#given sarah gave him to luke to keep luke safe and such

[thetimelordbatgirl]

How the mentions of the Smith family in Whotopia got me like.

[rudystree]

How do you feel about jj in season 2

I feel like he definitely could’ve had more screen time with some more background on his life , things with his dad being in prison and then how he’s been coping with John b being gone

Oh boy do I have thoughts on jj maybank in season 2. Allow me to cope by quickly typing up an essay.

Of course I’m biased (never loved a fictional character more in my life) but I completely agree with what you said and am a little bit let down too. I really wish he had more screen time and I was a bit disappointed in how they almost made him a side-character of the story. I’m conflicted because of course I also love that pope finally got a proper storyline and really got the time and attention he deserved. But it did sometimes seem like jj was there for comic relief and looking hot and that’s it. And I don’t want his character to be dumbed down like that. It’s not even that jj didn’t have a lot of screen time, it’s just that he hardly ever had a scene of his own or had his actual character explored, you know? I was hoping to see him maybe have a romantic storyline outside of the pogues, learn more about his mom/family history or even pick up on the issues of his probation/restitution/indebtedness to barry situations. The ending of season 1 also made me hopeful seeing him with the Heywards. But nothing. They addressed absolutely nothing of that and that makes me pretty sad. Even his grieving for John b felt like it was quickly brushed over. I was also pretty taken aback that he barely had any scenes with rafe, topper, etc. the way he did last season. It’s like in season 1 he was always getting into fights and stuff and this time around he was just....idk, not involved? It felt weird/different. I also would’ve wanted more jj/sarah interactions but I’m okay with what we got, I guess they (understandably) still don’t trust each other very much.

However.... here’s me trying to make some sense of this. There’s only 10 episodes and only so many things you can pack into them. There’s a lot of new characters, new locations, new discoveries and near-death experiences this season; as much as I would love for him to have a whole feature film of his own, the focus can’t always be on jj here.

I think this season was all about friendship. Sticking together. Protecting one another. Having fun with each other. And jj was very much a central part of that. It’s not so much about what’s going on in his life as it is about how he feels. And not so much about his grief at the beginning but more about how things change once the Pogues reunite. And this season I think jj feels loved. And he’s happy. He’s safe at the Chateau and taken care of by the Pogues. They call him “j” now. It’s obvious that the others are ALL way more gentle with him, patient with him, protective of him. And that keeps him out of trouble. They don’t yell at him anymore or tell him he’s crazy and wilding out. They’re more like “hey, we get it, we understand. But we don’t want you getting hurt.” And even when he DOES get in trouble (deservedly, operation liberation was doomed from the start) he doesn’t try to fix it on his own. He’s learned to ask for help. He sends a text and Pope and Kie are there to pick him up right away. There’s so much more emotional and physical affection given to him and it makes me incredibly soft.

And don’t even get me started on his scenes with Luke. It’s almost more tragic that they weren’t really physical. I loved how they showed jj’s reaction to seeing him in jail. He’s convinced that he’ll end up just like him but as the audience we can see that that won’t happen. He doesn’t turn into his dad, or Rafe, because he has a strong support system. I absolutely LOVED that they had Kie be a part of the jj/luke scenes this time. Kie talking about how jj is such a special boy, telling Luke to his face what a shitty father he is, flipping him off and PUNCHING him? Gave me life. And they did such a beautiful job with the flashbacks. Flashbacks to all the hurt and anguish jj suffered at his hands in season 1. But now he’s in a better place, and the final send off made me so emotional. It’s truly the moment when jj realizes that the Pogues are his one and only family. And then he goes and gives them a speech about it. About how he literally cannot cope with losing them because they are everything he has left. Everything he does this season is to protect others and it’s because his family is the most important thing in the world to him and he’s so doggedly loyal. And this season made it clear that they all love him SO MUCH back. His prank about getting hurt in the tree sent them into near cardiac arrest. They saw his lifeless body in the season finale and saw their own lives flashing before their eyes, because no matter how much or little screen time he gets, jj is the heart of the group.

Bottom line: there’s a lot I would’ve done differently if I wrote/directed the show. I need more jj maybank in my life and I have too many questions left unanswered. But they did a PHENOMENAL job. This season was insane. And I genuinely believe they didn’t do jj dirty, you just gotta read between the lines. He’s had beautiful moments with everyone that really really moved me and I honestly can’t ask for more. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk ❤️

[amerie-wadia]

a mayward drabble/little fic because apparently i just needed to write this

JJ is all sharp edges and screams that cry too loudly in explosive bursts of passion and wonder. He jumps so much higher than Pope that sometimes Pope worries JJ will float off into the sky like a balloon and Pope will be left alone on the shore. JJ will sprint down the gravel streets or rev his dirt bike as he comes crashing to a stop, the bike still rolling as he tumbled off. JJ lives every single moment like it’s the most important and Pope can only marvel at him for it.

But then the balloon deflated and his screams turn to silence and suddenly JJ is so quiet that he gets lost in the shadows. He’s a good liar and when he wants to go unnoticed, JJ can easily be forgotten.

JJ is two sides of the same coin. He is always at an extreme, as if he had never learned how to approach life neutrally. Or maybe Pope had forgotten how to live with with everything he had all the time. Maybe that’s why when JJ crashed, he crashed hard—so tired from giving life two hundred percent.

Pope never knows what to expect from JJ. Nobody does. There are moments, fleeting and few, when Pope thinks he can read JJ. Can even begin to understand.

There are times when JJ has bruises on his face or when he wears a long sleeve shirt in the middle of August, when Pope can see past the lies. JJ will try and brush it off, say that he’s fine or that it was just a Kook, but his eyes betray him and Pope can see the way JJ’s jaw tightens and his eyes well up. Before he pushes it down and lights up a joint or dives out into the waves. JJ needs to move when he’s upset. JJ needs to deflect when he’s upset. Pope notices.

Pope has begun to notice a lot about JJ.

He can’t quite figure out why—at first—every time he looks, JJ is already watching him. Usually he shifts his gaze away almost instantaneously. But sometimes he’ll just shoot Pope and goofy smile or wink at him and Pope really notices that. JJ likes to keep watch of Pope, but Pope never sees JJ keeping watch of the other Pogues. Not the way Pope does.

Pope notices a lot about a lot of things. He’s always been observant—nosy, as his mom would say. He likes the understand people’s mannerisms and learn about their quirks and habits.

He knows that Kie cannot physically hold her annoyances inside, that the Pogues can barely go one conversation without Kie rolling her eyes. Pope also knows that Kie bites her nails when she gets nervous. It’s subconscious, he knows this, because sometimes she’ll blink a few times and then her eyes will go wide and she’ll drop her hands to her sides, looking around to see if anybody noticed her doing it.

He knows that John B doesn’t understand the effect he has on JJ. That one was a hard thing for Pope to nail, to truly understand. John B loved JJ, Pope knew that for a fact, but he was always shooting down JJ’s ideas, undermining the things JJ thought, and he never seemed to pick up on the way JJ’s face would fall and he would get quiet and withdrawn for a few minutes after. Not all the time, but enough that Pope had started to notice.

For all Pope notices, there is still so much that goes over his head.

Being the smart guy that he is, this realization is hard to take in. Especially when JJ is standing in front of him with a fat bruise between his eye and his hairline, cuts and dried blood on his lips. JJ flinches as soon as Pope is holding onto him and—as much as Pope knows he should respect it—he’s been worried sick about JJ and just needs to hold him. Needs to have JJ someplace safe and secure and he needs to hug him or he is going to lose his mind.

JJ doesn’t hug him back and Pope can feel him tense up, rambling on about something that Pope doesn’t have the capacity to listen to. He was too worried. JJ is such a shit texter that Pope had no idea if he had even been bailed out of jail. And that’s fucking horrifying. Pope knows it’s different for JJ, though. In his gut he knows that JJ is white and he will be okay. But he watched the cops put hand cuffs on his best friend and he couldn’t help but worry about the worst case scenario.

So the first thing he asks if it was Shoupe who gave JJ that bruise—the bruise that was not there when JJ was arrested.

“Oh, this?” JJ breezes over it, “This is my dad, you know?”

But no, Pope doesn’t fucking know. Sometimes he wondered, but he didn’t fucking know until right now.

“Guess that right jab will really snap it off at times.”

Pope can’t let him do this. JJ can’t just admit that his dad hurts him and try to act like it’s nothing. Not when the re-evaluation hurts Pope so deeply in his soul that it feels like Luke has hit him too. The bruise is too dark on JJ’s pale skin and it makes Pope want to vomit because how could anybody hurt their child? Hurt JJ?

“That looks like more than a jab bro,” Pope says, because he can’t stop himself and it’s breaking his heart at how nonchalant JJ is acting. JJ shrugs but he’s quiet his eyes give everything away and Pope wishes he could hug him again. But JJ didn’t want to be hugged the first time and he’d flinched when Pope touched him so Pope gives him his distance.

And just like he always does, JJ goes to the opposite extreme and is smiling and excited and spitting off his plan to help John B find the gold. Pope knows John B doesn’t understand the effect he has on JJ, doesn’t understand how JJ would do whatever he asked even if it put his own life at risk.

Suddenly, Pope thinks for the first time that maybe he, Pope himself, doesn’t understand the effect he has on JJ. How JJ was willing to go to jail for him. How JJ was willing to get beat up by his own father for Pope. And Pope feels helpless when JJ walks away.

After that night, Pope can’t stop thinking about JJ. Can’t stop thinking about JJ’s dad hurting him. About how JJ said it was ‘nothing that hasn’t happened before’ as if he thought it would be comforting. About how scared JJ’s eyes were for just a minute. Because JJ is not scared of anything. JJ is the bravest of the bunch, stupid and reckless but wholeheartedly brave. JJ oozes confidence and he speaks as if he doesn’t care what anybody would ever think of him. He’s electric and wild and Pope can’t stop thinking about how much of a contradiction JJ is.

And then JJ really spirals. Pope is waiting in the van with Kie and Sarah when John B volunteers to try and calm JJ down. Because JJ is in one of his explosive fits of passion but this time it’s not fun or adventurous, it’s way too dangerous and absolutely everybody is worried about JJ. Even Sarah Cameron is worried about JJ. But when John B and JJ come back outside they’re fighting and John B is yelling at JJ—and Pope really doesn’t like that.

JJ is spiraling and Pope feels helpless again so he intervenes.

“I took the fall for you, man,” JJ responds, voice heavy with emotion and it makes Pope’s chest hurt. “Do you know how much money I owe because of you?”

Because of you. Pope doesn’t know the effect he has on JJ, never has. Pope didn’t fucking mean for that to happen. He never wanted to put that on JJ.

“I’m gonna pay you back,” Pope promises. “And I didn’t even ask you to do that.”

But JJ is getting even closer to Pope, closer and closer to his face. His teeth are gritted together and he wreaks from sweat and his eyes are filled with anger. Anger that’s being directed at Pope. JJ has never looked at Pope that way before.

“I just did. Pay it back. Right here, right now.”

Pope is angry now too because JJ is right and it hurts to hear the truth. But he’s also mad because he let JJ take the fall for him. And then JJ was arrested and beat by his father and now he owes more money than JJ has ever seen his life. So he did the thing he’s best at and he stole. And Pope is furious that he can’t be mad at JJ for being so stupid because he also knows how scared he is.

“By myself.”

That hurts so much more than Pope would ever admit. He would help if JJ just let somebody else help him for once. And JJ is so close, close enough that Pope can feel JJ’s breath hot on his cheeks.

JJ is leaving again and Pope feels helpless, John B holding him back before he can chase after JJ and force him to accept some help.

Pope notices the way that nobody else tries to go after JJ. He notices how when they say he just ‘needs some space’ they really mean that they just don’t know how to help him and are too overwhelmed to try. Pope isn’t good at telling other people what to do so he gives JJ some space.

Which is so fucking stupid.

At first Pope is angry. Angry because JJ is willing to risk everything to help others but can’t help himself. How the hell did he spent that much money in one day? How come he couldn’t have just paid of his restitutions? Or just given it back to the drug dealer before he found out it was missing. But JJ is hammered and drinking champagne in a hot tub surrounded by neon lights.

“But, you know, I didn’t do that,” JJ exclaims after Kie and Pope have both tried to reprimand him for spending the money. The second he stands Pope loses feeling of his legs. He feels his dinner churning in his stomach and threatening to spill out. Because JJ has three giant purple bruises on his stomach and Pope knew—he fucking knew—that JJ didn’t need space.

“Look what I did for you,” JJ barks, too drunk to pace himself or keep quiet. “Look at this!”

“JJ,” Kie says firmly and Pope is so glad at least one of them can speak.

“No, stop being emotional. It’s fine, okay,” JJ pleads but his words are getting quieter and shakier and Pope doesn’t know what to do because he’s watching the strongest person he knows crumbling before his eyes. He can’t look away from the bruises and he can’t stop thinking about the fact that all of this happened because he let JJ take the fall for him.

JJ is starting to cry and Pope has never seen him cry. He doesn’t know what to do at all.

“I mean, it’s sweet right,” JJ is adding, voice trembling as Kie is climbing into the hot tub. “Just get in.”

Pope is still frozen, too overwhelmed to move. Can’t come to grips with the fact that JJ’s dad could ever do that to him. Kie pulls JJ against her chest and he absolutely collapses into her arms. Pope can hear Kiara crying too but JJ begins to sob and Pope’s heart falls out of his chest.

“I just couldn’t do it,” JJ whimpers into Kie’s shoulder. Pope has never heard JJ sound like that, didn’t know it was possible.

JJ sobs, his body bouncing as he clutches Kie, pressing his face against her skin and it glows under the neon lights.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Pope’s heart is dissolving into dust and he wants to throw up or scream or cry but he’s frozen and JJ is sobbing. The scene spins around his vision like he’s standing in the center of a merry-go-round.

“I was gonna kill him,” JJ cries, his voice high and broken and Pope feels his shoulders fall. JJ has never sounded so scared and Pope has had enough. He still can’t find any words to say. JJ lifts his head for just a second and as soon as his eyes meet Pope’s, Pope climbs into the hot tub.

He wraps his arms around JJ, around Kie too. JJ melts against his arms and drop the bottle, his hands both latching onto Pope’s arms.

“I just wanna do the right thing.”

Pope knows. Pope knows enough about JJ to know that his heart is always in the right place.

“I know,” Kie coos softly, voice high and filled with tears too. Pope tightens his hold on both of them because he doesn’t have the voice to speak but he can hold them as close and as tightly as he can. “I know.”

Pope holds them for a while. JJ sobs and sobs until Pope is freezing and JJ’s breath is filled with hiccups and snot and Pope refuses to let go. No more space, he’s not making that mistake again. Eventually, Kie unwraps her arms from JJ and shuts off the disco mode lights. Pope has hugged JJ to his chest—who has stopped sobbing but Pope can’t tell if he’s still crying since he’s refusing to meet either of their eyes. Pope gets it. Vulnerability is hard and JJ basically just shattered. He lets Pope hold him. Pope is grateful for that.

Kie motions her head to the house and Pope nods in agreement. She puts a hand on JJ’s back and the two help JJ out of the hot tub and stumble into the house. JJ won’t lookup from the ground and his fingers are still wrapped around Pope’s arm. He sniffles and stumbles over his feet, water dripping in a long trail behind them as they walk through the porch and into the house. Kie leads them both to the bathroom and takes a towel out of the linen closet. Pope is amazed that John B actually had a clean towel left after weeks of living in his own.

Now’s not the time to think about John B, though. Now is the time to help JJ. Kie draws the towel over JJ’s shoulders and looks to Pope with inquisitive eyes. Pope doesn’t know what she’s trying to ask. She puts a hand on JJ’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna get you some dry clothes, okay?”

JJ doesn’t say anything. He is lost in Pope’s arms but it’s drastically colder than the hot tub and they’re all covered in goosebumps. Pope gives Kie a nod and she dashes off to John B’s room to find some clothes. When she returns, JJ has still made no effort to separate himself from Pope.

“Do you want us to give you some space?” Pope asks, the first words he’s been able to get out. And it feels like such a stupid question because he never wants to give JJ space again in his life.

“Can you stay?” he asks, voice raspy and quiet. “Just turn around?”

“Of course.”

As much as he doesn’t want to, Pope let’s go if JJ and he and Kie turn around so they’re both facing the door. JJ’s shorts drop to the floor in a wet thump and Pope can hear JJ shuffling around until he finally tell them they can turn around.

It’s the first time Pope has seen JJ’s eyes since he started to cry. It’s fucking devastating. Pope and Kie are both soaking wet and Kie has brought some of John B’s clothes for them both so they take turns looking away. JJ reaches out for Pope’s hand when their backs are turned to give Kie privacy. Pope grips as tightly at he can, glad to be holding onto JJ again. Kie finishes and they’re all making their way out of the tiny bathroom. Nobody is saying much of anything but JJ keeps his hand in Pope’s.

“What can we do to help you right now?” Kie asks as they sit down on the couches in the living room. JJ sits right next to Pope, no space between them at all. Kie is on the adjacent couch, sitting in the edge and leaning towards JJ. “Do you want something to eat? Watch a movie? Just tell us what we can do.”

JJ leans against Pope slightly, his wet hair brushing against Pope’s skin but he’s getting warmer and he’s not shaking or crying anymore. He still smells like alcohol, but Pope doesn’t think he’s drunk anymore.

“JJ?” Kie asks, her voice high again and Pope can tell she’s worried. She bites down on her nails and Pope wraps his free arm around JJ’s shoulders because all night JJ has been reacting particularly well to touch and it’s all Pope can think to do.

Pope wants to say it’s going to be okay. It won’t be though, probably, so he doesn’t. He wants to come up with something funny or distracting or anything he can to make JJ laugh or smile for a moment. He wants to find wherever John B is and bring him home because JJ would smile right now if John B wanted him too. Pope wishes he had that strong of an effect of JJ.

“I dunno,” JJ mumbles, leaning into Pope’s touch even more. “Just sit here with me.”

Pope can do that. He can definitely do that. They sit for a few minutes, JJ and Pope clinging to each other and Kie watching them anxiously. At some point she turns on the tv and brings them all blankets. She fills up a glass of water for JJ but hands it to Pope. She doesn’t fall asleep until JJ has already fallen asleep in Pope’s arms—as if her body couldn’t physically relax until she knew JJ was okay. Pope gets that.

He doesn’t fall asleep as quickly, his brain too overwhelmed. Because Pope notices things. He notices his friends and their quirks and he notices so much about JJ. But he never noticed this.

How had he never noticed this?

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 171

Chapter Summary - Tom and Danielle have an amorous morning after a very amorous night only to receive a scolding from Luke and a worried phone call from Sarah. Smut to start the chapter. 

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Tom clenched his teeth together, trying to stave off his orgasm just a little longer, but he failed. Danielle's body just felt too good around his and a moment later, his hot breath panting against her neck and shoulder, he groaned gutturally as he filled her, his hips stilling as his body begged to be as deep-seated in her as possible. He wanted to relax after his exertion but all he could think of was Danielle not getting to feel as he had, so he gently pulled himself out of her and brought his hand to her now seed-filled core, his fingers quickly continuing what he had startled.

He focused not only on her pleasure but on her face, the blissful look as she bit her lower lip and arched her back as she came closer to her peak. When she began to shudder slightly, he intensified his efforts, her fingers gripping his arm as she gasped.

“Come on, Darling.” He encouraged. “I can see you're nearly there.”

“Tom.” Her voice was almost pleading. When he stroked her expertly, long having learnt her more sensitive spots, she clenched her eyes shut, her bottom lip at risk of being punctured and fell over the edge of her pleasure. He continued his ministration into she pulled him to her, kissing him passionately as she panted slightly. “I fucking love you.” She smiled.

Tom chuckled against her lips. “I fucking love you too.” he pulled back slightly and lay to the side, rubbing his hand not covered in their combined releases through his hair. “Twice in less than twelve hours, not bad for a man my age.”

Danielle laughed in response. “Because you're practically geriatric, aren't you?” She groaned slightly. “I don't know what hurts more, my muscles from that it or my head.”

Tom had to agree. “Why did you allow me to drink so much?”

“You're a fully grown man, I'm not going to dictate what you can and can't do. Have some personal accountability. Besides, I was in no fit state to tell you what to do, I was fairly drunk too.” She rubbed her temples. “How angry is Luke?” She asked worriedly.

Tom checked his phone, sure enough, there was a message, or several, from Luke. He scanned through them. “I've made him madder in the past. Long story short, we're bold and he's not paid enough to deal with me.”

Danielle turned over and got comfortable again. “I've maintained that since the beginning.”

“He asked what size jeans are you, he will have some clothes sent over for us so we don't embarrass ourselves wearing our clothes from last night.”

“Can't we just get a cab from the back entrance?” Danielle suggested. “I can't believe we ended up getting a room in the hotel, I mean really; we live about four miles from here. You and whiskey are a terrible combination.”

Tom laughed, thinking of his amorous attention to her the night before. “Not helped in any manner by your choice of dress, or underwear, or the fact you were giving me that look all night.”

“And what look are your referring to, dare I ask?” Danielle scoffed.

“The ‘I’d rather see you without that suit on’, look.”

“Do you think that's what I was thinking? What makes you so sure? What's not to say I wasn't thinking 'Why is he wearing that ugly fucking suit, I can't believe I am being embarrassed like this’?” she asked with a grin.

“Because I know that look when you find me sexy.” He leant over her again, kissing her. “You know you found me sexy. And I know you did because you were staring at my ass and when you started on the whiskey, your hand was on it as much as mine were in yours.”

Danielle could only concede it was true. “We were worse than two horny teenagers.” She recalled Luke pulling Tom aside and all but throwing a keycard at him. A moment later, a pleased-looking Tom went to retrieve her and with the quickest of goodbyes to Luke, who was partially ushering them out the door of the function room the party was being hosted in, and they headed to the room they were now in the same building, having had fun the night before, somewhat tipsy to drunk, neither truly thinking of anything bar the fact they were both feeling incredibly amorous, and again not ten minutes ago. “I may regret nothing.” She leant up and kissed him again. “Tom…”

“I am not able that quickly, sadly.”

Danielle huffed a small laugh. “Actually, I was going to ask you if Luke got a deal with breakfast too or are we going to have to pay extra for that.” Tom laughed into her lips. “I am starving.”

“Full English?”

“Extra toast. And tea, loads of tea.”

“I will order that, you get a shower.” Tom kissed her again, only this time, nipping her lower lip slightly as he did.

“Am I that bad?”

“No, I just do not want to be stuck trying to force myself from this bed. Check-out is twelve and it is getting close to ten, so if we don’t get going soon, we’ll have no breakfast, be annoying the staff and at more risk of being seen.”

Danielle sighed. “Sadly, that is true. Hopefully, my food will be here when I get out. I have money in my purse, tip the waiter or waitress that brings our food.”

Tom nodded, grateful that she had brought her purse because the cab driver would need to be paid too. He watched her go into the bathroom, very much focusing on her naked ass as she went and thanking whatever grace had given him the woman he loved so much before he looked at his phone again and apologised to Luke once more for the night before and thanked him for his idea, stating playfully that at least it was his fiancée, and not some random fling, something Luke always feared would get his clients, male and female, bad reputations. Tom chuckled at the “small mercies” reply Luke gave him.

He called for room service and gave their orders, and waited for it, grateful that though they had been liberal with their drinking the night before, they had not gone too far. His head was slightly hazy and his stomach was somewhat off, but he had been through far worse. He knew of more than one occasion where the idea of intimacy the next morning was not even remotely possible, then again, he never felt as he did with Danielle. No other woman had him think of the distant future with them like this, marriage, family, all of that, he had thought of it, but not with the anxious excitement of what would come like Danielle did. The idea of marrying her being a mere six months away, it excited him no end. Six months seemed like nothing. The six months since he had asked her had flown by, now they were halfway through the year they had decided to hold the engagement for and he could not wait.

The beep of his phone made him think Luke had something more to say, so he checked the screen. He could only see a few words and frowned before unlocking it and ringing his sister back. “Sarah?”

“Is Danielle there?”

“What’s going on?”

“Is Danielle there?” His older sister repeated.

“She’s in the shower, what happened?”

“Mum fell and hurt her wrist, I am trying to tell her she needs to go to the hospital to get it checked, but she’s ignoring me. She did it last night and I swear, Tom, it’s swollen and purple now and I really think she needs to go and she is being stubborn. I sent a picture to Elle to see what she would say but she didn’t reply.”

“She’ll be another minute or so. The shower is off now.”

“Fuck me!” Came an exclamation from the bathroom.

“I think she got your picture.” Tom looked around to notice that indeed, Danielle’s phone was missing. She exited the bathroom with a haphazardly strewn towel over herself. “Yep, she saw it.”

“Is that Sarah?” Danielle did not even wait for Tom to do anything more than a nod, she grabbed the phone off him and placed it to her ear. “Sarah, she needs to get to the hospital now.”

“I said that.”

“Tell her if she doesn’t go willingly, I will ring the damn ambulance myself and I swear, I will delay this wedding a year minimum if she argues.”

Tom leant back slightly, startled by the ferocity in his fiancée’s voice, but also worried about her threat to his mother. “Hey!”

She put her hand over the microphone. “We’d get married secretly elsewhere without her knowing, we just wouldn’t have the big day.” She promised.

Satisfied, Tom nodded slightly. “She’s serious, Sarah.” He called out.

“Now, Mum. Did you hear that? Danielle will hold a wedding strike…..she’s getting her coat.”

“Good, we need a few hours before we can head. We were drinking last night. Once it is safe for us to get on the road, we’ll head your way. Get her to keep her hand straight and don’t let her have any meds.”

“Is it bad?” Sarah asked worriedly.

“I don’t know, I don’t have an x-ray or a degree in medicine but when I worked the ambulance, that would definitely be a potential fracture, if not a very nasty break.”

“Mum, only you could do this, I swear. Yakov, Mum broke her wrist.” There was silence for a moment before Sarah spoke again, but it was clear she was not speaking into the phone. “Yeah, well Danielle thinks she could have and I trust her more than Google, so…we are going. We’ll be back later….I don’t know, they will be here tonight apparently.” Her voice came through the receiver side of the phone again clearly. “We’ll keep you posted. Let us know when you are on the road.”

“We will.” Danielle promised. A moment later, there was a knock on the floor. She handed the phone to Tom who rushed to the bathroom and put on her dress quickly from the night before, hoping the room was not too obvious as to their going’s on not too long ago. She gave the waitress a ten-pound tip and a polite smile, taking the tray off her at the door and thanking her, closing the door swiftly after.

She placed the tray on the bed and organised everything. A few minutes later, a slightly peaky looking Tom came out of the bathroom. “I am not going to be able to drive today. I am too old for this.”

Danielle handed him a mug of coffee, which he took immediately. “I think it will be at least six before I can trust myself behind a wheel, I’ll eat, hydrate and allow what alcohol is in my system to start processing, then I’ll see. We’ll see how things go. You’re Mam is going to be there ‘til late, so we will keep an eye on things. If it is broken, she’s in overnight.” She indicated to the food. “Eat up, we forgot the dogs haven’t been out the bathroom or anything.”

Fear filled Tom as he realised she was right. He walked over and began to eat, hoping the dogs would be able to hold it. “Cab?”

“When we are ready to go, they’ll have one in seconds in this part of town.” Danielle urged.

[seafoamchild]

June 4th

The other day me and Lora took Artie for a walk in the cat stroller which was funny. It was a beautiful day. I was sad, so she brought out her paints and I painted a California quail on a postcard. I sent it to Luke as a happy birthday card. Then I went on a walk with Sarah and we went to a bar and got free beers on the patio. I talked about how Luke so often made me feel like my emotions/feelings were invalid and I was on my own when it came to dealing with them. She told me a relationship should feel like being on a team. Like you support each other and work through shit together, not on your own.

I guess that's a good realization to have. I feel like Luke wasn't on my team. Like I think what he wanted out of a relationship was just the fun things - quality time, adventures, good conversation, good sex. When it came to actually supporting each other, he just didn't know how to deal with it. Like when I'm sad or upset or depressed, I should be able to go to my partner and be like "Hey I'm really upset, can you help me? Can you tell me it's going to be okay? Can you listen to me and empathize with how I'm feeling?" And a good partner should be able to do those things. But there were too many times when Luke made me feel like I was on my own and it was 100% my responsibility to figure out how to feel better.

I talked to Liz about this at length last night because she's the one who understands the most, since she's been through it so many times and she's so smart and compassionate. But I think what it comes down to is that we were in an anxious avoidant trap. I'm anxious and I constantly want to get closer and more intimate, but I've done a lot of work on myself so I'm able to hold back and tone it down. Like when I knew he needed space, I gave him space even though it made me feel super anxious. So he was essentially getting his needs met in the relationship because I was doing most of the work. But as soon as I came to him with my needs, I think the alarm bells started going off for him like "omg she's depending on me, she needs too much from me, she should be able to just take care of herself". And even though he hurt me a lot, I still feel compassionate because I know he has issues of his own that he doesn't understand. Like it's sad that he never got validation or praise as a child and he learned to shut out emotions entirely. Like he learned that you should never depend on anyone emotionally, that it's a weakness and you need to be self reliant and preserve your independence at all costs. I don't think he knows what to do with emotions in general because he was never given the tools to do so. And again, he's younger than me and I think no one has ever brought these things up to him.

I sent him a long message yesterday wishing him a happy birthday and safe travels on his roadtrip, and saying that I'm looking forward to giving friendship a shot after we take a month of space from each other. I also sent him some podcasts to listen to about anxious attachment, avoidant attachment, and the anxious avoidant trap. I thought the podcasts were really compassionate and informative, like pointing out that people have these issues because it's what they learned as a child, and that they're just trying to keep themselves safe in the only way they know how. But it also goes into detail about the ways in which their behaviors can be toxic in relationships. I think he will listen to them for sure, but I'll be really anxious to hear what he thinks and to what extent he'll be able to recognize the avoidant traits in himself and that it's not healthy to emotionally cut off other people and to view any kind of need or dependence as a threat. I hope he'll surprise me with some self-reflection and accountability - I have a feeling he might, actually.

At the end of the day I know he never intended to hurt me and he really was trying to show me love in the only way he knew how, but he's not yet able to recognize the ways in which his own beliefs and behaviors are unhealthy. I hope he's able to come to some realizations on his own during his roadtrip, and I hope the podcasts I sent him can bring some of his issues to light. I love him as a person and it's in my nature to want to help him and fix everything for him, but I recognize he needs to do that on his own and I can't keep giving and giving and giving at the expense of my own sanity.

I'm thankful that I actually do have a lot of friends who love me and listen to me. Lora, Jacii, Alex, Sarah, and Liz have helped me so much and I feel so lucky to have that support. I'm doing okay.

[encephalonfatigue]

advent reflection #1: nowhere to lay his head

And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have dens, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” (Luke 9:58) 

The old Nativity tableau vivant of a Jewish peasant family shacked up next to a manger among assorted livestock is a familiar one this time of year. My neighbour has a beautiful inflatable nativity scene (complete with cute little sheep) that distends and glows every evening. Among the sparkling holiday lights though, I find that it’s sometimes easy to forget this Nativity scene is a scene of homelessness, and something as jarring as homelessness and destitution sits unsettlingly at the heart of Advent. Incarnation is the arrival of a Messiah to a people oppressed by an Empire, who arrives as a homeless person to join the unhoused in their homelessness. In so many ways homelessness is a type of dispossession. But this Messiah did not come so that the unhoused remain homeless, but rather that they find a home in the future radically egalitarian ‘kindom of God’. But as we live within this present reality of injustice, the manger outside the inn is where the Divine is made manifest in this narrative. This site of indignity and unjustifiable poverty is what demands our spiritual attention. 

There’s ‘no place’ in the inn for this young Jewish family, just like there’s ‘no place’ for those who cannot afford to pay their rent here in our cities today. Daily all across Canadian cities, faceless landlord corporations are deploying police officers to evict poor families who cannot afford to make rent, through no fault of their own, but because they are treated as the flotsam of a capitalist economy functioning as intended under a global pandemic. These evicted tenants are like the ‘illegitimate’ and ‘dishonourable’ holy family who one might imagine could not afford to shell out the expenses for a clean dry place to lay their head down for the night. 

Under the decree of a census, Mary and Joseph must travel where the imperial bureaucracy demands, but expenses are externalized onto poor working people. And such censuses were acts of imperial domination for extracting wealth from the colonized of Judea. We see the radical tax resistance led by Judas of Galilee in 6 CE at this time urging Jews not to participate in the imperial Roman census. The movement of Jesus would become associated with such a spirit of revolt by people like Gamaliel, who explicitly compares Paul and his rabble-rousing comrades with the likes of Judas of Galilee in Acts 5. 

Yet this old dynamic of the powerful extracting wealth from common people still persists with us today. In this time of Advent, courageous organizers like Sarah Jama and Desmond Cole are being arrested and fined for occupying space on public property, demanding a public meeting with the Herodian municipal powers over evictions and the housing crisis. I say Herodian, because an eviction can effectively be a death sentence for some, especially this winter, and that is why anti-eviction protestors say municipal leaders have blood on their hands, as do landlord corporations and REITs (real-estate investment trusts). Anti-war activists of old used to say nuclear weapons not only killed when they were detonated, but extinguished life by way of all the food they removed from the hands and mouths of poor children where enormous government resources were diverted into creating weapons of mass destruction rather than meeting the basic needs of its citizens. It is not unreasonable for young people today to ask similar questions about how collectively pooled money is being spent on the police compared to goals like guaranteeing housing for all. The number of officers municipalities send for each eviction have a daily wage that could pay someone’s rent for multiple months.

The anti-fascist theologian and pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in an Advent sermon he gave on December 2, 1928, said that: 

“The celebration of Advent is only possible to those who are troubled in soul... the curse of homelessness... hangs heavily over the world... we see in many lands people dying of cold in wintry conditions. The plight of such people disturbs us within and amidst our enjoyment; a thousand eyes look at us and the evil haunts us. Poverty and distress throughout the world worries us, but it cannot be brushed away...” 

Bonhoeffer goes on to emphasize how Matthew 25 is central to the way any Christian is to observe Advent: 

“…we face the shocking reality. Jesus stands at the door and knocks. He asks for help in the form of a beggar, a down-and-out, a man in ragged clothes, someone who is sick, even a criminal in need of our love. He meets you in every person you encounter in need. So long as there are people around, Christ walks the earth as your neighbour, as the one through whom God calls to you, demands of you, makes claims upon you. That is the great seriousness of the Advent message and its great blessing. Christ stands at the door. He lives in the form of people around us. Will you therefore leave the door safely locked for your protection, or will you open the door for him? It may seem odd to us that we can see Jesus in so familiar a face. But that is what he said. Whoever refuses to take seriously this clear Advent message cannot talk of the coming of Christ into his heart. Whoever has not learned from the coming of Christ that we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, has not understood the meaning of his coming.” 

Christians cannot forget that at the heart of their faith tradition is a homeless Messiah. If Christians are to take Matthew 25 seriously as central to observing Advent, and living out a life of faith daily, the mass evictions unfolding since August of this year should be of unwavering importance. While affordable housing has been a severe issue over the past many years around the GTA, it is especially salient under the cloud of COVID-19. There are thousands of online eviction hearings scheduled in the coming few months, pumping out rulings like a factory with a cold brutality that is chilling. Just last week alone 2000 eviction hearings were held.

Alykhan Pabani has pointed out that the large majority of rental units in cities like Toronto are not owned by so-called mom and pop landlords, but are owned by real-estate investment trusts (REITs), which are faceless corporations that hire management companies as a barrier between them and their tenants, to make the extraction of wealth as painless as possible for them. There is a reason they want to keep at such a remove from their tenants who are faced with high and steeply climbing rents, and perpetually degrading building conditions with more wildlife roaming about hallways and through building crevices than a Christmas nativity scene. Just speak with tenants anywhere in Parkdale, or read reviews or forums for rental units online. There’s a reason tenant protestors call their landlords ‘slumlords’. 

Alykhan Pabani and Aliza Kassam were interviewed on the Red Life Podcast, and it was an extremely informative glimpse into the housing crisis that began well before this ongoing global pandemic. They speak of how city workers and police are deployed to tear down the homes of encampment dwellers on public land and how management companies and landlords like MetCap are conducting mass evictions during this pandemic. Before COVID, some 135,000 people faced homelessness every year in Canada. Some 47% of Torontonians are renters, making a significant portion of the population vulnerable to evictions. Before the pandemic around 10,000 people on any given night in Toronto could be found sleeping rough, without a roof over their head. All these figures are only getting worse as the full gravity of this pandemic under capitalism is being felt. Tents, which are people’s homes, are being destroyed by the City, and despite officials claiming there are shelter spaces available to hold people overnight, there have been documented cases showing otherwise. One can see echoes of the alienating Roman imperial bureaucracy of Jesus’ time controlling where poor people’s bodies must be at any given time, and letting them deal with the consequences of being unhoused.

As long as basic clean sanitary housing remains a commodity, and is not ensured as a human right, this tragedy will persist. We have the resources in this country to provide housing for everyone. There are extremely wealthy families that live within our borders, but it is their interests that ultimately get the final say in government. People need jobs. Labour can be directed towards building and maintaining affordable homes for everyone, but instead labour in our economy is directed wherever wealthy people decide it should be directed, often towards that which is most profitable, which frequently happens to misalign with that which is most useful for meeting basic human needs that cannot be justifiably ignored. 

And so when the knocking on the door of Advent arrives, it is the knock of a homeless Christ figure at our doorstep. It is not a matter of performing individual acts of generosity though. Simply letting someone into one’s house is radically generous, but it is not changing the fundamental structure of property relations, and who controls what, and who has what type of access to what. Everyone needs housing – a safe place that they can call their own. The knock of Advent is the cry of the tenant with nothing but lint in her pockets, demanding they not be evicted from their home. It is the painful groans of the Holy Spirit praying for a day of justice to come (in Romans 8). Part of Advent is, as Bonhoeffer said, “taking seriously, not [only] our own sufferings, but those of God in the world.” And doing so requires a commitment to faith – faith that another world is possible. Or as Arundhati Roy says, “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing." 

In a sermon Bonhoeffer gave on December 17, 1933, he speaks of this revolutionary spirit that found its way into the Magnificat: 

“This song of Mary's is the oldest Advent hymn. It is the most passionate, most vehement, one might almost say, most revolutionary Advent hymn ever sung. It is not the gentle, sweet, dreamy Mary that we so often see portrayed in pictures, but the passionate, powerful, proud, enthusiastic Mary, who speaks here. None of the sweet, sugary, or childish tones that we find so often in our Christmas hymns, but a hard, strong, uncompromising song of bringing down rulers from their thrones and humbling the lords of this world…” 

And so more than petty housing reforms, and stop-gap government measures to quiet the rowdy demands of tenants and encampment dwellers trying to survive the brutal winter cold, what we need more than any of that is a total restructuring of the political order. What Alykhan Pabani and Aliza Kassam are doing with Encampment Support Network and various tenant organizing projects (People’s Defense Toronto, Malton People’s Movement) is not only meeting the immediate material needs of their neighbours (providing food, sleeping bags, tents, protection from evictions, affordable rents, etc.) they are also spreading good news that another world is possible. And that it should be made a reality. That this kindom of justice and dignity for all should be on earth as it is in heaven. That it shouldn’t be the job of volunteers to be doing all these things while so many are jobless and desperate for work. The state should be guaranteeing jobs to anyone who wants one and meeting the sea of needs that exist out there. We need a radically different economy. That is what Mary so rightfully recognized in her Advent hymn. She sang all those centuries ago: 

“He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:51-53)

If we are to fill the hungry with good things, and to adequately house everyone, we have no choice, but to send the rich away empty, and that is what is knocking on our door this Advent. Another world. “On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing."

[yellowsugarwords]

Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Secrets Exposed”

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

8th February >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Friday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

    or 

Saint Jerome Emilian 

    or 

Saint Josephine Bakhita, Virgin.

Friday, Fourth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Hebrews 13:1-8

Jesus Christ is the same today as he was yesterday and will be for ever

Continue to love each other like brothers, and remember always to welcome strangers, for by doing this, some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Keep in mind those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; and those who are being badly treated, since you too are in the one body. Marriage is to be honoured by all, and marriages are to be kept undefiled, because fornicators and adulterers will come under God’s judgement. Put greed out of your lives and be content with whatever you have; God himself has said: I will not fail you or desert you, and so we can say with confidence: With the Lord to help me, I fear nothing: what can man do to me?

Remember your leaders, who preached the word of God to you, and as you reflect on the outcome of their lives, imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same today as he was yesterday and as he will be for ever.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 26(27):1,3,5,8-9

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

The Lord is my light and my help;

whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold of my life;

before whom shall I shrink?

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

Though an army encamp against me

my heart would not fear.

Though war break out against me

even then would I trust.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

For there he keeps me safe in his tent

in the day of evil.

He hides me in the shelter of his tent,

on a rock he sets me safe.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

It is your face, O Lord, that I seek;

hide not your face.

Dismiss not your servant in anger;

you have been my help.

R/ The Lord is my light and my help.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Luke 8:15

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed are those who,

with a noble and generous heart,

take the word of God to themselves

and yield a harvest through their perseverance.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 6:14-29

The beheading of John the Baptist

King Herod had heard about Jesus, since by now his name was well known. Some were saying, ‘John the Baptist has risen from the dead, and that is why miraculous powers are at work in him.’ Others said, ‘He is Elijah’; others again, ‘He is a prophet, like the prophets we used to have.’ But when Herod heard this he said, ‘It is John whose head I cut off; he has risen from the dead.’

Now it was this same Herod who had sent to have John arrested, and had him chained up in prison because of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife whom he had married. For John had told Herod, ‘It is against the law for you to have your brother’s wife.’ As for Herodias, she was furious with him and wanted to kill him; but she was not able to, because Herod was afraid of John, knowing him to be a good and holy man, and gave him his protection. When he had heard him speak he was greatly perplexed, and yet he liked to listen to him.

An opportunity came on Herod’s birthday when he gave a banquet for the nobles of his court, for his army officers and for the leading figures in Galilee. When the daughter of this same Herodias came in and danced, she delighted Herod and his guests; so the king said to the girl, ‘Ask me anything you like and I will give it you.’ And he swore her an oath, ‘I will give you anything you ask, even half my kingdom.’ She went out and said to her mother, ‘What shall I ask for?’ She replied, ‘The head of John the Baptist.’ The girl hurried straight back to the king and made her request, ‘I want you to give me John the Baptist’s head, here and now, on a dish.’ The king was deeply distressed but, thinking of the oaths he had sworn and of his guests, he was reluctant to break his word to her. So the king at once sent one of the bodyguard with orders to bring John’s head. The man went off and beheaded him in prison; then he brought the head on a dish and gave it to the girl, and the girl gave it to her mother. When John’s disciples heard about this, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

———————-

Saint Jerome Emilian

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Tobit 12:6-13

Bless God and utter his praise before all the living

Raphael took Tobit and his son Tobias aside and said, ‘Bless God, utter his praise before all the living for all the favours he has given you. Bless and extol his name. Proclaim before all men the deeds of God as they deserve, and never tire of giving him thanks. It is right to keep the secret of a king, yet right to reveal and publish the works of God. Thank him worthily. Do what is good, and no evil can befall you.

‘Prayer with fasting and alms with right conduct are better than riches with iniquity. Better to practise almsgiving than to hoard up gold. Almsgiving saves from death and purges every kind of sin. Those who give alms have their fill of days; those who commit sin and do evil, bring harm on themselves.

‘I am going to tell you the whole truth, hiding nothing from you. I have already told you that it is right to keep the secret of a king, yet right too to reveal in worthy fashion the works of God. So you must know that when you and Sarah were at prayer, it was I who offered your supplications before the glory of the Lord and who read them; so too when you were burying the dead. When you did not hesitate to get up and leave the table to go and bury a dead man, I was sent to test your faith, and at the same time God sent me to heal you and your daughter-in-law Sarah.’

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 33(34):2-11

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see that the Lord is good.

I will bless the Lord at all times,

his praise always on my lips;

in the Lord my soul shall make its boast.

The humble shall hear and be glad.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Glorify the Lord with me.

Together let us praise his name.

I sought the Lord and he answered me;

from all my terrors he set me free.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Look towards him and be radiant;

let your faces not be abashed.

This poor man called, the Lord heard him

and rescued him from all his distress.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see that the Lord is good.

The angel of the Lord is encamped

around those who revere him, to rescue them.

Taste and see that the Lord is good.

He is happy who seeks refuge in him.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Revere the Lord, you his saints.

They lack nothing, those who revere him.

Strong lions suffer want and go hungry

but those who seek the Lord lack no blessing.

R/ I will bless the Lord at all times.

or

R/ Taste and see that the Lord is good.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia!

How happy are the poor in spirit:

theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Mark 10:17-30

Give everything you own to the poor, and follow me

Jesus was setting out on a journey when a man ran up, knelt before him and put this question to him, ‘Good master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: You must not kill; You must not commit adultery; You must not steal; You must not bring false witness; You must not defraud; Honour your father and mother.’ And he said to him, ‘Master, I have kept all these from my earliest days.’ Jesus looked steadily at him and loved him, and he said, ‘There is one thing you lack. Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ But his face fell at these words and he went away sad, for he was a man of great wealth.

Jesus looked round and said to his disciples, ‘How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!’ The disciples were astounded by these words, but Jesus insisted, ‘My children,’ he said to them ‘how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.’ They were more astonished than ever. ‘In that case’ they said to one another ‘who can be saved?’ Jesus gazed at them. ‘For men’ he said ‘it is impossible, but not for God: because everything is possible for God.’

Peter took this up. ‘What about us?’ he asked him. ‘We have left everything and followed you.’ Jesus said, ‘I tell you solemnly, there is no one who has left house, brothers, sisters, father, children or land for my sake and for the sake of the gospel who will not be repaid a hundred times over, houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and land – not without persecutions – now in this present time and, in the world to come, eternal life.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

———————

Saint Josephine Bakhita, Virgin

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

1 Corinthians 7:25-35

The world as we know it is passing away

About remaining celibate, I have no directions from the Lord but give my own opinion as one who, by the Lord’s mercy, has stayed faithful. Well then, I believe that in these present times of stress this is right: that it is good for a man to stay as he is. If you are tied to a wife, do not look for freedom; if you are free of a wife, then do not look for one. But if you marry, it is no sin, and it is not a sin for a young girl to get married. They will have their troubles, though, in their married life, and I should like to spare you that.

Brothers, this is what I mean: our time is growing short. Those who have wives should live as though they had none, and those who mourn should live as though they had nothing to mourn for; those who are enjoying life should live as though there were nothing to laugh about; those whose life is buying things should live as though they had nothing of their own; and those who have to deal with the world should not become engrossed in it. I say this because the world as we know it is passing away.

I would like to see you free from all worry. An unmarried man can devote himself to the Lord’s affairs, all he need worry about is pleasing the Lord; but a married man has to bother about the world’s affairs and devote himself to pleasing his wife: he is torn two ways. In the same way an unmarried woman, like a young girl, can devote herself to the Lord’s affairs; all she need worry about is being holy in body and spirit. The married woman, on the other hand, has to worry about the world’s affairs and devote herself to pleasing her husband. I say this only to help you, not to put a halter round your necks, but simply to make sure that everything is as it should be, and that you give your undivided attention to the Lord.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 44(45):11-12,14-17

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words:

forget your own people and your father’s house.

So will the king desire your beauty:

He is your lord, pay homage to him.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

The daughter of the king is clothed with splendour,

her robes embroidered with pearls set in gold.

She is led to the king with her maiden companions.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

They are escorted amid gladness and joy;

they pass within the palace of the king.

Sons shall be yours in place of your fathers:

you will make them princes over all the earth.

R/ Listen, O daughter, give ear to my words.

Gospel Acclamation

Alleluia, alleluia!

This is the wise bridesmaid, whom the Lord found waiting;

at his coming, she went in with him to the wedding feast.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 25:1-13

The wise and foolish virgins

Jesus told this parable to his disciples: ‘The kingdom of heaven will be like this: Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were sensible: the foolish ones did take their lamps, but they brought no oil, whereas the sensible ones took flasks of oil as well as their lamps. The bridegroom was late, and they all grew drowsy and fell asleep. But at midnight there was a cry, “The bridegroom is here! Go out and meet him.” At this, all those bridesmaids woke up and trimmed their lamps, and the foolish ones said to the sensible ones, “Give us some of your oil: our lamps are going out.” But they replied, “There may not be enough for us and for you; you had better go to those who sell it and buy some for yourselves.” They had gone off to buy it when the bridegroom arrived. Those who were ready went in with him to the wedding hall and the door was closed. The other bridesmaids arrived later. “Lord, Lord,” they said “open the door for us.” But he replied, “I tell you solemnly, I do not know you.” So stay awake, because you do not know either the day or the hour.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.

[twdgfanfiction]

Chapter 26 - One Month Later

Weeks had passed since their failed attempt and the punishment was going strong. Whilst Omid and Lee were forced outside the walls to work on clearance, Lilly was put outside as well after a week, having been checked on her injuries from the crash by Jack. The day after the escape, Nick was put with Omid and Lee late, after being treated by Jack for injuries to his arms and hands, though the circumstances of those injuries remained unknown to anyone save the doctor. With those four outside, Ellie was returned to her old job in the paddock, although it must have been lonely out there without Alex helping her and keeping her company. Pity sat in his stomach, and he knew that the others weren't faring any better either.

Kristina, because of her amputated leg and injuries, was not able to be put outside with the rest of them, and instead was forced to work in the engineering with Nathan, helping him repair the van that the group had destroyed. Walter was shoved with Gabriel, mostly because he was older than everyone else and Carver was sure he would drop dead before doing any physical work. It was unfair. Walter was just as hardworking as the rest of them, but working in the kitchens would at least keep him safe from the walkers that were shuffling around in the undergrowth a distance from the group.

The exhaustion combined with the hunger seemed to have drained any fight from Lee, and he could see that everyone else was feeling the same, all of them trudging through the snow with fallen faces. The pen was no better for them. Over the weeks, it had been reinforced to prevent them desperately squeezing through the bars or climbing them, and the shutters were given a padlock that only Carver had the key to. It meant more hassle for the guards to locate it, but it also meant that the group couldn't convince anyone else to let them go. No one seemed to want to either, remembering Dwight's smeared body on the concrete. Without the ex-guards to help, trapped in the same place, they all were screwed without outside help.

Luke, who Lee didn't trust in ever since he met him, seemed to have been working hard to develop that trust. Seeing his determination, especially after all the shit they have been through, Lee could see a better friendship between them after a rocky start. The young man came into the Pen after being treated for his injuries, and he looked like death. Still, he believed that Carver wanted to trust Luke, he was his son after all, and allowed Luke to work with Oliver in the school upstairs. Jealousy twisted in his gut.

Instead, Joel, who replaced Tess for the day, watched them work hard, staring angrily at the ground as he fiddled with his rifle. The work was proving too much for even four people, and Lee breathed heavily, his lungs feeling heavy as he gulped in huge breaths. Glancing at his axe, he looked back at the huge trunk and something clicked, moving along the trunk whilst the others watched him in confusion. Without a word, he began chopping the trunk at set intervals, marking the rough bark to keep record of where he was.

With each set mark, he turned to the others and explained. "The tree is too big for even all of us to move, not in our current condition, so why not chop it up into smaller chunks to spread across all of us? We can move each chunk by ourselves, and clear up the trees faster than if we all tried tackling one big trunk."

"That's genius, Lee." Omid smiled, eager to have his workload made easier with the initiative idea, and moved to begin chopping the tree on the mark. Lee carried on with another one, whilst the others followed their leads and began chopping the tree into smaller chunks. When the first one was done, they used discarded rope to tie up the chunks, pulling them to roll the tree parts to the designated spot where the wood would be dumped. Slowly, the pile grew, and the group moved on to the next fallen tree.

No one wanted to talk about Sarah. Nick appeared depressed whenever she was brought up, and Lee knew that Christa and Omid treaded on eggshells around him. He already lost one child, and he's messed up caring for another one. In fact, over the weeks, no one seemed to even think of bringing her up, but her name was spoken as whispers all around the community; and unlike the harsh words for the group, most were scared for her safety, others giving up hope that she was even alive. With the thought of her intruding his mind, he pushed it back, unwilling to break with work to do, and he carried on chopping.

Whilst they got to work chopping up the trees that they had chopped down, Lee glanced over at the tired guard and tried to strike a conversation. "I thought it was Tess that was watching us today."

"She was sent out scouting this morning to find new survivors to bring here. Hopefully, she'll behave enough that they would actually want to go with her." Joel grumbled, leaning against the wall as he looked over the small area that had been cleared, noting the tree stumps removing. "When you finish with the trees, start on the stumps. We ain't got much daylight so I'd hurry about it."

The annoyed tone in his voice caused Lee to quieten, wondering how many bridges the group had burned with the people in the community. Whilst Joel was angered with their plan, as they were stealing medicine from an already depleted supply, some of the other guards were sympathetic for Alex and Dwight's deaths, feeling like it was hard for Kristina and Ellie, but also served as a warning that it was pointless to try and run. Lee feared that their failure not only hurt the group, but stopped anyone else from standing up to their leader. Even Jack was saddened by Alex's death, mostly from his position as the doctor, but he was relieved that Lee didn't rat on him when they got caught.

Over the weeks, the people glared at them, and Christa revealed how many gave her backhanded comments due to Carver giving her allowance because of her pregnancy, moving her from the group into another room inside the building with the onset of winter finally arriving, mostly due to Jack pestering him. She was allowed food that the rest of the community were given, and she remained in the greenhouse, working with Beth and Frank and Omid was thankful for that.

Whilst the labour caused his hands to redden and become painful, the weather wasn't terrible, though the fresh snow crunched under their feet that had fallen during the time. Lee cursed quietly as he nearly slipped, holding onto Omid as his foot hit a small puddle of ice, the smaller man grunting as the weight collided into him. Luckily, they righted themselves, and both continued work as Lilly tied the ropes to the chopped trunks in order to pull them. Holding one end, she passed it to Nick, quietly muttering to him. "Be careful, we don't want you hurting yourself further."

"I could say the same about you," he pointed out, referencing her injuries. "I thought you would be given more time considering your bruised ribs."

"If Alex wasn't given enough time to recover, what made you think I would?" she sighed, before she tried to deflect the worries. "Honestly, I'm fine. If anything, I think I got off lucky..."

With a fallen expression, she carried on work whilst Lee frowned deeply, recalling the incident in perfect clarity. The sight of the blood staining the ground, the screaming and crying, the smug look on Carver's face as he knew he won the battle. It all echoed in his head, and he would give anything to make it all stop. He was unable to sleep, to eat properly, it was just like those first few weeks after Clementine died. If this kept going on, Lee didn't know how long he could handle it for. It was driving him insane. Regardless, he kept working in hopes that it would push those intrusive thoughts out of his head, and he used the rope to pull the heavy chunks, his feet struggling to find a foothold in the fresh snow.

His breath clouded in front of his face as he exhaled. The temperature was definitely dropping, even with the sun rising through the wide mass of trees that made up the forest around them, the light illuminating the community behind them, and gave light to the dark undergrowth that had walkers shuffling in the distance. The ones that were killed over the weeks that Lee and his small group were working outside were piled up, being burned to prevent diseases from spreading from the rotting flesh, the pile of fresh walkers from that morning lying lifeless; milky eyes staring up at the sky. Staring at them, he could hear the groans and growls from the newly arrived walkers ready to feed, sighing under his breath at the thought of spending another day fighting for his life.

Turning around, he noticed that only a few walkers were coming towards them, most likely due to the noise from the falling trees ceasing whilst they finish with the area. Still, it was dangerous to constantly fight them and work, and Carver was not pleased with the progress they were making, causing his teeth to grit in anger at the thought of the bastard sitting in his office whilst they were risking their lives for a community they wanted to leave. With his axe in hand, he moved towards the walkers with Nick whilst Omid and Lilly stayed back, getting on with the work so that they could make some progress that day.

"I got your back." Nick comforted, holding his axe tightly as the walkers split to chase the different targets. Moving back, Lee raised his axe high above his head, waiting for the walker to come close before bringing it down hard, cracking through the top of the monster's skull and causing blood to splatter onto his already dirty jacket, the zipper pulled all the way to try and fight the oncoming cold. The walker fell down with the axe blade still embedded in its head, causing Lee to stumble with it from weakness.

Grunting, his head turned to the approaching walker, pulling his axe with all his strength, and spinning it around so that it connected with the side of the walker's neck, completely severing its head from its body, the head rolling along the ground before it came to a complete stop. With it weakly growling on the floor, its body falling with a dull thud without the brain to control it, the head was powerless as Lee stomped on it, causing the noises to cease as he attempted to wipe the blood from his shoe. The smell of the rotting flesh knocked him a disgusted groan, he turned around to see Nick having dispatched the walkers after him, his face relieved that Lee managed alright on his own.

"We better put these on the pile." He pointed out, before adding with an exhausted sigh. "I don't know how long I can keep doing this, Lee. Between the fighting every day and the lack of food, I'm ready to collapse."

"We'll get through this, Nick. We got to." Lee tried to motivate, but he understood the younger man's worries. He could feel the strength leaving him every day from poor food and overworked conditions, and he was worried what would happen if one day, he was unable to get up anymore.

Nick could only manage a weak smile, before he placed his axe on a stump and grabbed one arm of each walker, pulling them both towards the small pile ready for burning. Lee copied, grabbing the arms and tugging them, grunting with each pull as the weight proved harder than he thought, his stomach growling loudly as it begged for food. Pausing, he glanced out into the distance, wondering if Sarah was running into the same problem as they were, no food or water and running out of energy to keep going. He was worried, even moreso when his nightmares grew more frequent. Shaking his head, he carried on dragging the dead weights, stopping when he reached the pile and throwing the corpses on.

The exhaustion hit him, and he could only let out a loud exhale as his hands held onto his knees, Lee bent over tired whilst he tried to catch his breath back. From behind him, he listened as Lilly and Omid continued to drag the logs along the ground, the snow gathering in front of it and slowing it down, causing them to have to pull the rope harder. Quickly, he heard Lilly yell in pain, straightening himself and turning in time to see her stumbling backwards, her arm pressed against her chest as her face contorted in pain. Nick was by her side, letting her sit down on the stump as he started to address Joel. "She's in no shape to be out here! Look at her!"

"I can't break the rules for you guys, not anymore. I-I'm sorry." By the concerned look on his face, Lee could see that Joel wasn't being strict with them because he was angry with them, and he couldn't bring himself to hate the man for it. Instead, he grabbed the rope that Lilly had dropped and continued to pull the log to the pile.

As he was pulling it, he listened as Lilly tried to stop him. "Lee, it's fine. Just give me a minute."

"In our group, we look after our injured." He brushed off, snapping the sentence at Joel, feeling the want to lash out and rebel building up in him. People have died, Sarah was gone, and those that remained were being treated like garbage. He would not stop fighting against it until he was dead, feeling that he owed his group to try and save them. Nearing the pile, he undid the ropes and shuffled with it, the log rolling awkwardly on the ground, before pushing it onto its side in the pile, seeing it growing and growing.

In a way, he was proud of their work, and wondered if they would ever be realised by the community. Behind him, he could hear a sharp intake of breath, and Nick's voice quietly talking, panic laced in the words as he worried if the woman was going to become worse at any second. "I'm sorry, is it painful here?"

"More now that you're poking it. Just leave it, I'll be better after a break." Lilly snapped, a small pause occurring between everyone before she softly continued. "I'm sorry. I know you're only trying to help."

"It's nothing, but I don't think you can get much longer without someone coming along and spotting us. Joel is already getting into trouble letting this." He pointed out, helping her stand up before she finally nudged him away, straightening herself out on her own. It was a facade. She tried desperately to not let anyone see how much everyone was dragging her down, but Lee saw it happening before. She had the same look in her eyes; tired, downtrodden, it was almost like she was ready to give up and snap, just like before.

He didn't want to make things worse by getting strict on her, but after what she did the last time she snapped, all Lee wanted to do was make sure people were safe and Lilly didn't do anything she would regret. He would have to keep an eye on her. For now, he and Omid carried on with his work, and the other two finally got up to continue the tasks they had. It wasn't long before more of the undead stumbled onto the scene, drawn in by the sound of metal axes hitting the rough bark of the tree, the sounds only small but enough to catch the attention of the nearby corpses.

"Does this shit ever stop?!" Nick cursed, moving to Lee's side to get ready to clear them out, only for his face to drop when more appeared than he thought. "Jesus fucking Christ, look at them all. Why are there so many in this part of the forest, we aren't even close to the highway!"

"They could be coming from Parker's run, couple of miles up north from here." Lilly pointed out, stopping in her job as well as she saw the number of walkers trudging towards them. There had to be close to thirty of them, and there was no way they would be able to fight off all of them by themselves.

Turning to Joel, Lee's voice was urgent as he begged. "Joel, we can't keep going like this! We gotta go back inside or you gotta help us!"

Unsure, Joel moved his gaze from Lee to the walkers that were closing in on them, his face fallen when the gravity of the situation finally hit him. Raising his gun, he nodded at Lee as he obeyed. "Okay, I'll help…"

Grateful, Lee turned back to the walkers, his axe held tightly, and he saw everyone else readying themselves to fight. Few of the walkers closest to them were picked off by Joel's suppressed rifle, the sound of the gunshot quieter to avoid drawing anymore in, and he continued to pick stragglers off whilst the others dealt with the main group. Lee raised his axe high, watching a decaying corpse of a woman shambling towards him, her once blond hair all but fallen out, revealing a chunk of her head missing exposing the skull. She growled harshly, desperate for food, and her sounds quickly died out when Lee's axe embedded itself in the front of her skull, the blade piercing through the forehead and destroying the brain.

Pulling it out, he allowed the body to fall to the ground with a muffled thud, the snow stained a disgusting brownish red colour from the congealed blood. The others around him were faring just as well, Omid stopping a walker from getting too close to Lee by hitting it in the neck with his axe, causing it to fall over. Still not dead however, it weakly tried to get up, and was stopped when Lee threw his axe into its head with the strength he could muster. Blood and brain matter oozed out of the hole in its head, and he winced in disgust as more of its group descended down on them.

Nick and Lilly were standing close to each other, making sure that they had the others back, and the walkers were slowly reduced to corpses littering the ground, the smell proving too much for Nick as he finally vomited, the others moving towards him to make sure he was alright. By his side, Omid asked him. "You alright, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just…. You never get used to that smell." He explained, staring down at the range of bodies on the snow-covered forest floor. "We better get these moved. Don't want anyone tripping over them."

"Joel," Lilly continued, turning towards the guard with a faint smile. "Thank you for helping us."

"What gentlemen would I be if I let a pretty lady get eaten?" he snarked in a deadpan voice, rubbing the back of his neck as he added. "Anyway, I hope Carver doesn't realise…"

"What, that he's an asshole?" Nick snapped, bitter towards their leader. Joel let out a short laugh to that, before composing himself again and returned to his spot leaning against the wall, watching as Lee and the others went on to pull the bodies to the pile. Whilst dragging one of the ones that he killed, he stared down at the frozen face, wondering if any were once people who lived here, or if anyone knew them. The walkers could have come from towns and cities along the highway, and wandered down here. He couldn't help but think of the lives they had before all this started, and he realised just how easy it was to forget that they were once humans themselves. Living, breathing, and could once feel.

Remembering Macon, all those corpses on the streets, and he couldn't stop the pictures of his brother's body trapped under a fallen lamppost, his neck torn open from the blows he gave him with the axe he found. His parents could still have been walking around those streets whilst he was standing there, staring at the dead body, and he hoped that it was the opposite. He hoped that they were resting in peace, just like Bud.

"Lee… are you okay?" a soft voice called out, causing him to snap out of his thoughts and notice that whilst he was thinking, he was just standing there staring at the body. Turning his head, he saw Lilly standing there, a worried expression on her face.

"I was just thinking of Macon." He admitted, continuing to drag the body. "Just looking at these bodies. It makes me wonder if my parents are still there, wandering the streets."

"Your parents were in Macon? Well, did you see them during your runs with Kenny?" she asked, hopeful that at least someone from Lee's past could still be alive.

Lee didn't reply. Instead, he grunted as he lifted the body, throwing it on the pile before moving to grab the next one. Slowly, he confessed. "The drug store we held up in those first few days, you remember it?"

"Yeah… what about it?" Lilly asked, her voice slow as she started to distrust where the conversation was going. He could tell that she was piecing the bits together, Lilly was not stupid, and he decided to give her the final piece to make her see.

"It was my parent's drug store. The bodies your dad hauled out, that was them." That was when Lilly's face fell, and her eyes casted downwards as Lee finished his sentence. It still pained him to remember them, they didn't depart on the best of terms, and that would always be one of his biggest regrets.

After a long pause, he listened as she apologized. "I didn't know. I mean, I could guess it bothered you when I told you back then, but I took your word for it. I just thought they were close friends to you. I'm sorry, Lee."

"Well, they're gone. I wish things were different, but at least I know they aren't suffering. The same can be said for Larry." He watched as she sadly nodded, adding with a soft tone. "He was an asshole, but I know that he loved you more than anything else."

"Yeah, I know." With that, she walked away from him, grabbing another corpse and carrying on with dragging them. His friends working around him, Lee glanced through the thick foliage and trees, trying to think of a way to help them do their jobs without walkers appearing every five minutes because of the noise. That's when it hit him. Noise. Walkers couldn't see very well, so they had to rely on their sense of smell and hearing.

His mind was focused on that piece of information, and he knew that once he was back in the Pen tonight, he would relay what he thought of back to the group, hopefully they would be able to build it up. Until then, he continued with his work, cutting the trees into smaller parts, and went on to begin removing the stumps when the trees from that area were all ready for use. By the time the sun was setting once more, the group was exhausted, Lee feeling like he could lie down and sleep through the rest of the winter. The sky grew cloudy over the day, and fresh snow was falling down in small balls of whiteness, covering the footsteps and the blood splatters from their work as if they were never there, and the temperature dropped significantly.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Lee shivered as they walked down the trail to the main entrance, glancing around at the guards that were keeping watch on the gates, their eyes trained on the group. Staring straight ahead again, he ignored how the mall loomed over them, an imposing air about it that he didn't know before, and he could have sworn that he saw someone looking down at them from the first floor windows. Looking up, he saw no one. None of his group made a comment on it, instead walking through the snow as they tried to stop the cold from biting at them, Nick faring the worst as his thin sleeves offered little protection from the frost.

Finally, they entered the main building, everyone visibly relieved to be out of the cold, but Lee didn't give any thought to it when he spotted Beth making a beeline straight for them. Staring at her, he said nothing as she stared at Omid, a sweet smile on her face as she cheerfully explained. "Christa asked me to give this to you."

Handing out a note, Joel immediately snapped at her whilst Omid took it, looking over what it said as he chided her. "You know it's gonna look wrong to the others if we're passing notes to this group, what are you thinking?!"

"It's a note from a pregnant lady to her boyfriend, it;'s hardly gonna be a detailed escape plan with map included." Beth brushed off, an annoyed look on her face as she carried on. "Jesus Christ, Joel, where's your sympathy?"

"It went when they stole medicine. Did you forget Kaiya needs that medicine, and every other goddamn person in our community because winter is here?! So don't give me that bullshit about sympathy when these guys never gave any for the people they were stealing from!" The sudden ferocity in his voice caught the others off guard, and Lee saw Nick growing angry with the accusations.

"You think we didn't care about the people when we stole those drugs?! We were trying to get away because that fucker in his office upstairs is responsible for my mom, Uncle Pete and all my friends' deaths!" he accused, not caring as more people gathered around when they heard the yelling. Lee looked around, knowing that something was going to go down if he didn't intervene and calm his friend down, and moved as Joel started to close the distance between him and Nick.

"So what, you act like that because you lost your family? I can give you at least twenty other people who have gone through the same thing, and they don't steal shit that others need!" he snapped, jabbing Nick in the chest as he added. "Maybe it's time you grow the fuck up, Nick, 'cause the world isn't gonna give a damn whether you're struggling or not!"

"Fuck you!" With that, Nick threw a punch at the guard, and at the same time Lee ran forward to stop it. Joel moved backwards quickly to avoid the blow, and instead the fist connected Lee's mouth, the force behind it snapping his head backwards as he stumbled backwards. His lip split from the blow, the feeling of blood flowing down his lips and dripping off his chin, some slipping into his mouth as he yelled, the horrible tang of copper on his tongue making him want to spit it out.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nick!" Beth yelled, immediately by Lee's side as Lilly pulled Nick back, getting in between him and Joel to prevent any fighting, the former shocked from what he did. Checking his face, he could clearly see her lips pulled into a deep frown, her eyes narrowed at the sight as she looked behind her, her voice sharp as she snapped at him. "You fucking gave him a split lip!"

"Shit, man, I'm sorry!" Nick apologized, trying to get to Lee but was prevented by Lilly, who kept him back with a stern look.

"You've done enough." Turning to Beth and Lee, she quietly asked her. "Does he need to go see Jack?"

"No, it's just a small cut. Here." Pulling a rag from her pocket, she dabbed the cut, adding when she saw his wary look. "Don't worry, I grabbed this from my dresser in case I cut myself on the broken bucket handle again. It's clean."

Nodding, he allowed her to finish up cleaning his face, watching as she backed away with the rag stained in blood. With that, she turned to Joel and Nick, and tried to calm the situation down with the injured party taken cared of. "We can't change what we've done, guys, but I know that beating seven bells out of each other is not gonna help things around here. We're in a dilemma with medicine, so maybe it wasn't intelligent to steal it, but we gotta know that these people are just scared, like the rest of us."

A sigh followed her lecture, and she just shook her head with a defeated order. "Just get them to the Pen, Joel. Dinner's almost ready."

"Fine." He grumbled, gesturing for the group to continue walking. Lee followed after them, sparing a glance at Beth whilst he was walking away, seeing her standing there with a frustrated look on her face, before Frank walked up behind her and, with an arm around her shoulders, guided her away to go and get dinner. Looking back ahead, Lee watched as the shutters into the Pen came into view, guards standing in front of it with bored expression, obviously wanting to be anywhere but there.

Spotting the group coming towards them, their expressions changed, and they glared darkly at them whilst Joel paused, waiting as one of them moved to the shutters, opening it up silently and kept it up as he nodded for the group to enter. Slowly, they did one by one, none of them even looking at the guard as they trudged inside, except for Lee. Staring him down, he watched as Joel's fierce resolve faltered slightly as he saw the injuries on his face, a little trickle of blood dripping down. After a moment, he just sighed. "Come on, Lee. Don't make this any harder than it is."

Without a word, Lee obeyed, and walked into the Pen whilst Joel closed it again, the sound of him locking it echoing through the open space. Breathing in, Lee closed his eyes, letting go of his breath, and yet it did nothing to calm his twisting stomach. He was starving. Everyone was. Staring up at the reinforced fence, he wondered if there was any chance of scaling it and just running, before he spotted the barbed wire at the top, the small spikes warding off any attempts. Ignoring it, his gaze shifted over when he heard laughing, spotting Ellie and Walter reading by the campfire whilst Luke sat back in his chair, an arm draped over his abdomen as he listened with a smile.

He didn't know what book they were reading, but it seemed to have everyone in good spirits. Omid sat down beside Ellie, joining in when they read the lines in silly voices, and it caused Nick and Luke to laugh loudly whilst Lilly smiled, a short chuckle coming from her. Standing there, he couldn't help but smile warmly at the group getting on with each other, until he noticed someone was missing from the group. His eyes scanned the area, and he spotted Kristina lounging on one of the shelves, staring at something in her hands that was blocked from his view. Glancing at the group one more time, he walked slowly over to the lonely woman.

She didn't notice him even when he reached her side, instead staring at what was a box with a note attached to it. Confused, he stood there as she finally addressed his presence. "This was found on Dwight's body. One of the guards, she… she found it on him and gave it to me, seeing no point in Carver taking it."

Turning it around in her hand, she lifted the note and began to read it. "Kristina, cara mia, ti amo più di ogni altra cosa al mondo, mi vuoi sposarmi?"

"Wow, what does it mean?" he asked, not understanding the language.

"'Will you marry me?'" She explained, her shoulders slumped and her eyes almost unfocused, almost like she was staring a long distance into the piece of paper. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, her breathing deep as she tried to calm herself down, before letting go of the note as she sighed deeply. "Dwight didn't know Italian before he met me, but he wanted to learn. Made it easier to talk to my father, he said. I guess… he finally wanted to be together properly when we escaped. Oh, Dwight."

She brought the box to her lips, giving it a short kiss as she whispered into it. "Riposa in pace, mi amore."

Lee felt pity for the young woman, placing his hand on her shoulder and offering her a weak smile when she looked up at him, unsure on what else to say to comfort her. Glancing down at the box again, she moved a stray hair from the front of her face, keeping it behind her ear, and he knew that he had to help her think of something else, at least for now to keep her from getting too down.

"I take it your family came from Italy?" he asked, wanting to bring her thoughts from her boyfriend. "Did you grow up there?"

"No, my father came to America in the 50s. He met my mother there, and he had me along with my two brothers." She explained, a soft smile on her face as she gazed into the distance. "I only visited Italy to see my grandparents and family. Once, I brought Dwight with me, and my grandmother had him in her clutches for the whole trip. We even had to sleep in different beds."

She laughed at Lee's confused expression. "Come on, Lee. You gotta know how religious Italian families are. Grandmother wanted us to tie the knot before we did anything. I guess she'd have a heart attack if she saw us whilst we were here."

"That's too much information, but she sounds just like my grandmother." Lee reminisced, chuckling deeply as he explained further. "She was a big woman, and very religious herself. Her and my wife never saw eye to eye."

"You were married?" Kristina asked, curious about his past. "Was it nice?"

"Yeah, it was, but we haven't talked for a while, even before all this start. I don't know if she's even still alive." He felt sadness at the thought, wondering where his wife was.

Kristina watched him with a sympathetic look, before her head turned to the sudden sound of the shutters opening, Lee following her movement as he saw Gabriel coming through with a trolley, Joel and another two guards coming in with their guns ready. Slowly, he stood up, seeing if Kristina needed help with obvious discomfort on her face. Raising her hand to stop him, he backed away instead, walking over with the rest of the group to get their dinner, his stomach growling in want. Reaching the trolley, they all waited in silence as Gabriel grabbed the plates that were sitting on top, passing them out to everyone with a grim look on his face, obviously not wanting to be there anymore than they did.

Nick grabbed the first plate and quickly began to demolish the food on it, the others taking theirs whilst Lee just stood there, finally grabbing his own as he stared down at the food. It wasn't much, just a piece of bread and a cup of water that was given to wash it down. His stomach growled louder in response, not caring what it was as long as it stopped the painful twisting in his gut. Picking up the bread, he bit into it, wincing as it felt as hard as rocks.

"I'm sorry about this, guys." Gabriel apologized, glancing down at his trolley as he added. "There wasn't much else to give you tonight."

"Don't apologize to them, Gabe." One of the guards ordered, glaring at the group as she snapped. "They deserve what they get."

The other guard seemed to not think the same way as his companion, sharing a look with Joel, the latter just ignoring it and waited for Gabriel to finish his round. No one answered the accusation. Instead, Lee just continued to eat, trying his best to stop his blood from boiling at the harsh words. His eyes shifted to the rest of his group; spotting Ellie staring down at the floor, her hand crunching the plastic cup that was empty, and he knew that she was ready to explode. Gabriel saw this as well, taking the cup away from her, and gestured for everyone else to do so. Quickly, they did and he exited the Pen, eager to escape the tense situation with the guards following after him.

Standing there, Joel just gave them a look before closing the shutters once more. Left alone, the group decided to get ready for the night; Nick rubbing the back of his head as he yawned, with Luke beside him whispering words that Lee couldn't make out, whilst Walter glanced at Ellie sympathetically, before he too retired for the night, bidding goodnight to Lilly and Omid as they were already in their beds. Kristina stood by Ellie, moving to place a hand on her shoulder only for it to be shook off violently, the younger of the two just staring at the former guard with a defeated look. Shaking her head, Ellie walked away to go to bed, leaving Kristina standing there as she addressed Lee. "She's losing it, Lee. After Alex dying, and everyone turning against us, I don't think it's gonna end well."

"I know, but what can we do to help her? We aren't in the best position ourselves." He pointed out, feeling helpless to do anything for his friends.

Folding her arms, Kristina thought for a moment before humming. "I don't know. For now, we better get some sleep. See you in the morning."

Watching her go back to her bed, Lee frowned deeply, his voice quiet as he replied. "Night, Kristina."

[evajrobinsontx]

You Owe It to Yourself to Give Fewer Shits

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The best lesson I committed to learning last year was to give fewer shits.

I don’t mean “give fewer shits” in a live with reckless abandon or do whatever you want without regard to how it will affect you or others selfish, and stupid, sort of way. I mean “give fewer shits” in the I’m going to do my best at what’s important to me; I’m going to try new things; I’m not going to be afraid to take chances responsible and pragmatic sense of the phrase.

Though it was tough at times, the more I actively practiced this mentality, the greater the benefits were, including less stress which was a welcomed side effect.

An example of me restraining a shit that had previously been distributed: I finally wrote Lift Like a Girl: Be More, Not Less. Creating that book was something I’d wanted to do for a couple years, but instead I gave a shit about a possible negative reception and let that deter me from getting it in your hands.

The “shits” I allowed to hold me back: What if it isn’t good enough? What if I don’t convey the most important messages correctly? What if it gets bad reviews?

Those questions loomed over me, and kept me from writing the book until I decided to turn off the shit-giving tap and stopped thinking about the potential bad things that could happen. I wrote the best book I could, for those who would most benefit from the message.

Do You Give Too Many Shits?

More specifically, do you give too many shits to the point it negatively affects your life? Mull over that question for a moment.

Think about it: we let the shit-giving what-ifs hold us back. We don’t take chances — we don’t ask out that guy or that girl because, heaven forbid, they turn us down and we feel like an idiot in front of the onlookers who witness the rejection.

We don’t try that fun-looking activity because what if we completely suck at it and other people notice our epic fail?

We don’t challenge ourselves to learn a new hobby because we declare to be the ultimate “slow learner” and our painfully sluggish progress will be embarrassing.

We give too many shits about what someone else may think, and we don’t do what we want to do. Or, we give too many shits about not being the best because we demand nothing but perfection from ourselves. We think that — doing nothing — is the safe choice.

But it’s not. Giving too many shits keeps us from creating wonderful things. Giving too many shits keeps us from making beautiful memories. Giving too many shits stunts our growth. Giving too many shits prevents us from achieving our goals. Giving too many shits creates malnourished souls, depleted from a lack of rich experiences. Giving too many shits leads to regrets as we face our inevitable mortality in later years when we ask in amazement, “Why did I care so much about what other people think? Why did I have unreasonable expectations? Why didn’t I just do what was important to me? Why didn’t I at least try?”

Give shits too often and the void that forms will be visibly distinct, like a coiled dog turd on a fresh blanket of snow.

This ostrich has zero shits to give. Be like this ostrich.

This isn’t to suggest that not giving a shit will always result in a great outcome. You may choose to give fewer shits, not care what other people think, take chances, put yourself out there, and the result could be less than ideal. But it’s rarely disastrous; a crucial point we quickly dismiss. Even if the result of our effort isn’t what we wanted or expected, that doesn’t mean trying was the wrong choice. This is where, once again, giving fewer shits is helpful.

You failed — or simply didn’t achieve the desired result — but refuse to have a shit to give. Learn what you can from the experience, and move forward. Then try again knowing, this time, you’re armed with knowledge from the prior experience. Like an inventor with a lengthy list of failed prototypes, she doesn’t give a shit. She doesn’t allow numerous unsuccessful attempts to stop her. Without hesitation she starts sketching the next prototype.

What works of art would have died in the imagination of artists who gave too many shits and refused to put paint brush to canvas; chisel to stone; pen to paper; fingers to piano keys?

What technological and medical breakthroughs would still be waiting for their birth if engineers, researchers, inquisitive individuals, and hungry entrepreneurs gave too many shits about failing a few times along the way toward creating marvels we take for granted today?

What remarkable human wouldn’t exist today if that shy man didn’t summon the courage to stride up to a young woman and stir up a conversation because he was too afraid she might reject him?

What stories would you be unable to recite at family gatherings that leave everyone gasping for breath after moments of hysterical laughter if you, or someone else, had given too many shits that didn’t bring those stories to fruition?

What rich, blood pumping, life-invigorating adventures would you fail to experience because you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect from the first attempt?

Sometimes, we give too many shits. We don’t try the thing, take the risk, utter the words, ask the question, take the initiative and shrug off failures as no big deal when viewed objectively. But I think the accumulated consequences over years from giving too many shits goes deeper. Like anything done with enough repetition, a habit is formed. This habit can have profound effects that stifle our growth and seep into our bones, like red wine spilled on carpet.

Giving fewer shits isn’t intended to be applied exclusively to grand acts; daily life is rarely filled with huge risks or opportunities, and even fewer mean the dramatic difference between life or death. To build your I’m-going-to-give-fewer-shits momentum, start small. Strike up a conversation when you would typically remain silent; force yourself beyond your comfort zone and try that new hobby or learn that new skill; write that song or paint that picture or pitch that project at work. Put forth your best effort, no doubt, but don’t give a shit if it doesn’t lead to something beyond the work and finished product itself.

You owe it to yourself to have fewer shits to give.

Recommended Great Reads for You:

One Simple Hack to Stop Screwing Yourself Over

When Life is a Raging Dumpster Fire, Lead With Your Ass

Hey! You made it this far, so you must’ve enjoyed the article. Join the newsletter below so you never miss a thing.

The post You Owe It to Yourself to Give Fewer Shits appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Sarah Luke Fitness Updates http://www.niashanks.com/give-fewer-shits/

[sarahzlukeuk]

You Owe It to Yourself to Give Fewer Shits

Would you prefer to listen to this article? Use the player below or download on iTunes.

The best lesson I committed to learning last year was to give fewer shits.

I don’t mean “give fewer shits” in a live with reckless abandon or do whatever you want without regard to how it will affect you or others selfish, and stupid, sort of way. I mean “give fewer shits” in the I’m going to do my best at what’s important to me; I’m going to try new things; I’m not going to be afraid to take chances responsible and pragmatic sense of the phrase.

Though it was tough at times, the more I actively practiced this mentality, the greater the benefits were, including less stress which was a welcomed side effect.

An example of me restraining a shit that had previously been distributed: I finally wrote Lift Like a Girl: Be More, Not Less. Creating that book was something I’d wanted to do for a couple years, but instead I gave a shit about a possible negative reception and let that deter me from getting it in your hands.

The “shits” I allowed to hold me back: What if it isn’t good enough? What if I don’t convey the most important messages correctly? What if it gets bad reviews?

Those questions loomed over me, and kept me from writing the book until I decided to turn off the shit-giving tap and stopped thinking about the potential bad things that could happen. I wrote the best book I could, for those who would most benefit from the message.

Do You Give Too Many Shits?

More specifically, do you give too many shits to the point it negatively affects your life? Mull over that question for a moment.

Think about it: we let the shit-giving what-ifs hold us back. We don’t take chances — we don’t ask out that guy or that girl because, heaven forbid, they turn us down and we feel like an idiot in front of the onlookers who witness the rejection.

We don’t try that fun-looking activity because what if we completely suck at it and other people notice our epic fail?

We don’t challenge ourselves to learn a new hobby because we declare to be the ultimate “slow learner” and our painfully sluggish progress will be embarrassing.

We give too many shits about what someone else may think, and we don’t do what we want to do. Or, we give too many shits about not being the best because we demand nothing but perfection from ourselves. We think that — doing nothing — is the safe choice.

But it’s not. Giving too many shits keeps us from creating wonderful things. Giving too many shits keeps us from making beautiful memories. Giving too many shits stunts our growth. Giving too many shits prevents us from achieving our goals. Giving too many shits creates malnourished souls, depleted from a lack of rich experiences. Giving too many shits leads to regrets as we face our inevitable mortality in later years when we ask in amazement, “Why did I care so much about what other people think? Why did I have unreasonable expectations? Why didn’t I just do what was important to me? Why didn’t I at least try?”

Give shits too often and the void that forms will be visibly distinct, like a coiled dog turd on a fresh blanket of snow.

This ostrich has zero shits to give. Be like this ostrich.

This isn’t to suggest that not giving a shit will always result in a great outcome. You may choose to give fewer shits, not care what other people think, take chances, put yourself out there, and the result could be less than ideal. But it’s rarely disastrous; a crucial point we quickly dismiss. Even if the result of our effort isn’t what we wanted or expected, that doesn’t mean trying was the wrong choice. This is where, once again, giving fewer shits is helpful.

You failed — or simply didn’t achieve the desired result — but refuse to have a shit to give. Learn what you can from the experience, and move forward. Then try again knowing, this time, you’re armed with knowledge from the prior experience. Like an inventor with a lengthy list of failed prototypes, she doesn’t give a shit. She doesn’t allow numerous unsuccessful attempts to stop her. Without hesitation she starts sketching the next prototype.

What works of art would have died in the imagination of artists who gave too many shits and refused to put paint brush to canvas; chisel to stone; pen to paper; fingers to piano keys?

What technological and medical breakthroughs would still be waiting for their birth if engineers, researchers, inquisitive individuals, and hungry entrepreneurs gave too many shits about failing a few times along the way toward creating marvels we take for granted today?

What remarkable human wouldn’t exist today if that shy man didn’t summon the courage to stride up to a young woman and stir up a conversation because he was too afraid she might reject him?

What stories would you be unable to recite at family gatherings that leave everyone gasping for breath after moments of hysterical laughter if you, or someone else, had given too many shits that didn’t bring those stories to fruition?

What rich, blood pumping, life-invigorating adventures would you fail to experience because you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect from the first attempt?

Sometimes, we give too many shits. We don’t try the thing, take the risk, utter the words, ask the question, take the initiative and shrug off failures as no big deal when viewed objectively. But I think the accumulated consequences over years from giving too many shits goes deeper. Like anything done with enough repetition, a habit is formed. This habit can have profound effects that stifle our growth and seep into our bones, like red wine spilled on carpet.

Giving fewer shits isn’t intended to be applied exclusively to grand acts; daily life is rarely filled with huge risks or opportunities, and even fewer mean the dramatic difference between life or death. To build your I’m-going-to-give-fewer-shits momentum, start small. Strike up a conversation when you would typically remain silent; force yourself beyond your comfort zone and try that new hobby or learn that new skill; write that song or paint that picture or pitch that project at work. Put forth your best effort, no doubt, but don’t give a shit if it doesn’t lead to something beyond the work and finished product itself.

You owe it to yourself to have fewer shits to give.

Recommended Great Reads for You:

One Simple Hack to Stop Screwing Yourself Over

When Life is a Raging Dumpster Fire, Lead With Your Ass

Hey! You made it this far, so you must’ve enjoyed the article. Join the newsletter below so you never miss a thing.

The post You Owe It to Yourself to Give Fewer Shits appeared first on Nia Shanks.

from Sarah Luke Fitness Updates http://www.niashanks.com/give-fewer-shits/

[lostandfound00]

On the Road Again

On the Road Again

Noah Tuomi

Morning Coffee

“A foraging wild creature, intent above all upon survival, is as strong as the grass.”

- Richard Adams, Watership Down

             Daniel stirred in his car at a trailhead in Colorado. The sun had risen just enough to send a thin beam of light through his window, but remained too shy to peak out from behind the snowcapped mountains. It was breezy, and the leaves of the surrounding trees shushed him into waking. He shifted as he woke and felt his shirt sticking to his back. His sleeping bag was yet again soaked with sweat caused by the dreams that swam among his disjointed periods of sleep. Only slightly uncomfortable, he lay there for a while staring up at the roof until a bird that he couldn’t name began to sing him a gentle song of encouragement that compelled him to throw his wet sleeping bag off his body and rub his eyes. The morning birds may have been the only reason he got up in the mornings, aside from maybe the calling of his unhealthy coffee addiction.

He rolled over, popped the trunk of his Jeep Cherokee, and climbed out before setting some water to boil on his small camping stove. Hobbes, his furry, 90-pound companion jumped out and sniffed the ground, frantically following the scent of some small animal before circling and urinating on a nearby spruce. He started the car and slid Nick Drake’s Pink Moon album into the CD player and hit play, allowing his mellow voice to weave its way through the surrounding trees as he brewed his coffee. He sat on the back bumper and drank the first cup of many and waited for the sun to fully reveal itself.

The dreams had been worse that night. They were always painful, but they had been stronger. More tangible. The dreams healed and haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t know whether to dread or welcome them, but either way they were consistent in visiting him every night.

He would relive the time, not so long ago, when he and five friends piled into a car and drove across the country, soon after graduating high school. He remembered the games of road trip bingo and eye spy that they had played along the way and the dancing around the campfire during the nights they spent at campsites. The dreams would often include the period of exhaustion they all had felt that led Sarah to fall asleep with her head on his shoulder. Then would follow the eight sleepless hours he spent not moving so he wouldn’t wake her. He would experience again the morning when her eyes opened gingerly with the newly risen sun and the feeling of her lips pressed against his. He would feel the chill of the night air as they lay together during each clear night, stargazing until they fell asleep together on the roof of the car. These were the dreams that Daniel had to look forward to. But they were always short lived.

Deep in the night he relived the same event. The deer standing frozen in the road, illuminated by the headlights of his car and the feeling of his hands jerking the steering wheel to the side to avoid it. The all too familiar crunching of metal as the car rolled sideways off the road and into the trees.

             He gave Hobbes a bowl of kibble and spoiled him with pieces of beef jerky he had mixed in. He drank his coffee cross legged and wiped the sweat from his brow. When Hobbes was finished eating he curled up next to him in the back of the car and placed his chin on his leg.

           They sat in the back listening to the music for an hour or so. He didn’t make breakfast, for there was a diner just up the road and he planned on making his way there for a real meal. He had been eating granola bars, oatmeal, and ramen for days now and he was looking forward to a small sliver of variety. Not that he was complaining, though. He chose this. He wondered why sometimes, but then he remembered how much worse the world was back at his apartment. He hadn’t moved any of her things from the one bedroom in case she came back, which he realized was crazy, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch anything. He had left without a second thought, leaving most of his belongings and all of hers. He didn’t think twice before packing up his Jeep and leaving everything behind. He had left a note on the counter top, one for his parent and the other for Sarah. He guessed that was why they kept calling him. Finding a letter from your son to his dead wife probably wasn’t very reassuring.

           Three cups of coffee later, he packed up the car and set out. Hobbes sat comfortably on a blanket in the passenger seat and chewed on a bone. It was a beat-up car with a few dents here and there along the sides, some peeling paint, and untreated rusty areas across the lower rims, but the wheels turned. He didn’t need any more than that. A dream catcher and a photo of Sarah dangled from the rear-view mirror, swaying with the contour of the road. His phone was charging from the port beneath the radio and was vacant of any new calls or messages, but that could merely be from the lack of service up in the mountains. It was either that or his family had finally refrained from their fruitless attempts to bring him home. He figured they were worried he was going to kill himself or something. Frankly, he hadn’t completely removed the idea from his head yet.

           The car’s clock was eight minutes slow and the thermostat was stuck flickering between 45 and 46 degrees. His phone told him it was 58. The back seat was piled with blankets, ropes, lanterns, an assortment of tools, backpacks, and a million other means of survival for the avid camper. It was filled to the top, but had an opening where he could just barely see out the back window.

The sun hung high in the sky, far above the mountainous horizon by the time he had made it to the diner. Apparently it had been further away than he had thought and it took him well over an hour to get there. He parked in the surprisingly busy lot and cracked a window for the dog. It was relatively warm out so he felt safe leaving him in the car for a short while.

He ordered two eggs; over medium, hash browns, and a big stack of french toast along with more coffee. The waitress who served him was attractive, maybe only a few years older than he was. Though the essence of her beauty was there, her face was worn with lines beside her eyes and along her mouth, no doubt from the long days of work she had endured over the course of her life.

The meal was the best thing Daniel had eaten in a long time and it filled him to the brink of bursting, making it worth the ten bucks and sizeable tip. He ate quickly so he didn’t leave Hobbes in the car for too long. On the way out an incoming customer stopped him at the door. He was a big, burly man with a thick brown beard, the kind that was hard to resist stroking gruffly when in thought. He wore a heavy red flannel over a hooded sweatshirt and a black beanie along with dark and obviously experienced Timberland boots. He must have been at least six foot three and looked like what Daniel imagined Paul Bunyan resembled.

“That your dog in the Jeep over there?” he asked, gesturing to Daniel’s car.

“Uh, yeah it is” he replied, not knowing where the conversation was going.

“Oh, well he’s a friendly feller that one. Neat color on ‘em.” The large man smiled a genuine smile, dissipating the tension between them instantly.

“Oh!” Daniel chuckled. “Yes, he’s a great dog.”

“He got a name?”

“Hobbes.”

“Heh, Hobbes. Good name. I’ve got two of my own down at the house. Great for keeping company.”

The small talk lasted a short while, but it was more than just that for Daniel. He hadn’t given so much as a hello to someone not working at a restaurant or convenience store in nearly a week and he had gone much longer than that in the past.

He wasn’t the most social of people and rarely was the one to provoke a conversation. In high school he had his group of friends that he would spend time with on the weekends, but he never strayed outside their circle voluntarily. Occasionally he would be introduced to someone new and they would hang out for the day. The first time he met someone would usually be the last since most didn’t enjoy the patterns of awkward silences that occurred when conversing with him. Luckily he had found friends who could accept it and soon even grow accustomed to his quietness.

The two men ended on a laugh and Daniel told him to enjoy his breakfast and that the hash browns were top notch. They shook hands and he returned to his car where Hobbes was jumping up on the window with his tongue lolling uncontrollably out of the side of his mouth. The man’s name was Jessie. And Daniel didn’t see him again after that.

 Change

“I read somewhere how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong… but to feel strong.”

-Jon Krakauer, Into The Wild

“Daniel, throw that rope over here. No not that one. Left a bit, yup that one. Just toss it over.”

           Daniel tossed the rope over the tent to Luke who grabbed it and tied it to a nearby tree branch. It would be raining soon and they had just barely made it to the campsite in time. They had been rushing to get the tent up for almost five minutes before the drops began to fall. Quickly cramming all their belongings inside they climbed in before any of their gear could get too wet. They were only half shielded by the trees around them and had a cloud filled, yet still breathtaking view of the plains of Yellowstone National Park. Within minutes it was raining hard making hundreds of loud smacks on the taut tent with each passing second. It was loud, but still peaceful in a way. Some noises can be more peaceful than silence and rain is possibly the most. They ate a few granola bars and had a few beers before hunkering down and listening to the sounds of the oncoming storm.

             Daniel woke to the sound of rain pattering on his windshield. He was smiling and felt comfortably warm and safe within the confines of his sleeping bag. Hobbes had snuggled up close to him and was snoring softly, his ribs rising and falling with each long breath. His phone read 1:24. He had been asleep for over 4 hours. Nearly a record for him. He knew he would fall asleep again shortly, for it wasn’t the falling part that was hard. It was staying asleep that was impossible, so he just lay there for a short while, the images of his dream still clear in his semi-conscious mind.

It was bliss. The moments after his dreams where his past felt much closer than it was. He would feel much further from it in the morning, or possibly just forget the dream entirely. He knew this from experience. He soon let himself slowly fall back to sleep.

             She looked up at him for a long time. The branch lay in the grass next to the car, still dripping with her blood. She seemed like she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Daniel soon realized he was apologizing hysterically, but he couldn’t hear himself either. He tried to say he loved her, but nothing came out.

[romancatholicreflections]

28th January 2017 >> 'Building A Dream For Tomorrow' ~ Daily Reflection on Today's Mass Readings for Roman Catholics on Saturday, Third Week in Ordinary Time

SCRIPTURE READINGS: [ HEB 11:1-2,8-19; LUKE 1:69-75; MARK 4:35-41 ] To be a leader we must have a dream. We are what we are today because of the dreams of our forefathers. Without their dreams, Singapore would not be what it is today. The future is born out of dreams. Science and technology are born from dreams of what life could be. No development or advancement is possible without starting out as a dream. That is why we should be forever grateful for the sacrifices of our forefathers, community and religious leaders in daring to dream for Singapore. In the first reading, Abraham also had a dream. He had a vision of building a new humanity, a new community, and a nation of believers in God where there is unity, progress and happiness. In truth, Abraham did not have to move out of his comfortable niche in the city of Ur to the Promised Land. He was rich and well off with many flocks of cattle and sheep. Most of all, he was already old and could have retired to enjoy life instead of moving to another land without any guarantees. Indeed, if we were him, we would have stayed put and left the future to the next generation. But the truth is that a great leader never builds a dream for himself or even for his own family. A true leader builds a dream for his people and for the people of tomorrow. This is the hallmark of a true leader who is selfless and visionary. A good leader seeks to build a better life and future for the next generation. He might not get to enjoy the fruits of his labour, but it does not matter. What matters is that the future generations would benefit from his sacrifices and labour. In fact, Abraham never saw the fulfillment of the promise. But still, the promise was partially fulfilled when Sarah at the ripe old age of 91 and Abraham in his 100 gave birth to Isaac. He did it for the future generations to come. But this is also true of Moses, our Lord and St Paul who only saw the beginning of the fulfillment of their dreams. Moses also did not enter the Promised Land but only had sight of it when the Lord asked him to ascend to Mount Nebo. (Dt 34:1-3) Jesus also did not see the fulfillment of His dream except the birth of the nascent primitive Church, the beginning of a New Community of grace and love. St Paul too was conscious that in building the Church for the Gentiles, it would take time but he was patient. Like the rest of the apostles, he too would not have been able to see how the Church grew from strength to strength. St Paul wrote, “I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.” (1 Cor 3:6) So it does not matter whether we benefit in the end. What is important is that we are giving hope and a future to humanity. What is your dream for your community, for the Church and for Singapore? In the final analysis, we all have this dream of building a community of love. This too was the dream of Abraham and our Lord. Jesus came to build a community of love, the family of God united in Him. What we need most today is to strengthen our community, our family, our church community, a cohesive society and a united world. In the heart of every person is a desire for a community where there is peace, love and unity. This is the greatest challenge today in the face of secularism and relativism. Without God, without absolute values, it is difficult to align everyone together. The ideology of relativism makes it impossible for anyone to agree to anything that is true since no one is right. This explains why relationships are very fragile today. They are not built on truth or on lasting love. When we cannot agree on fundamentals, we cannot build any real unity. When society cannot agree on a set of core values, then it would be impossible to build any community, much less a lasting community. If Singapore is still relatively united and peaceful it is because our forefathers had it right in putting our common values in the Singapore Pledge. Indeed, looking at the situation of the world today, we see how fragile peace and unity is. When countries are not ruled by righteous, inclusive, honest leaders with integrity, the nation will suffer. St Thomas says, “Happiness is secured through virtue; it is a good attained by man’s own will.” A case in point is the question of marriage and family. What we have today are very superficial relationships, even in marriage. Many of our marriages do not last because the foundation for strong marriages such as total love, faithful love, fruitful and sacrificial love are not considered non-negotiable values. Those of us who are in the know are aware of the difficulties the Church is struggling with the issue of marriage and family, particularly in trying to apply the practical and pastoral approaches of Amoris Laetitia. There are two camps, one is the need to hold on to the absolute norms and the other is to show the compassion of God. The decision on how we approach marriage, divorce and sexuality would also have implications for how we see the Sacrament of the Eucharist as well. Is it a reward for good behavior or an antidote for the weak? If we say the latter, it also compromises the symbol of the Eucharist as a sign of perfect unity. As Christians, how do we want to build our dream? We need a strong foundation, that is Christ. If our dreams are not built on Christ, our dreams will fail. All dreams must come from God if they are to succeed. Abraham built his dream based on the promise of God. “Know certainly that your descendants will be strangers in a land that is not theirs, and will serve them, and they will afflict them four hundred years. And also the nation whom they serve I will judge; afterward they shall come out with great possessions.” (Gn 15:13f) So as leaders, before we start visioning for society and our peoples, we need to pray and see God’s plan for us all. This is the lesson of today’s gospel as well. Unless our life is founded on Christ, when we meet the storms of life, we will not be able to withstand the onslaughts. We will lose faith easily. Indeed, many of us have big dreams but when faced with difficulties, like the apostles who were buffeted by the storm, they began to panic. With Christ as the center of our lives, we will be able to rise up to any challenge and any storm. If not, when our dreams are challenged or things do not go the way we want, we will get confused and anxious. This was the case for Abraham when he became anxious that Sarah could not conceive a son for him. So in his impatience, he took Hagar, his maid to conceive for him a son whom they named Ismael. As a consequence, it brought division to the family. So long as we have faith, we can overcome all things. “Only faith can guarantee the blessings that we hope for, or prove the existence of the realities that at present remain unseen.” Consequently, the question that is posed to us today is whether we know Christ in our lives. After Jesus calmed the storm, “They were filled with awe and said to one another, ‘Who can this be? Even the wind and sea obey him.’” Unless we affirm that Jesus is our Lord, we will not have faith in Him to guide us and protect us from harm and danger. St Thomas said, “If, then, you are looking for the way by which you should go, take Christ, because He Himself is the way.” Who Jesus is to us will determine how we will respond to Him and how much faith we have in Him. Faith depends on trust and relationship. If we know Jesus well, we will learn to trust Him. If we confess that Jesus is the Son of God, then we can accept the Bible and the Magisterium as preserving the deposit of faith found in scripture and tradition. Yet, we must not be shortsighted. As the first reading reminds us, our homeland is ultimately in heaven. We are in transition. We must also recognize the law of gradualness. We might not accept the gradualness of the law but we must realize that many are still not there yet. This calls for compassion. “They lived there in tents while he looked forward to a city founded, designed and built by God.” The author said, “People who use such terms about themselves make it quite plain that they are in search of their real homeland. They can hardly have meant the country they came from, since they had the opportunity to go back to it; but in fact they were longing for a better homeland, their heavenly homeland.” So what we experience on earth is just a foretaste of what we will arrive at in heaven when love is complete and the community is lasting. It is in the New City of Jerusalem when we all become one in Christ in the communion of Saints. In the final analysis, in spite of the turmoil caused by scandals and differing views in the Church, we must not feel discouraged. The gospel assures us that Jesus is in charge of the Church. The boat is a symbol of the Church and though Jesus might appear to be sleeping in the stern of the boat, in truth, He is fully aware of how the Church is buffeted by the storms and the winds of life. Against all these threats, the Lord will keep the Church safe. All we need is to have faith. He has protected this Church for the last 2000 years and He will fulfill His promise to be with the Church until the end of time. Moreover, through all these struggles and challenges, the Church will come out purified and stronger and more relevant to the world. Christ is the anchor and our hope. As the author of Hebrews says, “God had the power even to raise the dead; and so, figuratively speaking, he was given Isaac back from the dead.” He too will raise the Church to greater heights in time to come. Written by The Most Rev William Goh Roman Catholic Archbishop of Singapore © All Rights Reserved Best Practices for Using the Daily Scripture Reflections Encounter God through the spirit of prayer and the scripture by reflecting and praying the Word of God daily. The purpose is to bring you to prayer and to a deeper union with the Lord on the level of the heart. Daily reflections when archived will lead many to accumulate all the reflections of the week and pray in one sitting. This will compromise your capacity to enter deeply into the Word of God, as the tendency is to read for knowledge rather than a prayerful reading of the Word for the purpose of developing a personal and affective relationship with the Lord. It is more important to pray deeply, not read widely. The current reflections of the day would be more than sufficient for anyone who wants to pray deeply and be led into an intimacy with the Lord.

[viralhottopics]

‘Riverdale’ recap: ‘Twin Peaks’ meets ‘Gossip Girl’ in The CW’s scandalous Archie adaptation

We’re not mad at it.

Image: Dean Buscher/The CW

This recap contains spoilers for Riverdale Season 1, episode 1, titled “The River’s Edge.”

“Our story is about a town, a small town, and the people who live in the town. From a distance, it presents itself like so many other small towns all over the world: safe, decent, innocent. Get closer though, and you start seeing the shadows underneath. The name of our town is Riverdale. And our story begins, I guess, with what the Blossom twins did this summer “

Riverdale, The CW’s live-action Archie comics drama, aims to subvert any and all assumptions you have about Archie Andrews (KJ Apa) and his friends from over 75 years of comic books.

This isn’t your grandparents’ Archie this dark, scandalous tale, equal parts Twin Peaks and Gossip Girl, is a lot more like recent iterations of Archie comic book stories, rather than the rosy-cheeked, aw-shucks gang that first debuted in digests back in 1941.

SEE ALSO: ‘Riverdale’ reinvents Archie with a ‘Twin Peaks’ twist, and we dare you not to love it

Narrating the whole saga for us in live-action is the moody, sardonic voice of Jughead Jones (Cole Sprouse), hardly seen in the series premiere but always heard as he tries to make sense of the town’s biggest scandal.

Just after dawn on the 4th of July, the Blossom twins, Jason (Trevor Stines) and Cheryl (Madelaine Petsch), went for a boat ride, and later that day Cheryl was found soaked and alone on the river’s edge and Jason was gone. Cheryl’s story was that their boat capsized and Jason never surfaced, so their parents buried an empty casket and his death was ruled an accident. His body was never found until the first week of the new school year, opening up an official murder investigation where everyone is a potential suspect, even his twin sister who creepily refers to her brother as her “soul mate.” Is Riverdale really going there with twin-cest and twin-tracide right out of the gate?

But we’ll get to that later. First, let’s meet the newest incarnations of the Archie gang and dig into all the secrets that the town of Riverdale is hiding.

New girl Veronica Lodge rolls into town fresh off her father’s incarceration for fraud and embezzlement. Her mother Hermione (Marisol Nichols) claims their apartment is the only piece of property in her name and not her corrupt husband’s, but after getting a duffel bag full of money anonymously delivered by their doorman Smithers (Tom McBeath), it’s clear there is more going on than Veronica realizes.

Camila Mendes as Veronica Lodge

Image: Diyah Pera/THE CW

The most interesting thing to note about The CW’s version of the bratty, elitist rich girl from the comics is that Mendes has been given the green light to fully humanize Veronica. Where she was once evil and manipulative in the comics, now she’s empathetic.

She’s not perfect, of course, and still makes some mistakes mostly where her new crush “Archiekins” is concerned but she’s committed to becoming a better person after realizing that she was basically a spoiled, entitled rich bitch before father’s arrest. She’s using her move to Riverdale as a fresh start, an opportunity to become the best version of herself. Finally, Veronica is a relatable character.

Meanwhile, classic girl-next-door Betty Cooper (Lili Reinhart) is hiding more than enough secrets of her own. Where Veronica is now a flawed hero in her own right one who’s even committed to helping Betty realize her full potential Betty has enough baggage and emotional damage to employ a therapist full-time… but she would never admit to that.

Her overbearing mother, already burdening her with the stress of college applications even though Betty is only a sophomore, pushes her into Adderall abuse, and the whole family is seemingly haunted by the mysterious events surrounding Betty’s older sister, who’s currently living in a group home after her relationship with Jason Blossom prompted a nervous breakdown of some kind, apparently “ruining” her.

But Betty desperately pushes all those issues down to maintain the perfect facade of well, perfection. Helping distract her from all the cracks starting to show in her psyche is her crush on her BFF Archie, whom she hasn’t seen all summer. Encouraged by her gay best friend (and the first openly gay character in the Archie universe) Kevin Keller (Casey Cott), Betty decides to finally tell Archie how she feels especially since, in the wise words of Kevin, “Archie got hot. He’s got abs now!”

Lili Reinhart as Betty Cooper

Image: Katie Yu/The CW

Did you really expect anything less from The CW’s live-action Archie? Yes, working for his father Fred (Luke Perry) all summer in construction had worked wonders on the redheaded teen. Not only had he developed jaw-dropping muscle definition, the physical busywork gave him a lot of time alone with his thoughts, helping him realize how passionate he is about composing music.

When he divulges his new secret to Betty, she practically turns into the heart-eyes emoji. Hot, sweet and gifted with a knack for catchy pop ballads? He’s the total package. But right as she’s pouring her heart out to her best-friend-turned-potential-soulmate, Veronica walks into Pop’s Chock-lit Shoppe, and by the look on his face, it’s clear that the classic Archie/Betty/Veronica love triangle is born.

But as has been repeatedly emphasized, this is not your classic Archie. He’s also harboring quite a scandalous secret more so than contemplating quitting football or telling his father that he wants to forgo inheriting his father’s construction company for a career in music: he’s been engaging in an illicit teacher/student relationship with the now young and hot Ms. Grundy (Sarah Habel) all summer long.

No one knows about their affair, but that all could change as Archie struggles with whether or not come forward about what he heard on the morning of the 4th of July. He and Ms. Grundy were getting in some, ahem, “alone time” at the river’s edge when they both heard a gunshot.

Not knowing back then that Jason Blossom would turn up dead, they tried to forget what they heard, knowing they couldn’t come forward or else Grundy would get in major trouble but with the discovery of Jason’s body with a bullet hole in his forehead, there’s no way Archie can keep quiet about the mysterious gunshot.

Grundy does her best to convince Archie not to come forward, but this is Archie we’re talking about as girl-crazy and dumb as this iconic teenage boy can be, he’s still a good person who always tries to do the right thing, especially with his father teaching him the value of honesty. There is an expiration date on both of their secrets, and the only question is when will it all get exposed?

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Betty and Veronica, oblivious to Archie’s tawdry affair with Grundy, convince Archie to join them on a trio group friend date to the back-to-school semi-formal dance, and Betty finally does get to confess her feelings to Archie. He doesn’t respond to her at first, and at Cheryl’s after-party he’s “forced” to spend seven minutes in heaven with Veronica.

Of course, they can’t deny their attraction: Archie and Veronica kiss, and he realizes he doesn’t feel the same way about Betty that she does about him. He tries to let her down easy later that night, telling her that she is so perfect that he’s not good enough for her, which, in typical boy fashion, he doesn’t realize is the exact wrong thing to say. Betty’s far from perfect, but she hides it so well from those closest to her, and now that’s costing her the one thing she wants most: Archie.

A shining beacon of light in the dark town is the empowered, confident and strong Josie McCoy (Ashleigh Murray) and her Pussycats. With record-ready voices and attitude to back up their talent, the Pussycats know they’re bound for stardom despite being trapped in their small town.

Ashleigh Murray as Josie McCoy

Image: Katie Yu/The CW

When Archie approaches Josie with songs he wrote, hoping to learn from her musical expertise and hopefully to convince the Pussycats to perform them, she shuts him down immediately, letting him know they’re all about building their brand and telling their own story with songs they write. And thus begins the iconic rivalry between Josie and Archie and their musical aspirations.

Other noteworthy moments:

-Jughead’s narration is revealed at the very end of the premiere to be the basis of a novel about all the events of the summer, starting with Jason’s death. Also interesting to note is that he and Archie are ex-best friends, which seems almost blasphemous to Archie fans but is extremely compelling to watch onscreen. Apparently, Archie did something to Jughead and never talked to him about it, ruining their relationship. Instead of letting him destroy another relationship, Jughead helps Archie realize in a tense conversation at Pop’s that he needs to talk to Betty to save their friendship, lest they end up as strained as Archie and Jughead.

-Hermione and Fred dated in high school. It’s going to be pretty awkward when Veronica and Archie find out their parents got hot and heavy after the teens shared a steamy make out sesh.

-Another steamy make out comes courtesy of Veronica helping Betty put Cheryl in her place during River Vixen cheerleading tryouts. Cheryl tries to shame Betty’s goody-two-shoes exterior for lacking “heat” and “sizzle,” so Veronica ends her tirade by kissing Betty in front of the whole squad. Veronica helps both of them make the team, but as a downside, they now have to put up with Cheryl on a daily basis.

Madelaine Petsch as Cheryl Blossom

Image: Dean Buscher/The CW

But when Cheryl tries to goad Betty into finally letting her feelings out, all it does is cause Betty to ball her fists so hard she makes herself bleed before once again swallowing her anger and emotions to maintain that good girl image. The troubled teen is already at her breaking point, and it’s clear she’ll go to any lengths necessary to keep maintain her illusion of control.

-Moose is gay! Well, closeted, but he definitely propositions Kevin in the bathroom for a little heavy petting that escalates into a late-night meet-up down at Sweetwater River. Unfortunately, their secret hookup comes to a screeching halt when they discover Jason Blossom’s dead body floating at the water’s edge, with a clear bullet hole in his forehead, marking the beginning of the series’ big murder mystery.

-Archie ends up making a deal with Grundy: he won’t come forward about July 4th, essentially keeping her safe from anyone discovering their affair, but only if she helps mentor him with his music. She agrees, under the impression that they’ll keep things strictly professional, but that’s clearly not going to happen. At least for now, he can juggle music lessons before school, football practice after school and working for his dad on weekends, so it’s not like he has to choose any particular path yet.

-Jason’s autopsy will be performed on Monday, and by Tuesday the first arrest will be made. The first, but certainly not the last.

Riverdale airs Thursdays at 9 p.m. on The CW.

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from ‘Riverdale’ recap: ‘Twin Peaks’ meets ‘Gossip Girl’ in The CW’s scandalous Archie adaptation

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