#so thats a win in my books

[woodlaflababab]

Alright so, this does take place immediately after the war and they are stated to be together. Age Aang up, age Zuko down, whatever makes you comfortable, I just had an idea I found funny when I read this prompt and I wrote it.

Anyway, this is kinda crack taken seriously

-<>-

Zuko watched as Katara took her brother from Suki. “There's a medical wing just inside, to the right.” He let her know. He refrained from mentioning that the medical wing was specifically there for Agni Kais. Now that he had the power to, he was going to make sure an Agni Kai never happened on those grounds again.

Katara nodded and started leading Sokka toward the building before she noticed Zuko wasn't following. “Aren't you coming? You still need help, I could only do so much.”

Zuko shook his head. “No, I need to take my place now, before everything falls to chaos because there's no firelord.”

Katara didn't look quite pleased about it, but she nodded. “Just, be careful Zuko.”

Zuko gave a small smile, more grateful than ever that the group had let him in. That they'd found a way to forgive them. He'd only really known Katara for a few weeks, yet she'd already had a better effect on his life than the majority of people in it.

On the tail end of that thought, he turned to the person he was most grateful for. “Aren't you joining them?”

Aang raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? And let you go in there alone? No.” He walked up to take Zuko's hand. “We finish this together.” He said it with a smile that made Zuko truly believe in a better future.

Nodding, Zuko led Aang in a different direction than the others, taking the long route so he could enter through the front of the palace where the soldiers and palace attendants were gathered, expecting to see his father return, triumphant and powerful.

He relished in the surprise on their faces when he came through instead. He knew he was probably a sorry sight, what with the lightning strike on full display, but part of him was proud of it and wanted them to see it, like it was a declaration to them that nothing, not even a lightning strike to the heart, could take him down.

He took a deep breath. When he'd originally pictured coming home if they won, he imagined he'd have diplomatic words and could take control with grace. Having come face to face with death, he found he no longer cared about that.

“The Firelord has been defeated.” He called out, making sure his voice could be heard across the great foyer. “His bending has been stripped from him by the Avatar. Princess Azula has also been defeated by me in an Agni Kai. I'm taking my rightful place on the throne.” He spoke in a tone that dared anyone to protest.

No one did, but he did notice them glancing nervously behind him. He turned to find Aang just standing there, watching him with pride.

Turning back to the crowd, Zuko gestured to Aang. “This is the avatar.” After a few seconds of thought, and another realization that he no longer gave a fuck about much, he continued. “Also my boyfriend. Disrespect him and I will exile you.” A ripple of surprised and confused sounds went through the people.

“He's joking.” He heard Aang pipe up behind him.

Zuko looked back at Aang. “I am?”

Aang gave him a look. “Yes.”

Zuko once again went back to addressing the crowd. “I'm joking.” The people looked as doubtful as he was about that statement. “But there will be consequences to anyone who tries to contest me, the avatar, or any of the avatar's friends. The war is over and a lot is going to change. You can change with it, or you can leave.”

Zuko watched them all stand in uncomfortable and frightened silence and decided that was good enough. 

“Great.” He nodded. He reached back to grab Aang's hand again to drag him farther into the palace, unsure of where he intended to go, but not wanting to backtrack after his speech. The crowd parted before them and Zuko continued through, grateful when no one followed.

Once they turned down a hallway and could no longer be seen, Zuko let out a relieved breath. “That could have gone worse.”

“I think you did great.” Aang encouraged cheerfully.

Zuko turned to give him a grateful look, but stopped as he noticed something. “Aang?”

“Yeah?”

“Are,” he hesitated, “are you more red than you were a few minutes ago? I can't tell if it's a trick of the light.”

“Uh,” Aang looked down at himself and seemed to recognize that, yes, he was turning quite red, “the fight was really hot.”

Realizing the red was rising surface burns, alarm immediately rang in Zuko. “What? Why are you here? You need to go to the medical wing!”

Aang maintained eye contact for a few moments before looking pointedly down at Zuko's chest. “Uh.”

Zuko sighed, “Okay yes, we both need to go to the medical wing, I get it.” With a destination in mind again, Zuko continued leading Aang through the palace, occasionally glancing over. “Seriously though, you are really red.”

Aang's facial expression went flat. “It was really hot.”

[justanotherjaydrawing]

Happy October. Wanted to draw Wirt in my style but also wanted to try mimic the og style. I'm not great with simpler styles so i wanted to work on it.

(timelapse, as always, below. you can watch my endless struggle to draw that stupid hat lmao)

[lanaandluda]

My husband is poly, and when he was putting together a dating profile, we took pictures of him in the bucket of his tractor for part of it, including the "paint me like one of your French girls" pose.

It's 100% ridiculous, and my absolute favorite thing.

He doesn't remember his girlfriend commenting on it, so I'll have to ask her later.

I think the only way to get dates on places like tinder as a straight man would be to make a profile that's so supremely weird in a way that's distinctly and genuinely yourself, but in a way that's completely outlandishly formatted - not toned down and presentable, but toned up, and proudly presented - that some woman in your area going through their Tinder feed will take a screenshot of your profile and post it online somewhere with a caption like "why are the dudes in my area so fucking weird", as a lament for herself.

Which - ideally, if you've really gotten the right vibe into the wtf:ness of your profile - would prompt at least 3 people to go "I mean if you don't want him, I do", and go figure out who you are, and send you a message going "hey is that actually you in your profile picture, posing shirtless in front of your massive Gundam collection?" And that's how you start chatting with people you don't need to hide your Gundam collection from.

It's better to be known for bold sincerity and cringe, than to never be known at all.

[randomandstrangethings]

What is albedo and how does it effect the melting of ice?

Albedo is the measure of how much light is reflected back from an object. If an object absorbs light and heat very easily (such as a dark forest or an ocean) means it has a low albedo. On the contrary, things such as clouds and ice have a high albedo because they reflect light and are not good generators of heat.

Now, what does this have to do with climate change? Well, the attraction of light is a natural thing to be happening, but, human activities are accelerating it. The omission of greenhouse gases causing global warming takes sunlight from space and forces it to remain in our atmosphere, melting ice and causing it to add it's water to the ocean.

The ocean is a very dark place (and as previously mentioned, has a low albedo) so, the more darkness there is, the more attracted light is to the area. The higher concentrations of light (which are aiming for the water) end up hitting the ice too, causing the melting of ice which increases the problem even more. To make matters worse, the light that does end up hitting the ocean generates heat as well, which also melts the ice.

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Ok, hear me out, Machine Herald Viktor x Reader AU with this line from Epic,,

Jayce: After everything you've done... how will you sleep at night?

Viktor: Next to my wife.

[yeenkingart]

based on real experience (am geologist), except I only forgot my mapboard dont judge me

Irks me that they just ... rawdog the outdoors, like, my guy you must be miserable in that science coat and trenchcoat. yall good??

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i think seeing that "sonic prime: THe sHow nO OnE rEmEbeRs" video has resparked my love for prime ten fold. i adore all the goofy goobers that show gave us

[moomoomooing]

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Ted saying that no driver has had this level of attention on them since Michael Schumacher...

Gentlemen, a short view into the past; Max's debut season, his Red Bull debut, the literal rule changed as a result of his debut in the sport... oh and everyone and their mother calling Kimi Max 2.0 and Toto's second chance at signing debut!Max since he failed the first time around...

[hinkepink]

old men smooching from my sketchbook <3

[puhpandas]

what are u guys' dream game after sotm? since itll be the last game centered around the mimics backstory and integration and stuff (hopefully) theres basically a whole world of possibilities for currently neglected storylines lol

[tamaharu]

i know hes going through it or whatever but i honestly cant focus whenever kazakami shows up. he looks so much like what i imagine kim dokja to look like its distracting.

[cazzyf1]

Maria Teresa de Filippis at the Grand Prix D'Europe 1958 (Belgium)

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[a-bucket-in-the-void]

guys we did it!

we got stuff done!

i only cried a liiiiittle bit