#XOXO Series

[nick-nellson]

KIDNAP | 1.02

[thekeythief]

[saveskum]

CLOTHING REFERENCE → ASTARION.

[namtan]

THE NEXT PRINCE (2024)

[missmisnomer]

When you're recommending something you really, REALLY like to someone and being IncrediblyNormal™ doesn't work out, so you have to resort to being ALittleUnhinged™ to get the point across.

🍋💥👍 @turtleinsoup

[khaotunq]

One Year of Only Friends ○ Ray Pakorn Edition Episode Six ○ original air date September 16th, 2023

[cafecitoeddie]

you like watching half-naked men pummel each other.

[starrynightsxo]

"If you're the sickness, I suppose you can't also be the cure..."

[appleciders]

Psalms 116:15

[kentopedia]

𝐈. 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄 ❤︎༻°₊ ｡ villain!nanami + f!reader

series masterlist

chapter summary . . . it's been a year since the death of gojo satoru, and it seems that geto's plans have slightly changed.

chapter warnings . . . none other than jjk typical dark themes. see masterlist for series warnings!

author note! this series is my exploration of some of the themes and aspects about jjk that i find intriguing, but this story will be an alternate timeline, and will diverge from the jjk canon, lore, power system, etc. pls don't correct me if i get something about jujutsu or the current timeline wrong! <3

“𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮” 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐍𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐳𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞

The sheet wrinkled between your fingertips, your grasp far too tight for the thin piece of paper. Words smudged into a pool of black from the oils that danced across your palm, but it didn’t matter much… You didn’t need to read them anyway. 

Those lines were as familiar to you as your own name, scribbled down in Utahime’s neat calligraphy, a daily report of new information gathered. The length of the list never changed, but, really, seldom changed, these days. 

The same could not be said of the numbers beside the names, the words that followed. They were altered, on occasion. Often when you least expected it.

Directory of known sorcerers residing in Japan, as of December 24, 2017. Most recent grade of every sorcerer identified. Status identified. Bounty set by Nanami Kento and Geto Suguru identified (if applicable):

GOJO SATORU . . . Special Grade . . . Deceased 

TSUKUMO YUKI . . . Special Grade . . . Deceased 

OKKOTSU YUUTA . . . Special Grade . . . Deceased 

GETO SUGURU . . . Special Grade . . . Defected 

NANAMI KENTO . . . Special Grade . . . Defected 

SHOKO IERI . . .  Grade 1 . . . Reward: 35,000,000

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. . . Grade 1 . . . Reward: 50,000,000

Your name was next on the list. 

Immediately, you stopped reading, the anger consuming you as quickly as your eyes scanned the words across the page, crumbling it in your palm. 

Every two weeks, like clockwork, your bounty raised. It was the same with Megumi and Maki, as descendants of the Zen’in clan, and children that the higher-ups were so desperate to obtain. But no one else’s reward held quite the same inconsistency as your own, which never seemed to raise by a set amount.

Today, nothing was surprising about the list, no new deaths, no numbers that seemed otherworldly. You threw the wadded ball of paper over your shoulder, slumping forward as your head fell into your hands. 

Everyone was getting desperate, it seemed. Not just the Zen’in clan, but Geto too. Perhaps even you were losing your last shred of rationality, of hope that things would change. The only ambition you still had was keeping Maki and Megumi out of the disgusting hands of their clan leaders. 

You swore to protect them… And you would protect them, now that Gojo Satoru could not.

Glancing up, your gaze fell from the ceiling to the window, rays of sunlight clearing through a dark curtain of storm clouds. The sky had begun to open up into a steely gray abyss, but it never looked natural, with the curtain of curse energy that shimmered across the horizon. It encased the entirety of the country, unbroken, from each shore to the beaches, sinking into the seas. A navy hue that sealed your home into a prison, out of hatred and fear, and every twisted feeling that Geto Suguru had settling in his heart.

There was hardly anything that passed through the curtain; only things that were predetermined by Geto, who saw himself, surely, as your great benefactor. No communication to the world outside, no alarming any foreign sorcerers of what had become of your country. Maybe no one cared enough to come to your defense.

It was shield that did little to protect, and it would remain there until someone was strong enough to break it. But without Satoru alive, even that had become an impossible task. 

Month after month, the strongest sorcerers attempted to break it, to take it down, and collapse the cursed energy that was compacted into a swirling wave. Every one of them failed. There were only two special grade sorcerers left, and they were the ones that had trapped you in the circle of hell, to begin with. 

You let out a heavy exhale, turning away from the window to slink back into the darkness of your bedroom. Thinking too hard about the state of your survival only served to depress you further.

At least you still had the rain. The drizzle that maintained the farmlands, kept the rivers from drying out, and you and the rest of the country from dying. Geto had been kind enough to give you that.

As if in response to your dismal thoughts, a dreary rainbow unfurled across the sky, brightening it like a beacon. The colors were still muted, though, swallowed by the darkness of an energy created by hatred. It did little to draw a smile onto your face, and you collapsed onto a chair instead, wrapping yourself up in whatever dusty blankets covered it.

Satoru’s name lingered in your mind like he was whispering it there, his lighthearted, arrogant tone seeping through your eardrums, nestling into your brain. You could still see his smug smile, almost as if he’d been standing in front of you all this time, the image of it painted onto the wall across from you. 

The mere whistle of a memory of him sent a twinge of regret and longing through your entire frame. He was always a pain in your ass, and yet, you were certain that no one missed him more than you. What a pity it was, to have been the strongest. 

So caught up in your memories, you were ignorant to the door unlatching, footsteps padding through the threshold as Shoko came in. Although you hadn’t heard her, you saw her out of the corner of your eye, the shadow of her before she spoke. 

“Everything okay?” Shoko asked, and while things hadn’t been okay in months, there was no other question that could have been asked in place of it. 

You looked over, nestling deeper into the blankets, as you observed her stature, which only seemed to shrink with time. A cigarette was balanced between her fingers, nails painted a light shade of pink; a way to counter the dismal reality of her situation. Shoko’s dark hair had been cut short again, a shadow of her teenage self, a shell of that girl she’d once been, hollow and empty. 

Just like you, you supposed. A burnt image of someone who’d once longed to visit her friends in Tokyo, who’d looked up to all of them like they’d hung the moon. 

How sick you felt, knowing you’d once adored the men that did this to you. Nauseating, even, that you held a shred of love for them still. 

“You could’ve knocked,” you said, rolling your eyes as Shoko puffed out of a cloud of smoke, one that wafted over to the nest you’d perched yourself in. It didn’t quite reach you, but you coughed dramatically anyway, waving your hands around your face.

“Would it have made a difference?”

“For starters, I could’ve looked a little less like I was brooding.”

Shoko laughed, and her tiny little smile caused you to crack one of your own, grateful that you could still experience a fraction of joy. There was still hope, somewhere, even if you buried it deep. Without it, you would’ve given yourself up to Geto months ago, or died trying to escape. There was no point in fighting with nothing to live for. 

“I’ve been under the impression that that’s all you do up here,” Shoko remarked, taking another long drag of her cigarette. “Sitting so seriously in your dark, cold room, all alone. Perhaps thinking of the things that might have been.”

Although she was teasing you, you feel a stab within your chest at the remark. You’d been shy as a girl, and you’d grown into a quiet adult — something that someone as obnoxious as Satoru had always teased you about. But you’d learned to accept his remarks, as annoying as they were, because for all Gojo Satoru talked, he was, really, quite horrible at communicating. 

It just seemed like a punch to the gut, that Shoko sounded like him now. That her mouth twisted up in the same way Satoru’s did, even though it was unsurprising that she’d picked up on some of his quirks over the years.

You just didn’t like seeing a reminder of him everywhere you went. As much as you missed him, you hated him for leaving you in a world where the unthinkable came to light. Even the strongest flame had been put out, and there was no safety in that sort of place. 

Silence remained Shoko’s answer, and she sighed, accepting it as her eyes dimmed. Looking past you, the last of the day’s rays burned through the glass panels, coating the room in a purple haze. “Utahime wants to have a meeting,” Shoko said, resigned. “Be downstairs in ten.”

The curt response was the end of your conversation. Once you nodded, your old friend left, letting the door slam behind her.

Meeting was hardly a name that could qualify for your meager gathering of sorcerers, especially since almost everyone had been stuck together for months, with no other options. Yet, Utahime continued to put on a brave face, calling it a formal congregation, as if to instill the hope that you all could become enough to incite a rebellion. As if, maybe, you could train and strengthen yourselves, overthrowing two of the most powerful curse-users in the world.

It was laughable, really, and you saw why Shoko and everyone else thought that. Why they rolled their eyes at the flimsy sheets of paper that Utahime passed out every day, because, maybe, there wasn’t a point to any of it. 

You, though, were happy to indulge Utahime. It gave you just a few moments to pretend like things hadn’t changed. You could listen to her lecture to your measly group of sorcerers, and pretend that she was still a teacher in Kyoto. You could pretend that Satoru was still by your side, that you were still fighting nothing worse than grade one curses, and that everything was normal.

It painted a pretty peaceful image, even if it wasn’t real. 

Throwing the blankets off your body, you finally left the room, your breathing seeming far too loud for the empty halls. Papery hotel walls loomed over you as you trekked down carpeted stairs, sliding your hands along the banister. The elevators were never used, and lights were only on when necessary. It was a risk to use up any resources, when none of you were certain how much longer they’d last.

Really, it was a mystery that you’d made it this far. For all of his theatrics and grandiose plans, Geto Suguru was not an idiot. If he was allowing you all to live, for anyone who opposed him to live, then there must have been a reason. Society was likely blooming within the four walls of Geto’s cult following, and those who stood with him received all the finest things in life. 

And it may have been a ridiculous notion, but it seemed more realistic than the alternative. Whoever Geto was now, he was still a man who cared deeply for his new family. You couldn’t imagine him forcing them into a life where they had to fend for scraps off the streets.

When you got downstairs, to the lobby of the hotel that you were all inhabiting for the week, the room was already lit with candles, flames so high that you could tell they’d been burning for a while. With the sun already setting on the other side of the building, very little light filtered through the vast windows. 

Despite the cold outside, the building remained relatively warm, a heating system kicking on regardless of your precautions. However, you were grateful not to have to face the winter in a small town without some source of warmth. Even if it died out on you by the end of the night. 

Nearly everyone had gathered when you arrived downstairs… But at this point in your battle, the numbers were never very staggering. Many of the sorcerers never bothered to show up, despite knowing the severity of the position that you were all in. 

Not that you could blame them, though. Oftentimes, in these meetings, you just repeated the same information; it was rare that you stumbled upon anything noteworthy toward your survival.

The would-be third years sat huddled in a circle, and Utahime and Shoko talked amongst themselves in hushed whispers. At the far side of the vast table, one you’d created from various smaller ones, Takuma Ino sat, beanie covering his forehead, eyes closed as he leaned back in the chair. 

Something relaxed inside of you, at the sight of him sitting there so calmly. Since Stour had died, Ino had become something of a comfort to you. His steadfast optimism and energy were hard to match in such dire times, bringing a new life to people who might as well have been dead—including yourself. Despite the few years difference in age and the differences in your experiences as sorcerers, he’d become one of your closest friends. 

You approached him, quietly; though he heard your subtle footsteps nonetheless. A dark eye popped open, and he smiled, lips pulling back, eyes crinkling at the corners. Ino was still so young, but there was more evidence of happiness on his features than many of you; wrinkles were already obvious around his eyes and mouth. It was admirable how deeply he could hold onto joy, and you found yourself latching onto that, longing for it, even. 

“You left your cave!” Ino remarked, pulling his beanie off, dusty brown strands falling onto his cheekbones. “This must be really important if Shoko pulled you out of there.” 

As you took the seat next to him, you made an effort to poke him in the shin with your shoe. A kick, almost, with how hard the pressure landed. “I always come to these meetings,” you said, rolling your eyes. “If I remember correctly, it was your seat that was empty during the last one.” 

Ino’s lips tugged upwards again, not quite a smirk but close enough. He sat up a little straighter, less relaxed than before, when the rest of the sorcerers began filing into the room. “Well, it’s never me that those bastards looking for.” Ino shrugged, wiping a hand over his face, hiding his weariness of the entire situation. “They don’t need everyone. Some of us, they just want to capture to eliminate.” 

An objection rested on your lips, but you knew that it was fruitless. Sorcerers that didn’t have a technique inherently useful to Geto’s agenda would be imprisoned — or killed. The rest of you… Well, you’re certain you’d be used for something far worse. Dying seemed, almost, like the better outcome. 

“Well, it’s a good thing that none of us have been captured, then,” you settled on instead. 

Ino looked away, his dark lashes fanning over the hollowed shadows beneath his eyes. “It’s only a matter of time, though. Isn’t it? We can’t run forever.” 

You didn’t bother to respond. Ino was right. Of course, he was right. You’d all fought like hell to keep everyone alive, and though a few had willingly left, sworn their allegiance with a betrayal of information, no one had been captured. The defects never really mattered, though. There were very few secrets kept amongst you. What secrets could be kept, when your goal of escape was more than obvious?

Finally, Utahime drew all your focus with a dramatic clearing of her throat. She stood tall, proud before you, like you were all first-years, oblivious to your own talents, and far too naive for the world of Jujutsu. 

It seemed a realistic comparison, though, as all of you still trained like students, trying to learn something from others that you hadn’t known before. A disappointing concept, considering many of you were beyond growth in your technique, and your abilities would remain stagnant. But the grades of sorcery meant nothing anymore — hardly anyone referred to themselves as such, these days. 

“As you all know, for months, we’ve been trying to anticipate Geto and Nanami’s next move,” Utahime began, as always, with the obvious. There was a brief pause, and whether it was for dramatics or for Utahime to gather her thoughts, you weren’t certain. “Our infiltration attempts have all failed — The bounties tell us little, except that the clan’s children are wanted more than everyone.” 

You glanced over at Megumi, whose eyebrow only twitched in irritation. He would be eighteen soon, but he would remain your responsibility. A life you’d always protect, dying before the clan could ever attempt to take him away, sell him for whatever he was worth. You’d promised Satoru that much, hadn’t you? 

“Although,” Utahime started again, with renewed vigor in her voice, “we think we’ve gained some new insight into their operations. Or, at least, what their next ambition is.” A frown took over her face, then, slowly, curled to every corner of her expression. Wrinkles formed between her brows, and she licked her lips, pointedly avoiding the far end of the table where you sat. “But there is nothing proven in the information. It is a gamble — one we’re not sure we’re willing to take.” 

“What options do we have left?” Todo said, mouth drawn into a tight line. “Risks are all we have now. Every other plan has led to nothing, and Geto is a complete basket case. You act as if any of his goals are rational — as if we can predict them.” 

Utahime opened her mouth, but faltered, looking at Shoko, who had already begun to take over. She was onto her second cigarette since you’d last seen her, the habit only erupting after Gojo had been killed. Clouds of smoke rose above her as she exhaled smoothly. 

“No, Geto is not rational,” Shoko agreed. “But Nanami is. There’s a reason that those without cursed energy still reside in Japan. That Geto has not wiped them out entirely.”

“To supply him with curses,” Todo argued, fists on the table. It did little to faze Shoko, who was already so numb. “And money.”

“No,” Shoko paused, gathering her thoughts. “That may be part of the reason, but it isn’t the entire truth, I believe.” 

Although she took a few more breaths, no one interrupted, letting her expel whatever was residing in her mind. When it came to Geto, evwryone entrusted her entirely. There was no one else alive who knew him as well as she did. Even if Gojo had been the only one to ever know him completely. 

“How many sorcerers do you think are left in Japan?” she asked, staring Todo down with a flat gaze, shadowy eyes only growing darker by the day. “An estimate.” 

He shrugged, glancing around the table, and counting heads. Thinking of the clans. Of those who had joined Geto before that evening in Shinjuku, and those who joined him in the two years since. “I don’t know. Perhaps two hundred?”

“I’d argue less,” Shoko hummed, taking one more drag of her cigarette before she dropped it on the floor of the hotel, stomping it out. “But let’s stick with your guess. Two hundred is hardly a feasible number to sustain a society, without setting all of us back centuries. Geto’s goal of murdering anyone without cursed energy… Well, it’s not feasible, really. Not unless he wants the human race, including sorcerers, to cease to exist.” She smiled, though it was sad, exhausted. Things had never stopped being hard for her. Not since the day she’d met the two special grade sorcerers that had once been her best friends. “That’s why they’ve stopped. That’s why the rest of the world moves along, why there are still curses haunting Tokyo, even when Geto hates them. If his plan fails here, then how will it succeed in the rest of the world?” 

Utahime took her seat beside Shoko, bowing her head. Silence arose across the table, as the words sank in. How often you’d thought the same thing, how rational it seemed that that was the case. Yet, none of you had ever been brave enough to say the words out loud. 

Perhaps it didn’t matter, really, when all of you were helpless to stop them.

 “So this is a test run?” Megumi interjected, not allowing Todo to supply any more questions out of his fearful rage. “If Geto can build his utopia here, then he will continue everywhere else?” 

Shoko nodded. “Well. That’s what I think anyway. No one needs to believe me.” 

But her statements were never up for debate. They settled around the table like the word of God, bestowed upon unwilling servants. Giving to the last of you; people who needed to continue on a path that seemed to lead to nowhere. 

“What are we supposed to do, then?” Maki threw her hands up, standing as the chair screeched across the floor. “We’ve run and we’ve hid, and we’ve planned for a year. We’re cowards, aren’t we? Just trying to get by while a lunatic takes over the entire world.” 

Shoko flinched at the word, at the brashness of the teenager’s tone. But she sat tall, face neutral, never letting anyone see how deeply she was truly hurting. “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers.” 

“Well let’s do something. I’ve lost so many people. We’ve all lost so many people. I’m starting to think that maybe their deaths were in vain.” 

Megumi’s eyes snapped over to her, muttering something darkly under his breath. In a failed attempt, Nobara tugged on her wrist, guiding her back down to her seat. But she flicked him off, sitting on her own, breathing heavily. You’d always liked Maki Zen’in. It was a pity you’d never get the chance to teach her as a third year — you would’ve promoted her to grade one sorcerer, given the chance.

“I agree, Maki,” Utahime spoke up again, softly, coaxing her anger back down. “We think that we might have a plan, though, as I have said, it is a gamble. And…” she blinked, glancing over at you before avoiding your gaze. “I’m not sure that everyone would be willing.” 

The statement started a chorus around the table, of those who would do anything to help, those who were tired of living as you had been living — if you could even call it a life. The students, more courageous than you’d ever been, were the first to offer up their lives. But it was not them that Utahime needed, and deep in your gut, you knew that to be true before she even said it. 

“Utahime,” you said across the wave of speakers, trying your best to make your voice louder than everyone else’s. “It’s me you need, isn’t it?” 

As quickly as the words had left your mouth, everyone was silent, blinking at you. And for a moment, you hesitated. How embarrassing it would be, to believe yourself so important to Geto that you must be the willing victim. 

But you weren’t a fool, and Utahime knew that. Geto knew that, and Nanami Kento certainly knew that. Your bounty had raised just as heavily, and the numbers were staggering. The price on your head was almost as high as Maki and Megumi, despite having very few sorcerers in your long line of descendants. 

It was just — your technique was rare. So rare, in fact, that other curse users had come for you before, when you were but a child. It was something that Geto could easily use to achieve his end goal, if he were able to use your technique to his advantage. 

Thinking of it now, it was logical and seemed almost ridiculous that you hadn’t thought of it sooner. He’d surely attempt to convert you, perhaps promise you a life of grandeur, whatever security he could provide you. 

Yet, the realization hadn’t made you any more prepared for when Utahime’s face fell. Everyone around the table seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

She sighed, looking over to Shoko before nodding. “I’m sorry.” 

Momentarily, your heart stopped. 

Ino flew out of his seat beside you, arguments spewing from his lips in an uncertain stutter. “What? What does that mean? You’re just going to ship her off to Nanami and Geto? Because I’m not going to stand by and watch you hand anyone over to the people that ruined our lives,” he shouted. The heat had risen in his body far too quickly, painting him the image of someone who could only be your lover. 

Your cheeks grew warm, your body hot all over from Ino’s words, from all the eyes that were on you, the dread of what was to come. You’d do it — of course, you’d do it, whatever they needed. Whatever it took to save Megumi and Maki, and the rest of the children. Whatever it took to save the world. If you were to be a sacrifice, well, so be it. There wasn’t much of a choice. 

“Calm down, lover boy,” Shoko laughed, and though Ino’s cheeks grew red, his anger didn’t subside, features pinching up tight. “We’re not going to do anything she doesn’t want to do. There could be another way, we can get someone else but…” Shoko looked at you, studying you for any fear. “You are the best option, aren’t you?” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Megumi asked, eyebrows narrowing. “I’m with Takuma. You expect us just to watch her walk straight into the lions’ den?” 

“It’s okay, Megumi,” you said, schooling your face into a neutral expression. All these months, you’d been promising yourself that you would do whatever was necessary. You’d become a loud voice against the tyrants that controlled what was left of the Jujutsu society, and you couldn’t go back on your word now, could you? “What did you have in mind, Utahime?”

She blinked, dark lashes fluttering over her cheeks, brown eyes wide. Almost like she’d expected you to say no — like she’d hoped for it. But, even though you knew in your heart and soul that you were a coward, you refused to let yourself act like one.

Megumi said your name again, an argument, as Maki became flustered beside him. How noble the two of them were. They were just kids, and already, they reminded you so much of Satoru. The good qualities, of course. Always standing up for what was right, fighting against the system that threatened to topple them. 

Geto had been like that once. Nanami had too.

Sadly, you smiled to yourself as Shoko cleared her throat, cooling the argument that had sprung up among you. Besides the students and Ino, no one had much to say. All of you were too tired, it seemed, to want to fight. To breathe life back into yourselves and your convictions, which seemed to barely be there at all.

“What we know for sure is that Geto has employed Mei Mei as a bounty hunter,” Utahime said, lips drawn thin. Her defection had never really come as a shock. Mei Mei could easily round up sorcerers with her technique, and Geto would supply her with millions; she’d never once put anyone first but herself. “We’ve managed to stay ahead of her, but…” 

Her voice trailed off, dark eyes drifting between Megumi and Maki, innocent children who had been dragged into it, simply because of their lineage. They’d fought bravely the past few years, had trained mercilessly, but they shouldn’t have been weapons in a war of this scale. 

Oh, Satoru, you thought, what a mess you’ve left us with.

“We won’t let any of the children get involved,” Shoko said, brushing her short hair out of her face. “They’ll be safe — away, with the rest of us. There might be casualties. We don’t know who else Geto has employed, or if Mei Mei will be on her own… I’m sorry, but we don’t know much.” 

“It’s okay,” you said again, but the wave of arguments had erupted once more.  

Shoko dropped her head, shaking it, as her chin fell against her chest. Under the table, Ino grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. 

“You can’t expect us just to do nothing,” Maki argued, fists clenched by her side. “Last time you set us all on the bench, three students died. This is a ridiculous plan. Why don’t we just kill the bitch, and we’ll be down one less curse-user that wants us all dead!” 

“It’s not that simple.” Utahime, for the first time in a while, shouted at the former student. Her cheeks were flushed, bright and pink, her nose flared with the force of her breathing. 

For a moment, Maki seemed taken aback, but erased the emotion from her face, twisting it up before she sat back down. Utahime regained her composure quickly after.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Maki, but we need to be willing to do whatever it takes. We’ve spent a year playing it safe, and it’s gotten us nowhere. This time, we need to take a risk.” 

“If that’s truly the case, then I’ll help,” Ino offered beside you, threading his fingers through your own, palms clammy against yours. You let him run his thumb along the back of your hand, calloused and warm, even as you wanted to twist away. How often you’d gone to him for comfort, crawled into his arms… and yet, the subtle signs of affection made you want to writhe away and put distance between you. Sometimes, the dissonance of your emotions made you want to never speak to him again. 

It was a hard pill to swallow. Once, you’d been full of love, accepted it easily. But it was harder to give these days, and harder to take. Just a sign of how much you’d changed since Satoru had died. 

“If you need sorcerers, I’ll help, Utahime. I don’t mind giving my life so that the rest of you can live.” 

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You sighed, looking around the table at all of the faces of people that had once been your friends, your colleagues, your students. Now, you were just a group of survivors, people who wanted to escape the miserable future you’d been given. How you loved them, even now, and it stung, to know this might be the last time you’d ever see them.

“Alright. Tell me what I need to do.” you said, putting on a brave face, swallowing away your fear. The little girl you’d once been, so terrified of curses and Jujutsu, threatened to slip back into your body. You pushed her away, refusing to let her in.

Shoko pulled another cigarette out of the box. “I think we should speak alone.”

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tags: @killlerqween @chilichopsticks @voids-universe @createyourmoriarty @ifuckinghateschool @deadmarygolds @deffenferofjustice

[sparklyskies0]

𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙚 c.s + m.s

chapter one : ❛ exes and blunts ❜

⚠️𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙡𝙪𝙙𝙚 ⚠️

𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙨𝙚𝙭 (𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩), 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙚, 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙜 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙪𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙/𝙪𝙣𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙣𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙞𝙚𝙨, angst 𝙚𝙩𝙘..

Your head hurts from all the music and loud chattering. Faint sounds of glass breaking, people cheering. The smell of smoke and alcohol invading your nose and you can’t help but relish in it. You’re used to this, the chaos of a frat party. The ones thrown by the popular douchebags who roofie innocent girls cause they can’t get them on their own. Your head rested back against the wall. Your body slumped on the couch your sitting on.

Two people passed out on each side of you. A trashy tasteless blunt in between your fingers, you took a pull. Inhaling and letting out a sigh. People greeted you as they walked by, you return nothing but a nonchalant head nod. Not capable of proper human interaction at the moment. You’re in your favorite state; dazed, drunk, high, completely not aware of reality. The best out-of-body experience ever.

Why would you want to remember reality? why would you want to be aware of anything?. You laugh to yourself. No specific thought creeping into your mind, but you laugh anyway. Your eyes feel heavy, like you can pass out any second. But this is so normal for you that you know that’s not the case.

“y/n.” a voice snapped you out of whatever trance you were in. You look up to your left, Chris standing there. A red solo cup in one hand and something else in the other. You shoot a confused smile, so out of it you’re not controlling your face. “chris.” you respond

He gently moved the passed out dude next to you over a little and sits down. His eyes glancing down at the blunt in your hand. He shook his head disapprovingly “take this.” he says, his voice hoarse from his recent pull.

He hands you a freshly rolled blunt, replacing it with your old one. He puts it out. “this the good shit.” he says, his dealer side coming out. You bring it to your mouth. He watched as your lips closed slightly around the blunt. You take the pull, removing it from your lip, barely able to exhale before you’re attacked by coughs. Chris laughs softly. You pass the blunt back to him, your eyes lingering on his face longer than they need to.

“y’not lonely over here?” he asks, his arm draped behind you. “i mean this your spot n all, but you could come to the back with me, you’re always welcome” he offers. You glance at him.

As if debating on whether you will accept. Chris is a friend, has always been. You’re not close or anything like that but for some reason when you need him he is always there. He always has been. You don’t know why, especially when you and his brother Matt broke up. Nothing changed between you, not like you thought it would at least. It’s clear he’s careful at mentioning certain things and making sure not to invite you over to his house when matt is home.

But despite that everything feels like nothing happened. Like nothing is different. The only thing though, you catch him staring at you even when you’re on opposite sides of the room, he’s more worried about you than usual, checks in a lot more, and his need to hang out with you has skyrocketed. So maybe, things have changed.

But chris has always been your friend. Your plug. The guy you go to for any problem you may have. Even when you don’t want to. Even when he pissed you off. You just wish his brother wasn’t his brother.

Then hanging out with chris wouldn’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells waiting for matt to appear out of the blue.

“let’s go” you say, you think you’re speaking normally but your words are elongated and slow .

“alright, c’mon” chris spoke standing up. He holds his hand out for you. You take it, coming up to your feet. You stumble slightly. Letting out a soft snicker.

“jesus” chris mumbles under his breath. He caught you, his hand falling to your waist so briefly.

he leads you both to the back of the frat house. Pushing passed a bunch of people making out and doing lines. Some guy’s even arguing but neither of them throwing a single punch. pussies. you thought.

You finally make it to the back room. Chris’s designated office for parties like these. Where his finest customers come to get their goods. You couldn’t even count on one hand how many girls he brought back here. He claims it’s him being dedicated to his profession.

The room is full with smoke, a purple LED light casting the area. A table is in the middle of the room. A variety of drugs splayed out. People were in here. People who work for and with him, a couple of random girls. “make yourself comfortable.” he says sitting down on the black leathery couch.

One of the girls sitting beside him placing her hand on his shoulder and thigh, biting her lip as she looks at him. He shakes his head subtly. She removes her hands immediately and distances herself. You notice, wondering why he’s rejecting her now when she’s clearly been waiting for him. But that’s none of your business. you sit down. Chris passes you the blunt from earlier. You take another pull.

You repeat these actions for the next couple minutes. No conversation or anything. Nothing but the blasting rap music is heard.

“so, how you been?” chris speaks up, returning the blunt to his lips. “good..chillin” you say. You hope that since he knows you’re so high and fucked up that he won’t pry and ask too much questions.

“How’s your mom?” he asks. Your body stills at the mention. of course he’s gonna pry. it’s chris.

“she’s fine.. doing better honestly. We both are.” you say, your eyes follow the blunt in between your fingers to your lips. You pray he shuts up.

“y’sure?”

“so sure” your voice hoarse and breathy.

you look at him. Your eyes doing the pleading for you. “that’s good.” he says, you assume he noticed. “y’know I gotchu tho, right?” his voice sincere despite how hard it is to take anything that comes out of his mouth seriously with how noticeably high he sounds.

You give him a quick nod. Wanting to move on from this heavy topic. The people in the room with you obviously wanting to know why he cares so much and what could possibly be wrong.

“yea, i know…thanks..” you respond. a little hesitantly.

you can’t help but feel a little bad at how cold you’re seeming. He knows what’s home and he cares, he’s worried. You should appreciate that. But you can’t help but want him to shut up and move on.

It goes quiet between you two. You revert your gaze, looking down at the ground before you. your eyes fixating on the empty solo cup trash and beer bottles and food wrappers and empty ziplock bags.

Chris bites the inside of his mouth, knowing how heavy and awkward things are getting. It’s way too serious right now, it shouldn’t be. He’s too high for that. “Yo, tomorrow we shoul-” he speaks, his sentence cut off by the opening of the door.

You both look up. Seeing him standing there. His own cup of beer in hand. The look on his face as if he didn’t expect to see you in here himself.

You should look away. This is weird. You need to look away. But you can’t, you won’t.

Matt can’t seem to look away either.

۶ৎ Authors Note

kinda love this idk

really short i’m sorry fr

xoxo paris

[muirmarie]

this is silly, but go with me on it anyway: the nickname Bones is, in fact, because when they met years ago, long before Kirk ended up as Captain of the Enterprise (and long before he dragged his fave doctor onboard after him) they had a one-night stand where McCoy did, in fact bone Kirk so well that Kirk's brain kinda half-melted out his ears, and then McCoy deeply obnoxiously explained that he was not in the right headspace for anything more, and declined to sleep w/ him again, and Kirk was like, obviously I will accept your decision, but I'm still going to befriend you and also nickname you for what you're good at, so that I can not so subtly remind you of what we could be doing for the rest of our lives (yes we've only known each other for one (1) day, but I'm already planning on knowing you until we die, get on board because that's non-negotiable)

and it's like. It's genuinely fine, because McCoy would in fact die for Kirk (and attempts to do so every now and again just to prove it), so it all basically worked out, even though sometimes McCoy maybe hears the nickname and is just ".......it's definitely too late now, but maybe I should have made a different choice?"

(it is absolutely not too late, he just doesn't know it/can't admit it to himself.)

anyway this could obviously be mckirk, but I'm gonna be honest:

mcspirk where Spock finds out JUST how McCoy got the nickname, and he's just. Hmm. Fascinating. There is a theory baked into your nickname (that you're great at sex) and I am a scientist interested in testing theories (we should have sex).

anyway yada yada yada they all end up together probably, i don't make the rules, I just think it would be very funny for Spock to be like ".....this entire time you've been referencing how well he performed sexual intercourse?" and Kirk's just "listen if he'd melted your brain like he did mine, you'd understand" and Spock's just. "hm. Challenge accepted." and McCoy's just "....do I get a say in this?" and they're both just "No <3" and he's like. "....okay, fine."

[franklinn97]

Gossip Girl - Season 1 (2007-2008)

Blake Lively as Serena van der Woodsen & Leighton Meester as Blair Waldorf

[saveskum]

CLOTHING REFERENCE → KARLACH UNEDITED FILES HERE

[xoxo-sarah]

I Wanna Be Yours || Part 10

Part 9 | part 11

↝a/n: it's officially been over a year since I started this series. That is just insane to me. Sorry it's taking me so long! Much love 🩷

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!Wheeler!reader

↝Warning: possible spoilers, cannon events, throwing up, the 'demo'bats from the show, Steve getting hurt, cursing, blood, slightly proofread, pinning,

↝⎙ 6.13.24

You flopped on the ground, soaking wet and panting. Particles that resembled that of dead embers swirling up from a fire flew around, making you blink.

Nancy got to her feet, running towards Steve, who was struggling to breathe.

Two bat-like creatures were biting at his sides, another having its tail wrapped around his neck. He tried grabbing at them and at anything that could possibly help. You followed suit, seemingly having telepathic powers with how you two moved to do the same thing. Nancy picked up an oar right as you heard two thunks behind you.

Eddie cursed, moving to stand. He leaned against a boat, grabbing the other oar. He yelled your name, the wooden tool flying through the air, landing at your feet. You yanked it up, swinging at anything that let out a squeak.

Nancy wacked one of the squeaking creatures with the oar, causing it to fly away with a whine. “Hey, there.” She leaned over Steve's body, and he registered that there were other people. That you all jumped in after him.

Nancy's arms moved automatically, swinging every which way, at anything that was coming toward her.

Robin ran to stand on the tail that was choking Steve.

Eddie stood, not knowing what to do. It was all so overwhelming. All the weight of the last few days sat on his chest like an elephant. A whisper of his name had his eyes focusing on you, blinking quickly as you ran towards him. He didn't have time to register you swinging at his head until he was pushed back, a wail ringing on his ear as one of Satan's spawns flopped at his feet.

He straightened his head, turning towards the other group. “Nancy! Behind you! Watch out!” At Eddie's exclamation, you turned, seeing one attach itself into the back of her neck. She yelled, dropping her oar. Yours fell out of your hand, and you were right at her side, yelling and pulling at the slimy yet scaly body.

“Oh my god, Nancy!" Robin tried helping you, pulling and prying.

“Get it off of me!” Nancy shrieked.

Eddie picked up the oar you dropped, hitting anything that was flying.

Steve ripped the tail from his neck, moving to sit up.

Nancy fell forward on her knees as her neck was finally freed. Your grip loosened, letting Robin have full control as she slammed the thing into the ground over and over.

Eddie used the broken part to stab, yelling as he impaled one in the air.

Steve threw his against the grind, until he put his foot on its upper body, ripping its tail from its body. He panted, throwing the tail somewhere, before spitting out blood. You looked Nancy over, your eyes moving to Robin, frantically searching her for any injury, doing it quickly so she- or anyone- wouldn't see you. She caught your eye, heaving.

“Fuck!”

“Steve!” Nancy frantically made her way to Steve, “oh, my god.”

“ Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie's oar clattered to the ground as he began pacing around.

“ Are you okay?” Nancy gawked at Steve's body, noticing every injury. She gasped, as he moved his hand from his side.

“Well, they took about a pound of flesh, but other than that, yeah, never better.”

You stepped closer to Robin, inspecting the bat in front of her.

“ Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”

“What?”

It's just that rabies are, like, my number one greatest fear. And I think we should probably get you to a doctor really soon because once the symptoms set in, it's too late. You're already, like, dead." Robin's breathing became shallow.

You quickly stood, grabbing her face. Maybe it was to comfort her, or yourself-as your hands were shaking against her cheeks. “Robin. Robin, he doesn't have rabies.” Your voice was soft, yet stern. She stared into your eyes, switching between them with her own doe eyes. The other three watched, until a loud squawking echoed in the distance behind you. You dropped her face, turning toward the sound.

More bats flew toward you, stopping around where you fell through the glowing gate.

“Aright, there’s not that many.” The bats began this awful screeching, ringing in your head like a headache.

“We can take ‘em. Right?”

More screeching came from the distance, where the bats had flown from. “You were saying?” Robin glanced at you. You didn’t dare look in her direction.

Nancy frantically looked around, “The wood. Come on.” She began running, Steve and Eddie in tow.

Robin sighed, “Great. More running.”

“I should’ve stayed with the kids.” you said quietly, only loud enough for Robin to hear, before running toward the wood. If Nance had heard you, she would never let it go. Even if you did help save her from bats. It wouldn’t matter in the end.

After running like your life depended on it- probably because it did-, Nancy noticed a rock, quickly realizing it was Skull Rock. She halted, pointing at the rock for Steve and Eddie to go ahead and get under. When Robin caught up, Nancy searched behind her, “Y/n, c’mon!” You didn’t hear her. Your focus was on the ground and making your feet move.

You all huddled under the rock, trying to catch your breath, but it didn’t do any good. Your hands squeezed at the flesh of your thighs in your crouched position. Squeezing your eyes shut, you let your head fall against the rock behind you. You gave no min to the tingling it caused.

You could hear the bats stop- or at least move far enough away. Robin stood, moving from under the rock, exhaling, “Oh, okay. That was close.”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice broke, “too close.”

Rapidly blinking, you lifted yourself up, catching Steve losing his balance and leaning against one of the rock walls out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, sh-shit.”

Nancy turned, “Steve? Jesus…” She leapt forward, looking at his wounds.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” he whispered, not wanting to worry anyone.

“No, no. No, you’re not. You’re losing blood. Come on, sit. Alright?”

Steve grunted, but obliged, his body dropping against the hard round. Nancy squatted in front of him. He moved his hand that was covering his side. Blood coated his hands, and trailed from his wound to under his waistband. Robin gasped, Steve grunted, and Nancy internally panicked.

You, on the other hand, felt sick. Your eyes were glued to where the blood was gushing out, your empty stomach feeling like it would come up as a whole any second.

Nancy ripped the bottom of her shirt, as Robin kneeled at Steve’s side. “Okay, so the good news is I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a common symptom of rabies, but if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or you start feeling aggressive-like you wanna punch me or something-you should totally let me know.”

“Robin?”

“Yeah?” She looked at him, worry clear in her eyes.

“I kinda wanna punch you.”

Robin laughed, “Sense of humor still intact. That’s a good sign.”

You silently made your way out of the opposite end of the rock, walking away from the others. Sinking to your knees, you began heaving. You tried to be as quiet as possible, as to not alert anyone.

“Where’s Y/n?” Nancy looked around, not seeing you. She locked eyes with Robin, silently asking her to find you. As Nancy stood and began walking around the rock, Nancy glanced up at Steve, before she wrapped the torn shirt around his waist.

“Y/n?” Robin knew you couldn’t have gone too far. Coming around the corner, she saw you hunched over. You were dry heaving, leaning against a much smaller rock. She quickened her pace, dropped beside you. “Oh, y/n.” She whispered, grabbing the hair that was falling in your face, pulling it into a make-shift ponytail.

When you were done, you wiped your mouth, although nothing had actually come out. You fell back, sitting on your knees, as Robin undid the loose ponytail you had thrown your hair in, trying not to pull at the knots the water had created. She threw your hair in a messy ponytail, just to get it out of your face. It wasn’t at all flattering, but you really couldn’t care less. You both sat in silence for a minute. You sighed, wiping sweat off your forehead.

“God-sorry.” the embarrassment hit you as you motioned to where you had been hunched over.

Robin only shook her head. “It’s no problem. One of us was bound to throw up soon. I mean, did you see Steve? Gross. I’m just glad it wasn’t me.” She offered a little humor behind her words. You could only offer a small, amused smile in return, before your attention was brought to Eddie, who had made his way onto a rock, looking into the eerie sky.

“So, uh…this place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much.” Nancy answered Eddie, helping Steve walk. Eddie pursed his lips, starting to step down. “Wait! Watch out for the vines. It’s all a hive mind.”

Eddie froze, “It’s all a what?”

Robin offered her hand for you when she had stood up, but something inside you made you shake your head, offering a thankful smile. You got to your feet, stepping away from her.

Steve answered Eddie, “All the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re, like, one or something. You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.”

“Shit.” Eddie tried walking down the rock, avoiding the vines.

Robin walked forward, away from the awkward air you had created. “But everything from our world is still her, right? Except people, obviously?”

Nancy nodded, “As far as I understand it, yeah.”

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and steal guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate?”

Steve glanced at the girl, “yeah, I highly doubt the Hawkins PD had grenades, Robin. But guns, yeah, sure.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns. I have guns in my bedroom.”

Eddie jumped off the rock, landing with a thud. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns - plural- in your bedroom?”

“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin grinned, thankful for the woman at the moment. You felt the same sick feeling in your stomach, but for a different reason than before.

Nancy ignored her, “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”

Steve stepped forward, right by Nancy to whisper in her ear, “Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.”

Nancy turned to him, a playful tint in her eyes, “You nearly deserved it.”

Eddie chunked his vest at Steve’s bare chest, ruining whatever tension that was building in Steve and Nancy’s little bubble.

“For your modesty, dude.”

A sudden rumbling of the ground had everyone stop talking. You tripped over your feet, moving to the left to avoid landing on a vine, but ended up landing on somebody else, causing a domino effect. Robin caught her breath from under you, her hot breath fanning against your ear. A mean growl sounded from the distance.

“It sounded like a dinosaur.”

“Don’t…even.” Eddie glared at you from under Robin, moving his legs, that half of your body landing on, to kick you, no bite behind it. Truly, he wouldn’t doubt there was some kind of dinosaur creature lurking. He didn't appreciate the teasing. “Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.”

“Yeah, me too.” Robin puffed.

You stood, offering your hand to Robin this time. She stared at it, seemingly understanding that this was your silent attempt at apologizing for earlier. She took your hand, taking your apology in the process.

Eddie wiped the sweat from the palms, before taking your outstretched hand.

“So, what are we waiting for?” Steve threw the vest on, grabbing his flashlight, and began leading the way.

•© 2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

• My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

🫧 Taglistׂׂ ૢ ~ @overtrred28 @ihatepeanutss @jovana1234578 @dobbycarl @kyleeservopoulos @marirxse

[pushing500]

XiaoLiang's cunning plan to anaesthetise the boys before deactivating The Cube worked wonders! It's fortunate that we have a small colony. I can't imagine trying to anaesthetise everyone in The Animist Alliance or the Children of Ecthuctu for this kind of thing!!

Finally, at long last, Mechi and Kwahu have a conversation that's not about that god-forsaken cube!! I bet Brandy and Charlotte missed being doted on because of some stupid gold square.

Now, we can finally catch up on all the things we couldn't do while dealing with a cube obsession. Finding relics, installing bionics, and... Getting ourselves a second mechanitor, perhaps? 👀

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