#As it is as it is without change

[kikuo-tournament]

Kikuo Tournament : Round Four

"As it is, as it is, without change" VS. "my time KIKUO version"

Remember to vote for which one you like more, not based on popularity!

[flogisto]

big fan of stories that, while undoubtedly being about the power of friendship, acknowledge that the power of incredible violence is just as important

the love was there. the love changed everything. the crowbar helped also

[evidently-endless]

where would we be without tag wranglers. this links to ‘not canon compliant’. ao3 volunteers i am kissing you on the lips

[humming-fly]

I love how Gerald was trying to keep Shadow from spoiling anything about the future meanwhile literally everything Shadow says and does around Maria is the biggest death flag ever

[boomposhpow]

i finished the series a couple days ago

[demaparbat-hp]

Hey, Spitfire! Try not to kill your brother ahead of time!

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Looking for Ursa right after being banished had some...wildly unexpected results. One: Zuko actually found her. Two: she wasn't alone. Three: leaving her children behind in order to protect them was, apparently, just something she did.

Looking at the bright side, Zuko now had a three-year-old younger brother to look after. Looking at the dark side, Zuko now had a three-year-old kid he needed to parent while also keeping him a secret from his father because—may Agni help him—the Fire Lord would have to go through Zuko first if he dared to even look at Lu Ten II.

(AKA an AU in which Zuko is a good big brother and doesn't want another kid to grow up like he did.)

[itscherryterry-again]

toss a coin 🪙

[star-scroll]

Dannymay Day 6: Transformation

Background Reference: S1Ep18 Life Lessons, 11:07

[kikuo-tournament]

Kikuo Tournament : Round Three

"As it is, as it is, without change" VS. "Dwarf-Star Firework"

Remember to vote for which one you like more, not based on popularity!

[corvidkusnos]

You are NOT my GOD.

[onlyfangz]

ive definitely talked abt this before, but i literally cannot relate to the posts that are like "ohhh you guys ship them romantically when theyre soo much more interesting as friends". i contain multitudes. i think they are best friends. i think they are lovers. i think they are soulmates in a way that cant be categorised. these statements dont conflict.

[taimanzano]

Megatronus Prime, Prima Prime.

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(al final)

[aerialworms-art]

Lifespans.

(ID under cut)

[Image ID: A three-way venn diagram floating against a starfield. The circles are coloured; one yellow, one light blue, one a darker shade of blue. The yellow is the smallest, the two blue ones over double its size, with the darker blue the biggest. The yellow is half covered by the two blue circles, while it takes up a small amount of the two blues. The centre overlap between all three is labelled "the precious few years we three were together".

There is very little overlap between the yellow and the darker blue without the lighter blue.

The work is signed 'aerialworms'./End ID]

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[inkskinned]

she had taken all of the pronouns in my poems and turned them masculine. every she was he. every her was him. i wrote about women dipping their hands into the honey of my chest and she had changed it in this stark, violent way. men now, in my work. in my ribs, i guess. how odd, to stare at it.

i write a lot about worshipping at the knees of my girl. what sapphic can resist the allure of chapel-talk, the divine nature of what is ours and ours alone. her hair in your shower. her chapstick melting in your car. when we say holy here, it is a different meaning. it is the smithing of our own haloes from mix-tape cds. no hammer to the anvil - only our own palms, skin scorching. forging every astral ray with the prayer please don't leave. our bible a history that is never taught in high school. we shape a church from the tent of her arched back. what other word for hymn but her voice. her moaning.

a poem can be stripped of its component parts, maybe, but can it still breathe? is it still the same ship? the words this woman changed, biting and spiraling up at me: my man is holy. i worship at his feet. he is the divinity of saturdays and the wheat of my communion and he is the hushed summer's glorious release.

it's common knowledge that you can say a word too-many times, and then it loses meaning. but here was something new: it wasn't that the words had lost meaning, but rather that they had shifted in the air somehow and turned radioactive to me. all of my words were otherwise unchanged, except for the unkind and glowing eye of him.

ivory-tower glowing in my aorta, i thought about talking to her on the sanctimonious and erudite level. telling her: a poem can be changed, can be erased or added to or demolished or reconfigured; but we do try to respect the original author. i would tell her i would have preferred her not change only the pronouns; that her actions felt like censorship rather than collaboration.

in front of me: you cannot cut him out of me, i was made to love him. no scrubbing, no penance. i will always come back to this house, come back to loving men.

i thought about telling her why her actions were cannibalism, not care. i would tell her about being 18 and pressured by my catholic family to accept a man as a partner; how i'd dated him for 5 years before being able to escape. how abusive he had been. how he had made me kneel in front of him - that i wasn't using the word worship idly, but rather as a reclamation. how i had to be re-taught even the concept of faith. how when i learned peace again, it was by the hand of a woman.

i thought about telling her about the wound behind it, the unceasing loneliness. i thought about telling her shape of the small and quiet hours; the fear; the endless and unpretty nature of just being queer. i thought about saying: all of my work comes from a place of pain.

i thought about telling her everything. when i finally found the words, it was only one: why? in that was the summary of all i felt: why not write her own poem? why change it so violently? and why choose my work, if she disliked it so much? why me?

i imagine she shrugged when she responded. all i got was a single sentence: "i really like your work but i want to be able to enjoy it without being made uncomfortable."

on her insta, her pinned post is of her boyfriend - now husband - proposing. they were married in 2023. congratulations. i really do hope she's happy.

i hope one day it stops hurting.

[keferon]

ALRIGHT IM DONE 👍

Mecha Pilot Prowl and his Mech~

Those thrusters can change positions for the sake of. Basically flying. I wanted to give Prowl at least some advantage so he would be able to keep up with Jazz haha. He can’t fly infinitely because it will burn out all the fuel but yeah. Something like biggg leaps and dashes >:D

+ bonus. size comparison (yes I like to make human-made mechs bigger than Cybertronians~) ((yes I made Prowl precisely the size he needs to be to fit in Jazz’s palm))

Jazz, while being trapped on Quintesson spaceship with his visor broken: oh cool this thing is vaguely robot shaped!

Prowl, while being trapped on the same ship without his glasses: the blurry blob is human shaped thank god..

…….and they were both fucking blind /j