#same with digital textbooks for school

[uchispeach]

Killer

Dark! Bully! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NON CON, SMUT, rough sex, manhandling & degradation, choking, breeding kink, bullying, violent & abusive behavior, Mean! Rafe, Bully! Rafe…

A/N: Sorry for disappearing, I’ve just had a shit ton of family problems. I hope I can update a bit faster from now on! ALSO lmk if you want this to become a series! 💕

A laugh, dripping with mockery, echoed through the vast room, sparking a ripple of chuckles and whispered insults from the nearby group of boys.

Rafe Cameron’s body stretched lazily in the chair, making it seem almost comically small under his heavy frame. Even with his limbs sprawled out in complete relaxation, the outline of his hard muscles pressed against his shirt, as if daring to break free at any moment. You couldn't deny he looked attractive, exuding an undeniable magnetism in that confident, almost predatory pose, his new buzz cut only amplifying the arrogance that oozed from him. But that ugly, smug smirk? It made your bones ache and your throat dry up in ways you couldn’t explain.

His eyes, the color of storm clouds, lingered on yours with a deliberate intensity, delighting in your discomfort, relishing in every flinch and subtle shift of your gaze. You turned away, hoping your disinterest would bore him eventually, but you knew it wouldn’t.

No matter how hard you focused on the lecture, his presence was like an intrusive, constant drill on your brain—his burning gaze a distraction that gnawed at your senses. How naive had you been to think he'd ever leave you alone? Every time you raised your hand in class, you could count on him to whisper some stupid joke under his breath. How foolish had you been to think he would ever stop tormenting you? This sick dynamic between you two had been a game since childhood, and if anything, he seemed to thrive on it.

His once-small fingers had grown long and strong -now covered in silver rings. Those same digits that used to tangle on your hair and pull from it until your scalp burned in pain. His legs were now far longer, but they had always been longer than yours, outpacing you as they chased you through the school halls in all infant and adolescent years, always with the aim of making you stumble and fall to your knees. But his mouth had never changed. It had only sharpened, evolving into something far more dangerous.

You’d convinced yourself you were above all of it. Charleston had felt like a fresh start, and you’d thought the Pogue curse might finally be something you could outrun. But when Rafe Cameron showed up once more, everything you’d built: your confidence, your peace of mind—began to crumble, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but the raw, unresolved tension between you.

You were studying to be a teacher, the first in your family to receive a scholarship that promised a brighter future. Your days were filled with lesson plans, textbooks, and the weight of academic expectation. Every second of your time was accounted for as you worked tirelessly to carve out a new path for yourself, one that didn't involve being brought back to the past or the memories of him. You didn’t have time for distractions, certainly not for him. But here he was, always lurking just at the edges of your life, a dark cloud you couldn’t escape.

Rafe was studying for an MBA, the complete opposite of you, and yet fate had forced you into a shared class. You would’ve done anything to avoid him, but trapped in between those fours walls, mere meters away from him - it just seemed impossible.

And there he was, at your left, staring with a look of sick pleasure every time he found you trying to focus. His presence was suffocating, like the air itself became dense with his attention. His words, the snide remarks whispered under his breath, were like a weight on your chest, making every breath harder to take.

He harassed you constantly in that class—every. single. time. Without fail. No matter how much you tried to bury yourself in your notes, no matter how hard you tried to ignore his mocking chuckles, his eyes always found you, always zeroed in on your every move. He’d challenge you with pointless questions, make stupid comments about your work, his voice dripping with condescension. But it didn’t stop there. His reach extended beyond the classroom, following you into the hallways, his tall frame casting a shadow that would make your stomach turn. He would appear out of nowhere, as though drawn to you by some sick fixation, and make his presence known with a smirk or a taunt, forcing you to look up from your books, to meet those stormy eyes full of wickedness.

He would ‘accidentally’ bump into you, making your school supplies fall over. He licked his lower lip when you bent over to pick the mess up. His front would get dangerously close to your back in any queue, sometimes getting bold enough to grind slightly against you. He would move you around like a rag doll, always putting his huge palm on your ass to push you to the side. Still, there was nothing as uncomfortable as having his dirty eyes scanning you from head to toe at any given time - he licked his lower lip in amusement, making your cheeks grow hotter.

You’d always hoped, prayed, that once the class ended, he’d disappear—vanish into his own world and leave you to yours. But you were wrong. Every time the teacher dismissed you, and you gathered your things to leave, he’d be right there, waiting. It was like clockwork. His long, strong fingers would slide into the pockets of navy trousers, the scent of his manly cologne wafting over you in an intoxicating way. His gaze would follow you as you tried to make a clumsy exit, his footsteps closing the distance between you with every passing second. You hated that you could never outrun him. Hated how he always found a way to corner you.

And just as you thought you might make it out of the door, safe, free—he’d appear at the threshold, standing in your way with that damn smirk of his, a look that seemed to promise nothing but trouble.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice would slither through the air like poison.

Your heart would pound in your chest, but you’d force your eyes to look anywhere but at him, hoping and praying, that maybe, just maybe, today would be the day he’d leave you alone. But you knew better. You always knew better.

And now, you could feel it again; the familiar pressure of his presence, creeping closer, dark and inevitable.

“What’s that I’ve heard?” He scratched his head while pressing his brows together, pretending to be deep in thought. “…Oh, right” Now, enlightened; he stepped forward. Your almost wobbly legs did their best on distancing themselves -though, they weren’t allowed much movement after hitting a desk.

The back of your knees stung against the protruding piece of wood. “You tryna leave…study abroad, right?” Your eyes peeled in horror, and you hid in yourself as much as you could when his tall frame overpowered yours. “No, no. Look me right in the eye.” He clicked his tongue in disapproval. Without any hesitation, his cold rings found their place under your chin, burying in your skin when lifting up your face. “How-how do you know?” Your stuttering made him smile -predatory grin adorning his harsh features. “Everyone thinks you’re smart…” The pain on your neck amplified at the uncomfortable position.

“…But I think you’re just a dumb bitch.” He spat at you. Tone as rough as the domineering grip on your jaw. “…Bragging left and right - you really thought I wouldn’t find out?” He shook you with erratic movement. The pain you felt under his digits distracted you from a perverted knee slowly opening its way between your legs.

His unruly eyes took a break from tormenting yours as he admired your skirt’s fabric draping over your thighs. The blond snob flashed you his hungry canines while biting into his lower lip.

The horror only amplified when a sharp thrust attacked your clothed sex. His impatient knee continued to roughly rub against the cotton underwear, cruelty reflected on the fast pace. “Ha. Would you look at that? The dirty slut is getting wet!” You whined in disgust when Rafe pressed harder on the soaked circle.

The scarce dignity you thought you held was harshly stripped from you. On his arms you were nothing but a squeaky toy he got to bite and squeeze whenever he desired, and little by little you felt victim to a raw resignation.

The next thing you sensed was his palm abandoning your neck and moving onto your meaty thighs. He gave the flesh a squeeze, followed by a lusty groan leaving his pinkish lips.

Your mind tried to wander away, but the situation was just too much; too much stimulation everywhere, too much heat coming from his larger body, too much degradation directed your way in mean words and touches, too much torturous pressure applied to your virgin cunt and too much pawing at your unexplored parts.

The next thing your brain registered was a rip. The sound of something being torn apart, and if you didn’t see the light fabric pooling around your feet, you could’ve almost swear it was the noise your spirit made when breaking in half. “And I was thinking about making it nice for you…fucking you on a bed of roses or some corny shit.” He talked with nothing but mockery, while leaning onto your chest. “But I guess you prefer it when I treat you like a cheap whore.” The Cameron boy finished it off with a chuckle, his muscles flexing hard under the rumbling laugh.

You wanted to contradict him, defend your honor and pull him off of you, but all protests got stuck in your throat when he took you by it and slammed your upper body against the desk. The rigid wood wasn’t welcoming. Your head spinned uncontrollably at the beast-like hit.

The lack of oxygen didn’t stop you from hearing him unbuckling his pants. Panic grew louder as you heard his clothes falling to the Classroom’s floor. Worries clouded you in a tumultuous storm, and you did your best to cover yourself up when the only layer covering your vulnerable hole was pushed to the side. “Open your fucking legs or I’ll break your useless skull!” He demanded in a crazied tone, ripping your limbs apart and throwing them over his shoulders.

“Please, don’t.” Your eyelids squeezed together, shielding your irises from looking at the violating scene. “That’s right, beg me” Warm breath imposed itself above your slit, followed by a warmer liquid dripping down your folds. “Gotta make it wetter…I don’t want you breaking at the first use.” Even though your sight was all black, you could imagine his satisfied grin decorating that diabolically handsome face.

You tried pulling away when a foreign limb rubbed against your sex, desperate to be let in. “Rafe, no-” You were cut short by your own screams, eyes peeled open at the feeling of his cock entering all at once.

“Fuck! Tight ass pussy.” He sounded in heaven, palms manhandling your knees to your chest while pounding ruthlessly into you.

The rest of your body went numb, being rocked up and down at the bestiality of the boy’s attack. His groans and moans overpowered your miserable sobs. Your withering form contrasted his blessed expressions, pure passion exuding from his now sweaty body.

“Your whorish cunt is squeezing the shit out of me…she doesn’t want me to leave!” He continued to talk while creating some deeply loud wet noises.

Your neck and waist’s skin burned under his cutting rings and the unsolicited friction of his grip that kept you still. Your ears got lost at the multiple pet names he called you, as well as the dirty sentences of encouragement he occasionally threw your way.

After almost an hour of feeling him impale you on his dick, you grew tired of screaming and crying, now reduced to quiet whimpers and even quieter pleas. “Stop-” He did the opposite to that, toned pelvis slapping hard against you as his tip bruised your cervix in persistent thrusts.

The cries that left your esophagus were now primal and raw, long nails holding onto his huge back. “That’s right, cry for me. You fucking deserve it!” That only made the tears fall faster down your cheeks, reaching your mouth on a salty taste.

And when his movements finally went sloppy and his member felt softer, your suffering only sharpened. “Tell me you love me” He barked at your face, drops of unintentional spit hitting your distressed face.

You thought you heard wrong, that between his chocking, and suffocating weight your brain had imagined the unimaginable. “Tell me you love me!” His features tensed, making a vein pop on his front.

Was Rafe Cameron asking for words of affirmation from you? Was the same guy who just butchered your purity asking you for your heart? Or was it just another inhumane prank? Another limit of yours he wanted to cross?

Clearly you took to much time thinking and not acting because the next thing you felt was the blond burying impossibly deeper into your core and making you know a new level of uncomfortability. “Tell me you fucking love or I’ll come inside you.” The light on the room was vast, you were sure of it. Such an elite university could only have the best illumination for its elitist students; still, his burly body completely covered yours.

His sharp jaw and eyes were enhanced by the darkness found in his stare. “I-” He trembled lightly in excitement at your shaky voice. “I love you.” You finally decreed, unknowingly sealing your fate.

His smile was like nothing you saw before, too devilish and twisted you actually doubted smiling was ever a nice gesture. And when you felt a dense liquid flooding your womb in overwhelming warmth, you swore you could see the devil in his eyes.

.

.

.

[ninguitar]

LOWKEY.　　◦　 prev.　next.

eight. gacha ahh music

❛ in which a concert you were tantalized by your friends into attending led to a one-night hook-up with band member, yu "karina" jimin, who was coincidentally a classmate, too. though incredulous and foolish, in karina's eyes, you were way too good to have you slipping through her fingers, but even so, she couldn't just act on it, leaving the two of you in an awkward predicament, keeping the feelings amidst lowkey. ❜

as you dismiss from your last period class, a grunt escaping your breath—finally, you thought, you felt as though the class was an entire bore. swinging your backpack over your shoulder, you leave the classroom, only for a girl to exclaim "boo!" popping up behind you. fuck, you felt your soul leave your body.

turning around, you face yu jimin, warmth spreading to your cheeks, as a sigh drifts from your lips, "christ, jimin!" you exhale, your hands firm against karina's chest to keep a distance between the two of you.

a wide, teasing smile tugs the corners of her lips, the girl's eyes creasing into small crescent moons, making you relent and huff. the korean girl was the textbook definition of whipped, as she giggles, "how was school?" sauntering through the hallways with you, she takes the books in your hands from you, carrying them herself.

you shrug, "boring—just like any other school day." heat curls on your cheeks at karina's gentle gesture of carrying your books herself, as you ease your weight against her. strolling through the hallways, you occasionally make small-talk with some students—mainly about student governmental affairs.

"real popular, aren't you?" she prods at your cheeks, poking them slightly. once you guys exited the school building, karina meekly shoves your extra books into her backpack. her hand remains slack at the small of your back, tenderly rubbing circles on it.

you softly hum, following the korean girl to wherever you guys were going. with your eyebrows furrowed and knitted, you ask, "where are we even going, rina!" you exclaim, eliciting a laugh from the musician. unconsciously, your hand interlocks with karina's, barely noticing it yourself.

"you'll see," the korean girl drawls on, her gaze flickering to your guys' hands before hastily returning to the streets. following karina, the girl eventually comes to a stop, a dark building flashing with the word, "arcade," coming into light.

the two of you eagerly enter the arcade, childish, animated smiles painting both your guys' faces. heading over to a machine, you immediately purchase a card with points to play games with, beaming a smile at the korean girl, which only makes her chuckle, her cheeks flushed.

before you could react, karina plops a headband onto the top of your head, sliding a matching one onto hers, as well. your gaze softens, "just know i'm really competitive, 'rina." with a small, portable digital camera in your hand, you begin to film, panning in on karina's face.

leaning against one of the claw machines, karina chuckles, "if i get you that, you owe me a favor, yeah?" to which, you nod, nudging her shoulder playfully. excitement washes over her face, as she starts the game, deftly checking the other sides of the machine to find the perfect spot.

pushing the button, the claw falls down onto one of the stuffed animals, making your breath hitch in anticipation. jimin's lips quirk up into a shit-eating grin, as she raises her hands up in enthusiasm, watching the stuffed animal fall into the slot.

"i told you i'd get it!" she exclaims, oozing with elation, as she grabs the stuffed animal, plopping it into your arms. the korean girl wraps her arm around your shoulders, gravitating towards you.

"okay—fine, fine, you were right, 'rina," you relent, huffing, as you can feel karina's hand drawing patterns on your back. heat subtly spreads to your cheeks, the same goofy smile lingering on the korean girl's face now on yours.

leading you to a skeeball machine, jimin wraps her arms around your waist gently, her head resting on your shoulder, "y'know how to play?" she whispers against your ear, as she takes the camera from your hands.

you protest meekly before shrugging and leaning further against the inclined lane, a ball in your dominant hand. her free hand curls around your dominant hand's wrist, using the game as an excuse to just hold your hand. karina pushes your arm upwards, helping you roll the ball to the highest amount of points.

"look, you're a natural!" the korean girl's face lit up, as she hovers over you, letting you roll the ball up yourself. watching you with heart eyes, she practically acts as your very own personal cheerleader—the korean girl whispering praise every few seconds.

as evening rolls in, the two of you find solace by the shore, one side of the earbuds in your ear, and the other in hers. the moon casts light onto the midnight hued water, the waves gently crashing. the world seems almost as though it was painted in strokes of a dark blue, the lake silver.

"y'know i'm posting this right?" you chuckle, leaning against the korean girl, as your head rests on her shoulder, watching ferries transcend through the shore.

jimin nods her head, "it'll be good promotion for our next song," she whispers, her hands interlocking with yours. turning to face each other, you two fixate on one-another's lips. reluctantly, you guys lean into one-another, desperately kissing each other in hungry, searing kisses.

her hand tenderly cups your chin, pulling away for a second, before capturing your lips once again. karina murmurs incoherent whispers against your lips, too immersed in kissing you to even realize they were incoherent.

"i'm like, way past my curfew," you giggle against her lips, your breath fanning over them, and before she could pull away and meekly apologize, you kiss her once again.

taglist. ୨ৎ @yeetaberry127 @yoontoonwhs @1luvkarina @sed7ction @stareaa

@cceanvvaves @ariiiiii8iiiii @nwjnsloona @yjiminswallet @nasyu-kookies

@saysirhc @secretcessy @sixflame438 @chaefims @saranglasses

@vrtualstar @awhrin @andaengjinlvr ( send an ask, or dm if you want to be tagged !! )

[nakylvr]

1:43 a.m.

kim yooyeon (triples) x gn!reader

summary: studying for finals was good considering your girlfriend helped you study, only thing is that it ends in the latest hours imaginable in the night

warnings/tags: established relationship, non-idol!yooyeon, fluff fluff fluff! i don't ever write it but here 🤲

triples masterlist | main masterlist

studying for finals was possibly the worst and best times of your life in college. worst because well, you're studying for finals. best because you're studying for finals with your brilliantly smart girlfriend who knows everything and you know near nothing. it was a normal routine for the two of you to study for exams and finals together. most of the time it was nice because you were able to spend time with your girlfriend and study at the same time. except for times like this when she's determined to finish a subject and it's nearing two in the morning.

you tried listening as you rested your head on the palm of your hand, looking at yooyeon and nodding your head occasionally to show you were somewhat listening when she stopped and looked at you.

"you're not listening, are you?" she questioned.

knowing you were caught not listening, you didn't try hard and lie about it. "sorry, you're just so pretty when you explain things," you answer, smiling at her.

she rolls her eyes at your words, but a small smile makes its way onto her face as she sets down the pen in her hand. "i just want to make sure you don't fail this," she says.

"have i ever failed an exam you helped me study for?" you reply, the cheesy smile still on your face. "face it babe, you're literally a genius."

yooyeon rolled her eyes again at you, but closed the textbook and spun around in her chair to face you. "i'm not a genius. and you're lucky i help you and you only. majority of the students here try to bribe me to do their work and i don't."

you gasp dramatically, holding your hand to your chest. "only me? i must be special then to be taught words of wisdom from the best in the school," you said with a grin.

"shut up," she replied, gently shoving you away from her, the smile on her face growing.

"what? you know you love me," you tease, pushing your chair closer towards her and wrapping your arms around her, leaning your head on her shoulder. "trust me, i promise i won't fail this one. but can we please go to sleep now? i'm going to pass out asleep if i have to study for another minute." you pout.

yooyeon sighs, looking at the papers and textbooks before seeing the time and mentally cursing herself for making you stay up this long. "yeah, we can go to sleep now. i didn't realize the time. i'm sorry, i didn't mean to make you stay up this late," she replies, one of her hands running through your hair and playing with it.

"it's okay," you mumble. "i know you just want me to not do bad, i appreciate it."

"mhm," she hums, closing the other textbook and turning off the desk light with her unoccupied hand, the room going dark after she did so. "c'mon," she says, standing up out of her chair and pulling you up with her.

yooyeon, barely being able to see in the dark, manages to drag you with her to her bed and lay down on it, seeing the time glow on her digital clock with a green 2:27 lit up. she looked over at you as you laid down next to her, your arms not moving from around her as you put your face in the crook of her neck, smiling to herself as her hand played with your hair again. "i'm sorry again for making you stay up like this," she whispered quietly.

"it's okay," you murmured tiredly into her neck. "as long as i'm with you, it's alright."

"i love you," she says, pressing a soft kiss against your head.

"i love you too. thank you for helping me study," you respond, your words slowing as you tried not to fall asleep.

"you don't need to thank me, i'd do anything to help you," she replied. "now go to sleep, it's late."

"mm," you hum, finally closing your eyes.

within five minutes you were dead asleep as yooyeon silently looked down at you, her hand not moving from your hair as she ran through it. once she was sure you were completely asleep, she gently kissed your head before laying her head on the pillow and closing her eyes.

thankfully, you passed the final the next morning despite getting four hours of sleep total. yooyeon got you coffee and breakfast before you took the exam as an apology for you getting such little sleep even though you kept insisting she didn't need to. but, you definitely remember to remind her of the time so it doesn't happen again, you felt and looked like a literal zombie the next morning.

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

[scarletsaphire]

For his entire nine years of life, Danny has had incredible dreams. Featured in every one is a patch of stars, staying just in the corner of his vision, just out of reach. It is only after his first nightmare that the stars appear as what they truly are; a ghost, here to make a deal.

--

This is my Big Boy fic I've been planning for over a year. I hope you guys enjoy.

Danny had always dreamed of stars. It wasn't necessarily that he always dreamed of the stars, but they were always there. Sometimes he'd dream that he was a pirate, fighting glowing green sea creatures that came up from the bottom of the ocean, tentacles grappling on the sides of his pirate ship. Sometimes he would dream of a world made entirely of smudges of color, and he had to save it from the evil people who wanted to erase it all. Sometimes he would dream of exploring other planets, of the taste of space dust on his tongue and a ground that made him bounce like a trampoline. Danny dreamed a lot of things, but no matter what he dreamed about, the stars were always there, just out of reach. They were different then the ones that appeared in the sky; they seemed to flow and ripple like water, and they always seemed to move to the corner of his vision no matter how hard he tried to see them.

For a while, Danny tried to catch the stars. Every time he got close, he'd wake up. But his parents had taught him that Fentons don't give up, and Danny wouldn't be the one to break that streak. So he swore to himself, after what felt like the millionth time waking up in the dead of night, that he'd get to hold those stars someday, even if he needed to go to space to get them. He spent every night that summer trying to catch them, every night waking up disappointed and going through the next day so tired his mom brought him to the doctor's for a check up.

Danny didn't try and catch the stars the night before third grade. In between teaching Danny the correct way to weld, his dad had talked all about how he'd need all his energy to learn the new things that tomorrow would bring. His mom had stolen Danny away to show him the new and improved Fenton Folders she'd finished for him, designed to be able to hold not only the papers for his class, but any textbooks or other supplies he might need as well. They were bulky, and the combination of metal and mesh wasn't the prettiest, but Danny loved them; he'd helped her make them, after all. Jazz had told him while helping him pack that he needed to prepare himself. 

"Third grade is where the real school starts," she said while trying to fit his pack of #2 pencils in the backpack without disrupting the spots she'd already put his other supplies. "I can help you prepare physically, because I'm the best big sister ever, but you've gotta make sure you're prepared mentally. It's a lot of responsibility."

"I don't know what that means," Danny admitted.

Jazz grinned at him, showing off the gap in her teeth. "Yeah, well you're gonna. That's something third grade will teach you."

Danny did not pout. He was nine now, which was basically double digits. He was above pouting. "Why don't you just tell me now?"

Jazz zipped up the backpack and left it on the hook next to the front door. "I can't do that, it's against the laws of third grade. Everyone has to go through a ritual at the start, to make sure they're fit to be a third grader."

Danny narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"Would I ever lie to you?"

"Yes."

Jazz stuck her tongue out at him, and Danny did it right back. "I'm surprised Mom and Dad didn't tell you about the third grade ritual. What else do you think they've been having us do those martial arts classes for?"

"Ghost fighting?" Danny said slowly.

"And who says the challenge isn't a ghost?" Jazz was smiling at him in the same way she had when she said she didn't hide his cookies on the top shelf.

"You're definitely lying."

Jazz shrugged and turned around towards the stairs. "Believe what you want. I just know that if I was you, I would listen to your big sister who’s already beaten the ghosts. You don't want to fight them by yourself, do you?" With that she went upstairs, leaving Danny by himself. Jazz was lying to him. She had to be. But...

Danny grabbed one of the half finished inventions laying on the end table in the living room and slipped it into the side pocket of his backpack. It was better safe than sorry.

That morning Danny woke well-rested, having slept better than he had all summer. He’d had a dream about constructing fish bowls out of clouds, wringing the water from them like you would a towel. It had been a good dream, even if the stars still hung in the corner of his vision, taunting him. It would have been a pleasant way to wake up, if the first thing he was aware of wasn't the bellowing of his name from the doorway.

"Danno!" Jack repeated at a volume that only made his ears ring a little bit. "Hurry up kiddo, you're gonna be late!"

Danny blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to interpret the numbers on his clock. 7:10. "Dad, you were supposed to wake me up at 6:20!" Danny yelled, jumping out of his bed, blankets falling in a twisted knot to the floor. "The bus is going to be here in 10 minutes!"

"Sorry, son," Jack said. "You don't have to worry about the bus, your old man can drive you."

"No, I'm sure I can catch the bus."

---

Danny walked out of the GAV at precisely 7:24, with only his nine years of experience keeping him from vomiting. He'd missed the bus by thirty seconds at most. 

"You've got this, kiddo! Face those challenges head on!" Jack called from the open window. "Love you, good luck!"

Danny waved back, and Jack drove away. His mention of challenges reminded him of Jazz's words yesterday. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to take the unfinished device with him to school; his mom had ended up grabbing it to work on, and with how late he'd woken up, he didn't have a chance to grab a new one. That was okay. Jazz was just kidding. Probably. He tightened his grip on his backpack straps and made his way into the school yard.

Danny's plan was to find Tucker. His parents hadn't let him hang out the past week. They'd said something about summer reading stuff that Tucker still hadn't done, and that he was grounded until he got it finished or school started back up. It was completely unfair, and it meant that the couple minutes before they had to go inside were crucial for catching up about all the exciting things that they had done since the last time they'd hung out. Unfortunately, the first person Danny found was not Tucker. It was Dash.

"Are your parents still adding weapons to that hunk of junk you call a car?" he called out from his spot on the stairs. Dash was mean and a bully, and he had been since kindergarten, but he wasn't persistent. Danny had learned early on that the best thing to do was ignore him and walk away, ideally into the sight of a teacher. Danny tried to do this now, but Dash got up and started to follow him. "What are you running away from? Gonna go hunt down some ghosts to talk to? It’s not like any of us want to."

Danny's grip tightened around the straps of his backpack. "Leave me alone Dash."

"What are you gonna do if I don't?" Dash spat. Danny's next step was halted by Dash's grip on his backpack, forcing him to stumble backwards to keep from falling. "Are you gonna tell your weirdo parents? You'd probably have to lie to get them to care." 

Danny spun to face Dash, the force of his twist breaking the taller boy’s grasp. Despite their height difference, Danny didn't back down.

"Stop it," he spat.

Dash sneered. "Oh, I'm so scared." He leaned down until Danny could smell his breath, warm and gross on his face. "Your whole family is a joke, and everyone knows it. You're no different."

There were a number of things that happened in those few seconds. The first was that Danny realized that, whether intentional or not, Jazz had been right about needing to fight a monster. He wouldn't tell her that, of course. She was already insufferable. 

The second was that Danny's hand had let go of his backpack, clenched into a fist, and flew at Dash's jaw with all the speed and might Danny's nine year old body could muster. 

The third thing, which was by far the worst, was the door to the school yard flying open only a few feet from where Dash and Danny stood. This meant that the teacher got front row seats to Dash's tooth flying out of his mouth.

"Daniel James Fenton!" she called, but her voice sounded distant under the rush of Danny's blood in his ears and Dash's blubbering. He only fully processed that his name had been said when he felt her grab his arm. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

Danny flushed red from embarrassment as he realized that the teacher's yelling had attracted the attention of the whole school yard. "He started it," he mumbled under his breath.

"I don't care who started it, young man, that's no excuse for violence!" she snapped. "I'm going to need to call your parents, do you understand that? In all my years of teaching, I've never had to call anyone about something like this so early in the school year." She moved towards the building, Danny dragging along behind her. 

She stopped briefly near the door to point at a student Danny didn't recognize; a 5th grader, by the looks of it. "Would you be a dear and escort Dash to the nurse’s office?" The student nodded.

The teacher led Danny through the halls of the school to the main office. "You are going to sit right here," she said to Danny, leading him to one of the waiting chairs, "-and you aren't going to move a single muscle, do you understand? I'm going to talk to the principal, and then she is going to talk to you." Danny nodded, and the woman disappeared behind the adjacent door.

Danny would not cry. He wanted to, and his eyes burnt with hot, angry tears, but he did not cry. He was nine. That was almost double digits, and someone who is double digits doesn't cry. Danny focused on one spot on the worn, dirty, carpeted floors, trying to get the heat of his anger to burn a hole through it.

It didn't work. Danny cried quietly.

When the teacher walked back into the room, he wiped away his tears as quickly and discreetly as he could before getting out of his chair and following her into the principal's office. Danny had seen Principal Caulfield a couple of times before; she would give announcements in the cafeteria sometimes, and would lead fire drills. He'd never been called to her office before. He'd never wanted to.

She smiled at him warmly, a stark contrast to the teacher's steely gaze he could still feel burrowing into the back of his head like knives. "Hello, Daniel. I assume Mrs. Robertson explained why you're here." Danny nodded. "Mrs. Robertson explained what happened to me, but I want to hear it from your perspective. Can you do that for me?" 

Danny shifted from foot to foot, not meeting Principal Caulfield's eyes. "She can leave, if that would make you more comfortable." Principal Caulfield nodded to her, and Mrs. Robertson took her leave.

"Dash was making fun of my family," Danny mumbled. "I tried to walk away, but he grabbed me and wouldn't let me go."

Principal Caulfield nodded. "So you decided to hit him?" 

Danny nodded. 

"Why don't you take a seat?" Slowly, Danny sat down in the chair opposite of hers. "We try very hard to teach our students that violence isn't the answer here, and it never is. You should've called for a teacher, or tried to settle the issue with words. Do you understand that?" 

Danny nodded again. 

"Now, I'm going to call your parents. I'm going to have a long discussion with, and you will be sent home early. I know that the first day of school has a lot of fun activities, and with your behavior today, I think a fair punishment is missing out on them. If this happens again, however, you will be in far more trouble. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Danny said. He focused on keeping his voice from wobbling.

"Good. Now, let me see here..." Principal Caulfield stood up and made her way over to her filing cabinet, rifling through one of the drawers and pulling out a folder with a label that read "D. J. Fenton." She flipped through it, traced her finger down one of the pages, and started dialing a number on the phone. Just as Danny had expected, it went to voicemail. A voicemail that was completely full.

Principal Caulfield frowned down at the phone. She looked through the file again, before looking up at Danny. "Are your parents busy right now?"

"My mom's down in the lab," he said. "If Dad's home by now, he's down there with her. If not, he's in the car."

Her face twisted in confusion, probably trying to figure out what Danny meant by lab, before it settled on an expression Danny had become very familiar with over the years. It was the mixed horror and understanding that most adults got when they realized that those two jumpsuit-wearing ghost hunting weirdos did in fact have children, and one of them was standing in front of them. Danny braced himself for the conversation that almost always followed, even as Principal Caulfield's expression faded into a professional veneer of kindness.

"I didn't realize that your parents had a laboratory in your house," she said. "What type of things do they do in the lab?"

"They build things, mostly," Danny said. That was a major simplification; even though Danny wasn't allowed to help with a lot of the things they did, he helped with enough to know a lot more than that they just 'built things.' More importantly, he knew that Principal Caulfield wasn't actually interested in hearing about his parents’ work, no matter how interesting it truly was. She was poking and prodding around the house to make sure Danny and Jazz were safe. He'd gone through it many times. It was never a pleasant conversation but it didn't normally bother Danny. "They don't let me or my sister into the lab unsupervised, they have all the proper PPE for both themselves and us, and anything they think will hurt us, or that they don't know whether it will or not is locked away where we can't get it," Danny recited.

Slowly, Principal Caulfield nodded. "It sounds like that's something you've practiced."

Danny shrugged. "I just get asked things like that a lot."

"Daniel." Her voice was hard. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Danny," she said, and her voice softer this time. She reached her hands out on her desk and folded them over each other. "You understand that that's not normal right? That you shouldn’t be in a house where your safety is questioned by everyone?"

That was also something he heard a lot. It wasn't like any of them were wrong. His parents weren't normal, and he knew that; what did it matter that everyone else knew that too? But Dash's words from before whirled in his head, mixing with Principal Caulfield's concern and the remaining whispers of the dozens of other people who'd said it. Danny bit his tongue to keep from either crying or shouting. He wasn't sure which was more likely. 

It took a few seconds before he managed to get out the response he wanted. "I am safe."

Principal Caulfield sighed. "Do you have any other way to get in contact with your parents?" Danny shook his head, and she pursed her lips. "Ok. Do they let you walk home alone?" Danny nodded. "Since I'm not going to be able to get in contact with them, what we're going to do instead is you're going to walk home. Straight home, no detours. You’re going to give them a letter explaining the whole situation, and then they are going to call me back. If I don't get a call back from them by -" she glanced at the clock on the wall next to her "- by nine o'clock, you are going to be in a lot more trouble. Do you understand?" Danny nodded again.

The next few minutes passed in tense silence as Principal Caulfield wrote out the note for Danny's parents. Finally, she handed the paper over to Danny. "You're free to leave." Danny shoved the note into his backpack and stood up. 

Just as he was about to walk out of the room, she spoke again. "Daniel?" He turned back to look at her. "Let's make sure this doesn't happen again, ok?" 

All he could do was nod.

---

It was almost 8:30 by the time he walked through the front door, his face red and puffy from anger, tears, and the rising August heat. As he had guessed, the sounds of clinking metal echoed up from the lab. He threw his backpack on the couch, and crouched to untie his shoes. He needed to gather his bravery to face his parents. He'd gotten in trouble in school before; even Jazz had gotten in trouble a couple of times, and she was as goody two shoes as they got. It was just that most of the time when he got in trouble, it was for something that his parents were more lenient about; they didn't care about him missing homework assignments when he had spent most of the time with them in the lab. They didn't care about him not paying attention in class because neither of them could pay attention to much of anything not related to ghosts or science; they claimed it was a Fenton Family trait. 

Danny knew that they would care about this.

He took a deep breath and started down the basement stairs. "Mom? Dad?" he called out as soon as he reached the bottom, peeking his head around the corner.

"Danny? Is it three o'clock already?" Maddie said, glancing over at him in confusion.

"I could've sworn that I only just got started!" Jack said, sitting upright from where he was hunched over his workbench. 

"Time sure flies when we're working," Maddie replied with a laugh.

"Um..." Danny shuffled from one foot to the other. "It's not."

"What was that sweetie?" Maddie asked. 

"It's not three yet. I got sent home from school early," Danny said. He started to explain everything, the words falling out of his mouth as he talked. When he finished explaining what Principal Caulfield had said to him, he pulled out the note and held it out to his parents. They'd both moved to stand next to Danny while he was talking. 

Maddie took the paper and opened it to begin reading, while Jack lowered himself to one knee to get on Danny's level. "I'm disappointed in you, son. I thought we had raised you to know better than resorting to violence."

"Unless it’s against a ghost," Maddie added quietly as she continued to read.

"Unless it’s a ghost," Jack amended. "Then your old man can show you how to shoot the sorry spook right between the eyes!" Jack bounced to his feet, pointing his hands into finger guns, and imitating the sounds of shooting and explosions. That went on until Maddie finished reading the note.

"Jack dear, you've gotten distracted again," she said, folding the note back up and slipping it into her jumpsuit pocket before turning to Danny. "What your father is trying to say is that we're proud of you for trying to stick up for us, but you should know better than to start fights."

"I'm sorry…" 

"You don't have to apologize to us," Maddie said. "You need to apologize to Dash. And that's what you're going to do, right now. You're going to go up to your room and write an apology note to him, and then you are going to go right to bed. No games, no TV, no books, no toys. I think that's a fair punishment, don't you honey?"

"Sounds right to me."

"But he started it!" Danny protested. 

"I don't want to hear it, young man," Maddie chided. "We can be a lot meaner about this if you make us."

Danny bit his lip. "Fine."

"Good. Now, you go upstairs, and I'll give your principal a call."

Danny and Maddie made their way out of the basement together. She stopped at the phone to wave Danny along. "And I'll be coming up to check on you soon, so don't think you can sneak out of the punishment." Danny gave a curt nod in response, not stopping his trek upstairs. 

Danny sat down at his desk in his bedroom, grabbing one of his new school notebooks. He and Jazz had talked their parents into buying a bunch of stickers, and the two of them had spent an entire afternoon customizing their new school notebooks. Danny had, of course, covered his in stars, rocket ships, planets, and astronauts. 

Danny’s lungs and eyes burned with anger as he realized that the very first thing he was going to have to put in his new notebooks was an apology letter to Dash, of all people. But he didn't have any of his notebooks from last year, so he didn't have much of a choice.

He flipped to the first page and lifted his pencil to start writing. The first couple of words were dark and shaky. The pencil tip snapped from the force he used. Danny let his head fall to the desk, and groaned into his arms. "Why do I have to apologize?" he complained to himself, not lifting his head from the desk. "He doesn't deserve it. He's been nothing but mean for years." 

The burning feeling in his throat got more intense. Hot tears ran down his eyes onto the notebook, smearing the few words he’d managed to write.

Danny turned over and glared at the door. His mom had said that she'd come and check on him, but he had grown up with her. There was the chance that she'd make good on her word, sure, but it was far more likely that something would call her back to the lab and she'd forget all about Danny, at least until Jazz got home. 

Danny didn't want to risk the offhand chance of her coming up and catching him doing something she said not to, but that didn't mean he had to write the letter. Not yet, anyway. Danny pushed his chair back from the desk with a squeak, and made his way over to his bed, flopping onto the mattress. With his pillow muffling him, Danny let the tears flow freely.

---

Danny sat in class, the teacher at the front of the room droning on about something. He wasn't paying attention. How could he, when he could feel the weight of his classmates’ stares on his shoulders? Their whispers joined together in a cacophony of noise, getting louder and louder with every passing moment until Danny couldn't even hear himself think. The sound persisted even when he covered his ears with his hands, pushing against his head until it hurt. "Please, stop," he begged. Like a switch, everyone stopped whispering. Danny opened his eyes to see the teacher from the playground standing above his desk. 

"What was that, Fenton?" she said, her voice dripping with venom. 

"I just..." Danny looked around at his classmates, but he couldn't focus on any of them, not under the heat of the teacher's gaze. "I wanted them to stop talking."

"How dare you interrupt their conversation!" Spittle flew from her mouth, bright green, and splattered against Danny's desk where it sizzled, chewing through the wood. He flinched back. "Apologize. To all of them. And then it's straight to the principal with you!" 

"But I didn't do anything!" Danny protested. 

"And you're talking back? If you're ever allowed back in this school again, you can apologize then. But I think the principal might put a stop to that."

Danny tried to stand up, but his legs were glued to the chair. He strained against the force holding him down until his muscles burned, but no matter what he did, he couldn't move. 

"What do you think you're doing, young man?" The teacher said, and she bared her glistening fangs at him. "You are about to be in a world of trouble!"

"What, are you too weak to get out of your chair, Fenturd?" Dash's voice overlapped the teacher’s. "Or is a ghost holding you down? We gonna have to call your crazy parents?"

They didn’t stop talking even as the rest of the class started again, an echoing cacophony of every horrible thing Danny had ever heard about him and his parents and his sister and his house and everything. All he could do was struggle against the chair even as his legs burned from the effort and his head pounded and his eyes leaked hot tears and- 

Danny sat upright in his bed, gasping for air. His school clothes, which he had fallen asleep in, stuck to the skin, and the blanket he'd been sleeping on top of was soaked with cold sweat. He grabbed at his chest, trying to slow down the frantic beating of his heart. 

"It was just a dream," he said to himself, still breathless. "It wasn't real."

Danny'd had nightmares before, but they'd always been full of fantastical beasts and monsters and ghosts. He’d never felt trapped; any time that he'd get too scared, he'd reach to the stars. Their ever-present shimmering would block out whatever terrors plagued his mind, and he'd wake up calm.

The stars weren’t there to save him this time, and that was almost scarier than the nightmare had been.

---

"Did you get the note finished like I asked?" Maddie asked over their Chinese takeout. (Surprisingly, Jack had tried to cook dinner. Emphasis on the tried. He claimed that the hot dogs started the fire in the kitchen, but they had been peaceful since the Great Toaster War, so Danny was pretty sure that Jack just burned the water he'd been boiling. And the stove he'd been boiling it on.)

"Mhm," Danny answered around his mouthful of pork fried rice. He hadn't even started the letter. Every time he did, the cutting words of his dream flooded his mind. It wasn't like she'd check it anyway.

"Good. Make sure to give it to him tomorrow when you go back to school," she said. 

"I still can't believe you got into a fight!" Jazz said. "I didn't get into any fights when I was your age."

"You're only two years older than me," Danny grumbled, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

"And those two years make quite the difference, obviously," she replied. She twirled the noodle around her fork. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that-"

Danny cut her off before she could get started. "Can I be excused?"

Maddie and Jack shared a look before Maddie nodded. "Don’t forget you’re still grounded, mister!" Jack called out after him as Danny shoveled one last spoonful into his mouth and retreated to his room. 

The day had passed slowly and painfully, with Danny spending a lot of time staring at his wall. He'd tried going down to the lab to help his parents, but they had made him go back upstairs to his room. It had taken an hour for them to remember to do so, in which they had told him all about the newest ecto-filtration system they were working on developing, but that hour hadn't done much to help with the other ten hours of extreme boredom. That, and the skin crawling grossness from the dream had yet to leave him.

Despite the fact that Danny had done less than nothing today, he was tired. He may have left the dinner table to avoid Jazz's rambling, but he probably would've done that anyway. In spite of the sun still streaming through the window, he made his way through his bedtime routine, before laying down in his bed, this time in his comfortable pajamas.

Apparently, it didn't matter that Danny's exhaustion seemed to run bone deep; no matter how he twisted and turned, he couldn't get comfortable. Every time he thought he'd found a nice position, his hand, head, or legs would throb. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the teacher from his nightmare with the venom filled fangs, or the disappointed faces of his parents and Principal Caulfield. 

Something told him that if he fell asleep, he would be met by similar dreams. No matter how tired he was, he didn't want to go through that again. He tried to keep his hands busy, and when he was too tired to move them with any more grace then a baby, he moved to keeping his mind occupied.

Despite how much he fought it, the soft ticking sound of his clock lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

—

Danny knew that he was dreaming because of the stars. The stars that had hovered at the edges of his vision in every dream but the last now covered everything, as if they were making up for lost time.

"Woah..." he whispered. He'd dreamed of standing in a field of stars before, but this felt...different. Before, there’d always been that one patch that stood out from the rest, his constant companion, a spot inconsistent with the rest of them. It had always felt more real, more physical, then the rest of them. This time, that patch made up everything around him. 

He dropped to his knees to touch one, an exceptionally bright star that pulsed with the beating of his heart. He cupped it in his hands, pulling it out from the inky blackness that surrounded it. It stayed where he held it, with most of the darkness dripping off like water, only a thin strand keeping it connected to the rest of the starscape. It wasn't warm like he'd expected; in fact, it was cold. So cold that it almost hurt to hold it, but he didn't put it down. He'd been dreaming of this moment, literally, for his entire life.

He stared down at the glowing ball, enraptured by its flickering lights, before he realized that it was… wrong. He knew stars; he had begged his parents to bring him to the space museum so often over the summer the people working there knew him by name. Stars were not just balls of light, they were balls of fire that moved and changed. Whatever he held in his hand was nothing but pure light, perfectly frozen, completely unchanging. 

He let the not-star fall from his hands, slipping back into its place in the inky void.

"Is it not living up to your expectations, little dreamer?" Danny whirled around to try and find the voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere, echoing endlessly. The sound traveled in ripples across the not-quite liquid floor, and the echoes only started to fade when the ripples did.

"Who are you?" Danny asked, continuing to scan his surroundings unsuccessfully. "Where are you?"

"You may call me Nocturne," the voice said. "And you already know the answer to the last question."

"I do?" Danny asked, confused. He spun around in a circle slowly. 

"You do. We're in a dream."

"This doesn't feel like my dreams..." Danny said. 

"That's because it isn't one of your dreams," Nocturne said. The surrounding darkness coalesced into one being, the starry cloak extending endlessly into the rest of the surroundings. One cluster of stars became a horned mask, with sunken eyes that seemed to be staring straight through Danny. "It's one of mine. I've brought you here to make a deal."

Nearly every alarm bell Danny had started ringing at once. Despite this, he did not feel scared, just wrong. Something was wrong. He tried to figure out what, but failed. Nocturne was still staring at him expectantly. He had to answer, even if he couldn’t figure it out. “My parents say I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Nocturne's laughter rang out through the dream, even though his mask remained perfectly stationary, his eyes never leaving Danny. "Dearest Daniel, I am many things, but I am no stranger." He moved closer to Danny. Or, Danny moved closer to him, the ground beneath his feet folding over itself as if the world was being moved around him.. "You've known me for many, many years now."

"I don't..." Danny started to say, but he cut himself off with a hard swallow. He did know Nocturne, even if he didn't understand how. "What are you?" Danny asked instead.

"I am a ghost," Nocturne said, and Danny’s alarm bells worsened as a cold dread settled on his shoulders. Maybe he was in danger. "You don't need to be afraid, little dreamer. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it a very long time ago." 

For some reason, that didn't make Danny any less afraid.

He tried to stumble backwards, only to find that the cold liquid of the pool had hardened around his ankles, locking him in place. "What do you want with me?" Danny said, and his voice was barely over a whisper.

Nocturne tilted his head to the side. "I think a better question is how can we help each other? As I said before, I am offering you a deal. All I want from you for now is to listen." Nocturne laughed again. "I suppose in this case your question ended up just as good as any other." He held his hand out to Danny. "Now, shall we?"

Danny struggled to tear his gaze away from Nocturne's piercing eyes, but he managed to. The ghost's hands were barely visible, blending in almost perfectly to the inky blackness surrounding them, but Danny could still make out the vague outline of claws connected to a hand nearly the size of his face. He knew he should say no; he'd spent his whole life listening to his parents talk about ghosts. They were heartless creatures, a sad mixture of energy and ectoplasm and nothing more. They were more dangerous than anything Danny could ever dream up, had the ability to kill him with nothing more than a thought, and may do something even worse with only a little bit more. He should not take Nocturne's hand.

He tried to move again, but his foot was still stuck in the pool, the cold liquid clinging to him like tar. It didn't look like Danny had much of a choice. Hesitantly, Danny reached out and took hold of one of Nocturne's claws, touching as little of him as he could. Nocturne's expression did not change, but Danny could still feel the satisfaction rolling off of him in waves.

Danny could not remember blinking, but he must have, because one second they were in the star-studded abyss, and the next they were standing at the rear end of Danny's classroom. Danny looked around, confused, and his confusion only grew when he saw himself sitting in the middle seat. His doppelganger was hunched in on himself, visibly uncomfortable.

"You recognize this scene, do you not?" Nocturne asked.

Slowly, Danny nodded. "My nightmare. From earlier today."

"Very good. Tell me, what do you think of it?"

"Um, I don't like it?" Danny answered.

"And why is that?"

Danny shrugged. "I mean, no one likes nightmares."

"Yes, but you've had plenty of nightmares before. Why was this one different?"

Danny bit his lip and took a shot in the dark. "It reminded me of my bad day?"

"Excellent, little dreamer," Nocturne said, his voice laced with pride. "The bad things that have happened, or the bad things that might. Everyone gets them, at some point or another. And yet, for a very long time, yours were special. You were never truly afraid of the things that might happen, but created new things to be afraid of. Isn't that right?"

Danny gave a small nod. It felt like the answer Nocturne was looking for.

"Tell me," Nocturne continued. "Do you want to have more dreams like this one? Do you want for them to be built on the ugly truth of your reality?"

This time, Danny shook his head.

"I didn't think you would," Nocturne said. "Which is why I am offering you an escape from it. I can make it so that you never have these dreams, or any like it, ever again. All you need to do is help me in turn."

Danny narrowed his eyes. He may not have been the smartest Fenton, but he wasn't an idiot. And he had grown up with an older sister. "How would I be helping you?" he asked. "Cause my parents have talked a lot about fairy stories, and they say it’s really bad to make a deal with a fairy, and that fairies are just ghosts that have been mislabeled."

"The details are somewhat complex."

Danny crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not making any deal unless I know what it’s about."

The stars in Nocturne's cloak twinkled brighter. "There is an issue within my home, the Infinite Realms, that requires someone special like you to fix. It is, of course, more complicated than that, but that is the important part."

"And what would I need to do to fix it?" Danny asked.

"It is my understanding that you would simply need to be present," Nocturne replied. "As for the how, that comes back to your side of the offer. Instead of having dreams like this," Nocturne swept his hand across the room. "...you would instead spend your dreaming nights in the Realms. In the morning, you would wake up in your bed as if nothing had happened."

"It won't be any kind of sleeping forever thing, right?" Danny asked.

"It could be if you would like," Nocturne said. "Unless you request it, however, no. It would last just as long as any of your other dreams."

"So you want me to agree to let you take me into the world of ghosts, every night, instead of having the occasional bad dream?" Danny asked slowly. "That doesn't seem very fair to me."

"It would not be the occasional bad dream," Nocturne said. "Dreams are my realm. I know them very, very well. And your dreams have been... tainted. It does not matter whether you take this deal or not, you will never return to the dreams you had for so long. I am simply offering you an alternative to this mundanity."

"Why should I trust you?" Danny asked.

"You shouldn't," Nocturne answered easily. "But you don't need to trust me to agree to the deal."

"And if I don't agree to it?"

"Then you will wake up with no memory of ever seeing me, and go back to a life where you can't escape the horrors of the real world even in the comfort of sleep."

Danny took a deep breath through his nose, and looked around the room. He couldn't hear anything that was happening, but his memory worked to fill in the gaps. The teacher was nearly frothing at the mouth with her green, acidic spit, the other kids in the class were either whispering or laughing at him, and the dream Danny was sitting at his desk. His face was a patchy red, tears streaming down his face. He remembered how helpless he had felt sitting there, and he couldn't imagine feeling like that for who knows how long.

Danny turned back to Nocturne, whose gaze had never once strayed from him. "Okay." His voice didn't shake, despite how nervous he felt. "I agree."

"Wonderful." Nocturne reached his hand out to Danny. This time Danny didn't hesitate to take it, and then the world shifted around him.

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 12)

Links:

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

The past few days at Pacific Deskmate High School have been more or less an improvement over the first two. But despite somehow becoming friends with a perthean, I've been struggling more than ever to hide my fear.

On Secandday, Derrick dropped his Biology textbook right beside me on his desk! All I could do was stand there, adrenaline flooding through my system as I ruminated on how easily I could have been crushed. Would he have even noticed if the book landed right on top of me? Was he trying to kill me? Honestly, it wouldn't be hard at all for him to drop a book like that on me and make my death look like an accident...

On Sirdday, he poked me in the middle of Algebra to ask if I had written down a certain formula before the teacher cleared the whiteboard. I'm not sure whether or not he was trying to be gentle, but the force of that unexpected poke was enough to send me into a spiral about how he could easily pin me down with nothing more than a single finger if he wanted to.

And on Forsday, after our English lesson on Greek and Latin root words, I was glad to watch him happily ramble away on the subject. It was only when he lifted me up off the desk that I guess he somehow managed to forget he was dealing with a human! He snatched me up so fast, so effortlessly, as if I didn't even weigh a thing! I thought for sure I would be flung across the room! He apologized, so I know he could tell I was scared, and that's not good.

If I were to slip up and reveal to Derrick that I have a fear, it'd ruin our friendship for sure! We'd be worse off than we were at square one! I need to make sure I'm doing whatever it takes to keep this fear hidden from him. I've never let a perthean find out about my fear before, and I don't plan on letting one find out now! Who knows how Derrick would react after finding out about my fear?

Ever since Derrick and I became friends, I've felt guilty for having this fear. I don't want him to think I see him as some kind of monster! But standing here on the balcony, watching him approach me, all I can think about is how much I want to get out of here before it's too late!

I tighten my grip on the balcony railing until my knuckles turn white to keep myself from running away, but that doesn't stop my legs from restlessly fidgeting beneath me. My heart pulsates as I'm covered by Derrick's shadow, and my lungs gasp for more air than I can take in with each shallow, shuddering breath. I need to get away from him!

"Hey, Kaylin!" Derrick says, smiling down at me.

My heart skips a beat as I stare into his big blue eyes, nothing short of terrified at the sight of my perthean friend. I try in vain to back up, my grip on the railing stopping me. I know I can't just run away— that would reveal that I'm afraid. As slowly and as steadily as I can, I take a deep breath and hold the cold surface air in for a moment before setting it free.

"Hi, D-Derrick!" I say, kicking myself for stuttering.

"How are you this morning?" Derrick asks, holding out his index finger for me.

I know I can do this, I've done it before. I release my hands from the balcony railing and carefully wrap my arms around Derrick's finger. It twitches in response to my touch, catching me by surprise. It still blows my mind how something as minute as a twitch to a perthean can translate into a harsh jolt for a human like me!

"I'm good!" I manage to squeak as Derrick lifts me from the balcony. "And you?"

"I'm doing well," he responds with a slight chuckle that I'm almost certain I can feel through his hand as he sets me down in his palm.

Once I'm settled in his hand, Derrick turns and starts heading to our first class. As we're moving along, I find myself staring at the fingers that surround me. They're a bit... close. Too close. Each long, curled digit is about the same length as I am, and about as wide as a tree trunk. A trunk of a human-scaled tree, that is— like we have in the undercity. I don't even want to consider the thought of a being with fingers that would match the width of a perthean-scaled tree! Such a being could easily hold a perthean in their hand the way my deskmate is holding me now...

I watch Derrick's fingers as they curl inward, every second inching closer and closer to where I sit in the center of his palm. My core tightens and my racing heart sinks in my chest. Does he realize what he's doing?

Without warning, each massive extremity begins to slowly wrap around me. I let out a gasp. What's he doing?! I look up at Derrick as his grip on me tightens. He's... smiling?!

My insides churn upon seeing a twisted smile plastered across my deskmate's face, and narrowed brown eyes that show no signs of mercy. My heartbeat rings in my ears as I squirm between the fingers fastened around me in a pathetic attempt to escape from Derrick's unyielding grip on me.

"W-what are you doing?!" I stammer, trembling in my deskmate's clutches.

"What I should have done the moment I first laid eyes on you," he says, letting out a loud, deranged cackle as he tightens his grip on my figure.

As I'm gasping, fighting for air, a sob rises in my throat.

"I-I thought we were friends!" I cry.

My deskmate lifts me close to his eyes. Those narrowed brown eyes... there's something off about them.

"No real perthean would be caught dead befriending a pathetic little weakling like you!"

"P-please!" I beg, tears streaming down my face as I struggle with all my might to escape this perthean's grasp. "D-Don't hurt me!"

"Huh?"

I open my eyes and look up at my deskmate. He's stopped in his tracks, raising an eyebrow at me. His big, blue eyes look to be searching mine for some kind of explanation to what must have sounded like quite a perplexing remark.

Blue...! I knew his eyes were blue!

I look at my surroundings. I'm in Derrick's open palm, and his fingers are only bended toward me slightly. I look at myself. One of my legs is curled inward, and the other is stretched out as if I tried to scoot backwards. Oh no. What happened here?

"Kaylin?" Derrick says as he lifts me closer to his face, his eyes filled with concern. "Don't what?"

"I-I—" I stutter.

I stare into Derrick's eyes, my heart sinking further in my chest with each rapid beat. I can't think of anything to say! He's bound to realize I have a fear now!

"Don't... don't forget there's an English quiz today!" I blurt out.

Really?! That's all I could think to say?!

"Oh, is that all?" Derrick says with a chuckle. "I could have sworn..."

I resist the urge to curl up into a ball with all my might as I quake in my deskmate's hand. Is he about to call me out?

"Nah, it's nothing. Nevermind," he says, continuing the walk to our first class.

That was close. Too close.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Brittney huffs and puffs down the hall with the neon pink and orange lunchbox she retrieved from her locker after gym. Even after cool-down, showering, and changing back into our regular uniforms, I'm surprised to see her still struggling to catch her breath.

"Hey," I say, coming alongside her after we reach the cafeteria. "Good running today."

"Thanks!" She laughs. "Running always takes it out of me, but knowing lunch was coming was enough to keep me going!"

We sit down together at an empty table and take out our lunch. I unwrap what I'm decently sure is a turkey and swiss sandwich and take a bite. Brittney takes out a thermos and a grilled cheese.

"Grilled cheese again?" I ask.

"I guess so. What's the note of the day?" Brittney asks.

I'd completely forgotten to check for a note from Dad. I rummage around the brown paper bag in front of me and pull out a note. This one says:

What is a geode without its crystals, an oyster without its pearl?

So it is with a person's heart.

- Zenara

"Wow," Brittney says. "I didn't think your Dad was one to quote Zenara."

"He found one of my mom's old poetry books when we were moving and has been flipping through it over the past few days," I say, setting the scrap of paper down on the table. "I'll probably be getting more notes like this."

"So..." Brittney says, folding her hands together and propping her chin on top of them. "Speaking of looking into people's hearts, how are things going with Derrick?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, befuddled.

Brittney rolls her eyes. "You know, seeing him for how he is on the inside in spite of how he appears on the outside! Like the quote?"

"So that's what that means?" I say, looking back to the note. I've never really been one for poetry— it usually goes right over my head. I figured it was the same with Dad, and especially Brittney.

"Anyway, spill it! How are you two getting along?" Brittney asks, eyes wide with anticipation.

"You say that like we're dating or something!"

"You know what I mean, girl, now spill!"

"Well," I sigh, "things are going... well, they're going."

Brittney pouts. "Come on, you know I want more than that!"

"Okay, fine, fine!" I say, waving my hands. I stare at my sandwich in contemplation. "Ever since we became friends... I've felt guilty for having a fear. And not only that, it's been getting harder to hide it!"

"Go on," Brittney says, her brows turning upward.

"I guess it's only a matter of time before Derrick finds out about my fear. And after that, I'm not so sure he'll want to stay friends with me."

"Why not?" Brittney asks.

"I mean— who would want to be friends with someone who only thinks of them as some kind of monster that's out to get them?" I rest my cheek on my hand in defeat. "Maybe I should just tell him I have a fear and get it over with. That way, at least I'll know how he feels, and if he doesn't want to be friends anymore then it'll hurt less now than it would if he found out later on."

"I-I wouldn't do that!" Brittney blurts out.

"What?"

"I-I mean, normally I'd tell you to be honest, but Derrick..." Brittney trails off, looking down into her soup.

What's she going on about?

"Brittney, what about Derrick?" I ask.

Brittney shakes her head. "Nothing. It's nothing. What I mean to say is... I don't think telling him outright that you have a fear would be the best idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, some pertheans don't really know how to act around humans who are afraid of them. For some, it might get to them."

My insides twist. "Are you saying Derrick is like that? Would he really be hurt to find out about my fear?"

"Well..." Brittney says, averting her gaze. "All I'm saying is I wouldn't tell him if I were you. Derrick is... sensitive."

I know Brittney's known Derrick much longer than I have. If she says I shouldn't tell him about my fear, I'm inclined to trust her judgment. I just can't help but wonder... what isn't she saying?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, what are you up to this weekend?" Brittney asks as we approach the spot on the balcony where we've been meeting up with the boys.

"I don't know, I might try my hand at gardening. We found one of those indoor planters when we were going through our stuff before the move."

"Ooh!" Brittney says, clapping. "Gardening! I've always wanted to try! Especially since the undercity is so void of greenery compared to above ground."

"After that, Dad and I will probably watch Stranded together," I say, wondering how much we need to catch up on before Restday night's new episode.

Brittney's eyes get wide and she grabs onto both of my arms. "Did you say... did you say Stranded?!"

"Um... yeah?" I say as I look down at the hands gripping my arms, her grip a bit too tight for my liking.

"I. Love. Stranded. It's like, my favorite show ever!" She gasps. "Do you read fanfiction?! I'm working on this one story about Jack and Merlot— I should totally send it over to you!"

"Hey guys!" my deskmate says.

Dread fills the air, and a burning anxiety creeps up my spine. My legs quake, and I nearly trip over them as I leap behind Brittney to shield myself from this perthean boy. This perthean boy... who's supposed to be my friend. I realize I shouldn't be hiding from Derrick, especially since I don't want him to find out about my fear— but no matter what I do, I can't seem to stop myself from shaking uncontrollably like a cold, wet puppy!

"Kaylin? Are you—" Derrick starts.

Brittney laughs. "If you think this is bad, you should have seen her this morning when I snuck up on her with a hug!"

What? Brittney didn't do that! I didn't even see her today until it was time for gym! I look at Brittney, and she looks back at me. She winks.

"Ha, ha... yeah," I say, slowly coming out from behind my friend. I fold my hands together in front of me, all the while trying my hardest to suppress my unrelenting trembling.

I look up at Derrick, who stares right back at me with a blank expression. He hums flatly. Does he buy it?

"Well, I'm not sure where Kevin went, but Kaylin and I should probably be getting to Biology," Derrick says. "Are you okay waiting by yourself?"

"Yeah," Brittney says. "Kevin's a slacker. I'm used to it by now. You guys go on ahead!"

A knot forms in my throat as Derrick lifts his index finger and places it in front of me. With how many times we've had to do this so far, even today alone, shouldn't I be used to this by now? I try to be discreet about wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt, and then manage to wrap my arms around Derrick's finger in spite of the sinking, spiraling feeling in my gut.

"Have fun, you two!" Brittney calls out as Derrick lifts me from the balcony.

I expect Derrick to say something in turn, but he remains silent. He places me in his palm and turns to head to our Biology class. He remains silent the whole trip there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Our Koronian class has nearly passed us by, and Derrick has barely spoken a word to me since the incident at the balcony before Biology. I try to focus on the lesson being taught, but the history of adjectives in the Koronian language fails to occupy my brain as much as my anxiety does.

Does he know I have a fear? Is he mad at me? Does he think I see him as a monster? Does he still want to be friends with me, or is he thinking about some way to go about telling me how inconsiderate it is to have a fear of pertheans? What if he hates me? What if we end up being stuck in an even more awkward relationship than what we had when we first met? What if he doesn't want to be deskmates anymore?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Derrick's notetaking. I know he loves languages, so I was sure he'd be taking as many notes about Koronian as possible during class. What I find odd, though, is that I haven't heard him write anything down until now. After a few seconds of pencil scratching, he goes silent again.

I try to take my focus off of Derrick and keep it on the teacher, but just as I tune back into the lesson, his notebook slides into my peripheral vision. Do I dare look? I pretend I don't see the notebook and shift my focus away from Derrick. After a moment, he slides the notebook closer to me. As worried as I am, I can't help but wonder what he wants to tell me. I hesitate, but take the bait and read the note presented to me.

Are you afraid of me?

Hot blood rushes to my cheeks, and my heart pounds against my ribcage. My whole frame trembles as I turn my head to the shaking hands in my lap. He knows.

I try to steady my quivering breaths. I can't let myself panic. Not now. Not in the middle of this class, not in front of all these pertheans... not in front of Derrick. We're so close to the end of the schoolday. All I have to do is sit through the rest of Koronian, get to the balcony, and go home! He'll forget all about this tomorrow, and I'll have a better chance to hide my fear then.

Derrick taps his notebook, drawing my attention back to it. Why is he so insistent? He underlines the question he wrote with his pencil. He's not going to be satisfied without an answer, is he?

I stare down at my own notebook laying atop my desk. What should I do? Should I answer? Should I try to continue ignoring him? How long can I keep this up?

As I'm lost in contemplation again, a large, warm surface presses against my back, poking me. That's it. I scrawl down a response in my notebook.

Why are you so insistent on me answering this question?

I can't keep from trembling as I push my notebook to the side of my desk. Derrick leans over in his seat. He's so close! I try to take deep breaths in and out, but my constant shuddering makes my breathing anything but smooth.

Derrick sits back in his seat. Silence. Maybe he'll finally leave me alone. Just as I begin to let my shoulders droop and my muscles relax, I hear it again: the scratching of Derrick's pencil against paper. A few seconds later, he pushes his notebook back into my view.

Why are you so insistent on not answering this question?

He just won't let it go! What should I say?! What should I do?!

Brittney said I shouldn't tell Derrick about my fear because he's 'sensitive.' But what was it she didn't tell me? What's going to happen if I'm honest with Derrick? Should I lie?

Derrick underlines the question again.

Are you afraid of me?

My heart sinks, weighing me down, and there's an aching unease deep in my inner core. Do I tell him? Can I tell him? I stare at my notebook as anxiety creeps up my back and threatens to choke me. Hands trembling and barely able to grip my pencil, I write my response and slide my notebook back into Derrick's view.

I'm sorry.

He's quick to scribble down a response.

You're sorry?

I don't think and simply let my pencil glide along my paper. I slide over my answer:

I'm sorry that I'm afraid of you.

I sit in my anxiety, nervously awaiting Derrick's inevitable reply. What will he say now? Will he call me a coward? A bigot? Would he call me... a tiny?

Silence. He must be satisfied with my answer. I just hope things aren't awkward for us after class. I rub my legs to keep them from jumping up and down under my desk, and return my focus to the teacher.

Scribbling. It's quiet at first, then harsh. There's the sound of an eraser rubbing the paper, followed by more harsh scribbling. I clench my fists as tears prick the edges of my eyes. He's really going to let me have it, isn't he? My heartbeat, oddly enough, slows down as I think through what must be in store for me. Deep down, he's no different than that man, is he? Merciless. Unforgiving. Cruel. No perthean could ever be understanding when someone thinks of them as a monster, could they?

Derrick slides his notebook back over. Blinking back tears, I brace for impact, breathing in and out, and turn to see what it is he's penned.

Let me help you.

What? What's he talking about? He's not going to let me have it? I hesitate before looking back at Derrick as apprehensively as ever. He's... smiling.

"What?" I whisper.

He points to what he wrote on the page, and looks back at me. I spin back around in my seat, my mind buzzing with questions. What does he mean? Is that even possible? Is he joking? I pull my notebook back towards myself and start writing. Once I'm finished writing, I push my notebook back into Derrick's view.

What are you talking about?

Again, he doesn't hesitate, but writes his response swiftly.

Are you free to meet behind the school after class?

An uneasiness creeps up from my gut and into my throat. I gulp. He wants to meet after school? What does this mean? Is he serious, or does he have something more sinister in mind? I stare at my hands in my lap. What should I do?

I turn around and look Derrick in the eyes. As he smiles at me, his wide blue eyes seem to smile, too. I have no idea what to say, and I can barely breathe! He looks at me with anticipation. Almost as if to ask, 'Well? What do you say?'

I nod. I have no idea what I'm supposed to expect, but at this point, what do I have left to lose? Derrick laughs softly as he continues smiling at me.

"Mr. Drake and Miss Finch!" the teacher says, raising her voice and catching Derrick and I by surprise. "Is there something the two of you would like to share with the rest of the class?"

I turn back around in my seat, my heart fluttering and my cheeks as hot as ever.

"No, m'am!" Derrick and I both exclaim.

I try to focus on the lesson again, but all that comes to mind is my deskmate. Really, what could he possibly mean by helping me? And what did I just sign up for?

[thenixkat]

Mundane AU!Laios thoughts

Note:

Probably contains spoilers

Mundane au= no magic and no fantasy 'races' (like... little people are a thing, they exist in reality, some people just have dwarfism. The elves are just skinny racist and xenophobic Europeans like? And there's already parralells made with the demi humans so if I do anything the orcs are Afro Native and Kobolds are somewhere African or Arab. And for the ogres... gigantism is a thing that exists in real like and totally a teen girl would just wear some horns.)

Thoughts:

The Toudens are European-born. From somewhere cold as hell, really isolated and conservative, that's close to some mountains, that's racist towards the local indigenous people.

(The sibs, but especially Laios got chewed out about some shit and has been trying to be better, slips up every now and then but takes criticism well so long as folks tell him what he did/said wrong).

Local weird kids put off vibes that the rest of the village didn't like, Laios and Falin grew up bullied and ostracized. Falin got sent off to schooling in the big city and later to a university in Italy where she met Marcille.

Laios dropped out of high school and joined the military as soon as he was able to b/c he wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Served for a few shitty years b4 just... deserting and backpacking across Europe just straight up homeless and working whatever odd jobs he could find. Man was going through it. Wound up in the same city where Falin was studying at a university in and decided to visit her. She took one look at him and refused to let him just go back to what he was doing, so Laios started couch surfing with her (very much against dorm rules but he looked terrible and Falin wasn't about to let anyone stop her from making sure her brother has a roof over his head and food).

Eventually, she takes him with her when she does a work-study in the USA for her ecology degree and they ended up staying/Falin kinda maybe sorta dropped out and got a job with a vet near where she was doing her work-study.

Laios and Falin are technically illegal immigrants but they're white so no one really questions their citizenship (their working on getting citizenship/papers)

Laios gets a GED. Does some self-study from Falin's textbooks and online stuff but that's about it for his schooling.

Laios definitely, like, lives in Falin's basement. Falin is the primary breadwinner in this household, Laios is aware of this and has learned to accept it even tho he would like to take care of his baby sister and sometimes feels bad about not being able to. They used to share a room in a cheap apartment but after building up enough savings they managed to buy a suspiciously cheap house in a rural town bordering a reservation and not far from a national park.

Laios still works odd jobs, mostly physical labor and stuff where they won't ask for a degree. Has worked retail, where his customer service was trash but he's darn good at just stocking and shelving shit.

Met Chilchuck while working retail, Chilchuck introduced him to the concept of a union which Laios thinks is really neat.

The town where the Touden's moved has a sizable population of people with dwarfism, Chilchuck is a notable member of the little person community in the area. The Touden's go to Chilchuck for help with paperwork (they pay him a small fee) and he doesn't ask too many questions about why they don't have this or that piece of documentation.

Laios enjoys doing citizen science and bird watching. During the tourist season, he runs a small wilderness guide giving campers and hikers tours in the local national park.

There's a hermit that lives in the national park illegally (Senshi) that Laios and Falin made friends with. They love his cooking.

Laios is active in the online furry community. He does commissions, mostly of digital and physical art or people's fursonas and vore stuff. He does great ferals, and decent anthros, but his human art is not good (he's working on it).

Laios is decidedly chubby in this, his weight goes up and down depending on the season and how much physical activity he's doing. But ever since he reunited with Falin, she's been making sure he doesn't skip meals if they can afford to eat. And ever since he met Senshi he's gotten heftier since he loves that man's cooking.

[rigelmejo]

So I like to find older language learning textbooks, or just specific ones. I could make some posts on them if anyone would be interested. I have some weird ones, and then some genuinely useful ones, and rather old ones which are a mix.

Some of my favorites:

German Through Pictures: learn like a child, or like me and my friend in high school translated to each other (with pictures!) when we didn't speak the same language. It is a simple book, but very easy and you WILL learn some basics. Its simple, its a nice idea.

This book is very cheap used, I found it at a library book store sale for 4 dollars.

Read Japanese Kanji Today: there's an older version of this book, equally good. This book is free in a lot of digital libraries (a lot of college libraries have it in ebook form, if you are on an app like Libby or Hoopla it's worth searching). A kanji mnemonic stories book that is not dauntingly huge. Good for beginners to wrap their heads around how to start studying Kanji. Be aware, it doesn't cover much, so don't spend too much time studying it if you're trying to make progress (not like perfectionist me in college who... was too obsessed with memorizing and so I never finished reading this).

https://archive.org/details/jensen-arthur-le-francais-par-la-methode-nature

Le Francais Par Le Methode Nature: I have this book to thank for getting comfortable learning French in French, for getting comfortable reading more, and I love the teaching style. I love textbooks written in The Nature Method, where they teach entirely in the language. The Arthur Jensen books in particular (and a few others of this time period) have 3000+ common words and a good overview of grammar taught, setting you up to transition to regular daily conversations and novel/news reading after The Nature Method textbook. My ideal. I wish desperately for a book like this in chinese or japanese. I've thought for hours about how to add pinyin for hanzi, romaji and hiragana below kanji for japanese, in order to make it still equally comprehensible to start seeing regular chinese and japanese text immediately. Chinese or Japanese would need more pictures for explanation, since there's less cognates. But i really think a similarly designed textbook would be very achievable. But I do not confidently know chinese or japanese grammar enough to try to translate English by The Nature Method into Chinese or Japanese. If someone does, I'd love to talk cost for that kind of translation job. I'd need that base text translation, then I could draw pictures and add pinyin and romaji/hiragana myself... (or also do what one great person did when he wrote a tiny Comprehensible Input japanese site - use emojis).

Anyway. I love these type of books. I wish more existed desperately. There's a French, English, and Italian one. There's also textbooks written with the same "all taught IN the target language" approach - a Greek one called Athenaze, and a Latin one called Lingua Latina.

Be aware because of the age of some of these, some language info is outdated. But for me the sheer VOLUME of nonstop practice reading the language makes up for a few issues of age.

French for Beginners by Charles Duff: I love the way Duff teaches, lots of practice reading immediately. He has a Beginner Spanish textbook I also got, and also love.

Chinese Grammar Self Taught by John Darroch: this book is NOT actually the nature method. I got a hard copy that's really old. Its lovely and has gold lettering on the cover. The book uses an old pronunciation system so its easier to go into this book if you already know how hanzi are pronounced or have an alternative source for that. If you're a nerd like me who Likes seeing the old pronunciation system, the older language features (like le being liao more, like the use of nin instead of ni more often), the print hanzi back then? Its really cool. The grammar lessons are also very easy to read - probably my favorite grammar explanations I've read. The section in the beginning explaining hanzi radicals and the types of hanzi, the sound+meaning type and symbolic type, on its own makes the book worth it. After reading that section, hanzi made so much more sense to me, got easier to remember and learn. I just think its a really neat book. It also has a dictionary of about 2000 hanzi in the back. Which serves as both a good vocabulary list and practice going through a/stroke order dictionary. The grammar book also teaches a decent number of words. A very useful little book.

Its the polar opposite of a chinese textbook I once had that only taught 200 words and made me so mad i donated it and forgot the name of it.

Japanese in Thirty Hours: this book is free on some univerity sites, if you search google itself or another web search. I bought a physical copy for 9 dollars. Its my favorite beginner grammar book for japanese - in particular, because it describes a few grammar points in a way that I found helpful. Also, like the chinese book above, this book pulls its weight! A lot of information in a small book. It has over 1000 words in the back vocabulary section you can study, a TON of grammar explanations and sentence drills to practice, easy to read, and the book's goal is to get you speaking (with the use of a dictionary/looking up key words you need to say) ASAP. It does it's job. The sentences are a bit unnatural, but so is Genki's sentences (like saying watashi wa so much even though in Japanese it wouldn't be explicitly stated so much).

Reading Japanese by Hamoko Ito Jordan, Eleanor Harz, Chaplin: I love learning a language by DOING. So I love this book. It's a bit slow paced for me (but only since I'm not an absolute beginner). It's a great, dense book of 624 pages. You practice reading all hiragana, katakana, 425 kanji, and a ton of example words and kanji. Even though I can read somewhat, the katana section of this book is intense even for me in that it makes me practice reading a TON of katakana words and situations in order to get the learner truly comfortable with encountering the writing system and reading it. There's also a companion grammar book by them, Beginning Japanese. Due to the very general title you'l need to search author names to find these books.

Weird bits: unique romaji system. I was fine with it, since I already knew the pronunciations of everything I saw in this book, from prior study. If you're an absolute beginner though, it would be worth it to learn the regular romaji system and hiragana/katakana romaji sound representations in it before starting this book.

Beginning Chinese Reader by John DeFrancis: note that you can find this cheap used sometimes, and very expensive other times. My copies were around 60 dollars a piece because the books were out of print and rare at the time. There's several books in the series: Beginning Chinese Reader 1 and 2, Intermediate Chinese Reader 1 and 2, and Advanced Chinese Reader. (Pdfs can be found online if you go searching).

The positive: 1200 hanzi are taught, and thousands more words (tons of combininations of the hanzi into many words). The main plus of these books is sheer volume of reading practice. Its TONS of reading practice, thousands of pages.

There's graded readers nowadays which are more entertaining with funner stories, but they are short. My mandarin companion stories were very short, my Sinolingua Books were quite thin, and most of my "beginner" reading in chinese ended up being easier novels in chinese (like tu tu da wang, xiao wang zi, sa ye and simpler written B)) because I just could not find thousands of pages of gradually increasing difficulty graded readers (although Pleco does offer a decent amount of some condensed versions of stories like Legend of the Monkey King, etc).

So yeah, the plus: huge amount of reading material to internalize hanzi and new words, and get really comfortable reading.

The negatives: its old. Old cultural details, old language things that don't all apply anymore, the technology words we have now didnt exist when it was written. And its written so dry and boring, unfortunately. For me, the elements that age it help me get interested in catching those, enough so that i can get myself to read it. But the material itself? Boring (at least in the beginning).

Regardless, I find the concept of these textbooks to be wonderful. I would love to find some modern chinese textbook series that provides over 1000 pages of graded reading, with words repeated at intervals to reinforce memory of them. If you know of any (even with just 400 pages practice reading that gradually teaches more words) please let me know.

Madrigals Magic Key to Spanish: I love this book. I have Madrigal's books for Spanish, French, and German. I read this spanish one over the course of a summer once, it probably helped me get better at reading Spanish. It works excellently in combination with Language Transfer Spanish podcast, and if you like learning materials that teach based on similarities to what you might already know in your native language (grammar similarities, cognates) and clear explanations of language patterns (showing how adjective word endings are sometimes X like -ent in english or french "intelligent") then this book's teaching style will work well for you. And, like many of my favorite books, it teaches a LOT of words.

So! That is a snippet of some of the language books I have. I've got a lot more... I love checking out textbook methods and the variety so I tend to look for them whenever I see used books.

[drelldreams]

Mass Effect Lore: Common technologies in the 2180‘s (Part 2)

This post is both a collection of canon technologies in the Mass Effect universe, and personal headcanon which may be borrowing common concepts from sci fi.

Infrastructure:

Autonomous public transportation vessels of all sorts. As seen with the tram on Noveria. Trains, buses and cabs are also autonomous. Rude bus drivers, trains and buses being cancelled or too late are problems of the past.

Some of those buses and cabs drive on land; others are flying vessels that travel through the sky.

Trains travel at immense speed, with most trains being able to travel at least 1000km/h. Low pressure tunnels allow for this level of speed.

Suspension railways are a common means of public transportation and are widely featured all across the galaxy on various space station, colonies and in most Earth countries. This also includes maglevs (magnetic levitation trains).

Cities commonly not only feature terminals providing rentable e-bikes, e-scooters or even e-rollerblade, but also rent flying hoverboards.

Medicine & Health:

Needles have become obsolete. Technologies akin to Star Trek's hypospray have replaced them. (This contradicts with Mordin's line in ME3: „Fear of needles. Common phobia." I know.)

Genetic therapy has advanced so far as to being able to cure almost any genetic disease. (Book canon).

Cybernetics can fix deafness and blindness.
(Canon implied, I believe?)

Advancement in technology and medicine have slowed down human aging significantly. Women can have healthy children in their sixties. (Book canon). Anti aging therapies and cybernetics can allow humans to reach ages of up to 250 years.

Education:

Paper and pens being used in schools is a thing of the past. Students use tablets (which are made of ultra-light also foldable) with either keyboards or tablet pens for handwritten notes.
(Book canon implied - Gillian uses a computer to work on her assignments in Mass Effect:
Ascension).

Some teachers and students would prefer to have their textbooks in form of super light datapads (like e books) rather than have them all digitally stored on their computer.

Learning programs are highly advanced and VI‘s provide students with custom tailored, individualized exercises and study plans and games.

Food:

Liquid food drinks, nutrient pastes and bars that replace entire meals are available just about everywhere. With biotics burning huge amount of calories, the asari have perfected such products. Being cheaper than freshly cooked take out meals and coming in all sorts of flavors and textures, such nutrient pastes proved to be a saving grace for poorer individuals. Some poor people nearly only eat 3D printed nutrient paste, which does not have the same feeling as eating real meals, but nutrient paste in Mass Effect is of such high quality that it provides the body with all nutrients it needs while being free of unhealthy ingredients.

People-prepared foods (by humans/aliens) are still appreciated, but many foods available in grocery stores are 3D printed. Cafés tend to feature feature people-prepared foods. A café selling 3D printed cakes for instance would be looked down upon.

Synthetic flavors have been perfected. While technology has been advanced to the point where you could grow strawberries on Omega without issues (using environmental control systems in a hydroponic bay), the ultimate cheapest way to replicate the flavor is using synthetic ingredients. This way, you can find foods of any flavor, no matter what exotic fruit from Palaven or Khar'Shan it might be, anywhere.

Sugar free snacks and candy are as common as the sugar variants. Ice cream cates feature sugar free ice cream options. Sugar free chocolate or cookies are available at any grocery store.
Various synthetic ingredients are used to replace sugar.

Lab grown meat is incredibly common (canon) and meat from Earth animals found on space stations is grown from animal stem cells.

Home:

Significantly less time is spent on chores due to robots doing most of the work. With floor wiping and vacuum robots being affordable for middle class people in the 21st century, in the 22nd, the majority of cleaning is done by robots in a middle class household. Advanced kitchen aid machines are found in most households and make cooking less time consuming and complicated for most people.

Blinds, curtains, light, air filtration systems, thermal regulation systems (air conditioning or heating systems) and television are typically navigated via a voice command (for example, „Light on“ or „Television off).

Holographic home ambiences like in Cyberpunk 2077 are common. Windows can be made to look like they‘re displaying a galaxy full of stars via holographic projections. Some people use those home ambience holographs to create the appearance of a luxurious club lounge, or to project beautiful landscapes into a corner of their room.

Personal Care:

Like in Star Trek, sonic showers can be used to clean the body effectively. Ultrasonic vibrations remove dirt, bacteria, excess oil and dead skin cells without requiring soap or water. While more expensive than typical showers, the use of sonic showers saves water. This sort of technology is found within quarian environmental suits. Drell with Kepral's Syndrome generally use sonic showers rather than water showers.

In addition to having an inbuild shower function, quarian environmental suits are equipped with a dental hygiene program that cleans the teeth and mouth of the wearer effectively using ultrasonic vibrations.

Certain suit upgrades can even use nanobots to moisturize the body.

Toothbrushes are also generally sonic toothbrushes that use the same technology as showers do; ultrasonic vibrations.

Clothes are typically self-cleaning with nanoparticles that kill bacteria and prevent the build up of odor.

[2jam4u]

hi milla! It’s so nice to see you around again, I’m so touched and happy for you that your life is so beautiful 🥹 you give me so much hope. I have the same dream of becoming a therapist, I’m autistic and have a GED because I had a horrific time in school in general as a kid. I’m 30 now and it intimidates me so much to go “back” to college (for the first time) not bc of my age but because it was so difficult the first time with undx autism amongst other things. I’m still undiagnosed officially today, and I always weigh whether or not I want go through with a dx, but my understanding is the only way I can get accommodations is with the official diagnosis. Do you have any words, thoughts, or advice for an autistic girlboy on a similar path to you? Thank you just for reading this I hope you have such a nice night 🫶

Honestly the 10+ years between my last attempt at post-secondary education were mostly me in a panic because I had my hs diploma and what felt like a brain that just didn't work with traditional education and a job market that demanded at minimum undergrad degrees for entry level jobs. It took a solid 10 years of my sister convincing me year after year for me to finally get on board and allow myself to try again. But yeah, I think a large part of why I'm able to be successful now is the knowledge I have of how my brain operates and my clinical diagnosis.

I think when it comes to accommodations at school or work, those are the only areas where the formal diagnosis has any worth. In pretty much any other area of life it's not necessary, but you do need to have formal diagnostic reports to give in for those accommodations. That being said the majority of my accommodations are for the adhd according to accessibility services at my school. I don't think they're very well versed in autism related accommodations but they know a lot about adhd so I have a recorder for class, access to digital copies of all my textbooks, a text-to-speech software for those digital texts and extra time in exams — all of those are specifically for adhd. So if you're auDHD i'd recommend getting an adhd assessment done because they're significantly cheaper and (I don't wanna say easier but) easier to get, people are more likely to believe you, more likely to take your self-reporting at face value, shorter assessment etc.

But like I said before, I think the accommodation is only half the reason I'm doing better, there's a ton of stuff I do for myself in the way of regulation, support for my "deficits", preparing myself for routines and possible changes, laying out my school info in a way that's most digestible for my brain bla bla bla. Those are things you don't need a diagnosis for but are work you can put in for yourself that can make a HUGE difference. I can talk more about that if you want but if you're not able to get a formal diagnosis please don't think that means school is ever off the table for you entirely.

Black and white tism thinking here but I tended to see school as an all or nothing situation. Either I was naturally great at it and had no problems, or I couldn't do it at all. So when I struggled I gave up quickly, but now I'm forcing myself to work through things and it turns out I don't have to be naturally gifted at something to still get really good results and good grades. And I think the same can be true for a lot of us, if we give ourselves the opportunity to make it happen.

[skwpr]

7 Terrible Study Habits To Quit Immediately

Not Making To-Do Lists

If you’re going into a study session without a plan or to-do list regarding what you’re going to study, you’re not properly maximizing your time. 

I usually start working on homework assignments as soon as school is over; but before I actually start, I review the day’s classes and make a list of the assignments I have to do.

It’s also helpful to prioritize so you can efficiently finish your homework. I usually do this on my laptop with digital sticky notes (like the image below), but you can also use a physical planner and to-do lists.

Making lists and setting goals doesn’t just apply to homework, though. Whenever you’re having a study session or attending a lecture, come prepared! Always preview the work beforehand and make a to-do list of important things you’ll learn or will go over.

Writing to-do lists will help you organize your tasks while studying, and is a great study habit to build to effectively tackle your busy study life. 

Not Prioritizing

Prioritizing comes hand in hand with making to-do lists, and it’s key to studying productively without feeling burnt out. 

Once you’ve got your to-do list written out, analyze each task and determined which are the most important and urgent. These could be based on a variety of factors, like:

Due date

Time it will take to complete

Percentage of your grade

Difficulty

Whether you’ll be collaborating with someone

Once you’ve ranked each task on your to-do list (don’t worry, it will become easier as you do this more often), you can get to work with a sense of purpose and structure.

Having structure has always been one of my top study habits and has helped me stay productive, and I hope you’ll try it as well!

Having Your Phone Near

Your phone is likely your biggest distraction while studying. It just holds so many interesting things, especially social media and entertainment. These will distract you and cause you to procrastinate or multitask while studying, both terrible study habits.

It’s not easy to break your phone addiction completely, but physically keeping your phone away can definitely help. When your phone is in another room, you won’t be exposed to constant notifications and will then stay focused and productive while studying.

However, if you find extreme difficulty in separating from your phone, you can begin by turning off social media notifications. Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, etc. can be hard to quit once you open them, so avoid doing so in the first place by turning off notifications.

Looking & Not Seeing

I used to take notes by reading the textbook and copying down whatever I thought was important. I highlighted terms, underlined names, drew some pictures… but the entire time, I didn’t really understand what was going on.

Whenever you’re taking notes, annotating a document, reading an essay, or learning something new in general, actively see and understand, not just look and accept.

This means that you should think about what you’re learning, pose questions to yourself and/or the teacher, make connections with your previous knowledge, and overall put thought into what you’re learning.

Just looking and not seeing is a study habit you should quit immediately, as it is a complete waste of time and effort on your part. Only when you actively use your brain to understand and form connections will the information stick.

Studying In Bed

Your bed is where your body associates with rest and play, and your mind will not be focused enough for you to study productively and effectively. Therefore, what you should do is to study in a designated study space like your desk.

However, it’s important to note that you should only study at your desk as well, and not watch movies, go on your phone, etc. Only when you clearly separate spaces for work/rest will your body and mind make the same associations.

So get up and off your bed and move to a desk or table the next time you’re studying, then jump back when you want to rest; be sure to make this a habit!

Procrastinating

Procrastination is one of the most common bad study habits students have. When you get intimidated by your work or distracted by something fun, you often end up procrastinating for more than you intended.

But it’s not impossible to beat procrastination! One of the best tips I have is to plan ahead and break things down. Similar to making to-do lists, doing these 2 things will give you structure and actionable steps, which will make everything seem easier.

Relying On The Textbook

The last bad study habit that many students don’t realize is their complete dependence on the textbook. No textbook is perfectly exhaustive and comprehensible, so it’s important to utilize outside resources as well.

Though reading the textbook can be of great help, you sometimes need more information (or simply more opinions) to fully comprehend something. Therefore, a good habit to build would be to search around more.

Here are some resources you can use other than the textbook to learn about a certain topic:

Your teacher or classmates

Wikipedia (great for people and historical events)

Britannica (great for people, concepts/ideas, and events)

YouTube (best for math and science concepts)

Quora (best for abstract/opinion-based ideas)

Once you break these 7 bad study habits, you’ll be ready to become a better student and tackle your studies with no trouble.

[idkanametoputhere]

hi!! i have a request! of a fic or hcs either one is great so it's about reader/yuu and grim get stuck in a time loop and they try ways to escape but no luck and they just try to learn to accept it. (at least they will be together forever 🤷)



(Ofc, you don't have to do it if you don't want to.)

hi love! let me tell u I LOVE ur request, I actually wanted to write smth like this but didn't really start writing it so thank u for giving me the opportunity to write it :)

type: angst(-y)

pronouns: they/them

tw: mentions of suicide, poisoning oneself, drowning, mentions of going mad, implied assault(or worse) if u squint, literally losing your mind

masterlist<3

time is a concept of the human mind. it was created by ancient races when seeing the sun's position. throughout the centuries it evolved into the modern concept of time, calculated in days, hours, seconds, etc. science has proven time and time again that time can only move forward, the present was the future and will be the past. that is simply a rule that mother nature set on the universe

that logic of course does not apply to a world as twisted as this one

the beloved prefect, along with their cat-like companion, came to the conclusion that time has little to no significance in this world. it is a concept that the forces of the universe enjoy toying with

it was the first day of school, the welcoming ceremony. or to be more specific, it was the fifty-second welcoming ceremony for that year, for the prefect and grim at least

the first time it happened, they were almost set ablaze by grim as he tried to take their spot as a student. nowadays they just wait for the coffin to open and grant them permission to step out, too exhausted to try and follow the original scenario

and it always goes the same way, step out, head to the mirror, be told that you have no soul, get sorted to ramshackle

'be told that you have no soul' funny. originally the phrase was used by the dark mirror towards the prefect as a way to exclaim that they are magicless. now the prefect thinks that the literal meaning of the phrase fits them way better

and so they live their school life in this endless loop. sometimes they have fun, knowing how things will play out and watching from the sidelines, other times they warn their friends and schoolmates as they are worried for their well being. but no matter what they do, two things remain the same

one is that the students are always unsettled by them

the more the cycle repeats, the more students want to avoid the ramshackle dorm altogether. friends that once fed grim tuna and comforted the prefect during their lowest times now have an unexplainable fear of their old friends. an unreasonable fear

they feel like they know them, but at the same time they have never met them before. they feel as if they have spent years by their side, but they aren't even from the same world

the weirdest thing, though, happened when ortho tried to scan them to get their information. most of their information was normal, except from two things. instead of their age being displayed, the numbers were going crazy, constantly switching, reaching even three digits some times. and their life state? dead

the second thing that remained the same was of course the storyline. no matter what they did, it was always the same. like a broken record that's stuck on the same part of the song. some little things changed, like their grades for instance. when they first arrived they couldn't even understand the logic of this world, by the tenth time they almost knew the whole history textbook by heart

of course, there weren't many positives to the loop. there were so many nights where the prefect was crying their eyes off, holding grim as they were both comforting eachother with their presence. you see, living the same thing again and again can drive you crazy

and when the glass gets constantly filled, it eventually spills

they tried every way to get out of the loop. they drank poison that turned their veins black and filled their lungs with a black cloud of smoke, not letting them inhale any air. another time they reached a cliff on the isle of sage, the sea being under them, covered by large rocks. they fell into it, breaking so many bones that their mind couldn't comprehend it. and then there was the time when they filled their bathtub with water, not stopping the water from running even when the tub was full. they went under water and stayed there until their last air bubbles reached the surface

nothing

nothing happened

every single time they woke up at that god forsaken coffin

why? why were the gods punishing them like that? what sins and crimes did they commit at their past life for them to be punished like this?

they tried everything, everything in their power to escape that cursed routine, but they were unable to

at least they had grim with them. they don't know how much worse the things they'd so would be if he wasn't there to keep them company

what they didn't know was the singular condition for the loop to end

they had to stop their friends from overblotting before they did. together with grim, they had to use their brains and magic to stop the students on their school from overblotting.they had to stop all the negative thoughts from consuming and taking over the people they have seen drowning in ink so many times before. they had to paint the picture another colour, different from the black that was painting the canvas of their lives

but they couldn't

and so the loop continues, as the ramshackle residents fall into an eternal rabbit hole of madness and repetition, with the key to their escape just out of their reach

no I did NOT almost forget grim, WHAT are u talking about. and no I did NOT write this in a total of 30 minutes, in the span of two days when I was on the bus and getting back from school. me? never!!!!

anywho when I reach 100 followers (currently at 91) I will do a "meet the author" so yeah

[koshirulynn]

-Use me to get over him-

High school AU-Mysta Rias x reader-pt2 of 'As you wish'

In which your friendship between you and your classmate gets confusing. With your crush showing mixed signs and your classmate makes his move.

(Please do not take this seriously. This is for fun and fun only. If any streamer comes across this I apologize! Anyways please enjoy!!"

--Recap--

"I see I see, did you get their number?Hehe"

"Shit,I didn't"

"Ah it should be fine, you could always get it tomorrow yknow"

"Yknow what, I actually will"

-The next day-

Munching on your favorite meal for breakfast is the best thing that has happened to you all this week. Other than the news of what your crush had brought upon you, you still couldn't help but still like him. Human emotions were something confusing to everyone, you knew that you would find yourself eventually.

With your headphones on the table and your textbook at the side, you decided to take a small break from reading the book and look on social media. Ignoring the irrelevant people like your annoying cousins you realize that you have like 7 messages from the same person. Your science lab partner, Shu Yamino.

--

Shu.YaMinion69: Mysta has something to ask you later

Shu.YaMinion69:*insert meme*

Shu.YaMinion69:Also I need help with the science homework-

Shu.YaMinion69:BTW C/n texted me to tell you that he will meet you in the 'place where he pulled you last time'

Shu.YaMinion69:I think he is a weirdo but like he could have texted you instead of me

Shu.YaMinion69:You need to tell me about whatever he meant, we have science tomorrow so yes

Shu.YaMinion69:Look at this

Shu.YaMinion69:*insert reel*

--

Reading the texts, you found it also odd that C/n texted Shu instead of you. You follow him on nearly every social platform there is and you guys also did text before because of projects and homework. It was truly weird to you but in reality, this guy was only using you to get closer to R/n. He just didn't want to be in your dm's because he knew that R/n was the jealous type. She would accuse him of cheating even if the texts shared between the two parties were from just two weeks before they started dating. She was that delusional.

Noticing the time, you replied to Shu quickly and shoved your books in your bag. Plugging your headphones in and slid on your shoes. You began your cold morning to school. 'how enjoyable.'

--

The day was going far too normal for your liking well that was until you were pulled into the janitor's closet. 'this is definitely C/n's doings' You thought to yourself but only to be proven wrong when you heard the unique voice of Mysta Rias himself.

"Heyy um Hi Y/n" The grip on your wrist was bearable but still it was tight. You gave him a confused look before opening your mouth.

"Mysta? Why did you pull me in here-hehe I thought that you were c/n"You chuckled to yourself at the thought of your crush but remembered again about what he told you the day before.

"Well, that's kinda the- actually no. I wanted to ask you for your number" His tone set you off, he looked a bit frantic but what he was asking you was something much different. You saw a pen in the pocket of his buttoned shirt so you took it. Next thing Mysta knew, you were scribbling the digits of your number on the back of his hand.

The fox-like boy kept looking at the door but the grip on your wrist had loosened a bit."Why are you so scared?"You questioned Mysta while you finished writing the last three numbers.

"There is something I wanted to ask of you and I did?"He scratched the back of his head with his other hand. Seemingly that he was still nervous around you, you let go of his hand.

"Why so unsure? anyways I want to eat my fo-"

"WAIT! Uh I mean I saw two students making out in the classroom beside and I just don't want you to see that cause they were getting into it. All SLOPPY yeah- and it just was a stomach-churning scene hehe" It was like Mysta was lying between his teeth cause he latched onto your wrist once more.

"We've both seen Shoto and Vox get all sloppy at that one party before, I think I can take thi-" He squeezed your wrist tighter.

"Trust me, it is bad, let's just wait another 5 minutes please.."He was really begging you to not go even though he got your number. Sighing in defeat, you just gave in to him.

"Okay Mysta, you win" you smiled at him and the male student in front of you returned the favor, letting go of you once again.

There were still 15 minutes of lunch left so both you and Mysta decided that the coast was clear now. Mysta even double-checked by looking both left and right as he poked his head out of the janitor's closet.

--

As you parted ways, Mysta whipped out his phone and Dm'ed Shu.

MystariasRias: I found C/n and R/n making out in the spare, empty classroom beside the janitor's closet and Y/n was gonna walk by.

Seen

--

There were many incidents where Mysta had to pull you aside to prevent you from seeing R/n and C/n kissing, hugging, and doing couple things in the open. This was happening for the rest of the week and you questioned it after the second time Mysta did it.

You were going to the canteen/cafeteria but then you were stopped once you saw Mysta across the hall. This just made you turn to face the other side and walk the longer route.

He was speed-walking to you but you honestly didn't want to be pulled aside once more. 'Not this again' You internally groaned to yourself because you knew that you would end up being in a secluded area with Mysta and miss out on half of your lunch again.

"Y/n wait!-" you were tugged into the embrace of the fox-like boy but your eyes met with familiar ones. It was C/n but looking down, you saw R/n holding his hand, fingers interlocked.

"Oh Hi Y/n, uh we have to get going, goodbye" You were devastated, you found your own rival with your crush. Well, now ex-crush. She always takes whoever you liked in the end. 'How tiring' They were heading in the direction you came from, looking at the as they passed by. R/n looked back and waved while smiling at you then she continued to follow C/n.

Pulling into a hug, Mysta stroked your hair while you just stay there in shock. You were still processing what just had happened. Thinking that all those times, Mysta was protecting you from seeing your own crush with your rival. The person who betrayed you.

Once the information processed in, you began to tear up and cry. Your arms tightened around him, pulling you in by the waist as you let all your emotions erupt. It was comforting as it lasted, you wanted to stay in his warm embrace but he pulled you into the classroom where C/n and R/n had come from. It was where your next class was.

"Use me to get over him"

Mysta,who was hugging you. It was all friendly as you let go of all your frustrations. His hands were wrapped around you like he was protective of you. Then and there,you realised that Mysta was the one who like you for you.

In a whispered tone, the fox like male hushed you with his welcoming voice.

"as you wish"

In all honesty, this was really short and not really well made because I have been sick for the past 2 weeks . I hope you guys enjoyed it regardless <3

--Use me to get over him-pt2 done--

taglist: @yukkitosposts , @gh0stwrl , @hisanory2702

[digitaldetoxworld]

Technology Integration Education Research A New Era

Technology  Integration Education Research  era has revolutionized the manner college students examine and teachers coach. From interactive digital gear and virtual classrooms to artificial intelligence (AI) and information-driven insights, generation is reshaping schooling on a global scale. This transformation is going beyond replacing conventional chalkboards with smartboards or textbooks with capsules. It offers a extra dynamic, personalized, and efficient studying experience that prepares college students for the demands of the twenty first-century workforce. As we discover the profound effect of technology integration in education, we're going to have a look at its advantages, challenges, and the approaches it's far shaping the future of mastering.

The Evolution of Technology in Education

Historically, education has been characterized by using traditional techniques of practice, which include lectures, textbooks, and hands-on activities. While these stay treasured, the appearance of era has brought a wealth of recent tools and assets that enhance the coaching and learning manner.

Technology in education began with the introduction of computers and the internet in classrooms, but it has on account that advanced into an atmosphere that includes smart gadgets, academic software program, on-line gaining knowledge of systems, and virtual studying environments. Schools and universities now contain era in multiple ways, from mixed getting to know models to fully on-line courses. This evolution allows for extra interactive, bendy, and reachable schooling for inexperienced persons of all ages.

The Benefits of Technology Integration in Education

Personalized Learning:

One of the most huge benefits of generation in schooling is its capability to facilitate customized gaining knowledge of reviews. With the assist of AI and system gaining knowledge of algorithms, educational platforms can tailor classes, quizzes, and exercises to individual college students’ learning speeds and patterns. This guarantees that each scholar gets guidance at their own tempo, minimizing frustration and maximizing comprehension.

Tools like adaptive getting to know software program analyze a scholar's progress and offer focused content that addresses their particular wishes. For instance, a pupil suffering with math can obtain extra practice troubles, at the same time as a greater advanced scholar is probably challenged with higher-degree questions.

Enhanced Engagement:

Interactive tools including instructional games, simulations, and multimedia content material make studying greater attractive and fun for students. Visual and audio elements help explain complicated concepts in approaches that conventional strategies won't, making studying extra reachable to visual and auditory inexperienced persons.

Virtual Reality (VR) and Augmented Reality (AR) are also more and more being utilized in lecture rooms to create immersive studying studies. Students can discover historical civilizations, visit outer area, or dissect virtual animals, all with out leaving the study room. These gear captivate students’ interest and make gaining knowledge of more memorable.

Collaboration and Communication:

Technology enables collaboration amongst students, instructors, and even worldwide friends. Tools like Google Classroom, Microsoft Teams, and Zoom allow for real-time communique, document sharing, and collaborative tasks. Students can paintings collectively on assignments, talk thoughts, and supply peer feedback, regardless of their physical area.

In addition to pupil collaboration, era permits instructors to hold higher communication with students and mother and father. Online portals and apps offer instant updates on grades, assignments, and attendance, allowing for more obvious and ongoing feedback.

Accessibility and Inclusivity:

It  has the capacity to make schooling more inclusive via offering get admission to to resources for students with disabilities. For example, display readers and textual content-to-speech software help visually impaired college students, whilst speech recognition equipment help students with bodily or getting to know disabilities take part extra completely in elegance.

Online guides and digital textbooks additionally allow students from remote or underserved areas to get entry to high-quality education. With the rise of Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs), novices from around the arena can take publications from top universities without ever stepping foot on campus.

Global Learning Opportunities:

It  breaks down geographical limitations, allowing college students to connect to friends, teachers, and experts from around the sector. Through digital exchanges, college students can engage in cross-cultural projects, discussions, and studies. This international angle complements students’ expertise of various cultures and fosters empathy, crucial thinking, and worldwide citizenship.

Moreover, online structures like Coursera,  and Khan Academy offer college students get admission to to world-elegance schooling from pinnacle universities and establishments, regularly at little to no cost.

Data-Driven Insights:

Importance technology integration education   affords   educators with powerful equipment to collect and examine records on scholar performance. Learning control systems (LMS) and evaluation equipment generate unique reviews on student development, figuring out regions of electricity and people requiring in addition attention. This facts allows instructors to make knowledgeable decisions, adjust coaching techniques, and provide centered interventions to help student getting to know.

Predictive analytics also can help become aware of students who are vulnerable to falling behind, allowing instructors to interfere early and offer the vital help to preserve them on the right track.

[bhhstilinski]

Chapter 1

Annabeth Chase’s least favorite way to start the day was in a rush. She liked having time to plan a list of tasks and wake up fully before driving off to school. She was also a firm believer that breakfast was essential to starting the day. Most mornings, she sat down with eggs on toast or a bowl of cereal and read the news on her phone for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, none of this was an option today. She should’ve known the day wasn’t going to be a normal one when it started with her waking up fifteen minutes after her alarm. Instead of the blaring noise from her phone, Annabeth was roused by the sounds of her dad waking up down the hall. She turned her head to where her bookcase stood faithfully beside her bed, within an arm’s reach. Blinking her bleary eyes, Annabeth focused on the clock sitting atop it. She stared at the clock for a second as her tired brain made sense of the lines and dots projected on its digital face. The moment she realized what time it was, she sprung out of bed in a panic.

After a rushed shower, Annabeth threw on the outfit she had laid out for herself the night before. She crammed textbooks and binders into her backpack and left her room without a second glance. In the kitchen, she grabbed a yogurt and some cheese and crackers for lunch later. Annabeth would’ve liked to pack a granola bar to eat for breakfast, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t even indulge in that luxury this morning. When she got to school she would have to stop by her psychology classroom to drop off a poster; she also had to run to the library and return a stack of books she’d used to research for the project. As that thought ran through her brain, it alerted her to the fact that she had left her poster and materials in her room. She bounded up the steps and all but flew down the hall, retrieving her poster and textbooks before heading back downstairs at a slower pace.

Annabeth gathered her backpack, phone, keys, poster, and books, struggling to balance all of it as she opened the door and left her house. She deposited everything but her keys and phone in the backseat and slid into the front. As she pulled out of the driveway, Annabeth glanced at the clock built into the dashboard. She would still have to hurry when she got to school to complete her errands and make it to her first class on time.

When she reached the parking lot, Annabeth pulled into her regular space and hopped out of the car. She had always parked in the overflow lot to avoid the majority of the other students since hearing nightmare stories about the horrible driving and hectic speeding that often occurred in the afternoons. Plus, the door was located close to her first hour class, calculus. Unfortunately, today she bypassed the math classroom and headed for psychology. It was her last class, and Annabeth didn’t want to lug her poster around all day. She made up her mind to drop off the project and then proceed to the library where she could return her textbooks, since it was located a little further down the same hallway.

To her disappointment, Annabeth arrived at the psychology classroom and was greeted with a flock of other students who had evidently had the same idea as her. A line of sleepy high schoolers stretched across the room and almost reached the hallway. Annabeth took her place at the end of the line, shifting the weight of her backpack on her shoulders and balancing the stack of textbooks in her left hand as she held her rolled-up poster in her right. With a few people still in front of her, Annabeth focused on keeping the book on top of the stack from sliding off. It was dangerously close to doing so. Just as the thought entered her mind, she watched as if in slow motion as the book slipped and fell.

It thudded against the thin carpet, resounding against the concrete not far beneath. Annabeth winced, trying to figure out how to bend down and pick it up without everything else spilling out of her hands and without her backpack tipping her over. As she attempted to crouch, a hand extended from beside her and reached down to pick up the textbook. Gratefully, Annabeth turned to the person now standing next to her. Her words of gratitude stalled in her mouth when she saw who was now holding her textbook. A memory resurfaced within her mind of their first meeting, when they were still just anxious kids on the first day of a new school year.

~flashback~

Annabeth slouched in her seat, peering out the window at the neighborhood where the bus had just screeched to a halt. A truck idled at the mouth of the street, and a cluster of kids around her age looked up at the yellow machine that opened its doors to them. Annabeth watched as the elementary schoolers boarded the bus, noticing how they fell naturally into a single file line. As she looked on, the doors to the truck parked at the end of the street swung open. A woman who looked to be the same age as Annabeth’s stepmother stepped out of the driver’s side while a boy around her own age clambered out of the other door. His large backpack made him seem even smaller as he followed the woman, most likely his mother, to the bus doors.

The other kids had already boarded the bus and filed into seats as the woman climbed the bus stairs and stopped to talk to the bus driver. Annabeth, sitting near the middle of the bus, could only catch snippets of the discussion, but she deduced that the boy’s mother wanted to make sure this was the correct bus before allowing him to board. After a brief conversation, the woman disembarked the bus and the boy appeared in the aisle. Annabeth noticed his hesitance as he walked between the tall gray seats on either side of the pathway. As he reached the seat where she and her backpack resided, his face brightened.

“Can I sit here?” the boy asked, gesturing to the space left in Annabeth’s seat. She nodded silently, sliding over and moving her backpack to the floor to make room for the boy to sit down. She tucked a braid behind her ear as the bus lurched and proceeded on its route to the school. The boy placed his large backpack on the floor and continued to speak. “I don’t know anyone here. We just moved, so this is my first day,” he explained.

Annabeth smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m only in first grade, so I don’t have many friends either,” she reassured him. An excited expression lit up the boy’s face.

“I’m just starting first grade, too! I’m Percy, by the way.”

“I’m Annabeth,” the girl replied, meeting Percy’s eyes for the first time. They were a piercing ocean blue, patterned in a way that made them look like ripples on the surface of the water. His hair fell in sandy blonde waves in front of his face, and she wondered if he had bothered to brush it after waking up that morning. Her own dark hair was braided in her favorite hairstyle, which she liked because it kept her curls out of her face. Percy didn’t seem to mind this.

The pair sat in silence for a moment before Percy piped up again, asking her how she spent her summer. Annabeth described how her new twin half-brothers kept her dad and step-mom busy, and Percy responded with anecdotes of trips to the beach with his mom and celebrating his birthday with blue cupcakes on the shores of Montauk. They chattered away as the bus carried them to school, and the whole time they talked, Annabeth couldn’t keep her gaze away from his eyes. Her own irises were dark brown, almost black, and Percy’s stare mesmerized her.

~present day~

Annabeth was met with the same stare as she looked into the eyes of her former friend. Percy Jackson stood in front of her, textbook in his grasp, a faint smile gracing his face. His backpack no longer dwarfed him as he had grown to be taller than her since they had first met. His hair, now full curls but just as unruly, fell across his forehead. But his eyes hadn’t changed. They still looked like the ocean, patterned with waves, a clear blue color betraying depth beneath.

“Hey, Annabeth,” Percy said simply. Three years since he had suddenly stopped talking to her, and the first thing he says is “hey.” Annabeth couldn’t believe it. She expected him to hand the textbook back to her, or at least place it back on top of the stack in her hand, but he held onto it. As the line of students moved closer to the teacher’s desk, Percy stepped with her, holding her book.

She didn’t know what to say. He was basically a stranger to her now. Since he’d abruptly ended their friendship at the end of the summer before freshman year, Percy had climbed in the ranks of popularity, becoming captain of the swim team and hanging out with people he’d never spoken to before. Annabeth had watched from afar as he seemed to become a different person, spending time with all the athletes, attending parties, and even dating a few of the girls in his new friend group. Unsure of how to read the situation, she just asked the first question that popped into her mind.

“What are you doing here?”

She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. They sounded accusatory, despite the fact that her initial hostile feelings at his betrayal had simmered to a prolonged sadness years ago. Annabeth watched Percy’s face for signs of defensiveness, but he just let out a small laugh. “I’m in this class,” he responded.

“Oh.” Annabeth couldn’t believe how stupid she sounded. Of course he was in this class; it should’ve been obvious. She was too preoccupied with the shock of seeing Percy again. She wracked her brain for something to say next. “How do you like the teacher?”

Percy glanced at the desk, where Mrs. Reed was busy instructing a girl on where to put her project. “She’s… not my favorite,” he said, dropping his voice conspiratorially. “Way too strict for my taste. Once I showed up as the bell was ringing and she still gave me a tardy!”

Annabeth laughed despite herself. Percy always seemed to have that effect on her. “That is the rule, you know.”

He shrugged, grinning at her reaction. “Doesn’t mean I can’t think it’s ridiculous. I mean, come on, they get us for an hour every day. I’m going to make the most of my time right up until class starts.”

Annabeth had always admired his carefree attitude towards school. She knew he’d always struggled to focus in class due to his ADHD, and he’d learned to never put too much pressure on himself because of it. In hindsight, she wished she’d had the same mindset. Annabeth always put pressure on herself when it came to school, pushing herself to take the hardest classes and maintain a 4.0 GPA. She’d always valued knowledge, but she also hoped that she could make her absent mother proud. Her birth mom was a professor at Columbia University, so Annabeth threw herself into her studies, placing all of her self-worth on her grades. Part of her knew she was fighting a losing battle, but she liked to ignore that part.

She stepped closer to Mrs. Reed’s desk as the line inched forward. Her turn was next, but she suddenly didn’t want to leave. “So how’s swim season going?” she asked Percy, attempting to prolong the conversation.

His expressions betrayed his passion as he described early morning practices and weekend meets, detailing how he loved to cheer on the other swimmers almost as much as he loved to swim himself. Annabeth felt herself opening up to him again. It felt as if no time had passed from their last conversation three years ago. But reminders of how he abandoned her crept into her thoughts, and she knew she couldn’t open herself up again. After Percy left her, she’d had only her friends Thalia and Luke. But they were both older than her, with Luke starting college after Annabeth’s freshman year and Thalia leaving a year after him. Thankfully, she’d managed to make a friend at the start of high school.

Emily La Rue, referred to only as Emi by everyone except substitute teachers, was new to New York at the start of her freshman year. She’d moved from Scotland and met Annabeth just a few days into the school year. The two of them quickly became friends and would frequently stay up late texting each other. Where Luke and Thalia would chide Annabeth and tell her to get to sleep, Emi had the same nocturnal habits. They worked on homework together, hung out after school, and talked all the time. So when Luke and eventually Thalia went off to universities across the country, Annabeth wasn’t alone.

Despite having company and friendship, Annabeth would never forget the pain of being discarded. Percy had cast her aside to become popular because she wasn’t good enough for him, just like how she was never good enough for her mother.

Remembering their past, Annabeth steeled herself against Percy’s effortless charm. She nodded along as he spoke, but she promised herself that she would never let someone get that close to her again. When he asked about her articles for the school paper, she skirted around the question, instead mentioning that she might recommend him to other writers for a profile.

“Well I’m not sure if I’m interesting enough,” Percy began with a chuckle, “but if you wanted to write-”

“Miss Chase, is that your project?” The rest of Percy’s sentence was cut off by the admonishing tone of Mrs. Reed, who was staring pointedly at Annabeth. She realized it had probably been her turn to talk to the teacher for a while now.

Unfurling the posterboard, Annabeth responded hastily. “Uh, yes, I was just wondering if I could keep it in here for today? Until sixth hour?” She was keenly aware of Percy Jackson standing over her shoulder, watching this interaction.

“Sixth hour projects can go right over there.” Mrs. Reed pointed to the back wall of the room.

Annabeth proceeded to the corner and set her poster on the floor, checking one last time to make sure she’d written her name on it. “Thank you!” she said to the teacher as she walked back towards the door of the classroom, remembering she still had to make a stop at the library before the start of class. Percy was waiting for her at the door, still holding her textbook. “So…” she started awkwardly, “my book?”

“Oh, right,” he said, looking uncomfortable for once. He handed her the heavy volume. Annabeth gave him a terse smile as he continued talking. “So I’ll see you around, I guess?”

Annabeth wasn’t sure what to make of this. She had barely seen him for years, and all of a sudden they’re on “see you around” terms? She looked at Percy, hesitating in the door frame. “Sure,” she replied, and turned to the hallway, holding her books with two hands as she walked towards the library. Annabeth told herself not to look back. It didn’t matter if he was still standing there, watching her with his oceanic eyes. She didn’t care.

[xsparklingravenx]

the rose’s scent

Title: the rose’s scent

Fandom: Link Click

Characters: Cheng Xiaoshi, Lu Guang, Qiao Ling, Xiao Li

Rating: T

Word Count: 12,363

Summary: Cheng Xiaoshi, photography, and the act of preserving the past in the face of a daunting future.

[Major spoilers for season 1′s finale.]

AO3

There was a camera in his hands. An old one, small and black, with a space in the hollow for film and a heaviness that could only be associated with something analogue. There was no digital screen to see its subject, a small viewfinder at the top, and chunky buttons that clicked satisfyingly when pressed. A treasure by any other name. A way to freeze the present dead in its tracks, to embalm the past, to prevent decomposition.

The early afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the empty classroom, rambunctious shouts coming from below where Cheng Xiaoshi could see other students mingling. Some were talking while others played sports, balls bouncing across hot concrete. It was a perfectly normal day, achingly so, several lessons behind him and several more to come. This window of peace would last only for thirty minutes more before it would be back to the grind, pens on paper, textbooks open.

He raised the camera, centring the unaware students beneath him in the viewfinder. A girl shyly approaching a lonesome boy, a gaggle of friends laughing and clutching at their sides, the tallest member of the basketball team taking a shot. Which moment was worth the most? What should he choose to save?

“Oh. It’s you.”

Click.

Cheng Xiaoshi hit the shutter release in surprise. Whatever picture he’d taken would have to wait until he got the film developed—that was both the beauty and the curse of a non-digital device. Whirling on the spot at the semi-familiar voice, his eyes fell on the newcomer, his own brows raising in surprise.

White hair, just on the right side of unkempt. Dark eyes, the pupil hidden from view in their depths. A mouth downturned, not quite severe, but not quite soft either. A boy, one Cheng Xiaoshi had encountered only a couple of times personally despite sharing the same class.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Lu Guang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, lowering the camera. Lu Guang’s eyes tracked its movement, but he said nothing. Never one for silence, Cheng Xiaoshi carried on. “Too hot for you outside? I get it, the sun is killer today, huh?”

“Not quite. I forgot something,” Lu Guang approached his desk, where a boring-looking, doorstopper of a novel sat unopened. “Just came back to get it, is all.”

Cheng Xiaoshi hummed his response, watching as Lu Guang reached for the book, his fingers curling around the spine. His hands were slender, not quite suited for basketball at a glance, but it was on the court they’d met regardless. He was a new addition to the school, a new addition to Cheng Xiaoshi’s periphery, a boy who didn’t seem to quite fit in with the status-quo.

But Cheng Xiaoshi appreciated that, because he’d always felt like he didn’t quite fit either.

It was a pleasant kind of silence as Lu Guang flipped through his book to check his ear-marked page, as Cheng Xiaoshi fiddled with one of the settings on the camera. Comfortable, even, in the same kind of way it was when he was at Qiao Ling’s house, the two of them doing their homework together while her Dad watched the news downstairs. There was a considerable distance between them, one stood at the window, one across the room at his desk, yet it felt like nothing at all.

“You gonna hit the court again sometime soon?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked.

“You like photography?” Lu Guang’s voice slid the question beneath Cheng Xiaoshi’s own.

They both looked at one another, startled by their perfect timing. A small smile broke like dawn on Lu Guang’s face, while a peal of laughter escaped Cheng Xiaoshi’s lips. He shook his head, straightening up. “Me first, or you?”

“I’ll give my answer first. It depends.”

“On?”

“On if you’ll be playing too.” Lu Guang paused. “You’re always the best player. I can’t trust anyone else to shoot if I pass to them.”

It was kind of an arrogant thing to say, but because it was praise directed Cheng Xiaoshi’s way, he couldn’t help but grow euphoric with pride. He recognised those words, that talk of trust and passing. “Oh? I’m the best? Wanna say that again?”

“You heard me the first time.” There was that smile again, small, but fun. “You know you’re good. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice hearing it anyway. Cool, so we’ll hit the court together, no big deal.” Cheng Xiaoshi glanced back down to the camera. “And, to answer your question now, yeah, I guess I do.”

It was a lame answer; so few words could hardly explain the magnitude of what photography really meant. But it felt foolish to go into it with someone who was a casual acquaintance at best, a complete stranger at worst. And what use would there be, really, in laying out every pathetic detail to someone who’d only asked a simple question?

Lu Guang’s gaze was heavy as he stared at the camera in Cheng Xiaoshi’s hands. He could feel the weight of it even from across the room. The sun beat through the window onto his back, and time felt gauzy and immaterial, like this moment would last forever if he let it.

He raised the camera, finger hovering over the shutter, but in the end he thought better of it. Instead, he asked, “You look interested. Wanna see it? It’s nothing much, kind of an old model so it might look a little difficult, but, uh…”

Cheng Xiaoshi trailed off as Lu Guang crossed the distance between them, taking the camera in his hands and peering through the viewfinder. For a moment, Cheng Xiaoshi thought he might take a photo, and he wondered desperately what he might look through that lens. Qiao Ling had taken pictures of him, with him, low-pixel selfies on the latest smartphones, washed-out polaroids on those little cameras that girls bought as fashion accessories, but he knew what to expect with those.

But Lu Guang didn’t press the shutter-release. He lowered the camera again, his dark eyes peering over the top. “What sort of pictures do you take?”

“All sorts. People, places, whatever catches my eye, you know?” Cheng Xiaoshi wasn’t sure if he did know, but that was fine. “I can take one of you, if you want. Right here, right now.”

“Uh, no, no thanks.” A faint hint of pink dusted Lu Guang’s cheeks, starkly contrasting his pale hair. “I’m good.”

“Camera-shy?” Cheng Xiaoshi laughed.

“Something like that.”

“Why does that sound like it’s not true?”

Lu Guang snorted softly. He handed the camera back, a brush of skin as Cheng Xiaoshi took it. The sun caught them both in its glow. “It’s true enough. Well, thanks for showing me it, but I should…”

“Go?” Cheng Xiaoshi finished for him. “Aw, so that’s it? Just gonna grab your book and leave? Why not stick around a little while. People-watching is great, you can see the whole campus from up here.”

He gestured to the window behind him. Lu Guang stood at his side, looking out. A heartbeat passed, another, and finally he spoke. “Everyone has something going on in their lives, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” Cheng Xiaoshi agreed. “Way too much sometimes, and then the people in their lives have all their stuff going on, and it just kind of keeps spiralling out.”

“Do one thing, and it affects everyone around you,” Lu Guang mused, leaning his arm on the window, forehead against it. “I didn’t think you’d be one for watching. You seem like the type to act.”

Cheng Xiaoshi looked back down at the camera, a little impressed. “Sounds like you’re the observant one.”

Lu Guang laughed at that, a delightful, shy little sound. Something told Cheng Xiaoshi that it was a rarity, bottled lightning, a moment worth preserving, but he could hardly keep sound in a photograph. There was a limit to photography. It could capture singular moments, save an expression, an act, a mood, but that was it. The heat of the sun, the pulse of his heart, the ring of laughter—all of it would be gone in a moment, a faded memory in motion.

But Lu Guang didn’t know that. He simply turned his head and said, “Maybe I am.”

~x~

The science-fiction and fantasy shows the three of them often got together to watch in the late hours were right about one thing; for every supernatural power, there had to be a limit.

The interrogation room was cold and silent. The food was tasteless, cardboard in Cheng Xiaoshi’s mouth. Every bite was a struggle to swallow, stuck to the back of his throat while his hands shook too much to get the chopsticks to his lips.

In the end, he put them down, took a few shaky breaths, then collapsed into his arms. It was the worst sort of crying, loud and ugly and brittle, like any breath could snap his body in two. Small. He felt small, like a child, lost and lonely and breaking apart.

He died. He died. He died. Again, again, again, those words spearing through him like lances, pinning him down to the table, suffocating like Liu Min’s hands around Emma’s throat. All these powers, the ability to throw himself into the past and make a difference, and for what? All to attract the attention of a serial killer, all to lose one of the only two pillars he’d ever manage to build himself.

In here, there was nothing. Without his phone, he had no photographs. Without a computer, he had no security footage. Without Lu Guang, he had no guide. What use was there in power when it had no use? What use was there in power, when the one person he’d shared it with was gone?

He wanted Qiao Ling. He wanted to touch her, to make sure she was okay, to pull her into his arms and feel her warmth against his. He wanted to hear her voice in the present, brushing against his eardrums. He wanted to hear her say, “Come on, Cheng Xiaoshi, it’ll be fine,” just the way she’d done all those years ago after May 12th.

But she was gone too, her bloodstained visage haunting him. She was likely being questioned elsewhere while he was left to stew in the knowledge that his best friend was dead and it was his own fault it had happened. Emma’s memory weighed him down like a stone and what he wouldn’t give to go back, to tell himself, stop.

“You seem like the type to act,” Lu Guang said, their first real conversation of thousands, but Cheng Xiaoshi had always remembered it. Punching a woman five-times his size. Screaming bloody-murder about an oncoming earthquake. Laying in bed, sending a text that should never have been written.

“You seem like the type to act,” Lu Guang had said, and though the memory was faded, Cheng Xiaoshi remembered this; he’d sounded a little in awe. Like it was something he couldn’t quite comprehend, something he couldn’t quite do for himself, which was ridiculous, because Lu Guang was Lu Guang, confident and unflappable and calm.

“Would you say it like that if you’d known?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked through tears, hands balled into firsts. His fault, his fault, his fault. All it had taken was a single woman’s love for her parents and he’d crumbled. One quick text message, one attempt at making a real, palpable difference, and now the blood of his best friend was all over his hands.

Time ticked onwards, every second slower than the last. His thoughts spiralled in disarray. Emma, falling. Qiao Ling, knife in hand. Blood, all over the couch, all over the floor, Lu Guang unmoving. Each sob that shuddered through him threatened to fracture in his heart. There was no coming back from this.

For hours, he waited there. The food went cold. His sobs tapered to nothing. Reality warbled around him, like the smallest movement would splinter it entirely. When the door opened, he snapped his head up, some stupid part of him wishing for someone who would not be there.

Captain Xiao Li stood there, his mouth a grim line cutting through his stern face. Cheng Xiaoshi closed his sore, red-rimmed eyes, and dropped his head back into his arms. His chest tightened; his lungs unable to expand properly.

Movement by his head. His shoulders trembled as he held back his grief, as he fought for words. He needed to ask about Qiao Ling. He needed to ask about the real killer. There was so much he had to do but it felt impossible, paralysing, like he was drowning.

“It wasn’t me,” he whispered, but deflecting blame felt wrong, felt like a lie in itself. “It was my fault, but it wasn’t me.”

“The knife had your fingerprints on it,” came Xiao Li’s voice, stiff yet calm. “But, then again, it had the victim’s and the girl’s on it too.”

Of course it did. It was in their house. Cheng Xiaoshi probably used the damn thing every day to cook. “There’s someone else.”

“Convenient.”

“Someone else like us.” Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know how else to tell him, and could only hope he would catch onto the implicit meaning. “We wouldn’t—he’s our—was our friend.”

His voice cracked as he switched tense. A hand touched his shoulder. Hefty, but firm. A weight unlike Emma, unlike his own memories, just a comforting touch.

“Someone told you,” Xiao Li said, but he sounded irritated, not sympathetic. “You asked about him, then?”

“I need you to get me a photo,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, finally looking up. Desperation coated his tone like frost. “Or footage. Something. It doesn’t matter what, I’ll make it work, I just need—”

“To go backwards?” He didn’t break eye-contact as Cheng Xiaoshi gaped at him. “I know what you do. Hard not to notice when you show up on our security footage from two years ago looking the same as you did when I met you.”

Hope ignited in his heart. Death was a node that couldn’t be changed, Lu Guang had insisted as much, but how could he know? “Then, you know—you know what I need, so Captain Xiao Li, please—”

“But you don’t need it,” Xiao Li cut him off swiftly, snuffing the hope out in an instant. “Because it’s a lie. For his protection, and you and your friend. Better the killer thinks they’ve finished the job instead of coming back for more. So take some time to calm down, and then I’ll come back and we can talk about this. You need to tell me everything you know.”

For a moment, the words floated above him, drifting on the surface. Cheng Xiaoshi took a breath, and they sank, crashing into him like a mallet. His chest loosened. “You mean he’s…?”

“Keep it to yourself,” Xiao Li said. “Situation’s tenuous, he still in surgery and might not make it, but they haven’t called it yet. But, listen. I know it wasn’t you. I know it wasn’t the girl either. There’s more to this than we could ever have imagined, and I think you’re already aware that we’re going to need you to get to the bottom of it.”

Cheng Xiaoshi nodded, quick, repeatedly, like one of those little solar-powered bobbing toys that Qiao Ling had left on their windowsill as a gift. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Xiao Li grunted, but said nothing more. A heartbeat, two, and he was gone.

~x~

Warm days were always his favourite. The shop was closed for the day, but the sun was only just on the verge of setting. The red glow across the skyline was a fraction just past golden hour, but beautiful all the same.

Cheng Xiaoshi bounced the ball in one hand, sipping at his boba with the other. Lu Guang was strewn over the park bench, the butt of his own cup resting against his forehead as he tried, futilely, to cool down. Qiao Ling sat a couple of inches away from him. Earlier she’d declared that it was too hot to even think about sharing body heat, and now she scrolled her phone, drinking her own iced tea.

“Oh! I like this one,” she said, using her thumb to hold on whatever she’d found. “Quote of the day from the page I follow!”

“Is this that weird English page you keep quoting from?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked. “‘Cause none of those sayings make any sense.”

“Because you’re illiterate.”

“Because they’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid.” She puffed a single cheek in annoyance. “Anyway, listen, here it is. Take time to stop and smell the roses.”

Admittedly, Cheng Xiaoshi’s English was not outstanding. Different grammar structures were enough to make his head start spinning, but he caught enough to figure out the literal meaning of what she’d said. Though he doubted that was the real intention of the phrase, he looked around with a grin, then shrugged. “None around to sniff, Qiao Ling.”

“That’s not what it means,” said Lu Guang. Of course he would resurrect himself from the dead given the opportunity to lord his knowledge over them. Unlike either Cheng Xiaoshi or Qiao Ling, he knew enough English to not only speak it to the very few tourists who poked their heads into their shop out of curiosity, but to also competently read it. “It’s an idiom.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi’s an idiot,” Qiao Ling giggled.

“Oh, come on! That doesn’t even make sense!”

“It means,” Lu Guang said over the top of them, taking the boba from his forehead, “that you should stop every now and then to appreciate the things around you. Like boba.”

He took a pointed sip. Qiao Ling shook her head and carried on scrolling, the twin ears of her rabbit-themed case bouncing with the movement. Cheng Xiaoshi bounced the ball again, rough texture against his fingers, heat pounding down around him. A sweet smell reached him, like rich honey, the hydrangea of the park spilling their scent all around.

And then, giggling. He looked up, spotting a very young child playing football with his father not far from them, the mother watching with a serene smile on his face. Elsewhere, a couple walked past them, hand-in-hand. A businessman spoke swiftly on his phone as he cut through the park, and Cheng Xiaoshi was at once struck by the enormity of it all, of the world at large.

Déjà vu. He’d experienced this before, in a classroom years ago now, in every single dive he’d ever made. Living the lives of others, feeling their emotions, recalling their memories. He’d lived in the bodies of the dead, of the left-behind, of the lost. He’d lived in the bodies of the living, the leaving, the found. Old and young, happy and sad, determined and aimless, he’d experienced a hundred different viewpoints, a hundred different dreams, a hundred different relationships.

Yet for as well as he’d learned all those different people, he still felt as if he had no idea of himself. Superficially, he knew of his own traits—annoying, impulsive, difficult to love, easier to leave behind—but he didn’t know who he was.

Time felt blindingly fast. Crippling fear clutched at him, as if everything might be snatched from his hands. “Think fast,” he said, tossing the ball at Lu Guang, who had to drop his boba to the bench and scramble to catch it before he got hit in the face. He barely made it in time, the ball inches from his nose, angry gibberish leaving his mouth.

Qiao Ling laughed again, her eyes twinkling in the light of the setting sun. “What was that? You nearly got him square!”

Lu Guang’s expression darkened in a comical fashion. He reached up with both hands, the ball held high, rearing back to throw it back just as hard and without any kind of verbal warning.

“Wait!” Cheng Xiaoshi cried, one hand in his pocket to grab his phone. A couple of taps, and the camera was open. He flipped it to the front-facing camera and raised it, his head low in the frame, Lu Guang caught in an act of violence, Qiao Ling leaning over to flash a V sign.

“Everyone say Shiguang,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, snapping the image before giving anyone the time to say it. A half-second later, Qiao Ling came out with it while Lu Guang watched with an inquisitive gaze.

“You didn’t give me time!” she shouted.

Swiping through the phone, Cheng Xiaoshi brought the image up, smiling in satisfaction. “Eh, it’s fine.”

“Was it a good one at least?”

“Nah, terrible. You look so ugly.

“That’s because you took it before I was ready!” She jumped up, peering over his shoulder. “Ugh, we all look bad. Delete it!”

“No way!”

“Delete it, Cheng Xiaoshi!”

She reached for the phone. He held it high out of her reach, the two of them dancing around the park in a one-sided tug-of-war that she had no chance of winning. He opened up their messaging app and sent it to both her and Lu Guang. Qiao Ling looked down at her own phone as it dinged, and then battered his shoulder hard with its case. “You’re the worst. Tell him, Lu Guang!”

Lu Guang had his own phone out now, peering at the photo with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for when they were working. He wasn’t using his power—it had barely been twelve seconds, let alone twelve hours—but he took his time before languidly looking back towards Cheng Xiaoshi.

“It’s a good photo,” he said, much to Cheng Xiaoshi’s surprise. He gave Qiao Ling a triumphant look, only for Lu Guang to carry on. “But, is everything okay?”

Drops of condensation from Qiao Ling’s boba cup hit Cheng Xiaoshi in the face, ice-cold, a startling reminder that the moment was as fragile as he’d assumed. Words bubbled in his throat and died on his tongue. How could he ever convey the truth, that he was terrified of the unexpected earthquake that could tear their lives apart in a fraction of a second, that he feared himself changing in a way that would tear the three of them apart, that he knew how fragile life was because he’d lived those scenarios.

But for all Lu Guang was observant, he was no mind reader. For all his omniscience when it came to time, he couldn’t ever inhabit another person’s head the way Cheng Xiaoshi did. So Cheng Xiaoshi forgave him for that and grinned, as wide and brilliant as the dying sun behind him, and said, “I’m smelling the roses. Couldn’t you tell?”

~x~

Sometimes, time sped along like a bullet train, hurtling forward with no means of stopping. Cheng Xiaoshi had experienced that time and time again; thirty minutes before an unpreventable disaster, or a photo’s time limit approaching the elusive twelve-hour limit, or a moment of peace he never wanted to end. In those moments, the minute-hand of the clock seemed to rush like it was desperate to reunite with its partner at the turn of the hour.

Other times, it stuttered to a stop, the train losing power on the tracks. Cheng Xiaoshi had experienced that, too; waiting at the door of the photo-studio for his parents to return, stuck beneath the rubble with another boy’s mother dying atop him, or now, in the intensive care unit, Lu Guang’s arms a mottled collection of bruises from the lines fed into him, the lower half of his face obscured by the mask.

He was awake, though to what extent he was actually conscious, Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t know. He’d been warned beforehand about the sedatives, the lines, the machines, the beeping and the alarms, but nobody had told him how harrowing it would be sit at his bedside and see the strongest person in his life reduced to this.

“Can you hear me?” he asked, knowing there would be no response. Lu Guang’s eyelids fluttered, gaze sliding around but never focusing. “Sorry it took so long to get here. They arrested me, you know? Thought I’d done it ‘cause I grabbed the knife off that sick bastard. I know we fight but that’s kind of pushing it, huh?”

He wished he wasn’t alone in this room. Qiao Ling had gone to get them drinks from the vending machine. She’d said that she’d catch up, that she thought Cheng Xiaoshi should go and see him first, but he knew it for the lie that it was. It was obvious; her guilt ran deeper than sepsis despite her bearing none of the fault, but nothing he said would make it any better.

“They have so many drugs in you right now,” Cheng Xiaoshi observed with a forced laugh, taking Lu Guang’s hand in his own. It was cold, and when he gave it a customary squeeze, he didn’t squeeze back. “Guess it makes sense though. They told me you—they lost your heartbeat twice. ‘Cause of all that blood. Ruined our couch too.”

The joke fell flat with nobody to laugh at it. Lu Guang’s eyes slipped shut. Cheng Xiaoshi held on still, because he knew that if their places were swapped, he would want the same. “That red-eyed freak…we’ve got to get him back for it. Not just for this, but for Qiao Ling too. Emma. Everyone who he’s hurt.”

He’d had one-sided conversations with Lu Guang before, at night in bed talking endlessly at the bunk above him, but it was never so lonely as this. Cheng Xiaoshi dipped his head low and drew in a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry…this is my fault. If I’d just listened, if I’d done what you’d said, then maybe—”

The door opened behind him. He knew Qiao Ling’s presence like a second skin, would have known it wasn’t her in the photo studio even if she hadn’t been covered in Lu Guang’s blood and wielding a knife. She stood utterly silent in the doorway, and when he turned to face her, he saw the frozen horror scrawled over her petite features.

She clutched the two cans of soda in her hands to denting. Tears welled in her eyes. She backed up a step, then another. Cheng Xiaoshi stood, and, before she could flee, he grabbed her around her shoulders to pull into a crushing hug.

Alive. Both of them were alive. He’d nearly lost her too, the moment the killer had turned the knife inwards and Cheng Xiaoshi had to grapple with it. His worst fears, seconds away from coming true.

“Not your fault,” Cheng Xiaoshi told her, firm, furious, not at her but at the circumstances, the killer, himself. He already knew what was going through her head because it was the same as what was going through his. “Don’t you blame yourself, you didn’t do anything.”

“Why did this happen?” she asked, her voice watery. “It was just—harmless. We help people, that’s all we were doing, so why…?”

I played with time, Cheng Xiaoshi thought, but did not say. And then I cheated the game. And now he wants me and it’s my fault, my fault, my fault—

He couldn’t spiral, not here, not when they were both damaged and he was fine. Taking Qiao Ling by the wrist, he brought her to Lu Guang and tucked his hand into hers. Then, he deposited the two cans of soda on the bedside before drawing up a second chair to take for himself.

Qiao Ling stared at Lu Guang, shadows deep beneath her eyes, her gaze haunted. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Every detail was a curse that Cheng Xiaoshi wished to forget, so he turned his attention away. Grabbing his phone from his pocket, he scrolled through his camera roll. Not to jump to—Lu Guang would never forgive him if he tried to change the past in any serious manner—but to relieve the past in a different kind of way.

“Hey, Qiao Ling,” he knocked into her side, showing her the screen. “Remember this?”

Summer, the setting sun casting its red glow, Lu Guang with a ball held high, his face twisted in irritation. Qiao Ling with her V sign, mouth half-open and her eyes half-closed. Cheng Xiaoshi just in the frame, eyes wide and entertained, mouth spread in a smile for Shiguang!

Qiao Ling scrubbed at her eyes with her free hand, her other holding Lu Guang’s in a vice-grip. “Why do you still have that stupid photo? I told you to delete it.”

“I don’t delete any pictures that make me look dashing,” Cheng Xiaoshi said with a faint smile. “And I don’t delete anything that makes me happy.”

“You’re so childish,” Qiao Ling sniffed. “Do you have more?”

“Tons. Wanna see?”

He handed over her phone, and before long, she was bringing up old memories, Cheng Xiaoshi’s great photos, his less-than-stellar ones. Weak laughter mingled with the beeping machines, and after a while, Qiao Ling said, “When was even the last time you took a proper camera out for fun instead of work?”

Too long, was the answer. He had enough fun with them at work; the photography studio was hardly the most profitable venture in the world, but sometimes someone came in looking to book for a wedding or a birthday. Though they were few and far between, they paid well, and occasionally they got requests for headshots or other professional ventures outside of their supernatural dealings.

Outside of that, Cheng Xiaoshi rarely took his vast collection of cameras for a spin anymore. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want to, it was more a time thing. He never had enough of it, and when the urge struck to take a picture nowadays, he always had his smartphone on him.

But smartphone images were one thing. A polaroid, or film, was another. The customary grain of a photo taken the old-fashioned way, the different look to the light, the depth to each shadow. Something to hold, afterwards, something to frame, or pin up, a different experience entirely.

“After this,” he said, “let’s go somewhere. Maybe down to the beach, or some kind of amusement park. I’ll take a hundred pictures.”

“Yeah.” Qiao Ling nodded, then turned her head suddenly. “Oh! Lu Guang…!”

His eyes were open again, half a groan breaking past the mask on his face. His heart rate, which had been steady the entire time Cheng Xiaoshi had been sat there, picked up. His hand twisted in Qiao Ling’s, shoulders shifting. She froze, but Cheng Xiaoshi could pick up the signs of distress he’d been warned about instantly. Sedatives, drugs, the lines—all of it could cause confusion, agitation, fear.

So he rushed to the other side of the bed, took Lu Guang’s other hand in his own. “We’re here,” he said, voice artificially bright, an awkward imitation of the Cheng Xiaoshi he presented himself as every other ordinary day. “Looking at all these terrible photos that manage to make your handsome face look as ugly as that lucky cat Qiao Ling’s dad got us for the shop—”

“That was a gift…!” Qiao Ling said, momentarily distracted from the ongoing crisis in the face of offence. “You take that back, Dad wanted to be nice!”

“And we appreciate it, but it’s still ugly.” Cheng Xiaoshi drew his hand through Lu Guang’s lank, deflated hair, a soothing motion that he recalled from ancient memories of his mother. His eyes still lacked any kind of focus, but that was fine. Normal. Expected. “Qiao Ling, show him that picture. I want him to see what I’m talking about.”

Qiao Ling seemed hesitant to lean over him, but she did it anyway, tilting the phone screen so Lu Guang might be able to see it. Cheng Xiaoshi doubted he could, doubted he really knew what was going on, doubted he even knew that he’d sustained multiple stab wounds and his insides were a ruinous mess, but he hoped that he at least realised they were there.

Lu Guang’s heartbeat slowed. His wracking, half-movements stilled. His eyes focused for a brief second on the phone, and Cheng Xiaoshi thought he saw his friend for real, hoped maybe he was using his power to experience those twelve hours again instead of being trapped here—and then his eyelids fell again and he was silent.

Qiao Ling looked up. Cheng Xiaoshi met her gaze across the bed.

“We have to find the real killer,” she said, quiet determination spilling into her tone.

“I know,” he replied. “We’ll nail the bastard ourselves, I swear it.”

~x~

As a child, Cheng Xiaoshi had never been all that friendly. Spiteful, angry at the world and others, envious of the things they had, the things that had been taken from him. Other children were a threat to his fragile peace, talking about weekends spent with parents, siblings, trips and games and fun. Every reminder that he was different was another blow to the shoddily crafted walls he’d built around his heart, an attack on the desperate coping methods he’d had no choice but to come up with on his own.

By the time he realised he couldn’t go his entire life with a social circle consisting of just Qiao Ling, he was already well past the age where making friends was easy. In high school he drifted from group to group, sitting on the sidelines with his easy humour and cheerful disposition, but it was all an act. He tossed basketballs around courts, pretended he was in with the crowd, and never let anyone close. Popular, but on a superficial level. Everyone knew him, but nobody knew him.

Then, Lu Guang transferred into his class one dreary spring morning. He was a walking anomaly, and left one hell of an impression. With his white hair (bleach?), his stoic expression, his few words, it felt like a mystery had just been dumped straight into first period’s mathematics class. Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t deny that he was more intrigued in him than Pythagoras’s theorem.

But Lu Guang didn’t have much to say, and though Cheng Xiaoshi was a professional at keeping a conversation going, the right time to start one never seemed to arrive. Fortunately, fate seemed to have his back for once, and a couple of weeks later, just as summer was rolling in, Lu Guang wandered onto the basketball court of the local park at the exact same time Cheng Xiaoshi was shooting shots.

One encounter turned into another. A classroom bathed in the sunlight’s glow, the local milk-tea place afterschool, a hazy day when he and Qiao Ling were repainting the front of the battered photography studio. One day, Cheng Xiaoshi invited Lu Guang to sit with him while he ate lunch in the cafeteria, and from then on, they were rarely out of each other’s company. Conversation or companionable silence in their breaks, trading answers while studying, video games in the studio’s sunroom, selfies taken on phones that steadily grew on-par with his beloved cameras as the years flittered by.

Cheng Xiaoshi’s walls fell beneath Lu Guang’s gentle pressure. He shared things he’d never shared with anyone but Qiao Ling; his parents, his fears, his dreams. Lu Guang listened to it all, offered comfort when it counted, and was otherwise a pillar to lean on when Qiao Ling couldn’t be there for him. High school faded into university, which they attended together, and then in the height of the summer one ordinary year, they travelled abroad for their studies.

They came back with the newfound knowledge that they were skilled in ways regular people were not, complimentary abilities that thrived in the presence of the other, and Cheng Xiaoshi wondered if their meeting on the court was fate after all.

“There has to be rules,” Lu Guang said, sitting in the corner of the couch that he always occupied when he came over. Cheng Xiaoshi hung off it next to him, legs over the back, head nearly touching the floor, scrolling his phone looking for a good image to try next.

“Rules,” Cheng Xiaoshi repeated. “Psh. Come on, we’ve got supernatural powers and you want there to be rules? That’s so you, boring as always.”

“If we don’t make rules, something will inevitably go wrong,” Lu Guang said pointedly. “Time is…fragile. Think about it. Change one small thing in the past, and the world you come back to could be completely unrecognisable.”

“Like that would happen,” Cheng Xiaoshi rolled his eyes, stopping on a selfie of them at a party Xu Shanshan had thrown the year before. The lighting and framing left much to be desired; he’d been drunk when he’d taken it and judging by the luminescent blush on Lu Guang’s pale cheeks, he had been too. He didn’t remember much of the night, really, these pictures the only real testament that it had ever happened.

“I’m serious,” Lu Guang carried on, unfazed. “Time could unravel. We could cause paradoxes, we could write people or events out of history—”

“Paranoid much?” Cheng Xiaoshi poked him hard in the side. Lu Guang slapped the back of his hand, which was as much of a declaration of war as firing a bullet. Cheng Xiaoshi sat up, slapping him in the arm in retaliation, and their childish squabble began.

They’d done this sort of stupid playfight many times before, usually when Cheng Xiaoshi’s antics bypassed irritating into outright annoying. It was light and silly, right up until their hands met in mock-violence and Cheng Xiaoshi found himself hurtling backwards into the past.

He stumbled, music booming in his ears, chatter all around him. “You okay?” Lu Guang asked him, voice muffled beneath the din, words slurred into each other. Cheng Xiaoshi blinked hard, his thoughts fuzzy all of a sudden, his heart hammering. “You’ve had a lot.”

Indeed, there was a glass in his other hand. It had been obscured by the angle of the selfie, but he could see the significant amount of alcohol left in it. Should he drink it? Should he not? He was in his own skin but he felt like a trespasser, this whole dive-back-in-time business still not quite second nature yet.

“Cheng Xiaoshi! You idiot!” Lu Guang’s voice rang in his ears, crystal clear unlike his younger, drunk counterpart. “You dived!”

“Not my fault! You slapped my hand, you started the fight!”

“You started it first!”

Were they really going to have this argument now? When past-Lu Guang was looking at him with such concern? “Forget that, quick question, do I drink this?”

A sigh so heavy it could have pulled the moon from the sky. “Yes.”

He downed it in one, which was a mistake. The alcohol burned the back of his throat, and he couldn’t help but choke on it. Past-Lu Guang slapped his back in alarm, but Cheng Xiaoshi shook his head. “I’m fine, I’m fine!”

“Really?” Lu Guang looked left, where Xu Shanshan and Qiao Ling were doing their best approximation of some dance that had been popular on bilibili lately—or, at the time, Cheng Xiaoshi supposed. “Maybe we should go get some air. They’re going to be at that for a while, I think.”

“Agree with him—me! Agree with me, Cheng Xiaoshi, that’s what you did.”

“Was it?” Cheng Xiaoshi answered aloud, to which past-Lu Guang gave him a questioning look. “I mean! Why don’t we join them for a moment? As revenge.”

“Cheng Xiaoshi!”

“Revenge?” Past-Lu Guang’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “On who? You’re really drunk.”

“And so are you, so let loose!” Cheng Xiaoshi grabbed him by the wrist. Qiao Ling cheered as he danced beside her, Xu Shanshan throwing her arms around Lu Guang’s shoulders. Cheng Xiaoshi smiled wide, lost in the moment, lost in this euphoric moment of the past, music so loud it vibrated through him, resonating with his heart.

This power was the best. After trying so hard to preserve the past to recall it, now he could return to it with a simple clap of hands. The heat of the summer on his back, the sound of a transfer student’s voice as he asked a gentle question, chirping insects, grass against his skin, whatever he wanted, he could have it. Nothing would ever abandon him again.

Cheng Xiaoshi had always known he was unlovable, had always known that he would find himself alone again one day, but now if anything threatened him, he had the past to fall back on.

Past-Lu Guang got into it, after a moment’s hesitation. Present-Lu Guang said nothing. They danced until they were breathless, until Cheng Xiaoshi pulled him away to the refreshments and downed another glass of alcohol.

“You need to do something if you’re going to stay here,” Lu Guang said in his head.

Cheng Xiaoshi knew that much, because though he didn’t remember this conversation in particular, he remembered Lu Guang the morning after, a rare-teasing look in his eyes as he asked, “Do you remember what you asked me last night, Cheng Xiaoshi?”

And Cheng Xiaoshi, bleary-eyed, nursing a coffee with the worst hangover he’d ever had, replied, “Hopefully I didn’t propose. I’m only twenty.”

It hadn’t been a proposal. It had been something more damning, it had been Cheng Xiaoshi finally kicking the door to his heart wide-open to Lu Guang. Drunk on the atmosphere and the alcohol itself, he looked his best friend in the eye and said, stupidly, “Wanna move in with me after we graduate?”

He’d never known what Lu Guang’s immediate answer to the question was, because his idiot brain had forgotten it. The morning after, when they’d discussed what had been said, Lu Guang simply told him that he’d given it some thought and had come to the conclusion that it would be beneficial for the both of them to share rent. Cheaper. Efficient.

But here in the present (past?), Lu Guang, drunk and bright-eyed and flushed, laughed and said, “Don’t I live in the studio already? Sure.”

Days spent studying, gaming, reading, laughing. Nights spent staring at the ceiling, both of them wrapped in blankets on the sofa, Cheng Xiaoshi airing his restless fears while Lu Guang listened. He was right; they’d been living together for years now, Cheng Xiaoshi had just been too blinkered to notice.

“Smartass,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, bringing his hands up. “I won’t remember this in the morning, you know.”

“I’ll remind you,” Lu Guang replied. “If I remember.”

“You better,” he said, clapping his hands together.

Coming back was always less disorienting. He fell out of the air, the bright light of the sunroom blinding, the sudden silence a relief. And then he crashed, hard, into the body beneath him, eliciting a sharp cry from his suffering partner who now had a shoulder buried in his bony ribcage.

“Cheng Xiaoshi—!” Lu Guang started.

Cheng Xiaoshi knelt over him, raising his hands in surrender. “We were so drunk that I could have done anything and it wouldn’t have mattered, because we had the perfect excuse to not remember!”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“And besides! It was just a bit of fun. Hardly changing anything big now, am I?”

“Cheng Xiaoshi—”

“And just for the record, it was you who started that fight, so it was you who sent me back there, so you’ve got no-one to blame but yourself.”

Lu Guang deflated beneath him, all the fight going out of him. “You need to be careful,” he said. “I know that you didn’t change anything significant, but that doesn’t mean you can just act recklessly. You have to listen to me.”

“You once told me that I was the type to act. What can I say? Just living up to expectations.” Cheng Xiaoshi winked, a little giddy still. “Anyway, it was nice.”

Lu Guang blinked in surprise. His hair had gone wayward from the fall, a mess of white atop his head. The light flush of his cheeks from the past was absent, but Cheng Xiaoshi could still picture it, his best friend, unguarded in his drunkenness, as open as any book.

“What was?”

“Hearing what you really answered that day.” Cheng Xiaoshi smirked. “Don’t I live in the studio already? That’s hilarious!”

Sweet was the word he really wanted to use, but he didn’t quite have the courage. Despite that, Lu Guang turned his head, that faint dusting of pink sweeping across his cheeks again. Cheng Xiaoshi laughed openly, reaching for his phone again to look back at the picture.

Yes. This power was everything. Everything he’d ever wanted, everything he’d ever needed.

~x~

The ward was different to intensive care. Quieter, fewer nurses, other patients trying to sleep. Lu Guang was awake when Cheng Xiaoshi arrived, flat on his back with the blanket drawn up around his shoulders. It was late-November now, just over three weeks since the incident, and it had brought in the cold.

“Warm under there?” Cheng Xiaoshi asked as he walked in.

“Not warm enough,” replied Lu Guang, voice rusty and hoarse, a thin imitation of itself. “I miss the bunk.”

“I miss you in the bunk. It’s too quiet in there right now. Makes it hard to sleep.” Cheng Xiaoshi dropped his backpack to the floor, rummaging around for his lunch. “Uh, do you mind if I eat in here? I know you can’t, so I don’t wanna make it worse, but I haven’t had breakfast ‘cause we’ve been busy.”

“It’s fine. I don’t have any appetite anyway. Enjoy yourself.”

He drew out his lunch box and chopsticks, dipping the points into the rice. He tried not to look too hard at Lu Guang as he ate; he’d withered in the ICU like a rotting flowerhead. Already a beanpole to begin with, his friend looked unhealthily thin now, and the shadows under his eyes were even more pronounced. The knife had done more than wreck his stomach.

Solid food would be out of the question for a long while still, which was why he still had the tube. Recovery was a long, arduous road, and they’d barely walked any of it.

“How is it progressing?” Lu Guang asked him.

It being the investigation, Cheng Xiaoshi knew. He swallowed his food and glanced away. “It’s…well. It’s going.”

“I thought as much. Your face gives everything away.” Lu Guang smiled. “Too easy to read.”

“Which reminds me! I brought you some books to keep you occupied, wanna see them?”

He dumped his lunchbox on the bedside and hauled up his backpack. Three paper backs tumbled out when he tipped it upside down, three popular fiction novels that had been released in the last two weeks. Not a single one was a murder-mystery, nor did any include stabbings. Cheng Xiaoshi had trawled the internet for hours to vet them.

As he stacked them next to his lunch, Lu Guang shifted in the bed, wincing hard as he tried to push himself up on his elbows. He gave a soft gasp as something obviously pulled, and Cheng Xiaoshi abandoned the books in an instant to take him by the shoulders. “Not on your own,” he said softly. “Let me help, and no sudden movements. Hey, look, I get to tell you what to do for once.”

“So you do,” Lu Guang said, fondness leaking into his voice. Cheng Xiaoshi got him upright, gently resting his back against the bedframe. Without the blanket covering him, he got a good look at the fading bruises on his arms, the one on his neck, the sickly pallor of his skin. He still had a needle jammed into the back of his hand, but otherwise, it was a vast improvement compared to the overwhelming number of tubes in the ICU. “Thanks, Cheng Xiaoshi.”

“Don’t mention it. Here, check these out.” He put the books in Lu Guang’s lap, letting him parse through them at his own leisure. It took him longer than normal, stiffness in his joints and weakness in his muscles forcing him into a slower pace, but Cheng Xiaoshi was content to simply watch, to bask in the fact that his best friend was alive, to be able to just sit with his noodles and let time do whatever it wanted around him.

But he still grew impatient after a while. Unable to contain himself, he asked, “Do you like them? I wanted to get you something ‘cause me and Qiao Ling are so busy, it’s been hard to get away to come see you.”

Lu Guang frowned. His fingers stilled against the covers, and then he asked, “Didn’t you come visit yesterday?”

Cheng Xiaoshi paused, rice halfway to his mouth. “Uh, no?”

“Oh.” It was a resigned, odd little sound. Lu Guang pressed his bony hand to his forehead, eyes squeezing shut. “Right. You’re right.”

“Lu Guang?” Concern, rising like a tide in Cheng Xiaoshi’s chest. Breath became a little more difficult to source.

“They said it’s normal,” Lu Guang carried on, swift, voice still rusty but calm as usual. “Forgetfulness, bad dreams. I thought you came to see me. You and Qiao Ling. You were laughing about something. It was like looking through a photo—I could see you, but I couldn’t interact. I thought maybe I was just dozing when you came.”

He and Qiao Ling had been very much occupied yesterday—Captain Xiao Li could attest for that alibi at the least. That, coupled with the fact that Lu Guang had been aware and conscious for over a week now, suggested a different scenario. Cheng Xiaoshi could recall only one instance of laughter with Qiao Ling, the very first day in the ICU when he’d wanted to cheer her up, when he’d wanted to calm Lu Guang down, when they’d shared the picture of the past.

“Sounds like a memory to me, just in the wrong place,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “The first day I finally got to see you. You freaked out a little, so we tried to calm you down. But, huh…would that help? Seeing any pictures? I know you’re stuck here and it kind of sucks, so do you wanna escape for a bit?”

Lu Guang seemed to consider it, but only for a moment before he shook his head. “No. Reliving the past won’t change the truth of it—and I can see even you’ve figured that out, seeing as you haven’t tried to change it. Anyway, I can’t just leave you here on your own after you came to see me.”

And though the words warmed him, there was a small part of Cheng Xiaoshi which couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t deserve it. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, voice muffled when he spoke. “You should if it’ll help, if it’ll make you happy.”

“I’m happy right here.”

“In the hospital bed I put you in where you can’t remember one day from the next?”

“What?”

He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to let Lu Guang know. Despite the cold, Cheng Xiaoshi felt too hot, his thoughts stuttering to a stop on a single one. My fault. It’s my fault. I cheated. I changed the past. I didn’t listen.

“You blame yourself,” Lu Guang said, eyes growing bright with lucidity, then stern in the same beat of Cheng Xiaoshi’s fickle heart. “Stupid as always.”

“I screwed things up, of course I blame myself.”

“Did you pick the knife up?” Lu Guang asked, spearing him to the chair with the brutal question.

“Lu Guang—”

“I wish I understood you,” Lu Guang gripped the edge of the blanket, frustration sweeping across his features. “I wish I understood what drives your rash, idiot way of thinking. There is only one person at fault for this, and it isn’t you, or Qiao Ling, the same way it isn’t the client who gave us the job that led to Emma. All blame lies with the killer, never you.”

Cheng Xiaoshi didn’t want to cry again. He’d done enough of it the day he’d sat in the interrogation room and believed that his best friend was dead, but heat welled up in his eyes and his hands began to tremble. He took a thin breath through his teeth as he clenched his jaw, leant back in the chair, tipped his head back too.

“I thought you were gone,” he said to the air, to the ceiling, anything other than Lu Guang himself. “I thought Qiao Ling would be ruined by it, too. I thought you were both gone and I’d be alone again, and it didn’t even seem like a surprise because I knew it would happen one day. I’m just clinging on to borrowed time, waiting for it to run out.”

“Borrowed time?”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m living out moments that my future will dive back to,” he said, voice quivering just like his hands. “I used to take pictures to try and preserve what I had. Now I take them to give my future self some security. No matter what happens, I can always return to that moment. I can feel the heat on my skin, or hear Qiao Ling calling me some stupid name, or laugh with you about some show. I love this power I have, but at the same time, sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off without it.”

Lu Guang listened, because it was what he was best at doing. “You seem like the type to act,” he’d said once, years and years and years ago now, sounding wistful and longing.

“Sounds like you’re the observant one,” Cheng Xiaoshi had replied, and if only he’d known how right they both were, how well they knew the other despite being nothing more than friendly strangers.

“I won’t tell you not to worry, because you will,” Lu Guang said eventually. “Sorry, it’s hard to order my thoughts. Give me a moment…right. Listen. Are you listening?”

“I guess.”

“Nostalgia is a liar, Cheng Xiaoshi. When you look at the past, it always looks better than the moment you’re living in, because there’s an uncrossable gulf between you and it. But there has never been anything better in my life than the moments spent in the sunroom where we did nothing but lounge around, or nap, or lose video games to Qiao Ling. There has never been anything better in my life than the both of you, but if I were given the choice between reliving those days or making new memories with you in the present, then I know what I would choose.”

It was, perhaps, the most open that Cheng Xiaoshi had ever heard Lu Guang be. He leant forward again, looking his friend in the eye properly. He drank in the sight of him, broken and bruised and gaunt, but gloriously alive in a way Cheng Xiaoshi had not thought possible three weeks ago, and it broke something inside him.

He rocked forwards onto the bed with a shuddering sob, and despite his stitches, despite his IV and his tubes and his ruined body, Lu Guang still put his arms around him. Still drew him close, still held him the same way he had the night Cheng Xiaoshi punched him hard enough to send him tumbling.

The memory of that picture resurfaced again, Lu Guang holding the basketball, Qiao Ling with her distorted expression, Cheng Xiaoshi in the bottom half of the frame. Through his sobs, he laughed. “So, what you’re saying is…you really like to stop and smell the roses?”

“Living in the now isn’t so bad,” Lu Guang said, and though Cheng Xiaoshi couldn’t see his face, he could hear the smile in his hoarse voice. “Even if all we do is spend our time in the past.”

“Maybe after this,” Cheng Xiaoshi mused, “we could do more photoshoots for clients instead of time-jumping.”

“With what clientele?”

“The ones we’re going to get by smothering your handsome face all over the shop ads.”

“I’m not sure advertising someone who looks like death will do much for our business.”

“You’ll look better by then,” Cheng Xiaoshi said. “We’ve got to get the killer before we do that, anyway, so we can let everyone know you’re actually, you know, not dead.”

Lu Guang laughed above him, only to tense when it likely pulled at his wound. He took a moment to recover before asking, “Feeling better now?”

Better was hard to quantify. Of course, part of him was still crushed and it would be until the entire case was put to bed, but compared to minutes ago, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. Breath came easier. Lu Guang was warm against him despite the cold. He was alive. He wasn’t going to leave. In the back-and-forth of their conversation, it almost felt normal.

Things went silent between them. Cheng Xiaoshi stayed there for an unknowable amount of time, right up until Lu Guang’s arms went lax around him. He stayed a few seconds longer, before opening his mouth again to speak.

“If you’d known,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, then stopped, searching for the courage to ask the question. “Do you remember the classroom?”

The answer came delayed, but Lu Guang sounded lost when he said, “Classroom?”

“Oh, sorry, that was totally out of context. Uh, when we were in high school, after we played basketball that one time. I think I was hanging out there and you came in. Do you remember that?”

He extracted himself carefully from Lu Guang’s hold. When he looked up, he found that his eyes had gone a little glassy, a little gauzy, the kind of look Cheng Xiaoshi had seen on him too many times in the ICU when he was awake, but not really awake. He feared for a moment that he’d lost him to whatever crap they had in the IV, or just general exhaustion from exerting himself, but then he nodded, a slow, imperceptible movement. “Yeah. You had a camera. I’d left a book behind.”

“Oh, so you can remember that, but not what happened yesterday?” Cheng Xiaoshi’s teasing seemed to fall on deaf ears, though, as Lu Guang only blinked languidly. “Never mind. I should let you rest.”

“No…say what you wanted to say.”

It felt stupid now he’d had a moment to ruminate on it. But Lu Guang was fading fast, whatever he said wasn’t something he’d be likely to remember, so he carried on anyway. “I think it was the first time we talked properly, and I can’t really remember most of the small stuff we said, but…if you knew then that this would happen, that you’d end up here, would you still have talked to me that day?”

Lu Guang’s eyes closed, head lolling forward. It was what Cheng Xiaoshi had expected, but it was still a little disappointing. He stood putting his hands on Lu Guang’s shoulders to begin the gentle work of getting him lying flat again—only for his eyelids to flutter at the touch.

“I think,” he said, “that I would have done it even if I’d thought I’d die here.”

Then, he was gone again, sleep claiming him swiftly. Cheng Xiaoshi wordlessly laid Lu Guang down, drawing the blanket back over him. Then, he sat back in the chair at the bedside, counted his breaths, and wrapped his arms around himself.

You’re loved, he thought to himself, again, again, again. It was something he’d never really believed, not until now. Even Lu Guang and Qiao Ling’s constant companionship hadn’t been able to convince him of it, but this—this did. And though it had been dreadful, though he’d lived through horror and fear and despair, Cheng Xiaoshi realised that Lu Guang was right.

No matter how he much he relived his past, he would never find that single reassurance there. It was only in the present he could make his peace. Only by living in the moment could he be satisfied. Only in smelling the roses could he realise the beauty of it all.

~x~

Spring brought with it singing birds, budding flowers, a closed case, and Lu Guang.

Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling took him home together on one crisp morning, the three of them riding the taxi with a boba tea for each of them. Lu Guang had filled out in the last month, not quite at a healthy weight but healthier, the clothes that Cheng Xiaoshi had grabbed out of his wardrobe fitting far better than they would have during the worst of it. Sat in the back of the taxi, it was close enough to normality that it was almost enough to think that none of it had ever happened, that it was just another ordinary day.

And maybe it was, the first in what would hopefully be a long string of them. The taxi parked in front of the photo studio, the driver gave them his well-wishes, and then he was gone.

It was just them and the photo studio.

“I never did ask about the couch,” Lu Guang said suddenly, looking a little pale as he faced the shopfront. Cheng Xiaoshi figured it made sense; Lu Guang hadn’t been back since the night he’d been stabbed, while Cheng Xiaoshi had no choice but to sleep only a short distance away from the scene of the crime. It had desensitised him in a way he hadn’t realised.

“It was evidence for a little while,” Cheng Xiaoshi admitted. “Then I got rid of it with Captain Xiao Li’s help. Couldn’t be helped. Too, uh, stained.”

“The room probably looks empty without it.”

“Yeah, it did, which is why we begged Qiao Ling’s dad to pitch in for a new one. It’s mega comfy, swear!”

Qiao Ling nodded enthusiastically. “Super flumpy. Soft too. Dad spent a fortune on it, so you’ve got no choice but to love it!

Cheng Xiaoshi went in first, unlocking the door and shivering as the cold air of the studio hit him. He went to get the heating on, and found Lu Guang and Qiao Ling in the sunroom inspecting the new couch. His memories flittered back to that hideous night all those months ago, but he shoved them aside just quickly. The past was the past. The present was now.

And just like that, Lu Guang was home. The store stayed shut as they celebrated with breakfast and Qiao Ling’s laptop, where she brought up all the funniest viral videos she’d collected in the last few days. Hours melded together as they lounged in the company of one another on the sofa, trading anecdotes of the police station, the hospital, everything that had been missed.

Eventually, Qiao Ling left for home as evening fell, and Lu Guang, who was not allowed to lift anything heavier than his books and banned from strenuous activity for the foreseeable future (his next check-up) was banished to the bottom bunk.

“I can climb up,” he protested half-heartedly.

“I’m sure you can, but the doctor said you can’t, so don’t blame me,” Cheng Xiaoshi replied, launching his pillow at him. “Give it up, Lu Guang, you’re staying down there.”

“Your restless sleeping will keep me up all night.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

“I’m going back to the hospital bed.”

“Oh? After all those complaints? All those nights of, I miss the bunk, Cheng Xiaoshi! I miss you rattling the bedposts, I miss you sleep-talking, I miss—”

“I never said that.”

“You did. Well, the missing-the-bunk part, anyway.” Cheng Xiaoshi snorted. “It’s not forever, just like the hospital ward wasn’t. You’ll get the top-bunk back eventually.”

Lu Guang grumbled something, but he wasn’t petty enough to argue a case he’d already lost, so it was with that they both burrowed into bed. Being up so high felt like a privilege, a novelty, and utterly wrong all at once. The ceiling was so close that if he reached out, he’d be able to brush his fingers against it.

But in the silence of the room, he could hear Lu Guang breathing, filling space that had been left hollow for too many months. Somewhere along the way he’d grown used to that silence, had learned to live with it, but he hadn’t realised just how much he’d missed it until now.

“Hey, Lu Guang?” Cheng Xiaoshi said, his voice made louder in the dark.

“Yeah?”

He’d missed this, too. The closeness, being able to call out and know he was there, not needing to pull up his phone and dial a number to reach him. “I never said it before, but welcome home.”

A beat. A moment so quiet that Cheng Xiaoshi maybe wondered if he was already asleep. But then his answer, quiet but firm, cut through the darkness like a gentle flame. “I’m home.”

~x~

Peace was fragile. Cheng Xiaoshi had learned as much as a child, where the transition between being a normal child and a parentless one had occurred in a heartbeat. Normality was a butterfly’s wing, delicate, beautiful, in danger of being torn by any number of outside factors.

Peace was fragile. That lesson had been reinforced the day they went from two guys running a less-than-ordinary photo studio to the targets of a serial killer. Cheng Xiaoshi had forgotten many things from that night—the time on Lu Guang’s bloodied watch, if it was dark or light at the window, the twist of Qiao Ling’s voice drunk on power—but the crisp air of the sunroom stayed with him, the coppery scent of blood, the sticky consistency as he pressed his hand to a still-bleeding wound.

But it was past. Gone, just like every other terrible moment he’d lived through. That was not to say it didn’t haunt him; he’d spent enough nights staring at the ceiling after being jolted awake from a too-real dream to know the finer details might always stay with him. But a haunting was just that; a phantom of the past, something that he could maybe ignore, given time.

Days came, went. He divided his time between the present and the future, making money for the next month of rent through his usual means, and, occasionally, with a dive backwards. Qiao Ling still advertised their services, but Lu Guang had become pickier with what they did. Simple jobs; nothing that could attract danger to their doorstep—making lives better, but on a smaller scale.

Cheng Xiaoshi could live with that, he thought, as he pressed the shutter on a woman glancing to her left, her eyes bright and shining, a headshot to advertise her new novel. He hoped she would do well, and considered buying a copy for Lu Guang when it released.

Life went on. The shadows beneath Qiao Ling’s eyes gradually faded, her presence brighter every time she brought boba tea and news of their friends to their doorstep. Lu Guang was given the all clear for light exercise, and they switched bunks anew. Occasionally, there were hiccups. Qiao Ling calling up to say, not today after they’d made plans, or Lu Guang, as restless as he claimed Cheng Xiaoshi was, caught in a nightmare of the ICU again, but they made do.

Wounds healed into scars, and sometimes those scars, raised and irritable, were impossible to ignore. Cheng Xiaoshi had slapped Lu Guang’s hand away from his stomach enough times to know.

But peace, for all its fragility, was all the more beautiful because of it.

It was one Sunday afternoon, just as spring was trading places with summer. The shop was shut, and it was the time of day when families would be at parks, the sea, eating ice-cream on a pier somewhere or drinking ice-cold drinks beneath the shade of the tree. Cheng Xiaoshi towelled his hair dry as he wandered to the sunroom after taking his shower, his loose, cotton shirt and shorts enough to beat the oncoming heat.

He found Lu Guang on the floor a couple of feet from the sofa, a pillow behind his head as he laid directly in the sunlight, a book in his hands. The entire room had a golden hue that reminded Cheng Xiaoshi of another time, another place, rambunctious shouting from somewhere below, balls bouncing on a court, a perfectly normal day some six years past.

“What’cha doing on the floor?” he asked.

“Best place to catch the sun,” Lu Guang replied. It could have been a lie; the couch was not shaded, or it could have been the truth; maybe the couch just didn’t have enough. Cheng Xiaoshi had long since stopped questioning him when it came to things like this, not when they all had their own neuroticisms born from that day. If Lu Guang didn’t want the couch, then he didn’t want the couch. It was no big deal.

Cheng Xiaoshi stopped in the middle of the room, looking down at his friend. He basked in his presence, in his dark eyes as they focused hard on the words before him, in the glow of his white hair in the sunlight, in the furrow of his brow when he flipped a page. Handsome, he’d always called him, always jokingly, but the truth of the matter was that he’d always meant it.

“You’re staring,” Lu Guang said, eyes not leaving his page. “What did you want?”

A hundred excuses came to mind. Wanted to ask what you wanted for dinner, wanted to see if you wanted to watch a show, wanted to ask your opinion on a shirt, but the truth slipped out instead. “Just to see you.”

Lu Guang raised his eyebrows. “You do that every day.”

“Yeah, well. What can I say? You’re nice to look at.”

Cheng Xiaoshi laughed as Lu Guang clicked his tongue. The heat was pleasant, dust motes floating like gauzy stars in sun’s rays. He was hyper-aware of every aspect, the exact shade of brown as light bounced from the floorboards, Lu Guang’s laptop whirring on the desk where it had been abandoned in rest-mode, the curl of his wet hair against the nape of his neck. All the fine details he would lose to time.

But right now, he knew them intimately. It felt like the right moment to ask a question that had been hanging over him. “Do you remember when I came to see you in the hospital?”

A soft snort. “You came a lot of times.”

“Okay, yeah, I did, but I mean one specific time. The first time I brought you books.”

Lu Guang dropped his current novel face-down onto his chest, eyes flicking up and right as he thought. “I think…that was the time you brought food, and asked me if it was okay to eat it. Because I was still on the tube, right?”

“That’s the one.” Cheng Xiaoshi crossed the room, sitting cross-legged at his side as he tossed the towel aside. “You remember what we talked about?”

Another furrow of the brow. “Something about time?”

He wondered if this was how Lu Guang had felt, the day after the party when he’d woken up and said, “Do you remember what you asked me last night, Cheng Xiaoshi?” Had he been frustrated, beneath that calm veneer? Had he been desperately hoping that he had remembered?

“A lot of our conversations were about time,” Cheng Xiaoshi said, no longer feeling like following up on it. It was months ago now. Even if he hadn’t been on a hundred different drugs, it would have been a stretch to imagine he would recall it. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine, I was just interested in if you’d managed to get any of those memories back.”

“Hm.” It was a non-committal sound. Wondering if he would go back to his book, Cheng Xiaoshi drew his phone from his pocket and popped open a strategy game to distract himself. He’d just gotten into a campaign, sliding units about the screen when Lu Guang said, “Did you ask me about high school?”

Cheng Xiaoshi paused, the unit he was holding hovering over the target. “Uh, yeah, I did.”

“About…if I would still have spoken to you, even if I knew what would happen.”

Swallowing thickly, Cheng Xiaoshi closed the app. He let the phone hang in his hand, unable to look Lu Guang in the eye. “So you do remember.”

“I thought I dreamt it,” Lu Guang admitted, drumming his fingers against the wood floor. “I had a lot of conversations with you and Qiao Ling that I don’t think ever happened. But apparently this one did. Before you ask, yes, I meant what I said to you. It wasn’t drug-induced, or whatever stupid justification you’re thinking up.”

Cheng Xiaoshi’s heart pounded hard against his ribcage. He flopped backwards, head hitting the remaining space on the pillow, Lu Guang’s hair tickling his cheek as he pressed his face into his. “Cheng Xiaoshi—” Lu Guang began, both fond and irritated, only to cut himself off when Cheng Xiaoshi threw his arm over his chest. They laid there a moment, just the two of them, breathing, breathing, breathing.

“Alright,” Lu Guang said. “Let me try then. If you knew about the outcome, would you still have carried on the conversation that day?”

There was no question about it. For every low moment, a higher one came. For every past happiness, there was a moment of crippling despair, but the same also rang true for the present. For the sunlight, for the motes of dust, for the press of warm skin against skin, Qiao Ling’s laughter, Lu Guang’s reassurances. For all of it, and this singular moment, Cheng Xiaoshi would do it again, again, again.

“Yeah,” he said, his phone forgotten next to him, the urge to snapshot and preserve the moment long since having dissipated. “I would.”