#equilibrium lore

[orchurisarts]

Krei redesign + tree grandma

[choppedsouldreamer]

Guys some how I did even more doodles than last time, like 20- I THINK I NEED HELP NGL I NEED TO REMEMBER TO TAG EVERYONE GUHHH-

Sorry if these are kind of hard to see, I had to take them at a distance so my camera wouldn't automatically make the pics sideways for some reason- needed to migrate these ones to my bed this time since there is no room on my cooker, even if I did indeed cook again U-U This does include pixel art that is kind of hard to see what it is as well so sorry about that but this is my first time trying pixel art and I worked with what I had which was grid paper- (UGH THE PENCIL ONES ARE SO HARD TO SEE TOO MY CAMERA IS TRASH ;-;)

Full pic of all the doodles:

SMG3 doodles close up, Ik you asked for more SMG3 @roxy4life so here you go, eat up my friend:

My OC doodles with a teensy bit of lore hehe, oh and first ever drawing of THE CHILD!!!:

of course an autism creature because we all love this silly lil thing:

and last but not least, the creator doodles!:

@grinnames: here I go drawing this goober again ugh, in all seriousness though I love this guy, just look at him, all he wants is your body parts so why don't you kindly donate them ya silly? I would go on a tangent complimenting you again but I doubt you want that though, so just know you are one of my favourite creators :D

@tophatwearingidiot: hey look who it is! that's your design for my silly gal right there!! I was planning to draw my puffels for so long as you know but my brain constantly got filled and I forgot about it, so here, you got a doodle!! I WILL GET TO THIS I SWEAR UGGHHHHHH, both mentioned as my OC doodles and creator doodles lucky you

@tiredsmashbros and @its-a-me-mango: decided to do you two as two mini doodles together! you two are so damn awesome I love both your art so much AHHHHH, I wish I was as cool as you guys I swear and I love both of your characters so much so here's TSB inhaling a burger Kirby style and Mango just having to deal with his crap like usual and wishing he just got more money for it since TSB is just other worldly XD COOL ARTISTS RIGHT HERE!!! OH GOD DAMN IT HERE I GO DOODLING TSB AGAIN, TOMM HELP ME OUT HERE AND GET HIM OUT, MANGO EXTRACT HIM FROM MY BRAIN PLEASE

@michealscorneroftheinternet: oh boy did you get treated my friend, a meme and another doodle of Ink SMG4? damnnnn, all jokes aside I can't get over these designs, like your ideas are just insane to me and literally all your AU's are my favourites GOD HOW MUCH I LOVE THE UNDERTALE AU AND CHANGE IN SCRIPT AND FALLEN AU DB)SBD)SYVDSVFAD(F)- dude, tell me your secrets how are you this talented? /silly but true on the last part. You're constantly in my brain now too hahahah (HELP ME-) oh and I have a surprise for you! yeah, you thought that was it? haha...no..so you know those doodles of said ink and error 4 and 3? well I'm still thinking of those BUT, I have these as a substitute I'm working on since Ibispaint is up and running on my phone AHA! GET DUNKED ON WITH MORE ART YOU CAN NEVER BEAT ME /silly

I wanted to include more of my crazed AU and thought this was too perfect so had to do it, DID SOMEONE SAY PERFECT?!? /j

bro gets to not talk sometimes because he had chains around his neck YIPPIE!! (and hehe @theartistisme43 mentioned) that's if you can read my doodle handwriting lol, if not here it is (purple = SMG3 blue = SMG4)

bottom doodle: so you also had a run in with Mr Puzzles huh? Yep... So fuckin done with life

Top doodle (left): AYYYY!!!

Top doodle right: can't breathe sometimes and talk, knows how scarred 4 feels

[wisteriagoesvroom]

i’m not ready to let go of carcar after this season

[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

[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.

[orchurisarts]

guh , the rare background posts , I finally figured out how perspective grids work HEJAJGJHAHJHJA

anyways concept art for an area in Equilibrium :3

[choppedsouldreamer]

chat log 1...

Hey, I have made what you wanted, it took a while but it is exactly what you needed, respond to me please, I know you said not to talk to you because you're busy but since it is for your project I thought it was important to contact you directly. Please answer me nb oliw, this is a clear moment of experimental progress, remember that I am your xivzgrlm? Look, for now I will leave you alone but so far things are going incredibly well, you shall take down that torgxs rm gsv xivzgrlm lu hl xzoovw "tfziwrzmh". Wlvhm'g gszg nzpv blf kilfw lu nv? R kilnrhv blf gszg blf droo yvxlnv lfi mvd Tlw zh blf rmgvmwvw, ml lmv droo hfikzhh blf, mlg vevm gszg xivzgli, blf ziv lfi xivzgli mld.

-Signed EQP

22:4:11:11:00:3:14:13:4:00:1:20:19:00:6:4:19:00:1:AM:2:10:00:19:14:00:22:14:17:10:00:24:14:20:00:AM:17:4:00:13:14:19:00:5:8:13:8:18:7:4:3:00:9:20:18:19:00:24:4:19:00:8:00:AM:12:00:8:12:15:17:4:18:18:4:3:00:AM:13:3:00:8:00:10:13:14:22:00:24:14:20:00:22:8:11:11:00:6:AM:8:13:00:12:4:00:19:7:4:00:15:14:22:4:17:00:8:00:13:4:4:3:00:12:24:00:2:17:4:AM:19:8:14:13:8:00:AM:12:00:13:14:19:00:5:20:11:11:24:00:14:13:00:1:14:AM:17:3:00:22:8:19:7:00:22:7:AM:19:00:24:14:20:00:18:AM:8:3:00:19:7:14:20:6:7:00:8:00:AM:12:00:6:14:3:00:13:14:19:00:22:8:11:11:00:1:4:00:1:4:2:14:12:4:00:14:13:4:00:8:00:AM:11:17:4:AM:3:24:00:AM:12:00:14:13:4:00:19:7:4:24:00:9:20:18:19:00:20:13:3:4:17:4:18:19:8:12:AM:19:4:00:12:4:00:3:14:13:19:00:19:4:11:11:00:12:4:00:19:7:AM:19:00:24:14:20:00:3:14:00:19:14:14:00:14:19:7:4:17:22:8:18:4:00:8:00:22:8:11:11:00:13:4:4:3:00:19:14:00:15:11:AM:2:4:00:AM:00:2:14:20:15:11:4:00:12:14:17:4:00:18:19:8:2:7:4:18:00:8:13:19:14:00:24:14:20:00:19:14:00:12:AM:10:4:00:24:14:20:00:19:17:20:4:11:24:00:20:13:3:4:18:19:AM:13:3:00:19:7:AM:19:00:8:00:AM:12:00:2:14:12:15:11:4:19:4:11:24:00:20:13:3:4:17:00:2:14:13:19:17:14:11:8:12:00:18:20:17:4:00:24:14:20:00:3:14:13:19:00:13:4:4:3:00:AM:13:24:00:12:14:17:4:00:3:AM:12:AM:6:4:18:13:4:21:4:17:12:8:13:3:00:6:4:19:00:19:14:00:8:19:18:11:AM:21:4

[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.

[godsplatter]

I come here from your Twitter post about Jayvik be retconned onto Varus, what make you think that? I mean, it is the worst possible scenario for Jayvik canon, but I know Riot like to pick the worst possible choice everytime and make everyone angry so it wouldn't surprise me at all...

since riot has been on a Wrecking Ball streak with all their pre-established lore, im anticipating them changing darkin origins as they make room for mel (rell has been retconned into being ambessa's apprentice and is no longer the ""silver bullet"" to mordekaiser; going to assume this is a move to make mel that Silver Bullet instead), leblanc (the entire black rose cabal are now all mages? concerned about the arcane? Okay) and mordekaiser. the hexcore was already giving off Void vibes, and viktor clearly awoke Something within it after performing blood magic (see: the writers referring to the hexcore having some sort of sentience/manipulation towards viktor), which loosely aligns with darkin. narratively, if jayce is supposed to represent the human condition, and viktor is the scientific mind, it would (sigh) make sense for them to find equilibrium fusing to create one being, as they are the missing piece to each other. not saying that i WANT that fate, its absolutely horrible, but i would not be surprised in the slightest if thats the route they go for these two characters. its foreseeable, not desirable.

[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!

[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

[corvus-ix]

could you do reinier x reader relationship headcanons

(anyway, I'm completely sorry this took so long but anyway, I hope I did some justice on writing Reinier to your liking)

Reiner x Reader

General Dynamics

Reinier is naturally drawn to you if you share a certain grace or balance in how you present yourself. He sees you as someone who complements his need for perfection. If you're messy or chaotic, he may initially be reluctant, but he could find himself oddly intrigued by how you disrupt his carefully ordered world.

He’s not one for grand displays of emotion. Instead, his love language is acts of service. You’ll notice how he subtly rearranges things in your surroundings, creating perfect symmetry— he insists it’s "for your own peace of mind."

Affectionate Moments

Reinier struggles with physical affection due to his mysophobia, but he finds ways to be close to you. For example, he might float beside you, brushing his fingers against yours instead of holding hands.

When he does grow comfortable enough to touch you, it’s deliberate and almost reverent. He’ll hold your face, tracing the symmetry of your features, whispering how perfectly balanced you are.

On snowy days, he’ll guide you outside to admire the snowflakes, pointing out their symmetry while secretly watching your reactions with quiet adoration.

Jealousy and Protectiveness

If someone disrupts your time together or flirts with you, Reinier’s disdain is immediate and sharp. He won’t cause a scene, but his cutting remarks and cold glares will leave no room for misunderstanding.

He’s fiercely protective, but it manifests in his own unique way. He might isolate threats by teleporting them far away, justifying it as maintaining your peaceful equilibrium.

Everyday Life

He insists on structuring your shared life with precision: meals are timed perfectly, your home is meticulously organized, and he’s always fussing over whether your clothes match meet his standards of beauty.

Conflict

Arguments with Reinier can be challenging because he doesn’t easily admit when he’s wrong. However, he hates the feeling of imbalance in your relationship, so he will(reluctantly) apologize after much contemplation.

If you’re upset, he may try to fix things by addressing what he sees as the root cause. He’ll rearrange situations or people around you to eliminate the source of your stress— though his methods may sometimes be extreme.

Romantic Gestures

Reinier often gifts you beautiful, symmetrical objects: perfectly cut gemstones, intricately balanced sculptures, or even symmetrical flower arrangements.

He secretly crafts circles or patterns in fields for you to discover—his way of sharing his art and ensuring the world reflects a bit of his love for you.

Growth in the Relationship

Over time, your influence softens his rigid worldview. He begins to tolerate, and even appreciate, imperfections when they come from you, seeing beauty in the asymmetry of human emotions and relationships.

He might even allow you to pull him down from his floating stance for a grounded hug, realizing that true connection doesn’t need to be perfect—it just needs to be real.

(tbh, I cringe at some part while writing this, like does reinier does this, is this too ooc, will he act this way— lemme check his wiki lore!

writing for a character like reinier was really challenging, cause I cringe so hard if I feel I write the character too ooc, and I rewrite a lot of this cause I really don't know how I'll describe Reinier appearance and put those description into actions)

I hope you enjoy this!