Do you think at some point early on in Arknights the intent was to be a buildup to a more critical look at Rhodes as more morally grey than it first appears? Because when I started the game I was so sure that's where it was going. Popukar probably being one of the first characters you get, the idea of SWEEP, the understanding I had at the time of darknights doctor and y'know, the villains being who they are. I just thought it would be more of a thing.

I don't think necessarily, I think the intent was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state". I do think it bears mentioning that child soldiers/children and teenagers with a job as a concept don't seem to really carry a stigma as they do in the real world: The only real times in which these are painted in negative lights are when the conditions or results of these decisions end up in something negative:

Popukar was clearly indentured labor at the lumberyard. The part that's condemned is that she was miserable and practically a slave, not really that she was working per se, and she's given a job by RI later after Kal'tsit personally gets her out of there.

Frostleaf's being a child soldier even before Rhodes Island isn't really all that condemned, the effects it had on her psyche is.

Absinthe, just orphaned, is made a Rhodes Island Operator. This notion isn't rejected or truly contested, no more than "maybe we can send her somewhere proper for care". Hell, all the Ursus kids also get made into Operators.

Even outside of this, we hire children frequently: Bubble, Suzuran, Shamare, you name it. Sure, each has a context, especially Shamare who is Fucking Haunted, but the matter of the fact is that Rhodes Island isn't just housing them, it's also showing no real qualms with them taking the Operator Testing Battery and, if they succeed, hiring them. It's mentioned several times that Rhodes Island has many non-combat roles -- Angelina used to be a Messenger for Rhodes Island before taking the Operator test, Orchid was offered a desk job at Rhodes Island initially, and Weedy was a Rhodes Island researcher who explicitly worked out and trained so she could pass the physical components of the test -- but there's no real turn of eyes when a child says mmmm yeah I'll do the Battlefield Supporter Battery please, thank you.

Amiya is, you know, the CEO of Rhodes Island, and that IS pointed out in a "damn, fucked up" way, but what's being lamented is not her having a job, it's her having a BIG difficult job. I think no one would bat an eye if Amiya was a regular Operator under Theresa instead (granted, because she's the owner's daughter, but even without that link).

These are some examples of in-universe logic regarding the whole child soldier and kid with a job. I'd wager it's because life expectancy in Terra is pretty damn low from what we've gathered: Armed conflict, crime, Catastrophes, Oripathy, there's plenty of ways to kick the bucket in Terra, much like it was in Ye Olde Ages in real life, which is coincidentally an era in which by 16 you already were an adult and were expected to start having adult responsibilities.

Pre-Amnesia Doctor was definitely not a stellar person but it's always understood that they weren't bad as much as broken: Scout put it best that it broke his heart to have seen this kind educator and fun, loving individual become a heartless tactician. Even when described this way, though, it wasn't like Doc became this Brooding Evil Mass, it's still mentioned plenty that they were pretty beloved by most people and a person they liked being friends with -- Ace, Scout, and Amiya all corroborate this, and in flashbacks, you have Theresa being pretty warm with Doc -- but if you were a footsoldier, Doctor was probably your worst nightmare because you were disposable -- W, Ines, Hoederer and Flamebringer can tell you as much -- so we had less a villain or a vile individual and more a broken individual who was remolded into someone that could withstand the immense psychological pressure that came with having their role. That's not to sanitize pre-amn Doctor, it's to echo the game's own words on them as per the characters in the setting that knew them from back then, and who held both positive and negative opinions on them.

Looking at all of these from an in-universe lens, they all have coherent in-universe explanations. I also think they would have foreshadowed any sort of Rhodes Island Insiduous Vileness with characters or actions by now: Less than stellar, antagonistic high command, dubious orders to do some vile stuff, other such things. The closest we get to this is Kal'tsit hating Doctor's guts, but also Kal'tsit is a really good person and her hatred of Doctor stems from her knowing them pre-amnesia, seeing how that happened, and what Doc did in those times, particularly one big event that's pretty lore relevant.

You may have noticed the elephant in the room [SPOILERS FOR PEOPLE NOT DONE WITH THE REUNION ARC YET]: I didn't address the enemy part yet. That's because that's the part that I still have some conflicted feelings over: The real enemy, in the end, isn't Reunion's ideals -- which are shared with Rhodes Island -- but rather it's what Reunion has become, a false flag operation for the Ursus Empire to justify a war. On one hand, I like that, on the other, I do think it's something that should've been more graciously hinted at in the very early chapters, because in those very early chapters, you REALLY are rent-a-cops in essence, putting down the people you set out to help. Of course, it's not that simple and there's a nuance as to why and the business dealings and all that, but given the relative simplicity and pace of the early chapters, it really is easy to see it come across that way.

It does, however, ring consistent with what we were previously talking about, though: The essence of, more than the act or thing in itself. Or, in other words, in Terra, the onus of things seem to be placed on the result or context surrounding something more than that something in itself: Child soldiers are fine, unhappy and in-risk child soldiers are not. Teenagers with jobs are fine, teenagers with huge stressful jobs way out of their league are not. Revolutionary movements are fine, revolutionary movements with civilian casualties are not. And so on. There is DEFINITELY commentary that can be had about this, mind you, but that can be for another post in another blog.

With this in mind, I go back to what was first said in this post, I think the idea was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state".

i see a prompt request 👀 what about “stop trying to help me it’s just hurting you” with feral reader… maybe joel is the one helping her with the adjustment to settlement life in wyoming? or they’re out on a run and she gets hurt? anything tbh you decide

Yesssss I am all for this one. I had some downtime and managed to write this so fast. So have some angst and maybe some lore and both of them fighting lol

Left Behind Joel Miller x f!Reader/OFC The Last of Us 2.5k Words (3rd POV) (Lots of callbacks to Monsters but not necessary to read first. Feral Reader's name is used sparingly so yes, she's technically more an OFC as you get lore in this one) Summary: Settling into life in Jackson wasn't going so easily and Joel is hit with the possibility she may not be welcomed to stay.

“Joel, she’s trouble, man,” Tommy ran a hand through his hand exasperatedly, pacing the hard packed ground in front of both their homes, “I know shit was rough out there. Hell, the three of you were practically hissing at everyone when you came through that first time, but it’s been a couple months. She’s scaring half the town and you’re scaring the other half acting like her goddamn guard dog.”

The older Miller brother clenched his jaw, hands on his hips and trying not to show how much his split open knuckles smarted, “I wouldn’t have to if those assholes would stop treating her like a fucking pariah or giving her shit every time she tries to stand up for herself.” “You have got to admit it’s not exactly like she’s giving them much reason not to act that way,” Tommy sighed and spread his hands pleadingly, “She threatened to stab Johnny at the lumberyard through his hand for looking at her weird, not to mention I’ve already had to take her off patrol duty with anyone but you after she beat Grant-” “That boy learned the hard way to keep his hands to himself,” Joel cut him off.

Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, before glancing back at his house where his very pregnant wife currently was, “Brother, I can’t have her acting this way. I get it’s not perfect here, but we can’t have trouble like this. Maria…she’s already considering that if Red doesn't get her shit together she may not be welcome to stay.” Silence fell between the two, boiling and tense. He didn’t have to even look up to know the look on his older brother’s face at his words, could feel it as if flames were on his skin. It was like lighting a match around gasoline, waiting for the whole thing to ignite. He knew that as much as his brother cared about the young girl in his charge, he also cared about the woman that came along with them. And when Joel Miller cared about something, he’d go through hell for them. “That’s not gonna happen,” Joel bit out harshly, snarling. His irises had darkened to almost black, the hints of hazel swallowed almost entirely. His body was tight, a wire begging to snap. But the younger of the two could only shake his head, feeling lost and unable to comprehend what to do. Torn between the home he had helped create and protect, his wife who had the weight of the community on her shoulders while preparing to give birth to his first kid, and his brother’s protectiveness over the rough woman currently inside the house. “Just get it sorted. Talk to her. My hands are tied, I can only do so much,” Tommy sighed, turning and heading back across the lot to his own home and life. Joel didn’t watch him leave. His eyes were trained on the ground, blood roaring in his ears as he replayed the words over and over again. They were considering kicking Red out. He’d dragged her all over the country, to Wyoming then Colorado and Salt Lake and back to Jackson, forcing her to settle down only for her to get kicked out. He knew she was having a hard time. She’d never stayed in a QZ, had stayed out in the world too long alone or with the wrong people and didn’t know how to deal with a community like this. Normal people who didn’t have to tear each other apart for scraps. While he and Ellie didn’t have the smoothest transition and were still rough around the edges, they’d managed while the woman had hit wall after wall. She was defensive, quick to react and bare her teeth. It was fine out beyond the gates but inside Jackson where everyone was trying to find a new normal it had caused issues. One of the steel workers was Grant’s brother and hadn’t taken kindly to her beating the shit out of him. He had refused to give her some parts they needed for the house and then called her a bitch when she’d slapped his payment down and went to snatch the items. But he hadn’t registered Joel around the corner listening and before they all knew it his fist was flying into the man’s face. He’d have done more if Tommy hadn’t broken them up. But his brother was right and she did have a reputation, had scared a lot more than half the town. He’d seen the way mothers had pulled their kids away or the looks some of the guardsmen gave her. Ellie had told off more than a few, shouting across the plaza when she’d catch it, defensive. He’d watched Red shrink in the settlement, only fully confident like she usually was outside of Jackson. He’d figure it out. He had to. 

With a deep sigh, he turned and went inside. Ellie had been sent to take care of the errands and get the groceries they both knew Red wouldn’t be able to get. The teenager was understanding and was doing the best she could to help, keeping any complaints to herself or to him when they were alone to not burden the woman. She was as protective of her as he was of both of them. The house was quiet. It was all something he was still getting used to. Having a house again, a home where he didn’t have to worry about getting attacked or FEDRA raids, no more furniture salvaged from garbage dumps and pipes that rattled without a drop of hot water. Jackson made it easy to get comfortable, to feel like it was before the world was ravaged. Easy for him at least. He paused and waited a moment, hearing the almost imperceptible sound of breathing on his good side before he rounded the kitchen counter and looked down. Red sat on the tiled floor, knees pulled up to her chest, head resting back against the cabinet doors. Her face was blank but he’d learned to read the small hints of thoughts on her face. Lips pressed tight, eyes focusing on her nails even as he hovered. She’d heard. He knew she had. “Should I start packing my bag now or wait for Maria to give me the word?” she chewed on her lip, feigning nonchalance. “Neither. You ain’t going nowhere,” Joel bit out with a furrowed brow. She laughed humorlessly, mouth turning into a grimace, “That’s not up to you, Tex.” Those eyes looked up finally, met his, and he could see the resignation there. This wasn’t something she was going to fight if they made her leave. She’d do it and he knew why, knew it was for them, but refused to accept it. “Like hell it ain’t.” “Stop,” abruptly getting to her feet, she hissed at him, “Just stop it. Stop trying to help me. It’s only hurting you and Ellie. You have actual family here, Joel. Flesh and blood family. You could murder someone and they’d still keep you here and Ellie as well, but I’m a liability. To you, to her, to all of them. I get it.” “I don’t give a fuck if you get it, Red,” Joel was angry, getting into her face, “They’re not kicking you out. End of conversation.” “Not end of fucking conversation,” she growled, “I’m not risking yours and Ellie’s only chance at a safe, stable life. If that means I go back out there then so be it.”

“God, you’re so fuckin’ stubborn sometimes,” he all but yelled through his teeth. A laugh tore from her, sharp and loud, her brow raised, “Oh that’s hilarious coming from you.” He wanted to beat his fist through the fucking wall, pick up a glass and shatter it if only to release some of the frustration dealing with her gave him. That damn martyrdom that he hadn’t ever been able to get rid of, scream out of her no matter how many times he told her to stop it. She was so willing to throw herself away for his or Ellie’s sake as if what happened to her didn’t matter and it drove him insane every single time. “You better quit that shit,” Joel ground out between clenched teeth, “That stupid fucking selfless bullshit. For what? As punishment because you lost some people? That…fucking Harry you were with?” He hadn’t ever brought up the name she had mentioned once because he knew what it was like for someone to bring up the past. She hadn’t offered much of her background and he never asked, but there had been small moments. That name had stuck in his brain though, like the little stars tattooed on her collarbone and the “love ya” on her skin in someone else’s handwriting. 

The silence following his words were deafening, all emotion wiped off her face. It was as if someone had scrubbed away anything that made her a person, human, in seconds. 

Then something darker took over and twisted and she smiled, a showing of teeth, and eyes so hollow they seemed like caverns, “Is that what you think? That I’m punishing myself over some boyfriend that died when the world fell apart as if most of the fucking population didn’t also die too? That I’m what? A sad little heartbroken girl pining over some lost love?” A laugh left her lips and it felt like poison, dripping venom. He clenched his fist, anger burning hot, but he knew better than to say anything or approach her when she was like this. Dangerous. Sometimes she was so dangerous he wondered how he had ever thought it was safe to turn his back on her. “That’s real sweet, Tex…I shot him, you know?” she laughed again, not a bit of humor on her face, “Not because he was infected. No. He wasn’t even bit, didn’t have a scratch on him. He was fully alive and healthy before I blew his face right off.” She’d mentioned the man’s name long ago on the road when they’d gotten drunk out. It had slipped out of her covered in pain and regret, Harry and her younger sister, how she'd been barely starting her life when the apocalypse hit. A singer. Ellie had mentioned she had been trying to be a singer and he’d always pictured a bright eyed girl unprepared for what was to come. He had wondered if that death had been what had broken her, guttered her and tore out her soul to the point she lived on instinct only, how that girl had become the hissing creature before him. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Stepping closer to him, he resisted the urge to back away, to show that he was like the rest of them and scared of her too. She almost smiled wider and he knew she was expecting him to, a test almost, “You see we were on a run. Harry, me, and Annie. Spooked some runners so we booked it out of the building because back then I wasn’t much of a fighter, hadn’t learned yet. So I trusted him to keep us safe. Yet, lo and behold, when we get through the front door and I turn around, I see him.” Her words were made of broken glass that cut her apart and made her mouth bleed, devastation and rage coating each one but he didn’t move or try to comfort her lest he got cut too, “Harry had shoved my sister behind so he could get through first then shut the door in her face. I watched them through the glass tear her apart, screaming my name, because I had trusted him to have her back. Instead he got her killed. So I killed him.”

There was no smile then.  He remembers how they met. Ellie had fallen behind while running from scavengers because he hadn’t put her in front of him. It had been Red who had saved her and like a missing puzzle piece, he could see the picture come together. Knowing her now and how it wasn’t normal for her to go out of her way to help strangers, but she’d helped them.

Because Annie had fallen behind once before and she couldn’t save her. Blamed herself for her death.

“It was my fault and I’ll be damned if I ruin both of your chances at staying here where you are safer. Not because of me,” the snarl had left her face, hackles dropping until just the woman was left. Exhausted and a little sad and lost. It’d broken her, he knew that. In the same way Sarah’s death had left him a shell. But he’d kept going for Tommy, Tess, and eventually Ellie.

She hadn’t had anyone until them and now she thought she was putting them at risk.

Joel frowned and stepped forward, their chests almost pressed together, before cupping her face between his hands. His knuckles were bruised and bloody still, but neither of them cared, had never cared about getting blood on the other, “I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but if you think after that I’d still let you go then you’re wrong. I learned my lesson last time we were in Jackson. We stick together. No one’s getting left behind.”

Her eyes squeezed shut, a broken sigh leaving her lips. Her hands came up and gripped his waist, fingers wrapping around his belt tightly like he was a lifeline. Resignation wrapped her entirely in its embrace and he knew the fight had gone out of her, “I…I don’t know how to be around these people. There’s too many of them and they all stare…I’m going to mess up.”

The admission brought a slight smile to his lips, a crack in the defense she had attempted to put between them and a sign that she was giving in, “Well I think as long as you don’t try to maul or kill anyone and maybe limit to punching one or two people a month, that’ll be good enough.”

She huffed exasperatedly, head falling forward and leaning against his chest. His thumb traced her cheek, the other combing through the tangled mess that was her hair. For all she used to gripe at Ellie for taking care of her own, she wasn’t much better. But the strands were still soft and he took advantage of it when he could, feeling her relax against him.

“I’ll talk to Tommy and Maria. You just give yourself time to adjust and try,” Joel murmured, “We’ll figure it out, but you’re not going anywhere.” She nodded against him and at last wrapped her arms fully around his body, sinking into him while he held her tightly back. They both stayed there for a while, arms tight, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

Joel would pull every string, get every ounce of leverage he could get to ensure she stayed. No one was going to take her away from them.

can you please do prompt 2 and 4 with johnny cade?

Outsiders Prompt Fic #5- Why does it hurt so much?

Hi anon! I chose prompt 2 to write for this one. Enjoy!

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Johnny Cade is no stranger to pain.

When he was three mama had dropped him taking him out of the bath and he’d hit his head bad enough to give him a concussion. When he was six dad had broken his arm after he lost a little league game and cried about it. He’d survived more beatings than most kids could even dream of- even most east side kids. He’d been sworn at, screamed at, kicked, punched, slapped, and on one particularly memorable occasion when he was fourteen, walloped with a two by four when his old man had been laid off from his job at the lumberyard. He’d even been jumped, bad enough that that horrible white scar tore down his face would be a permanent fixture he was still trying to come to terms with. Over the years he’d come to learn how to grin and bear it. He took every beating in silence, because crying or begging or even screaming only ever made them worse. He’d laughed with broken ribs. Smiled through a puffy lip. Leaned against his friends even when it pressed against his bruises, until pain became first a constant and then an afterthought, simply another fact of his miserable life. You spend enough time in pain, he’d come to realize, then being in pain just becomes normal. 

Which is why it’s strange that the stomach flu of all things seems to be able to bring him to his knees- literally. He’s currently puking in the Curtis’ bathroom, unsure if the vomiting or the agony radiating from his stomach is what’s forcing tears from his eyes.

God, his stomach hurts. He can’t remember anything ever hurting this much. Not even that time mama pressed his palm against the stove when he was eight and accidentally spilled the dinner she made.

“Easy Johnny, you’re alright,” Pony is here, the quiet, supportive pillar he’s always been that makes him Johnny’s best friend in the whole world. Though a part of him is embarrassed that anyone is here to witness this, a much larger part of him, the part that is tired, sick and in pain, is infinitely glad that Ponyboy is here. Pony won’t judge him, never has, never will. Pony will take care of him, the way he has for the past three days, and not make him feel like a baby. Everyone else, whenever they’re around, has hovered and coddled. Pony is just present, his worry quieter, his care soft with love but not pity.

Even Dallas had been weird about this, the whole Johnny being sick thing. He’d acted like a spooked horse when he first got sick and not reappeared after he first came by to check on him two days ago. Maybe if Johnny wasn’t feeling so lousy, he’d care more about that, try and puzzle out why. As it is, it’s all he can do to make sure he makes it to the toilet every time he needs to puke.

It’s a strange illness, one Johnny is quite sure he never wants to experience again. Crashing waves of nausea and pain for hours, followed by brief reprieves where he believes he’s started to turn a corner before the nausea returns full force. It’s a vicious cycle. Johnny hates it.

He’s so tired. 

“It’s just the stomach flu,” he murmurs to Pony, slumping bonelessly against his friend’s side. The younger boy presses a glass of water into his hand, and Johnny lifts it to his lips, his hand shaking like a leaf, “why does it hurt so much?’

“That’s just the thing ain’t it Johnnycakes? I’m startin’ to think it isn’t just the stomach flu.”

Pony’s getting real worried now, Johnny can tell because his voice always gets a bit younger when he’s anxious and he starts immediately looking around for Darry. But Darry isn’t here right now, is at work for at least the next hour. Soda and Steve are both working close at the DX, Two-bit is nursing his own sick kid sister, and Dally is still wherever Dally is. If the chips turn down- and they will, because Johnny knows he must have been born under a bad star for all the times luck is never in his favour- Pony is all he’s got. The thought isn’t as daunting as perhaps it should be. Here he is, sick and not entirely conscious, and all he knows is he trusts Ponyboy Curtis with his life. For all Ponyboy is two years younger, for all he’s the baby of the gang, Johnny doesn’t know anyone he depends on as much as him.

“Probably not,” he admits. This isn’t right, he knows it, has known it since yesterday even. The stomach flu shouldn’t feel like there’s a hot iron stuck in his abdomen, shouldn’t make him half paralyzed with pain and unable to think properly. “Whatever it is, I think it might be bad.”

“Darry’ll be home in a hour,” Pony says decisively, and if Johnny wasn’t so sick he doesn’t think he’d be able to hide his grin at the fact that for all Pony complains about his eldest brother, he’s always the first person he goes to in a crisis, “I’ll give him a call, see if he can hurry along, and we’ll get him to take you to a clinic.”

“Don’t got insurance,” Johnny points out. If he went to the doctor, it wouldn’t matter if this illness didn’t kill him because his old man sure would, “can’t afford no hospital bills.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Ponyboy waves his concern off, “Darry got Dal to get you a fake insurance card. It’s a real good forgery, looks as good as my real one. Far as the state’s concerned, you’re me when you’re sick.

“I ain’t passin’ those hospital bills to you guys!”

“Well we ain’t takin’ no for an answer. If you need a hospital, you’ll go.”

Johnny can tell he means it. He also knows Darry and Soda will back him. All the Curtis boys are as stubborn as they come, and selfless to boot.

He sighs, too tired to argue.

“Alright.”

“I’ll go give Darry a call,” Pony says, squeezing his shoulder gently before he leaves. 

Johnny counts the tiles on the bathroom floor as a fresh wave of agony rears it’s ugly head, causing sweat to bead on his brow and harsh breaths to force their way through his clenched teeth.

He’s only managed to count thirteen tiles by the time Ponyboy returns with a cool cloth and a relieved expression.

“Darry’ll be here in twenty minutes,” Pony tells him, pressing the cloth against his burning neck. He can’t help but sigh at the feeling. It does nothing to dull the pain but offer something else to focus on, but for Johnny that’s enough, “he was almost done anyway but his forman let him go early since it’s an emergency.”

He bites his lip, and Johnny can tell he’s trying very hard to decide whether he’s going to say whatever it is he’s thinking.

“Dar…darry says he thinks you might have appendicitis,” he says at last. Huh,Johnny thinks, that kind of makes sense. With his luck, it’s not surprising his own organs have decided to mutiny against him. “He says he was worried about it yesterday but now he’s pretty sure. You’ll definitely need the hospital.”

At this point, if a hospital can make the pain even lessen, it’ll be worth it.

“Thanks Pony,” he leans his head against his best friend’s shoulder, too tired and too sick to do anything else.

Pony rests his own head on Johnny’s, long hair tickling Johnny’s cheek, until Darry bursts in in all his superman glory and takes control of the situation the way he always does.

Johnny Cade is no stranger to pain, but with a friend like Ponyboy Curtis to help him through it he doesn’t really mind.

What's everyone's favorite tasks to do around the cult? (Everyone being Leshy, Narinder, so on)

Lamb's favourite thing to do in the cult is… Well, managing the cult. Assigning the tasks to the followers, completing follower requests, doing the things that the others can't and Narinder won't do. He also likes to play with the kids and to spend time with Narinder.

Narinder loves gardening and reading the most. Whether he does it alone or with his family depends on the situation. He enjoys playing with the kids and teaching them new things, and spending time with Lamb, of course.

Unable to see, Leshy hardly can do much for the cult. He spends his free time chatting with his family or the followers and playing with the children. He also enjoys playing Heket's musical instruments for fun, even though he thinks he lacks the talent and she's way better at it.

Most of her time Heket spends reading and playing her musical instruments. She also enjoys physical activities such as working on the lumberyard and the stone mine, but rarely does that, not willing to be on the same level as the lamb's followers.

Kallamar is, well, pretty lazy. He enjoys napping, spending time with his spouces and decorating the cult!

And Shamura… Well, we don't have Shamura just yet, do we? You can always ask that again later!

Lee Hatchett (he/him). Mentor. 108 Victor. Thirty-One. Rahul Kohli.

The Hatchetts were not meant for greatness or prestige. Raj and Elma met at the lumberyards, as so many couples in Seven do. Married young, started their family of three children. Raj, wanting more stability for his family, took a quieter job in a paper mill for more consistency and physical safety.

Lee was the second born, with one older sister and one younger brother. Life was lived in relative comfort for the family. Tessarae was never an option or required of them, but each child started working at fourteen. His sister in child and health care, Lee in the lumber yards, and his brother in transportation, driving large lumber trucks from a young age. It wasn’t easy to grow up without much “childhood,” but the Hatchetts did well. The kids went to school, and the whole family ate dinner together each night (unless the youngest was out on assignment).

Lee was, in a phrase, a middle child. Constantly pulled between his siblings, constantly overshadowed, and constantly looking for definitions of self that manifested in “not my siblings.” Despite it, he found himself replying to the names of his siblings, as they were often called out before his - an afterthought added at the end. “Oh, and Lee.” The more he defined himself against his siblings, though, the more enmeshed his identity became with them, only exacerbating the problem. Lee took to acting out in school: picking fights with other students and teachers, small bits of vandalism, and an entrepreneurial spirit (read: he sold drugs to his classmates).

The Games were an ever present scourge to the Hatchett family. It was one of those awful realities: the more children you had, the more years of terror you must endure. They did what they could for their community, as they lived in the capital of Seven. The Hatchetts were volunteers of the Games in a sense; they were an open home for families of the Reaped, giving them a place to stay and eat as members were sent to their deaths. When they could, they offered food, blankets, and a place to be when those from the far reaches of the District came together for the biannual nightmare. Raj and Elma were well known as that friendly family who helped, however little they were able, every six months. It was, in their own way, a rebellion - an acknowledgement that kindness was needed in the face of the horrors of the Games, rather than the glory and honor that was mass publicized. Lee and his siblings were taught that the families and Tributes were victims, pulled unwillingly into a gnashing machine bigger than anything they’d be able to comprehend - not (as the Capitol would have them believe) honorees deserving of fame, accolades, and praise. In doing so, they helped as many as they could, combating the ferocity of the Games with kindness and empathy.

It wasn’t until the 108th Games that their own kindness would need to be turned inward, as the worst happened; Lee’s name was pulled from the bowl, at age 18.

The 108th Games were set in a swampy marshland. Tall reeds and cattails permeated the landscape, and water was at least ankle deep throughout the entire Arena - though at many places it got much deeper than that. In various places, hungry, hunting crocodile mutts stalked tributes through the water, foot-long mosquitoes threatened to suck Tributes dry or infect them with a hallucinogenic and potentially fatal virus, and giant lily pads offered some respite from the perpetual wetness - if they weren’t also Venus flytraps waiting to ensnare and digest an unsuspecting Tribute. 

Wide, flat bottomed boats could keep Tributes relatively dry and quiet as they traversed the Arena, and houses on stilts littered the landscape, providing shelter from the near-constant downpour of light rain. Inside, some food and weapons could be found, but as the days progressed, the houses developed an eerie habit of walking away from where they were staying, their stilts becoming ominous legs as they wandered aimlessly through the swamp as giant, spider-like mutts. Tributes that lasted into the final days started to find dolls around, hidden in trees or chests in the walking houses. They carried an ominous similarity to other Tributes still alive, and while destroying the doll wouldn’t destroy the Tribute, perceptive competitors could find that small manipulations of the doll would trigger similar movements or pains in the corresponding opponent. Finding your own doll proved to be a necessary defense against the others. On the final day, an ominous green energy began floating throughout the Arena. Some described it as a man in a dark cloak, others as a spectral wolf… in short, no two people saw it manifest the same. What did happen, however, was instant death for any Tribute who passed through the phantasmic figure.

District Seven was an early favorite in the Games. Lee was paired with an older lumberjack, Donnegal Feller, who quickly became popular due to his good looks and willingness to charm a camera. Between the two of them, they fought their way through the initial Bloodbath and survived the first day by hunting the mutts that stalked the Arena. Fights were sparse as Tributes spread out, but Lee and Donny were left alone for the most part. The Career pack was weak in these Games, and the two D7 boys successfully won a fatal fight against the District One pair late on day three. They found their way into a stilted house and used a gifted bow and arrow to defend it well against others. Many Tributes ran, but Lee was forced to arch down a Tribute from District Four as she tried to climb up to their vantage point. It was at this house that Lee found the tool that he would use to win the Games, and also lose his District partner. Not knowing what it was, Lee found the doll representing the District Nine male on the porch of their house and haphazardly stuffed it in his pack. Moments later, the house came to life and started to amble towards the center of the Arena. In a flash of horrendous terror, Lee looked back into the house where Donnegal was resting, only for the now-giant beast to chomp down, revealing the inside of the home’s transformation into the mouth of a giant creature. The beast seemed unconcerned with Lee, who remained outside on the wrap-around deck until he was ferried back to the Cornucopia.

The finale was made of the final five Tributes, each forced to the center by a variety of means. The swamp intensified, forcing them to move slowly towards each other as the mud stuck to their shins. The first to fall was a girl from Eight, who could not move fast enough - a mysterious black figure passed ghost-like through her body and her cannon sounded. Lee grappled with a man from One, and only barely won his fight with a knife the other had brought. As he pushed the body off of him, stuck in the mud, Lee looked up to see the District Nine male rising from his fight with the District Twelve girl. It should have been an easy kill, as Lee was on his knees in the mud, struggling to stand, but his hands found the small doll. Not knowing what else to do, as the D9 male leapt forward, he twisted the leg on the doll and his opponent’s leg twisted at the same time. It was all that was needed - the crocodile mutts had been waiting for a sign of weakness. They disposed of the Tribute and Lee was crowned the Victor of the 108th Games.

Life since then has been hell, but you wouldn’t know it from talking to him. Lee moved his family into the Victor’s mansion, and even went back to his job in the lumber fields for some time. He is and always has been a “keep your head down” kind of guy, and his impulses towards acting out have all pretty well been squashed by his time in the Games. He received his call to Mentorship almost immediately, and even after over ten years of it, he still feels like he’s making it up as he goes along. His focus was always on his Tributes (as he has always found Sponsors repulsive), and finding strategic ways to interact with other Mentors. His only success has been Alder Reid, who he treasures like something sweeter than family, but even that feels tainted by the years of Seven who haven’t come back. He had to take a break from Mentorship for the past few years as his father fell sick and passed, but he is back now, still unsure of how to move forward with any of the collective grief of his legacy. 

Focused; perceptive; parental

Stubborn; brusque; judgmental

PENNED BY: M

I work at an undisclosed Midwestern lumberyard chain, and by god I wish I didn't.

It's the hell of working retail with the added stress of people making 15 minute decisions on 6 figure projects. Last night a couple asked me whether we could do a door a specific way, I said yes but we don't carry it in stock, and ofc they asked 3 more times if we have that door in stock, with the inevitable conclusion of them telling at me for wasting their time for not informing them that the door they want isn't in stock.

But every so often,

Once in a blue moon,

I have the privilege of telling somebody to fuck off.

There's a guy, we'll call him Chris, who comes in about 3 times a week. He has a Donald Trump level fake blonde toupee, the intelligence of a concussed squirrel, and he almost never buys anything. But he grabs the neatest employee and spends the next 45 minutes (timed) (average) (once it hit 133) asking questions that a 5 year old homeschooled evangelical child could answer.

When Chris enters the store a call goes out over the radio to let the managers know, and they scatter like rabbits. Whatever unlucky schmuck gets stuck with him is to be pitied, but never assisted lest ye become ensnared in the mire of idiocy that Chris projects.

The other day I wasn't wearing a radio, because of the autism, and so I was caught off guard as Chris came up to me. Knowing that my chances of escaping him were negligible, I launched straight into Unhelpful Mode. For those of you who haven't worked retail, or have repressed your time there, Unhelpful Mode (perhaps more accurately described as Overly Helpful Mode) is when you are perfectly capable of helping a customer, but deliver that help in such a manner that it dissuades them from asking follow up questions. An example is going into excessive detail about the chemical treatment of green lumber, or the myriad ways that you can customize a door to achieve the same dimensional effect. The customers eyes glaze over and lose their spark, and they proceed to go away to think about the excessive information you've dropped into their poor little minds.

Much to my chagrin, I quickly learned that Chris was immune to Unhelpful Mode, probably because he is too vacant to absorb the most surface level information, let alone the wealth of details I unleashed upon him. Due to this miscalculation, I was forced to spend about an hour (56 minutes) (error of about 5 minutes due to my coworkers disappearing until they were sure he was dealt with) with Chris.

After telling him everything he asked about, and more, I made my exit. The crucial question he asked me, over and over, was if we could install a door for him. I told him that no, Per Policy, [Company Name] does not do installation, but that I could provide him with the information of a few local contractors. He asked this probably 7 times, the last time making my exit.

Chris then demonstrated a guile unbeknownst to me. After waiting until I was out of his sight he approached our rookie employee, all of 3 days from hire. He knew that if he could pressure the new kid into stating that [Company Name] would install his door, that he could come back later and get a discount due to being assured of installation (stupid rule).

Thankfully on this hallowed day, I was observing from cover (behind another desk), and figured out what he was doing. I came up and asked what was going on? He lied, the rookie told me what was up, and I politely asked Chris to leave.

Chris took this very personally, and started to raise his voice. Which I matched. At this point everybody in the vicinity was watching us, necks craning and conversations ceasing. Things escalated further, and eventually his profanity laden denunciation prompted my own thunderous "Fuck Off". He bolted for the General Manager, lied his ass off, and begged for my firing.

I told a *relatively* true account of the interaction, reminded the GM of who we were dealing with, and got off scott free.

All in all not worth it, applied to 2 other jobs the next day.

SAGE WOLFE (roberta colindrez fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!  

Bowie/25/he+him/PST

Triggers: [REDACTED]

If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why?

There are obvious similarities to Johanna, though I like to think that Sage pushes the boundaries of Jo’s boldness without being as persuasive. She has that classic blunt honesty, though I wouldn’t say that Sage is as clever or able to play the game to her advantage. I can also see some parallels with Gale given his ruggedness and manichaean ethics/morality. I think his highly rebellious attitude towards the Capitol resonates with Sage’s overall vibe, though she’s obviously not as stoic or silent as he is. Gale’s savviness in the woods is also relevant here. The dude also mused about running off into the forest with Katniss and that’s a direct connection that I inserted into Sage’s lore.

Anything else?

Simply no. I am here for good vibes.

BASICS

[Roberta Colindrez, Cis woman, She/Her] The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes SAGE WOLFE, a DISTRICT 7 TRIBUTE. Word around The Capitol is that they’re LOYAL & TOUGH but can also be EXPLOSIVE & CRASS. According to sources, they’re 24 YEARS OLD and were once described as a WAFT OF MUSKY PINE RESIN, THE ECHOES OF FALLING TIMBER, MIDDLE CHILD SYNDROME, A CAREFULLY FOLDED MAP OF CANADA, AND FRUSTRATED SIGHS FOLLOWED BY THE BANG OF AN AXE. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

BIOGRAPHY

Aspen Wolfe was never an emotional man. If one were to look close enough, however, they would have noticed a pair of glistening eyes on the day that his fourth child was finally born. It was indeed a miracle that his wife, Henrietta Wolfe, survived the twenty-two hours of labour leading up to shrieks of a whiny newborn resonating through their homestead. Sage Wolfe came into the bleak political climate of Panem just as every Wolfe child had done so before her; on weathered planks chopped by Aspen himself. On the coldest day of December. His gnarled hands, like the ancient pine roots that connected the entire forest floor of District 7, held his newborn daughter with only one thought in mind: this kid was one tough motherfucker.

Her early years were marked by manual labour that sustained every person in District 7. In the shadow of the lumberyard’s towering stacks, Sage’s childhood unfolded in a symphony of falling trees and saws. The Wolfe legacy in logging left them in a more advantageous position than many families in town who were forced to lose their souls (and fingers) in paper mills that supplied the greater nation of Panem. From the age of six, her smalls hands learned to grip a well-worn axe alongside her older siblings and father. Henrietta proceeded to have three more children after Sage’s traumatic birth and, as much as she tried, Sage could not be felled by her pleas to prepare for a more docile life as late teenagehood approached. Neither could Aspen’s stern warnings about a life in logging convince her to pursue something other than scaling trees. While her two older sisters moved towards trading to support the family, Sage opted to stick by her father and big brother deep in the woods. Her axe cleaved through trunks with an adolescent angst that bordered on rage. Consequently, she learned how to move through the trees like a wraith. The forest floor crunched beneath her feet with pine needles, and her daily existence was infused with the resinous perfume of District 7’s arboreal sanctuary. All was well except for her inability to keep herself out of trouble. Of concern was her tenuous relationship with peacekeepers.

As predicted by her father, life in logging was harsh, but lumberjack shit talk was even harsher. Townsfolk targeted her appearance and, more insidiously, her alleged sexuality. The loggers tethered themselves to traditional norms and found Sage’s defiance of social expectations unsettling. On a good day the lumberyards were abound with comradery, but her presence always altered the energy. Sage never quite fit in with cutting crews outside of her own brother and father. The discomfort with her presence fuelled local gossip about her personal life and, more importantly, her own rage with the circumstances of their collective confinement as subjects of  Calpurnius Shithead’s rule. Developing thick skin was a means of survival. 

Sage once dreamt of escaping District 7 by fleeing into the expansive wilderness of northern Canada that borders the lumberyards. At around 16 years of age, she bartered a pair of old slacks for a tarnished map of the free neighbouring country. In the twilight hours, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Sage often found solace in a deserted shack by the oldest paper mill in town, away from the overcrowded Wolfe home. It was here that she allowed herself to feel, if only for a moment, the possibility of life outside of Panem. Teenage dreams painted a vivid canvas of escape and a vision of an alternate life. It never happened, for obvious reasons. The biggest being a threat of execution and peacekeepers that stalked the woods. Admittedly she couldn’t leave her family behind, either.

It seems that destiny has a cruel sense of irony. Now, as the Capitol’s machinations draw her into the cruel theatre of the 74th Hunger Games, Sage is forced to go beyond the rusted barbed wire of District 7… South of the border, to her displeasure. 

WRITING SAMPLE

[REDACTED]

STATS

Deceive: 2

Fight: 3

Lore (knowledge): 1

Notice: 2

Physique: 2

Provoke: 3

Rapport: 1

Resourcefulness: 2

Stealth: 2

Will: 3

EXTRAS:

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.ca/ducklovefriends/sage-wolfe/

Name: Willow Dubois

Nickname: Will (She will happily stab you if you call her Willow)

Age: 43

Gender: Genderfluid

Pronouns: She/They

Home: District Seven

Current Residence: District Thirteen

Role: Victor of the 48th Hunger Games, Mentor, Rebel

Personality: Grouchy, crass, honest, loyal, decisive

Song: I don’t wanna do this anymore - Pvris

TW: death, depression, murder, child death, blood, sex trafficking, drugs, alcohol

-Growing up, Willow was smack in the middle of a group of five children. Aspen, Elm, Willow, Birch, and Laurel were all born within ten years of one another, Birch only minutes before his sister Laurel. For a family in Seven, having five mouths to feed would be hard. For the Dubois family this was no different. But Honey and Johnathan Dubois never let their children know that. The children went to school while Johnathan worked ten to twelve hour days in the lumber yards and Honey worked in a paper factory. But dinner was always on the table at a decent time and the family never wanted for food even if it was bland. Life was okay for the Dubois family.

-That is until her father had a very unfortunate accident when she was fourteen and lost his leg. Suddenly the family so used to two incomes and the relative comfort it provided them were lurched into a life of one less than stellar income. Aspen already had his own wife and a kid on the way, he had his own family to support. And Elm who was on track to a better position than even their father had refused to break away from his training to help and ultimately left the family over it. So Willow took it upon herself to get a job, pretend she was older, drop out of school, and begin working in the very same lumber yards that had nearly taken her father’s life so that at least Birch and Laurel wouldn’t go hungry. The days were long and hard, and she didn’t earn as much as her father had. She sometimes skipped a meal here or there, but at least her little brother and sister were fed. 

-But cruel is fate. In January of 48 Birch grew ill, a nasty virus that refused to leave and ultimately claimed his life. The family was struck with grief. Her mother grew depressed, refused to leave bed, no matter how much Willow or Johnathan or Laurel begged her to get up. She’d loose her job at the paper factory. Willow would take her own grief and anger out on the lumberyards, work sunup to sundown. And sit around a bar for hours after sundown.

-She was sixteen, almost seventeen that year, only a year and a half older than Laurel, the year her sister’s name rang out over the reaping square that morning, Willow wouldn’t think twice before volunteering for her sister. She couldn’t loose someone else, not so soon after loosing Birch and Laurel… Well Laurel had only known the ‘just okay’ life Willow’d ensured her sister would never miss out on. She couldn’t win. There was no way. 

-Willow was sweet and quiet in the Capitol. She had a plan in mind and she’d stick to it. She scored a three in private training, shared how much she missed her family during her interview, and ultimately was passed off as canon fodder by the career tributes and sponsors alike. No one, not even her mentors knew the true story behind her ploy. Enter the arena though and she already had a leg up, coniferous trees abounded as far as the eye could see. But she did nothing, hiding amongst the branches. She’d follow some tributes, but only to hurry down the tree when they weren’t looking and steal food or other items. One such item being an axe her district partner had received as a sponsor gift - it sucked to be him that day. She’d killed two before the finale, one who’d found her at a river and had ended up with the axe in his chest. She’d refused to let herself see the dead tribute as anything other than an animal, convincing herself that she was fine and it was nothing more than killing a wild boar back home. The second she had met and allied with for a day before the girl had tried to kill her in her sleep. It’d been the other’s own dagger that had ended her life - lithe muscles still working despite ongoing hunger from the arena. Both a surprise as she’d always seemed to meek and weak.

-They’d been ushered together by the game makers and mutts, she’d offed one on the way, but stuck to the high branches of the trees away from mutts and other tributes. She watched as two of the careers converged on her district partner before taking on each other. She watched in curiosity as the final stood in the clearing, a clearing she was sure hadn’t been there before, mutts circling but not attacking. She heard the boy shout he was ready to get out of the arena. She’d been forgotten. Good. He hadn’t seen the axe come flying out of the tree. 

-She’d arrive home and move her and her family to her new home. No one would see her though, for the following several months. She’d refuse to leave for anything or anyone at least until she was forced for her victory tour. It was during her victory tour that she decided she preferred to be called Will. She was no longer Willow. Willow had been a quiet, albeit strong, girl who was naive to the actual cruelties that the world around her sustained, cruelties much greater than those she’d experienced in Seven. She was no longer Willow.

-That fact was only solidified when at eighteen, she was summoned to the Capitol, just weeks after the Quarter Quell to have a personal audience with Snow. She’d refuse his offer and before she could even get home, her parents were dead and the little sister she’d volunteered for was being held at gunpoint. She’d accept Snow’s proposal via teleconference, further distancing herself from the girl Willow was and deepening her identity in Will. Will could withstand so much more than Willow ever could have imagined. 

-Will would spend the next two decades in and out of the Capitol for the Games, or visiting sponsors, or being forced to meetings with Snow. Getting high and drunk became common past times, anything to stay complacent, to keep the nightmares at bay, and make her visits to the Capitol at least something she could withstand. But twenty years is a long time to be complacent. And Will was never complacent even if they acted the part well enough, acted the part of being controlled by Snow’s hold over her in the form of her family. So when the whispers of a rebellion started, Will didn’t spend to long in finding the right people to get themself involved with. And when the arena of the seventy-fifth hunger games blew up, Will was already on their way to District Thirteen. 

Turtle, Swan

Mark Doty

Because the road to our house is a back road, meadowlands punctuated by gravel quarry and lumberyard, there are unexpected travelers some nights on our way home from work. Once, on the lawn of the Tool and Die Company, a swan; the word doesn’t convey the shock of the thing, white architecture rippling like a pond’s rain-pocked skin, beak lifting to hiss at my approach. Magisterial, set down in elegant authority, he let us know exactly how close we might come. After a week of long rains that filled the marsh until it poured across the road to make in low woods a new heaven for toads, a snapping turtle lumbered down the center of the asphalt like an ambulatory helmet. His long tail dragged, blunt head jutting out of the lapidary prehistoric sleep of shell. We’d have lifted him from the road but thought he might bend his long neck back to snap. I tried herding him; he rushed, though we didn’t think those blocky legs could hurry— then ambled back to the center of the road, a target for kids who’d delight in the crush of something slow with the look of primeval invulnerability. He turned the blunt spear point of his jaws, puffing his undermouth like a bullfrog, and snapped at your shoe, vising a beakful of— thank God— leather. You had to shake him loose. We left him to his own devices, talked on the way home of what must lead him to new marsh or old home ground. The next day you saw, one town over, remains of shell in front of the little liquor store. I argued it was too far from where we’d seen him, too small to be his… though who could tell what the day’s heat might have taken from his body. For days he became a stain, a blotch that could have been merely oil. I did not want to believe that was what we saw alive in the firm center of his authority and right to walk the center of the road, head up like a missionary moving certainly into the country of his hopes. In the movies in this small town I stopped for popcorn while you went ahead to claim seats. When I entered the cool dark I saw straight couples everywhere, no single silhouette who might be you. I walked those two aisles too small to lose anyone and thought of a book I read in seventh grade, "Stranger Than Science," in which a man simply walked away, at a picnic, and was, in the act of striding forward to examine a flower, gone. By the time the previews ended I was nearly in tears— then realized the head of one-half the couple in the first row was only your leather jacket propped in the seat that would be mine. I don’t think I remember anything of the first half of the movie. I don’t know what happened to the swan. I read every week of some man’s lover showing the first symptoms, the night sweat or casual flu, and then the wasting begins and the disappearance a day at a time. I don’t know what happened to the swan; I don’t know if the stain on the street was our turtle or some other. I don’t know where these things we meet and know briefly, as well as we can or they will let us, go. I only know that I do not want you —you with your white and muscular wings that rise and ripple beneath or above me, your magnificent neck, eyes the deep mottled autumnal colors of polished tortoise— I do not want you ever to die. (1987)

Public Outings

Sarah and I figure we'll treat ourselves, and Walter left for work early, this morning. The mini-vacation he'd planned out didn't work quite as intended, there's a might-as-well-be-literal house fire to put out at a dealership in Abitibi, their moronic Sales Director ordered twelve EVs to be schelpped out by clients that live in Flatbed Truck Country...

So, it's just Sar and I. We head out, grab breakfast at her usual vegan-friendly breakfast place. She goes all-in for their vegan breakfast menu, ordering herself a set of modded flapjacks any Ye Olde Fashioned environmentally-conscious 19th-century lumberyard worker would've fallen for - if they'd existed. I go for eggs and toast, and figure I'll spring for soy milk in my coffee, just to try it out.

I kid you not, some old biddy sitting behind us leans back, looks at us and then locks onto me. "Y'don't look too strong, kiddo - you sure you want some of that gay shit?"

I allow myself a tiny eye-roll, then deign to look in her direction. "I'm sorry, I thought my elders thought it was impolite to disturb other diners in a restaurant."

She huffs. "I'm just saying you shouldn't put all this chemical crap in your body, you-"

I cut her off and point at her coffee. "This is liquid. There's dihydrogen monoxide in it. Did you know that dihydrogen monoxide can adversely affect human lungs?"

Her eyes widen in apparent triumph and her spouse looks about ready to kill me. I pull a Walter and gesture for patience with an arm kept low along my side. In the meantime, she's practically hollering: She knew it, she knew it, Big Coffee's out to kill everyone for profit; is there anything in this godforsaken world that isn't tainted with chemicals - so on and so forth. It takes a while, but another patron eventually bites. A woman around my age gathers her wits, leans in and says, in no uncertain terms:

"Dihydrogen monoxide is water, ma'am. Have a nice day."

I give her a covert thumbs-up as I sit back down. The old lady's husband is now looking relieved, the glance he's sending me being a nonverbal confirmation that I've just saved him from a week's worth of tinfoil-hat crazy talk.

The old lady got pretty quiet, past that. I'm just glad she didn't say soy milk would lower my sperm count or something stupid along those lines - then I would've really pulled a Stereotypically Bi on her, just to scare her off.

Camping Tents - Resemblances Between Camping Tents And Clothes

My friend persuaded me to utilize the fire wood storage shed plans and develop a little home for my firewood. I took the firewood storage shed strategies to a number of different hardware stores to get quotes on the products. I likewise checked to see how much it would cost from a lumberyard and it was 10% cheaper! , if the log has a wetness content above 20% it does not burn well and does not create a good bed of coals.. Both of which leads to many of the heat going up the chimney and not radiating into the room. tarp my home , if your fires smolder rather than radiances you may be having this concern.. This can result in you burning 1-2 logs more per fire, this might lead to using a face cable more per season. A firewood rack could be saving you a lot of money per season. Please note that 3 months of living expenditures is not the very same as three months of earnings. The emergency fund is for you to cover a minimum of for the basic of living. How you determine your basic living expenses? Take a look at your capital: what will it take to keep your lifestyle, rent/mortgage payment, groceries, regular monthly energies, child care, insurance payment, and etc. That is the amount time 3 that you require to conserve in your emergency situation fund. This poor old woman has credit card costs amounting to $20,000. She and her husband used them for numerous years, more so after he got ill and could no longer work. They can't pay them anymore. Collectors are calling her all the time every day. Wells Fargo's demand that the cards be paid completely is ridiculous and barely deserving of comment, aside from the truth that these large nationwide loan providers inform their worried consumers things like this every single day. Another tool is a light-weight tarp, the kind that you see at the hardware stores for simply a few dollars. This can be used as shelter, a blanket, or ground cover. If you buy a survival kit and it has a blanket, is will most likely be made of paper or plastic.Some of your upper end survival packages do providetarps and some even camping tents with restraincords. For me personally, the suppliedpackagevariations have their place, but I prefera bigger carpet mildew remover tarp that I can createda tent, with a flooring, and can make a shelter for the night and have other usages for it throughout the day. The reason we're operating athome in the top place is so we can be with our children, so it's definitelynecessary that we not only make time for them however that we enjoy them each and every day. long-term roof tarp is an essential tarp my house ability to learn, and our children can develop that throughout the parts of the day when we're working. But.this CAN NOT be the whole day. They require direct interaction and affection from their moms and dads. One thing I understand for certain is that when you are hiking, a mountain lion will usually try and choose off the last individual in line. As the protector in our household it is my obligation to be the last one in line, with my other half in front of me and than the kids. Also, remain fairly close together and always understand where each other is. When it comes to the style of the dog house, you can make that as elegant or as basic as you desire. Treated pine tends to be the least costly sort of wood to utilize, but it tends to wear out faster. If you desire a masterpiece that lasts, go for redwood or cedar and add decorative components. You can even paint the home to match your own!

thinking about the lumberyard and how the crew learn to talk to Sixer a month after he shows up:

Tony, being the good and proud grandpa he is, agrees to watch his only granddaughter for the day and takes her to the yard with him. Charlie is a bit hesitant seeing how Sixer is now around and they don’t know what the big guy will do to a deaf five year old, considering he is clearly a predator and routinely brings fresh deer carcasses around. Tony waves her off as he is adamant Sixer will probably ignore the kid and she’ll be in the front office most of the time anyways, so Sofia gets brought for the day.

It’s kind of a busy afternoon, a lot of wood needing cut and orders to get together, so Sixer isn’t around much with all the strangers coming in and out, wasting the afternoon in the hut Tony made him away from prying eyes, and everyone kind of loses track of time. Of course, everyone loses track of Sofia as well, the kid wandering away from the front office, growing tired of watching reruns of cartoons on her tablet and looking for something else to do as children are known for. Alvin is the one who raises the alarm, panicking over his cousin just vanishing and the fear his aunt is most likely going to murder Tony and then him.

Tony, Alvin, and Charlie tear the lumberyard apart looking for Sofia, all the while ignoring Dale who is certain she’s been eaten until they finally admit defeat and go to the one place they’ve been avoiding for fear of that being true. Sixer is still a new somewhat frightful presence, a hulking mass of muscle and claws that spends most of his time sunning on top of the lumber or just watching them. He is welcome and his intentions seem innocent, but there still some hesitation as it’s difficult to discern what he wants or how much he understands them given he can’t speak and for all they know he could be waiting to hunt them down the second they stop being so vigilant.

When they go to look inside his hut in the far corner of the yard, they find Sixer and, of course, Sofia curled up together on his ratty mattresses as the kid paints his claws with a vibrant purple polish she managed to snatch from Mckenzie’s purse and they share her snacks. Whats more interesting though is that they are talking, the few hours together having been mostly spent with Sofia teaching Sixer some very basic ASL, which he uses his smaller hands for a bit awkwardly, but whenever he gets something wrong, Sofia has no fear reaching over and correcting him little hands, to which he seems eager to get it right. The lumberyard is stunned to learn two things that day; 1) Sixer has the capacity and intelligence to communicate with people if given a proper way to do so and 2) he’s a really good babysitter. 

After, it becomes a project for Tony (who’s been learning sign language cause he’s a good grandpa and wants to be able to know what his granddaughter is saying) to teach ASL to Sixer and anyone at the yard who’s wants to communicate with their resident monster (mostly Alvin and Charlie). He also has to come up with a convincing story for his wife and daughter why Sofia won’t stop talking about ‘the bear’ she made friends with but that’s not important right now.

As is, no warranty. Experienced creative who can easily perform in front of large audiences, yet struggles through small talk in tiny gatherings. A portion of my resume from my three score and seven years: lumberyard laborer, top shelf bartender, waiter, wallflower, town drunk, inmate, actor, writer, stand up comic, day manager The Comic Strip (NYC), gopher for The Westies, combat veteran, disabled veteran, recovered alcoholic/addict, failed bisexual, veteran of two wars, two marriages, two loved children, lover of art, fan and supporter of creative people. 

Still available for kids birthdays, bar mitzvahs and biker initiations.

Writer:(voice-over) As time went on we saw less and less of Teddy and Vern until eventually, they became just two more faces in the halls. That happens sometimes. Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant. I heard that Vern got married out of High-school, had four kids, and is now the forklift operator at the Arsenal Lumberyard. Teddy tried several times to get into the Army but his eyes and his ear kept him out. The last I heard, he’d spent some time in jail. He was now doing odd jobs around Castle Rock.

 Chris:   I’m never gonna get out of this town, am I, Gordie?

Gordie:   You can do anything you want, man.

Chris:    Yeah, sure. Gimme some skin.

Gordie:   I’ll see you.

Chris:    Not if I see you first.

Writer:(voice-over) Chris did get out. He enrolled in the College-courses with me. And   although it was hard he gutted it out like he always did. He went on to College and eventually became a lawyer. Last week he entered a fast-food restaurant. Just ahead of him, two men got into an argument.  One of them pulled a knife. Chris who would always make the best peace tried to break it up. He was stabbed in the throat. He died almost instantly.

So this will be a timeline and general information dump for Johanna vaguely based off canon with a lot of headcanon mixed in. This will also include details of her family, her Games, and what she faced in the Capitol. 

tw; familial death, child death, drug use, torture, canon typical violence, canon typical allusion to SA and forced prostitution. Nothing is discussed in detail but please use caution. 

2 years before; Johanna’s elder brother Fig is born. 

0; Second child to Jaime and Eleanor Mason, she is named after Ellie’s mother “Jo” who was a member of the rebellion in 7 and was executed shortly after her mother was born. 

2-8; Johanna and Fig grow up mostly unaware of the Capitol. She follows him everywhere and adores him. He teaches her how to climb and helps her with the few jobs little kids get in the Lumberyard (Mostly carrying around food and supplies for family + friends). 

9; Fig’s first reaping that Johanna realizes what all that really means because there is only so much her parents can hide. Her mother is inconsolable and she later learns her aunt had been reaped likely to get back at her grandmother’s insurrection. Her mother is terrified it will carry down to her own children but Fig’s name is never called. 

12; First reaping, she cries the whole time. 

13; Oliver is born; Eleanor dies soon after due to “complications” that leave the whole family shaken. Fig mostly takes care of Oliver as Johanna throws herself into working like her father. 

14-15; First years in the Lumberyard at least officially. People lie, it doesn’t get easier. 

17; Events of the 71st Hunger Games which can be found in detail here !

Post Games; Johanna returns home to find her family already moved to the Village not being allowed to take anything with them from her old cabin. This is the start of them trying to rein her in. Besides her and Blight (29) there 2 other Victors who are older (55 & 70 years old) and generally keep to themselves. Victors are not loved in Seven since there is a taboo amongst letting your fellow workers die even in cases like the Games. She doesn’t visit Aspen’s grave and she debates on if he would have done the same. 

18; 

On the day of her 18th birthday she is instructed to give a “tour” to a high ranking government official but she is under no illusion of what that really entails. When he corners her discussing her “triumphs” in the games, Johanna acts on instinct. He dies, she lives, and she smokes his fancy pack of cigarettes waiting for the world to end. 

The whole thing is a mess and when the Peacekeepers find the barely legal new Victor on the couch of a now dead higher up, there is only so much they can keep quiet. Secrets are heavy in the Capitol and Sponsors are quick to drop her as a prospective lay. Snow waves a hand calling Johanna Mason a failure of the “new crop” of Victors and decides they needed a reminder anyway. 

White roses resting at their feet, a solemn ode to a just missed funeral and wake. Johanna gets back on the train and Jo dies for the last time on an empty road on an unmarked path. She comes home to a Olive and Fig tree engineered to barely survive in her garden. She comes to love those stupid plants. 

19-20; Mentorship and the start of her friendship with Finnick as she catches him on the roof.  He doesn’t talk about Annie, she doesn’t talk about her family, they toast and wish each other good luck. It’s enough. 

21; (CF) Quarter motherfucking Quell. When it gets announced Blight has to hold her down to stop her from ensuring there is no Female Victor. Their names get pulled and she get sent off on a little trip where Blight tells her about a stupid plan to live and a place called 13 and how him and the others are planning something about a revolution. She laughs, she cries in her room, she drinks, and she joins the fucking revolution. 

21-22; (MJ) Johanna is captured and used a prop in propaganda but eventually Snow admits that even he can’t make a diamond out of coal and she is better used for information. She tries her best to keep it all sealed for Blight’s (Rest in peace asshole) sake but on week 3 she breaks and sings better than Katniss ever did. 

After her rescue, she becomes addicted to Morphing and mostly keeps to herself. She is allowed back into the Capitol after it is captured but is taken in for questioning after the Mockingjay’s little rebellion. After distancing herself from Katniss, she is allowed to go home. 

She uses, drinks, and struggles to stay afloat in the empty remains of Seven. After nearly OD’ing, she stops cold turkey because it turns out the Victor’s instinct to lives even in the worst situation will always win over her deepest wish to just get it over with. She survives. 

23+; Sticks it out in Seven for about 3-4 months and watches over the replanting of what was salted during Snow’s raid. Acres of land had been burned and ruined so it is a lot of stop and wait for aid from the Capitol to solve that riddle. She handles a small ceremony for the other Victors and pours an entire bottle on Blight’s grave because he would have hated that. She leaves for Four the next day without any warning or permission because who the fuck cares anymore what a Victor does. 

Not only have I not posted on this for a while, but it's also time I continued that OTP swap.

RED QUEEN TIME: OTP SWAP EDITION!!!

We begin this version of Red Queen with Cal as he works in a lumber yard. He's a fit young man at the pleasnt age of 19, he's handsome for a kid who's starting in a poor village, and, oh yeah, HE'S RED.

Where everyone else struggles with their work, evident by the groans and screams they make as they literally destory themselves to break apart wood, Cal's doing a pretty good job of seperating logs and using an axe repeatedly like it weighs nothing. An alarm sounds, like an air horn, and the boss yells at them to get to the arena and come back when the yard.

Cal leaves with the other workers, tired and sweaty, and makes his way to the arena. If this was a real book, we would not hear a word of dialogue from him. We only see what he's thinking, and he is not a fan of the event that is about to take place: First Friday, where Silvers show off and show Reds where their proper place is.

Cal bustles among the crowd, avoiding as many people as he can because it's all too close for his liking. Never fear because his friend Iris is here.

She works on the river and about to finish her apprenticeship and brags of her success to Cal, who broke apart a whole tree and is sure to ve sore tomorrow.

The two make it to the arena and pretend to make pretend bets as to what will happen and who will will. Cal's betting on there being a Strongarm, because they do the best, but Iris bets there will be a Silk, even betting that there will be one fighting the Strongarm.

Cal finds the prediction intriguing and the feats begin, and its Samson against the Strongarm just like before, though this time Samson looks up and meets Cal's disgusted face, whispering in his mind if he's impressed.

Cal and Iris leave and return to their jobs- well, Cal does because his boss is an ass- and Iris stays behind at the arena to watch the rest of the carnage, because she's morbidly curious.

Cal calls her a creep and returns to the lumberyard, where he works until it's night time and he's told to go home. He's paid for his work, less than usual due to the fact it's First Friday, and Cal calls his boss out on cutting his pay for the third time this week. His boss isn't interested in hearing a Red complain about wages when he's getting paid in the first place.

Cal points out that his boss is ALSO Red, but his boss threatens to cut his pay further, if he doesn't take what he's gotten and go.

Cal relents and goes home, discouraged but he's still working and passes by a set of guards that size him up, sort of like how people who race horses check out said horses from afar. He mentally tells them to screw off because he's employed.

He makes it home and we meet his lovely family: Tibe, who's drinking a lot because of the war, Elara, who isn't really happy to be here for reasons you'll see soon, and Maven, who's still Cal's half brother, only he's crippled because there's no healers or whispers to screw with his head and he's the one who's genuinely glad to see his brother home; Tibe's glad too, he's just distracted.

Maven greets Cal very warmly from his place in the upper part of the house where everyone sleeps and asks how the Friday Feats went, trying to gwt down on his own because he's a big boy. Cal rushes over to help him, because he doesn't want Maven falling down, but Maven isn't worried; he's 17 not 7 and he can't feel his legs, so he can fall on them and they'll be a bony cushion for him. Cal, while he grabs a crutch Maven uses, doesn't disagree, but states Maven WILL feel the fall if it's on his neck rather than his legs.

The comment gets a laugh out of Maven, because then the legions won't even bother with him; if he can't move, he can't fight. If that fauls, he'll pretend to be a corpse and they'll take him somewhere nice, find out he's alive, get him a healer, and happily ever after, adding cheekily that Cal's not allowed to come with him because he'll blame him for being crippled and paralyzed.

The two laugh and do some light fighting before Elara snaps at them both to cut it out, Cal for rough housing and trying to kill his brother and Maven for leaving his bed when he can't move. Cal was not trying to kill his brother or rough housing and Maven's leg are messed up, not his arms, but Tibe vouches for them both as no harm was really done, and Maven needs to move around a little so he doesn't wither away.

Elara glares at him and asks Cal how work went, as he's the only one who has a decent paying job. Cal reveals that his boss cut his pay again, but still got something, which is better than nothing. Elara impolitely disagrees, as his pay will get cut until he actually gets nothing. Cal admits it's unfair, but they’re all Red. The only reason they exist is so they can serve Silvers and can avoid their wrath and their war by working or dying. Or getting blackbout wasted, as Elara puts it.

Tibe laughs at that and reveals he actually got the mail, a letter from Tiora on the front.

Side mention here: Tiora and Iris are close to Cal and his family, much in the same way Kilorn was close to the Barrows, though this time Tiora's on the front lines doing the fighting and writes to them whenever she can.

They gather around the table and pass around the letter before Cal gets it and reads it out loud, because he wants to, sue him.

Tiora's completely fine, though she did get grazed, but she got some cleaner and some stitches and they sent her to the infirmary to rest. Where they are, it's good for seeing sunsets and sun rises, but it's also quiet and away from the fighting. Addressing each family member, she tells Elara to not be so uptight,Tibe to not drink as much as he does, Maven to not do anything to hurt himself, because he already has his legs messed up, and Cal to not push himself too far because, despite his age(19, I'm not going to agree him down), he's still a kid and she'll help him find a girl as long as she can be the ring bearer in his wedding.

The comment makes Cal blush and Maven and Tibe laugh a little before Cal sets the letter down and takes a breath to get rid of an ache in his chest.

It's been a while since Tiora left, he and Iris have jobs, but Maven is going to be 18 in a couple months and has no job, which shouldn't be a problem because HE'S CRIPPLED, but the Silvers don't see that and nor do they care. They can always heal his legs and send him out.

Tibe isn't worried and states that Cal will keep their family safe, as he's strong as hell and has one of the better paying jobs in the Stilts.

Maven tries not to be hurt by that, but Cal jumps to his side, telling him that he's good at spying, having overheard very juicy and useful bits of gossip that became true.

Maven lightens up, but isn't fully made better because of it.

The family have dinner, talk dome more, and go to bed, though Cal stays up because he's nervous and because Maven keeps having bad dreams that make him toss and turn. He calms down though when Cal puts a blanket on him and rubs his back, unknowingly sending small waves of heat through his body and stilling him long enough to fall sound asleep.

Before he himself goes to bed, there's a thunking sound at his door, like someone threw a rock at it and Cal sees that it's Iris, who bears a teary face and bad news bears:

Her boss/master/person she's the apprentice to fell and died, so now she's going to be conscripted.

Neither know how long she has, but the news gets worse when Silver guards pull up to the lumber yard and make an announcement to Cal:

He's leaving for the Choke and his brother is going with him, but he'sleaving when Maven comes of age.

Cal is terrified and absolutely pissed because he already had a job and Maven is crippled, he can't even stand on his own.

The officers admits to knowing about Maven's handicap, but speculate that he can just be a sniper or something, considering how he has good upper body strength from carrying himself. He'd make a good messenger, too, because he can crawl on the ground and play dead when someone runs by and they'll be tricked because he already can't feel his legs.

Cal is appalled by this, stating, once more, that he has a job and Maven is crippled, so neither should be on the list for conscription. The officers agree, Cal and Maven should be excused, but there's the issue of the fact that Cal is a strong, capable guy and they need more people like him. And he won't be alone. The river girl and his brother are coming with him.

Cal is speechless and they leave. He doesn't follow them, but he does go somewhere he's had to before for food and necessities.

Cut to him jogging up to a caravan and banging on the door, asking for one Will Whistle.

RQ fans rejoice, because Shade answers the door instead, alive, healthy, and a little mad because Cal, who he nicknames Woodpecker, interrupted a meeting he's in the middle of.

Cal apologizes and states that this can't wait and he needs to talk to Will immediately.

He's allowed in and cuts to the chase: He's leaving, but they're going to take Iris and Maven too. Iris's boss died and Maven is almost of age. Iris has less time than they do, but he needs to get the three of them out NOW.

Shade and his partner(😏) Farley tell Cal that this is a TRADING caravan nit a SMUGGLING caravan, and they don't deal in people. Cal hears none of it, as Will's helped him before and he's screwed either way. With some reluctance, he asks if Will can just get Iris and Maven out. He can survive just fine in the Choke, but he doesn't want them there, too.

The group agrees, but it's going to cost Cal A LOT of money. Like, feed his family for a year, a lot.

Is he a theif? No. Does he make it in his job? No. Is he desperate enough to do something crazy? Yes, and he shares this idea with Maven later in the night:

Since Maven visited Sunmerton a few times to help with sorting, something to keep his hands busy and something that paid well because the Silvers weren't paying attention, he plans for the two of them to go to Summerton so Maven can do one of these 'assistant' jobs and for Cal to try and get something of value as well, MAYBE by stealing it, if he really has to, something that irks both boys, and they'll put that together and hopefully be allowed to go back if they need more.

Problem: Cal only has two days to do it.

Maven solves that by stating he can wake up early and the two can set out at dawn, WHICH THEY DO.

They get in easy enough, Cal carrying Maven on his back and a wheelchair in his hand, which he sets up and puts Maven in, and they part ways, Maven off to assisst and Cal to do... something.

He tries to keep his mind clear, but seeing all the Silvers and all their 'not worrying' freaks him out and he almost misses when someone calls him over, seeing the Red band on his wrist, and asks if he's good at fixing things. A transport broke down and they don't know how or why.

Cal leaps for the opportunity and shows his prowess as a builder, admitting he used to do it as a hobby when he had spare time. He gets a crowd of peiple surrounding him as he fixes the engine, checks the tires, and all that good jazz, until he finishes and gives the Silver the 'okay' to start the engine.

It works, sounding clean as a whistle and running like a dream.

He's paid handsomely and people ask for favors, which he doesn't mind taking, and all goes well until, while fixing a radio in a bar, a broadcast reveals the Scarlet Guard, mainly Shade and Farely, who are sick of being oppressed and show it by taking a down a dock that wasn't being used.

With a 'We will ruse red as the dawn,' and a return to the regularly scheduled programming, the crowd goes WILD, turning on any Red they see.

Cal avoids as many Silvers as he can, not forgetting his pay, of couse, and is almost drowned, almost because a burst of flames knocks back the Nymph.

He fonds Maven, who ditched the wheelchair and started crawling and they try to hightail ot out of there, but Maven, in a moment of fear and impulse, tries to steal a bracelt off of someone's wrist, in case what they have isn't enough.

The only thing he gets is the butt of a rifle to his hand, the one he uses for walking with a crutch.