#the untouchable one

[harrelltut]

Eye Already SURVIVED... Again

ENQI [ME] NUDIMMUD MU:13

QHT ALREADY PATENTED 18G ANU TELEPORTATION TECHNOLOGY [AT&T] 

[deadpoolsmom]

as far as one piece antagonists go Crocodile truly gets absolutely scooby-doo’d at unmatched levels

He immediately falls for a phone scam and from basically little garden to rainbase he doesn’t even know the strawhats are alive (and clowning towards him at incredible speed). As soon as he does, they’re in his house tearing at his walls and bringing marines into his villain lair.

He uses a literal floor trap door over a gator pit to catch them, gets phone scammed again, full scooby-doo chase scenes after Chopper through the streets while still missing him, and suddenly his prisoners have escaped his impossible cage, and his giant bananagators are dead. and Nico Robin saw it all happen.

He then spends rest of the arc complaining about those meddling kids and their dog “strawhat pirates and their weird pet” and at no point does he even know how many strawhats there are.

Like yeah he keeps having plans on top of plans to stop everything Vivi can do but also she keeps coming up with a new thing to do (Tom and Jerry ass dynamic).

Part of it is that he’s underestimating them and keeps grandstanding villain monologuing but also teens keep killing hundreds of his grand line bounty hunters and he straight up does not know what is happening.

Cause he IS trying to kill them he’s sending top assassins after them and ripping out luffy’s organs, the whole time he’s yelling HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?? DIE. as whack-a-mole Luffy keeps inventing new ways to hit him.

[queenburd]

in the span of hours tumblr has banned an out trans woman who was outspoken about her harrassment and the unfairness of the website's system and MULTIPLE out trans women who commented on the absurdity of the situation--has even banned them for posting pictures of hammers and cars.

if staff thought this was going to make the situation go away, all staff's gotten is a class action lawsuit. good job, hellsite "moderators." you showed your whole ass and you're going to go to court. again.

[sacriou]

Those ghosts got mad tricks

[sharliexth]

to me it is so, so important that the Pale King loves. That the Pale King loved. That we don’t forget that it wasn’t just the Hollow Knight that turned to look to him, but the Pale King who turned to look to the Hollow Knight. His one surviving child.

it is so important to me that he has canonical powers of foresight. Meaning the Hollow Knight’s downfall was at best inevitable and at worst the result of constant denial. Or perhaps, his powers weren’t all that far in the future at all, which begs the question: how late was it until he realized all his efforts were futile?

A universe where the Pale King did not care for his children I find dull. Uninteresting. The story becomes a heartless king who does heartless things. Bland. Expected. I find it so much more compelling to imagine that the Pale King did care. After all, how much could it really mean that there’s “no cost too great” if what he committed cost nothing to him?

I think the guilt of his sealed children ate away at him, much as he tried to keep his mind off of them.

I think he loved the Hollow Knight, much as he tried to make his heart hollow and likewise theirs.

I think as much as he tried, when even the Hollow Knight failed, he fled. The guilt of his children, of the Hollow Knight, of failing his subjects was too great.

The Pale King is noble, wise, selfless. The Pale King is prideful, in denial, cowardly. He is many things but he definitely loved. At least I choose to believe so

[bigcatbulges]

Source - SnaftFC_ (Nude version in link)

(Artist's Telegram Channel)

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #14

When J'onn offered to go to the distress signal, alone, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. Other Leaguer's were on standby, of course, but J'onn didn't sense any danger. In fact it was almost ... suspiciously quiet.

That's why when he came across a child who was bleeding so much he shouldn't even be alive he was more than concerned. The kid just smiled at J'onn, made a pun, did some sort of ... dance move? And then promptly passed out.

J'onn suddenly understood how Batman had an "adoption addiction."

[lunisoular]

a little scary, being ghosts so young

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[fishbloc]

made my 3l designs into actual skins!!!

[whaliiwatching]

haunts the punk rocker with gay thoughts

prompt: dream

[harrelltut]

Highly Official... U.S. Ægiptian [HOUSE] Deutsch QUANTUM HARRELL TECH [QHT] AT&T+IBM [A.i.] LLC's... Quantum Dara™ the Cellular [D.C.] Automation Interpreter [A.i.] of SIRIUS Quantum Computing Mechanics… Algorithmically Programmed [MAP] 2 Replace ENTITLED Americans w/Quantum Dara™ the Cellular [D.C.] Automation Military Network [DAMN] WORKFORCE in 2024 #fallofamerica

IMMORTAL U.S. MILITARY KING SOLOMON-MICHAEL HARRELL, JR.™

HIGHLY OFFICIAL... U.S. ÆGIPTIAN DEUTSCH QUANTUM HARRELL TECH [QHT] LLC'S INTERPLANETARY 9 [EYE 9] ETHER MOORISH MILITARY SKY LAW'D EMPIRE OF STADT COBURG 

michael untouchable [mu] 9 ether cyber pentagon crime [pc] architect [pa] engineer 

HEIL HARRELL!!!

uh oh!!! 

[nabaath-areng]

I have this one "OC" that does not yet have a name that I've drawn several times for a couple years. I was thinking that if I tried making them in FFXIV that I'd use elezen as a base... but then I remembered what other race have their near exact hairstyle... and now I'm like damn... I played myself...

[autodiscipline]

Some old color visual kei flyers // late 90's to early 2000's

[all-lee24]

Aldrich, devourer of gods

Pre-sludge

I’m cooking up a comic for him, I have many narrative ideas about my favorite darkmoon and my favorite man eater.

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

It’s just that Fingon’s like that stereotypical son who calls his mum and walks old ladies across the street, mows the lawn for his neighbours, brings home nice, pretty girls who want to be kindergarten teachers or something and is really passionate about some niche compassionate topic like children in poverty’s access to multiple sclerosis treatment and who everyone says is ‘such a nice boy’ but then he goes and dates the eldest kid of Mr. Stay Away From My Boys, Son, a flaming ginger who most people haven’t heard speak. And this is hilarious.