#unified

[pinkiepieaday]

pinkie pie #072: pretty pink pony

[sicklysublimeamulet]

One Goal, One Heart

Ivan loved football. Not just watching it on TV or cheering for his favorite team—he lived for the sport. From sunrise jogs to late-night drills in his backyard, he trained harder than anyone on his local youth club. He had endurance, speed, and the spirit of a team player—but he lacked one thing: natural instinct on the ball.

His best friend Logan, on the other hand, was a phenomenon. Agile, clever, and magnetic on the field, Logan made every pass, every trick, every goal seem effortless. Coaches called him a prodigy. Teammates looked up to him. And Ivan… well, Ivan admired him—maybe even envied him a little.

“I just wish I could be more like you,” Ivan once admitted, wiping sweat from his brow during practice.

Logan grinned and ruffled his hair. “Nah, man. You're you. And that matters more than being perfect at football.”

Still, Ivan couldn’t help but feel like he was always one step behind. During one important match, he missed an easy goal that would’ve won the game. Even though Logan tried to cheer him up afterward, Ivan felt crushed. As he walked home under the heavy night sky, something unexpected happened.

A quiet breeze carried the scent of rain—and something more unusual: a man standing near the sidewalk beneath a streetlamp, wearing a dark trench coat. His face was shadowed, but his voice was calm and warm.

“You’ve got heart, kid. But I know what you're missing.”

The man held out a wooden box. “This will help you unlock what you already have.”

Ivan hesitated. “Is this… for me?”

The man only smiled, eyes glinting like stars. “Wear it when you're ready. And only when you know who matters to you most.”

When Ivan got home, he opened the box to find a pair of sleek black boxer briefs stitched with glowing silver thread along the waistband. They pulsed faintly with energy, like a heartbeat.

He tucked them away, unsure what to do.

The Next Day

The sun rose clear and hot over the practice field. Ivan had barely slept, the strange box still on his mind. He remembered the man’s words, and something stirred inside him: a quiet voice, a question.

What if you could understand Logan? What if you could be more—not just like him, but with him, together?

Feeling bold, Ivan slipped on the boxer briefs under his training shorts. They felt light—barely there. Like second skin.

Later that day, Logan met him at the field for extra practice.

“You good today?” Logan asked, bouncing the ball on his knee.

Ivan nodded. “Yeah. Just… different.”

They began warming up. Passing drills. Sprints. Ivan felt faster, more connected. Then, during a close-range maneuver, Ivan stumbled into Logan—and in that moment, everything changed.

The time stopped with no motion occurring in the field.

A surge of warmth exploded between them, like a gust of wind. Their feet left the ground as glowing light surrounded them. The magical boxer briefs flared brilliantly as the two young men were pulled together—body to body, mind to mind.

No pain. Just pressure. Then stillness. Time continued. But aware of what happened and clueless around the field. Nothing noticed. Just a normal day.

Where two boys once stood, now there was only one: taller than Ivan, but softer around the eyes than Logan. His physique was lean and strong, his stance confident but grounded.

He looked down at his hands—his fingers flexed in harmony. His voice, when he spoke, was both familiar and new.

“I’m… Logan… and Ivan. I’m… Calvin.”

He blinked, slowly smiling. He remembered everything—every drill, every laugh, every misstep, every encouragement. Their strengths, flaws, and memories had become one. And it felt... right.

Calvin picked up the ball and juggled it with perfect rhythm. Then he stepped back and launched a curved shot into the goalpost—clean, fast, and beautiful.

In the Days After

No one remembered Ivan and Logan as separate people. In the new reality, Calvin had always existed. A gifted footballer known for his humble heart and powerful skills. Coaches praised his leadership. Teammates loved his humor. Fans admired his grace.

Yet deep within him, both Ivan and Logan still whispered—never gone, just… finally complete.

At school, people noticed a strange glow about Calvin. His confidence, his kindness, his quiet way of making everyone feel included.

He volunteered as an assistant coach for younger kids. He helped classmates study. He practiced not just for glory, but to grow. Everyone wanted to be his friend—not because he was popular, but because he made people feel seen.

And in quiet moments, Calvin would glance at the black boxer briefs now kept safely in his drawer, the silver threads dim but alive. A reminder of who he once was—and who he had become.

One night, as the stars shimmered above the rooftops, Calvin stood on the field alone. A breeze rolled in. From the shadows, the same man who gave the box appeared once more.

“You did well,” he said, voice soft.

Calvin turned. “Who are you?”

And with that, he vanished once again—leaving only the sound of wind, the whisper of a soccer ball rolling, and a young man who had become more than himself.

Calvin stood still, the man’s words echoing in his mind.

“Just someone who believes in what people can become… together.”

His chest rose and fell as he looked out across the darkened soccer field, lit only by the silver-blue shimmer of moonlight. The soft thud of the ball bumping against his foot grounded him, but something about that voice—so familiar, so warm—lingered like a melody from a forgotten dream.

He looked to the spot where the man had vanished. Nothing. Just grass and starlight.

But Calvin wasn’t the same boy who would’ve doubted himself. He knew now. He could feel it.

“That voice,” he whispered to himself. “It was you… wasn’t it, Logan?”

He closed his eyes. And in the space between silence and breath, a memory came—not a flash, not a blur, but a presence. Logan’s thoughts, his hopes, his admiration… all still lived inside him.

They hadn’t disappeared.

They had been integrated, like muscle memory, like instinct, like heart.

Calvin took a slow breath, and for a moment, he felt a warmth on his shoulder—like a hand.

“I’m still here,” the voice said again, not from the outside—but from within.

“I know,” Calvin said, smiling.

He walked toward the center of the field, where the moon’s glow was brightest. Standing there, he felt everything—the loneliness he used to carry, the quiet ache to be better, the courage it took to try, and finally, the bond that had changed everything.

Logan hadn’t just given him strength on the field. He’d given him clarity. Purpose. Wholeness.

And now Calvin would live for both of them.

The world didn’t need to know what had happened that night. They wouldn’t understand the magic. They’d only see a young man who had finally come into his own—driven, kind, powerful not just in body, but in spirit.

As the breeze picked up again and the ball rolled gently forward, Calvin began to jog.

Then he ran.

Faster. Stronger. Not to chase a goal—but to carry a legacy.

And behind every step, he carried not just his own heartbeat—but another’s, steady and unwavering.

[redtriangle]

Miraculous OC: Hollow Wing

“Seer, Null, Unify!”

Gary/Blackwing somehow got the Miraculous of Nothingness. And unified it with his Raven Miraculous of Prediction.

I chose “Hollow” because it’s almost the same as “Empty” and other related words.

Miraculous: The Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir/Miraculous Ladybug (c) Thomas Astruc and Zagtoons

Null (c) Thomas Astruc and Zagtoons

Miraculous of Nothingness and ideas, designed by NioNom-Art (Tumblr)/NioNom84 (Instagram)

Gary/Blackwing/Hollow Wing created by Redtriangle (me)

Drawn by Redtriangle (me)

[adventuremaker21]

Would Stevonnie also combine the miraculouses if Steven and Connie fused transformed?

Yeup!!

They can unify Lion and Eagle to become The Griffin!

Art by @celestiall0tus

[critical-skeptic]

Director of the FEDERAL UNIFIED CONSERVATIVE KINDRED FAITHFUL AND CULTURAL ENRICHMENT – Joshua Feuerstein *

Joshua Feuerstein, renowned for his explosive online sermons and unmatched ability to trigger mass unfollowing sprees, has been appointed by the Trump-Musk administration to lead the newly established initiative aimed at “reinvigorating traditional values and decibel levels across the nation.” Feuerstein promised to “bring faith and culture back to their righteous roots” using a combination of loud proclamations, viral tirades, and his signature front-facing camera selfies.

"Look, I'm not here to pick sides, but let's be real," said Dr. Phil, "Joshua’s passion and volume are unparalleled. When you're trying to lead a cultural and moral renaissance, sometimes you need someone willing to shout louder than the noise. Is he polarizing? Sure. But sometimes polarizing figures move the needle—and if you don't like the needle, well, maybe it needs moving."

Announcing his appointment from a golden-plated room in Mar-a-Lago, Feuerstein declared, “I am here to lead this nation’s moral awakening with maximum volume and minimum fact-checking.” President Trump praised him as “the loudest, proudest warrior” for the cause, while Musk teased plans to integrate voice amplification technology to ensure every rant reaches beyond Earth’s atmosphere. Critics remain wary, stocking up on ear protection and aspirin in preparation.

*Believe it or not, this is totally satirical.

[elcitigre2021]

O Campo Primordial é a força primeira e estruturante do espaço, dentro da qual se criam as formas, do átomo à galáxia, dos planetas aos nossos corpos. Este campo engendra o toróide, o ovo eletromagnético primordial da vida, dentro do qual o fluxo e refluxo vital se nutre do núcleo para fora, produzindo a matriz e o padrão, nos quais todas as coisas estão inscritas.

Entre as diferentes formas criadas, existe um campo de ressonância, uma identidade essencial que as liga e vivifica, uma unidade fundamental, que é a sua razão de ser e a sua vitalidade. Este campo primordial é a expressão do Amor cósmico, da Vida Universal, da Consciência Divina, da beleza transcendental, criando espontaneamente o jogo sagrado.

[den-of-the-jadewizard]

Whumptober: Day Two; You won't call back

"I'll miss you when you go..."

A/N: Just a small dive into Pixel's psyche. Was meant to be longer but I kinda didn't like the latter half and didn't write it.

Pixel could picture it now, a chapel of blue and black. A funeral just for him, a final send off. He'd be lucky even if a row of seats were filled, a full house would only be a pipe dream, the best-case scenario.

They would cry, everyone would, cause that's just what you do at a wake; you cry. Anyone who showed up likely wouldn't even know him, it would've only been pity for some misfortunate soul who was simply lost to time, a casualty. Give it a week and they would all forget him.

No one ever truly knew Pixel, and the only one who did was long gone by now. Swift came at second place, he would surely morn him longer than most, but even he didn't know him on the deepest level. Swift would move on eventually, because that's what everyone did. You can't waste all your time on someone who's not there anymore, someone who won't care that you care for them.

Someone who can't care anymore, cause they're dead.

Pixel found himself sitting up front staring at casket up by the pulpit. A beautiful garden's worth of flowers strung up like streamers, brightened up by the stained glass windows, a beautiful sight as it was.

He stood and without a word walked up to the front. No one paid him any mind, he felt much like a ghost. He knew what he would find when he gazed into the casket. It was strange seeing himself in there, laying in a bed of flowers, eyes shut in a peaceful sleep he would never wake from.

He knew all of this weren't real. Ghosts didn't exist and there was nothing after death. This was just another messed up dream of his, or a hallucination, that's all.

Pixel blinked, suddenly finding himself somewhere else. He didn't question the dream for more than a passing thought, getting to his feet and gazing around the wilderness he was in currently. The sunrise rose over the trees, giving a comforting atmosphere to it all. The skies were red; he wondered if a storm would occur later on.