#surprise machine comic

[binaconfusa]

Hello! Sorry for not posting here lately, I have been quite busy focused on my original project for Webtoons called Surprise Machine!

It's my first original project so far and would make me really happy if you guys read it. Reading it would it be also a huge support as I'm making big part all by myself.

Episode 2 just came out the time that I'm posting this so go check it out!

[surprisemachinepage]

Episode 2

Webcomic available to read on Webtoon and Tapas!

[souptomatobasil]

Улыбнись! Будьте счастливы! [First] [Previous] [Next] [Asterales]

[themyscirah]

.

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #242

[justsomepinkcow]

And Then What? pages 8-10

[boy-with-the-pink-hair]

Yeah, I made a comic. Why? Cuz, I love to suffer. OTL

Based on my fic.*shameless self-promo* Relevant snippet below the cut.

...

Stepping deeper now into the cavernous inner chamber, he kept a hand on the wall as he peered into the gloom, wondering what could've caused the machine to malfunction. He took another step forward, nearing the far end of the chamber, his hand sliding along the wall until it passed over a slight depression and then a protrusion. His foot suddenly bumped against a thick cable on the floor and he shifted his weight in surprise. That's when he felt the protrusion beneath his hand sink into the wall with a click!

He stumbled back and saw a control panel where his hand had been, the buttons labeled on and off. He soon realized what he'd done as the chamber let out a heavy CLUNK and began to whir and hum, the glowing lines of circuitry growing brighter as the sound crescendo'd to a deafening peak. Danny heard his friends call out to him in surprise, but he found himself frozen in place as he turned to see a bright green light bloom at the end of the chamber into a brilliantly blinding flash!

Suddenly, a massive surge of energy ripped into his body! It took his breath away--pulled from his lungs in a painful scream as his muscles contracted violently, body spasming and convulsing as every nerve burned and sizzled! His heart pounded erratically in his chest, harder and faster than he'd ever felt in his life, as though it might explode! He clutched at his chest with another painful spasm, doubling over in pain as he tried to take a breath. It was an agony like nothing he'd ever felt before. It felt like dying. Like his body was being ripped apart, molecule by molecule.

Then as quickly as it began, it was over. His eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the floor, a blackness overtaking everything.

...

While the two friends busied themselves with their own activities, they didn't notice the atmosphere of the lab change... until it was too late. The CLUNK of the machine quickly drew their attention and both Sam and Tucker dropped what they were doing to watch in horror as it whirred to life.

"Danny?" Sam called out to her friend, "Danny, what's happening?!" The whir of the machine grew louder and louder, and Sam's heart sank in dread.

Tucker rushed back to the portal entrance to see what was happening, and joined in Sam's concern. "Danny, get out of there! Something's wrong!" he shouted over the noise, but it was too late. A bright flash of light burst from the machine, forcing the pair to shield their eyes as the deafening hum was replaced by Danny's agonized screaming.

"DANNY!!" Sam dropped her camera and lurched toward the portal entrance, but Tucker caught her waist and pulled her back.

"Sam, don't! It's too dangerous! You could get hurt!"

"But Danny's IN THERE!! We have to SAVE him!!" she argued, pulling against his grip, but Tucker held tight.

"I’m sorry, Sam... there's nothing we can do."

Yet, Sam refused to just stand by and do nothing. She broke free of Tucker's arms and rushed forward... but it was already over.

Danny's body crumpled to the floor with a thud and laid motionless beyond the threshold of the machine as a swirling green vortex formed inside. The two friends stared in quiet horror, before Sam stumbled forward into the machine to pull Danny's limp body back from that sinister green portal as it grew to fill the entire chamber.

She felt her heart clench as she dragged him back into the lab and rolled him onto his back. His once jet black hair was now a shock of white, and he felt cold beneath her fingers. A faint stench of burning wafted from his body, his suit a charred black and the rubber ashen. She knelt beside him, a hand on his chest, the other gently brushing the hair from his face.

"Tucker..." She looked back at the other boy in restrained panic, her voice wavering as she spoke. "He-- He's not breathing."

---

Read the rest here.

[xitsensunmoon]

My first ever comic con! And first cosplay too. Of course it's gonna be my boy :] Ramblings about the process are under the cut(Let me know if?? You would want me to elaborate with process images for any of the steps?)

The costume took me forever to make, as I've never done any machine sewing, sculpting, fabric dying or spray painting before but learning all of these was so fucking fun!! I never realised just how many different skills go into making a cosplay but it was so worth it!!!

Almost all of the clothes(except the hat) were purchased first as bases, but all of the detailing was added by me. All of the fabric used was originally just scraps that I was given for free so I needed to learn how to dye and dye all of the stars, they were originally white.

The sewing machine was its own beast that brought me tons of frustration from the lack of skill and knowledge (it was devastating to find out that 95% of fuck ups were my fault and not the machine's lmao). But as a result, a hat sewn from scratch, all of the fur trims, embroidery on the corset, stars and the collar(which is very hard to see on the pictures unfortunately) was all added manually. The stars and the stripes(on the back of the cape) were attached using heat-and-bond adhesive (I WISH I knew about such thing just when I started working on this. It would save me so much time and nerves.)

Then I found out about polymorph(mouldable plastic) and it has become the next thing I wanted to learn, to sculpt the claws and the fangs(yes, they're handmade jfksjs). The claws I then primed and painted in trillion coats because I wasn't satisfied with the colour of the spray paint. The fangs I moulded to my own teeth and then stained with tea to match the colour of my teeth :)c

As for makeup, I used Mehron Paradise water activated paints. At first I wanted to try to save money and bought myself Snazaroo instead, which unfortunately turned out to be a waste. Snazaroo didn't hold on my face for longer than 2 hours, cracking and peeling awfully. Mehron on the other hand survived 11 hours of me smiling, talking, emoting and such and didn't even crease at the smile lines(I'm actually shocked about that). It obviously works like any other makeup which means your skin texture and wrinkles won't go anywhere but Mehron's elasticity pleasantly surprised me. It did obviously smear from sweat and saliva(if you're eating and licking your lips) but if you don't touch the skin it just dries again, self setting. But if it's dry it's fully smear-proof. Highly recommend!

And last but not least, I've decided against painting my hands as it was very risky that I will stain everything I touch at the smallest hint of sweat. So instead I got myself gloves-tights(? Not sure how they're called but it's made from the same fabric as tights) and painted them with normal acrylic paint(did you know you could dye fabric with acrylic paint? I personally didn't), then heat set with an iron and voilà, they're reusable, my hands are not stained after an exhausting day and I don't stain everything I touch. It worked wonderfully which honestly was a surprise as I was really sceptical that acrylic paint will somehow stay in place.

I think this whole thing took me minimum of 6 months with big-big breaks for my school and life in general. But I'm really proud! This project taught me so many new skills and I couldn't have been happier about learning new knowledge, even if it sucked to fail in the meantime.

Everyone at the con was really nice and gave me a large confidence boost even tho it was my first time and I had no idea what I was doing. Taking photos with other people was really awkward/new for me as I hate cameras so I really had no idea how to pose/behave in front of one. But that's okay I think. This whole experience definitely made me want to do this again, so I think that will come with experience. Thank you for reading this far, hope you enjoyed this little summary :)

[sarcasrnspasrn]

thinking abt how my coworker told me once at work that the steam released from the dishwasher after turning it off is so hot that it causes her music to pause when it hits her earbuds, because it registers as a finger touching it. what the fuck

[thebibliosphere]

Hi! I'm getting my first MRI (for my brain, with contrast) and I am TERRIFIED! It sounds like you've had a few - any reassurance or advice? (No pressure to respond - you probably get lots of these!)

It’s definitely a weird sensation and I understand the fear, but I actually don’t mind them. Some labs offer things like music or aromatherapy to keep people calm (some people find the machine extremely claustrophobic and they are aware of this) so check with your radiology department to see if you can bring in your own playlist if you think that’d help.

For my first MRI with the contrast they let me bring my childhood teddy bear and once I was situated in the tube, the lab tech placed him in my hands outside the machine so I could hold onto him, as well as the panic button that they give you so they can pull you out if you suddenly realize, yeah, actually, you’re claustrophobic and about to freak the fuck out.

I’m someone who panics in enclosed spaces, but the MRI was actually okay. I knew I wasn’t trapped because my feet were outside the machine and I just closed my eyes and made up fanfic in my head for forty five minutes 😅.

The drum spinning can be loud. So if you’re noise sensitive, ask about ear plugs.

I don’t usually bother with the earplugs and sometimes just talk to the lab tech over the intercom if they’re feeling chatty. They know I’m an MCAS risk with the dye so they tend to chatter more with me than other people, I think. My first ever episode of MCAS anaphylaxis happened inside of a CT machine from the contrast dye (different dye from the MRI dye). So they know my PTSD from being in big whirly machines is through the roof and do what they can to help. If you’re extremely anxious let them know. They’re used to it.

Afterwards, don’t be surprised if you’re dizzy or experience vertigo. I felt like I’d been on a very fast spinning ride when they pulled me out.

The tech explained this was the MRI affecting my inner ear and it’d go away pretty quick. I think it took an hour for me to stop tripping over my own feet, so if possible I’d suggest having someone there to drive you home/take a cab if you can.

Other than that, just try to make sure you’re well rested beforehand and give yourself something to look forward to after. I usually go to the bookstore or grab a new comic, but getting your favorite coffee or another little treat is a good idea too.

I hope your scan is uneventful and whatever reasons you’re doing in for resolves soon. Best of luck!

[zorionbbq]

party chat #56: nanba's transformation

(transcript both in alt text and below)

[image description: five-page comic of a "party chat" conversation from yakuza 7.

beneath the scaffolding of a construction site, nanba holds a bottle of tea and asks "hey, you think i've changed at all since we met?"

the rest of the party, standing or crouching on the side of the path, turn to look at him.

"hm? have you?" ichiban tilts his head, hand on chin, and lets saeko pick from his chip bag. "i dunno, lemme think..."

adachi leaps to his feet, splashing his can of beer and surprising saeko. "got it!"

adachi snaps his fingers with a triumphant smile. "you changed how you part your hair!"

"huh?" nanba reaches toward the back of his own head. "nope, it's still the same..." adachi sheds a single tear.

hand raised high, saeko announces "right! your prescription changed!" ichiban taps a canned coffee on his palm in an "i get it!" motion. "what, are you trying to be funny now!? and that's wrong, too!" nanba retorts.

"okay!" han looks serious. "you changed the frames on your glasses!"

"you started wearing contacts instead of glasses!" zhao finger-guns with a grin.

"will you quit it with the glasses thing!?" nanba snaps at an unfazed, juicebox-sipping han. "and does it look like i'm wearing contacts!?" he gestures at himself. zhao smugly bites an onigiri, still squatting on the ground.

adachi frowns around a pocky. "huh? then what's changed?"

"never mind... sheesh." nanba turns his back on the group.

a view of the vending machine and soccer field across the way. "i just thought maybe i'd grown a bit cheerier since i met you guys."

"that's all." nanba doesn't see the party staring in shocked silence.

saeko, han, and zhao exchange fond looks.

nanba chugs his tea as ichiban approaches.

ichiban bumps his drink hand against nanba's.

"well, we already knew that, man." ichiban grins so wide his eyes shut.

"yeah, you smile a lot more than you did before, nan-chan." saeko concurs, offering him her chip bag.

nanba looks up, eyes wide. "ichiban... you guys..."

a hand lands on nanba's shoulder.

arm slung over his friend's back, ichiban cheerfully assures "and i noticed that you got some new lenses on your glasses, too." nanba's face falls.

the party loses it. saeko collapses on adachi, both doubled over in laughter, zhao cackles as his glasses fall off, and han clutches his head in despair.

"i didn't change anything about my glasses!" nanba roars. on the ground, a plastic bag of leftover snacks reads "#56 nanba's transformation".

end image description]

[deathbecomesthem]

Who, Me?

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - 2.3K

1996 Coffee House - Minors DNI, +18 ONLY

Summary: Eddie doesn't remember you, but he left a lasting impression back in the day. Like this? Go read @courtingchaos's line cook!Eddie and Crash Into Me by the ineffable @dr-aculaaa.

---

Eddie-fucking-Munson.

He hasn’t looked at you, not really. Not yet. You know it won’t matter when he does, he didn’t spend countless hours staring at the back of your head in the hallways of Hawkins High. He didn’t commit each freckle on your face to his memory. He didn’t buy your deodorant from the Woolworth’s in town just so he could put it on a pillow to bury his face in. 

That was you that did those things.

How long has it been? It’s the first thought that jumps to the front of your mind at the moment you lay your eyes on him. The thought, unbidden, is asked inside your mind before you even fully register who it is that you’re looking at right now. A ghost of your past? No, not a ghost, you can smell him - drugstore cologne and the memory of his last cigarette. 

Plus, the years are written on the fine lines of his face, you can see where they’re already beginning to sink into his skin. You can see the future grooves that will dance along his skin, the years painted across his visage. This is Eddie Munson, but with new additions. You can’t help but snort a laugh, forgetting for a moment that he’s actually standing on the other side of the counter from you. 

Eddie looks up, eyebrows pinched tight, the glasses that sit on his nose lift a little with the tightening of his features.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, plainly. You ask him in the way you would ask someone you’ve seen every single day for the last 10 years of your life. In a way, you have. When you look in the mirror, you see the remnants of your only conversation with him. He is forever a part of you, even if you didn’t quite stick with him.

“Uh, hi? I’m, uh, I’m getting some coffee?” His response is a question, as it should be. At least he knows that whether he gets coffee from this establishment is up to the person standing behind the counter in front of him. You. He’s fully searching your face, and you catch a glint in his eye before he says, “Do we know each other?”

You turn your lips down into an exaggerated frown, “Oh, I am wounded by you,” you tell him, emphasizing a hint at who you are to him, “how sad to have been forgotten by you. You certainly left your mark on me.”

Behind Eddie’s round wire frames, his eyes widen comically, panic dancing across his features. You imagine he’s racking his brain for a memory, possibly a long forgotten one night stand or an acquaintance that he should remember but cannot recall. You pause, letting him exist in the panic for just a beat before setting his mind at ease.

“Oh, it’s ok, Eddie. Eddie Munson. From Hawkins, Indiana. It’s ok that you don’t remember little ole me, I wouldn’t remember me either.” You sigh dramatically and point to the chalkboard menu above your head while still keeping eye contact with the man, “What’s your fancy?”

He huffs out an answer that doesn’t surprise you at all, “large dead eye coffee. Please.” He bows his head a little and tries for a smile. He’s looking at you intensely, studying your features as you ring up his order on the cash register and then step over to the espresso machine on your right. You’re flying solo tonight. It’s Tuesday evening, and you simply cannot afford to staff the shop at these slow times. You’re the baker, opener, barista, and closer.

“Please tell me who you are. I’m going to lose sleep over this, Sweetheart.” His pleading eyes are only fuel on the fire. It’s too fun, having a little secret and being able to toy with the boy that you thought about while you laid awake every night of your 15th year. 

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter in front of you, cupping his face in his hands, “I can’t believe I would ever forget someone like you.”

“Oh, ho ho, that’s not going to work with me, Edward.” You’re laughing at him openly when you hand off the paper coffee cup to him. “We close in an hour. You’re the only customer I’ve had for a while, feel free to hang out until close.”

Eddie shakes his head slightly at your dismissal and heads to one of the small tables in the corner of the shop next to the big windows. You watch out of the corner of your eyes as he digs out charcoal pencils and a spiral bound sketchbook. An artist, of course.

1985, Sophomore Year:

You noticed him the first week of school. You kept on noticing him, more and more, after Dustin and Mike joined Hellfire. You sat at a table with your girlfriends every lunch period that had the perfect vantage point to watch him. He never saw you, and that was good, because the thought of ever having to speak with him back in those days made your stomach feel like it would drop out of the bottom of your feet.

It was a Tuesday, just like this one today, when it happened. You were late, Mrs. Cikra kept you back in AP English to discuss your entry for the Hawkins’ student poetry journal, The Spark. She’d written you a note, but the thought of Mr. Senica being annoyed with you skating into Physics after the bell made you hot with anxiety. 

You’re not running exactly, but your Chucks are squeaking with each purposeful step on the linoleum floor. It was the sharp turn just outside of the science labs, your final destination, when it happens. A mass of curls, arms, and legs collides with you. Two objects in kinetic motion smashed together. 

With no sense of his own size, and his mouth open in shock, Eddie Munson’s teeth sink into your forehead. The combined forces of your two moving bodies colliding was enough for you to need 6 stitches on your forehead. How Eddie walked away from that without a broken jaw was a medical miracle. He’s the more hard headed of the two of you, according to the school nurse. 

To this day, a perfectly captured set of Eddie’s Munsons teeth are scarred on the topmost part of your forehead, just below the hairline. You’ve made bangs a permanent hair feature, even though it’s not something someone would notice if they didn’t know to look for it. When you happen to see it, it still makes you smile. 

A decade later, your little high school crush still has his mark on you.

You let yourself get lost in those memories while you work through your routine. You put the soups away. You turn over the large coffee urns and drain them in the big sink in the kitchen, holding back a small carafe for Eddie, just in case. You clean the sandwich station. You start sweeping, putting up chairs on the opposite side of the dining room from where your only guest is still sitting.

You can feel eyes on you while you work. A delicious tension in the air of what would have otherwise been a boring and quiet Tuesday evening. He’s focused on you, and it’s a real thrill. You can’t wipe the smile off your face while you sweep up stray coffee stirrers from the island station by the front door.

“So,” Eddie says, loud enough to be heard across the room, “you’re from Hawkins, I take it. How did you end up here?”

“College. English degree. I started working here as a freshman and just stayed, ya know?” You look up and see that he’s nodding along with your words, probably trying to put this new information into the context of everything else he’s gleaned over the last hour. “I’m a poet, we do slams once a month.”

“Were you a poet when I knew you before?” He asks. A simple question, with no hope in helping him figure out the mystery that is you.

“Oh sure. I’ve been a poet since the first time I picked up a pen and put it to paper. But that’s not something you would have known about me.” 

Eddie’s mouth is sealed in a thin line of barely veiled frustration. “Ok, great. Fantastic. Can you please give me a hint, Sweetheart?”

You stop sweeping and look at Eddie. You tell him, “I mean, I’ve definitely given you a couple of good hints already, but ok.” You ignore his response, a scoff, and say, “I’m younger than you, by a lot. I was a sophomore when you were in your third senior year. We had mutual friends, though.”

That is true. You’d been good friends with Dustin Henderson and Will Byers since elementary school. A year older than them, but you had similar interests, especially with Will. After the earthquake, when things had started to get back to what qualifies as normal in Hawkins, you had been one of the first people Will had come out to. At that point, Eddie had graduated, though. As soon as Mr. Higgins set that paper diploma in his hand, Eddie made haste out of Hawkins. Of course he did, what had Hawkins been to him, other than an endless string of painful disappointments.

“What about you, Eddie. Where’ve you been all this time?” You’re standing still now with your chin resting on the top of your hands that are holding the top of the broom handle. He gestures widely, an invitation for you to join him at his small table for a chat. You consider, nod once, and lock the door before sweeping your way over to sit down.

“Don’t tell the boss I closed early,” you tell him and wink.

His smile draws you in, it brightens the dimly lit room. The lowlights of the shop cast shadows around his handsome features and you think you could look at him for hours. For the first time in 10 years, you think about what it would be like to kiss the soft skin on the inside corner of his espresso colored eyes.

“I’ve wandered,” he tells you as you take your seat, “a little of this, a little of that.” He leans in conspiratorially, “not all of my dealings have been exactly legal, ya know?”

Your giggle tells him that, yes, you do know. 

“Right, so I live over on Sherman. I fix bikes and teach guitar. At least for now, I’m skating by without having to punch in at a 9 to 5, which suits me.”

You scrunch your nose a little bit and say, “Yeah, but how’d you end up here? In this city?”

He looks down at his paper and you intuit the answer. “Ah, I see. Anyone I know? You still with the person in question?”

“Nah, but I like it here. She graduated and left, but I stayed,” he shrugs. Nothing more needs to be said, because of course you understand. This is a place for misfits, you should know, you’re one of them.

“'I can't believe you’ve been here this long and I’m only just now seeing you for the first time.” 

You’re both openly eyeing one another. It’s electric. Eyes scanning features, looking for anything that might give away something. 

“I can’t believe that such a pretty lady knows who I am, is from Hawkins, and is actually willing to talk to me.” Christ, how do you resist his face right now, even with all the cocky lady’s man mannerisms, he is charming.

“I still have hope in you, Eddie. You know who I am, you’ll figure it out,” you point directly to the fringe at your forehead and say, “if you think hard enough.” You smile, “that’s like the third very fucking obvious hint, by the way.”

He shakes his head and beams at you, “Fuck it. I don’t care who you are, mystery woman. Can I get your number? Let me take you out.”

“Me? Eddie Munson wants to take me out? Oh, I’d love that, truly. I’ve had a crush on you since I was 15,” Eddie breathes out a disbelieving snort, “I just need you to say my name.”

With that final declaration, you stand and start putting up the chairs at the table next to where Eddie is sitting. Eddie takes the hint and begins to put away his pencils and paper.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and every day afterwards until I figure this out.” He says it as if it’s a threat. You giggle to yourself. Nothing would make you happier than having Eddie come by every day. You want to tell him that, but not yet. He needs to earn it.

He leaves you with a sheepish wave as he walks through the front door and into the warm fall evening. You turn the deadbolt and turn back to the now too quiet dining room and sigh. 

—

30 minutes later, as you're flicking down the row of light switches, you hear a noise at the window over by the table where Eddie had sat this evening. Tap, tap, tap. 

Eddie’s at the window. You see his eyes sparkling even from this distance. You see him breathe out, creating condensation on the glass. You see his finger moving, he’s writing something. You head over to see what it says.

It’s your name, written backwards for you to read. You lift your bangs up to show him your scar, and laugh as he does a small celebratory fist bump. You breathe onto the glass and write your number in the condensation, backwards of course, so he can write it down.

[surprisemachinepage]

About Surprise Machine

Surprise Machine is an original comic project created by @binaconfusa being the art, script and characters made all by themself.

The episodes are posted on Webtoons and Tapas in english, and on Funktoon only in portuguese. The release of new episodes are unpredictable at the moment as everything is made by only one person.

This blog is focused on posting updates about the project, like new episodes, characters infos, official art and events, and answer fans questions about the series.

Hope you guys enjoy! ^^

And PLZ DO NOT Trace/Copy/Repost anything posted or reblogged here.

Thank You for the attention < 3

[sugudoe]

⋆ ˚ ཐིiཋྀ ˚ ⋆ 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗠𝗘 𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── ✎ ₊· 𝗷𝗷𝗸

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in desperate need of a skin, you, a talented beginner tattoo artist, decides to test your partner and his love for you in a comical way — “ can i tattoo you ? ’’

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i’ve been drawing for a couple of days now, and this is inspired by my sibling ( a tattoo artist ) and their influence on me, cause i too wish i could tattoo myself whenever i’m bored. ALSO i know we all see geto as tough but i had to!! and nanami surprised even me but the vision is visioning, you can not deny. I KNOW you can’t do many tattoos in one setting but please it’s just for plot. divider by: @cafekitsune

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: fluff / crackfic / smau with writing / reader has no gender / english is not my first language / there is mistakes because the app beat my ass sowwy / mentions of needles and pain / foul language / suggestive theme and horny police for nanami

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gojo ﾉ geto ﾉ nanami

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Satoru is sitting in your chair, ankles fully on display for you, but you’re actually occupied with keeping everything sanitized in the makeshift space of your boyfriend’s spacious room. He is laughing and acting tough until he hears the buzz of the machine, then he stops and gulps.

“Shit, sweets. Don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“It’s too late.” You answer with a devilish smirk, before laughing and putting the pen down. “It’s okay if you don’t want anymore, no pressure.”

Maybe it’s the combo of your puppy eyes with small pout, but Gojo falls for your antics and let you have your way in his skin, it’s takes just a few minutes before you end the drawing of the little ants crawling his ankles. He, obviously, has the limitless off, and that scares him a bit — to feel pain, see dots of his blood. But when he looks at your concentrated face, pain dissolves, and he is happy to have something permanently his made by you, his only love.

By the end, though, he grins at you and asks for another one, bigger, blue! And you make the design and ink him again, before realizing you did not gave him the Suguru cat, but you fall for his dragon. Bitch.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Geto can see black dots in his vision when he lays belly down on the bed. He is a tough guy, been through stuff you have only an ideia about. You could guess by the minimal details and the fucking huge scar on his chest, he has been deeply cut by something. Still, he is scared of the needle you are holding.

But here he is, presenting his blank large and sexy back to you, making you rethink of doing another thing instead of the tattoo, but you have your opportunity and need to grab it.

“My love, are you ready?” You voice has the buzzing sound of the machine in the background, Suguru groans at that.

“Please, beat me to sleep.” It’s all he says before you touch his face. Before you can say anything, he talks again. “I’m fine, I think. I trust you a lot, baby.”

Suguru soon learns how soft and weightless your hand feels, because although something is burning in his back, he thinks is just you rubbing alcohol — that is until he wonders why are you rubbing alcohol for twenty straight minutes now, and then he shifts his face a bit to stare at you. He almost passed out again when he realized the tattoo is already in progress, but he is fine, and simply goes back to his original head position, before deciding to sleep.

Suguru wakes up hours later with this intricate tattoo on his upper back, he smiles and flexes his muscles on the mirror before staring at you, seeing you googling him. Yeah, if you keep looking at him like that and your hands feeling like feather, he may enjoy this whole thing — he does! By the end of the year, his whole torso is designed by you.

──── ✎ ° ⋆ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

Nanami presented you what could be called a slideshow of tattoos he would like to have. Basically he made a pinterest board and added you to put the tattoos you would think he look nice with (basically all you’ve seen).

By saturday, he is wearing a white shirt, showcasing his big arm’s muscles, you get occupied with a little thing before you even start to prepare the living room. Now, he has no shirt anymore.

“So, what did you choose for me, love?” His soothing voice asks you, he is sitting by your dinner table and you smile at him, showing your tablet with the many arts you made based on what both he and you liked.

“Now you pick one and we start.”

“Can I have all of them?” Oh.. “I like the art, you are so talented, love. Let me be your canvas, do what you want.” Yeah, you get occupied again in the day.

It’s nighttime when you crack your bones and look at both of your boyfriend’s arm, all inked up. He stares at you normally, no pain, no heavy breathing. He really was a punk in high school.

“So, since we already did all 12, can we finish the chest as well? I think legs would be nice too, or neck… I can have neck tattoos now!” Nanami says with a energetic voice when both of you are eating pasta later.

“Damn baby, you are getting addicted.” You sit on his lap, eyes focused on the ink all over him. “Yeah, we can do all that.”

[somerandomdudelmao]

I apologise for the intensely long analysis, but I was watching a dubbed version of your comics on YouTube when I came across a scene which sent me absolutely spiralling! I had to go back through “The Little Things”, “Everything is falling apart”, “You are in the past, your thoughts are in the future” and “Donatello” to find all the bits I needed.

In these images we see Casey asking Donnie about time branches, how they haven’t rewritten the future, they’ve created another one, and that Casey’s timeline still exists. BUT!! If you look closely at the very first image, we’ve seen Uncle Tello’s lines before.

Before I jump too far into that particular chapter, let’s head back briefly to these two moments:

Tello admits to Raph he could fix his robot body, and to Leo he found a potential cure, but that he needs access to materials, ingredients and equipment which existed fifteen years ago. At this point, Leo directly says “You better be planning some sort of time travel machine”

Moving back to the honey saga, Tello tells Raph he will be able to eat again: he specifically states they have the blueprint and the knowledge, all they need are the materials. Once again, time travel is mentioned, this time by Tello himself. It’s even bolded out- how tf did I think that part wasn’t super important foreshadowing the first time around -.- (it also could have been authors choice, but seeing as you rarely add small details without looping back to them, I'm suspicious).

Tello did time travel- just not in the way any of them were expecting!

Jumping into the present timeline; look how surprised Tello is about the time travel and all the extra ?? when he’s asking Casey when in time he is.

THEN we discover Tello created LITERAL RESURECTION FOLDERS (we have witnessed him firsthand play God and win multiple times) and now he and Casey have access to the MATERIALS AND EQUIPMENT he mentioned previously. He got exactly what he wanted/needed! Cut to the end of the current chapter and we receive THIS:

So what I’m saying is, this mf can ACTUALLY FIX THIS and YOU, CASS, in your brilliantly devious and cleverly sneaky way, HAVE LITERALLY BEEN TELLING US THIS ENTIRE TIME EXACTLY HOW!!!

Ehehehe

[staytinyzen]

Pay attention to me

Peter Maximoff x Reader

Fluff ?

You’re hanging out in your best friends room (his moms basement) but he’s not paying attention to you too, focused playing his arcade games. After calling his name multiple times, you throw a pillow on him to have his attention.

(I think I saw this prompt somewhere but can’t remember so I’m sorry if it has already been made)

The soft hum of arcade machines filled the room, their neon lights flickering in the dim space. Peter Maximoff’s room had a sort of chaotic charm, cluttered with comics, old rock band posters, and an impressive lineup of retro games blinking in the corner. It was his sanctuary, a place where time seemed to slow down for him, but speed up for everyone else.

You sat cross-legged on his bed, watching him intently. For the past hour, he had been glued to the game screen, his silver hair falling into his eyes as his fingers deftly pressed the buttons on the machine. Occasionally, you'd try to start a conversation, you even tried to throw insults, but all you'd get in response were grunts or absentminded murmurs, his focus solely on defeating whatever boss he was facing.

"Peter" you sighed, stretching out your legs, hoping for a sliver of his attention.

No response. The sounds of rapid button mashing intensified.

“Babyyy” fake crying, thinking this will maybe catch his attention, but to no avail.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, this was how it was with Peter sometimes. As much as you loved hanging out with him, he could get lost in his games for hours, completely tuning out the world around him — including you.

Frustration started to bubble up in your chest. You were losing patience. Glancing around the room, your eyes landed on a pillow resting nearby. An idea sparked in your mind.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the pillow, stood up, and hurled it at him with all the force you could muster. Thinking that with all his focus being on his game, his speedy abilities wouldn’t be useful. You were right.

…

The pillow hit him square in the head, causing him to jolt in surprise. His character on the screen met an untimely demise as Peter finally looked at you, blinking rapidly.

"What the hell was that for?"

"For ignoring me," you shot back. "I've been sitting here for ages, and you haven’t even glanced my way."

Peter raised an eyebrow, pushing his silver hair out of his face, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, come on. You know I can multitask."

"You call that multitasking?" You gestured toward the screen, where his character lay defeated. "Doesn't look like you're doing so well to me. Plus why do you even call me over if all you’re doing is playing your games.”

He chuckled, leaning back against the machine, his posture casual, though there was a spark in his eyes now, a shift in the atmosphere. "Alright, alright. You want my attention? You got it."

There was something in his voice, low and teasing, that made your heart skip a beat (but this wasn’t unusual).

You had known Peter for years, but this, this felt different. There was a tension now (or maybe you were hoping), as his gaze lingered on you longer than it usually did.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling a little flustered under his scrutiny. "It took a pillow to the head for you to notice me, huh?"

He smirked, stepping away from the machine and slowly walking toward you. "Guess you gotta do what you gotta do." His voice was playful, but there was something else there, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could react, Peter grabbed the pillow you had thrown and tossed it back at you, but much more gently this time. You caught it, your fingers tightening around the fabric as the two of you stood there, only a few feet apart now. The space between you seemed to shrink by the second.

“So,” he said, his voice dropping a little as he looked at you from under his lashes, “what else do you have in mind to get my attention?”

The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, and it made your breath catch in your throat. You had always had this playful, teasing dynamic with Peter, but this felt like it was teetering on the edge of something more, something unspoken that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

You bit your lip, feeling the tension growing. "I could throw something else," you teased, though your voice came out a bit shakier than you intended.

Peter’s eyes flickered to your lips, and for a split second, you swore the air around you crackled. He was close now, closer than he’d ever been before. His usual cocky demeanor seemed to falter just a little as he took another step forward, closing the gap entirely.

"Or..." he murmured, his voice soft, "you could just... ask."

“I did…” you mumbled.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, every nerve alive with anticipation. The playful banter was gone, replaced by something more serious, something more intense. His eyes were locked on yours, and the world seemed to slow down for once, even for him.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand brushing against his chest. The moment your fingers made contact, Peter's breath hitched, and he leaned in, his face inches from yours.

“All you had to do was ask," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, the proximity making your head spin.

And then, finally, his lips were on yours.

The kiss started slow, almost tentative, like he wasn’t sure if this was okay, if you wanted it as much as he did. But the moment you kissed him back, everything changed. Peter's hand came up to cup your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, years of tension and unsaid things pouring into that one moment.

The world outside his room didn’t matter anymore. The arcade machines, the games, even the time itself—all of it faded away as you lost yourselves in each other.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, Peter rested his forehead against yours, his grin lazy and satisfied.

“Well," he said, still catching his breath, "that was definitely more fun than any game I’ve played today."

You chuckled, your fingers still tangled in his hair. "I’ll keep that in mind the next time you decide to ignore me."

His laugh was soft, but his eyes were serious as he looked at you. "Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again."

And you knew he meant it.