#Mrs. Unnamed

[truelazymaker]

I ended up redesigning Asahi to match the aesthetic of being a cultist. He still refuses to wear a robe though. He only uses his jinglebell grenades to spread the red gas faster during invasions and is second choice in combat. His main choice of combat is now his fists and claws after being able to use his inherited powers from his late mother (A space rider that specialises in inhumane strength). His fingers are permanently stained with the blood of all the Space Riders he had killed from his rage and hatred.

His lore has changed as well, he now has a great hatred towards Space Riders. The reason for it was that time he witnessed a crew of Space Riders (Will not specify which crew though, let's say a random one he hasn't seen or heard of) defeat his father and capturing him after. From there, he developed a hatred to all Space Riders because they took the only person that genuinely cared and loved him.

He thinks of the cult as his family, he would cook meals or make snacks in secrecy and give it to cultists that he knew of. He became addicted to the red gas in order to calm himself from his own rage. Once he is in full effect of the red gas, he often hallucinate of being his younger self, he felt much happier that way.

Without the red gas effects:

Without the mask:

[Thousand yard stare]

And something random, his thoughts about the other cultists:

Gilded (belongs to @qxurugosk): He admires Gilded, he is always attentive whenever they gave orders or commands. He doesn't complain or question the tasks they gave to him. They are one of the cultists he leaves meals or snacks anonymously from time to time.

In simple words, he admires them as his higher up and is very much obedient to them.

Mrs. Unnamed (belongs to @fishy0bishy): He often mistakes this cultist with his late mother, so he frequently had to apologise for it. For most of his life, he had little interactions with his late mother before she passed away. So, she was the closest to a mother figure to him. She is also one of the cultists he makes a meal or snack for and gives anonymously.

In simple words, he thinks of her as his mother but seems too indenial to admit.

Lazy Priest (belongs to @novalizinpeace): He thinks of her as his older sibling, she is the unfortunate one to be the first person to witness him drop his act and become all childish for half an hour before apologising to her for another half hour. She always get the short end of stick when it comes to his tantrums and raging about not being allowed to maul a Space Rider to bits.

He thinks she finds him annoying, so he compensates by giving her some of the meals and snacks that he makes anonymously.

He still wholesome despite being a villain huh-

Space Riders AU belongs to @onyxonline

(I forgor to do oop-)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

One thing I’ve never exactly understood. Why did the victory on Earth in books 53/54 correspond to a total victory over the Yeerk Empire? Most clearly, we never see the Council of 13 get defeated.

Short answer: Eva.

Long answer:

This is all kind of background to the main plots of the books, but. What we know happens is something like this.

The yeerks try to take Leera, under Visser One's leadership. They meet andalite resistance, leeran resistance, and Animorph resistance — ultimately they fail (#15 - #18).

V1 gets reassigned to Sleegab Five. Not many details, but it doesn't go well. Doesn't help that Marco has been actively discrediting her within the Empire (#30).

V1 gets rereassigned to Anati (#30).

Toby et al. launch a resistance on the Hork-Bajir Homeworld (#34).

V1 gets tried as a traitor (thanks, Marco) and slated for execution (Visser). V3 becomes V1. This corresponds with the Empire withdrawing from some failed attempts to take other planets.

Eva (after being rescued; thanks Marco) points out that the Yeerk Empire has few territories outside of Earth that aren't being occupied by andalite counter-invasions (#45).

Andalites have occupied Yeerk Homeworld, Taxxon Homeworld, and Sleegab Five, taking them back from Yeerk Empire (#46). Eva knows that the yeerks are trying to convince the andalites that their focus is on Anati, and that their actual focus is on Earth.

Ax persuades Andalite War Council that yeerks are concentrating on Earth, which is a mixed blessing — it gets the andalites to head for Earth, but they plan to annihilate it when they arrive (#46).

Yeerk forces further concentrate on Earth (#51). Eva speculates that they now have 0 other planets, if they've lost Anati.

Jake, Toby, and Eva plan to blow the biggest yeerk pool on Earth to convince the yeerks "Earth isn't worth their time". They know they're making the yeerks some other planet's problem, but need to prevent the andalites from wiping out humanity (#52).

The yeerks are so overcommitted to Earth that blowing the yeerk pool has the opposite effect. New!V1 instead lands the Pool Ship on Earth and throws everything at an open Earth invasion (#53).

Eva, Jake, Arbron, and V17* conspire to both draw andalite forces to Earth and conceal that fact from new!V1. Now all the andalites' and all the yeerks' eggs are in the Earth basket (#53).

Jake corners V1 and forces him to surrender. V17 reveals to the Empire that the andalites are here, and plans to use that chaos to escape with a splinter group. The andalites accept Jake's handing over the Yeerk Empire (#54).

Rachel kills Tom, preventing V17's escape.

Ax and Alloran manage to negotiate Earth remaining independent, even as the andalites take control of the Yeerk Empire.

[ulenehlervu]

sketched josephine and some ideas for her siblings :)

drew these as warmups for a week based on old designs i first came up with years ago :')... the clothes are not at all reflective of antivan fashion... had just started considering 1600s silhouettes for central thedosian fashion back then so these were probably done off of 17 c. italian paintings

[spooky-month-archive]

The trailer for Spooky Month 6: Hollow Sorrows

[patheticrafeenjoyer]

UNNAMED MRS. CAMERON I WILL AVENGE YOU ONE DAY

[cybertron-after-dark]

YOUR DOODLES ARE SO SILLY GOOFY CUTIE

Anon this ask fueled me to knock out a whole page of doodles, here's the result with closeups

[irraddiated]

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Bandmates Wanted

Day #2 - Prompt: In the Beginning | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | POV: Jeff | Pairing: None | Tags: Forming Corroded Coffin, Meeting Each Other, Shoutout to Mr. Clarke For Supporting Kids and Their Dreams

It's probably overkill, but Jeff sticks another piece of tape on the flyer, making sure it'll stay put in the school hallway. When he's done, he takes a step back and looks at his handiwork. 

It's a little crooked. Damn.

Oh well, it still gets the point across, he supposes. 

He's not sure how this will go. There might not be any bites, and if there are, they might all suck. Mr. Clarke said he'd supervise the auditions, even if they fell out of his purview, whatever that is. Jeff's glad. He's nervous, and having someone else there, looking like they're in charge, might help. 

The AV room is small, but Jeff isn't expecting much of a turn out, but he'll just have to wait and see what Friday brings.

"Is this Jeff?" the voice on the phone asks, a woman.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Jeff. I'm Carolyn Jones. I'm calling about your band auditions."

"Oh, um. They're really only for kids," he says, unsure.

She laughs, "Yes, I'm aware. I'm calling for my son. He was interested, and I just wanted to know more, before I gave him the okay."

What kind of sissy baby needs his mommy to call for him? Probably nobody that belongs in a heavy metal band, that's for sure. But Jeff's mom would kill him if he isn't polite, especially to another adult, so he bites his tongue. He definitely doesn't have to let the kid in the band, though, that's for dang sure.

"Um, okay, what questions do you have?" he asks, kind of regretting that he ever put his number on the flyer. 

"Well, I'm not really sure," she says with a laugh, and it's warm, kind. He doesn't feel like she's judging him, somehow.

"Okay. Um, I'm Jeff. Williams. I'm in the seventh grade. I play the guitar, and sing a little bit. But if someone better comes along, I'm totally fine with giving that up."

"Well, Gareth doesn't sing, I don't think. He plays the drums, and is a year younger than you."

"Does he have drums?" Jeff asks.

"He does."

"Is he good?" Jeff asks, and she laughs.

"Well, I'm his mother, so I'm a little biased. But I think so."

Jeff laughs, "Have him come to Mr. Clarke's room on Friday. He doesn't need to bring his own drums. Mr. Clarke is borrowing a kit from the band room."

She asks a few more questions, and then finally hangs up.

Jeff goes and digs out his sister's yearbook from last year, so he can see what this kid looks like. 

And there he is, a tiny twerp with a mop of messy curls. Jeff sure hopes he's grown since then. Or, maybe Jeff will have other options, better options, and won't have to let this little kid in his band. 

Come Friday, Jeff's nervous. Really nervous. Only one slip has been taken from the flyer, and he suspects that went home with Gareth to his mommy.

It's five after six, and nobody showed up.

"It's okay, Jeffery. It's still early, don't worry yet," Mr. Clarke says, and Jeff nods. He hopes that's true. 

Then they both hear a commotion, and a cymbal crashing against the tile floor in the hallway.

Jeff jumps up, and Mr. Clarke follows, where they find a little kid, Gareth, trying to drag his own drums into the school, even after Jeff said that he didn't need to do that. Dummy.

The boy's mom is with him, bringing up the rear. Of course she is.

"Whoa, hey, you didn't need to bring those," Jeff says, looking over the huge handful of equipment both are trying to carry, and not very well.

"I told him you said that, dear, but he was adamant that he play his own drums," his mom says, and Jeff nods, because they're here now, and at least somebody showed up. And Jeff gets that. He'd want to play his own guitar, too.

"Okay, let us help then," Jeff says as he reaches for a piece, and Mr. Clarke does the same. 

Then Jeff sees Goodie Goodwin, the snarky, dry-witted kid from his homeroom carrying in a bass. He didn't even know Goodie played the bass. They aren't friends, not really, but they are friendly enough that Jeff would have asked him, if he'd known.

"Hey, we're right in there," Jeff tells him.

And Goodie just looks at him as he walks by, "Yeah, I know where Mr. Clarke's room is."

Well, fair enough, Jeff supposes.

They get everything set up, and then just all three look at each other, like, well, what do we do now? Pick a song, Jeff supposes, but after some back-and-forth, they settle and get started. It's rough, but it's not bad. It could be way, way worse.

And so they play, until they've broken a sweat and Mr. Clarke has put big, heavy earphones over his head, probably tired of the racket.

"I need a drink," Jeff says, "gimme a sec."

He's headed for the water fountain, when Jeff sees Eddie Munson lurking at the edge of the hallway, the new transfer student with a buzz cut, bad attitude and reputation, a guitar case over his shoulder. 

"Are you here for…?" Jeff trails off. Eddie just kind of nods, so Jeff walks towards him, "Why didn't you come in?" 

"You weren't asking for a guitar player," Eddie answers, "but I do like metal. And I play."

"Well, maybe we could have two guitar players," Jeff offers, "that's pretty normal, I think."

Eddie smiles, just barely, but it is a smile.

"Did you have a big turnout?" Eddie asks, and Jeff shakes his head no, being honest. He didn't. Not at all.

"No. One drummer, one bass player, and you, if you want to come play with us. We're not half bad."

Eddie nods, running his hand over his buzzed head like he's nervous, but he finally agrees with a soft, "Okay."

Okay, Jeff thinks, let's do this.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[xr0tt3nxfl3shx]

Please do not the conspicuous blood stain. Ima just start tagging my au as unnamed twomp au until i find a name to name it x[

[toxintouch]

apéritif - an alcoholic beverage usually served before a meal to stimulate the appetite, it is usually dry or acidic rather than sweet. The word comes from the Latin aperire, "to open". ✦Vere x Oracle MC. ("They" Pronouns, no other identifiers used.) A little spice, but nothing above a T Rating. Other warnings? Joyful overuse of dashes & en-dashes. ✧𓁺 What, pray tell, can an Oracle offer a god? <- Previous: Deicide (both can be read completely separate) ✦Read on AO3

VERE: Apéritif

The alleyways are eerily silent. Absent is the telltale shuffling of human gangs awaiting unknowing stragglers, the skittering of Soulless and the fluttering whispers of many still worse horrors. All silent — silenced.  Quieted by the apex predator.  Such lower beings are easily subdued, hunger and greed and blood lust waylaid by want of self preservation.  Only the sound of their own breathing singing off the stone walls greets them as they tear down Eridia’s winding streets.

Their feet ache with every bound and twist, tendons protesting each abrupt turn, each sudden swerve.  Their survival hinges on their ability to remain unpredictable: their ability to foresee and adapt.  Their foe is faster, stronger.  He knows every inch of the city.  Their only chance is to anticipate him, steal seconds from the future and hope that mere seconds are enough.

Their mind swims, vision a blur of colors and noise – not just from lack of oxygen but from the strain of forcing their powers to the limit.  Tracing the hum of danger: barely visible, shadow-fast, oppressive—

The world spins and slows.  They hold tight to their adrenaline, fighting to stay just one step–only half a step, now–ahead.  They struggle harder; fight to pinpoint the immediate threat instead of finding themself lost in the tide of beating hearts and ticking clocks,  a single drop of water hitting the surface of a vast expanse of red...  Fluttering feathers and a sound too acerbic and pervasive to be music, a single solitary note: screeching, sorrowful and

Hot breath at the nape of their neck;

 a salivating, gaping maw.

They gasp, breath fleeing their hollow chest.  It echoes back to them, bouncing unnaturally off the wide streets of the Amaryllis District like a taunt.  They’re too open, they realize – exposed.  A scurrying prey animal, small thing that he gazes upon from—

They turn down the length of an alleyway lined in red lanterns and they feel him looming closer, stalking the spaces in between flickers of lamplight.

His eyes, glowing–from the right–an imprint of a future they can find behind their eyelids.

So they turn left, shadows passing over them as they fit into the narrow space between two buildings.  It’s a risk, but it’s all they have left.

The cramped space is more an alcove than a passageway, but they can feel—if not see—an exit.  

They force their breath down their throat, inching quietly, feeling along the walls with bandaged hands, grounding themself to this place and time, asking the city to open its hidden doors for them.

Five more steps and they find themselves deposited at an impasse.

The alcove widens into a four way split.  North, south, east and west.

They freeze, rabbit hearted.  Their shoes stutter an awful protest as they jerk towards one direction, then the other, searching through possibilities in their mind.  Each path is screaming danger–no viable future–no possible escape–  

But they were so certain, they know they felt…

Too late.

Too long spent debating, making an unwinnable choice, pursuing once last empty gamble.

The shadows flicker and blur, dancing and boiling.  The deafening silence is severed, sliced through by fiendish fox laughter.  Animal cackling juxtaposed against their panting breaths, a discordant melody.

Adrenaline rushes them, hot in their bloodstream, beckoning their feet forwards for one last sprint.

He's on them all at once.

Vicious.  All teeth and heat and bite, devouring their air and their struggle in one fell swoop.  He swallows their gasping breath, tongue scalding against their night chilled lips as he chases the remnants of a scream.

His body is between their knees, arms around the back of their thighs, claws digging into supple flesh, lifting them.  Their back meets the wall as he presses them into it, his dangerous mouth descending.

It’s like being consumed.  Heat and haze and ravenous gluttony.  Each kiss bleeds into the next, teeth at their throat when they have to catch their breath, searing marks into their skin—a deliberately bestowed collar, something to match his own.   Clever lips—clever tongue.

The adrenaline in their blood twists, dips lower and settles in their core.  Their lips part around a pitchy, desperate little noise that makes him chuckle.

They laugh back, arching their back to luxuriate in the feeling of him thrumming against them like a second pulse.  There’s hedonism and revelry in this game of theirs—a dizzying concoction that mixes with the instinctual fear.  Kerosene pouring down their throat, stoking the flames of some heretofore hidden appetite.

He swallows their screams and their laughter the same.  Ravenous.  Savoring.  

A little blood, a little death.  Satisfaction for an instinct they can’t quite find the flavor of.

"Hmmm, you certainly are much more fun to chase these days."  He hums.  It's as close to a genuine compliment as they've come to expect from Vere.  “You work on that stamina a little more and you might even start to satisfy me.”  They huff, hands scrabbling at the wall for leverage – leverage; the word presses itself into their mind, insistent – and he watches them with eyes narrowed in amusement as they wrap their calves around his body and sink their teeth into his lip.

Repayment in kind.

(They wonder if it will be enough.)

[aghastro]

I LOVE TO DRAW!!!

[kursed-curtain]

Woah hatchetfield fandom I haven't been here in years 💥

OCs! In a sense 🤔 I've been imagining a sniggles sitcom where there's one sniggle from every LiB and they all have wacky slice of life times in Drowsytown!

We've got Petey Pan, Silly Billy, Mr ___, and Gwacie-Wacie!

✨ if anyone has any questions I'd love to answer hehe

[non-plutonian-druid]

[ID: two drawings in a style imitating the art from the webcomic Paranatural. In the first, an adult Five is snuggling with Delores, who is a giant centipede-shaped spirit in this universe. The second is a bust of Five and Delores, several years in the past, when Five is a teenager. Delores looks mostly unchanged. Five is wearing a NASA t-shirt. End ID.]

bug wife cuddling. also, a baby! (hes (slightly) older than he is in the show lmao)

[moonopulent]

Guys i think im going insane

Because this blog is now multifandom.

[truelazymaker]

いたずらっ子

He once tried to hide his plushies due to other worshippers trying to steal them. So, the best decision he had was to hide them in a cabinet where only he could fit in while in his child form.

Well, it backfired, he got spotted and caught, then he got his plushies confiscated by the higher ranked members. Plus, scolded and lectured for causing a ruckus.

(He got his plushies back afterwards)

AU belongs to @onyxonline

Lazy Priest (Plushie) belongs to @novalizinpeace

Mrs. Unnamed (Plushie) belongs to @fishy0bishy

Gilded (Plushie) belongs to @qxurugosk

Version without the shading:

[doodles-kit]

I remember, I had a concept of an Rev1999 oc. It was Butler/Housekeeper of a Haunted Mansion who's family he served for already died, yet he still maintain the house. [It was an early concept]

The idea was the ghost of the family is bounded to him of sorts because of his kindness and loyalty, plus having like a gag in the suitcase of a Butler character.

But then Tuesday happened, though I don't wanna scrap him since the two are lowkey different even though they have similarities on paper.