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Ain't no way this drawing is alr 1 year old...

Birthday boyyyy 🎂🎂🎂 (He begged demanded the candles to be green)

Excuse my horrible handwriting, this is so rushed lol

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ITS PRIDE MONTH!!! HAPPY PRIDE MONTH MY QUEER FELLAS!!!!

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ITS PRIDE MONTH!!! HAPPY PRIDE MONTH MY QUEER FELLAS!!!!

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JUST GOT ACCEPTED INTO MY DREAM COLLEGE OHMYGOD

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Eh i think imma study Kishimoto's artstyle a bit cuz 🤫

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I CANNOT draw spiky hair 💔

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Oh no... new hyperfixation unlocked

Yall, go read The Color of Summer on Ao3 by @spideywhites right now!! I'M OBSESSED!!!

Maybe I'll draw Karin next time hrmm 😋

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More of my JJK oc

Bye 👨‍🦯

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I FORGOT I DRAW MORE OF THIS HOLD ON

Just finished jjk recently, and here's my take on Sukuna as a child + my oc who adopted him (kinda) cuz why not :)

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Natsume and Naruto... 🥲💕

I reread The Color of Summer by @spideywhites for like the 4th time again recently..

And I’ve also been (re?)watching Naruto (watched Naruto and some of Shippuden in bits and pieces agesss ago)

So now I can’t stop thinking about Natsume in nearly all the scenes and imagining what he would do lol

Like how would he interact with this/that character? What would change about this scene? I can’t wait for that to happen... It’d be cool if he participated in this etc etc...

Help

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OKAY OKAY OKAY BUT LISTEN- (un?)popular opinion but I think toji would be a proper feminist

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04.05.25

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IMAGINE being Satoru's younger brother and having to see his dead body after trying to defeat Ryomen Sukuna.

your dull eyes stare at his own. He laid motionless on the table. You had a gut feeling that this would happen, why did no one bother to step in to help him fight?

Your grip on his shoulder tightened.

His lower half was disconnected from his upper body—you couldn't bear to look at the unruly sight. Even the smell of blood makes you gag.

You were scared. Alone.

You are next.

Having the same abilities as your older brother made you the last card for them to gamble. Despite being young, Satoru trained you—pass your limits— and taught you how to use them. You knew this wouldn't end well.

He wasn't supposed to die.

He was the strongest after all yet the universe had different plans for him.

Someone calling out your name broke you out of your thoughts. “Gojo.”

Shoko patted your shoulder with her hand gently making you loosen your grip. You didn't spare her a glance. You were too busy mourning.

“Now is not the time to mourn over your brother's corpse. They need you out there.”

Her voice didn't hold any remorse or pity. You didn't expect her to though, you weren't close to each other. You let your arm go back to its rightful place—beside you—as you turn towards the door.

“Oh and.”

You can hear her putting on gloves.

“Don't die out there.”

“I won't. At least I don't intend to.”

And with that you left. You trusted her enough to take care of your brother's body because she was one of his friends back then.

Oh how naive you are.

How shocking would it be to see your brother in tact—with a stitch on his forehead—and fighting sukuna again? Even after death, he couldn't rest because they needed him. His body being used.

They only saw him as a weapon they could use against the king of curses.

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Bittersweet

Geto Suguru x Male Reader | Platonic! Guilty Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist

Gojo always detest it when he had to visit you. It wasn't because he hated—a strong word, more like dislike—you, if anything, it was more out of the still immense guilt he feels in your presence.

A guiltiness which eats him up, making him a pitiful whimpering mess in the nights. Bawling his eyes out at the empty shrines, after every visit—his confidence crumbling into nothing but dust, the insecurity resurfacing again and haunting him like the phantom, dull, pain he feels in his eyes and back.

It was his fault. His damned fault that you're like this now. A mere shell of apathetic lethargy and suicidal tendencies—three tries had almost succeeded.

So yes, Gojo detests, hated it even, to visit you. He had to though, in his sole duty of being your friend—even when you once had said, he isn't anymore a friend but a stranger—and because leiri made him to do.

Trotting up the stairs to your apartment, bags in one hand and the other causally in his pant pockets—playing with the house-keys—Gojo thought what to cook for you.

Perhaps your favourite? No, no, that it is only reserved for the Sundays. A light meal then? Something with fish? Pizza or Pasta? The list is endless to choice from and giving him a headache.

Shoko had told him, in her doctoring lecturing way, to create a Meal-Plan and only cook light meals for you—easy to digest—and nothing too overall fatty and heavy.

Gojo had waved her off, nagging at her how you wouldn't be able to enjoy the goods of foods with something dumb as a "meal-plan".

In the end, Gojo admits that Shoko was indeed right. Considering the amounts of meals and dishes he had taken home for himself, giving it away to his students or the homeless or had to throw it all away. After all you couldn't eat more than, on your good days, three to four bites—till hours later you would heave it up into the toilet again.

A Meal-Plan, huh? Yeah he could do that. Megumi can help him too.

Unlocking the door, Gojo stepped in and announced his presence.

~~~

After emptying out the bags and putting away the items for now, Gojo ventured into the living room—knowing well you're in there, either sitting or laying on the couch and watching whatever is being shown in the television.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, once upon seeing a half finished puzzle on the coffee table and messy toys around it.

Megumi had brought them over during his last visit, telling you; these are much better to beat boredom than some television. Next time I'll bring some books.

Gojo was glad, relieved even, that you played with it.

Crouching down in front of you, blocking the view to television with his still towering high, he takes your hand in his—greeting you with a more softer gently smile.

»Sky eyes,«

Gojo had decided long ago, when you had first muttered those words to him—in the very beginning of your mental downfall, now a in a constant state of lingering decaying—that this was your way of greeting him, how you told him that you're aware of his presence.

Gojo had once made a mistake to come with his blindfold and spooked you so much—you really had believed and still would, if he tries again, that Gojo had been some kind of intruder with evil intentions—you screamed shrill and released a upcoming hurricane of thunderstorms with your cursed energy—now particularly sealed away for your own safety.

So now, whenever Gojo comes over he wears his round shaped sunglasses from his highschool years.

»Yeah, it's me, how are you today [Nickname]?« he asked questions even when he knew he wouldn't get replies from you.

»Hungry? I will made you some nice chicken nuggets, brought the Dino-shaped this time«

Gojo was aware he babbles. He doesn't care, he rather talks nonsense to himself and your apathetic self—than listen to the constant annoying chatter of the television and the upcoming silence which would follow afterwards.

»C'mon [Name], it's bath time,« Gojo picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on a stool.

He fills the bathtub, making sure the temperature was neither too hot nor cold. He adds some bubble foam to it and two toys.

Gojo undress you slowly, cautiously of your still fresh wounds—self-inflicted days ago, when a night had gotten worse again. Sitting you in the water, he washes you. Humming happily some melody, occasionally joining you in moving the toy ducks arounds.

»Quack squishy wuack«

»Yeah, wuacky quacky [Nickname], look there wants to join another ducky« he showed you the third toy duck, adding it to the water.

A squeal of joy came over your lips, looking with wide eyes at Gojo, happiness radiating off from you as you continue to play.

Gojo's lips trembles, guilt crawling up his throat again.

~~~

Nights are cruel in their own way. Leaving the thoughts spinning and setting them free. Bringing out a loneliness and feelings once deep buried down.

Gojo buried his head in his hands, slightly gripping his snow white hair—you once said to him, how his hair reminds you of the first snow—sitting at the edge of your bed.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, breathing in a pattern of three-five-five. His thoughts are going haywire again, flaring up the guilt—which is now so thick in his throat that he couldn't swallow anymore.

He looks at you—such a peaceful expression on your face, already so deep in the blissful dreamland—moving his hand to slowly drive through your hair with his fingers, all the way down to your cheeks and caressing them.

His gaze goes to the few photo frames on your nightstand, the small nightlight illuminates only so much. One particular photo always captures his attention.

It was a photo of Geto and you, happily married with Nanako and Mimiko—when they had been around 3 years old—in your arms.

A time where you had been the uttermost happiest. Now it was in ruins, leaving you all alone.

If Gojo had been a bit stronger, if he didn't let Geto go, back then when they had argued over jujutsu sorcery's politics and their moral beliefs towards the world, had been more stubborn—than it wouldn't have ended like this.

With his best friend being dead—at fault for this was Gojo himself, he was the one who killed Geto after all—and you, who had already lost your husband and losing your daughters shortly after—till today you didn't know how they died and Gojo thanked the above that it hadn't been him who done that—who is nothing but a decaying shell forevermore.

»Ya know, [Nickname], I've decided you gonna move in with me now. So I can take even better care of you.«

That's what Geto would've wanted.

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Got a brother (i can't believe this thing is 2 days old)

I uhh kinda terrified of him but idk why... prob bc this is my 1st time seeing a NEWLY newborn

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Just finished jjk recently, and here's my take on Sukuna as a child + my oc who adopted him (kinda) cuz why not :)