#get to know your districts

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

POV. You’re a foot soldier stationed at Heaven’s gate and the sexual tension between your boss and his second in command is getting weirdly high these days for some reason

Continuation of Paradise Lost soldier Mud

Doodling more of these guys. They hate each other so much, they should kiss about it <3

[foldingfittedsheets]

My manager was supposed to do evaluations with all of us in December. Technically I think he’s supposed to do them like. Once a month.

But *shocked pikachu face* it’s been six months and I haven’t had one. Didn’t get the December one. Never see him. Just work in the tiny store and get ignored.

[clovemaysilee]

so obviously katniss is speaking more generally and this has nothing to do with my beloved d2 kids, however because I'm me I will obviously now yap about my beloved d2 kids.

anyways i feel those other partner pairs in that it's extremely awkward to interact with someone back home you barely know who has to die for you to live, however with cato and clove i see it as their intentional choice of how they interact, out of their desire to develop that toughness and strength of character that they want to project to the rest of the Capitol. in the movies, that single look followed by them being stoic and expressionless contributed very well to the warrior image that reflects well on district two as intended. i also appreciate the fact that the glance itself is in fact an "acknowledgement" as katniss calls it.

the other Tributes most likely feel awkward and the person standing beside them is a stranger, and i believe this is possibly true for clato as well, but i also think it's a purposeful way to shield themselves and put up a guard. they did a wonderful job of it - the priority is presenting themselves as tough unfeeling warriors, because that's who the Capitol came to see and those are the people who win the hunger games!! i assume with d2 all the way in the front in the chariot lineup katniss didn't have a chance - or reason - to observe them, but when she did get an opportunity to observe a closeup interaction between cato and clove it's when she is at her weakest point, on the verge of death, and he is on his knees pleading with her to not die. this is a huge shift!! from "standing stiffly apart, never touching or acknowledging each other, as if their fellow tribute did not exist." and the Feast scene turns that all around because in the time between these two events, Cato and Clove grew to deeply care for each other, growing past their initial indifference at the chariot rides of abandoning a pretense or both <3 anyways because katniss was never going to be able to fill in those blanks that's what excellent fic is for.

[whaleiumsharkspeare]

I’m so glad I was born before the advent of Zoom and e-learning days because my town just got smacked with like 7 inches of snow and *boomer voice* back in my day that’d be cause for a snow day but noooooo the kids just have e-learning when schools are closed

[tandytoaster]

Customer on the phone upset that the cashier didn't prompt her to get another item for the buy 2 get 1 sale. Wants us to mail her the free item because she's not going to drive back into town. Said she's gonna call corporate if this doesn't get fixed. 🤯

[w-corp-clerk-anon]

No, im not dead I was stuck dealing with traffic and a giant-ass sentient coffee monster. We had to put down the monster despise being negotiable, but their offers weren't reasonable. I mean... sacrifice the company's van for a cup of coffee? seriously? It didn't took long for it to try and eat a bystander... And our dealer? turns out he was among that monster's first victims... shame... they were a nice guy Anyways, we got the coffee, i hope the others won't mind the taste of blood on it, but we are going to make a new contract with a new dealer because, as you guys now know, our old dealer bit the dust.

[lacystar]

I missed amongus server drama? 🥲

Qwerty no amount of update accounts could describe what happened

[mrs-meadows]

I’ve decided I’m going to get a lower back tattoo of the Skyrim quest marker.

[iccarian]

❝ careful - you’re in very real danger of hurting my feelings. ❞ ― @gamehaunt.

 ‍  ‍ it is disarmingly loud, as it always is in these events. bubbly chatter rings in his ears and the unwarranted touches of overenthused guests prickles uncomfortably on his skin; things he should be used to by now, certainly, but he has always been a sensitive boy -- or so his coworkers said when they couldn't find anyone else to interview during the games. in spite of it, his attention is currently held captive by the most recent victor. one of two. viridian gaze flickers curiously over peeta mellark's expression, takes note of the playful quirk of a smile before his own tilts his lips and he expels a quiet, near - sheepish huff of laughter.

 ‍  ‍ ❝ look -- i'm sorry, that wasn't what i meant. ❞ cal passes a glass of a strange, electric blue concoction to his other hand, but doesn't take a drink. he never does. ❝ i'm just saying . . . if you want people to believe in your baking skills, you'll have to start shipping out free samples. preferably to district 5, first and foremost. ❞

[lifeinkinder]

The bonus about being tenured is when a parent asks for details on a situation and you know the details will 100% throw your shitty new principal under the bus, you speak freely and give all the details without having to worry about big career-altering repercussions.

[britneyshakespeare]

So I was back to subbing at the elementary school today, which as I've mentioned is my favorite place to work. In some ways it's just the most comfortable to me; this is now my fourth year in a row I've had some kind of job associated with kids of that age group who attend that school, so I know a lot of the students and faculty. Actually, a lot of the faculty who work there today have been working there since I was a student.

Most of them recognized me immediately when I started showing my face there, like I didn't graduate from there over a decade ago, age 11. There was one para, who now works as a library assistant, but who used to monitor lunch and recess. I didn't remember her name but I knew her face. The first time she saw me subbing she was just like "oh, hi Diana."

I was talking to her this morning before school started because a first grade teacher unexpectedly called out, so I filled in for her for the first hour of the day before I started the job I clocked in for and a replacement could be found. But this library assistant usually leads the morning meetings with this first grade class and would help me with attendance and all those other beginning-of-the-day responsibilities.

She was saying to me "You know, why don't you work here full time? You're good with kids. You'd be good at it." In other small talk we'd had last year she had asked me similar things, like if I'd ever consider taking up a steady job at the elementary school, how my school was going, etc. I'm in between college right now but currently not taking classes. And I mentioned how I'm trying to take more sub jobs at the middle and high school so I get more well-rounded—that actually is the age group my education major is in. I've been working with the preschool-to-fifth-grade age range but my plan has always been middle-to-high school English.

And I was telling her about that, and I was like "You know what? When I tell people I want to teach older kids, some say to me stuff like 'oh you never know, you might change your mind'—and only recently I've been wondering if I really would. But I hate it when they're right!"

And that made her laugh. But it's true! I do really love working with the littles, as it turns out. Been doing it several years now. But in terms of anyone who's ever mentioned that to me unprompted, I wanna be like... hey, what do you know?!?!

[we-re-always-alright]

absolutely SEETHING reading comments about pizza and delivery in the city (Chicago) on tumblr dot com I cannot handle it

[quiteunpersuadable]

Your quippy tagline to get viewers encompasses my job. Congratulations. 💯

[sa-banana-ana]

^ THIS!

I'll be honest, I went to a high school full of nerds.

All of us were taking dual credit classes. Getting high school and college credits for the same class. And most, if not all, of us would sit through the pledge doing hw. We had A LOT of hw and would either sit through the pledge and work on it. Or if we did stand up, we were still typing or writing. Not paying any mind to what was going on. Our teachers didn't care too much for us paying attention to the pledge as most of them were also catching up on paperwork, grading assignments, or just didn't care enough to bother with it. We regularly discussed politics in my classes, and the majority of us were quite radicalized in our opinions due to the fact we came from impoverished communities. Most were first-generation high school graduates, on top of being first-generation college graduates.

Some of my classmates have gone on to do really big things locally and nationally. And those doors probably would not have been opened if any of us had not attended that high school. I WOULD NOT BE WHERE I AM WITHOUT THAT SCHOOL. We all graduated with an Associates degree WITH our high school graduation. Which was possible with government funding, sure. But the system is broken, and we definitely took advantage of the opportunity to get ahead and get the education we needed/wanted! I'm currently getting my Bachelors for my dream job. I would not have been able to afford it if I hadn't gone to that high school and would probably have given it up long ago.

So yeah, sit through the pledge. If you get detention because your high school experience is much different than what I had, don't sweat it. There's probably someone else in your classroom too scared to do it as well. Maybe they'll get the courage to do it once they see you do it. Plus, no one's going to give a fuck later on in life. If it comes up, it will be in conversation with friends and family at best. Be the example and protest in YOUR WAY.

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

[scftrebellion]

pink camellias, white chrysanthemums, yellow daffodils

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀; 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝖲𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈.

rated M for Mature themes, drinking & heavy petting towards the end. nothing explicit, but to be safe, mdni.

╭────༺ 𓄼 ❀ 𓄹 ༻────╮

they say music from Tillman’s juke joint could be heard all the way in the Capitol on a Saturday night. Seeder never much cared for the implications of that, not even when she was a young girl and the Capitol was more of a shadow that went bump in the night than a real tangible threat. she cared for it even less these days now that she knew intimately that it was the second. but even she couldn’t deny there might be some truth to it.

she can hear Bud Tillman fiddling his heart out when she leaves the Vineyard. the sound of good music and the smell of folks cooking good food carries her through the district. kids zip by her laughing, promises of the one day off from the fields lifting the collective spirit in the atmosphere.

tomorrow her District will be casket quiet, and she’ll likely be tending to the aftereffects of drink ﹠ merriment by her lonesome. tomorrow, she’ll be a Victor from one of the Big Houses again. the omen of bad times that every winner of the Games inadvertently became to their people.

tonight, she will be Seeder Howell. with her red lipstick and her red organdy dress and her shiny red heels. going to see her gal and drink until she’s warm in the cheeks. tonight, she can have the luxury to pretend to be fourteen ﹠ young again.

there’s a group of men throwing dice outside the juke when she approaches. a few of them tip their hats to her politely, sidle out of the way of the door so that she can slip through. Lia seems to have been waiting on her to come and gotten into the shine while she did—she’s bombarded with gangly long arms and the stench of peach moonshine. it’s heavy on her breath and in her clothes—a sign that it’s one of those nights where she’ll be hitting the bottle hard ﹠ lamenting it for days after. for once Seeder can hardly blame her.

“Seeder! you came!” her younger sister effuses, eyes sparkling. the tip of her nose is blush red already, bright against her pale skin. during winter days, her sister could blend right in with those dark-haired folks that worked in the justice building from District Two. but in the summer her tan would come back full force, all warm taupe shining in the sun, and they’d look nigh identical again. Seeder ducks out of her younger sister's grip, though she accepts the offering of gin from her. Lia barely notices—appraising the semi-sheer red frills on her dress. “you look damn fine, girl.”

“watch your mouth,” she chastises absently, eyes scanning the room. searching for someone, for—

—she spots her behind the bar. her short cropped curls sticking to her face with sweat, stains in the pits and the collar of her cotton button-up. one of her suspenders must’ve snapped recently, because the leathers are mismatched colors but still holding up her favorite charcoal gray pants.

Tully Tillman is the only Tillman girl that always insisted on wearing pants. since they were kids. on reaping day, when their Mama’s forced them to go to a repast, on birthdays and New Years too. there she’d be, with her short curls cut by her ears, wearing a pair of her fathers hand-me-down shirts and suspenders. Seeder remembers thinking she was odd for it when they were kids. but now her face splits with the joy that is found in familiarity, and she carefully picks her way through the crowd—promising Lia that she’ll catch up later.

she drops the gin on a random table as she nears the ramshackle counter and pin-cushion stools they call a bar. Tully notices and laughs at her—high and pretty like the music from her Daddy’s fiddle. it sets Seeder’s heart to fluttering in a funny way; beating fast, sounding something like those big ceremonial drums from the Capitol.

“i need a drink,” she shouts over the din of dancing and music and her own heartbeat pulsating in her ears. Tully glances to the abandoned gin, now being happily sipped on by what Seeder believes is one of the field-calls.

“you had a drink.”

“i wanted one from you,” Seeder responds, leaning on the bar. Tully carts her eyes over her, smiles big and broad like she always did when she caught her being slick. already, the apples of her cheeks look swollen with her affection. she has dimples when she smiles, and they make her look cute ﹠ youthful again. Seeder can feel herself grinning just as wide. “hi, by the way.”

“hey yourself,” she responds, before reaching over to pour up something white and cheap and eye-watering. she spills a bit of syrup from some jarred cherries in it before sliding it over. “i’m happy you came.”

a scoff from Seeder, her index finger tracing lazily around the sticky rim of the glass. the drink is more of a formality—it was well known that Seeder Howell didn’t come out to the Tillman juke just to drink. she got plenty high off of this right here; talking to the handsome woman that served the liquor. “aw, c’mon. y’all act like i don’t never go nowhere.”

“‘cause you don’t,” Tully responds, turning to mix another drink for a waiting patron. she can hardly keep her gaze off of Seeder though, leaning every so often to catch a glimpse of her thighs through that translucent red fabric in her skirts, and it burns her chest up something fierce—blazing hotter than any gin or shine could ever be. “you stay cooped up in that big ol’ house, making other folks' problems your own.”

“well, it’s the least i could do.” whether she means keeping a safe distance from those she cares about, or sacrificing all of her free time to the people of the district goes unsaid. Tully gives her a sympathetic look nonetheless. “i’m glad to see you, too.”

“nothing else could’ve made me happier. and you’re looking fine as frog hair—you gonna dance with me tonight, Miss Howell?”

“oh, come on now. you know better than that,” Seeder dismisses, taking another sip of her drink to busy her mouth from speaking unnecessary platitudes. they were something of an open secret, she and Tully. folks didn’t give them too much grief because the Howell’s and the Tillman’s served the District well in their own ways. but she knew better than to go inviting disdain by broadcasting it. besides, she couldn’t be sure that there was never anyone looking. her sister and her predilection to keep having babies was bad enough. she didn’t need to worry about her girl, too.

being at the juke was already a terrible idea. but at least she could pretend she was there for her sister, and she ﹠ Tully were less close in theory than in reality. taking her partner to the dance floor—no matter how much she wants to—is practically begging for problems. “i got two left feet, and they’re both ‘bout as heavy as stones. i’d stomp all over those pretty toes of yours.”

“girl like you stepping on my toes? don’t threaten me with a good time,” Tully teases, finally finishing up the drink for the man that’d been waiting. he gives them each a scornful look and then spits at Seeder’s feet—having obviously overheard their conversation, and not liked it a wit. the yellow spittle lands on her shiny red heels, thick and viscid on the patent leather. Tully’s face wrenches up with fury, but he’s already backing up towards the crowd of people dancing. “hey now! show some damn respect to the lady!”

“T, don’t,” Seeder hisses, grabbing her arm to keep her from coming around to the other side of the bar. the two women exchange a loaded look—one pleading, the other enraged. the last thing she needs is for a fight to kick off over a pair of shoes, especially not ones she could quickly wipe off with a wet rag anyhow. she’d come out tonight to steal joy for herself, and she wouldn’t have her one night cut short behind Tully’s pride. there’s an entire conversation had in just that one glance, and eventually the other woman settles down—leaning on the sticky wooden bar to get closer to her.

“you don’t have to keep taking that.”

“please, not tonight,” she responds instantly, taking sips from her drink. it’s strong, and it waters her eyes with every mouthful. but its effects are instantaneous, and she can feel the liquid heat pooling in her belly. dark eyes flit over to the stage, where Tully’s father is working the fiddle. he’s accompanied by her older sister on a janky old piano, and the two of them have the whole joint up on the floor. sensing an opportunity to change the subject, she gestures towards the pair with her jar. “Bud ain’t losing his touch, is he?”

“nope. still sounds as good as he always has. that man might just fiddle himself clean off Death’s roster,” Tully agrees, which earns her a derisive snort and a side-eye. “what? you don’t think he could?”

“girl, what are you talking about? can’t nobody swindle themselves out of death—you sound silly even joking about it,” giggles Seeder, tearing her eyes away from the stage. the shine must be loosening her lips in a dangerous way, because she adds, “death and the reaping. two things that're gonna come around every time, whether we want them to or not.”

“maybe not.”

“Tully, what did i just say?” groans Seeder. “i don’t even know why i said that. forget i brought it up.”

if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. that was the problem with loving a woman like Tully Tillman. she had a strong sense of justice, big ideas of right and wrong, and nowhere to put all the rage she felt when things were unfair. whether that be misplaced disgust at something innocent like their love, or the injustice of children being used as fodder to be slaughtered year by year. she couldn’t help herself but to talk crazy. the only miracle was that when Tully got to talking, folks were usually too drunk to pay her any mind. perks of being a barkeep. she had just enough good sense to wait until she was behind that bar on Saturday nights—but that was usually where her sense ran out.

and it didn’t make it any less dangerous. didn’t change the way cold dread would wrap its spindly fingers around Seeder’s lungs and squeeze every time she heard her talking like that.

she’d seen people swing in the orchard for days for offenses far less severe. if they found out Tully was talking about treason, Seeder can’t imagine what torment they’d dream up. she still saw Pearla’s headless body when she went to sleep some nights. the way her sister's legs had twitched uselessly in the air before they’d drawn the rope up again and butchered her.

it takes a few moments to pull herself from those macabre memories and recognize that the muffled buzzing in her ears is Tully; she’s still talking, voice going all pitchy on the ends like it does when she’s excited. Seeder blinks herself back to the present. “—some man came by couple of nights ago, said there was a Peacekeeper getting folks out of the District on the supply trains—”

“Tulip,” Seeder hisses, grabbing the older woman’s forearm and pulling her clean across the bar. their faces are so close their lips could touch, and a few nearby tables make faces of derision at what looks to the drunken eye to be a display of affection. but all of that is whited out with fear. talk like that didn’t just get folks hanged anymore, either. especially not if they were seen with Seeder. it got them tortured, it got them arrested, it got them—

—her eyes are welling up before she realizes it, and Tully places a hand over the one Seeder is gripping her with.

“hey, hey,” she whispers. “i’m sorry—i’m talking crazy. i won’t mention it again. i promise.”

“you’d better not. not to anyone. not ever.”

“not ever, you have my word.”

the grip Seeder has on her eases up, and she sets down her glass too. “you have something good here—with your daddy, with your sisters, running the juke. good enough. don’t mess it up being stupid ﹠ chasing trouble.”

Tully’s voice is churlish and petulant when she looks up at Seeder through her eyelashes. “you chase trouble.”

“you know what,” Seeder suddenly exhales, pushing herself away from the bar. there’s something bitter welling up in her throat, tastes sour like homemade wine and waters up the back of her tongue like she wants to vomit. “do what you please. i ain’t your mama. but leave me ﹠ mine out of it. i got enough to worry about.” the real contention of the night. why Lia was knee-deep in the shine already, why Seeder had wanted to see Tully ﹠ take her mind off of things. and likely why the reaping had been so heavy on her mind that just a little liquor had brought the words tumbling forth.

Althea had turned twelve that year. Seeder had stayed in the house with drawn blinds while her sister and her family celebrated in their home away from her. her face too stark an omen of what a twelfth birthday meant to the Howell family now. Seeder had attempted to spare them any dour reminders by staying away.

yet still a brand new dress, a pretty shade of apple red with a basket-weave bodice, had arrived in the post to her sister’s door for their niece. Seeder hadn’t ordered it, but they all knew well enough who had.

that man had just taken that girl’s mother from her last year, and was making the threat to take her, too, if Seeder wasn’t on her best behavior. a cruel ﹠ merciless god threatening destruction for the barest hint of sin.

and she would be pious to appease him, because there was someone else within touching reach, now. Seeder had not a single rebellious bone in her body. her night terrors had already been tinted apple red, familial oak-brown eyes blinking back at her from the dark. she hated the games as much as anyone else, but there was no room for brash mistakes this year or five years down. and Tully, love her as she does, is a big bright blood-red mistake waiting to happen.

there’s been enough bloodshed on her behalf. she can’t bear the idea of another, even less than she can bear the thought of never seeing Tully again for her foolishness. she knows she doesn’t mean the ultimatum the second she says it. but she needs to make the point.

while trying to slide off of the barstool, Seeder stumbles a bit in her heels. she’d drank more of that moonshine than she’d thought judging by the half-full jar, and it seems like the alcohol had settled in quick. she didn’t drink much as it was, and the Tillman’s served paint-thinner in a glass. despite how furious she is at her, Seeder leans into it when Tully wraps a steadying arm around her waist. life was lonely enough, and oftentimes just as short. there is no room for stewing in anger. at any rate, Tully seems to have been rightfully chastened by Seeder’s menacing to course-correct her behavior.

warm calloused hands slip around her waist—too intimate for friends, too public for safety. despite the contempt thrown their way in curled lips and furrowed brows, nobody is as brash with their displeasure as the man from earlier. it doesn’t change the anxiety she feels humming quietly under the blanket of liquor in her system. had she been a little more sober, she might’ve shooed the woman away. instead Tully safely guides Seeder out to the back entrance where wild bushels of dropseed grow unkempt off the porch, and she lets her. the two women manage to stay upright long enough to get down the steps, but then Tully gives one impatient tug at the hem of Seeder’s skirt and they go tumbling down in a heap of limbs ﹠ laughs. tall grass and black willow trees act as cover enough in the nightfall. satin-soft laughter leaves Seeder’s chest despite her earlier indignation. her rage at Tully’s recklessness is curtailed by the feeling of those hands traveling up under her skirts.

she swats her hands away, rolling her head lazily over to look at the woman beside her. in the moonlight, Tully’s dark skin glows with undertones of midnight blue. she looks iridescent and beautiful and timeless and the rest of her anger slips out of reach when they lock eyes.

an amused grin, her voice soft ﹠ low so as not to be overheard by anyone that might be stepping out for fresh air. “you trying to feel me up?”

“nobody can see us through the grass,” Tully murmurs, leaning in to sip a kiss. Seeder obliges just the one—because she knows that it’s true, they’ve done this enough times before—and then jerks back. “oh, come on now. don’t be like that. i said sorry, and i meant it.”

“you’re feeling mighty reckless tonight,” responds Seeder, rolling over onto her stomach. the grass tickles at her exposed clavicles and her ankles and her thighs, too. but she doesn’t lift up from it. instead she folds her arms over Tully’s breasts, rests her chin on her wrists. “i can’t afford to lose nothing else. i ain’t strong enough for that.”

“you’re not going to lose me. i’ll be on my best behavior,” Tully whispers back, plucking a blade of grass from her hair. “you still love me?”

“i still love you.” she leans up and presses her lips against Tully’s, and steals more than a sip of a kiss. her lipstick makes their lips stick together, slows their kisses down until they can barely separate their lips. moments like this can make it all feel worth it, sometimes. the meticulous distance she kept, the way she worked so hard to sneak around. they could never marry, or raise babies, or live together in that big empty house she had in the Vineyard. but they could keep what they had as theirs. real, untouched by the Capitol or any judgmental gazes, reserved only for themselves.

when Seeder pulls away, and Tully looks up at her with those big, oil-dark eyes, she knows the way her heart hammers is her sign that it’s worth it. “no more man with the trains. you hear me?”

Tully leans up. presses a kiss to her exposed shoulder. “yes ma’am. crystal clear.”

a sigh escapes red lips. she turns her head, her girl kisses a path up her neckline. the feather-light feel of chapped lips on her jaw, of warm rough hands resting on her hips—Seeder melts right down into a puddle. she can’t believe she ever thought she’d play at being angry with this divine, magical woman. “and no more of that crazy talk. i won’t see you swing in this lifetime or the next.”

“no, you won’t,” rumbles Tully, the bass of her voice humming against her cheek.

“i’m serious,” she pulls away to insist, and that earlier indignation flares up. the idea that she’s having their sensuality turned into a distraction sours the moment in her stomach. but her girl knows her too well, because the sincerity in her next words ease her back down into the embrace.

“i know you are.” brawny arms snake around her middle. she mouths another kiss into her neck. “you look mighty pretty while you’re doing it though. stay the night?”

“i can’t.” too long of an absence would raise alarm bells. even tipsy, she thinks about every variable. being escorted out to cool down by a friend was one thing, disappearing for the evening and turning up at sunrise was another.

not even Tully’s sweet kisses ﹠ reassurances can turn off the side of her that worries. that desperately scrambles to carve something nice out for herself in this world of evil and keep it close. even if it means she only gets it in tastes, in fleeting moments with itchy grass pressing into her knees.

“stay the hour?” proposes Tully, hope coloring her voice. Seeder smiles down at her, presses the flat of her palm against one of those dimpled cheeks.

“… nothing else could make me happier.”

[reasonsforhope]

"In Sacramento, California, an estimated 6,615 people are experiencing homelessness, a number that — while still heartbreakingly high — has declined 29% since 2023, according to the latest Point In Time counts. 

But a new project, which has been in the works since 2022, might bring that number down even lower.

A new 13-acre property purchased by Sacramento County will soon be home to the Watt Service Center and Safe Stay. 

The county broke ground on the mixed-use service center this week, which will provide shelter, emergency respite, safe parking, health services, and more to community members who are unsheltered — meaning they don’t have a place to safely sleep at night.

“We wanted to do something that is not only larger, but a large-scale campus to provide more than just the shelter,” Janna Haynes, of the county’s Department of Homeless Services and Housing, told KCRA3 News.

The Watt Service Center will have amenities to help meet the needs of anyone staying there, including bathrooms, showers, laundry, and food, as well as mental health, treatment, and employment services.

“You can also meet with your case manager, get behavior health services, look for a job, get rehousing services, a place for your dog,” Jaynes added. “It’s really everything you need, not only for your day-to-day life, but to hopefully end your homelessness.”

While the center is a costly offering, the city explained that it is ultimately less expensive than allowing the homelessness crisis to go unmitigated.

The land was purchased for $22 million and will cost an estimated $42 million to construct the center. According to ABC10 News it will be mostly funded by the American Rescue Plan Act.

While the center will have the capacity to host 225 beds in Safe Stay cabins, 50-person capacity in Safe Parking, and 75-person capacity for emergency/weather respite beds, it will serve countless others outside of the 350 total people it can house at any given time.

According to a press release from the county, “conservative estimates” have found that over the course of 15 years, the center will serve 18,000 people.

In 2017, the city found that the average cost for an “unsheltered individual” was about $45,000 a year, considering public systems like county jail, shelters, behavioral health, and more.

With the projected impact of the shelter, that cost lowers to less than $3,600 per person.

“If you break down the funding, it’s actually not that expensive,” Rich Desmond, county supervisor for District 3, told ABC10.

“It’s a heck of a lot cheaper than letting someone stay out in the community, unsheltered where they are extremely expensive in terms of the emergency response from fire, our emergency rooms, our law enforcement response.”

Providing what the county calls “wraparound services” not only brings down costs but truly helps people meet their basic needs.

“The really great thing about this site in particular, that we don't have at any other shelters, is the sheer size and the ability to really wrap everything people need,” Emily Halcon, director of the Department of Homeless Services and Housing with Sacramento County, told ABC10. 

One notable feature is the center’s Safe Parking spaces, which are the first of their kind in the city. People living in their cars will now have a safe place to park, monitored by security.

“We know a lot of people who are unsheltered actually are living out of their cars,” Desmond said, “maybe a family that’s barely hanging on but they still need that vital transportation to get their kids to school or get to work.”

This support is especially helpful for those who are newly homeless, Halcon added, building on the amenities provided in the county’s two other “safe stay” facilities. 

While Sacramento County just broke ground on the Watt Service Center, officials say they hope to begin moving people into the facility in January 2026.

“Our staff is putting in extra time and attention to this campus, ensuring that it houses everything we need to end homelessness for people,” Desmond said in a statement.

Once it’s up and running, Jaynes told KCRA3, they plan to onboard formerly unhoused community members as part of the staff at the facility.

“When you have a conversation with someone who understands where you’ve been, and you see the success they’re having now,” Jaynes said, “it really does give you hope something could be different.”

-via GoodGoodGood, January 24, 2025