Raising cane's chicken supplier

Hi, im struggling with very painful hormonal acne after stopping Birth Control. Its been 6/mo since I’ve had my period. I stopped Vyvanse (stimulant) about a month. I try to avoid processed carbs to avoid raising insulin, i eat very clean whole fruits, veggies, chicken, avocados, tofu etc. to try and balance my hormones along with supplements Magnesium, myo&D chiro, omega, VitD, and im still taking Spirinilactone 100mg. I dont know what else im doing wrong Sos :/ any tips? My skincare routine
Cleanser- cerave salycic acid or cream cleanser (i switch between) 2) witch hazel 3) i just started using this topical treatment “peach slices redness relief azelaic acid” 4) good molecules cold pressed rose hip seed oil (only serum that has helped my dryness) 5) dermae Vitamin c 6) cerave sunscreen
Pm- I do the same routine except cerave pm lotion
I appreciate any/all tips thank u 🌻🐝🌙

Just got back from Sandals Royal Curacao! This is a long review. I took over this subreddit to make it as informational as possible about the resorts, so here we go! Please feel free to ask any questions if I missed something.
 
Room:
We stayed May 22-27 in a Sunchi Swim-up Club Level room (HSUP). We were in Sunchi Building 8, which is the last building on one side of the resort. We stayed in 1253, which is the second-to-last room on the first floor. All that to say, Curacao is a long resort and you'll definitely get your steps in! But we were also right next to the dive shop, which was fantastic for us.
 
The swim-up room was amazing and highly recommended! We ended up using it more than the double infinity pool. They did a perfect job at keeping the in-room bar stocked with alcohol and juices/water (around 10am). We didn't have to call for anything once. So we would hang out in the pool (which connects across buildings 7 & 8, and there is a common area) and make our own drinks. Many times we were the only ones in the pool out of all the rooms. The swim-up pool is completely private, there is no entry except through a room, and there are a lot of gorgeous plants and flowers blocking it from the other side. Hummingbirds would be 1 foot away and were fun to watch. Floats are provided for each room. Use the ice bucket to keep bottles cool outside.
 
Ordering food from Room Service was consistently 40-45 minutes. At night it was quiet, as the music from the main area doesn't really reach building 8. No one would be in the swim-up pool after 10, it would start to get a little chilly with the wind. It gets very, very dark towards the Sunchi end of the resort. I recommend using the building side to reach your room, not the garden path.
 
Two subjective complaints:
(1) Housekeeping was very late. Some days they didn't come until 4-5pm, and the evening turn-down and towel replenishment didn't happen until 10pm. Between the swim-up and shower and wet floors, you NEED towels. We supplemented with the brown pool towels, grabbing them any time we went by the other pools. The late service could be because we were in the last building, but I'm not sure. The housekeepers did do a very thorough job and the rooms were clean and new.
(2) When we first checked-in, the back door's lock looked like it was forcibly broken and mangled. We had them replace it, but it still didn't lock. There is a second set of heavy wooden doors (blinds really) that do close and lock, so we weren't overly concerned. I don't think someone tried to break in, based on how the pool would make it hard to get to. But I can see someone getting locked out accidentally and having no other option but to break the door, since you can't get out of the pool area otherwise.
 
Restaurants/Service
The service across all restaurants and bars was outstanding. We never experienced a wait or long times to get our ordedrinks. The waitstaff were happy to talk to you and literally everyone says hello as you pass by. Concierge was perfect and accommodating as well. Restaurants had most of everything, and they would tell you what they're out of as you sat down.
 
Pietra - Our go-to breakfast buffet. At lunch they change the buffet to different food by country (Asian, Mexican, American, etc.). The food was all great at lunch. I ate too many fajitas.
 
Vincent - Reservation required. I recommend the Escargots and Foie Gras. They were out of the Cured Beef Bresaola.
 
Toteki, La Palma, Kishi - Food trucks. These were great for a snack. Get the cuttlefish and shrimp from La Palma, and the General Tso's Steak Bao Buns from Kishi.
 
Strand - For dinner, absolutely get the Snapper. It was my favorite meal of the trip. My husband liked the Surf & Turf at Strand better than Butch's. Strand also has a lunch menu with American-type items on it. The shrimp Caesar wrap was a nice light lunch.
 
Butch's - Reservation required. We went twice for dinner, once for breakfast. For dinner appetizers, try the Waldorf Caesar, Crispy Goat Cheese Salad, and Grilled Black Pepper Bacon (definitely that one). The Aged Prime Rib and Chargrilled Lamb Chops were great. We also had the Surf & Turf and Steak Diane which were very good too. Absolutely get the Willy Wonka Brulee - it was my favorite dessert on the resort.
 
Gatsu Gatsu - We went twice. The sushi here is so good. It's 4 pieces per roll. I recommend the Champagne Lobster and Caribbean Dynamite rolls. Shrimp tempura and crispy chicken karaage were our favorite appetizers. They were out of edamame and tonkotsu ramen.
 
Kanaal - Nice to pop into for a cappuccino or sweets.
 
Zuka and Aolo's - did not try.
 
Note: We wanted to order champagne (Veuve Clicquot) but the resort (or at least Butch's, Kanaal, and Pietra) was out of that and several of their Proseccos. We did end up getting 2 bottles of Prosecco though.
 
Scuba Diving
Scuba was great and the team was a lot of fun. You have to do a check-out dive if you haven't logged a dive recently (they do check your log book if you want to avoid the check-out dive). We did ours around 11am and were able to go on an afternoon dive the same day (we were waitlisted, but some didn't show up). You sign up for dives starting at 8am 2 days out, so if you want to dive Friday, show up on Wednesday morning at 8am to sign up. They do keep waitlists for each dive. The dive shop has lockers! Great for if your room is at the other end of the resort and you don't want to walk with your stuff every morning.
 
The dive schedule seems highly variable - while we were there, they did 2-tank morning dives Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and a 1-tank afternoon dive those days. Tuesday and Thursday they do a 1-tank morning dive, and 1-tank afternoon dive. I'm not sure about Saturday-Sunday since we weren't there. But, they said just a month ago they were only able to do 1-tank morning dives each day and no afternoon dives, as the water would get too choppy. And yes, the water was very choppy and it was windy all day. I saw a red flag or two at the resort while we were there. So you may want to check out the weather in Curacao the month you want to book.
 
They mentioned all the dive sites were 5-10 minutes away, but we were able to go Double Reef Thursday, the farthest site at 30 minutes. There were several turtles, a reef shark, squid, and a great variety of fish and coral. It was the best dive I've been in on years. However, they said it had been a month and a half since they'd been able to reach the site because of the choppiness. A couple on the boat had been able to go with an offsite-company and enter via shore, so that's an option as well.
 
City
You can take a cab from the resort to Willemstad for $49 each way. Our cab was private and air conditioned. The drivers were very nice. They dropped us off next to the CURACAO sign, and pickup was there too (they gave you a card and you call them 30 minutes before you're ready to leave). Right by the Curacao sign, there's a tiny alley with a white and blue cow - go down that alley for some great gelato. There's also an ice cream place near the sign that claims to give you an orgasm in less than a minute, but I didn't partake. There are lots of cafes and souvenir shops around Willemstad. There's a fresh fish and fruit market. You'll be near where the cruise ships dock. Check out the bridge and forts. Pop into a casino for some much-needed A/C. As an aside, a local man very persistently forced his help on us (where are you going, follow me down this alley, etc...) and wouldn't leave us alone and stop following us even after we said we knew where we were going, and ultimately asked for beer money, but the city seemed safe. There were several police officers around the streets we passed. Just be aware of your surroundings (as in any city).
 
Miscellaneous
The bus ride from/to the airport took us 40-45 minutes. It's a very nice and comfortable bus. You'll see a Sandals area at the end after you pick up your luggage. The airport was very nice and modern and quick to get through (we were first off the plane though). On departure, there seemed to be only one main hot food place after security, but they have a VIP/Priority Pass lounge that had some good light food on the buffet and a hot menu to order from as well. Check if your credit card has that as a perk to avoid the long line at the other restaurant. It opens at 1pm.
 
Spa/Gym - The spa was nice and clean. You have your own private bathroom/changing area in the table room versus a general locker room. The gym had a steady flow of people, but wasn't ever too crowded.
 
Curacao is HOT in May. Seriously. It was 86 every day, with a heat index around 96-97. Now, I was born and raised in South Georgia where it gets 95 with a 110 index in the summer, but this heat hit different. The UV index on my weather app said 11. Wear sunscreen and stay in the water. And get used to being wet - it'll either be pool water, ocean, or sweat depending on your location at the resort. It was mostly sunny every day, with a few clouds in the afternoon. No rain. At night it cools off well enough. Thankfully there's always a nice breeze going on. But stay hydrated and pay attention to your skin. Walking around the city with the heat was a bit much, we started at 9 and made it to 12 before calling it quits.
 
Tl;dr
I loved it! I highly recommend a Swim-up room, but maybe ask for a central building instead of on the edge of the resort (walking that far in the extreme heat with no shade gets old fast). Great service, wonderful staff. I would pick another month to go back though. May was just too hot for me!
 
Edited thoughts:

• People get out to the main pool EARLY - there were people laying out at 7:30am. We were able to find a pair of chairs around 10 the one time we went to the infinity pool, but not around 2 the second time we thought about going.
  
• This is subjective, but the beach was underwhelming. It's rocky on the side facing the ocean, and you aren't allowed to go down to the water. The side facing the inlet/strand just doesn't have that beach & open water forever feel. We didn't go down there except for the check-out dive (no dive pool)
  

In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!

Fries ain’t even good unless you put salt on it and the chicken is just straight ass but the sauce is good

Other stories of mine can be found in my wiki
For those who want to go back to the beginning, here's a link to book 1 chapter 1.
An image of Lon'thul
Of Men and Dragons, Book 3, Chapter 44
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As B'arthon cleared the tree line, the only surprise was that no surprise awaited him. His force was lined up and ready for battle, and standing opposite of them was the enemy army, as though this was just another battle before two villages, albeit villages whose warrior populations exceeded the total population of even the largest villages he was aware of. But still, where was the misdirection? Where was the impossible choice between chasing two prey to split his army? Where were Jack and S'haar?
As he looked over the front lines of his enemy, B'arthon had expected to see Jack and S'haar front and center. That was where the fighting would be most fierce, and it was the most critical part of any battle line, so he'd expected only their best to try and punch through his line in an attempt to compensate for their lesser numbers. But while some of the warriors at the front seemed to be wearing some sort of odd armor, there was no sign of S'haar, Jack, the wolgen, or Jack's sister Angela.
B'arthon furrowed his brows in thought. Could they have set this whole thing up as a distraction, only to turn tail and run? It would be wise. Of course, as a small group with that kind of power, they could easily punch through his rearguard holding the end of the valley and disappear into the wilderness, but that just didn't fit with anything he knew about that group. That just meant a surprise was still coming, and he had a few suspicions about where it might come from...
Ultimately, it didn't matter at the moment. The noble could spend several days trying to work out what impossible idea they had here now, but all that would accomplish is to give them more time to think up more convoluted plans. It was better to break the backbone of their resistance here and now. He had the advantage in numbers and quality of fighters. Wasting time and resources trying to outthink that insane human would only give Jack more power than he already possessed.
But first, he had one other obligation. In any battle where one side had clear superiority over the other, it is considered proper for the stronger side to offer surrender to the weaker. While he suspected the difference in power wasn't quite as stark as it appeared, he had to do this right, to keep up appearances in front of his own people as much as anything honor demanded. With that in mind, B'arthon stepped forward with an honor guard at his side. Then, walking nearly to the center between the battle lines, he waited. Finally, after a few moments, a delegation from the opposition approached. It seemed to be made up of mostly hill people, with only one familiar face in the lot, To'brel.
-
To'brel was nervous. He was definitely the youngest argu'n in this group. Even though his title of Lord technically made him equal with everyone present, he felt he didn't belong. These were all experienced leaders representing their tribes and villages. He'd never ruled a single day as Lord, and moreover, if any of his "subjects" were on this battlefield at all, they were fighting for the opposition. But despite that, both S'haar and Jack had insisted that he take up this role, representing the interests of the Dragon's Outpost in their absence. As if he was somehow qualified to do so!
Finally, their delegation reached a position reasonably close to B'arthon's and stopped. They were well within talking range, so long as both sides spoke loudly. To'brel had no idea what to say or do, but evidently, B'arthon didn't feel the same. The older noble raised his voice and issued his demands clearly and simply. "Surrender now, and everyone present shall be given a home and a job within the new A'ngles Empire! There is no need to waste blood or iron on this battlefield!"
There was some mumbling from the various chiefs before one of them shouted back. "If you don't want to waste blood or iron, return to your valley and leave us in peace!"
This was going about like To'brel had expected. Pretty soon, they'd return to their sides without the young noble having said a word. He really served no purpose here, after all...
For his part, B'arthon seemed to consider the chief's words before answering. "I'm willing to take my army and return to our valley, so long as you surrender the members of the Dragon's Outpost to us first! Of course, Jack and S'haar must be included!" That was unexpected...
The chiefs immediately looked at To'brel, who shrunk in on himself before they began speaking among each other in hushed tones. While To'brel couldn't make out everything they were saying, it was clear what the general consensus was now that they'd seen the army opposing them. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. Looking at it from their side, To'brel couldn't fault their logic either. This fight really did look hopeless.
Now To'brel's mind was racing. This is why he was here, to represent the interests of the Dragon's outpost. If he didn't speak up now, they'd be thrown to the enemy with no chance of any of Jack's magics or schemes to save the day. But what could he say? Could he appeal to the other chiefs' sense of honor? Sure, they might feel shame at abandoning their allies here and now, but they had the survival of their very people to think of. How many villages would be slaughtered to extinction today if they didn't betray this small group of outsiders who'd wandered into their midst and demanded this alliance? No, if he was going to close this fissure between everyone and convince them all to stand and fight, he had to do so in a way that appealed to their self-interests as individuals and as chiefs.
Looking back to B'arthon, To'brel remembered the last time he'd stood close to the noble with two armies on either side of them and the words he'd shared then. "Hope you learn fast, kid. You won't get a second chance." It was as accurate today as it had been then. B'arthon had a way with words. In fact, he was often very precise about how he chose his words. Maybe that was what the younger noble had to focus on. What exactly did he say, and what didn't he say... He said he'd take his army and leave...but then what?
Taking a deep breath, To'brel spoke up for the first time, speaking to B'arthon but more aware of the impact his words might have on the chiefs at his side. "That is quite the generous offer, my Lord. We of the Dragon's Outpost want to avoid the waste of blood most of all and will accept your terms, so long as both Lord A'ngles and yourself swear a blood oath today, here in front of both armies, that you will leave peacefully, and never return to the mountains to kill or subject these people while either of you lives!"
There was a moment of silence as everyone processed what he just said and what B'arthon hadn't said. B'arthon had offered to withdraw his army, but for how long? They could come back in a year or two, and now the tribes would be in the same situation, but without the aid of the Dragon's Outpost and all their weapons, warriors, and plans. They'd be on their own, and as bad as their odds are right now, the odds would be considerably worse in the future. The tribes wouldn't be saving themselves. They'd only be delaying the inevitable. Their only possible salvation lay in this battle, here and now. But of course, B'arthon could completely unravel To'brel's hasty little plan by agreeing to his terms... The field became silent as everyone waited for B'arthon's answer.
After several moments, during which To'brel had plenty of time to have second, third, fourth, and fifth thoughts on his choice of words, B'arthon finally answered, his voice conveying annoyance, exhaustion, and something else the younger male couldn't quite place. "You've grown, Lord To'brel. Those were wise words you just chose. But, unfortunately, I must refuse. All I am offering is to leave the hills for now. We cannot swear an oath that we'll never return because we cannot know what the future holds or if the hill people won't take advantage of such a pledge. So I make my offer again, give us the survivors of Dragon's Outpost, and we'll leave. Any other offer short of that will be met with war!"
The chiefs had stopped speaking amongst each other. The first who had spoken looked at the rest, then To'brel, before stepping forward and speaking. "Then you leave us no other option. Bring your armies! You will not find us lacking teeth or claws to answer!"
With that, their delegation broke away, returning to their lines, leaving To'brel wondering if any of that really just happened or if he'd simply dreamt it all...
-
As Jack sat there waiting, he couldn't help but wonder what was happening. It irked him not to be present to hear what was being said, even though it would have completely given away the position of his flanking force when he ran to the forest instead of joining the front line.
Of course, Lon'thul was all grins. "I can't wait to charge out there and catch them in the backsides! Lord A'ngles will never know what hit him!"
Jack frowned. "I doubt it'll go that smoothly. They may not have my historical knowledge, but it hardly takes a genius to suspect a flanking maneuver, and he's already going to be suspicious when there's no sign of S'haar or myself on the front line."
Lon'thul shrugged. "Yeah, but you've got me, the hunter extraordinaire, Grim and his pack, led by yourself and Em'brel," The hunter nodded to the aforementioned female, who was more focused on double-checking her gear than the hunter's blathering. "your sister, the "metal goddess," not to mention seventy-five of the best hunters every tribe had to offer! We'll move faster and hit harder than anything they can bring to bear!"
Jack's frown deepened as he looked at the all-too-eager hunter. "Don't go believing your own stories about yourself. Overconfidence kills more soldiers than enemy spears. And yeah, we'll hit hard, but we also can't afford to get bogged down. In a war of attrition, they win on numbers and manpower alone. So our plan has to go off nearly perfectly, and my people have a saying about the best-laid plans of mice and men."
Lon'thul grinned again. "Well, the good news is if I'm right, I get to hold it over you as long as we live! If you're right, well, I suppose you'll also get to hold it over me as long as we live, but in your case, you'll have to make it quick!"
Jack couldn't help himself. That last line was so absurd that he couldn't help but close his eyes and chuckle. But closing his eyes was a mistake. He was suddenly taken by a vision of the young argu'n whose death he'd caused so very long ago. What had happened to that Jack? The one who convulsed and vomited after the first time he'd killed someone in self-defense. The one who obsessed about every life he took? Now he was leading armies into battle, and thousands would likely be dead at the end of the day.
Looking back, it was hard to say if he should have done anything differently. It all seemed so necessary, even now. And yet, despite the necessity of it all, he wondered if maybe surrendering to A'ngles wouldn't have been better. Maybe the necessary thing and the right thing weren't the same. Did he really have any right to put the lives and happiness of his family and friends over the safety of the thousands waiting for battle?
The only thing Jack knew for sure was that kid wasn't the only one who'd died back then. The part of Jack that had been more innocent and hopeful also died. He'd been a better man. He wondered if S'haar mourned that Jack as well. Of course, it was just his imagination, but for the briefest moments, he thought he heard her whisper. "It's too late for regrets. You knew this was where it might lead." The feeling was so strong. It felt like she had ahold of his arm...
That was when an actual grip on his arm snapped Jack back to the present. Standing next to him, looking up with evident concern, was Em'brel. She didn't say anything but smiled sadly and squeezed his arm again. Jack smiled back in a way he hoped alleviated her concern, but he suspected did little more than show his own anxiety as he patted her hand. Though he couldn't help but marvel at how fierce the claws on that hand had become. When had the little girl he'd saved from the raiders become such a strong woman? What kind of a guardian was he that he'd allowed her to be exposed to so much trauma? She was even about to fight in a massive battle to determine this world's future!
That was when Anglea spoke up out of nowhere. "YEAH! WAY TO GO TO'BREL!"
That snapped Jack out of his musings as he and everyone else turned to Angela. Then, finally, Jack asked the question on all their minds. "What in the world..?"
Anglea's smirk came across in her voice. "Our boy went and grew up on us when no one was looking! He just saved the day... Or maybe doomed us all. I suppose it depends on how things turn out."
That only confused Jack more, and he opened his mouth to ask more questions when Em'brel squeezed his arm again. "He's fighting this battle in his way. It's about time for us to start fighting it in ours."
Looking around at the hunters looking at the group of them, he nodded, turning to Lon'thul. "Let's get into position. As soon as the front lines clash, we need to move fast!"
-
As B'arthon returned to his lines, his father was there to meet him. "No sudden bouts of sanity on their part?"
The younger noble didn't even bother to acknowledge the attempted joke as he turned to survey the battle lines. He squinted, trying to discern any hidden pitfalls or ambushes one last time but still coming up blank. They didn't actually think a few ranged weapons would be enough to turn the tide of battle, did they?
Lord A'ngles seemed to be analyzing the enemy as well. "Apparently, they're holding the middle of their battle line with workers, not warriors or guards. They have those ranged weapons, but according to what we've seen, they won't be able to get off more than two shots before we reach their lines. With your new invention, they'll be lucky to get one hundred casualties at worst. But what of that charred-looking land behind them? What purpose does that serve?"
B'arthon looked at the spot his father was talking about and frowned. "That's obviously the trees they burned to draw us here. If it was in front of their battle line, I'd suspect it was filled with traps of some sort, but it's to their back. Perhaps, they were just trying to clear space for the fight? Maybe they think the uncertain footing will make their people less likely to retreat through it? Either way, with it behind them, I don't see it playing a significant role in the battle unless things go very badly for them, and I don't see Jack as the kind who would sacrifice that many lives just for a simple pit trap..."
A'ngless looked around. "Speaking of Jack and that terrifying mate of his, and the metal goddess for that matter, I don't see them anywhere. Any thoughts?"
B'arthon frowned as he looked off into the trees behind the enemy. "My guess is they are waiting in the forest to loop around once the battle begins to try and flank our army or maybe come for you and me specifically. Based on the number of people in the battle line and our intel on the number of capable people they had, I doubt the flanking force could number much more than fifty, maybe a hundred if they have some children actually filling out the ranks to make it look like so many aren't missing."
Looking at his own army, B'arthon continued. "I'll take two hundred of our own men to counter them. That'll leave you with an honor guard of over a hundred should they sneak past me, in which case you'd just have to hold them long enough for me to flank their flank. If you're not too afraid of taking that kind of risk, old man."
A'ngles made a face and leaned on his cane. "I'll let that one slide because of everything going on, but please, not in front of the guards, my son. And yes, that'll be fine. You've proven your intuition multiple times already. So I'll trust in it today."
B'arthon returned his attention to the battle lines. "Still, it would make sense for Jack and even his sister to flank us, but I would expect S'haar to be leading front and center. It bothers me that she's nowhere to be seen. I feel like they still have another hidden ambush on this hunt..."
A'ngles raised an eye ridge. "Should we delay the attack then?"
B'arthon shook his head. "No. Give them too much time, and they'll only strike when our men need rest or food. Our best bet is not to overthink this and simply hit the vulnerability they've shown. Put our best warriors front and center and try to break their lines in two. Once that happens, no flanking maneuver they might try and pull off will have any effect on the outcome of the battle."
The older noble nodded. "Very well. And you're confident you should go with the counter flank and not remain in charge of the main battle line?"
B'arthon shook his head once again. "No. I'm convinced Jack will be on the flank. The speed of his mount makes him optimal for that, and he'll probably have a bodyguard of hunters and others who can move quickly through the trees with him. If there's going to be any trickery, it'll come from that human, and I want to be on hand to deal with it! Don't worry. I won't be fighting front and center. I've got trained warriors for that. I just want to keep my eyes on the human, is all."
A'ngles nodded. "Very well. It seems you've thought this through. I support your plan. Fight well, my son!"
As he looked back at his aging adoptive father, B'arthon felt a pang of concern for the older male's well-being for the first time since the beginning of their partnership. Usually, he just saw him as a useful ally and hadn't ever really considered him as family, despite the terms they used for each other in public. However, something felt different this time, leaving the younger noble disquieted. "You too...father."
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In case you missed it and are interested, book 1 is available to purchase in digital or physical form.
If you want to support my work or help me cover the costs of publishing, you can find my Patreon here. Though it's not necessary, I'm really just glad you took the time to read my stories.

Hi all,
Wondering if anyone has suggestions for local farms for free range pasteurized eggs where chickens are raised in an ethical manner.
Not looking to purchase free range from a grocery store.
Thanks in advance.

We have done it. The end of another school year! Before we jump into this last set of stories, remember to subscribe to ReddX, home of the best cringe content on YouTube. Promise, swearsies, it’s just a fact and it’s totally science. Go ahead and look it up!
I miss that intro a lot so I figured I’d just write it in. I waited until after graduation to post this because, with ManiBeard at graduation, I figured anything could happen. And it did. And with that, let’s jump into this last set of beardy tales (for this school year). Let’s a-go.

1. “No Place Like Home (Campus)”

I was in a pretty good mood because I found out that district was ticked off at admin for considering moving my Cave to a different room next year and because they keep using my Cave as ‘backup’ for state testing. Evidently, the district was unaware this was happening but after I had complained to Cook about the extent of it she went to the district and, well, I’m keeping my Cave next year right where it is, and testing use will be limited. I won without lifting a finger. Sometimes bureaucracy works. Not often, but it’s beautiful when it does.
Of course, that good mood was not to last…
On this day I had a meeting with all the other Graphic Design teachers at another campus. We will call it Clique High School (because ‘cult’ may or may not be YouTube-friendly).
The first thing you need to know is I have a history with CHS. Remember, all the way back in chapter 1 where I mention I was a substitute teacher at Standard High before they hired me as a teacher? Well, there was one part I left out because it was irrelevant to that story, but it becomes relevant here. It is true I did sub at SHS, but the part I left out was that for half of the 2020-2021 school year (Covid year), I was a long-term sub at another campus and that campus was Clique High School. To say it was a poor experience would be underselling it immensely. You could say that Elon Musk is well off but that doesn’t really express the massive mounds of money that malevolent menace truly had. Likewise, saying I had a poor experience at CHS doesn’t really express the absolutely traumatizing, terrible, troublesome experience that my life there. It got so bad that I would leave work, cry the entire 30-minute drive to SHS, pick up Beatle, and make him drive the rest of the way home because my eyes were sore from crying.
What did I do at CHS? Well, I was a long-term sub in ESL. That’s where I got my start with it. When I walked in at the start of that year I’d never had a high school classroom before, I had no lesson plans, limited access to the curriculum since I was a sub, and I was teaching virtually because Covid…and what did I do? I build a curriculum, bonded with my class, and wrote my own lesson plans (even though subs generally don’t write plans). Basically, I rebuilt their ESL program. I did apply for the job. After all, I was already doing all of the work for substitute pay. I may as well get teacher pay for being a teacher. Right? Wrong.
They did interview me for the job but then proceeded to yank me around for half a semester before finally saying they were going to hire someone else. Who? No idea. But not me. But they wanted me to continue to long-term sub and do what I was doing until they found someone. Honestly, when I didn’t get the job part of me was pissed because of all the work I put in, but part of me was relieved. You see, the culture at CHS isn’t like the culture at SHS. Their principal, whom we will call Mr. D (for reasons that will soon be clear), had been named the district’s principal of the year and his staff completely fawned over him…a staff mostly comprised of women. The male-to-female ratio at CHS was considerably more unbalanced than at SHS. What struck me as odd was that Mr. D did not seem to warrant such admiration. During my interactions with him, I got slimy car salesman vibes more than high school principal. I would come to find out that this went deeper than I knew.
Remember AVIDBeard? Yeah, to her credit she was the one that warned me. Mostly I think she saw a chance to gossip, but nonetheless. I was visiting SHS and telling the English dept. how much I missed subbing for them (they actually liked me at this time…this was long before EnglishBeard even worked there so certainly before that whole thing made me a pariah). They missed me too. Although honestly, they missed having a sub at their becken call. Let’s be real. Anyway, AVIDBeard was all too happy to jump in with gossip.
“Be careful over there Mandy,” AVIDBeard said.
“Why? What do you know?” I asked.
“I had a training over there once and this teacher that works there started freaking out because the instructor, who was also a teacher there, was late. She started to have an anxiety attack and when I asked her what was wrong she said ‘Daddy isn’t going to like this’,” AVIDBeard explained.
“What?!” everyone in the room asked at once.
AVIDBeard nodded, “I know! So I asked her, ‘you call your principal Daddy?’ and she said ‘of course.’.”
I raised an eyebrow. I was skeptical, to say the least. Even then I knew AVIDBeard was not a reliable source. But, on the off chance she was telling the truth I had to know. CHS wasn’t exactly full of friendly teachers. In fact, where everyone at SHS had been welcoming, it had been the very opposite at CHS. They treated me like an outsider they were skeptical of. I had managed to at least have somewhat of a dialogue with the librarian. She helped me to ensure that my ESL students had books in their native languages to read during the pandemic. I went to her one day to ask about scheduling some book pick-ups for the students (this was when teachers were on-campus but students were virtual).
“Hey, can I ask you something?” I asked after we had figured out scheduling.
“Sure, what’s up?” she asked.
“OK, so it’s dumb, but someone told me you guys call Mr. D ‘daddy’. Silly, right?” I said with a laugh.
She just blinked, “Who told you that?”
Her reaction caught me off guard. She wasn’t laughing. My eyes widened, “Um, I don’t remember, it just got mentioned in passing.”
“Don’t ask anyone else that question…just…don’t even mention it,” she said.
I blinked. I wanted out of this conversation, “OK, I won’t. I’ll just forget I ever heard about it.”
She nodded and turned away, “I have work to do. If you need more books let me know.”
I rushed back to my classroom. After that, the librarian was very cold toward me.
To this day I honestly believe that the reason Mr. D didn’t hire me was because I’m too strong-willed and I have a big mouth…neither fits well into a cult-like structure, which it is very obvious CHS is.
At the semester break, they hadn’t yet hired anyone and asked me to stay for the rest of the year as a long-term sub. Basically, they wanted to pay me sub pay for an entire year of teaching. I told them ‘no way’ and I begged the district and Mr. Principal to let me return to subbing at SHS. I didn’t even care that regular sub pay was less than long-term sub pay. I just wanted out…and it turns out it all worked in my favor because obviously Mr. Principal ended up hiring me for the very job that Mr. D rejected me from and I’m very happy where I am now. And I don’t even have to call Mr. Principal ‘daddy’. Gag! Say what you will about Standard High, but I’ll take it over CHS any day.
OK, I know that was a lot of backstory, but I truly need you to understand why I so vehemently loathe everything about CHS and moreover why even being there gives me a mild case of PTSD.
Alright then, where were we? Oh yeah. Meeting for Graphic Design teachers over at CHS. I was not happy about this because I hate being at CHS of course, but I also hated leaving my students with a sub this close to the end of the year. But, alas, there I was. I walked into the familiar, loathsome halls. Daddy was in the main hall greeting his subjects.
“Mandy? What are you doing here?” he asked as he looked me over. I was in full-school spirit mode. SHS staff shirt and matching school spirit Converse I had custom-made.
“Graphic Design meeting,” I said.
“Oh, you teach Graphic Design now?” he asked.
I nodded, “Yeah, I did so great at fixing their ESL program they gave me my true dream job and now I’m relaunching their graphic design program.” OK, so it was a bit of embellishment, but I wanted him to know that his loss was SHS’s gain.
“Shame…we have an ESL position open here at The Clique,” Mr. D said. That’s how he referred to his campus. Imagine if the school’s name was Blue Mountain High and he called it The Mountain. Yeah…cringey.
“Oh yeah? I heard Patty didn’t stay,” I said. Patty was who they hired instead of me. She ended up retiring after one year at ‘The Clique’.
“Yeah, well we hired Emmy to replace Patty and now she is leaving,” Mr. D said.
“Shame…yeah, I’m still at SHS and quite happy. I heard principals were turning to poaching from other high schools so I’ll save you the trouble. I’m not poachable,” I said, wanting to get away from him.
“You could have your old job in your old room,” Mr. D said in a tone that made me very uneasy.
“I have a perfectly lovely Cave. Besides, my husband works at SHS too and I like being on the same campus as the love of my life,” I said, pointedly.
“If you change your mind, let me know. Enjoy your meeting. Welcome back to The Clique,” Mr. D said as I quickly walked away to find the room Graphic Design was meeting in.
Now, this may come as a surprise to you all, but I am NOT a social creature. Truly. Beatle is my best friend and aside from Cali all my other friends are on the ReddX Discord (hence my desire to not get myself banned over there). And I am 150% ok with that. At that moment I wanted to be in my Cave more than anything. The pressure to be ‘on’ and social was beyond exhausting to me, especially this late in the year. But, always the professional, I mustered every bit of perky in me to be lovely to my other-campus counterparts.
This proved to be a challenge. One of them, more of a Karen than a Beard really, would not shut up about how amazing her campus was and how she never had issues with phones because her kids were so well-behaved. She also said she couldn’t post work early because they would have it done before they ever got to class. Oh, and of course she is teaching graphic design because she needed a break from her real job as an engineer. And oh, did she mention she is an engineer? Because she’s an engineer. She also went on and on about how she didn’t like the curriculum at another campus she was at so she complained and got 68 teachers from all over the country to back her up and they changed the whole curriculum to what she wanted. OK, whatever. I wanted to ask if everyone stood up and cheered too.
Another teacher was just insufferable. She kept asking for the same bloody stuff over and over even after being told it wasn’t in the budget. She didn’t know the cost of any of it, just that everything she wanted (think equipment and software licenses) was expensive and our budget is next to nothing right now. She didn’t even make arguments as to why we needed it. She just kept asking for the same stuff in the same way. All of it was stuff we didn’t need and most of us wouldn’t even use.
I contributed my thoughts on what I felt needed to be added to the curriculum, which was met with agreement. I really only had that one suggestion. The rest of the time I let them do their thing, which was woefully unorganized, disjointed, and overall a waste of time I could be grading papers. And so I decided that while they did their thing I would organize my Google Drive. As I was doing this I noticed something. I was still the owner on ALL the ESL files for SHS. Not just the ones I created…ALL OF THEM. If I were to hit delete SHS would literally have to start from scratch organizing their program with new teachers next year. But Ms. Dean did make clear I was to have nothing to do with ESL anymore. If I deleted the folders was that malicious compliance? Or just being a bitch for the sake of it? I still haven’t decided…I find the situation humorous, in not a bit morally ambiguous.
Ultimately, it was decided that 1 day wasn’t enough for our meeting so we would meet again one week later at the same place. I declined. I needed to be on my campus because I did have actual work to do. Grades would be due the day they wanted to meet. I wasn’t the only one. About half of the graphic design teachers agreed to meet again the following week and we would all be meeting again August 1st. So I get to start my school year back at ‘The Clique’. Lovely.
Yeah, this was a very real reminder that for all the beardery at Standard High, it could be SO much worse.

1. “Lunchtime!”

After that long mammoth of a tale that the last story was, here is a short one for you.
This happened the day after my meeting at CHS. Sonia wanted to end the school year with some team building so she asked Ms. Dean if they could have an off-campus team meeting at a nearby restaurant and grab some food. Ms. Dean told them no. Sonia then decided they would just order takeaway and do the same thing on campus. She reserved a conference room and everything.
So the day of the eat and meet came. Beatle had ordered some enchiladas and was looking forward to a hot meal during the workday. CovidBeard didn’t go because she said she wasn’t feeling well and needed to just go home early. I know that comes as a shock. Meanwhile, ManiBeard decided he would sit next to his bff, Beatle. ManiBeard hadn’t ordered any food because ‘the catering menu looked good, but nothing on the regular menu appealed to me’. What ManiBeard did have, however, was a bag of crackers. As Beatle tried to eat his food, ManiBeard both ate his crackers and talked at the same time. It didn’t take long for Beatle to realize that small bits of cracker crumbs were flying at him and his food. He shifted to the side to dodge the airborne particles that threatened to infect his space. It was here that ManiBeard declared he had signed his contract but still wasn’t sure if he would be back next year because he had until July 3rd to pull out of his contract and he really just didn’t want to make a commitment.
After the meeting, everyone went their own way, except ManiBeard, who cornered Beatle in the mudroom. I was in my Cave waiting for him when I got a text ‘SOS, I’ve been cornered! Mudroom!’
I sighed, “Come on Wee One. We have to go save Dad.”
Wee One chuckled, “Oh no.” She followed me faithfully as we headed downstairs.
“Oh, good, you’re here already. We gotta go Love. Wee One has that thing…see ya later ManiBeard!” I said as I grabbed Beatle’s arm as I passed and just kept walking.
The next day Beatle went into Sonia’s room for inclusion and she smiled at him, “Sure you got all the crumbs off?” she teased.
Beatle rolled his eyes, “Right?!”
Sonia nodded, “ManiBeard is why I don’t eat lunch in the workroom anymore. ManiBeard would walk over to me and just stand over me…like right over me…and talk while he ate which would just send food everywhere. One day he was eating some chicken salad and a piece of chicken flew out of his mouth and landed on my arm.”
“Oh bloody hell. That’s disgusting,” Beatle said before vowing not to be near ManiBeard eating ever again.

1. “Little Lies”

Ever since it was announced PastorBeard was the new dept head he had been walking around like a roster puffing out his chest. He had also been going out of his way to talk to Beatle, as if to rub in that he got the dept head job and Beatle didn’t. It was annoying, but I stayed out of it. I even played nice when PastorBeard stopped me in the parking lot one day and asked me about my weekend plans while I was waiting for Beatle.
“What are you plans this weekend, Mandy?” PastorBeard asked as he leaned against the side of my car.
“Oh, nothing major. Weekend chores. Beatle has some school work to get done and he’s going to put some snake repellant in the yard…I’ll probably clean the house and spend some time with my mum,” I said, trying to be pleasant as I could be. What I really wanted to do was to tell him he was a bastard that should never teach, let alone lead a dept.
“You should come to watch me on Sunday. I’m preaching his weekend,” he said with a smile. His tone came off like he intended it to be a flex.
I forced a smiled, “No thanks. Not my thing.”
“God isn’t ‘your thing’?” he asked, leaning towards me a bit.
I took a step back, “Not the same one you believe in.” I started absentmindedly playing with the Flower of Aphrodite pendant I wore around my neck.
“Are you Catholic or something?” he asked.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. People presumed since Beatle was Irish that we were a Catholic family a lot. Instead, I shook my head, “No. Actually, if you must know, I’m Pagan.”
PastorBeard looked taken aback, “Oh…I see.”
“So, while I appreciate the invite…not my thing,” I said again.
“You should come anyway. I’d love to look out on Sunday and see you there. And who knows? If you hear what I have to say you may change your mind about being pagan,” PastorBeard said with a cocky smile.
I looked around hoping Beatle and Wee One were going to be there soon, “I doubt it…anyway…um…I hate to keep you on a Friday.”
“I’m not in a rush. You’re fine,” he said, “Did you hear I’m the new dept head?”
“Yeah. I know,” I said, “Beatle told me. He applied to you know.”
“I know. They need someone that is a strong leader for the job though, someone that can guide the dept the way I guide the church. They can’t pick someone with a weak personality. A man should be able to lead…his church, his work, and of course his wife,” PastorBeard said pointedly.
“Uh huh…a good leader knows when to defer to those wiser than he,” I said as I saw Beatle and Wee One, “Love! Hey!” I waved.
Beatle saw PastorBeard and looked unhappy, “Hi PastorBeard.”
“Have a good weekend you guys. See you later Mandy…think about my offer,” he said as he went and got into his truck that sat on tires far too big for it.
“What was that?” Beatle asked when we got in the car.
I shrugged, “He was either hitting on me or he was just being a pompous arse…or both. Hard to say.”
And we went on our way.
The next work day Beatle walked into the workroom and saw PastorBeard in there talking to Vera (the assistant mentioned in chapter 26.)
“Just do your best to set them up for success,” PastorBeard told Vera as he walked out of the workroom.
Vera sighed.
“Are you ok mate?” Beatle asked her.
Vera shook her head, “We’re almost done. Almost there.”
“What happened?” Beatle asked.
“Well, only 2 of the kids in that group in the hall workspace need my help,” Vera said pointing to a group outside PastorBeard’s room, “The others are kids missing work and PastorBeard kicked them out of the classroom. I’m supposed to watch them and make sure they behave but they already told me they aren’t going to do anything.”
Beatle’s expression went dark, “You’re a SPED assistant. Not a babysitter.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen him actually help anyone. He doesn’t go around the room to help. Just tells them to be quiet and pokes them. I don’t know why he feels the need to touch them. He tells them if they need help they can go to him and he just sits at his desk the whole time…but no one is gonna go to him for help because they don’t like him,” Vera vented.
Beatle sighed, “You know he’s dept head next year, right?”
“Oh, I know. He told me no one else wanted it,” Vera said sadly.
Beatle blinked, “No ma’am. I interviewed for it.”
“That’s just what I heard,” Vera said.
“He lied,” Beatle shook his head.
What PastorBeard didn’t know is that Beatle had something else in the works…we weren’t sure it would pan out at this point (as of this writing we still aren’t), but Beatle wasn’t going to take PastorBeard’s crap lying down…and for that, I was proud of him.

1. “Wrapping It Up”

3.5 days till summer. Grades were due. I sat at my computer to adjust the grade book and turned on some music. Not even kidding, ‘The Final Countdown’ was on the radio (yes, I listen to the radio. Satellite Radio to be precise). It was the perfect music for working on my end-of-year checklist. I felt like I was in a movie and this was my montage music!
We reached the point in the year when all the teachers were just playing movies. For my part, I was letting them watch the Super Mario Movie. I had some happy students. I also wrote Wee One a pass to spend the day in my room. She was done with her work and wanted to help me with some Graphic Design work for next year’s launch (we are launching an on-campus design firm). She asked me which workstation she could work at and I did the worst thing a mum can do to her child. I sat her next to my baby neckbeard. She started working but within 10 minutes she came to my desk.
“Mom…” she started.
I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
She sighed, “I’m sorry…Ms. Mandy?”
“Yes ma’am?” I asked her.
“Can I sit on the other side of the room…it’s less claustrophobic and I have a friend over there…” she trailed off.
I chuckled and leaned in so only she could hear me, “You don’t appreciate sitting next to the baby neckbeard?”
She looked sheepish, “Not really.”
“Can you smell him?” I asked.
She made a disgusted face, “Sort of, yeah.”
“OK, yes, go ahead and move,” I nodded.
In the meantime, Beatle was texting me:
Beatle: Why does ManiBeard always start class with “How are we?” instead of “How are you?”?
Mandy: Because that’s what’s in his programming.
Beatle: LMAO! Point. I will not miss him this summer. You know he said he is only helping with graduation because he didn’t help with either dance. I thought it was mandatory that we do one of the 1 dances.
Mandy: Sigh. 1) yes it is and I bet they got on him and forced him to help with graduation and 2) why the hell would they let him help with graduation? That event is stressful enough without adding ManiBeard to the mix.
Beatle: He said he rather work graduation because it’s his favorite event because he gets to see the kids move on.
Mandy: But he’s a freshman teacher. He doesn’t know many if any, seniors.
Beatle: I know! Oh, CovidBeard is leaving.
Mandy: WHAT?! FOREVER?!
Beatle: I’m watching her class for the rest of the period.
Mandy: Oh, just for today.
Beatle: Yeah. Don’t get too excited.
Mandy: Damn. 3.5 days left. Heaven forbid she stick it out.
Beatle: Right?
And right about the time I was hoping my Beard encounters were over. At least until graduation…it happened. I had to email EnglishBeard. Why? Because I needed one of his students (who happened to be one of my most talented graphic design students) to come to my class the next day during his class. I cringed at having to interact with him. I asked Beatle if I should even bother. “We’re not doing anything, why would he say no?” Beatle asked. “He’s a beard.” I replied. “Fair.” Beatle conceded.
Finally, I took a breath and started to type: “EnglishBeard, if it is alright with you, can Sara come to my class during 5th period tomorrow to do some Graphic Design work? Thanks, Mandy”
2 hours later, he replied, “What work? Why should I send her to an elective? My class is core.”
I sighed, “It’s ok if you are doing something in class. I just thought it would be ok if you are just watching movies.” I replied.
“We are just watching movies, but my class is still a core class and yours is not,” EnglishBeard replied.
“You are correct. However, Sara is going to be in my Graphic 3 class next year and I want to get all my Graphic 3 students together for a meeting before the end of the year and the rest of them are in my 5th period. If you don’t want to send her that is fine,” I replied.
“Ok, that would be fine. I will allow it,” EnglishBeard finally said.
I sighed and wrote a pass to give to Sara.
Meanwhile, in the English 1 meeting, Beatle was dealing with his own Beard.
“And the Beard came back….CovidBeard came back for the meeting,” Beatle texted me.
“WHY?!” I texted back.
“IDK! I’m spraying Lysol when she leaves the room. She’s like ‘I’m sitting here sweating. I have no idea what I have.’ I guess she came back for attention,” Beatle replied.
I sighed as I typed, “Probably.”
Why did all these Beards have to come back? Why couldn’t this be last year when we had the mass exodus of Beards? That was nice. I liked that.
Maybe they would get less beardy over the summer?
Probably not.

1. “Graduation Day”

Have you ever sat through a graduation ceremony? If you have you know how dull they are. Being part of it is even worse. Graduation in Australia was quite different, but when I graduated from college in America Beatle practically had to force me into the cap and gown. It was not something I have ever liked…so the irony that I volunteer every year (except next year when Wee One graduates) is not lost on me. Mostly, I do it because I know it means something to the kids to see their teachers there. That said, I silently curse in my head the entire time while making sure to smile, be peppy, and congratulate even the most ungrateful of students. While I don’t look back on my graduation fondly, some of them might and I want to help provide good memories.
Graduation isn’t just on that day either. The day before we have to participate in graduation practice, which is just as awful, if not worse. I did entertain myself by watching ManiBeard however.
We all gathered in the practice gym to line up and then once everyone was in place we processed into the main gym. The practice gym was so bloody hot that I was sweating. It was so bloody hot that ManiBeard actually took off his cardigan for the first time all year. I have now confirmed he does have arms under it. Bloke never takes off his cardigan/coat…even when the outside temp is 100+ in Fahrenheit. I further observed only to realize that they had, for some reason, put ManiBeard in the same row as 2 of the baby beards I’ve been observing over the course of the year. ManiBeard was as clueless as one might expect and had no idea how to manage the kids and telling them when to stand, when to sit, when to walk, etc. He made it through graduation practice, but I was seriously concerned about the next day. I was also concerned because I saw the gown they set aside for Mani. It was huge! He was going to look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. Let the chaos commence!
And commence it did. Shortly after lunch Beatle texted me “OZZY ISN’T COMING BACK! WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN GOING ON AROUND HERE?!”
Remember Ozzy? The other Australian on campus? Yeah, evidently he said, “this really isn’t something I foresaw happening. It is something I needed to do. But please, I don’t want to make it seem like I’m excited to leave. I’m not. It’s actually been really hard packing up my things.” Ozzy had been around since the campus opened in 2016. It was a true shock to see him leave and Beatle was very distraught over it. Honestly, so was I.
After school Beatle barrelled into his classroom, “OK, mate, what the hell is going on?”
The conversation was private so I’m not going to detail it, but I will say that circumstances happened so that Ozzy had to go back to Australia. He was not happy about it. He said he thought he would retire from Standard High, but life happens. This was a blow, but we wish him the best.
I found out later that night that ManiBeard managed to out-beard himself. He did the beardiest thing he’d ever done.
“Did you guys meet today in E1?” I asked Beatle.
“Yeah, but it was more social than a meeting,” Beatle replied.
“ManiBeard? Social? How did that go?” I asked.
Beatle chuckled, “ManiBeard wasn’t there.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because he miscalculated all his grades and had to redo them,” Beatle said.
I froze as I tried to register what he said. Finally I spoke, “But our gradebook is automated. We don’t calculate anything. We put in the number and bam…grades. How the hell did Mani manage to ‘miscalculate’ grades?”
“No idea, but admin wasn’t happy. They sent in Lana to guide him through it,” Beatle said.
I laughed, “Oh my god! After everything he did to keep Lana out of his room she ended up fixing his gradebook? The irony is too delicious! This has got to be the beardiest thing he has ever done. How the fuck do you miscalculate grades in and automated gradebook?!”
Beatle shrugged, “Talent?”
The next morning (THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL) an email started circulating from teachers that were worried about getting left at the arena we were holding graduation in. They wanted to ensure the bus wouldn’t leave them behind. Beatle and I watched as the emails flooded our inboxes. ManiBeard: “I need a ride too.” EnglishBeard: “Don’t leave me behind!” HistoryBeard: “I look like too much of an escaped inmate to safely hitchhike. Don’t leave me either.” MathBeard:I need the bus to get back to school.”
It was at that point I texted my brother to see if he could pick Beatle and I up after graduation. To be clear, we have to ride the bus over with students so taking our own car wasn’t an option…but riding the BeardBus home did not appeal to either of us. I like getting fodder for stories, but I’m not a complete sadomasochist. My brother agreed and I felt relief wash over me.
Beatle and I ended up combining our classes in my Cave for the last day because we bought breakfast tacos and donuts for the kids and it was easier to combine classes than to try to split the food. So, most of the last day was the kids eating and playing Mario Kart on our Switch. It was pretty fun. I did leave the kids with Beatle at one point so I could go down to Cook’s kitchen and do my department check-out stuff. When I say Cook had a professional kitchen that is not hyperbole. The culinary kitchen at Standard High is anything but standard. We’re talking a state-of-the-art kitchen that any head chef would be in awe of. It’s truly a thing to behold and for high school students? Yeah, it is pretty bloody great. Oh, and the cutting boards…let me tell you about the numerous cutting boards!
…I’m kidding Red! Just kidding!
But yeah, the kitchen is pretty great. Anyway, when I went into said kitchen, MediaBeard was in there doing his check-out as well. When he saw me he smiled and turned to me.
“Mandy, thank you so much for everything you did for me this year. It was a rough year and you had my back. I truly appreciate you, thank you,” he said as he hugged me.
I hugged him back, “Aww, mate…I got ya. Anytime. Next year will be better.”
When I said back in Chapter 1 that MediaBeard was certainly a Beard, but one of the ‘good’ beards, this is what I meant. Yes, he can be a bit…well…beardly. But, the bloke has a good heart. And I am glad he will be back next year. I’m going to try to mentor him now that I’m settled in graphic design. I am also glad he will not be Wee One’s teacher next year. She’s decided to take graphic design 3 and animation 1 which means she will have me as her teacher for 3 out of 8 periods. Come to find out she likes me as her teacher. And I’m pretty hard on her. She said I made her better. I must be doing something right!
Cook has 100% become my work Mum and I adore her. She plans to have a department soiree before school starts and for the first time ever I’m actually looking forward to going to a department function, solely because of Cook. She is amazing.
Finally, as long last, the 2022-2023 school year ended. All the non-senior students left and the seniors arrived.
Beatle and I scarfed our lunch down and headed to the gym… this is where graduation truly begins.
I put my gown on over my work clothes as did Beatle. We sat together and chatted for a bit before he went to his row to help organize kids. I was left sitting alone in my row as the students filed in. And, as I usually do in these situations, I started to observe my surroundings and live a bit in my own head.
I saw some teachers grouped up talking and laughing near me. For a moment I felt that loneliness I felt all through school (until I met Beatle). I had a moment of feeling like that ‘weird blonde kid’ again. I guess it never really goes away. It was a reminder that from the day we met (see SquirrelBeard for that story) Beatle has always been where I fit. Does anyone else ever have a moment of reversion like that? Where even as an adult you remember how it was to be an outcast at 15 or whatever? Maybe it’s just me? Maybe it’s because I work in a high school?
In any case, I snapped out of it and looked around. What caught my eye was a pair of BRIGHT crimson skinny jeans. And the wearer? ManiBeard. OF COURSE! He also had on a plain white t-shirt with the district logo on it that we got free at the start of the year and Van trainers. What was the dress code for this event that admin had explicitly given us the day before? Dress pants and a Polo or button-up for men or a suit for men, a dress or nice pants and shirt for women, dress shoes, and absolutely no jeans, trainers, or t-shirts. Yeah. For J’s part he had on black pants and a black button-up shirt with a tie. He looked good. It was also the first time he got to wear his Master’s hood at a graduation, which was pretty frickin cool too! I had on black pants and a nice shirt. I was not wearing a dress at graduation. Just, no. Anyway…ManiBeard…right…so he wore EXACTLY what admin said don’t wear. Cause…ManiBeard. And I was right, his gown made him look like a puppy wearing his owner’s sweater. It would have been cute if it was anyone but Mani. Instead he just looked robotic and lost. And, exactly like I suspected, he didn’t talk to any of the kids. He didn’t even congratulate them. Probably because he teachers 9th graders and didn’t know any of these kids and had no connection to them. Beatle knew a lot of them. These were the kids that he taught his first year as freshmen so he had seen them through all 4 years. It was emotional for him.
It was around this time I turned around and noticed paramedics in the hall. I later found out a student (one of mine actually) had a seizure. I had seen them roll a kid out of the building on an office chair but I didn’t know who under Mr. Principal told me later. As all of this was happening APBeard said they put a sign up sheet on the stage for any teacher that needed to take the bus back to campus after the ceremony. A bunch of teachers headed to the stage. One that looked like a textbook beard said, as he walked past me, “that would be all of us. Like any of us can afford an Uber with what they pay us.” I raised an eyebrow and looked the man over. “That has GOT to be HistoryBeard” I thought to myself. Beatle ran up behind me.
“See that bloke up there…the one at the sign up sheet right now?” Beatle asked me quietly.
“Yeah,” I said.
“That’s HistoryBeard,” he confirmed.
“I knew it! I knew that had to be him. Damn, he is a beard and it’s not even just on the inside,” I said.
Beatle shook his head, “No, he’s one that is beard inside and out.”
I shuttered as Beatle returned to his seat.
About 45 minutes later we boarded the bus and headed to the arena. I hoped everything would be smooth sailing from there, but that would have been WAY too easy.
So, I need to paint a bit of a picture here…have you ever been backstage at an arena? It’s not a huge space…and when you put a couple hundred people back there…it’s a tight fit. We were lucky to have a 2 inch radius around us. Personal space does not exist when you cram everyone back there. And we had to line up in order. Each row had a letter. It seemed everything was fine. My row was in order…but something felt off. That’s when I realized whoever set the signs up doesn’t know the bloody alphabet because instead of A, B, C, D, E, F, G it went A, B, C, D, E, G, F. I was in row F. I realized the error but I also wasn’t about to move anything without telling an AP. So I found an AP that said he had to find another AP and 3 APs later I was told to swap Rows F and G. I helped correct the signed and then we had to shift the rows with VERY little space. It was…something.
It was hot, cramped, and miserable. Beatle told me later some of the kids in his row snuck back into a supply room and were stealing popcorn. It was in the moments of being back stage I remembered why last year I said to myself ‘never again, I’m never doing graduation again’. I’m really not next year cause of Wee One and I’ll probably forget the year after and volunteer again. Cause teacher brain. Anyway, it was finally go time and we walked out, sat down, and the ceremony started. All done? Not quite.
For the sake of wrapping this up I’ll quickly list the crap that happened during the ceremony:

1. Someone in the stands called to a kid ‘you look like ET but we love you anyway!’ to which a graduate yelled back ‘you’re an asshole’. Classy.
2. ManiBeard was clueless and lost. He may as well have not even been there because he was mostly just in the way.
3. The boys decided it was great fun to pretend to fall on stage just before the got to Mr. Principal. This happened 4 times. A 5th pretended he was about to fall then twerked instead. Again, classy. Ladies and gentleman, our future.
4. A boy in the row in front of me turned around and was using his program to sword fight with a boy in my row. I gave them the ‘mom/teacher look’ and they both got a panicked look and said ‘sorry ma’am’ before sitting straight for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe Wee One is right. Maybe I am scary.
5. MediaBeard made the senior video and it was awful. I have a hard time believing he worked ‘in the industry’. Next year I’m going to see if he will let me do some graphic design templates for him. It will be part of my proposal to mentor him.

And then graduation was over. Beatle and I checked with Number One and were cleared to leave. Brother picked us up and we headed to dinner (where Brother once again came very close to getting the name BrotherBeard) and summer began.
And that concludes this year of School of Beards. If there is any demand I will be back in the fall because with all the beards returning I am sure to have a new batch of tales. I sincerely want to thank everyone that had come on this journey with me, Red for reading (and being a mate), and Beatle for supporting me and allowing me to share his stories. I mostly want to thank everyone that has listened to Red read these stories because that is the most amazing thing…hearing these stories read and getting his insight. I do appreciate it more than I can say. Keep an eye out for the rest of BowserBeard this summer and maybe a couple of one-offs.
Now, to end this year I decided to try my hand at my first parody song. Apologies if it’s not very good. Like I said, it’s my first one. I hope it doesn’t suck!
“BeardSchool’s Out” (Parody of “School’s Out” by Alice Cooper)
Well, we got no choice
But to hear the noise
Listenin to the beards’ voice
The poor girls and boys
Well, we can't escape ya
Can't find an out
And when they start to shout
Education’s in doubt
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Mani
No more English
No more preacher's judgment, yeah
Well, Mani can’t control his class
And Pastor’s got the Principal
And the students pay the price
We can't even think about next year
BeardSchool's out for summer
Beards go into slumber
Beardschool makes us shutter
No more Media
No more Math Emails
No more two-faced Dean
Out for summer
Out 'til fall
Do the beards have to come back at all
Beards go slumber
BeardSchool's out for summer
Watch the Beards lumber
BeardSchool’s out till August

(25F) Me and my roommate (27F) “Amanda” normally have an okay relationship. We mostly leave each other alone. But for the past few months I have had a huge issue with Amanda stealing my food. At least every other day something gets taken.
Amanda gets very defensive and denies it whenever I ask her. She’ll raise her voice and say things like “No! I don’t even like chili!” or “I don’t even like lemon chicken, it wasn’t me!” or “Oh, right, because I’m big! Is that it?!”
I got two candy apples and wrote on the container to not touch them since one was for my sister. I watched from the hallway as Amanda ate both my apples. I waited a few minutes to ask Amanda if she ate them. Amanda lied straight to my face and told me she never touched them.
The last straw was when I baked a cake two weeks ago. I told Amanda to not touch it since it was for a potluck, but that it was a small gathering so I could save a piece for her after if she wanted. Amanda told me “No thank you” but then later dug out a piece with her hands.
Yes, with her hands. She couldn’t even cut herself a slice; She dug out a hunk from the center of the cake with her fingers. I had to throw the entire cake away and was extremely pissed off since I worked hard on that cake and Amanda completely trampled over the boundary that I set.
I know that Amanda is allergic to almonds. So I’ve begun adding almond extract to all of my food. I make sure to only use a small drop. That way there’s only a faint flavor that I’ve basically gotten used to by now.
I write “HAS ALMOND EXTRACT” on all my food in thick sharpie, and also spoke to Amanda about it. Amanda got angry and said it was messed up to put something she’s allergic to in all my food. I told Amanda it’s only a problem if she eats my food. And if she’s been honest about not eating my food then there shouldn’t be an issue.
Three of me and Amanda’s mutual friends have reached out because of this. Amanda works at a hospital, so, obviously, the shifts are extremley long and stressful. And my friends said that when you’re tired at the end of a long day, having an instant meal at home is just way easier.
They said I could do whatever I wanted. But said the kind thing would be to make a large dish that both me and Amanda could eat from throughout the week, since I already do this every Sunday for my grandparents.
I know I’m probably an asshole for saying it, but I told my friends that I just don’t care. Amanda can meal prep her own food on her off-days or look into if her hospital cafeteria offers employee discounts. Amanda’s a grown adult and I’m not her mom.
My friends agreed I had not technical obligation, but it was about decency/kindness and making an effort with the people you live with. AITA for continuing to add almond extract to my food and refusing to even consider shared meal prepping with Amanda?

With the first day gone, Artemis and Luther gave their analysis and previewed public polls. Mortimer had usurped Wolvthorne (7) as the favourite to win after his victory against the District 1 tributes as well as exercising his chemistry prowess. Surprisingly, Cat had risen up the ranks as well, being the third favourite to win. Luther remarked how if Mortimer wins the games, they would have the seventh consecutive Golden Victor on their hands. Artemis then said the same could be said about Cat if she does something spectacular with her therapy skills. Luther reminded everyone that they were two tributes away from the final round of bets.
The cameras checked on the progress of the tributes. Mortimer stepped away from the boiling water to gather more logs for his raft project while his allies slumbered. Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) were resting back at the cornucopia after failing to find more tributes. What they didn’t know was that John (9) had managed to steal a water bottle and a knife from them while on patrol. Carnelia and Logan (11) both were still in the eastern sector while Horace (10) continued to stay out of sight. Wren (5) and Jassy (12) were struggling to sleep inside a hollowed out log yards away from the lake shore.
Cat and Pearl awoke to see Mortimer napping on a nearly completed raft. Cat correctly guessed he stayed up all night working on it. She asked Pearl why he was making it. Pearl explained his logic behind it and Cat agreed it made sense something valuable would be on the other side. Pearl woke Mortimer from his nap while Cat filled the water bottles and pulled out the sandwiches. Mortimer was annoyed with himself for dozing off, but Pearl assured him nothing had happened since the portraits of the fallen. She urged him to eat breakfast before resuming his raft project. He relented and the two joined Cat.
Cat out of the blue asked if he could sing like his mentor. Mortimer was caught off guard but shook his head. Pearl regaled how Gill would sometimes burst into spontaneous song when visiting The Brine. Cat said that from a therapist’s perspective, it’s good to have someone in the community keep spirits high. Mortimer asked if Phoebe was hers, to which Cat nodded. She said that if she wins, she will provide District 6 another high spirits person. She asked the two what they would do if they won. Pearl announced her intent to open her own restaurant and clean the Grotto Hole neighbourhood. Mortimer agreed that the place needed some “R&R”. The two girls stared at him. He realised he hadn’t answered Cat’s question and rolled his eyes. He admitted he would hopefully marry his girlfriend and get his father some medical treatment. Cat seemed confused by him saying hopefully, but he returned to his raft project before she could ask. Pearl told her, “I appreciate what you’ve been trying to do for him. Considering he’s the most likely of us to go home, he needs to be in a better headspace.” Cat smiled and patted her on the back. She went off to relieve herself with Pearl accompanying her.
The next two hours went without much incident. There was some entertainment in Wolvthorne (7)’s agitation of not finding more tributes, Andrei (2) complaining about the smell, and the D11 tributes munching on leeches. However, interest was peaking when the tracking system caught Wolvthorne and Andrei (2) unknowingly closing in on Cat and the D4 tributes. A moment of triumph came when Mortimer had completed his raft, which measured 6’x10’. Pearl asked how they knew it would float. Cat decided to test it by standing on it while Mortimer pushed it off the shore. He kept it from floating away using the sturdy rope. A big smile spread across Mortimer’s face when seeing it float. He pulled the raft back in and suggested they pack up and begin their journey.
The three began gathering their materials. Cat went to grab the last backpack when all of a sudden, she heard a splash of water. She looked up and spotted Andrei and Wolvthorne bursting through the brush. She dropped the backpack and blocked Andrei’s attack with her sword. She dodged his next attack but wasn’t aware of Wolvthorne circling around to kill her. He was stopped by Pearl, who threw a rock at his head. Wolvthorne looked up and spotted her and Mortimer at the edge of the lake. He raged at the sight of Mortimer and bolted towards them. Pearl jumped onto the raft and urged Mortimer and Cat to retreat. Mortimer realized she was right as he had left his trident on the raft. As for Cat, she turned to see Mortimer and Pearl push off the shore and escape Wolvthorne. Desperate to reach them in time, she spat in Andrei’s face and slashed his face with her sword. She dove into the water and swam towards the raft. Artemis guessed she was a strong swimmer as she managed to catch up to the raft. Pearl quickly pulled her up onto the raft. All the while Wolvthorne threatened Mortimer with a gruesome death, his language having to be censored by the Capital.
The trio slowly moved through the lake, relieved to be far away from danger. The first hour was silent as Cat was upset with nearly being left behind. Pearl sensed the tension and waited for the first person to speak up. Unfortunately, Mortimer was unperturbed and continued to watch the trees and the water’s surface. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis described the drama as juicy and wondered if they would turn on one another. Luther was on the fence as well, remembering how Mortimer left without hesitation. Eventually, Pearl broke the silence and said, “Will someone please start talking as I’m tired of hearing the dead air.” Cat said she’d be willing to talk if her partner apologized. The annoyed and oblivious Mortimer asked what he had to be sorry for. Cat reminded him that he didn’t try to help her fight Andrei and left her to die. He argued that there was no time, but Cat recalled how he stood there “like a passive waste” as she struggled against Andrei and Pearl hurled rocks at Wolvthorne. Mortimer took offence to that comment. The two began hurling insults at each other while Pearl stood watching. She tried interjecting but her voice was lost in the chaos. Strangely enough, Andrei and Wolvthorne could hear the pandemonium while running along the shoreline. Their interest caused them to miss John (9) sneaking past and hightailing it to the cornucopia. The fight ended when Cat accused Mortimer of plotting to kill her and he blurted out, “I only kept you around for Pearl. But when an opportunity presented itself, I took it. I refuse to get screwed over again.” Cat was surprised by the sudden revelation and her face morphed to one of shock and understanding.
Mortimer was frustrated by the whole ordeal and sarcastically said, “Well, now the cat’s out of the bag. You now know after all this, I still have issues. Are you happy?” As he said the last sentence, he thrust his arms in the air and accidentally sent Pearl plummeting into the water. The splash pushed the raft forward. Mortimer quickly anchored the raft to a tree and Cat asked if she was alright. Pearl gave them a thumbs up, reminding her that she could swim. Cat urged her to return to the raft. Suddenly, Mortimer was freaking out. He noticed that the chemistry kit was missing from the backpack. Pearl guessed it fell in the water and sank to the bottom. She volunteered to swim down and grab it. He objected to this idea and offered to go himself. But before he could dive in, he saw nothing but the ripples on the surface. Underwater cameras found Pearl navigating the cloudy water searching for the kit, which was fortunately sealed in a waterproof box. Leeches attached themselves to her arms and legs, but she continued to swim. On the surface, Mortimer began berating himself for what happened. Cat assured him it was an accident and that Pearl could take care of herself. Mortimer felt slight relief, commenting how she did set the breath holding record.
Suddenly, something floating in the distance caught his eye. From his perspective, it looked similar to a log. However, when he squinted and leaned closer, he could make out big green eyes. It was a ten foot alligator and it was swimming closer. Mortimer’s terror heightened when he spotted two more coming from behind it. Pearl found the kit and burst out of the water, surfacing a mere three metres away from the raft. When she disrupted the water’s surface tension, this signalled to the alligators of prey in the water and they darted towards her. Cat screamed for her to get out of the water. The confused and terrified Pearl turned to see the sudden danger and screamed. She tossed the kit onto the middle of the raft and swam desperately to Cat’s outstretched hand. Mortimer grabbed his trident and was ready to stab any gators that came near.
The first alligator reached the raft before her and was on course to bite her head clean off, but was quickly stabbed in the neck by Mortimer and pushed away before it could do anything. A split second before Pearl could grab Cat’s hand, the second gator latched its jaws onto her right foot and began to pull her under. Mortimer impulsively dove into the water with trident in hand. He stabbed it in the eye and pushed its jaws open to help Pearl escape. Seconds later, the third and final gator latched onto Pearl’s waist and wrenched her free from Mortimer’s grasp. Mortimer cursed to himself, the bubbles giving the Capital a brief comedic moment in the chaos. He swam up to the surface to catch his breath before diving back down to save his partner. It didn’t take long to find his partner still in the gator’s clutches. His fear for her safety heightened when the gator began rolling and twisting her body around like a ragdoll.
In the commentator’s booth, Luther explained to the audience that the gator was commencing a “death roll”, an effective technique they use to kill and dismember their prey. Mortimer quickened his pace and lined his shot up when suddenly, the gator’s tail slapped him across the face. The sharp tip of the tail cut across his right eye, emitting a small mist of blood into the green water. The unexpected attack blinded Mortimer and caused him to drop his trident. He covered his eye to see better and saw the gator still rolling Pearl. He swam towards them and wrapped his hands around the gator’s neck. He fastened his legs around the neck and jabbed both of his thumbs into its eyes. The rolling stopped but the gator didn’t let go of Pearl’s now limp body. Mortimer grabbed the snout and pulled back as hard as he could, only sending everyone deeper into the lake. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his trident and abandoned the gator to grab it. The gator tried to swim away, but Mortimer was quicker and stabbed it in the back of the neck, paralysing it and causing it to drown five minutes later.
Unfortunately, a cannon sounded while he was away. Pearl’s body floated to the surface, a mass amount of red spreading around her lifeless body. Mortimer dragged her body towards the raft and received assistance from Cat. Cat checked her vitals as he dragged himself onto the raft, still covering his eye. Cat stared at him with teary eyes and shook her head, signifying Pearl’s death. Mortimer began to cry, mourning the loss of his partner. The tears irritated his injured eye, making the scene all the more devastating. It was reported that back in District 4’s town square, Pearl’s older sister Henrietta was arrested after assaulting a peacekeeper in anger after he mocked her death to his comrade.
Cat cut off a sleeve of her Lycra swim piece and created a makeshift rag. Mortimer rummaged through his chemistry kit, Luther calling it his “hat of tricks”, and grabbed some leftover algae in a vial. Cat insisted he let her do it, but Mortimer argued that he had to do it. Cat grabbed a leech from Mortimer’s leg and dropped it in. Mortimer then poured in the last of his hydrogen peroxide, placing it in a stopper before shaking the tube. He then stared at the tube as the contents became a black goo. When the process was completed, he ignited it, creating a flame with a sulphury smell. Cat realized his hands were shaking at this point and insisted she apply the goo to his eye. Mortimer relented and allowed her to do so. She told him he was lucky his eyeball was unaffected but had to use some of their water to wash the blood out.
During the process, the two ignored the two cannons that rang in the distance. They were revealed to be Wren (5) and Carnelia (11), both having fallen victim to the alligator mutts. The difference was that Jassy (12) refused to budge from her small island while Logan (11) was relieving himself when his partner died. The arena was silent overall as the surviving tributes collected themselves from the attacks. Other notable events being Andrei (2) and Wolvthorne (7) fending off a congregation of five alligators, being considered one of the most dangerous mutt packs ever.
Back in the commentator’s booth, Artemis was geeking out over the recent events. She considered Andrei and Wolvthorne barely Golden Victor material, adding that Mortimer was “definite”. Luther claimed to believe Cat was the same as well, with Artemis claiming she was a hair away. She diverted the topic to Mortimer and his great performance taking on three gators single-handedly. Luther wondered how he was feeling after failing to save Pearl, guessing he was blaming himself. This made Artemis interested in whether Cat could exercise more of her therapy skills.
Mortimer and Cat sat in silence as the raft continued to drift into the northwest sector. Cat took it upon herself to steer as Mortimer was lying down lost in a pool of tears. Cat eventually sat down and asked him if he was alright. At first, he didn’t answer, prompting Cat to tell him, “As your therapist, I suggest you let it all out. It will make you feel better.” The therapist part received a weird look, but Mortimer took a deep breath. More tears came out as he blamed himself for Pearl’s death, pointing out that he was the one who caused her to fall out. Cat assured him that it was an accident, but Mortimer argued that if he didn’t have trust issues with Cat, they wouldn’t have been fighting in the first place. Adding insult to injury, Pearl’s final act was to put his chemistry kit (their survival) over her own life. Cat agreed that his trust issues were a problem. She told him to explain what he thinks is the root cause of his issues. Mortimer was reluctant, but Cat explained that being honest about his childhood and inner demons could make all the difference. She rhetorically asked, “Whether you die here or win this thing, you want to go out a new man or not?” Mortimer admitted she had a point and decided to regale his childhood experience.
As told by Mortimer, he grew up with his father Edward Beckett, Faroe Island Base engineer, and his unemployed mother Ursula. After a workplace accident fractured his back, he was medically discharged and sent back to District 4. With no source of income to support them, Ursula left the family and never came back. Mortimer had no choice but to enter the workforce early in order to support himself and his disabled father. A few kindhearted adults, including Gill Henderson and Pearl’s father Alexander Riverstone, offered to lend their support. However, hurt by his mother’s abandonment and being bullied at school, he turned them away. Eventually, he dropped out of school at age nine and found work in a shipyard. Bullying would still persist outside of the workplace, even having his hard earned fishing equipment stolen by troublemakers like Adrian Carrick. It was around age fifteen when he first got himself entangled in a covert smuggling operation with District 6, trading fish and hooks in exchange for warmweed and soda bottles. On rare occasions, refugees fled the district and were given fake IDs. Mortimer saw what warmweed did to his peers and vowed never to consume it himself. He did notice the health benefits it possessed as a pain reliever and took it upon himself to study warmweed and find out a safe way to feed it to his father. He requested chemistry equipment and textbooks on his smuggling trips. He learned about the science of warmweed and engineering a method to separate the SHC (medical component) from the TBA (psychoactive compound) through trial and error. He would feed the SHC to his father, enabling him to walk for limited periods with assistance from a cane, and using the TBA in a secret grotto as bait to catch fish. Though there was no evidence, the citizens knew who the smugglers were and looked upon them in disdain.
In present time, Mortimer began to tear up some more, knowing what the next part was. Cat comforted him and assured him he could take a break. Mortimer insisted he finish. He talked about his girlfriend Meridia Vilewater, who against her family’s wishes, fell for him and successfully befriended him. He admitted that he found her presence annoying at first, but realized her feelings and intent were genuine. He began to fall for her as well, further cementing his hoodlum image. He even talked about the Kraken tattoo she did for him. Mortimer lamented how he took her for granted a lot and didn’t reciprocate as much as she did. He asked himself why she would continue to see him. Cat pondered over this for a few seconds. She told him that Meridia recognized his dedication to his father and knew deep down that he was a compassionate person. “What’s not to love?” Cat said. “You are handsome, strong, and talented. Come to think of it, the parallels between you and your mentor are hard to ignore.” Mortimer said that Gill was right on how he was basically him if he suffered worse. Cat guessed that’s why he took a personal interest in him.
Cat told him that even though he was dealt a heavy hand in life, he shouldn’t completely give up on humanity. She expressed how she was always close to giving up, having to see addicts tarnishing their bodies willingly and turning their nose up to treatment. However, it was the one in ten successful cases that continually recapture her hope. Cat continued how he already was taking a good first step in trusting Meridia and takes that as a sign of him having the potential to let himself be happy. Mortimer pondered over this and agreed. He made a solemn vow that if he wins, he would make things right with everyone, adding how Pearl would want that. Cat offered her hand in helping him make it to the end, declaring their victory to be for Pearl. Mortimer thanked her for listening and promised that if she wins, she will make an excellent therapist.
Suddenly, a cannon sounded in the distance. It was revealed to be Logan (11) after Horace (10) took advantage of his hysterics and beat him to death with a log. The heart to heart talk captivated the Capital, touched by Mortimer’s rare moment of vulnerability and in awe of Cat’s therapy skills. Both of their odds greatly increased, sharing first and second place. Artemis conceded and said Cat was Golden Victor material now, but hoped she does something explosive in the finale.
The next several hours were uneventful and tributes were still on edge. They had a perfect reason to as there were still alligator mutts patrolling the deeper bodies of water. The water had become so cloudy that one couldn’t see an inch below the surface. On top of that, the sulphur smell had gotten worse, causing some tributes to dry heave and cover their mouths. Jassy (12) took longer than expected to do this, her dry heaves giving Maximus Square a laugh. John (9) was bitten on the thigh by a gator when he got too close to the lake. He killed it with his knife and dragged himself into a hollow log to patch himself up. Andrei and Wolvthorne were camping close to John’s hiding spot. They were gorging on the food and water sponsors gifted them after killing the gators while complaining to each other about the smell. They left one water bottle unattended, giving a window of opportunity for Peggy (8) who hid in a tree over the course of the games. She was caught by Wolvthorne, but managed to escape with the water bottle. During the chase, Wolvthorne tripped and spotted John inside the log. He dragged him out of the log and proceeded to hack him to death with his axe in a fury. John’s cannon sounded at the fifth strike. The Capital fangroup The Mutts cheered for Peggy’s victory, but they received jeers from the Buccaneers (D4 fangroup) and the Lumberjacks (D7 fangroup).
It was near sundown when Mortimer and Cat entered unfamiliar territory. After three deaths in under an hour, the smell was much worse. Cat nearly fell off the raft while struggling to hold her breakfast in. They landed at a small shoreline and came face to face to a heavy brush. Cat picked up a small log and hurled it into the brush. When nothing bounced back, she guessed there was a secret area behind it. She commended Mortimer for being right and asked what they should do. He stated that as much as he wanted to explore, it was getting dark and they should camp. Cat agreed and the two started a fire. She became exasperated by the sulphur smell and asked how they could ignore it. Mortimer borrowed her sword and ripped one of their backpacks to shreds. He tied some pieces together and fashioned them into masks. The two now had something to barely stave off the powerful sewer smell.
Their relief turned to dismay when they discovered their last water bottle had one gulp left. What made the situation worse was that with no more hydrogen peroxide, they lost their means of purifying more water. Mortimer insisted she drink it. Cat accepted it and drank it. She raised the water bottle in the air and asked the sky to “fill her up”. Surprisingly, two sponsor gifts floated down to them seconds after saying this. One held a first aid kit while the other had two water bottles and two sandwiches. Cat doctored Mortimer’s right eye with a special cream from the kit. After she was done, the two ate their sandwiches.
Cat asked to see his tattoo. Mortimer shyly rolled his lycra suit off. The Kraken and the treasure chest became visible. Cat crawled closer and traced her fingers on the tentacles, marvelling at the design. Mortimer revealed Meridia liked to paint and desired to be District 4’s first female tattoo artist, using him as her guinea pig. He didn’t forget to attribute the treasure chest and polishing to Minerva. The viewers in Maximus Square were sensing the sexual tension, oohing and aahing as Cat continued to trace the tentacles. Artemis was fanning herself in the commentator’s booth, hoping the two would kiss. Luther slapped her shoulder, reminding her he had a girlfriend. Cat’s fingers arrived at the treasure chest on Mortimer’s actual chest and the two locked eyes. The two leaned closer until their faces were two inches apart. The sudden awareness of their actions dawned on them and they awkwardly distanced themselves by five feet. Mortimer said he was loyal to Meridia and didn’t want to betray that trust even in the arena. Cat apologised, excusing it to her imagining what might have been if she asked her coworker Pedal out. Mortimer promised her that she could do it if she wins. She thanked him, him joking how it felt good to be the therapist this one time. The rest of the night was without incident. A hovercraft entered the arena to display the portraits of the fallen. The fallen included Pearl (4), Wren (5), John (9), and Carnelia and Logan (11). This left Andrei (2), Mortimer (4), Cat (6), Wolvthorne (7), Peggy (8), Horace (10), and Jassy (12) remaining.

Playing 1/3 NL. I was the button with AKo and a stack of about $260. There was a $6 straddle that three players in front called. I raised to $20, all three called. Rainbow flop of 9, A, 8. Checks around to me, I bet $60, next to act raises to $120, the next two fold to me. I didn't want to chicken out and fold a good hand on a fairly dry board, and I knew if I called I was probably going to end up all in on the turn or river anyway, so I shoved. Villain has two pair with A and 9. Turn and river don't play.
How did I play this? Should I have assumed villain made a set (or two pair) and folded? Hindsight is 20/20 of course.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQBLBvi67fw
Wikipedia Copy Paste Select Biography:
"[H]ere we have John Wayne, who was a major artistic and psychological figure on the American scene, ... who at one point used to make movies of soldiers who had a certain validity, ... a certain sense of honor [about] what the soldier was doing. ... Even if it was a cavalry movie doing a historically dishonorable thing to the Indians, even as there was a feeling of what it meant to be a man, what it meant to have some sense of duty. ... Now today we have the same actor making his new war movie in a war so hopelessly corrupt that, without seeing the movie, I'm sure it is perfectly safe to say that it will be an almost technically-robot-view of soldiery, just by definition of how the whole country has deteriorated. And I think it would make a very interesting double feature to show a good old Wayne movie like, say, She Wore a Yellow Ribbon with The Green Berets. Because that would make a very striking comment on what has happened to America in general - phil ochs 1968
​
The events of 1968 – the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. and of Robert F. Kennedy weeks later, the Chicago police riot, and the election of Richard Nixon – left Ochs feeling disillusioned and depressed.[86] The cover of his 1969 album Rehearsals for Retirement portrayed a tombstone with the words:
​
PHIL OCHS
(AMERICAN)
BORN: EL PASO, TEXAS, 1940
DIED: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, 1968
​
After a brief stay in an Argentinian prison, Ochs and Ifshin were sent to Bolivia via a commercial airliner where authorities were to detain them. Ifshin had previously been warned by Argentinian leftist friends that when the authorities sent dissidents to Bolivia, they would disappear forever. When the airliner arrived in Bolivia, the American captain of the Braniff International Airways aircraft allowed Ochs and Ifshin to stay on the aircraft and barred Bolivian authorities from entering. The aircraft then flew to Peru where the two disembarked and they were not detained. Fearful that Peruvian authorities might arrest him, Ochs returned to the United States a few days later.
​
On September 11, 1973, the Allende government of Chile was overthrown in a coup d'état. Allende committed suicide during the bombing of the presidential palace,[109] and singer Victor Jara was rounded up with other professors and students, tortured and brutally killed.[110] When Ochs heard about the manner in which his friend had been killed, he was outraged and decided to organize a benefit concert to bring to public attention the situation in Chile, and raise funds for the people of Chile. The concert, "An Evening with Salvador Allende", was held on May 9, 1974, at New York City's Felt Forum, included films of Allende; singers such as Pete Seeger, Arlo Guthrie, Dave Van Ronk, and Bob Dylan; and political activists such as former U.S. Attorney General Ramsey Clark. Dylan had agreed to perform at the last minute when he heard that the concert had sold so few tickets that it was in danger of being canceled. Once his participation was announced, the event quickly sold out.[111]
​
After the Chile benefit, Ochs and Dylan discussed the possibility of a joint concert tour, playing small nightclubs. Nothing came of the Dylan-Ochs plans, but the idea eventually evolved into Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue.[112]
​
The Vietnam War ended on April 30, 1975.[113] Ochs planned a final "War Is Over" rally, which was held in New York's Central Park on May 11. More than 100,000 people came to hear Ochs, joined by Harry Belafonte, Odetta, Pete Seeger, Paul Simon and others. Ochs and Joan Baez sang a duet of "There but for Fortune" and he closed with his song "The War Is Over"—finally a true declaration that the war was over.
​
Ochs' drinking became more and more of a problem, and his behavior became increasingly erratic. He frightened his friends both with his drunken rants about the FBI and CIA and about his claiming to want to have Elvis's manager Colonel Tom Parker or Kentucky Fried Chicken's Colonel Sanders manage his career.
​
In mid-1975, Ochs took on the identity of John Butler Train. He told people that Train had murdered Ochs and that he, John Butler Train, had replaced him. Ochs was convinced that someone was trying to kill him, so he carried a weapon at all times: a hammer, a knife, or a lead pipe
​
By Phil's thinking, he had died a long time ago: he had died politically in Chicago in 1968 in the violence of the Democratic National Convention; he had died professionally in Africa a few years later when he had been strangled and felt that he could no longer sing; he had died spiritually when Chile had been overthrown and his friend Victor Jara had been brutally murdered; and, finally, he had died psychologically at the hands of John Train
​
On April 9, 1976, Ochs died by suicide by hanging himself in Sonny's home.[121]
​
Years after his death, it was revealed that the FBI had a file of nearly 500 pages on Ochs.[122] Much of the information in those files relates to his association with counterculture figures, protest organizers, musicians, and other people described by the FBI as "subversive".[123] The FBI was often sloppy in collecting information on Ochs: his name was frequently misspelled "Oakes" in their files, and they continued to consider him "potentially dangerous"[124] after his death.[123]
​
Congresswoman Bella Abzug (Democrat from New York), an outspoken anti-war activist herself who had appeared at the 1975 "War is Over" rally, entered this statement into the Congressional Record on April 29, 1976:
​
Mr. Speaker, a few weeks ago, a young folksinger whose music personified the protest mood of the 1960s took his own life. Phil Ochs – whose original compositions were compelling moral statements against the war in Southeast Asia – apparently felt that he had run out of words.
​
While his tragic action was undoubtedly motivated by terrible personal despair, his death is a political as well as an artistic tragedy. I believe it is indicative of the despair many of the activists of the 1960s are experiencing as they perceive a government that continues the distortion of national priorities that is exemplified in the military budget we have before us.
​
Phil Ochs's poetic pronouncements were part of a larger effort to galvanize his generation into taking action to prevent war, racism, and poverty. He left us a legacy of important songs that continue to be relevant in 1976—even though "the war is over".
​
Just one year ago – during this week of the anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War – Phil recruited entertainers to appear at the "War is Over" celebration in Central Park, at which I spoke.
​
It seems particularly appropriate that this week we should commemorate the contributions of this extraordinary young man"
Rehearsals For Retirement

This is my 5th year raising chickens but my first time letting a broody hen sit on fertilized eggs. Momma hatched 7 a week ago. I have had mom & chicks in brooder box inside the chicken house with the other hens so that everyone gets used to each other and today I let mom & chicks out of brooder to have supervised explore time. One of my other hens dove over to attack the whole group and mom & her got into it. I separated them, but I'm so upset that she attacked. What do I do, keep trying supervised visits until the aggressive hen accepts the newcomers? Has anyone had same problems or have any advice?

Beep—beep—beep—beep beep—
I lifted the thermometer I had placed in her flushed left ear.
Looking at the reading on the thermometer, it showed "38.2 C".
Although a pregnant woman’s body temperature tends to be higher, this was definitely a fever, no doubt about it.
I slowly lowered my hand holding the thermometer, looking at Hoshino-San lying on the couch, I covered my face and recalled this morning.
…
The usual morning routine, I entered the bathroom for the usual grooming and looked at myself in the mirror.
After coming out, I noticed the mobile phone on the kitchen counter was buzzing with a notification, so I checked it.
I noticed that Hoshino-San had sent me two messages.
I opened the chatroom: "Amamiya-Sensei, I think I have a fever." she messaged—ugh. She sent a sticker—a somewhat chubby white seal looking displeased with a thermometer apparently stuck up its rear—What?
I turned off the phone screen and put it into my pocket. I put on my mask, grabbed the alcohol spray, and rang the doorbell at Hoshino-San's next-door apartment.
After a moment...
…She didn't faint, did she? But then—she opened the door, her face looking somewhat flushed.
"Ah~~Uno you're here~" She—What? "Hoshino-San, are you okay?" I asked.
"Relax! I just feel a little—" she said, waving her hand forward, then her body started to fall forward—"HEY ! HOSHINO-SAN!" I quickly stepped forward to catch her, her head leaning slightly on my shoulder.
"I'll take you to the couch to rest first." I gently assisted her, helping her to lie down on the couch.
…
Looking at her lying on the couch, she was resting with her eyes closed. Apart from looking exhausted, coughing, and a runny nose, her symptoms didn't seem severe. It's possible that she started feeling unwell on the way home yesterday, and her symptoms worsened during the night, preventing her from sleeping well.
I noticed her constantly adjusting her position, so I went to her bedroom and fetched a blanket and a pillow. I gently lifted her head and put the pillow in a comfortable place for her, and then covered her with the blanket.
"Is there anywhere else you're feeling uncomfortable?" I asked her softly. "Hmm... my... my head hurts a lot." she answered weakly, her face showing discomfort and her hands gripping the blanket tightly.
She couldn't take care of herself in this state, and I couldn't bear to leave her alone. "Hoshino-San, do you feel too cold right now?" I asked her gently.
"Uh... yeah, um... yes..." she answered slowly with her eyes closed. I got up, looked around for the air conditioner remote, found it, and turned up the temperature slightly.
After that, I went to her bathroom, rinsed a plastic washbasin, filled it with seventy percent hot water and thirty percent cold water, soaked a towel in it, and brought it to the living room.
I dipped the towel in the water, then wrung out most of the water. I then gently placed the warm towel on her forehead. Her expression seemed to relax a bit.
I watched her resting quietly.
After a while, I reheated the towel and placed it on her forehead again.
"Hoshino-San, did you do anything yesterday that might have led to catching a cold?" I asked her gently. "Uh... drank too much lemon water?" she answered me.
Uh... dinner last night? If I recall correctly, she didn't drink much.
"I saw you didn't drink much lemon water yesterday, was there anything else?" I asked her gently. "Um... yesterday... I think I took a cold shower." she answered slowly.
"For a long time?" I asked her. "I... don't remember, I think... after dancing yesterday afternoon, I showered until you rang the doorbell?" she slowly—What?
She showered until I rang the doorbell? I had finished a movie before I went to see her!
"Do you only take cold showers, Hoshino-San?" I asked her gently. "Well... at the beginning there was hot water, but later it ran out." she answered slowly.
I got up and gently opened the balcony door. The water heater is the same model as mine, the movie "The Graduate" is about 100 minutes, so this water heater can provide hot water for about 20 minutes, which means... 80 minutes of a cold shower.
No wonder she caught a cold... I heard her coughing from inside.
It seemed that I had no choice today. I walked over to the railing, dialed the hospital, and waited for the call to go through.
"Hello, this is Amamiya Gorou, a gynecologist. I have an emergency to attend to. My neighbor suddenly has a fever and can't take care of herself. She has no one else to look after her. I'm sorry, I need to take a leave of absence." I said. "Understood, Amamiya-Sensei, thank you for informing us. Are you sure your neighbor's condition requires your personal care? Does she need to be taken to the hospital?" the other party asked.
"Yes, I'm worried about her condition. I believe I need to see her myself. I've already assessed her illness. I will observe her condition. If it worsens, I will take her to the hospital immediately." I replied. "We understand your situation, Amamiya-Sensei. How long do you think your leave will last?" they asked. "I estimate I will need a day. I will handle this issue as soon as possible and return to the hospital." I answered.
After some more conversation, I managed to take the leave. I started thinking about what food is good for someone with a cold.
…
To be honest, aside from catching a cold when I was a child, I don't seem to have much experience with colds. Among the people I know, the one to ask about making a meal for someone with a cold would be...
But I didn't really want to call— I heard coughing from the room.
…
Sigh. I dialed a number from my contact list, waiting for the other party to pick up.
"Hello, this is the Amamiya residence." the voice on the other side said. "Hey, Grandma, it's me—" She cut me off. "Oh! My dear grandson! How rare of you to call back home! Did you miss Grandma?" she said joyously. "Kind of, but today I wanted to—" She cut me off again. "Gorou, are you bringing your girlfriend home this time? Should I notify the relatives?" She inquired—
Yes, this is precisely why I don't fancy making these phone calls.
"No, no, no, wait a moment! Grandma! Not every time I call it means I'm bringing a girlfriend home, okay!? I have other things to discuss!" I said, burying my face in my hands.
"Well, what could be more important than you bringing back my great-grandson? Gorou, you're nearly thirty now. There are only old folks and adults in our hometown, no children or babies. I'm bored! I wouldn't mind taking care of a child again, after all, I did help raise you!" she started to ramble.
"No, Grandma, aren't you missing several steps here? It's not like once you have a girlfriend, a baby pops out, right? Can't you just let things take their natural course? And today I really didn't call to talk about this!" I answered, feeling helpless.
"So, do you have a girlfriend?" She asked. "...No." I replied.
A moment later.
"Alright then, what did you need today?" she said, sounding a little impatient. "Do you remember what you used to cook for me when I was sick? The kind that made me feel better really quickly?" I asked her.
"I don't recall having any sort of family heirloom elixir. Or are you referring to the usual meals you ate when you were sick?" She asked. "...Yes, the latter. The meals you prepared when I was ill, do you remember them?" I clarified.
"...You don't sound sick to me?" She queried. "Uh...no, it's not me—" She cut me off. "Who are you cooking for?" She asked, seemingly curious. "Well, my neighbor—" She cut me off.
"Oh!? A girl?" She—what? "Does that matter?" I asked, looking ahead. "Of course, it concerns my great-grandchild." she proclaimed proudly.
"Grandma, please, can you stop fixating on having a great-grandchild?" I said.
After a pause.
"Okay, Gorou, it was lovely chatting with you today. Let's talk again another day. Bye—" I cut her off. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! HOLD ON, DON'T HANG UP!" I shouted.
I took a deep breath.
"...Yes, she's a girl, are you satisfied now?" I finally answered. "Oh, I thought it might have been a boy. That's a relief." she responded—what?
"Grandma, you're being too pragmatic." I retorted. "This is about my great-grandchild—so when are you bringing her home?" she asked—wait, what?
"Grandma, first, she is my patient, second, we're not that close, and third, she's only sixteen." I responded.
"Gorou, first, so what? Does that matter? Second, you know they say 'familiarity breeds affection'! Third, I gave birth to your mother when I was sixteen." she countered—wait a minute, the third point, what the hell, sixteen? I never knew that.
"Grandma, what do you mean 'does it matter?' She's my patient, I'm an 'OB/GYN'. How do you think the baby in my patient's belly came about?" I told her seriously.
"And so?" She—really?
"Grandma, babies don't just spring from stones, nor do they reproduce asexually." I replied.
"What is reproduce asexually?" She asked.
…
"Anyway, Grandma! Times have changed. If this were to happen, I would be socially ostracized, seriously!" I told her.
"No worries! Then just wait until she's twenty! I can wait a few more years, no problem!" she said. "No, Grandma, this—wait! Today I really just called for a recipe! She's not feeling well right now, can we talk about this another time?" I asked her.
After a moment.
"Um...alright, rice porridge—add a little ginger, steam some chicken breast and dice it." she answered. "With ginger, right?" I repeated.
"Yes, you could also make her a vegetable soup! Add tomatoes, onions, and garlic. Oh yes, garlic is very important!" she instructed. "Alright, alright, garlic, got it." I echoed.
"I used to stir-fry some broccoli, but softer food is better for someone with a cold." she advised. "Mhm, I'll keep that in mind." I affirmed.
"Oh, our Gorou is finally cooking for a girl! It seems my teachings weren't in vain!" she said, laughing. "Grandma, can you not—" She cut me off.
"I thought that since the family persuaded you to become an OB/GYN, you had lost interest in cooking—"
...
Right, isn't it?
After the family convinced me to become an OB/GYN, how could they think I was still interested in cooking? I gazed at the blue sky ahead.
...
"Gorou?" She called. "Yes, Grandma, I hear you. Is that about it? I have to go, she's not feeling well." I told her. "Alright then! Don't forget to come visit Grandma when you're free! Bye!" she said. "Sure, I will, goodbye." I hung up.
...
I should have just googled it instead of putting myself through this. I looked at the black smoke billowing from the chimney in the distance.
Isn't this what they wanted? Isn't this what I had to do? Isn't this why I switched from being a surgeon to an OB/GYN?
After all, my mother—
I heard coughing from inside the room.
...
Now's not the time for these thoughts; she needs someone to look after her.
I slid open the balcony door and casually closed it behind me, moving closer to Hoshino-San, who seemed to be asleep on the sofa.
I thought about cooking at my place and bringing the meal over later, so as not to disturb her. After all, I just live next door.
Taking the key placed next to her entrance hall, I locked her door and returned to my place next door.
Back home, I took out the necessary ingredients from the fridge. To make a rice porridge with steamed diced chicken breast, I needed to find my steamer, which, luckily, I found after a brief search.
Taking out the chicken breast... ah, it needs defrosting.
Covering my face, I hadn't considered this. But I decided to use the microwave to thaw it.
I put the frozen chicken breast into the microwave and turned on the defrosting function, but I shortened the microwave time.
After each round of microwaving, I would move and turn the chicken breast. It's a bit of a hassle, but at least it ensures that every part defrosts evenly, to avoid some parts being cooked while others are raw.
Once the chicken breast was fully defrosted, it had a nice, even color—from pink to pale yellow. Despite being frozen, it was still not sticky and retained a certain firmness.
I took a sniff; it had no off-putting smell.
Next, I placed the defrosted chicken breast in the steamer and started to steam it. It should take around 20 minutes. Meanwhile, I planned to prepare a vegetable soup.
I cleaned the carrots, onions, garlic, and tomatoes, and cut them into appropriate sizes. I then grabbed a pan, heated a bit of oil, and started sautéing the garlic and onions until the onions turned semi-transparent.
Next, I added the diced carrots and tomatoes and continued to sauté for a while. A few moments later, I added an appropriate amount of water and covered the pan.
The simmering process also took about 20 minutes. By that time, I could start making the rice porridge. I picked up another pot, washed it clean, and washed a cup of rice as well, then drained the water and added four cups back.
After putting it on the stove, I turned on medium heat and slowly brought the rice to a boil until it softened. This also took about 20 minutes, by which time the porridge became thick. By then, the chicken breast was ready. I took it out and let it cool on a plate while checking on the vegetable soup.
Hmm, the scent of garlic was present but not overpowering.
A moment later, I checked on the rice porridge with a spoon. The grains were distinct but had clearly softened. When I lifted the spoon, a thin strand of white liquid was dragged up.
I diced the cooled chicken breast on a cutting board and added it to the porridge. I also prepared some ginger, grated an appropriate amount into the porridge, and waited for the ingredients to meld together.
The vegetable soup was about ready. I seasoned it with a bit of salt and pepper, then covered the pot and brought it over to Hoshino-San's house. Upon entering, I set it on the kitchen counter. She seemed to be sound asleep.
I returned home and saw that the porridge was almost ready, so I turned the heat down and picked up the frying pan, getting ready to stir-fry some broccoli.
I washed the broccoli and cut it into small pieces, then started stir-frying it in the preheated pan. During the process, I alternated between medium and low heat until the broccoli turned green and began to char slightly.
Recalling my grandmother's advice to make it softer, I added a small amount of water. After covering the pot, I turned the heat to low and let it simmer. I took the opportunity to serve the porridge to Hoshino-San, who seemed to have sensed it even in her sleep. With her eyes closed, she appeared to be smelling something.
After that, I dished out the cauliflower and added a touch of salt before bringing it over.
I took a brief rest on the sofa, picked up a tissue nearby, removed my glasses, and wiped the sweat off my face.
The morning sun was illuminating the entire room, and the wind chime on the balcony outside the glass door was gently chiming as always. The quiet hum of the air conditioning wasn't too loud.
Hoshino-San was still sound asleep on the long sofa to my left — albeit with a faint snoring due to her stuffy nose from a cold.
A little later, I went into the kitchen, picked up a bowl and spoon, lifted the pot lid, and served a bowl of porridge.
"Hoshino-San, can you eat?" I asked slowly, then brought the bowl closer to her.
I initially wanted to help her up, but she seemed to get up automatically at the scent of the food.
I handed her the bowl, and she held the spoon in her right hand with her eyes closed.
She scooped up a spoonful of porridge, then — it brushed past her upper lip.
...Uh.
She paused for a moment, then — this time it almost went into her nose.
"Hoshino-San, let me help you!" I said anxiously, fearing she might burn her nose next.
I scooped up a spoonful of porridge.
She kept her eyes closed, her delicate mouth slowly opening to let my spoon in. Once I put the spoon in, she closed her mouth, swallowed the porridge from the spoon. As I slowly pulled out the spoon, it seemed like she still wanted to keep it in her mouth.
She then swallowed, a smile creeping onto her face with her eyes still closed.
...This is just too cut-
No — no, I'm a doctor. I need to stay calm. She's my patient, and she's only sixteen.
I continued to feed her the remaining porridge.
A while later, I had managed to feed her half the bowl of porridge, and got her to have a few bites of the vegetables and vegetable soup.
She didn't seem to like garlic very much and now, with her eyes still closed, she was sitting on the sofa.
Thinking about it now, although I could take care of her all day, I don't have a car in case we need to rush to the hospital. I should contact her guardian.
"Hoshino-San, could you please..." Before I could finish, she had already laid down on the sofa and continued to sleep.
Alright then.
I helped her pull her feet onto the sofa, made her lie flat, covered her with a blanket, and planned to check her phone for an emergency dial setup to find an emergency contact.
Surprisingly, there was one.
I slid open the glass door, walked out onto the balcony, and made the call.

Previous First Next
Even almost a week later, Yegel was still soaring on the hope from that day. A weight on his eyes that he'd never even noticed had been lifted, leaving him more alert and awake, the whole world more vibrant and colorful.
Of course, the morning after had brought clarity- and an additional helping of stress. Having had the time to calm down and examine it, he was realizing that the fact he now saw humans as people was dangerous- especially with such an important and dangerous screening coming up. If he accidentally sympathized too much in one place, or had a reaction that he would never have had before...
...He still couldn't bring himself to regret it though. Even the fading of his emotional high hadn't erased what felt like an important revelation- that he no longer thought of humans as predators with interesting quirks, but as real, actual people, with true empathy and sapience. They were still predators, still alien in ways he couldn't understand- but now, that didn't feel like the same kind of impenetrable barrier that it used to be.
Still, now he had to be even more careful going forward- regardless of it being the truth, nobody else would believe him about a predator species being fully sapient and civilized. If anything, trying to convince anyone would get him institutionalized- and he was already fighting far too hard to keep himself out of those nightmare-makers for as long as he could manage. At least with humanity being extinct, the topic was unlikely to come up, but he hadn't made it this far in life without preparing for even the unlikely.
Caution was still warranted though, and so he'd been spending his time preparing and watching the manifests for incoming ships- so when he saw a group of scowling figures approaching him from behind at lunchtime, it was less of a shock and more the realization of inevitability.
Exterminators. Just what he needed to deal with today.
Sighing quietly, he fought down the rising panic and instinctive urge to run, and instead pretended not to notice the approaching officers- running never did any good, and trying to fight back or protest would lead to... retaliation.
Their timing was just the worst though- he'd been looking forward to having lunch with his friends, and taking a chance to decompress and relax. He'd been meticulous so far this week at maintaining his stress- other than his newfound indulgence in forbidden predator media- so it wasn't like he was scrambling to calm down. However, he really could use every bit of patience and composure he could get.
The grasping hands roughly pulling him out of the lunch-line, however, clearly didn't care about that, immediately starting to goosestep him through the cafeteria, regardless of the whispers and stares now coming their way.
"Lieutenant Yegel," a vaguely-familiar voice barked harshly as he was shoved forward, "your presence is required immediately. You are coming with us."
A bit late to give him a warning, wasn't it? Especially since he wasn't resisting in the first place. It was just theater to them- reciting something because they were supposed to, despite the outcome having already been determined. It was better to just not antagonize them-
"You know," he couldn't stop himself from saying, "If you wanted a date, you could have just a-"
A massive fist slammed into him, burying itself beneath his ribcage. The words died in his throat as all his air was forcefully expelled, his talons leaving the ground as he bent double over the grey three-toed paw.
"Quiet, predator," the Takkan ground out, slowly removing his forelimb from where it had been buried in Yegel's gut. "you'll only talk if our boss deigns to let filth like you waste our air, got it?"
Wheezing in reply, Yegel fought to try and recover the air that had been forcefully driven out of him, the exterminators yanking him by his wings and dragging him onwards. Perhaps it was good that he hadn't eaten yet- nothing there to have upchucked other than the vile spittle now burning at his tongue.
Guess he must be a new transfer, Yegel thought offhandedly, glancing up to see them approaching a familiar eating area. That would be a useful distraction from the main threat. Fighting down the pain through bitter familiarity, Yegel did his best to relax his feathers and his mind- he'd need all of it for this next mental sparring match.
Ornate doors covered in intricate patterns were thoughtlessly slammed open as the Exterminators dragged him into the private eating area, the shift between industrial flooring and soft, luxurious padding making his dragging talons catch on the delicate textiles. Vibrantly detailed paintings hung amidst sprawling vines imported from Nishtal, cast in cool, fluorescent light that made their rich colorings shimmer as he was dragged by. Even the tables and chairs were carved in the old Krakotl fashions, padding clearly intended for nesting rather than the utilitarian perching of the seats in the mess-hall.
It wasn't perfect though- spots of dull gray industrial walls poked through gaps between the wood, and the carpet was peeling in places, revealing the dirty standard flooring beneath. Despite the valiant attempts, any further inspection made it clear that this was all inserted after this area had already been built- a veneer of elegance plastered over a crude, utilitarian base.
Unfortunately, he did not get the chance to indulge in the comfortable seating, instead receiving a sharp blow between his wings that pushed him to the ground, heavy feet planting themselves on his back and neck to pin him to the ground. Iron grips continued holding his wings, pulling them painfully above his back, where they felt moments away from getting dislocated. Dragging in a rasping breath, his eyes roved to the two exterminators now aiming their flamethrowers at him, a young krakotl female whose adult patterns hadn't even fully come in yet, and a grim-eyed Gojid with distinct scarring, who at least looked somewhat professional as opposed to his partner's obvious anger and twitching trigger.
"Oh, fer Intala's sake," a familiar wheezing voice groaned in exasperation. "Can't trust you Grucknut-heads with anything, can I?"
The Krakotl tottering into the room was puffing what rough, stringy feathers he had left in irritation, a walking cane thunking on the floor as he hobbled over to a table decorated in a carving of two krakotl in flight- though from this angle, it looked more like they were plummeting to the ground. The skin around the geezer's eyes was wrinkled and gathered into such heavy bags that he seemed to be squinting at all the world around him- though Yegel certainly didn't miss the cold, calculating glint buried deep within his eyes.
"Off!" He barked, clacking his way over to where Yegel was pinned, angrily thumping his cane against the very confused Exterminators pinning him down. "Off him, you nut-skulled lunks! Bad enough you can't remember simple instructions, now you make me correct your messes meself? Off I say!"
In the face of the irate elder, the befuddled Exterminator's grips on Yegel loosened, finally letting his wings fall slack enough to make his chest stop feeling like it was stuck in an industrial compressor. Gratefully sucking in air as his rapidly-bruising side twinged, he looked up to find the his crotchety savior kneeling next to him, one wing resting on his cane as he creakily settled into a crouch.
"Sorry about the fuss," he wheezed, flicking his tail angrily at the young krakotl who had been moving forward indignantly. "Ask them to invite somebody to mealtime, and they go and pull this." A shaking wing reached out, offering it's grip to Yegel. "Up you come, boy. I'll not have you eating off the floor like some animal."
Yegel eyed the shaking hand, before planting his wings on the ground, fighting through the pain until he'd pushed himself onto his talons through his own strength. A glimmer of something oily flashed behind the old man's squinting eyes as he watched the display, snorting in amusement when Yegel reached out and pulled the Elder to his feet instead.
"Wasn't much of a request," he commented, carefully ignoring the angry shuffling of the people he knew had flamethrowers trained on him. "I don't suppose you're just wanting to make another sales pitch, are you Geezil?"
"Hah!" the old man barked, toddling over to a cushioned seat, "Always so blunt, Yegel. Straight to business, every time!" The younger krakotl female stepped forward, gently helping the grumbling man into his seat, where he sighed and immediately settled back into the cushions. "Ah, don't worry, got more to say than the usual this time- but first, got a special something for our meal."
With a flick of his wing, he signaled several servers to quietly enter the room, carrying a wide array of dishes and platters that were quickly and efficiently distributed to the relevant tables- both for the old man and Yegel, and even for the other exterminators, who glanced warily between the food, Yegel, and the officer watching everything with a hawkish stare. None of them seemed brave enough to decide what to do- or to stop Yegel as he began moving forward.
Yegel carefully pulled out his own perch, keeping his own movements slow as he settled into the admittedly-luxurious seating. Commander Geezil, the one in charge of the base's Exterminators- and probably one of the oldest individuals still serving within that institution's ranks. He'd heard the rumors about this being an unofficial forced retirement- storing him someplace out of the way when they couldn't make him quit- but he'd come to know the old man too well to believe it. He'd chosen this post himself- and Yegel still couldn't figure out why.
"Sir," the young krakotl started, giving Yegel the stink-eye from across the table, "I must ask what you are doing- you are well aware that he's-"
"Accused, girl," the codger interrupted, frilling his feathers derisively, "by a bitter fleet commander with a record of incidents from his troops longer than his crew-lists- and a penchant for lashing out at those he thinks insulted him." Seeing her shrink back at his harsh tone, his tattered feathers smoothed back down, a shaking wing reaching out and gently patting her shoulder. "Ah, it's politics, grand-daughter- a vile game of inflated egos and pointless posturing. It's like a courtship dance with a Duerten- unpleasant, filled with angry words, with a result that's unpleasant regardless of success or failure- but if you try to skip out, you're liable to lose an eye or worse, hehe."
"Still," she insisted, though much more hesitantly now, her eyes not quite as harsh as they flicked over at him, "with a list of incidents this long, however justified, you must admit it is a clear sign of a violent, unstable nature. If he were to suddenly lash out..."
"I've personally reviewed each incident," the commander snorted, swirling an eating utensil through the bowl in front of him. "Didn't find a single one where he were in the wrong. Besides, were we really concerned about his mind, we got a perfectly good doctor right on-base." His gimlet eyes turned to Yegel, the corners of his beak turned up in a smirk. "You're familiar with her, of course?"
"Indeed," Yegel admitted, keeping his wings at his side despite the tightening of his stomach as the smells of the meal assaulted him. Everything the old man was saying was already known between them- and while it might be simply for the benefit of his new underling, Yegel knew better than to assume there wasn't a different, less obvious purpose. "I've been screened by her multiple times- just like the doctors back on Nishtal, got clear marks across the board."
Her expression was twisted, clearly unwilling to accept that but unable to think of an adequate rebuke for it. "All the same," she started, shifting her wings to roll the fuel tank for her flamethrower from side to side, "I'm uncomfortable with this- it's dangerous to be eating with a predator, especially alone. Just because we're in the room doesn't mean we'll be able to react in time."
The old man's features wrinkled as he scowled, beak half-open, when Yegel jumped on the opportunity. "Actually, I agree," he stated, taking a bit of mischievous glee in the way their expressions popped in shock. "I would feel much safer if someone was sitting with us, to keep me safe."
Beak dropping open, her gaping expression twisted between shock and indignation as she choked at such blatant disrespect- but whatever retribution she thought to unleash was cut short as the old krakotl burst into loud, wheezing laughter, his bony wings thumping against the table as he howled in glee, making the dishes rattle dangerously. His laughter echoed through the room, to the visible discomfort of every other exterminator, half of them sinking back down from where they'd half-risen from their seats.
"Cheeky to the last, you are!" he barked, clutching his chest as he giggled dry, crackling chortles. "Ah, you have a point- best you sit with us, my dear- get introduced with- with this handsome young fella. Yegel, this is Lialu, daughter of my firstborn, and as you can see, the unfortunate inheritor of the branch up his bum." Kalina squawked indignantly, raising a wing as if to smack his shoulder in retribution, but her eyes flicked to Yegel as she paused, slowly settling back into a tense at-ease stance. "You might be working together someday- and if things go well, maybe a little more than that, hehe!" The sour twisting of her cheeks showed exactly what she thought of that idea.
"I'm flattered," Yegel droned dryly, "but I think if she hasn't even gotten her adult patterns, then that's far too dangerous for me."
"As if I'd be interested in such a disgraceful troublemaker in the first place!" she snapped right back, wings half-raised in a gesture of disgust. "tarnishing my career so early would be pointless- and I have no interest in such distractions anyways!"
"Bah, you're fourteen already, better that you start looking for a partner now," the geezer griped, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes uncomfortably. "This work's dangerous, girl- you can't plan for the future as if it's guaranteed, or else you'll find you've missed out." His eyes went a bit glassy and unfocused, staring off into the walls in an melancholic reminiscence. "Regret's a heavy thing to bear, and the years are never kind..."
The two younger krakotl shifted uncomfortably as silence fell, glancing between each other uncomfortably as he lapsed into old memories only he could see. Yegel was silently thankful for the break- these gaps in the old man's train of thought were the only thing that made these conversations manageable.
Unfortunately, Yegel's stomach decided to interject by gurgling it's frustration at being empty, snapping the greying elder out of his thoughts as his gaze snapped across the table. Yegel fought back the urge to flinch, if only barely- and even that was enough for the old man's eye to sparkle with something that made Yegel's skin crawl beneath his feathers.
"Ah, I've been distracting you with my yammering, haven't I?" the Head Exterminator apologized, gesturing grandly towards the array of filled dishes. "Go on, eat up boy- you've got a busy day ahead of you after all!" His wrinkled wing-hand receded from gesturing, and patted the young female on the shoulder. "You too, grand-daughter- gotta keep your calorie intake up to maintain those muscles- gear's heavy, and always getting heavier!"
Whatever his tone and attitude might have suggested, Yegel already knew that it wasn't a request. Gritting his beak, he delicately scooped up a bowl of thick, viscous algae, and methodically poured some into his beak.
Silty and clinging to his tongue, Yegel knew intellectually that this was a high-quality blend- that the consistency and density of the meal spoke of great care taken in the growing, filtering, and preparation of this dish- completely unlike the usual clumpy, soil-tainted slop served in the cafeteria. It was the sort of dish that must be incredibly expensive, even ignoring how far they were from anywhere of any importance- a culinary treat most on the base would have fought fiercely for a chance to try.
Yet as he consciously swallowed it down and discreetly clinked the bowl down on the table, all his tongue could taste was ash and flamethrower-fuel.
"Good, isn't it?" Geezil prompted as his grand-daughter also set her own bowl back down. "Straight from Nishtal, that is, grown properly in the pools, instead of them techno-vats they got on this here base. Reminds me of when I met Laila, you know- or rather, when I first worked up the gumption to ask for her time..." The old man chuckled to himself, his eyes staring off into the distance once again. "Stars, she was beautiful- and me a strapping young lad, straight from academy- big-headed from training, yet a fumbling mess with the other sex. Took me far too long to even make a pass, and longer still to make it official- kept finding excuses, when I really was just scared she'd say no!"
Yegel suppressed the urge to sigh, and found himself sharing a commiserating look with the exterminator who clearly had been through this rambling story almost as often as he had. Maybe he'd entertain the idea of bonding with her over it, if only he wasn't painfully aware of how strongly she and her friends wanted to reduce him to a pile of charred carbon. At least he wasn't suffering alone.
"You know, we got some side-eyes because of our difference in age- I was a fresh recruit, and she had been in the service for twelve years," Geezil confided absentmindedly, a dreamy expression on his face even as his granddaughter blanched and leaned away. "Ah, but we made it fine, found our happiness- and you should too!" he shifted, refocusing on his two unwilling guests. "Ten years made no difference, and you've a difference of what, five years? Not even that!"
Yegel inhaled deeply, letting his chest fully expand as he held back the surge of emotion that would certainly have worn through the elder's patience if let loose. Releasing the air in a deep sigh, he wrangled himself back into a restrained, controlled frame of mind. "Is trying to play matchmaker with your grand-daughter the only reason you arranged this meeting, sir? Because I stand by my utter lack of interest in her."
"Ah, you know it's not, you stiffneck," the old man grumbled, shifting around in his seat as he picked through his own spread of food. "You're a perfect fit for the corps, and we both know it. You got enough fire in you to want to fix the rot in society when you see it, and a good head on your neck as well- just gotta give you the training to aim it right, if you know what I'm saying." His cane reached out and tapped Yegel on the side jovially- and Yegel winced as his bruised ribs ignited in fiery pain, unable to stop a strained hiss from escaping his beak as he bent in place from the automatic tightening of his muscles.
Immediately, the entire room fell deathly still. Where once the silence had been uncomfortable but tolerable and interspersed with the inane sounds of clinking dishes, now it was an oppressive, choking claw squeezing around everyone's neck, unbroken by even a single breath of air.
"Barum." Geezil's flat, quiet statement whipped out through the stillness, a single cracking note that made the Takkan flinch in his seat. There was no waver in the old bird's voice now, only a cold, hard surety that made Yegel's feathers itch. "I was very explicit in my instructions. Was I not?"
"The- the predator resisted!" Barum tried to protest- though the waver in his voice clearly made it more of a plea. "With how dangerous he's proved to be, I had to-"
"Dangerous?" the drawled interruption made the hulking, thick-skinned exterminator flinch back from the dull-feathered bird barely half his size. "I see no injuries on any of you. There has never been an injury from officers bringing him in to me. I... was quite clear about wanting him brought here unharrassed." A single beady eye bored into the towering gray alien, making him shrink into himself under it's heat. "Do I lie?"
"S-sir please!" Sweat glistened on the Takkan's thick grey hide as he cowered back, his seat clattering to the floor as he stumbled. "It- I apologize, I swear I thought it was necessary! It won't happen again, sir! Please!"
Yegel knew what was coming next- the tightening of Geezil's beak and raising of the feathers on his back were a sure sign of how furious the old man was. All he had to do was sit back quietly and let it play out, and it would be both a distraction that bought him time, and retribution for the unnecessary blow he had taken- and was probably going to need to see the doctor for after this- if he was in a position to visit her, of course. Geezil's eyes were hard and cold, focused on his subordinate- getting between him and the subject of his ire would only earn him trouble... and yet, as Geezil's beak opened, he simply couldn't stop himself.
"While this is all quite engaging," Yegel interjected, refusing to flinch back as every eye in the room snapped towards him, Kalina's expression one of open shock while Geezil's screwed up in barely-contained fury, "but you said there was more to this meeting than making another recruitment pitch to me, yet all you've actually given besides that was an attempt to get me to go out with your grand-daughter." His confidence faltered as wrinkled eyes tightened, glaring holes into him, but he rallied himself and carefully considered his next words. "While your... repeated offers are actually quite flattering, I am quite happy with what I have managed to make for myself, without accepting favors or handouts- from anyone."
Geezil hummed to himself, maintaining his glare as the silent room held it's breath, before his jaw twitched upwards into a satisfied smirk, his eyes glinting as the granite in them faded into a smug satisfaction of having found what he was looking for. The entire room relaxed as he leaned backwards in his perch, Barum falling to the floor and trying to muffle the sounds of his heaving for breath. The gentle clinking of dishes and silverware once more filled the room in a very deliberate attempt at making noise, covering up the previous tension with artificial ease. Kalina was giving Yegel a look- not the pure disgust from earlier, but something confused, as if he were a particularly perplexing puzzle-game, or a problem that had suddenly reached an unexpected solution.
"You really can't help yourself, can you," Geezil noted approvingly, glancing over at his grand-daughter's reaction before nodding at Yegel- and making a jerking motion at Barum, who gulped and pulled himself off the floor, quietly hurrying his way out of the room. "So, I uh..." the light in his eyes faded, his beak clacking shut as he rapped his talons against his perch. "I, uh, huh... hmmm. There was, actually something else... Bother me, where were we? I can't remember..."
"I believe," Yegel commented dryly, fighting to keep his own breathing even, "That I was once again saying how content I am with my current position, and that even this doctor being imported just for me isn't enough for me to leave everything behind and run into the Exterminator Corps."
"Ah, right, right," he nodded, snagging on to the lead Yegel had thrown him, before pausing and looking out over the room. "I do respect what you've managed on your own," he finally admitted, setting his bowl to the side, "But this time... this doctor, he's not exactly playing fair. This is politics, the nasty sort- where he's going to do everything he can to make you disappear. Unless, of course..." reaching into his own pouch, he shakily produces a holopad that he slides over to Yegel, displaying a series of documents- and a prominent line for signatures. "You take an alternative. Sign up, and it'll be our own docs who do your eval- and you'll clear their tests just fine, I think. Might not be your ideal career path- but I'm loathe to let such a promising young man get screwed by Old-Molts with thin egos and sharp talons."
Yegel's first instinct was to push the pad away, to reject it like he usually did- but now, he paused, expression screwed up in conflict. A part of him was tempted- severely tempted- to accept- the part of him that was still terrified of the looming threat, that wanted to run somewhere-anywhere- and hide until this whole twisted situation just went away.
Was he being selfish, rejecting an offer like this? Wouldn't the right thing to do be to accept and guarantee he stayed alive, like Jelliba and Kallik so desperately wanted? Why take the risk, when safety was right here, just a signature away- something that would guarantee him the chance to see what Jelliba's final design would look like, to see Kallik climb through the ranks like Yegel knew he someday would? Was it pride that stayed his talons, or was he simply afraid of change?
"Seriously?!" his granddaughter hissed, clearly taken aback, unaware of Yegel's silent internal debate as she rounded on her grandfather angrily. "That's why he's here? So we can just ignore his entire history of warning signs, just because you like him? With a record like his-"
"-He'd fit right in," he finished for her, eyes narrowed in a disappointed glare that had her beak snapping closed as she shrunk back into her perch. "I know you ain't seen most of it, Lialu, but most of our recruits aren't exactly got glistening feathers. Heck, lots of our older recruits got worse on their record! It's half the point of the training regimen, to file down the burrs in their talons, make something useful from them."
File down the burrs... Was he really willing to accept what that entailed? What parts of himself would he need to sacrifice, if he went down this road? What would he become, on the other side of whatever training they had in store for him?
Would he still be Yegel?
Inhaling deeply through his beak, Yegel grasped the pad, which felt far heavier than it should... and gently slid it back over to Geezil.
"If I accepted now, that would practically be an admission of being sick," Yegel breathed, his heart pounding heavily within his chest. "I... am going to see this through- I will pass this evaluation, no matter what he throws at me- and then!" Finally, he looked Geezil in the eye, firming his own resolve as he squared his shoulders. "Then, and only then, will I consider your offer."
Geezil watched on, the burning tongues of some dark flame flickering behind his ancient eyes. When Yegel stood strong, his feathers crinkled into an amused display, even as he shook his head in mock disappointment. "Ah, you really are a fine young lad," he sighed mournfully, rapping his cane against the table. "Are you sure? The doctor arrived only an hour ago in port- this is your last chance, before we have to take you to your evaluation. And without anyone having requested the extra security of one of my officers, why, this might be the last time we see each other!"
Ah. So that was the old geezer's game. Yegel pushed down the rising surge of fear, quivering in his perch as he forced himself to meet the elder's gaze. "Then I'll go ahead and invite you myself- I'm more than happy to have an audience to me proving my innocence."
The old bird's beak twisted into an ugly grin. "I am sure you do. Lialu, go ahead- consider this a learning experience for the future, hmn? Now, I won't waste any more of your time- so off you go!"
The scraping of seats being pushed out was all the warning Yegel got before he was grabbed and pulled from his seat. "Hey, hey, gentle with him, you hard-headed brutes!" Scoffing, Geezil pushed himself back in his seat, glaring at his Exterminators as Yegel was unceremoniously dropped.
"So, you planned this all out in advance, didn't you?" Yegel guessed, pushing himself to his feet- and wincing as his side twinged in pain, reminding him of the rapidly-swelling bruise.
"Dunno what you mean," Geezil denied in faux apology, as his granddaughter gaped between the two of them, clearly lost on what was happening. "Figured you needed a chance to make the right choice- or failing that, a decent last meal." Waving his wing in disappointment, he gestured towards the door- which Yegel found himself getting rapidly pushed towards. "Good luck, lad- I hope to see you again someday!"
"Don't worry, sir," Yegel snapped back, shouldering away from his escorts and refusing to look back. "I'll be back sooner than you think."
The doors slammed shut behind his escorts, reflecting the young female's confused, conflicted gaze as she strode alongside him- Yegel felt a moment of pity for the young girl, who the geezer had clearly thrown into the deep end on purpose. Hopefully she caught onto the game soon, otherwise she'd end up as somebody's tool- though maybe it was already too late for that.
Stomach roiling at the thought of what lay ahead, Yegel couldn't help the feeling of regret for not taking the escape offered to him- sure it wouldn't be ideal, but he owed it to the people most important to him to make sure he stuck around a little longer. Why he'd rejected it... he couldn't quite put it into words, only a feeling that it would have been... wrong, somehow.
The cafeteria murmured again as he was led through the mealtime crowd, catching the panicked gazes of his friends across the room. Kallik was halfway out of his seat before Yegel carefully gestured back, tapping his wing against his throat- and watching his friend slowly settle back down, Kallik's eyes growing focused as he turned and strode towards a different exit, vanishing into the distance as Yegel was dragged through a set of doors out into a cold, grey hallway.
Clenching his gullet, he carefully felt out around Kallik's gift- safely stored within his throat. The creeping tendrils of terror within his mind were growing stronger, but he chose to have faith in his friend- and resolved to make sure his efforts were not wasted.
He'd find a way through- he just had to keep moving forward.
///
one week earlier...
Once he'd had the chance to compose himself, Yegel returned to his viewing- he wanted to see what happened next, after such a massive shift in the struggle now that Eren had actually earned them a victory.
Despite that, Armin's narration pointed out that too many lives had been lost for any celebrations to be in order- a sentiment that Yegel understood, but... well, he wasn't as surprised to to see it from the humans anymore. Imagine, it wasn't long ago that he'd have been expecting them to revel in the carnage like other predators, uncaring of the toll in lives- yet here they were, deeply affected by the loss of so many friends and comrades, and instead of being baffled by it, Yegel completely understood their response.
Oh, and they'd taken advantage of their unique situation to even capture two of the smaller titans, presumably for study- which, given Eren's sudden new powers, was probably something that needed more study than initially presumed. Thankfully the restraints seems pretty extensive, so hopefully they could keep the monsters contained- but still, imagine being the poor soul tasked with keeping them locked down! Hopefully it wouldn't take long for them to get what they needed and dispose of the creatures.
Of course, with victory came the morbid task of cleaning up the aftermath- and not in the way anyone else in the Federation would believe if he told them. Gathering up bodies as respectfully as they could, instead of devouring them on the spot? He'd be hard-pressed to convince anyone he was telling the truth!
Wait... Marco?!
When did Marco die?! Yegel thought he'd gotten away after saving Jean! Maybe it was in the push to get Eren to the gate? Geez, and Jean was the one to find him- Marco had been so supportive of him, despite Jean's fear and self-doubts, always willing to give a word of encouragement and affirm Jean's place as leader... and now he was gone, with Jean being forced to help the cleanup crew's by giving Marco's details...
The female doctor brought up something Yegel hadn't considered- that the reason for the urgency of their cleanup was because of the risk of an epidemic breaking out. The dead had been left too long, and now there was a risk of a secondary disaster if the humans didn't hurry. Yegel had never really considered something like that- meat was meat to predators, wasn't it? The Arxur never seemed to mind eating bodies they stumbled across, so he'd somehow assumed that diseases like that weren't a concern for predators.
Just another area where the humans proved their difference from the greys, he supposed.
Thankfully, the camera hadn't focused on Marco's corpse for too long, so Yegel was able to contain his urge to gag, focusing in on Jean and his emotional response- and how expressive human faces were, even when covered by face-masks to protect themselves from germs and contamination. Of course that was when the scene shifted to Sasha and Connie, helping to clean up a massive ball of... flesh... that apparently titans upchuck when they're too full, since they don't actually have a digestive track... and a closeup showed a human mouth inside, still opened in a silent scream...
Yes, hello wastebin, been a moment since we last met, how have you been? Don't mind me, just emptying my stomach again!
...Yegel didn't like Sasha- she was clearly the most "predatory" of the humans- but at least here, the disgust and horror on her face showed that there were lines even she wouldn't cross.
Even Annie, the stoic female who never seemed to show emotion, was shaken- standing over a body, apologizing over and over again, before Reiner pointed out that contrition did the dead no good, and that they needed a proper burial. So the humans buried their dead? That was kind of similar to Gojid traditions for honoring the dead, burying them in vast family crypts.
But, why did the scene shift to a fire burning? What were they-
Oh.
So that's what those grey flakes that had been falling everywhere were. Yegel had kind of been wondering about that.
So, they didn't even have time to give proper burials to everyone.
That...
Yegel forced himself to take a deep breath, rubbing the sides of his head as he exhaled. He'd say it was similar to Krakotl death rites, purifying the body to drift through the divine winds of Nishtal, to be carried away to Intala's realm, but... in this context, it clearly must have been desperation and urgency rather than a matter of respect.
...Intala, please watch over them.
...Thankfully, the perspective then shifted back to Eren- who was now locked up in a cell deep underground, and chained to a bed. Understandable precautions- his powers were clearly still volatile, and the last thing the humans needed to deal with was a rogue titan wandering around.
Commander Erwin and Captain Levi were outside his cell, watching him. Erwin asked if he had any questions- which, well, Yegel obviously had several, but Eren was still disoriented from waking up. Which made sense, given how much using his power seemed to take out of him- he must have been exhausted after carrying that boulder for so long.
Erwin proceeded to ask about the key that had held such importance- and the secret that was apparently hidden beneath Eren's house. Eren confirmed, and Levi scoffed about how it must suck to have your dad and your memories MIA at the same time- unless it was just a cover story. Which- was a reasonable concern, but... was that what Yegel sounded like to other people?
At least Erwin confirmed that they knew Eren had no reason to lie- and proceeded to ask Eren what he wanted- what his intentions were. After all, to reach the cellar, they'd need to seal the breach in the other wall like they'd done in Trost- which required Eren's special power. Apparently they'd even conjectured that the Colossal and Armored titan must be like Eren- titans piloted by people?! Which did make sense- the Bad Humans probably had an easier time developing and using titan powers, since they weren't trying to fight or resist their predator instincts. That also would explain their motive- killing all the good humans would mean the bad humans would win, and be able to rule as dominant predators like the Arxur did.
...Was there a group of good Arxur once, that lost their own fight with the Arxur Yegel knew?
NO. No, that was impossible- there was no way the greys had ever had anything good within them- they were monsters through and through! Good Arxur? Ridiculous- just because humans were an insane enigma that broke every rule as if they were intentionally trying to didn't mean the same applied to other predators!
Unless of course, the good Arxur had all been killed-
No. NO. Yegel was not going down that path of madness! He was not!
...
...Erwin expanded on his statement, saying that was why he asked Eren's intentions- because Eren could save "us," presumably meaning the good humans. Eren initially said he didn't know- but then his past, his memories, all flooded through his head- his inner voice angrily declaring that he would stop this with his bare hands! When Levi pressed for an answer, Eren looked up with a downright deranged grin- and declared that he wanted to kill all the titans- every last one.
So that's how Eren turned out different- he'd aimed his instincts towards the monsters, and become obsessed with wiping out the titans, instead of wanting to consume humans like every other titan did. That said something about Eren's mental fortitude- and why he still had difficulties with his power. Actively twisting your instincts like that must cross a few wires, leaving him needing to actively learn things instead of simply doing what came naturally.
Levi seemed to like that answer, a gleam entering his eyes as he approached Eren's cell and announced that he'd take responsibility for him. Not that he implicitly trusted him, but that he trusted his abilities to kill Eren if necessary. He offered Eren congratulations, officially welcoming him as a new member of the Scouting Corps- and told Erwin to let the higher-ups know.
And then announced that, despite this meeting, Eren wasn't out of the woods yet- as he was going to stand trial, where they'd need to argue against him simply being killed.
Because of course it couldn't be that simple.

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

Hi. I'll start with my basics, I'm looking for an experienced and detailed roleplayer who can match my level and how much interest I put in roleplaying. I don't have plot limits to roleplay besides major character de*th, but if you do express them to me clearly to me and when roleplaying, if you find yourself uncomfortable tell me to stop what I'm doing wrong please. I usually write around advanced literate but I can go even longer if I get super into it, otherwise I really do try to match my partners length. Im okay with anything from the shorter end of semi-lit to longer end of adv-lit. I am in the GMT+1 time zone and am not in the position where I absolutely cannot respond very often, so i respond generally consistently and atleast a few times a day. I write in third person only and do so on discord, and this is NOT a smut orientated roleplay.
Here's the OC I'd like to use for this roleplay:

Name: Mason Murphy.
Age: 28
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Sexuality & Gender: Bisexual Cis Man.
Physical appearance: Brown hair that's thick and cut in a wolfcut kind of style (reaching his mid neck at the longest points), green eyes with eye bags and sharp-ish facial features, though soft puppy dog eyes. Wears a variety of clothing, but usually black dress pants, black or white tank tops, dress shoes and denim fleece jackets or jumpers when appropriate. His voice is low and gutteral with a slight Irish accent, he's about 5'10 and a bit scrawny.
Personality/Background: Kind of shy, definitely isn't antisocial or socially anxious by any means but prefers to keep to himself and out of the spotlight. Is very gentle and soft and caring, very in-tune with respecting peoples desires and boundaries. Absolutely loves showering people in gifts and dates and physical affection, he holds a lot of love in his heart for the people close to him.
He was raised on a farm with his two parents and sister in the mountains, but moved away at 19 due to his parents finding out about his sexuality and kicking him out. He developed a really bad drinking and smoking habit while trying to find himself on his feet, and it isn't as bad anymore but he generally tries to stay away from alcohol as even a sip can send him on week-long benders.
He suffers from joint hypermobility syndrome, has a back brace due to a spine curvature, and has a skeletal deformity in his left ankle that causes him to need a walking cane, though short distances he can manage walking without but would prefer not to.
Otherwise, he lives with his border collie Jack in a little house on his own in the woods, but not too far off from town. He plays guitar and enjoys being with his dog in his free time, but he works as an illustrator full time. He never went to college and doesn't intend to, thinks he's too 'dumb and poor' for that stuff, and wouldn't be able to afford it either. Though, he's very naturally smart due to his memory and problem solving talents and has a particularly gifted mind.

I have no preferences for your OC appearance, personality and height wise as long as they're a close age to Mason because;
Plot wise, I'd like the OC's to have been childhood best friends and neighbours, the kind where every dinner was spent at each others houses, they were inseperable, constantly by each others sides and had tiny crushes on each other all throughout that time. And around 13-14 they started dating, lasting until they were 19 years old when Mason moved away to a new town, leaving them behind in their hometown.
Years later, in their late 20's, YC happens to move to Masons new town, and they run into each other again, immediately rekindling what they used to have when they were younger. Yet obviously, there's a lot that they never got to work out years before.
If you'd like, we can move their ages up or down and we can get real slice of life-y with them getting married and stuff in the long run with timeskips. But we can take it any kind of direction you'd like if you have other ideas. I'd also like to hear ideas and I'd like you to be specific on what youre looking for out of it and out of their relationship if you message me.
That being said, if you're interested, message me just general info on ur OC and how you'd like to write this. I won't respond to 'hi' or anything, and I'd REALLY prefer you don't be flimsy about your OC, it can get frustrating. At the least, I'd appreciate a little self introduction!

First and foremost I want to say I have no experience with CPS of any kind. I have not had them called on me nor have I had anyone threaten to call them now or in the past.
However I do animal rescue/rehab mainly neonatal kittens/wildlife but also exotics (mainly birds) and we also keep and raise chickens/ducks and have 2 pet mini pigs! We call our house the zoo, and all of our animals are very well taken care of! I literally put blood, sweat, and tears into their care and into making sure our home is clean and smells good! Don't get me wrong it's not spotless, there are dishes in the sink more often than not, the floors only stay clean for about 10 min after I sweep/mop (all tile), and there is always always laundry. But it isn't "nasty" we don't have urine/feces laying around (the animals do have accidents sometimes but they are always immediately cleaned up and the area sanitized), bugs, or piles of trash anywhere.
My children go to school and I won't lie they do rack up some tardies and absences but I always touch base with the school regarding them, if my children are hurt or sick they are taken to urgent care immediately to address it, their clothes are clean and fit, and they are clean with hair and teeth brushed and styled. My two youngest are also autistic and we go to speech and ABA therapy as scheduled and have a good relationship with their teachers and therapists. All of who know about my rescue work.
Even so I ALWAYS worry that CPS will be called on me due to our animals. It's one of my worst nightmares. I am married and we own our home, although my husband is military (3 years until he retires) and because of this he does not live with us in the home.
Should I be worried about my kids being taken away or do I need to chill out and stop being so paranoid about a what if situation? Is there anything I can do to improve my household short of get rid of the animals and stop my rescue work to avoid CPS ever getting involved with my family?