#equilibrium lore

[orchurisarts]

Krei redesign + tree grandma

[ki1ldeer]

Me when I get on a kick of drawing my ocs I hardly draw, only to then never draw them again after maybe a week of this lol

[alicelufenia]

The Court of Eilistraee

The Drow City Imberlur

When the fuck was anyone gonna tell me Ed Greenwood had a youtube channel [x] where he does shockingly well produced lore videos on little tidbits of the Forgotten Realms, straight from his home campaign to the greater rpg community.

Both of these videos related to Eilistraee and non-Lolth sworn drow settlements are a godsend. Visiting Imberlur someday would be a dream come true for my Tav, and I can totally see an astral projection trip into Eilistraee's court when she reaches the climax of her story, similar to how Gale had a one-on-one with Mystra towards the end.

Thank you Ed your little side stories are worth their weight in gold while WotC continues to do nothing with these elements that have been around for literally over 30 years.

[gvardi-l]

was playing some quest mods in skyrim and got around on doodling the only one oc from 4E Concordia Varro, veteran of great war, retired from imperial legion after the concordat, eventually joined the vigil of stendarr after the murder of her young brother by a vampire. bashes her enemies to death with targe and then uses her fist or aedric javelins if that wasn't enough.

[princessxmothman]

i really, really enjoy streaming but one thing i don't enjoy is that my dumb adhd ass gets so lost in the sauce of doing the damn thing that i tend to end streams shaky, nauseous, and feeling faint because i don't allow myself to take what my brain deems "too-long" breaks (aka being away for more than the amount of time it takes to pee and refill my water) when i clearly need a snack break. being able to have a snack on hand is truly the #1 reason i want a detached microphone because i don't want to put my viewers through the hell of me cronchin' away when my current mic is attached to my headset and inches away from my mouth. anyway! even with this goofy little gripe i'm grateful that i get to play games and hang out with people for whom i care several times a week 💖

[plasky]

GRAAAH IVYY

[smol-stardust]

Omg!!!! Ahhhhhhh!!! This is … wowowowoow!!! Eeeee

“Beautiful things are not beautiful when there are no eyes to take them in.” THIS ONE HITS SO HARD…

Ahhhhh!!! This is bootiful. Themkyyyyu themkyyyy

@smol-stargirl Here is part one of my modern ish slightly futuristic fanfic of EoE....inspired by your au idea with my own twist and style :) also plants have souls

'Hello?!'

The nymph wandered the path, the unfamiliar floor harsh against her feet. There wasn't much left in the way of souls to heal, but Brooke would have hope for life as long as she survived. No matter the loss of the forest, and the loss of the animals...

They were so small, but they had filled her whole being with joy. No matter the losses she hadn't yet processed, because Skia was exhausted and there had to be something for her to save. She couldn't leave Skia to come back to this desolation, with her only choice being to guide a transition that the universe was not ready for. Though she pretended otherwise, Brooke could tell it pained her to do so.

Brooke wasn't sure if 'desolation' was the right word to use. There were things all around-buildings and old cars, all kinds of fascinating human creations that she would have been curious of, had this not been the fault of the humans in the first place. Beautiful things are not beautiful when there are no clear eyes to take them in.

All Brooke saw were things she was too late to save. Even the humans, she couldn't have left struggling, but it all happened so suddenly. The bombs came down and the toxic gasses spread and suddenly everything for miles and miles was dead or dying. The humans called it war.

If war meant 'causing early deaths', then the humans were right. This was war. What Brooke and Skia were beginning against the workings of nature itself, that they had previously assisted, however?

That was revolution.

[gwmingm]

Archons Lore but with HSR Paths because.

Venti — The Remembrance; he took his best friend's form, is a bard who remembers and tells the stories of others so they aren't forgotten, Fuli coded behaviour, clearly has some whacky shit going on with him i.e his voice lines about meeting the traveler.

Zhongli — The Equilibrium; only ever makes fair contracts, a very mysterious man who also seems to know more than he lets on, a background deus ex machine of sorts i.e the chasm interlude quest when he saved Xiao, influencing things just as HooH does.

Ei — The Hunt; So deadset on achieving eternity for her people, caused bad things with the sakoku and vision hunt decrees, as Lan brings both destruction and salvation, a very fierce and powerful warrior.

Nahida — The Erudition/The Abundance; god of wisdom who is the face of a literal tree of knowledge, duh. Rukkhadevata snapping the purest branch of the tree to create her gives heavy Yaoshi vibes a-la Tomie.

Furina — The Preservation; girl kept acting for five hundred years and never once wavered as said by mirror-her, tenacity that would make Qlipoth proud. Their ideal for justice being the continuation of existence, sacrificing both her humanity and divinity for her people. It's plain simple.

Mavuika — The Destruction/Harmony; Initially, war. But knowing Hoyoverse plus the dropped Natlan Teaser, they're probably gonna take her and her nation's themes in the way they did with Penacony's Harmony vs Order subplot. (And from the first two Natlan Archon Quests, I was kinda right.)

The Tsaritsa — The Nihility/Finality(?); Still not 100% because we still don't know her story, probably more attuned to the destruction due to her and the Fatui's goals and actions and "burning away the old world". But I can see her as a Self-Anihilator like Acheron or the Stellaron Hunters.

[isa-ghost]

Birds of a Feather AU

General Concept

Somehow someway, following the events of QSMP, hc!Phil and o!Phil cross paths while o!Phil is in a minor crisis. Surviving on his own while searching for his parents is going,,, not well. But luckily, this "old fuck" he's encountered has seemingly infinite wisdom about life and survival, which is-- whether he wants to admit it or not --exactly what he needs.

Little do either of them know, they have strangely similar yet distinctly unique traumas, and the longer they spend time together, the more they'll start to heal each other as a sort of Mentor And Apprentice dynamic develops.

hc!Phil

Is also SMPEarth!Phil, c!Phil, and q!Phil. All lore from those SMPs apply to him. All of my qPhil headcanons also apply to him.

Typical vaguely slutty /j fanon Phil outfit. Also has his Antarctic Empire outfit, and his Quesadilla Island "vacation" outfit (a beach coverup like his robe, a sunhat like his normal hat, and a green print Hawaiian shirt.) (Hopefully I'll eventually draw that)

Trust and attachments are complicated for him. He can't help but develop them, it's only natural, but with losing Chay & Lullah so recent in his mind, the wound is raw and he's once again gone back to keeping everyone he meets at arm's length or further away. He is NOT going to be happy stumbling across o!Phil, especially when they just,, kinda become stuck with each other.

o!Phil

Obviously the cameo from Rats SMP applies to him. I might also apply Phil's cameo in ASMP to o!Phil even though that wasn't o!Phil just because they were sorta similar in personality.

Goes by Crowfather. Phil has, in Crowfather's words: annoyingly, nicknamed him "Crowley"

Basically 1:1 with his skin but like. The hot brooding fanart versions people make. Basically looks like a bougie goth aristocrat but bird. Has more actual bird traits whereas Phil is more just,, a dude with wings and bird mannerisms (perching, collecting shiny things, etc)

Is this weird equilibrium between being cold as fuck and sociable. Is an entitled snot at the worst of times and a clearly clueless, golden spoon-fed tory who doesn't know a damn thing about the real world at best. He's been forced into this position by Circumstances (his parents being MIA) and is still working through figuring out how to be an independent and actually likeable person.

Phil is teaching him the above, at least the independence part. Unlike Crowley, Phil has lived for god knows how long and that's given him tons of life experience and wisdom to pass on.

Deep inside, he's just severely hurt and traumatized. Still not a good person outside as a result, but much of the outside would change if the inside healed.

Misc Plot & Lore Stuff

Vague Plot

Phil & Crowley's Dynamic

Crowley's Character Development

[kit-williams]

Sentience Lore: Warp Fuckery

So I don't know if I ever clarified this.

I mentioned it throughout that when the space marines first came around that:

Bond's were uncommon

People were HIGHLY fearful/wairy of Space Marines

The Mental Fog/warp fuckery was very few and far between (usually only to those with a bond)

Now that the setting is in the modern era:

Bonds are common (well as common as the limited population of marines allows)

To be fearful/wairy of a Space Marine is uncommon unless there is Astartes related Trauma (aka human killers/feral space marines)

MOST humans have some level of warp fuckery/mental fog

What does warp fuckery do?

makes you less likely to ask questions

makes you more accepting of the quirks of your bonded astartes

helps you ignore certain things

But Kit, I hear you ask, what do you mean less likely to ask questions.

Basically if you start to really think hard about what the Astartes are... or how human they look... or what they would need to be made for... or you notice that their weapons look rather wicked...

Just you notice things that make you question what you've let into your house/life... makes you question what monster you've allowed to get close to you and your family... you know something that might eventually make you panic and try to push the bond away. Just as the warp is pacifying the Astartes just enough to keep them from killing their bonded... the warp is pacifying humanity enough to keep them in this cycle.

Kit... are you ever going to explain what is behind this all?

Nope. The point of the AU is to focus on the wholesome domesticity (and sometimes lewd) of having a bonded Astartes. The having an unseen manipulator just helps in forcing things to return to equilibrium.

Because having your khornite erect a skull shrine in your house would make ANYONE ask SEVERAL questions... like where did he get 8 pristine human skulls from. Its better for everyone that you don't ask and you don't worry at all.

Hope this helps! Happy Trails for the Sentience AU people!

Shoutout to the Lore nerds:

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy

Please feel free to message me either in an ask or DM if you need more information on ANY part of the lore.

[orchurisarts]

Shapetober 18th - Plants

Anita jumpscare :D she’s Xer’s mom!! also she’s dead but we don’t talk about that

[matrixbearer2024]

Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

  I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

  Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

  I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

  The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

  Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

  My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

  Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

  When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

  The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

  Than suffering with you.

  The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

  But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

  So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

  The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

  I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

  He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

  And the ones I miss.

  Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

  My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

  He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

  They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

  The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

  I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

  He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

  Than suffering with you.

  The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

  And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

  He had to.

  I try to sink and never float.

  Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

  Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

  Cause my head is underwater.

  The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

  I’m here by choice by my own hand.

  The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

  I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

  He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

  I’m aware of my own body.

  Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

  I can feel beneath my skin.

  But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

  I can wash away my insecurities.

  He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

  But can’t wash away my sin!

  No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

  They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

  The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

  Cause I can’t see!

  His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

  I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

  The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

  Cause suffering in silence is better—

  Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

  Than suffering with you!

  He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

  And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

[diamonddogs-terrarium]

I am a huge sucker for animal motifs in fiction. Especially if they’re a representative of both a character and a larger theme in the story. And, guys, the Oni and the dragon are perfect for Lloyd and Harumi, and Llorumi overall. It’s a big reason I’m so insane about the ship so PUH-LEASE let me explain:

Lloyd has always been associated with both dragons and creationist powers in one way or another. And time and time again, we have seen him be in direct opposition to destructive, greater, powers. Harumi’s character was forged from the destruction and upheaval of their entire life as they knew it. Not only being destructive in nature, but using the myths and legends of Oni and their powers for her advantage. They’re almost perfect mirrors to the way the mythical creatures are described in the show. With Lloyd being representative of ‘the dragon’ and Harumi, respectively, as ‘the Oni’. 

And the Oni and dragon themselves are super neat! Stuck in an equilibrium of their powers in destruction and creation. And I think it would be neat to consider the idea of reincarnation or something similar for those two. Forever trapped in an eternal push and pull of love and war through a never ending cycle of death and rebirth. They're so, so, tragic to me just like Llorumi and I love it.

I know we don’t explore much about the lore of both Oni and dragons, except the myth we hear from Mystaké. But there's just so much that can be expanded on with these guys. Either way, these are just a snippet of my own elaborate headcanons that just make Llorumi so neat to me. Also, it’s a neat name for my spotify playlist.

[ohmeadows]

The joker of the deck: Aha the Elation (and some Swarm Disaster lore)

While reading through swarm disaster lore (again), Herta popped up during a moment discussing the disappearance of Oroboros the Voracity, noting that some entity was interfering with the simulation. Which got me thinking about Aha. Again.

Having played through Swarm Disaster’s entire story twice now, I can’t help but think that whatever role Aha the Elation has to play, is going to be incredibly important. Or at least entertaining.

Aha is the only self-aware Aeon in the Simulated Universe. Despite the team’s efforts to tamper down on it, Aha continues to be self-aware, toying with you and the creators each time they appear. It’s heavily implied that simulated Aha is actively interfering with Herta, Screwllum and Ruan Mei’s work to understand the Aeons, being present each time the Aeons schemed to destroy Tayzzyronth the Propagation.

Aha freely admits to infiltrating the Astral Express for a year just to find the perfect moment to blow the train up. Why? To mess with Akivili and their followers.

Aha is the Aeon closest involved with the ways of mortals, and while it lacks the magnitude of directly devastating powers such as the Destruction or the Hunt, it doesn’t lack for ability to turn fate on a whim — Aha has directly influenced or been involved in rebellions, government coups, deaths of Aeons and is one of the only (so far) Aeons confirmed to shapeshift to a human when it suits their needs.

In fact, it’s heavily implied Sampo is a follower of Aha (if not more?) and when you think about Sampo’s involvement in Belobog’s storyline, he shows up at precise moments, barely does anything, and yet alters some extremely pivotal details that changes everything, above all dragging Bronya down to see the truth of Belobog. At the end of the Belobog arc, Sampo reports to someone, nearly breaking the fourth wall. He did it for fun. Just a little gigglejoke. Why not change the course of Belobog if it makes for a spectacle?

Also: during the Phantylia fight, you can hear Aha laughing. At who? Us, or Phantylia? Something is in motion aboard the Luofu, involving the Destruction, the Abundance and the Hunt. It won’t be the first time Aha has brought together different Aeons for their own amusement.

In Swarm Disaster, it’s made clear Aha had some level of knowledge or perhaps even involvement in Ena the Order becoming Xipe the Harmony. You-as-Akivili, the role the Trailblazer inhabits while in Simulated Universe, feel uneasy watching Aha suck up to Xipe, which is interesting to note. Ena is the one who demands Qlipoth to act on the problem the Tayzzyronth poses, and yet they are absorbed by Xipe.

I’ll also note that in Swarm Disaster, it’s implied it was “chance” that caused the rise of the Propagation path and their ascension to Aeonhood. Now, I’m not saying Aha did it, but…

At the end of Swarm Disaster, Herta takes you through the simulation once more, pointing out three big details that bug her after having witnessed all they could divine from the past:

The destruction of the system the Propagation (once a mortal) originated from was not a natural occurrence. Something or someone instigated it. Herta isn’t sure who did it, suggesting Voracity, Order or Elation, but landing on not knowing. For now.

During the Propagation path wrecking havoc across the universe, Oroboros the Voracity and Ena the Order disappeared. How and why are not entirely clear, though we know Ena was absorbed into Xipe. Oroboros is interesting since the Voracity is an enemy of Qlipoth — perhaps even an Aeon Qliopth fears, to a degree. Herta’s exact quote is: “Oroboros and Ena vanished in the middle of this tale! Completely, silently, as if there was another story progressing along in the shadows underneath the main stage…”

The Aeons that came together — Equilibrium, Preservation, Trailblaze, Elation and Harmony — may have brought down the Propagation, but the path itself isn’t dead. There’s endless Swarm offsprings still alive in the universe. Herta suggests that the Propagation isn’t actually truly dead, and will rise again. And soon.

Leaving Swarm Disaster, it's hard not to feel a sense of unease about Aha. Herta herself states that the universe has gotten worse since Aha's laugh rang out across the universe for the first time. Whatever hand Aha is intending to play in the future will be very interesting.

[hydrasaura]

I can't imagine myself being this obsessed and not being able to draw at all. It's already torture that i can't draw 8 decent sketches in like 30 minutes, if i where to not b able to draw at all i'd literally implode i think

How do you guys call it when you get this urge of drawing your favourite character over an entire movie at 11 pm?

[2802mi]

HOW TO MAKE SHINNOK'S DEFEAT MAKE SENSE IN MKX

One main criticism of MKX story was the finale - when Cassie Cage defeats Shinnok, beats him up, knocks him down, while he is in his superpowered form, fueled by Jinsei itself, while Cassie herself is someone who albeit powerful, should not be a match for Shinnok.

Why did it happen then?

I discovered it some years ago, that in MKX story mode the number of fights are to the perfection - everyone in their respective chapters has 4 fights, which consist of 2-round scheme, there is no jobber (more than 2 fights lost) and there is no anti-jobber (no fights lost), no character has more than one chapter, all of above were cases in MK9 and Injustice 1. So, according to that format, Cassie Cage defeating Shinnok makes perfect sense. But according to the lore, it's just wrong.

They are not fighting in the tournament setting - where gods need to have human form in order to compete. Shinnok is not defeated like in arcade mode where you take his amulet and he explodes - which would actually be very clever, instead Cassie serves him a beatdown - which is in a contrast to Johnny Cage just giving Raiden the amulet and him finishing the job. Also, she does it totally alone - Kung Jin is not present in fight in any form, as well as Takeda and Jacqui Briggs, so in the way, she steals the victory from other Kombat Kids, making her exceptionally mighty, compared to the rest. So, what could be done about it?

Make her blessed by Elder Gods (if she fights him alone)

Honestly, that would be near perfect lore wise - Elder Gods were often accused of doing nothing, especially in MKX, where they do literally nothing, and the stakes are too high for them to ignore, much higher than in MK9, where they actually blessed Raiden. If Cassie came to battle Shinnok in her blessed form, from 5 Elder Gods, it would surely be used as an equilibrium to Shinnok's might in his powered up form.

2. All Kombat Kids defeat Shinnok

Worse lore wise, but considering that

Kung Jin is descendant of the Great Kung Lao

Takeda is a Shirai Ryu master

As for Jacqui I am not sure but I bet she could be in the same tier as them

You could have all four using *the power of love and friendship* and them being capable warriors as well (let me remind you that Liu Kang was 24 when he defeated Shang Tsung and not much older when he defeated Shao Kahn), but as I say, it's still flawed lore wise, as Shinnok is still a Fallen Elder God powered by Jinsei

3. Cassie just takes the amulet from Shinnok's body and he explodes like in Arcade Mode lmao

Still not perfect, but much preferable to a massive beatdown he got. It could be explained that she was fighting for her life and she is such a risk-taker just like Johnny Cage that she just in one last desperate attempt grabs the amulet and without it Shinnok is unable to contain Jinsei's power. Cassie could die in the explosion, making her a martyr and not a Mary Sue (almost) character

4. Cassie is paired up with Raiden to defeat Shinnok

Raiden already beat Shinnok once. He can do it again. Even though he was weakened, he could still be paired up with GREEN ENERGY WHICH WHACKS GODS Cassie and just have him beaten up.

I am not sure which option is the best, I would say option no. 1.

Also shout out to @cienie-isengardu, I bet you will like the theme of the post