the foot thing with noah is a set for another day

Either/Or: Rosie

Prompt! Can we see Supercorp but one where Kara rescues a baby and brings them home and Lena doesn’t wanna get her hopes up about adoption because she doesn’t want Kara to have to outlive her AND a child (Pref a fluffy ending but up to you?)

“Kara, honey, are you home yet?” Lena called out as she kicked off her heels and balanced the bags of take out in her arms.

The quiet of the penthouse greeted her as she hurried toward the kitchen. As she turned on the lights, the city outside disappeared from the large windows. Their home became its own universe, with just the faintest bit of galaxy outside.

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Kisses by Sunflower Beds

ao3 // for @reallyelegantsharkfish

It’s not like Cas didn’t know it would happen eventually, inevitably. Maybe he thought he’d be the first to go. He’s the immortal one, but the Winchesters did have a knack for surviving.

Still, knowing that something is going to happen, knowing that Sam and Dean would not live forever even though it felt like they should, doesn’t prepare him for when it does happen.

Sam and Dean go out like they always promised they would. Fighting. It’s an honourable death but what is the point of an honourable death, Cas wonders, when your loved ones are lost to you.

In his last moments, Dean sees his life flash before his eyes which is how he knows that this time it will stick, knows it’s for good and there’s no coming back from this one.

In truth, he doesn’t actually see his life but feels it. He’s overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment and he associates it to every time he took care of Sammy when they were children, got them through the night, got his kid brother to laugh instead of ask questions. He associates it with the first time he shot a firearm and his dad called him a natural. The first time he saved a life. The first time he saved the world. The first time he made Cas come.

A wave of joy hits him after that. Prank wars with Sam. Antics with Charlie. Driving Baby. His first lazy sunday with Cas. Every lazy sunday with Cas after that.

With his dying breath, Dean smells motor oil and pie and sex and honey and it all smells good. It smells perfect melded together, though it shouldn’t, and if it were bottled the label would read Life of Dean Winchester. He doesn’t smell blood or burning flesh or sulfur.

He hears his favourite tune along with Cas’ clumsy mumble and Sam’s off key singing.

Dean feels his life slip away with all his senses save for sight. That’s not to say he doesn’t see anything. He sees tree twigs that look big in the chubby hands of children, he sees long dark hair he hasn’t encountered before, a stone path and a bed of sunflowers and the sight of an ugly yellow backpack in Baby’s backseat. He doesn’t remember any of these things, not really, but he still somehow recognises them. They feel like memories that belong to him.

He doesn’t spare it much more thought than that. Oddly enough, Dean’s last thought is of the botanical garden Cas had wanted- insisted on- them going to. Dean didn’t care much for it but agreed because he wasn’t one to deny Cas anything. Still, it took them years to find the time to make the trip.

Sam decided to come along because there’s a library in the area that has a whole section on south american lore, something the men of letters bunker was lacking. He knew he was essentially crashing their date so Sam offered shotgun to Cas.

He was a little cramped in the backseat and had to angle his body sideways to make room for his legs but he noticed how when Dean’s hand wasn’t on the gear shift it was in Cas’ so he didn’t mind so much.

Halfway there was when they got the call that lead the brothers to their final case. To this final moment where Dean’s only regret is that he doesn’t get the chance to be led around between patches of greenery by Cas as the angel prattles on about one fact or another.

Castiel drives the impala back to the bunker. He could have flown it but that didn’t feel right. He gets pulled over once and he thinks the officer takes pity on him. Cas can imagine what he looks like, the blue of his puffy eyes contrasting with the veiny red, hair looking like it’s been tugged at- because it has, his chapped gnawed-at lower lip stained red from the blood he can taste.

He doesn’t make it to the bed he shares with Dean. He pretends it’s because the bedroom is so far down the hall and he’s so tired and but it’s because he can’t bear the sight of it. He stumbles- he is exhausted- into a random room, sheds his trench coat halfway to the bed before he lands on it. Or lands on something on the bed.

SUPERNATURAL by Carver Edlund

It’s the room Charlie would stay in, he knows now. He doesn’t mean to, but he ends up cracking open the book and reading all about the time Sam and Dean came across the croatoan virus for the first time.

It’s the real Dean, the depiction is accurate and these are real events from the hunter’s life but it’s not really Dean. It grows the already too wide hole inside of Cas. He can’t bring Dean back. But he can’t be without him. So Cas leaves to meet versions of Dean he hasn’t come across before, versions of Dean even Chuck didn’t take the time to write about.

Dean is three, almost four, when Cas, invisible, appears in the boy’s Lawrence home. Dean is kneeling on the sofa beside a pregnant Mary who keeps telling him that it’s ok to touch.

“It’s your little brother in there, Dean,” She says.

Dean purses his still thin lips, scratches a hair full of hair that’s only blond like Mary’s in the summer, and says, “That’s where daddy put him?”

Mary chokes a little when she laughs and moves into a tamed explanation of the birds and the bees.

Cas doesn’t listen, his eyes are peeled on Dean. This little boy who has no idea he’ll one day save a dying sun. This little boy that scrunches his face just like his Dean does, that shakily places a hand on his mother’s belly all false bravado, that has freckles splayed across his cheeks.

All Cas wants to do is to move closer. Is to stare. Is to see if three year-old Dean has all the freckles his Dean has or if some appeared with time. All Cas wants is to hold this boy. To tell him he’s perfect. To tell him he is loved. Cas can’t do any of these things.

He decides that’s unacceptable.

At eight Dean already knows how to shoot a firearm, so when the kids in his class want to pretend the sticks they find along the fence of the school lot are guns he’s happy that one boy wants to stack twigs as high as he can instead.

Every recess, Dean looks for a pair of blue eyes and the darkest hair on the playground and the two go off together. Cas- though Dean calls him Scottie in this vessel- recounts to Dean these wild stories about a pair of heroes, and they run around reenacting them.

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Suprise!-Dylan O’brien

I woke up around 9 am and Dylan had already left for the day at comic con. He doesn’t know I was here, I had planned it with Jeff since Dyl had barely saw us in 4 months because of press tours and what not. Not even anybody on the cast- my best friends also as I used to be on teen wolf, it’s where Dyl and I had met actually. We had been dating since the very beginning. I left in the May of 2013 after we had finished filming 3b, It wasn’t aired until a year later… I thought void Stiles was really hot, one thing led to another and I was pregnant. 

My baby boy Noah was born at 6 and a half months, he had some issues at the beginning but he’s healthy and happy now. He’s about 1 and a half now (set in comic con 2016, ooooh future!). 

I eventually roll out of bed and go into his room. He wanted his own bed because he’s a big boy… I see he’s already awake but only just, laying down under the covers all snuggly with squinted eyes = ADORABLE. I giggle and go to pick him up. “Ready to see daddy?” I ask in a baby voice, he immediately perks up and nods his head cheering. I laugh and kiss his cheek laying him back down and going over to his little suitcase- he also wanted his own suitcase, his spiderman suitcase. I pick out his clothes and turn around to see him sitting there waiting patiently, he’s such a good child it’s strange, Dylan and I act more like children than him. I smile and he grins back. I hold up his clothes and he nods shuffling off the bed and running to me. I start undressing him and redressing him in his new clothes. When he’s done I grin at how cute he looks. 

 (Instead of the beany he has a little mets cap on)

Then take him into the ‘living room’ area and put the TV on, it just so happens that it’s a teen wolf interview. He claps his hands. I retreat to the bedroom to get dressed and do my makeup etc. 

 We are about to leave when my phone starts ringing. 

 "Hello" I say cheerfully, switching out the lights in the bathroom and turning the TV off. 

 "Hey, it’s me, are you ready to come now? a little bit earlier, the cars waiting anyway but If you are would you be an angel and pick us up some coffees? the one here tastes disgusting…“ Jeff trails off. I smile and laugh. I can hear him laugh too. 

"who are you talking to?” I hear Holland interrupt in the background. 

 "the producers, just finalizing some things…“ he stutters. 

 "is she gone?” i ask. 

 "yeah" he mumbles. 

“ok, I’m ready to go anyway, luckily for you. I know all your orders so I’ll be there in about 15- 20 minutes ok. Ill text you when I’m there so I don’t get lost and you can come and get me.” he groans. “I’m getting coffee for you Mr! Your lucky I love you” I mumble and he laughs through the phone. We hang up shortly after and we leave the hotel room. We get in the lift and when we reach the bottom i pick Noah up so I don’t lose him in the crowd of fangirls. I realise quickly that they’ll probably tell Dylan over social media so I sneak out the back. I tell the driver to head towards starbucks, I get everbodies orders having to have my bodyguard help me carry them back to the car while Noah walks quietly beside me eating his muffin and drinking his fruit shoot. We get back in the car balancing the drinks and head to the convention, I text Jeff when were close and stay in the car until he comes to get us. When he does I give him a hug and Noah jumps out of the car and runs into his arms. 

 "Uncle Jeff I got a hat, just like daddys!“ he says referring to his mets cap and pointing to it. Jeff smiles at him and picks him up. 

 "really? well you can show daddy in a little while, I know he’s excited to see you, are you excited to see him?” he says to him poking his stomach. He giggles and nods snuggling into his neck. I love how close he is with the whole cast, it’s adorable and Jeff thinks so to when he silently 'awwhs’ at him. I hand Jeff a tray of coffees and carry the others myself. 

We walk inside and go into their dressing room leaving the coffees. Jeff tells me they will be back from their last interview soon so we should go and try to find our seats. So we do much to the dismay of Noah. He crosses his arms and stomps his foot. 

 "I want to see daddy!“ he yells. 

 "I know baby, we’re going to see daddy now! were going to watch him!” I say excitedly. He smiles and runs into my arms. I sigh exasperatedly. I leave the room and go to find our seats. They’re in the front row, but slightly off to the side so they don’t notice straight away. I feel nervous to see Dylan after not seeing him for so long… I’ve missed him so much. 

 We take our seats and all the fans swarm us making Noah cling to my chest crying. They back off as soon as they realise. 

 "Dylan doesn’t know we’re here! Can you act normal until he notices please? to keep it a suprise?“ I shout to get there attention everybody cheers and nods. 

We sit back down and they all act normal until the cast start coming out then they go crazy. We’re half way through the panel and nobody has looked over other than Jeff. He smiles at us every now and then. I’m smiling from ear to ear when i feel a small tug at my sleeve. I look down at Noah. "When can we see daddy, mummy?” he whispers with tears in his eyes starting to get impatient. I sigh and look at Jeff, luckily he is staring at us concerned. I run my finger down my face signalling that Noah is crying and Jeff pouts his lip. I nod at him and he waits until the question is over before he starts speaking through the mic. 

“Since none of you are particularly observant today I’m going to have to point it out, Dylan. Y/n and Noah have been sitting here the entire time.” He says looking at Dylan. Quickly the entire cast are looking around frantically for me. I stand up, picking up Noah too. Dylan’s eyes meet mine and we both smile. He jumps out of his chair almost falling over. I go over to the side of the stage walking up the steps. Noah wriggles out of my arms so i set him on the floor before he falls. He instantly sets off for Dylan who is kneeling down on the floor with his arms open. Noah flies into his arms and he holds him close. The fans go wild, screaming and some even crying at the moment. I walk slowly to him and when I reach him he pulls me into a hug also, burying his head in my neck and squashing our infant. I feel his tears on my neck and i can also feel some of my own slipping out. We pull away and he strokes my face leaving a peck on my forehead. Were not big fans of PDA in front of the fans. 

 When we finally retreat from each other I’m scooped up in someones arms and spun around. When they put me down I stumble a little bit, I look up and it’s Tyler. I smile leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. He’s like my brother. I go to see the rest of the cast quickly. I’m about to get Noah and return to our seats when I’m pulled down on a seat at the end of the table by Jeff. Noah stays clinging to Dylan but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

 "Sorry guys!“ I say to the fans they all shake theyre heads and shout things like 'that was adorable’ 'we love you’ and 'please come back to teen wolf’ is one i heard. I grin at Jeff and he smiles cheekily back. 

 "You want her back on the show?” he says through the mic. They all cheer. He laughs. “that’s good to hear cause she’s coming back for season 6” even the cast gasp because it’s news to them too. 

We finish the panel and go backstage to the dressing room. I’m immediately bombarded by hugs and questions. We lounge around for a while chatting when Noah comes over to me suddenly and tugs on my sleeve again. I stop talking for a minute to look down at him. 

 "yeah baby?“ I say wiping his face clean from the donut he just ate. 

"can i show daddy my hat?” he says leaving everyone confused. I gasp and reach into my bag to retrieve it, at the panel when he buried his face in my chest it kept falling off so I took it off him and put it in my bag. I give it to him and he runs over to Dylan to show him. Suddenly Dylan is in hysterical laughs, he looks at me and i grin. He puts it on him. 

 "turn around so everyone can see buddy" he whispers patting his stomach. He does so and everyone starts laughing. 

 "you can definitely tell that’s your son" Holland points out. Dylan grins and Noah is already grinning, in the exact same way. I smile looking at them and around at my friends feeling how lucky I am. 

 All of a sudden Dylan shoots out of his seat and over to me, I furrow my eyebrows as he pulls me up. 

 "we couldn’t do it before because of the fans. I missed you so goddamn much" He breathes pulling my lips to him. Everyone starts hollering and cheering so I smile. 

 "ew" i hear and a small figure trying to push us apart. We pull away and see it was Noah who smacked Dylan on the leg. we look down to him and he has his arms crossed looking angrily at Dylan. 

 "Mummy’s kisses are for me, daddy, not you!“ he yells. Dylan laughs and picks him up. We have a family hug. 

 "I love you” He whispers into my ear.

 "I love you too, we missed you so much!“ I whisper back.

imagine, if you will–

ronan walking into monmouth one day to find noah and adam asleep on the couch, adam is on his back with one arm dangling to the floor and one arm wrapped around noah, noah is on top of him with his face buried in adam’s neck. adam’s cheek is smooshed up against noah’s hair. ronan just has to silently be like 

he texts gansey from the floor, “help me”. gansey texts back, “so you saw them.” 

blue peeking in ronan’s room to find ronan and noah in bed together, asleep. neither have their shirts on nor are under the covers (it was a hot day). but still noah’s back is plastered up against ronan’s chest with his hands curled up to his own, ronan’s arms are caged around him. noah makes a noise in his sleep and shudders, ronan nuzzles into him from behind and they both relax again. blue has to run away and collapse on to gansey’s bed, screaming into a pillow. gansey just nods solemnly, “so you saw them.” 

gansey comes home one night to find the living room completely wrecked, bottles of alcohol, bags of chips, is that cake mix?, strewn everywhere. the only thing he can’t identify is the dark amorphous lump near the foot of his bed. upon closer inspection he sees that it’s noah and blue, asleep on the floor. they’re sharing a pillow and using a twister mat (where did they get that?) as a blanket. blue’s hair is sticking up at all angles. some of her infamous clips have found their way into noah’s hair. they’re facing each other, embraced, noses practically touching. he wants to get them a real blanket and at least another pillow, though he doesn’t want to disturb them. he gets out his phone to take a photo, instead.  

one late, late night, the gang is crammed into a booth at a 24 hour diner. gansey, on his fourth cup of coffee, is talking animatedly about something when noah suddenly topples over on to him, curling inward and grabbing a fistful of gansey’s shirt as he settles, content and fast asleep. blue has to shove her fist into her mouth to keep from shrieking, adam badly stifles a loud snort, ronan is debating whether to throw a chair through the window or set the table on fire. gansey gives them all a bone-chilling death glare that says, don’t you dare wake up this baby on my shoulder.

anyway the moral of the story is that alive!noah is a serial snuggle monster prone to falling asleep on his friends at any time, any place. and no one can handle how cute it’s very painful.

First Valentine

pynch Valentine’s Day fluff

word count - 2.8k

my lovely beta reader - @glitterycateyes

read my other fics at

hope you like it!! :-)

Adam Parrish did not own a cell phone.

He knew that this made it hard for his friends to reach him sometimes, and he knew that it would be so much easier if he would just let Gansey buy one for him. If he could just get over himself.

Adam Parrish did not own a cell phone because he was poor, because he was too proud, because what you didn’t truly need seemed like a waste of money to him. Money. An over-exploited privilege. One he didn’t have.

Ronan Lynch did have a cell phone; he had everything. He just didn’t use it. He more than ignored it; he despised it.

Adam didn’t remember when or how, but it had become a routine of his and Ronan’s that Ronan drop by, uninvited but expected, at St. Agnes church most nights of the week. Never with Gansey or Noah or Blue. Always just Adam and Ronan.

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His eyelashes fluttered when he felt a light pressure on his head, his eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light in the room. He blinked rapidly, his eyes then meeting hers.

“You’re awake,” he croaked in surprise.

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I’m Thankful For...

I Have Loved You Since Series: I’m Thankful For…



*I don’t really have any songs planned but I would recommend listening to Walking In The Wind repeatedly because it’s so GOOD and very holiday-ishy fitting for this piece :))*

Thanks - such an often-said word for the simplest things. ‘Thanks for helping me today’, ‘thanks for picking up the dry-cleaning’, ‘thanks for being my friend’.

Thank you, for taking care of me.

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What is the Bible? Part 66: You Gotta Meet This Man

Alright friends, time for you to meet Peter Enns. Pete is a biblical scholar who’s written a new book about the Bible that you’re going to love. And he’s funny. The book is called The Bible Tells Me So, it comes out today, and it’s for every one of you who find the Bible fairly maddening and compelling at the same time and you’ve been reading my series thinking I want more of this

I sent Pete a few questions with you in mind, and then I told him to feel free to make up his own questions and answer them if he wanted to…

So here we go: 

Me: What’s the most common question you get asked about the Bible?

Pete: How can a Bible that looks like this be God’s word?

That’s the general question and people fill in the this with all sorts of things. 

The problem is that the Bible doesn’t always act like you might expect—or like many were led to expect. The two big issues that are pretty high on most people’s lists are science and morality.

For example, how can the Bible be the word of God and at the same time tell us the entire cosmos was created in six days, that there is a dome over our heads keeping back heavenly waters, the earth is flat, a flood swept over the whole earth, and the first two humans (Adam and Eve) lived a few thousand years ago?

What do we do with a Bible that presents a world that is so different from the one we take for granted every? Can we really be expected to take a book like this seriously, let alone follow what it says on a daily basis? That’s what I hear a lot.

The morality of the Bible takes people for a loop, too. God drowns every living thing, except Noah and the others on the ark—and it only took him until the sixth chapter of the Bible to get there. He orders the Israelites to exterminate the population of Canaan so they can move in. Virgin daughters are spoils of war and property of their fathers. Israelites can hold slaves and beat them to near the point of death with no penalty.

And then, just to make things confusing, Jesus seems to have a different take on these sorts of things. So all parts of the Bible aren’t on the same page. 

What do you do with a Bible like this? In a nutshell, that is a very old question and one that I get all the time. 

The way forward is to keep before us the ancient setting of the Bible. A big problem is the expectations many have when they approach the Bible—that it is going to answer whatever questions we bring to it. 

But the Bible does not ask speak first and foremost in our modern idiom. It poses and answers ancient questions. Only when we first come to terms with what those ancient questions and answers are can we begin to ask,

“OK, now—how does all this relate to my life here and now?”
“Are there parts we can and should leave behind?”
“How do I connect with God through this book?” 

OK, so can we focus on one specific issue here that troubles a lot of people? In your book you do a spectacular job of explaining those violent passages in the Old Testament. Can you give my readers a bit on that?

I spend a chapter on in my book on God’s commend to the Israelites to exterminate every Canaanite man, woman, and child and take over their land. This is the go-to example many point to of God acting more like Megatron than a God of love. 

This is a huge issue that has bothered people ever since there’s been a Bible. It’s nothing new. It’s hard to find Christians or Jews that don’t have at least some problem with this. When we hear of modern genocides, where perpetrators claim that God is on their side, we just call that ethnic cleansing at the hands of crazy people. So how can Christians say God opposes genocide today when he commanded it yesterday? That’s what we call a real theological problem.

Well, that and the fact that Jesus said, “Love your enemies” and “my kingdom is not of this world” rather than “Let’s kill all the Gentiles [Romans] and take back our land.” So, on top of the moral problem, Jesus doesn’t seem to be on the same page with what God says in the Old Testament. 

This issue is involved enough that you can’t Tweet an answer. You really need to walk through the paces of discovering the Bible’s ancient voice. We take a step back and try to understand the Israelites as ancient people with ancient ways of thinking. They weren’t like the “nice Christians” we meet at church picnics and who listen to gospel quartets.

The Israelites lived at a rough time, the Iron Age, when nations fought tooth and nail over land and resources and the gods fought right along side of them, leading the charge

The nations that won had the mightier gods, and victory (slaughter, pillaging) gave gods honor. Losing meant your god was either a wimp or he was mad at your people for some reason and wanted to teach them a lesson in obedience. 

The Israelites were part of this ancient Iron Age world of warring, land acquisition, and destroying the enemy. They fit right in, and to expect their God-talk to be on a totally different page is to start off on the wrong foot. 

We shouldn’t cheer the Israelites and emulate them, which is what Christians with a violent streak throughout history have done—Spanish conquerors of the “West Indies” or European settlers of “America” treat the “new world” like it was Canaan and take over. And neither can we sidestep or minimize the violence, which is another strategy Christians have had for handling these passages.

They are what they are, and the Bible looks the way it does because God lets his children tell the story

Children tell stories of their parents from their point of view as children, which is not the whole story. Think of boys bragging about their dads on the playground. I loved my father and I defended his honor. He was a mighty man who could lift heavy objects, was a sharpshooter, brilliantly smart, and as strong as any man anywhere. 

Not everything I said about my dad was fully and objectively true, but this is how I saw my father, a description born of love, from my youthful perspective, that followed the “rules of the playground.” 

Eventually, looking back from a later vantage point, I realized how much my dad-talk actually limited my father, but that was how we talked and I wasn’t able, obviously, to take a step back and tell my father’s story some other way. 

And even if I could, if I had said things back then like how hard he worked to support us, how he stayed up when I was throwing up at night, and how he never missed my Little League games, I wouldn’t have gotten across to the other guys how awesome my dad was, how much better he was than all the others.

The Israelites described God according to their “rules,” how they and the people around them understood gods in general. And here’s a huge lesson in there for us today. 

We always perceive God from our vantage point, according to ways of thinking we aren’t even aware of most of the time. In these stories, the Bible gives us a glimpse of ancient Israelites doing that very same thing. 

So, when we read these stories, we don’t read them as absolute rules to live by or the final word about what God is like. Christians believe that in the Gospels, we get a deeper understanding about God from Jesus. The Gospels don’t allow us to remain where the Iron Age Israelites were in their understanding of God.

In other words, the Bible isn’t a rulebook for Christian living. It is a narrative that has movement and a trajectory. 

And while we’re at it, archaeologists are about as sure as you can be that the mass extermination of Canaanites that the Bible talks about didn’t happen—which is good news, I think. This helps us see these stories are stories that tell us how the ancient Israelites, at least at some point in their history, understood God.

And that, I realize, is a very long answer, but it’s as short as I can make it.

So, when someone asks you what the Bible is, what do you say?

The Bible is God’s word, but not as a rulebook or Christian owner’s manual. It is a place where come to met God—which can mean struggling with God, wrestling with God, debating God, and also learning of God, being comforted and encouraged by God, and seeking peace and joy. 

And we see within the Bible itself all sorts of examples of people long ago meeting God the same way. All we need to do is read the Psalms—about half of them contain some sort of complaint to God or deep sadness about what God is or isn’t doing. Books like Ecclesiastes and Job also convey deep sadness, and even frustration and exasperation with God.

The way I see it (and I have a chapter on this in my book), the Bible is a diverse book with all sorts of emotions, moods, and thoughts. This Bible—the Bible we actually have and not a sanitized and well-behaved Bible we might like to have— does not so much give us “rules to live by,” but models for us our own diverse journeys of faith. When we watch how the Bible works, we have permission to explore, test, discover, converse, and debate—even with God. The Bible doesn’t close off that process, but encourages it.

This isn’t how many Christians are taught to approach the Bible, but it is part of Jewish tradition. The Bible gives answers for life, to be sure, but it also poses questions and conundrums that people of faith debate. In fact, arriving at the one, single, absolute, final answer isn’t the main goal. This is why, for example, Jews have a Talmud, where issues are debated and views held side by side without resolving them. 

The process is where you meet God. But for many Christians, you meet God only when the process has come to an end, by arriving at final, correct answers. If Christians were to see the Bible as a diverse book that models for us different stages of our journeys of faith rather than an answer book for whatever question we happen to have, we might have fewer Inquisitions.

And then Pete added a few questions of his own. Which is kind of like Pete interviewing himself. Which is great to listen in on…

You mention a few times in your book how fear is often an obstacle in the Christian life. 

In my experience, the most common obstacle to a life of true trust in God is fear—mainly the fear of being wrong about God, which is often equated with being wrong about the Bible. Anger and hatred toward each other over the Bible and God are, deep down once you get past the surface, driven by even deeper fears. 

What we believe about God is very important to us, as it should be. Our faith defines who we are and helps us make sense of the world around us and the world that awaits us afterwards. Our faith is the page upon which our personal narratives are written. To feel that our faith is threatened can easily turn to fear, which, as Yoda reminds us, leads anger, hate, and suffering. I get that.

But the fact is we are probably wrong about a lot of what we think about God and the Bible anyway. We can know God, but we need to let go of the idea that we can wrap our arms around God and no longer be surprised and even unsettled and offended by God.

I think often of how large the (expanding!!) universe is—that it contains billions of galaxies each containing millions and billions of stars thousands of light-years apart, and at the other end of the scale are atoms, which are too small to think about (1/10,000,000 of a millimeter). And just to be annoying there are subatomic particles.

The universe is beyond our comprehension, and Christians believe this God—the one responsible for the incomprehensible, in a further incomprehensible move—entered into the human drama and took on human flesh and bones.

So, right off the bat, I’m going with mystery as an operative category for talking about God. 

The human habit to control the uncontrollable—to create God in our own image, and thus keep fear at bay—is a constant temptation. The choice that confronts us all daily, whether we are conscious of it or not, is whether we are willing to let go of fear, let go of the narratives we create for God, and trust God enough to rewrite them and heal us in the process. 

What do you fear most?

Like everyone else, I’ve got a bunch of fears I work through in my life, but I’ve never thought of sorting them. Maybe I should. But in the meantime, here’s a fear that I think about that connects to being a Christian writer and teacher: 

If, in some parallel fantasy universe, I ever got to rule Christianity, would I be as tolerant of other points of view as I like to think I am now while not in power?

We have all seen, first hand or second hand, what often happens when the disenfranchised gain power—whether religious or political: they abuse their power as much or more than those before them. I’ve experienced this myself and I don’t want that to be me. 

So my fear is that, at the end of the day, if the opportunity arose, would I be a hypocrite? Jesus has huge problems with hypocrisy, like it’s the worst thing in God’s eyes to be a dis-integrated human: to say that you’re one thing and act like something else, to use your words to manipulate others, to change how you present yourself depending on who is listening. 

That’s my fear. I sometimes think that one of God’s continued graces to me is that I’ve never held a position of true power.

What is your next project? Are you working on another book?

Yeah, I’m in the beginning stages of plotting out my next book with HarperOne. 

I can’t say too much about it at this point—mainly because if I did I’d have to kill you, but also because the idea is at this point really just a mass of stuff in my head that is only beginning to take shape.

But the gist of the book is looking at the process of moving from “I am certain about what I believe” (which is how many Christians are taught to think about their faith) toward “I may not be certain, and in fact sometimes I have no idea, but I am going to trust God anyway.”

Those two ideas are not an either/or but a both/and. But the “certainty” part tends to get most of the attention for Christians I know. I want to ask what faith looks like when we stress the other end of the spectrum, when we let go of the pressure of needing to be certain about what we believe without thinking God is going to be disappointed in us. 

What do we need to learn from not-knowing, from uncertainty, about what the life of faith looks like? How can uncertainty be embraced as an inevitable part of faith, even a gift from God, rather than faith’s enemy?

That’s the gist, and I’ll be speaking out of my own experiences in walking that path as well as looking parts of the Bible that echo that idea.

Did you see why I thought you’d want to hear from Pete Enns? 

What is the Bible? started as a blog series on tumblr and is now available in book form. You can order a copy of the book at

gerardwayismyonlyfriend  asked:

Could you do Gansey + H?

Someone’s greatest fear. (Ugh, my son.)

“Even in expecting, one leaps away from the possible and gets a footing in the real. It is for its reality that what is expected is expected. By the very nature of expecting, the possible is drawn into the real, arising from it and returning to it.”
Martin Heidegger, Being and Time

The library doors shut behind Gansey with a soft squeal, closing him into a bubble of carpeted quiet. He looked around, not seeing anyone else. Outside the door he could hear the muffled shouts of the rest of Aglionby leaving their final classes for the day, but the further he moved into the room the more his surroundings deadened the sounds of outside life. He turned a corner around a shelf of biographies and they dropped away entirely.

He took a deep breath and exhaled in a woosh to fill some of the empty space. He had never particularly liked being alone, but since coming here, since meeting Adam and Ronan and Noah, he liked the feeling of it even less. He shouldn’t be alone now. He should be with–

“There you are,” Adam said. He came around the other end of the bank of shelves, arms full of books. “I was thinking Ronan held you up.”

“No.” Gansey smiled brightly in relief, feeling like he’d been rescued from himself. “Ronan’s off to practice.” He turned and followed Adam deeper into the library. He dropped his bag next to the table Adam stopped at and pulled some of the books out of Adam’s arms to set aside. Adam gave him a small, pained smile of thanks.

Gansey would not have blamed Adam if he’d decided not to come. They’d fought the night before. They always seemed to be fighting these days. It was the last thing Gansey wanted. What Gansey wanted was for Adam to move out of his parent’s trailer and accept that if he was going to make something of himself he had to leave the ugliness of all that behind. It was almost physically painful to watch Adam strain at the bit in his mouth, weighed down under the yoke of some sort of backward familial responsibility that asked the child to grow up too fast and let the parent get away with too much.

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lisapizza  asked:

before gansey caved and got the air conditioners for monmouth, do you think ronan cuddled with noah whenever he was overheating?

I’m assuming you sent me this ask to torture me while I was at con because I had recently reblogged this bit of art by i-am-weis, so we’re running with it!

Ronan honestly hadn’t even considered air conditioning. He hadn’t ever needed to before. The Barns had no central air–and certainly no junky, unattractive window units–yet it managed to maintain a pleasant temperature all year round. Air conditioners were for more mundane places like school and Nino’s and shitty dollar stores in fading strip malls. And, apparently, Monmouth Manufacturing.

Monmouth was not mundane, but it also wasn’t full blown impossible. It was a liminal space, a place caught between childhood and adulthood, Ronan’s magic and Gansey’s wonder. Monmouth was Gansey’s castle and Ronan’s refuge and Noah’s…haunt, Ronan supposed. There wasn’t really another word for it. The kid rarely left and always appeared out of nowhere whenever Ronan even thought about going to find him. He was just as faded as those strip malls and if he had existed outside of Monmouth Ronan wouldn’t give him a second look.

But exist in Monmouth he did, which is why Ronan wasn’t the least bit surprised when Noah, who he hadn’t seen all day, gingerly sat down next to where Ronan was sprawled out on the floor at the foot of Gansey’s bed. He had been in Gansey’s bed, just reveling in the superior airflow of the main room when compared to his room, but the sheets held too much warmth. The scratched and stained floorboards held warmth too, but not nearly as effectively. Which is to say, laying on the floor hadn’t yet turned into a feedback loop of god awful.

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Preference #12: He Meets Your Child From A Previous Relationship

Michael: “Are you sure he’ll like me?” Michael asked you as you both walked up to the front door of your house. You and Michael had been dating for a while and you felt like it was time for him to meet your 9 year old son, Cole. Michael was nervous, to say the least, even though he had talked a big game that he’d get along perfectly well with your son. “Of course he’ll like you,” you reassured. You were sure he would, even if Cole could be quite introverted at times.
You opened your front door and called Cole down. Your friend, who had been looking after Cole while you were out with Michael, was still there and started saying her goodbyes before she left. Cole was stalling, you could tell, but eventually he had trudged downstairs.
“Cole, honey, this is Michael,” you introduced. “Hi, Cole,” Michael smiled and Cole nodded nonchalantly. That was when Michael noticed the Green Day shirt Cole was wearing and figured it’d be a good conversation starter. “So, you like music?”
Cole looked down at his shirt and then back up at Michael and nodded. Whenever you played your music around the house or when you were driving, Cole would always listen. You had showed him a lot of bands and genres of music and he seemed to like it a lot. Cole nodded, “Yeah. Do you?”
“I do,” Michael nodded. “Has your mother told you what my job is?”
Cole shook his head and looked up at Michael curiously. “I’m in a band,” Michael informed and watched Cole’s eyes widen. You giggled at your son’s evident excitement.
“No way! You’re in a band?!” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me, mom?!” You and Michael chuckled as Cole went on, “What’s it like? Can I know? Can I listen to your music?”
“Here, come on! I’ll show you,” Michael smiled widely as he walked further into your house. You followed after them and listened to Michael explain 5 Seconds of Summer to your son and couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see the two boys bond over something they both liked.

Ashton: Ashton was meeting your 5 year old daughter, Sophia, for the first time since you both started dating. He was excited to meet your daughter and you were sure they would get along easily. So one day Ashton came over and you called your daughter down from her room where she had been playing. Your daughter pranced into the hallway, dressed in a frilly tutu, a pink shirt, a bejeweled princess crown, and fairy wings with her hair in pigtails. “Sophia, this is Ashton. Ashton, this is Sophia,” you introduced and Ashton smiled kindly.
“I like your skirt, Sophia,” he said, kneeling down to be eye level with her. She smiled and looked down at her outfit. “Do you really? Do you like my crown, too?”
“Yup! And your wings,” he said with a nod. “Thank you,” she giggled. She was silent for a second, eyeing your boyfriend carefully before leaning in to say, “Do you want to come to my tea party? I don’t invite just anybody, you know.”
He smiled and looked up at you before saying, “Of course! I’d love to be a part of your tea party.” Your daughter broke out into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen and reached out to take his hand. She pulled him with her into the next room where a small table was already set up in her finest fake tea cups and doilies, her stuffed animals sitting around the table.
“Mommy, sit with us!” Sophia said and you obliged, sitting down in between Ashton and a frog plushie with glasses. She pretended to pour some tea into your cup and then turned to your boyfriend, “Would you like some tea, Mr. Ashton?”
“Yes please, Miss Sophia,” he replied back.
The next hour was spent with you and Ashton playing with Sophia and you could tell just how much Sophia was already taking a liking to your boyfriend. You had to admit, though, that Ashton did a great job with her.

Calum: “Trust me, he’ll love you!” You assured Calum as you both walked across the field at the park. Your boyfriend was about to meet your 7 year old son, Noah, and he was the complete opposite of nervous which surprised you. Calum was confident that things would go fine – you were the one who was getting anxious. You had asked him to meet you at the park where Noah was busy kicking a soccer ball around with another friend.
“Noah! Come say hi!” You called out to your son. The small boy paused and excused himself from his friend to run over to you and Calum, carrying his soccer ball in his hands.
“Noah, this is Calum. Calum, meet Noah,” you introduced the two. Noah was a curious little boy and was never afraid to speak his mind, which was why it didn’t shock you when he blatantly asked, “Are you my mom’s boyfriend?”
You and Calum smiled. He nodded, “I am.” Noah studied him intently for a bit, as if inspecting to see if this new man standing beside his mother was even worthy enough to be there. Calum, who noticed this and wanted to try to ease the tension, gestured to the soccer jersey Noah was wearing and the ball he was rocking back and forth beneath his foot.
“Do you like soccer?” Calum asked curiously. Noah nodded, still a bit uneasy. “Do you?”
Your boyfriend nodded enthusiastically, “I do, actually!”
Noah burst into a wide smile suddenly and looked up at Calum. Noah loved anything soccer, and was bound to bond with anyone else if they did too. “Do you want to play with us?”
“Of course!” Calum said. “If you want me to play, that is.”
“Yeah! Come on!” Noah beamed and started chattering loudly as he kicked the ball toward the field. Calum followed after him and you sat back in the shade of a tree as you watched their little match take place. Afterward, Calum would take you three to get ice cream and Noah would talk his ear off though Calum didn’t mind. He was just glad Noah had taken a liking to him.

Luke: “Ellie! Come downstairs to say hi!” You called your 4 year old daughter down from her room. Your boyfriend was currently over and you figured it was time he met your daughter from a previous relationship. You heard her (reluctantly) leave her room where she had been colouring and shuffle down the stairs, holding onto the banister. When she was on the last few steps, she stopped and looked over at Luke. You beckoned her to come and she did so slowly, stopping right behind you. She was shy and intimidated to meet a stranger she had never seen before but only heard you talk about. It didn’t help that Luke towered over her considerably with his height. She held onto your hand and peeked up at him.
“Hi there, Ellie,” Luke said with a smile, kneeling down in front of her so that they were level. “My name is Luke.”
Ellie stared back at him with her big doe eyes, and hid a bit behind you. You looked down at Luke with pursed lips but he didn’t seem bothered. “Don’t be scared, honey,” you said gently, placing your hand softly on her head. “Luke’s not going to hurt you.”
Your daughter looked up at you and then tugged at your hand, gesturing for you to bend down. You did so and she whispered into your ear. You nodded and turned back to your boyfriend with a grin, “Luke, Ellie says that you’re very tall.”
Luke chuckled and nodded and then said playfully, “I am. Or maybe you’re just very small.”
“No! I’m the second tallest girl in my year!” Ellie exclaimed with a giggle but stopped herself suddenly, as if she had just been caught doing something wrong. She tilted her head to the side, studying Luke, and then stepped in front of you, noticing that he was pretty much harmless.
“Do you wanna colour?” She asked shyly in a quiet voice. Luke’s eyes flickered up to you and you both smiled warmly. “I’d love to,” Luke replied back, looking at Ellie.
She broke out into a genuine smile and spun on her heel, grabbing Luke’s hand in the process. “Follow me, Luke!”

Search and Rescue (17/?)

Summary: When Killian Jones, a rescue swimmer for the US Coast Guard, pulled Emma Swan from the unforgiving sea he had no idea she would end up rescuing him right back.  

A/N: Here’s the second update of the week! This one features some domestic fluff and some big realizations for Emma. Enjoy the calm before the storm ;) 

CS Modern AU

Word Count: 3,100+

Rating: T (a few chapters will be M)

[Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3] [Ch. 4] [Ch. 5] [Ch. 6] [Ch. 7] [Ch. 8] [Ch. 9] [Ch. 10] [Ch. 11] [Ch. 12] [Ch. 13] [Ch. 14] [Ch. 15] [Ch. 16] [FF Net] [AO3]

Nicki, my sweet Nicki, thank you so much for being a terrific beta! 

When Emma arrived at Killian’s house for the weekend, she plopped her overnight bag on the bottom stair step and kicked off her boots before rushing along to the living room. She was on a mission. She left on all her outerwear and clutched her camera in her hand as she sought out Killian.

She found him on the couch, completely immersed in a Discovery Channel marathon as he absentmindedly stroked Peter in his arms. Emma stepped in front of the TV and bounced in place with excitement as she beamed down at him. “Let’s take some pictures,” she announced as she waved her camera before him.

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Useful to You - “SORROW”

A/N: Okay so like…I’m gonna need y’all to bear with me on this and see it through to the end.  I wrote this while the “Schindler’s List” soundtrack played in the background [and a little Radiohead], but…Just take my hand and jump with me, okay?  Please drop a review no matter how you feel.  Thank you.

Rows of houses, all bearing down on me
I can feel their blue hands touching me
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out…
Cracked eggs, dead birds
Scream as they fight for life
I can feel death, can see its beady eyes
All these things into position
All these things we’ll one day swallow whole
And fade out again and fade out again
Immerse your soul in love…

- Radiohead, “Street Spirit (Fade Out)”

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The Morning Brew

(An absolutely cracking story! I’m already invested! Make sure to follow @spootslibrary for the following parts! Show some love-Ash)

Words: 1,860

The coffee shop usually didn’t have more than five customers at a time. After three years of working in the same shop, Addison had nearly every regular’s order memorized. Out of all the regulars, she looked forward to seeing three of them the most in the early mornings when the shop doors had just opened.

She looked forward to seeing Amy, the nice mother of two that liked a caramel macchiato paired with a strawberry turnover. She liked to dote on her oldest son while ordering, and usually fed the pastry filling to her toddler daughter at the table closest to the front bay window. 

She expected Mr. Todd, the history professor from the local University that liked a cup of black coffee fresh from the brewing pot. He always brought in a new book to read with his morning coffee, and if he felt talkative, he would tell Addison about a certain piece of history that he had recently studied or lectured on.

Every morning, she looked forward to seeing her favorite customer of all; a tall, lanky man by the name of Spencer. He always liked a white chocolate mocha with extra cream paired with a breakfast scone, and on some days, he would order four or five different things to go. When Addison picked on him one morning about his large order, he defended himself with a laugh.

“I don’t have an addiction, it’s for the people I work with.” He had drummed his fingers against his messenger bag, a nervous twitch that Addy had caught onto before. She gave a slight chuckle and a simple ‘As you say’ before returning to her task.

He was a simple man from what she could gather from him. He always dressed in business casual clothes. He didn’t like to talk about his job, so she didn’t ask. He loved to read, apparently; she saw him every day with a new book, never keeping to one for more than a day. Her guess was that he would start one and never finish it; there was no way he could read a new book every day.

Sometimes, she would go three or four days without seeing him. Those days she missed his company more than anything, and found herself praying that wherever he was at, and whatever he was doing, he was okay.

On a particularly dreary, cold morning in November, Addison rolled to her feet and padded through her cramped apartment to the small adjoining kitchen. The sunlight drifted lazily through the window, illuminating the kitchen in a warm glow. She gathered all things needed for a simple breakfast and thumbed through her music collection, settling for her favorite CD; she’d had it for many years now, the wear and tear evident through the scratches on the back. Flipping through the tracks, she settled on Paul Cardall’s Redeemer. As the CD turned, the beautiful symphony of strings wound their way through her mood, brightening her smile to match the sunrise.

No more than an hour later, Addy found herself flipping the sign at the front of the shop to ‘open’, gazing out at the busy street corner. She smiled to herself and sent up a silent prayer that Grace be with the people around her through their travels. The smell of fresh-brewing coffee surrounded her, sure to cling to her clothes long after she would leave later in the day. The sharp ding of the entrance bell rang out, Mr. Todd stepping out of the cold wind.

Addy pulled a cup off of the drying rack, still warm from the dishwasher. “Good morning, Mr. Todd.” She held up the cup by the handle and gave him a genuine smile. “Still the same?”

He offered a quiet laugh and placed his brief case onto the counter. “Of course. No creme please.” She nodded and poured his cup to the brim, sliding it to him as he withdrew a thin paperback book from his case.

“New book, I see.”

He nodded at her comment, flipping over the book so that she could read the description. Her eyes danced over the words, trying to rack her brain for where she had heard of it before. After drawing a blank, she gave up on trying to remember.

“It sounds like a nice read.” She handed him a napkin for his coffee as she slid the book back to him, the bell over the door ringing once more.

An hour passed by without her noticing, followed by one more. A steady stream of people made their way through the shop as time passed. As noon rolled by and she made the last order of the lunchtime rush, she found herself fretting over Spencer. She hadn’t seen him in over four days due to the Thanksgiving weekend. Hopefully,” she thought to herself, “he’s visiting with family and will be back tomorrow.” She continued on with her tasks, stepping out from behind the counter to sweep the floor. It was only her in the shop, the soft sound of the stereo bouncing down off of the wood ceiling. Jack Johnson echoed around her, the upbeat song making her hips sway in time with the beat. Behind her, the bell rang out.

“Hey Addy!”

She smiled and turned around, her little nephew waving frantically at her, his hand clung tight in his mom’s.

“Hey, little mouse!” She sat the broom to the side and squatted as he ran for her, picking him up and squeezing him tight. At the young age of four, he was smaller compared to other kids his age, but his age foretold nothing of his vocabulary; where he lacked in physical growth, he matched in intellectual growth. He giggled as she kissed his cheek. She cast her eyes to her sister-in-law, offering a small smile.


“Addison.” Her sister-in-law offered no more than a tight-lipped smile, keeping the peace in the smallest way possible.

“Addy, Addy!” She looked back to him with pure happiness. “Guess what I did today.”

He giggled when she furrowed her eyebrows in mock concentration. “Did you go to the moon?”

He laughed, filling the space with a little more light-heartedness. “No, you silly. I went to school.”

“School?” She looked at Amelia with pure confusion. “When did he start school?”

Amelia rolled her eyes and checked her watch. “Two weeks ago.”

Hurt spread through Addy’s heart. “How come I didn’t know this?”

“I didn’t find it important enough to let you know.” Malice dripped off her words. She checked her watch once more and tapped her foot.

Still on her hip, little Noah tapped her cheek. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s just school.” She nodded and kissed his cheek once more.

“How about a little snack to take home with you?” Addy said. He cheered and his face lit up, only for the happy moment to be interrupted.

Amelia spoke quickly. “He’s not allowed sugar.”

Addy was taken aback. “He’s four years old.”

“He’ll get cavities.”

“They’re gonna fall out anyway.”

Amelia scoffed at Addy’s retort. “Unlike your family, mine practices the utmost hygiene, no matter the age.”

Addy nearly lost her cool but she held her tongue for Noah’s sake; the little guy had already been through enough in his four years, he didn’t need another spat like this to send him back to therapy.

Addy cleared her throat and kissed the side of Noah’s head before setting him back on his feet. She kneeled down to his eye level, rumpling his hair a little to make him smile.

“I love you, mouse.” He giggled and hugged her once more. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and whispered a small “I love you too”.

As he walked back to his mom, Addy couldn’t stop the words from falling out. “If he needs anyone, I’m always here.” Amelia’s eyebrow hitched up, her eyes boring into Addy’s. Addy continued on. “W-we did go through the same thing so I could- uh- I could help him.

Amelia remained silent as she collected Noah’s hand in hers, her shoulders stiff. She cleared her throat and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And with a turn of her shoulder, she dragged Noah out of the front door. He waved once more before they rounded the street corner, the cold air swallowing their breaths.

Addy sighed and picked up the broom, walking back to the counter. She ran her hand over the counter top and scraped off the grains of sugar, placing her head where they were moments before. With her head on the counter, she interlocked her fingers and placed them on her neck, breathing quietly through her mouth.

How had things gotten this bad?

In the midst of her thoughts, she didn’t hear the bell ring. Quiet footsteps moved across the paneling, stopping just short of where she lay.

“Are you still open?”

Amelia jumped and accidentally knocked off a can of sugar; luckily for her, the lid was screwed on tight and nothing spilled onto the floor. Looking up, she saw none other than Spencer gazing at her. Finding her tongue, she replied while picking up the can.

“Uh- yeah, of course!” She took a steadying breath as she flipped on the mocha maker. “The usual?”

He nodded and continued to watch her every movement. She tried to shake off the lingering hurt that she felt, focusing solely on his drink.

“Did you have a good holiday?” His voice flowed throughout the small space.

“Yeah, I did.” She tried to think of something that normal people did during the holiday and drew a blank. Instead, she decided to tell the truth. “I stayed home and caught up on a few things. How about you?”

“I read a few journals. I watched a documentary about the Great Wall of China.”

“I’ve always wanted to go see that.” Spencer nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle.

“Did you know that the Wall is exactly 21,196.18 km long?”

“I did not know that. It seems like it would take a long time to walk all the way across it.”

Without missing a beat, Spencer replied. “It would take approximately 18 months.”

Amelia put the finishing touches on his drink and slid it over to his waiting hands, a smile of wonderment adorning her face. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged and pulled his lips into his mouth, fishing his wallet from his pocket. “I just know.” He replied quietly. He handed over the exact change, his face softening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Addison.”

She nodded. “Tomorrow, Spencer.” He waved once before turning, wrapping a scarf around his neck. The door chimed and closed behind him. She followed the path he had taken and flipped the sign to show closed, pulling the blinds down over the front windows.

As she cleaned up the shop and packed her things to leave, she felt two things; one, she felt confused about how she stood with Amelia, and two, she felt hopeful for the first time in a long time.

She was hopeful of the new day tomorrow and all that it would bring.