#thermal comics

[panelperday]

I'll be down at the Perth Comics Art Festival, dealing in secret receipt roll comics

[thelizardsarecoming]

Kirk and Spock shared bathroom hehehehehehehee

[olessan]

Maxim coming to SDCC with an open t-shirt, one (1) singlet, and seemingly nothing underneath is such a mood

[ivrket]

Raye

Fixed the line up a bit

[bad-comic-art]

Brigade Sourcebook #1 (1994)

[toxooz]

Hey, been a while since i entered tumblr and had you on my feed. Just to find out you've started a tattoo apprenticeship??? I want you to tattoo me so bad but I don't get to have a visa, you ever think about visiting the south?

woAHH im no where near an apprenticeship yet im trying to get to a good point to where im confident enough to tattoo Real Skin so for the time being im just practicing on the side figuring out the technicalities and health precautions ect. but i aim to hopefully get into the industry by August or somethin bc to say my current job is making me miserable is a severe understatement Ha but yeah im gettin there and i already live in the south brother eEHAWW 🐄🤠🐓👨‍🌾 unless you mean South south like south america or mexico or somethin in that case that would be metal af it would be an honor 🥺

[theblackestofsuns]

“A Hot Thermal Burst!”

Fantastic Four #45 (December 1965)

Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, Joe Sinnott and Stan Goldberg

Marvel Comics

[buggernaut-kal]

Thermal Shock: Electric Investigator - Chapter 0, Wonderful You Came By

Hey wasn't this originally called Chapter 1? shhhhhhhhh

This is a master post of the comic pages I've been posting with some slight edits. This comic was scripted and penciled in autumn of 2021, started posting in January 2021, and after a long hiatus was finished over winter 2022, December 30th marking the last page done. It's taken way too long, but I've finally gotten this out there, and I plan to do more with this comic through 2023 and beyond. Have a Happy New Year everyone, and thank you for reading!

[szeengames123]

(via https://comic.studio/s/9138)

RED Pyro in his Thermal Thruster farts BLU Pyro

[upsurgecomic]

[fragmenthunters]

Fragments chapter 14

I think Tahlia wins the flower contest. ^v^

This is the last page of the comic for now. Thanks for reading.

[accelldraws]

re: the one magic comic you recently posted

if energy with magic cannot be created or destroyed, but channelled elsewhere, would it be possible for a person to dual wield fire and ice? So the energy taken to create ice could be used to create a flame

good observation - yes, and while it is useful, it doesn't let you go infinite and basically just lets you control your temperature easier. using the two simultaneously is also next to impossible since it already takes a great deal of concentration to use just one element, and switching too drastically puts a lot of heat stress on the body, like jumping from a sauna into a blizzard.

this doesn't let you go infinite because after you make some fire or some ice, it doesn't do anything until you apply a force to it, and that takes energy! so while you can maintain temp (and that greatly increases your casting stamina), you'll still eventually get mentally tired from concentrating or too physically tired to throw around the stuff u make

and before someone else asks: no, you cannot convert thermal energy to stuff like stored chemical energy (unless for some reason ur species had an enzyme that could phosphylate ADP or something using a heat catalyzed reaction, which feels highly unlikely). magic is about moving energy around (e.g. ice = move from environment to self), and energy is just an abstract concept, not a physical resource like "mana"

[glitchedrabbit]

MY DR.RABBIT AND VANNYYY

this was pretty silly to draw, and i can finally give some fun facts about his bunny suit

STARTING OFF WITH THE FIRST THING I WANTED;

depending on his emotion his pupils can change shape!: the 3 main ones i have right now are:

normal: neutral and his default expression

exclamation marks: shocked, surprised, an error or scared, this is only if those emotions are really strong and he is really caught off guard.

take the vanny ending for example when she’s about to get her ass disassembled, for Rab his pupils will be that shape because obviously..he’s scared and shocked.

3. Stars: he’s just being his trickster self or he’s just really happy, he’s usually like that when he hangs out with Vanny because hey, why not!

I am planning to add more later on but that’s what i’ve got so far :))

Just like his pupils can change shape they can also change color depending on the emotion, it’s randomized at times, but they consist more of blue’s and purple’s

yes the stars on his cheek are emphasizing him being called superstar in sb, im glad some people were able to catch that it made me really happy :,))

His eyes have thermal heat! but it only works if he’s in a really dark area, sure his eyes glow but they can only do so much…

He can receive calls or have a walkie talkie type system from inside his mask!! just a little tap on the side of his head and he can answer em or give a transmit a message ! (Vanny likes to spoil that use at times though, but he is not allowed to remove that feature from his mask.. (i made a silly doodle comic about it)

It’s common that when Rab’s pupils do change shape depending on his emotion there’s a lot of glitching, why? I kind of don’t know! i just thought it’d be pretty cool to add that as a small idea.

Rab’s bow was given to him by Vanny, he used his hoodie for a while on his first few days wearing the suit, but after a while he realized how dirty it can get when doing his new job, Vanny then gifted him the bow as a gift of close friendship!! (awweeee)

And that’s all i’ve really got for now!! i know i’ve got more somewhere in my brain but it is 12 am for me rn and i’m visión blurring woah hdhshahaha

[jarofstyles]

FICTOBER DAY 14- Cider

cute dadrry blurb right at ya!

FICTOBER

Patreon

----

Harry sighed as he brought the sippy cup towards his daughter’s face. She turned, eying the Minnie Mouse cup warily before looking to her dad with a shake of the head. The winter festival was a big deal in their small town and Y/N had left Harry and their daughter at the picnic table while she grabbed some miniature donuts from the food truck. 

“Don’t you like cider?” He tried, taking his own cup and taking a sip. “It’s good, sweetheart. S’like your apple juice, yeah?” 

“Not apple juice.” She whispered, looking at the cup in front of her. Harry had placed it down, hoping she would take it when she wanted it. Her curls were up in little pigtails, the ringlets maintained with two orange hair ties and tiny pumpkin hair clips. Y/N had let him do her hair today and he thinks he did an alright job based on all the coos his little girl had gotten.”It’s wrong, Daddy.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, slightly exasperated. She was in a weird transition phase where she was skeptical of everything, curiosity not quite being the right name for it. “Of course it is. Tastes just like apples. Maybe a little sweeter.” He paused, brushing his finger over her slightly cool cheek. Her long sleeve thermal shirt and little overalls were adorable, but he knew when Y/N got back with the bag he would need to put a sweater on her. 

“It’s not the right color!” She squeaked, looking at him with furrowed brows. A look that his wife said was his own karma, considering he had an almost identical one. He blamed genetics, but Y/N and his mum both swore it was his personal karma. “It’s dark and its not- it isn’t see through. I don’t like it!”

Harry shook his head, picking up the cup again. “No, no. It is made from apples, just like your juice, but it’s made a little differently. It’s a bit better for your tummy, too. We get it every year, and you had a sip of Mummy’s last year. You liked it, remember?” He tried to soothe his toddler, who seemed fraught with concern that the unfamiliar drink was somehow going to be ‘yucky’, as he knew she would put it. 

Her expression fell a bit, looking at the drink and back to him. “I did?” Harry couldn’t blame her for not remembering, but it was a bit comical to see her try and place the memory. 

“Mhm. You had some of Mummy’s. She’s going to get the little donuts, yeah? You remember those?” He smiled, giving her the cup which she took cautiously. Her little nod made her pigtails bounce, making him want to coo at her. Truly, she was the most adorable little thing and his heart had never felt more full of love. Every day, his heart worked overtime just for her and her Mum. “Yeah, so why don’t we try it? Put it in the Mickey cup too so you won’t spill. If you don’t like it I’ll drink it and let you have something else, yeah?” 

That seemed to placate her well enough, her little lips taking a noisy sip from the red lid- and her eyes lit up. “It is apple juice! Daddy, it’s just like it.” She chirped, taking another sip as her body did a little dance. 

“I told you, baby.” He had to laugh, watching Y/N approach with the bags of treats, slinging her leg over and taking a seat with a sigh. 

“Sorry, love. Took forever.” She handed him the bag, going to open her mouth but interrupted by a small chirp. 

“Mumma! Daddy got me this stuff and He said it was like apple juice n’I said no cause it- it doesn’t look right but then he told me, he told me to try and it and is like apple juice!” She peeped, lifting her cup to show her. “See? He says I tried it last time but I don’t member too much besides the donuts cause I was just a baby last year.” 

Y/N’s brows rose, looking at her daughter with a little laugh. “Yeah? See, trying new foods can be fun. We can get some to bring home if you’d like.” She placed a few mini sugar donuts on the plate and handed Harry a napkin to clean the dribble of cider form her chin. 

“Yes, please!”

[stickytrigger69]

OK OK STAYING ANON FOR THIS FOR SURE this request is so cheesy but i need nsfw fluff of idw soundwave since hes so hard to find fanfic of 😩 but anyways, IDW Soundwave making love to femme cybertronian reader after they became Conjunx Endura? (basically Conjunx Endura is IDW transformers version of marriage) I mean more intimate and loving than lustful but it still can be, just more on loving spectrum. Preferably in the spooning position while Soundwave whispers sweet-nothings into her audio processor as he moves in and out of her, knowing that he’s hers and she’s his as he kisses her jawline.

(in the comics, its canon that he has a mouth! i forget the names of the comics but we see him without his maskplate)

anyways i know this request was super cheesy 🧍‍♀️ but ye, i read your previous fanfic and thought that your writing is just so amazing <3

IDW Soundwave x Femme Cybertronian Reader

I fucking love this

Fluffy and Loving NSFW

Married life ^v^

Reader and Soundwave are conjunx endurae and have been for a few years already.

Readers frame, paint job, height, etc. are unspecified.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The berth is so comfortable and warm. The soft thermal sheets and pillows. Not to mention the warm frame of your dearest. He is most often in this position, cuddling you from behind. Frame curved perfectly to yours. Your aft pressed perfectly into his hips. He wakes up like this. It is the middle of the night, and as his optics focus, he gets a clear view of the back of your helm. His arm around your waist, his servo caresses your abdomen, feeling the smooth plating before he starts feeling you up. Servo just beneath your chest plate.

His servo moves down to your waist, feeling the curvature of your hips. Within a few seconds, he feels his own plating begin to heat up. He uses his digits to caress you, rubbing and pinching at your hips and tribulen. How has he ended up with such a beautiful conjunx? That's so perfect. It amazes him that you chose him over any other bot. You willingly chose a decepticon over an autobot. He is constantly filled with love from your EM field and your frame. Most of your love sessions are sweet and vanilla. Other times, he's frustrated and uses you. You haven't once told him to stop before. In fact, you've spurred him on, wanting it harder and faster. The last time you did anything with each other, it was short-lived. Thus, he has been pent up for the past couple of solar cycles.

That doesn't mean he wants to just pound you until you're spike drunk. He's actually feeling lazy right now. His spike slowly pressurizes behind his panel. He keeps fondling you and puts his face in the crook of your neck. He watches your face as he pinches at your side with a smile on his face.

"(designation)," He whispers to you before pecking at your cheek, "wake up, my love. I want you." He continues to plant kisses on your neck and jaw and face. Slowly, you release a groan, feeling his servos roaming over your body. His touches are soft and slow tonight while he's gently grinding his hot panel against your aft.

"Mmm," without a second thought, you push yourself back to rub your aft on him, "Yes, please, my spark." You hum seductively. He uses his other arm to prop himself up so he can turn your upper body more towards him so he can see you better. He leans down and kisses you, derma locking together as his servo reaches further down to rub at your panel while you continue grinding on each other. You lift a leg up so he has better access.

His digits skillfully rub at all your sweet spots that make you arch your back. You're still sleepy, but this feels so good. You moan into his intake as your panel hisses and slides away. You choose only to reveal your valve this time. He smirks into the kiss and starts rubbing at your valve lips, and you twitch every so slightly. He rubs your node softly and then returns his attention to your folds. His leg scoots under the one you've been holding up so he can slide down a little to get a better angle. Within seconds, you feel his hot plating against your valve lips, and you arch your back a bit more to try rubbing yourself against him.

Your valve aches and vlenches on nothing while he grinds his panel against you and rubs circles on your node. His digits rub up and down your valve only to return back to your node to rub and pinch it gently. Your transfluid spreads across his closed panel, and he groans at the feeling. He continues kissing your neck and sucking on your cables. Without warning, two digits push themselves inside you, and you moan softly. Still grinding into your aft, he slowly fingers you, thumb rubbing your node as his digits push in and out at a teasing pace. You tilt your head back and to the side and reach your servo to hold him by the hip, urging him to grind harder against you.

He slowly flexes his digits, spreading you open. He pushes his digits deeper and deeper into you, looking for all his favorite spots, a small node there a caliper here. Finally, he finds the little bundle of nodes he's looking for. He rubs it roughly, making you gasp and twitch.

"Oh, please, my spark. Please." You beg. He knows what you want and he decides he'll give it to you because he wants it just as badly. His panel hisses and slides away, his spike bobs out, ready and waiting. Pre leaks from the slit and he uses his servo to press it against your valve so he can tease some more. Grinding his spike in between your folds, coating it in your slick.

"You're so good for me. I love you so much." He praises and pours his spark out to you while slowly pushing his spike into your needy valve. He keeps his servo on your lower abdomen to hold you in place as he slowly thrusts into you. You moan and whine his name over and over again. He keeps a steady pace, going deeper and deeper with every thrust into your tight valve. Your calipers clench onto him tightly, trying to keep him in, and it makes him groan deeply into your audial.

The lewd sounds your valve makes each time he pushes in is music to his audials, mixed with the sounds of your whining drives him crazy. It doesn't matter how pent up he is right now. It won't make him speed up or sit up and hold you down while he takes what he wants. He loves this. This is probably his favorite way to make love to you, slowly unraveling you at your core. Gentle and loving and patient. It's enough to make his spike twitch and throb inside you. He grinds his spike into while planting more kisses on your neck and jaw, kissing and licking and sucking at you while you moan from feeling his spike rub against your tight walls.

"Feels so good. Oh, Soundwave." You moan sweetly. Your EM field releases wave after wave of love. It's warm and fuzzy and makes him do the same, love and adoration coming deep from within his spark to mingle with yours. Nothing in the universe could ever make him feel this way, so loved and wanted, needed. It causes possessiveness to bubble up in him, but he doesn't change pace. Keeping it steady and gentle. With another groan, he starts thrusting into you again. He wants so badly to overload in you, paint your walls pink with his transfluid.

Your calipers squeeze and flutter around him. You're getting close. He holds up your leg for you, servo squeezing onto your tribulen as he chases your overload.

"Mmm, wait." You whine. He stops, wondering what you want or need. Is he going too rough? Does it hurt? "I want to see you." You moan, and your request makes his spike twitch inside you. He pulls out, and without another word, you climb on top of him. Sitting fully on his spike to ride him. You take his servos into yours as you stare deeply into his optics. You lean down and plant your forehead on his as you bounce a bit faster.

He smiles so sweetly at you. "Overload for me." He hums before pecking your derma. With a moan, you overload on him. Calipers clenching down on his spike, squeezing him so tightly and causing him to overload with you. He groans deeply as your valve milks his spike. Pulling rope after rope of transfluid from him. Your chest opens up, revealing your spark and his follows suit. Your sparks reach for each other and merge together. He can hear your voice, strings of "I love you," flood his processor. When you're chests close and you're catching your breath, he kisses your face all over.

There are no words spoken as he lays you back down on your side. He caresses your hip again as he looks into your optics. Your servo reaches up and holds his cheek, and your leg reaches over his hip and rests on him. After a while, your optics are ready to close again, and without a second thought, he gets up to get a towel to clean you up. When he comes back into the room, you're in recharge already. So he carefully cleans you up, taking his time to admire you while you sleep.

His spark is flooded with love for you and from you. He knows how much he means to you and how much you mean to him. He never wants to lose you. And despite what others say about him being a Con, you don't love him any less. In fact, you praise him. He knows his values, and he will always strive for better, and you admire it. He loves you so so much that it hurts sometimes. He just tossed the towel aside and lays down with you, pulling your frame close to his. He's never letting you go, ever.

[deluxewhump]

I love just posting as I go, but often I think of some element I would add or remove to a story if I was writing it now, knowing all its components. this is just one of those things. Max takes carlo to the woods

At first, he dreaded going out into the woods with his new master. It was November— the leaves were long turned, now thinning out among the pine and white birch trees. He was afraid he’d slow Max down, which might annoy or even anger him. He was afraid it would be cold and wet like the warehouse in winter.

But his young, strange new master bought him new clothes, warm thermals and a jacket, hiking boots and a raincoat and water-wicking pants and socks. First they went fishing, just a day trip down to the river on the west side of the hills. Max told him how his father took him to various spots when he was young and they’d bring home brook trout in a cooler. “He has the patience of a saint for fish, and a hairpin trigger for everything else. Not in a bad way,” he added when he felt Carlo’s loaded glance. “Just a wants-everything-done-yesterday kind of guy. And the most irrational road rage you’ve ever seen, it’s truly comical.”

In the woods, Max was in another mode than what Carlo had seen in the previous weeks. The work he often brought home with him might as well have been a world away, belonging to someone else in another time. He traded his collared shirts and laptop bag for a thick canvas jacket and a bright orange hat— an accessory he provided for Carlo too, explaining that it was deer hunting season. He was capable in the woods in a way that Carlo found endlessly reassuring. He was attentive, often asking if he was cold, if he was hungry yet, if his new boots were giving him blisters. Even in the woods, his new master seemed to think of his well being as his responsibility.

Carlo liked watching Max’s hands as he worked. He watched the way he twisted a worm onto a fishhook, the way he cleaned his knife, the reassuring way he cupped his hands around the fledgling flames of a fire.

As days had turned to weeks, the idea that any new master would very likely want to hurt him in some way was slowly losing credibility. Sometimes it crept back up. He remembered how much of a stranger Max really was to him, how undeniably easy it would be for him. When they scrambled up a rock outcropping riddled with roots, Max leaned over from the ledge to help him. He’d been surprised at the sheer ease with which Max pulled him up the last three feet to join him at the top.

For an hour after, he’d stayed a few paces behind to contemplate the fact that Max was easily as big as Keith, and undeniably in better physical shape. Comparing anyone to Erik seemed heretical, and any sustained thought of him made him want to cry with homesick grief anyway, so as a survival tactic he’d learned to staunchly avoid it. Keith was the readily available comparison. But then Max would say something so innocent— about the time he’d seen a black bear and her two cubs in this clearing, or ask him if he’d ever had venison, or just a “still doing okay?” over his shoulder with a smile and the fear would slink back, chastised.

He liked the one time they camped overnight outdoors, the way the condensation on the outside of his sleeping bag in the morning didn’t reach the surprising warmth inside. He liked the companionable silence just as much as when Max narrated to him what he was doing in a conversational, almost hushed tone. He told him about reading the water to understand where the fish were biting, or how to build a fire so it will catch quick and burn long. He particularly liked the way Max invited him to help or to try something himself for the first time without making him feel like he had to. He busied himself with his own task while Carlo took up the matches or slipped his fingers into the red and silver guts of a fish, icy river water running over his wrists and taking the blood downstream.

There was a hunting cabin Max’s father built in the nineties that he wanted to use, but first he needed to fix the roof. One Saturday, they followed a dirt road and parked the truck where it ended. They carried materials and tools from the truckbed into the woods, about 800 yards to the cabin. To say it was rustic would be an understatement. But Carlo was emboldened by his night spent in an open field under the stars, and had begun to develop an unwavering sort of faith in Max’s judgement. He was unconcerned with the cobwebs or the dust, and was pleased to see an ancient little woodstove in the middle of the cabin’s one room. Wooden beds were built into the wall, jutting out with no base touching the floor. They set their sleeping bags and pillows on the bare plywood after Max made sure it wasn’t rotted.

When Max came down from the roof that night, he heated a can of soup and explained the repairs to Carlo as he ate. He fell asleep while Max was still getting ready for bed, but was startled from it in the early hours by the hooting of an owl. He laid his head back onto his pillow. As his heartbeat quieted, he noticed he could see the moon out the window through the trees, and that the fire was now just embers in the woodstove. Max was asleep a few feet away, evident by his slow, even breathing in the thin moonlight.

At daylight on Sunday, they carried their sleeping bags and Max’s tools back to the access road. He could see his breath, and the forest floor crunched with a layer of frost beneath his boots. For some reason, the familiarity of the truck was oddly comforting, and it wasn’t just the heat. He couldn’t quite understand why until they stepped into the quiet, early morning sunlight of the house, and for the first time since he’d arrived it felt like coming home.