#ask ef

[emberfriday]

Hellooo 💛 who's that character you drew on your last Nickel's arts? These images does something to me, they're so kawaii... (*´∀｀*) (Sorry for my English 🌼)

hii🤲💞 that's my oc Ember🥺🥺

[elysianfieldsarchive]

Hiiii sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you guys knew where I could find Imitation of a Man by darkapple? it’s a season 6 dead things fic that used to be hosted on livejournal but has since been taken down and I can’t find it anywhere. 😭

Hello!

This is a fic that a lot of people ask about. You might try our Shoutbox or, if you're a member of our Discord, the #find-a-fic channel. Some members have saved copies of work no longer widely available, and as long as the title isn't on our Do Not Distribute List (which this one isn't), you're free to ask members if they're willing to share their copies.

[elsa-fogen]

Rise of the Radio Demon | Prologue Part 1

Next >>

insert joke about that 50k animation

is that a bird? is that a plane? No! That's Elsa is starting new comic! That's the third one and it's finally pure radiorose AHHAHAAHA well almost. Don't tell me that your friendship with your bestie didn't start with them trying to murder and eat you?????? Impossible (i don't have friends)

I have such a funny twist prepared ohh this is gonna be good!

I need to draw human Alastor at last! But i'm... afraid??? idk-

next part soon?

[onlyancunin]

He's so adorable when he's thinking what to say

[meo-eiru]

silas is so damn pretty. i'd immediately fold if i met him irl. thanks so much for creating him🛐 he is so precious💘❤️💖 i've got a question btw... so does he sing the human lullaby during night? do we get to cuddle him? ahhhh

Thank you he is indeed very precious!

You can kiss sleeping alone goodbye once Silas gets his hand on you. You’ll constantly have a giant elf with big tiddies hugging you tightly through the night no matter how hot or cold ghe weather is.

He does sing you lullabies but usually the words are quite mixed up and half of the song is just humming because he has a hard time remembering the whole thing. Sometimes he also just talks your ear off until you fall asleep

Unfortunately with him you don’t really get to stay up for too long, when he says sleep time it’s sleep time because staying up late isn’t healthy for you and he can’t risk you getting sick or something. But it’s ok! You get to be glued to him and you do fall asleep isn’t it fun :)

[stillandorsdoll]

River; James Kelly x Reader

You've got years of history neither of you talk about and a thousand ways you still love eachother without saying it.

It's always been him. And it's always hurt like this.

warnings & tags: female reader, angst, eventual smut, cursing, he's kinda possesive here.. but also rly sweet.. oops, vaguely toxic relationship, smoking, alcohol, arguing, some crying during sex, car sex, fingering, oral [f recieving], unprotected p-in-v, creampie, etc!!

word count: 2.7k

note: hi im mainly just a star wars writer but i cant stop listening to certain songs and thinking about james kelly. so.. uh yeah made a whole seperate blog for this.. yeah. #rabid

The porch light flickers like its bulb might give out any moment now. You're already halfway up the driveway after slinking out of the passenger seat while your heels are in one hand as you drunkly giggle at whatever stupid thing the idiot dropping you off said.

Then, there's just the sound of a car door slamming behind you—the random guy from the club who drove you home in a Mustang. He doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t wait. Just peels off down the street like he’s late for something that doesn’t even exist.

You're wobbling on the porch steps when your toe catches on the lip of the concrete, causing you to stumble.

“Fuck,” you mutter, regaining balance, barely. You try and dig through your purse. Lip gloss. Lighter. Compact mirror. No keys.

That’s when the door across the street creaks open.

“You’re gonna wake the whole fucking street up,” James Kelly mutters, crossing the street like it's nothing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he didn’t once fuck you in the backseat of his mom's car years ago.

Like he doesn't think about you every waking moment.

You look up at him. Your mascara is smudged, lips swollen from kissing the wrong mouth all night

“Thought you weren't speaking to me," you slur out.

He doesn’t say much at first. Just leans against your porch. One shoulder against the frame, a matchstick between his teeth.

“I wasn’t,” he shrugs. “Or I hadn't planned on it. Then I saw that dumbass peel out like he owned the street.” His voice is all gravel and resentment, and god, you’ve missed it. You missed it when he stopped coming around and stopped making up bullshit car excuses just to have a reason to see you.

And especially when he just up and vanished for a while.

James is closer to you on the porch now. His hands on your arms, holding you steady. His touch is rough yet weirdly tender, like he’s mad that it still means something.

Your keys jingle as he fishes them out of your purse, unlocking the door like it’s his house, like you’re his. Even after all this time.

“Thought you were mad at me,” you hiccup, half-teasing.

“Still am,” he says at first. And then he continues, his voice so soft now it makes your heart flutter, “but I don’t want you getting hurt out here.”

You blink up at him.

He's always like this.

“And you're drunk” he adds, unamused.

You whine and he fondly rolls his eyes.

He helps steady you like you're something delicate and breakable. Keeping his eyes on you as he quietly says: “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you inside.”

“I don’t need you taking care of me,” you try to say, but it comes out soft. Tired. Like maybe you do.

He doesn’t respond. Just presses the keys into your palm and helps you inside, guiding you gently.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

When you wake up the next day, it's just past noon and the sunlight pours through your bedroom window. Your mouth is vaguely dry, your head is pounding, and your heart is still beating too fast from a dream you don't even remember anymore.

When you step out onto the porch, James is already in your driveway. He's under your car hood, just like he always used to be back then.

He doesn’t look up when you pad down the porch steps, wearing one of his old flannels that you stole three summers ago. He just shifts a wrench in his palm and mutters something about needing some other tool.

“You sure you’re not just breaking it worse to keep coming over?” you tease, voice light.

He quietly chuckles but doesn't say anything.

You lean against the car, arms crossed under your chest. The shirt you’re wearing dips low, the hem brushing your bare thighs.

You know he notices—he’s always does. And not once has he ever been subtle about it. But he doesn’t say anything yet. Just pulls a cigarette from behind his ear, balancing it between his lips.

You linger beside him and watch his clenched jaw. The way sweat gathers on his temples. Stepping in between his legs, you reach around him and pull the lighter out from his back pocket.

“Don’t burn me,” he mumbles.

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Shut up.”

You strike the lighter and gently place it against the end of his cigarette, cupping your hand to block the wind. The tip flares and his eyes meet yours over the flame.

You both adore and despise the fact that if you hold eye contact with James Kelly for enough time, the memories start flooding back to you.

Like looking at him now. You’re sixteen again, sneaking beers in the shed behind his place. You’re seventeen, lighting a joint off the same cigarette. You’re eighteen, riding shotgun in his shitty car —the one from before the Camaro— bare legs up on the dash.

Execpt now.. you're older. And this feels softer. Sadder.

He exhales smoke.

You take the cigarette from his lips and take a drag yourself before asking, "You ever think about how many times we’ve done this?”

He furrows his eyebrow. “Smokin’ in the driveway?”

You shake your head. “This. You. Me. Summer. Pretending we’re just neighbors.”

His hand, though hesitant for a beat, lands on your hip. “Not pretendin’,” he says low. “I always knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That it was never gonna be just that.”

Your throat tightens. His thumb strokes absent circles through the flannel. You can see it in his gaze and creased brow, he's holding back from his emotions again.

“You’re still mad about last night,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“No,” he says. “I’m mad someone else got to hold you when I couldn't.”

You don’t reply. Just look at him. Really look at him. The way his eyes have always held too much. The sweat clinging to the back of his neck. The little nick on his knuckle.

All of him.

You pull the cigarette from his hand again, and blow the smoke right past his lips. There's a brief moment in the silence then where he just presses his forehead to yours.

“Stop smoking,” he grumbles finally, taking the cigarette from your hand.

You grin, too bright and too broken, “Says you.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It’s too hot inside the bar.

The A/C’s busted, the fans are lazy, and your drink is mostly melted ice now. You’re flushed from the heat, lips glossed over. The short dress you dug out from your closet earlier clings to the curve of your spine. Your hair sticks to where his hand used to rest back when he still touched you in public.

But you didn’t come here with James.

Though you knew he’d show up anyway.

You’re halfway through another drink, laughing at something dumb another guy just said. Some man who feels too tall, too charming, with his hands brushing the small of your back like he’s got permission. You don’t stop him.

Across the room, James sees it. He's standing near the bar with his arms crossed and jaw taut. He hasn't looked away since you walked in.

But he hasn’t moved, either.

So you let the guy’s hand linger and you laugh a little too hard at his stupid jokes. You make sure not to flinch when his fingers brush your bare thigh.

James still doesn't do anything.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Later on, when you're two and a half drinks in and feeling suffocated by the noise, you swiftly excuse yourself and head outside.

The night air hits you like a slap, it's thick with humidity and regret.

Trying to breathe, you lean against the brick wall, picking out a stray cigarette sticking out from your bag. You try digging for your lighter out of your purse with shaking fingers but it's all so overwhelming.

Trembling still, you try to light your shaky cigarette but miss.

You try another time, you miss again.

By the third time you're cursing under your breath.

Then—

“Didn't I tell you to quit this shit already?” James' voice is low, but sharp. Cutting.

You don’t even look at him. “Why? You got something to say?”

He takes the lighter and cigarette from your hand, sticking it between his lips. “You looked real cozy in there,” he growls under his breath.

You scoff. “Don't act like you still care"

He laughs once, short and bitter. “You really want to do this right now?”

You round on him. “Do what? Talk? Communicate? Like normal fuckin’ people?”

“You let him touch you.”

“You let him!” you yell. “You stood there and let him!”

He steps in closer. “You think I didn’t want to fucking kill him?”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because you’re not mine anymore!” he spits back.

That shuts you up.

Your chest heaves. His fists are clenched but he's still trying keep his temper. There's just piercing silence and crickets ringing out around you two for a while.

“You were,” he says, quieter now. “You were mine. I lost that.”

You shake your head. “You left! You got caught up in stupid shit. Again. You gave it up.”

He looks at you with those sad eyes he's constantly trying to hide behind his stoicism. Then, low and trembling, he says: "You’re still the only thing I ever think about... to get through everything.”

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

You don’t make it far from the bar.

James' hand is on your wrist, the other already fumbling for the handle of the car. He shoves the back door open like it’s muscle memory.

James drags into the backseat like he’s forgotten how to be gentle, but then he lays you down like you're something fragile and breakable anyway.

You fall back first onto the sticky leather seats, breath caught in your throat, dress bunched up around your hips. The door slams shut behind him, muffling the world outside.

The windows are already fogging.

He’s on top of you before either of you speak. Mouth on your neck, one hand pushing your thigh aside like he can’t even wait to ask. His fingers find your panties, already damp, already clinging to you.

“I hate you,” you gasp, fingers tangled in his hair, voice breaking already.

He groans against your skin, breath hot and uneven. “I know.”

Your back lifts off the seat when his two fingers slip inside you, slow and deliberate. His palm presses against your clit, just enough pressure to make you cry out.

“Still so fuckin’ tight,” he mutters, dragging his mouth back to yours. “You let anyone else have you like this?”

You can’t even speak. Just shake your head, glassy-eyed, whining against his lips. “No. Only you. It’s always been you.”

He freezes for a second.

And because you're embarassed at the sudden confession, you reach for his jeans to undress him, but he stops you. He nudges your hand away and drops to his knees on the floorboard between your legs.

“Wait,” he says roughly, eyes locked on where your panties are already soaked through. “Let me taste you first. Please.”

You blink down at him, lips parted. “Ja—”

His fingers hook the lace of your underwear down to your ankles, slow and deliberate. His breath brushes your inner thigh, and then he groans at the first sight of you bare like that.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re dripping.”

You try to say something back. You really do. But then his tongue is on you. And you can’t think at all.

He starts slow, teasing—long licks up your slit, soft flicks over your clit. He's already gripping your thighs, keeping you down to meet his mouth.

He groans like this is the part of making love with you he missed the most.

Your hands shoot to his hair, hips jerking, breath coming in ragged gasps. He keeps eating you out like he knows you. Like he remembers everything. That spot right by your clit, the angle you like. His tongue circles you once, twice, then seals his mouth over you and sucks.

Your thighs clamp around his head.

Your voice breaks.

And he fucking smiles into you.

James keeps licking, kissing, dragging his tongue through your pussy like he’s starving, like this is punishment and worship in equal measure.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he pants between strokes. “You let anyone else eat this pussy?”

You can’t even answer. Can’t form words. You’re grinding down on his face, thighs trembling, moaning his name like it’s the only thing you remember.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you for a moment, his lips covered in your slick. His eyes drink you in like this, the way you always come undone under him.

He dives back in and this time, he doesn’t stop until you come hard. Until you're crying, shaking, and sobbing his name over and over like a prayer. He groans into your pussy like he’s coming too, like getting you off did something to his soul.

When he finally pulls back, his chin is damp and glistening. His lips are red. He looks wrecked. He drags two fingers through your slick, still watching you unravel, before he slips them into his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Mine,” he whispers.

Then he unzips his jeans and his pants are shoved down in one frantic motion. He barely gives you time to blink before he’s lining himself up, sliding the blunt head of his cock against your entrance.

You claw down at his shoulder blade, arching into him. "P-Please." you whine.

With that, James pushes in slowly, inch by inch. Until he bottoms out and you swear you can't breathe.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel like fuckin’ home.”

You’re already shaking and clenching around him.

“Why does this feel so good,” you whimper, your nails biting into his skin, “when everything else about this.. us.. hurts?”

He starts to move in long, slow thrusts that drag against your walls and make your vision blur.

“‘Cause you’re mine,” he breathes. “I know I fucked up. But no matter how long we're apart or who touched you, no matter what I said before.. you’re mine.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in deeper and harder. He keeps fucking into you like he never stopped being yours.

Your bodies slide together with the heat and sweat of summer, the car rocking steadily. He braces one hand beside your head while the other tangles in your hair, kissing you like he wants to crawl inside your lungs and stay there.

Your eyes start to brim with tears and James says your name like it's something holy. He softly kisses your tears when they start falling down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you sniffle, lips brushing his. “I missed you every fuckin’ day.”

“I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry—god, I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”

His thrusts get rougher and deeper. You clench around him with every slam into you, gasping, crying, shaking.

“I don’t wanna do this with anyone else,” he breathes, voice gone and desperate.

And when you come, it’s devastating. You're choking on a sob while the shockwaves wrack your whole body. His cock is buried in you while your mouth falls open and you sob against his shoulder, arms wrapped tight around his neck like if you let go, you’d fall apart.

He follows right after and comes deep and hot inside of you. Spilling into you like he means it, like he wants to stay there forever.

James' breath against your neck is heavy and erratic while one hand holds the back of your head like a promise he’s never kept before.

Afterwards, you don’t really say anything. Just run your hand through his hair and kiss his face all over.

He whispers, too quiet to mean anything but too honest to mean nothing:

“I love you. I just never know how to do it right.”

♡ (end) ♡

[azurem]

Hey there, folks! Got a question for our favorite tentacled eldritch monster! Nightmare, what's the best and worst thing about having Ink as a partner?

[weirdglassthing]

Posting more of my ouaw fanart here because I think I’d die if I shared it on the discord and one of the party members saw it.

Some guys

Some husbands

0 impulse control

[alexturntable]

just saw the drivers dinner video courtesy skysports and literally the 1st moment was charles looking at carlos while he was Not talking (he was running a hand through his hair. obviously. and then picking out a breadstick. obviously. how hungry is that man omg!!?)

I saw that! Carlos is just here for the food. Charles is hungry for something else entirely.

[sunbleachedbitch]

John Lennon talking about (Just Like) Starting Over

It’s like the channels on the radio are jammed you know, I was not getting clear signals. And after 10, or 15, almost 20 years of being under contract and having to produce two or more, three albums a year in the early days and a single every three months, regardless of what the hell else you were doing. Or what your family life is like, what your personal life is like, nothing counted.

You just have to get those songs out. And Paul and I turned out a lot of songs those days. And it was easier because it was the beginning of our, you know relationship and career.

Paul and I developed in public, as it were. We had a little rehearsal in private, but mainly we developed our abilities in public. But then it got to be format. And sort of not the pleasure that it was. And that’s when I felt that I’d lost myself.

Not that I was on purpose—purposely being a hypocrite or a phony, but it took like, it took something away from what I set out to do. I started out to do the rock’n’roll because I absolutely liked doing it. So that’s why when I ended up doing a track like Starting Over.

It’s kind of tongue in cheek. You know it’s sort of ala, elvis and that. And I hope people accept it like that. I think it’s a serious piece of work, but it’s also tongue in cheek, you know? I mean, I went right back to my roots all the time we were doing it. I was calling Elvis, Elvis, you know, and it’s not going back to being Bealte John in the 60s.

It’s being John Lennon who was—whose life was changed completely by hearing American rock’n’roll on the radio as a child. And that’s the part of me that’s coming out again. That’s why I’m enjoying it this time. I’m not trying to compete with my old self or compete with the young New Wave kids or anything like that, that are coming out. I’m not competing with anything.

I’m trying to go back and enjoy it as I enjoyed it originally. I’m not aiming—I am not aiming at 16 year olds. If they can dig it, please dig it.

But when I was singing and writing this and working with her, I was visualising all the people of my age group from the 60s. Being in their 30s and 40s now just like me, and having wives and children and having gone through everything together. I am singing to them. I hope the young kids like it as well, but I’m really talking to the people that grew up with me and saying here I am now, how are you? How’s your relationship going? Did you get through it all? Wasn’t the 70s a drag?

You know, here we are. Well, let’s try and make the 80s good. You know, because it’s still up to us to make what we can of it. It’s not out of our control. I still believe in love, peace. I still believe in positive thinking. When I can do it, I’m not always positive, but when I am, I try and project it

[inkzectz]

I love your art, it's very very very cool =)

Tyy!! Here’s a little wip :P

[emberfriday]

Omg did u change ur pfp? :0

yeahh I put Ember on my profile pic in all my socials hehehe I love him

[sylvieserene]

cannot be the only one who hates when people ship the fairy costume x shadow milk cookie. Like ship whoever you want, but the costume is made specifically for Purelily shippers. I don’t wanna be that person, but it’s like they’re asking for hate ☹️

I personally dislike it but because of a few things that ultimately traces back to the hypocritical nature of this fandom.

I think most folks know that this costume is probably the MOST hated set in the game and if you visit twitter, you...just won't like it in there to say the least. From hating to attacking, everything goes for that set.

It is hated by both ShadowVanilla + Elderlily shippers (ofc) cuz:

"It should've been EF!! THEY WERE ROBBED"

"If not EF then SM plz."

"PV is ugly. Get him out."

"Ew he's molesting WL."

"WL is the one carrying this set. It should've been just her."

"This costume set was a mistake."

"I hate this."

The list goes on.

Most folks do keep mentioning the fact that WL slayed etc which she did, the costume is really pretty and on surface level? Everything seems alright but if you dig a lil deeper on the said users, you'll find NO history of them even caring, let alone talking about her outside Elderlily or in a lot cases, at all.

The same people who hate PV just being there, the "ugliness" (yes, the word ugly is being heavily used when it comes down to him) that comes down with him and how he should not have been there in the first place are the same folks who rejoice when PV is drawn in that same "ugly-ass" costume with SM.

Same folks like, reblog and comment like it's the second coming of Jesus and treat it as some holy event lol

This hypocritical behaviour is vast and funny at the same time lol

What I find the most funny is, this costume came from an explicitly Purelily content, but suddenly none of it is good cuz it's about PV and WL and it should've been just her but at the same time, they'll drag PV's costume with them to ship with SM.

Now some ppl will say that "HEY THATS CUZ WL SHOULD SHINE ON HER OWN NOT WITH JUST A GUY."

But is it REALLY about just that?

Because if it is so, why does this costume set gain the hate? Why should it have been Elder Faerie?

Why do all these folks feel the need to keep mentioning how WL looks amazing but PV has to go but then at the same time, treat that very costume as the most beautiful thing ever when it's SM?

So is it REALLY about just the costume or WL or is it about a misogynistic view on WL and the urge to fit shipping agendas?

Because I'm willing to bet if it was EF, the costume set wouldn't faced any heat. Suddenly it being an AU scenario wouldn't have mattered and it would've been the ultimate "proof" that Elderlily is canon but since it's Purelily, it sucks.

Like someone who borrows your work but never credits you.

It’s just like someone copying your art project, using the parts they like, and then trashing your name when people ask where it came from.

Cuz that's exactly whats happening here.

The said-fans consistently hate this set cuz it's "ugly" but at the same time, when taken seperate, they suddenly love everything about it.

The same folks who felt it's "terrible" just a few moments back when tagged with WL and felt the overwhelming urge to keep writing how she slayed every other comment.

It's like that one meme where when a fan tears down a character all the time but, the moment they're called out, they say "But I like her too! I reblogged fanart once!" as if that magically excuses all the other behavior.

So the question is,

Do they even mean it?

Or they're saying so to not come off as misogynistic?

I personally feel it's the latter because they never talk about WL meaningfully beyond that. If you check, almost all their history is filled with ShadowVanilla and Elderlily content which isn't wrong but the way they show their concern as if it's affecting WL's very autonomy (when it's literally not) and how they're concerned about it is incredibly hypocritical.

Because these same ppl also have expressed posts and comments with thousands of likes and reblogs on how WL should've married EF and stayed in the Faerie kingdom forever.

Heck they even say that EF and WL got married in this AU set WHEN THERE'S NO EVIDENCE FOR THAT :D

Ultimately, I just really hate that folks who hate Purelily and this costume set so blatantly, get their attitudes changed in a sec when the narrative is changed to their agendas and would attack you aggressively if you say anything against that cultivated narrative but wouldn't hesitate in doing so to the Purelily community. Heck, they won't even THANK the ship for the beautiful set they love interacting and using for themselves let alone even talk about it outside of criticising it.

It's almost as if the word "Purelily" burns them if they say it.

They certainly would hate on it, not acknowledge its positives but def rip off from its positives.

So yeah, I personally hate this particular behaviour regarding the set.

Not to mention the mischaracterisation that accompanies it all.

Viridescent PV is labelled as just a simp and all his other personality traits are completely erased. Like even under the potion, he simply just proposed to WL, nothing beyond that. He didn't "simp", he simply proposed to the woman both of his dreams and love (literally and metaphorically) to be his wife, a person who through tears had to say that they can't be together forever cuz duty and reminds him of his as well which he accepts and starts wondering how he'll get over her in the morning.

Even under the potion, Viridescent PV def had his nuances and even a personality of that of a benevolent responsible king who just was in love with another who can't be his forever as well.

That's exactly the reason it's a tragic comedy because the situation is not only ironic but also happened due to what's a potion (which may or may not have been the reason PV is acting this way cuz it's the faeries who assume so, we have no idea if it's true cuz unreliable narrator)

But nope in CRK fandom, it's nothing but just a simp costume and reserved for simping. If it's with WL then bad but with SM? Very good!

So yeah, this is basically my thoughts on it.

TLDR, I don't mind if someone uses his costume for shipping it with SM, Idt its waiting to be hated on either but I really, REALLY hate it when they act like it's the worst thing ever when it's with WL when they don't even care about her outside shipping and are hating SOLELY because she's there with PV while also being self-aware that this may come off as misogynistic so actively doing damage control as well.

If you’re gonna use the aesthetics or symbols from a ship you don’t like, at least stop pretending that ship is trash. Don't profit off it and then spit on it.

It's really garbage behaviour.

[elsa-fogen]

Rise of the Radio Demon | Prologue Part 3

(Used to be First Day in Hell comic)

<< Previous part - next (Chapter 1) >>

NO WAY FINALLY???

Last part was so long ago that ive changed my style

also probably won't go for full line and color in next chapters, because it's EXAUSTING and i will NOT survive another part.

And i figured that the previous name is not quite fitting... and i changed it. this and previous parts still have the old tag, but next ones will have only the new one

New part in another half a year i guess

btw let me know if you want to be tagged (and if you reading this from a reblog, check original postm maybe there's a link to the new part)

[xesnox]

All currently active NeoBuilders.

Minecraft default skins in Ancient Ruins, reference picture at the end for comparison.

Don’t look too close at the faces, had to speedrun this so I could actually motivate myself to finish the entire lineup. Definitely not my best work. Clothing was a pain to figure out and I’ll definitely change some things in the future as I’m still not entirely happy with the general aesthetics of some sets. Zuri and Efe were the worst to figure out, their clothing styles were very modern in comparison to what I’m going for with Ancient Ruins so it took me a while.

But first of all, what is a NeoBuilder?

Lore entry Ahead, body horror warning, nothing too extreme I wouldn’t say, but the concept definitely isn’t the prettiest.

“NeoBuilder” describes a category of individuals that appear to be within the homo-genus (Artisan Family.).

The dissection of a deactivated individual showed (us) they are made of about 85% mechanical components, most of which consist of copper and iron. Organs however remain fully functional and can be traced back to Ancient Artisans in origin through DNA sampling. Blood vessels aswell as a large portion of their flesh has been replaced by machinery, activated regulated and moved through restricted soul energy coursing through their veins as blood would on a fully biological human.

The change of energy source makes them effectively immune to the green plague, which is transmitted through blood. In place of a heart they have a still unnamed chamber (Ch1), acting akin to a cockpit housing a freshly created soul, which is replaced by converting experience farmed in the previous lifecycle to the next, taking the raw energy and morphing it into a new soul. As souls are neither human nor animal but simply an energy cluster made of (if found post mortum) memories and life experience this can easily (and understandably) be transferred, even if the origin of the experience in question happens to be non-sentient. The experience is collected and stored within yet another unnamed organ replacing their left kidney (Ch2).

But do not be fooled, this process by no means makes them immortal. If the body is in critical shape it will resort to exporting the active soul and using the remaining soul energy still running through the machinery to activate the emergency program. In this state the body will do nothing but return to whatever point the machine has clocked as “safe” (this kind of reset happens when the person is resting for an extended period of time, as it marks said area as safe enough to stay vulnerable within.) and fix its injuries back to base point, excluding the bio-matter, as there no longer is any such material around. Through the expelling of the last soul, and slow process of developing a new one, the machine will power down there until the next energy burst. This means that even though the body itself remains alive, every life cycle houses a different person. If you see the same NeoBuilder twice it is therefore not guaranteed it will come with the same intention, as it might be a completely different soul speaking through the same form.

If the damage is too bad however, the NeoBuilder will shut down and cannot be reactivated unless one with actual knowledge of how to do so were to interfere. The how has been lost to history however, we blame the creature of despair and decay that shall not be named. It is different from deactivation, as it renders the body permanently dead. Many NeoBuilders have deactivated, we assume only 9 of the previous 30 remain.

We have no idea as to why these manmade humanoids were created, as the why has also been buried and lost to years of untouched unaddressed missing history.

Infact, their names are quite new, till about half a century ago, due to my own research if I may pat myself on the back, we had assumed them to be a strange strain of plague infested ancients, as they’d always remained distant to us and a dead specimen was a more than rare find. It is not a fully worked out name whatsoever, the “Builder” merely connecting them to the Artisan family, and the word “Neo”- as in “New” replacing the word “Ancient” we’ve been using to describe the other half of the family thus far, it is a placeholder by all means, but so is the latter.

Their nature would definitively make them more akin to bio-mechanical golems, however we chose to group them into the artisan family for the previously mentioned bio material, which matched identical to that of the mummified remains cave divers had found a few years back lodged between long forgotten pathways shut to time. Wasn’t a pretty sight when they showed me. One would think after a good few millennia they’d be nothing but a pile of ash and bones, but low oxygen levels within the closed off cave system made for some awfully good preservation, not pretty I dare say, I’m just glad nothing snapped at me during inspection as, perhaps in this case thankfully, the undead plague only infects the living; anything that doesn’t breathe and lacks running blood cannot fall victim to such a thing. But personal tangent aside, some interesting notes here:

- Despite the soul of the Neobuilder swapping with each lifecycle they generally keep the same base morals of the previous host.

- it seems Mother Earth isn’t very fond of them for whatever reason. The undead are very manageable if one isn’t around, but as soon as one chooses to stay in close vicinity it very quickly gets nearly impossible to maneuver, they’re like a magnet. It seems this is the reason they rarely last longer than 20 years within a single lifecycle.

- they’re actually quite cooperative, and many have learned our language. Though sorrowfully it appears they only store a single slot for their language, and forget all other information of a previously spoken one upon interaction (perhaps they were meant as a situational translation device?). I’ve attempted my best to reteach them, but I’m no linguist; I limit my research to history, with a limited understanding of biology. To figure out the mechanics alone I had to get a whole other villager to help my case.

- despite a large portion of their flesh being replaced by mechanical components an extra layer of the fat cells within the subcutis create an artificial layer of flesh like material dampening any slashes at the golem like form below.

More research to be added once I acquire more material to work with. This is a work in progress.

Understudied field, more research either classified information or unable to be attained due to both lack of examples and individuals willing enough to risk their lives acquiring such needless information. Ivan D. P. Retired shortly after writing his book discussing categorized biological information regarding the entities within our realm, which has since been removed from the market. The authors doctor title has been revoked due to a less than fortunate suspected alliance with the Illager cult on his end, so choose the information you’re willing to believe wisely, the villages dislike him for a reason.

We sincerely apologize but certain behaviors are to be taken seriously regarding the issues the cult on the outskirts has caused us in the past. Rumors have to be believed regarding individuals actively choosing to house away from the masses for whatever reason, to keep the general public safe.

Moving just out of sight to dedicate your life to dissecting humanoids on your dinner table is not normal behavior and was it not for his living position would hastily be investigated,

mumbling about how you hate our community doesn’t lessen our concerns, if you read this Ivan, it was not funny and it will never be, you know of the missing people concerns: if it happens again we’re sorry to inform you but you’ll no longer be welcome within this village.

[nezz-cringe-crib]

Are there any L x task force ships you like? And if so, what one would you say is your favorite?

L X AIZAWA L X AIZAWA L X AIZAWA i mean cough sorry what.

.. i really like L x aizawa. also adore L x matsuda. and i can indulge in L x soichiro. also does L x naomi count as a task force ship??? fucking love lawmassacre if we're including that one. if not though, then L x aizawa is my top.