#little lapses comic

[pmdlittlelapses]

Little Lapses- Chapter 7, Page 31 [END] With a 2-year public run and 211 pages drawn and released, Little Lapses is now complete. The story will not continue after this point. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented on, and supported this comic. This was a cute, short little story that my friend and I put together in a single exciting evening, and it's become something that I've seen has touched so many hearts and resonated with so many souls. I am honored by the warm and eager reception this comic received. I was honestly worried that this one would be harder to love (cranky children go brrrrrrrrrrr), but you guys really made it known how much you loved this story. So thank you to you all, and thank you so much to my wonderful friend @zeropro for making this comic with me! You eased my fears of collabs and made it possible to produce this story. This couldn't have been at all possible without the hard work you put into making Little Lapses a reality! Cheers! Finding Your Roots and Children of the Light return starting tomorrow. My dear readers... see you next time!  Q&A #2 > Start Reading Sketch Composition by @saltnpepperbunny Rendering by @zeropro

[olitheguy]

Team Azalea is ready for action!!

Holly, Blue, and Cinnabar from @pmdlittlelapses, by @saltnpepperbunny and @zeropro!

[kodapugz04]

THE GIRLS!! ft. @pmdlittlelapses 's Holly and @pokemon-explorers-comic 's Roxy

I've been reading both Pokemon Explorers and Little Lapses (started reading since the start of December) so I'd thought I do some fanart! I drew Roxy like idk how many times so I drew here again.

This is my first fanart involving Little Lapses so I thought I would drew Holly in my style, and it came out great overall omg--

Here's my fanart of the best girls Holly and Roxy ft. my OC's Vivian the Sneasel and Penny the Snubbull--

You should give both Pokemon Explorers and Little Lapses a read sometime!

[t00thpasteface]

still very homesick for a lot of little things, like how my brother will just walk into me like i'm a skyrim npc whenever he needs something i'm standing in front of bc he has 50+ pounds on me and knows he can just tip my skinny ass over like a 5'7" telephone pole

[saltnpepperbunny]

did ya know Little Lapses is the trope example image for this?

HOLY SHIT??????????????????? I CHECKED THIS AND ITS REAL! WHAT!!!!!!

@zeropro LOOK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

[tearcynical]

Crosswire Introductory Post!

What would happen if Cross became an error? This is the answer to that question! After XGaster's continuous resets, somewhere along the way Cross's code split into pieces, leading to the majority of those pieces ending up somewhere in a far off outcode. Becoming the way he is now, his past memories were weathered and faded with time. Instead of dwelling on figuring out his past and rediscovering who he was, he's set on who he's going to become, who he wants to be. Eyes on the future, Crosswire joins The Omega Timeline to better the futures of others, restoring code to dwindling aus, while simultaneously protecting them from those who'd wish them harm.

His life within the timeline he calls home is unfortunate at best. Crosswire puts in tremendous effort for those around him, yet receives less in turn due to the stereotypical view of errors and their variants. Working hard he receives recognition for his duty - but little for his character, and other interests. He knows he wants good for his self proclaimed family and friends, but hardly knows what to make of himself past that. With the lack of memories and lapses of that already poor memory, Crosswire fears he's going to lose what little he already has.

Duty calls him though, and that job of his leads him to discover the destructive entity that is Ethernet. Stopping and constantly thwarting Ethernet's plans in a scramble to help those in need, Crosswire can't help but to feel a sense of familiarity around the other glitch. His memory feels more secure near him, he's sworn he's seen a face like his before, so on and so forth. Developing an attachment to his enemy, he finds peace with their regular battles and violent interactions. Ethernet successfully becomes the one constant in his life, the one person who's upfront and honest with him (no matter how aggressive).

Crosswire can come across as mean, and he's definitely sassy, though underneath his pricklier exterior lies a squishy, loveable inside. Protecting that inside is a hardened, nonchalant (for lack of a better word) shell. He exhibits great patience and he's extremely considerate, although once you tread too far across his boiling point he has a fiery, hard to quell temper. Most of his rage, discomfort, and pointentally other negative emotions are held on his inside, bottled and kept from ever poking their head. He fears his already difficult to enjoy character would be worse off if he expressed himself to the fullest. He cares deeply for those around him regardless of if they do for him, and he sees the better sides of things with an almost foolish optimism. He's strong-willed, both in behaviour and form, and he's an even stronger lover.

- Crosswire's strings don't come from his eyes, but instead come from his cheeks. He peels them from his skull in an almost painful manner, like heated rubber pried from a road. His strings are stronger, harder to snap or break, more like wire than thread.

- Cross's fear of cows has translated weirdly through Crosswire's broken memory. Instead of being terrified of simple farm animals, he's deathly scared of Mammoths.

- Crosswire, when he's not busy with his work, spends his time creating comics. They're nothing special, as his creative abilities are nowhere near as good as others, but he enjoys the process of storytelling and drawing. Excuse his many plotholes, stereotypically drawn anime segments, and overpowered characters, and you might enjoy them.

- Crosswire is capable of destroying Aus much like his counterpart, although he's modified that violent technique and turned it into something constructive.

( Ethernet belongs to @labryveinth )

[writeyouin]

Hi. May I request a mtmte Megatron being shy and reserved about his feelings for his S/O and burdened with guilt as usual but the S/O is actually really flirtatious and affectionate. Basically s/O trying to woo Megatron with (bad) pickup lines and being absolutely smitten to a comical level. And also public display of affection if possible. ( mtmte Megatron is so adorably soft boy and submissive my heart melts)

MTMTE Megatron X Reader – Smitten

A/N – I was just looking for something to write on impulse and I managed to turn this one into a little drabble. I hope everyone enjoys it. I went a little less comical and a bit more sweet.

Warnings – None

Rating – T

You took a moment to observe Megatron, sitting in the rec-room booth on what was supposed to be a date. He hadn’t spoken in some time and while you were accustomed to his lapses in speech, it did not look like he was mentally composing a poem or musing anything pleasant. If you had to guess, you would say that he was once again stuck in the past, finding himself undeserving of anything even remotely pleasant.

“You’re feeling guilty,” You commented, your tone just short of being playful, as if you recognised the weight of Megatron’s feelings but were trying to help with some levity.

“I…” Megatron considered denying the accusation, but what was the point? You saw right through him. “I am.”

“We’ve talked about this,” You said, grabbing his servo and kissing the knuckle, glad when he helped you manoeuvre his body where you wanted it. “You can’t spend your life feeling guilty. What matters is that you’re trying to make amends for your actions now.”

As usual, Megatron became putty in your hands. Most times, he didn’t believe he deserved you, but it was hard to argue against your kind words, gentle caresses, warm kisses, and an open heart. You were the greatest thing to ever happen to him, and so when you told him that it was his actions in the present that mattered, he was inclined to believe you. It was that sort of attitude that ensured he never gave up or thought about returning to his old ways.

Megatron had spent centuries hating. To love was different. It was much harder to cherish and nurture a good relationship than it was to burn down everything around him, but it made life worth living and the rewards for his efforts were never-ending.

“Of course,” Megatron said agreeably. “You are right, my sweet. I will continue trying to build a better life.”

“That’s good to hear, Gentle Heart.”

Megatron warmed at the pet name. Until you, nobody had ever called him anything of the sort. He kissed his digit and pressed it against your head, relishing the way you looked in the ambient lighting of the small rec room.

If he strained his audials, he would hear the judgement coming from some of the surrounding bots, but what did they matter? It was like you often reminded him, he had not forced you to be with him, and normal couples were free to enjoy such public displays of affection.

There was a time, at the start of your relationship when everything was kept private and Megatron would not even consider walking too close to you lest people make their judgements.

Now, he took your hand in his and whispered how much he loved you, only too eager to give as much praise as he received. He laughed through your truly terrible pick-up lines, recited poetry loudly for you, and found other ways to show his affection.

For the first time in his life, he was happy. For the first time in his life, he was free. And, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone. What a wonderful way to spend one’s existence; alongside another whom he loved.

[autumnmobile12]

My Hero Academia AU: Living Ghost

A little bit different than my other comics; I've never done a time lapse before.

In the Ambush Simulation notes, I mentioned that Dabi has a canon divergence in this AU where he returned home after the three years he was missing/presumed dead, but nothing in the household changed and he was still an unhinged mess.  This is the AU comic behind ‘unhinged mess’ and the partial reasoning behind his antagonistic behavior in The Summer Camp Ambush Simulation.

…

All right, so canonically Dabi is a walking, half-dead, Lovecraftian nightmare of mental and physical health issues who's keeping himself going through sheer willpower/hatred.  Ujiko says that after waking up from the three year coma, he should not have survived longer than a month as a result of the injuries he sustained from the fire.  So even in an AU where he was reunited with his family after the fact, that’s still the reality of his situation.

Enter Endeavor: In this scenario, at that point in his character arc, I think he would have retreated back into his usual pattern of refusing to face the issue. The Todoroki family got Touya back, but they also learned that he wouldn't be with them long. If a missing/presumed dead child turns up after three years, they're immediately going to a hospital to establish mental and physical condition, so the health issues resulting from the fire would have been discovered almost immediately.

From the point of view of Endeavor, Touya's return was cause for celebration and was initially viewed as a second chance/an opportunity to repair some of the damage he'd already done to his family...but then the severity of Touya's prognosis becomes apparent and they're told he has weeks to live. In Ambush Simulation, Endeavor takes the coward’s way out and leaves the problem for everyone else to deal with so he doesn't have to face Touya.  He told himself it was a way of not getting attached and so on, and no matter how much he tries to deny it, the avoidance is his guilty conscious.

The same goes for Rei. She refused to see Touya after he came back just so she wouldn't have to say goodbye to him a second time.

But Touya doesn't die.

Despite what the doctors predicted, he survives '...albeit with complications, various emergencies, experimental treatments to delay the inevitable, no clear answer on how the hell he was still breathing, and no promises that he would ever live a full life...' And now, just like in canon, he has 7-8 years of simmering resentment with the trauma of a near-death experience, the realization of having lost three years of his life due to the coma, the fallout of terminal health, and the crushing disappointment of what should have been a heartfelt reunion turned into a second abandonment.

In this AU as a vigilante, Touya has the Pandora’s Box of being an outrageous public menace and a potential family embarrassment because he figured out the only time his father pays any attention to him is when he’s ‘acting out’ and he decided he’d rather be the problem child than the invisible child.  And unfortunately, this mentality has also ruined his relationship with Natsuo.

In some respect, canon is a happier outcome for Touya because at least in canon, the poor bastard has a purpose instead of reduced to a living ghost.

…

The piano panels are him rehabilitating his hands.  Technically after a three year coma, he should not have been walking and talking as quickly as he did.  Not with that kind of atrophy.  So I’m balancing that inaccuracy out with the headcanon his fine motor skills were likely completely ruined.

Plus, if your life is a train wreck, have at least one positive hobby.

...Yomaha...

[kindaasrikal]

Garmadon is probably my favourite example of how intrusive thoughts are like.

Is he a little yellow (black?) lego man with cup hands? Yes

Is he also someone whose suffered from intrusive thoughts and desires that he does not want to do since young, and due to suffering through them for so long his resolve eventually broke to these thoughts as he became the one thing he never wanted to be? Yes, yes he is.

For decades upon decades he had to sit with thoughts and desires he knew was bad and had to actively resist against. Dealing with intrusive thoughts is not easy, seeing as it depends on a persons will power, their own self acceptance and awareness on who they are, and how persistent they can be.

With Garmadon, he had to deal with the shame knowing that everyone most close too him knows he has these thoughts and desires and that can way down on a persons self esteem and will/resilience, especially when you seem to be surrounded by someone seemingly ‘perfect’. No one actively shamed Garmadon for having these thoughts (from what i know, though Wu definitely hasn’t) but he probably had more thoughts about how everyone must be mocking him. With the intrusive thoughts getting worse as he grew older, and as his responsibilities grew heavier, there were a few times where Garmadon’s morals and resolve wavered.

Now remember, Garmadon probably already was a grey character (light grey) without the venom strongly influencing him because of the world he grew up in as well as having horrific thoughts since young, which could lead to a sense on normalcy of the content of them. Which could’ve led him to his actions and overall personality being incredibly light grey. The times he wavered were few in between, and i can’t list them all off since i haven’t read the comics, but the most notable one was when he went to go train under Chen.

The reason he might’ve done so could be a few. Due to Chen’s evil nature, he might’ve thought that it might help him in easing and handling these thoughts better. Or it might’ve been a lapse in judgment, or his morals tipping slightly to the darker side.

After all these sort of moments where he almost tipped to the darker side, something just had to give and push him over the edge of finally breaking his already weak grip on his will power to resist against these thoughts, and whatever it was broke it well. He attempted to steal the golden weapons, Kill Wu, and unlock his Oni side, despite having a baby and a wife at the time. And thats not to say Garmadon doesn’t care for those three. He’s shown time and time again that he does. He cares for all three of them and loves them as family. Yet, that doesn’t stop the grip of his intrusive thoughts, nor the easing of suffering mentally once he stopped pushing it down. He’s shown he cares for Wu like how a brother would (like a little shi, though i would say that Garmadon is much more willing to kill Wu then the other two), and he’s shown interest in Misako as a lover (no, i will not forget that straight up grin of his) and how he hasn’t actively sought her out to harm her, and how he has held back against Lloyd, only ever grew and broke free of these thoughts and desires because of Lloyd, and only ever found his true self and freedom and acceptance because of Lloyd.

Garmdon is very much capable of capable of holding back his evil desires and wants when he is given the right reason too, and that reason has always been his family as his SON. His BABY. THATS HIS KID.

But, Garmadon may have special genes and magic powers, but his brain is like any other humans. He was no longer able to fully resist the venom in his veins nor the thoughts in his head as strongly as he used too, because he is no longer young. He is an old man whose whole life was spent resisting a side of him he was horrified at, yet a side of him who he would never be able to truly hide nor resist, when that terrifying demon in his head is still a part of him.

I would like to say though, that while the intrusive thoughts themselves were evil and horrible and straight up terrifying, Garmadon himself never was that kinda person. Theres a reason why Lloyd is his son and why Misako chose him, and why Wu still respects his brother so much. Garmadon is a good person, in a situation he cannot control and a brain he cannot stop. Intrusive thoughts are not things you willingly think, they’re like a stampede of people running up to the microphone to give their own bright ideas all at once, all of the time, and you’re the only audience they talk to. Garmadon was subjected to that since he was a child, and that isn’t easy. The fact that he lasted so long, so many decades, resisting against them and holding himself true to his ideals and true personality is mesmerising to witness and think about. And to think that he can still resist, and then understand and grow with that side of him into a healthier and happier person who is trying, is definitely something he and everyone he ever grew close too wished for, for a very long time.

[colibrie]

Uncharted Territory, part one.

All love and credit to @trilobitepunch, for the amazing art work,the listening ear, and the endless encouragement. You are amazing Trilo!

“I’ve got snacks!”

Mikeys cheery voice cut through the racetrack of his thoughts, shepherding Leo’s attention back to the bustle and hum of the fuel depot. His younger brother was skipping towards him, boxes of ration bars and a few brightly colored bags filling his arms to near bursting. 

“The selections not that great,” Mikey continued, cheeks puffing in annoyance as he reached Leo, hopping comically on one leg as he fought to open the cargo hatch with his toes. “But I did manage to finagle two boxes of the better rations out of the shop keep, aaaaaand she even threw in some of those sweet sticks I like!”

“The ones dad banned you from having because of that time you were literally bouncing off the walls?” Leo teased, leaning casually against the ship’s hull as he flashed a smirk at his baby brother. “Force help us all.”

“Leeeeo!” Mikey whined, beak wrinkling in embarrassment as he scowled affronted at big brother. “I was six! Don’t be a jerk!”

“Hey, as the only other person stuck in an incredibly small ship with you for the foreseeable future, I think I have a right to be concerned!” Leo goaded, reaching out to casually flip the fuel valve off as the warning chime sounded. 

“Just for that, I’m gonna hide the good rations from you,” Mikey shot back as the hatch finally opened with a soft hiss. “You get the spinach and spiva protein flavors, while I get the strawberry and chocolate.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, you got strawberry?!” Leo squawked, arms flailing as he spun around, feet briefly slipping on the steel grating. “Hand em over!”

“No!” Mikey jeered, sticking out his tongue as he shoved the boxes and bags into the hold.

“Miiiikey.”

“Who’s the funny one now Leon?!”

“Your face,” Leo muttered lamely, pursing his lips into an exaggerated pout as he disconnected the hose. He projected a cloak of sulky energy, shaking his head with covert fondness as Mikey crowed in triumph and bit into one of his sweet sticks. He could let his little brother think he’d won this round. At least one of them deserved to laugh through this.

He blinked, and the world fell away once more.

Crimson blades reflecting off obsidian armor. The wall crumbling under his shell, like wet tissue paper. Screams of anger and fear as the darkness closed in, air cut off as something heavy twisted his lungs…

“So!” Mikey’s voice snapped Leo back once more to the fluorescently lit present. The smaller turtle had ducked under the shuttle’s wing and now stood at his side, oblivious to Leo’s lapse in attention as he worked with way through his treat. “What do we do now?”

Leo quickly turned away, scowling at the fuel hose as he wound in back into the holder.

“What do you mean?” he asked, proud of how even his voice stayed as he worked to get his face back into a casual smile.

“I mean, we’ve covered step one, right? We’re far enough away from home that no one will recognize us. We’ve got a full tank of fuel and enough rations to last two weeks if we play things right. What’s step two? How are we going to get Raph and Donnie back?”

“First off, we are going not talking about things where anyone passing by could hear us,” Leo chided under his breath, turning back to Mikey with a roll of his eyes.

“There’s hardly anyone around!” Mikey protested.

“And there are even less people around in hyperspace,” Leo retorted, flicking his fingers in a dismissive shooing motion, “so go start the pre-flight checks so we can get out of here.”

“Ugh! Fine! Be that way,” Mikey groaned, stomping away towards the cockpit with an energy only the youngest member of a family could muster.

Leo watched him go, sucking in a subtle breath through his teeth once his sibling was safely ensconced within the metal walls of the ship. He let his body sag for a second, leaning his temple against the riveted metal. Exhaustion seemed to press in from every angle, cheerfully reminding him of how large his sleep debt had grown in the week since they’d left their home and their father behind. How many nights his insomnia kept him awake, listening to Mikey’s squeaky snores while his thoughts raced at double time. Hours spent staring out the view screen as stars blurred past, fighting to keep his gritty eyes open as incomprehensible nightmares hounded the darkness behind his eyelids. What little sleep he had found was haunted by his twins’ parting words, repeated over and over like a tattoo beaten into his brain.

Find me. I need you. Find me. I need you. Find me. I need you. Find me, find me, find me…

I’m coming. I swear.

“Cmon Leon,” he muttered, pushing himself upright, shaking out his sluggish limbs and angling body towards the hatch as the engines hummed to life. “You got this.”

“Good job on the pre-flight munchkin,” Leo called, plastering a bright grin as he sauntered through the door. “Now outa my chair.”

“Doesn’t have your name on it,” Mikey supplied the rote reply, fingers tapping a happy beat on the consul. “I can launch us.”

“Not on your life brat,” Leo answered as he shoved his brother out of the pilot’s seat, snickering at the indignant squawk that followed.

The controls were comforting weight in his palms as he smoothly guided the ship up and out of station, the restless need to move in his soul settling slightly as velvety folds of the cosmos greeted them once more.

“Can we talk about things now?!” Mikey asked peevishly, flopping into the copilot seat.

“Sure. We can talk. We can talk about the stars, or the latest holo’s. Or where you put those strawberry ration bars. Or-”

“Leeeeeeeo,” Mikey cut in, drawing his brother’s name out in a sing-song tone that barely covered the hard edge reflected in his smile. “What’s the plan? I know you have one, you always do.”

“Of course I have a plan,” Leo hedged, careful to keep his eyes forward and smile easy as Mikey eagerly leaned in towards him.

Perhaps “plan” was a generous way to describe the looped track of findthemfindthemfindthem that had dominated his mind from the moment he’d stormed away from their father, drowning in a hurricane of disbelief and fury. He could not remember where he’d gone to wait out the remainder of that day, or what he might have done. He could barely remember sneaking back into the house to fill a bag with clothes, food, and a few meaningful trinkets. The need to move, to do, to fix things had simply been to great for rational thought to penetrate.

Finding Mikey waiting by the shuttle that night had been like a bucket of ice water to the face, the tempest of his emotions spluttering under his baby brother’s boundless spirit and unyielding will. Every smile, laugh, and hug soothed the embers further, calming the storm enough for clearer thoughts to fill his sleepless nights. Thoughts that wasted little time in confirming just how supremely stupid he’d been acting. Donnie and Raph out matched them in both strength and training, and if their last meeting was any indication, neither was likely to be open to simply talking things through. Mikey’s force abilities were fledgling, and Leo’s were inconsistent and unstable at the best of times. Following his feelings would have led him straight into an early grave. and now it wasn’t just Leo’s shell on the line.

Leo could admit, if only to himself, that he was still flying utterly blind through this. He did not have a plan. No clear course to retrieving those they had lost. But Mikey didn’t need to know that. Leo was nothing if not a proficient performer. Short a plan, he reached for his next best skill, improvisation.

“We are never going to match the people who have Raph and Donnie as we are now. They've proven they can wipe the floor with us,” Leo started as he sat back in the pilot’s chair, idly scooping up a spare gasket to roll through his fingers as he stared hard out the view screen.  

“What’s this “with us”? I seem to recall only one of us getting their shell beat,” Mikey answered with a proud smirk, only to let out another squawk as the gasket nailed him between the eyes.

“As I was saying,” Leo grumbled, “If we want to stand a chance of saving our brothers, we need to get stronger. And to do that we'll need a proper teacher.”

“But who could do that?” Mikey questioned, absently chewing on his lower lip as he cocked his head in thought. “All the Jedi are dead.”

“Splinter survived with two kids in tow,” Leo countered, smiling his most confident smile as he piloted them away from the fuel station. “If he could do it, I am sure there had to have been others who got out and went to ground.”

“Yeah, but… finding a random Jedi hiding in the galaxy… isn’t that is like finding a needle hidden in an ocean of needles?”

“You’re right,” Leo acknowledged, thinking hard. “But we aren’t looking for any random Jedi. We… are… going to find Master Karai. She was Da-Splinters Master. If anyone survived the purge, it would be her, I know it. We just need to find her somehow.”

“Oh!” Mikey perked up, sparks dancing in his smile as he reached out and unsteadily called the holocron to him with a wave of his palm. “We can use dads holocron and the force to find her!”

“Huh?!”

“If she was dad’s master, then he must have gone a lot of places with her. Places she might have gone to hide when the temple was destroyed. If we use the force to look through the maps, maybe it will tell us which one.” Mikey reasoned, tongue poking out between his lips as he tossed the glowing cube between his palms.

“A nice thought, but that's not how the force works Mikey,” Leo declined with a shake of his head.

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“How come?”

“It just…doesn’t?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good reason to not try. The recordings of Master Plo Koon said that the force is in everything.”

“It is, but it is not like my magic tricks Angelo. It can’t just make things appear,” Leo tried to explain, struggling to dig back into hazy memories of temple classrooms and supreme boredom. “They told us Jedi masters could use it to pick out individual force signatures in a crowd, but only if they were familiar with the person or knew what to look for. I mean, not even Grandmaster Yoda could find someone all the way across the galaxy!”

“Master Plo also said the force has a will of its own. What if the force wants us to find her?” Mikey countered, staring hard at the holocron before looking up at Leo with hope burning strong and bright. “It led Raph and Donnie to us, I know it. And, I don’t think it would have done that if it didn’t want us to help them. If finding Master Karai is what we need to do that, then I just…I have a feeling the force will steer us in the right direction.”

“Mike…”

“What do we lose by trying?” Mikey coaxed, holding out the holocron.

“It’s…yeah, okay. Sure. Knock yourself out,” Leo sighed, looking away with half shrug.

“We. We can knock ourselves out. Because we are going to do it together.”

“Uh, no we are not! Do I need to remind you of all the reasons why it would be really bad for me to try to use the force? Particularly in a tiny ship in the middle of outer space?!”

“I don’t remember her. Not like you do. And you were the one who just said that a Jedi needed to know the person they were looking for. You don’t have to do anything big, just try to focus on your memories of her. What did she look and sound like? How did she feel in the force? Tell me about it, and I’ll handle the razzmatazz side!”  

Maybe it was the sleepless nights, or the lack of better options no matter how hard he scoured his brain for one. Maybe it was that he had never developed a full proof defense against Mikey’s “please” face. Either way…

“Fiiiine,” he groaned, engaging the autopilot with a flick of his wrist before flopping back in his seat. “I want it on the record that I am humoring you, because there is no way that is going to work. And I am calling the right to rubbing it in when it doesn’t work.”

“And I will be happy to make you eat an “I told you so” sandwich when it totally does.” Mikey replied, beaming. “Now let’s do this!”

Leo reluctantly swiveled the pilot’s chair to face his brother, knocking their knees together. Mikey released the cube, the device opening as it rose to float between them.

“Man, this is stupid,” Leo muttered, begrudgingly holding his hands out, palms turned towards the cube as though warming them on the world’s worst campfire.

“You’re being stupid,” Mikey replied absently, copying Leo from the other side. “Stop complaining and tell me about Master Karai.”

“What’s there to say? She was a dedicated Jedi. She was awesome with lightsaber combat and could be strict when it came to training.”

“How did you meet her?” Mikey coaxed.

“She volunteered to take shifts in the creche whenever she rotated back to the temple,” Leo replied, taking a deep breath to steady himself before reaching back into cobweb covered memories. “She could be a bit awkward sometimes, but she…she cared.”

Leo smiled faintly, eyes slowly losing focus as his attention turned inward, mind wandering further down the paths of remembrance.

“She was loyal to the council, but she never really followed their stances on not forming attachments. Even though she wasn’t in the creche often, she was one of the few people who took the time to understand the four of us. Our personalities and what we needed as individuals. You used to spend time between her visits drawing her all kinds of pictures, then you’d make her sit down and go through each and everyone of them. She’d give you her full attention, every time.”

“She sounds nice,” Mikey murmured, eyes falling to half-mast as he tried to reach for that fickle feeling of the force inside of him.

“She was one of the few that had the patience to understand Donnie, to see him for the genius he was. She never scolded him for things he couldn’t control. She tried to learn what set him off, and tried to get things that would help him cope when I wasn’t there, even though it was against the rules. And she was always there as a listening ear for Raphie. He always looked out for us, but Karai was the one he went to most with his problems. She could always tell when he was getting upset, and she’d take him somewhere to let him blow off steam.”

“And what about you?” Mikey mumbled, closing his eyes fully as something warm bloomed in his chest. Something that crackled like the brightest bonfire, filled him from head to toe with warmth. It swirled in his veins, happy to dance, happy to be, yet unhappy to be so alone. It stretched instinctively towards a distant, cloudy aura, a weak glimmer of deep blue lightning flavored with ozone and storm winds. Seeking, searching.

“She got me,” Leo trailed off.

Lightning blue flinched, shying away as the golden fire prodded it.

“What did she look like? What did she feel like? Do you remember?” Mikey mumbled, fire following some unspoken instinct to keep going. Between them the holocron began to rapidly cycle through maps.  

“She was about my current height. Long black hair. She liked to wear two strands down by her face with the rest pulled back. Light skin, black eyes. She liked to wear long green robes while at the temple, and we used to love to pretend to hide in them. She was…she felt like your favorite blanket after a day in the cold, or my favorite cup of tea. Soft and reliable, and safe…”

Fire hummed. Lightning sparked, finding that tiny, barely mended gap.  

“She made us feel safe.”

For a moment, lightning touched fire. Something snagged, a loop of thread pulling tight. Mikey snapped his hands closed, holding onto it with everything he had. The holocron went still, washing the cockpit with a triumphant glow as it presented the chosen map.

“Omigosh it worked!” Mikey cheered, eyes snapping open to eagerly take in their new destination. They had done it! He had done it!

“Take that Le…Leo?”

His older brother was pale, beak scrunched and shoulders faintly trembling with pain as they curled inward. One hand covered his eyes, fingers digging deep into the sockets as the other hand clutched his chest. Sharp breaths whistled between clenched teeth as a slick of dark red rolled steadily from his nose. The impression of wind and ozone quickly fading away as Mikey scrambled out of his seat.

“Shell Lee, I’m so sorry! What can I do?!”

“It’s fine,” Leo mumbled, leaning away from Mikey as he pulled himself upright. Enthusiasm for their accomplishment fizzled out like a dying sparkler as Mikey watched, chewing anxiously on his cheek as he frantically ran through a check list of this brother’s symptoms.

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Is anything numb? What’s your full name? Where are we? Who is the-“

“Whoa Angelo! Slow down. Kinda to the first, meh on the second, no on the third, and I don’t need a concussion check. It’s the usual stuff. Mainly just a headache.”

“You sure? The way you’re holding your chest-”

“Yes, I’m sure. Relax Angie, or you’ll start getting wrinkles to rival Splinter.”

The balm of relief coated his nerves as Leo relaxed back into his seat, expression shifting from a pained grimace to an indolent grin as he casually wiped his face with the back of one hand.

“Plus, I didn’t blow anything up this time, so score me some bonus points!”

Mikey huffed, gently shoving at his older brothers’ shoulder before pushing himself back to his feet. Headaches weren’t new. Headaches they could handle.

“Do you want a stim shot?” he asked, glancing at the ship’s small med kit.

“Nah,” Leo denied with a dismissive wave. “We’re better off saving supplies, just in case. I’ll just nap it off once we set coordinates for… the Yakai system?”

“Yeah, that’s what the holocron landed on! Do you know it?” Mikey inquired, leaning in to admire the holomap that still floated between their seats.

“No but look at it Mikey. There’s nothing there. Just an asteroid belt and some low-grade planets.”

“Sounds like the perfect place for a Jedi to hide out!”

“Low-grade means no organic life dumb dumb. Nothing lives there.”

“But there isn’t any harm in going to look!” Mikey rejoined, straining to lean across his brother towards the autopilot.

“Ack! Mik-sto-getoff! We aren���t wasting the fuel.”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Mikey chirped, beaming as consul chirped to indicate the successful input of the coordinates.”

“Ohmi-”

“Lets just go and have a quick look! If we don’t find anything we’ll do things your way from there. Unless you’re scared to admit I could be right…”

“…Fine. But not only do I get to rub your face in it for eternity, you’ll owe me. Whatever I want, whenever I want it.”

“I can’t wait. Now go lay down. Autopilot says six hours till we reach Yakai.”

Leo whined and grumbled as he was prodded out of the pilot’s chair, dragging his feet as Mikey herded him to one of the benches.

“You nap, I’ll fly.” He insisted, pretending to ignore the dark bags gathered beneath his brothers’ eyes when he pulled off the blue mask.

“It’s not flying if the autopilot’s engaged,” Leo sniped petulantly, laying back reluctantly when Mikey pushed on his plastron.

“Whatever you say. Nighty night bro!”

[pmdlittlelapses]

Little Lapses Q&A #2- Other Characters Next > Start Reading Sketch Composition by @saltnpepperbunny Rendering by @zeropro

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

Good evening, my Darlings! I'm sorry about the lapse between updates, but I have a new chapter up on AO3 with the full fic and full content warnings and will have the newest chapter chapter down below.

Chapter Summary: The Reader tries to understand the Harkonnens and gain favor with her husband the old-fashioned way (Part Two.)

Tagged: @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai @cavillandevanssandwhich If anyone else would like to be tagged, please let me know!

Content Warning: 18+; problematic smut; arranged marriage; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; under negotiated kink; problematic BDSM; internalized shame; mild degradation; oral sex (m+f receiving) throat training, come eating, collars and lashes, nipple clamps/nipple play; Feyd-Rautha; impact play/slapping; semi-public sex; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; knife play; switching; riding; Feyd's strange and fucked up methods of showing affection

Chapter Nine: Quick to Learn, Eager to Please

Your training continues.  You wouldn’t call your progress astonishing, but after a week, and then two, you find yourself first sliding into the familiarity of your old training and then picking up on new techniques.  You can’t help but smile to yourself when you get in an offensive, notice an opening that you can take that you wouldn’t have just a week earlier.  When Feyd-Rautha says, as he watches you spar with Korvo, “You remembered what I told you about your footwork.”

His own regimen is far more extensive, of course.  There’s one morning when he strips off his sweaty training shirt and you notice striations in the muscle fibers in his chest that you don’t remember seeing before.  Perhaps it’s the brighter lighting compared to your bedrooms.

The soreness becomes normal, stiffness you stretch out every morning before you leave for the Training Halls and soothe in the afternoons a couple of times a week in the Relaxation Chambers before resuming your self-imposed Harkonnen language lessons.  The routine is its own comfort that tides you over as you receive letters from back home that all sound relieved that you’re still in one piece.  And, somehow, you are.  These elements–the training, the moments spent in the library and studying the Harkonnen battle language–make you feel a little more like this Fortress is a home that you can live in.  You’re not confident enough to try and impress Feyd yet with what you’ve learned but have found that Idrisa’s an easy tutor.  The first time you tried speaking, unprompted, in battle language to her she did an almost comical double-take before politely offering advice on how to improve your pronunciation.

“The Na-Baron will be delighted to know that you’re making an effort to learn more about his culture,” she added to soften any potential blow to your ego.  Since then, every day, you exchange basic greetings and sentences in Harkonnen with her, and each day you try to add a little more.  Idrisa’s gentle, but honest once she realizes that you won’t be offended by her critique.  

The matter of your pregnancy is still in question–it’s still too early to tell, not for lack of trying.   The collar and leash make a reappearance–on a night he also placed metal clamps on your nipples and took your mouth again until between the shock of the clamps barely fading with time and the suffocating pressure of his cock venturing further and further within the wet cavern of your mouth had tears streaming down your face and silent pleas for him to finally fuck you–but strangely enough the flogger, as he calls it, hasn’t.  When he strikes your backside he seems to prefer his own hands, maybe because for every time his hand descends it stings his palm as well.  Sometimes he brings out ropes, one night ties your arms behind your back and takes you from behind, one hand in your hair until he comes hard and pulls out only to bury his face against your backside and lick your cunt, tasting his own spend as it leaks out of you until you shudder and climax around the flicker of his tongue.  You’re past the point of being shocked by the idea of your husband tasting his own semen; it’s funny to think that such a thing would’ve horrified you a few weeks ago.  Most of this probably would.  

The night that he introduces the clamps you use his bathroom afterwards, see your splotchy face and worn body, and wonder how much of your enjoyment is genuine and how much is simply a tool to acclimate to it.  Does it really make a difference?  The pain from the clamps had gone from sharp pain to an insistent ache that left you trembling.  The way he’d held your head in place as he’d guided his cock into your mouth and kept it there, pulling out only long enough to let you breathe and pushing back in for longer increments until you felt almost light-headed.  Does it really matter how or why it made you sufficiently wet to take him inside of you?  Is it not just easier to accept it than to dwell on the accompanying shame of it?

So far, you’ve realized, he hasn’t asked you to hurt him beyond scratching his back and arms when he’s inside of you, or biting down on the meat of his shoulder until you break skin.  Hasn’t asked you to subjugate him with the silver collar and chain he keeps, always noticeable but never mentioned after that night.  Perhaps he’s waiting for the right time, the right sign that you’d be able to hurt him as deliciously as he does you.

You think of the silver collar and how it would look against his pale skin as he waits patiently for instruction, like a fierce but loyal guard dog.

The image of it makes something you can’t quite name unfurl like black smoke in the pit of your stomach.  

Between training you to fight and training you to take his cock in a variety of positions, Feyd gives ample reason for you to enjoy the soothing attention you get in the Relaxation Chambers.

Once, when you enter the chambers, you see another woman walking by you; she’s well-dressed, clearly the wife of a high-ranking member of Harkonnen militia, and you speak before you can stop yourself.

“Hello,” you tell her, and she stops, blinking in confusion.  You’re starting to get better at gauging peoples’ ages around here without hair or eyebrows, and you guess her to be in her early thirties, with a round face and hazel eyes.

She stands, awkwardly, clearly wondering why you’ve just spoken to her, before inclining her head.  “Good afternoon, Na-Baroness.”

“My apologies.  I don’t think I’ve learned your name yet,” you tell her, extending your hand.

She takes it in a gentle shake.  “Indeed you have not, Na-Baroness.  It’s Liana Druganin, wife of Piter Druganin,” she says, managing to keep a polite tone before she drops your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Druganin,” you tell her with a small smile.

She reciprocates and it looks as manufactured as the fake wood paneling.  

You’ve seen this before, but until now have been spared actually experiencing it: that moment when an attempt at friendship is made and the recipient can only think, Why are you talking to me?  Go away .  She won’t say it, not in a thousand years, because you outrank her.  But the look on her face, almost bordering on panic at the idea that you’ll keep trying to talk to her, says it all.

You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach.  “Well,” you say, “Have a lovely afternoon, Lady Druganin.”  You both know that it’s not true, and that it’s also not true when she replies with a feeble echo of your sentiments.

She turns to go with a polite bow of her head and a stiffness in her shoulders that hadn’t been there before you spoke to her.  You watch after her and for a moment, she starts to turn around before thinking better of it.

You try to stay resolute.  No matter , you tell yourself.  They will start by respecting me.  They don’t have to like me yet .  My children will play with their children and I will be their Baroness.  They’ll learn.

Still, the sting of it is enough that you have to look over a letter a friend sent you to remind you that you’re perfectly capable of making them.

You write another.  There’s a growing pile of letters that you keep in a desk drawer and in moments like these pull them out and re-read them and remember that even if they’re not here, there are still people who love you.

Feyd’s birthday is almost here–in a week the Bene Gesserit will visit and Feyd will execute prisoners in the arena under the guise of sport.  There will be hours of celebrating afterwards with more flash than the solemnity of a Harkonnen wedding.  You want to ask if there will be dancing, because there wasn’t at your wedding.  You’re not sure what Harkonnen dancing would even look like.  Or music, beyond ceremonial war chants.  The party afterwards will also be the first time you’re properly presented to the Fortress as the Na-Baron.

Not that you’ll be expected to make any speeches or hold anyone’s attention, but a dress is being made for you to commemorate the occasion and you’ll represent not a person but an idea, a symbol.  This is the part of marriage you’ve been preparing for most of your life.  When you were younger your mother was honest about what marriage would look like for you; that your husband would probably be someone you didn’t know very well or perhaps not at all until the wedding, and that it would be your duty to represent the best qualities of your House and, if your groom was from a different House, his as well.  That for you, marriage would be about politics first and that love would come eventually as you got acclimated to your new husband and the role you’d be playing, and even then that it might not be a passionate or easy kind of love.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen isn’t a creature compatible with something like love.  You were almost surprised that there’s a word for it in his language.  You’re not sure if you could ever grow to love him, or he you.  You’re not sure if it’s an emotion he’s capable of feeling or if the strangely companionable routine you’ve developed with him is the best you’re going to get.  

Your children, though, you’re certain you’ll love, even if they’re raised to be cold, even as they’ll never quite look like you, and you’ll teach them how to express it.  You’ll make sure that no matter how strict and unforgiving their father will bring them up that they’ll always have you.

In a letter addressed only to your mother you ask her what you can barely form in your own mind and couldn’t possibly ask anyone else here. You ask her how early she was able to tell, because you can’t.  You must be, or else something’s very wrong, but you haven’t had a moment after he’s finished inside of you that you felt life growing there.  You don’t feel different yet, and certainly don’t look different.  When do you feel a tithe to them?  You look at your stomach in the mirror as if expecting it to swell already and wonder if the rush of maternal love will come once you can confirm it or if it happens once you have the baby.  There’s no shortage of information on the physical aspects of pregnancy but nothing on that.  The closer it gets to the Bene Gesserit’s visit the more real all this becomes: you’re going to be a mother, on a brutal and unforgiving planet that you’re constantly torn between assimilating into and rejecting to maintain your own sense of self.  You’re going to need all the help you can get.

There’s another shift, four days before Feyd-Rautha’s birthday.

It starts out as a normal training session, with Feyd putting you through close range maneuver drills.

While the rest of the Fortress is busy preparing for his birthday celebrations, he seems somewhat detached.  You’d assumed he’d be more excited at the chance to kill more prisoners in front of an adoring crowd; he’d seemed like he was having a decent enough time killing drugged men for Geidi Prime’s entertainment before the wedding.  This, however, he treats like an obligation that he discusses only in the most pragmatic terms and as part of his responsibilities as Na-Baron.  You’re not entirely sure why, or what if any moral quandary he might have now that he didn’t nearly a month ago.  But you decide that your grasp of Harkonnen pronunciation has improved enough that you can give him an early birthday present and surprise him with your efforts so far.

It’s while you separate long enough to take a minute-long break that you decide that now is as good a time as any.  You take a breath and remember how Idrisa taught you to say the words before offering him a friendly smile and throwing out the words in imperfect but improved Harkonnen.

“ Do you know what you want for your birthday, Husband? ”

He blinks, taken aback for the sweetest of moments before tilting his head and giving you a small smile as if to say, Huh.  How about that.  Like you’re a dog that’s performed an amusing trick.  It would feel embarrassing were it not for that he could have had a much worse reaction.

He responds in kind, with what you can only partially interpret as “ Yes, wife, and I ….” something garbled or a phrase you haven’t learned yet, “ what is mine .”  

Well.  Tone and implications count for a lot.  You might not understand the wording exactly, but you think you get the general picture he’s painting for you as you feel yourself blush.  He circles around you and adds, speaking faster than the instructions you’re used to hearing and a few words are indecipherable, “ I’ll eghl as my wife, lawswh you off to all of Geidi Prime .”

Before you have time to respond he locks you into position, his front to your back and his blade against your throat.  “ To zxncoh to my people that you took my seed and you’re sadghl my heir .”

Other people can hear, you think, scandalized.  Maybe not all that well, he’s not speaking loudly, and other people are focused on their own training but still…

His cock is hard and flushed against the small of your back.  Your head is spinning.  He inhales sharply, as if he can smell the growing wetness between your legs.  He withdraws his blade, holsters it in his scabbard, and turns off his shield.  On instinct, you turn off yours.  There’s a couple of seconds you’re both still, and he opens his mouth, nuzzles your hair.  And then…

“Everyone out!” he calls out, the gravel of his rasp not suited for yelling, but he manages all the same.  A servant opens the door and everyone files out without a word in less than a minute, and then the door slams shut.

He turns you around in his arms and kisses you hard.

He’d talked about doing this the first day he trained you.  It’s really a testament to his self-restraint that he’s waited this long to do it, you think as he backs you into the wall and braces one forearm beside your head.  His other hand sneaks into the waist of your pants and beneath your undergarment.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and gasp into it as he brings his fingertips over your bud and circles lightly, at first anyway.  One fingertip slides along the slit of you, feeling for your growing wetness as he rests his lips against your hairline.  You feel him break into a self-satisfied grin as he says, “I think you can handle two, don’t you, pet?” and slips his middle and index fingers in without waiting for you to respond.  You try to tamp down on your whimpers, the way the echoes of the room amplify every sound, including the slick wet noises of his fingers twisting and pumping inside of you, finally crooking forward the way you like.  It’s hardly fair of him to use that against you.

Oh, Great Mother, they’ve probably got their ears pressed up against the door, listening in, hearing everything—

–And then he slides in a third finger and crooks them again.

You buck your hips, the wind knocked out of you in a silent scream.

“You like that?” Feyd asks, his voice in your ear.

You know I do.  For fuck’s sake, Feyd, just do it again.   You let out a desperate whine, biting your lip as you nod and he rubs you down again, feeling you shake around him.  You feel searingly hot, knowing your face is flushed, knowing that everyone outside knows what the two of you are doing.

You made this choice weeks ago.  You made this choice over a month ago when the Reverend Mother told you who you were to marry.

You still his hand, giving a small nod as if to say, I’m ready, and he withdraws, tilting his head and waiting.  You hardly take a breath before you turn and descend to your knees, pulling your pants and smallclothes down your thighs and spreading your legs as far as you reasonably can before bracing your hands against the wall.  Your breath is already ragged.  You rest your forehead in between your hands.

“ Fuck me, husband ,” you manage in Harkonnen.

Feyd huffs a laugh and settles down behind you.  The sound of him unfastening the front of his pants is shockingly loud within the cavernous expanse of the room, and even as you’d wanted to hold back on your noises he punctures them out of you with each thrust.

You’ll forgive yourself this indignity.  You’re doing it for a greater purpose , you tell yourself.

And then Feyd thrusts at just the right angle that has you letting out a strangled moan, shaking around him, barely able to hold onto the wall in front of you before he brings a hand between your legs.

“That’s it, pet,” he murmurs in your ear.  “Don’t hold back.  Make all the pretty noises you can,” he says and brings his fingers back to your bud.  You cry out, tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes and you’re not entirely sure from what, clenching hard as he uses the pressure around him to power through, pulling you onto him as he growls and snarls and fills you to the brim.

You tremble through it all, shutting your eyes.  A few months ago you would never have pictured yourself doing this, letting a man fuck you from behind while over a dozen people in a hallway mere meters away could hear, and certainly would never have pictured coming from it.  A few months ago you would never have pictured marrying a Harkonnen.

Afterwards, he holds himself to your back, giving one last soft thrust before pulling out.  You yank your smallclothes and pants up as fast as possible to avoid any kind of spill, wincing at the mess of fluids smeared between you and the gusset.

“Is it always messy like this?” you ask as Feyd tucks himself back in and rises to stand.

“If you’re doing it right,” he says, offering a hand to guide you up.

Once he has you he cups your chin with his hand that had fondled you under your smallclothes.  You know immediately what he’s about to do and open your mouth, allowing him access as he slips his fingers inside.

“Clever thing, aren’t you?” Feyd says, watching his fingers go in, watching your eyes as he pushes them until they reach your soft palate and you just barely manage not to gag at the taste and scent of your own juices on his fingertips, the brush of his fingertips pressed too far in for comfort.  He withdraws them as he says, “Quick to learn, eager to please.”

You shut your eyes, exhaling shakily as you lower your head.  You can’t name the twisted combination of shame and pride at his condescending praise.

He cradles your face again.  “None of that, now.  Look at me, pet,” he says.  And when you do, swallowing around nothing, jaw clenched, he looks at your face, studying the look in your eyes as if he can understand what you’re feeling better than you can.

He kisses you again, bruising, searing, burying his other hand in your hair.  He gives you a moment to catch your breath when he releases you, and then looks at the door.  His eyes flicker between you and it for a moment before he strides towards it to let everyone back inside.

“I would never have done what we just did for anyone other than you,” you call after him before he can get there, before you can stop yourself.  “ Never .”

He stops and looks at you.  “I believe you believe that, Y/N,” he says.  “You were the first virgin I think I’ve ever been with.”

You furrow your brow.  “Really?” you ask, his response briefly taking you out of the embarrassed pit you’d started digging for yourself.  You’d sort of assumed that he’d had a history of deflowering frightened young women.  Sort of assumed that it was one of his Na-Baronly duties.

He gives a mono-syllabic grunt in the affirmative before opening the door.

You don’t envy everyone shuffling in, avoiding looking at either of you directly as they offer quick honorifics and resume their training.

You’re too shaken to be of much use for the rest of your session, not to Feyd’s surprise.  

“Let’s call it a morning, Y/N.  Go to your quarters, take a shower.  I’ll see you at breakfast,” he says, and you’re biting down on a sarcastic, why thank you, Na-Baron. The squelch of your come leaking out of me is a bit distracting.  I appreciate you noticing , when he leans in and gives you a brief kiss on the mouth.

You blink in surprise.  He seldom kisses you when there are other people around, and certainly not in front of his soldiers while he’s training.  You hesitate before returning it.  

“ Thank you, husband ,” you tell him in Harkonnen as you pull away.  The curve of his mouth twitches in what you hope is a smile.

You’re certain after that you’ve gotten a good amount of leverage, as much as you’re probably going to get until you become a mother, but what then?  

You can learn to live with Feyd as the father of your children, with him being the formative authority figure in their lives.  You’ll never try to convince yourself that deep down he’s a kind and decent man, but you’ve noticed that he has his own, albeit twisted, set of moral standards.  It’s the idea of the Baron being in their lives at all that worries you.  You can’t imagine any way in which his presence could be a good thing, especially for any sons you’ll have–and surely Feyd must know this?

A thought forms and grows even as you try to shut it out.  It’s impossible, you tell yourself, and still you can’t help but wonder.

At dinnertime the following evening your grip tightens on your fork as at the head of the table the Baron eats roasted bird down to the bone and you wonder how fragile his own must be after what must be years now of not being able to move on his own.  

There’s not a chance that you’d be able to get rid of him personally.  You’d be killed long before such an attempt could come to fruition.  But you’ve read a bit about Harkonnen history, and Barons have been usurped before, ones in declining health replaced by those who’d go on to prove more capable and more ruthless than their predecessors.  Feyd knows his own history far better than you do, he’s read about this.

He tried to kill his uncle once.  What’s stopping him now that he’s entering the very prime of his life?  When he has a wife and, soon, children to think about?  When the Baron’s over seventy and hasn’t been able to walk on his own in years?

Can he be convinced?

You keep your head down, glad that no one here can read your mind, glad that the Baron only seems to pay attention to you if he seems to be wondering if it’s too early for you to start showing.  

I’ll spare you the suspense: it is, you’d tell him if you had the nerve. 

That night Feyd comes to your room and takes you and there’s a moment between when he finishes and when he decides to sleep in his own quarters that you think about suggesting it to him.

The people respect and fear you .  It’s your time.  You’re ready.

You have a duty to Geidi Prime and the Bene Gesserit and me to keep our children safe and there’s no guarantee of that unless you get rid of the Baron.

In the end you can’t bring yourself to say it.  Not yet.

You wake up to the feeling of a body behind you and cold steel against your throat, and it takes you less than a second to realize that you’re not dreaming, and the person shifting in behind you and bringing both arms around you is very much real.

You let out one scream, to alert any guards nearby, but nothing else to waste your precious breath as you reach for the forearm leading to the hand that’s holding the knife and jerk one shoulder up as hard as you can, trying to dislodge him.

This is so much easier standing up than laying on your side, you realize with immediate clarity, having never felt more awake in your life as you try to duck your head in the scant gap that you’ve made, grabbing his wrist and struggling as he refuses to give you enough space to properly move.

You still manage to keep your hand on his forearm, ducking just enough to squirm out of his arms and plunge his knife into his ribs and then…

The knife hums but doesn’t pierce his skin.  

He has his shield activated , you realize, panic setting in, eyes trying to adjust to the dark.  If I can evade him just long enough to get his shield off then maybe–

You bite down on the man’s other arm, hard, breaking the skin and drawing a moan out of the man behind you that you don’t have time to recognize sounds familiar– you just need to get on top of him, get the upper hand –and duck under his arm long enough to turn and swing one leg over the man’s waist and pin him on his back to your bed, finally wrenching the knife out of his hand as you point it as his chest and…

You stare, panting and stunned.  It hadn’t occurred to you to question how someone could get into your chambers, hadn’t registered that your assailant was wearing pants but no shirt.  All you could think about was the knife at your throat.

Pinned underneath you is your husband.  He fixes you with a smile, looking utterly pleased with himself.

“You’re improving; that’s good,” he says.

You nearly drop your knife, barely having the mind to set it on the bed next to Feyd’s shoulder, realizing that you’re sitting directly on top of his stiffening groin.  Feyd turns off his shield device before propping himself up on his forearms.

“I had to make sure that you were prepared.  If you’re ever ambushed it won’t be in a training room with a warning,” he says.  He ignores your ragged breaths and stunned expression quickly turning to anger.

You slap him as hard as you can.  The cracking sound could deafen you; pain shoots down your wrist from the impact.

What the fuck?!  I was terrified! you almost say before he sits all the way up and pulls you into a ferocious kiss.  You give back as good as you receive, almost snarling into it, gripping the back of his neck, before pulling away for breath.

“I’m fucking furious with you,” you tell him.

“Good,” he says, and pulls you into another kiss.  He gives a quiet moan at the taste of his blood in your mouth, staining your teeth, and licks it off of you.  He draws an arm across your naked back and buries his other hand in your hair.  Anger turns to adrenaline turns to arousal that has you panting against his mouth before something occurs to you.

“Wait, what happened to–” there are always a couple of armed guards at each end of the expansive hallway.  They would’ve been able to hear your screaming.

“I told the guards that I was conducting a drill and that if they interfered that I’d feed them alive and screaming to my Darlings,” he says.

You’re deranged , you think, and reach for his pants with only one goal in mind, and for a moment you picture him flipping the two of you over, fucking you into the mattress like he does every night and sometimes in the mornings, reducing you to mewls and whimpers.

No.

This time he can be the one who gets fucked, that follows the rhythm of your hips.  You’ve only come close to that kind of leverage once before but if he wants to be inside of you tonight this is what he’s going to get.

You grab the dagger left on the sheets and press it to his collarbone.

“You nearly killed me,” you tell him.  “I’ll take what I want from you.” 

He grins at you with his black teeth and gums.  “I was only trying to make you think I would kill you, but you did well, so you can take whatever you want.”

You exhale through your nostrils.  Think I’m bluffing? you want to ask as the tip of the blade just barely pierces his alabaster skin.  An image flashes like lightning in your mind and grows like the clap of thunder–him prone underneath you, laying back and taking everything you give him.  Your mouth falls open at the idea and shuts again as you push at his chest, watching as he goes down.

Something flashes in those blue eyes of his as he has just enough reach to turn on the light and you relax the blade just enough to let him do it, let him give you a good look at him.

“Go on,” he says.  “Take your reward.”

You huff an-almost laugh, stunned, delighted.  You think of him collared but quickly dismiss the notion.  Next time.  You’re too impatient to leave the room.  You look down at Feyd, pliant and waiting beneath you, and press the tip of the knife just barely against his skin.  “Help me get your pants off,” you tell him as you raise your hips enough to give him access.

His eyes blaze as he does as he’s told, raising his hips to push them down his legs, kicking a little to get them further down.  Do they come all the way off?  Probably not.  You don’t care.  His cock stands at attention, and you relinquish the knife in order to brace a hand on his stomach, your other hand positioning him at your entrance.  Feyd’s hands in turn cup your hips.  It takes some finessing, moving on top of him; it’s not a position you’ve explored much before but you’re slick enough that it’s effortless to line him up against you and slide down onto him.

“You wanna ride me?” he says as you rock your hips for the first time and a moan spills from your lips.  He feels so good, you think, almost dazed, mouth falling open.

“Is that what this is called?” you ask, resting your hands on his chest, taking the opportunity to squeeze and grope whatever you can find.

Feyd lets out a breathless laugh, sliding his own hands over your hips, bringing one up further to squeeze one of your breasts in turn.  “Among other things,” he says.

You almost laugh as well; this way it’s almost like his body’s a fun toy you can use to amuse and please yourself.  You have better access to the rest of him this way, and he you.  He’s never really let you touch him like this, and you wonder–he doesn’t have breasts, but would he still like it if you touched his nipples?  You rock your hips, still getting a feel for the rise and fall, the drag of it, as you circle your thumb around one of them before pinching the bud between it and your forefinger.  For a moment you expect him to snap at you, grab your wrist and growl a warning at you, but he twitches and gasps and you repeat the gesture.

Your breath hitches and you can’t help but smile for a moment, delighted at the new information you have on this man, the vulnerability of him under you.  Would he, under the right circumstances, allow the clamps he’s used only once on you?  You bring one hand to his bare thigh as you try out different movements and speeds, oscillating between a rolling grind, bouncing up and down, a combination of both as the friction from this position is a unique thrill that builds the heat within you just as fast as the drag of him inside of you.

He brings one hand to your neck, thumb to your pulse point, and gives a light squeeze.  You just bear down and ride him harder as if to say, You think that scares me?  I know you, husband.  You’ve hurt a lot of people and you’re going to hurt more, but not me.  Not in a way that I can’t handle and come back from.

The clarity of it is almost shocking, but you know in your heart that it’s true; even tonight is his own perverse kind of fondness.

What a strange fucking husband, what a strange fucking marriage you have, that minutes after you thought you were about to be killed you feel safer than you have with him so far.

Your orgasm rips through you faster than you’ve ever managed with him inside of you, has you crying out as you shut your eyes and throw your head back, stomach and thighs clenching and every nerve on fire.  For a moment everything’s red and everything’s hot and you feel like you’ve just incinerated yourself, and then you come to, mouth open and hips still jerking in short thrusts on top of him and all you can see are Feyd’s pupils blown wide as he stares up at you.

There’s a moment you realize that you could deprive him of an orgasm.  One of the first nights you were together, the moment it seemed like you were about to come, he’d smugly withheld it from you.  Now that you’ve gotten yours, you could stop, climb off of him, and tell him he can finish himself off.  Right now he seems dazed, mouth open, his grip on your throat more of a loose hold.  For a moment you picture the lost look on his face if you do it.

That moment breezes by, and you start rocking onto him again, panting and moaning as you scratch down his chest, your nails catching onto his nipples, making him buck his hips and moan, the movements jostling your insides.  He’s close–and somehow, you’re building again with your frayed nerves, but you’re going to need his help to bring you over with him.

Well, maybe not need.   But you’re going to tell him anyway.

It takes you a few tries, mouth open, trying to form the words, before you say, “Touch me,” and you’re pretty proud of how it comes across as an instruction rather than a plea.

In turn it takes him a moment to register your orders before sliding his hand to your neck down to one of your breasts, squeezing and fondling one and then the other, and finally, mercifully sliding his other hand from your hip and resting it high up on your thigh, rubbing his thumb along your apex.

“That’s it,” you manage, closing your eyes, gritting your teeth at how frustratingly close you are while still so sensitive, so determined to make it over the edge before he does.  He’s panting underneath you, his heart pounding, sweat dampening his chest and his thigh and he shifts his legs and–oh.  Oh .  That’s it.  You don’t register your own moans and cries as you shut your eyes against it, feeling him coming inside of you, hearing a guttural moan ripped out of his chest as he arches his hips up into you and for a moment you feel like everything’s shattering, everything bursting into air.  After a moment you still your hips, taking in shuddering breaths, waiting to come back to yourself.

You open your eyes again and look down at Feyd, who looks at you like he’s never looked at you before and you realize this is what it’s like for someone to be in awe of you.  It’s a powerful feeling, especially from him.

You kept this away from me for nearly a month? you want to ask.  You let out a laugh.  You’re soaring.  You’re delirious.  You want to go again even as you tremble.

Feyd ends up talking first.  “Now what, pet?” he says, running his hands over your shaking thighs.  “Anything you want.”

You catch your breath.  He’s still under you, still subdued and tamed–for now.  You lean forward, bracing your forearms on either side of him, enjoying the shift of the angle of him inside of you even when softened.  He gives a slight hiss as you roll your hips once for good measure.

“I want to keep you inside of me until you get hard again, and then I want to ride you again until I can’t anymore,” you tell him.

You haven’t seen him drunk but you can imagine that it looks a little like this, the way his head rolls to the side and he grins, still looking dazed and bedazzled.  You can hardly blame him; you feel almost out of your own body as well.

I have you.  I have you.  I have you.

[mcsm-confessions]

We need more what-book-would-the-cast-read headcanons, stat. Nobody's invented television yet (or perhaps cinemas) so what form of entertainment is both historically accurate and available in-game? Books!

I'll start:

Jesse, as a turbo nerd, loves the heck out of whatever the in-univers equivalent of superhero comics is (knights, not laser beams), owns special editions of the Lord of the Rings, has fun with those campy space-opera sci-fi books and and occasionally picks up the occasional nonfiction book about obscure interesting topics, which her friends will then hear about nonstop for the next week or so. She has a special fondness for Charlotte's Web, which she used to read to Reuben when he was younger. She sometimes leafs through the latest Cosmo in the convenience store magazine rack as a guilty pleasure.

Olivia also enjoys a decent sci-fi novel (albeit less space opera and more hard science), likes murder mysteries, secretly indulges in a few chastely romantic Victorian classics, eats Linux user manuals for breakfast and gets the latest edition of Popular Redstonics mailed to the treehouse every fortnight. She has occasional arguments with Jesse over the organizational system of their shared library, which tends to lapse into chaos when the latter is in charge.

Axel shares Jesse's enthusiasm for superhero comics and is first in the queue to get the newest volumes for the both of them. His memoir and travel literature collection is substantial—his stamp collection sits proudly between—and he secretly reads poetry and has attempted to make his own tentatively awkward verses. He also subscribes to Backyard Demolitionists Weekly in the mail.

Petra doesn't mess with 'stuffy old books written by dead people' (classics), but still rereads Treasure Island and other gallivanting picaresque type novels in her spare time. She digs the Count of Monte Cristo but completely missed the message about the costly and potentially futile price of revenge. Anything history related that doesn't have multiple wars in it is like pulling teeth. She used to secretly look at the Playboys hidden in a chest in her father's room when no one was around.

Lukas is invested in a wide range of literary fiction, from historical novels to the weirder avant garde novellas, and has a soft spot for little felines in his books. He's not the most well versed in philosophy but had a brutal period in his late teens when he discovered Schopenhauer. East of Eden has a special place in his heart for certain familial similarities, but he's never thought to voice that out loud. On the rare occasion that he's really irate he'll burn through a standard slasher horror novel and then discreetly return it to the library. In the future, a whimsical passage in his authorized biography will note that he's one of the few authors who isn't on outrageous (or any) quantities of drugs when writing.

Ivor reads romance novels, the sappiest, bodice ripping Mills and Boons stuff. He hides it under extreme lock and key and would probably vaporize whoever found out about it. It's another thing he has in common with his mother, which he is apparently unaware of. He also composed atrocious poetry in his sulky teenage years, which was burnt long ago. Those Gary-Stu edgy grim fantasy protagonists appealed immensely to him, and was a phase that lasted until he got the chewing out of his life from Ellegaard when attempting the same mannerisms in the lab.

Aiden doesn't read and is proud of it because he's an arrogant numbskull.

~~~

[ghosts-and-glory]

Time-lapse of this comic

Five hours elapsed at about 60x speed. When I start colouring the layout changes cause I switch drawing tablets / display screens.

Anyone who has ever seen me draw hates it. Nightmare process at hand and I'm committing an incredible amounts of comic crimes. Everything relies on muscle memory, little to no sketch, fuck it we ball energy.

[yanderes-galore]

Hey man. I have a question. Is it possible to do an Yandere Concept for Miles Tails Prower (Either Romantic or Platonic is Fine).

Sure! Here you go! Obviously doing Modern Tails for this. This is primary platonic but eludes to something else, yet it never actually goes anywhere. I think I depicted "Yandere in denial" well in this :)

Yandere! Miles "Tails" Prower Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Denial/Lucidity, Overprotective behavior, Stalking, Jealousy, Fear of abandonment implied, Tails is mentioned to have a crush but doesn't entirely pursue it, Slight delusional behavior, Guilt, Trackers mentioned, Clingy behavior mentioned, Manipulation, Blackmail mention, Implied violence, Isolation, Dubious companionship.

Platonic or romantic I feel Tails would be really sweet.

He genuinely just wants to help and impress you, maybe even be more like you.

He'd be like a best friend who has a budding crush on you.

He knows he wants to do anything he can for you… he just doesn't know the extent of it yet.

Tails is a fox who gained his confidence through his adventures with Sonic.

He still gets insecure and dependent on others at times, but he has grown from when he was younger.

He has grown to realize his genius when it comes to technology and is definitely a different fox from when he first met Sonic.

I personally feel Tails can meet you around Sonic Forces or sometime during the IDW comics as he is most mature there for his character. Maybe even the start of Prime?

However I'm going to keep this concept general.

I have a feeling Tails would express hopeful/delusional yandere behavior.

He's naive but very positive and loyal.

Tails would most likely be content with just being a close friend, but if he had a crush he'd be hopeful that you reciprocate.

Tails is calm and mostly spends time working on his inventions.

Speaking of which… he would use inventions to aid him in his “little” obsession over you.

Tails probably met you through Sonic or you being a rookie if we're talking forces.

When you become a new ally you may appeal to Tails in some way.

For example, you listen to his technobabble with intrigue.

You even ask questions to learn more.

It probably isn't hard for Tails to be attached to a new friend.

Especially if you spark something within him.

You just make the fox feel all… fuzzy?

He doesn't entirely understand but he always finds the feeling lingering when you're with him… even when you leave.

Tails seems very naive about how he feels towards you.

As time passes he sees you as a great friend, one he treasures like Sonic.

Although… Maybe there's something hidden within that?

Something more intense? Something darker?

He isn't sure… but he likes how you make him feel!

Tails would be a yandere concerned about your safety like most yanderes in this universe (Hero yans, not really villains).

He'd also make drones and tech to aid/watch you.

Yeah I feel Tails, like most scientist yanderes, would stalk you through tech like cameras and drones.

He tries to tell himself and you he means well… but deep down he isn't entirely sure if that's true.

Tails has grown to be independent yet he may have lapses where he's clingy.

I feel Tails may fall into the category of the yandere who looks cute and innocent… but is darker deep down.

He tells you he means well and you trust him.

He's your friend!

When in reality something darker is brewing.

Tails would feel insecure if you didn't include him in your daily life.

It starts with events, he wonders why you don't invite him to hang outs with some people and it gets to him.

His insecurities would drive some of his actions which pushes him to be clingier.

Being included in your life soothes his obsession and makes him calm.

When away from you… he wonders if he's good enough.

Tails is also not the most demanding yandere.

He wants attention but he is more willing to smother you in his.

Tails would do anything for you and not ask for anything in return except maybe your attention.

He just likes making you smile, it makes him smile!

Tails seems like he'd adore hugs as his preferred form of affection.

They're innocent and not very invasive.

It works if he's a best friend, even if he has a hidden crush.

If anyone is bothering you, Tails will listen to your rants and comfort you if you cry.

I really can't see Tails murdering… it just isn't him.

He'd be more likely to manipulate them away from you with threats or blackmail.

Unless that's what he wants you to think…

Maybe he is the reason you never see anyone who was with you again… you didn't notice any red stains on him, did you?

The second option isn't really his character… but people will do anything for love and adoration, yeah?

Tails would hide his obsession, always playing the lovable fox friend.

He'd make it hard for you to suspect him of anything.

Any manipulation, stalking, picture taking, or violence is cleverly hidden from your eyes.

He even hides it from Sonic and the others.

If they found out… they could take you from him!

… take you from him…

Oh no.

Tails doesn't really like these darker thoughts of his.

You're just friends… aren't you?

Does he even know?

All he knows is he wants to be by you… but what are these other thoughts?

Why's he so violent?

Why does he feel so irritated?

He… he doesn't want to hurt anyone, right?

Well… maybe… as long as they don't take you from him.

Tails isn't even sure if he can be away from you.

He worries things will get worse.

In fact, they might.

Especially when he starts thinking about isolating you with him… sticking trackers on you… upping security.

He's sure it'll pass!

He's in denial.

He can fix this!

Can he, really?

Tails would be a yandere who breaks from his delusions at times and hits denial about his actions.

He isn't sure if he should reprimand himself or tell himself he's okay.

This isn't normal… he knows this as he falls into darkness.

Yet he can't seem to clear his mind of you.

He's too far in… He can't go back now…

It can't get much worse than this… can it?

He hopes not….