferiority complex. This also applies whenever a villain hits them with a sick burn*

The Slapstick refers to a character who is made fun of by the narrative and the audience like a punching bag. Examples from this poll would be Sokka and Yusuke, who are sometimes put in troubling and awkward situations as a gag for the audience's entertainment alone. These gags are not fun for the characters yet delightful to watch

Most comic relief characters can be characterized as multiples of these. For example, Jar-Jar from Star Wars is both Slapstick and Audience Relief, and even if you don't find his jokes funny that doesn't change the fact that they were written with your entertainment in mind

If you're curious how a "The Narrative's Favorite (derogatory)" character would fit into this chart, they're likely both a Butt of the Joke and a Slapstick character, making their life absolute hell. To be honest, MK from Monkie Kid is an example of a character who fits all 5 categories, but he isn't blue so he isn't in this poll

*Ok if you've ever seen Phineas and Ferb Mission Marvel let me just say MODOK is a total Butt of the Joke and my favorite line in that special is when a TV announcer calls him a "Giant Chicken Egg with a Face" and I just had to mention that omg

[peraltuki]

Alexis: Do us a favor and choke on something

Porter: As if I have a gag reflex.

Me watching that:

[slocumjoe]

here’s some sketches of flo…. from memory it looks so bad im sorry 😭 i wanted to experiment with pinkish reddish colors and she came to mind. enjoy the mini gage

OHHHHH MY GODDDDDD 😭😭🥺😭😭🥺💕🥺💕😭💕🥺💕🥺💕🥺💕😭💕💕💕💕🥺❤💕

THIS IS SO GOOD..."CRIMINALS WHO SAY HIII" NO BUT FR...IM ROTATING THIS IN MY BRAIN LIKE A GAS STATION HOT DOG...AND FROM MEMORY?? BRUH YOU GOT EVERYTHING ABT HER FACE RIGHT...WE SHALL HAVE AN AUTUMN WEDDING 💍

[blackcrystalball]

Everytime I think about Gorgug's class schedule, I want to gag.

As a person who stopped doing homework as a protest to the institution of homework as a concept(I have ADHD and literally forgot about it so much I decided to just stop trying.) His schedule is actually appalling. I am horrified.

I still cannot believe that his future is held in the hands of some washed has-been that doesn't like the way he utilises his rage. Porter is such a shitty teacher omg.

[bubblergoespop]

My Top Porter Quotes

a lengthy list bc this man cannot stop spouting literal gold (and i love him)

“Your friends suck.”

“Don’t worry treasure. I only bite when people ask nicely.”

“Gods above, you taste good. I can taste you right through the skin.”

“Sam landed you? How did he manage that? Did he finally learn how to dress in the last four years?”

“Wine gets better with age. Food rots.”

“The fact that I only took a swing at you after all that is a sign of respect where I come from.”

“He didn’t side with you, you twat!”

“Princeling.”

“Well if you want an animal… then that’s what you’ll get.”

“You heard me. Run.”

“Unfortunately for you, I find humour just as appealing.”

“I don’t suppose I could show you just how pleased I am all over this house?”

“Rest easy tonight, Switzerland, you’ve maintained the fragile peace.”

“My new lover. Met them two days ago. They’re unempowered.”

“Hm. I’m infuriating. There’s a difference.”

“Oh darling, as if I have a gag reflex.”

“Well I’d realised I’d left the stove on four years ago when I left, I needed to come check on it.”

“My apologies your majesty, but my internal chronometer is still in the shop.”

“To make an alibi for us both. Obviously.”

“I drove. Obviously.”

“Everything’s coming up Porter. I’m practically ecstatic as a result, can’t you tell?”

“I don’t need to talk. I don’t need to sleep. I don’t need anything but you.”

“My treasure. Sleep. And in your peace, I might find my own.”

[mlmxreader]

FALLOUT BUT IT'S GAYS ONLY [mlm post!]

as per the usual: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WOMEN/FEM: DO NOT INTERACT

Fallout characters + sex (randomised)

includes: Porter Gage, Preston Garvey, R.J. MacCready, John Hancock, Nick Valentine, Paladin Danse, Old Longfellow, Maximus & Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Porter Gage

Gage looked at you from across the room, a little bit distracted as he kept going from the terminal to the bed; his jaw clenched as he thought about it. It wouldn't be the first time he fucked you in the Overboss' quarters, but he knew that he had shit to get done first; still, it was tempting. Fucking his boyfriend knowing that you could get caught at any moment, any second. He swallowed thickly, deciding to say fuck it as he pushed his chair back; carefully, Gage made his way over to the bed, and knelt between your spread legs as he smiled, licking his lips.

"You tryin' to distract me?" He asked lowly, letting his calloused hand rest on your chest.

You shrugged, daring to smile back as you fought back the urge to properly kiss him. "Maybe I am... but could you blame me? Seems like you only ever got your attention on what the Overboss says."

Gage shook his head. "Don't worry, boss, I only got eyes for you."

Preston Garvey

Preston growled out softly as he held onto your thighs, keeping them pinned to the bed as he shook his head slowly; you grinned, asking him to keep going. You couldn't help the lude moan that left you when you felt his mouth around your cock, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you slapped your hand over your mouth. Fuck. When Preston said he would return the favour, you didn't think that he was going to be so fucking eager at it. The back of your head fell harshly against the pillow as you moaned loudly against your palm.

"Fuck!" The word came out drawn and ragged. "Preston! Fuck! Don't stop, don't stop!"

Preston doubled down his efforts, his mouth and tongue so warm and so fucking soft as he kept a firm grip on your thighs; he gagged a little when you hit the back of his throat, but couldn't help the smile.

"Preston!" You were so fucking desperate. Needing and wanting everything that he would give you.

MacCready

MacCready welcomed you onto his lap with a grin, his hands immediately holding you steady as he kissed you harshly, nipping at your bottom lip when he pulled away; he waited for you to ask before he helped you to line your ass up. Fuck, you were always so tight and so warm, it never failed to make him grunt and growl as he allowed you time to adjust. His grip went to your thighs as he laughed softly and caught you in another kiss; he did his best not to smile too much when you smiled into it. Your hands going to his chest as you gently pushed him down.

"You feel so good," he whispered out. "You okay, cowboy?"

You nodded as you caught your breath, meeting his gaze as you swallowed thickly in hopes that it would come back quicker; your words were a little quick and slightly ragged. "I'm good... are you ready?"

MacCready nodded, his heart hammering in his chest as a giddy feeling washed over him. "Ready when you are."

Hancock

Hancock was all too eager to help you out when you mentioned about some morning wood; already knelt between your legs, he let his hands rest on either side of your hips as he waited for you to give the word. The second you did, he had one hand wrapped around your cock, gently pumping and stroking as he moved to lean over you, his other hand at the side of your head. Sweet nothings and praised whispers left his mouth, at least until you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. He grinned into it, eagerly kissing back.

"Did you stock up on the radaway?" He asked as he pulled away, his gaze hungry.

You nodded as you peppered his stretched and burned skin in a dozen little kisses, resisting the urge to fuck his hand. "I did, it's in- it's in the drawer... under the- oh, fuck, under the handcuffs and left- left of the cigarettes."

Hancock nodded, moving so that he could gently nip at your ear before he dared to drop his voice to a whisper. "Want me to grab it?"

Nick Valentine

Nick clenched the mattress as he tried not to shake with the rhythm of his own thrusting coupled with yours, his voice reduced to just sharp growls and harsh moans as he did his best to keep up. Fuck, it felt so good. Your cock in his ass as he let his metal tongue fall out, glad for once that he had been able to feel emotions - joy, ecstasy, lust. Fucking lust. But he has to admit - there's something about being so close. About having your hand on his neck and so close to the circuitry, he loves it, and he can't deny it even if he ever wanted to.

"You okay, Nicky?" The words were forced through heavy breaths right against his ear. "You able to keep up?"

Nick nodded, doing his best not to moan too loud when you delivered a particularly hard thrust that made him tightly clench around your cock. "You know - I might be an old synth, but I'm not completely due for recall just yet."

You gently bit down on the outside of his ear, tugging the faux skin so gently. "I fucking love you, you know. Sprockets and gears and all."

Paladin Danse

With his face buried against your armpit and inhaling the scent of your sweat, Danse roughly rutted into your hand; his hips matched the speed and rhythm of the way you stroked his cock. He grumbled softly, hoping that no one would walk in on such a... compromising sight. Danse on top of you, whimpering and keeping his face pressed against your underarm; completely submissive and utterly weak. He dared to let his tongue dart out, licking a long stripe over the coarse hairs as he tried his best not to call your name as loudly as he could.

"What's the matter, Paladin?" You teased softly. "You scared if you make some noise, someone's gonna catch us?"

Danse stuttered out a soft "fuck", humping your hand even harder as he started to realise just how fucking close he was to finally cumming; he stilled for a moment, grunting against your underarm. "Don't stop."

You picked up the pace, grinning as he moaned and stuttered. "I won't, don't worry."

Old Longfellow

A grunt came from the back of Longfellow's throat as he eased you onto his lap, letting you take every inch of his cock in your ass as he grumbled and took a long swig from his bottle of rum; you smiled, taking it from him and holding eye contact as you took a purposefully long gulp and let some of it dribble down your neck and onto your bare chest. The breath in Longfellow's throat hitched as he glared at you; all the times you had cockwarmed him, and yet, it always still felt like the first time. It was always new, when he was with you.

"You gonna keep me on your lap all day like your personal play thing?" You asked teasingly, putting your arm around him.

Longfellow nodded, giving the side of your ass a playful but firm smack; he loved being near you, being able to actually get quite playful was always like a breath of fresh air. "Now you've given me the idea, I just might, Cap'n."

You grinned, gently grinding against him just to watch him moan softly. "I think I quite like that idea, y'know."

Maximus

Max grinned as he laid down, bringing you with him and managing to slip his hand below the waistband of your trousers once you were close enough; lying on top of him as he grasped a handful of your backside and asked if he could touch you there. Enthusiastic, you told him yes and let him slip two fingers inside your ass; moaning softly and grinding against him as you let out a long and deep breath. He started to work them in and out, watching as you got more and more eager for him to keep going. Fuck, he could get used to that.

"Y'like that?" Maximus asked softly, able to feel his cock getting hard as you ground against him, resisting the urge to copy you.

You nodded, starting to get a bit breathless as you searched for any, even just the slightest bit, of friction against your cock; needing and wanting it more than anything else. "Keep going, Max, please, keep going."

Maximus nodded, licking his lips as he finally caved in, copying your movements and trying not to grin when you moaned so fucking loudly. "I will, I will."

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Cooper grunted under his breath as he pressed his face into the pillow, shallow and hollowed breaths leaving him as he did his best to keep quiet; he caught the pillow with his teeth, the muffled sounds of his begging for more only spurring you on as you planted your hands either side of his head. The sound of squelching and skin slapping skin started to fill the room, the air itself getting heavy and dense with the scent of sex and sweat. Fuck. He felt so good, and you couldn't deny that you loved using him as your own personal fuck toy, either.

"Now you best cum in my ass, cowboy," Cooper growled out. "Don't let it go to waste."

You grinned, doubling down your efforts as you leaned down, biting down on the side of his neck and sucking at the skin just to hear him grunt and growl your name. "Don't you worry your pretty head, Coop, I won't."

He clenched around you, seeking any and all fiction that he could. "Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me, y'know."

༺═──────────────────────────────═༻

while I have your attention for a moment: Mahmoud is almost halfway to his goal to help rebuild his home due to having to leave Gaza & Palestine altogether during the ongoing genocide. if you could spare even just £1, then please, consider doing so, as every donation, no matter how big or small, can help Mahmoud to rebuild his life and home.

[maximumwrites]

Silly Porter lines

my fav lines from our fav british masochist <3 adding onto the list as i re-listen

“oh and I'm bringing a plus one… my new lover, I met them two days ago,.”

VINCENT: “you're insane.”

PORTER: “I'm infuriating, there's a difference.”

ALEXIS: “Do us all a favor and go choke on something, would you?”

PORTER: “Oh darling, as if I have a gag reflex.”

“Who do you think caused that commotion to give them an easy way out? Who do you think gave them that nudge?”

“I’m far better at killing than playing nice.”

[hauntedwizardmoment]

having a moment sorry

i think some nights porter wants to do a roleplay scenario where he and jace are strangers who meet in a dingy club and they go back to porter's place for a one night stand. which is how he gets jace into his old clubbing outfits (tight leather miniskirt, fishnets, band tshirt, fingerless gloves, docs, mascara, smudged eyeliner and eyeshadow, etc.). and like jace deliberately chooses mascara thats not waterproof so that when he gags on porter's cock and his eyes water, it runs down his cheeks all messy and ruined. bc porter gets off on doing that to him <3