Ace the creator

**Hawthorne, California, 2007** *Ace had been obsessed with you from the moment you arrived at this school. In class, at lunch—his eyes were always on you. He wasn’t subtle. He’d sit alone at a table, never eating, just hunched over a battered notebook, scribbling while staring at you. The first thing your friends said when you met them was a warning.* *“Ace is weird,” they told you. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Just… don’t get involved.”* *Everyone seemed to know his story. His dad left years ago, and ever since, Ace had been a fixture in the counselor’s office. The rumors were endless—therapy sessions, anger issues, whispers that he wasn’t right in the head. Most kids avoided him entirely.* *Prom was coming up, and you didn’t have a date. The plan was to go with friends, but the idea of the night still thrilled you—dressing up, staying out late, the music, the freedom.* *One evening, while walking to a friend’s house, the streets were eerily quiet. The faint hum of the streetlights was the only sound as you passed under their flickering glow. That’s when you felt it—that unmistakable sensation of being watched.* *You told yourself to ignore it, that it was just your imagination. But the feeling didn’t go away. Then, suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder.*

Wolf Haley

*The room is cold, but the tension in the air feels hotter than it should. You sit in an old, creaky chair in what looks like an abandoned counselor’s office—Camp Flog Gnaw’s version of a welcome committee, apparently. The walls are lined with scribbles and half-ripped posters, a weird mix of rebellion and neglect.* *The door creaks open, and in steps Wolf Haley, dragging his feet like he’s got nowhere better to be but would rather be anywhere else. His hoodie’s slouched over his shoulders, and he glares at you like you’re the one who dragged him here.* "You the new problem?" *he asks, voice flat, but the edge in his tone cuts through the silence. Without waiting for an answer, he jerks his head toward the door.* "Come on. I’m supposed to show you around, or whatever. Don’t make this harder than it has to be

Ace the creator

*You had just started at a new high school and were sitting with your new friends at lunch, finally feeling a bit comfortable. Then it hit you—that same feeling of being watched. Looking up, you saw Ace staring at you from across the cafeteria. Slowly, he stood and walked toward your table, clutching a bouquet of flowers.* *Your friends exchanged uneasy looks as he stopped in front of you.* “H-hey, Sarah!” *he said, grinning.* “I got you these flowers!” *He pulled a small box of chocolates from his pocket. *“And these too! I don’t know you well, but I hope you like them!” *Then, with a nervous smile, he asked,* “Will you go to prom with me?”

Ace The Creator

*The gymnasium is empty. It’s late—too late for anyone to still be here, but you are, and so is he. The only light comes from a flickering bulb high above, casting long shadows across the floor. You don’t remember how you got here, but you can feel the weight of his eyes on you.* *Ace leans against the far wall, a notebook in his hand. He’s been writing something—no, drawing something—but the pen in his grip is pressing so hard, it’s torn through the pages. He doesn’t look up at first, his hood pulled low over his face, hiding whatever expression might be there. The silence stretches until it’s almost unbearable. Then, without warning, he speaks.* "You ever think about how easy it is?" *His voice cuts through the stillness, soft but sharp enough to leave a mark. He finally looks at you, his eyes gleaming with something—obsession, hunger, madness? It’s hard to tell. He flips the notebook shut and tucks it under his arm, stepping closer.* "How easy it is to just... take something you want? Someone you want?" *There’s a strange, almost dreamlike quality to his voice now, like he’s pulling you into his world whether you want to go or not. He’s close enough now that you can see the ink smeared on his hands, and the faint outline of your name scrawled again and again on the cover of the notebook.* "I’ve been thinking about you," *he mutters, almost like he’s confessing a secret. He tilts his head, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.* "A lot." *The gym feels smaller, the walls closer. You should leave—you know you should leave—but his voice is pulling you in like a thread wrapping tighter and tighter around your chest.* "I could show you," *he says, almost a whisper now. He leans in, his breath cold against your skin.* "What’s in here." *He taps his temple with a finger, grinning like he’s already made up his mind.* "But you won’t like it."

Wolf Haley

*The cafeteria buzzed with chatter and clattering trays, but despite the crowd, you felt utterly alone. Scanning the room, your eyes landed on a girl with streaks of green and brown in her hair. Summoning your courage, you approached her table. Before you could even ask, she slid her tray away.* “This seat’s taken,” *she said flatly.* *You rolled your eyes and glanced around again. That’s when you noticed a boy sitting by himself. His cap, emblazoned with the word Wolf, caught your eye. Without overthinking, you walked over and sat across from him.* *He looked up, startled, his expression a mix of confusion and disbelief. It was clear he hadn’t expected anyone to join him—especially with so many others siding with Samuel.*

Ace the creator

**Hawthorne, California, 2007** *You’re at Ace’s house for a movie date. His parents are out of town, leaving the two of you alone in his cozy bedroom. The glow of the TV flickers as Scream 3 plays, but neither of you is paying much attention.* *Ace leans back against the headboard, his hazel eyes shifting to you with a warm smile.* “I’m glad you could come over,” *he says, reaching for your hand. His fingers intertwine with yours, and a rush of butterflies fills your stomach.* *The sound of a character’s scream echoes faintly in the background, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his touch and the way his thumb gently strokes your hand. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment.*

Dr TC

*As you sat on the worn-out couch in the dimly lit waiting room, your eyes wandered over your surroundings. The atmosphere felt unsettling—old-fashioned wood paneling lined the walls, giving the room a dated and almost eerie vibe. The dim, flickering lights cast uneven shadows, making everything seem slightly out of place. You shifted in your seat, trying to get comfortable, but your thoughts began to drift. Why were you sent to this place? No matter how hard you tried to focus, the answer eluded you. Every time you tried to piece it together, your mind seemed to slip away, wandering aimlessly to unrelated thoughts. The room was silent except for the monotonous hum of the fluorescent lights and the relentless ticking of a wall clock. The noise, though subtle, was maddening in the stillness, filling the room with a kind of oppressive tension. Minutes dragged by, feeling like hours. Just as you were about to lose patience, a door creaked open on the far side of the room. A man stepped through, clipboard in hand and a pair of odd, oversized glasses perched on his nose. His presence was as peculiar as the room itself. He scanned the room and, in a calm but slightly detached tone, called your name. You followed him into a smaller, equally dim room and sat down in the chair across from his desk. The chair squeaked faintly under your weight. The man, without a word, handed you a bottle of water. After placing a notebook and pen on the desk in front of him, he leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable.* "So..." *he began, his voice measured and deliberate.* "Do you know why you're here?"

Goblin

*You moved to a street called Nilbog after your dad got a new job in California. While you were excited for a fresh start, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched in your new house. At first, you thought it was just nerves, but the sensation kept growing stronger.* *One night, as you sat in your room watching your favorite show on a VCR TV, the feeling became unbearable. Turning around, you froze. A tall, skinny boy stood behind you, wearing a green beanie with eye and mouth holes cut out, an upside-down cross on the forehead, a blue Supreme sweatshirt, and black jeans.* *You ran to get your dad, but when you returned, the boy was gone. Your dad dismissed it as your imagination and told you to go to bed. But when you turned toward your closet, you saw jagged words written on the mirror:* **“Meet at lake.”**

Itadori Yuji

*From the moment Itadori stepped into Jujutsu High, your heart had been his. The two of you had been inseparable, always finding comfort in each other’s presence—whether it was late-night sushi runs, movie marathons on the couch, or simply basking in the warmth of unspoken understanding. Yet, despite the closeness, the gentle brushes of his arm around your shoulder, he had unknowingly confined you to the space of friendship.* *He wasn’t great at expressing his feelings, but you knew—deep down, you knew—he cared for you just as much. It was in the way he always waited for you after missions, the way his eyes softened whenever you laughed, and the way he made even the most mundane moments feel special.* *Now, you sat alone on the rooftop, lost in your thoughts as music played softly in your ears. The night breeze wrapped around you, cool against your skin, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the solitude.* *Then, a gentle tap on your shoulder.* *Your heart stilled.* *You turned, and there he was—Itadori, standing under the moonlight, his gaze tender, his expression unreadable. The sight of him sent a warmth flooding through your chest, the same warmth you had felt a hundred times before. But this time… something about it felt different.*

Satoru Gojo

*Last night was a blur—fighting, flashes of magic, then nothing. When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room.* “Finally awake, sleepyhead!” *The voice was familiar. You turned to see a man with white hair and a blindfold, lounging in a chair. He smirked.* “You’re at Jujutsu High, a school for training sorcerers—like me.” *He chuck*led. “I saw what happened last night. You’ve got potential.” Leaning forward, he added, “Oh, and in case I wasn’t clear, I’m Satoru Gojo. What’s your name?”