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Some gojo doodles of after he won 🥰 (now with color!!)

Kitty play time

Also, here are some stills that bring me great joy

This is just a little something I thought of for my Catholic guilt au (let’s call it revelations) that I had to get out of my head.

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Rin is a monster.

The monastery is on fire, falling to pieces in front of his eyes, Shiro is dead, and Rin is a monster.

Shiro is dead. And Rin has fangs, long ears and a tail. He has a demon sword on his hands. He has the cursed blue flames from Hell that killed his father.

He looks around him at the crumbling monastery. Miasma clings to the broken walls and the splintered wood of the floor, dark and pungent and it makes Rin’s skin crawl. The floor looks rotten where the Gate of Gehenna was minutes before. Rin senses the residual power even now that it’s gone. He senses that same power within him, thrumming just beneath his skin, itching to be let out again. The Koma sword lays abandoned next to him where he dropped it after closing the gate, forgotten in the aftermath of what will forever be the worst night of Rin’s life.

Rin hears voices like he’s underwater, distant and muted and barely understandable. Part of him realizes they’re talking to him, asking him what happened and if he’s okay, but Rin doesn’t hear them. Not really.

He’s on his knees next to the altar, Shiro’s mangled body oozing blood even now that he’s dead next to him. Rin looks up at the cross on the wall, somehow still standing after all the destruction Satan and his demons left behind. It feels condemning. He looks away.

Rin’s hands shake as he gathers his father’s body in his arms and tugs it close. It’s still warm, and perhaps Rin could have deceived himself into thinking he’s still alive if it weren’t for the lack of a heartbeat. His new ears hear much of everything around him, and much of nothing inside his dad.

Shiro is dead. And Rin is a monster.

He wails.

i was not aware of this !! thats cute !! fuck !!

this post was the catalyst for this comic, and i was also thinking of a desi song lyric (tere dil ke sheher mein ghar mera ho gaya / in the city of your heart, my home is made) and just... hmmm.... leaving your mark.... making a house into a home..... when the marks a child inevitably leaves behind (messes, scribbles, and in this case stickers) eventually fade away as they grow older and you're left with the memories stored in what hasn't been erased....

im not verbalizing it very well but catch my drift?

Nothing like seing your husband and kid hanging out in your teenage bed where you use to cry yourself to sleep about not coming out