#anyway. everything's going in the queue (which i might also shuffle around again just for fun)

[byanyan]

me: alright, short reply, best way to dip my toes in and get started writing for the day!

spongebob narrator vc: three paragraphs later...

[leejeongz]

jealous treasure (asahi-junghwan)

🔅i’m gonna use another member in each one because it’s easier than making up a whole new person and explaining a bit about them for each one if that makes sense. but this is just for fun, it’s fictitious, remember that pls🔅

find the other members here

🌷 asahi:

“it’s wednesday” junkyu announced. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to say whatever was in his brain, but today the other boys decided to humour him a little and asked him to elaborate.

“we should wear pink” he clarified as if everyone should know. asahi rolled his eyes, you’d been pestering asahi to tell junkyu to watch mean girls since well, forever, and that now he’d finally watched it, he wouldn’t shut up about it.

“but you’re not wearing any pink” asahi pointed out after scanning his whole body.

junkyu corrected him by fetching the hoodie he was expecting to wear. it was a soft, baby pink colour, with a little heart on the pocket right in the middle. asahi recognised it straight away.

“where did you get that?” he asked. junkyu couldn’t lie, he’d been caught red handed.

“from your closet” he confessed “but you always wear it and i thought i might look cute in it, can i wear it just for one day?” he begged with pleading eyes.

“hm let me think” asahi put his hand to his chin with sarcasm written all over his face “no” he snatched it from junkyu’s hands. “why would you wear y/n’s hoodie anyway?” he asked

“i-” junkyu stuttered “i didn’t know it was theirs” he said while assessing the situation “but are you really jealous right now? i didn’t know you were the type” he laughed, drawing the attention of the other members.

“no” he scoffed, “i’m not jealous, i just don’t think that they would want you wearing their hoodie. you smell” he spat out, turning his back and heading for his room.

“someone call y/n” junkyu said, wanting you to hear what a jealous man your boyfriend really is.

“don’t you have something better to do, like finding your own pink hoodie, you know, like the one you never take off your own back?” asahi snaps back, referring to the infamous pink hoodie from junkyu’s trademark outfit. as he leaves the living room, asahi takes a hesitant sniff at the jumper, hoping junkyu hasn’t infected it with his scent so much so that it no longer smells of you.

🍄 yedam:

having been stuck inside your house for what felt like a year, you were grateful and willing to accept any invitation to leave. today’s invite came from your boyfriend, yedam, who’d recently been too busy working to come and see you, which was completely understandable. he’d asked if you’d like to join him and a few of his friends on a walk around a nearby park, you of course said yes.

with beautiful scenery came the chance to take beautiful pictures. noticing that your boyfriend was too preoccupied by the ice cream van, you asked one of his friends, jeongwoo, to take a picture of you by the fountain. he agreed and instructed you on how to pose so that it wouldn’t look awkward. you followed his advice and managed to get a few shots. you walked back over to jeongwoo, who innocently stood with your phone in his hand, when you saw your boyfriend come rushing over.

“what are you doing with their phone?” he questioned “they let you take photos of them?” he spat out in a hurt manner.

“yes…” jeongwoo replied before you stepped in.

“how much are they?” you asked, pointing in the ice cream van’s direction, not understanding what all the commotion was about.

“apparently they’re all out of ice cream” he mocked “but why did you let him take photos of you? that’s my job” he pouted with a soft tone to his voice.

“ooo our yedam is all soft for y/n” jeongwoo jeered which, judging by the look yedam gave back to him, was not appropriate. “it was just 3 pictures” jeongwoo clarified “the model isn’t that easy to work with anyway, they have no fresh ideas of their own to spice up my business” he scoffed jokingly while handing your phone back to you, causing yedam to finally crack a smile.

“⅕ stars, pictures came out wonky and the photographer is bossy, unlike my lovely yedam” you smiled, playing into the joke. it wasn’t long before yedam was back to his usual cheerful self and had also finally decided that an iced tea was a good substitute for ice cream too.

🧶doyoung:

there was a lot of things in your house that didn’t make sense, but the worst was definitely the paintings hung up in your room that you’d never gotten around to taking down, mainly because you couldn’t reach them but shhh. you’d always been too shy to ask doyoung, knowing he’d laugh at you and tease you for being too short to reach them, and given you hadn’t been together for that long, you weren’t sure how much you’d appreciate that being your first inside joke.

a friend of yours, jihoon, had come over to your house while doyoung was there, which wasn’t exactly an issue, he knew you and jihoon were friends and he respected that. the three of you often gossiped and gamed together, it was a common thing these days.

“i tell you this every time im here but those are so ugly y/n, please take them down” jihoon glanced up, locking eyes with the spooky man in the painting and shuddering.

“i can’t reach” you joked, forgetting your boyfriend was also there.

“i’ll do it then” jihoon announced, standing up and reaching each painting easily.

“i could have done that” doyoung whispered under his breath while staring at you. you turned to your left to see your boyfriend's unimpressed face. “why did you let him do it?” he questioned, seeming really quite angry.

“he offered, i wasn’t gonna say no” you defended yourself. jihoon took this as his queue to leave and take the artwork elsewhere, he didn’t know where, but anywhere was better than being in that room with you two.

“is it because of his big muscles? is it because you value his opinion more than mine?” doyoung asked, laughing at his own thoughts and how ridiculous they were but possibly true.

“no” you rolled your eyes before making eye contact again “its because he offered” you repeated.

“and if i offered?” he asked, expecting you to say that you would have declined.

“obviously i would have said yes” you replied, “they were horrible i don’t care who got them down i just wanted them gone”

“oh” he sat back and relaxed into the pillow “well i’m glad they’re gone. i didn’t like to say it, but they were creepy” he laughed with you. “the next thing to go is him though” he joked, seeing jihoon walk back into your room, which of course was replied to with a scoff from your sassy friend.

💥haruto:

your sleeping pattern was well and truly out of the window, so you decided to stay up and call one of your friends that you knew would be awake, hyunsuk. he was just like you, you both slept at 4am and woke up at 2pm, so he wasn’t that shocked when you called, wide awake like him.

“where’s haruto? wasn’t he supposed to be staying at your place tonight?” he asked, genuinely concerned about his friend. you flipped the camera to show your bed, where a certain sleepy haruto lay, peacefully entering dreamland. “he’s so cute” hyunsuk giggled, you cooed in agreeance, he really was the cutest.

you stayed on call for about an hour. you were currently laughing about the tiktok he’d just sent to you, your humour was exactly the same too so it’s wasn’t hard for you to crack the other up. all the commotion woke your boyfriend, whose bed head was clearly visible in the reflection of your opened laptop when he sat up.

“did we wake you?” hyunsuk laughed upon hearing a groan from his friend.

“we?” haruto responded in a sleepy voice. “who’s we?”

“uhh us” you pointed between you and the phone.

“y/n? hyunsuk?” he snapped out of his sleepy state quickly. “why are you two up at this time and on the phone together?” you looked at hyunsuk on the screen and smiled, trying to hold in your laughter. “turn that off and come to bed, i want cuddles, and i want you to get some sleep, unlike him” he flung himself back at the bed, only inches away from hitting his head on the headboard.

“wait for me” hyunsuk joked in a teasing tone.

“no, not you” haruto whined. “just y/n please” he smiled closing his eyes and opening his arms, ready for you to join him.

“i guess this is goodnight then” you said to hyunsuk, which haruto followed up with a goodnight for his friend too before you put the phone down.

“now, cuddles please!”

♟jeongwoo:

for jaehyuk’s birthday this year, he asked for a small gathering, just close friends, which you of course are included in since you and jeongwoo had been together for over 2 years now. when you arrived, you quickly gauged the atmosphere of the party was pretty light and fun, it wasn’t oppressive in the slightest. usually parties you attended were fully kitted out with loud music, dimly lit rooms and a bunch of strangers in every room, instead your friends were in the living room, just chatting and laughing.

“you came!” jaehyuk screeched, running over to hug you. “oh and you bought a plus one, jeongwoo” he joked around with your boyfriend, who just rolled his eyes in response.

it wasn’t long before the boys delved into the games cupboard and pulled out the “who’s most likely to” box. the oldest of the boys shuffled the cards and took the top one which read “who’s the funniest”. whenever you played, this one always seemed to come out first, so you changed your answer every time to please everyone.

you turned around your board with the name “jaehyuk” written on it. your eyes scanned the room to see almost everyone had his name written on their boards, probably because it was his party after all. you quickly diverted your eyes away, however, when you saw that jeongwoo had written your name, which should have made you feel happy but instead, you felt quite guilty for not writing his.

the game went on, and your name wasn’t written on jeongwoo’s board ever again, despite you putting his for almost everything positive. the rest of the evening, jeongwoo didn’t come near you at all, everyone noticed, everyone questioned it, it was so obvious that he was jealous, but there was no way he was admitting to it.

as you got ready to leave, you glanced over at the boy who was supposed to be staying with you tonight, sat firmly in his place on the sofa.

“jeongwoo, aren’t you coming?” you shouted from the door. “jaehyuk is staying here so you don’t have to worry about him” you teased, everyone else smiling at you and giggling silently.

“fine” he grunted. you made up on the way home, he couldn’t even remember how it all started, he just “wanted to make a point” which, sure, he did.

🌍junghwan:

you and junghwan never got to spend much time together before you became friends with the members since he was always with them or at school, which is why he’s never complained or showed any jealousy when you are with them.

today you headed over to their dorms to relax and play when you remembered, today was the day of junghwan’s english exam. you pulled out your phone and dropped him a quick good luck text before continuing your journey.

yoshi brought you up to his room where he said you could chill for a bit since everyone else was still sleeping, other than those who had school of course. yoshi began to ask you lots of questions, you learnt a lot about each other in that hour or so, and the conversation was flowing so well that you didn’t hear the door.

“y/n, you did remember?!” junghwan asked excitedly, clapping his hands while smiling from ear to ear. “you came all the way here to see me after i finished?”

“remember what?” you asked, bewildered. “your exam? yeah i sent you a text, i’m sorry i didn’t realise until i was over half way here else i would have gone to see you first” you confessed, feeling guilty. his face dropped at your honest words.

“you mean you came all the way here just to see yoshi?” he asked. “everyone else was in the kitchen, but you two were in here… alone…?” disappointed in your reasoning and forgetfulness, he slowly backed out of the room. he wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. he wanted to feel sad and upset, but did you really do anything wrong, he thought. “you couldn’t have just turned around and gone home”

“well i didn’t want to, i wanted to see my friends. i didn’t realise that most of them didn’t get up until the afternoon” you walked closer to him, praying that he didn’t try and get away. “i’m sorry i forgot about your exam”

he shuffled closer to you. you’d never argued before, and he wasn’t sure how to respond, so he hoped a hug would go down well. as he hugged you, he whispered his own apology into you hair “i’m sorry for jumping to conclusions”

[mallowstep]

i literally havent been able to stop thinking about the wbcd thing, its so needed in the series. how do you decide which cats die when? do you weigh eventual offspring when deciding, like thornkit/claw eventually having four kits while lynxkit obviously having none? will "important" canonical deaths like swiftpaw, brindleface, etc count towards the death count for the season, or will those types of things be bonus deaths?

figured i'd answer this b4 i went to bed!

i need to scrub the wbcd posts from my queue and rewrite them up to a higher standard, but i'm going to keep the outcomes the same. i've gotten the hang of things now.

anyway, this is all done in one notebook, and the way i do it for wbcd is a little Special. (i've done similar things for fan-ish clans to make sure the numbers work out. they do, generally. sometimes you have bad luck.)

but wbcd doesn't account for moving to the elders' den, increased death rates because of moving to the elders' den, and i don't think i was doing double rolls (i'll explain) last time i queued the posts.

(it's a bit of a mess rn is why i need to scrub and rewrite. or maybe start a(nother) sideblog for it? just for my own sanity?)

anyway.

i've done this out a few times, and i've decided writing shit out by hand is best. maybe i just have no restraint and overcomplicate shit when i start typing, and someone else could make it work.

so first up, determining leader lives: i literally knock off 2/book. if i'm doing something for a fanclan, i generate numbers the same way i do for litters, a normal distribution with mean 2 and standard deviation 4. N(2, 16) if you want to be fancy. i've considered lowering the standard deviation, but i like the swingy-ness of it. (i also permit "gaining" lives to account for this. it's a little hokey, but it makes leaders live for the Right amount of time.)

deputies have a 1/10 chance of dying every season. all of my numbers, here, are estimations based on my initial calculations, then smoothed out to a number that easily goes into 100. again, i do wbcd in batches, and my methodology has changed slightly, so it's possible i was still not rolling for deputies.

seers/medicine cats (seer = 4 letters, and i'm writing by hand, also it fits the Aesthetics of the idea) have a 1/20 chance in dying. i don't usually bother rolling for them, though, because their deaths uh. don't matter? bc wbcd follows canon timeline, i can kill them for drama as needed.

as for warriors, they have a 1/25 chance in dying every season. i believe i calculated the odds for 1/10 living to 40 seasons and 1/3 living to 40 seasons, and then found a number that was easy to remember in between. because i don't track elders in wbcd, no one ever actually retires, but when i do this for other things, i give elders 1/10 chance of dying. just to make sure they don't stack up.

but! wbcd is special because i don't just roll and move on. what i do is, i roll for every warrior, and then i shuffle deaths. did whitestorm die, but i need him to live long enough to be firestar's deputy? well, XYZ is right there not doing anything, why not kill them instead?

and so on.

there's certainly a bit of favouritism going on: when i decided to kill barley, it Hurt me a Lot. but it needed to be done.

the factors that go into my decision are about what their death does to the future. killing whitestorm before he becomes firestar's deputy is frustrating to the plot in ways i didn't want to deal with. killing darkstripe early does nothing.

so non-canon characters (i don't want to say ocs, bc it's more lynxkit, ravenpaw & barley, etc) have a higher risk of dying, because their deaths, well, by their nature their deaths Cannot change the plot.

but that's not the same as offspring. see, blossomfall and thornclaw's kits are very, very, very minor. stemleaf is the only one who matters, and i can easily work around that.

so important canonical deaths do count in the seasonal tally, because the numbers are supposed to be high for drama. the only exception to this is that i rolled really well for the season of the great battle, so i ended up using my litter size generator for an extra number of deaths. i'd do this again for a time when there was that kind of Big Event Death if i rolled "too well."

now, you didn't ask about this, but i want to be thorough: how do i do kits and apprentices?

okay, apprentices are my favourite part, because they're the only group that has dynamic odds. uh, i'm going to say seasons, but what i mean is, when i'm on my leafbare page, i then roll to see who lives through newleaf, and i call that the newleaf roll. i know it's confusing, that's just the convention i started with.

so anyway, seasonal odds of death for apprentices

newleaf: 0/1 greenleaf: 1/10 leaffall: 1/5 leafbare: 1/10

if you recall my overall apprentice odds, this might seem odd, but you have to remember that "leaffall" really means "1 out of 5 apprentices dies every greenleaf."

i've considered flipping this, but for reasons i'll explain in kits, having the newleaf "palette cleanser" means that the warmer months aren't as brutal as they seem.

so for kits: when there's a litter born in a season, i don't do anything. if there are multiple, i try to space them out. there's not like. a reason for this, other than helping me keep the numbers straight.

for seasons with no litters, i generate a litter size and pick a queen who's "free."

the litter size generated is N(3, 9), or mean 3, standard deviation 3. negative numbers mean nothing here, and there's a fair amount of Large Litters. it would be realistic to split those up, but that takes a Lot of time and bookkeeping.

anyway, generated litters usually have no father, because you know. keeping things moving here. i pick a free queen, which basically means:

the queen whose next canon litter and last litter in wbcd are furthest away.

this is a balancing act, and i usually favour not giving a couple an early litter before their first canon litter. but if, say, willowpelt needs to have a litter in two seasons, even if she could have two litters back to back, i don't like doing that.

so i might find someone who has had their last canon litter and give them an extra one, or someone who's a while away from their next litter.

for generated litters, i give them an extra roll. because i disregard negatives, litter sizes trend larger than intended, so an extra first roll keeps them down. all rolls for kits are 1/5 odds of death.

but if i roll a 5, i circle the bullet point, and roll twice next season. this is because 4/5 * 4/5 is 0.64, which is more than my ideal survival rate of 0.50. add in another 4/5, for the bonus roll, and you drop to 0.512. the occasional extra rolls sends some kits down to 0.40 survival rating.

one day, i will figure out what those odds are to see if my numbers are still accurate, but having played this scenario out pretty far, i think it works.

i also employ the double roll for apprentices. hence having no rolls in leafbare means i can sort of. stop anything from cycling over.

if u have more questions about the mechanics/my process behind this, let me know. i hope i explained everything clearly, but it's all basically scribbled in a single notebook that i actually need to dig out so i can fix things.

thanks for asking! i'll be out with more wbcd content soon.

[star-spangledstud]

THE CURE KEEPER - two

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (female!)reader

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even like pool. The team gets back from their mission. 

Word count: 3100-ish. 

Warnings: none

A/N: I don’t have an upload schedule or anything, I just post whenever a new chapter is finished ;) I also don’t have anyone to proofread for me, so there might be a few mistakes here and there (of course I do my best to check my spelling/grammar). English isn’t my first language!

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 13 May 2018, 3:23 a.m.

He doesn’t realize he’s shouting until he’s woken up by the sound of his voice spewing profanities and pleas in Russian hidden behind a thick, American accent. There’s heavy breathing to break the deafening silence of his room that causes his chest to rise and fall in irregular motions, and his fists are curled around damp sheets as if he’s afraid he’ll fall deep into the abyss if he lets go. He’s sweating profusely and his entire body trembles as he tries to remember where he is.

Bucky turns over in his bed, twitching eyes falling on the alarm clock on his nightstand. It’s nearing 4 am, which means it’s nowhere near a respectable time to be awake, but he can’t help it. Most of the events that occur within his dreams he can’t remember ever taking place, but he knows they’re real because he’s been told what kind of person he used to be. The things he used to do remain inside him as stories, narrated by the people that judge him for them. 

Bucky’s dreams are flashes of people donned in clothing from different periods of time and weapons of varying intricacy, one as dangerous and deadly as the other. He surely doesn’t remember the bow, but it was there in his hand, the rope tight against his cheekbone and ready to wreak havoc. He woke up moments before letting the arrow fly to its target, but didn’t need to see it. He knows even in his current state of fighting between sleep and being awake what the aftermath would look like.

He frantically searches for five items in his room to calm himself down, five random objects to help him shift his focus from the hellish images of people dying at his hands to tangible objects. It’s a trick he’s learned from Sam and although the guy gets on Bucky’s nerves, he has some good words of advice, because it works every time. 

Cream-colored curtains, dresser filled with clothing, dirty t-shirt on the floor, coat hanger on the doorknob, just one more.

When he’s calmed down his breathing enough to remember his name, he hears something that draws his attention. It’s strange, because for one, it’s the middle of the night, and two, everyone’s still gone. Everyone except for you and Bruce, who’s most likely sleeping in the lab. The sound, soft yet unmistakably clear to his overly sensitive ears, is that of a record player, which quietly elicits jazz music from its speakers. It sounds old, he can tell from the static and the poor quality of the recording, but it’s younger than he is because although he might recognize the artist’s name if you were to tell him, he surely doesn’t remember hearing this song before.

Lampshade. That’s it. Breathe. 

He’s up in an instant, covers swept carelessly to the side as he rises, and he doesn’t bother with fluffy socks to keep his feet from chilling against the hardwood floors or to keep himself from sliding across. He knows the sound is coming from you, because the wall that separates you from him is also the wall that separates him from you, and it's coming from the other side. The hallway is dark when he sets foot in it, but a small slither of light is coming in from underneath the crack beneath your door. That’s when he’s sure you’re the source of the sound. 

He knows you know it’s him who’s at your door because who the fuck else would it be, but he knocks anyway, waiting impatiently until he hears the unmistakable sound of feet clad in Adidas slippers shuffling to the door and you, yawning twice in a row, stand before him moments later. You’re not so silent now, but he decides to give you a break. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, and it’s not at all what he expected to come falling from your lips, “did I wake you?”

A fuck you, or a what the hell are you doing at my door at 3 in the morning sounded more appropriate in his head, but an apology didn’t even make it near the top of the list of things he expected you to say to him. You notice he doesn’t respond, and once again have the urge to wave your hands in front of his face. He zones out a lot, you think. 

“No,” he says finally, peering into your bedroom in search of the music, “no, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it?” you ask, hands with red painted fingernails holding the door frame through which you peeked at him.

“The music,” he points out, “can I listen?” 

You frown for a moment, searching his face for emotion. Anger, maybe, because you’re convinced you woke him up after all, or laughter at your expense, but you find none in his words and you find nothing of the sorts on his sweaty face. You let go of the door and step aside, allowing him inside your room for the first time.

It’s nothing and everything he expected at the same time. It’s cozy. A plush, white rug comforts his cold feet, and several fluffy pillows are stacked on your bed, leaning against the headboard. Fairy lights are strung up on the wall and serve as the only source of illumination, the same light that flooded out from underneath the door. You don’t say anything when he sits down at the foot of your bed, hands clasped in his lap, and his eyes on the ground. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist, or Bruce Banner for that matter, to figure out something’s wrong with him. You’ve heard the screams. You know the stories, the myths that surround him. 

“It’s early 60′s Frank Sinatra,” you explain, “the next song is my favorite.”

“What’s it called?” He asks as silence between tunes fills the room, before soft drums queue the next song. 

“All I need is the girl,” you reply, smiling as you sat down next to him, “it’s underrated in my opinion.” 

He appreciates the fact that you don’t bring up his disheveled features, or the frown that seems permanently etched into his forehead. It’s not what he needs right now, a lecture, or words of advice. He needs distraction from what’s going on inside his mind and the one person who truly understands him is currently 5000 miles away fighting a battle Bucky himself wasn’t allowed to join. 

“I like it,” he replies, “it’s better than most of the music Tony’s been showing me.” 

Laughter erupts from deep within your chest. It’s a sound Bucky’s never truly listened to before, not even when you snicker next to him as Natasha’s secretly making funny faces at you during meetings that last for hours. It’s warm and makes his heart thump. It makes him feel human. 

“That’s because Tony only wants you to hear garbage,” you smile, “there’s plenty of good music nowadays, you just have to look for it.”

“I didn’t peg you for a jazz-enthusiast, Y/N.” He says bluntly. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, James.”

He doesn’t respond, because why would he? You’re right, he knows absolutely nothing about you, nothing other than your first name and that you like to read and can sneak up on people when they least expect it. This realization makes him get up, afraid to think he’s over-welcomed his stay just as the song comes to a soft end. 

You look tired, purple circles make your eyes less bright, and even though it appears you’re a night owl, he remembers even owls need to sleep sometimes, and so do you. 

“I’ll remember that,” he says, and with one last look back at you on the bed wearing pink pajamas with kitty cats on them, he leaves to return to his room, which suddenly doesn’t feel so homely anymore.

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 15 May 2018, 11:10 a.m. 

After he’s done with his daily morning work out routine, Bucky Barnes heads back to his room to take a well-deserved shower. He hasn’t seen you in two days, which slightly worries him, although it’s not that hard to disappear in a building as large as the tower. You could be anywhere at any given time. Just because you share a room on the same floor, doesn’t mean that’s where you are. Besides, he’s had his fair share of keeping track of people’s whereabouts. He doesn’t want to do that anymore.

Despite this, he finds himself looking for you, keeping an ear out just in case you decide to once again sneak upon him. He wants to ask you if he can borrow the record you were playing earlier, but the question that’s been heavy on his tongue gets swallowed down his throat when he finally does see you again.

You’re seated on one of two wooden benches by the pond out back, legs dipped in shallow, murky water while you’re reading yet another book. He begins to wonder if that’s all you do because he can’t recall ever seeing you not holding at least one in your hands. You have red heart-shaped sunglasses on to shield your eyes from the sun, which brings its powerful rays down on your bare shoulders without mercy. You’re enjoying it, he can tell because you have a smile on your lips that’s so small he’s sure you don’t even realize you’re smiling. You enjoy the heat, it brings an airiness out in you that’s not there when it rains. 

He’s looking out the window now, praying to whatever god is listening to him that you don’t see him lurking in the shadows of the compound’s game room. 

After what feels like hours of eyeing you from across the yard, he turns back around, taking the pool cue between his fingers and twisting it mindlessly. He’s playing a game against himself, so he can’t lose. Still, he has a favorite side, the winning one of course. He doesn’t even like pool, even after three rounds of winning games he literally can’t lose, but he also doesn’t have any better ideas, so he begins to once again line up all the balls for a fourth round. 

“You winning yet?” 

He jumps, dropping the pool cue to the floor and three balls with it. They roll across the wooden floor, the sound so loud it reminds him of gunshots before all of them disappear from view.

“Jesus Christ,” he exclaims, placing his hands on the pool table to steady himself, “you scared me half to death.”

“I’m not Jesus, sorry,” You, looking up from your book, smile gently, “you were very concentrated.”

“I’m a bit of a sore loser,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck before picking up the wooden stick he lost moments ago, “even against myself.” 

You hum, before skipping past him to the bookshelves on the wall. You see him watching you intently, which causes you to turn around slightly so you can see his face.

“Glad I didn’t join you, then. I never lose.” 

He remains silent, wondering for a moment if you would’ve played with him had he asked. Probably not. 

“I read this one already,” you explain, motioning to the book in your hand, “twice, actually. It was better the first two times. I can’t get myself to finish it a third time. The ending’s too sad.”

The only plausible reason for the sudden increase in conversation on your part is that, well, you’re just as bored as he is staying alone in a house big enough to accommodate well over a hundred people, but that instead of playing a game of pool against yourself, you chose to read. Apparently, even reading gets boring to you, or maybe reading the books available to you has become boring. Bucky’s not sure.

“Would you mind putting this back for me?” You ask, holding the book in your hand out to him.

He sees the empty spot at the top of the shelf almost immediately and realizes quickly you’d never be able to reach it without a ladder or at least a chair. 

“Sure,” he mumbles, placing the pool cue on the table and walking towards you. 

“Steve usually does it for me,” you explain, “but he’s still gone.” 

His heart twitches slightly, and he’s not sure why. Jealousy, probably, but he refuses to give in to the idea of being jealous of his best friend just because he gets to be the one to help you reach for something so stupid as a book. He doesn’t even know you, and he sure as hell doesn’t know what type of friendship you have with Steve. He’s never studied your interactions before and he doesn’t keep tabs on his best friend’s acquaintances. 

He reluctantly takes it from you, lifting it by the spine with just two fingers as if it’ll crumble beneath his touch if he applies even the smallest amount of pressure. He puts it back without much effort, only required to stretch his body a little to reach the shelf. His shirt hardly rides up. 

“Can I have that one?” You ask, pointing in the general direction of the highest books. 

“Which one?” he replies, looking at the spines lined up in perfect alphabetical order. 

“The green one,” you say after some thought, “I’m not sure if I’ve read that one yet.” 

He picks it up and hands it to you, allowing you to quickly scan the back cover before shaking your head. You give it back, he puts it back on the shelf. This continues for quite some time until finally, he grabs one you surprisingly haven’t indulged in. You open it up on a random page, nodding to yourself when you indeed confirm the word patterns are foreign to your brain. It’s thick, the heaviest one out of all of them, there’s a large crack in the spine and the pages are frayed. The title, which was previously painted on in gold letters, faded so much Bucky can’t quite make out what it says. He wonders why on earth Tony has so many books anyway. The guy doesn’t even read. 

You don’t even say thanks as you begin to skip away from him, leaving Bucky wondering what the hell just happened before he realizes you’re out the door. Then, he glances at the pool table, a groan erupting from his throat when he realizes he’s lost at least three balls he now has the privilege of trying to find. It takes him nearly an hour.

You’re not sure what compelled you to seek him out in the first place. You were perfectly content sitting outside basking in the sunlight, enjoying the scent of fresh grass and blossoming flowers while frogs and birds made their presence known in their funny ways. As such, it takes you a while to realize you’re curious. Curious to know what the infamous Winter Soldier is really like. You’ve lived with the guy for months, but have never so much as spoken more than a few words at any given time and it bothers you because something is lingering just behind the facade that draws you in more than you’re willing to admit.

Maybe it’s because his hands tell stories that go further than any book you’ve ever read. Their actions could fill novels, yet he doesn’t know how to put a single word on paper because he doesn’t remember any of it. It fascinates you beyond comprehension. 

You tried to stay away from him because you know it’s what’s best for everybody, but the screaming and howling at night, and the depth of the ocean in his eyes spike your curiosity and suddenly you find yourself wandering the halls in search of him, wondering what a man like him could be up to on a beautiful day like this. 

You really did not expect him to be playing a game of pool against himself. 

The Avengers Tower, New York City, USA. 16 May 2018, 1:44 p.m.

A book is in your hand when the others finally make it back the following day. To everyone’s relief, none of them are seriously injured, but Natasha needs an x-ray to make sure she doesn’t have a cracked rib, and you find it in yourself to leave the book - a new one, with a bird on the cover this time - you were reading before they arrived behind just long enough for you to accompany her to the medical bay. 

Bucky hugs his best friend close to his chest, glad to see he’s made it back without any major injuries. He knows Steve has the same serum coursing through his veins that allows him to heal in a very short amount of time, but he can’t help but worry nonetheless. It’s in his nature to take care of him, just like he used to do when they were in the previous century. Habits die hard.

“What have you been up to?” Steve asks as they follow each other back inside the compound. 

“Not much,” Bucky says nonchalantly, “relaxing.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. He knows Bucky doesn’t typically relax but chooses not to question his answer. Instead, Steve watches you skip gleefully after Natasha, telling her in grave detail how your last book, the one Bucky handed you, ended with a horrifying plot twist that left you shivering and shaken to your core. The redhead nods in your direction as Sam, who’s clearly not amused by your need for storytelling, uses his arm to support her weight. She’s intently listening to your expressive story, simply happy to be near you again because you offer normalcy in her crazy life.

It doesn’t take Bucky very long to realize Steve’s looking at you in the same way. Even Sam, whose teeth are gritted and whose lips are pursed in a tight line, has a twinkle in his eyes that Bucky’s never noticed before now. 

He realizes at that moment he can no longer push away his curiosity. There’s something buried deep inside him that’s nestled within his core, something that compels him to know more. He decides he’s going to ask Steve about you but closes his mouth the second he opens it because he knows now is not the right time for such questions. Steve’s tired, he can tell by the way his eyes droop and he’s dirty and smells like sweat and gunpowder, and Bucky can only imagine how badly his friend wants to take a shower. 

“What?” Steve asks with his eyebrow raised as he watches Bucky’s mouth move like that of a fish on land.

“Nothing,” Bucky says, “Just glad you guys are back.” 

“That bad, huh?” Steve jokes, punching him lightly in the shoulder. 

Bucky begins to follow him inside. 

“It’s been quiet, that’s all.” 

“Admit it pal,” Steve grins through his tiredness, “you’d be lost without us.” 

--

Taglist:

@justine-en​ @meghapillai

[theteaisaddictive]

43 or 71 for Adam/Belle?

jealousy ain’t my thing, so 71 it is :D 2017 verse

“Do you ever wonder –”

Adam turned in his chair away from the hearty fire in their bedroom to face Belle, propped up in the bed with her book laid aside. Her hair was loose, her normally peaceful face pinched and pale with worry. It was an expression Adam had become familiar with over the past five years of their marriage. She frowned at her own fingers for a moment, avoiding his gaze, before continuing, “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Belle,” he said, standing and walking over to her side. “It’s never nothing. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Her eyes flickered back to her hands, resting gently on her belly and twiddling with a stray thread on the counterpane. “I just … sometimes it feels like I dreamt all of this up. That everything that happened didn’t, and that I’m daydreaming in the oak tree again while Papa works on his music boxes. That this – all of this –” she gestured broadly with her hands, encompassing not just the room, but the entirety of the castle “– is a product of my overactive imagination.”

“A very active imagination,” Adam said carefully, “if it can conjure five years of marriage and a total change in your life.”

Belle shrugged, and her nightgown slipped off her shoulder a touch. Gently, he brushed his fingers over the smooth skin there, and she curled into his touch. Emboldened, he moved to embrace her other shoulder as well. Belle had been in a strange mood for the past week; losing her appetite for certain foods, getting headaches if the light was too strong, and shunning his attentions in bed. It was not the physical pleasure that Adam missed so much as the comfort of having his wife in his arms, and so Belle’s participation in his embrace soothed the worried part of his heart that whispered permanent discord whenever they quarrelled. It had been all the worse because they hadn’t quarrelled badly in years – in fact, they had been closer than ever before. 

“Please,” he murmured into her ear. “Tell me what’s going on, Belle.”

“I …” She ran a hand through the few locks of hair loose from his queue, to show that she was paying attention, before shuffling further into the bed. “Come up here, first. I want to tell you, but I can’t when you’re looking at me. Not yet.”

No longer fearful, but deeply curious, Adam filled the spot she had vacated, warm from her body, and settled with his arm around her waist and his head resting on her shoulder. He wasn’t under the covers, but the room was warm enough that he didn’t feel the need yet. 

“I wondered,” Belle continued, “if I hadn’t been making it up at times because sometimes nothing here feels real. It’s not all the time – only at three o’clock in the morning, when I’m the only one awake and there’s nothing to prove me right or wrong except my own perceptions.” Out of his line of sight, Belle’s hand fluttered over her stomach again. 

“I’ve had my fair share of those three o’clocks, my love,” Adam said. “I’m sorry you have them, too.”

“And that led me to thinking of all the paths we could have taken,” Belle said. “Don’t misunderstand me – I don’t have any regrets. I just …”

“… wonder if I might?” Adam guessed. 

From the dreadful silence above him, Adam realised that he was correct. 

“Belle,” he said. He shifted around, trying to look her in the eye, but she stubbornly stayed out of his view. “Belle, listen to me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but being with you isn’t one of them. I wish – of course I wish that I’d never turned that enchantress away all those years ago. It would have saved many people a great deal of pain.” He skimmed his hand across her waist and over her tummy, catching her fingers in his own. “But it made me a better man. It gave so many people a second chance at life. And it led me to you.” He kissed her hand tenderly, pressing it once before setting it back down on her ribcage, near her heart. 

“You don’t ever … wish to have married some princess who knows all the right things to say and doesn’t cause a minor international incident completely out of ignorance?”

Adam barked out a laugh at her words. He remembered the incident she was speaking of – a dinner with a visiting Russian lord last week, who had stormed away in high haughtiness – and while it had been Belle’s fault, it had also been an accident, and an easily solvable one at that. The same Russian lord had remained in the castle two days longer than planned, utterly charmed by the French prince and his charming wife – or so Lumiere had translated, anyway. “Not a chance. Some princess could never replace my Belle.”

Her hand stroked down his hair, loosening the ribbon that held it together. “That’s … that’s good. It eases my mind, more than a little. If you’d had doubts –”

“– which I don’t –”

“– or if you’d ever wished that –”

“– don’t you dare finish that sentence, Belle –”

“– it matters not. For now there is something for both of us to hold as real, and true.” She lifted the counterpane and slid Adam’s hand down her nightdress, until it rested between her hips. “Something for me to feel at three o’clock in the morning. And certainly nothing either one of us could pretend we imagined.”

Adam propped himself up one on elbow, his jaw almost to the ground. Belle’s eyes were sparkling, both deliriously happy and slightly scared. 

Beneath his fingers was a small, but unmistakable, bump.

[georgiabread]

i’m not in the swing of things (yet)

summary: Sometimes Dan hates university and sometimes any reason to visit Phil is a good one. 

word count: 2.6k

trigger warnings: a mild panic attack

a/n: dan’s laundromat story probably wasn’t as angsty as this but 

The first thing that hits him when he plods into the laundromat is the smell. God, the smell. It’s artificial lime, pungent socks and sweat all blended into one odor to assault his nostrils. It almost activates his fight-or-flight response. But Wash, Dry, Fold, Repeat is the only laundry place within a 2-mile radius of his university, and the skinny jeans and cowl-neck cardigan he’s wearing are all that’s left clean. So, while the taste buds on his tongue squirm at the soapy smell of detergent, Dan finds a place in line behind some bored 20-year-old and waits. And waits. And ignores the anxious thundercloud roiling in his stomach.

He shifts his basket of filthy clothes with his knee – the handles are burning into his palms, and that bitter fragrance of underwear has become a little too much for his nose. He’ll be standing here for an hour, at most. There’s at least ten people in this queue, and dozens more slouched upon bench chairs as their clothes tumble about in dryers. And they’re all students. Their buzz of conversation is white noise in his ears, making his fingers twitch and his eyes quiver. They’re intimidating as hell, because Dan only moved into his dorm a week ago and he’s barely 19. Yesterday he had his first proper conversation with one of his housemates – his first social interaction on campus.

Meet people, comes the nasal voice of his mother, banging around his brain. University is so much easier when you have someone to share it with.

And, yeah – that’s probably true. But with one glance at the students crammed into this shitty laundromat, Dan can’t spot any potential friends. He doesn’t feel the urge to strike up a pleasant chat. All he feels is the urge to throw up, really.

He’s a bit pissed. This is a laundromat, of all places, and those irritating fingers of anxiety still crawl into his stomach and churn his last meal like butter. The queue shortens, and with every step, Dan’s chest tightens. And then it hits him – he doesn’t even know how to use laundry machines. The ones back home were simple; his mum even taught him how to work the buttons. But these are modern and unfamiliar, and how could he know which setting to choose and where to pour the detergent and how long he’d have to wait and–?

Dan closes his eyes, drags a stumbling breath through his nose, exhales. It’s okay, he tells himself. You might screw up a million times and keep everyone waiting, but it’s okay. (It isn’t).

He can find a poster with instructions or something. He can ignore everyone else in the room, and their piercing eyes that probably aren’t judging him but definitely could be. It’s fine.

Dan takes another slow breath. The laundromat is loud, stirring the butterflies behind his ribcage, but he tries to drown it out. Two people leave the line; he’s getting closer. His heart staggers in his chest. Why is this such a dramatic affair? He’s just washing his clothes. This is normal. This is routine. Dan pulls his eyes across the other students again. They gaze blankly at their phones, flip the pages of a textbook they’re reading, laugh and talk in small groups. They are normal. So why isn’t he?

Suddenly there’s violent movement in the corner of his eye, and a guy with a black parka and a tattoo on his neck is yanking on the door of a dryer and – and taking out someone else’s clothes? Dan’s mouth hangs open as the prat shoves his own things inside, nicking the time for himself without paying, and an innocent person’s clothes are left in a pitiful heap on the floor.

When another creep wanders past and steals a single sock from the pile, Dan decides he’s had enough. He’s not leaving his belongings here like they’re free to browse, and he’s finding it hard to breathe and he has to get out.

Lugging his basket on his hip, Dan slips out of the queue and pretty much bolts from the laundromat, his stomach still a raging storm.

Outside isn’t any better. Manchester University’s ancient brickwork looms above him, a scornful reminder of his prison home for the next three years. Dan blinks, and remembers his first lecture – a room with a thousand pairs of eyes and a droning professor, and the seats at the back, mocking him. Like they knew that’s where he would always be. Far away. Hidden. Alone.

Unwanted tears sting his eyes. He’s waging wars with cotton balls in his throat. Hunched on a stretch of pavement, clutching a laundry basket as blood drains from his knuckles, on the verge of a sudden breakdown…Dan can’t fucking do this.

But he still needs somewhere to wash his clothes.

With an ugly snivel, Dan finds his phone in his back pocket and flicks to his messages.

TO: phill ^.^

i’m coming over to do my laundry

The moment the text is delivered, Dan feels stupid. Then guilt tugs his lips into a deep frown. What kind of adult has to go to his boyfriend’s house to do laundry? The house in question is, like, on the other side of the city. Phil must be having a great afternoon in his apartment, and now Dan’s gonna ruin it with his bucket of dirty washing and his incessant whining about the pressures of public services.

But he can’t think of anything better, so he calls a taxi and watches it trundle over to the laundromat 10 minutes later. The driver throws him a questioning look when Dan hops in, beady eyes stuck to him as if waiting for an explanation to crawl out of Dan’s pile of clothes. It doesn’t.

As the city passes by the window in a blur, Dan lets the guilt set in. He revels in it. Takes satisfaction in the way he abuses himself (You’re such a shitty boyfriend. So annoying. You can’t do the simplest of things without panicking. Everyone else can use a laundromat, you’re just a freak).

The taxi halts outside Phil’s apartment building a while later, and Dan steps out bruised and tattered – emotionally. He hasn’t checked his phone since he last sent that message. He can’t read what Phil has to say, probably disappointed that Dan is so reliant on him despite being in university. God.

Then there’s a fiddly entrance, an empty elevator and he’s facing off with the front door of Phil’s apartment. He wonders if he should walk away. Maybe Phil isn’t at home? Maybe Phil doesn’t want to see him? But logic reminds him of the two weeks they’ve been apart; he sniffles, blinks away stranded tears and knocks gently on the wood.

Phil is waiting with a grin behind the door. “So, you only keep me around for my household appliances, huh?” is the first thing he says, crinkles forming around his eyes.

“Sorry,” Dan says heavily, a pathetic attempt at laughter fizzling out. “It’s just – there was a laundromat. But I couldn’t be there. I can use your washing machine, right?”

Phil shuffles back to let him in, raising his eyebrows. “Uh, no you can’t. Not until my worth is measured by something more.”

Dan’s fingers stiffen around his basket, throat thick. “…Well, I-I can leave if you don’t–” His words fracture.

That’s when Phil catches on, jokey expression fading as he leans in and pecks Dan on the cheek. “I’m only joking, you numpty. Go sit down, I’ll put these on for you.”

Dan protests as Phil steals the washing basket from his hands, and stands defeated in the hall when his boyfriend prances off towards the laundry. “You’re making me feel bad,” he cries after him.

“You don’t need to!”

“Well…I do anyway.”

Dan wipes at the mess around his nose. Wandering towards the lounge, he hides in his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath. It doesn’t tremble. His anxieties linger on his shoulders, taunting him, but he now that he’s with Phil, some tumble off and land with a smack on the floor. This is more of a home than uni could ever be.

He flops into the creases of Phil’s couch, eyes landing on Final Fantasy paused on the TV. He notes everything sprawled across the coffee table: an empty mug, a crumb-scattered plate, a few uninteresting documents (bills, maybe). And Phil’s York University hoodie crumpled on the corner.

Dan stares at the green piece of fabric. He narrows his eyes. He scrutinizes it. Then he shrugs it on, only because all his jumpers are in the wash, he’s cold and – okay, he hasn’t seen Phil in ages and he misses him and his smell and his everything, so he wears the goddamn hoodie.

“I made you some tea,” Phil says when he returns, nudging a warm mug into Dan’s hands. The washing machine is background noise to quiet affection.

Careful not to spill the drink (a drop of milk and three teaspoons of sugar, just how he likes it) Dan pushes his face in Phil’s shoulder and clings to his shirt with his free hand. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

Phil noses at his hair and hides a kiss amongst the curls, an unspoken you’re welcome. “Also, green looks good on you.”

“That’s a lie.” Dan’s cheeks are dyed pink. “Your clothes just smell nice.”

This is the first time Dan addresses the taboo subject of sharing clothes. He hesitates. His eyes focus on a stray thread, dangling from Phil’s sleeve. He squeezes it between his thumb and forefinger and tears it off. He feels like he’s broken a promise of some sort.

But Phil just giggles, leaning into him despite the zero space left between their bodies. “I guess you’ll have to keep washing yours here so they can pick up my scent.”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna keep bothering you with my laundry, anyway.”

“You’re not a bother.”

“Uh, yeah I am. What kind of adult can’t wash his clothes? And has to drive all the way to his boyfriend’s house to do it as some kind of security blanket?”

“Dan, if you feel more comfortable here, that’s…you know that’s fine. Besides, you pretty much live here.”

Dan knows Phil is staring at him, waiting for a sign that it’s all okay. It’s not, but Dan still meets his eyes, watches them soften ever so slightly. “Whatever you say.”

“Dan, I’m being serious.” And crap, he’s got him worried. “We’re bloody dating, of course I want you around.”

Dan digs his teeth into his bottom lip, glancing away. Phil sighs and tries a different tactic. “Okay, what happened before? You said something about a laundromat…”

“Yeah, um,” – Dan rubs his eyes, scuffs a bit of fringe out of his face – “It was horrific. Someone stole another person’s clothes. And then, like, there were people there and it smelt disgusting and I had to wait an hour in line. I just – didn’t want to be there. And I know it’s fucking stupid, having a panic attack in a laundromat, but–”

“Dan.” Phil’s fingers brush over the back of his hand. “You could’ve called me.”

There’s a shrug. “Yeah. It wasn’t, you know, dramatic or anything. I just had to leave.”

“Well, I’m glad you came here.” Phil presses his lips against his temple. “What about the whole week? Was uni good so far?”

And Dan snorts, even though this probably isn’t something he should laugh at. “Oh my God, Phil. It sucked. I hid in my room the whole time to avoid my housemates, and showed up late to my first lecture so of course I had one thousand fucking people looking at me as I went all the way to the back of the room. And my professors must be in love with piling intense pressure on their students on the first day. Seriously, I’m so fucking stupid. The workload is massive; I’ll never get it done.”

Phil blinks. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most intelligent people I know.”

“Not when it comes to fucking law.” Dan whines in the back of his throat, throwing his head against the couch. “Already a week in and I’m regretting everything.”

“It’s gonna get better, Dan. Everyone has a tough first week.”

“Do they? I don’t think everyone has a breakdown in the middle of a supermarket when they’re supposed to be buying cheese. Wait – fuck, I wasn’t gonna tell you that.” Dan trails off. He glares at the lukewarm contents of his mug until his eyes water. He grimaces at the aftertaste of his words, wide open and vulnerable.

He can hear the pity in Phil’s breath. Hands reach down to remove the tea and place it on the table before the boy hugs him and shelters him. Dan curls into Phil’s side.

“You should’ve called me,” Phil says. “I don’t care what I’m doing, I just want to be there when you’re sad. I hate it when you’re sad.”

Dan closes his eyes. Fuck, Phil. Then he opens them. “I tried calling my grandma, but she didn’t pick up.”

“Dan. Promise me, if no one else is available, that you’ll call me when you’re feeling shitty.”

“But I always feel guilty. What if you get sick of my problems?”

“Never. You have to promise.”

“I despise you.” Dan burrows into Phil’s chest. His next words he sews into the fibres of Phil’s shirt. “I promise.”

Phil kisses his hair and holds him like he’s porcelain. “Good. And yeah, uni sucks sometimes. I actually burst into tears in Tesco while I was buying tea towels. And during my first lecture, I tripped over trying to find a seat and half my stuff fell down a few rows. Everyone gasped. But it’s mostly really fun and as long as don’t procrastinate and take notes, assignments will be easy.”

“How do you even manage that on your first week? And you know procrastination is a chronic illness for me.”

“You’ll just have to come over to study and I’ll motivate you.”

A small disgruntled sound leaves Dan’s lips. “Why are you so nice to me? Idiot.”

“I prefer to call it supporting and caring for my boyfriend whom I love so much.”

“And the medal for the soppiest lad out there goes to Phil Lester, everybody.”

“I’ll wear it proudly.”

“In that case, I can’t be seen anywhere near you.”

Satisfied with Dan’s return to okay-ness, Phil giggles and seizes his controller. “Mind if we cuddle and I play Final Fantasy?”

“Nope.” Dan pops the p, tugging his sleeves over his hands and wriggling under Phil’s arm. “You suck at battles, though.”

“Hey. Not as hard as your mum sucked last night.”

“What the fuck.”

And Phil begins to shake with laughter, a boisterous thing that puts stars in his eyes and makes Dan feel a bit dizzy. A smile wriggles onto his face when the boy tips towards him, sprinkling I’m sorries through his giggles.

“I hate you,” Dan says.

Phil turns to him, gives him a look. Dan’s gaze trickles down his face until he gives in and touches their lips together, chaste and warm-scented. “But I also love you.”

“See? You can’t fool me, Howell.”

Phil resumes Final Fantasy and entwines their legs on the couch. A grin glued to his face, the tempest of anxiety dribbling away, Dan nestles into the quiet and comfort that is his boyfriend and dozes off to Sending a Dream into the Universe. Somewhere in the apartment, there is an ambience of clothes tumbling about in the washing machine, constant and calm and always there.

phanfics

[colitisandme]

Albert Einstein once said “Time is an illusion” ... Well although I deeply respect his thoughts on the subject, when he said this, he clearly had never dealt with the NHS or NHS hospital referral system!

I truly felt sorry for the lady who answered my call after waiting for an infernal amount of time in the phone queue. I believe that tune they play when your waiting, as you think murderous thoughts due to listening to the same 30 seconds of music over and over again and then annoyingly can’t get it out of your head as you try to sleep later, is used for some kind of torture or torment on prisoners. Anyway after what seemed like 50 years later,she looked up my details and found me on the system. Her voice quivered. Clearly she had been giving bad news to angry people all day and I knew it wasn’t her fault... She honestly sounded like she was going to cry.... Now I am not aggressive, I hate conflict so when she told me the delightful news, I very calmly and politely expressed my disappointment, said it wasn’t her fault and put the phone down. I then also very calmly and politely got a pillow and succinctly screamed every creative swear word i could think of into it for around 10 minutes. I was very impressed with myself...

20 COCKING WEEKS! 20 COCKING WEEKS! I honestly, honestly think that I might be a pile of goo after 20 cocking weeks of waiting to see a specialist, only able to move by sliding around the floor. Bare in mind this is a referral to see a Gastroenterologist not GP. A referral because I had been diagnosed with IBD and this was to figure out what we needed to do next. Now I was flying blind after diagnosis because I had been given no further information or guidance from my GP apart from giving me sterroids, so everything I was doing to make the symptoms better, I was doing myself. Thank god for my Homeopath who was and still is honestly keeping me upright and thank God for the natural remedies I was and am flooding my body with which I honestly feel is keeping me from exploding. I love our NHS but recently things have gone very wrong.

An example of this occurred when I was forced to go to A&E by my Husband and Mum pre diagnosis. I hate hospitals. I don’t trust them, I have had so many bad experiences there. But I had been in so much pain I had gone cross eyed and had been grinding my teeth like a irate goat for around 3 hours, and people around me were becoming both alarmed and wary. I sent my mum a picture of myself looking like the Crypt Keeper, and she told me to ‘present myself to A&E’ as she really felt like I should be seen by someone quickly.

*Full disclaimer. During this time I was going to the loo 15-18 times a day pre diagnosis so I apologise if some of this makes you feel a little queasy*.... The place was PACKED! The nurse was shuffling around, getting more chairs for people who had decided A&E was the perfect time and place to have a picnic and social gathering. (One family brought sandwiches and sausage rolls) Me and my husband groaned. Eventually after time ceased to exist and me and my husband had played the ‘who is really sick game” and I had shot off to the loo more times than anyone should, ( the teeth grinding came back) I was assessed by Triage... I explained how ill I had been feeling, how I had seen my GP so frequently, I should have accumulated air miles, how I was unable to keep food down as it was shooting through me with the force of New Years Eve fireworks and I was seriously concerned that in a few weeks I would not have a bum left... She scowled at me, tutted and said ‘YOUR OBS ARE OKAY, HOW MUCH PAIN ARE YOU IN’ (Yep my obs do that even when I am in so much pain I could climb the walls) ‘I THINK YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN YOUR GP’ I am not proud of this, but she was twirling a pen in her hand and I I have quite a vivid imagination, and just for a second had wonderful thoughts of imagining enlarging the pen, then proceeding to shove her pen up her arse and use her as a over sized duster to clean her office, stopping only to ask about her pain levels every 5 minutes. Again not proud of that but I was clearly in a lot of pain, I had been for months and I was not going to be pain free anytime soon, and I explained this. She relented and said I could see the A&E GP.

When I came out of Triage, my wonderful husband could see how upset I was, and in all seriousness I was. I was at my wits end after months of being in pain, visits to the GP, not able to eat or drink much of anything and loo trips a plenty... I was sick of sounding like a care salesman trying desperately to get help. I was frightened and exhausted. My husband was angry. He felt my pain. He had seen me wracked with agony on a regular basis trying to hide it with humour. He had watched me hobble off to the loo crying, because I couldn’t possibly go again tentatively requesting him to buy extra soft toilet tissue because my bum was looking like a war zone. He had witnessed me avoid food because it hurt so much when it came out and what was the point if it was going to explode out of me anyway, he had watched me stay positive and fight and keep smiling even when I wanted to hide as it was so awful as sometimes the pain felt like it was sinking into my bones, my skin was dry and sore, my eyes had huge dark circles under them, my hair was snapping. He was watching his wife gradually get worse. He was ready to defend me. But i smiled at him and told him it was okay.

The waiting room had swelled with people, it looked like a living organism... There was one woman clearly so wary of inhaling someone else’s germs, she had wrapped a scarf around her face, leaving a tiny hole so she could smuggle in chocolate to eat. (My thoughts are if you can shovel in chocolate, or raid the snack machines like a starving, scrabbling raccoon, you probably don’t need to be in A&E but there you go). Anyway after some more time, I got seen by a lovely, concerned A&E GP, examined (more concerns) had some bloods taken and after chats with his senior Drs started the process of organising a colonoscopy.

I think I entered hospital at around 5 ish. When I came out it was 10pm.

A harassed nurse shuffled out of the main area carrying chairs. She had been given the short straw. She cleared her throat “Anyone who has not been seen by a Dr I am afraid there is a waiting time of approximately 6 hours, so please if you can wait, please see your GP in the morning”... Silence ... Me and my husband waited... More silence... No one moved. Because sadly people know that chances are they won’t get to see their GP in the morning, that the waiting times are ginormous and so they call in as an emergency but the chances of being seen are slim. The GP’s are swamped and so, people who could see their GP for whatever illness they have, or symptoms they are experiencing, end up back in A&E and brazen the 6hour wait times and so the horrid cycle continues. And the referral times get longer, and the GP waits get longer and more people get ill, grumpy and feel as helpless as I did and still do. I probably won’t get seen by a specialist until August for my first appointment. For those suffering, time is not an illusion. Time is everything. #IBD #colitis

[magicianparrish]

The Fastpass Scam

What? My first fic posted in almost 3 months, what? It’s a miracle honestly! Anyway, it’s a small one and it’s another Disney au where all of the 7 work at Disney. And this was also inspired/taken from an experience I had with all my friends having a fastpass for Space Mountain, and I did not, so we scammed my way into the fastpass queue...and many other rides after that. It’s short, it’s simple, and it’s not beta’d or edited. So take it in all it’s first draft glory. 

Everyone had their phones out in front of them. They were standing in the middle of Tomorrowland, trying to figure out who was connected with whom on the Disney parks app they had all downloaded at the beginning of their program.

The sun was blazing down in the middle of the park, making it difficult for them all to see their screens properly, without having to sacrifice taking off their sunglasses even just for a minute.

Percy looked up from his phone and ran a hand through his hair. It was coated with sweat, making it stay combed back while his head was tilted up. He looked up towards the blue sky, where there were no clouds for protection from the rays of the sun. It made him regret coming to parks, just a little. They should’ve gone to Animal Kingdom instead, at least there was the protection of the trees for shade.

“Fuck it’s hot out, can we like not stand out in the middle of the sun and find shade instead,” he suggested with a hint of complaining.

Annabeth looked up and nodded in agreement. She pointed towards the little area right under the People Mover track that provided some shade. Together their friend group shuffled along to stop the burning on their skin and continue their search.

“Okay, I have everyone linked up to the 12:20 timeslot for Space Mountain, except Hazel,” Annabeth announced her fingers sliding across her touch screen.

Hazel let out a huff, tilting her body weight to her right leg, and placing her hand on her hip. She was wearing a sundress that glittered a golden color when reflecting the light, and it matched her cinnamon colored hair that was tightly braided into a bun on top of her head. Her green magicband standing starkly out on her skin.

“I haven’t a clue on how to work this damn thing I swear to god.”

Her southern drawl elongated all her vowels and made even her complaining seem cute. Leo wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned his head against hers. Hazel was the only person shorter than Leo, something he took advantage of greatly.

“Aw, it’s okay. Not everyone can be as technologically advanced as Moi,” Leo bragged with a big grin on his face.

He was in a t-shirt that was colored off white, with a pair of suspenders and khaki shorts, creating a horrible combination that could be considered some weird way of dressing up for Dapper Day.

Hazel huffed again and shrugged his arm off her shoulder looking down at her old iPhone 4 screen. She pressed some buttons and kept scrolling trying to figure it out.

“I can help if you want,” Annabeth offered with a smile, but Hazel waved her off.

“Let me see if I can figure it out.”

After a few minutes of her being not successful, Percy glanced at his phone time to see it was 12:17. They technically had an hour time slot to get on the ride, but they preferred to do it fast otherwise they’d forget and a fastpass would be wasted. And no one wanted to waste a fastpass on a ride that was difficult to get them anyway.

“It doesn’t look like it’s going to work,” Frank meekly said breaking the silence of the group.

His cheeks were flushed red, but whether that was from blushing or the beginnings of sunburn was up to interpretation. Hazel put her phone away in defeat. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, y’all should just go on without me. I’ll wait in the gift shop.”

Immediate protests started. They wouldn’t leave someone behind just because of something so trivial like not having a fastpass. Percy turned to see that Annabeth had her thinking face on. Even from behind her sunglasses, he could tell. Her eyebrows were scrunched together and her lips pursed.

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Okay, this works when we’re in big packs like this one. So, me, Jason, and Piper will walk up and scan our bands first. And Hazel will be put in the middle and she’ll scan hers and keep going even though the mickey will turn blue. But you have to move quickly, and Percy, Leo, and Frank will have to scan right afterward so she doesn’t get caught.”

“Are you crazy?” Percy asked in shock, “you can’t just scam the system like that! If there’s one thing to know, it’s that Disney knows everything.”

Piper scoffed and linked her arm through Annabeth’s. Through her Ray Bans, you could see her looking at everyone.

“Take a chill pill, it works every time Annabeth and I have done it. Not a big deal. It’ll work for Hazel too. The hardest part is getting through the first checkpoint.”

Jason and Frank shared a skeptical look. Percy always though the two of them together were always up to no good. They always dragged them into schemes.

“And we won’t get termed for doing something like this? Seems risky,” Jason pointed out, ever the voice of reason. Their own Jiminy Cricket.

“Bro, it’ll be fine. Worst they do is they turn Hazel away and then we don’t ride and the day sucks that much more,” Leo joined in teaming with the girls.

“Just take your park pass out, let’s go,” Annabeth said pointing to the giant white mountain of a ride.

Both she and Piper skipped on ahead still linking arms. Leo quickly joined up with them, leaving Jason, Frank, Percy and Hazel to take up the rear.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Percy muttered.

“Not even two months into the program, and we’ll be kicked out for something as stupid as trying to scam our way into a fastpass line for Space Mountain,” Frank added.

“Those three will be the death of me. Smartest people I’ve ever met but they lack common sense sometimes,” Jason concluded.

The fastpass queue was a little backed up, so it didn’t matter how long it took the four of them to meet up with the other three. Piper turned around, her pink band raised up ready to be scanned.

“Stick to the plan Grumpy’s,” she stage whispered.

The cast member at the podium looked bored out of her mind. Percy empathized, it would get monotonous just watching people scan their bands all shift. He’s never been more thankful for being in entertainment where he can move around.

Annabeth and Piper scanned theirs first, the mickey glowing a bright green in approval. Leo went next, and then Hazel did hers. It went bright blue and brought attention to the cast member who raised an eyebrow. Her amber eyes glanced down at her main gate pass.

“Cast member? Go ahead,” she said jerking her head towards the entrance of the ride and then touched a few buttons on the screen in front of her.

Hazel let out a sigh of relief and met up with the other three who had already passed. Once Percy, Jason, and Frank scanned theirs in they walked into the dark corridor of Space Mountain.

The breeze of air conditioning that greeted them, made Percy sigh and elicit a loud groan, which was chorused by all his friends. It was the most beautiful feeling in the entire world.

As they made their way deeper into the line queue, Piper and Annabeth turned around to walk backward and face their friends. Their sunglasses were raised on their heads, showing their eyes. Both had shit-eating grins on their faces.

“Told you it would work,” Annabeth bragged.

“Hakuna matata, what a wonderful phrase, hakuna matata, ain’t no passing craze,” Piper began to sing.

“IT MEANS NO WORRIES, FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS,” Annabeth joined in, their voices at a yelling tone.

Percy glanced over at the regular queue and saw that people were looking at his friends like they were crazy. Percy stifled a laugh, and he saw the rest of them were too. Piper and Annabeth had broken into hysterical laughter at their own expense and were skipping along.

Leo turned around, “Stick with me, and you’ll never go hungry, or have to wait in regular lines, again!” he shouted. He tried to do his best Scar impression, but his voice wasn’t nearly deep enough for it to do any justice.

“What’s with all the Lion King today?” Frank wondered.

Hazel shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know, but these three might as well be the hyenas.”

“We heard that! See if we get you into fastpass lines again!” Piper threatened.

Percy just shook his head laughing at the shenanigans of his friends whom he loved.  

[everyonesomething]

Session Eleven

Malkas: "We can't ... we don't know if it's him yet."

Malkas: "Fires start. Waterdeep burned down because of a cow, once."

"It could be an explosion in one of the plants. It could have spread from the river."

Grim: "There was a fire in my hometown. Don't know how it started. Don't remember it ending. Doesn't matter, past a point."

Grim isn't talking to anyone in particular

In this session, things heat up.

The set-up: A day of recuperation from the previous day's horrors and night's frivolities.

The Game: Everyone wakes up in various states of disarray brought on by a day of fighting, drinking, and pizza.

Edith Runekill wakes up uncharacteristically late.

Malkas is still definitely in bed.

Sydney Gaydos wakes up with a literal bag of money What The Fuck

Pepper had awful dreams about pinball.

Grim had salt water and a raw egg for breakfast, she's ready to fistfight a bear

Syd and Pepper set about making breakfast for the group by cleaning out the Steele's pantry and fridge while they discuss the agenda for the day: call ahead to Baldur's Gate to warn them of a possible lich visit and arrange travel for themselves to the city.

Edith Runekill: "If we're ever in Plaguewrought Land..."

"Well. Maybe we still shouldn't stay with my parents anyways."

Ominous.

Grim gets up to wash her mug and plate. This is nerd shit.

Pepper cleans Grim's stuff with Prestidigitation, too, oblivious that Grim needed that busywork.

Grim will have her revenge, Pepper, mark my words

Ominous!

Edith remembers Grim's offer from the night before: she's still very interested in fighting lessons so out to the backyard they go. Edith isn't such a bad learner and Grim isn't such a bad teacher, it goes pretty well and Edith lands a few solid hits on her. She can't actually do any damage with her punches, but the intent is there. We'll have to fit her for some brass knuckles. Next comes an equally important lesson, how to react when your opponent touches you instead.

Grim takes Edith's hand again and lifts her own shirt to push her fingers against her abdomen. She is very skinny, it's not hard to feel the muscles tense up like a washboard.

Edith Runekill: "O-oh!"

Malkas: :|

Pepper spits coffee.

Grim: "You feel that? You got a lot more defenses than just your armour."

Sydney Gaydos: "Oh... dear."

Wait, wrong chat quote.

Shuffles notes around on desk.

Here we go.

Edith Runekill is knocked flat on her back. She's clutching her stomach and laughing hysterically. "Hahaha... ow... oh, Auril... hahahahahahaha..."

Edith Runekill: "Haha... ha... ha..."

"Oh, laughing hurts so much."

"Ugh."

"Sorry."

"Really messed that one up."

Grim is genuinely surprised at how fragile this woman is. She darts over to make sure she's not, like, actually dead.

After a bit more practice, Edith manages to finally sidestep a punch, sending Grim to the ground and into a fit of laughter. Mal—who had stepped out to go to the grocery story—comes back and he and Edith skillfully avoid having a potentially awkward conversation by turning on the TV to a news report about half a city being on fire. Thank goodness for that!

Malkas looks at the TV. "Oh, look, the Secomber River is on fire again."

Malkas stares in mute horror at the TV.

Malkas: "Oh no."

Edith Runekill reaches out to hold Mal's hand. Her hands are trembling.

Edith Runekill: "Mal... What's... was that HIM?"

Malkas takes her hand, "I... don't know."

Malkas peers out the window. In the distance, smoke is curling on to the horizon.

Grim steps inside, having presumably also noticed the apocalypse on the horizon

Malkas: "We don't know if it's him, okay?"

"Don't panic yet, okay?"

Pepper: "Did they dump a bunch of oil on the river again?"

Grim: "Better hope that's what."

Grim: "...they got a lot of manufacturing out that way, right?"

Malkas: "Yeah... The river caught on fire once. Dumping chemicals in the water."

Grim: "Automobiles?"

Malkas: "Yeah..."

"Might just be ... industrial accident."

Pepper: "Sure, there's probably nothing big and evil and pissed their car got exploded and is rampaging around for parts now, right?"

Grim stands out on the porch and watches the smoke, gripping the rail with both hands.

Malkas squeezes Edith's shoulder and goes out to the porch.

Malkas: "We need to call somebody in Orogoth, Grim."

Grim doesn't move

Malkas: "It's as big as Secomber for cars, if that thing is after car parts... We need to let them know. Do you have a contact there?"

Grim doesn't answer for a minute, absolutely rigid

Grim finally takes a deep breath

Grim: "I got a number."

Then Mal's parents come home. Peter goes to watch TV to stay up on the news and Ocila helps calm us down. Moms make everything better!

Grim looks like she's going to throw up

Ocila Steele gently pats Grim's arm. "You too, hm? Come inside, have some tea."

Grim doesn't seem to register that she's being spoken to for a moment. She looks around like she just woke up and stares at Ocila.

Ocila Steele takes her by the arm, "Come on, dear."

Grim moves without a word of protest

Grim is elsewhere right now honestly

In the kitchen, everyone has their own way of dealing with impending horror.

Edith Runekill: "Grim."

"Turn your shoulder. Step back with the blow."

Ocila Steele seats everyone in the kitchen and has the kettle on, "No metaphors at the table, Edith."

Grim looks at Edith for a moment, staring through her, then just nods and looks back down

Pepper claps her hands once. "Well at least Mal got the grocery shopping done, eh?"

Malkas: "..."

Pepper looks at Mal like 'what' and shrugs.

Despite the terrible situation, the gang takes the time to remind each other that they're in this together.

Edith Runekill: "You're not on your own, Grim. You got friends watching your back."

Grim: "It ain't on you."

"Any one of you wants to go home, don't know of a god that'd judge you."

Malkas: "Nobody's going home."

"Too late for that."

Grim: "Oughtn't say that before it comes true."

"Take it from me."

Malkas: "Well, I'm not going home."

Edith Runekill: "Well, first, my god judges us for literally anything which is why we live in a constant state of guilt and shame. But ALSO..."

Edith Runekill: "But also... if... well. The only way people can make it through anything in this awful ol' world is by looking out for one another. We make each other stronger."

Malkas: "Don't be stupid, Grim. We're not going to leave you alone to hunt this thing down and don't pretend like that's not what you'd do."

Sydney Gaydos quietly shuffles into the kitchen long after everyone else had. "If it's any help at all they have a Druid team casting a rain spell over the mess. That's a start right?"

Grim doesn't react, running her thumbnail over the handle of her mug while she listens

Edith Runekill: "And... if we all look out for one another, if we all help each other out... that multiplies our strength and cancels out our weaknesses."

Malkas nods at Sydney. "Yeah."

Sydney Gaydos seats herself at the table. "Gaydos isn't sure what you talked about before she came in, but worry not she is with each and every one of you!"

Pepper whispers at Syd, "I think we all agreed to die together, I wasn't too clear on the details," and sips on a mug of tea.

Sydney Gaydos in a probably not whisper reply, "Exactly Pepper! We're a team through it all."

We all have dinner, minus Grim who goes to take a walk to clear her head. Mal tries to get her to eat when she gets back and Edith tries to give her a pep talk, but nothing seems to help much. Time for the B squad to try their luck, instead.

Sydney Gaydos is in a queue apparently for Grim's room. "Grim. The Great Detective refuses to let you be alone tonight."

Grim grumbles, having tucked up with her back to the door

Grim: "Ain't interested. Go to bed."

Sydney Gaydos: "...." Pauses as she moves into the room. "Gaydos apologizes for what she's about to do." Sydney PICKS up Grim over her shoulder. "We're having a slumber party with Pepper. You can borrow a hat."

Grim elbows Sydney in the snoot

Grim: "MOTHERFUCKER, YOU PUT ME THE HELL DOWN"

Pepper: "C'mon Syd, you almost got her."

Sydney Gaydos is UNFAZED by the snoot elbow. "Now now. Don't be like this. It's for the best! You shouldn't be alone tonight. " Gently plops Grim on the bed when they get back to the shared room.

Grim fights like an angry raccoon for a baguette

Grim: "HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING"

Sydney Gaydos: "Helping!" And she goes :D

Pepper: "This is what friends do!"

Grim gets up and heads right back for the door

Grim: "Keep your goddamn help, I'm goin' to bed."

Sydney Gaydos: "You can go to bed in here! Pepper doesn't snore that much."

Grim LEAVES

Well. It almost worked. We'll win her over one day.

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Flowers of Eden

Series: Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing: HideKane

Rating: T

Summary: They were children born of a mixed set of parents: one human, one ghoul. Raised and trained in the Sunlit Garden, they possessed strength that far surpassed that of normal people, as well as a lifespan that's significantly shorter. Vibrant flowers that bloomed quick and wilted even quicker, if you must.

And among them were a certain half-ghoul and his half-human best friend; one who wanted freedom, and one who wanted to spark a revolution.

[Based on the Sunlit Garden HCs i posted really long ago]

Warning: contains slightly heavy themes 

[Next Chapter]

Also available on AO3 

His earliest memory of them involves a certain incident with strawberry milk.

They were four then? Five? He doesn’t quite remember. He’s never been much good at judging time and it’s not like being cooped up within a walled and gated compound helps a lot. At any rate, it doesn’t matter. Back  to his narration.

Nagachika Hideyoshi is raised in an orphanage dubbed as the Sunlit Garden. No one’s really able to answer him why it’s called that for years. Had it been named on a whim? Maybe the director was feeling poetic? Or is it simply named based on the spot in the place which gets the most sun during the day and that’s the garden? Hide could spend hours and hours coming up with conspiracy theories for that itself, but not even his best friend is willing to humour him on that for that long, so he grudgingly doesn’t.

Speaking of best friend, Hide should introduce his. His best friend is a guy by the name of Kaneki Ken; a shy, quiet kid who sometimes offers the sweetest, most earnest smiles he’s ever seen. They’re the same age, as are the rest of the kids in their dormitory. Hide has always found it strange; how systematic the difference in ages between the orphans of each dormitory are. Hide and Kaneki are ten now. The dorm above them houses kids exactly three years older, and the one above them are another three years older. The ones below them are younger by two years. Those in Hide’s age group are the second youngest thus far. Those older than eighteen had left and never came back, with a few exceptions.

Anyway, strawberry milk. Right.

Strawberry milk was a luxury in the Garden. Their everyday meals always only consisted of stuff that’s supposed to make them grow up strong and healthy, and even though Hide has to admit they don’t taste too bad, it got bland real fast with them rotating between five to six variations a week. Sometimes when their tutors and trainers were feeling generous, they would reward their achievements with snacks like chips or chocolate or—in a rare case once—cup noodles. Still, strawberry milk was arguably the most popular, and it’s not because it’s something that doesn’t begin with ‘c’. Just thinking about it makes Hide want to find out who’s idea it was to let them try strawberry milk so he could shake hands with them for making such a great life decision.

It all started one unannounced morning. They were all standing in line for breakfast according to dorms, their teeth cleaned and hair brushed and clothes straightened. There were around thirty of them in total, all displaying varying intensities of drowsiness depending on the amount of discipline and fear they had towards the person in charge of overseeing them for the morning. Hide had been smack in the middle of the queue then, so he hadn’t been able to process the turn of events right away when whispers suddenly erupted around him and orphans began jostling one another and pointing to the front. One shush was all it took to quiet them down, however, and Hide was forced to wait minutes after excruciating minutes in bursting curiosity before he’s finally at the front, a rectangular packet about the size of his hand thrust towards him in a silent prompt for him to take it.

And Hide had taken it. And he’d walked off to a corner, clutching it to his chest like he’s just been handed some kind of priceless treasure. “Strawberry milk,” he read off the label once he’s huddled against the wall, his cheeks flushed with a sort of excitement he can’t quite explain even until now. Perhaps new, unusual things tend to bring this sort of effect when you’re brought up the way he was.

Hide had just finished inspecting the cute pink print on the packet and attempted to read all the small numbers and words when he heard a cry. His attention snapped up, instantly focusing on a boy at the table not too far away from him who’d started to sob pitifully. There’s a patch of pink liquid on the spot on the table before him.

Now it’s the events that transpired after this that struck Hide as odd only much, much later. The child next to the boy who was apparently the culprit for spilling his milk spent around half a minute begging him to quiet down, their own face pale as paper. Then as Hide watched on, one of their caretakers stepped into the scene, and literally dragged the then also weeping child away and into the corridors where his voice died into an eerie, abrupt silence once the door closed.

Everyone acted as though nothing happened, as though one of their own hadn’t just been taken to some kind of disciplining that might make him return a different person. But well, it was almost everyone, anyways. There was the victim of the incident, trying his best to stifle his sniffles and dry his eyes before he too, was taken away. That’s the thing about the Garden: tears and mistakes weren’t exactly highly tolerated, and the rule only gets stricter and stricter as they grow older. Which was why Hide (and a majority of the other kids, really) had gradually learnt to stick to himself most of the time. You can’t exactly seriously mess up and be sad when you’re alone.

And then there was the boy Hide knew as Kaneki Ken just a bit later, his first and closest friend for years and years to come. Kaneki had never stood out to Hide until then; they went through the same classes, the same training regimens and the same processes of being pricked by needles once a week. He was just like them; a child born under special circumstances and nothing more.

Or at least that’s what Hide thought so at first.

Kaneki had been the only person to approach the crying boy once their caretakers had their back turned, whispering words Hide could not make out before pressing his unopened packet of milk into his hands and hurrying off. Perhaps it’s this act of unexpected boldness on Kaneki’s part that caught his attention. Perhaps it’s the fact that he was actually willing to give up something as great and rare and awesome as strawberry milk for the sake of cheering up another person that earned his respect. Hide still can’t really be sure. All he’s certain of is that the next thing he knew, he was getting on his feet to catch up to the other boy and offering to share his packet of milk with him in honour of his sacrifice.

They… just kinda stuck together after that, he supposes. They began sitting together during classes and meals and hung out with each other during whatever free time they had. Hide’s pretty sure he might even have tried persuading either his or Kaneki’s roommate for a switch so they could spend more time with each other if they weren’t monitored so tightly. Then again, they were given the privilege for an optional shuffle every new year, so Hide had his chance soon enough. It took them exactly four months to have their names form a pair. Nagachika and Kaneki. Wherever one was, the other would usually be there too.

Fast forward several years to the future where Hide is now. He exhales a slow breath as he does his stretches, his muscles burning slightly as he strains on them. Combat training is something the Garden kids are all thrown into the moment they reach six years old, the age Hide had discovered where other children outside their orphanage would usually begin attending ‘elementary school’. They were made to run daily even before that, whether on treadmills or around the orphanage compound within the walls. It didn’t take long for him to realize that that’d been the earliest form of physical training they’d partaken in, and it took even less time for him to begin secretly loathing the regimen set for them. He’s seen his peers do everything they can to maintain their composure until they’re out of sight before collapsing into an exhausted heap or even throwing up from the harshness of the activities they had to go through. Hide himself had had to skip meals too many times already because he’d pushed his body to the point where the littlest movement made his head spin and stomach churn and all he wanted was to lie down forever.

Hide takes his position at the centre of the gym section they’re occupying for the day once he’s done warming up, pushing his thoughts away to focus. They’re sparring today as part of their training, and Hide’s opponent is one of the older orphans. He silently assesses the guy as he waits for him to get ready; noting his dominant hand, the slight favour he puts to his left foot, his sturdy stature that probably grants him a firm sense of balance. He isn’t someone who’s going to be easily toppled, but hey, Hide did earn the title of being one of the best among his group by achieving near-impossible stuff. He’s got a reputation to keep.

With that motivational thought, Hide launches himself into battle; using a minute on being defensive to have a better idea of how the other boy moves so he can plan a proper comeback. Still, he could tell that the guy’s being wary as well and that he’s holding back from showing him anything more than the basics. Hide almost heaves an internal sigh. Experience sure is an unfair advantage.

He takes a sharp breath, and abruptly switches to offense. He uses his opponent’s second of hesitation to press him hard, always aiming for the few vulnerable spots he’s managed to pick out so far. The other boy blocks his attacks well, but Hide subtly notices how he’s often barely quick enough to match his speed. Hide’s breathing doesn’t even falter when he feints a strike towards his chest, his other hand going straight for his throat the moment he sees him moving to block and—

And then Hide’s falling face first towards the ground, hardly even registering the impact across his entire body—and particularly, face—past his stupefied incomprehension. Wait. What. What the heck happened? He tries to recall the flow of events that’d taken place as he slowly pushes himself off the ground, blinking the spots from his eyes. One second he was going for the finishing move, one second he was so certain that it’s his victory once again. And then…

His left leg seems to hurt more than the rest of his body and ah, it makes sense now. The guy tripped him. He saw his chance when Hide was too focused on winning that he’d let his guard down and tripped him to the ground. He used the very same move Hide had considered using on him.

“You okay?”

The older boy enters Hide’s field of vision when he looks up, his hand outstretched. Hide runs his own hand over his face, wincing involuntarily when he touches his nose and feels a jab of pain through his entire head. His fingers touch sticky wetness when they brush below his nostrils.

“I don’t think anything’s broken, so I guess?” Hide grimaces before accepting his help and getting on his feet. “I should probably do something about this, though,” he adds, gesturing to the blood now running down his face in a steady stream. The older boy only nods, making no further comments and turning to go on his way. Hide tilts his head upwards, and tries his best to navigate towards the infirmary. He really hopes that fall hadn’t broken his nose. It’d be a huge bother if it did, ugh.

“Hide, are you alright? You fell pretty hard back there.”

Hide stops in his tracks when he hears the voice, soon peering down upon a familiar head of tidy, black hair. You’d think he’d be more embarrassed about his absolute defeat, but he’s rather proud to say his record definitely had more losses than wins so far. And Kaneki has bore witness to at least ninety percent of those losses, so it’s not exactly something that impresses him anymore at this point.

“I think my pride took an even harder fall back there, to be honest,” Hide jokes, cringing slightly when he tastes blood in his mouth. “But I’ll be fine, Kaneki, don’t worry about it.” A short pause. “Wait, when’s your turn?”

“It’s already over,” is all Kaneki says. He circles his fingers loosely around Hide’s arm, and starts leading him towards his destination. With his head tilted, Hide can’t see his expression.

“How did it go..?” Hide asks, almost tentatively. Not that he doesn’t already know how it went.

“It was barely a competition,” Kaneki answers, his tone matter-of-fact and void of any frustration. He just sounds tired. So, so tired.

Hide’s tempted to risk a waterfall of blood down his face to look at him properly, but he’s saved from doing that when he realizes they’ve reached the infirmary. Kaneki insists for him to lie down while he gets him a wet cloth and some ice for his nose, and Hide doesn’t argue. His head has actually started spinning from his fall and weird position for the past two minutes and he’s worried he might actually get vertigo if he doesn’t lie down a bit. So much for a tough Garden kid, hah.

“Does it hurt again?”

It’s Hide who poses the question once they’ve both settled down, his voice quiet. He finally gets to see Kaneki properly, and  he reaches to loosely tangle his fingers with his. Kaneki’s eyes are averted, his free hand fiddling his chin slightly.

“It’s not so bad this time,” Kaneki says with a reassuring smile, and Hide would have believed him too if he hadn’t known him so well that he’s picked up his habits and quirks over the years.

Kaneki’s… different from the rest of them. “Special” is the word the guys in lab coats would always tell them. They’re officially registered as ‘orphans’, but they’re taught the moment they could understand the meaning of words about who and what they really are. Children who are not really human. Children who have a parent, either their father or mother, who can’t eat anything but human meat to survive.

They’re called “ghouls”, these cannibalistic beings. And they’re often reminded that they’re the baddest guys around, the main threat to the human population. However, what makes less and less sense as Hide grows older is why they, children of ghouls, exist when ghouls are supposed to be hated and hunted down to extinction before they wipe out the human population. Aren’t they kind of contradicting their own aims by raising the young of a species they’re supposed to eliminate?

The children of the Garden are all “half-breeds”, born from a human-ghoul pair of anonymous parents with the help of science. They do not possess the main characteristics of ghouls; the superhuman regenerating abilities, the flaring red irises and darkened eye-whites which are also known as “kakugan”, and the special organ to store and manifest RC cells into appendages that could be shaped at the will of a ghoul, known as the “kakuhou” and “kagune” respectively. As such, they’re allowed to keep the title of being “humans”, but only half so. They’re an in-between existence. Half-humans.

Well, at least most of them who actually manage to live past the exiting the womb or whatever machine used to cultivate them are. The fact that they have the chance to utter their first cry as a newborn is rare enough. But there’s a case that’s even rarer, that’s only occurred a grand total of two times ever since the Garden was founded approximately thirty years ago.

Half-breed children born with the characteristics of a ghoul, yet retain the ability to gain nutrients from human food—half-ghouls. Perhaps in a genetic sense, they can be said to have the better deal; a more balanced mix of both species. Realistically, it could very well be a curse. After all, why would the other half-ghoul—a girl some years older than them—have done everything she did to escape the Garden walls just a few years back? Surely, something must’ve motivated her to do so. Surely, there’s something she couldn’t have been able to stand in here that finally pushed her to leave the confines of their “orphanage”.

It doesn’t take long for Hide to gain a suspicion over what that “something” is, being so close to Kaneki. That’s right, Kaneki’s the second half-ghoul to ever exist in the Garden, and currently the only one left.

“Kaneki,” Hide says, catching his companion’s gaze and silently willing him to not look away. “It’s just me you’re with. You don’t have to lie, you know.”

For a moment, Kaneki seems like he’s about to make another denial. Then slowly, he nods without a word, letting his shoulders slump further with the tiredness he’s been holding back. Hide feels something in his heart darken with a deep, seething rage and loathing. Being the only rare existence left, Kaneki’s called to the labs more frequently than the rest of them; going through procedures that more often than not leave him exhausted and in pain all over. Sometimes it’s so bad that Kaneki can barely push himself out of bed in the mornings, whimpering at any movement that sends jolts of pain across his body. Hide can only imagine how much he’s enduring, to actually fail in masking the agony he’s in when he’s gotten so good at it over the years.

“Stay here with me a little longer?” Hide suggests, giving Kaneki’s fingers a slight squeeze. Kaneki graces him with a lopsided, but grateful smile.

“Is your nosebleed that bad?” he asks even though Hide’s pretty sure he knows the blood flow has long since stopped. That’s the thing about being a half-human; their bodies might not recover from injuries as immediately as a ghouls, but they still recover pretty darn fast.

“Bad enough for me to have to lie down longer than I have to,” Hide says, wiggling his eyebrows in mischief. His smile widens when Kaneki lets out a small laugh.

“They won’t let you slack off for long,” he warns, but makes no more moves to leave than Hide. He exhales a long breath, leaning forward to lean his head onto the mattress in a rather awkward position. Hide tries to scoot over so he can join him, but Kaneki dismisses him with the reason that at least like this he’ll be able to react before they get caught. Hide, sadly, can’t argue. The Garden isn’t too sympathetic towards those who miss training.

But looking at it another way, isn’t what they’re doing quite counterproductive? Hide’s mind wanders as it always does when he’s physically idle. What’s the point of pushing them so hard every single day to the extent that most of them are breaking apart by the end of it—and then strain them with another brutal training menu the next day when they barely have the strength to get out of bed? Even if they are bound to be great fighters, to be the strongest weapons mankind has ever had against ghouls—is there a need for all this?

…Even if they’re just tools, is there a need to treat them like this?

xXx

Kaneki always looks forward to Arima’s visits.

He always manages to bring an array of random things with him whenever he drops by; candies, smooth stones, leaves they’ve never seen before, toys no one really knows how to play. And just recently, books. Books that are never allowed in the Garden; ones about freedom, justice, deceit. Books on revolutions.

Arima Kishou is eight years older than Kaneki, and the youngest ever to have left the Garden for the outside world. Kaneki has never bothered to ask the older boy directly because he doesn’t think it matters anyway, but he’s heard that Arima left when he’s barely sixteen. He’d even skipped the year the children from the Garden would usually spend in the CCG’s academy, being assigned into field work straight out. Kaneki isn’t surprised. He doesn’t need rumours to know that Arima’s the strongest half-human to date, and that he’s on the way to being the strongest ghoul investigator of their time. The fact that their trainers always attempt to motivate/threaten them using his name should be enough to prove it.

Kaneki has mixed feelings towards Arima. He respects him, that’s for sure. Admires, even. He’s awed by him, always taken aback by the small acts of gentleness he sometimes displays. He’s grateful for the books he’s smuggled in for him, all of them stashed away from sight under his bed and read almost to pieces. Strongest investigator or not, Kaneki knows Arima doesn’t completely live up to the expectations of how someone with such prestige should be. Though his range of expressions isn’t all that wide, he has a slight, but kind smile. He has a surprisingly rebellious streak, often sneaking in items with him as gifts to the other children during his visits despite being aware of the strict restrictions imposed upon matters they are allowed to be expose to. He’s sometimes comically awkward. The younger kids adore him.

And perhaps it’s because Kaneki has seen these sides of him that he also somehow feels pity for him whenever he sees him now. The increasing number of white strands in his hair are stark against his original dark blue. The look in his eyes has grown even more faraway, and though it’s not obvious, Hide has pointed out how he seems to carrier a heavier, more tired air around him now. It’s as though something’s constantly weighing him down lately, Hide had observed.

“How is work like out there..?”

The question is asked tentatively, with Kaneki half hoping that Arima will just brush him off. He’s never dared and wanted to know until then—he wonders what made him suddenly blurt that out. He averts his gaze when Arima’s eyes flicker towards him from the novel he’s reading, unable to maintain eye contact. Arima’s silent for a long while, as though quietly contemplating what he should say and how he should say them. Two seconds in and Kaneki’s already regretting some life choices. He stares at the cover of Arima’s book as he waits, scarcely even daring to breathe for some reason. He’s reading one of Franz Kafka’s works today, he muses half-heartedly to himself.

“I—“

Arima’s finally about to say something when he’s interrupted by Hide walking into their conversation. Kaneki can’t decide whether to feel miffed or disappointed or relieved. Maybe it’s for the best that he remains ignorant for now?

“What are you guys talking about?” Hide asks as he shifts on his spot to cross his legs, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. Kaneki’s attention is drawn to the multiple bruises that decorate his bared skin, all already fading despite Hide gaining them just the day before.

“Ken’s just asking me how work’s like,” Arima replies evenly, and Kaneki flinches. Is he really going to tell them?

“It’s probably tough as hell, isn’t it?” Hide says almost offhandedly, balancing his elbow on the side of his knee and resting his chin on his palm. That’s what it would seem like on the surface, but Kaneki manages to detect the thoughtful undertone in his voice. That’s just how Hide is, no matter what kind of image of himself he usually tries to project in front of others. He’s always thinking, questioning, analysing.

It’s dangerous, to have such strong independent thoughts in the Garden. That’s why Hide chooses to mask them with his everyday façade—it wouldn’t end well for him if he raises suspicion upon himself for having enough self will to resist the Garden’s ideals. Even Kaneki is aware of this much.

“Well, it’s certainly not easy,” Arima responds, but offering no further elaboration. Kaneki finally exhales the breath he’s been holding. It was a stupid idea for him to have asked about this in the first place—not to mention a rather insensitive one. Arima-san’s here for a break and here he is, making him think of the burdens he has to carry.

He notices how close Hide is to blurting more questions, and quickly scrambles for a different topic of conversation. “B-By the way, Arima-san!”

Arima regards him, head tilted slightly to the side. Kaneki’s cheeks burn. His voice had came out squeakier than he’d intended. That doesn’t matter.

“I just finished reading the anthology you gave me the other day a-and,” Kaneki swallows, his sudden boldness making him stumble over his words, “I’d love to talk to you about them, if that’s okay.”

Arima’s quiet for a moment. “Was it Hakushuu’s The Seal and the Cloud?”

“Yes.” Kaneki’s heart beats just a little faster with excitement. He’s always loved reading, loved how words alone are able to bring him to an entirely new world besides giving him a fuzzy feeling in his chest and at times even taking his breath away with their beauty and the plot’s intensity and making him forget about the almost constant ache that plagues his body. It’s a passion that sparked within him since they were made to read some literary works in class, and it’s only been growing ever since Arima smuggled in more books and a dictionary into the Garden.

Huh. Now that he thinks of it, how did he find out about his love for books? Was it simply some good guessing on his part? Maybe it’s a coincidence? Or did he hear about it from someone?

“I thought Ode to an Old Ainu was pretty interesting,” Arima says and oh gosh it really is happening they’re going to talk about books now. Kaneki takes in a breath, ready to blabber on about how much he agrees that the poem is great and how one may interpret it so, so many ways and how much of a literary genius Hakushuu truly is when Hide decides to heave a deep, loud sigh. Ah, he’s never been a fan of Kaneki’s boring stuff written by pretentious old people, he’d always say. Kaneki nods apologetically when he catches his eyes, but Hide only shakes his head subtly, encouraging him to go on.

Still, Kaneki feels bad for leaving him out of the conversation like this. Hide remains without comment, only bringing his knees to his chest and leaning forward to use them as a makeshift pillow before closing his eyes—perhaps intending to reassure him further that it’s okay for him to just do his thing, he’ll be there if he needs him. Very reluctantly, Kaneki lets himself indulge.

He talks with Arima about Hakushuu for what seems to be hours and hours; relentlessly exchanging insights and theories and opinions. And as silent as he is on every other day, Arima turns out to be a great conversational partner when it comes to talking about books; having an excellent memory and sharp observational skills to notice details even Kaneki sometimes missed out. It’s easy to forget about Arima’s rising status as a ghoul investigator and see him as just another orphan from the Garden when they’re like this. Kaneki hopes it’s the same for Arima as well, that he can just be himself without bearing the weight of a genius right then where none of his talents in combat matters. If anyone deserves this little bit of peace, it’s him.

“It’s different,” Arima comments at one point, so out of the blue that Kaneki fails to follow. “The world described in his poems and the world outside right now,” Arima adds shortly, absently watching his own finger as he draws circles  on the floor by his foot, “they’re very different.”

“In what way?” Kaneki shifts, longing to stretch his stiff legs but worried that he might seem rude to do so when there’s already not much space between them to begin with. From the corner of his eye, he notices that Hide’s awake now, listening to them in silence.

“It’s—“ Arima’s cut off by a call of his name from one of the instructors. Their tone was wholly professional and lacking a certain warmth—the default voice used for most of them, really, but Kaneki can’t help but feel it’s even more so in Arima’s case. Maybe it’s just him thinking too deep into things, he doesn’t know. Also, would people please stop interrupting the poor guy already, geez.

Arima moves to get on his feet without a word, the two younger boys soon following suit. Arima’s expression remains unchanged, but Kaneki seems to hear a tinge of wistfulness in his tone when he bids them farewell.

“Thank you so much for today, Arima-san,” Kaneki manages to tell him before he could walk off, bending forward in a slight bow. He catches a glimpse of one of his rare, small smiles when he straightens. “See you soon.”

He doesn’t get to watch him go; Hide’s tugging his hand to remind him about the next class they have to attend before he has the chance.

xXx

Their days eventually begin passing in a new sort of monotone.

Their physical training gets replaced by weapons training immediately after they turn thirteen, each of them assigned a type of weapon to master based on past assessments of them before they’re allowed to choose their second choices. Hide’s advantages lean towards his speed and wit for ending battles quickly, so he’s made to train with short weapons for easy manoeuvrability and quick, precise strikes. Kaneki, who excels in learning new moves and techniques by simply observing and generally an all rounder with a sturdy core as long as his pain isn’t too prominent, is assigned to handle standard length weapons like swords.

Hide has to admit though: training with weapons is much more interesting than what they were used to. Perhaps it’s because he’s suffered way too many losses during his hand-to-hand combat days and sees better chances in something that can properly end a battle with a nudge of wood against certain spots of a body. Perhaps he’s attracted to the rush of adrenaline that comes with the sudden spike of urgency knowing a defeat in training would might mean death if it were a real fight. Perhaps he’s just happy to take it as a sign of him growing up and growing stronger.

He has to grow up and grow stronger.

Kaneki’s uniqueness as a half-ghoul has gotten even more distinct recently. He now receives a special menu during meal times—and by ‘special’ Hide means an extra bowl of gooey red stuff that reeks of iron but apparently smells just like chicken soup to Kaneki. He’s starting to train with his kagune as well besides mastering how to swing a weapon effectively. All on top of the increasingly painful and draining procedures he has to go through.

Kaneki practices using his kagune alone during the hours where the others are free to do as they like, not just because he’s the only one with a kagune, but also because he hates standing out in front of people. Hide always keeps him company, that’s for certain. He’d sit at the sides of the practice hall and watch as Kaneki performs a succession of moves with the blood-coloured appendages that sprout from his lower back; simple ones at first, but he’s using them as if he’s been using them all his life in no time. Sometimes Hide finds goosebumps rising over his skin at the sight of Kaneki’s deft movements that incorporate using his kagune with seemingly so little effort. So this is how a ghoul fights.

Hide has been having a bad feeling since he woke up the day the incident happens. Kaneki hadn’t returned to their room at all the night before—his bed remained untouched even after Hide snapped awake from the drowse he’d eventually nodded off into as he waited. It’s not the first time something like this has happened; Hide’s been caught sneaking out to the labs way past curfew to check on him so many times that he’s been punished to solitary confinement twice already. He’d keep doing it anyway if Kaneki hadn’t personally assured him that he’ll be alright and asked for him to stop getting himself in trouble and just wait for him because he’ll surely come back sooner or later. Hide doesn’t like it any more than he likes the idea of being locked in a room with nothing but white walls and a small corner for him to do his business for hours and hours without food or entertainment, but for Kaneki, he’d decided, he’ll listen to him.

Still, the nagging feeling in his gut only intensifies further when it’s past lunch time and Kaneki still hasn’t made an appearance. He’s missed an entire morning of lessons; they usually wouldn’t let him do that even when the painkillers no longer make a difference. Hide’s also suspicious of how he’s suddenly more engaged than normal, being almost constantly targeted by their tutors to either answer questions or read passages or carry materials from one class to another. The Garden is a small institution—there’s no one who shouldn’t have, to the very least, heard of the inseparable Nagachika and Kaneki. With the behavioural record he holds, he’s not surprised that he’s the one they’re wary of if anything’s happened to Kaneki.

The fact that he’s more and more certain they’re trying to distract him does little to lessen his apprehension. Maybe he should risk enduring another day in confinement and look for Kaneki to check on him and beat up anyone who’s trying to—

“Nagachika!”

Hide’s jerked out of his thoughts by the sharp call of his name. He abruptly registers the sting in his palms; his fingers uncurling with effort. He glances towards the owner of the voice, a girl his age.

“Didn’t you hear? We need to go to the labs now,” she says, tugging his arm to urge him to hurry. Hide blinks, almost stumbling over his feet when he moves.

“Why so sudden?” Hide asks, though possibilities are already beginning to cloud his thoughts, backed by the bits and pieces of information Kaneki has been able to tell him along with those he’s picked up himself during the few times he’s stumbled upon careless conversations. The girl shrugs, eyes set ahead and pace hastened to catch up with the rest of the group that’s already ahead of them.

“Don’t know. They didn’t care to elaborate.”

Hide says nothing to that, instead holding his breath as he moves to join his peers. His teeth dig into the flesh of his lower lip until they draw blood. His intuition has never really been wrong all these while. This sudden visit to the labs—he’s sure it’s connected to Kaneki’s sudden absence that day somehow. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach like a layer of tar; dense, toxic. What have they done to him? What are they still doing to him?

Hide doesn’t make the turn into the usual room where he’d get his arm pricked every Saturday, his steps speeding up as he walks straight ahead despite the calls of question and warnings for him to go back. Kaneki wouldn’t be in this corridor, but Hide knows how to get to where he should be without even thinking now. He slips into the emergency stairway and climbs up, his bare feet making no sounds at all against the cement floor. He shortly emerges in an annoyingly bright hallway lined with doors and large one-way glass windows along the walls. It’s quiet—eerily so. A calm before a storm.

Hide heads forward, all thoughts of being caught forgotten and replaced only by a numb sort of static. He goes to the room at the very end of the corridor, and stops. Looks through the window.

And stares.

And stares.

The scene before him is like a muted nightmare, only perhaps much, much worse. Kaneki’s strapped on his belly onto an operating table, his limbs straining against their constraints as he thrashes about. His face, turned to one side for him to breathe, bears an expression of excruciating pain; his mouth open in screams that are silent to Hide’s ears, his dark hair sticking to the sides of his sweat-drenched face. The skin where he—impossibly, given the raw strength he owns—is tied down is chaffed raw and bleeding. And on his lower back...

The rush of air that suddenly enters Hide’s lungs almost chokes him. He could only watch on in complete stupefaction as Kaneki’s kagune furled and unfurled in spasmodic movements into ever-changing forms, lashing at nothing and everything. It’s eating him, is the only thought that Hide’s mind seems to be able to piece together. He doesn’t know how it’s possible or why it’s happening but Kaneki’s kagune is going out of control and he’s in pain and he has to do something he can’t just stand there and—

Hide feels hands grabbing him and roughly yanking him back and away from the glass panel the exact moment he spots a researcher enter the scene, holding an item that unmistakably resembles a gun. Hide vaguely remembers struggling, words he can’t hear leaving his mouth in shouts, in desperation. They can’t hold him down, he has to see if Kaneki is alright! He has to go to him and he’ll fight anyone who dares get in his way and perhaps he goes too far at one point because the last thing he remembers before waking up from unconsciousness in a white-walled room is a sharp jab of pain piercing  his arm.

Being locked away has never bothered him as much as it does then. He’s utterly restless at first, unable to find the composure he normally holds on to so firmly. He paces, slams his fists against the door that stubbornly remains shut. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. Then when he’s finally exhausted and starving, the thoughts come; those of helplessness and despair and frustration all mixed up in an overwhelming whirlwind. He’d only stood and watched as Kaneki suffered. He hadn’t been able to do a thing.

He’s never been able to do a single thing.

They couldn’t have shot Kaneki dead, Hide’s at least certain of that. He’s still got too many uses for them to be disposed of so early. The ammunition for that handgun was probably some kind of sedative, maybe even some concentrated form of the RC suppressants they learnt about in class.

Kaneki often warned him that he thinks too much (which, he begs to differ because he’s pretty sure he’s doing it to a decent, healthy extent) and perhaps it’s become obvious without him realizing despite his efforts trying not to let it show. After all, why else would it feel like they’re lengthening his isolation if it’s not to show him that he’s not the one in power here and that he can spend an eternity pondering over how he can help his closest friend in the world and still remain unable to change a thing?

The realization of having his weaknesses used against him gives Hide the resolution to refrain from showing any more signs of an external breakdown, but with his parched throat and hunger combined with his unfading concern towards Kaneki’s current wellbeing, it still feels like there’s a thorn stuck in his gut . Hide lies flat on his back on the cold, marble floor, his closed eyes doing little to block out the intense white lighting around him. He tries again and again and again to distract himself, to uncharacteristically stop thinking for just a second, a minute. He can’t show them he’s lost. He can’t show them he’s completely disobedient either; he can’t risk being monitored any more than he already is.

The plan taking root in his head would be harder to be put into motion otherwise.

xXx

Kaneki wakes to a badly aching head and an unusually numb body.

It’s dark. He doesn’t recognize the ceiling above him. He takes a breath, exhaling slowly. It’s... actually quite nice like this. He’s forgotten how it is to not feel like his muscles are constantly being roasted over a slow flame.

His memories begin creeping back in patches. The metal capsule that’s filled with some sort of liquid, the mask over his face, the contraptions that fit over his lower back for ‘harvesting’ purposes. The pain. The iron cuffs cutting into his wrist and ankles, the syringe of greenish chemical injected into his bloodstream. The feeling of his kagune tearing into his flesh. More pain. Much, much more pain.

He begins to wonder if the numbness right then is actually artificially induced or if it’s just his body being utterly exhausted from the amount of pain it had to endure. Either way, he’s not looking forward to when it all wears off.

Kaneki’s attention flickers to the place where he’d spotted a shadow move. He closes his eyes once more, hoping that the person will leave him be if they see him still asleep. It’s strange, though. He doesn’t remember the researchers’ footsteps being this silent; their shoes usually make sure they can be heard through an entire empty hallway.

“Kaneki.”

Kaneki’s heart skips a beat, his eyelids snapping open to see Hide standing over him, the shadowed expression of worry on his face matching the tone of his voice. Seeing him awake, Hide breaks into a smile of relief, and Kaneki feels a sting in his chest. He wants to apologize, wants to reach out and take his hand and assure him that he’s okay and that he doesn’t need to look like he’s almost lost him because he hasn’t, not this time as well—but he can barely move a finger, let alone do anything beyond that level.

“Hide.” His voice comes out hoarse from his dry throat. In response, Hide disappears from view, reappearing half a minute later to dribble some water between his lips. Kaneki swallows gratefully, the squeeze in his heart growing in intensity at the care and gentleness in the way Hide treats him. What has he done to deserve someone like him?

“Better?” Hide asks once he’s presumably ran out of water to feed him, reaching to brush some strands of his hair away from his eyes. Kaneki nods, the ache in his head gradually fading to something more tolerable.

“What happened to you?”

It’s Kaneki who makes the inquiry, noting Hide’s hunched shoulders and generally haggard appearance. Even in the scarce lightning Kaneki could see how his hair is more tousled that it usually is and how he seems like he hasn’t slept in days. Wait. How long has he been unconscious, then?

“Nothing new,” Hide dismisses casually, and it’s enough for Kaneki to make a guess. He’s gotten himself punished again for his sake despite all those times he’d told him to lay low, hasn’t he? A lump forms in the base of Kaneki’s throat. If Hide’s caught being here now, he might be locked up and starved and who knows what additional forms of discipline they might come up for him next and no, Hide can’t stay. No matter how much he wants him to stay, Hide can’t because Kaneki doesn’t think he can bear the thought of him finally being broken by the cruelty of the Garden because of him. They can do whatever they want with him until his body rots away, but not Hide, please.

Please.

“Kaneki?” Alarm tinges Hide’s voice. “Hey, what’s wrong? Does it hurt anywhere or—“

“Please leave, Hide,” Kaneki pleads, shakily. His palms and back feel damp. “I’ll be okay in a while, so please leave before they find out you’re here.”

“After all that trouble I took just to get here? No way,” Hide scoffs, earning himself an incredulous stare from Kaneki.

“But—“ he begins, but Hide interrupts by pressing a finger to his lips, effectively shushing him.

“I have permission this time,” he simply tells him, in a way that Kaneki is unable to decide if that’s really the truth. Hide doesn’t give him room to argue, however, by proceeding to make himself comfortable at the end of his cot. Gradually, reluctantly, Kaneki lets himself relax. It’s not like Hide would leave even if he keeps protesting—stubbornness is one of the qualities they both share, after all. But still...

“They’ve really done it this time, huh?”

The words are muttered in a muse, not directed to anyone in particular. Hide’s face, now turned away from Kaneki, is fully hidden by the shadows. There’s a ring to his voice that Kaneki hasn’t heard before.

“I think they’ve finally found a way to harvest my kakuhou,” Kaneki says, remembering the voices that swarmed around him while he was in that capsule. The procedures he’d gone through over the years were mostly about trying to extract enough bits of his kakuhou to be transferred to another person. It’s a different and more intricate process than obtaining one to make a quinque, he’s figured long ago. There have always been complications, perhaps due to the fact that he’s a natural-born half-ghoul. Something’s always bound to get in the way of a breakthrough; as if his body is consciously refusing to cooperate with the hands that persistently violate it over the years.

It’s no longer a secret why the researchers are so fixated on Kaneki’s kagune. All half-humans born in the Garden are fated to a short lifespan. Many are prone to prematurely contacting conditions an average person would not suffer from until later in life. Strong and inhuman as they are physically, they’re also ironically fragile. Disposable. Flowers that bloom quickly and wilt even quicker.

And Kaneki’s kagune has been found to hold the key to fixing that.

“Yeah, they told us that yesterday,” Hide says, in the same unreadable tone as before. He’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. “Say, Kaneki?”

“Hmm?”

A slightly longer pause, a moment of hesitation. Then, “on second thought, it’s nothing.” He perks up and turns to face him right after, his mood taking a sudden drastic shift. “Come to think of it, I should mention that they brought us some pudding just now. I’ve already saved some for you, by the way.”

Kaneki sees the slight jerk of his head to the side, indicating the top corner of the room where there’s a surveillance camera mounted on the wall. They can’t talk about it here, he interprets. He wonders what exactly does he want to tell him.

“I hope I’ll be back before it goes bad, though,” Kaneki plays along with hardly a falter, laughing sheepishly. Hide leans a little forward.

“It should be fine; the weather’s still cool anyways,” he says, and despite his earlier solemnity, he’s starting to revert back to his everyday self. “Also! Did you know that I finally beat that Furuta guy this morning?”

“I just woke up about fifteen minutes ago, in case you’ve forgotten,” Kaneki reminds him with another small laugh, amused by his childish excitement. “But isn’t he the one who always uses dirty tricks and never gets reprimanded?”

“For the record, he’s still cheating and they’re still letting him,” Hide says drily, huffing a tired sigh. “Apparently their reason is that there’s no such thing as fairness when it comes to survival or something? I had to kill him like, four times before the referee finally acknowledged my win. Talk about playing favourites, sheesh.”

“Did he try to stab your eyes again this time?” Kaneki tries to keep his tone light, but something churns deep down in his core as the words leave his mouth. He remembers now. Furuta’s known for having no qualms in causing bodily damage to others even when it’s just training, as well as being the pet of almost everyone in charge. Kaneki’s seen firsthand how differently he’s treated compared to the rest of them; the most obvious being how he alone is allowed to use unfair and harmful means when sparring while anyone else would be subjected to punishment in the form of thicker needles or reduced food portions.

“Nearly shoved his fingers up my nostrils, too,” Hide affirms, absently rubbing his nose at the memory, “and he even tried to kick me in the nads again, can you believe the guy? And I’m the one who’s supposed to be famous for getting in trouble!”

“He didn’t seriously kick you, did he?” Kaneki worriedly glances towards Hide’s pelvis. He feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips when he looks back up and sees the triumphant grin plastered across his companion’s features.

“Speed has always been my thing, so no. But I did kick his in the end.” Hide makes a fist and scrunches up his face. “Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of revenge!”

Kaneki can only imagine his sense of accomplishment. Furuta has gotten in the way of Hide’s winning streak too many times; his sparring matches with him would never end until Hide’s the one on the ground. It doesn’t help that he too, is highly skilled when it comes to combat and it’s difficult enough to score a victory against him the first time. Kaneki has long lost count of the times Hide would rant about Furuta’s shitty smirk and pretentious words of apologies when they’re back in the privacy of their room and ready to settle down for bed. And if Hide isn’t exaggerating—which he tends to at times—it must’ve been quite a long match, to have to score five kills against him before they were stopped.

“I get the feeling he’ll probably try to pay you back in other ways, though,” Kaneki tells him, to which Hide only makes an indifferent gesture with his hand.

“I’d like to see him try,” he says carelessly. At that, Kaneki shoots him a frown. He doesn’t know Furuta through and through, but he knows enough to expect him to be the kind to hold grudges. Hide should as well; his intuition is miles better than Kaneki’s, after all.

“I can take care of myself, Kaneki, don’t worry about it,” Hide promises, not exactly doing much to ease his worries. Seeing his unfading glower, Hide reaches to gently poke at the furrow on his brow. “Come on, man, don’t look at me like that!”

Kaneki complies by switching to a more judgemental look, failing to restrain the laugh bubbling up his throat when Hide playfully demands to be respected after coming this far. Kaneki has never been able to understand how Hide’s always able to break tension with so much ease. He seems to always know what he needs to do to lift Kaneki’s mood, no matter what happened.

“I’d like to go back to join everyone again soon,” Kaneki says, almost wistfully. Even if it could be just for a couple of days, it gets lonely real fast. Hide’s hands find his and squeezes encouragingly.

“I’m sure you would,” he says, with so much confidence that Kaneki finds himself believing him. “But I’ll try to drop by as often as I can if you have to stay longer. Even if I do have to do it illegally,” he mumbles the last part.

Kaneki’s protest is immediate. “Hide!”

“Joking, joking!” Hide holds up his hands in surrender. “I’ll only do it illegally if I can’t get permission, okay?”

“That’s not assuring at all and you know it,” Kaneki points out. Hide merely shrugs, showing no signs of being bothered by the idea of receiving punishment. If there’s one thing Kaneki really fears about him, it’s his foolish selflessness when it comes to him. Don’t get him wrong; Kaneki would willingly give up even his life for him if the need ever arises, but Hide’s loyalty is almost at a whole new level. No matter how close they are, no matter how much Kaneki means to him, he shouldn’t have to go to such lengths for him. It just…doesn’t seem right. It doesn’t seem healthy.

“I’m serious, Hide,” Kaneki says, catching his gaze and holding it firm. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid just to come see me?”

He stares him down until Hide finally heaves a weary sigh, reaching to scratch the back of his neck in a rather sheepish manner.

“I can’t say no if you give me that look now, can I?” he murmurs in defeat, and bit by bit, Kaneki smiles once more.

xXx

As it turns out, Kaneki gets sent back to the rest of the children the day after the next.

And for the first time in a long while, he returns hardly feeling any perpetual pain across his body. Was his regeneration abilities pushed to the point that it even got rid of the ache it hasn’t been able to for the past ten years? Or maybe it has something to do with the packet of clear chemical he didn’t recognize that was hooked to his arm not long after Hide left from his visit? He guesses it’s probably the latter. There’s no way his body would be able to make such a drastic change by itself so abruptly.

It feels great, being able to move as he likes without having to wince every five seconds. Kaneki finds himself working through his training with more enthusiasm than he ever had; defeating his opponents with an ease he doesn’t know he had until he’s staring down at them, his breathing barely off rhythm and his muscles tingling with adrenaline. It’s a new feeling, to realize he’s been this strong all along and that the only thing holding him back was the constant soreness he’s newly freed from. How much further could he go like this? How much more room for improvement does he have when he’s already this good now? Such thoughts drive him to try harder even with his already obvious advantage, tempting to test his limits, to do things that never seemed possible for him all this while when they really had been. To fight, to win.

Kaneki’s jarred from his daze-like state by the sound of bones breaking and a howl of pain.

He stares at the girl sprawled on the ground in front of him in growing horror. What has he done? Her right leg is twisted in a strange angle, her knee red and swelling angrily. He takes a step back, his heart pounding in his chest. Oh, god, what has he done?

“I’m—“ His words stop in his throat before he can voice them, unable to even utter an apology. For that one moment, he’d been drunk on his own power. That’s what happened. He got carried away the instant the only restraint he knows was eliminated, carelessly wielding his own strength until someone is hurt.

Despite himself, Kaneki silently thanks no one in particular that his opponent hadn’t been Hide.

He knows his best friend is watching; the commotion he’s causing is quite hard to miss. But Kaneki doesn’t turn to look, instead only able to stare at the injured girl while standing so still he hardly dares to breathe as he awaits verdict from the instructor. He doesn’t dare find out how Hide’s looking at him then; if his eyes are wide in terror or mouth twisted in disgust or eyebrows drawn together in disappointment. Disciplinary punishment is something he can handle. Hide distancing himself from him because of something he did—because of something he most likely is—is not.

He watches numbly as the girl is carried away in a stretcher, the buzzing in his ears making it difficult for him to tell if someone’s talking to him. He looks up when he feels a sharp pat on his shoulder, but the person who’s done it has already disappeared. Huh? His confusion gives him the courage to glance around him, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Everyone else pays him no attention, scattered across the gym in small groups and each of them returning to their own devices. Had Kaneki been given any instructions in specific that he didn’t hear? It almost seems so.

…what’s he to do then?

“Kaneki.”

Upon hearing the call of his name, Kaneki tenses. He keeps his gaze stubbornly averted from Hide even when the other boy leans close to catch his eyes, completely ignoring all notions of personal space. He doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to see.

“You’re excused from the rest of the session, you know,” Hide tells him once he’s finally decided that Kaneki’s obstinate in not facing him, crossing his arm over his chest. Absently, Kaneki nods.

“Okay.”

A pause. “Hey, Kaneki?”

“Hm?”

“Are you, by any chance—“ Hide leans in once more, just a little—“feeling bad over what you just did?”

Kaneki’s breath hitches. “I just—“ he tries, stopping to purse his lips in search of a way to describe the hollow, uncomfortable sensation in his belly. “I don’t really know what I’m feeling, to be honest. I… I just know I didn’t like it; hurting her like that.”

A lapse of silence from Hide. A slight sink of Kaneki’s heart. Does he not believe him? Has the way he’s acted earlier given him the reason to doubt him now?

“It’s not your fault, Kaneki,” Hide says at last, appalling Kaneki with the absurdity of his statement. What is he even saying? It remains an undeniable fact that Kaneki had been responsible for the injury causing the girl so much pain that even years and years of discipline isn’t enough to stop her from crying out. That extent of agony is something Kaneki’s only too familiar with; it’s not something he’d feel pleasant upon inflicting on someone else who hasn’t done him any wrong.

“She tried to kick you but you caught her leg,” Hide further explains when Kaneki doesn’t respond, as though being aware of the haze of concentration that clouded his mind during the deed. “She tried to twist herself free. You held on.” He then frowns. “Well. I guess it’d be more accurate to say you’re not entirely at fault in that case but the point is—“ he trails off with a huff, his expression seemingly deflating by each second of stretched wordlessness. He eventually notices Kaneki looking at him funny and works to amend his façade at once, waving his hands elaborately.

“S-Sorry! I lost my train of thought back there,” he says, his sheepish smile not quite convincing. Still, Kaneki doesn’t push for more explanations; he’s more than happy to leave the discussion there.  

“I think… I’ll just go back to our room for now,” Kaneki says, gesturing for Hide to stop before he could offer to go with him. “You still have to train, don’t you?”

“Will you be okay?” Hide asks instead of answering, eyebrows drawn together in concern. Hesitating a split second, Kaneki nods. “Alright then. I’ll join you once I’m done here.”

Kaneki doesn’t feel Hide’s gaze leave him until the door closes behind him.

xXx

Kaneki’s pain doesn’t return and it scares him.

Hide doesn’t need to hear the words from Kaneki himself to tell. It’s obvious enough in his body language, his actions. His hesitance to spar, his tentativeness to touch even Hide. The constant furrow of concern across his brow.

The disappearance of Kaneki’s pain should, by all rights, be something to be celebrated. It’s only logical; it’s been the source of his suffering for so long, after all. It doesn’t make sense for the loss of it to torment him as much. Everyone tells Kaneki that it’s fine even if he doesn’t hold back, that it’s actually more beneficial to the others because it’ll give them an idea of what calibre of strength a ghoul possesses. The other Garden kids don’t particularly seem to mind bearing some injuries if that’s what it takes to learn and even actively encourage Kaneki to stop looking down at them and fight them seriously. The issue lies mainly on Kaneki himself. It’s simply not his nature to be aggressive.

But, as always, the Garden isn’t a place where one’s unaggressive nature is taken into consideration. It’s either Kaneki sucks it up, or he’s spending even more time in the labs trapped in a capsule and have his kakuhou harvested. And as much as he hates harming others, Kaneki hates the labs even more.

He’s never given a choice. It’s always choosing between the devil or the sea for Kaneki, and Hide has always loathed everyone who made it so. He’s always loathed not being able to make a difference, not being able to help give Kaneki a third and possibly better option.

But maybe—just maybe, if everything goes well, he can finally take his first step in changing that soon.

It’s been painstaking, working on the wild plan that’d suddenly sprung up in his mind during his solitary confinement the other day to where he is now. Hide can never relax; no one must know what he’s up to. The maps, the schedules, the secret discussions with Arima who agreed to help them because he too, sees the wrongness of the Garden and wishes for change even though he claims it’s long past since there’s hope left for himself—Hide can’t let anyone find out about them. Even a slight suspicion is too dangerous. He’s betting on the CCG’s firm belief that the children from the Garden can only depend solely on the institution for food, finance and shelter. As long as they think no one would act up as long as they still need a place to call home, no matter how unbearable it is, Hide’s confident that things are still in his favour.

The only challenge now is to find the proper timing.

Hide’s new coat feels too heavy on his shoulders; he wonders how Arima seems to still be able to move so fluidly while wearing his. Hide, Kaneki and another girl from their batch are currently assigned to join Arima’s squad for a small mission for “exposure”—that is, to start helping them get used to actual fighting instead of just the usual sparring. Hide’s excited for exactly three things: 1) only children who’s deemed to have a certain level of skill are allowed to participate in actual missions, which means Hide’s gotten strong enough to qualify, 2) he’ll get to see Arima Kishou on the battlefield for the first time and he’s always been curious to see for himself how crazy strong the older boy is, and 3) they’re going outside.

The first and last are the most important. Being strong enough means he can do his best to help Kaneki fight his share of opponents if it ever comes to it. Going outside means he’ll have a better idea of how certain places would look like so he can use them to his best advantage when it matters. Hide can’t let chances like this go to waste.

“Stop.”

Arima’s voice is soft, but his command firm. Hide halts in his tracks, his thumb poised above the knob of his briefcase. The air around them is still, the silence broken only by the sound of water dripping from a pipe nearby. Hide glances around, swallowing in nervous anticipation. How many ghouls are there? Are they surrounded? He takes a breath, feels a slight bristle in the atmosphere—

And the entire squad suddenly bursts into a flurry of movement; with Arima whipping out his Quinque and parrying a kagune aiming for him in one smooth motion, Hide leaping to the side to narrowly avoid a shower of ukaku projectiles, and the rest of them lunging straight into action to engage their enemies. Everything happens at such a rapid pace that Hide doesn’t have time to think. There are around twelve ghouls facing their squad of five. While Arima can probably handle all twelve of them by himself, Hide’s pretty sure he and his original squad member have been ordered to hold back to give the three younger ones a chance and only intervene when it’s absolutely necessary. So either way, Hide has to fight.

It’s very different, fighting in a battlefield for real and training in the gym back in the Garden. There’s always been a subconscious assurance that a mistake during training will only mean a few bruises, a broken streak, a motivation to work harder next time. Now Hide has to constantly remind himself that if he blunders now, there might not be a next time. That can’t do. He still has goals to achieve, plans to carry out. A best friend he desperately wants to give a better life to. Not having a next time is not an option.

It’s still unnerving, though. Ghouls look exactly like humans, and no matter how hard Hide tries to convince himself that they’re different, they’re monsters, he can’t. Not once, not completely. Not when the only difference between them and his own best friend is the fact that Kaneki can eat human food. But not killing the ones he’s facing now would mean showing hesitation, and Hide doesn’t know if it would be so easily overlooked. He’s already drawn enough attention to himself; any more than this and his plan might be jeopardized.

It’s… alright. Hide doesn’t owe them anything.

But they’ve never done anything to personally antagonize him as well, have they?  

Hide dodges the hand reaching to choke him, ducking in close to the ghoul. Then before it—he? She?—could react, he swings his arm in a wide arc, gritting his teeth at the resistance that meets his blade when it cuts through flesh and bone. Blood stains his hands, splatters against his face in warm, dense droplets. The smell of iron fills his nostrils when he takes a sharp breath, but just as he realizes he’s missed the ghoul’s throat, he’s pushed back in a single forceful kick that crushes the air from his lungs.

He stumbles back coughing, regaining his bearings just in time to tighten his grip on his Quinque and deflect a kagune aiming for his middle. It shouldn’t be this difficult, Hide can’t help thinking as he once again throws himself into combat, trying and trying to find the opening that simply refuses to reveal itself. He’s sparred with almost everyone in the Garden—he should be used to exposing weak spots by now. He usually is during training. But he can’t seem to do the same when it matters? Like now? Is it because there’s too vast of a difference between the experiences of a ghoul who’s fought to live for all their lives and his own? Had he been unconsciously underestimating them all this while?

He can hear him panting from his exhaustion and pain. Yes, the ghoul’s a “him”. The ghoul’s mask had slipped away from his face when the butt of Hide’s dagger caught its edge earlier, revealing the face of a boy not much older than himself, by the looks of it. As Hide works to defend, he notices the ghoul’s movements slowing down. He’s tiring. And with the way he uses his kagune sparingly, it must’ve been a while since he fed.

Yet he’s still fighting tooth and nail against him. Now that he’s seen his face, he can’t let him leave alive.

Hide would very much prefer to leave alive.

Their fight eventually comes to an almost abrupt end, as all fights do. One bad step back and the ghoul slips, giving Hide the chance to lunge forward and drive his Quinque through his heart. He hears him mutter something before he falls unmoving on the ground, and it’s only when he reaches down to retrieve his dagger that he realizes what he’d said. What he’d called him.

Monster.

In each other’s eyes, they’re both monsters.

“-gachika, look out!”

Hide turns just in time to see a kagune pierce through the ghoul aiming to strike him from behind. Kaneki walks up to him as he works to remember how to breathe, and gradually, it dawns him why something seems to feel off. It’s the silence. The mission’s complete. They’ve eradicated their targets.

“Hide, are you okay?” Kaneki asks, bending to offer him a hand. The calmness in his voice almost sounds cold, detached. Hearing it gives Hide a strange sensation in his gut.

“Yeah.”

As it turns out, however, Kaneki’s hand is trembling every bit as much as his own.

…

It’s different.

Ken finally begins understanding Arima’s words from before. Many of his books speak of wars, of gray judgements, of monsters—but to read about them and to experience them himself isn’t the same. Ghouls are monsters, it’s been drilled into their minds the moment they can understand words. Their existence itself is a mistake. They have to be killed for the survival of the human race.

But…they’re also so human in so many aspects, Kaneki slowly comes to realize with dread. The missions he’s taken part in showed him how even ghouls care for their friends, mourn over deaths of those they hold close. Even ghouls have the ability to give up their own lives for the sake of their children’s.

Sure, there are a number of them who choose to be aggressive by actively killing humans and wrecking havoc. Sure, there are those who cause so much damage and death in their wake that it’s only right for them to be stopped. But there are many times when it dawns Kaneki that they, the CCG, are also killing those who are simply trying to survive. Those who take the lives of others because that’s the only way they could thrive. Those whose actions are judged as “wrong” even though there’s not much difference from  those of humans simply because what they consume aren’t animal meat.

Is this really the right thing to do? Kaneki can’t tell anymore. And even if it isn’t, does he have a choice? The whole purpose of his existence is to fight ghouls; it’s been determined the moment he’s born. Would he have anything else besides that?

“Have you ever thought about running away?”                                                  

Hide whispers the words close to his ear, his wariness towards being heard ingrained into his being by now. Kaneki almost suspects it being another one of Hide’s conspiracy talks that they initiate every other night, but something’s different. There’s a certain conviction in his voice now that scares him as much as it captivates him. It sounds more like an invitation rather than the start of a discussion that’ll lead to nothing in the end.

“Have you?” he whispers in return when Hide leans back to face him properly, studying the warm brown eyes he’s become so familiar with. Hide’s gaze remains firm when he answers.

“Yes.”

Somehow, Kaneki already expected he would have. It’s Hide, after all. His best friend who thinks too much to be safe in a place like the Sunlit Garden.

“Is it even possible?” With how their entire lives depend so heavily on the place? Without the Garden, where would they stay for shelter? How would they find money for food and clothes? How will they be able to keep hiding from being hunted down? Hide sure makes it sound so simple.

“It is.” He also sounds so certain, confident. “Someone has done it before, and we can do it again.”

“It won’t be easy,” Kaneki warns, “they’re sure to have tightened their security by now and—“

“I know, Kaneki,” Hide assures, reaching to take his hand in his. “Trust me, I know. That’s why it took me so long.”

Kaneki frowns, confused. “What do you mean?”

“If you’re tired of being treated like a test subject,” Hide explains, never once flickering his eyes away, “if you’re tired of killing ghouls for no reason other than it being an order, or even if you’re tired of being caged in here under this annoying surveillance—we can run away. Just the two of us. I’ve just finished planning everything out. If you want to leave, our soonest chance is when we join Arima-san on a mission next month.”

“And if I want to stay?”

He promptly feels stupid to even have asked.

“Then I’m not going anywhere as well.”

“This is too sudden, Hide. I—“ Kaneki shifts to hug his elbows—“I don’t know. We don’t have anything outside the Garden.”

“Hey, we’ll still have each other,” Hide reminds him with a small laugh. “And Arima-san, too. He’ll be helping us if we decide to leave.”

And at that, Kaneki stares at him. “Arima-san? As in the Arima-san?”

“Unless there’s another Arima-san you happen to know.” Hide smiles wryly, though he’s quick to turn serious once more. “I guess this is one of the only ways he thinks he has left to rebel. He might not act and look like it, but even he…”

He doesn’t finish, but Kaneki understands. Of all of them, Arima is probably the one who’s the most shackled down by the CCG. He was already their strongest weapon by the time he’s about their age, and gained himself the title of a Death God by his twenties. It’s obvious how much the CCG relies on him, how much possibly unwanted responsibilities he has to carry. It’s no surprise that even someone as seemingly detached and distant as him would yearn for freedom.

I no longer have the chance, but I can help give you yours, seems to be the message Arima’s trying to tell them. But does Kaneki deserve it? Is there anything he can do as a token of gratitude for Arima risking so much for their sakes?

“I need some time to think about it.” Kaneki takes a deep breath. “I’ll let you know when I’ve decided, Hide.”

Is there anything he can do at all in return?

xXx

When Hide hears his name in the list of those compatible to receive Kaneki’s kakuhou, the only clear thought he has is thank god Kaneki isn’t there to know.

He mustn’t know. Otherwise he would stubbornly refuse to leave.

Hide’s not even the most compatible one; he’s smack in the middle of the list. So even if he does stay for the implantation, there’s still a fifty-fifty chance that it’ll fail and he’ll get eaten alive by the kagune. Hide himself isn’t sure he’s willing to take the risk. He’d rather live the few years he still has the way he wants and in relative happiness with his most important person than to place his bets on a do-or-die surgery.

They can’t stay for the implantations. Hide’s certain that once that phase of the Garden’s project begins, their chances to escape will drop to a barest minimum. Not only will they be more heavily monitored, Kaneki will be too exhausted. Hide’s plan heavily relies on them going on missions outside; they’ll face a huge setback if that’s taken from them.

But it’s been a week and Kaneki still hasn’t decided. Hide doesn’t understand. Should it really be that difficult to choose between leaving a prison-like institution that treats your body like some kind of organic resource and staying for the basic needs that they can no doubt be able to provide for themselves somehow anyway? Don’t get him wrong, Hide’s fully aware of the risks they’ll have to face if they escape. He’s aware that the CCG will hunt them down to the ends of the earth before they’re able to spread word about what they’re actually doing behind the scenes. He’s aware that once Kaneki leaves the Garden’s protection he’ll be vulnerable to being executed just like any other ghoul. He’s aware that if he doesn’t receive Kaneki’s kagune, he’ll die before he can reach thirty years old.

Yet he’s willing to risk it all because if Kaneki stays, he too, might die before he reaches thirty. Or even his twenties, with the strain those experiments are putting on his body. Hide doesn’t want that. He wants Kaneki to live and see things and meet people and do all the things they’re not allowed to do if they remain in the Garden. He wants to show him that beyond the walls that surround them, there’s a life worth struggling for.

He just hopes he’ll let him.

“Have you decided?”

Hide has come to realize over time that sometimes, he has no choice but to be pushy when it comes to handling Kaneki in certain situations. He gets the feeling that Kaneki will only stay wavering if he doesn’t say a thing.

He sees him hesitating even now.

“I… I still don’t know, Hide,” Kaneki tells him, eyes averted in remorse. “I’m sorry.”

Hide falls silent for a moment, studying his companion’s face. “What’s bothering you?”

Kaneki tenses the slightest. “It’s—“

“Do you think you don’t… deserve this chance to escape?” Hide ventures, and with the way Kaneki pales, he knows he’s guessed right. The effort it takes him not to breathe a sigh is almost comical. “And why would you think so?”

“Because there’s nothing I can think of doing that’ll honour everyone’s efforts in helping me get out,” Kaneki says, his words rushed and voice tight with frustration. “Because I don’t even know what I can do for Arima-san’s sake even though he’s putting himself in such a dangerous situation for us.”

“Kaneki, that’s not tru—“

“How can you be so sure, Hide?” Kaneki interrupts, and it’s as he watches him slowly lose his composure that it finally dawns Hide. Kaneki has been thinking. He’s been thinking about it for so long and still hasn’t found an answer and the stress has only been building up more and more. “Or you’re not and you don’t even care because all that matters to you is your own freedom?”

Wait. Whoa. Hide does a mental rewind. Did Kaneki actually just say that? Did he actually just accuse him of something? The mellow, passive Kaneki he knows since he was a kid? That’s a first. Hide’s grown up pretty thick-skinned if he may say so himself, but Kaneki’s words sting him more than anything’s ever had in a long time. Maybe it’s because deep down, he finds it unfair that Kaneki’s mad at him when the primary reason for this entire plan of his was Kaneki himself in the first place. Maybe it’s because he feels painfully underappreciated despite having gotten to this point.

Maybe it’s because Kaneki’s accusation hit home.

It seems to slowly dawn Kaneki; what he’s just said and done. “Hide, I’m s—“

“Don’t,” Hide speaks before he can finish. He inhales sharply; this isn’t the time to be feeling offended. “Don’t apologize. You’re right. I want to leave this place so bad that I can barely even bring myself to care what happens to the people who might be affected if I do that.” He huffs a breath, raking his fingers through his hair. “I should be the one to be sorry, Kaneki. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m being too forceful.”

At that, Kaneki only purses his lips, not saying a word. Hide keeps going anyway.

“Tell me truthfully, Kaneki,” he says, leaning a little forward to try meeting his eyes. “Whether you deserve it or not aside, what do you really want? Do you want to run away with me?”

And he waits. He waits until his best friend finally looks at him and nods like it’s the hardest thing in the world to admit.

Then slowly, Hide smiles.

“I’m not sure if you realized, Kaneki,” he begins, “but Arima-san isn’t expecting to gain anything much by helping us to begin with. No offense, but I’m sure his expectations for us aren’t all that high—there’s only so much we can do by ourselves, after all. It’s like you said: we don’t have anything outside the Garden, not even an identity. We’re too insignificant to bring any obvious changes, and I’m sure Arima-san knows that better than anyone.” He holds Kaneki’s gaze steadily. “Yet he’s chosen to help us. Do you know why?”

“Because I’m the only half-ghoul in the Garden,” Kaneki mutters in a way that implies he still hasn’t figured out anything beyond that. Hide nods.

“Because without you, the experiments and the Garden project will be interrupted,” he explains, “and they will be halted indefinitely until they’re able to breed and raise another natural-born half-ghoul—which, may never happen again. Ever.”

“But doesn’t that just mean they’ll keep doing whatever they’re doing anyway?” Kaneki argues, “even if they can’t breed half-ghouls they’ll still be able to breed half-humans as disposable weapons. There’s nothing to stop them.”

“A small step is still a step, Kaneki,” Hide says patiently. “Sometimes we have to accept that small steps are all we can take. Some responsibilities are just not ours to bear.” He lets out a breath, and adds in a quieter voice, “Sometimes there’s nothing else we can do but to turn away.”

“And if I don’t want to turn away?”

Hide studies his companion’s face; noting the set of his lips, the determination in his eyes. It’s not like him to want to be this involved in sparking changes—he wonders what’s going on in his mind. He can’t exactly decide if that’s a good thing, either. If all the attention he’s going to potentially bring upon himself by doing so would ultimately lead to more trouble for him in the future.

“Then I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you know you’re not alone in whatever it is that you want to do,” Hide swears, holding Kaneki’s gaze firmly. “I promise.”

Kaneki falls silent once more, contemplating. A minute passes, three. Then his expression hardens with resolve, and Hide knows he’s finally come to a decision.

“Alright. How are we going to leave?”

xXx

Ever since the first runaway incident, it’s been virtually impossible to sneak out of the Sunlit Garden’s walls once more.

That’s why Hide’s plan doesn’t involve sneaking out. It instead takes advantage of their periodic assignments to Arima’s Squad Zero in missions, bypassing the tight security of the institution. They’ll slip off during the heat of the battle and into the network of sewers underground where it’ll be the most dangerous, but also the safest way to avoid being found. Arima’s given Hide a copy of the sewer maps (he has them because he’s apparently also often sent to deal with ghouls underground), and both Hide and Kaneki have memorized the routes they’re to take. Though whether or not it’ll make a difference when it comes to the real thing, Kaneki doesn’t know. It’s a dense, dense maze down there.

The most immediate problem at the moment, though, is the fact that a certain Furuta Nimura is included in this mission as well. Of all people and times. To say they’re wary of him might be an understatement. There’s no way at all he should even have the slightest idea about their escape, but Kaneki’s still worried. Furuta seems like the kind of person who has a knack for ruining things without trying and finds enjoyment in doing just that.

Kaneki guesses they’ll just have to deal with him if the situation calls for it.

“Hey, hey, Nagachika-kun?”

Kaneki could almost hear the sigh Hide immediately suppresses when Furuta trots next to him with a slightly mischievous bounce in his step. He seems to be the only person so far who’s unaffected by the usual grave atmosphere of ghoul exterminations; being able to retain this playful, apathetic air around himself despite being on the way to yet another potentially bloody battle. Kaneki finds it unnerving—no wonder Furuta’s the Garden’s favourite. He’s the perfect fighting machine.

“What?” Hide sounds like he’s trying very hard to resist ignoring him. Given how much he hates his guts, Kaneki’s impressed that he didn’t shut him up flat out. He doesn’t like the way Furuta glances at him with that little smirk on his face, though.

“You’re scheduled to receive Kaneki-kun’s kakuhou in two weeks, right?” Furuta asks, almost too loudly. Kaneki’s breath promptly stops in his throat. “Aren’t you excited?”

Kaneki knows about the kakuhou implantations that are supposed to take place a little after they return from this mission. He’s been informed of at least that much and he also knows why it’s so crucial for them to leave before that. But… Hide being one of the candidates compatible to receive his kakuhou? Why didn’t he tell him anything? If the operation succeeds his lifespan can be lengthened and he won’t need to die and—

Ah. He abruptly realizes the exact reason why Hide hasn’t said a thing to him.

“Not at all,” Hide replies coolly without looking Kaneki’s way even once. “There’s only a fifty percent chance of success for me, and knowing there’s a one in two chances that I might die doesn’t exactly sound appealing.”

“Aww, don’t be so negative!” Furuta says without sounding a bit reassuring. “I’m sure Kaneki-kun’s kagune will like you since you’re both so close!”

Hide mutters something Kaneki isn’t able to hear under his breath the exact moment Arima orders them to quiet down. Kaneki’s heart hammers against his chest, his mind spins from the new information. If they stay, Hide might have the chance to live longer. A fifty percent success rate is still better than none at all. Hide won’t have to die early and leave him alone.

Kaneki starts when Hide brushes his fingers across his arm, shooting him a look that tells him not to think about it. Kaneki returns it with a frown, to which Hide then responds with a subtle shake of his head. I’m not taking the risk for that operation, he seems to insist, the look in his gaze pleading for him to understand. Kaneki doesn’t. Surely they’ll find another opportunity to escape in the future? Once Hide gives up this one chance to receive Kaneki’s kakuhou, there will be none left. Kaneki doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand at all.

He doesn’t even have the time to try understanding Hide’s reasoning behind his decision.

Fights with rogue ghouls are always abrupt, intense. All it takes is one attack to disrupt the balance, one person to make the first move, and whatever that follows will be almost impossible to keep track of. Kaneki’s engaged in combat before he knows it, his body instinctively moving to lure his opponent further away from the rest of the squad as Hide planned despite his newfound hesitation. Hide has given him the freedom to choose whether or not he wants to run away with him; isn’t it only right that he gives him his in return? Even when this case involves Hide choosing to live a shorter life?

Kaneki’s so distracted he nearly gets impaled in the gut; managing to dodge with just a graze on his right rib. He tries to retaliate, but his movements feel unusually sluggish. What’s he supposed to do? Will he disregard Hide’s resolution to rather die early than let the Garden go on doing whatever they want with the children’s bodies? Will he put everyone’s efforts thus far to waste for his own selfish wish of not wanting his closest and dearest friend to leave him behind a few years in the future?

It feels like that one time again, where every part of his body was numbed of feeling. Except even his mind feels numb now. He can’t think, can’t think. They’ve come this far. He can’t—

“Don’t look down on me, brat!”

This time, Kaneki snaps into attention a second too late. Pain flares up in his hands, his Quinque knocked from his grip in a blow he no doubt could’ve avoided had his thoughts been calmer. The ghoul he’s facing then attempts to take advantage of his second of surprised daze and lack of weapon, charging  right towards him with his kagune poised to attack.

Hide intersects him before he reaches Kaneki, pushing him back with a firm kick. For a reason Kaneki can’t explain, the sight of him causes something in him to finally crumble, and the panic he’s been unconsciously holding back comes flooding forth.

He can’t breathe, can’t breathe.

“Kaneki, we have to—“ Hide doesn’t finish his sentence, trailing off the moment he turns and sees the state Kaneki’s in. “Kaneki…?”

He doesn’t get to ask him what’s wrong, being forced to defend against the ghoul now thirsting for his blood. As Hide leads the ghoul a bit away, the strength seems to suddenly leave Kaneki’s legs, and he falls to his knees.

“Hide, I...” he gasps, his voice shaky. His chest hurts, his head spins. “I-If we leave, you can’t—“

Air doesn’t seem to be entering his lungs. Spots dance in his vision. He’s scared. The noises of combat around him sound too loud, too overwhelming. This is bad. Not now, please. He can’t break down, can’t break down, can’t break do—

“Kaneki!” Hide enters his field of vision with a firm call of his name, a splatter of blood across his jaw and neck. It’s not his, it doesn’t smell like his. He reaches out, but seems to hesitate in touching him at the last minute. “Listen, it’s going to be okay. I’m here.”

With an absurd amount of effort, Kaneki swallows, nodding haltingly. He gradually registers the sting in his scalp where his fingers tug harshly on his hair. Tentatively, Hide rests his hands on his shoulders.

“Take it slow, Kaneki. Yeah, just like that. One breath at a time.” He times a deep inhale along with him, guiding him in a slow exhale. “It’s alright. I’m not leaving you. Don’t let Furuta throw you off; I’ll be okay.”

Which part of dying at a young age does Hide find ‘okay’ is beyond Kaneki’s ability to fathom. Still, he’s slowly calming down again. The tone of Hide’s voice and his reassuring presence is helping.

“They couldn’t find any flaws in my genetic makeup that’ll lead to any conditions, you know,” Hide explains further while keeping a close eye on him. Kaneki struggles to process his words. Is that the truth or is he just making something up to put him at ease? “It’ll be fine, Kaneki. I’m not leaving you anytime soon, I promise.” Hide glances around, frowning. “I wish we can take a little more time for you to recover, but we have to hurry.” He turns to face him once more. “I’m really sorry, Kaneki. I know I shouldn’t rush you in this but…”

“Oh my, what’s the haste, Nagachika-kun? Can’t you see your dear Kaneki-kun’s not exactly in the best shape at the moment?”

Furuta definitely has a knack for ruining things. Kaneki hears Hide take a sharp, self-controlling breath.

“He’ll be in worse shape if you keep staying there and running your mouth, Furuta,” Hide retorts drily as he stands up. His cutting words don’t faze the other boy the slightest.

“Hey, I was just worried because I didn’t see the two of you around,” Furuta says with mocking concern in his voice, swaying his body comically. “So I volunteered to look for you guys! Fancy me finding you both so far away from the rest of the group! What may you be up to, hmm? Oh, what may you be up to?”

“Go back to the squad and tell Arima-san we’re fine; we’ll return as soon as Kaneki recovers,” Hide says, his composure giving nothing away. He’s doing a great job sounding authoritative despite the pinch they’re currently in.

Furuta simply smiles indulgently. “And if I don’t want to because I’m too worried about my precious friends from the Garden?”

“Please, as if you’re ever worried about anyone besides yourself,” Hide scoffs, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Though Kaneki’s breathing has finally evened out by now, his heart is still beating fast and his muscles tense. He can’t see Hide’s expression from his position, but he knows he’s thinking, weighing their options.

“I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what bothering you,” Furuta assures suddenly with a dismissive wave of his hand. At this point, Kaneki won’t even be surprised if he’s seriously on to them about their plans to run off. His timing alone gives out enough suspicions.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hide deadpans. Furuta clucks at him in disapproval, waggling a finger.

“Hideyoshi, Hideyoshi,” he shakes his head in exaggerated disappointment. “Don’t you think it’s obvious enough that the two of you are going t—“

He stops just in time to dodge the dagger Hide abruptly flings towards him. Then just as he’s opening his mouth to make yet another one of his annoying remarks, Hide picks up Kaneki’s Quinque from the ground by his feet and runs him through in such a smooth, rapid and precise transition that Kaneki’s muddled brain only registers what’s happened after Hide grabs his hand and pulls him along into a run.

This is it. There’s no going back.

Kaneki doesn’t see anyone following them even as they scramble down the porthole Hide has singled out beforehand and into the darkness. They don’t risk the seconds to even catch their breath, forging on by torchlight before their eyes could adjust to the lack of light. Despite how firmly Hide holds his hand, he’s unable to mask the tremor in his touch. Kaneki returns his tight grip as he steps into Hide’s pace, using his free hand to brush the tears staining his cheeks.

The thought of having to let go of him permanently some time in the near future truly, truly terrifies him.

[thewebgate]

Cardinal Quest 2 Review

It may have a name that calls to mind bright red birds or baseball, but Cardinal Quest [$3.99] is a pretty cool rogue like. Originally released on PC and later ported to iOS in 2012, it basically boils the genre concept down and streamlines it as much as possible. Interestingly, the way the developer went about simplifying it didn't so much remove depth as take the direct responsibility for handling it out of the player's hands. It proved to be a great fit for mobile platforms, and has a good following of fans, including me. Unfortunately for me, when I finally made the jump to newer hardware than my creaky old iPhone 4, I was a bit heartbroken to find that Cardinal Quest didn't work very well anymore thanks to the new dimensions of the screen. I was left waiting for the announced sequel, and after a fairly lengthy soft launch period, Cardinal Quest 2 [Free] is finally here.

It could be argued that perhaps the greatest distinguishing trait the first game had was its lean nature. In most respects, it was like many other rogue likes. You moved a character turn-by-turn through a randomized dungeon floor, battling monsters, gaining levels, picking up treasure, and looking for the exit to the next floor. What you encountered along the way was as random as the layouts, so monsters and treasure were wildly different from one play through to the next. Naturally, it also had one of the defining elements of the genre: permadeath. If you ran out of health and didn't have any resurrection tricks up your sleeve, well, that's too bad. It's game over, and you may not press start to continue. The challenge and appeal in games of this genre is learning how to make the most of whatever the game happens to provide, and using that gained knowledge to inch ever closer to the goal.

This often involves a lot of juggling around of equipment and items in menus to balance between your limited inventory and the possibility of needing alternate gear. Cardinal Quest decided to skip this part, and instead, as you picked up treasure and items, it would equip it if it was better than what you had, sell it if it was worse, or shuffle it off to your inventory if it was questionable, all automatically. Combat and movement were both handled simply by moving your character in one of the four cardinal directions. Oh hey, now I get the name. Anyway, the amount of time spent in menus was considerably cut down compared to many other examples of the genre, and that zippy pace was a great asset for people on the go.

Cardinal Quest 2 actually backs things up a bit on the streamlining. If a piece of equipment is worse than what you have, it will still automatically be sold, but everything else will bring up a prompt asking you if you want to equip it or sell it. When picking up items or spells, you choose the slot they go in. This actually doesn't affect the brisk pace of the game all that much, and I personally enjoy having just a little bit more control over some of my character's details. This is basically what Cardinal Quest 2 brings to the table. It's a slightly more complex take on the first game's ideas that still manages to keep its speedy pace and accessible nature. For example, in the first game, leveling up was a hands-off experience. You gained a level, you become stronger. In Cardinal Quest 2, your stats are still done automatically on a level up, but you also are given a point to allocate towards a variety of skills or passive boosts unique to your class. It's a little thing, but it adds further to the customization and, by consequence, variation of each play session.

The number of available job classes have increased from three in the first game to six in Cardinal Quest 2. The original jobs of fighter, wizard, and thief make a comeback, and are joined by the paladin, ranger, and pugilist. Each of them has different stats and access to a unique set of skills. Unlike the first game, they are not all available from the start, however. Initially, only the fighter is available to choose, with the other classes unlock able using the game's persistent currency, called morale. The jobs from the first game unlock very quickly, though, with a couple of decent games earning you enough to unlock one of them. The new jobs require twice as much morale to unlock, but even that's not all that bad. That said, if you don't have the patience to earn up the morale to unlock them, you can buy some using IAP. It's really not necessary at all, though. Earning up the currency the normal way means you'll be getting new stuff to try at fairly regular intervals, giving the game a feeling of tangible progress that roguelikes tend to lack.

Each of the job classes also has a variety of starting skills and gear to choose from, though like the job classes themselves, each one beyond the first must be unlocked using morale. The final unlocks for each class cost a pretty decent chunk of change, but since your earned morale is based generally on how far you get in a session, by the time you're looking at picking these up, you'll probably be making enough to get them, once again, after a couple of games. That's the extent of the potential IAP pitfalls in the game, leaving us with something almost shockingly generous for a free app. After choosing your class and starting skill and gear, you can also choose your gender and your character's skin color, both of which are nice touches, even if they're not always clearly visible on the little pix-elated heroes.

As you level up and spend some points on skills, it's pretty cool how different each of the jobs starts to feel. For example, the thief gets skills that support skulking around and backstabbing monsters, while the fighter gets skills that allow you to charge headlong into hordes of enemies and come out with your skin intact. You truly have to adapt your play style to each class, and even then, depending on which skills you prioritize unlocking, you'll probably play a bit differently. We've already got all of this variety, and I haven't even gotten to the content of the dungeons. Since this is a rogue like, you'll also be earning random spells, equipment, and items as you play, which will further determine the nuances of your play style. Throw in the random maps and monsters, three difficulty settings, and the fact this game has three acts to the first game's one, and you've got a game that offers a huge amount of value.

Like the first game, you control your character simply by touching the direction you want to go. This sometimes has the unfortunate effect of your finger blocking your character, but since the game is turn-based, it's not terribly detrimental to your enjoyment. One big change is that instead of using the landscape mode, this game is played in portrait mode. Since it's basically a one-handed game, I'm glad to see the developer opted for this style. It's very comfortable to play on my phone, even if I'm standing up on a train or something. Your character's movement speed is a little bit slower than it was in the first game, and while some might see that as a negative, I found it helped cut down on some of the twitchy movement accidents that can occur with this game's unusual control style.

The dungeons themselves feel a bit bigger than they were in the first game, but thanks to the map being on-screen at all times, they're easy enough to navigate. The fairly large selection of loot in the first game is naturally expanded upon here, especially with regards to equipment and items. A great rogue like doesn't necessarily have to have great loot, but it sure doesn't hurt. The appearance of the dungeons, and to an extent the whole game, is considerably improved on the original game. It's still using a very pixel-heavy style, and the heroes themselves don't look all that different from before, but an abundance of new level themes and a more cohesive user interface go a long way towards making the overall game feel more professional. Oh, and bonus, the game actually pays attention to the mute button on your device now, so there's no more accidentally waking up loved ones when you want to sneak a quick game after going to bed.

Another criticism of the first game addressed here is the lack of leader boards and especially achievements. There are three leader boards, each one tracking your best score for each act, and a whole pile of achievements. The achievements include a good mix of progression-based goals and more off-the-wall challenges, like trying to get through the first level as the thief without being spotted once. Best of all, achievements come with a tangible reward in the form of morale points. It's pretty much the best possible scenario, and it's yet another sign that the developers have taken this version of the game a lot more seriously than last time.

The only criticism I have in the whole affair is that without any sort of hunger mechanism, there's no real downside to skipping turns. Your skill cool down is based on turns, so if you're in a safe place, it's easy and consequence-free to tap a few times on your hero to queue up your spells again. You can also use this to lure enemies into advantageous situations. Any rogue like that lets you skip turns will have strategies like these, but they're usually balanced by some sort of mechanic where if you hang around too long in one place, something bad happens. It's not a game breaker by any means, and the game is still plenty challenging without it, but it's an odd omission for a game that hits pretty much every other note right.

That extremely minor quibble aside, everything comes together into a game that still upholds the ideals of its predecessor while improving in virtually every way. That first game was already a very good game, and with everything added to Cardinal Quest 2, it would be hard to argue with even if it were priced the same or a bit higher than the first. Yet somehow, this game is free. Given the sheer amount of potential game-play to be had thanks to so many choices and random elements, it's one of the better deals I've seen in a while. If you like rogue-likes, this is an easy decision. If you even like the idea of roguelikes, or enjoy a nice, fast-paced, light RPG experience, you should definitely give this a try. It's pretty much everything you could ask for in a sequel.

   DESCRIPTION

A turn-based hack ‘n’ slash adventure. Choose from six classes and fight through randomly generated levels full of bountiful treasures to defeat the forces of darkness! Cardinal Quest 2 is free-to-play. You can unlock new classes and perks experiences with Kreds or earn them by playing. Either way, three Acts of unique locations, monsters and bosses are yours to conquer!

   GAME NEWS

JUN 13, 2016 2:01PM Hi there! I’ve just released version 1.19 of Cardinal Quest 2. This new patch fixes a bunch of bugs, tweaks some class skills and adds a new Legendary weapon. Enjoy! MAR 13, 2016 11:35AM Hey everyone! Cardinal Quest 2 is now at version 1.18. This patch updates the Tower boss floors, introducing several new layouts and guaranteed gear drops from bosses. Have fun! DEC 5, 2015 3:03PM Hey all! Cardinal Quest 2’s just hit version 1.17. This patch fixes a bunch of minor bugs, tweaks a few items, reintroduces “Haste” and adds a new spell for all classes to find! JUL 30, 2015 3:23PM Hello! I’ve just patched Cardinal Quest 2 to version 1.16, adding a brand new perk to every class and tweaking loads of things. The Thief has two new talents, the Pugilist has a whole bunch of changes, the Wizard’s wisps and Enslaved pets will follow you from level to level… and there’s plenty more! JUN 5, 2015 4:50PM Hey all! Cardinal Quest 2 just hit version 1.15, adding five new Legendary items to find. I’ve also made Legendary show up a little more often on easier difficulties and re-balanced how often each one shows up in The Tower, so you’ll get to use them more!

   INSTRUCTIONS

Use the Arrow Keys or click the mouse to move around. Move into enemies to attack them. Click yourself or press Space to wait a turn. Click skills or press their hotkeys (default: 1-5) to use them. Skills recharge! Click the items above the skill bar to use them. For detailed help on the UI start a game, click the “Menu” button in the bottom right and select “Help”.

Play free games at Kongregate